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The third story in my "Sic Semper Tyrannis" This time the Tanith must make a gamble and risk it all to save their world. Make sure your buckled in, this one's gonna get bumpy!

Author's note: I do not own Gaunt's Ghosts, Black Library, Games Workshop or anything displayed or referred to in this work, they are all the properties of their respective owners.

Two weeks earlier...

The sky swam with pink and red waves of translucence, purple bloomed and blue streamed from a great portal set in the heavens above...

The sky boiled with the ether like a great sea angered by a maelstrom. This was, however, no natural storm. Not a bloody thing was natural about it. He stood there in the wide, yielding field and just stared up at the phenomenon. It was ironic, the beauty of the colors was astounding but the evil of the storm overhead was palpable. Suddenly, his concentration was broken by someone calling his name.

"Sir? Lieutenant Mkarth sir?" the gazer turned at the sound to the interloper. The man wore the black fatigues and camo cape of the Tanith Ghosts, the pins on his collar and chevrons on his arms denoted him as a sergeant.

"Yeah, what's up Blane?" the gazer named Mkarth asked in a scruffy voice.

"Sir, the Colonel Commissar wants the officers for a staff meeting in five minutes." Blane continued

Mkarth nodded and continued to look up at the boiling livid sky above him. "A funny thing isn't it?" he started.

"Whats that sir?" Blane asked

"The sky, such wonderful colors and yet the entire fething thing ranks of warpcraft." Mkarth stated

"Yes, I suppose that is a paradox sir." Blane answered looking up.

Finally, Mkarth, without another word turned around, shifting his slung weapon across his shoulder, and headed to toward the mass of troops that had gathered on one side of the clearing. As he passed the sergeant, he spoke.

"As you were, Sergeant." Mkarth said, Blane saluted and turned back to head toward the other Ghosts in his platoon.

Mkarth continued to walk towards the mass of men and machines, nearly three regiments worth of men and equipment were in the process of being put into any sort of transport that could hold them and moving out. Mkarth noted the canvas tents lining the valley he was in. He sighed. This should be a time of pride and celebration. Instead, the Tanith were running with their tails between their legs to defend their homes. Mkarth remembered the last few days: the scrambling to find a workable plan, the shock at having the prospect of an invasion brought to life before their eyes, the confusion, the panic. Fortunately none of that state ruled now, the first symptoms of confusion were now being replaced with determination. Now the plan was ready to be implemented. Now the time had come. Mkarth's thoughts dwelt on the battles to come, he kept his head up, he knew full well the weight of things, he had volunteered for this after all...

First Lieutenant Edric Mkarth was an intimidating man. From a distance you couldn't tell it, but as one drew closer, his details could be made out plainly. His was of medium height for a Tanith man, slightly broad in the shoulders, a well developed physique combined with a commanding and confident stance ensured that his presence demanded respect. A heavy, almost constantly scowling brow, wide nose and a set jaw gave him a look of utter determination at almost all times. In fact, unless you knew the man, you'd never known he was one of the most good natured men in the regiment, his expression and body language both had the capability of softening quite a bit. Short and scruffy jet black hair graced his scalp, chin, and cheeks. His amber eyes held a fire in them that was hard to place and even more difficult to hold. In short, Mkarth was a man to be reckoned with, like most of the Tanith. Unlike most of the other Tanith who boasted former lives in woodsmanship and hunting, Mkarth could not account for this, he was what the scouts called a "city boy." As if he'd never seen a nalwood before. Mkarth had been a native of Tanith Magna, the planet's capital. But the thing that really set Edric apart from the rest was his posture, unlike regualr Tanith men who almost seemed like they were slouching most of the time, Mkarth held his chest out in a confident, almost regal stride. When some of the Tanith saw the way the new officer walked, they chuckled. What did he think he was playing at? Was he so prideful he thought himself better than the rest?

'Well I dont need a lieutenant's pins to show that.' Mkarth thought with a half smile.

No, it wasn't pride that strove him to walk more proudly than the rest. It was a habit he had never broken since he'd left the arbites. Mkarth had left a position as a "tactical weapons team" leader in the arbites of the most major of Tanith's cities for a position as a junior officer in the Magna militia. When the guard called for men with experience, Mkarth felt he was the man for the job and signed up. That was all behind him now, and Mkarth was not a man to really dwell on the past.

Mkarth approached the group of Tanith officers milling around the entrance to a large tent. Two, one large, husky and grizzly with shaggy black hair, and the other, dark, brooding and sinister with a starburst tattoo around one of his eyes stood aside to let him into the group. Mkarth heard the latter say something to the effect of "Speak of the devil."

'Probably with more insults.' Mkarth thought darkly.

As he came to a halt Mkarth could not help but notice the look the latter one gave him.

"Major." Mkarth said, greeting the first, "Rawne" he said greeting the other snidely and taking satisfaction from the bristling the Captain was experiencing.

"Mkarth." Major Colm Corbec replied, "How are your men?"

"As good as they'll ever be sir, I'm just ready to get this underway and over with."

The Major nodded his massive head "I hear that." he sighed.

Rawne mumbled something inaudible, the two other officers looked at him with less than pleased looks. Mkarth rolled his eyes, he couldn't stand the likes of Rawne or his stooge Feygor. There was a joke going around the regiment that if the two had met in their previous lives it would have been the fight of the century with the result of someone getting locked up, or more likely, killed and stuck to a wall.

"Something you wanna say to me, Captain?" Mkarth said practically through clenched teeth.

"Maybe I do." Rawne replied, the two faced each other locking stares, Mkarth had to look up slightly to see Rawne's but that didn't concern him much. Corbec put his hand on Mkarth's shoulder and was about to say something when someone finally came through the front of the tent, it was Gaunt's adjutant, Brin Milo. The boy looked surprised at the escalation happening outside the tent. The two clashing officers looked at him at the same time, the boy flinched slightly.

"The Colonel Commissar's ready for you Sirs." He said almost scared.

Corbec nodded and headed into the tent first. Rawne went next, he stepped halfway into the tent and gestured for Mkarth to go in before him, "Ladies first." He mumbled as Mkarth passed. Mkarth grunted and walked into the tent. Colonel Commissar Gaunt was talking to a vox man who was pointing to points on a map in front of them adjusted on a large table. When he saw the officers come in the tent flap, he excused the vox operator who left in a three officers approached the table, and saluted in unison. Ibram Gaunt returned their salutes and bade them look at the map. A small oval section had been marked for where they were now; the founding fields several kilometers away from the major Tanith cities which were much bigger circles on the map. Gaunt sighed and looked at the map for a moment. Finally, he looked up and spoke.

"Not a very appealing situation is it?" He said, stating the obvious, there were a few affirmatives put in response. "Are the regiments ready to move out?" Gaunt asked Major Corbec.

"The men are ready to move on your orders sir." The Major confirmed. Gaunt nodded thoughtfully.

"Six hundred, I can only spare that many Lieutenant, six hundred men and as many machines as it takes to cart them around." Gaunt stated "About three companies worth plus a little heavy support."

Mkarth nodded, he knew full well the implications of the plan. "I understand sir." he said.

At this point Rawne began to look from one officer to another "Oh come on, is nobody going to say it?" He started.

"Say what?" Corbec asked bluntly, Mkarth rolled his eyes, he'd seen this coming.

"This whole fething plan is ridiculous, why are men being taken off the frontline where they're needed so Mkarth can go on some damn vacation with three companies of our men?" Rawne finished.

"Because" Gaunt started "If this works, Rawne, we may actually have a chance."

"And if it doesn't?" Rawne asked incredulous.

"Then we fight on anyway like good soldiers of the Imperium." Gaunt explained definitively.

"This is the most fething stupid thing I've ever heard anyone do." Rawne stated.

"Can't you see it Rawne?" Mkarth started "If this works, we'll have a chance, if it works we can win!" Mkarth exclaimed.

"And if it doesn't, which it won't, us and every real guardsman on the planet will be left out to dry while you die in a stupid, pointless skirmish!"

Mkarth was about to get in Rawne's face and throw down right there in front of the commanding officer when a loud barking order silenced them both.

"Enough!" Gaunt roared, his voice softened to a firm inside voice after the two officers had become silent and snapped their heads around at the noise, Corbec chuckled.

"Watch your tone Captain Rawne. I dont frankly care what your opinions of the situation are, we are going through as planned. Mkarth, have you selected your men yet?" Gaunt asked.

Mkarth cleared his throat and spoke up "Yes sir, my own company, plus all the heavy weapons I could find, a lot of troops volunteered."

"Volunteered?" Gaunt asked

"Yes sir, when I told the lads that there was going to be a surprise attack on the enemy at least a thousand raised their hands at once." Mkarth stated

Gaunt looked bewildered "Have you made a list?" He asked.

Without a word, Mkarth pulled a slip of paper out of his webbing and handed it to Gaunt who began to read.

"Bragg, Varl, Caffran, Raess, Domor, Blane, Mktane, Bonin, Mktayl, Gutes, Beltayn..." he read aloud and then continued to read to himself

Mkarth simply nodded.

"A fine list of men you have here Lieutenant, you do realize I can't order you and your men to do this?" Gaunt said, defeated.

"Sir, I would do anything to make sure that this planet lives through this, I wanna see the next generation grow up on Tanith unmolested by the archenemy, If me and six hundred others are to die to ensure that, I cannot say that those deaths were in vain."

Rawne mumbled something and everyone looked at him.

"What?" he said innocently.

Gaunts shook his head and spoke "Alright Mkarth, consider yourself in receipt of the temporary brevet rank of Captain and get your men ready. Operation "Nal Wolf" will begin tomorrow at dusk. May the Emperor be with you and your men, Captain."

"Thank you sir." Mkarth said

"Any questions? Gaunt asked

Mkarth and Corbec both shook their heads, Rawne scowled and rolled his eyes.

"Alright, the regiments will shove off as planned tonight, the decoys will be operational until the final moment and by then, hopefully, if all goes according to plan, the trap will truly be sprung on the Archenemy. You're dismissed." Gaunt added

The officers saluted and began to leave until Gaunt called after one "Mkarth" he said.

The other two left the tent, Mkarth turned and addressed his commander "Yes sir?"

"As I said before I cant order you to do this, are you sure you want to?" Gaunt asked

"Me and about six hundred other crazy fethers think we can sir, the rest is up to the Emperor and the Saint, but if there's even a small chance it will work then I think someone should do it."

Gaunt nodded

"And if Captain fething Rawne doesn't want to do it, fine, more glory for me and my boys." Mkarth added through a half smile as he left.

The tent flap closed silently behind him as Gaunt began to laugh...

The sky continued to boil with the fury of the warp as space outside of Tanith's atmosphere strained and parted for the advancing splinter fleet of the ruinous powers. As the sun set, the three regiments of Tanith, nearly fifteen thousand men, machines, and artillery pieces began the mass exodus to head for the cities. A small force of just six hundred brave men stayed to face their fates on the slopes of that now hallowed valley. Decades from now, great tacticians would see the effectiveness of their decision. The Tanith would make a good account of themselves...

Hopefully...that was the plan anyway...

Mkarth watched the vehicles pull away and begin a convoy back to toward the cities over the horizon from his perch on the outer slopes of the founding valley. He remembered the last word the other officers had spoken to him...

Gaunt had been silent for a moment as if searching for something to say, "Die well." he finally said.

Corbec had patted him on the shoulder with that broad smile he almost always wore, "See you around." He said sadly, as if he didn't believe himself.

Rawne had just scowled at him and murmured something to the effect of "Fething idiot" under his breath and turned toward the parked vehicles. Mkarth had returned the scowl and spat at him as he left. Then he turned to his men and his duty.

it was all he had left...

Mkarth now stood on his perch, watching as his few men set up fields of fire in the entrenchments that had been dug long since for this exact purpose. Hidden by the brush of the valley walls, these would ensure the maximum kill rate for the defenders and the maximum death rate for the invaders. The men in his "Kill company" that's what the high planners and commanders codenamed this venture, were not simple lasmen like most of the Tanith infantry. Many of the company were specialists: stealth, scouting, heavy weapons, command power, communications, explosives, Mkarth had it all covered by the cream of the crop. He hoped these fine men would give him another edge, Emperor knows he would need it. Every heavy gun, flamer, mortar, and missile launcher that could be spared for this mission was spared; the three hundred Tanith were armed to the teeth, they were quite possibly the most heavily armed force on the planet...

Yeah...they were gonna make a good account of themselves...

Mkarth turned from his observation post and made his way down the slope a little way until he walked into the back of a small wooden communications bunker with camo netting over the top for a roof. Inside, he found three men, all of which were pointing to spots in the filed below and then to points on the map while taking turns talking; Mkarth recognized two of the men immediately.

"Blane, Hasker." he said getting their attention.

The three men wheeled around from their plotting and quickly saluted their officer.

"Lieuten- I mean Captain, sir." Hasker said first.

"Yeah, who's this?" Mkarth asked pointing at the middle man, upon closer inspection, Mkarth could see that he was carrying a vox apparatus on his back. Further than that he could see that the man was actually barely so...maybe just around his early twenties.

"Sir, Trooper Dorden, I'm Sergeant Hasker's vox operator." The lad said.

"Dorden? as in-" Mkarth began to ask until he was cut off

"Yes Sir, as in the son of the Chief Medic...Sir." the trooper said in a less than pleased tone.

That got him a cuff on the back of the head from Hasker. "Mind your mouth boy." He snarled.

Dorden rubbed the back of his head and winced, his tone immediately became respectful again, "I'm sorry sir, its just that I tire of people only recognizing me for who my father was."

Mkarth nodded with a smirk "Yeah, I know how that can be."

Dorden looked perplexed "Really?"

"No, not really." Mkarth said finishing the joke, the two sergeants chuckled while Dorden sagged slightly. Mkarth advanced to the map and looked at it thoughtfully, he looked from it to the fields below, still covered in tents and boxes, as if the army that had put them there had simply abandoned them.

Not yet as the case was...

"Are the traps ready?" Mkarth asked not looking away from the fields.

"Yes sir, the mines have all been placed around the encampment and along the exit routes." Hasker stated.

"How about the heavy guns and the men?" Mkarth continued.

"The guns are just now being finished up, the munitions have been distributed, everything that can't be moved easily have already been moved onto the heavy transports." Hasker answered.

"Are those in position?" Mkarth asked.

"The trucks and everything else are hidden out on the highway awaiting for the order to move out sir." Blane said this time.

Mkarth nodded solemnly. "This plan requires skill, timing, quick reflexes, patience, and most of all communications. We can fight as hard as we like, if we dont move when we're supposed to move and do what we're told to do exactly exactly when we're told to do it, this will quite literally all go up in flames. Make sure the men understand this-"

Mkarth was interrupted from his instruction as Blane placed a hand on his shoulder from behind him, Mkarth turned to face his sergeant and found that Blane was not looking at him but the back entrance of the command bunker. Mkarth spun around to see five of his men coming into the bunker with expressions of serious determination set on them. Bragg with his gargantuan bulk, Varl with his thick arms and small stature, Mktayl with his lanky body and killing eyes, Caffran with his young and naive looks, and last of all was trooper Dohon Domor, one of Mkarth's close friends in the regiment.

It was hard to believe that the two were friends, one was just a trooper the other an officer. Life, however, had a way of leveling the field. In their previous lives Domor and the now Captain, who weren't far apart in age, had been schoolmates and kept a steady friendship through their adult lives, only when their jobs separated them did they divide, and both were overjoyed to find the other had joined the guard when they met on the founding fields.

Mkarth was unsettled by the sight before him, the situation was helped only a little by Domor's presence. The two parties stood their looking at each other with expressions that almost seemed menacing. Mkarth knew he had to diffuse this and fast.

"Is there a problem troopers?" He asked.

There was silence for a few awkward moments, "Are you a liar, Captain?" Varl asked all of the sudden. The bluntness of the question surprised Mkarth so he didn't respond immediately. Dorden winced, aware of what was happening and Blane took a step forward, about to rebuke the trooper until Mkarth put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head slightly.

"No, I am not a liar, trooper Varl." he said.

"See, I told you he wasn't a liar, Caff." Bragg said genially, looking at Caffran who rolled his eyes.

"We've been hearing things sir..." Caffran started.

Mkarth raised one eyebrow, "Oh yeah, what kind of things?" Mkarth knew exactly what kind of "things" the troopers had been hearing. He'd half expected this confrontation around this time somewhere. Mkarth wanted to hear it from the mouths of his men.

"We've heard a few...concerns...about...the validity of this mission." Mktayl said slowly, picking his words carefully. "And we were hoping for an explanation of this-" He continued to say until he was cut off.

"Oh would you feth wipes just come out and say it?" Caffran barked. He changed his attention to Mkarth, his body language spoke of anything but respect. "Sir, we've come here from some answers, ever since we decided to stay we've gotten feth from the others who left. They tell us we are going to die for nothing, that we were fools for helping you, that you and six hundred good men are going to stay and defend a useless piece of land because your too bullheaded to see the big picture."

At this last statement all of the troopers present winced except for Mkarth and the two sergeants who looked like they just might throw down with Caffran right then and there.

"So, d'you hear that from Rawne's boys?" Mkarth said in a carefree tone. His cool caught everyone off guard. Caffran swallowed, Mkarth nodded.

"Yeah I thought so, Listen, a lot of boys say a lot of things about stuff about things they don't understand. Why should this time be any different?"

"Because, this time we are talking about our planet, our home, you know what this invasion means, why are we out here and not moving back with the others to defend the cities?" Varl inquired.

"This station represents an opportunity trooper, an opportunity to hurt the enemy before he even gets that far. Not to kill him, to hurt him, and do it good." Mkarth answered.

"That's not the point sir, when we volunteered, we didn't know we'd..." Mktayl started to say.

"What? Die? So you men are giving up on me because you think your going to die?" Mkarth asked incredulously.

"No sir." Domor said, finally speaking for the first time. "We were fully aware that we were going to die when we signed up to join the Guard. What we want to make sure of is that we are going to die to guarantee Tanith's survival and when we heard that wasn't going to be the case..." Domor broke off, emotion filling his voice. It hurt Mkarth to see his friend so tangled up. "We're sorry we doubted you sir, but we need to know, we need to know if we are going to die well." Domor finished, his voice shaking.

Mkarth sighed and looked around the room. "You all feel this way?" The men nodded. Mkarth nodded and was silent for a moment thinking. "I would have hoped as your commander that my men could have trusted me, but on the other hand if I were in your shoes I'd be doing the same thing." Mkarth stated simply. "Come with me." He ordered and walked out of the bunker. The other men, all eight of them, followed him out into the clearing behind the bunker. Men were talking, laughing nervously, taking stock of munitions, playing cards, and setting up heavy weapons. All six hundred of his men sat in this clearing, waiting for orders to move out. A murmuring hush fell onto the men as they saw the group of interlopers come into view. Mkarth looked out at all the onlooking faces. He half turned to his two sergeants.

"Blane, get me something to stand on. Hasker, get these men assembled in front of me." Mkarth ordered. The two men nodded, Blane went and fetched a munitions crate and lugged it in front of Mkarth who then stood on it so his voice could be heard across the clearing. Hasker stepped forward and shouted and order, straining his voice to call out to the scattered troops.

"Company, front and center! rank formation, attention!"

Slowly, all of the troops stopped what they were doing and formed up in neat rows in front of the Captain and the sergeants. All stood still as statues at attention.

"At ease, all of you." Mkarth called to his troops, they obligingly widened their stances but continued to look up at him with expectant eyes.

"Sons of Tanith." He began, his voice cascading out to the troops "Is it not true that you have come here to fight?"

General murmurs of affirmation.

"Is it not true that you have come here to die?"

Mostly silence, a few affirmative murmurs.

"I am going to tell you the truth. In the next few days we will all probably die in battle."

He paused for a moment to let that sink in, the troops looked on at him silently.

"But that is not why I have brought you out here. No, I have brought you out here to kill!"

Murmurs of ascent.

"Ages ago, it is said that our ancestors fought against the old tyrants. They fought for their freedom. Now let us fight for ours!"

A few shouts of approval, general ascent.

"When the enemy comes here, what will they find? Six hundred cowards, afraid and in hiding?"

Shouts of "No!" and "Feth that!" came calling up to him. Mkarth had them in the palm of his hand, this is just what the men needed to assuage their fears.

"No! They will find six hundred heroes ready for blood, ready to take up arms for their homes and families!" Cheers of affirmation, hands punching into the air.

"So yes, you could run, live for a few more days and watch Tanith burn in front of you. But wouldn't you give anything for the chance, just one chance to come back here and stand today to tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they will never take our home!"

Generous applause, massive cheering, hands thrust forward, fists pumping, crowded troopers barking like angered dogs, weapons thrust into the air above their heads.

"I promise all of you boys, while there is still breathe in my body, blood still coursing through these veins that I'll do everything in my power to kill as many of those bastards as I can! My question to you is: Will you Sons of Tanith join me?"

Shouts of affirmation and oaths to the heavens.

Mkarth's hand flashed to a sheath on his hip, his hand raised into the sky, this time with a silver blade clasped in it.

"For Tanith!" Mkarth yelled pumping his clenched silver knife into the air.

Each man present took out his knife and also raised it into the air, six hundred men, six hundred knives.

"For the Emperor!" They finished.

Ten minutes later Mkarth was standing to the side, watching the troops moving supplies and weapons to their defensive positions to prepare for the battle ahead. Salamander tanks, their small tracked bodies trailing through the brush, filed past them toward their waiting dugouts. Usually, these tanks were used for scouting and light support, but the Tanith were in need of heavy guns and these tanks were retrofitted to carry weapons on them like raider gunwagons. Most had been fitted with a small turret of four infantry autocannons, quad mounted into the back of the vehicle. This was placed along with the coaxial heavy bolter to the right of the driver. These heavily armed light tanks were dubbed "Scythes" by the troops and the name stuck. More vehicles, smaller than the salamanders but in similar form, pushed behind them, also heavily armed with mounted guns. These small wagons were highly mobile and could pull many times their own weight due to a large engine. These bugs were originally used for toting the Tanith's light artillery, but the need for mobile firepower had caused the Tanith to bolt armor plating and mount heavy weapons to them and turn them into fast, light, gun carriers the troops called "Gun buggies." These two types of vehicles, along with the troop trucks hidden along the highway that trailed away from the valley toward the main cities, composed the mechanized force of the Tanith.

It wasn't exactly an elite armored force, but it would have to do...

Sergeant Blane walked over to Mkarth and saluted him. "So how'd I do Blane?" Mkarth asked.

"That was...inspiring sir, you sure had the men going, I think the Colonel Commissar would have been proud of that."

Mkarth looked at him with a sad expression that suggested he didn't really have confidence in his own words. "That was the point, though whether it comes to fruition remains to be seen."

After Mkarth had finished his speech, the five dissenters along with everyone present had seen the reason for this action, now they were ready to die for their world. "Any word on artillery support?" Mkarth asked.

"According to a message a few hours ago, the light stuff and the Munitorum guns will be set up by tomorrow, the heavy guns sometime soon after that." Blane answered. Mkarth nodded

"What about the Mac guns?" Mkarth inquired quietly.

"Mac gun" was the Tanith name for a weapon that was also born of innovation. An old System Defense Ship boneyard in Tanith Attica had been scavenged for weapons. Many guns had been saved from their holds and repaired in the weeks leading up to this invasion. Most important were the ships' main guns: massive macro-shell cannons that lob high velocity shells kilometers through space right into their targets, obliterating just about anything. Only a few were salvaged and only about one battery's worth had been converted hastily in time for the invasion for artillery work. It was all still technically theoretical that they could function as artillery pieces, but the Tanith didn't really have much of a choice.

"No word, they're still working on setting them up." Blane said just as quietly. Mkarth just nodded.

Above them the sun had set, it had yet to be seen if it was one of the planet's last. The sky continued to boil with fervent light as reality tore in Tanith's outer system. To many, it looked as if space itself had revolted and the end of the universe as they all knew it had come to wipe them away.

Maybe it had...

The sun went down, night descended upon the camp and with it came the campfires. They came first in twos or threes, the troops sitting around one single small fire to keep warm in the chilly night. Soon more came, one hundred, then two hundred. The men talked around the ever increasing campfire that had suddenly become the focus of attention for all the camp. Within the next few minutes all six hundred men sat around the now huge bonfire. A few bottles of Bragg's good stuff were broken out and passed around the wide circle. Men began to laugh and tell jokes to their neighbors, the mood lightened generally. The ambiance of doom that had befallen the men earlier had vanished and was replaced by lightheartedness. Instruments; mementos and trinkets from previous lives were brought out. There was a harmonica, a flute, a hand drum, and finally, to much applause and general cheering, the Tanith pipes were played by the company's nonofficial piper, Scout Corporal Mktayl. Men began to sing to any tunes the musicians could think of and a general good time was had. Up above them, in the confines of the command bunker, Mkarth and his two sergeants were busily planning for the battle ahead when Mkarth heard the music from the clearing below. He held up his hand for quiet.

"What is that?" He asked.

Instinctively the three walked outside to see what the noise was about. Before he even got to the door, Mkarth knew what he'd see on the other side. Six hundred men, all sitting around one blazing bonfire singing the tunes of their fathers to the sweet music of pipes and drums. Mkarth, Blane, and Hasker were all taken in by the scene and stood there outside the bunker and watched the scene before them. The song ended, Mktayl swiftly began another, and Mkarth heard the beginning notes of a tune he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Whats that song they're playing? I've heard it somewhere..." Hasker whispered.

"Its 'The March of the Woodsmen'" Mkarth stated. The three men, listened as the pipes continued to rapidly fluctuate in the skilled hands of Mktayl.

"I've never heard of that one." Said Blane, perplexed.

"Its an old song, possibly the oldest anyone can remember, I'm surprised Mktayl knows it..." Mkarth said his voice trailing off, equally perplexed. The situation was taking on an almost dreamlike quality.

"Well what's it about?" Blane asked.

Mkarth looked at Blane with a mystified expression "Be quiet and you'll find out, Sergeant." Mkarth said pointing to the bonfire. The three men strained to hear the words of the song together, the singing was soft at first but as the crowd of troopers hit the first chorus, the message was clear:

Open wounds not fully healed,

Fight those bastards till they yield,

Midnight mare and blood red roan,

Fight to keep this land your own,

Sound the horn and call the cry,

How many of them can we make die?

As the long wail of the pipes continued their tribute, Mkarth was filled with emotion. All of the decisions of his life had led up to this one moment and now his men were sharing it with him. Their devotion to his decision touched him deeply and it was all he could do to stop himself from shedding tears. As the music continued the voices grew ever hauntingly, like the ghosts of a graveyard:

Follow orders as your told,

Make their yellow blood run cold,

Fight until you die or drop,

A force like ours is hard to stop,

Close your mind to stress and pain,

Fight till you're no longer sane,

Let not one damn cur pass by,

How many of them can we make die?

Mkarth was filled with pride at the sight. Each soldier was able to put aside the fact that they were going to die tomorrow and celebrate what drew together in death and war. The chorus continued the litany and this time Mkarth joined in singing softly as his men recounted the great battles of ages passed.

Guard your women and children well,

Send these bastards back to Hell,

We'll teach them the ways of war,

They won't come here any more,

March with courage, use your head,

Fight on till the enemy's dead,

Raise the flag up to the sky,

How many of them can we make die?

The dreamlike quality of the scene continued to ebb and flow. The sky above continued to boil and writhe with color, almost, it seemed, more fiercely than it had just hours before. The spectacle above in the heavens caught Mkarth's attention as the colors swirled ever more violently. Mkarth shuddered, the event they were all waiting for, singing and speeching about was upon them. Quietly the fourth man in the group, the vox man Dorden, stepped out of the bunker and came to Mkarth.

"Sir, a message for you inside." The lad said.

Mkarth nodded and turned to go, leaving his sergeants to wonder at the spectacle outside. Inside he picked up the vox set and spoke into it.

"Mkarth here, over?" he asked.

"Mkarth...They're here...its almost time." The Colonel Commissar on the other side said.

Mkarth closed his eyes, he'd been waiting for this, strangely he felt no fear, just determination, just will...

"I understand sir, its been an honor..." Mkarth said finally

"No Mkarth, the honor has been all mine, good luck, may the Emperor watch over you." Gaunt said and hung up.

Mkarth put the transceiver down and listened as the troops outside finished the song:

Dawn has broke, the time has come,

Move your feet to a marching drum,

We'll win the war and pay the toll,

We'll fight as one in heart and soul,

Midnight mare and blood red roan,

Fight to keep this land your own,

Sound the horn and call the cry,

How many of them can we make die?

Soon the singing was over, the troops, warm and fuzzy from their drink and song, went to bed early and said their prayers for the battle ahead. A small devotional was held, a few prayers of deliverance and steadfastness were said and as quickly as the makeshift pow-wow had started, it disappeared and all was silent again in the valley of shadows. Mkarth looked out into the fields of his last action once again before trying to sleep. He thought sleep might come fitfully but his mind was at peace. Exhaustion born of the stress of knowing tomorrow was his last day overtook him and the entire camp. Tonight, the Sons of Tanith slept.

Mkarth awoke amidst fervent activity. All around the camp troopers were hauling equipment and such into the pre dug positions surrounding the founding fields. As he walked out of his tent Mkarth could not help but feel something was different about the area but he couldn't place a finger on it. As he walked out into the open air Blane approached him.

"Morning sir, These final reports just came in from Tanith Magna." Blane said holding out the paper to a still groggy Mkarth.

Mkarth took them and read them to himself.

"The enemy is inbound and is due to be in assault position by no later than tonight. Just like we planned." Mkarth stated, Blane stood there with a knowing smile on his face, He pointed to the papers in Mkarth's hand.

"Go on keep reading." He said, his grin spreading to Mkarth.

"Initial reports suggest their trajectory to-" Mkarth stopped barely believing his eyes, he read it again.

"Initial reports suggest their trajectory to take them into an assault path towards the founding fields...Emperor be praised, they've taken the bait." Mkarth said barely able to contain his enthusiasm. Blane's smile widened.

"Yep that's it, you should have heard the racket the boys made when we announced that, they've been moving double time ever since." Blane said cheerily

Mkarth's face contorted into a question as that nagging sense of difference hit him again "Sergeant, is there something different about the area around here?" Mkarth asked perplexed.

Blane looked around until realization hit him. "Oh, yes sir, check out the sky."

Mkarth looked up to find the warm welcome of a bright blue sky shining at him "Well I'll be, the warp's closed." He said, the hemorrhaging sky of the few nights before had been replaced by the healthy blue that Mkarth had missed so. He looked back to Blane, "As you were sergeant." Blane saluted and left, Mkarth went back to reading the reports until something truly wrong nagged at him.

"Sergeant!" He called to the now fairly distant figure of Blane.

Blane turned back and took a few steps back towards Mkarth. "Yes sir?" He called.

"Why in feth's name is your face blue?" Mkarth asked. Sure enough part of Blane's face had, it looked like, been ceremonially painted blue. Blane laughed

"Its a long story sir, ask Mktayl, its a...well just ask him." Blane said and walked away. Mkarth stared after him for a minute lost for words. Finally he just shook his head and walked toward the busily bustling troopers. He noticed many of them with the same or similar patterns streaked across their faces with what looked to be some sort of deep blue paint. Mkarth felt like he was still in the dream like state from the night before. He nearly staggered into the giant form of Bragg.

"Whoa there sir, headin somewhere?" The man said with a genial smile and a half blue face.

Mkarth looked the trooper up and down "Sorry Bragg, I'm a little confused at the whole face paint deal." Mkarth said unsure. Bragg laughed and pointed towards one of the small Tanith hootches in the clearing, a line of troopers were waiting patiently and smiling as if playing some practical joke on someone.

"Over there sir, ask for Mktayl, he's giving out these for free." Bragg said with his ever present genial smile and walked off to pick up a weapons crate and haul it somewhere else.

With no other clues as to what this might be about, Mkarth headed over to the tent to see for himself. As he got to the front of the tent he saw the scout Bonin getting worked on by Mktayl, he was applying the blue paint to Bonin's face almost reverently. As he rounded the corner, Mkarth could just make out Bonin saying something. He didn't catch all of it, just "...don't want it to make me look like a clown." To which Mktayl retorted

"Aw hush, who's the expert here Mach?" Just as he said this Mktayl looked up to see the captain walking into the entrance.

"Be right with you sir..." Mktayl said distantly as he completed his work on Bonin's face. "Alright Mach, your finished..." Mktayl said mockingly resigned. "I did the best I could but sadly your still as ugly as a shoggy's arse." Mktayl patted Bonin on the shoulder and smiled at him. Bonin smiled halfway in return.

"Bout as funny as you ever are you dumb shepherd." Bonin retorted and walked out of the tent to talk to someone else. Mktayl turned to Mkarth with his cheerful smile.

"Is there something you need sir?" He asked attentively.h

Mkarth looked around with a raised eyebrow. "Whats with the operation Tayl? You gotta longer line out there than a Magna tavern." He said with little humor, interested in the answer.

"Why sir, whatever do you mean?" Mktayl asked innocently. Mkarth smiled at him lightly, Mktayl went ahead to explain while preparing a bowl filled with the blue paint for his next customer.

"Its tradition sir..." He started pointing to his own face which was also ceremonially painted a deep blue. It contrasted heavily with his red hair. " Whenever my kinsmen go to war they put blue warpaint on to attribute their allegiance and scare their enemies..." He continued, then he pointed to the heavily tattooed side of his face. "The marks help too." He said with a smile, Mkarth nodded.

"I figured as much, but where did it come from, where did it originate?" Mkarth asked. Mktayl put a hand on his chin and looked thoughtful, finally he sighed.

"Well sir, it originated with the war against the old tyrants. When the highlanders came down out of the mountains to join the civilian militia, they marked their faces specifically for that first reason; to declare their allegiance to freedom and to the Emperor." Mktayl finished, seemingly enraptured with old memories. Mkarth nodded solemnly.

"This stuff is usually made with natural ingredients but since I couldnt find any of those, I just made it with a mix of camo paints, it works. I put this stuff on to pay homage to where I came from. A lot of the lads wanted to do the same before..." Mktayl started. "The end of today." He finished. Mkarth looked on as Mktayl gazed out of the tent and into the sky. He wanted to say something but found he couldnt. Mktayl's simple declaration of stance had touched him. All he managed to say was

"Your a good man Tayl, it'll be an honor to fight with you." Mktayl turned to face Mkarth, the cheerful light that had been there a minute ago had been replaced with the fierce fire of determination. He stared into Mkarth's eyes, his gaze seeming to bore straight through him. That hard edged seriousness that only came from a man who had been trained by scout master Mkoll.

"The honor will be all mine, sir." Mktayl said, his stare not wavering.

Then he said something Mkarth would not forget...

"For Tanith...sir." Mkarth said, extending his arm to Mkarth for an informal shake. Mkarth leaned forward and took it in his firm grip.

"For the Emperor Mktayl, carry on." Mkarth said, released his grip and left the tent as the next patron proceeded to get his face marked. Despite the odds against him and his men Mkarth suddenly had a good feeling. Even though it was farfetched, it was possible that at least some of the men would survive.

Yes...it was possible...

In the same thought Mkarth knew that he would not be one of those possible few...

Mkarth walked back into the field outside, troopers were still hefting things back and forth, some were getting briefings from their sergeants, some were just trying to relax. The boiling activity had everyone on edge, all anticipated the battle ahead, Mkarth could feel the electricity in the air. Mkarth saw two familiar faces amongst the troopers trying to kick back. Caffran and Varl were both sitting on munitions boxes using another larger one as a table as they played cards. Mkarth smiled, even in the face of imminent death, leave it to a guardsman to gamble aimlessly. Mkarth made his way over to the gathered troopers. At first they didn't look up, Mkarth stepped up until he was behind Varl, neither trooper was looking away from his cards.

'They must really be on edge not to notice me coming.' Mkarth mused. He stepped slightly to one side so his shadow fell over Varl's cards.

"Hey, bud your in my light." Varl said not looking up from his cards. Mkarth noticed he had a bad hand, that was unusual, Varl was one of the Tanith's better card players. 'That's a bad sign, he's so riled up he cant even concentrate on something he's good at.'

Mkarth stepped more to one side and completely covered Varl in his shadow, this time Varl lost his cool. He stood up, making a show of slamming his cards on the box and spun around to bark in the face of the interloper.

"Hey Feth wipe, I said-" Varl shut up as he saw who it was. Mkarth stood there with a less than pleased look on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry sir, I didn't know..." Varl began stuttering slightly at his suprise, Caffran had now stood up as well and was looking as surprised as Varl.

"So, this is how you show respect to a direct superior Varl?" Mkarth said harshly.

"Uh, no sir, I didn't know...I mean, I didn't know you were..." Varl began again. Mkarth couldnt keep it in, he began snigger and then laughed heartily. Varl looked back at Caffran confused, Caff shrugged.

"You thought I was being serious, trooper?" Mkarth said between chuckles. Varl smiled now, relief plain on his face.

"No Sir, I guess not." He said simply. Mkarth gestured to where Varl had been seated.

"Please, dont mind me, you two are wound tighter than Larks today." Mkarth said and pulled up his own box, he sat to one side of the large table that served as the two trooper's card table. Uneasily the two troopers sat back down and continued their game. Mkarth observed them quietly, both were contemplating their cards carefully, almost as if trying to hide something.

'Trying to hide their fear about tonight, their anxiety about the battle ahead, can't blame em, hell, I fell it too.' Mkarth thought. He noticed the two were gambling over a small pot of bills and coins, just pocket change, this game was more to pass the time and get their minds off the incoming chaos. Waiting was the mind killer, and right now that was all there was to do. Mkarth thought this and then spoke.

"So enough formalities, you two are scared about whats coming correct?" Mkarth asked nonchalantly.

Caffran spoke up this time "We're not 'scared' sir, we just think..." Caffran trailed off as he struggled to find the right words.

"Well, spit it out Caff, you can speak freely." Mkarth said reassuringly, Varl came to his friend's rescue as the two continued the card game.

"Its not that we're scared sir, me and Caff and all the others, we're ready to fight and, if necessary, die for Tanith. Well dying would be unpreferable, but you know what I mean..." Varl said sheepishly.

Mkarth's face was impossible to read. "I know all of this, do you have a point somewhere trooper?"

"Quite frankly sir, this is a big gamble, and a lot of troopers around here think it probably wont work." Varl said finally.

"Its like Domor said yesterday, we're not afraid to die, we're afraid we're going to be dying in vain." Caffran said, the two troopers played their hands and found they had come to a draw, so they split the pot up and Varl began to deal again. Mkarth nodded and thought about what Caffran had said.

"I see, deal me in." Mkarth said. Varl looked at him strangely, but seeing the captain was not joking, he did as he was told. The cards were dealt quickly, Mkarth picked up his and saw it wasn't as good as he'd have liked. Still, he stood by the first rule of cards, he showed no emotion. The opening bets were made, a few coins were tossed onto the table by all involved.

"You know, I didn't make this decision easily, Varl." Mkarth said as he discarded one of his cards and pulled out another.

"What, playing cards with us?" Varl inquired lightheartedly, not looking away from his cards. "Well I know I'm good, Captain, but you dont have to be that intimidated." he finished. Mkarth smiled

'Good' he thought 'At least they still have a sense of humor.' More bets were placed, more coins were placed om the table, Varl and Caffran both discarded a few cards and drew more.

"No, not that trooper, I meant being out here, it wasnt exactly the easiest thing to do to decide to bring you lads out here." Mkarth said, he discarded one card and drew another. "I know its a gamble to be out here. I know its probably smarter to have headed back to the cities with the convoy." Mkarth added.

"Then why, sir, are we out here if that's so?" Caffran said, depositing a few bills onto the table.

"Why do you two throw money on the table every time you play cards?" Mkarth retorted.

"Well this is a little bit bigger than a few crowns sir, if you dont mind me saying." Varl said.

"Yes, but it works on the same principles trooper. War is risk, war means you have to play for keeps, and Tanith is the highest stake you and me both have ever played for."

Caffran and Varl thought about this silently as the final bets were played.

"The thing about gambling is that you lose mostly, but when you win..." Mkarth said letting his voice trail off as the three men laid their cards on the table to see who won. Caffran had a decent hand, an inquisitor, a primarch, and three adpets. Varl had a really good hand and smiled as he put his cards onto the table, so sure he had won. He held two primarchs and three high lords, one of the best hands in the game, and only one hand could beat it. Varl sat back a little and put out his hand out to collect the pot he had won...

Mkarth stopped him, he put his hand on top of the pot as Varl reached for it. Mkarth watched Varl's face with anticipation, and smirked as Varl's smile turned into disbelief. Mkarth had had the Emperor and four primarchs as his hand. No small feat.

"You win big..." Mkarth said finishing his sentence. "First rule of gambling, Varl, always keep and ace in the hole. You'll win more bets that way." Mkarth said getting up to leave. As he left to find someone else, Caffran called back to him.

"Whats our ace in the hole sir?" he said.

Mkarth turned and said simply "The element of suprise, the guns at our backs, our faith in the Emperor, take your pick Caff." Mkarth said and then strode off, leaving the two troopers to share out the coins and play again. Caffran noticed something as he shuffled the deck though. There were three Emperors in the deck, and there were only two before the Captain had gotten there.

"Why that cheating..." Caffran began, but he was cut off by Varl.

"Its not cheating, its strategy Caff." He said as a matter of fact. "And part of that strategy is not to get caught." he finished with a wry smile and began to deal the cards again.

By the time Mkarth left the card table he noticed the sun's position in the sky. They only had a handful of hours left until sunset and then all hell would break loose. Mkarth figured he'd better find who he'd been looking for quick before it was time to get into position. He found the man he was looking for sitting under a tree with Trooper Bragg and another young trooper he didn't know the name of. As Mkarth approached the three, they began to rise and salute until Mkarth put his hand up.

"I wish you troops would relax for once." Mkarth said as the two sat again. "You all set Bragg?" He added.

Bragg eagerly nodded and pointed to an area over Mkarth's shoulder. "That's my nest over there, got spare cans and a back up too."

Mkarth looked over to where the big man was pointing, he could just make out a small emplacement on the slope above him, it consisted of a dual mounted autocannon on a tripod with two big drums sticking out of it. The nest was expertly shielded with sandbags and covered partially with foliage. It would be impossible to spot in low light conditions.

"Back up?" Mkarth asked with a smile.

"Yeah." Said the other trooper "Bragg was wondering what he'd do if those feths decided to land any tanks here so I hooked him up with a tread fether."

Mkarth raised his eyebrows, that was an impressive set up. "Good work trooper..." Mkarth let the sentence hang so the unnamed trooper could finish for him.

"Beltayn sir, I load for Bragg." The trooper said. Mkarth nodded

"A fine job you do of it too." Bragg said sitting back onto the trunk of the tree.

"Yeah, maybe I can fire sometime?" Beltayn asked hopefully

"You kiddin pipsqueak? That gun would break you in two!" Bragg said mockingly.

"Well dont get too comfortable trooper, I need a runner, can you do that Beltayn?" Mkarth said.

Beltayn nodded and began to get up.

"Good, my tent, there's a chest at the foot of my bedroll, there's a bottle and some shot glasses with it, bring em back here, would you?" Beltayn nodded, saluted and set off without another word. Mkarth took his place, sitting next to his lifelong friend.

"So how you been Domor?" Mkarth asked rhetorically.

"Oh, you know..." Domor began "Pulled a dumb feth move the other day and joined the guard, then I volunteered for a suicide mission because my best friend was leading it, you know the usual feth."

Bragg and Mkarth both got a chuckle out of that.

"Yeah, about that..." Mkarth started "I know your all apprehensive about tonight but..." Mkarth began but his pep speech was hijacked by Domor

"Yeah yeah, the usual crap, 'I know you guys are scared but stick with me and we'll get through this...' We went over this yesterday when you gave that speech remember?" Domor said making a mocking impersonation of Mkarth.

Mkarth nodded and chuckled at his friend's audacity. "Well, maybe the time for words is over.." Mkarth said and reached into his webbing, he produced an unmarked brown box, about the size of a large match box and opened it. He pulled out three long, fat, black sticks about the length of a mans hand and handed one to Domor. They were fine crafted cigars, not guard issue ones, these were handmade by someone more skilled in the art of smokes than the Munitorum. Domor took the proffered cigar, and Mkarth handed the next one to Bragg but he declined.

"No thanks, smokes and Sacra dont mix." Bragg said slightly disdainful.

"Says you big guy." Domor said and smelled the length of the cigar. "This is good stuff, is it what you officers get?"

"Nah, you think we officers get much better than you grunts?" Mkarth asked, putting the cigar box back into his webbing. "It was a gift that my Aunt gave me when I joined the guard, she hand crafts these with only the best fethin leaf on Tanith. Now listen, We live through this, then we smoke em. This is our lucky charm, this is our totem. You die, you miss out on the best smoke of you life. So don't die."

Bragg and Domor chuckled. Domor tucked the cigar away for later.

"I like the way you think, Captain." Domor said sitting back under the shade of the tree. The three sat silently for a few minutes until Bragg spoke up.

"I wonder...Ah, there he is!" Bragg said as Beltayn walked up with the bottle and the glasses in hand. He handed them to Mkarth and sat next to him expectantly.

"Feels a little light, you weren't sippin on the way here were ya trooper?" Mkarth said playfully. Beltayn chuckled slightly

"Did it look like I was stumbling any?"

The others sat up as Mkarth held out the bottle. It was old that much was certain, though how old the troopers had no idea. Bragg especially took interest in the bottle.

"Boys, do you know what this is?" Mkarth said teasingly.

"My guess is vintage." Bragg said

"Saying this bottle is vintage is like saying a Bear gets a little miffed when it gets its leg caught in a trap, Bragg. Yes, its vintage, but the question is how old is it?" Mkarth felt like he was surrounded by little kids, they all gazed intently on the bottle as if was the newest toy in the shops.

"Would you just tell us, the suspense is killing me." Domor said with mock anger and impatience.

Mkarth chuckled, he read inscription on the label. "bottled in the year 575." He said with relish. Beltayn looked incredulous.

"You mean that Sacra is two hundred years old?" He said scarcely able to believe it.

"Yeah, that's it trooper, my uncle owns a tavern in Attica and its been there for about a century, but before that my family ran stills and they were damn good too. This was my uncle's gift to me when I became a guardsman, I was saving it for something special. Well today is pretty special so drink up."

Mkarth unstopped the bottle with his straight silver and the aroma of a well aged vintage wafted out for the others to smell. It ranked of sap, alcohol, and sugars. The smell was intensely nostalgic for Mkarth. It reminded him of his days working the stills for his uncle. Mkarth poured a measure of the syrupy liquid into each out-held shot glass. Each man held his cup as if was a treasured artifact. Mkarth looked down into his glass for a moment as the others waited. Then Mkarth raised his cup for a traditional Tanith toast.

"For Tanith." He said.

"For Tanith." the others echoed and sipped. The taste of the liquor flared in Mkarth's nostrils, it warmed his chest and had a pleasantly sweet aftertaste that only good vintages had. It was the best drink Mkarth had ever had.

"For the Emperor." He said.

"For the Emperor" The others echoes and sipped again. Mkarth was at a loss as to what the last toast was to be and he faltered for a moment. Domor raised his glass holding hand.

"The victory ahead." he said. He looked at Mkarth as he said them and Mkarth knew in that moment, that Domor trusted him.

"The victory ahead." He said, and then they all drained their glasses. Mkarth collected the bottle and the glasses, said his goodbyes and marched off to get ready for the victory ahead...

When he got to his tent he noticed the sun was lower in the sky now. He looked at his chronometer and grumbled. They had only an hour or two left until final preparations would be set and the show would commence. Mkarth put his things away in his chest, as he was doing so, he came across an old picture of him and his father. It was from the first time they had gone hunting for wolves and bears in the nalwoods outside the capital. Mkarth remembered that day vividly.

"Hey Pa" he had said "Ain't it dangerous to be out here lookin for these animals?"

"Well, son" His father began, he was huge compared to the still small Mkarth. "Nothing is done without risk." He said going into another one of his advising speeches. "We can't avoid doing things just because they are risky. Doing the right things always involves risk. The strong always find a way to make that risk worthwhile."

Mkarth, now much older and stronger, nodded and placed the picture back into its chest. "Still teachin me aren't ya Pa?" Mkarth said softly. His reverie was abruptly halted by an intruder in the tent. Mkarth looked around it was Sergeant Blane.

"Yes Blane?" Mkarth said already knowing what was coming.

Blane held out a hand with a sheet of paper in it. "This just came from Tanith Magna, sir." he said.

Mkarth took the note and read it. "The light and heavy artillery are in positions...the mac guns are still being worked on..." Mkarth said skipping down the page. "The enemy has begun his assault trajectory." He finished conclusively. As he read, he went over to his bedroll and began to strap on his black flak armor and picked up his weapon by the sling.

"Alright you know what this means, get the other sergeants together for the final briefing, and make sure every other trooper is in position in no less than sixty minutes." Mkarth ordered to his senior sergeant. Blane saluted and jogged out to comply. Mkarth was right behind him but spared one last look into the open chest, to his dad's approving face in the pic. Mkarth smiled and closed the tent flap behind him as he headed out.

Mkarth was soon in an open spot in the field with the five other black clad sergeants under his command. Blane, Hasker, Mkendrick, Ward, and Tosker stood in front of him in a small huddle. Each had camo paint streaked across his face like Mkarth, a couple faces had the blue shading from earlier that Mktayl had done. All around them, troopers bustled, bringing up whatever ammunition they could find and getting to their stations.

"Alright I'll make this quick." Mkarth said all business. He got a small map out and began pointing to positions with his finger.

"I have the mouth of the valley with my boys. Hasker will have my left flank and Mkendrick will have his left flank. My right flank will be covered by Blane and Ward. Tosker is in reserve at the highway. He'll make sure everything is good to go when we fall back and provide a base of fire for us as we reach the line. This part of the highway slopes down on this side so we should have a superb crossfire. Any questions?" There were none.

"Keep in communication, follow your orders the minute you get them. No hanging back to bag one more heretic, when I say jump, we jump." Mkarth looked into the eyes of every sergeant to make sure they understood him. "Alright dismissed, go brief your men." Mkarth said, the sergeants saluted and jogged off to fulfill their orders. Blane turned as he strode away.

"You ready for this sir? This is gonna be fun." Blane said with a smile.

"Born ready, Blane! I hope you were." Mkarth said and strode off toward his men's position. He got the steadily sloping mouth of the valley soon. As the only obvious exit to the founding valley, it was going to be the most contested and because there wasnt much cover around the mouth, it was one of the more dangerous positions to be in. But this position was not without its advantages. The slope had been layered with hidden mines and tube charges that could be set off with the flick of a switch. The entire slope onto the broad highway was a killzone. Mkarth looked out at the defenses of the mouth. razorwire had been stretched int places, slit trenches were dug and now filled with milling troopers who were checking their weapons. Dugouts and bunkers were studded along the approach each had a heavy weapon or vehicle entrenched into it. The slope was set up into a deadly crossfire. Mkarth smiled at the thought of how many were going to be killed in the initial waves. Being in this position was a gamble he knew but then again, so was this entire thing. Mkarth figured if this whole thing was his idea it might as well be his job to hold the mouth of hell.

A trooper approached Mkarth, He was Mkarth's vox operator, but embarrassingly, Mkarth couldnt remember the Trooper's name. Mkarth looked at his chrono. It was almost show time, as soon as the sun set, the sky would be filled with dropships and maybe worse. Mkarth tried not to think about what kind of weapons they could be facing. He turned to his vox operator.

"Patch me through to everyone's headsets." He said.

The trooper did so and handed Mkarth the phone. Mkarth held it to his mouth. "Soldiers of Tanith." He said "Today you have chosen to stand against evil, show no fear and give them hell!" He shouted. A few cheers greeted him. "Nobody fire until I give the signal. The element of suprise is crucial, I repeat, all forces hold fire until the signal. Confirm." Several acknowledgments were quickly transmitted.

"Do me proud today boys, Lets bring back a victory and rub it in Rawne's face! May the Emperor be with you all!" Mkarth said finally, shouts off affirmation were called down through the valley. Mkarth put down the phone and unslung his weapon. It wasnt a standard Tanith pattern lasgun. It was shorter, had a thicker barrel, a longer magazine and a folding steel stock. It was a storm las, a pattern made for automatic fire and quick storm assaults, or in this case, taking out a charging mass of heretic scum. Mkarth held the pistol grip firmly in his right hand and pulled up a pair of magnoculars to gaze at the dimming sky. The vox trooper behind him spoke up.

"What now sir?" He asked. Mkarth paused for a moment before answering.

"Now we wait trooper." He said.

A few minutes passed and the sun gently laid down onto the bed of the horizon, painting the sky dark orange and finally a deep blue. The stars became visible, and with them the shooting stars...

Mkarth looked carefully at the spectacle above. Flashes and streaks of light played out in the blackness above. Mkarth and every trooper knew those weren't pieces of a meteor shower. They were the heralds of the enemy, the dropships of the invaders blanketed the sky. Mkarth watched the streaks come and waited for percussive boom of an orbital strike.

Little did the defenders of the planet know at the time that the hand of fate was being kind to them. The attackers were made up of straggler cultists that had escaped the Imperium's wrath at Balhaut. Their number was great. Millions of cultists littered the converted barges that made up the splinter fleet. Two light cruisers and their escorts made up the strength of the fleet, but the cruiser's weapons were damaged and their salvos went wild, some dissipating in the atmosphere, some hitting patches of empty land, a scant handful landed anywhere near their targets. The initial bombardment failed, but this did not deter the invaders, the master of the force, a lower lieutenant of Nadzybar's retinue, Ramzus Eragon, launched his dropships. Even though his invasion was to be a failed venture, he still brought pain and death to Tanith like no other had before him.

Back on the founding fields, Mkarth felt the earth shake sightly as the boom of the failed bombardment hit elsewhere. He witnessed the great boom of one projectile hit a patch of woods far a few miles away and send trees the size of a building hundreds of feet into the air. The distant booms made a few troopers jump and shake. It unnerved all of them. Fidgety now in their entrenchments, Mkarth heard a few prayers for the benevolence and protection of the Emperor spill from the mouths of the men around him. Mkarth knew they had scarcely minutes before the action began, he moved off to get into a good field of view position and motioned for his vox man to follow. After a little searching, Mkarth found an ideal spot near the middle of the slope. He looked down at the two troopers already occupying the dugout.

"Hey there Bragg, mind if I duck down here?" Mkarth asked as if he were asking for permission. Mkarth hopped down and got up on his elbows to use his magnoculars and gaze out at the field below. Bragg just nodded and re-aimed his sights toward the floor of the valley, his loader, Beltayn, right beside him. The dugout was filled with opened boxes of autocannon ammunition cased in drums. A tread fether sat silently in the back of the entrenchment waiting for its turn to be used. Mkarth could see the entire valley from this saw the rows of tents, side by side, deserted and cold. Soon that entire area would be filled with the blood of the invaders and the green valley would run red with gore. Mkarth smiled at the thought.

They came in like a swarm of locusts. Big, bulbous, and black, the heralds of the enemy came into view above the heads of the Tanith. Like flies over a corpse they dotted the sky and became ever larger as the ships descended. No fire arched up at them to try and halt the flow of death streaming onto the planet. Mkarth knew that to do as much damage as he wanted the troops would have to hold fire until the invaders had fully committed, and that moment had yet to come. Some came down far away near the cities, but most were coming down near or in the valley. It was this factor Mkarth was going to exploit that night. Just as planned, the dropships began to land their carapaces into the valley and at once the enemy set foot on the green lands of Tanith.

Mkarth watched intently with his magnoculars as the tide swarmed out of their transports. Black and filthy, each cultist was a detestable thing. Each spoke a gruesome and grunting language that Mkarth didn't want to understand. They were each dressed in black robes and had red head scarves covering most of their faces except for the eyes. This was not a regular army, each cultist was as varied as the next, some had armor, and some didn't, some had autoguns, some had lasguns, a few had heavier pieces, but for the most part the congregation was using second grade equipment. But it wasnt the quality of the enemy that was so deadly. It was the shear number of them that was the dangerous part. Within the first few minutes hundreds, if not thousands of invaders had dispersed into the plain below. Mkarth could feel the anticipation in the air, every Tanith trooper wanted nothing more than to open up on the enemy endangering their home. Mkarth willed them to wait just a few moments more.

The black and red tide fanned out, ordered by officers to slaughter anything they could find, soon they started tipping over tents and going through encampments, their efforts quickly became confused as the troops couldnt find a soul in the camp below. Mkarth smiled as the troopers reported back to their superiors, the cultists began to mill around aimlessly not knowing what to do next. He knew that body language, an animal suddenly realizing it had been fooled by the prospect of an easy meal. As the cultist advance faltered because of the inherent change in events, the cultists stood around not knowing what to do, with nothing to carry out their aggression against.

'Sitting ducks' Mkarth thought, he rose to his feet, putting his right foot on the lip of his dugout. In his right hand he raised to the sky a flare pistol and pointed it straight to the heavens...

His next action was the vanguard of the bloodiest battle Tanith had seen yet...

Mkarth pulled the trigger, the hammer of the gun fell and ignited the primer of the flare, it rocketed up into the sky for almost five hundred feet and exploded into smaller flares which blossomed out and cast a great light onto the ground below. Mkarth relished the look on every cultist's face as they looked up into the sky and saw with their eyes the means of their destruction. As if in slow motion the guns of Tanith awoke like a sleeping beast awakened by a threat to its cave.

Brilliant light flashed from every side of the valley. Mkarth was almost struck deaf by the sudden noise around him. The white fire of tracer rounds from every stubber and autocannon in the valley chattered into the mass of cultists. Most simply folded or fell backwards, giant bloody craters blown into their anatomies. Mkarth saw the bright blue lances of lasguns pepper the cultists from mid range. The site was tremendous, cultists were spun and knocked to the ground as blackened holes appeared into their sternums and torso's. A few were grievously wounded and began to yell and try to crawl away from the fusillade. Great showers of earth and shrapnel were thrown in the air as cultists were thrown this way and that by mortars.

But the sight was nothing compared to the sound. The whump-whump-crack of autocannons was most prominent. Mkarth heard the crack-whine of the lasguns studded with the louder crack-thump of long lases as the snipers came into play, killing any officer foolish enough to poke his head out of what little cover could be found. Mkarth heard the rapid chatter-burping-rip of the quad mounted autocannons which cut down great swathes of the enemy right where they stood. Just like their name implied, they were the scythes of the force. The mortars coughed and sputtered as they lobbed their explosive payloads into the sky to land amongst the invaders.

But most of all, Mkarth heard the defiant shouts of his men. Loud as thunder, strong as lions, the six hundred made their presence known...

Bragg's face was alight with savage joy as he sent burst after burst from his weapon, killing a great many. The cultists, having been caught quite literally with their pants down, began to turn and flee. There wasnt a damned thing any of their leaders could do about it. All coherence of the vanguard had been lost by the bloodshed before them. The cultists had no idea what was happening and the initial advance turned into a route. The remaining forces were either cut down fleeing or made it to the relative safety of the dropships. The ships were sturdy and near impervious to small arms fire. That's why Mkarth had been sure to issue a few larger items among the men. Mkarth got a call on the vox from Sergeant Blane.

"Send, over." Mkarth said into the phone.

"Captain?" The Sergeant said, the question implied in his voice.

"Do it." Mkarth said firmly.

Bragg had been prepared for this and was now sighting a dropship with his tread fether. He called out the safeword as he pressed the trigger spoon down,

"Ease!" Each man around him yelled the word as well to prevent the concussion from knocking them deaf. The rocket exploded outward and left a trail of smoke behind it as it jinked toward the target. This action was repeated no less than a dozen times and in a few seconds the initial drophsips and the cultists around them were replaced by fierce red orange fire and smoldering black ruins.

"Aw, I missed." Bragg said dissapointed.

"Don't worry Bragg." Mkarth said placatively "There'll be plenty of chances to try again before this is done." Mkarth finished with a chuckle. Bragg began reloading his massive weapons with the help of Beltayn. It had scarcely been seven minutes and Mkarth could see at least a thousand bodies below them in the valley. Blood formed great puddles and mixed with the soil to make murky red brown mud. Mkarth looked to the heavens and saw more dropships coming, within the next few moments they would do the entire thing all over again. It looked like this wave was going to be larger than the last. The element of suprise was gone, Mkarth pondered his next move. A call came through to him from Sergeant Hasker.

"Sir, the scouts are reporting that the enemy is beginning to close on us from outside the valley, they will be here before the hour is out. According to the scouts, they are also accompanied by tanks." Hasker said winded.

Mkarth sighed, his next move had been made for him, he was expecting this, he didn't think the enemy would line up their entire force to be annihilated in the valley.

"Alright." He said finally "Mkendrick, fall back to Hasker's position. Ward, you do the same on your side and move to Blane's, we need to strengthen our line so we can have a good base of fire when we fall back to the highway. Is that understood?" Mkarth barked.

Confirmations came at him from his five sergeants, he handed the phone back to his vox man. and whipped out his magnoculars to watch as he saw men, black clad and camo cape draped, begin to make their way towards the mouth of the valley. Mkarth knew that it was early to draw back, but he couldnt risk stretching his line and having a war on two fronts. There were too many risks in play for there to be any foolish ones. Mkarth could feel the mood had improved though. The uncertainty of earlier had been replaced by resolve and determination.

In a few moments Mkarth got another hail on the vox.

"Sir, this is Blane, all units are in position."

"Good" Mkarth replied "Hold position until told otherwise, get ready for another wave. All units are cleared to fire when enemy is in range."

"Roger that sir." Came the reply.

Mkarth had not gotten that order out too soon, as soon as the sergeant ended the transmission more dropships began to land at the opposite side of the valley. Mkarth watched in amusement as their ramps dropped and streams of dozens more cultists filled the already boggy valley. This time there was no timid searching patterns, the enemy charged down the ramp in a seething mass of filth and guns. A few banners waved in the air and the cultists began to shout their dark blasphemies toward the defenders. The charge was met with silence, each defender waiting, not wasting valuable ammunition taking potshots. Mkarth looked around him, everywhere, troopers were patiently scoping their rifles down the sights and waiting for the right moment to fire. Mkarth new that moment was not long in coming. As the dropships depleted their load, they took off again heading back into the sky and making room as more dropships landed and released their deadly cargo. Mkarth wished he could order the rocketeers to fire on the landing ships and take them out before more troops could be thrown at his line but they were drawn back and out of range. The cultists continued to charge, their bayoneted weapons held in front of them, some began to shoot wildly at the Tanith line, not hitting much but dirt. Mkarth used the rangefinder in his magnoculars to measure the distance between the two lines.

'five hundred meters, almost, that's right you ugly fethers, keep comin' Mkarth thought. The guns of the Tanith remained silent.

'four hundred...three fifty...'

Mkarth took out a detonator from his webbing and pressed the activation rune. Suddenly, about three hundred meters in front of the Tanith line, the ground erupted in flame and shrapnel. Cultists were blown off their feet into others. Some were blown into pieces, some in half. Mkarth grinned at the carnage a well place tube charge trap could make. When the smoke had cleared, the cultists that were left were still charging. then the mines went off. Dozens of cultists had their grotesque anatomies shredded where they stood. Mkarth watched as a cultist with a flamer tank attached to his back was hit by shrapnel in his tank which promptly turned about half a dozen cultists behind him into what the guard called 'crispy critters'.

The guns of Tanith were no longer silent and every gun again opened up. The charge faltered as the barrage spun many cultists right off their feet into the bloody muck below. Cultists began to go prone and crouch trying to pick off the Tanith from afar. It was a desperate tactic, the cultists had been slaughtered like livestock in the initial charge, there weren't enough of them by a long shot to gain suppression on the Tanith in their well entrenched positions. All the while though, more dropships landed on the other side of the valley and deposited more troops into the charnel house. The charge devolved into a stalemate. The cultists were held in a line about two hundred and seventy five meters away from the Tanith positions, their infantry just didnt have the momentum to push forward.

'If this goes on' Mkarth thought 'We can hold em here till hell freezes over.'

Mkarth's fantasies were shortlived, however, as he got a call from Sergeant Hasker.

"Sir!" He said, Mkarth could hear the carnage of the fire in the background "Have you seen the northwest slope of the valley?"

Mkarth put down the phone immediately and raised his magnoculars. Sure enough, he saw the shapes of cultist troops making their way down into the valley from the other side. Worse than that were the vehicles though. Light tanks like the wheeled STeG-4s that Mkarth had been told about in the officer's briefings began to mount the slope and advance with the infantry. Mkarth was just about to say something when Sergeant Blane got on the mic.

"Captain, the enemy is advancing down the northeast slope of the valley!" Mkarth looked, and their they were, cultists and halftracks were pouring down that slope of the valley too, right through the brush and into the bog below. Mkarth knew the jig was up, he had to start evading before they were surrounded and cut off.

"Mkendrick, Ward, get your men back to the highway and take up position with Tosker. The rest of us will hold the rear and pull back when your in position. Confirm!" Mkarth ordered. the two sergeants affirmed Mkarth's instructions and Mkarth saw the two men begin to pull their troops, guns and vehicle back toward the highway, using the sides of the mouth that Mkarth's men were defending. His force was now split, three hundred men were either at or headed to the highway where the trucks were ready to leave and three hundred were holding their positions at the base of the valley. Night was now ever present. The blackness surrounded each man and their dark fatigues blended into the night, making it harder for the enemy to see them. Flares and gunfire continued to flash back and forth as if the troops were watching a light show at a festival.

Mkarth turned to his vox man who was fidgeting nervously with his rifle in his hands.

"Get me a link to the Magna battery, trooper!" Mkarth barked. The trooper quickly put down his rifle and grabbed the phone of the main vox unit on his back. Bragg continued to fire his autocannon into the oncoming mass of troops. The barrels began to glow red as he continued to pump shells into the body of the host assaulting the line below them.

"Change!" He yelled to Beltayn beside him. Quickly the loader grabbed a new barrel as Bragg carefully unscrewed the hot barrel from his gun. Beltayn slotted the next one home and they repeated the process for the second barrel. Beltayn helped Bragg reload the massive gun. All this took less than thirty seconds and the two were back to firing bursts into the enemy.

The vox trooper tapped Mkarth on the shoulder, and handed him the phone without a word. Mkarth took the phone and barked into it

"Magna Battery, this is Nalwood, I repeat Magna, this is Nalwood, copy?"

"This is Magna, Nalwood, send your coordinates over." A voice replied over the mic chopped with static.

Mkarth used his magnoculars to get a fix where the majority of the enemy was. The tanks were starting to move up toward the front of the line, he had to time this just right.

"Magna, this is Nalwood, lock on these coordinates and confirm, fire for effect, over." Mkarth barked. There was a muffled confirmation and the line went dead. Mkarth watched the line below him, the cultists were pushing forward little by little, gain ing ground but they were paying for it with every step. The valley below was covered with thousands of dead cultists, so much so that Mkarth observed several living cultists tripping and falling over their dead. They didnt seem to care much, they were being driven by officers and unholy priests who yelled evil mantras at the top of their lungs. The snipers were doing their jobs, Mkarth saw more than several officers lying on the ground with their men, their heads blown clean off their shoulders.

It was then that the Tanith begin to receive their first casualties. The lighter STeG-4s had made it to the line and were pressing the advantage of their armor, as Mkarth watched, a slit trench about a hundred meters to his left was demolished my a spurt of shells launched by a few of the STeGs. The men inside were either blown apart or completely out of the trench, they lay there on the ground not moving. The cultists advanced as their armor did so, soon they would be on top of the Tanith. Mkarth figured they had less than a minute until they would be overwhelmed. Bright plumes of explosions started to dot the Tanith lines, for the first time in the battle, the cultists were gaining the upper hand through sheer weight of fire. Many of the lighter Tanith vehicles were being targeted and blown apart, their autocannons no match for the enemy's armor.

"Straight silver! Straight silver! Fix bayonets men!" Mkarth shouted desperately, though the troopers knew what that meant. The Captain might as well have said "Get ready to die!"

That's when salvation fell from the heavens...

It began as a huge part of the earth in the cultist's line heaving upwards and scattering gore and shrapnel everywhere for fifteen meters. Then another similar explosion rocked the ground and threw a dozen cultists into the sky. The explosions were accompanied by pneumatic whooshes that seemed to fly right overhead. The incoming shells whistled overhead with a fury Mkarth had never known and initially he ducked into the nest for cover fearing obliteration. As the shells continued to fall and dismantle the cultist push, Mkarth felt a cheer build up within him. Tanks, halftracks and many, many bodies were torn apart and spat out violently as the grinding guns continued to pound the advance.

Suddenly, a voice on the vox snapped Mkarth from his gazing. Mkarth picked up the phone and listened.

"Captain, this is Mkendrick, me and Ward are in position at the highway."

"Roger that, Mkendrick, hold position, Blane and Hasker are coming next." Mkarth said hoarsely. He switched the channel to Blane's vox and hailed him.

"Blane, this is Mkarth, come in."

"I read you sir." Came his reply.

"Get you and Hasker's men back to the highway. I'll follow when your in position. Confirm." Mkarth ordered.

Blane confirmed and soon Mkarth saw Hasker and Blane's men peel off from his flanks and begin to make their way to the highway. Mkarth watched them disappear with little sorrow, he had known for quite a while now that he was not to live to see the next day. This would be it, he and his men would be surely be overwhelmed here but the others would get away. And that was good enough for him...

The cultists had no other targets besides his men now, and Mkarth could see the barrage was letting up. The guns had to reload and re-range to fire again, especially the bigger ones. Mkarth doubted he'd live until they fired again. Hundreds of torn apart bodies lay in the valley below, burned remains of vehicles vented fires out of their torn hulls and cooked of rounds as their ammo went off inside them. despite all this the unending armies of the enemy continued to advance, Mkarth had never seen so many bodies in one place. his mind was boggled by the amount of carnage that had taken place. The cultists were now less than eighty meters from them and closing. Mkarth stood on top of the nest's sandbag barrier and shouted to his men.

"Its a glorious night to die men! For Tanith!" He shouted.

"For the Emperor!" came the reply of the hundred sons of Tanith around him.

As one they fired, as one they fought, as one they screamed their defiant warcires into the faces of the enemy...

Mkarth unslung his weapon and pointed it at the advancing enemy, who, despite being shredded by mines and guns, were advancing steadily into the teeth of the advance ready to rip the defense's soul from its body. He pulled the trigger and sent sharp spurts of sizzling blue lasfire into the bodies of the cultists charging up the hill to get into the nest. Beside him Bragg had depressed his cannon so that he could sweep the cultists away with the slightest pressure of the trigger. So this is how he was going to die, with a finger on his trigger and a cry of defiance in his throat. Mkarth figured there were worse ways to die.

The cultists were a mere twenty five meters away now. Practically close enough to spit on each other as far as Mkarth was concerned. A bigger threat was breaking through though. Large tracked tanks, AT70 Reavers, were coming to the forefront and beginning to strafe the Tanith line with cannon fire. His troops would be minced in seconds unless they got some heavy fire on those things. Quickly he hailed his mic

"Get the tread fethers on those heavies now, or they'll rip us to pieces!" He yelled. Mkarth turned and grabbed the large rocket tube behind Bragg and gestured for his vox man to load him.

"Load me, armor piercing, now!" Mkarth barked. The trooper complied as Mkarth hefted the thing onto his shoulder, he wasn't well trained in how to use one but he would at least try his damnedest. Mkarth aimed the scope at the one of the tank's side plates on the turret, where the armor was weaker.

"Loaded!" The trooper yelled over the tumult of the fire below.

"Ease!" Mkarth yelled, everyone around him repeated the word and Mkarth fired. The rocket corkscrewed and missed the turret, barely going over.

"Your worse than Bragg!" The vox trooper said frustrated. All the while this was happening, Bragg and Beltayn were desperately keeping the fire up and trying to stem the stream of cultists that were pouring up the slope.

"Shut the feth up and load me!" Mkarth yelled. The tank had apparently seen where the rocket had come from as it was now rotating its turret to face the nest.

"Hurry!" Mkarth pleaded. The vox man quickly complied.

"Loaded!" He yelled ducking.

"Ease!" Mkarth immediately yelled and puched the trigger. He aimed lower this time, the rocket sidewinded until it collided with the turret, right where it met the chassis of the tank. A small explosion resulted and the tank skewed to a halt and died. Suddenly it exploded brilliantly as its magazine detonated, killing all around it. Mkarth saw this scene being repeated all over the line and soon the armor had been repelled, or at least halted. Mkarth had no time to relish this though, as something small, round and black landed by his foot. He looked down at it and his eyes widened.

"Grenade!" He yelled. The vox trooper jumped away as did Bragg and Beltayn. Mkarth, faster than he knew he could move, with one fluid motion, picked up the grenade in his hand and flung it side-handed over the lip of the dugout. It exploded, it seemed, almost as soon as it had left his hand and filled the advancing cultists with deadly shrapnel. The reprieve from Bragg's fire was enough, though. As Mkarth rose, he saw, the black clad figures, just yards away aiming their weapons and charging forward to lance him through. He raised his storm las to his hip and fired quick bursts, felling a great many number of cultists who fell practically at his feet. With a few seconds reprieve gained, he turned to the huddling troopers, fixing his blade on the bayonet mount at the same time.

"Go! Get to the highway, tell Blane to get out of here! Go! Move!" He yelled as he reloaded and turned back to firing down the slope. Mkarth saw out of the corner of his eye the three troopers turn and run up the slope toward the safety of the highway. He keyed his mic.

"Mkarth to all troops, get to the highway, I repeat peel off and get to the highway!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

The cultists continued to charge up the slope, screaming their oaths and waving their blades. Mkarth dealt with each of them summarily putting quick bursts of las fire into each abomination he could see. He returned their cries with one of his own. Yelling louder than he thought he could, Mkarth held the slope by himself as his troops began to run for safety. This was how he wanted it, to die protecting his men. He was to be denied his dying wish however, as the tide of cultists finally broke and began to run back down the hill. One cultist remained who would not back down. He charged forward, a rusty bayonet attached to an autorifle in hand raised above his head to stab Mkarth. Mkarth pulled the trigger of his rifle and the gun whined, fizzled and died, the magazine was spent. Mkarth narrowly sidestepped the Cultist's charge and brought his own blade around. Stabbing into the man's ribcage. The cultist screamed out and dropped his rifle. Mkarth yanked the bayonet out and brought the butt of his gun around to smash the back of the cultist's skull in and the man toppled to his his knees and then fell over and leaked his brackish blood onto Mkarth's boots.

Mkarth breathed heavily and reloaded. Despite all odds he was still alive. He looked onto the plane below and saw the Tanith troops below trying to break away and run without getting shot in the back. It was nearly impossible, the cultists still had suppression fire superiority and were hammering the Tanith as they slowly fell back. Mkarth saw several men go down in the act of retreating. He knew he had to buy them time but wondered how he would do it. Inspiration came to him as he spotted a dormant salamander scythe sitting in the middle of the slope not to far away. The front had been demolished by an enemy shell but the turret was still visibly intact. It looked to be abandoned, so Mkarth jumped over the sandbags of his position and headed for it, keeping his head down as fire arced over him ,whistling and buzzing by like angry insects. He scrambled up to the side and noticed a trooper dead and slumped against the machine. He had a vox on his back and the phone attatched to it was blaring something in a familiar voice. Mkarth picked it up and listened.

"Nalwood, Nalwood, this is Magna battery, we need coordinates over. Nalwood, respond!"

Mkarth keyed the mic as he climbed into the turret, not believing the craziness of what he was about to do.

"Magna, this is Nalwood, lock on my coordinates and fire with all guns, I repeat full barrage now!" Mkarth threw the phone to the ground before he could hear the protest or question the receiver could put forward. Still not believing his own recklessness he climbed fully into the machine as the cultists continued to push forward. The screaming mass of filth was nearly on top of him, only a few dozen meters away. He found the chair and controls of the autocannon turret easily enough. As soon as he had control, Mkarth lined up the sights onto the forward charging mass and fully depressed the joystick. The thumping of the guns sent harsh vibrations down the chair and through his spine. Mkarth watched with savage glee as the front ranks of the cultists charge was decimated into bloody pulp as the guns that had been dormant before were now chattering with life. Back and forth Mkarth swept his guns, clearing all before him and turning the ground before the tank into nothing more than gore and mulch. A few units broke and ran in the face of his fury but were met with the fury of the turret anyway and had the honor of being shot int the back instead of the front. Mkarth heard a bestial cry of rage and fury sound from somewhere and looked around sharply until he realized that the warcry was his own. All the apprehension, the anger, the frustration, poured out of him through the quad mounted guns of the tank. Just then, the artillery opened back up roaring in his ears and spewing geysers of mud, men, and machines into the air. Mkarth was so caught up in his own bloodletting he hardly realized that the guns were clicking dry and that his position was currently exploding from underneath him.

Quickly, he crawled out of the turret and grabbed his rifle, scrambling to get away. All around him, shells sent plumes of earth and men skyward. Mkarth ran, knowing that the next shell would see him the same way. He ran as hard and fast as his legs could carry him. His run turned into an all out cross-country sprint. Each concussive boom echoing behind him galvanizing him to greater feats of speed. His heart pounded in is chest. His lungs strained and burned from the exertion. He ignored the fire shooting up his legs and willed his body further. Just as he felt he might collapse, he was lifted off his feet, overturning in the air and landed hard, knocking the wind from his straining lungs. Blackness enveloped Mkarth as he lay in the mud...

He awoke deaf. He couldn't hear anything except muffled explosions around him, somebody was shouting something far away, he could almost remember the voice...

He realized he was moving, being dragged along from behind by a strong force. He wearily looked over his shoulder, his ears ringing. Sergeant Hasker stood there, one hand on Mkarth's fatigues, dragging him away, the other on a discharging weapon, firing at something Mkarth hadn't seen yet. Mkarth could barely feel his legs but he did his best to kick them and give Hasker greater speed. It was funny, he actually felt another hand on his other shoulder and turned to see Hasker's vox man dragging him from the other side...what was his name?

"Don't worry sir, we're gonna get you outta here, just hold on!" Hasker yelled in between spurts of fire.

"Thought...I told you to...get out of..." Mkarth dizzily stuttered.

"Hang in there sir, we're getting out of here!" Hasker pleaded, Mkarth heard his voice as if it was coming down a long hallway. That was when he turned to what Hasker and the other trooper was dragging him away from. No less than ten yards from them was the charging mass of cultists, hungry for blood and revenge. They sought to rend the trio with their bare hands and blades in their stirred up insane rage. Mkarth could make out the much larger form of the cultist's tanks coming forward as well. Mkarth knew in his head that they weren't going to make it to wherever they were headed, not unless they had some serious help.

For what it mattered Mkarth reached for his sling and unshouldered his storm las. Weakly he held it up and began to fire what support he could. His teeth gritted, Mkarth waited for death for the third time that night. The cultist line was so close now, he could almost reach out and touch the first snarling face that he blew away with his weapon. Distantly, he heard Hasker yelling something to someone behind him. He strained his ears to hear what Hasker was yelling as he continued to drag Mkarth along with the help of...Dorden! that was the trooper's name.

"Covering fire, covering fire now!" He was saying but Mkarth had no idea who to. Suddenly he realized they were nearing the highway, and he looked over his shoulder to see almost six hundred Tanith troopers dug in and firing their weapons with all the tenacity of a cornered grox, he couldnt help but begin to laugh despite himself. He looked to the cultist line and saw it has ceased to be a "line" and was now a shambling mass of broken meat. The tanks that advanced too far were dealt with summarily as rockets streaked passed the trio of guardsmen still retreating. Mkarth continued to fire for all the good it would do. Finally, the trio reached the line where more hands grabbed for Mkarth and in a few moments he was hefted to the back of the Tanith line where a trio of medics began to pester over him. One he recognized as Mtane, one of the chief medics in the regiment. He pulled out a small lamp and shined it into Mkarth's eyes, examining him thoroughly. He was saying something like

"Did you give him any painkillers?"

to which Hasker replied "No Doc, we didn't have time." As he went to check on the troopers. Suddenly Mkarth felt a sharp stabbing pain in his hip as one of the medics gave him a shot of something which immediately made him feel numb and lightheaded.

"He's had heavy concussion trauma from field artillery, he'll live but he's going into shock..." Mtane was saying to one of the orderlies, Mkarth felt himself being lifted into a truck.

"Fire on coordinates Magna Battery, full effect!" He heard someone yell and turned to see Blane yelling into a vox set before turning to Mtane.

"He's gonna be okay right?" He said. Hasker turned to the Tanith line and shouted.

"Mount up, we're leaving, lets go!" He yelled. The truck Mkarth was sitting in revved up and he saw every Tanith trooper in the vicinity grab whatever weapons they could and swiftly mount in the back of the trucks. Hasker jumped in the back, next to Mkarth who was weakly leaning to one side.

"Its gonna be okay sir, we're leaving." He said, putting a reassuring hand on Mkarth's shoulder before signaling to something ahead of him. Slowly picking up speed, the trucks began to roll away down the highway as the cultists coming out of the mouth of the valley were being chewed up by yet another artillery barrage. As the convoy put distance between itself and the valley, Mkarth passed out watching the enemy being subdued by the guns, denied his vengeance by the wily sons of Tanith.

Light woke him this time. He came to more groggy than he had ever been in his life from a darkness which knew no dreams. The sun was harsh in his eyes and he had to shield them temporarily as his eyes adjusted. He was laying on his back on a bedroll. He tried to sit up but dizziness caused him to sway heavily until a steadying arm held him in place.

"Whoa there." Came the voice of the arm "Not so fast."

Mkarth turned to see a friendly face starring back at him.

"Domor?" He asked almost disbelieving his own eyes. "Damn, its good to see you alive, what about..."

"Bragg and Beltayn made it, so did Hakser and Dorden, as I'm sure you know. Caff got nicked but he's fine, Varl almost didn't make it out in one piece but he's alright too. Big suprise, the scouts made it out, those glory boys." Domor said lightly. Mkarth nodded, then wished he hadn't, it felt like someone had hit him across the head with a wedge hammer. His hand came up to his temple as the pain and nausea faded slowly.

"You said Bragg and Beltayn made it, there was another trooper with em, what happened to him?" Mkarth asked scared to know the answer.

Domor's face darkened "Bragg and Beltayn said they were running helter skelter to get out, they had almost gotten home free when Bragg noticed he wasnt with them any more, he charged out to go back and find him but Beltayn convinced him that they would just get killed doing that so..." Domor said leaving the implication to hang.

Mkarth's face darkened too, now he really wish he could remember the poor trooper's name. Mkarth looked around, he was sitting in an aid post of sorts, all around him, the wounded, heavy and light were laying on bedrolls, some having orderlies hover over them and adjust bandages. Mkarth saw pain, Mkarth saw blood and pain, so many wounded. His gaze turned to the other side of the aid encampment, where his heart sank, there, in a neat row, were about two dozen or so body bags lined up on the ground. Mkarth was filled with sorrow, how many had already died or been left behind? How many more would? Mkarth sighed, he knew this had been coming, he shouldn't be surprised. Wearily, he tried to stand, and nearly fell over in the prcess, the nausea and dizziness sending him down, he cursed slightly until Domor helped him to his feet.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how to walk Captain." Domor said mockingly, holding Mkarth up as he balanced himself.

"You try getting hit in the arse with a barrage and see if it doesn't knock the feth out of ya." Mkarth retorted. Finally he was able to stand on his own two feet. as he was beginning to walk, Mtane came over and put a hand on Mkarth's shoulder.

"Sir, I dont know if you should be walking yet, you took a pretty serious banging." He said beginning to fiddle with something on Mkarth's head, that was when he first noticed there was a bandage around it. Mkarth took it off and handed it to the doctor, running his hand through his hair slightly.

"Just a few pills and I'll be fine doc." Mkarth said. Mtane looked at him skeptically but gave up seeing Mkarth was dead set on moving around, he handed Mkarth a pill bottle full of plump white tablets.

"Whenever the pain comes, no more than two for twelve hours, it should go away within the next few days, if not come back and see me, doctor's orders." Mtane said shortly and began to walk away. Mkarth was just about to turn and leave when he remembered something.

"Hey Doc" He called back over his shoulder "Whats our casualties?" Mkarth asked.

Mtane sighed "The dead are over there." He said, pointing over his shoulder at the body bags "At least the ones we could bring back, there are about a dozen men missing and about two dozen more wounded."

Mkarth sighed himself. "Thanks, that's all Doc." Mkarth walked away, Domor in tow, his head bowed slightly. He was a contrasting sight to the man whom just twenty four hours ago, had been a proud, postured, commander of men. Domor looked at his long time friend, it hurt him to see Mkarth so hurt himself.

"For what its worth sir, the morale's generally high, we slaughtered em, you shoulda seen the look on everyone's face when we left, they were cheering and laughing..." Domor said with a smile. Mkarth just nodded slightly.

"If you dont mind me sayin sir, why are you so down? We won, we mopped the floor with those bastards. I figured you'd be in a better mood."

"The battle, Domor, isn't over, we still have a long trek ahead of us till we get home and..." Mkarth said pausing for a moment.

"We still have a bridge to cross..." Mkarth said, looking over the horizon. A few moments passed where the two just stood in silence, enjoying the day. Mkarth then noticed that many of the troopers in the camp were now scrambling to get things loaded back in the trucks on the road. He looked back to the aid encampment and saw that the orderlies were loading the dead and wounded onto trucks as well under the hawk eyes of Doc Mtane. Mkarth's face became deadly serious.

"Get back to your unit Domor, looks like we're leaving. Where's the command group by the way?"

Domor pointed to the head truck of the convoy where a group of men were busily chatting and pointing to things on a large map laid on a table in front of them. Mkarth nodded to Domor and the two set off in different directions. Mkarth approached the group of men, his sergeants, who began to turn and salute him.

"At ease, whats the situation? How long was I out?" Mkarth said in a tone that implied he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

Blane spoke up first, his face still slightly blue but now dirty and sooty just like every other face around him. How much sleep had these men had in the past two days Mkarth wondered?

"Sir, you were out for about twelve hours, you sure you should be walking around?"

Mkarth stared at Blane with the hardest glare he could mount. "I am still very much alive, Blane, that means that I am still in command and while that is the case I will do whatever I damned well please! Now whats our situation?" Mkarth barked, Hakser spoke this time.

"We are heading out sir, our scouts just reported that they could see enemy scout units moving up, we need to put as much distance between us and them until the next attack."

"Attacks?" Mkarth asked confused.

"We've mounted a couple hit and runs on the vanguard of the enemy as per operation protocols." Blane said, regaining his cool after Mkarth's outburst. Mkarth nodded remembering the plan now.

"Have the men been mounted up yet?" Mkarth asked already knowing the answer.

"Yes sir, now we're just waiting for the scouts to get back, they should be here any minute." Hasker said. Just then Dorden came up to with a vox phone in hand, Mkarth knew that those were the scouts reporting their return. He turned to the other sergeants.

"Get to your units and make sure they're ready to go, we're leaving in three minutes." Blane said, the group departed, Mkarth turned to Blane as a trooper took the map and table away.

"Where are my things, Sergeant?" Mkarth asked.

Blane looked up for a moment before answering him.

"In the back of this truck sir, figured, you'd want to ride at the front." Blane said

Mkarth smiled "Aw, you know me so well sergeant." Mkarth said playfully. Blane rolled his eyes and left to find his unit.

"Good to know you've still got that mouth of yours, Sir." He called back as he jogged off.

Mkarth climbed into the back of his the truck, he found a chest with some new fatigues in it and began to put them one. He hadn't noticed he'd been stripped down to his black undershirt and fatigue pants. As soon as his uniform was in place, he readjusted his webbing and armor and replaced his long lost field cap with another fresh one. As he finished adjusting his appearance he saw Blane lean out of one of the trucks behind him and spin one finger in a circle in the air, the signal that they were ready to move. Mkarth leaned over to the driver and said "Go" The convoy took off at speed, heading down the highway, leaving the enemy behind them. It hurt Mkarth to know that the enemy was gaining so much ground, but there was nothing they could do about that, without the element of suprise or the advantage of fixed positions, the Tanith had no chance against the still innumerable hordes of evil that come to their home. Mkarth leaned out of the window to see the horizon in front of him, he saw a few thin palls of smoke rising into the sky and fear seized him, had Tanith Magna already been sacked? If that was so, then they had nowhere to run to, the thought scared him worse than anything ever had. Quickly he leaned back in and grabbed the vox set from in front of the driver.

"Blane, come in, you see those smoke stacks to the North?" Mkarth asked, apprehension apparent in his voice.

"Sir? Oh those, yeah, The cities got some light hits, a few dropships hit down and caused some bad fires but its under control now sir, they're just cleaning up. You shoulda seen em a few hours ago, we thought the fethers had bombed the cities from orbit with all the smoke stirring up. Wasn't until we tried to vox Magna Battery till we figured out what happened." Blane explained.

Mkarth simply nodded at this, he should have expected the cities to get hit at least a little, its not like the enemy would have poured all their manpower onto one place...

'No, just most of it' The thought made Mkarth laugh as he acknowledged and put the vox away...

there would be plenty of killing in the days to come, Mkarth looked back out to the horizon, with the final act of the operation so close now, Mkarth had to wonder...

How many Sons of Tanith would be alive when all was said and done?

The next two days consisted of, what amounted to, an orchestration of logistics that even a Munitorum master bureaucrat would have difficulty keeping up with. This part of the mission called for the Tanith to do what had been done in the valley on a much smaller scale. A platoon was sent out and drew a small force of the cultists in to be destroyed by the main Tanith force who was dug in along the highway they were traveling. Then, the Tanith would pack up and as quickly as they had settled down and leave before enemy reinforcements could arrive. This must have infuriated the enemy because the small forces the Tanith "bait" platoons would draw in about twice a day got larger and larger until they began to outnumber the main Tanith force. The force was almost unable to break away from the fight on two occasions but was rescued both times by the guns of Magna Battery. Finally, after two days of driving, early on the third day at about dawn, the Tanith arrived at their last objective.

Mkarth gazed out before him as the truck convoy came to a halt on the North end of the giant bridge. The bridge was at least two hundred yards long, made of suspenders of ceramite and adamantium. It was massive, solid, and seemingly unmovable but the Tanith had to do just that. As soon as the convoy cleared the North side, the Tanith controlled side, men began to unload loads of explosives and detwire. Every engineering explosive for miles around had been added to the Tanith's own armory of mines and tube charges in order to do what was considered undo-able. Mkarth looked out across the bridge and knew this was going to be close, really close. He just prayed to the Emperor that by the end of the day it would be done.

Mkarth checked his chrononmeter. They had just six hours, maybe less, to set the explosives up before the enemy caught up with them. Mkarth hopped out of his truck and began to set up the briefing table and the map of the bridge. The river it was on was ironically called the river "Feth" after the Tanith tree god of long ago. But it had been officially changed to the river Magna, after the city it flowed next to, due to the word "feth" being used as a curse nowadays. But most people still just called it "Feth". Mkarth just finished setting up the table as the Sergeants began to arrive. Mkarth looked at all of them, their uniforms were dirty, they stank of sweat and adrenaline, some of them looked like they hadn't slept in days, probably because they hadn't slept in days. Mkarth knew he looked no better, their attacks had been relentless and had left little time for washing, sleeping, or even eating. Now that the end was near, Mkarth knew his men were eager just to get it over with instead of continuing this cycle of pick up set up and pick up again.

Mkarth began the meeting by pointing at the map. "We're here at this bridge, its the only major crossing of this river for miles in either direction, we have to make sure the enemy can't use it, this is what this mission is all about, buying enough time as possible. We secure the south side en force, the engineers set up the explosives, we get the heck out, and blow the damn thing to the warp, any questions?"

There were none.

"My men, along with Hakser's, and Blane's will guard the south side until the engineers get done, any more men than that and we risk getting overrun before we can fall back completely. The rest will give us as much cover as you can from the other side as we retreat. The mortars and most of the vehicles will stay on the north side as they have the most range. The south side has only little cover so we will have to make do with what we can find and what we can bring. That about covers everything unless somebody has something else to say?" Mkarth finished.

The others shook their heads, simply agreeing with Mkarth, they knew there was no other way to do this.

"Alright, Blane, how's Domor doin with his new job?" Mkarth asked interested. Earlier the day before the head engineer had been hit bad by a cultist mortar and was currently indisposed. In light of this situation, he had been replaced by Domor who had been extremely reluctant to take the job. Mkarth knew that Domor didn't think that he couldn't do it, he was just afraid of screwing up. Quite literally, the entire operation, and hence the planet's fate now fell to him. Mkarth knew that was a heavy burden but that was necessary.

"He's about as good with it as he was yesterday sir, he still has the jitters but I think he'll pull through." Blane said sounding tired.

Mkarth nodded. "Well in that case get back to your units and-" Mkarth stopped as vox trooper Dorden ran up to Sergeant Hasker and began rapidly whispering to him and gave him a sheet of parchment. The Sergeant began to read the paper and a huge smile creased his face. He turned to the others with the paper still in his hands.

"Sir read this, I think you'll like it." Said Hasker giving Mkarth the paper. Mkarth read it out loud.

"As of 0500 this morning Magna battery reports that the..." Again like before Mkarth was forced to read the paper again. "Magna battery reports that the Macro cannons have been successfully mounted and are now being put into position to give us support!" Mkarth finished, sounding more hopeful than he had in days. There was a general cheer of the Sergeants, who began to attract attention from the other men. Mkarth held up a hand for silence.

"Alright get out there and spread the word, this changes nothing, get back to your units, we have very little time, move out!" With that, the meeting closed and the men began to disperse. The engineers were still unloading boxes of explosives an were beginning to place them on the north side under the supervision of Domor. Mkarth went over to Domor who looked nervous.

"Hey Domor." Mkarth said genially. Domor almost jumped out of his skin as he turned. Mkarth had never seen his friend so wound up.

"Oh, its you, sir, I'm kinda busy right now." Domor said turning to give more orders to the engineers. Mkarth put a hand on his shoulder and turned Domor around to face him.

"Domor, look at me for a sec." Mkarth said placatively.

"Sir, I really dont have time for this, I have to-" Mkarth cut him off as he put his other hand on Domor's other shoulder, squaring up with his friend.

"Domor listen to me, its going to be fine, your going to be fine, I'm going to be on that side of the bridge and there isn't a thing in hell that I'll let get past me, don't worry about having to deal with the enemy, thats my job, you concentrate on blowing this damn bridge to oblivion, you hear me?" Mkarth said, emphasizing his words soothingly. Domor finally listened and slowly nodded.

"I'll, I'll get it done sir." He said shakily.

"Oh don't give me that crap Domor." He said embracing his friend and patting him on the back. Mkarth let Domor go and reached into his own webbing and pulled out the cigar he had given Domor three days ago.

"Remember we still have to smoke these, you and me, I don't know about you but I'm gong to be alive for that." Mkarth said cheerily. Domor finally cracked a smile.

"I'll look forward to that sir." He said.

"Good, now get to it." Mkarth said heading off toward the south end of the bridge. With him, around three hundred troopers and a few of the "gun buggys" were heading to the same place, bringing everything from guns to sandbags. Mkarth knew this was going to be a hard fight, and screw staying in the back for this. He didn't much care if he was in command, this whole thing had been his idea and he would be damned before he missed out on the very last act of it. Mkarth marched until he found the most southern sandbag dugout and dug in there. Mkarth looked all around him, there was not even as much cover as he thought there would be here. To either side of the bridge was a flood ditch that gave a little cover, but that was about it. The rest of the land was just short grass and an empty highway. The Tanith were going to get chewed up if they didn't stay down. Mkarth unslung his storm las and made sure it was in working order. With nothing else to do, he watched as the sun slowly climbed into the sky, changing from a deep orange to a white yellow. Mkarth sat in that dugout for about two hours, undisturbed, meditating on the battle to come. Suddenly a trooper walked up to him and called his name.

"Captain Mkarth, sir?" He called.

Mkarth looked back from the horizon he had been watching and aw that trooper Dorden stood before him with an inquisitive look on his face.

"Yes, what is it trooper?" Mkarth asked.

"Sir, Sergeant Hasker sent me over here to be your vox man, he knows you haven't had time to assign a new one so he sent me and got himself a replacement." Dorden said, sounding less than pleased.

"Is that so? Tell me trooper, why would Sergeant Hasker assign you specifically to me?" Mkarth asked honestly.

Dorden shrugged "He said I was good with a vox and you would need someone like me for today at least."

Mkarth nodded and motioned for Dorden to join him at the sandbag emplacement. "Good, I was going to send for a vox actually." Mkarth said, Dorden nodded and turned around, letting Mkarth have access to his . Mkarth picked up the phone and keyed it for Blane.

"Blane, how's your end putting up?" Mkarth asked.

"About as good as its going to get without a bulldozer sir." Blane retorted.

"Yeah I know, but we gotta do with what we got, sit tight." Mkarth said and switched to Hakser

"How about you Hask, how's your lot getting along?"

"We're almost ready sir, just gotta get a few more guns set up." Hasker responded.

"Good, by the way I got your gift, thanks Hask." Mkarth said playfully. There was a chuckle on the other end.

"Thought you'd like a little assistance sir." Hasker said still laughing softly. Mkarth hung up and gave the phone back to a not so pleased looking Dorden. Mkarth just smirked.

"What now sir?" Dorden asked gloomily.

"Now we wait, trooper, until it begins." Mkarth said and stared back at the horizon through his magnoculars.

"What good is waiting without company?" A genial voice said from behind him. Mkarth knew who it was before he even looked. Bragg stood behind him with that dumb grin on his face, toting his massive autocannons. Beltayn was carrying Bragg's ammo behind him. Beside him, Bragg was joined by Troopers Caffran and Varl, who both set up, along with Bragg, in the sandbag dugout with Mkarth. He just looked on as the four troops spread out and faced south, setting up their weapons.

"Is there a reason your all here specifically?" Mkarth asked Bragg, who was to his immediate right.

"Yes sir, you asked for volunteers three days ago remember?" Bragg said, that big dumb smile getting to Mkarth.

"Of course." He said sarcastically. Bragg and the others, even Dorden got a good laugh out of that and everything turned silent again. Mkarth sat there with the others and listened to the wind blow as the tension built up. Finally after a few minutes, he found something to get his mind off of what was coming. He switched his mic over to the channel that the engineers were using and keyed it.

"Domor, how's the set up going?" He was a pause, a few muffled curses.

"We're about a little more than halfway done sir." He said tentatively. Mkarth frowned.

"Pick up the pace Domor, I want this thing mostly done by the time the enemy's here."

"On it sir." came the short response, Mkarth could feel Domor's apprehension through his mic.

'Shouldn't have said anything.' Mkarth thought darkly. As an afterthought, he switched his mic over to the channel the scouts used and was double sure to be silent. He wanted to listen in on the scout reports but he didn't want to startle or distract them with the slightest noise. Nothing so far, well, at least that was good news. With nothing else to do Mkarth looked out at the horizon with his magnoculars. It was a clear day, the sun showed brightly, the green grass swayed gently in the slight breeze. This caressing lull was the calm before the storm, Mkarth knew. Right now he had an itch only battle could scratch. In his mind, a thousand scenarios played themselves out as he tried to gain control over his thoughts. with all this inner turmoil going on, he almost jumped out of his skin when Bragg spoke.

"Way too quiet." He said. The others looked at him. "What?"

"Thank you for that bit of information, Captain Obvious, no offense Captain." Varl retorted

"None taken trooper." Mkarth said flatly.

"Just saying." Bragg came back lamely.

"Well maybe you should be looking instead of saying anything." Caffran shot back.

Mkarth was just about to silence the trooper with a quick snap when the scout channel in his ear exploded so violently he couldnt make out one voice from another for a second. He held up a hand for the other troopers to be silent and they became so, looking to him for orders. Finally a voice coalesced into the channel, it was his scout, Mktayl.

"Movement! We have hostile contact over the horizon, they're closing in, permission to fall back!" The scout shouted tensely.

"All scouts pull back, get back to the south side of the bridge and await further orders with your units!" Mkarth barked. He switched to an all encompassing channel that all mics received from.

"All units, sound off and report status." Mkarth ordered.

"My men are ready, sir." That was Blane.

"All good here." Hasker.

"We're set up." Tosker

"All good here, sir." Ward.

"Ready for those bastards." Mkendrick.

"Sir, we're about three fourths done here." That was Domor.

"Double time, we've got no time to lose!" Mkarth barked. "All units standby for hostile contact, go to full battle status, confirm." A quick flurry of confirmations followed. "The Emperor be with you men today." Mkarth said as he raised his magnoculars to look on the horizon.

"And may he be with you sir." Came the voice of Domor over the mic. The call was echoed by other benedictions from all five sergeants, despite himself Mkarth's eyes became wet. Even in the face of death, his men still sided with him. The notion touched Mkarth deeply. There was no time to dwell on it though. As Mkarth gazed out, he saw the team of scouts come toward the line in a gun buggy and offload as soon as they got near the bridge. The men dispersed and each ran to their units. Mkarth saw Mktayl head toward his sandbag dugout and grabbed his arm as he passed.

"Report Corporal, how many, and how long?" Mkarth asked firmly but gently.

Mktayl seemed out of breath. "Only the Emperor know how many are out there sir, I stopped counting after we saw the first ten thousand come up over the hill." Mkarth realized the scout wasn't joking, he was being literal, and with that realization came the most apprehensive feelings he had felt yet.

"They were only about ten minutes away so we dont have long sir." Mktayl added definitively. Mkarth nodded and let go of Mtayl's arm.

"Carry on, Corporal." Mkarth said and dwelt on what Mktayl had told him, he keyed his mic

"How's those bombs doing Domor?" Mkarth asked hopeful.

"We hit a few snags sir, we're working on it." Domor said passively.

"Not what I want to hear, Domor, we have ten minutes or less before we're covered in cultists, I wanna be able to get the hell out of here by then!" Mkarth barked and hung up. Frustration boiled through his veins and he felt like cursing up a storm but knew it would help nothing. He waited and breathed his anger away knowing a level head was needed right now. Three minutes passed...five...seven...

Mkarth looked through his magnoculars as he saw movement along the horizon, he could see it only about a kilometer or two out. He watched as a thin black line crept along the ground as if a giant flamer had been taken to the grass. As he looked with his field glasses he saw that the truth was far worse. As far as he could see east to south to west was covered in cultists infantry units moving up. Their number was so massive that their black robes caused the horizon to look layered with flesh eating, parasitic bugs. Mkarth couldn't help but smile at the aptness of the analogy but inside fear dropped into his stomach like a pack of ice. He had never seen so massive and army as it advanced. Tens of thousands of men strong it advanced with the help of halftracks and tanks dispersed through its ranks like giant ugly beetles among a mass of ants. Every muscle in Mkarth's body tensed as he prepared for the opening shots but they didn't come initially. Mkarth looked at all the faces around him, their eyes wide with barely suppressed fear, their hands trembling slightly with apprehension. Mkarth saw a few rosaries held to foreheads with eyes closed and mouths moving robotically to remembered prayers. Mkarth thought he might explode if his emotions spiked any higher. As calmly as he could, he recited the 'Catechisms of Command' under his breath as the enemy line advanced...

Silently...

Mkarth almost couldn't believe his ears, In the past three days, every time the enemy advanced, they did so with utter and complete malice, charging forward and screaming, practically foaming at the mouth. That was understandable, they were raving lunatics dedicated to insane powers after all...

But this...

Mkarth had never heard this army march so silently, in fact the only thing that was audible was the crank of the tank axles and the revving of engines. Mkarth saw the effect of the march on his men, each were practically transfixed on the scene before him, Mkarth saw fear Mkarth saw the nerve of a few men dissolve at the sight, the only thing anchoring them down being the knowledge that this fight was for the entire planet and all their loved ones. The cultists advanced till they were almost five hundred meters from the bridge, then the entire line halted and remained silent. Mkarth got on the mic.

"Hold fire until I say." He ordered. He knew the waiting was pure pain to every trooper there. All became silent except for the shuffling and general noise of the engineers trying to finish the explosives on the bridge. Mkarth looked out at the army against them. He estimated roughly that his force was outnumbered at least a hundred to one. And that was just the forces he could see, he was sure that there were other reserve forces beyond his sight. Suddenly there was a movement along the highway as the cultists parted from there silent vigil along the highway. Mkarth saw why soon enough.

Coming forward, a halftrack came into view. On it was riding a single man who was standing in the back holding a flag. Mkarth was severely surprised to see it was a white flag, the universal signal for a ceasefire. Mkarth went to his mic again.

"Can you hear me Raess?" Mkarth asked

"Not like its too noisy for me not to sir, whats up?" Came the sniper's soft reply.

"I need you to come to my position for a moment please." Mkarth said.

"Can do sir, I'll be there shortly."

Mkarth continued to watch the halftrack slowly make its way forward, he realized that the man standing in the back was an officer, he had a heavy set of armor on, and wielded a bolt pistol and a power fist in his hands. It was just as Mkarth thought, the enemy, foolish as it may seem, wanted to talk.

'They chose a hell of a time' Mkarth thought ruefully. Just then, Raess arrived.

"You needed me sir?" He asked.

"Set up here and line up on the ugly bastard in the halftrack." Mkarth said shortly.

"No offense sir, But I coulda hit the fether from where I was." The sniper replied as he set up his long las.

"I know you could, I just want to make sure." Mkarth said with a wolfish grin and looked through his magnoculars as Raess looked through his scope.

Mkarth watched the halftrack advance to about two hundred and fifty meters and cut its engines. The officer in the back waved the white flag around, presumably so the Tanith could see it.

"Hold fire." Mkarth whispered into his mic. Then he turned to Raess. "Wait till I give the signal." Mkarth said.

The officer in the back of the halftrack raised something to his mouth. Mkarth realized that it was a vox caster, and that the halftrack was equipped with two large megaphones, both facing forward. The officer spoke in a loud raspy voice that Mkarth likened to a piece of rusty iron being scraped against a brick wall.

"Men of Tanith, you have fought honorably for your homes, but we are not your enemy." The officer started.

'Oh, here we go.' Mkarth thought.

"You have been lied to by the curs of the False Emperor, your true enemy is the Imperium. If you do not believe me, look at the facts, you are out here all alone, with no hope of surviving, the Imperium let your planet fall to its enemies and does not care for any of you. The masters of Chaos always accept their members and their power is far beyond that of the corpse you call a god! Do the smart and wise thing, men of Tanith, throw down your weapons and give in to the majesty of the dark gods!"

As the officer spoke through his echoing mouthpiece, Mkarth felt his stomach churn and revolt. The man's words we sickening and caused Mkarth to gag, he saw the same effects on the men around him. It was time for this to end, Mkarth had heard enough. With a final long breath he tapped Raess on the shoulder.

"Go for it." He said. Mkarth raised his magnoculars and watched as the Officer continued to speak.

"You have five minutes to comply, either surrender your weapons and join-" The man was cut off by a loud crack and an ionizing whoosh as the lasbolt fired from Raess' long las penetrated his skull and fried his brain. The man toppled from the back of his halftrack and fell to the ground along with his flag. The halftrack revved madly as the driver struggled to turn it around. Mkarth stood up so the enemy line could see him. His voice boomed out over the plane in front of him even without the aid of a megaphone.

"You want our weapons, Chaos filth! Come and take them!" Mkarth's words were echoed by the defiant shouts of all Tanith men who heard, the scene replayed itself from three days ago when he led his men in the suprise assault on the enemy landing force.

Loud as thunder, strong as lions, the six hundred made their presence known...

Initially, the cultist army milled around confused. It wasn't until the next action that hell unleashed the fury bound by its gates...

Bragg had already hefted his tread fether to his shoulder and was aiming at the desperate halftrack.

"Ease!" he shouted along with the motley fire team next to Mkarth. The rocket fired out of its launcher and streaked in a jinking beeline to its target. It hit the halftrack and exploded violently, the vehicle was blown onto its side and began to burn, its driver crawling away, on fire, with both legs blown off. Finally seeing that the Tanith had no intention of surrendering, the Cultist line charged forward, quickly followed by all behind. A seething maelstrom of charging men came at Mkarth and his men for the second time in three days and didn't stop. Mkarth checked the distance with his glasses, the line was about four hundred meters out. Mkarth decided to take another risk along with the others he was already taking, he grabbed Dorden by the arm and leaned over.

"Get Magna Battery and tell them to fire a hundred meters south of this position!" Mkarth yelled over the charging tide. As an afterthought he also added "And ask them about the Mac guns!" With that, Mkarth turned back to the line, it was about three hundred fifty meters away, the tanks withing their ranks had started firing on the move, but weren't hitting much. Mkarth got on his mic as he loaded his storm las.

"All units hold fire until the enemy is within three hundred meters, then fire at will. Remember what you fight for! For Tanith!"

"For the Emperor!" Came the reply. Mkarth smiled. He switched his mic to another channel

"Domor, how are those bombs coming?" He asked, having to raise his voice over the incoming enemy.

"Almost done sir, just a few more minutes!" Domor yelled back. Mkarth was just about to say something else when the Tanith line opened up on the charging enemy and deafened him momentarily with the massive sounds of weapons discharge. The amount of cultists killed was staggering, just as it had been three days before. Cultists were chopped to pieces and the ground around their feet became a bloody bog of brackish mud again just as before. Mkarth felt a distinctive since of deja vu as he pumped rounds into the swarming mass. It was simply impossible to miss any of them so thick was their number. Still, there was something distinctly different about the legion of men swarming them today.

Then Mkarth realized what it was...

Despite all the bloodshed, despite all the hundreds and thousands killed, despite all the Tanith were throwing at them, the line was still advancing. All times before, the cultists' line had broken and run when faced with Mkarth's defenses but now...

They just kept coming. The Tanith weren't putting enough holes in them, the line slowed but did not stop and now they were less than two hundred meters away. Mkarth could see their details quite clearly, black robes and red head scarves, banners bearing the mark of Chaos and wickedly jagged bayonets and swords. He fired magazine after magazine of short, powerful bursts into the mass, he killed dozens, sending men toppling to the ground. It was all for nothing, he knew, they would all be swarmed within a matter of moments if something wasn't done. Mkarth grabbed Dorden again and yelled over the carnage and the autocannon discharge beside him.

"Were's that artillery!" He screamed.

"Its coming sir! The Mac guns aren't ready just yet, but they will be in the next few minutes!" Dorden yelled back and pumped a las volley into the advancing line. Mkarth frustratedly rolled back into a firing position, raised his storm las and fired more bursts into the enemy. The end of his barrel was beginning to smoke from the continuous fire. Mkarth could see the same thing was happening to Bragg's autocannon which dealt death at a much higher rate than Mkarth's weapon.

'In a few minutes, in a few minutes, we don't have a few minutes!' Mkarth thought. The Tanith line began to receive level fire now, a few men were caught without sufficient cover and twitched slightly as they fell to the ground. Mkarth could distinctly hear the cries of the wounded along his own line now too. Calls of "Medic!" were beginning to sporadically increase along the entire length of the line. The cultists were inside a hundred meters and closing. Mkarth ducked as a burst of lasfire peppered his cover spot.

'Throne damn it all, what are those gun jockeys waiting-' Mkarth was busy thinking before the sound of a troop truck flying through the air, its engine roaring whizzed, it seemed like, just overhead. The concussive roar of the artillery shells traveling much quicker than sight allowed to watch boomed around the troops and made Mkarth flinch as he recalled nearly getting pulped by one three days earlier. The shells may have not been visible in the air, but the results of their workings were evident enough when they hit the ground. Fountains of earth and men sprang up in huge quantities around the strike zone, immediately subduing the charge... for now, quickly he got on his mic

"Mkarth to Blane and Hasker, get your men away, get out of here to the north side and hold there. No time to argue, do as I order!" Mkarth barked and went back to the line. He saw the men to both his flanks begin to funnel down the bridge northwards.

'Good, at least I didn't have to beat anyone to get my point across.' he thought. A loud cry of maddened blood-lust got his attention...

Mkarth watched in disbelief as, instead of running for cover, the cultists line ran straight through the barrage like mad men, chanting and screaming forbidden oaths as the heavy guns churned up their forces. Mkarth couldn't believe it, they were getting through.

Not many of them, but enough to cause a problem. Mkarth's mind raced.

"Straight silver! Straight silver! Let not one damn cur pass by!" He yelled to all who could hear, he was pleased to hear the order relayed across the line and see all the men on the line. He took his own knife out and placed it on the lug. The cultists were almost on top of them, just a few yards away and Mkarth couldn't help but feel he had already done this before.

"Come you sick bastards! Can you do it this time! I don't think so!" He screamed as the first cultists lunged for him. Mkarth batted the ugly man's trench club away with the flat of his blade then lunged forward, driving the man to the ground with a nasty, spurting chest wound. Beside him, two cultists came at Raess. Raess shot the first at point blank with his long las, the man ceased to exist from the waist up and his burning torso fell back. The second cultist bore down on Raess driving him to the ground and raising a jagged bayoneted rifle above his head to stab into Raess' heart. Mkarth turned and fired a short burst into the cultist's torso. The man fell sidewards off of Raess and Mkarth extended his hand to the sniper who took it gratefully. The look on Raess' face changed from relief to surprise, looking at something behind Mkarth. Mkarth immediately turned around to see a cultist officer with a large sword bearing down on him, the man in plated armor had the sword raised over his head and was about to behead Mkarth. Mkarth knew he had no time left for anything, this was how he was going to die, watching his death come at him and slice his head clean off. Suddenly, the cultist's upper torso vanished in a torrent of blood which splashed him in the face. The officer landed with a hard thud and Mkarth just gazed at the apparent miracle as if the Emperor himself had just reached down to help him. He was snapped out of it by a voice that came at him distantly.

"Sir, Captain Mkarth sir! Are you alright?" Bragg yelled, his bug autocannons still smoking from the burst that had put the officer down. Mkarth looked at him.

"Just fine thanks to that thumper of yours. Good work." Mkarth replied absent mindedly. Bragg smiled and continued to fire at the cultists getting through. Mkarth was pleased to see not many were left that had gotten through the initial barrage and most had been suppressed into what little cover was left. Mkarth turned to his right and saw that the melee was not entirely complete, down the line, the scout Mktayl was beset by three cultists charging for him. Mkarth raised his gun for all the good it would do until Mktayl did something unexpected...

He didn't die...

Mkarth watched Mktayl skewer and beat three armed men with nothing but a bayoneted rifle in about five seconds. The moves Mktayl used to dodge and attack faintly reminded him of something he had seen a trooper named Mkvenner do for close combat training. Mktayl finished off the last cultists and caught Mkarth's eyes with his own. With a subtle nod, Mkarth complimented Mktayl's prowess and turned back to the line. The cultists were still being hampered by the dense artillery and Mkarth saw that all of Blane's and Hakser's men had made it across the long bridge. He also saw a figure running toward his dugout, it was Domor.

"Sir, I couldn't get you one the vox, We just got the bombs in place and we're ready to blow this ugly fether into orbit!" Domor yelled excitedly.

Mkarth patted Domor on the back "Knew you could do it Domor now we-" Mkarth was cut off by another unearthly shout of bloodlust...

The barrage had let up as the gunners miles away rearmed and repositioned. and Mkarth knew the timing couldn't have been worse. Quickly, Mkarth keyed his mic for what he was sure would be his last order.

"Mkarth to all units south of the bridge, pull back, that is a direct order, no arguments, everyone get clear!" Mkarth turned to face his fate, his sacrifice for his men and his planet, alone, the men along his line falling back, a few falling and not getting back up. Instead he found eight pairs of eyes looking at him.

"I gave you all an order, get out of here!" He yelled over the commotion coming at them.

"We aren't going anywhere sir." Domor said calmly. Mkarth looked at him, fury in his eyes.

"What?" He was able to say. Domor walked up to the line of sandbags.

"This is where we belong. With you, and with Tanith." Domor said simply, as if it was the most obvious notion in the galaxy. Mkarth's anger subsided into acceptance and then into a feeling he couldn't describe. Tears came to his eyes as he looked around at his eight men.

"You all feel this way?" He asked, the incoming fire they were receiving steadily increasing, they all nodded. Mkarth nodded at last too. He ripped one of his last magazines out of his webbing and slammed it home.

"Alright then, lets do this! For Tanith!" Mkarth roared, beginning to return fire.

"For the Emperor!" Came the defiant reply from eight sons of Tanith. Loud as thunder, strong as lions, the nine made their presence known...

The next few minutes were but a blur of blood and death to Mkarth. He couldn't count how many cultists he had shot or skewered with his blade. All around him, his men were doing the same, everything seemed to slow until the world became just the three foot radius around Mkarth that cultists keep trying to penetrate. An officer, a swordsman, a flag bearer, even a flamethrower operator, Mkarth killed all in a flurry of blades and blasts. Several times a cultists he had not seen was slain by one of his comrades and vice versa. The amount of bodies around the eight men became so thick that many of his fireteam began to trip over them. Bragg continued to blast through the last dregs of his ammo and when he ran out, he grabbed a fallen bayoneted autorifle from a dead cultists and began to beat people to death with the butt of it. Somewhere in the melee, Mkarth ran out of ammo for his las as well and pulled out his laspistol. He fired into the faces of any who came within a few feet and nearly shot his comrades more than once, so fierce was the fighting. His entire body was covered with blood and grime as he ducked, rolled, dodged, jabbed, shot and kicked. His thoughts became a trickle of simple equations and methods of how best to stay alive and kill as many as he could. Mkarth looked around him, eight gods of battle stood before him, not one had fallen, all had killed countless in the name of their home and their Emperor. Mkarth was proud to fight beside these men, he was prouder to die with them as well. He felt the eyes of the Emperor upon them all, welcoming them to his side. That was until Dorden pulled on his arm...

"Sir, I've got the battery! They say the Mac guns are ready!" He screamed, his voice cracking slightly over the tumult. Mkarth grinned at this turn of events, he looked back toward the bridge, he could see the men on the other side pouring as much accurate fire into the oncoming enemy as they could, trying to give him and his squad more time. Mkarth also saw that his company had made it across the bridge. It was time for the end, and Mkarth knew how it would happen. He turned to Dorden.

"Vox the battery and tell them to send the Emperor's own wrath onto this position!" he barked.

"Sir?" Dorden stammered.

"You heard me, trooper, now or we're all dead!" Mkarth yelled, getting into Dorden's face. Dorden quickly got on the vox and began hailing the battery. Mkarth looked to his men. The cultists had backed off a little, starting to concentrate their fire onto the sandbag position, and their cover was starting to disintegrate, each man kept his head down unable to return the amount of fire, to make any difference.

"Alright, you lot get out of here, tell Blane and Hasker to blow the bridge!" He yelled. Domor looked at him with stubborn loyalty set in his eyes.

"We already told you sir, we're not leaving!" he pleaded.

"Do you trust me Domor?" Mkarth asked, the tears returning to his eyes. Domor hesitated for a moment.

"You know I do sir." He said sadly.

"Then do as I say, get out of here, I'll be right behind you." Domor looked into Mkarth's eyes for a few long agonizing moments and finally nodded.

"Come on guys, lets go." He said and began to double time it toward the bridge. The other men began to reluctantly follow.

"Domor!" Mkarth yelled. Domor looked back.

"I'll see you on the other side!" Mkarth said, his voice betraying his belief in the opposite. Domor simply nodded, Mkarth could see the emotion in his eyes, and tuned to leave...

Mkarth turned back to the sandbags. The cultists were renewing their charge. Mkarth reacted with the quick reflexes that had kept him alive so far. He found a light stubber among the fallen weapons of the enemy and a few drums to go with it, Mkarth set it up on the sandbags. He squeezed the trigger. The stock of the weapon kicked in his shoulder but the results were more than satisfactory. Mkarth mowed down line after line of men, all toppling into the bloody bog just before the south end of the bridge.

"Come and get me, you ugly Fethers!" Mkarth screamed over the roar of the weapon in his hands. A bullet creased his hip and made him wince and a grenade explode nearby and gave him a nasty gash along his shoulder. He roared in pain but fought on, knowing that salvation was almost at hand...

He was still firing when the shells began to fall...

Across the bridge, over two hundred yards away, Blane and Hakser were watching the scene unfold through their magnoculars. They could see the cultists line coming forward. The last of Mkarth's men had already made it through and were now taking up positions to vainly attempt to halt the flow of cultists.

"Did you see the captain or his team?" Blane asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Hakser said simply.

Suddenly, Blane pointed excitedly. "There they are! they made it!" He cheered.

Hasker sagged despite this though. "He's not with them."

"Oh feth..." Blane muttered.

A minute later. Blane and Hasker had met up with the eight men.

"Where's Mkarth?" Blane demanded.

Domor came forward, he was out of breath and panting from the sprint across the bridge. "He said, he was right behind us..." Domor looked behind him but didn't see Mkarth among his followers. "Oh feth..." he muttered.

That was when the first shells fell...

No words in existence could describe the power of the barrage. The Mac guns struck the ground with the power of an orbital bombardment and shook it with the violence of an earthquake. Even if the shells struck on the other side of the bridge, the noise was beyond deafening. Tank sized blocks of earth and concrete were thrown into the air as if they were mere toys. No physical pieces of human could be discerned in the explosions, everything smaller than a vehicle was instantly disintegrated into the mountains that were thrown into the air.

"Fall back! Fall Back!" Blane yelled, barely being heard over the earth shattering annihilation. The six hundred men regained their feet and fell back toward the trucks parked further back along the highway. Blane, Hasker, and the eight other men ran, took cover and watched. One macro shell struck the bridge. The following chain reaction of explosions toppled the bridge and sent it plummeting into the river. The gray-black smoke and haze of this destruction veiled the area across the bridge. Soon the barrage stopped and the men of Tanith dared to look from their cover to see what had happened. The bridge was down, the cultists, broken by the barrage, were fleeing, and they were still alive. A cheer went out as the realization of their accomplishments finally settled in. The haggard and weary host of soldiers had done what was considered impossible. They had fought a force many times their own size and seized victory from the jaws of defeat. Loud as thunder, strong as lions, the six hundred made their presence known...

The only ten men who weren't cheering continued to look at the bridge. They were all in shock, the man they had all looked up to, the leader they had all relied on, had sacrificed himself for this victory, the knowledge of this loss was more than some of them could bear.

Hasker broke the silence. "What now?" he dared to ask the solemn crowd. Blane hesitated.

"I'll break it to the men, and-" Blane stopped as if he had seen something he couldnt believe. He froze, all of the men around looked at him, saw where he was looking, and looked there to.

"Oh feth..." Muttered Varl.

Blane began to run toward the bridge.

"Medic!" He called, "Medic up front now!" He bawled at the top of his lungs. The nine other men behind him began to run forward too. Finally, Mtane and a few others got the hint and began to quickly follow as well...

He was numb all over, he could barely see through the smoke, and he swore he was deaf. He was covered in dust, dirt and grime from head to foot. His legs looked like burnt sausages and had been blown out by multiple las shots. His hip and shoulder bled freely from gash wounds. He staggered forward like a robot, blindly following the direction it was set on. In his right hand he clutched an empty laspistol and in the other, a straight silver knife, sheathed with brackish blood.

Finally, he made it out of the cloud of smoke, he stood at the very north end of the bridge and looked behind him at the devastation of the once magnificent structure.

'That's one hell of a disappearing act.' Mkarth thought, heady and light from adrenaline. He looked back north and saw about a dozen men racing toward him. They stopped in a rough semicircle around him and just stared.

'They look like they've seen a ghost.' Mkarth mused. Swaying slightly.

"Well?" Mkarth asked, his voice dry and cracked "What's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?"

Domor unclasped the canteen from his belt and handed it to Mkarth. He drank deeply, the water feeling like pure heaven on his throat. He winced as his legs felt the fire of the stance he was in. He remembered they were scratched up pretty bad. Mkarth poured the rest of the canteen on his head, causing the dirt clung there to turn to runny mud. Mkarth handed back the now grimy canteen to Domor, who was still just looking at him. Mkarth looked behind him again to make sure the bridge was still gone.

"So, I guess we did it?" He said simply.

Blane approached him. "Sir... I think you need to let me help you out of here."

Finally, Mtane and his troopers approached, Mtane took one look at Mkarth and muttered. "Sweet bones of the saint..."

"Sir." he said speaking up. "You need to sit down and let me look at your legs."

Mkarth looked at his legs, they were both black and surely broken in multiple places. The burns were deep, that was for sure.

"Yeah, the bastards tried to stop me when I made a run for it." Mkarth chuckled as if it was a joke.

"Eh, its just a scratch, anyway." He said brushing it off.

"Err, not really, sir" said Hakser.

"Nonsense." Mkarth said waving Hasker away and reaching into his webbing, he pulled out a long, fat cigar and held it up.

"What'd I say Domor? We did it, now we can smoke em."

Domor pulled out his cigar and his lighter, he lit Mkarth's and his own cigar, they both took long draughts as the others watched. Domor seemed uneasy. Mkarth appreciated the extremely rich smoke, definitely the best he had ever tasted. He kept the cigar in his mouth.

"Alright lets get out of here." Mkarth said lightly as the others looked on in disbelief. Mkarth took a single step forward, his legs collapsed and he fell flat on his face...

He was unconscious before he heard Blane scream for more medics or Mtane begin to haul him away with the help of his corpsmen...

For the second time in less than a week, he awoke by the flaring pains of his wounds. He felt strangely numb all over but the hollow throb in his legs and hip was just enough to annoy him into a half asleep grogginess. His eyes felt like they had been glued shut as he tried desperately to open them. A second later he wished he hadn't. The outside ambient light flashed him blind, he reached up a hand to block the light. He saw the outline of his hand against the light, there was something long and slender attached to it. He examined it further and found it was an IV tube. With growing realization born of a sudden spurt of consciousness, Mkarth realized he was in another medical ward, this time it was a tented one, cleaner and generally nicer than the one he had been in earlier. Mkarth was struck dumb by the fact that he had no idea where he was, what time it was, how long he was out, or even what had happened to cause him to be here. The combination of these holes in his sense of place was extremely disorienting and distressing. Mkarth began to look around cluelessly. He tried to rise to a sitting position and immediately wished he hadn't. A wave of dizziness and nausea acme over hims so violently he though he might puke. He sucked it up though and decided he'd try to stand, his legs felt curiously leaden and dead. Mkarth threw off the blanket covering them and was surprised to see they were both wrapped in white dressings and put into hard plaster casts. He just stared at them both until he felt a presence behind him.

"Your going to find it hard to walk for a while, sir." Said Doctor Mtane.

"Kinda figured that out when I took a look at em doc." Mkarth said dissapointed. Mkarth turned to face the doctor. Mtane began to examine Mkarth with a few tools.

"I have to say, your a remarkably fast healer, I expected you'd be unable to move for another day." Mtane said, genuinely surprised.

Mkarth grunted, then with a snort added "So Doc, you gotta tell me the details, how long have I been out?"

"About a day, that battle at the bridge was the most fierce feth storm I've ever seen."

Suddenly the memories of the battle just a day ago swarmed back as violently as the tide of cultists he remembered. Mkarth recalled the last stand he and those eight other men mounted, he remembered dropping his weapon and sprinting harder than he ever had as he felt the first macro shell hit the ground and throw him from his feet. Most of all he remembered the fallen bodies of his comrades, struck down on the bridge as they tried to escape.

"Tell me the truth Doc, what's the final score?" Mkarth muttered.

Doctor Mtane sighed. "Almost two hundred and fifty, dead, dying, wounded or missing."

Mkarth's face darkened as he thought of all the men he had seen killed. His spirit brightened though, at the thought that so many had made it out alive and without a scratch. Not including himself obviously.

"Well, it seems you are going to live sir, though I highly recommend staying off your feet until your legs mend completely. Keep taking those painkillers I gave you and you should be fine."

Mkarth looked to a table beside him and found the tablets and a shot glass of water, he took out two pills and gulped them both down in one shot.

"Ah, it seems you have a few visitors Captain." Mtane said turning to go check on some other patients. Mkarth turned to see who it was approaching him. Three men strode forward looking much cleaner than he had last seen them.

"How are doin' sir?" Blane asked first.

"Good to see your still alive." Hasker added.

Mkarth turned to the third man of the group. "We have to stop meeting like this Domor." He said with a smile.

"Your telling me sir, gettin kinda tired of these bedside vigils." Domor said with his trademark dry wit.

"So tell me you three, how'd we do?" Mkarth asked.

"Well sir, after the bridge collapsed the enemy went into disarray." replied Blane.

"More specifically they began to spread out through the countryside, command thinks they were so surprised by the mac guns that they thought the imperial navy had arrived. By the time their commanders got the reins back on them, their forces had split up so bad, they weren't even in good position to try to cross the river." Hasker said with a few short snorts.

"That was just in the past eight hours, now they're trying to regather their forces to get across the river. We've used forward scouts to seek out their rally points and command is using the guns to pound them into oblivion. They haven't made much progress but they will eventually." Blane finished.

Mkarth nodded, happy with this turn of events. "Alright, this is good, this is all very good, when are we moving out for Tanith Magna?" Mkarth asked honestly.

The three men began to chuckle amongst themselves. Mkarth became slightly annoyed. "Whats so fethin well funny?" He asked.

"We're already in Tanith Magna sir." Blane said between chuckles.

"We left while you were out and made it to the gates before nightfall. You should have seen the welcoming party. Last night was rowdier than Emperor's day in Magna square." Hasker mentioned. Mkarth's eyes became wide.

"There was a part and you lot didn't wake me up?" Mkarth asked mockingly incredulous. The others snickered.

"Well, we better help you get ready for the ceremony, sir." Domor responded.

"Ceremony?" Mkarth asked already not liking the implications.

"Yes sir, the Elector and the Colonel Commissar are waiting."

Thirty minutes later. Mkarth was dressed in a new clean and pressed officer's uniform and field beret, he took pride when he buckled his laspistol belt to his hip, although it stung a little as it chafed at his side. When his adjutant brought in a wheelchair he waved him away.

"Bring me some crutches, I'll walk thank you."

A few minutes later, Mkarth left the medical tent set up on the outskirts of the city with many others. Mkarth noticed the fires he had seen the other day were now under control, no stacks of smoke littered the clear blue sky today. Mkarth hobbled out to one of the roads to catch his ride to the town square where his 'ceremony' was being held. He still didn't know why the Elector himself was bothering with something like this when an invasion was on its way. Mkarth saw a troop truck full of men heading into the city gate and waved it down. The truck stopped in front of Mkarth and he noticed the most bewildered look on his face as he leaned out the window.

"What can I do for you sir?" He asked almost overpolitely.

"I need a ride to the square, think I can hop on?" Mkarth asked, adjusting his crutches.

"Yes sir, go right ahead." The driver said.

Mkarth nodded at the driver in a subtle thanks and then went around to the back where several men in dress uniforms were. Mkarth noticed the uniforms were of a regiment of the Tanith Magna militia. He also noticed that many of the men in the back had instrument cases. As soon as he came into sight, the men sitting down in the back, about ten of them in all, stood up at attention. Needless to say, Mkarth was a little off put by this.

"At ease you lot, can I get a hand?" He asked as he put a hand up. Three troopers immediately fumbled over themselves to get Mkarth a hand up. Mkarth took one of the proffered hands and hauled himself into the back of the trucks, holding onto one of the over hanging metal rods of the canvas roof to straighten himself and stand. He hauled his crutches aboard and looked back toward the cabin.

"Tell the driver he can go now." Mkarth said, sounding a little impatient. The truck took off down the road. Mkarth stood in the back, heavily leaning on the side of the truck to stay standing. He gazed out at the scene passing the truck as it entered the city.

'Man, Hasker wasn't kidding, this place is more high strung than I've ever seen it.' He thought. Sure enough, the streets were lined with civilians who were cheering at any soldiers who went by. Many groups had stopped on the side of the road for pictures. Mkarth saw more than one tavern owner opening his place with free drinks for soldiers.

'All this fanfare and there's still a war to fight.' Mkarth thought, suddenly, he heard someone come up behind him as the truck continued to roll deeper into the city.

"Excuse me sir, are, are you Captain Mkarth by chance?" The man behind him said. Mkarth turned and saw that the word 'man' was operative. The 'man' was barely old enough to shave, surely not more than his early twenties, fresh faced, with stars in his eyes.

'Like he's standing next to some holo pic star' Mkarth thought.

"Yes, I am." Mkarth said simply. The other 'men' in the vehicle, who were pretending not to listen, quickly began to whisper amongst themselves like gossiping children.

The kid facing Mkarth extended his hand slightly shakily. "Its an honor to meet you sir." He said, his voice shaking slightly to match his hand.

Mkarth reached his hand out and shook the kid's hand.

"Good to meet you too..." Mkarth let the sentence hang, intending for the kid to finish it.

"O'Brye, sir, Connor O'Brye." He said.

"Right, you boys are a little lightly armed to be militia, so what are you doing with all this...gear?" Mkarth asked.

"Oh, we're going to be playing at the ceremony. Its going to be a marvelous thing and the Elector's going to be there." Connor said, as if saying something nobody knew.

"Is that right, well, good luck." Mkarth said and turned back to the scene outside.

"Is it true, all the rumors, sir?" Connor pushed.

Mkarth turned halfway and cocked one eyebrow. "What rumors?"

"They say you killed a hundred thousand of the enemy in three days, sir." Connor said as if awestruck.

"I doubt its that high but I tried to get as many as I could." Mkarth said half honestly and half playing it up for the militia men. The people behind him began to whisper more furiously than ever.

"What was it like sir?" One of the kids in the back asked. Mkarth sighed as he remembered the bloody carnage of the last thee days that rendered him barely able to walk.

"You boys like to think of war as all glory, but let me tell you, it is all hell." Mkarth said solemnly. the awkward silence that followed was only broken when the truck came to a stop outside of the main plaza in the square where the ceremony was being held. Mkarth got off first, saluted the militia band players as they carted their instruments away, and hobbled as quickly as his crutches would let him. Everywhere he went people were calling to him and waving. Guardsmen and militia men both saluted him en mass, all Mkarth could do was nod as he used most of his upper body strength to shift his dead weight forward without toppling over.

'Like they've never seen a guard officer before.' Mkarth thought. Finally, he entered the plaza. The side standing area was cordoned off by Magna arbites. Mkarth looked at the men dressed int their uniforms and armor, with shotguns held across their chests for the occasion.

'Good to see the old colors again.' Mkarth mused with a smirk. The men were holding back large amounts of civilians who were flocking to the plaza to see the event. Many of them cheered when they saw Mkarth hobble toward the center of the plaza. Mkarth headed toward the center of the plaza, where he saw many of the militia band members already stationed and warming up. He also saw an old associate he didn't think he'd see alive again. Mkarth hobbled straight up to the man, he was talking to somebody else, it looked like another Ghost, and had his back turned to Mkarth. He was clad in the black leather stormcoat and peaked cap of the Commissariat and had a bolt pistol and a chainsword attached to his belt. He was tall and lean, taller than most of the shorter, stockier Tanith. Mkarth walked right up to him.

"You got a way of showin up at the worst of times sir." Mkarth called out. the man turned and saw Mkarth, dismissed the trooper quickly, and turned to face Mkarth.

"Hell, its good to see you in one piece Captain." Said Colonel Commissar Ibram Gaunt.

"Well, sorta, there's the matter of my legs gettin chopped to bits but yeah, still generally in one piece." Mkarth chuckled.

"Heard it was bloody carnage down there, you have to tell me about it sometime." Gaunt said cheerily. Mkarth smiled. That was the Commissar's nice way of ordering a debriefing.

"I'll be sure to tell you, Corbec and especially Rawne all about it, sir." Mkarth said as cheerily as Gaunt had been. The two men sat in silence as they looked out at the crowds of people gathered for the event.

"Sure are a lot of civvies out for this thing." Gaunt remarked.

"Yeah, how wonderful." Mkarth said sarcastically, leaning on his crutches for support.

"You have a problem with this affair, Captain?" The Commissar said mockingly in his best, fake, commissar-like, disapproving tone.

"No offense sir, but between you and me, there's a war to fight, an enemy to crush, Tanith isn't safe yet and these people carry on like we've won already."

"Is that it? I'll have you know this event is very important to our continued victories here on Tanith." The Commissar replied.

"You mind explaining to me how that is?" Mkarth asked, looking at Gaunt.

"Its easy Captain, we've won a great victory here, the enemy is in disarray and we've halted them at a major intersection. This celebration is important for the morale of the people. If we brushed it off as nothing, morale would probably drop. But now if we hand out a few medals in public..."

"I see, so besides the obvious reasons of PR, why does the elector want to see just me?" Mkarth asked.

"Not just you Mkarth, you and the eight other men you held the bridge with." The Commissar replied.

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Its not that hard. We're at war, the people need heroes that they can hold in esteem and have pride in, if there are no heroes, there is nor morale." Gaunt responded.

"The real heroes died on the road to Tanith Magna sir." Mkarth replied. The Commissar looked like he might say something else but just nodded. Finally, the ceremony started, Mkarth and Gaunt said their goodbyes and went there separate ways. Mkarth got into a line with the eight men he had held the bridge with. Each man was similarly dressed in a new uniform and stood at attention. Mkarth did the best he could but he was still slouched compared to the rest. An entourage came from the north of the plaza. Mkarth saw it was the Elector of Tanith's followed by the three commanding officers of the Tanith regiments, Gaunt, Corbec, and Rawne. Mkarth watched with satisfaction as Rawne showed plainly that he did not want to be here. The bands began to play a mixture of pipes, drums and trumpets and Mkarth figured that they were actually quite good. The entourage made his way to a platform made in the center of the plaza, just for the event. it was equipped with megaspeakers for all the populace to hear. The event was also being recorded by holo pict servitors at several angles for transmissions to other cities. The entourage made it onto the stage and the Elector took the microphone.

"Citizens of Tanith, we are gathered here today to commemorate the accomplishments of..." He began. Mkarth tuned the rest out. He really didn't want to hear any more superficial ceremonial crock about how they were winning and had almost done so, and that this victory was proof of that. Mkarth couldn't disagree more, he'd seen the fathomless hordes of cultists that had landed on his home and had almost been killed by it. After the speech was done, the Elector, along with his entourage. came down to the line of troopers and began to process of shaking hands and dispensing medals for the picts. He could see the toleration painted on each of the officers' faces. They didn't like this any more than he did.

Mkarth was last in line to receive his medal. Mkarth stood as straight as he could manage and threw a salute as he looked out into space. The Elector spoke to him.

"Captain Mkarth, for gallantry in action above and beyond the call of duty and for defending your home with such tenacity, it is my pleasure to present you with the Emerald Branch."

The Elector took the medal from one of his entourage and pinned it to Mkarth's chest. Mkarth took the Elector's hand and shook it, managing to smile at the man's hamminess for the picts. Then the Colonel Commissar strode forward after the elector had stepped aside. Mkarth saw many people, including the Elector and the two other officers perplexed by this, as if a tightly rendered schedule had just been broken. Gaunt stopped in front of Mkarth and held out a small box in front of him. Mkarth looked at the box and then up into Gaunt's face. Gaunt gave him an approving nod.

Shakily, Mkarth struggled off of his crutches and stood up straight as he could even if his legs flared painfully. The crutches were caught by one of the Elector's entourage as if they were holy relics. Mkarth felt the pain in his legs and grunted, he fought through the pain and threw a salute that was sharp enough to cut glass to Colonel Commissar Gaunt.

"Captain Edric Mkarth, for gallantry in action above and beyond the call of duty in service to the Imperial guard and the Golden Throne, It is my pleasure to present you with the Star of Terra, as well as the Winged Skull for your brilliant and inspiring leadership while in the service of the Emperor's Imperial army."

Mkarth was silent as Gaunt pinned the medals on his chest. Despite himself, Mkarth couldn't help but feel proud at the notion. The two medals he had just received were some of the highest honors a man in the Imperium could achieve. The Commissar returned the salute and the two men shook each other's hand. Mkarth took back his crutches and the line of men filed out as the band played and the crowds cheered.

A few hours later, Mkarth, Corbec and Rawne were sitting in a tavern with about three dozen other people who were out celebrating the victory. Many people wanted to speak with the officers and Mkarth especially. Some wanted to shake his hand, some just wanted to touch him , as if he was some sort of saint. The owner finally chased the crowds away and got the men seated at a secluded corner of the tavern. It turns out that the man had once been in the militia and he assured the three men that whatever they ordered that night was on the house. The three officers thanked him and soon their drinks arrived. Mkarth poured out three shot glasses and raised his for a toast.

"For Tanith." Rawne said. They sipped

"For the Emperor." Said Corbec. They sipped

"For the victories yet to come." Mkarth finished. They drained the rest of their glasses.

"So I hear you saw a lot of the enemy, Mkarth. Or were you too busy running from them?" Rawne mocked.

"Aw, shut it you fethin arsehole." Corbec snapped. Mkarth laughed, the two men looked at him.

"What's so funny?" Rawne asked as Mkarth took another shot.

"Well, I was actually going to say that, Rawne." Mkarth said chuckling.

"You'd tell a superior something like that? Figured you were a man who was interested in keepin both your legs, or rather whats left of em." Rawne replied. Mkarth looked at Rawne as if he was about to reach across the table and throttle him...

But he didn't. Instead Mkarth stood up and grabbed the bottle of sacra.

"You wanna get technical Captain? I'm still technically on brevet rank which means your not technically my direct superior, which means I could technically tell you when to feth off." Mkarth stated. Corbec was obviously not liking where this was going, he had one meaty paw on Rawne's shoulder, preventing him from standing. Mkarth was only walking on one crutch and hence his right arm was free to move around. great for what he was about to do, and he'd wanted to do it for a while to.

"And if your not technically my direct superior then I can do this-" Mkarth paused, reared back with his right fist and did the last thing Captain Elim Rawne was expecting. Mkarth puched the Captain square in the nose, not breaking but at least displacing it. Rawne cupped his hands and fell back in his seat, onto the ground and began rocking back and forth in pain. Many of the bar's patrons turned to see what the commotion was and all became silent for a few seconds.

"Oh don't tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if a scumbag like him had insulted your mother?" Mkarth announced to general laughing and cheering. Mkarth left as Corbec struggled to get Rawne back on his feet from the surprise attack he had just received. He turned in the doorway and Rawne's eyes met his. Rawne's eyes had a killing fury in them most men would run from. Not Mkarth, he had already seen the same thing in about a hundred thousand raving cultist's eyes and faced them all down. Mkarth raised his right hand in a one finger salute.

"Feth off Rawne, I've got a war to win!" Mkarth said and walked through the door, The sound of Corbec laughing heartily ringing in his ears.

"The Gambit" as the operation would later be called is still one of the most successful in Sabbat Crusade history. Due to tactical ingenuity, the failure of the enemy, and an extreme amount of luck, a small force of Imperial Guard soldiers were able to harass a much larger force and hamper it heavily with minimal losses. Later estimates would put the number of dead enemy troops due to the three days of battle at somewhere from 50,000 to 70,000 personell dead. Ironically, the rumor that Captain Mkarth's force had killed "A hundred thousand cultists" was not that farfetched. In the months after the final victory and long after the final cultist had been purged from Tanith, the Elector had a statue erected near the river bridge in honor of the men who first struck a blow against the enemy. Clad in ceramite and adamantium, the effigies of the eight men who stood alone and defiant still stand there today. Being completed much later after the Tanith first departed, the eight men had no idea their planet decided to honor them so. It is probably for the best...