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aside from a few braises and scrapes； was better than it had been since he'd ended up on this useless planet。
After the initial pain and stiffness had left his underused muscles； he had felt clearer and fitter than ever。 The constant headaches
had vanished like morning mist and the ashen taste that always caught in the back of his mouth had also disappeared。 His skin was
taking on a healthy glow； his natural paleness replaced by the beginnings of a tan。
Whatever the cause of his sudden good health； Hawke was grateful for it。 Perhaps it was the feeling that he was now proving his
worth to the regiment； that he was a good soldier and could hack it with the best of them。 As he panned the magnoculars across
the enemy camp； counting the number of work parties that made their way to the approach trenches； Hawke was forced to admit
that； all things being equal； he was having the time of his life。
TWO
THE BONE…BLADED knife scraped a clean furrow through the ingrained blood on the heavy vambrace； the dried crust gathering on
the curved rear of the blade。 Larana Utorian dipped the blade in the bucket of warm water beside her and returned to her task。
Once again； Kroeger had returned to the dug…out with dried blood caked across his armour and without a word to her； had
indicated that she should remove his armour and clean it for him。
Each piece was heavy； almost too heavy； and were it not for the wheezing mechanical arm Kroeger's butcher…surgeons had grafted
to her shoulder she would have been unable to lift his armour clear。 The black…steel metalwork of the mechanical arm was
nauseating to look at and the feel of its corrupt bio…mechanical components worming their way through her body made her want to
rip it from her shoulder。 But the writhing black tendrils of synth…nerve had forged an unbreakable bond with her own flesh and she
could no more remove it than she could stop her heart from beating。
A heavy steel frame carried the individual components of Kroeger's armour； each moulded breastplate； cuissart； greave； vambrace
and gorget precisely arranged so that it resembled some gigantic； disassembled mechanical man。 Virtually every surface was
stained with gore and the stench of decaying matter made her want to gag every time she looked at the armour。
She bent to her task once more； scraping yet another clean furrow in Kroeger's armour。 Tears ran down her cheeks as she cleaned
the armour of a monster； knowing that tomorrow she would be performing the same task again。
Why Kroeger had not killed her was a mystery and every day she found herself almost wishing that he had。
And every day she found herself hating herself for wanting to live。
To toil in the service of such a beast was to play handmaiden to a daemon itself。
And this was a capricious daemon； there was no way she could predict its moods and behavioural mores； no way to know
Kroeger's reaction to anything she did。 She railed against him； beating her fists against his bloody armour and he laughed；
throwing her aside。 She acquiesced to his desires and found him surly and brooding； picking at old scars and licking his own blood
from his hands … he refused to allow his wounds to clot … as he glared at her with contempt。
She hated him with a fiery passion； but so wanted to live。 There was no way to know how to behave to stop Kroeger killing her。
She scraped the last of the blood from the vambrace and put aside the bone knife； taking up an oily rag and polishing the silver of
its surface until it shone。 Satisfied that the heavy piece of armour was as clean as she could manage； she rose to her feet and hung
it upon the armour frame。
As she hung the vambrace in place； she found her eyes drawn again to the sight and stench of the interior faces of Kroeger's
armour。 She polished and cleaned the exterior of his armour； but she would not touch its interior surfaces。 Coated in a loathsome；
creeping horror； these internal surfaces looked like flensed hunks of rotten meat； their putrid surfaces undulating as though imbued
with some foul internal life。 Yet for all its vile appearance； the armour exuded a hateful attraction； as though it called to her on
some unknowable level。
She shivered as she removed the next piece of armour from the frame； the rounded elbow guard。 This piece was not so heavily
stained and would not take long to clean。
The blood I have worn will take more than your little knife to clean…
She picked up her knife again she glanced furtively to where Kroeger's weapons lay upright on an ebony and silver rack。 A
massive； toothed sword； its hilt carved in the shape of an eight…pointed star and quillons tipped with stabbing spikes。 Beside that；
an ornate pistol with a skull…mouthed barrel and bronze plated flanks。 The magazine alone was bigger than her forearm。
Go on； touch them… feel their power…
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
She shook her head： Kroeger never allowed her to clean his weapons； and the one time she had offered had been her last。 He had
backhanded her lightly across the face； cracking her cheekbone and loosening teeth； saying； 'You will never touch these weapons；
human。'
Bitterness rose with her tears and she cursed herself for wanting to live； for serving this creature of evil； but she could see no other
way。 She was powerless to do anything except play house…pet to a madman who bathed in gore and revelled in slaughter。
Is that so bad？ To take pleasure from the death of another… is that not the highest honour you can pay another creature？
Her hate for Kroeger was a bright flame burning in her heart and she felt that if she did not let it out it would eventually consume
her。
Yes； hate； little one； hate…
Her eyes were once again drawn to the armour and she swore she could almost hear distant laughter。
FIRST LIGHT WAS breaking across the mountains as Honsou watched the slave gangs haul the last components of an artillery
piece's gun carriage over the lip of the promontory。 He noted with satisfaction that there were a few slaves with the blue jackets of
the enemy within their numbers。 It seemed as though there were a few yet able to serve the Iron Warriors。
Forrix stood beside him； a head higher in his Terminator armour； surveying the slow progress below on the plain。 Between the
booming explosions of artillery fire from the two bastions and the central ravelin； the saps were advancing from the extended
parallel； but they were doing so cautiously； moving forward under the protection of heavily armoured sap…rollers； low； widebodied
behemoths crawling slowly forwards to shield the workers who dug the saps。
'The Warsmith is displeased；' said Forrix； sweeping his arms out to encompass the works below。
Honsou turned to face the pale veteran； his brow wrinkled in puzzlement。 'But we have proceeded with great speed； Forrix。 In less
than two weeks we have captured this outwork and our saps are almost close enough to the citadel that we can link them into a
second parallel。 Scarcely have I seen a siege progress with such haste。'
Forrix shook his head。 'There are matters afoot that require we make even better speed； Honsou。 The Warsmith wishes us to be
done with this place within ten days。'
'Impossible！' sputtered Honsou。 'With the second parallel not yet complete？ The batteries here will take another four days at least
to prepare； and it will probably take several days for them to effect a breach in the walls。 And I do not believe we will be able to
make a practicable breach without the establishment of a third parallel and bringing up our siege tanks。 All this will take time； you
know that better than anyone。'
'Nevertheless； it must be done。'
'How？'
'By any means necessary； Honsou。 Time is a luxury we do not have。'
'Then what do you suggest？'
'That we push the saps forwards with greater speed； build more sap rollers； throw slaves and men at the digging； so that the
mounds of corpses will shield the diggers from the Imperial artillery；' snapped Forrix suddenly。
'That will be difficult； Forrix；' said Honsou slowly。 'The Imperial gunners are proving to be uncannily accurate with their fire。'
'Indeed they are；' mused Forrix； staring at the mountains surrounding the plains。 'Almost too accurate； wouldn't yo