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what materials and supplies had survived the destruction of Tor Christo back in the campsite； while the Iron Warriors themselves
prepared this last sap。
Teams of Iron Warriors inched forwards on their hands and knees under cover of the lumbering sap…rollers； laboriously ramming
the excavated earth on the trench's outer face then dragging forward iron palisades to strengthen it。 Gangs of specially picked
slaves followed behind； deepening the trench and readying the sap for the storming squads。 Constructing such a sap was
dangerous and tedious work； requiring a great deal of skill and teamwork； since the workers were under constant fire from the
citadel's defenders。 If the trench had advanced ten metres by nightfall； it was counted a good day's work。
Work parties from Kroeger's company were even now cannibalising every non…essential vehicle for parts to construct more saprollers；
for the Imperial forces had managed to remount many of their parapet weapons following the attack on the battery。 The
Imperial guns would hammer each sap…roller with devastating barrages； blowing them apart within hours； and the Iron Warriors
had little with which to reply。
The Dies Irae pounded the citadel； but its remaining guns were at their maximum range and unless the mighty war…engine could
be made mobile again； its usefulness was limited。 The remaining two Titans of the Legio Mortis were being kept in reserve until
the final assault； though Honsou wondered if the grievous wounding of the Dies Irae had broken the nerve of the Legio's warriors。
Even from here； Honsou could see that the ramparts were being quickly repaired； no doubt under the direction of the reviled
Imperial Fists。 Much as he hated to admit it； the ancient enemy were competent siege engineers and would make their job all the
harder。
Honsou eagerly awaited the final attack。 The need to kill Imperial Fists was now his only imperative； and he chafed at the slow
speed at which the sap advanced。
Slow though their progress was； Honsou calculated that within three days the sap would be almost at the lip of the citadel's huge
ditch； in a position where it could be branched left and right to form the third parallel。 Under normal circumstances； a trench
cavalier would be built along the parallel's length； a solid earthwork some three metres high with a parapet that would allow troops
manning its firing step to obtain plunging fire into ramparts of the ravelin。 This； combined with fire from Vindicator siege tanks
and the spider…legged Defilers； should compel the defenders to abandon the ravelin； allowing the attackers to assault the breaches。
But these were not normal circumstances and the unexpected destruction of their siege batteries meant there were no breaches in
the walls。
They would need some other way of bringing down the walls if they were to take this citadel。 As he turned back towards the
camp； it came to him how such a feat could be achieved。
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
CROUCHED IN A dark part of Kroeger's dugout； Larana Utorian rocked back and forth； her knees tucked up under her chin； her
hands clasped over her ears。 A red line dribbled down her chin where she had chewed her lip and her thin； wasted frame was
malnourished to the point of starvation。 Her features were gaunt and sallow and her ribs pushed against her filthy skin beneath the
threadbare remains of her uniform jacket。
Kroeger's armour once more hung on its frame； its surfaces slathered in gore。
On the ground before her lay the armoured gauntlet； the fingers curled in a fist； the knuckles caked with pounded…in blood。 Her
bone knife rested against it； its edge nicked and bloody。
Larana's breathing came in short； hiked gasps。 The voice had come again。
'Who are you？' she asked； the sound no more than a hoarse whisper。 There was no answer and for the briefest second she
wondered if she had imagined the hissing voice that had spoken to her。
A nervous laugh built in her throat； but died as the voice came again。
I am all that you want； little one。 I feel your hate and it is exquisite。
The voice slithered around her head； seeming to come from all around her； sounding more dead than alive。 The horrific voice was
composed of many； each overlaying the other； monstrously intertwined with sussurating hoarseness。
Larana whimpered in fear。 Looking up at Kroeger's armour she saw a pale nimbus of light building up behind the visor of the
helmet。 The eyes seemed to be looking straight through her； through her skin； past her bones and organs and into her very soul。
The sense of violation was horrific。
She screwed her eyes shut and wept as the sensation crawled around her mind； teasing open every dark and secret place of her
soul。
Then； as suddenly as it had begun； the loathsome exploration was done。
Oh yes； you are ripe； little Larana。 You have a fecund and inventive hate。 You shall be my greatest work…
'Stop speaking to me！' wailed Larana； beating her fists against her head。 'What do you want？'
I want to take away your pain if you will but let me。 I can make you strong again。
Larana opened her eyes； hope and fear shining in equal measure。
'How？ Why？'
I am done with Kroeger。 He has descended to the point where his petty slaughters no longer amuse me。 But you； oh you have such
hate within you！ It smoulders； but I see in you the seeds of an inferno。 It will be an age before I tire of you； Larana。
Almost against her will； her eyes were drawn towards the gauntlet lying on the dusty floor of the dugout。 As if sensing her gaze；
the fingers of the gauntlet slowly uncurled so that it lay palm up before her。
Go on！ I can feel hate oozing from every pore of your flesh。 We shall strike back！ He is a butcher of men and deserves to die； does
he not？ I can help you kill him。 Is that not what you desire above all else？
'Yes！' snarled Larana； picking up the heavy gauntlet and slipping her hand inside。
CASTELLAN LEONID RESTED his elbows on the parapet of the curtain wall and stifled an exhausted yawn as he watched the men on
the walls of the two forward bastions with pride。 Under the direction of the Imperial Fists； the ramparts had been rebuilt； fresh
entrenchments dug at the necks of the bastions and bomb shelters constructed at the base of the walls。 The sense of optimism
amongst the soldiers was palpable。
He and Captain Eshara stood on the walls beside the towers flanking the Destiny Gate； looking out over the blasted expanse of the
plain before the citadel。 Craters and thousands of metres of trenches covered the ground； with bodies and wrecked machines left to
rot and rust where they lay。 Smoke rose in a constant pall from the camp at the end of the valley and seeing the might of the Iron
Warriors like this； Leonid wished he shared his soldiers' optimism。
Despite a fearful hammering from the remounted wall guns； the sap driven forward from the partially collapsed second parallel
had come to within fifteen metres of the edge of the ditch。 A fresh scar on the landscape stretched before them； a third parallel
running from the flank of Vin…care bastion to that of Mori bastion。
'It will not be long； will it？' asked Leonid。
'No； not long；' replied Eshara。
'When do you think they will attack？'
'It is difficult to say；' answered Eshara。 'The Iron Warriors never begin an attack until every detail of the assault is in place。 There
will be a bombardment； feint attacks； diversionary tactics and frontal escalades。 Everything will be designed to keep us off
balance。'
'I will need you with me when the assault comes； captain。'
'I shall be honoured to fight alongside you。'
'How will they come at us； do you think？'
Eshara considered the question for a moment before replying。
'Without their batteries； it is unlikely that they will try and blast a breach in the walls。 All the signs suggest that they will attempt
to undermine the walls。'
'They do？'
'Yes。 Your forward observers have not reported the construction of batteries； but this parallel is close enough for siege tanks to be
deployed behind the earthwork。'
'So why does that suggest the Iron Warriors will be constructing a mine？'
Eshara pointed towards the sap that ran from the second parallel to the third。 Plumes of exhaust wreathe