Helsreach

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'

Never again in life will your actions carry such consequence. Never again will you serve as you serve now. No duty will matter as much, and no glory will taste as true. We are the defenders of Helsreach. On this day, we carve our legend in the flesh of every alien we slay. Will you stand with me?'

Now the cheers came in truth. They thundered in the air around him.

'

Will you stand with me?'

Again, a roar.

'

Sons and daughters of the Imperium! Our blood is the blood of heroes and martyrs! The xenos dare defile our city? They dare tread the sacred soil of our world? We will throw their bodies from these walls when the final day dawns!'

A wave of noise crashed against his armour as they cheered. Grimaldus raised his war maul, aiming it to the embattled heavens.

'This is

our

city! This is

our

world! Say it!

Say it! Cry it out so the bastards in orbit will hear our fury! Our city! Our world!'

'

OUR CITY! OUR WORLD!'

Laughing again, Grimaldus turned to face the oncoming horde. '

Run, alien dogs! Come to me! Come to us all! Come and die in blood and fire!'

'

BLOOD AND FIRE!'

The Reclusiarch cut the air with his crozius, as if ordering his men forward. '

For the Templars! For the Steel Legion! For Helsreach!'

'

FOR HELSREACH!'

'

Louder!'

'

FOR HELSREACH!'

'

They cannot hear you, brothers!'

'

FOR HELSREACH!'

'

Hurl yourselves at these walls, inhuman filth! Die on our blades! I am Grimaldus of the Black Templars, and

I

will cast your carcasses from these holy walls!'

'

GRIMALDUS! GRIMALDUS! GRIMALDUS!'

Grimaldus nodded, still staring out over the wastelands, letting the cheering chant mix with the howling wind, knowing it would carry to the advancing enemy.

A vox-voice pulled him from his reverie. 'That is the first time since we landed,' said Artarion, 'that you have sounded like yourself.'

'We have a war to fight,' the Chaplain replied. 'The past is done with. Nero, how long?'

The Apothecary tilted his head, watching the horde for several moments.

'Six minutes until they are within range of the wall-guns.'

Grimaldus stepped down from the edge of the wall, standing among the Guard. They backed away from him, even as they all still cheered his name.

'Vultures!' he called, 'I must speak with Colonel Nathett, and Majors Oros and Johan. Where are your officers?'

* * *

A

great deal

can happen in six minutes, especially when one has the resources of a fortress-city to call upon.

Dozens of fighters in the gunmetal grey of the 5082nd Naval Skyborne streaked over the advancing horde, punishing them from above with strafing runs. Autocannons chattered, spitting into the tide of enemy flesh. Lascannons beamed with eye-aching brilliance, destroying dozens of the few heavy tanks present in this initial ork host.

Grimaldus stood upon the battlements, weapons in hands, watching Commander Barasath's Lightnings and Thunderbolts unleashing devastation from the sky. He was a veteran of two hundred years. He knew, with cold clarity, when something was wasted effort.

Every death counts, he thought, seeking to force himself to believe it as the immense sea of foes came crashing closer.

Priamus was similarly unmoved. 'Barasath's best attempt is no more than spitting into a tidal wave.'

'Every death counts,' Grimaldus growled. 'Every life lost out there is one less enemy assailing our walls.'

A great beast, some kind of stomping mammoth covered in scales, cried out as it went down, lanced through its legs and belly by a volley of lascannon fire. The orks fell from the howdah on its back, vanishing into the swarm of warriors. Grimaldus prayed they were crushed underfoot by their allies.

On his retinal display, a runic countdown began to flicker red.

He raised his crozius.

Along the north

wall, hundreds of multi- barrelled turrets begin their realignment. On grinding joints, they cycled down to aim at the wastelands, leaving the city vulnerable from above.

Around each turret, a cluster of soldiers stood ready - loaders, sighters, vox- officers, adjutants, all ready for the order.

'Wall-guns,' Nero voxed to Grimaldus. 'Wall-guns, now.' Grimaldus sliced the air with his blazing maul, screaming a single word.

'

Fire!'

Craters appeared in

the enemy horde. Huge explosions of dirt, scrap metal, bodies and gore erupted from the army. With the numbers facing them, the gunners on Helsreach's walls couldn't miss.

Thousands died in the first barrage. Thousands more came on.

'

Reload!'

a lone figure, armoured in black, shouted into the vox.

The walls themselves shook again, tremors pulsing through the rockcrete as the second volley fired. And the third. And the fourth. In a sane army, the annihilation inflicted upon them would be catastrophic. Entire legions would be breaking and running in fear.