Salamander

was clipped. He blamed the needless deaths of his battle-brothers on his captain for his trepidation and unwillingness to commit their forces properly when the Salamanders had initiated assault.

'Five Astartes to man an entire fortress,' N'keln thought aloud. 'What were they doing here, brother-sergeant?'

'Annals recount that during the Great Crusade, the sons of Perturabo occupied many frontier bastions such as this,' said Praetor, his mighty physical presence moving implacably into Tsu'gan's eye line. 'Squad-strength garrisons were not unusual, but for them to still exist over ten thousand years later…' The Firedrake's voice trailed off. His fiery gaze went to the fortress of iron's inner keep, a squat structure of broad bulwarks and grey metal. Chimneys, venting smoke, sprouted from its flat, crenulated roof. Another gate barred entrance to the inner keep. Sergeant De'mas and his squad were rigging charges to blast it in.

Tsu'gan felt a keen sense of apprehension as he regarded the secondary gate. Even just standing within the expansive inner courtyard, surrounded by Iron Warrior bodies, a pall of unease seemed to wax and wane as if already probing his defences.

A flame burst seen from the corner of his helmet lens arrested his attention. Brother-Chaplain Elysius was ordering the corpses rounded up and burned. Flamer teams, sequestered from the Tactical squads, doused the mangled pyre in liquid promethium.

'Whatever killed them, did so with brute force and outside these walls,' Praetor's voice interrupted Tsu'gan's thoughts, the veteran sergeant of the Firedrakes having followed his gaze.

'So they dragged the bodies back inside after a much earlier battle?' offered N'keln. 'They must have been victorious, though

I

can see no evidence of enemy dead.'

'The Iron Warriors burn their foes too, brother-captain,' said Praetor, 'An anachronism of old Legion custom that some warbands still adhere to.'

'They are ash,' spat Tsu'gan, struggling to rein in his anger, 'as our slain brothers soon will be.'

If N'keln felt the barb, he didn't show it. Nor did Praetor seem about to reprimand.

'Victory is correct, brother-captain,' said the Firedrake, 'but at what cost, and against whom?'

'Those xenos we encountered at the crash site are not foe enough to trouble Astartes,' Tsu'gan asserted. 'I have seen no other encampments, no evidence of vessels or an army's movements.' He eyed the burning pile of corpses again: some fifty or so Iron Warriors. Renegades, yes, but still Astartes once fashioned by the Emperor; still formidable warriors slain up-close and brutally. An enemy like that didn't simply disappear. It didn't lie down and die, either.

Tsu'gan's voice was low and forbidding. 'I think something other than the chitin lurks in the earth beneath us. It brought death to these traitors.'

T

hree hundred metres

farther into the darkness and the tunnel became a labyrinth. Several corridors branched off from the main passage like a lattice within a giant hive. It put Dak'ir in mind of the chitin, but throughout their exploration of the underground network they had yet to encounter the creatures.

Ba'ken scoured each and every opening, the igniter from his heavy flamer casting a weak glow into the shadows. The Salamanders kept to the central tunnel, Dak'ir reasoning that it must lead to some nexus or confluence.

Ba'ken moved to the next junction. Panning his heavy flamer slowly and steadily, he started when an object skipped out of the darkness and rolled towards him.

'Contact!' he snapped smartly, preparing to douse what he thought could be a grenade in roaring promethium. The appearance of a diminutive figure scurrying into his firing arc stopped him.

It was a boy, and the ''grenade'' was a rubber ball.

Ba'ken lifted his finger off the release bar of his weapon just in time. A tiny spurt of flame spilled from the nozzle like a belch, but didn't ignite fully.

Grinding to an abrupt halt, the boy stared at the green-armoured hulk that brandished fire in his hands. In the ephemeral spit of flame, Ba'ken saw that the dark-skinned youngster was dressed in coarse grey fatigues. The clothing was patched, as if amalgamated from several different sources, and the boots strapped to his feet looked a few sizes too big for him. Terrified, the boy's eyes widened as Ba'ken came forward, lowering his heavy flamer.

'Have no fear,' he intoned, his voice deep and resonant in the narrow side- tunnel. Stepping into the darkness as he extended an open hand, the burning red blaze in the Salamander's eyes flashed casting his onyx-black skin in a diabolic lustre.

A whimper escaped from the trembling boy's mouth and he fled, leaving the ball behind.

Ba'ken's hand dropped and a tic of consternation afflicted his face.

'A child…' he said, acutely aware of Dak'ir arriving behind him. Ba'ken turned to face the sergeant. The rest of the squad had gathered at his sudden warning. Emek stood next to Dak'ir, whilst Apion and Romulus surveyed the shadows behind them. Librarian Pyriel stood a few steps back from the rest, his eyes smouldering with power.

'Human.' It was a statement not a question, but Ba'ken answered anyway.

'Yes, a boy.'

'Follow,' ordered Dak'ir in a low voice. 'Eyes open,' he warned, remembering the last time they'd encountered a human child in similar circumstances. It was back on Stratos, and the boy had led them into a trap. Dak'ir still recalled the

crump

of detonation and the skeins of shrapnel slewing across his visor.

He hoped this would not end the same way.

A vast iron

hall was the first room the Salamanders encountered upon demolishing the inner keep's gate. It was bare, but much deeper and wider than the outer structure had suggested. Doorway yawning open, reinforced plasteel slabs hanging off their hinges, a pall of displaced dust rolled across the plated floor as Praetor entered. The other Firedrakes followed closely behind their sergeant, storm shields raised, a poised electrical charge rippling across their thunder hammers.

Recently reformed, the three Tactical squads followed in the wake of the Terminators. Issuing clipped orders, the sergeants dispersed their squads swiftly to reconnoitre. Negative contacts came back from De'mas and Typhos, who had been tasked to clear the alcoves and immediate anterooms. Brother-Captain N'keln and the Inferno Guard joined the rest of the Salamanders in the hallway soon after.

Lok's Devastators maintained guard at the inner keep's broken gate, whilst Brother-Sergeants Omkar and Ul'shan patrolled the battlements.

Fire Anvil

and one of the Rhino APCs blocked the main fortress gate. The dead from Vargo's squad and the slain driver were laid reverently in a second personnel carrier, parked further back in the courtyard. The third Rhino was kept idling. As soon as the Salamanders had ascertained what the Iron Warriors had been doing, it would go back to collect Argos or one of his Techmarines in the hope they'd be able to plunder and sanctify some of the traitors' technology.

'This room is secure, brother-captain,' said Praetor as N'keln entered the hall to stand alongside him, 'but there are further chambers that should be scoured leading off from this main hall