Blood from a Stone
Frigid wind lashed at Sergeant Ney's bare face.
He relished it.
Behind him the other four members of his squad followed as the space marine climbed hand over hand up the sheer mountain face. The stone was dusted with frost, making the climb even more precarious, and the dense mist limited visibility to a matter of metres. But Ney and his brothers were the Adeptus Astartes, the genetically modified super soldiers of the Imperium. All of them had mag-locked their helmets to their belts, enjoying the burn of icy gales and the thinness of the air, compensated for with their multi-lungs. Ney fancied that if he just averted his gaze and ignored the clusters of edelweiss being swallowed up in his grip, he could believe this place to be the mountaintop stronghold of his chapter.
"Overhang in sight, brother-sergeant," came the voice of Brother Calder from directly behind him. "Petroleum cube fumes detected in substantial quantities."
"I smell it, brother," Ney replied, trusting his Adeptus Astartes instincts over the auspex. His voice was deeper than his subordinate, but he shared the expressive accent bequeathed from their homeworld of Annwn. The five warriors were brothers of the Stone Hearts chapter, to which their black edged, silver armour testified. The chapter symbol on their left pauldrons was a simple, unadorned image of a heart coloured in stone grey. The right pauldrons were bisected by two white lines at an angle to form a simple X.
The evidence of burning propellant suggested they were nearing their quarry, and most of the space marines drew the sickle-bladed ice axes they carried in place of combat knives. They did not need them for the climb. They were barely even four thousand metres above sea level, and the conditions were nothing compared to the climb each and every one of them had made as aspirants to reach the Fortress of Scone, the chapter-monastery of the Stone Hearts.
"Brother-sergeant; permission to take point."
"Stay in formation," Ney growled dangerously. The heavily bearded Calder was an experienced and pragmatic warrior, and Ney bristled at the doubt he sensed from him at his sergeant's ability to lead the coming battle from the front, on account of the crippling wounds he'd suffered on his last combat detail.
Sergeant Ney bore a face chipped straight from granite, like most Stone Heart brothers, but where most brothers had eyes that glinted with the strength of iron, Ney had a mass of scar tissue. The right eye socket was cauterised shut. The left was covered by an augmetic eye. The originals had been devoured by fleshborer beetles during the war against Hive Fleet Dagon.
And even with such a debilitating injury, he had not accepted the artificial eye lightly.
Like their forebears in the Iron Hands, the Stone Hearts despised the weakness of flesh, the single greatest shackle on the strength of an Astartes spirit. Unlike their cousins, however, the Stone Hearts did not try to live in denial of the weakness inherent from their human past, overloading their bodies with unnecessary augmetics. They pushed their flesh to the limit, challenging the weakness, testing and punishing themselves in order that they should overcome their imperfection.
Flesh was their burden, and they were not ashamed to carry it in the Emperor's name.
The sergeant's thoughts bid him to look back at the third in line, Brother Holm. His right hand had been lost to terrible frostbite whilst fighting in the polar regions of Valhalla. Rather than allow a bionic to be fitted, a solid iron fist with a machete forged into its grip had been welded onto the stump of his wrist. Like Ney, necessity had left Holm with no choice but to allow himself to become part artificial, but the nature of his wound did not bring his brothers to doubt him, and Ney could not help but feel a modicum of envy for his brother's trusted status
Despite the harsh lesson learnt on Valhalla, Holm's right forearm was bare, the vambrace left behind at their garrison. Displayed beneath his metal hand was complex tattoo in the obscure style of the clans of Annwn, describing glaciers and an eagle baring down on a wolf's head. Holm had asked the company chaplain to tattoo his arm, in accordance with chapter tradition for each brother to mark a conflict of personal significance that they had fought in. Ney's own tattoo went over the scarring that replaced his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose, in the shape of xenos claws with tiny runes of high gothic stating the names of the cities of Avalos which he'd helped defend from the tyranids.
The squad continued their ascent. Sergeant Ney moved with delicate care so as not to alert the enemy, not because of the burden of his artificial eye. Nonetheless, the augmetic did hinder his judgement. It took all of his effort to maintain good hand to eye coordination, but pride focussed him more even than the threat of slipping and falling to his death.
At length, Ney reached the ledge and peered over the lip.
Around fifty humans had gathered in a slight depression where rock piles and another cliff face offered limited shelter from the elements. The hollow roar of the fire which most of them huddled around was almost lost amidst the howl of the wind. They were a haggard and dispirited group, less than half their number in ruined flak jackets of the PDF. With the element of surprise and with the deaths of the snipers hiding on higher ground watching the mountain path to the far left of Ney's position, he was confident they could wipe them out in perhaps two minutes with no casualties.
Lowering himself back down to the rest of his squad, Sergeant Ney gave his orders as they hung from the cliff face.
"Brother Cameron, conceal yourself five metres to our left flank, though not so that you are in the sight of their snipers. When the signal is given, kill the snipers and slay any who try to flee."
"What will be the signal, brother-sergeant?"
"That will be your task, Brother Glamis. There is an ammunition crate on the far side of the fire. Move to the right and detonate it with bolter fire. The rest of us will engage in close quarters on that signal. Attack down their flank, and meet us in the middle."
Brothers Cameron and Glamis nodded their understanding. They scrambled spiderlike along the cliff face into position. Cameron was armed with a stalker pattern bolt gun, Glamis with a bolter. Both were yet to accept a tattoo for their services to the Emperor.
The remaining space marines fell in either side of the sergeant. Calder was on Ney's right with his boltgun in one hand and his blade clamped between his teeth. From where he hung with his apelike agility, Ney could see his conflict tattoo trailing down from his ear and disappearing beneath his gorget. Holm was on the left, his hand glinting in the pale light. Apart from the sergeant he was the only one going into battle with a bolt pistol, his handicap preventing him from using a bolter effectively.
The brothers returned to the ledge, inching their eyes as far as they dared over the edge to observe their prey. The prey in turn went about their business, oblivious to the threat they faced, trying to keep warm or sorting through what few supplies they'd managed to take during their flight from the city far below at the base of the mountain. Ney felt the tension growing inside him as the imminence of combat sharpened the very air. His hearts began to increase in tempo as his brain's synapses supercharged and his armour began to inject the first slivers of hyper-adrenaline. But Ney mastered his reactions, overcoming the excitement without any visible reaction. The Stone Hearts were patient mountain hunters, and would wait as long as necessary for the right time to strike.
The moment before combat was a stab of intensity- the wind seemed to drop as though holding its breath.
Then Glamis opened up with a three round burst from his bolter, and cooked off the ammo crate.
People fell and hurled themselves in all directions as they registered the gunfire and the explosion in their midst. Bullets ricocheted from the crate, cutting down three of them. Panic spread through the camp as almost all those in PDF fatigues turned upon Glamis' position, firing with abandon. That was when Ney and his brothers surged up onto the outcrop and charged.
Ney led them into the fray, using his free hand to draw his bolt pistol and firing into chests and heads with one-shot-one-kill efficiency. Holm was slower, having climbed the ledge with his blade of his fake hand, but soon distinctive precision bolt pistol rounds were speeding past Ney. Calder veered further right to give suppressing fire against those converging on Glamis, their bolters raking the crowd. The group of mortals saw the space marines coming but were too awestruck and horrified to respond.
"NO PITY! NO MERCY!" Sergeant Ney roared his chapter's battle cry, before he ploughed into the thick of his enemies. His brothers echoed the cry and followed the sergeant's lead.
Fighting became close and bloody. Ney's gun picked off riflemen lining up to take a shot, while his blade flashed like a whip, turning faces to ribbons and piecing organs with unerring accuracy. He fought with a skill and delicacy his brothers lacked. Holm barrelled his way through the enemy ranks, crushing them with his bulk and hammering a survivor into the ground with his metal fist, before drawing the blade back to swing into a man's stomach, severing him in two. Calder was leaping atop of his adversaries, pulping them beneath his feet, his bolter a skull-crushing cudgel in his hand.
Sergeant Ney continued to lead them with his carefully balanced fighting style, while bodies rained from the rocks above, courtesy of Cameron's sniper fire. The truth of the matter was that Ney had no choice but to fight so carefully. Without any natural eyes left, he had not adapted well to sensory input that was entirely artificial. His vision was one based on shades and outlines, assisted by thermal view-filters. His view of the world around him was one of black and white shapes, with blurred detailing and differing levels of intensity indicating differences in temperature. At a casual glance he could decipher the hazy pictures before him with minimal difficulty. In the hurricane of combat, however, everything became a swirl of confusion.
Ney had not revealed this truth to anyone besides his attending apothecary and his captain, for he was no less a space marine for his blindness. He had adapted- like any true Stone Heart he had put his flesh to work for him, honing his other senses mercilessly, testing himself to breaking point, and then beyond. He had primed his warrior instincts to the full, learning to follow sounds to their source and feel the movement of others around him. He was reborn through his infirmity, and he fought as he newly disciplined senses allowed.
Ney kicked his way through the campfire, Holm right by his side, Calder and Glamis circling the remaining mortals on the right. Some were trying to escape up the mountainside, but Cameron picked them off. Ney saw a stalker round cut off a man's forearm en route to hitting another man in the head. The first man fell back from where he'd been reaching for higher ground screaming like the damned. He fell, missing the ledge and plunging to his death, his voice lost to the wind. The battle was nearly over, with the last few PDF within striking distance and a handful of civilians cowing in the shadow of the cliff face.
Then a cacophony of rapid explosions ripped the air. Calder was engulfed in a nimbus of flame as waves of flechettes sparked off his armour and he tumbled back, his bolter spraying fire wildly.
"Moderate threat detected- Report!" Ney barked as cries of warning tangled over the vox. Before the sergeant could get a cohesive response, a bullish monstrosity thundered towards him. Holm leapt forward in a brash effort to defeat the creature in a single blow, but was swatted aside with pitiful ease.
From the outline and smell that hit Ney as the creature loomed up before him, he knew instantly what it was.
A massive ogryn towered half a metre over the brother-sergeant. The tart aroma of unwashed flesh could only make Ney imagine the state of its filthy, wart ridden skin. It's mouth jutted forward like an ork jaw. Ney heard the scratch of course body hair as it lifted its arms to bring up its weapons; a power maul and the trademark ogryn ripper gun.
Ney recoiled in confusion. How had he not seen the abhuman? It must have been beyond the fire, its heat signature masked by the flames. And now his squad had charged it head on with no warning, and one member may already have fallen to it. Self-disgust welled up inside him at the prospect of his unwanted augmetic failing him so utterly, but he had no time to think as the huge foe brought its maul crashing down on him.
Ney threw up his arm to deflect the blow. The weapon clanged off the ceramite, but the energy coating discharged into the space marine, rippling across his chest. Ney jerked back in spasm, even his Astartes physiology unable to resist as control over his motor functions was arrested. He recovered quickly, swinging his bolt pistol up to blow the creature's head off, but the ogryn grabbed the offending arm and dragged the sergeant off his feet, the bolt pistol firing wide. The ogryn must have been gene-bulked or cybernetically enhanced, because Ney could not break its grip; its strength outmatched him!
The creature raised the ripper gun high, giving in to its instinctive desire to beat its enemy with a solid hunk of metal. Ney saw the blow as it started to descend. He quickly readjusted his grip on his ice axe and swung up to meet it.
The cut was both timed and aimed perfectly. The sickle blade of the axe skimmed the surface of the rippers hand grip and sliced the ends off all the ogryn's fingers. When the gun hit his shoulder plate, it bounced out of the monster's hand and clattered to the ground.
The ogryn groaned in dismay, though whether that was because of the injury or for the loss of the ripper, Ney wasn't sure. He used the opportunity to twist his arm free and slice open his enemy's belly. The wound was deep, but all he cut was a thick layer of gristle. Saliva dappled the sergeant's face as the ogryn roared in outrage, reaching down to pick up its fallen power maul. Ney took the opportunity to bound forward and punch the creature in the face, followed with a gash with his ice axe that went up and across its chest.
"Feel the pain of retribution, fool creature!" Ney taunted. The abhuman howled back and struck out. Ney lurched aside of the blow and took off a large slice of flesh in return.
This was where Ney had the advantage. Unlike his foe, his strength and build did not slow him. The ogryn lumbered into its attacks, unbalancing itself with every blow that missed while Ney dodged artfully, stinging the monster repeatedly. Ney was in his element, his well-trained senses leading him flawlessly through this dance. Had he still an eyelid, he would have shut it to embrace the hunter's instinct he'd garnered to the full.
Soon enough, a prime opportunity to end the fight came that Ney couldn't ignore. He could have ended the fight sooner if he'd wanted but had been too caught up in the rush it gave him.
The ogryn struck with its power maul and missed again. Its right knee, already weakened by a deep stab delivered by the sergeant, gave way and the giant fell.
"Now I have you," Ney grinned.
The ogryn was already climbing to its feet when Ney dived onto its arm. Using the momentum as it straightened up, Ney swung up onto the creature's bulked shoulder and onto its back.
The ogryn bellowed and thrashed in place, swinging its arms to try and dislodge the space marine. For Ney, it was no more than riding out an ice storm. His hand found the creature's head hair and he tugged sharply. The ogryn tipped its head back in response, and Ney slipped his ice axe round and opened its throat.
The roars vanished into bubbling gurgles, and the ogryn's struggles stilled as though it was confused. Then it sank to the ground with a gentleness at odds with its bulk and keeled over onto its side, grunting weakly.
Ney hauled himself up and appraised his squad. The battle was over. Cameron was offering his assistance to Holm who rejected his brother's hand; clearly the only injury he'd suffered was to his pride. Brother Calder was also unharmed, but his armour was battered and scored with ripper impacts. His hard eyes found Ney's.
"Why did you not see that ogryn when you observed the battleground?" he said mutinously.
Ney's jaw hardened at the accusation he heard in his brother's tone. The pattern of Calder's face through his vision feed was creased with an insolent frown. He couldn't make out the space marine's eyes but he knew they would be full of scorn and anger. He felt his own anger rising, though in his case, most of his anger was directed at himself, for allowing this to happen; for making such an error as to overlook the abhuman. He sensed the rest of his squad gathering around, but didn't want to risk looking to see what their opinions were, so he held Calder's gaze and spoke.
"Do not gripe, brother. You are alive and our enemies slain. Is it not the purpose of the Stone Hearts to confront great threats?"
"It is not our purpose to die needlessly because of failure to excel. Weakness is not our way."
Sergeant Ney took a step forward, his grip tightening on his axe. Calder tilted his head holding his ground defiantly
Ney would have liked to come to blows with his brother over the sleight, but knew he would never command the respect of his fellow Stone Hearts if he did. With the same discipline with which he had mastered his senses, Ney mastered his anger, reigning it in so that that when he spoke again his voice was low and steady, revealing nothing of the rage bubbling inside.
"You forget your place, brother," the furrow of his brow was more pronounced, making up for what he could not express for a lack of eyes. "If your concern is for weakness then look to your fear of being wounded in the line of duty. Such fear does not become a Stone Heart. As for the ogryn, need I point out that you failed to see it as well?"
Calder smarted at the words, but hesitated uncertainly. Ney was pleased to see that apparently his calm response had reasserted his authority somewhat.
"I did spot the creature, as it left the shadow of the next cliff face." Calder said, his tone neutral, as was his expression. "It was at the side of one in the robes of an administratum adept."
At the revelation, Ney turned from his belligerent brother to investigate. Abhumans were not native to this world, Neos-Albia. The creature must have been imported for special purpose, most likely as a bodyguard for a figure of power, which made its master an important suspect to be interrogated by the Librarius.
But Ney's hopes were in vain. The figure in the robes of the Administratum was already dead; a bolt round had punctured his chest and detonated within his thorax.
"Too late. A wasted opportunity," the sergeant took a moment to look at the Aquila emblem hanging from the dead man's neck.
"Besides, his position is concern with trade. The core leadership elements evacuated much earlier, and will be further up the mountain by now.
He turned back to his squad.
"There's nothing to be gained here. We press on. Follow my lead."
This was why the Stone Hearts had come to Neos-Albia. The Planetary Governor and his administration had attempted to succeed from the Imperium, jealously seeking to profit from their vast mineral resources rather than surrender them to the justly demanded Imperial tithes. The mass of the treacherous forces had already been destroyed thanks to the efforts of the Stone Hearts ninth company. With their skills in mountain warfare, the Astartes had quickly located and cut off water sources in the heights above the planetary capital, bombarding them for days while their water supplies ran thin before storming the city.
In truth the war was already over- no other city had dared to raised arms after the capital fell- but it was not enough for the Stone Hearts. The governor and several ranking members of his unlawful government had escaped into the mountains, slipping by the warriors blocking the water supplies in the hopes of finding salvation in the lands beyond the natural boarder of the mountain range. Captain Robertus Gregor of the ninth had decreed that the leadership of Neos-Albia must be found and made example of to the people of the planet. The entire company had scattered to scale the mountain in search of the governor and his lackeys. Only once they had been executed, followed by all leading figures who had supported the rebellion, would the surrender be accepted and the planet declared pacified.
As Sergeant Ney prepared to clamber up the next wall of stone, something caught his augmetic gaze. From a woman whose ostentatious state of dress suggested she may have been the administratum adept's wife or mistress hung a sling fashioned from a ruined blanket. The woman was dead- not from gunfire but a stray round that hit the mountainside and blown stone shrapnel into her face- but in the blanket Ney's eye found a barely detectable heat signature. There was a child in the blanket; a babe. The child's temperature was little better than its mother's, whose corpse was already cooling in the icy gale. In such conditions, there was no doubt as to what its fate would be.
Without so much as a shadow of regret, Sergeant Ney turned away from the babe and reached for a handhold. The child might be too young to be held accountable for which side it was on, but weakness had condemned it in place of justice. The child could not survive the harsh conditions, and that was reason enough for Ney to turn a blind eye to it. His orders and his duty were his only concern.
Ney and his squad left the battle site behind and continued scale the mountain, unconcerned with the climb ahead, unashamed of the massacre against a helpless enemy, and unremorseful of the baby left to die.
They pressed on- as always- stoic and stone hearted in all things.
The End