The mortars were still falling around the southern edge of the palace when Dovator and his unit reached the eastern gate, the explosions of the shells punctuated by staccato bursts from the heavy bolters. The cacophony of detonations stood in stark contrast to the eerie silence that hung in the air, as if the entire city was holding its breath. Above, the cloudless sky was vibrant, devoid of any signs of the thick smoke that drifted east and out to sea from the still burning fields. Once, the sight of that sky had filled the Inquisitor with serene joy. Now, he felt nothing but dread.

Dovator's unit organized themselves against the palace walls on either side of the mangled gate: Sara, and four Guardsmen with him on the left; Weiss, Lucia, and the remaining four soldiers on the right. The Inquisitor gestured to Weiss and the tech adept tossed him a pair of magnoculars.

Crouching, Dovator peered around the corner, taking in the sleek, rectangular shape of the palace itself. Sections of the structure bore scars from an earlier battle, the civil war that had taken place before Dovator and Borglyn had come. Scorch marks blackened the building's elegant facade, marring a structure that had once been an architectural love letter to the God-Emperor. Crumbling walls provided several entry points into the building. The Inquisitor focussed on the opening closest to the gate, roughly a hundred metres north of their position. That would be their way in, unless…

Something glinted in the gloom of the building, partially obscured by the rubble. He increased magnification and saw it: the unmistakable muzzle of a heavy bolter.

The Inquisitor returned to his position against the wall and tossed the magnoculars back to Weiss. He signalled to the other man what he had seen, and the tech adapt peered around the corner. When he too had returned to his cover, Dovator signalled his orders: cut straight from the gate to the wall of the palace, and hug that wall north to the point of entry. Weiss nodded and relayed the message in a whisper to the Guardsmen next to him.

Dovator gave his own orders, instructing two of his Guardsmen to fire grenades into the gap once he and the remaining members of the group had reached the palace wall. He looked back at Weiss and nodded.

The tech adept leaned toward the speech horn of the vox-caster clipped to his shoulder. "Inquisitor Dovator in position."

Borglyn had amended the Inquisitor's plan, favouring direct action over any attempts to increase their numbers. He reasoned that, between their three groups, they had found all the soldiers they could hope to find, and any delay in pressing the attack worked in the enemy's favour. They had numbers enough to breach the defences, and the benefit of multiple directions of attack.

His plan was straightforward: artillery fire against the south gate would provide cover to Borglyn's troops as they closed the distance to the palace, and also provide a distraction for Dovator's group to do the same. Once in position, Borglyn's larger force would begin a direct assault on the south gate, committing the enemy's forces to its defence while Dovator's group entered through the east. Kraken would then advance from the west, taking some pressure off Borglyn's units and splitting the enemy's attention across two fronts.

If all went well, the three groups would converge inside the palace and sweep through, room by room and floor by floor, cleansing it of the heretics that had tainted this once peaceful place.

"Understood. We will begin our advance."

The heavy bolters fell silent. A lone mortar shell whistled through the air, finally exploding somewhere near the south gate of the palace. An anxious silence fell across the battlefield. A low rumble began to swell, at first barely audible and then crashing through the silence, the war cry of Borglyn's men bringing the Emperor's righteous fury to bear as they poured through the gate and across the palace grounds. Dovator could hear the crackle of las weapons, heard shouts from heretics stumbling through the palace doors to the south to repel the assault.

"Go!"

Dovator's unit slipped through the gate like ghosts, gliding swiftly toward the palace wall. They closed the distance in seconds and pressed up against the wall in single file.

"Fix bayonets."

The Inquisitor drew his power sword with his right hand and unclipped a grenade from his belt with his left. He looked back to the gate and saw the two Guardsmen there in position, one kneeling with a grenade launcher aimed at the opening, and the other standing sentinel over him with a lasgun. He nodded.

The Guardsman fired two grenades into the palace in quick succession. They exploded, sending a plume of dust and debris shooting out of the opening as Dovator led his unit quickly and quietly along the wall. Inside, he could hear panicked, confused voices as the enemy scrambled to respond to the attack. He tossed his own grenade through the opening, its explosion adding to the chaos and silencing one of the voices.

Dovator charged through the breach, the haze of dust kicked up from the grenades stinging his eyes. Before him, he could see four of Gaea Prime's defense force struggling to regain their feet; four heretics who had turned their back on the Emperor; four soldiers who had sworn to protect this world, and instead had doomed it.

With a roar, the Inquisitor brought his power sword down on the nearest heretic, cleaving him from shoulder to sternum before swinging in a wide arc to decapitate a second. Behind him, his loyal Guardsmen poured through the opening, quickly closing the distance with the enemy and overwhelming them before they had a chance to react.

They pressed forward, Dovator leading them further into the building. Weiss walked by his side, auspex in hand, scanning for any signs of the enemy. They followed a path roughly south toward the entrance of the palace, hoping to take some pressure off Borglyn's men by catching the enemy unawares from behind.

The auspex chimed softly.

"Contact. Large group… fifty metres… off to the right." Weiss studied the glowing screen. "They're not moving."

"The courtyard," Dovator muttered. He turned down the nearest hallway. At the end of it, he could see the warm light of day and the plants of a small garden swaying in a gentle breeze.

With each step forward, the tightness in the pit of his stomach grew; the metalic taste in the back of his mouth clawed its way up and over his tongue. He grimaced.

To his left, Lucia walked stiffly, her laspistol drawn and her jaw clenched, unblinking eyes locked on the opening to the courtyard before them.

They emerged cautiously under the open sky, fanning out into the space and searching for any signs of the enemy. The courtyard was beautiful, a carefully manicured garden that provided a private paradise for the wealthy bureaucrats that once frequented the palace. In its centre stood a large, ornate monument to the earliest settlers of this world. It had been restored and revised several times over the centuries to include prominent Imperial iconography, all of which had now been defaced, the once ethereal white marble blackened and pockmarked.

A gentle breeze rolled through again, carrying with it the fetid stench of death and decay. The cloudless sky darkened without warning, a starless night falling over the courtyard. The breeze was gone, but a chill gripped the Inquisitor all the same, cold fingers raking down his spine.

Dovator withdrew a small flask from a pouch on his waist and knelt, holding his power sword reverently before him. He gently shook its contents, holy water from blessed Terra, over the weapon and watched it bead and run in rivulets along the full length of the blade. The Inquisitor bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"God-Emperor, You are the light against which no darkness can stand. Imbue this blade with your wrath, that it may be anathema to the daemon. Guide my hand in battle, that I may banish the servants of the Great Enemy in Your name."

The auspex chimed again. Weiss studied the screen, its soft glow illuminating his face in the gloom. He gestured across the courtyard: two more contacts, one hundred metres through the archway on the far side.

Lucia nodded and motioned for three Guardsmen to follow her. Dovator understood. For all the symptoms he was feeling right now, he was certain she felt it worse. Any excuse to put some distance between herself and this place would be seen as a welcome respite. The Inquisitor watched as the psyker and her entourage disappeared into the darkness of the building. Be careful.

Weiss moved cautiously toward the monument, auspex in hand and lasgun leveled. Dovator and Sara followed close behind, while the remaining Guardsmen fell in behind them. They felt their way slowly along the cold marble, keeping as close to it and each other as possible. With every step, the pungent stench worsened as the smells of sickly-sweet rot and coppery blood flooded their nostrils.

"We're right on top of them," Weiss hissed as he reached the far side of the monument. He clipped the auspex back on his belt and gripped his lasgun with both hands.

Dovator counted down on his fingers.

Three…

Two…

One.

They turned the corner simultaneously, las weapons raised and ready to unleash the Emperor's wrath upon the enemy.

Sara gasped. Two of the Guardsmen turned away, the sounds of their emptying stomachs echoing in the silence.

Before them stood a blood-soaked mountain of tattered clothing and flesh, a twisted monument to the new gods of this world. Bodies large and small were woven together in the putrid mound, their forms barely still recognizable as human. The moist mountain moved, the subtle shudder of a laboured breath, accompanied by a soft squelching sound.

Somewhere in the middle of the fleshy mass, something resembling a man's head emerged, upside down, his mouth open impossibly wide in a silent scream.


At the intersection, Kraken split off from the rest of his unit, winding his way between the buildings. He was looking for a particularly tall one with line of sight to the palace. The sniper was still perched up there, dutifully covering the western gate, and they'd not been able to displace him with lasgun fire or find an angle from which to bring the heavy bolter to bear.

The mortar fire had subsided a few minutes ago. As planned, Kraken and Collins had begun their advance once they heard Borglyn's troops assault the south gate. Kraken was certain Dovator was inside the palace already and was eager to rejoin him, and Lucia, inside.

The lieutenant found a suitable building and slipped inside, quickly and quietly making his way up to the roof. He had left Collins instructions to watch for him on the nearby rooftops and to draw the sniper's attention once he was in position. The moment he reached the top, he heard the sharp crackle of lasgun fire from the street nearby. For all he disliked about Collins, Kraken had to admit the man could follow orders with the unmatched precision of a savant. And right now, that was an extremely valuable trait.

The veteran glided along the rooftop silently, taking up position against the parapet. He leveled his lasgun over the edge and lay his magnoculars on top, forming a makeshift long-las. Kraken peered through one of the eyepieces. He had spent so much time studying the sniper's position that it only took a moment to account for his relative position and sight him now.

The enemy was well-concealed, his head and long-las barely visible behind what used to be one of the palace's windows. Black scorch marks ran all around the crumbling window frame, the result of countless ineffective lasgun volleys. New marks were being added as he watched, deepening the scarring to obsidian.

Kraken's elevated position gave him a slightly larger target than he would have had on the ground, but not by much. He took aim, watching as the enemy sniper shifted slightly to target the Guardsmen below.

The sniper fired.

Kraken responded with two shots of his own in quick succession, missing low.

The enemy sniper realized what was happening and tried to reposition himself, but he was too slow. Kraken adjusted his aim and fired again, burning a hole through the man's face. The sniper slumped backwards and out of sight.

Kraken took a relieved breath and made his way out of the building. He reached the intersection at the same time as Collins and the rest of his unit spilled in from a nearby building. "Casualties?"

"One injury, sir. He's been patched up. I left him with the heavy bolter team to cover our advance."

The veteran nodded. Not a perfect outcome, but still better than what could have been. Losing people in dangerous situations like this was always a real possibility, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Let's go."

They advanced up the street, toward the western gate, stopping in the shadows of the last row of buildings. The remaining hundred metres before the gate was littered with a maze of sandbags and makeshift barricades. On the other side of the gate, the way was mostly clear save for a few impact craters.

"Fix bayonets," Kraken ordered. "We go fast through that gate and across the grounds. Once we reach the palace, we hug the building toward the south entrance and take some pressure off the colonel and his men."

A chorus of determined affirmation came in response. As one, Kraken's unit charged forth from their cover, filled with righteous fury and eager to finish this fight, once and for all.

They had barely passed the first barricade when a thunderous explosion rang out from somewhere inside the palace. An ordnance shell screamed through the air high above.

"Incoming!"


The gloom lifted with every step Lucia took away from the courtyard. She glanced back, and sure enough, at the other end of the hallway she had just walked down, she could see the warm glow of daylight. A localized phenomenon… Interesting… And very unsettling. She made a mental note to ask Dovator about that once they were safely away from this place. So much of what she had experienced this past day was uncharted territory for her. Despite all the training the Inquisitor had given her, she still had much to learn about the Warp and the effects it could have on her mind. Can anyone truly understand it all, though?

The thundering blast of ordnance jolted Lucia from her thoughts. She glanced at the Guardsmen following closely behind her. "That sounded nearby, whatever it was."

"Earthshaker, ma'am. I think."

"Let's check it out."

They worked their way quietly through the halls in the direction of the blast. At the end of a long passage, Lucia peered around the corner. About a hundred metres across from their position, she was surprised to see the sky. The interior wall on that side of the hall had been torn away, widening a doorway. Through it, Lucia could see a ragged hole in the ceiling that allowed the large Earthshaker Cannon to fire out of the palace. She heard muffled voices.

Lucia moved forward cautiously, slowly closing the distance to the cannon. She could just make out what one of the heretics was saying now: "Over there. See them?"

Lucia peered out to the palace grounds from a nearby window.

"No," she gasped.

Through the smoke and dust still rising from the large impact crater, beyond the twisted remains of the western gate, the psyker could just barely make out their target: Kraken and his squad. They had taken cover as best they could and been far enough from the blast of the shell that they had survived it. She could see Kraken struggling to his feet, rubble and dirt cascading from his body with every pained movement. The other soldiers were scattered nearby, some behind cover and others still lying prone on the ground.

Lucia heard the cannon's crew heft a new shell into the breech, the metalic scraping and clanging of the breechblock locking it into place echoing through the palace halls.

Panic gripped the psyker's chest. She knew that next, they would be adjusting the firing trajectory to finish the job.

"No… no, no, no… " Lucia's body carried her up the hall, and before her brain could truly comprehend what she was doing, she was at a full sprint toward the cannon, desperately firing her laspistol at the two heretics manning it. One of her Guardsmen shouted something from somewhere behind her, but she didn't hear him; her entire world was reduced to the artillery piece and its crew. Nothing mattered now except for stopping them.

She fired again, and again. Scorch marks appeared on the metal plating of the cannon where her shots went wide. She screamed in frustration as she closed the distance to her target. The gunner took cover, crouching in front of his console. The other man scrambled for his lasgun. He raised it, frantically firing from the hip.

Lucia's shots finally found their targets. The one with the lasgun staggered sideways and collapsed, a smoldering hole burnt through the middle of his chest. Then the gunner slumped forward, the back of his head a charred mess.

But it was too late. The ground shuddered. Her ears rang. The Earthshaker had fired again.