The tone of Lord Eiterfex’s voice was light, but Belisarius Cawl knew that tone.
The Lord of Suffering was, in his slow and inexorable way, getting angry. Cawl
didn’t blame him: The Imperium had done a good job of making Saxon Decimus
Ultimus formidable: the hive city’s walls were encrusted in weapons batteries,
and landing strips high in the city’s upper flanks were spitting out flights
of fighters and bombers which were creating a miserable attrition rate among
the Airborne Pestilence. Seeing Hytothrax the Younger being humbled probably
amused Eiterfex, but not enough to compensate for the fact that the advance had
stalled. The Imperium had been ruthlessly efficient in leveling six kilometres
of the outer city and shanty towns around the hive, so that by the time the
Death Guard arrived there was an almost impenetrable barrier. Even here, a kilometre
from that killing field, enemy munitions tumbled past periodically.
Finis Omnium lumbered past, heading back into the relative safety of the wider urban sprawl. The ancient
Reaver Titan was dragging its left leg a little, and the wet spark of faltering
void shields gave the air an unpleasant, electric edge.
Eiterfex
watched the titan with an air of faint interest. Cawl barely dared to breathe.
"You know, he's broken the backs of six worlds. Six. Credit to the Throne-rats. They've bloodied our noses good and hard."
The light quality in Eiterfex's voice had become even more pronounced. None dared approach him for a moment. Eventually, it was Sergeant Thrombax who spoke.
"Let's be real about this, boss. We screwed up going after the lesser cities first."
There was another long, dangerous pause before Eiterfex grunted.
"Oh well," he replied, "it was a gamble. We lost this one."
He stared into the distance.
"Alright," he said eventually, "pull back. That goes for Doomhark and that upstart Hytothrax. All divisions move back to the second city."
Thrombax nodded and wandered off, bellowing orders.
"Cawl," said Eiterfex after a moment, "get your Crawlers ready. The Throne-rats will see us pull back. They won't be stupid enough to fall for it. But they will attempt to secure the outer urban sprawl. The Brass Reapers are only days out now, so they won't want to take any chances. They think the end is in sight. And it is in the hopeful nature of these poor creatures that their downfall always comes.
"I think we let them have back that ground we just took."
Eiterfex chuckled. It was a whispery, dry thing.
"And then, Cawl... we shall rain down horrors upon them."
"You know, he's broken the backs of six worlds. Six. Credit to the Throne-rats. They've bloodied our noses good and hard."
The light quality in Eiterfex's voice had become even more pronounced. None dared approach him for a moment. Eventually, it was Sergeant Thrombax who spoke.
"Let's be real about this, boss. We screwed up going after the lesser cities first."
There was another long, dangerous pause before Eiterfex grunted.
"Oh well," he replied, "it was a gamble. We lost this one."
He stared into the distance.
"Alright," he said eventually, "pull back. That goes for Doomhark and that upstart Hytothrax. All divisions move back to the second city."
Thrombax nodded and wandered off, bellowing orders.
"Cawl," said Eiterfex after a moment, "get your Crawlers ready. The Throne-rats will see us pull back. They won't be stupid enough to fall for it. But they will attempt to secure the outer urban sprawl. The Brass Reapers are only days out now, so they won't want to take any chances. They think the end is in sight. And it is in the hopeful nature of these poor creatures that their downfall always comes.
"I think we let them have back that ground we just took."
Eiterfex chuckled. It was a whispery, dry thing.
"And then, Cawl... we shall rain down horrors upon them."
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