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combat　posting；　it’s　as　if　they’re　suddenly　children　again。　Doesn’t　matter　if　they’re　officers　or
grunts。　They　feel　inadequate；　confused　and　scared。　They　feel　like　they　don’t　belong。　And　the　fear
that　builds　up　in　them　sometimes…　Maybe　you　felt　that　way　yourself。”
“I’m　sure　I　did；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“It　was　a　long　time　ago；　but　I’m　sure　I　did。”
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“I　never　forgot　that　feeling；”　voxed　van　Droi　wistfully。　“I　hated　it　more　than　anything；　you
know。　I　felt　like　a　burden　to　those　around　me。　I　had　so　much　to　learn　and　they　had　no　time　to　teach。
It　was　Vinnemann　that　pulled　me　out　of　it。　He　was　just　a　captain　back　then。　It　was　before　his　injury。
He　was　one　hell　of　a　leader。”
“He　was　a　good　man；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。
“He　was　a　great　man；”　said　van　Droi。　Again　there　was　a　long　pause。　“It’s　not　looking　good　for　us
out　here；　Wulfe。　But　if　we　have　any　chance　at　all　to　make　him　proud；　I　say　there’s　nothing　we
shouldn’t　do　to　honour　him。　Understand？”
Wulfe　thought　he　did。　It　wasn’t　about　nice　neat　plans　anymore。　Things　had　gone　way　beyond
that。　Van　Droi　was　looking　for　something　to　hold　on　to；　something　solid；　and；　in　the　honour　of　the
regiment　and　his　duty　to　Colonel　Vinnemann；　it　was　clear　that　he　had　found　it；　despite　the　mess　they
were　in。　Wulfe　hoped　he　might　draw　a　little　strength　from　that　himself。　If　it　worked　for　van　Droi；　it
could　work　for　him；　too。
He　was　a　soldier。　He　was　a　Cadian。
“For　the　colonel；　sir；”　he　told　van　Droi；　“and　for　the　regiment。　If　we　go　out；　we’ll　go　out　with　a
hell　of　a　bang；　sir。”
Van　Droi　sounded　a　little　brighter　when　he　answered。　“That’s　the　stuff；　Oskar。　Not　many　of　the
Gunheads　left　now；　but　we’ll　make　our　mark；　by　Throne。”
“You　bet；　sir；”　said　Wulfe。　“You　can　count　on　me　and　my　crew。”
“I　know　I　can；　sergeant。　Van　Droi　out。”
“Major　General　Killian　would　like　to　speak　with　you　again；　sir；”　said　Bergen’s　adjutant　over　the
intercom。
Bergen；　up　in　his　cupola　again；　immediately　changed　the　channel　on　his　vox…bead　and　said；
“News；　Klotus？”
“I’ll　say。　My　scout　leader　just　reported　in。　This　trail　takes　us　up　into　the　clouds　just　a　few
hundred　metres　around　the　next　curve　and　ends　shortly　afterwards。　Visibility　is　poor；　and　the　going
is　extremely　treacherous。　But　that’s　not　all。　The　scouts…　they’ve　found　something　strange。　I　thought
you　ought　to　know。”
“Strange？　What　are　we　talking　about　exactly？”
“They　had　difficulty　describing　it　to　me。　Look；　Gerard；　I’m　not　sure　what　we’re　getting　into
here；　but　I　know　I　don’t　like　it　and　neither　do　my　men。　According　to　my　scouts；　it’s　something　we’d
better　see　for　ourselves。”
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CHAPTER　TWENTY…FIVE
“Human？”　asked　General　deViers。
“I　wouldn’t　want　to　bet　on　that；　sir；”　replied　Rennkamp。　“I　suppose　it　could　be。　Difficult　to　tell
with　all　the　erosion。　All　the　same；　it’s　damned　strange；　if　you　ask　me。　What　in　blazes　is　it　doing　up
here？”
The　Cadian　senior　officers　—　deViers；　his　division　commanders；　and　various　attached　staff　—
stood　at　the　very　end　of　the　mountain　trail；　surrounded　by　anxious　scouts　from　the　88th　Mobile
Infantry　Regiment；　the　men　that　Marrenburg　had　sent　forward　to　lead　the　column。　Massive　spurs　of
dark　rock　curved　around　them　on　either　side；　and　the　upper　reaches　of　the　mountain　stretched　high
above　them；　peaks　lost　in　the　roiling　clouds。　The　eyes　of　the　Cadians　barely　lingered　on　any　of　these
things；　however。　Instead；　they　were　locked　to　the　sight　that　lay　straight　in　front　of　them。
It　was　ancient；　that　much　was　certain；　and　it　was　something　that　none　of　the　Cadians　had　been
prepared　for。
A　great　rectangular　space　had　been　excavated　in　the　side　of　the　mountain；　forming　an　alcove　so
wide　and　deep　that　one　could　have　parked　an　entire　Naval　lifter　inside　it。　The　edges　looked　like　they
might　once　have　been　angular；　squared　off　by　the　tools　or　machines　of　the　masons　that　had　carved　it；
but　they　weren’t　very　square　now。　Thousands　of　years　of　harsh　weather　had　smoothed　and　rounded
them；　as　it　had　also　done　to　the　twin　godlike　figures；　cut　from　the　same　stone；　which　knelt　below　the
alcove’s　roof；　taking　the　immense　weight　of　it　on　their　broad　rocky　shoulders。
The　figures　were　vast　and　strange。　They　looked　immensely　powerful；　but　were　they　supposed　to
appear　so　distorted？　Or　had　they　just　been　badly　rendered？　Their　huge　block…like　heads　were
preposterously　oversized　by　comparison　to　their　sturdy　torsos。　Each　arm　and　leg　seemed　likewise
exaggerated　in　its　thickness；　presenting　the　beings　as　having　impossibly　heavy　musculature；　and
their　hands　and　feet；　much　like　their　heads；　seemed　so　big　as　to　make　the　statues　appear　like　some
kind　of　grotesque　caricatures。　They　were　a　strange　sight　indeed；　and　they　looked　like　no　statue　of　a
man　that　Bergen　had　ever　seen。
He　wondered　what　had　they　looked　like　in　their　heyday。　Had　they　been　intricately　carved？　Had
their　faces　been　rendered　in　exquisite　or　terrifying　detail？　Had　they　been　covered　in　glyphs　or
precious　metals？　How　long　had　they　knelt　here；　locked　in　a　battle　with　gravity　to　prevent　the　side　of
the　mountain　from　burying　them？　A　great　many　millennia；　surely。
The　surface　of　each　was　pitted；　their　features　long　gone；　lost　in　time。　They　were　utterly　faceless。
In　the　millennia　to　come；　they　would　crumble　altogether　and　the　roof　of　the　alcove　would　collapse；
burying　all　evidence　that　they　had　ever　existed。
Thank　the　Throne；　thought　Bergen；　that　all　that　rock　hasn’t　come　down　already；　or　we’d　be
facing　a　dead　end。　The　orks　would　have　us　properly　trapped。
The　expedition　force　wasn’t　trapped。　There　was　a　way　ahead。
The　cavernous　black　mouth　of　a　tunnel　gaped　between　the　two　huge　figures。　It　looked　wide
enough　to　take　four　or　five　Leman　Russ　tanks　driving　abreast　of　each　other。　This　ancient　structure
was　a　gate；　a　doorway　into　the　belly　of　the　mountain。　The　mighty　statues　were　its　guardians。
“Abhumans；　I’d　say；”　said　Killian。　“Maybe　some　kind　of　mutated　human　colonists。　Who　knows
how　old　this　is。　It　might　date　back　to　pre…Strife　times。”
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“Gruber；　get　the　tech…priests　up　here；”　snapped　deViers。　“We　don’t　have　time　to　stand　around
discussing　it；　but　I’ll　be　damned　if　I’m　going　to　lead　us　all　down　there　before　I　know　what　we’re
looking　at。”
The　general’s　adjutant　put　out　a　hurried　call　for　the　senior　Martian　priests　to　move　up　the
column。
Yes；　thought　Bergen；　let’s　see　what　the　cogboys　have　to　say　about　this。　I’m　sure　this　is　where
they’ve　been　leading　us　the　whole　time。　Whatever　the　Mechanicus　wants；　I’ll　bet　my　boots　it’s　in
that　tunnel　somewhere；　or　on　the　other　side　of　it；　perhaps。　One　way　or　another；　though；　we’re　going
in。　Emperor　protect　us。
He　knew　that　the　men　wouldn’t　like　it。　He　didn’t　like　it　much　himself。　Alien　things　were
anathema。　From　the　moment　a　child　of　the　Imperium　could　understand　Low　Gothic；　he　or　she　was
drilled　to　hate　all　xenos　and　everything　they　stood　for；　and；　from　the　moment　they　joined　the　Guard；
that　hatred　was　fed　and　nurtured　and　beaten　into　them　until；　for　many；　it　became　a　consuming
passion。
Suffer　not　the　alien　to　live。
Wonder　not　at　its　works；　thought　Bergen；　reciting　from　the　Imperial　Creed。　For　such　things
weave　their　corruption　into　the　minds　of　men　and　make　us　weak　in　the　face　of　our　foes。
Many　a　man　with　too　much　curiosity　had　been　burned　at　the　stake　by　commissars；　members　of
the　Holy　Inquisition；　or　even　by　outraged　civilian　mobs。　Heresy　carried　a　high　price。
A　monotone　voice；　like　metal　rasping　on　metal；　sounded　from　behind　Bergen。　He　turned　to　see
Magos　Sennesdiar　approach；　face　shadowed　under　his　cowl；　long　red　robes　snapping　at　his　ankles。
In　his　own　way；　he　was　even　more　alien　than　the　grotesque　stone　twins。　The　metal　tendrils　that
sprouted　from　his　back　and　his　monstrous　machine…bulk　made　the　kneeling　stone　giants　seem　so
much　more　human。　He　was　flanked；　as　usual；　by　the　equally　disturbing　Adepts　Xephous　and
Armadron。
“Fortune　favours　us；　general；”　said　Sennesdiar。
Bergen　noted　that；　unlike　the　Cadians　around　him；　the　tech…priests　did　not　wear　goggles　and
rebreathers。　They　didn’t　need　them。
How　fragile　we　must　seem　to　them　sometimes；　he　thought　to　himself。　Do　they　pity　us；　or　do　they
vie