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Loyal to the End – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Loyal to the End

by Thomas Parrott

The Armiger’s chain-cleaver carved through the masses of warp spawn in greasy sweeps. The war machine’s actions were connected directly to Bondswoman Constance’s neural impulses by virtue of her Helm Mechanicum. This was not a fight that Warglaives were properly equipped for: they excelled in the crippling of singular mighty foes.

These vile daemons flowed to her in a wave of noisome corruption. Great sealed reservoirs lay all around this place, one of the district’s primary water purifactorums. It would be an unmitigated disaster if it fell to the daemons. For each that she smote from existence with blade or thermal spear, ten more filled the gap. The heavy stubber on top of her mount’s carapace fired non-stop, spewing shells. The barrel glowed red from extended use.

The foes were literal nightmares made disgusting reality. Tiny gibbering horrors, half tumorous flesh and half corroded metal. Lumbering cyclopean shapes with distended bellies spilling infected viscera. They spurted pus and worse when crushed, splattering indescribable vileness across her Armiger’s plating. She wasn’t killing them fast enough. She couldn’t. They were swarming up her legs and across her body, fingers and blades searching for any gap in her defences.

Constance could feel her breath coming in gasps now as the panic rose. They were going to find a way inside. They would–

A wash of cool calm flowed across her mind. ‘Steady.’ It was the fearless voice and presence of her liege lord, Sir Valeon. ‘A clear mind honours the Omnissiah. We shall yet triumph.’

The infusion of his seemingly limitless confidence was welcome, as was the reminder that she did not fight alone. The rest of the lance was out there fighting as well – two other Warglaives like herself, and their bonded master in his Knight Preceptor. She could see the flash of the former’s thermal spears and the sweeping beam of the diffused las-impulsor on the latter as they reduced daemons to ash. A detachment of skitarii rangers fought about their legs, galvanic rifles sparking as they volleyed into the daemonic horde again and again. She did her best not to tread on them as she grappled with her foes; she had not always ridden high in the saddle herself.

They all fought in the defence of Forge World Agripinaa. Once it had been a lynchpin of the Cadian defence, but with the coming of the Great Rift the Adeptus Mechanicus stronghold had found itself swallowed by warp storms and endlessly beset by vile foes. Far from defenceless, the magi had rallied defenders and repulsed a number of invasions. This most recent one was exceptionally deadly, however: the Legio Mortis had come in force with all of their corrupted Dark Mechanicum allies, including the infernal lapdogs of House Vextrix.

House Viti, which Constance served, were sworn bannermen of the Legio Praesidium Vortex and had come to defend it in its hour of need. They had been trapped here as well. Desperate fighting had become their way of life. Constance swept the howling teeth of her cleaver across her carapace. Sparks flew where she brushed her armour a few times, but there was no other way to clear the horrors off. Putrescent goo blinded her auspex as it sprayed in waves across her sensors. New daemons seemed to be scrambling up her hull as fast as she could destroy them. She focused on the steady resolve of her lord and fought on.

Pain stabbed through her. One of the daemons on her hull screeched in triumph and held up a chunk of armour. Inner workings still clung to the inside of the metal, sparks flying. In the blink of an eye, that comforting presence was gone.

It was a void in her mind, shocking in its absence. She had fought alongside Sir Valeon for years and been honoured by their connection. It had never been severed in battle before.

‘My liege!’ she called.

Only silence answered. Constance’s vox-net was completely down. The stillness seemed to amplify the sounds of the battle. She could have sworn she heard the creatures hammering on the carapace of her Armiger now, trying to get in. Gritting her teeth, she bore down and returned to fighting. The damage could be dealt with once these abominations were purged.

She slashed into them with a fury, manoeuvring the heavy stubber with the back part of her mind. Each blast of her thermal spear could not help but pierce several of the creatures at once. Righteous fury filled her as her fear faded. That this filth had dared to damage a sacred creation of the Omnissiah inspired fierce disgust in her. Their destruction was the only option.

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A Black Library Publication

First published digitally in Great Britain in 2020.by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by John Michelbach.

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ISBN: 978-1-78999-927-3

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