Ferreira was stunned to discover that the human defenders actually withstood the aetheric spell assault without collapsing.
At once, he realized the truth: not only did the auxiliaries before him fight with greater resolve and coordination than the human troops he had previously encountered, but there was another crucial factor: his Aethermancers had already spent much of their strength destroying the golden mechanical garuda.
Ferreira thought of the other Fra'al generals leading their hosts against different warships.
'I must crush these humans quickly and seize the spoils. If the others arrive before I finish, I'll lose my chance at the greatest share. We've already lost contact with the governor. How much respect will they show me, the planetary commander, if I come away empty-handed?'
His mind made up, he barked the order:
"Attack!"
Fra'al warriors poured into the trenches, glass knives in hand.
One slashed at an auxiliary commander, his blade sliced through heavy carapace armor as though it were paper, biting into the man's shoulder. The glass fractured into countless shards, each driving deeper into the wound. The commander screamed, feeling as if a hundred knives tore at him from within. With his last strength, he raised his pistol and blew the xeno's head apart, but he too fell, torn and bleeding.
Watching, DuCaine realized no auxiliary soldier could match the Fra'al in close combat.
'Lord Nareth was right. Their glass blades can cut even power armor.'
But he did not yet call on the Clan Sorrgol reserves. The time wasn't ripe.
Instead, he activated the runes on his power axe and charged straight into the thickest battlefield.
Gabriel and the Iron Fathers advanced with him. Gabriel's gyrinx bounded ahead, its claws slamming into a knot of Fra'al warriors, hurling them aside, crushing chests and snapping limbs. Unlike others of its kind, this beast excelled in telekinetic "heavy strikes."
DuCaine crashed headlong into a company of Fra'al raiders, his axe's disruption field carving through them with merciless blows. Gabriel and the Iron Father's bolters thundered, each round blasting apart another alien.
Blue disintegration fields flared around DuCaine as his scarred face was lit by their glow, slaughtering the xeno raiders.
Then a bolt of aetheric lightning smashed into him. His body locked for a moment. Two Fra'al warriors closed in, but with a brutal sweep, he cleaved them both in half, even as pain lanced through his gut. Their glass blade had split his power armor and torn his transhuman flesh.
Snarling, DuCaine ripped the weapon free and hurled it back at the alien xeno that struck him. His Larraman's cells struggled against the glass shards within his wound; healing came slower than usual. Still, he would not yield.
He was the Storm. He had raised it, and so he must endure it.
Through pain, he held the line. At four o'clock, he saw the defenses faltering. The auxiliaries would not hold.
"First squad, sector A–X!" he commanded, dispatching Iron Hands reserves.
Squad after squad entered the fray. Two members of the Shadows of Order's honor guard followed, recording and observing even as they fought.
Soon, Iron Hands began to fall. The Shadows of Order struggled to understand, though they had studied Stormwalker battle-records, especially the Rust-world campaign, they could not yet grasp DuCaine's design. Why did the Clan Sorrgol's full strength remain in reserve?
DuCaine's wounds knitted slowly, cracks marring his ancient Mark I Thunder armor. He waited.
At the tenth hour, the time had come. Every Fra'al was committed to the battle. Now the Hammer would fall.
"HAMMER!" he roared across the command net.
Clan Sorrgol unleashed its might. Gunships, bombers, and artillery blanketed the Fra'al in devastating bombardment. To the Shadows of Order aboard the crafts, it was like watching a spiked hammer drive into the densest knot of the enemy, ripping it apart.
As the bombardment peaked, the second strike of the hammer fell. From the breach surged the spearhead, armored columns, and Iron Hands squads. The Shadows of Order followed at their sides, witnessing the armored tide scything through Fra'al's ranks.
The auxiliaries held just long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. The spear thrust deep, splitting the alien mass, overwhelming everything in its path.
Ferreira watched in horror as the battlefield turned against him. His lines shattered. Terror seized him, and he fled, only to find a black-armored figure blocking his path.
"XENO, DIE!"
The ancient armor of DuCaine shook with fury as he charged. Ferreira hurled flames from his staff and swung his glass blade, but DuCaine strode through fire itself, chasing him down.
In moments, the Storm General was upon him. The power axe cleaved through flame and shield alike, biting deep into the alien commander. Ferreira fell, slain.
DuCaine staggered, looking at the empty stump where his arm had been severed. For an instant, a wry smile crossed his face.
"I will need a bionic limb. That will bring me closer to the Gorgon. The Gene-father will be pleased."
All around, the Fra'al host broke apart, splintered into scattered, leaderless packs under the relentless Iron's assault.
DuCaine, treated quickly by his Apothecaries, reorganized with ruthless efficiency. Again and again, he launched mechanized thrusts, smashing the fragmented enemy.
Thus, with Storm and Hammer, the Storm General tore the Fra'al apart and cleansed the field, while, elsewhere in the Sidai system, Nareth himself led forces into the aliens' greatest fortress.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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