The sudden switch of strategy, from smothering waves to elite troops, punched successive holes through the traitors’ lines that were enlarged into gaping tears. Traitor troops already worn down by five days of fighting were unable to face the vicious ferocity of the Sisters. Rumour of ogryns spread terror through them, and fleeing traitors clogged the reserve trenches, the elite flamer squads massacring whole sections of trenches.

The Sisters carved their way forwards. The traitors poured reinforce­ments into the front lines but three complete trenches fell before the last of the Sisters Repentia breathed their last.

As that attack petered out, the 47th Rakallion Grenadiers were unleashed into the left flank of the enemy. The veteran troops were fresh and determined and forced a sudden breakthrough, taking the ruins of the first redoubt.

The rest of the day was a series of local raids as both sides attempted to consolidate their meagre gains. Twenty feet in one. A mere few in the next.

That evening, summary reports were compiled. Prassan double-checked the casualty figures. When he was done he took in a deep breath and marched smartly to where Bendikt stood, and held the paper out with a trembling hand. Mere took it and lifted his eyebrows, then handed it silently to Bendikt.

Bendikt handed the paper back to Mere. The adjutant appeared entirely unmoved, although he said, ‘Less than we had expected.’

Bendikt paused. ‘Send word to Major Luka. I think his Whiteshields were blooded. Let them know that I shall be there to personally watch their assault. We’ll see how he has managed to put some Cadian soul into them.

‘Oh, and send my congratulations to the surviving front-line troops. Let them know that due to their efforts it has taken us only six days to break the outer fortifications of Tor Tartarus.’

Sixteen

SIXTEEN

Major Luka’s Whiteshields had been moving forward for days, a river of humanity with tributaries across the camp. Warders shouted and waved them onwards.

The assault pipes were broad enough for twenty to walk abreast. Sheaths of power cables and foil ducting ran in ropes along the ceiling of plain grey rockcrete. Along alternating sides of the tunnel, oval bulkhead lumens lit the chamber with a cold blue light. The Whiteshields marched quickly. There were tremors, and in places the ground shook violently.

At each intersection arrows pointed forward. Yedrin had only a rough idea of where he was, somewhere under the causeway. But with each step the roar of battle grew louder until they were so close to the front they could make out the shriek of individual explosions.