Beneath the Iron

An infernal scream split the air of the battlefield, the wailing of a damned soul heralding the condemnation of more. Amidst the press of bodies, against the shield digging into her back, Helva's adrenaline surged. The formation shifted, pushing her a rank forward as the first row broke contact and moved backwards, allowing the next to advance to face their enemy. She was almost to the front and through all the fear, she was eager to meet the barbarians' crumbling offensive. Her cheeks would have been red without the protective heat of her helm and frost blossomed across her armor. The Winter Forest was colder than much of the Imperium, high in the mountains, standing as the last stronghold of the Fosii. Helva knew nothing of them other than their reputation as great warriors.

To be a warrior, hounding for glory and fighting alone, was selfish. To be a soldier was selfless, putting one's own success beneath that of the legion and the Imperium. If there was one thing the Divine Princes rewarded, it was such altruism.

Divine fire soared above, arcing towards the home fortress of their foe. There was no cheering from Helva's side. Everyone was focused in the moment, wholly occupied with the task in front of them. Such celebrations were not afforded until after victory was secured. The soldier waited for the whistle to come again. The moment it did, Helva stepped so that the man in front of her could retreat. Then she surged forward, slamming her shield into her enemy hard enough to stun. She didn't wait for a reaction. The moment there was a foe in range, seeking to batter her defenses low, her sword darted into deep, powerful thrusts that punched through armor. There was no time for thoughts of how the strong their foe was or how many there were.

There was barely a need for thought at all. She acted on reflexes and conditioning that translated to an action far faster than a conscious effort ever could.

It was a sprint of a fight, given she only had one minute at the front. Hot blood splashed onto her sword-hand and her shield as she stabbed and slashed with an expertise most barbarians would not have expected given her youth. She fought with the cold, efficient ruthlessness that marked Imperial soldiers until that split second when she heard the whistle. She stepped to the side and rapidly retreated, protected by the next soldier. Once she hit the back of the formations, she sucked in a huge breath and bounced on the balls of her feet, preparing to advance again as the legion ground away at the enemy's ragged lines.

"Feeling good, Helva?" Taurus asked from her right side. She knew he was grinning behind his mask-like helm's visor, by the sound of his voice if not sight. Only the members of a contubernium used each other's cognomen, not that Helva was terribly attached to any particular name. Still, names were an expression of the bonds that built the entire legion.

"Feeling good," Helva confirmed with a smile, shaking the blood off her sword.

The Fourth Legion of Divine Prince Michael advanced at a steady pace, their foes breaking against the unmistakable black shields that signified an Imperial force. The booming impacts of artillery were finally accompanied by a deafening crack as the section of wall under assault gave way in a cascade that crushed the enemies closest to it.

Helva knew there was a defense regrouping when she heard her centurion boom, "Wedge!" Immediately, she adjusted her positioning within the century. They pivoted and moved like a well-oiled machine, driving deep into the enemy ranks. The moment it was her turn to be on the outside of the wedge, she surged to it without hesitation. She could almost taste the fear of the enemy in the air. Even inexperienced as a soldier, she had cut enough throats to know exactly what was happening: they were about to break.

A moment later, she felt the pressure on her shield give as the warrior trying to kill her broke contact, aiming to flee. She dropped to one knee and slashed to sever his hamstring. He fell, crippled. Her next motion was a stab to his heart through his back.

The order to halt rippled through the formations and the legion obeyed immediately. The running warriors were now vulnerable and the Thorns would put an end to them. Almost as soon as Helva had thought of them, she heard the drumming of hooves that announced their arrival and then departure. The light cavalry would hound, if carefully, the survivors who tried to flee. She wished she'd gotten the chance to see it, less because she was bloodthirsty and more because the horses were poetry in motion. She hadn't grown up around animals and she was a little envious of those who had. She knew caring for the beasts was a good bit of work, of course, but the riders seemed to enjoy it.

Besides, riding had to be better than marching. She didn't usually mind it, even when they went for weeks, but slogging through the snow was tiring and she was near the front of the formations due to her inexperience, which meant she was breaking trail for the rest of the legion.

"Shield rest!" their centurion bellowed.

Helva relaxed slightly, allowing her rectangular shield to rest its bottom edge against the ground. She could raise it again instantly if required, but she appreciated the rest even though she wasn't feeling tired. Perhaps that was the work of adrenaline. Helva was not an angel or a priest, so she only understood the basics of medicine. She leaned forward and then back, stretching her body as much as she could without getting into trouble.

A sigil flared in divine fire above the wall, but this one came from inside the fortification, likely from one of the infiltrators. It was rare for them to risk capture in order to send a direct message to the legions as a whole.

"They're dead?" Taurus said, confused. "That doesn't make sense. How are they dead?"

"Perhaps there were enough of our people in there to defeat them while they were distracted. It could also be a trap," she answered, stretching her neck next. She was rewarded by a series of pops and a relief of tension. Helva spotted her centurion holding his hand up to his ear, no doubt making use of his speaking stone.

A few minutes later, a sigil flared above her cohort and the command to advance rippled across the lines, repeated from every centurion.

The trap that Helva expected did not materialize as they advanced through broken wall. Rubble spilled inwards and outwards from the breach, covering half of the gardens within. There was only a little snow inside the fortifications and many of the plants were somehow still green. Helva suspected that it was heresy at work. Her attention didn't fix long on the gardens, at least not now.

There were bodies here, under the spreading trees. Crimson seeped across the ground and snow. The blood was fresh and the bodies it poured from were still warm. Instead of laying as if they had fallen from the onslaught, most looked as if they were sleeping or watching the clouds. Helva stepped over the body of a young man and realized that there was a knife near his hand, the weapon that had slashed open his forearm and left him to bleed.

Comprehension hit Helva in a wave. The Fosii had died as they once sought to live: on their own terms. No enemy hand had brought these low.

"Why would they do this?" she asked softly.

She was hit from her right by Sallustius's shield. "Focus, Helva," he snapped. Sallustius was the oldest member of her contubernium, almost a full year older than her, and also their ever-serious decanus. He only ever went by his proper name now that he was an officer, even if he was only a junior one. Helva suspected that he would be a centurion when he hit thirty at the rate he was going, as he wasn't one to get a demerit.

Helva took the warning. She returned her attention to the task at hand, surveying the area for any threats as the legion spread out. There was no sign of anyone alive. After a few moments, she spotted the angel who had cast up the radiant sigil. One of the Visages, those who could take on other faces, clearly returned its true form: a smooth, featureless face of metal flesh over a strong skeletal structure. All of it was changeable and fluid enough that the angel could take on any humanoid form with ease.

The sight of an angel always inspired a little thrill through her body, though it was probably nerves as much as excitement. They were the Divine Prince's glory imprinted upon unfeeling metal through the sheer power of thaumaturgy, granting them animus and will. They were also a two-edged sword to any soldier, as they could punish failure just as much as they rewarded success.

Another order rippled out through the legion after the conversation with the angel was finished. Divine sigils flared over different parts of the city as the Imperial forces engulfed it. "Search teams!" the centurion ordered.

With the other nine of her group, Helva broke apart from the main force into her contubernium and started to methodically comb the city, looking for survivors or things of value. Some located the granary, while others fixed on defensive positions to secure and would later repair the walls. Helva followed Sallustius and the rest of her unit. Their feet turned towards the citadel, towards the temple. Any magical relics would have to be destroyed, for the safety of the legion and the Imperium as a whole, by order of the Divine Prince. The Fosii were illiterate, so heretical tomes would not be a concern, but they could easily have such power stored in various other ways.

Heavy oak doors barred access to the temple, but Imperials were persistent people. The application of leverage, using pry bars improvised from the enemy weaponry, broke the lock. Helva pushed one of the heavy doors open while Taurus got the other.

"Be careful," Sallustius said sternly. "There could be anything ahead."

The temple was dark, but that was not an issue for Imperial eyes. The mixed blood of their race granted them decent sight in the dark. There were enough coals in the different braziers to light the room to a degree where they could see. There were a dozen more bodies, all like those in the gardens. Helva was at a loss. Why would they do this? Assimilation into the Imperium wasn't an evil. It promised education, medicine, security, food, and shelter. It meant giving up their heretical religion, yes, but that faith caused them more harm than good. What had "magic" ever done for them that a true god could not?

They spread out through the room, combing it for anything. Sallustius surveyed the area, but he was back by the doors when Helva skirted around a statue at the very back of the room, within the sanctum.

She heard a soft noise, a little gasp, and something moved near her feet. Helva turned to look and found a young one hiding around the back of the statue, pressed against it. Her skin was ashen, but the cut on her arm was just too shallow to kill as quickly as the others had died. A runic script was tattooed across her face in a small, horizontal line.

Fosii and the many barbarians who lived in the border lands looked so different from Imperials. They were human alone, lacking the hybrid vigor and elevated intelligence of Imperials. Their faces were round and soft, their bodies often weaker and sometimes smaller, and they evidenced more animal cunning than educated logic.

The barbarians were not called beasts without reason, Helva realized. These had tried to kill their own offspring. She carefully set down her weapon out of reach of the wounded child and held up her hands so they weren't near her sheathed knives. She knelt down in front of the barbarian girl. Wide, blue eyes fixed on her and dripped tears of fear.

Helva undid her helm and took it off so the girl could see a face that didn't resemble an angel. For some reason, the Fosii thought of them as monsters. Perhaps it was because they had only faced the guardians of the Imperium and hadn't sought wisdom or aid from other angels. Helva didn't really know what went through barbarian minds. It was an utterly alien worldview. "I am not going to harm you," she whispered even though she knew the girl couldn't understand her language. She pointed at the girl's cut arm.

The girl froze in place, back pressed hard against the statue like she was trying to meld with the stone. Her lips moved, shaping a word, but no sound came out. Helva moved slowly, trying not to frighten the girl, as she carefully took the girl's wrist into her hand. She held just tightly enough to hold securely without crushing. Her gauntlets were thin and strong, articulated enough that she could move almost without impediment. Every soldier kept a bandage or two in a small satchel at the back of their belt and Helva was no different. She wrapped the wound with cloth just tightly enough to staunch the bleeding. The girl sobbed softly in pain.

"Helva, where are you?" Taurus shouted.

"Here!" Helva called back. The sudden volume spooked the girl, who flinched, but she didn't have enough energy to try and escape Helva.

Sallustius rounded the statue, still wearing his full suit of armor. He cocked his head slightly to the side, eyes narrowing. "You're out of uniform, Helva," he said sternly.

Helva stiffened and picked up her helm. "Apologies, Decanus."

"What are you doing?" he asked with a similarly unforgiving tone.

"She was injured. Without medical attention, she may still die of infection," Helva reported. She looked up at Sallustius. "Decanus, we could protect her."

"We have a duty that cannot be ignored for the sake of one barbarian," Sallustius reminded her. He was maintaining forcefulness, but she could see some understanding in his eyes. For all of his cold practicality and relentless discipline, their decanus was not made entirely of ice. "The relics here must be destroyed."

"Rescuing her will not interfere with that mission. You have my oath," Helva said firmly. "I can carry her and a weapon."

He didn't seem to budge, but she knew him. The mission came before everything else. That said, if they could achieve that end, he sometimes gave them a little slack. Granted, this would be a lot of slack. "She is a barbarian, Helva. Her well-being is not our concern."

"I understand, Decanus, but some of our auxiliaries were once barbarians and yet we protect them," she said quietly.

Sallustius's eyes narrowed for a moment as he stared at her. "Or I could just kill her now and prevent future insubordination from you, Helva."

Helva went quiet, but her eyes fixed on his, silently pleading. The girl was frozen in terror as she looked up at Sallustius.

After a long moment of looking at them both, the decanus sighed. "When we finish here and are released to regular duty, I look forward to beating you into unconsciousness for that, Helva. Grab the girl and keep her the hell out of sight of the centurion. And for your sake, you'd better have at least a damn shield in your other hand."

"Understood, Decanus." The relief Helva felt was overwhelming as he turned on his heel and strode back towards the others. She pointed at herself. "Helva." Then she pointed at the girl and waited.

"Eirlys," the girl whispered, eyes still wide and fearful. They seemed even more so when Helva put on her helm again.

Helva gently picked the girl up, supporting her with one arm. She didn't even really feel the weight, not after years spent wearing heavy packs in full armor. The girl wrapped her arms around Helva's neck, holding on tightly when Helva crouched down and picked up her sword as well as she could without jostling her passenger too much. Together, they passed out from behind the statue to see the rest of the contubernium already hard at work. Symbols on the walls were destroyed and the artifacts in the room lay in ruins. The temple was a temple no longer.

Sallustius led the way back out of the temple. Helva sheathed her sword and unslung her shield to hold instead, so she would be better able to defend their foundling. She wasn't entirely certain if Eirlys was the girl's name, but it was what Helva knew and would use.

"She is your responsibility," Sallustius said quietly to Helva as they moved back towards their legion. "At least until the centurion removes her."

The more soldiers they passed, most of whom completely ignored the sight of the girl, the more anxious Eirlys seemed to get. She was holding on so tightly that she was unquestionably hurting herself on Helva's armor. "Will he hurt her?" the female soldier asked.

"I don't know for certain. She is a barbarian, and of a tribe extremely hostile to the Imperium. I can recommend that she be resettled like the family members of an auxiliary. I suggest you not become too attached," the decanus said firmly.

"Thank you, Decanus," she said.

Sallustius grunted. He didn't sound amused, but at least he wasn't snapping. Helva knew she was going to get a serious beating for this, but she had a considerable pain tolerance even among her fellow soldiers. She'd barely felt the last wound she took in battle—her first—and that had been two broken ribs. Then again, the legions were not gentle in training. She had endured many years of brutality just to earn the right to put on that blessed armor.

The legions only selected the best. Well, Helva doubted she was the best, but she was honored to serve all the same.

She turned her head awkwardly to look at Eirlys. The girl was hiding her face against Helva's armor. If the soldier was being honest with herself, she had no idea what would happen next. Whatever it was, she would meet it fearlessly, as befit an Imperial.