The thought of seeing the home of his Chapter once more was like a balm on his soul and he could already feel the shadow that had fallen over his normal demeanour lifting.

They had completed their Death Oath and had returned to a world of the Imperium. True, they were little better than willing captives, but that would not be the case for long and Uriel was willing to suffer a little indignity before reaching home. He could not fault the Falcatas for their suspicions, for had they not appeared unannounced and unexpectedly in the middle of nowhere? Had someone done the same on Macragge, they would have been hurled into the deepest dungeons of the Fortress of Hera before being mercilessly interrogated.

Ah… the Fortress of Hera: the great libraries of knowledge, the Temple of Correction where the body of Roboute Guilliman lay in stasis, the Hall of Heroes, the Valley of Laponis… So many wondrous places.

If given the chance upon their return to Macragge, Uriel decided he would visit them all.

A crackling voice from a battered loudspeaker cut through his reverie.

'All units, mount up,' said Verena Kain's voice. 'Everyone get on a gun, we're approaching the outskirts of Barbadus.'

Uriel returned his attention to Tremain. 'Barbadus?' he said. 'Is that a city?'

Tremain nodded, chivvying the four remaining soldiers onto the integral lasguns.

'Yeah, it's the capital,' said Tremain, pulling a periscope-like device with a scratched pict slate down from the metal roof of the compartment. The slate flickered to life, displaying a static-washed image of the approaching conurbation.

Its outline was blurred and the buildings at the edge of the city looked somehow strange to Uriel, but the resolution of the image was too indistinct for him to see exactly why.

Raised high above the outskirts of the city's edge was a tall structure or sculpture that, through the distortion of the pict slate, looked like a winged angel.

As the column of vehicles drew closer, Uriel asked. 'What is that?'

Tremain said, 'That? It's the Iron Angel.'

Pascal Blaise crouched behind the low roof parapet of an adobe ruin as he watched the approaching Chimeras. He had given up trying to identify in which vehicle Colonel Kain would be travelling, for none had the distinctive whip aerials of a long range vox or bore any distinctive iconography that might indicate that a senior officer was aboard.

No, the Falcatas has learned not to make such elementary mistakes.

Three Sentinels roamed ahead of the column and another three brought up the rear and he had a moment's unease as he pictured the amount of firepower this force could pump out.

Beside him, Cawlen Hurq cradled a battered missile tube, the projectile already loaded and primed. Across the street, on buildings to either side of him and within burned out chassis of tanks, were another five missile teams and thirty gunmen armed with a variety of ancient lasguns and simple bolt action rifles.

The men had been hastily assembled and though acting with such haste and lack of planning went against everything he taught his soldiers, the chance to take out Kain was too tempting to pass up.

The Chimeras were rumbling at speed through the ragged outskirts of the city, where the buildings became more decrepit and bled out into the landscape. Even now, Sons of Salinas sympathisers would be clearing the dwellings below him of innocents. Pascal Blaise was careful not to place the people of his world in any unnecessary danger, but the Falcatas would not be so careful when they retaliated.

Hopefully, by the time such retaliation was unleashed, he and his men would have vanished into the maze of ruins and abandoned vehicles that filled the city.

'Ready?' he whispered, the rumbling of the tracked vehicles growing louder with every passing second.

'Damn right,' said Cawlen.

'Let the walkers go past and then take out the lead vehicle,' said Pascal. 'The others are waiting for you to fire.'

'I know,' hissed Cawlen. 'Believe it or not, I have done this before.'

'Yes, of course. Sorry,' replied Pascal, fighting his instinct to micromanage.

Confident that Cawlen Hurq would unleash the ambush at the right moment, Pascal looked up at the Iron Angel, the guardian and lucky charm of the Sons of Salinas.

The great sculpture of scavenged parts towered above him. Her wings were those of a crashed Thunderbolt, her body shaped from the crumpled remains of its fuselage and her features formed from engine parts.

She was crude and unfinished, and she was beautiful.

'Watch over us today, fair lady,' he whispered.

Pascal slid his body up to look over the parapet.

The Chimeras had entered the killing box.

Cawlen Hurq rose to his knees and swung the missile tube over the parapet to point at the Chimeras on the street below.

'For the Sons of Salinas!' he yelled and mashed the firing trigger.

Uriel heard the explosion through the armoured skin of the Chimera as a dull whump, the concussion of the detonation rocking the vehicle back on its tracks. Bright light flashed through the vision blocks and a series of rattling pings sounded as blazing shrapnel smacked the hull.

Another explosion sounded, this time from behind and the internal speakers suddenly exploded with chatter and screams.

'Ambush!' he shouted, before the echoes of the first blast had begun to fade.

A tremendous impact hammered the side of the Chimera, tipping it up onto one track. The soldiers cried out and Uriel snatched for the grab rail as the vehicle slammed back down to earth. A portion of the Chimera's side bulged inwards. Smoke and sparks spewed into the compartment and Uriel smelled blood.

One of the soldiers was down, his neck clearly broken. Another was screaming, his face a mask of red where it had smashed against the interior of the hull. The others lay bruised, but unhurt and Uriel surged from his seat against the hull to hammer the release mechanism of the assault door. Immobilised, the Chimera was a death trap.

Hot fumes blew inside and Uriel caught the reek of burning propellant and scorched flesh. Outside, morning sunlight illuminated a blazing vehicle, flames spewing from its ruptured sides and thick, tarry black smoke billowing into the sky.

'Come on!' he shouted. 'Out!'

Pasanius grabbed the wounded soldier as Tremain helped the others escape the stricken Chimera. Bodies and shredded pieces of meat littered the ground, the exploded remnants of the soldiers forced to travel on the roof.

Another whooshing roar made Uriel look up in time to see a missile streak from its launcher and slam into the roof of another of Colonel Kain's Chimeras. This time the missile punched through the thinner armour of the vehicle's topside and it shuddered as the warhead exploded inside. Smoke ripped upwards and a rattle of gunfire barked from the rooftops as previously hidden gunmen revealed themselves.

Uriel dragged another wounded soldier away from the fire that was taking hold of their stricken vehicle. The engine was ablaze and it was only a matter of time before the ammo and power pack on board cooked off explosively.

Solid rounds and las-bolts smacked the earth and Uriel ducked as he and the wounded soldier made their way into cover. A hail of shots tore into the wall next to him. Fragments of rock billowed and he blinked dust from his eyes.

Pasanius joined him, propping the wounded soldier against the rough stone of a sagging ruin, and Uriel laid the man he carried next to him. Shots rattled from both sides of the street, a street that Uriel could see was composed of rough, adobe brick buildings and what looked like the shells of abandoned tanks.

Canvas awnings and corrugated iron porches had been built into the rusting hulks and these ad hoc dwellings outnumbered those constructed of more traditional materials.