BACKLIST

ThePrimarchs

JAGHATAIKHAN:WARHAWKOFCHOGORISFERRUSMANNUS:GORGONOFMEDUSAFULGRIM:THEPALATINEPHOENIXLORGAR:BEAREROFTHEWORD

PERTURABO:THEHAMMEROFOLYMPIAMAGNUSTHERED:MASTEROFPROSPERO

LEMANRUSS:THEGREATWOLFROBOUTEGUILLIMAN:LORDOFULTRAMAR

MoreHorusHeresyfromBlackLibrary

HORUSRISINGFALSEGODS

GALAXYINFLAMES

CONTENTS

CoverThePassingofAngels–JohnFrenchTheAbyssalEdge–AaronDembski-BowdenMercyoftheDragon–NickKymeShadowofthePast–GavThorpeTheEmperor'sArchitect–GuyHaleyPrinceofBlood–LJGouldingTheAncientAwaits–GrahamMcNeillMisbegotten–DanAbnettAbouttheAuthorsABlackLibraryPublicationeBooklicense

THEHORUSHERESY

Itisatimeoflegend.

Thegalaxyisinflames.TheEmperor’sgloriousvisionforhumanityisinruins.Hisfavouredson,Horus,hasturnedfromhisfather’slight

andembracedChaos.

Hisarmies,themightyandredoubtableSpaceMarines,arelockedinabrutalcivilwar.Once,theseultimatewarriorsfoughtsidebysideasbrothers,protectingthegalaxyandbringingmankindbackintothe

Emperor’slight.Nowtheyaredivided.

SomeremainloyaltotheEmperor,whilstothershavesidedwiththeWarmaster.Pre-eminentamongstthem,theleadersoftheirthousands-strongLegionsaretheprimarchs.Magnificent,superhumanbeings,theyarethecrowningachievementoftheEmperor’sgeneticscience.Thrustintobattleagainstoneanother,victoryisuncertainforeither

side.

Worldsareburning.AtIsstvanV,HorusdealtaviciousblowandthreeloyalLegionswereallbutdestroyed.Warwasbegun,aconflictthatwillengulfallmankindinfire.Treacheryandbetrayalhaveusurpedhonourandnobility.Assassinslurkineveryshadow.Armiesare

gathering.Allmustchooseasideordie.

Horusmustershisarmada,Terraitselftheobjectofhiswrath.SeatedupontheGoldenThrone,theEmperorwaitsforhiswaywardsontoreturn.ButhistrueenemyisChaos,aprimordialforcethatseeksto

enslavemankindtoitscapriciouswhims.

Thescreamsoftheinnocent,thepleasoftherighteousresoundtothecruellaughterofDarkGods.Sufferinganddamnationawaitallshould

theEmperorfailandthewarbelost.

Theageofknowledgeandenlightenmenthasended.TheAgeofDarknesshasbegun.

'Ifgodsdidnotexistmankindwouldconjurethemintobeing.If goddid existHewouldwillmonsters into lifeandcloaktheminthelightofheaven.'

-attributedtotheUnspeakableKing

Idonotwant tobehere. Idonotwant thispresent,andIwant thefuture thatfollowsitless.Yetthefutureisinescapable.Myheadisbowed,myeyesclosed,andIlistenasthepresentrushespast.Thetick-buzzofarmourservos…BreathvibratinginsidethetarnishedsilverhelmsoftheHost…Wind gliding across the skin of the Storm Eagle as it drops from the dawnsky…Firefeatheringfromthewings…Thewindrunningamongsttheclouds…Andbeyondthatshellofair-silence…Silence…There,beyondthesky,istheonlyplacewhereitistrulyquiet.Thesongofthespheres isnotasound. It is thatsilence thatsitsbetweenearthandmoon, thatmarksthepassingofcomets,andsingsthebirthofstars.Heaven-fromwheretheangelsofanunenlightenedpastlookeddownoncreation.'Mylord.' It isAlepheo. Ihear thedamage inhisvoice, theoldwoundto thethroat,stillhealing.Ihearthecontrol,andthedeference,andbeyondthat,pain.'Wehavereachedthedropmark,'hesays.Iopenmyeyes,and theworldcrowdsback in through them,brightanddarkandconsuming.IseetheHostofdestruction.Iseethescarsandburnsontheircrimson armour. I feel my senses rush to enfold every angle of form, every

mutablescrapofcolour,everystutterofmovement.Onandon,eachnanoseconda tableau, and each shift of hand or eye causing the universe to shatter andremakeitselfinmysight.There is somuch in even the smallestmoment of life, somuch that humanscannotsee.Mysensespourdownthroughlayersofdetail.ThereistarnishontheteardropsthatsitonthecheeksofAlepheo'smask.Therearefivedroplets.Theseconddropletisamicronoutofalignment.Theartisanwhomadeithadbeendisturbedduringthesculpting.Theinterruptionhaddisruptedhisequilibrium.Ithad taken a heartbeat for him to settle back to his task, but in that time thedamage tohisworkhadbeendone. Icansee it in theerror,andIcanfeel theflawinmyheart.Icatchmyself,andpullmysensesbacktothelevelofthebeingsthatstandatmy side -mycruel andbeautiful children. I read themand their heartswith aglance. Somuch iswritten in theway thatAlepheo hangs his head, somuchmoreinthewayhishandrestsontheholsterofhispistol.Iseetheweightofhisfears, even though thesehalf-angels knowno fear.Youcannot cut the coreoffear fromahuman,you canonlymake themdeaf to the screams.And inside,theseangelsofdeath-madetobringenlightenmentlikefallinglightning-allarescreaming.'Doorsopening.'Thepilot'svoiceechoesinthecompartment.Redlightsbegintopulse.Sirensblare.Doorsalongtheflankofthecraftslideopen. Sound and air rush out into the brightening night. I can see the StormEagles,LightningCrowsandThunderhawksfollowingusdownoutofthedomeofthesky,redstreaksindeepeningblue.Likedropsofblood.Liketears.Istep to theedgeof theopenassault ramp.Theairpullsatme.I lookdown.Thesummitofthemountaincityrisesfromdawn-stainedcloud.Iturnmyback,balancingontheedge.Sixtysilverfaceslookatmefromthecompartment.'Leavenonealive,'Isay,andIstepbackintotherushingair.

Shar-General Galen did not look up from the battle plans as the crowd ofofficersdrained from the strategium.Bright sunlightpoured through thedomeabove.Shecouldfeelthewarmthonthebackofherneck.Sheknewtheplansbyheart,butstillshedidnotlookup.Hewasstill there,ontheothersideoftheplanningtable.Hehadnotmoved.She found ithard to lookathimsometimes, evenafteradecadeofwarathisside.Partofherdidnotknowwhatshewouldsee.'Please,general,askyourquestion,'theAngelsaid.

'Iam…'Shealmost lookedupathim,butcaughtherselfandbegantoshufflesheavesoffieldreportstogether.Sheshookherhead,breathedout. 'Iamclearon all of the operational elements involved. There is nothing that needs to beclarified.''Butyouhaveaquestion,Galen,'hesaid.Hisvoicewasamelody,clearasthenoteofastruckbell.'Notallmattersofwarexistinbulletsandorders.Askwhatyouwish.'Shestopped,hereyesontheparchmentunderherhands.'Whydidyouinsistonthis?'shesaidatlast,andfinallylookedathim.Sanguinius, primarch of the IX Legion, Archangel of Baal, stood in the coldlightofthestrategium.Anivorywhitetunicandtogawaswoundandfoldedovermuscle and smooth skin.Golden hair framed a face set in an expression thatspokeofwisdomandunderstanding.Itwasaperfectface,afacethatcalledtotheidealsofhumanity.Shemethiseyes.Hisfurledwingsshiftedathisback,andshewas suddenly struck by the fact that the feathers were not just white, butevery hue of shadow. He was beautiful, more beautiful than life, and moreterrifyingthananythingshehadseeninhalfacentury'sworthofwarzones.'Itmusthappen,'hesaid,andshe felt the terrorandadoration fade fromher.'YouwereattheassaultontheH_______'ssettlement.Iwasnotthere,andyetIsawitinyourwords,andinthewordsyouchoosenottosay.'Galenfelthereyestwitchasthememoryreturned…WhentheH_______haddetonatedthefirstmine,thegravityforfivekilometresaround theblasthadbroken.Even tenkilometresawayshehad feltherself liftfromtheground.Vomithadrisen toher tongue.Thensheheard thecryofheradjutant,andlookedup.Thedetonationunfolded in silence, stackingupandupandup to the scuffedblueofthesky.Itshimmeredlikewater.Shecouldseethroughit.Thousandsoftiny flecks danced in the expanding column. She blinked. The skin of her facewasprickling.Thensherealisedthatthefleckswerepeople:tensofthousandsoftroopsthatshehadsentintothesettlementandthehundredsofthousandsthatlived there. Light bent and folded. Motes of darkness grew and burst likebubbles.Andoutthesilencerolled,asthoughthesoundwasswallowedbytheatrocityofwhatshewaswitnessing.Secondstouchedeternityasthecolumnofbrokenrealitytouchedthedomeoftheheavens.Thenitcollapsed.Everythingwithinceasedtobe.Airrushed in to thespace left.ThepressurewaverupturedGalen'seardrums

andscatteredhercommandcadreoutoftheirtransports.Wheretheminehaddetonatedtherewasnothing.Justablackwoundthathunglikemistabovetheground,drinkinglight.Galenblinked,andthememoryvanishedintoSanguinius'gaze.'Evenso,mylord,eventhoughtheH_______arewillingtousesuchdevices…''Itisnotjusttheinhumanityofwhattheyhavedone.Resistancetothetruthisatragedy,buttheweaponswechoosetofightwithspeaktoeternity.TheEmperorhasdecreedthatsuchweaponswillnotbetoleratedtoexist,andtheirusewillearnHiswrath.''IhavesaidIunderstandwhatmustbedone,mylord,but…'Hebowedhishead.Shefeltherbreathstopinherlungs.Therewassomethinginthegesture,somethingsosimple,sohuman.Whenhelookedup,thepainonhisfacealmostmadehercryout.'Iunderstand too,general.'Hereachedoutand tookherhand inbothofhis.Hisgazewasstillsteadyonhers,butitseemedtoherthatshadowhaddrainedintotherecessesofhisface.'ThequestionyouwanttoknowtheanswertoisnotwhyIinsistedonthis,buthowIcandosuchathing.''Theweaponswechoosetofightwithspeaktoeternity,'shesaidtohim.Henoddedathearinghisownwords,butshecouldseeonlyahardeninginhiseyes.'And I am the creation of the Emperor, Galen. Though I amHis son, I wasengineered,notborn.IamasHemademe.Iwasmadetoperformafunctionformankind.''Butbydoing this,howcanweclaim tobebetter than thepeoplewewish todragintothelight?''Wecannotmakethatclaim.'Hehalf-turnedawaythen.Hispupilsvanishedashis eyes caught the light streaming from the crystal dome above. 'You andhumanitycanclaimthelightthatisleftafterourpassing,butIcanclaimonlythatIknowmynature.'Helookedbackatherthen,hiseyesclear.'Andeveninthemythsofthepast,angelswerenotcreatedforkindness.'

Iamfallingthroughthe lightofanew-borndayalone.BehindmetheHostofdestruction fallswithme.Cloudswhippast.Themountaincitygrowsbeneathus, fog peeling back from its flanks. I can see tiers of buildings set behindcurtainwalls. Icanseeroads,andpeoplemovingin the lastshadowsofnight.Thelightsofdomedforce-fieldsglitterasthefogpassesthroughthem.Thegunsonthehightowersdonotturntogreetus.Wearetoofewandtoosmallfortheir

machinesystemstonotice.Thosethatsetthemtowatchtheskieshavemadethemistake that ancient kings made before their realms burned for pride - theyforgettheoldestlessons.Thefirstgunshipcomesintoviewhighaboveus.Thetowergunsseeit.Barrelssweepup.Energyflushesintochargechambers.Calculationsracethroughsilica.Wefallon,andthecityrises.Thegunsfire.Columnsofblindinglightriseintothesky,burningcloudbanksaway.Theairshrieks.Thegunshipcorkscrewsthroughtheburningenergy.Icanseetheforce-fieldbeneathus,aglitteringskin.Therearefiguresontheroads and ramparts looking up, and one of them raises a hand and points. Ispreadmywings,thedew-heavyaircatchinginthefeathers.Aboveme,mysonstriggertheirjumppacks.Firecutstheirfalljustaswetouchtheforce-fielddomeandpassthrough.Aboveustheairisburning;beneathusthewakingcityseesus.Mywingsarespread,andmyspearisraisedinmyhand.Icanseethecondemned.Icanseetheirfaces.Icanseetheterrorinthefaceofasoldierashestepsintothelightbesidehissquad.Icanseehiseyes.Icanseethathewasnotasoldieruntilthecomingofwar. Icansee thathehaskilled. Icanseehis fearofdeathandhiscruelty in the tremble of his rising gun. I can see his love of life in the eyebehindthegun.Icanseeallhumanityinthatlook.Thetipofmyspearstrikeshiminthemiddleoftheforehead.ThefirstbloodofthisreapingspraysuptofleckthebeatofmywingsasIland.

Alepheo, commander of the Second Seraphic Host of the IX Legion, held hisbreathandcounted.Ashefeltthetimeseepintohismuscles,heliftedthebrush.Itstipwasblack,heavywithsootink.Hehadgroundthepigmenthimselfusingcharcoal that he had made from a single tree he had felled in the forest ofMacraggeduringhistimeamongsttheXIII.Thehandleofthebrushwasbone,inthiscasehuman.Hollow-cored,itwaslightandperfectlybalancedwhenthebristleswereloadedwiththecorrectamountofink.Thebonehadbeenhisbirthbrother's,giventohimafterthelastofhiskinfellinthetrialstobecomeoneoftheAngels.Hesmiledasthesorrowofthatmemorytouchedhisthoughts.Helet itsettle,feelingitcombinewiththesubjecthehadchosen.Apaperscrollhunginfrontofhim as white as fresh snow, seeming to glow in the dusk light entering hischamber from the high windows. The ruined fortress they had taken for theirbase in the compliance of theH_______was filledwith shadowsandmarked

with the scars of forgottenwars, but here in the high central tower therewaslight.Thetipofthebrushtouchedthepaper.Alepheopausedasecondandthenhisthoughts unfolded through his nerves and muscles. The brush slid over thesurfaceofthepaper,leavingablacktrail.Nowitwasinmotion,itdidnotstop.The flowof strokes followeda rhythmsetby thebeatingofhisheartsand thesongofhisthoughts.Thedippingofthebrush,theflickandflowofink,thesmellofitasitdried,allweretherhythmofcreation.Whenhewasdone,hesteppedbackandlookedatwhathissoulhadbroughtintobeing.' "Andbymybeing is desolationwrought," ' said a voice frombehindhim. '"Andbytheshadowofmysworddoesdewfallandthesunrise"-theHarabicscholarsofthepastwouldwonderatsuchanevocationoftheirtongueandart.'Alepheo turned and knelt in a single movement. His black robes rustling thebrushstillinhishand.'Mylord,'hesaid.'Rise,' said Sanguinius. 'You must clean that brush before the ink clots thebristles.'Alepheo obeyed, moving the brush between seven stone bowls of water anddrying itwith theclothshehad foldedandsetbeside them.Sanguinius tookasingle step forwards, eyes fixedon the calligraphicpoemspirallingacross thepaperscreen.'Dead languages speak more clearly than the voices of the living don't youthink?''Aretheydeadifsomestillspeakthem?'askedAlepheo,dabbingthebrushheadonthesoftblackfabricofthesecondcloth.'Asongsungisstillasongevenifithasnotsoundedformillennia.''Quiteso,myson,'saidSanguinius,andlapsedintosilenceasAlepheoreturnedthecleanbrushtoitsstand.'HowmayIserve,lord?'saidAlepheo,turningbacktohisprimarch.'I have given the order - theH_______ are to be decimated. The populationonce compliant will be scattered across the Imperium. Others will come andmakenewcitiesunderthissun.Buttheyandalltheyhavemadeherewillceasetobe.Theirnamewillbeobliterated,theircitieslevelled.'Alepheowasstillforasecondandthennoddedonce.'Itwaswrittenassoonastheyusedsuchweapons.'Sanguinius'eyesmovedovertheblackwordspaintedontothepaperscreen.

'Thejudgementdecreedrequiresmore,'hesaid.Alepheowasverystill,andthenturnedtothebowlsofwaterusedtocleanhisbrush.He began to pour them into a rough clay jug.Black ink swirled in thesplash.'Wemustallbeartheburdenofournature,'saidAlepheo,withoutlookingupashepouredinkandwaterfromthesixthbowl.'Wemust.Itisaterriblethingtobethebearerofthewrathofanenlightenedage.'Alepheo lookedaroundashehearda soft clinkof somethingmetalbeing setdownonthestonefloor.A helmet lay at Sanguinius' feet. A serene face moulded in tarnished silverlookedupatAlepheowithemptyeyes.Teardropsmarkeditscheeksandarayedhaloranacrossitscrown.Itwasadeathmask,madebyadyingbrotheroftheLegioninthelasthoursofhislifeandthencastinsilver.Theywerewornonlyby those called to put aside their names and serve amongst the Legion'sDestroyers.Tohideone'sfacebehindsuchamaskwastotakeontheburdenofatrocity, a necessary evil in an age both of enlightenment and war. It was aburdensharedbyalltheLegion,tobetakenupandthenputasidewhenallwasdone.'IwouldcallyoutobetheDominionoftheDestroyerHost,'saidSanguinius.Alepheo lookedat thehelmbutdidnotpick itup.Theseventhbowlofwaterwasstillinhishands.Thesurfaceoftheliquidwithinwasmirrorsmooth.'Ofcourse,mylord,'hesaid,awareofthecontrolinhisvoice.'Youwillnotbeyourselfinthis,myson.Youwillbeyourfunction.Alepheodiesforthetimewhenyourhandsdothisdeed.''But you are always yourself, my lord. If I must be a part of this why am Igrantedtheabsolutionofanonymitywhenyouarenot?'Painghostedacross theAngel's faceashesmiled, theexpressionequalpartsaffectionandsorrow.'Youwereallmadefromhumanity,myson.Iamnot.ThedarknessthatwemustbringisnotsomethingIcanputaside.Itisme.Intheshadowofmywingslifewithersandbloodsaltstheground.'Alepheobowedhishead,andknelttopickupthesilverhelm.Thenhestood,thebowlofblack-stainedwaterstillheldinhisotherhand.'Iwillbecomedeath,'hesaid,andpouredtheseventhbowlontothestonefloor.

Mysonsdescendaroundme.Grenadesscatterfromthemlikeseeds.Phosphex

ignites, burning white as it flares and eats the stones of buildings. Radiationgrenades land,and rest silentamongst thespreading flames.Theywillnotkillnow.Theywilllingerhere,theshadowofourpassing.Troops pour from towers. Light shatters from the angles of their black glassarmour.Oneofmysonslandsonatowertop.Thelauncherslungunderhisarmsroars, the radiationmissile bursting amongst a dense cluster of soldiers. I cantastetheuraniumandbariumasitsaltstheair.Abuzzingclankechoesupthestreets.Iturn,knowingwhatIwillsee.TheH_______havekeptmanywondersfromtheagesbeforeOldNight,buthavealsopreservedmanyofitshorrors.Thethingsthatstalkoverthestoneandsteelroadareblackmirror-skinned,beetle-carapaced,andskitteronsevenlegs.Eyesheldin crystal capsules stud their abdomens. Human eyes, lidless, blood-shot androlling.Thesecreationswerepunishmentfor thecrimesofdissentor treacheryagainst themonarchsof theH_______.Eachone is a family strippedof fleshandremade.Brothers,mothers,sistersandfathers-theirnerves,mutilatedbrainsandsenseorganssplicedintoasinglecyborgframe.Attheircoreisblindrageandconfusion,andlethalpurpose.Ilookintotheeyeclustersofthenearestoneasitracesuptheroad.Ablurofneedle-fineroundsspraysfromitsweaponpod.Mywingsraisemeintotheair.Itlooksupatme,gunsandblood-shoteyestrackingasIrise.Ithrowmyspear.Itstrikesthefirstabominationandlightningripsthroughit.Shardsofblackglassarmour,chromeandfleshscatterout.Forasecondthereekofstaticblotsoutthesmelloftheburningcity.Ilandontopofthedeadthingasitcollapses,pullthespear free and am striking the second and the third cyborgs without pause,spinningandboundingthroughtheair.Aboveme,Iseetheshieldpylonstopplefromthesummitofthemountaincity.Theskinofitsenergyshieldsblinksoutofbeinginaboomofdrythunder.Thegunshipsandfighterbomberscomeoutofthecloudlayeraninstantlater.Theyloose theirpayloads. Infernobombs,phosphexcylindersandradiationmissilesburstamongstthetiersofalreadyburningbuildings.Theheatlightstheedgeofmywings.Throughandaboveit,mysons,mydestroyingangelsmove,silver-faced,armourdarkeningwithsoot,firingatanythingthatmoves.Ahumanisinfrontofme,gunrising,andthenceasestobeasIstrikeandIamnotstopping.Iamamongstthethrongthatpoursintothestreets,pickingmenupandcastingthemdowntoburn,splittingarmour,turning,piercing,slicing.AndIdonothesitate.Idonotpauseinthoughtorconsideration.Thecondemnedrunfrommeburning,blindastheireyesboil.IreleasethemfromlifeasIpass.Ido

notevenfeel thespearstrikes.Gunfire rips frombuildings to tattermywings.Bloodmarksmypassing,scatteringfromtheslaughter.Iamnotalive.Iamnotacreaturethatlives.IamjustjudgementIamdeath.AndfornowIfeelnosorrow.

Horus Lupercal, primarch of the XVI Legion, smiled as his brother steppedthroughthedoor.Hewasunarmoured,hisgrey-whitebattleplateshed,hangingfromarackatthechamber'sedge.Inplaceofarmour,heworeatunicofplainblack.Theroomwassmallandbare,andthelightofthesingleglowglobedidnotreachintoitscorners.TheaudienceandcommandchambersoftheVengefulSpiritcouldhaveswalloweditmanytimesover,butitwashere,inaspacethatamortal human could cross in ten strides that the two brothers had chosen tomeet.'Youarelate,'saidHorus,withoutrising.'Iam,'saidSanguinius,glancingover thechamber'ssparse furnishing:a lowtablesetwithagameboardandtwometalstools.'ButIdidnotwanttodepriveyou of the opportunity to point it out.' He looked at his brother, his faceemotionless.'So,Ididnothurry.'Horuslaughed.Sanguiniussmiledandsat.Heworeablackandredrobe,tiedathiswaistbyagoldencord.Hiswingsweretuckedtightagainsthisback,andhe had cropped his golden hair close so that he seemed the image of ancientheroesgiven life.Hepickedup theclaycup frombeside theboardand tookamouthful.HoruswatchedhisbrotherasSanguiniusnoddedslowly,lookingdownintothedarkliquidinthecup.'IfIdidnotknowbetter,Iwouldsuspectthatyouwenttoconsiderabletroubletofindsomethingthattastesthisbad.'Horustookaswigfromhisowncup,paused,andfrowned.'You are wrong…' He took another swig. 'I did not go to much trouble.' Hewinced and then began to laugh again. 'But it does taste truly terrible.' Hegesturedattheboardsetoutbetweenthem.Tallpiecescarvedfrombloodivoryand ebony sat on hexagons of mother-of-pearl and jet. 'Something new thatmightentertain,itis—''AvariantofUllaturplayedby the scholarcasteof theNoonreachcluster, inform similar to its Terran forebears but with the addition of two pieces - theMessenger,and theFiend.'Sanguiniuspickeduponeof thebloodivorypiecesand turned it in his fingers, letting light play over the three fanged headssproutingfromitstop.'TheseweremadebytheblindmasterHeydosiaaftershelost her sight.' He put the piece down on a different space to the one he had

pickeditupfrom.'Yourmove.'Horusraisedaneyebrow.Sanguiniusblinkedslowly.'Itisallright,brother.Inthisvariant,goingfirstisconsideredadisadvantage.'Hetookaswigfromhiscup.'Iknow,'saidHorus,andmovedablackraventotakearedcrone.Heplacedthe piece next to his cup. 'It's just good that you think you can give me anadvantageandwin.''Oh,IknowIcanwin,brother-Ijustlikewatchingyouthinkyoucanwintoo.'Horusdidnotreply,andthesoundinthechamberfadedtothedistantrumbleoftheVengefulSpirit'senginespushingitthroughthevoid.Thewallsvibrated,thenotejustenoughtosendripplesacrossthesurfaceofthetwocupsofwine.'You are troubled,' said Horus at last. Sanguinius' eyes flicked up from theboard.Afrowncreasedtheperfectionofhisface.'Asareyou,'saidtheAngel,takingtwopiecesoneafteranother,thebaseofhismessengertappingtheboardasitjumpedfromkilltokill.'True,'saidHorus,switchingthepositionsofhislightbearersandknights.'ButIaskedfirst.'Sanguiniussatback.Hiswingstwitched. 'Theoldquestion?'saidHorus.Sanguiniusnodded.'Theparadoxofourexistence,'saidHorus,lookingbacktotheboard.'Itisnotaparadox, though- it issimplyafact.Weexist todestroyandbydoingsowecreate.''Andwhatofthatwemustdestroy?'askedSanguinius.'Tragedies,necessities,sacrifices-everythingthatshallcomeshallbegreaterthananythingthatislost.'Silenceslidbackintothespaceaspiecesclickedacrossthepolishedwoodandseashell.'Andyou,mybrother?'saidSanguinius.'Yourstarshinesbrighterandbrighter.Yoursonshonouryoubyrisingtobeexemplarstoall.Ourfathercallsyoutohisside inwar and councilmore than any other…'Horus' gazewas fixed on theboard.Hereachedoutandplacedafingeronablackprince. 'Andyetyouaretroubled.'Horuslookedup,hisgazedarkandhardforaninstant,andthenheshookhishead.'Iamnottroubled.Questionsarepartofunderstanding,partofwisdom.''Andiftheygounanswered?'saidSanguinius.'Icanseeit,Horus.Icanfeelit.Youarelettingsomethingsmallfeedonthesilenceinsideyou.'Horusmovedtheprince,butkepthisfingeronitscarvedhead.

'Wearecreatingafuture.Wearemakingitwithbloodandideasandsymbolsandwords.Theblood isoursandweare thesymbols.But the ideas?Hasourfathereverspokenofthefuturetoyou?''Manytimes,andmanymoretimestoyou.''Hehasspokenofideasofbothunityandhumanityingrandterms,buthasheeversaidwhatwillhappenbetweenthebloodypresentandthatgoldentime?'Sanguinius'frownsentshadowsacrosshisface.'Tothinkofsuchthingsdoesnothinggood,brother.'Horussmiled.'Surgeon,healthyself.'Sanguinius'expressiondidnotchange.'Thepresentisfarfromcomplete,Horus,andthefuturewillholdmanysorrowsandmanyhonours.Thestarsremainwildandunconquered.'Horusheldhisbrother'sgazeforasecond,andthenshrugged.'What happens after that? What happens to angels after a new heaven ismade?'Horusgrippedtheblackprinceandmovedit.Theangellookedattheplay,andtoppledhisredkingontoitsside.'Shallweplayagain?'askedHorus.Sanguiniussmiled,hisfrownclearinglikecloudsfromthefaceofthesun.'Byallmeans-Ithinkyoumightevenbegettingbetter.'

I stand on the topmost tower of themountain city. The heat of the flames iscrawling into thebare fleshofmy face.Sootmarksmy features.Myhair hasburned tomyscalp,and thegoldofmyarmour isblackwith the touchof fireandblood.Mycheeksareblisteredbyradiationandcharredby thefire Ihavepassedthrough.Itwillhealinthetimeittakesmetoreturntomyshipinorbit,butfornowIdonot looklikeanangelof lightandbeauty-Iamtheangelofruin,whosepassingmakesthesleepingwakeinterror.Alepheodropsintotheruinsbeneathme.Hisredarmourisscarredandflamedarkened. He looks up at me with a dead silver face that is shedding eternaltears.'Itisdone,'hesays.Icanheartheweightinthewords.Hewillbearthescarofthisinhisdreams,anditwillcreepintothepoemshepaintsinthelanguagesofthedead.Hewillunderstandthenthatweareangels.Beautydoesnotbelongtous;itiswhatwemustburntobewhatweare.Beneathusinthecity,thestonesofthebuildingshavebeguntomeltinthesea

offire.Ilookup.Beyondthepallofsmoke,thecloudsareclearingtogreetthedawn.Thesuntouchesmyeyes.'Yes,'Isay.'Itisdone.'AndthenIstretchmywingsandtaketotheair,risingfromflamesandatrocitytowardsthelightofthefuture.

I

'WhatevertheofficersoftheEighthLegionarerecordingintheirownarchivesatthismomentisamatterfortheirownblackconsciences.IamalegionaryoftheThousandSons.Idealonlyintruth.'

II

'Partofmewondersifmyprimarchwillsoftenhisownaccountingsoasnottospeak illofhisbrother, thebarbarianCurze. Idonotbelieve foramomenthewillbeanythingbuthonest,buthonestycanbenaked,or it canbedressed inveils of mercy. Lord Magnus is a forgiving man - wise, where his brother isspiteful.Beneficent,whereCurzeisbitter.'

III

'The Devastation of Zoah marks only the second time I have stood by myprimarch's side inbattle. Iamnotblind to thehonourdone tomeduring thiscompliance,whenIwasinthepresenceofnotonebuttwooftheEmperor'ssons.Nor am I blind to the mistakes made that led to the campaign's catastrophicfailure.Iseeknottoshiftblameaccordingtosubjectivewhim.Iintendinsteadtoassignfault,objectivelyandthoroughly,whereitbelongs.TheNightLordshavealreadydisengaged, leaving us alone. Doubtless they go to take their moronicviciousnesselsewhere,paradingtheirignoranceastheultimatevirtue,claimingtheydidonlywhathadtobedone.'

IV

'And so it comes to be that we stand here in the ashes, sifting through thepowdery remainsof revelation. It is too late to changea thing.Too late todoanythingbutmournwhatwaslost.Everythingisgone.Allisdust.'

Ulatalloweredthedata-slate.Foratimetherewassilence,oratleastsomethingclose to it. The sound of his own laboured breathing was wet and tidal,punctuatedbyoccasionaldrawsonhis aspirator.Beyond thegentle,unhealthysoundsofhisowncontinuinglife,thechamberhadfallenentirelyquiet.'Whatdo Idowith this?'He tossed thedata-slateontohisworkdesk, feelingthefluidinhisrespiratorytractshiftasheleanedforward.Ulatalwasmorethanalittlewearyofthatliquidgurgleinhischest.'Forgive me,' said the servitor standing in the corner. 'I am having troubleparsingyourquery.Towhatareyoureferring?'Ulatal lookedoverat thedead-eyed,monotonecreature,andwavedahandinthevaguedirectionofthedata-slate.'This.WhatexactlyamIsupposedtodowiththis?''Forgive me, I am having trouble parsing your query. You appear to haveindicatedthechamberwall.Isthisaccurate?'Ulatalresistedtheurgetoscream.Insteadhejabbedhisfingeragainstthedata-slate'sscreen,hammeringithalfadozentimeswithhisfingertip.'No,youpieceof…This.This.Thereport.WhatdoIdowiththereport?'The servitor didn't move, didn't even blink. 'Reports are to be organised,notarisedandfiledforpre-archivalsecondaryprocessing.''Whydidtheyassignyoutome?'Thiswasn'tthefirsttimeUlatalhadaskedthequestion.'You'reasmuchuseasarockinagameofregicide.HowdoIdealwithareportlikethis?''Reportsaretobeorganised,notarisedandfiledforsecondaryprocessing.''Shutup,'Ulatalsaidwithdangerouscalm.'Compliance,'theservitorrepliedobediently,andenteredsilentrunning.'Andifyouspeakagain in thenextdaycycle, I'llshootyou.That'snot justapromise,it'sasolemnvow.'He could do it, too. They'd not taken his sidearm away.Admittedly, hewasneverlikelytouseitinanoccupationalcapacityagain,butitsfamiliarweightonhishipdidalittletocounterbalancethefeelingofhelplessnessfromthebloodyfluidinhislungsandguts.The servitor stared at him, caught between conflicting imperatives. 'I must

remind you that destruction of Expeditionary Fleet resources and materiel isprohibitedunderthecodesofcond—'Aneedle-thinbeamofconcentratedenergyspearedthroughtheservitor'schest.Therewasnodramatic impact,nobodilymomentumcrashingthecyborgbackagainst the wall, just a scorched hole about the size of a thumbnail directlythrough the servitor's heart. It tried valiantly (or irritatingly, from Ulatal'sperspective) tofinish itssentence, thenslumpeddownwhere ithadstood.Thebionicplateofitsskullclankedalmosttenderlybackagainstthewall.Ulatal lowered the laspistol,cursingsoftly.Another thing thedamncrashhadtakenfromhim:he'dbeenaimingforthebastard'shead.Annoyed, and using that annoyance to mask his unease, he holstered hissidearmandrubbedhistemples.'Nowshutup,'hesaidtothetwitchingservitor.Itsaid,'Compliance…'onthethirdattempt.Thenwithbloodbubblingfromitsmouth,theservitorobeyeditsfinalorder.

Perdita came to see him later that day. A maintenance crew had cleaned theservitorawaybythetimeshearrived.Ulatal'sgazeflickedtowherePerditaworehernewrankinsigniaonhershouldersandchest-anddamnifthatdidn'thurtalittle. She picked her way through the tumbledown chaos of his chamber,glancingatthelas-burnscorchinthewall.'Don't,'Ulatalwarnedher. 'Maintenancealreadylecturedme.'Hegaveanastylittlesmilethatonlyliftedonesideofhisface.'Itoldthemitwasanaccidentalweapondischarge.''I wasn't going to say a word, sir.' After a moment, she wrinkled her nose.'Exceptthatitsmellslikesomethingdiedinhere.'Ulataltookthatjudgementinthespirititwasintended.Bathinghadn'tbeenallthathighonhisprioritiessincethecrash.Bathingtookthreetimeslongerthanitusedto,andhurtanorderofmagnitudeabovethat.Hecould'vetakenthenerve-suppressors allotted to him by the medicae, but they left him dazed andexhausted.'It'snotsiranymore,'hepointedout.Shecouldhaveflinchedathisbladedtone,andhewassurprisedshedidn't.Itprobably would've been better if she had; then he'd have been spared thegentlenessinherreply.'Itwillalwaysbesir,'shesaid.'Don't patronise me, Dita.' Ulatal practically grunted the words. 'How's the

squadron?''Adjusting.Didyouseewe'reflyingfleetpatrolagain?'Of course he'd seen. Shewas still sending him the bloody duty roster everyweek.Hedidn'tknowhowhefeltaboutthat.Wasitcharity?Sympathy?Pity?He nodded to her question, not trusting his voice for a moment. Perditastraightenedheruniformasshelookedaroundtheroomagain,notmeetinghiseyes. Throne, ifDitawas coming in here and looking awkward, things reallywerebad.'YouforgottosayI'mlookingbetter,'hegoadedher.Aseasilyasthat,thetensionvanished.Shegrinned.'Youlooknodifferentfromaweekago.''Yeah,I'maprincethesedays.Ihearthey'regoingtoputmyfaceonthetwo-creditcoin.'Shestoodatsuddenattention.'Permissiontolie,sir.'Now that was more like it. Ulatal found himself smiling too. 'Permissiondenied,commander.''Yes,sir.Thenit'swithregretthatIinformyouthatyoulooklikeshit,sir.'Ulatal chuckled. The slime in his lungs and guts chuckledwith him, and hecould'velivedwithoutthat,butitstillfeltgoodtolaugh.'Atease,commander.'Perditastoodatease,thenwordlesslyusedtheedgeofherboottoscuffsomeofhissmallclothesunderthebed.Inhereyes,hereadthedisapprovalshewastoopolite tospeakaloud.Hisofficer'squarters,oncesoorderedandpristine,werebecomingalittle…domestic.'SowhyamIhere?'sheasked.'Because I need a new archival servitor. The last one died in an accidentalweaponsdischarge.'She raised an eyebrow and hiked a thumb at the door. 'I can just leave, youknow.'Ulatalsmoothedhispalmdownhisunshavenfaceand,withtheawkwardgaitofthenewly-mutilated,helimpedforwardsonthebioniclimbthatreplacedhislostleg.Hehadtosuckonhisaspirator,andafterthatwonderfulindignity,whatwasleftofhisfacetwistedintoahalfsmileamidsttheburnscarring.'You'reherebecauseIthinkI'mintrouble,Dita.'Hehandedherthedata-slate.'Lookatthis.'

About halfway through, the colour drained from her face. By the time she

loweredthedata-slate,disbeliefwasfightingwithdiscomfortforcontrolofherexpression.'Isthisreal?'sheasked.Ulatalthumbedacodeintohisworkstation,bringingupahololithicdisplayofaworldwiththreemoons,ringedbyiconsdepictingtwobattlefleets.'This is Zoah, and… whatever its bloody moons are called. And this is the3,283rdExpeditionaryFleet. It'sbrokenupnow.Itwasn'ta trueExpeditionaryFleetat all, just anotheradhocarmada formingwhen two Imperial fleets findtheirspheresofconquestoverlapping.'Hegesturedtotwooftheicons,lightingthemonthedisplayandboldingtheirnames.ThefirstreadPhotep.Thesecond,Nightfall.TheflagshipsoftheXVandVIIILegionesAstartes.'AtZoah,theunifiedhostresultedinnotjusttwolegionsbeingforcedtoworktogether,buttwoprimarchs.'She handed the data-slate back to him.He took it, though he didn'twant to.Neither of them seemed towant to hold it for long. 'SoZoah is real,' Perditaventured,'butwhatabouttheveracityoftheeventsinthereport?'Ulatalraisedafinger,ateachermakingapoint.'That'sthequestion.'Perdita was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. Theambiguitysurprisedhim,givenhowlongthey'dflowntogether.'What?Whyareyoulookingatmelikethat?''Didyouaskforthisassignment,sir?Ordidtheygiveittoyou?'Ulatal snorted. 'I didn't want to be removed from active service while Iconvalesced.IthinktheyagreedbecausetheywerescaredthatifIhadtoomuchtimetothink,I'dswallowaroundfrommysidearm.Ifyou'reaskingwhetherIspecificallyaskedforarchiveoversightduty,thenno.Ijustwantedsomethingtodo.'Hegesturedaroundthechamber,inallitssparsegrandeur.'Whatamazesmeisthat there are ranking Crusade officers who spend their lives overseeing thiswork.'Perdita fixed him with a disapproving glare. 'It's a vital duty. This work isintegral to theGreatCrusade.Tohumanity itself.These are the records futuregenerationswillread,learninghowweconqueredthestars.'Howgrand.Ulatal'sinnervoicewasslickandslywiththethought.Howverygrandthatsounds.'It'sadullduty,Dita.'Hegruntedsomethingthatwasalmostalaugh.'Atleast,itwasuntilIgotareportsayingtwoprimarchsnowdespiseeachother.Noneof

theothermissionsI'vearchivedwereanythinglikethis.''Idon'tunderstandyou,sir.You'rediminishing theworkwithonebreath,andfixateduponitwiththenext.You'reshakingwithunspentenergy.''Inoticeyou'redelicatelyavoidingthewordobsession.'Hersmilewasathin,sympatheticslicethatsoftenedhereyes.'Yousaidit,notme.So…whatareyougoingtodo?'Ulatal dragged in a breath through his aspirator. 'I don't know. I can't findanythinglikeitanywhereelse.AndhowdoesonefollowupthisThousandSonslegionary's ramblings? I'd need to go to the flagship and speak with theNightfall'sarchivists,butthat'snoguaranteeofgettingthetruth.''Yoususpectacover-up?'Didhe?Didhe,honestly? 'I suspectsomethingwentonout there, somethingbetweenthetwoprimarchs,andtheydon'twantanyofthelittlepeopleknowingabout it.This legionarybrokeranksandfiledhisreportoutof…Idon'tknow.Vanity,perhaps.Superiority.Likehehadsomethingtoprove.'HavingDita herewas good.Hewas barely even talking to her now, but herpresencelethimworktheproblemthroughoutloud,fromanotherangle.Andsheknewit,too.Sheknewhimwellenoughtoknowhowheworked.'Sir?'sheprompted.'Ihavetheauthoritytoinvestigate,but…'He let thewords hang. Perdita didn't take themup in agreement,which he'dbeenhopingfor.'And?'sheasked.Thewomanwasmercilesswhenshewantedtobe.'And I should. I need to. It's my duty.' Saying it out loud plascreted it intoreality. 'It's my duty. I was hoping you'd talk me out of it. Maybe evensuggestingthefilecould'vegotlostorcorruptedalongtheway.'Perdita retightenedheralready immaculateponytail.Whenshemoved,Ulatalcouldn't help but notice her brass rank insignia pins again, flashing as theyreflectedthelightfromtheoverheadlumes.'WouldyoulistentomeifItriedtotalkyououtofit?'Shelookedhimdeadintheeyes.'Honestly,sir?'Hedidn'treply,whichwasitselfananswer.Perditawasn't blind.Ulatal knew she recognised the threat of fixation in hercommander'sbehaviour: thefeverishneedtoseethis throughto theend.She'dseenitbefore.Theyallhad,atonetimeoranother- thatneedforawarrior toachievesomething in thewakeofgoingdown in flamesandcrawlingbackupfromtherubble.

Shegambledinthesilencethatfollowed.'TheRemembrancershavetakenholdofpict-footagefromtheJuuvaurengagement.'Ulatal'sthroatworked.Hetriedandfailedtoswallow,hopingagainsthopehewaskeepinghisemotionsfromhisunshavenface.'How?''How does classified military intelligence always hit the public eye, sir?Someoneleakedit.'Shetookabreathbeforespeakingmore.'They'recallingyoua hero. 'They're writing poems about it, painting impressions… It's alreadyspreadtootherfleets.'Hesnorted,resistingapullonhisaspirator.Lethislastlungclenchup.Letitshrivelinhisscarredchest,forallthatitmattered.AnythingtostopDitasensingthethrilloffearfuldiscomfortsnakingitswaydownUlatal'sspinalcolumn.'Idiots,'hesaid.'Sir,no.No.Youareahero.Thatfightwas…'Shekept talkingbutUlatalwasno longer listening.Hestaredather,hisgutsaching at the thought of all those ludicrous chroniclers and poets and artistswatchinghim,watchinghisfinalmission,watchingthefightitself,watchingthewayitendedinbloodandchokingsmokeandshriekingenginesandbloodandburningironandblood,somuchbloodand—Ulatalopenedhiseyes,unsureofjustwhenhe'dclosedthem.Helimpedbacktohischair,hating the instinctiveexhalationof reliefwhenhe tookhisweightoffhisabusedhip.Perditapolitelypretendednottonotice.'Itsuitsyou,'Ulatalsaidatlast.'Sir?''Myrank.Youwearitwellandwebothknewitwascoming.AtleastthiswayIdidn'thavetoloseyoutoanothersquadronwhentheypromotedyou.'Perditasmiled.'IsthisthepartwhereyoutellmeI'mthebestpilotyou'veeverknownandthatyou'reeversoproudofme?''Throne,no.Iwasthebest.Butyouwereadecentwingmate.''You'llbebackwithus—'Ulatalraisedahand. 'Sparemethegroxshit,please.Myflyingdaysaredone,unlesstheyrigupmynextcockpitwithaseattocounterbalanceallthenauseafrommybrokenskull,andanirrigationsystemtohandlethefactIseemtocrapblood now. Throne, half my organs are synthetic clone-copies that barelyfunction.Iftheycyberneticallyreplacedeverythingthatwaswrongwithme,I'dbeaservitor.'Heshowedhisnewmetalteethtoillustratethepoint.'Perhapsthey'llgiveyouaship.Afrigatetocommand.'Hefeltamomentofgenuinehorrorfilterintohisever-presentirritation.'I'ma

starfighterpilot. I don'twant abloody ship,wallowing in thevoidwith its fatarse hanging out.' Ulatal trailed off, hearing the petulance in his own voice.'Although…abattleship,maybe?OneofthebigGlorianas.Thatmightbefun.'Perditalaughed,anditwasmusictoherformercommander'sears.Nocharityorsympathyinthatlaugh.Noneinhereyes,either.'Aimhigh,sir,'shesaidwithagrin.'So,whendoyouleave?'

Ulatalrockedinhisrestraintthrone,doinghisbestnottogruntinpaineachtimetheshipbuckledaroundhim.Thefirstmomenthe'dfelttheenginesengageandshuntthevesselforwards,allofhisinjuriesawokeatonce,determinedtopunishhimfortakingthislittletrip.Thesupplytransportpullednoneofthehigh-gravmanoeuvres he'd spent a life acclimating to in the cockpit of hisRage-patternfighter,but itwasstillanythingbutasmoothride.Thecargo-haulerfelt like itrattled its way through the warp, held together more by luck than by skilledpilotingoradecenthull.Fewmilitaryvesselswereenrouteanywherenearwhereheneededtogo.Thatmeanthe'dneededtobecreative.Threeweekstransitonaresupplycarrierhere,a month-long warp jump on a pilgrim ship there… Through amix of decentplanningandgoodfortune,Ulatalhadmanagedtomakeittothefinallegofhisjourney.Noneof the shipshadbeenmuch fun for hisweakened constitution, but thisonewastheworstyet.Ataparticularlynastyshudder,hispainedgruntmeltedinto a teeth-clenching groan. Several of the other passengers cast a glance hisway.Helickedtheacidtasteofnauseaoffthebackofhisteethandswallowed,tooirritatedtobeembarrassed.Everytimehebreathedin,heinhaledthesweat-stinkof theotherpassengers.Everytimehemoved,hefelttheireyesonhim.Theuneasyglanceswerefine;hecouldtakethoseastheycame.Itwasthelooksofpitythatknifedathim.Thesympathetic,half-scaredgazesoflifelongciviliansseeingawarriorbroughtlow.Well,therewasnothinghecoulddoaboutitnow,apartfromnotthrowingupinfrontof them.He'd certainlynotbemarching in anyvictoryparades any timesoon.'Areyouallright?'Ulatalliftedhisheadtothemanintherestraintthroneacrossthethoroughfare.Hedrewbreath to reply,andmanaged threewordsbeforehisbreakfast rationsand chunks of stomach lining blasted against the cage of his clenched teeth.Ulatalsaggedagainsthisrestraintbuckles,andwhenhemoanedhepaintedthe

gantryfloorwithvomit.Groansandcursessoundedoutaroundhim.'Yeah,' he panted, head down, staring at the floor between his knees. 'Neverbetter.'

***

Ulatal was in no fit state to spend too long gazing out of portholes as theyglidedintodock,buthestillsparedhimselfasmileatthesightofallthatvoidplatingcast indirtycobaltand tarnishedbronzeagainst theendlessblack.Shewasfilthyfromher journeysandbloodiedfrombattle,but theNightfallwasn'twithouthercharms.Ifsheranoutherguns,shewascapableoflevellingcitiesinminutes,andkillingworldswithinhours.Disembarkingtookplacewithoutahitch,andthefleetliaisonhadassignedhimquarters.BetterquartersthanhisownbackaboardtheSerpentoftheBlackSeas,whichwas a surprise.The liaison had knownhewas coming, of course.He'dfollowed protocol and sentword ahead of his arrival.No sensemaking a badfirstimpression.'WingCommanderOrthosUlatal, assigned to the Eighth legion, seconded toCrusadeBattlefleetArchivalResources.Thankyouforcoming.I'dliketospeaktooneofyourrankingLegionarchivists,'he'dsaidtotheportly,officiousfellowduty-boundtowelcomehimaboard.'Athisearliestopportunity.'TheliaisonwasofNostramo,hisskinthenear-albinoofthebulkofthatworld'sunhealthypopulation.HespokeGothicwiththemellowflairtypicaloftheNightLordsthemselves,andkepttothecommontongueoftheImperiumdespitethefactUlatalspokeseveralNostramandialectsasfluentlyasanynative.'IwilldowhatIcan,'theliaisonreplied.'Thisisimportant,'Ulatalstressedinthefaceoftheotherman'splacidity.'AsIsaid,sir,I'lldowhatIcan.'Ulatalwincedashe leaned forward tounlacehisboots, and somethingwetlyunpleasant slipped in his healing guts. 'You don't sound confident,' he pointedout. 'I've served theEighthLegion for almost twodecades,my friend. IknowwhatSpaceMarineofficerscanbelike.Youdon'tneedtobedelicateaboutthis.I trust what you're trying not to say is that your overseers are standoffishbastards?'Theliaisonclearedhisthroat,seekingtherightbalanceoftruthanddiplomacy.'Well,theyrarelyfraternisewithmortalcrew—''Listen to me,' Ulatal interrupted, looking down at his data-slate again andreading through the info-spillage. 'I just need to speak to oneof the flagship's

archivists.Notthebloodyprimarchhimself,norevenanyoftheofficers.Justanarchivist.'Theliaisonhesitated,thengaveacrispsalute.'Ithinkthatcanbearranged,sir.'

It took three days to get an answer. The liaison didn't return. When Ulatalcontacted him through his quarters' crew terminal, the replies ranged fromevasivetoplacating,alwayssmooth,nevermiredbyawkwardness.ThelasttimeUlatalreachedout,hewaspolitelyrebuffedbyaservitor,whoinformedhiminamonotonedrawlthatheshouldremaininhischambersandawaitthearrivalofsomeonewhowouldbeabletohelpwithhisinvestigation.'Ican'thelpbutthinkyourphrasingisalittlesuspicious,'Ulatalrepliedtothelobotomised cyborg on the other end of the link. Instinct had him check hissidearmafterthevox-callended.The warrior that pounded a fist against Ulatal's door had come armed andarmoured. The legionary towered above Ulatal, who was a tall man himself,standingcladinthebrass-edgedmidnightceramiteoftheVIIILegion.Standingthis close to aLegionesAstarteswarriorwas never a comfortable experience,even for those used to the sheer size of them. This one, this close, was arevelationofimmensity.Inoneofitshands,itheldachain-bladedglaivewithahaft over three metres long. In its other hand, it held a snarling skull helmetcrestedwithtwinwings.TheactivepowergeneratorontheSpaceMarine'sbackmadeUlatal's gums itch.Hehad to resist the unpleasant urge to rub his eyes;theyfeltliketheywerevibratingintheirsockets.Ulatal knewwho itwas.He'd seen thewarrior's image in countless ImperialinspirationalholosrelayingthedeedsofLegionesAstartesheroes.He'dseenthearmouredgiant in almost asmany classifiedpost-missionpicts, describing theVIIILegion'smanyvictoriesoverthelastcentury.TheNightLordstareddown,hisinhumaneyesofferingagazeofpassionless,unblinkingblackness.Whenhespoke,hisvoicewasthesoundofanavalanchesomehowgiventhepowertosneer.'Greetings,'saidFirstCaptainJagoSevatarion. 'YouandIaregoingtohaveaconversation.'

Forthefirstfewminutes,Ulatalwasquiteconvincedhewasgoingtodiewitheachmovementthewarriormade.Hewasnocoward.Noonecouldrisetohisrank and win the wars he'd won if cowardice ran through their veins, yet heflinchedeachrimeSevatarion'sarmourjointssnarledatthemerestmotion.Hisguts physically clenchedwhen thewarrior dropped hiswar spear on the table

with a resounding crash. As spacious as his quarters were, the SpaceMarineofficertookupathreateningspan.When the feelingof imminentdeath faded, itdidn't retreat far. Instead itwasreplacedbyacertaintythathewouldn'tleavetheroomaliveoncehisstorywastold. The idea of drawing his sidearm for protectionwas a cold and hilariouscomfort;usinghisservicelaspistolonthefirstcaptainoftheVIIILegionwouldbenomoreeffectivethanthrowingrocksataLandRaider.He'doffered theSpaceMarineacupof tea fromhishospitality supplies,andFirst Captain Sevatarion had smiled, charmed by the offer, amused by it, ordoinghisbesttomimicpoliteness.'No.Nowstarttalking.'With thosewords, and the orderwithin them, business had begun in earnest.Bothmenhad sat -onewith thegruntofhiswounds troublinghim, theotherwiththepoweredgrowlsofhisarmourjointsadaptingtothechangeinposture.Ulatalhandedoveradata-slatewiththetranscribedreportandrelevanthololithicdata.Thenallhecoulddowaswait.HesattherewhiletheNightLordfinishedreading,doinghisbestnottocoughorclutchhispainedstomach.Thelastthinghewantedwasforthewarriortomistakehissicknessfornervousness.Sevatarion's featureswere pale above his armour's ceramite collar, the pallidfleshsotypicalofallNostraman-bornsouls.Hisblackeyesflickeredasheread.At one point he ran his gauntleted fingertips through thewidow's peak of hisblackhair.Atanotherpoint,hislip-curlingsneermeltedintoadrychuckle.ASpaceMarine'scognitionwasathingoftranshumanprocesses.WhenUlatalhad shown the text to Perdita, it had taken her almost an hour to read it all.Sevatarionfinishedreviewingitinlessthansixminutes.Thewarriordidn'tgivebackthedata-slateoncehewasdonewithit.HelockedeyeswithUlatal fromacross thechamber's lowtable. 'You're lookingatmeasthoughyouexpectmetokillyou.'Ulatalgaveacautioussmile.'Thethoughthadcrossedmymind.'Sevatarionkepthiseyesonthehumanashenoddeddownatthedata-slatestillinhishand.'Becauseofthis?'Careful,careful.'Withallduerespect,lord…'' "Sevatar" is fine, in this circumstance.Leave the "lord"elsewhere,please. Iamnotaking.''Withrespect…Yourreputationisn'toneofpatienceandmercy.'Sevatar stared back at him, unblinking, unmoving. A servitor would have

shownmoreemotion.'I feel that's an unfair judgement ofmy character,' thewarrior said, perfectlycalm.'Yourwordsgrieveme.I'mdeeplyaggrieved.'Silencereigned.Is…ishejoking?Isthisajest?Ulatalclearedhisthroatanddrewbreathtospeak,butSevatarinterruptedhim.'Thereishardlyenoughinformationheretobeworthbutcheringyouover.Thisisonlyafractionofthestory.'Ulatalleanedforward,feelingtheloosenessinsidehischestandgutssquirminwayshe'drathernothaveconsidered.'Icameforthetruth,firstcaptain.'Sevatarmet his gazewithout blinking. He stared: judging, considering. 'Youchase revelation with the fire of fever in your eyes, Orthos Ulatal. But suchflamescharaman'ssoul.''Thisismyduty.That'sallthereistoit.'Sevatar'slipcurledinsomeflavourofamuseddisgust. 'Is it indeed.Isawthegun-picterfootageofyourcrash,bytheway.Theimpactshouldhavekilledyouthreetimesover.You'realuckyman.'Praisewasthelastthinghehadexpected.'I…thankyou,firstcaptain.''Althoughyoulooklikeyouweresewnbacktogetherwithbodypartsfromhalfadozenmen.Wereyouanattractivefellowbeforethecrash,Ulatal?'The officer hesitated again.He could feel this confrontation slipping throughhisfingers.Heoptedtostickwithtruthoverfalsemodesty.'Yes,sir.Iwas.'Sevatar tiltedhishead, fluidandanimal inhismovement.TheSpaceMarinestudied thehumanas if trying tosee themanUlatalhadbeen in thewreckagehe'dbecome.'Well,atleasttheyscrapedyououtofthecockpit,eveniftheyleftyourlooksbehind.'Ulatal said nothing.Holding a conversationwith the first captain of theVIIILegionwas like trying towardoffanapproachinggrain thresherwithnothingbutprayer.'Well?'Sevatarprompted.'YousaidyouwishedtospeaktosomeonepresentfortheDevastationofZoah.'TheNightLordknockedhisknuckles lightlyagainsthisbreastplate.'Iwasthere.Sospeak.'Ulatal cleared his throat. 'I don't know if I should file these reports. TheThousandSonscastourLegionina…negativelight.'Sevatar still hadn't relinquished the data-slate. 'That they do,' he agreed.'Though itwould hardly be the first report to do so.Who filed thismiserable

poetry?''An officer listed as "Khayon of the Khenetai", who belongs to somethingcalled"TheOrderoftheJackal".He'scitedascaptainofthewarshipTlaloc.'Sevatarshrugged,thebarestmovementofhisshoulders.'Neverheardofhim.Icouldn't tell you if hewas there or not. I paid little attention to theThousandSons juniorofficers atZoah.Theyall tended towhine in the sameway.Theyblurredinmymemoryafterawhile.'Hepaused,reflectingforamoment. '"OrderoftheJackal"."Khenetai".WhatamusingtitlestheotherLegionsuse.'Astrangeinsult,Ulatalthought,fromamanknownasthePrinceofCrows.Sevatar'sstarewassuddenandbestial.Notaggressive,butundeniablyanimal.Something that might almost pass for a smile infected its way across thosescarredlips,inchbyinch.Hehearsme.Ulatalfeltanicypricklealonghisspine.Emperor'sblood,hecanhearme.But the Night Lord said nothing, did nothing, beyond gesturing for him tocontinue.'I can't file the final report in this form,' said Ulatal. 'It's judgemental,melancholicandreadslikepropaganda.Andthere'stherisktomorale,aswell.First, I need to confirm the report's veracity. After that, I can gathercounterpointsthatbalanceitsbiasedtone.'Sevatar blinked at last, andhis imitation of a smile faded. 'Here iswhat youmay do.Youmay file this report as it is, leaving it in the archives for futuregenerations to regard as amild and anomalous curiosity.Oryou candelete it,andnoonewillknoworcare.Ifyoudoeitherof thoseactions,youwill leavethesequarters, and then leave theNightfall, returning towhat remainsof yourlife.YouwillneverflyaFuryfighteragain,butyourmindisnotbroken.Onlyyourbody.Youwill almost certainlybepromoted foryour service, either toafrigate's command crew or to the rank of group captain overseeing a carriervessel's fighter squadrons. Is that a good life?Abad life? I do not know.Mystandardsaremyown,andyoursareyours.Sohumourmeaswepaintmoreofthisgrandpicture.Youwillrisehigh,yes,ofthatIhavenodoubt.Yetyouwillalwayspissintomedicaebags.Youwillalwaystastebloodwhenyoueat,fromyour false teeth and your ruptured insides. Youwill always labour to breathewiththesingleshreddedlungthatremainsinyourchest.Evenifyouaregrantedmore vat-grown organs and accept cybernetic grafts, youwill heal, but neverreallyrecover.Yourbodywasdestroyedinthatcrash,Orthos.Youknowthat.I

seetheknowledgeinyoureyes.Imayhavenogiftforreadinghumanemotion,butIpromiseyou,Ireadtruthandliesaseasilyasothermenreadthewordsofabook.'Ulatalexhaledslowly.Hesaidnothing,nothingatall.TheNightLordreachedforoneofhisbeltpouchesanddrewforthafist-sizedorb of polished brass. Ulatal raised an eyebrow at the sight of the antiquatedholo-projectorasSevatarrestedit in thecentreof the lowtablebetweenthem.Thewarriorrosewithpurringarmourjointsashespokeoncemore.'You can leave and live that life, Ulatal. Or you canwatch this, and get theanswersyou'vecomefor.ContainedwithinarenovitalrecordsthatwillbenefittheGreatCrusade,nodamningtruthsthatwillthreateneitherofthetwoLegionsinvolved. Just the words of two brothers at odds. Words that neither brotherwishesthoseoutsidetheirLegionstoknow.This…'hetappedtheactivationrunewith his thumb but didn't push it down, '…is a matter for legionaries andprimarchs. A family matter. Not something for mortal eyes and ears, andcertainlynottheCrusade'sarchives.''Thenwhyofferittome?'Sevatar chuckled. 'Why indeed.' His tonemade it rhetorical. 'Farewell, wingcommander.'Ulatalwatched asSevatar reclaimed the immensewar spear. 'This recording,firstcaptain.IfIwatchit…'The Night Lord fixed his black eyes upon Ulatal's uplifted gaze. 'Are youaskingifyouwillforfeityourlifebylearningthetruth?'Ulatalnodded.Sevatardidnot.'Letmeaskyousomething,OrthosUlatal.Ifyouweretodietonight…wouldyoureallycare?'

The spire at the heart of the city was fashioned from an igneous blue stonequarried only on Zoah's easternmost landmass. Acknowledged by Zoah'spopulation as thewonderof theirworld, itwas a dizzying feat of architecturethatpiercedtheclouds-amonumenttomankind'shardworkanditscapacitytocreatebeauty.Sevatar looked at the tower, his targeting reticule dancing here and there,trackingforstructuralweaknesses.Itsbeautydidn'tfigureintohisthoughts,nordidtheideathatotherpeoplewouldfinditbeautiful.Hisminddidn'tworkthatway.In theparlanceofZoah'snativeculture, thebuildingwascalled the Ivil'kuuh,

translatingintoGothicastheTowerofSerenity.Thetranslationwasinexact,forserenity in the Zoahn culture implied not peaceful enlightenment, but acondescending sense ofnoblesseoblige of an educated elite over the ignorantmasses. He knew this because he'd read it in the mission data-feeds, andstudying theoperationaldatawaswhat agood soldierhad todo.Contextwasvitalinawarzone.'It'sbeautiful,isn'tit?'Shang'svoicewasacracklingpurracrossthevox.Idon'tknow,thoughtSevatar.Howdoyoutellifsomethingisbeautiful?'Yes,' he said aloud, because he suspected that'swhat hewas supposed to bethinking.'Trulyamarvel.''Itwillbeashametopullitdown,'Shangadded.'Thelawisthelaw,'Sevatarrepliedwiththeinstinctofrepetition.Shang'sreplywasagruntofagreement.Sevatar looked at the tower's base, and the targeting crosshairs on his retinaldisplay flashed across several far more tempting targets. The Thousand Sonsringing the towerstood inorderedranks,boltersandbladesclutchedatparaderest.Theywaited-no,theystoodguard-andtheonlythingthatwouldchangethatfactwouldbethewordsoftheprimarchscurrentlyinorbit.Sometimes the Thousand Sons' efforts were visible, sometimes theyweren't.Everynowandagain,Sevatarsawashimmerofthetelekineticbarrierintheair.Each time, the towerwavered like amiragebehind the invisiblewall of forcethatkeptitunharmed.TheNightLordsfirstcaptaincrunchedoverthebrokenrockoftheconqueredcity, boots grinding down on the dusty gravel of destroyed homes. HeapproachedthenearestThousandSonsofficer-adark-skinnedmancladintheredandgoldofhisLegion,hiseyesringedwithwearinessandanartisticcurlofkohl.'Ahzek,'hehailedthewarrior.'Captain Sevatarion.' The Thousand Sons legionary gave a Nostraman handgesture of greeting, palmopen and out to showno violent intent, andSevatarsmiledatthecourtesybecausesmilingwassomethingpeopleweresupposedtodo.'Hastherebeenword?'AhzekAhrimanshookhishead.'None.'Bothwarriorslookedacrosstheiropposingranksofmen.WheretheThousandSonsstoodindefiantvigil,asrigidasautomatons,theNightLordsweregroupedinlooseflame-unitteams,speakingamongstthemselvesandeyeingthetower's

defenderswithanakedrevulsionthatcurdledtheirwhitefaces.The stalemate had stood for three hours so far. Packs of Night Lordsoccasionallyspreadapartsopairsofwarriorscouldduel-overabusedhonour,avenging insultsormereboredom.TheThousandSonsallowed themselvesnosuchlaxityindiscipline.'Isitworthallthis?'Sevatarasked,noddingtotheopposingforces.Inthelasthour,battletankshadbeendrawnuponbothsides.Thisclosetothetower,hecouldfeelthetelekineticbarrierpricklingathisskin.Amaddeningandunscratchableitch,apressurethatseepedinsidehisskullandexpandedtoplumpuphisbrainflesh.Heclenchedhis teethandswallowedthedesiretovomit.Foramoment,hethoughthecouldhearthechantingmurmursoftheThousandSonsovertheotherLegion'svox-links.Theysoundedghostly,foreign,unbearablytired.'Yes,'Ahrimanreplied.'TheEmperorwouldweepifweallowedthisknowledgetobedestroyed.'Sevatar exhaled through closed teeth. Other people's delusions were suchtiresomeprocessestodealwith.'Ifthatwerethecase,myprimarchwouldnotbeorderingustoburnitalltoash.'TherewaspatienceinAhriman'sexpression-patienceandsympathy.'Withthegreatestrespect,CaptainSevatarion,youspeakinignorance.Wehavesailedthetides of the Great Ocean in ways no other Legion can imagine, let alonecomprehend.The lorewithin this tower pertains to the realm behind theVeil,andonlywe are qualified to judge itsworth.TheCrimsonKing'sword is theonlydecreewithanyweighthere.Wewill take this lore toProsperoand then,onceithasbeenstudied,wewilltakeitontoTerra.'Sevatar managed to unclench his jaw. 'You have a way of treating brother-warriorslikechildren,youknow.ThesugarytreacleinyourtonedoesnothidethefactyouareapatronisingTerranshithead.'Ahrimanshookhisheadasecondtime,patient in thefaceof this tirade. 'It isnotmyintentiontomockyou,Jago.'Sevatar'sfeaturestwitched.'Iamreturningtoorbittoseeifourfathersareanyclosertoreachingaconclusion.''Iwillaccompanyyou,'Ahrimanreplied.'ButIwouldlikeyourassurancethatyourforceswillnotopenfireonthetoweronceweleave.''But I've brought up all this artillery.' Sevatar swept a hand across the ruinedcity, where a battalion of VIII Legion armour rattled and growled on idlingengines.'Itwouldbesuchashamenottouseit.'

'Imeanit.Iwantyourword.'Sevatar stared at his counterpart. 'If I gave you that assurance, you wouldactuallybelieveme.Wouldn'tyou?''Iwouldhopeyouwouldkeepyourword,'saidAhriman.Sevatar snorted,not inmockerybuthonest surprise. 'Noone asnaive asyouhasanyrighttobepatronising,Ahzek.'

'Knowledgeisneithergoodnorevil,brother.Itgainsmoralityonlyinitsuse.Ifusedwithmaliceinmind,itbecomesevil.Ifusedtobenefitothers,itbecomesgood.'The two brothers had been speaking for some time, and it showed on theirfaces.Thefirstofthemwasared-skinnedgiant,armouredinTizcanbronzeandProsperinegold,bothmetalspossessingtheverybarestsuggestionofscarletintheirmetallic hues. Flowing sigils decorated the armour plating in patterns ofarcane tracery. Where the giant's right eye should have been, a clenched slitmarred thearistocraticbeautyofhis features.Of theeye thathadoncenestledwithintheclosedsocket,onlyspeculationremained.Thesecondbrotherwasrangywherehiskinsmanwasmuscled,raggedwheretheotherwasgrand,withskinthewhiteofuncleaniceandhairthedirtyblackofchiropteranwings.Hesatwhiletheotherstoodtall.Thissecondbrotherlookeddownathisowngauntletedhands.Hedeployedandretracted a pair of great metal claws, over and over, with nasty hisses ofadamantiumgratingagainstceramite.'Thelawisthelaw,'saidthepalebrother.Hedidn'tlookupfromhisgauntlets.Twinmetallicslashesaccompaniedthedeploymentofhisclawsagain,flashingfromtheirhousingsonhisforearms.At the chamber's edges, several SpaceMarine warriors stood in silent vigil.Names and faces and helmets that were renowned across the emergentImperium:eachoneahero inhisownright.Suchagatheringwould, inbettercircumstances, spell the annihilation or subjugation of a culture resistant toImperial compliance.Now theseworthies stood quietly,watching their fathersfightover the right todeliver the finalblow to theworldbelow,or to spare itfromoblivion.Oneofthewarriorscladinmidnightwar-plate,amanasmorbidlypaleashisprimarch,withablade-scaracrosshislips,shookhisheadashespokeupatlast.'Pleasespareusyourmoralrelativism,uncle.'Severalof theThousandSons, resplendent in their crimsonplate, stiffenedat

thewarrior'swords.Magnusnarrowedhislefteyeashegazeduponhisbrother,refusingtolookattheNightLordthathadspoken.'If your sons cannotkeep fromchildishoutbursts, brother, perhaps it's best iftheyleaveus.'The ragged primarch retracted his claws once more. The sigh that ghostedthroughhissharpteethwasweightedbyweariness.Hesaidnothing.Hispostureoftireddefiancespokeforhim.Micromovements among the Thousand Sons officers betrayed them as theyvoxedtooneanotheronprivatechannelswhilestandingatattention.TheNightLords commanders opposite them stood at ease, not bothering tomirror theircounterparts.Ahriman,firstcaptainoftheXVLegion,heldhisstaffstraightashestoodatattention:atranshumanavatarofstatuesqueperfection.Hisdarkreflectionacrosstheroom,Sevatar,wasleaningonhischainglaive.Itwas impossible for a transhumanwarrior-murderer to look insouciant, but thefirstcaptainoftheNightLordscameclose.'Weshould—'Sevatarbegan.'Silence,' both primarchs said at once. And wonder of wonders, it worked.Sevatar went back to staring at Ahriman, perhaps wondering how skilled theotherLegioncommanderwaswithhistrinket-ladenstaff.Ahriman,incontrast,ignored Sevatar entirely. His focus was on the conversation unfolding in thecentreofthechamber.MagnustheRedkneltbeforehisbrother,eyetoeye.Hisvoicesoftened. 'Pullyourmenbackfromthetower,Konrad.Youthinkmetooproudtocompromise?I am not. Not over amatter so vital, for knowledge so critical. Giveme twoweeks tocomb thedepthsof this trove, to separate the truth from theharmfullies.Iwilldestroyanythingthatbearsthestainofdeceit,myself.'The claws slashed free. They slid back into their vambrace housings. Theyslashedbackoutagain.'Donotdothis,'Magnuspressed.'Donotcommitthisloretoflame.'Konrad Curze lifted his dark eyes to meet his brother's halved gaze. 'I willbrooknocompromise.Iwillgivenoground.Thelibrarywillburn.''Brother.'Magnus'voicewasastrangledplea. 'Letmesendwordtoourfatherfirst.Lethiswordbethejudgementweseek.Hewouldneverwishthislibrarydestroyed,Ipromiseyou.AndIwillremainwithyouwhilewewait.NeitherI,nor my sons, will enter the Tower of Serenity until the Emperor sends hisblessing.''How confident you are,' the Night Haunter replied. He had gone back to

lookingdownathishands.Theclawsslashedoutyetagain.'Iam,'Magnusconfessed,passiongivingheart tohis tone. 'Iam,brother.FordecadesevenbeforemyrediscoveryandProspero'swelcomeintotheImperium,I spokewith fatheracross the tidesof theGreatOcean.Mind tomind, soul tosoul.''Soul.'Curze'schucklewastheraspofasawbladeacrossbone.'Soul.Youtalksuchprettynonsense,brother.SpiritsandtutelariesandGreatOceansandsouls.'Magnusrosetohisfeet.Goldflashedasheturnedawayinregret.Curze's anaemic visage settled into amiserablemask of indulgence. 'Do youbelieveyouaretheonlyonetohavespokenwithfather?Thatyoualoneknowhiswishesandhissecrets,andwhathedesiresustoachieveouthere?Tellmetruly,Magnus-doyouhonestlythinkweareallnothingbutfools,caperinginyourshadow?'TheCrimsonKing'sfeatureshardened,asdidhisvoice. 'Ispeakofrevelationand vision, and you speak pettywords of bitterness.Brother, I'd hoped for somuch more. Was your hunger to destroy not sated with the massacres youinflicteduponthepeopleofthisworld?''Massacres,'Curzemurmuredthewords,'thatyoudidnotstop.Massacresthatsparedninetypercentofthisworld'spopulationandreachedcomplianceinhalfthetimeGuillimanhadestimated.Sodonotobjecttomy"massacres'",anddonotspeakthewordasifitweresomefilthysin.'Magnuswouldnotbecowed.'Thecampaignwasyourstoprosecuteasyousawfit.Butthislibrary,thislore…''Thatwordagain.Lore.Youclutchatit,investingitwithpreciousness,holdingitoutbeforeyouasatalisman.Whatwillyoudowiththislore,Magnus?TakeitbacktoProspero?Setitfreeforalltolearnandknow,believingyouenrichtheirlives?'Magnussaidnothingatfirst.Helookeduponhisbrother,feelingthecoldcreepofunwelcomerevelation.'Suchhate,'hesaid,almostindisbelief.'Suchdepthsofselfishhate.'Curzegruntedbeneaththatgaze,lookingbackdownathisgauntlets.Theclawsretractedoncemore,thenflashedfreeyetagain.'It isn'tspite thatbindsmeto thiscourseofaction,' theNightLordsprimarchsaidsoftly.'Theknowledgeinthatspireisthecrownjewelofacorruptculture.Theirbeliefsshouldbedestroyedtoaidcomplianceandpreventabackslideintoheathenism.Obedience iswhatmatters,Magnus.Theywill be taught to obey.Throughobedience,theywillbecomeImperial.'

'No, Konrad.' Sensing a chance for unity, Magnus matched his tone to hisbrother's. 'You may be right about the people of this world, but not theknowledgethey'veaccrued.LetmetakeittotheEmperor.That'sallIask.''I'vealreadytoldyou.Iwillbrooknocompromise.Iwillgivenoground.Dropthe kine shield around the Tower of Serenity, for if your warriors seek tomaintainthebarrieroncebombardmentbegins,Ican'tpromisetheywillremainunharmed.''Youwouldn't,'Magnussighed. 'Evenyourmurderousclanwouldn'topenfireontheirownbrothers.'Curzelookedupathisbrother,hisexpressionmuchthesameasSevatar'shadbeenwhenthefirstcaptainsspokeonthesurfaceofZoah.'Allyouprove,'Curzesaid,'ishowlittleyouknowme.Sevatar,givetheordertoopenfire.'Magnus'remainingeyewidened.Hereachedoutahand.'Brother—''ThisisSevatar,'theNightLordspokeacrossthevoxnetwork.'Openfireonthetower.Bringitdown.''Brother!' Magnus called, then… ceased. He tensed, wincing as he felt theimpacts begin on the psychic shield his sons had raised around their treasure.Several of the Thousand Sons present grunted and staggered in psionicsympathy.Curze's claws retracted and deployed in the momentary silence. 'When theEmperor came to my world, he brought light to Nostramo, a world that hadneverseen thesun.Hebrought the lightofknowledge,Magnus.Suddenly,mypeople could see the wider galaxy around them. They could perceive otherworlds and other cultures, city after city that didn't dwell in the endless dark.Civilisationsofpeaceandlaughter.Thatknowledgedidn'tfreethem,brother.Itshackledthem.Itwrappedtheminmisery.Nostramoheaveswiththeirsorrow,that the cost of their peace is fear and blackness. My people suffer in myabsence.Lawbreaksdownas they fight their bindings.Andwhy?Becauseofknowledge.Becauseawell-meaningteacherbroughtaperspectivetheyweren'tyetreadytoknow.'Magnus'featuresweretightwithconcentration.Evenso,heshookhishead,hisvoicebreathywithrealisation.'Youareahateful,blindcreature.TheEmperorwillhearofthis.'Curzedidn'tgloat.Hedidn't even smile. 'How longcanyouhold thatbarrierfor,Magnus?''Forever, if I wish it.' Now it wasMagnus speaking through clenched teeth.

'Foreverandaday.'Curzestilldidn'tsmile,thoughdidhiseyesglintwithcoldmirth?Itseemed,toatleastoneobserver,thattheydid.'And how long before your legionaries begin to wear out from exhaustion?Howlongbeforeaccidentsoccur,andallofthosedetonatingshellskillyoursonson theground?Aday?Aweek?Amonth? Ihave theammunition.Or Icouldpullmywarriors back, andopen firewith theNightfall.How longwould youkeepyourThousandSonsonthesurfacethen?Thisonlyendsoneway,Magnus.Myway.Iwouldratheryoustoodwithme,andpreventedbloodshed.Yourmendon'tdeservetodiefortheirmisguidedoptimism.'Magnus nodded, the gesture one of acceptance if not agreement. 'I willrememberthis,Konrad.Ipromiseyou,Iwillrememberthis.''Good,'saidCurze.'Lessonsshouldberemembered.Thatiswhytheyaretaughtinthefirstplace.''Ah.' Now Magnus smiled. His regal features were a poor foundation formalice,but therewasnothingwarm in that smile 'A lesson, is it?Boldwords,fromamanthatjustclaimedignorancewasbliss.'Curze'sjawtightened;themostemotionhe'dshownthusfar.'Iwillholdfireforthirtyminutes.GetyourLegionofftheground.Thetowerfallsinhalfanhour.'Theclawsslashedoutonceagain,andCurze'simageflickeredwithdistortion.Magnus'didthesame.Thewallsofthechamberblurredwithstatic,and…

…andUlatal stared at the spacewhere the twodemigods had been amomentbefore. The hololithic recording faded away, and the device on the table stillclickedasitcooled.Ulatalfeltthestillnessofhisassignedquartersasaphysicalcaressagainsthisskin.'IfearMagnuswasright,'hesaidtohimself.'Perhaps hewas,' Sevatar allowed.Ulatal jerked at realising hewasn't alone,andhisreknittedbonesthrobbedwiththesuddenmotion.Sevatarwas standing in the doorway, his spear in his hand.Ulatal resisted agroan at the fresh wave of pain flowing through him, from moving afterremainingstillforsolong.Hehadn'theardSevatarreturn.Nowthebulkheadstoodopen.'Why?'heaskedthewarrior.'Whydidyoudoit?''Youareamilitaryman.Youknowtheweightofclassifiedinformation,andthemanyreasonssuchdataiswithheld.''The Great Crusade is grander than that, though.' Ulatal heard the naive

optimism in his own voice, but it didn't shame him. 'It's about… hope.Enlightenment.Truth.''Somemindsarenotequipped todealwith the truth.'Sevatarwalked into theroom, his boots thudding on the floor.With the butt of his spear, he casuallypushed the door closed. It sealed with a mechanical crunch. 'Perhaps bothprimarchswereright,orbothwerewrong.Ithardlymatters.''Howcanthetruthnotmatter?''Ah, the truth matters,' said Sevatar. He looked reflective for a moment. Itwasn'tanexpressionthatlookedathomeonhisfeatures.'Butwhatistrueisnotthe same aswho is right orwrong. The tower fell.We burned everythingwefoundinsidetoashandcinder,andthenweshelledthespireuntilitwasnaughtbutdust.Thatisthetruth.Thatiswhatmatters.'He lookeddownat thehuman,blackeyesunblinking. 'You learnedwhatyoucametolearn.Wastherecordingenlightening?'Ulatal nodded. 'It was.' He smiled suddenly, a rare expression aboard theNightfall.'I'veneverseendemigodsarguebefore.''Yes, it has entertaining elements,' Sevatar admitted. 'We are told itwouldbeawful for morale if it ever became common knowledge, however. Primarchsmustnotbeseentobeatoddswithoneanother.TheCrusade'smandateisstricton these matters. I doubt most humans would care about or understand thegravity of the argument, but I did not write the codes of conduct. I merelyenforcethem.Sitstill,please.''Why?'Sevatarraisedhischainglaive.Hisarmourjointsgrowledinchorus.Thechain-teeth stayed inactive; theywould rend flesh easily enoughwithout thewarriorneedingtoguntheweapon'strigger.'Thisiswhy.'Ulatal set his jaw and refused to close his eyes. He stared up at his killer,awaitingtheblurofmovementthatwouldheraldtheend.'Sevatar.'Sevatarstoodmotionless.'Sevatar.'Thevoicecrackledfromthevox-linkinthefirstcaptain'scollar.Thewarriorremainedunmoving.'Whatisit,Shang?''The cripple,' came the vox-voice. 'We've received word that he has beenassignedtotheVoidmawasgroupcaptain.'Sevatar,withhisspearstillraisedhigh,lookeddownatthemanhewasabouttokill.'Isthatarankandroleyouwishtoclaim?'

Ulataldidn'tmove,noteventonodorshakehishead.Hehonestlydidn'tknowwhathewasgoingtosayuntilhedrewashakingbreath,andspoke.

The final wall had fallen, and with it Venikov. The city had been called 'theBloodyBastion'bytheRanknarBlood-Guard.Itwasimpregnable,theyhadsaid.NowVenikov burned, its precincts as hollow as the confidence that had onceproclaimeditunbreakable.Andasitfell,andburned,theImperialwarmachinegroundon.Sarda watched the city fall through his omniscope, glad for the kilometresbetweenhimandthearmour-cladstarwarriorswhohadlaidsiegetohisworld.The hillswhere he had led those fleeing the destruction ofVenikovwould dolittletostoptheoppressors,however.'Howmany?'askedVeddus.Sardathoughtthegoreovpriestsoundedweary,notjustwiththefatigueofthewarbutaspiritualmalaisethatcamewiththealmostcertain knowledge that your culture and everything you knewwould soon beextinguishedandreplacedbyanother.ButthenSardahadalwaysthoughttoomuch.Hehadbeenthinkingeversincetheso-calledEmperorhadmadehisproclamation.TheEmperorhadspokenofunity and compliance, but to Sarda this had sounded like conquest andannihilation. He adjusted the strap on his leather hauberk, suddenlyuncomfortable.'Blood-MarshalEnochhas forged a last redoubt.At the old keep in southernVenikov.''Howmany,captain?'repeatedVeddus,thesoundofacloakraspingashesweptcloser.Sarda tweaked the brass omniscope, adjusting the dials to focus in on thewarriorsandrefugeesfleeingVenikov.Theywereheadingsouth,tothehills,tothe next city on Erod. The last city. He adjusted his armour again. The studsweredigging in throughhispadded jerkin.A rimeof salt crustedhis forehead

wherehisleatherhelmmetskinandmadehimsweat.'Afewthousand.''Isthatall?'utteredVeddus,pausingatthethought.Sarda heard the priest's breath reverberate against the brass mask. 'Over ahundredthousandmenenteredthatcity.''Blood-MarshalEnochhasanotherthousandtryingtoholdthemoff.''TeethofRanknar…'hissedVeddus.Sarda doubted their patron god was listening. There was only one god thatreallymatterednow,andhewasontheotherside.TheDragon.'We'llneedtofallbacktoRomistad.TheRedCitadelisformidable,'saidSarda.Veddusnodded,startingtogrowinconfidenceagain.'Yes.Outhereinthehillswearevulnerable.TheRedCitadelcanwithstandasiege.Let'sseeifthesecurshavethestomachforit.I'llseetheDragonslainonourwalls.Bleddry!IswearitbyRanknar!'Agreatexplosion lit thehorizon to thenorth.Tremorswere felt as faras thehills.TheyrippedVenikovandtheoldkeepapart.Sarda lowered theomniscope,and letouta longshudderingbreath.He facedVeddus. The blank visage of themaskwas reflected in the priest's eyes. Themask's stylised representationofagaunthuman face,edged insteadofcurved,couldnothidehisfear.'Whatisit?'hedemanded.'Whathappened?''Blood-MarshalEnochisdead,goreov.'Veddusswallowedaudibly.'Areyoucertain?'Sardapointedacrimsongloveinthedirectionofthecity.Excepttherewasnocity.Venikovwasgone.Onlyfire remained,aconflagrationso largeandferocious itengulfed theskylikeslowspreadinginkandturnedit red.Andat theheartof theblaze,killingwithfangandclaw,agiantinemeraldscale.Amythbroughtterrifyinglytolife.Veddusscarcelyhadvoiceenoughtonameitoutloud,'TheDragon…'

'Iamasonofablacksmith,'saidVulkan,gazingacrossthedesert,'andyou…''What?'askedtheOutlander.'WhatamI?'Vulkanturnedtoregardthewarriornexttohim.'Youarenomereoutlander.'TheheatofthedaywasfadingonNocturneandthetribesmenoutontheashplainswerebringingintheirherdsasthetwogreatbeingsstoodonahighdune

lookingoutataworldoffire.The warrior bowed His head, acknowledging the truth. He then raised agauntletedhand to the sunandwatched the light reflectoff themetal.Hehadshedalie, thiswarrior,onemeanttoputtheNoctumeansandtheirchieftainatease.'AmInotaman,Vulkan?'Heasked,therayscatchingnotonlyHisgauntletbuttherestofHisarmour-cladbody,sothatHeshonewitharadiantgoldenlight.'Youlooklikeaking,'Vulkanreplied,andforthefirsttimefeltuncomfortableintheroughapparelofablacksmith.'Iamnoking,butisakingnotalsoaman?''Nottothevassalsofhiskingdom.'The warrior smiled, a mentor pleased with his student, and turned to faceVulkan.Hishaircaughtonthehotwind,trailinglikeblacksmoke.Hisshortredcloakfluttered,astatesmanabouttoaddresshispeople.'IamtheEmperor.''Ah,'saidVulkan,histurntosmilenow,'greaterthanaking.Andyourempireisthestars?'The Emperor followed Vulkan's gaze to the red-stained heavens and grewsombre.'Notyet.Thereisdarknessoutinthevoid.'HelookedbackatVulkan,Hiseyescoldwith sorrow. 'That iswhy I need you.' Thismood lasted only amomentbeforethewarmthreturned.'Ablacksmith'sson.Tohelpmebringthelight.''Ofcreation?''Yes.Andtobeoneofmygenerals.'Vulkanscowled,suddenlyillatease.'Iamnowarlord.''Andyetwarhascometothegalaxy.Itmust,Vulkan,andyoushallbeoneofthose who leads it. Mankind must emerge from Old Night and embrace theTruth.''Your truth?'Thewords had the bite of accusation thatVulkan did not try tosoften.'TheImperialTruth.Thattherearenogodsandmankind'sfateiswhatheorshemakesit.''Iknowonlythetruthofmetalandhowitbendstofire,'Vulkanlookeddownathishandsasifimaginingthefullergrippedagainsthisleathernskin,'thetruthofwhatIcansee,andtheearthbeneathmyfeet.''AndthatiswhyIneedyou.'

'Istilldon'tunderstand.''Youwill.''AndwhatifIdonotwishtoleave?General,warlord,callitwhatyouwill,butIhaveneverimaginedaswordinmyhandoranarmyatmycommand.''Youleadyourpeople.''That isdifferent. IprotectNocturne from thosewhowouldsee itharmed,orenslaved.Youaretalkingaboutconquest.Iamamaker,notadestroyer.''Youwouldpreferahammertoasword,andananvilagainstwhichtostrikeit.'Vulkannodded.The Emperor stepped out of the light and His lustre appeared to fade. Heseemed smaller,moreordinary.His face lookedweathered, as ifHehad spentsometimeoutinthewildplacesofHisworld.Itwasthefaceofafarmerorahunter.'Iwantyoutojoinmewillingly,Vulkan.Willyouallowmetoconvinceyou?Iamconfidentyouwill see thenecessityofyourpresenceandseemycauseasjust.'Thewindroseacrossthedesert,bringingwithitthescentofash.Amountainpeak erupted, releasing a tongue of flame that tasted the heavens. From deepbeneaththeearthasympatheticroaranswered.'TheTimeofTrialcomesagainsoon,'saidVulkan.'Itdoes,'saidtheEmperor, 'andit touchesmorethanjust thisworld.Thisisatrialforallofmankind.'Vulkan's gaze lingered on the mountain - its name was Deathfire - beforereturningagaintotheEmperor.'Iagreetoyourproposal.Ifyoucanconvinceme,IwillleaveNocturneandgowithyou.ButIhavequestions.''Thenask,Vulkan,andIpromiseyouIshallonlyanswerwiththetruth.'

Theyhadpromisedthetruth,buthadcomecloakedinlies.SardarememberedthesewordsfromtheGreatGoreov,theIncarnadinehimself.Theywere to be the priest's last - the violent kiss of heat as the temple daisturnedintoastormoffire,andblooddrownedoutwhatfollowed.Thepriestswerealldeadbarone,theirfaithslainalongwiththem.'Wewillstillhavevengeance,'saidVeddus,leaningintoSarda'sear.Hecouldsmellthealcoholonthegoreov'sbreath.Ithadthetangofwarmirontoit.TheyhadsealedthegatestotheRedCitadel.Cannonsgirdeditshigh,rust-redwalls. Men thronged its battlements dressed in full martial panoply: Blood-

Guard in crimson leather and RedKnights in ceramicwar-garb that reflectedtheirnamesake.Itwasalong,deepwallthegarrisonheld,onethatstretchedforalmost a kilometre to both the east and the west. At the heart of the city,imposingand formidable,wasRanknar'soldestkeep. It hadneverbeen taken.Ever.TheIncarnadinewhohelditheldRanknar.YetasVenikovfaded toadirtyorangeglowon thehorizon, thosebehind thewallscowered.Theyfearedthefire.TheyfearedtheDragon.'Weshouldnothaverefusedthem,'saidSarda,andfelthimselfyankedhardbyhisgorgettofaceVeddus.'Renounce our faith!' the priest spat drunkenly, and drew a few eyes in theirdirection.'YouareaholywarriorofRanknar…'Hetrailedoff.Thetitlehadlessandlessmeaningwitheverypassinghour.'AndwhereisRanknarnow?'askedSarda.Veddusreleasedhim.'Hewouldnotabandonus,'herasped,andlookedtothecourtyardbelow.'Wemustmakeasacrifice…'Sardaseized thepriest'swristashemade todrawhisbloodletter.Theknife'sdark edge caught the fading light and flashed in Veddus' eyes, making himsquint.'Itdoesnotmatteranymore.Whatgoodwoulditdo?'saidSarda.Veddus made a half-hearted struggle. Those who caught his hungry gazerecoiled.'We can stillmake an offering.Andwe haveweapons.More than one.Theyhave servedErod for centuries.TheblessedofRanknar.Hewouldnot—'ThewordscaughtinhisthroatashejoinedthehundredsofothersintheRedCitadelstaringatthehorizon.Ablack,irregularlinestoodoutamongstthesmokeandthefadingglowoffire.Itwasaslowmovingtideawaveofelongatedcannonbarrels, tanktracksandrivetedarmour,anditwasabouttowashRomistadandtheRedCitadelaway.'Raiseshields!'awatchmancried.'Ranknar preserve us,' whispered Veddus, as the heavens shook withmanufacturedthunderandtheImperialbombardmentbegan.Andasthefirstenemyshellsbegantofall,andthecannonsontheRedCitadel'swallsanswered,adarkmoodcameoverVeddus.'Gatherthem,Sarda.'Thebloodletterkissedthewarrior'sneckanddrewabeadoffluidshapedlikearedruby.'Asmanyasyoucan.'HelookedtotheImperialline and the star-warriors advancingheedlessly into theRanknar cannonade. 'Iwillanointthebogatyrs,andthenunleashthem.'

'Andiftheyfail?'askedSarda.'Withfaith,theyshallnot,'saidthepriest,bilecolouringhisvoice.'Butiftheydo,thenwebothknowwehaveonelastgambittoplay.'

'Was it a trick?' asked Vulkan, looking to the sky and half expecting thepromisedshiptoappear,belchingfirethroughaswatheofsulphuriccloud.'Atrick?'askedtheEmperor.'Thewayyoushedyourdisguise.Youdidn'tmerelycastoffacloakorloweramask, you changed… everything. Is this,' he gestured to the Emperor in Hisgildedglory,'yourtrueself?''Isn'tidentityamatterofperception?Yousee…what,agold-cladruler?Aking,yousaid.Othersmightseesomethingdifferent.Aman.Afather.''Butwasitatrick?'Vulkanpressed.'Whatdoesitmatter?Please,'saidtheEmperorholdingupahandtoshowHissincerity, 'I am not trying to avoid the question, but I am interested in yourrationaleforaskingit.''Iwouldknowthemanneranddesignofthemanwhobidsmeleavemyhomeandpeople.Iamasimpleman,butdonotthinkofmeascredulous.''Youareneither,Vulkan,'theEmperorreplied,butdidnotelaborate,'and,yes,Isupposeitwasatrickofsorts.Ameansofdeterminingthetruth.''Thenareyouasorcerer?'Vulkanasked.'Wasitmagic?'TheEmperor'smooddarkened,butfractionally,sothatonlysomeonewhowasparticularlyastutewouldnotice.Vulkanslightlyraisedhiseyebrow.'Notasorcerer,'saidtheEmperor.'Magic…isnotreal,itismerelyscienceyettobeunderstood.Showaprimitiveculturefireforthefirsttimeandtheycallitmagic. Bring a starship to a backwards world yet to invent the combustionengineanditishailedaswitchcraft.Superstition,thedarknessofoldwaysandtheatrocitiescommittedintheirname,thatiswhatIwishtobringanendto.''So,youareascientist?''A reductive term,' theEmperor answered, thoughtful, 'but as fitting as any. Ihave a laboratory and have accomplished much to reach this point, throughexperimentationandendeavour.''Andwar,'saidVulkan.'Youareawarriortoo.''Yes,andwar.Iwon'tlie,therehasbeenbloodspilledonthisjourneyandtherewillbemore.Ineverimaginedtheenlightenmentofmankindwouldbeaneasytask, nor one accomplished without violence. However regrettable.' TheEmperor'seyesseemtocloudforamomentthen,lostinabstractthought.'Ihave

hadfailures.SomeofwhichIshallneverspeakof.''Mybrothers?'TheEmperordidnotanswer,andthatwasanswerenough.'Willyounottellmeofthem?'askedVulkan.'Aretheylikeme?''Utterly unlike you,' said the Emperor, brightening, 'and that is your singlegreatesttrait.Myproudestachievement.''WillImeetthemifIagreetofollowyouintothestars?''Yes, youwill, though I haveyet to find themall.Youwill learnmuch fromthem,andtheyfromyou.'Vulkan glanced down at the sand accumulating around his boots. The desertwasshiftingagain.Soonitwouldswallowthisridgeandanotherwouldemergeelsewhere.'AretheyfromworldslikeNocturne?''Asharshandbeautiful, youmean?' asked theEmperor. 'Someare.Somearekings,othersarescholars,chieftains,slaves…'hiseyesfelluponVulkan, 'evenblacksmiths.''Whatwould they think ofme?Could I really feel a bond of fraternitywiththem?Andtheywithme?'TheEmperorsmiled.'LetmetellyouofFerrus.'

TheGorgongrinned,analtogetheruglyexpressiononsuchagrizzledface.'He is ferocious,'hesaid,hisvoiceasgrittyandharshashisappearance.Hisblackarmourwasshorntothebareceramiteinplaces,thoughthescorchmarkscausedbyfirebarelyshowed.'Thewayyoudescribedhim,Ithought…''Youdidnotexpectawarrior,'saidtheEmperor,Hisgildedpanoplygleaming.He stood upon a blasted hillock, not that He needed the vantage to lookimposing.His statureandpower spoke for themselves.Despite thebattles,Heremainedpristine.Asradiantandterrifyingasanuclearsunrise.'Iexpectedablacksmith,butheisadestroyer.'MuchoftheouterlandsbeyondthemajorcitiesofRanknarhadbeenreducedtoash.Abombardmentlastingseveraldayshadsoftenedupthenativedefences,buthadseenthesameforcesdugininsteadofbrokenastheEmperorhadhoped.TheImperialassault,whenitcame,sweptacrossallsixcontinentsasrelentlessasahurricane.Still,theRanknarhadendured,buoyedbytheirperversefaith,thereasonfortheImperium'sproclamationofextinction.AndsotheEmperorhadunleashedHisDragon,andthelandshadburned.Onlythen,slowlyswallowedbyfire,hadtheRanknarshowedanysignsofdefeat.

'I thought theWolfKinghadfury,'saidFerrus,admiringthecholericspiritofhisnewfoundbrother,'Butthis…Wheredidyoufindhim?''Adeathworld,'saidtheEmperor,Hispiercinggazeseeingmoreandrangingfarther than any other on both the battlefield and second battle linewhereHestoodwithHisson,FerrusManus.'Oneconsumedbyfire.'Ferrusgaveasnortoflaughter.They watched from the blasted hillock, the troops and armoured divisionsarrayedbeforethemandreadyfortheGorgon'scommand.Hiswarriors,hisIronHands.TheDragonledacompanyofthem,andseveralcohortsofarmyauxilia.The scent of engines and hotmetal from the idling artillery and heavy battletankswaftedoverthemustering,butpeteredoutandwasswallowedupbythestink of sweat and death by the time it reached the battle less than a hundredmetresaway.Ferrusfoldedhissilverarms,restive.Theyshimmeredwithanuncannylustre,the metal of their forging as miraculous as it was mysterious. A massivewarhammerlayagainstonearmouredshoulder,agiftfromFulgrimandonehedesiredtobloodyagain.Fornow,hewoulddoashisfatherordered.Hewouldwatch, and let the Dragonwreak havoc. Ferrus suspected it was not only hisnewfoundbrotherwhowasbeingtestedthisday.'Draconic in both aspect and temperament,' he said, alluding to the savagescallopedwar-platewornbytheDragon.'Youtaughthimmuchofyourcraft,Ferrus?'askedtheEmperor.'None,intruth.Heneedednohelpinthatregard.WhenIreachedtheforge,hewasgoneandthearmourwithhim.'TheEmperorsmiled,asifpleasedwithHisworks.'Yourassessment?''Overlyflamboyant,butitappearstoservewell.''Him,nothisarmour,Ferrus.'AraisedeyebrowandagruntofacknowledgementprecededtheGorgon'sreply.'HefightslikeaMedusanur-wyrm.Aretheyalllikethatwherehecamefrom?''No,heisunique.Asareyou.'His silver fingers clenched and unclenched without Ferrus realising. Henodded.'He is impressive,' he admitted, then turned disdainful, 'but Russ andHorus,evenFulgrim,theymatchhisprowess.Iseenothingspecialabouthim.''Youwill.'TheEmperorpausedabruptly,andtheGorgonfelthishacklesrise.'Theyareopeningthegates.'

Ferrushidhisuneaseathisfather'suseofprescience,remainingbullish.'Thentheyareasfoolishas theyareblind.Asortie is insane.Theydon'tknowwhentheyarebeaten.''Doesanybeast,whencornered?''Theyriskannihilation,'saidFerrus,asthegiganticcitygatesdidindeedopen.'Desperatemen perform desperate acts. I feel fear in them. A fearful enemyattackswithoutrestraint.Thiswillbecostlyforus.'Arust-redmistgatheredaroundtheopening,obscuringwhateverwascomingthrough.'Theyareallsoldiers,andknowtherisk.''Bewaryofprofligacy,myson.Lifeisnotsocheapasyoumightthink.'TheruddyfogpartedandwhatstoodbeforethegatestoppedtheGorgon'sreplydead.Hiseyeswidened.Thegroundshook,feltasfarawayasthesecondbattleline.Ferrusswunghiswarhammerintobothhands.'Nowcanweintervene?'TheEmperorhadalreadydrawnaglittering,goldensword.Itsedgeburstintoflames.'Yes,nowwecan.'

Thebogatyrsdidnotwalkalone,andwheretheywalkedthegroundtrembled.Sardawatchedthemstridefromthegateinthelanguidmannerthatcreaturesofsuch immense stature have, three golem-engines, their phage-swords bleedingredaetherandtheirocularweaponmountscyclingtolethality.Hestoodalmosteye-to-eyewiththebogatyrsdespitethefacthewasnearlytwentymetresuponthe city's foremost battlements. His awe at the sight of the Red Citadel'sguardianshidasecretdisgustforthemethodbywhichtheyhadbeenrousedforwar.Anarmycamewiththem.SixphalanxesofRedKnightsoftheOrdersSangrovandIncarnadovrodeattheflankswhiletwelveplatoonsofBlood-Guardbroughtuptherear,gun-chariotsintow.Thunder cracked overhead as artillery on both sides exchanged fire across akilometres-longbattlefront.Thetanksof theImperiumsatontheridgebeyondthecity,duginbehindmakeshiftpalisades.TheyfacedthecannonsjuttingfromtheRedCitadel'swalls.Smokeandfirelacedtheairwitheveryfreshvolley.Thebogatyrsstrodethroughit,dauntless.Plumesofearthandfirereachedupintotheskywitheveryexplosiveimpact,

taking the broken bodies ofmenwith them. The bogatyrs remained inviolate,emerging through overlapping clouds of smoke, their energy shields cracklingwithparticulate.Sarda watched an ivory giant cut an Imperial tank in two. The vehicle'sbifurcatedsidesfellopen,exposingaruinedanatomywithin.Nothinglived;theredaetherfromthephage-swordssawtothat.Thebogatyrshadtheappearanceof marble statues, like knights of antiquity, but were nothing of the sort.Fashioned by the goreov priests, they were war engines, part machine, partbiological.TheyreapeddeaththroughtheImperialranks.Scoresofmenfellburning to theradiationbeamsofabogatyr'soculararray;anotherreducedatransportvehicletomoltenslag.Smallvictories,buttheygavetheRedKnightsandtheBlood-Guardheart.Clingingtothebattlement'sedge,almostwishinghecouldbepartofthemelee,Sardadaredtobelieve…'Wecandefeat them,'whisperedVeddus.The skinofhishands and forearmswas fleckedwith dark spots. Hismanner verged onmanic, but Sarda agreed.'Ranknarhasnotabandonedus.Heiswithus.'AndVeddus turnedasheheardotherson thebattlementsechohiswords.Herepeatedthem.Louder.'Heiswithus!'Thedefendersroaredback.'Ranknar!''Wait…' Sarda bellowed over the cries of affirmation. He gestured to thebattlefieldandalleyeswenttowherealonefigureheldhisground,standingindefianceofthebogatyrs.Sardaheldhisbreath.Beforetheivoryknightswasadragon.

'Ibelieveyou,'saidVulkan,staringintothedesertreaches,tryingtocommittomemorythisdesolationthathecalledhome.'IntheImperialTruth?''Ibelieveyouwanttosavemankind.Ibelieveyouhaveavisionandmeantoseeitdonewhateverthecost.''IhaveandIwill,'theEmperorreplied.'Itsoundsbloody.Itwillbe.Conquestalwaysis,but thereisdarknessinthegalaxy,Vulkan, theremnantsleftbehindafterOldNight.Horrorsyoucanscarcelyimagine.Superstitionandfear,araceenslavedby itsownisolation.There isbutonepathformankind thatdoesnot

end in extinction. The path I offer. I desire mankind's pre-eminence. Itsevolution.Iraisedarmiesandunifiedaworldtotrytoaccomplishit.''Andcreatedsons,primarchs.''Yes,' said the Emperor, His voice serious but not unkind. 'I made you. Andyourbrothers.'Vulkanfrowned.'Why?Youalreadysaidweareyourgenerals,yourlegacy,butwhycreateussodifferentlyandcastusfarfromyoursight?'TheEmperorpursedHislips,andVulkansuspectedthereweresometruthsHewouldnotreveal.'I am a singular being, Vulkan. I am a man, and also more than man. Isometimesthinkofmyselfasacreator,muchasyouthinkofyourself.Amaker.Atothertimes,afather.Yet,IfindIam…removed.Myconcernsareofaloftynature.''You cannot relate to them,' said Vulkan, understanding. 'To mankind, eventhoughyouclaimtobeoneof them.Youmadesonsso thatyouwouldnotbealone,sothatyoucouldsharecompanywithlikeminds,ifnotequalminds.'TheEmperorsmiled. 'Youarepartly right. Ihaveabetter fate formankind. Iwouldseethemelevated,longlasting,perpetual.''Andwhatofthefatesofyoursons,sentacrossthevoidtoworldsoffireandice?Wasthattooapartofyourdesign?''I see much, but not all,' was all the Emperor would say, and again Vulkansensedtherewasmore.Above,thethroatyroarofenginesshookthesky.Ashipappeared,obscuredbycloud,adistantbutgrowingsilhouetteintheheavens.'Avesselcomes,'saidtheEmperor.'ItisboundforTerraandwillarrivesoon.'HeturnedtoVulkan.'HaveIconvincedyou?'Vulkanwatched theship, imagininghisdestinyclosingaroundhim, thewideapertureofpossibilitynarrowingtoasinglevanishingpoint.'Vulkan…'saidtheEmperor,whennoanswercame,'areyoudecided?'Vulkanmethisfather'sgaze,afatherthatupuntilafewhoursagohedidnotknowhehad.N'belwashisfather,ablacksmith,agoodman,ajustman.CouldthisEmperorclaimtobesotoo?'ToleaveNocturneandmypeopleunprotected,itisnoeasythingyouask.Youwanttobringlightintodarkness,andyouwillwagewartoachieveit.Youneedwarlords.Aswordtokillorconquer,notahammertobuildwith.''Ineedyou,Vulkan.ThatiswhyIamhere.ItisthesolereasonIhavecrossedtheseaofstarstoreachyou.Aswordtoconquer,ahammertobuild.Oneneed

notrendertheotherobsolete.'Vulkanthoughtonthat.Helookedbacktothedesertagain,hopingsometruththat had so far eluded him would be revealed in the whirling eddies playingacrossthesand.'Iamtorn.Ihaveneverconsideredmyselfawarriororageneral.Ionlywantpeace.Youhavetoldmemuchofmybrothers,ofFerrus,ofFulgrim,LemanandHorus.Theyaregenerals,bellicoseandproud.Theyareartisansandleadersofmen, the conquerors for your age of Imperium. I am a blacksmith, amaker. Iunderstandwhat Imight learn from them,and they fromeachother.ButwhatcouldIpossiblyteachthem,father?AnswerthisandthenIwilldecide.'

***

Buttheywerestillmen,andmencouldnotstandagainstprimarchs.Ferrusdestroyedeveryknightthatdaredtocrossswordswithhim,hishammeradeadlymetronomeinhissilverhands.Hesilentlyapplaudedtheirbravery,butswattedthemasidelikewasps.Anirritantbutnothingmore.His truequarryrangedahead,possessedbyanevengreaterfuryandabout tochargethegatesofthecityonhisown.WhenFerruscameuponthefirstofthefelled statue-engines and saw what its shattered chest cavity harboured, herealisedwhy.'BloodofAsirnoth…'HefeltthesamepureragewellupinsidehimthathadovertakentheDragon.Achildlaydyinginthecarcassofthestatue-engine,awitheredandwretchedthing,halfdrainedofblood.Itwasabominablescience,amachinefuelledbythebloodoftheliving,aparasiticalenginefedchildrentogiveitanimus.Appalled, Ferrus almost missed the vox-crackle in his warhelm. It was theDragon.'Bring down the gates,' he said, drunk onwrath, his voice a predatory snarl.'Now,father!'Ferrus found theEmperor on the battlefield, only a short distance away.TheImperial army had closed ranks as the enemy fell back, consolidating to aposition of strength, their Emperor inspiring the utmost discipline. If the self-proclaimedMasterofMankindfeltanythingattheDragon'swordstherewasnosign.Hemerelyraisedhisflamingsword.Momentslater,aconcentratedbarragestruckthemaingatesofthecity,ablowsounerringthatFerruswonderediftheEmperorhadappliedsomeofhisstrangecrafttomakeitso.Thegatesplitapart, thewall thatheld it rupturingandcollapsingat thesame

time.Dustandsmokebillowedoutwards,cloudinganoutpouringofburnedandshatteredrock.Itwasasmallbreach,acrackinanotherwisesprawlingfaceofrock,butitwasallVulkanneeded.TheDragonranforthegapinthewall,easilyoutpacingthefewwarriorsstillwithhim,andkilledeverythinginhispath.Ferruslookeddownsadlyonthedyingchildandgaveitmercy.Thenhewentafterhisbrother.'To theDragon!' he roared to thewarriors in his command, vox-boosting hisvoicesothattheveryairtrembled.Hisbrotherhaddisappearedintothesmoke-chokeddarknessjustinfrontofthewall.'Hecannotfightanentirearmy,evenadefeatedone,andwin,'hesaid.TheEmperordidnotanswer,andFerrushadnotimetolookandseeifhehadheardhim.Andthenhesawtheweapon,wheeledintopositiononagreatironcarriage.Ithad the look of a spire, tall and ugly.Barbs ran down a darkmetal shaft thatterminated in anarrowspike like anarrowhead. It protrudedmenacingly frombehindthecity'sbrokenbattlements,moredominantthananyofitstowersandbleedingredmiasma.Ferrusknewitsilkifnotthisspecificdesign.Virusweapon.It was pointing straight up. The natives intended to saturate the atmospherewithacontagion,somethingwroughtbytheirrancidblood-science.'Father…'NowtheEmperorspoke.'Ihaveseenit,myson.''Thereisnotimetowithdraw.Thatmissile…''IwilldowhatIcantostopit.'Reactingtotheobviousthreat,theImperialartillerychainredoubleditseffortsandunleashedrepeatedmissilesalvoesagainstthecity.Detonationsmarchedthewalls,blastingrevetments,tearingthegarrisonapart,reachingtowardstheshatteredgatehouse.Ferrus did not slow. He would get to his brother; he would stop the virusmissile from ever launching or they would die together. He had about madepeacewithhispotentialdeathwhentheDragon'svoicecameoverthevoxagain.'Holdyourfire!Hold,hold,allweapons!'Hisimpassionedcommandreverberated,reachingenemiesandalliesalike.He

stoodbeforethebreach,barelyametreaway,thoughthesootanddisplacedearthmadeitimpossibletoseewhathadmadehimstop.Ittookafewseconds,butthesteadybarragebegantoslow.Ferruskept running, possessedof anurgency that felt strange andunsettling,concernforabrotherhehadnevermet.Greycloudbrieflyobscuredhisvision,before it passed and he saw him again, his mysterious brother charging thebreach.The lastmissile fell, alreadyon itsdeadlypathand too late tobe recalledorbroughtdown.Itstruckthegatehouse.Itstruckthebreach.'Father!'Ferruscriedout,surprisedathissuddendismay.His legionaries turned aghast towhere fire and destruction had shattered thegatehouse.MenintheImperialarmyranksslumped,stunned.Noonehadseenaprimarchfallbefore.Mostbelievedtheywereimmortal.'Nothingcouldsurvive…'whisperedFerrus,tryingtodisbelievetheevidenceofhisownsenses.'Father,ishe…?'heasked,louder.TheEmperorsaidnothing,asananxioussilencestoleoverthebattlefield.Thefightinghadstopped.'Wait…' aweary voice came across the vox, and through the parting smoke,across embers of burning wood and stone still flickering at his leaden feet,emergedtheDragon.Hehadlosthiswarhelmandoneshoulderguardhungbyaraggedthread.Therewasblood.Hisown.Acracksplithisbreastplate.Heheldhisleftarmclosetohisbody.Ferrusstoppedametreaway.'You live, though I cannot fathom how,' he said, and eyed the onyx-skinnedgiantwithwaryrespect.'ImustbetougherthanIlook.'Ferrusgaveashort,mirthlesslaugh.'Youlooktough,brother.'Hiseyesnarrowed,heightenedsensesstillalerttoanysuddenthreat.'Youbledforthem.Why?'Theonyxgiantsmiledandhemovedhisarmawaytorevealachildlyinginhisgrasp,littlemorethanababe,terrifiedbutbreathing.Hisredeyesflaredlikehotcoals, diabolic yet warm. It was the first of many contradictions that Ferruswouldcometolearnabouthisbrother.'She lives too,' he said. 'And I bled for life, for innocence. She is not alone.Thereareothers.Thiswarisover.'As they saw theDragon cradling the child, thewarriors of the city lost theirtaste for blood and laid down their weapons. Then, with the smoke yet to

dissipateand thefiresofbattlestillburning, theEmperorcameforthandgavehisedicts.HepromisedclemencyforthenativesandtheruleoftheImperium.Hepromisedtruth,andsharedofhisdreamformankind'spre-eminenceamongstthestars.Sardahad listeneddumbly to thewordsof thegolden lordand recalled themdimlyashe trampedaboard the transport.Hewasboundforaship thatwouldtake him and his kind to other worlds, to other colonies. He did not spare aglance for thecorpsehanging from thebattlements.Vedduscould rot forall itmatterednow.HehadseentheDragon'sselflessact,witnessingasacrificethatgavethewordfreshmeaninginhiseyes.Mercy.Theyhadallseenit.Hechosetorememberit.Andhehadheardhisname,spokenamongsttheImperials.Notadragon,notabeast,butalegendallthesame.TheyhadcalledhimVulkan.

'Whatisyouranswer?'askedVulkan.'Itissimple,'saidtheEmperor,andhisexpressionbetrayednoemotionbeyondthedesiretospeakthetruth.'Yourbrotherswillbegreatandpowerful.Theyarebeyondmankind in somanyways, as are you.Theywill learn to bewarriorsquickly,thewaysofconquestandliberation.Leadingarmies,inspiringthelessermenaroundthemtogreatnesswillbesecondnature to them,as itwill toyou.Butyourlesson,Vulkan,itisthemostcrucialandyouareuniquelydisposedtoteachit.'TheEmperorputafatherlyhandonVulkan'sshoulder.'Humanity.'They did not speak again until the ship came, but when it did Vulkan bidfarewelltoNocturneandfollowedhisfatherintotheseaofstars.

Kalta-Ardespisedthetappingofhammeronchiselandchiselonstonealmostasmuchashedetested the sunless sky that seemed to leechouthis soulwith itsemptiness.Theever-presentdusk-likeglowsappedhisreservesofwillasmuchasthedesertheatofhishomeworldhadoncesappedtheenergy.'Is there no way to quieten that infernal tapping?' he snapped at Arkula, hissecond-in-command.'Idon't think so,brother-cha...Apostle.'Arkulahandled thenew titlewithalltheeaseofafreshinitiatewithaprimedgrenade.'Theyhavetobreakthestonesomehow.'Both theDarkApostle and his coryphauswere clad in ruddy battleplate, allemblemsanddesignsoftheirformerloyaltiesobscuredbythered,thesymbolsof their renewedallegiance to the truegodspainteduponthearmour.Togethertheycontinuedalongthetopofahalf-builtwall,surveyingthevastconstructionsite around them. The central cloisters had been raised, and the garrisonchambers,whileatentcityfortheslavesspreadacrossthelong,shallowhillside.FoursmallchapelsandthecentralnaveofwhatwouldbethemainshrineoftheBenefictaDiabolahadtheirfoundationslaid.Ricketyscaffoldingcladthewhitestoneof theouterwalls, aswell as the twohigh towers that flanked thenave.Slavescrawled,climbedandlabouredeverywhere,severalthousandofthem.Thetipsofthetwopinnaclescrackledwithenergy,drawinginthepoweroftheaetherthatsurroundedthenear-desertedmoon.Companionrune-stonemonolithsontheperimetergleamedwiththedispersedmysticalpower,keepingatbaytheempyreanmassandthepredatorydenizensthatlurkedwithin.Kalta-Ar lookedup again out of habit, thinking to see a glimpse of a distantstar. Just the same ruddy formlessness that had swathed everything since theirarrival,slowlystirredbystrangecurrentsbutotherwisefeatureless.

Thirty armoured figures were stationed at strategic points around theconstruction, theirboltersandheavierweaponsheldcasually, thoughtheWordBearerslegionariesmovedwiththesamealertnessasthoughinafieldofbattle.'It is fascinating, thatnormalhumansaresoeasilycowed,'observed theDarkApostle.'Notawhiporrodinsight,andyettheybreaktheirbacksforus.Simplethreatisenoughtobindthemtoourslightestwill.''Andnochains areneeded,nor fence,Apostle,' saidArkula.Hisgazemovedoutside the encompassingwalls to a spread of desolation as featureless as thesky, except for the deep furrows of the quarries. Lines of rune-etched barrierstones flanked the causeway between the delving and the BenefictaDiabola,protecting a steady progression of naked figures dragging blocks of stones, orpullingemptysledsback to thequarry.Another ten-strongsquadofKalta-Ar'slegionariespatrolledthecruderoad.'Give them a little food and water and they are happy to endure the worstdebasementsofbodyandpride,'saidKalta-Ar.'Theyarebredforsubservience.AsitwasorderedbythegodsonColchis,soagainwillitbeonSicarusbythewillofLorgarAurelian.'Mentionoftheprimarch'snewcapitalworlddrewtheeyeofbothwarriors totheartificialmoundbeyondthefarsideofthegrowingtemple-settlement.North,Kalta-Ar had dubbed it, for lack of any other means of navigating. Theconstructedhillwas surroundedby itsownperimeterofward-runes, separatedbylessthanakilometreofopengroundnakedtotheempyrean.Atthesummit,almostashighasthepeaksofthecathedral-town'sward-needles,loomedagreatarchwayofblackandgold.'WhenwilltheUrizencome?'askedArkula.'Apostle,'headdedquickly.'Whentheworkiscomplete.'Agiantarmouredindarkredhurriedtowardsthemupanearbystonestair,hisbolterinonehand.Thepairawaitedhimatthetopofthesteps,wherehehalted,bangingfistagainsthischestinsalute.'DarkApostle,BrotherRiganaismissing,'reportedIsaikash.Kalta-Ar's attention snapped to the half-built dormitories in the north-eastquadrantwherethenamedwarriorwasmeanttobestationed.'Missing?'saidArkula.'Bemorespecific,brother-sergeant.''Icannot,brother-coryphaus,'saidthelegionary.'HedidnotanswerthehourlyrollcallandIinvestigated.Heisnotathispost,andIcanfindnosignofhim.Heisnotansweringanycomms.''And there is still no signofwhathappened toHesta-Pek,Gesuat andTakla-

Gad?' demanded Kalta-Ar. 'That is a total of four legionaries lost in the lasttwelvehours.Thisisunacceptable!''Whatcanwedo,brother-Apostle?'saidIsaikash.Kalta-Ar pulled out thewickedly serrated sacrificial dagger fromhis belt, itscruelbladeshimmeringwithoutstarlightorsun toreflect.Hestarteddownthestepsandpointedthedagger towardsthecentreof thecomplex,at theoriginalrites chamber where mouldering bones were heaped in pits to either side. Adanceofwyrdflamelittheedgesofthemysticcircleswithintheopenchamber.'This is daemonsign. The wards must be faltering. Bring me another fiftyslaves.'

Letting thecorpse fall, itsarterial sprayspattering the ritualcircle inwhichhestood,Kalta-Arstudiedthewitch-fireatopthewardpinnacles.Hecouldseenodifference to thewangreen flamesand the shiftingaura that connectedacrossthesite.Aquicksurveyoftheblood-channelsetchedintothefloorofthebroadchamberfoundnoblockages-glisteningredmeta-geometrysurroundedhim.Heeven inspected the runescarved into theblade itself,but therewasnotamarkupon the bloodied knife. The runes shimmered with warp power, coils oftenebrousenergyfloatingfromtherazoredge.HegesturedforArkulatobringthenextsacrifice.TheWordBearerhauledoneoftheslavestoitsfeetbythewrist,almostpullingthelimbfromitsjoint.Onlyamurmur of pain came in response. Kalta-Ar took the wretch's chin betweenfingerandthumb,turningthefaceonewayandtheother,lookingforsomesignofvitality.Therewasfear,butnotmuch.Theslavelookeddeadalreadyforallthevigouritdisplayed.'Perhapswehavemadethemtoodocile,'heremarked,slashingopentheslave'sthroat.Bloodfountainedacrosshisarmourashetossedtheragdollofacarcassaway.'Thegodsthriveonpainandfear,ambitionanddespair.''They exist without hope, Apostle,' said Isaikash. 'With nothing to live for,perhapstheirsoulsaretooweaktopleasethegods.'Kalta-Arconsideredthisashebeckonedforanother.'DidnotthegreatUrizenandKorPhaeronoverturnthealtarsoftheCovenanttopunishtheirlaggardlyrituals?'saidArkula.Ascreamcutacrossthevox,silencinganyreply.Ascream,drawnout,agonised,nosoundKalta-Arhadeverexpected tohearfromalegionary.Itlastedfullyfivesecondsbeforeabruptlyending.Thesignal-identofthetransmissioncamefromBrotherKai-Alak.

'Aakas,Hora,Apall-Af,' theDarkApostle reeledoff thenamesof theclosestlegionaries.'Investigate!Allbrothers,standatyourguard,andwatchtheslaves.'It took half a minute for the three legionaries to close in on Kai-Alak's lastposition.Kalta-Arpacedforthefullthirtyseconds,agitated.'Kai-Alakisdead,'Horatoldthemoverthevox.'Dead,notmissing?'Arkulademanded.'Definitelydead,'saidAakas.'You'dbetterseeforyourself,Apostle.'

***

ThefirstelementofthescenethatdrewKalta-Arwasnotthebloodandbodyparts,orthebrokenpiecesofarmourscatteredacrossthebarestonefloor.Itwasthe slaves. Sevenof them, standing compliantly to one side, heads bowedbutwith their eyes fixed on the remains. Two questions immediately surfacedthroughthetumultoftheDarkApostle'sthoughts.'Why are they still alive, andwhy aren't they terrified?' he asked nobody inparticular.Arkula attempted to answerbutKalta-Ar stoppedhimwith a raisedhand.'Iamnotinterestedinyourtheories,coryphaus.Notyet.Letusobservealittlemorebeforewedrawconclusions.'Themarkings on the brokenpieces of armour confirmed that thewearer hadbeenBrotherKai-Alak.Hehadnotonlybeendismemberedanddecapitated,buttherestoftheremainshadbeenutterlyshredded.'Gods...'mutteredIsaikash.'Whathaveyoufound?'saidKalta-Ar.'Iwasjustthinkingthatweheardhimscreaming,'explainedthelegionary.'Hewasaliveforawhile,feelingeverythingasthiswasdonetohim.''Ithinkitcutoffhisarmsandlegsandthenwenttoworkontherestofhim,'addedArkula,withmorerelishthanwasentirelyappropriate.Hepickeduphalfahelm,clovenneatlyintwain.Brainmatterandbloodspilledontothefloor.'Itsavedhisheadforlast.''Theymusthaveseenwhathappened.'Horapointedattheslaves,hammersandleverbarsstillintheirhands.'Theywereherewhenwearrived.'Kalta-Ar approached the closest and looked down at its grimy face. Heactivated the external vocaliser of his war-plate, the volume dialled down forpersonaladdress.'Didyouseewhatdidthis?'Theslavenoddeddumbly.'Tellmewhatyousaw.'

'Ashadow,lordoflords,'saidtheslave.ItmovedawispofgreyinghairoutofitsfaceandgazedupintotheDarkApostle'shelmlenses.'Ashadowpickedhimupandcuthimtopieces.''Ithas tobeadaemon,' saidApall-Af,hisbolterpointing to thedoorwayandthentheunglazedwindowsasifexpectingattack.'Somethingthatcamethroughthewards.''Thewardsaresound,'saidKalta-Ar.'Perhapssomewhereontheperi—''The wards are sound!' Kalta-Ar calmed himself and regarded the slave,thoughtsturningslowlyintoconclusions.'Whatifitwasapowerthathasalreadybeensummoned?'heconsideredaloud.'Somethingbeingsustainedandhiddenwithinthewardsalready.''Sustainedbywhom?'askedIsaikash.'Theslaves?''Some kind of part, perhaps. Maybe they think it will save them.Why elsewouldthedaemonnotattackthem?Whytakeonanarmouredlegionaryratherthanthesehelplessthralls?''Whathaveyoudone?'demandedArkula,loomingovertheslaves.Theymovedawayfromhimalittle,butshowedaslittleemotionasnormal.'Whathaveyouunleashed,yougods-damnedcretins?'They stared with vacuous gazes, either not comprehending his meaning, orunabletoarticulatetheirresponse.'Iwantafullsearchoftheentirecomplex.'Arkulathrustafingertowardsthedoor. 'Every room, every hall, every cellar and vault. If they are hidingsomething,wewillfindit.''Wait,'orderedKalta-Arwhentheothersstartedtomove.'Thereisanotherway.'Hehelduptheritualbladeandlookeddownattheslavehehadspokento.'You are going to confess your wrongs, or you will know pain greater thananythingyouhavelivedthroughthusfar.'Therewasasparkofareaction,amomentoffear.'Iknownothing,lordoflords,'saidtheslave.Itbackedawayastep,holdingupahand. 'I tellyouwhat I saw.The shadow, it toreapartyourwarrior. It threwhimupandtookhimtopieces.Isawnothingelse.'Theothersstartedtochorustheiraffirmativesofthisposition.'Enough of your lies, scum,' saidArkula.He slapped a hand back across theface of the nearest slave, slamming it into the rough wall. The skull crackedhard,leavingbloodonthepaleplaster.Kalta-Ar had expected an outburst - cries of anger, of pain. Not one of the

slavesevenmovedtowardstheirinjuredcompanion.Hesawthattheirattentionwas fixed not on thewounded slave, norArkula, nor theDarkApostle. Theylookedatsomethingbehindandabovehimwithamixtureofgrowinghorroranddisturbingsmiles.He turned quickly, pulling free his crozius. The other legionaries respondedwithhim,boltersraised.Athinglikeashadowwaitedontopofthewall.Itwasimpossibletomakeoutits actual shape, though there seemed something vaguely humanoid about it.Before any command could leave the Dark Apostle's lips, it sprang upwards.Silhouettedagainst the ruddysky, the shadowfragmentedwithanear-splittingscreech. Dozens of winged shapes fell upon the Word Bearers, beaks likeplasteelbladesslashingat theirarmour.Horawentdownunder the first flurry,losinganarmashetoppled,hiswar-platescatteringlikepiecesoftornpaper.'Fallback,'barkedArkula,hiscommander'sinstinctstakingoverinthefaceoftheunnaturalapparition.HistonebrookednoargumentandevenKalta-Arfoundhimselfresponding,retreatingswiftlythroughthedoor.Boltersroaring,theWordBearersclosedtogetherandfollowed.

'Stopwastingyourammunition!'snappedArkula.'Wehavelittleenoughasitis.Doyouthinkbolt-roundswillstopthiscreature?'TheWordBearers ceased firing.Theydarted looks towardsKalta-Ar as theyclosedaroundtheirDarkApostle,seekinginsightfromtheirspiritualleader.Heheld up the sacrificial blade like a shield, smoke-like wisps of power curlingacrosshisgauntlet.'It'sintheeasternrepository!'TheshoutoverthevoxcamefromHasdaontheothersideofthesettlement.Acrackleofanothertransmissioncutshort,theonlysoundastrangledgurgle.Bolter fire echoed from behind the Dark Apostle's group and they turned,weaponsready.'Whoisfiring?'demandedArkula.'Reports,forallthatisholy.Rememberyouarelegionaries.''There'ssomethingmovingthroughthefirstvaults.'Ghoa-Lokspokehastily,hiswordscomingfastinaflowofcombatstimulantsratherthanpanic. 'Ithinkit'sbeneath—''AblackpooljustswallowedGhoa-Lok,coryphaus.Wearefallingbackalongthesoutherntransitorum,'SergeantDariocontinuedterselybetweenshortgasps.'There's something ahead of us. It's seeping through the walk of the southern

annex.Likeoil.Weareturningnorthagain,viathepresidia.''The slaves are att—' a desperate shout fromAlekas alerted them to a freshdanger.Bolterfirerangoutagainandhoarseshoutsreplied.'Ithinkthisdaemonisnotsopowerfulasitpretends,'saidArkula.'Whydoesittrytoattackusoneatatime?Nothingconjuredbythesewretchescouldreallybeathreattoyourpower,Apostle.''Youhaveaplan,coryphaus?''Donotfightwithboltsandbladeswhatwecanovercomewithfaith,'saidthesecond-in-command.'Itisadaemon,mybrother.Banishit,or-betteryet-bindit toyourwill.Turn itbackupon themiserablecurs that thought to troubleuswiththedetritusoftheirworthlessprayers.''Apostle,thecathedralisnotsafeforus,'saidIsaikash.Hebrokefromthecircleandheadedtowardsthecorridorontheothersideofthechamber.'Ifthedaemondoesnotcomeforus,theslaveswill.''You suggest that we run from unarmed scum?' Arkula snarled. 'We are notabandoningtheBenefictaDiabola.''Thegrandesttowercanbeswallowedbyenoughgrainsofsand,'saidKalta-Ar.Thoughtheideaofusingoneofthemanybindingritualsappealed,ittooktimeforsuchceremonies.Hewasnotsodismissiveofthedaemon'spowerasArkulaeither, knowing that all manner of powerful entities were jealous of theconstruction being raised in honour of the gods' most favoured son. A rivalprincewouldneedonlythesmallestopportunitytostrikeablowinthisfashion-acreatureperhapsbeyondhisknowledgetocontrol.The Apostle drew his plasma pistol, though more from habit than anyconfidenceitwouldbeofuseagainstthespectrethathuntedthem.'Awiseheadrulestheheartandknowswhentoconcedetogreaterminds.Wedonothavethenumberstoquellaslaverevolt,northeexpertisetodefeatthisdaemon-predator.WewillwithdrawtotheportalbridgeandseektheaidoftheUrizen.'The order was transmitted across the vox, though how many of Kalta-Ar'scommand remained he did not know. Scattered contact reports claimed theapparition was roaming the south-eastern chambers and passageways, whichsuited theDarkApostle.His route laynorth, though the speedwithwhich thedaemon had earlier relocated its manifestation forestalled any hope that theywouldprogressentirelyunmolested.Thecontinuing,sporadicweapons-firefromacrossthehalf-builtsettlementalsowarnedofthespreadingslaverebellion.Led by theDarkApostle, they ran, heading directly for the north gate.Theypassed through halls lined with partially sculpted statues, the slaves that had

labouredatthefiguresnowheretobeseen.Athreateningsilencepunctuatedbythethudoftheirboots,distantshouts, theretortofboltersandthehissofdeadvox-linksreplacedthetick-tap-tick-tapthathadirritatedKalta-Ar.Headingintoanantechamber,theknotofWordBearerscameuponasurgeofslavesspillingintotheoppositedoorway.Wherebeforetheyhadbeendull-eyedmannequins, now their featureswere twistedwith desperate anger. Frustrationboiled into rage,Kalta-Ar's finger tightenedon the triggerofhisplasmapistolbeforehegavethoughttotheconsequences.Theballofenergyslammedintotheclosestslave,incineratingitfromgrointothroat,theburningremainshurledintoitscompanions.'Fistsandblades!'roaredArkula,sprintingintothesuddenlyhowlingmob.Thewarriorcrashedintotheslaves,tramplingthefirstunderarmouredboots,liftingasecondbythethroattodashitsheadagainstthewall.The others followed swiftly on the commander's heels, armoured fingersbreaking bone and pulverising flesh. Kalta-Ar slashed and stabbed with thesacrificialknife,pantingwitheachblow.Theritualbladeburnedwithinnerlightasthelifeforceofitsvictimsseepedintotheetchedmetal,theescapingsoulstuffenrichingtheDarkApostlewithgrowingvigour.Hegrinnedashecuthiswaythrough thepress, emerging from thebackof themob into an empty corridor.Aroundhisbrothers,bodieswerepiledagainstthewalls,distendedanddistortedbyinhumanblows.Elation lasted only a moment. A tenebrous mass billowed through theantechamber, twitching the limbsanddeadeyesof theslaveswith itspassage.Mouthswithdozensoflightning-fangsopenedinthecloudasitfelluponApall-Af.ItseemedasthoughaninvisiblebladepuncturedtheWordBearer'sgutandlifted him, erupting through his backpack in a shower of ceramite splinters,shattered bone and blood spray. Armour plates fractured as maws sank theirinsubstantial teeth into the legionary, snapping limbsand rendingbloodyweltsintothefleshwithin.HisagonisedbellowsblanketedthevoxforaseconduntilKarla-Arcutthelink.Arkulathrewhimselfatthedaemon,chainswordsnarling.Abladedlimbsnaredout,takingoffhisheadwithanalmostcontemptuousswipe.'Withme!' criedKalta-Ar.TheDarkApostle turned and ran again, barrellingalong the narrow passageways that led along the northernwall. He heard thethunderofhissubordinates'footstepsjustbehind,thewheezeofpoweredarmourpushedtoitslimits.Hereasonedthatifthedaemonhadbeensummonedwithintheboundaryoftherune-shield,perhapsitmightnotbeabletopasswithout.

Of course, that left them prey to the other warp denizens that haunted thelocale,but theDarkApostlewaswillingtoriskanunknownthreat toescapeaverydefiniteone.Hereachedacircularwindow,itschiselledframereadytoacceptmetalworkintheformoftheEightfoldStarofthegods.Aguttural,wetnoisefromAakas'voxbetrayedhislosstothepursuingdaemonjustmetresbehind.TheDarkApostlechangeddirection,boundinguptothesillofthewindow.Hedidnotlookbackasheplungedoutintotheruddygloom.Afrissonofstaticwashedthroughhim,asignthathehadpassedthroughtheboundarywards.Sparingnotaglancebehind,eyesfixedonthearch-tippedpromontoryahead,Kalta-Arpoundedacrosstheopenground.Everystepwasaccompaniedbytheexpectationofasemi-substantialclawslidingintohisback,orthetell-taleflutterinhisthoughtsthatwarnedofadaemonicgazefallinguponhim.Heheardtheexhalationsofarebreatherandfinallysparedalookback.Isaikashwas just a few paces behind. Beyond him a scattering of other red-armoured figures emerged from doors and windows, sprinting across thefeaturelessexpanse.Oftheapparition,therewasnosign.Kalta-Ar did not slow until he came to the angular ward-stones thatcircumscribed the summit of the hill. Within the ring, more Word Bearersoversawthecontinuinglaboursofotherslavespilingstonesuponeachothertoraiseatempleabouttheportalgate.One wore an ornate suit of Terminator armour, its massive armour platesmarkedwiththesymbolsofafirstacolyte.ThesigilswereknowntoKalta-Ar.'Marduk!'hecalledout,scatteringslavesfromhispath.'WhereistheUrizen?''Calmyourself,brother,'saidMarduk,approachingtheDarkApostlewithhandraisedtohalthim.'Youforgetyourrank,firstacolyte,'growledKalta-Ar,comingtoastopafewmetres from Marduk. His brothers pounded into the arch-temple and turned,weaponstrainedbacktowardstheBenefictaDiabola.'I amhereby the commandofMasters Jarulek andErebus, and I speakwiththeir authority, Kalta-Ar.' Marduk's own guard gathered about him as hecontinued.'Whatisthemeaningofthisintrusion?''Something powerful, summoned by the slaves, I think. A daemon ofconsiderablewrath.Ithasalreadyslainhalfofmycompany.'An angry growl issued from the first acolyte as he raised a long-bladedchainsword.'Andyouledithere,toourLord'sabode?'

While Marduk snapped commands to his warriors, Kalta-Ar found Isaikashamonghisbrethren.'Howmanyareleft?'heaskedhisfellowWordBearer.'Seventeenhavemadeittothemound,Apostle.Iseenoothersontheplain.'Kalta-Ar looked out across the expanse between the hill and the BenefictaDiabola.Hereandthereanarmouredbodysprawledontheruddyground.Darkmists formed close to the corpses, daemonstuff drawn by the escaping souls.Soonotherthingswouldcometofeed.'There,Apostle!'Theshoutcamefromtheright,whereUkna-Tavpointedtothenorth-westerncomerofthesite.AWordBearervaultedalowwall,astreamofnakedhumansflowingafter.Thelegionaryturnedandfiredhisbolter,scythingdownthefirsthandfulofslavestoventureafterhim.Ashe turned tocontinuefor themound, thegroundbeneath theWordBearerdarkened. Like tar bubbling from a pit, seeping blackness flowed up his legs,swiftlyengulfinghimtothewaist.Thelegionaryfireddownintothemorassbuthisbolts simplydisappearedwithoutexploding.The thickblacknesscontinuedupwards,rivuletsofshadowthatsnakedalonghisarmsandaroundhisthroat.Growing, theumbra lifted the legionary fromtheground,snappinganarmattheelbow,thebolterwithinhisgripfallingfromthefingers.Kalta-Arcouldnotsuppress an empathicwince as a leg contorted acutely, assuming an unnaturalangle.Thelegionary'svoxwasclearlynotfunctioning,andhewasthankfultheyweresparedmore inhumannoisesofpainfuldeath.Limb-snappingcontortionswracked the armoured figure, almost tying the warrior into a knot, ceramitebroken,bonesshattered.Thedaemon-shadedroppedtheremainstothefloorandheaveditselftogetherintotheapproximationofahumanform,thoughtwiceastallasthelegionaryithadjustslain.Tenebrouswingsflowedfromitsbackasitadvanced,armsendinginspear-liketalons.'Whathaveyoubroughtuponus?'Marduk'svoiceathisshouldermadeKalta-Arturn,heartsracing.Hedaredonlyaglanceatthefirstacolytebeforereturninghisgazetothespectreadvancingwithslow,grimpurposeacrossthelevelplain.'Ihadnochoice,'saidtheDarkApostle.'Itwouldhaveslainusallandcomeforyouwithoutwarning.''Ah,soitwasforourwellbeing,wasit?''Look at it, brother! This is beyond us. We need the Urizen to face such acreature.Youmustcallhim.''Must?'

'Thisisnotthetimeforyourvanity,Marduk,'snappedKalta-Ar.Thethreatofbeingrippedtopiecesbyanunstoppabledaemonoutweighedanytrepidationatoffending one of the First Chaplain's favoured servants. He pointed to thedormantportalarch.'CanyoureachLorgar?''Theprimarchhas...higherconcernsthanyoursurvival,Kalta-Ar.'Thebarkofboltersdrewtheirattentionbacktotheringofwardstones,whereKalta-Ar'swarriorsmettheincomingapparitionwithahailoffire.Bolt-roundsdetonatedacrossitsform,butthefireoftheirfurydisappearedintoitsdarkness.As it neared, the daemon fluctuated, its smoky exterior becoming like ablizzard, a creature of whiteness with two ebon-black eyes. Forks of blacklightningleaptfromanoutstretchedhand,ripplingthroughthebodyofaWordBearer. Greasy smoke issuing from rents in his war-plate, the legionarycollapsed.'Wehave to fall back across theportal bridge,' saidKalta-Ar. 'Wemust fetchLorgar.''Fetch,Kalta-Ar?'Thevoicecamefrombehindthem,aspureasmoltengoldintheDarkApostle'ssoul.Itstonesliftedhisspiritinaninstant,fillinghimwithwarmth.He turned, as did the others around him. The archway glowed with power,showingavistaofagiganticcitadel-cathedralthroughthehazewithinitsblackframe. In front stood a gigantic figure, thrice the height of the legionaries, agolden-skinned entity wrapped in cloak and robe of flaming rune-shapes thatswirledfromitsbody.Inonehanditheldawickedlyspikedmacethatthrobbedwithblackpower.Theotherborearodofintricatelywoundmetal,tippedwithathree-eyed skull layeredwith golden sigils that constantlyweaved about eachother.EyesofuniformazureburrowedintoKalta-Ar.'Iheardyourwoe,myson.'Thevoicewashed through theDarkApostle likea soothingbalm, stillinghisagitation,strengtheninghisresolve.Still,thepresenceofhisprimarchwasnearoverwhelmingandhefelltohisknees,headbowed.'MyLordAurelian, forgivemyweaknesses.Acreatureofdaemonicspitehasdisruptedthegreatworkshere.''Iseenodaemon.'Kalta-Arglancedbacktowardshisbrothers.Theentitythathadpursuedthemhad reached the top of the hill amid a storm of bolter fire. It cast asidelegionaries with sweeps of glittering claws, leaving tattered remains drapedacrossthestoneworkoftheoutershrine.

'This is no daemon.' Lorgar raised his rod, beckoning to the blood-stainedwhirlwindtearingthroughthelastoftheDarkApostle'swarriors.'Cometome.Brother.'Withalastflurryofactivitythatturnedanotherlegionarytoshardsofceramiteandribbonsofflesh,theapparitioncoalescedintoarecognisablefigure.Itwasof equal height to the daemon primarch, clad in black battleplate with long-talonedgauntlets.Apairofwingsstretchedfromitsornatebackpack,fashionedas intricatemetallic raven feathers.The facewas aspale as snow,gaunt,witheyesasdarkascoal,framedbyshoulder-lengthblackhair.Kalta-Arfelthisbreathdyinginhislungsashelookedupattheunmistakeablefeatures of Corvus Corax, the primarch of the Raven Guard. A flurry ofquestionsfloodedhisthoughtsbutallremainedunansweredasCoraxspoke.'Whathashappenedtoyou,brother?''Ihaveascended,'saidLorgar.HeindicatedCoraxwithatwitchofhisrod.'Imightaskthesameofyou.'The Ravenlord strode forwards, intent on Lorgar Aurelian. Kalta-Ar and hiswarriorsscatteredbeforehim,grateful tobefreeofhiswrath.Mardukandhiscoterieclosedabouttheirprimarchbutalooksentthemaway.'I amwhat I always have been,' saidCorax. 'I amvengeance incarnate. I amjustice delivered. This place, beyond the veil, has revealed what we all are.Underneaththeveneerofhumanityourfathercraftedforus,weareofthewarp.''Haveyoucometomakeoathtothepowersthatareyourtruecreator?''No. I swore to destroy allChaos taint from the galaxy.Youwill be the firstfallenbrothertodiebeneathmyblades.''IamnotthecreatureyoufoughtatIsstvan,'saidLorgar,raisinghismace.'NoramI!'Kalta-Ar barely followed the lunge of Corax, so swift it was. A black windthrewhimasideasdarkfirecrackledfromtherodofLorgar.Withathunderousshockwave that hurled the Word Bearers to the ground, the two demigodsclashed.

***

After a long lifeofbloodshedanddevotion to theTrueGods therewas littlethatawedKalta-Ar.Thesightofthetwoprimarchsbattlingwithintheempyreanspherelefthimshockedandbreathless.Infusedwiththerawprimordialforce,thecombatantswereablazewithpower.Coraxseemedatoweringstormwreathedinwhitelightning,thecloudformedof

multitudinousravens.Theircawingwasdeafening,theflashoftheirtalonsandbeaksthesparkofthetempest.Into the shadowLorgar rose like a fireball, alightwith a tornado of burningruneshapes.Meteoricsigilsraineddownontheraventempest,cleavingember-edgedfurrowsthroughthedensemass.Theyslammedintothebuildingsaroundthebridge-arch,shatteringmasonry,incineratingthecorpsesofCorax'svictims.TheRavenlordstruckback,hailsofflaringclawsrippingtheairitself,leavingrents through the rune-robe of the Urizen. Each stroke left a shriek in itsaftermath that shredded the nerves as much as the talons shredded Lorgar'simmaterialform.Kalta-ArflinchedwhenthesweepingheadoftheWordBearer'smaceslammedinto the chest of his storm-wreathed foe. The impact was greater than anythunderclap,levellingthewallsaroundthem.Rollingtohisback,shatteredstonepouringfromhisarmour,theDarkApostlewatched the titanic combatants soar past, Corax with a quartet of gleamingspear-talonsdriventhroughLorgar'sthroat.TheUrizentriedtolashoutwithhismacebutwasheldclosebytheRavenlord'sinhumangrip.Togethertheycrashedtotheground,theirimpactflatteningagainthefewWordBearersthathadregainedtheirfeet.'Theportal-bridge!'Marduk's shoutdrewKalta-Ar's attention to thewaveringenergy fieldwithinthe archway. Dark sparks rippled across its fluctuating surface. It was visiblyweakening.'We cannot be trapped here,' declared theDarkApostle stepping towards thewaningportal.'It is sustained by the Urizen's will,' declared Marduk, intercepting him. 'Itmeansourmasterislosinghispower!'Thetwoprimarchshadassumedfullyhumanoidformagainintheheartofthecratertheirfallhadmade.Lorgar'sleftshouldersagged,hisrodswayinglowinhisgrasp.Rune-shapescrawledacrosshis form,no longera robeofofficebutformingarmouredplatesetchedwithwarp-symbols.Coraxflexedclawslikeswordblades,hisexpressionpitilessashetookasteptowardsLorgar.Mardukopenedfire.Theflareofhiscombi-bolterhittheRavenlordinthechestandface,awelterofdetonations that rockedhis stride.Kalta-Ar fired his plasmapistol on instinct,theblasthittingCoraxinthemidriff,splashingceruleanenergyacrosshisornate

blackwar-plate.Otherfirejoinedit,missilesandmoreboltsfromMarduk'sguard.LorgarsummonedanimbusofpowerandthrewoutashieldofforcethatliftedCorax from his feet, buckling his wings in the unearthly hurricane. TheRavenlordbecamea flockoncemoreof fire-eyedblackbirds,but theswellofLorgar's will continued to hurl the other primarch's incarnations upwards,scatteringthemtothesky.'Quickly,ourlord,'shoutedMarduk.Lorgar lumbered towards them,hiswoundsstreaming tinycrimsonrunes likeblood.Kalta-Ar lookedup.TheRavenlordgatheredagain intoa singlemass,adarkcometheadeddirectlyforthem.TheUrizenwasfirstthroughtheportal,hismassiveframeleavingashadowofhispassingastheotherWordBearersdashedthroughafter.Kalta-Arlungedthelast few strides, throwinghimself headlong into themiasmaunder the arch aschillshadeswallowedhim.

He found himself in a large chamber, colourful mosaic underfoot, the wallscoveredwith freshmurals,whitevaulted ceiling anddomes far above.Part oftheTemplum Inficio.Hehadno time forhis surroundings,eyesdrawnback tothegate.Shrieking, the raven flock scratched and pecked, but they could not pass thewarpbarrier.Lorgarglaredat theapparitiononthefarside,chestheavingasthoughoutofbreath,hisheadcrownedwithahaloofblackwarpfronds.Coraxassumedhismortalshapeagain,onecheekbloodiedandbruised,hiseyealmostclosed.Therewasmuchdamagetohisarmour,butheleanedclosetotheportal,eyesboringthroughthedivide.'Ihaveyourscentnow,Lorgar,'growledtheRavenlord.Hisfacecontortedwithmonstrousrage.'Iwillfindyou,Lorgar!Iwilldestroyyouandeveryvesselyouhavefilledwithyourtaint!'Lorgar staggered away and the portal arch fell dull, leaving only bare stonewithinitspillars.'Wecanassembleaforceandreturn,ourlord,'saidMarduk,hurryingaftertheprimarch.'All isnot lost,'promisedKalta-Ar,notwishingtoseemanylessdedicated. 'IwillrebuildtheBenefictaDiabola.'

Their entreaties continued as they followedLorgar through the corridors andhalls,headingtowardsthecentreofthegrandconstructionspreadingacrosstheirnew capital on Sicarus. Stairs took them high, to the tower at the heart ofeverything.Black doors opened atLorgar's approach and he strodewithin, noworduttered,nobackwardglance.With a noise that echoed in Kalta-Ar's soul as much as his ears, the doorsslammedshut,leavinghimandMardukonthethreshold.Therewasnohandle,nokeyhole,nothingbywhichtheymightopentheedifice.AwhiteColchisianruneburnedintolifeuponthedoor,andanother.'Denyfate,'readKalta-Ar.Heturnedtothefirstacolyte.'Whatdoesthatmean?'Marduk took several steps back and looked towards the pinnacle of theotherworldlytower.Goldenfireburnedfromthesummit.Otherswerehurryingfromthesurroundingcloisters,demandingtoknowwhathadhappened.Kalta-ArrecognisedKorPhaeronamongstthemandsuppressedagroan.'Whatdoesthisherald?'askedoneoftheapproachingWordBearers.'We wait for his return,' replied Marduk. 'Until then, the great work mustcontinue.'

ThereweredreamstheEmperorhadforallofmankind.Theywerenotthesamedreamsthathissubjectshad.Olivier suffered through his least favourite nightmare. He looked on as irongiantsslaughteredcrowdsoffacelesspeople,whoseabstractedformssuggestedtheywerenothuman.Theywereangular,withpointedfeetandhands,asiftheyweremodelsfoldedfromsheetsofpaper.Buttheywerepeople.Theirscreamsandtheirbloodleftnodoubtofthat.Olivier was recording the event. How many paper people killed here, howmany artfully slaughtered there. He wrote as fast as he could. For someridiculousreasonhispenwasanantiquatedquill,anactual feather, rather thanthe autoscribe he used in the course of his work. Paper spilled in an endlessspool from his lap. He tried to record all he saw, racing across the paper tocapture every nuance of themassacre. He couldn't. It was impossible, but hecouldn'tstop.Therewassomethingmenacingbehindhim.Itsdisapprovalofhisworkhungoverhim.Oliviersobbed;hishandwritingbecameanillegiblescrawl,hewrotesofastthepensplitandhishandached,buthecouldnotgetdownwhatthepresencedesired.Thepaperpeoplediedintheirdroves,bludgeonedapartbysteelfists.Theirbloodranlikeink.Thethingcamecloser.Itmeanthimharm.'Lookatit-isn'titbeautiful!'Hecouldn'tgetitalldown!'Olivier,wakeup!'Oliviercameawakewithajerkandagasp.Hiswife'sblandexpressiongreetedhim,hermildeyesexpressingquery.'Areyouallright?'sheasked.Olivierwipedsweatfromhisface.'I'mfine.I'mfine.'

'Nightmares?''IsaidIwasfine,Marissa,'hesaidsharply.Shelookedathimstrangely.Hedidn'tthinksheknewhowmuchhehadcometo resenther, thoughhehad triedhisbest to showher.Thatannoyedhim too.Everythingaboutherannoyedhim.'Look,' she said. 'We have arrived.' She pointed out of the viewport by theirseats.Theyweremanandwife,MarissaandOlivier,bondedunderhispatronymofLeBon thirty long years ago.Life had been good to them.Theywere of highsocial class, better fed and cared for than the commonman of the Imperium.Theirstatuswassuchthateventhetransityachtcarryingthemfromvoidshiptoworldwasluxurious.Througharmourglassdulledbytheimpactsofinterplanetarydust,aplanetwasvisible. Reflected light glowed frommyriad lakes and snow caps. There wasnothing that could be called an ocean. The almost contiguous landmass thatcovered the majority of the surface was predominantly green-brown andwrinkledalloverwithmountainranges.Ifaplanetwereahumanface,thisonewasanoldwoman.OlivierandMarissahad travelled todozensofworlds.Hehad become inoculated against the marvels of planetary approach. Repetitionrenderedthewondrousbanal.Marissa retained her joy.Her childishwonder irritated her husband.Anotherthanklesstaskawaitedthemonthesurface,anotherpointlessrunaroundtryingtoachievetheimpossible,engagingwithbeingswhodidnotcarewhattheyweretryingtodo.Olivierwassickofitall.ButMarissagotmoreevangelicalabouttheirworkwitheveryfrustratingassignment.Itwasagreathonour,that'swhattheOrderofRemembrancershadtoldOlivierwhen he and Marissa were given their role. They weren't married then, andOlivierhadbelievedhismasters.Biographerstotheprimarchs.Therewereaselectfewoftheirkindgiventhattitle.Theyhadacceptedproudly.After fourdecadesofchasingdemigodswhodid not want to speakwith him, Olivier saw the pride of his younger self ashubris.Hehadwastedhislife.Marissaneverlostherenthusiasm.'Olympia!'shesaidwithbreathlessawe.'HomeworldofPerturabo,primarchoftheIronWarriors.SeeOlivier,itisabeautifulworld.Beautiful.''Yes,'hesaidwithoutconviction.'Beautiful.'ForMarissa,anearholydutydrewcloser.ForOlivier,apunishment.

She kissed her aquila pendantwhen she thought hewasn't looking.The shipbeganitsdescent.'TheEmperorprotects,'shewhispered.

Consciousness builds in the developing brain scrap by scrap. Imagine theaccretion disk around a star. Through time and gravity's influence a planet isborn.Whocouldforesee thedustwouldmakeaworld?The linebetweendustandplanetisill-defined.Atwhatpointdoesonestatebecomeanother?Whendothe cells of a developing foetus change from a collection of individual livingthingsintoanaggregatethatfunctionsasanorgan?Atwhatmomentdoesanewhearttakeitsfirstbeat?Whendochemicalreactionsinawarmpoolceasetobedriven by external factors, and instead become self-perpetuating?When doeschemistrybecomelife?Whatisthelinebetweeneachstage;whatmomentistheboundary to the instant before; whatmarks the boundary to the instant after?There are self-evidentmomentswhere something is one thing or another.Butwhatofthemomentsbetween?Howcantheseliminalstagesbedefined?Suchthoughtsasthesefloatedwithoutanchor.Onedaytheywouldinhabittheexceptionalmind of a being who approached the divine, just then, they werescrapsdrawntootherscraps,makingfromthemselvessomethinggreater,likeaworldfromdust,orachildfromcells,orlifefromelementalbroth.Soisconsciousnessborn.Outsidethebeing'sbodywasonlywarmdark,andthemechanicalrhythmsofan artificial womb. There had been voices, and a presence that touched andmoulded,buttheyweregone.Intheprocessoftransitionbetweentwostates,cantheobjectchangingbesaidtobeeitherofthediscreteobjectsitwillbeandhasbeen?Howmanystatesexistbetween? An infinite shading, or infinitesimally small slices of differingexistence?Thebeingfelt theslow,greedy tugofagiantobjectsomassive itbentspacetimearounditself.Gravity,thoughtthebeing.Gravityexertsinfluence.Influenceeffectschange.Therewasashifting in thebeing'scentreofmass.Ashakingandabouncingaroundthecoreof itself.Theintrusionofoutsidestimulidefinedfor thebeingtheshapeof itsbody,andheknew thathewasmale.Before,hehadnotbeenawareofhavingabodyatall.Nowhewas:fourlimbs,atorso,ahead.Smoothskinfeltvibrationsthroughliquidandtheheatitconveyedfrombeyond.Thebeinghadconsideredallthesethingstobeapartofhimself.Theincrease

ofstimulipromptedhimtodividehimselffromotherthings.Body,liquid,shell.Thatwas his universe. The shell thrummedwith stress harmonics. The liquidmovedinsluggishtides.Highdensityalloy,hethoughtoftheshell.Herecogniseditsstrength.Hefeltthesamestrengthinhimself.Accelerationpressedhimupwards.Articlesthatwerenotpartofhisbodybutwhichinterfacedwithittuggedathim.Hewasapartfromhiscasing,buthewasintegratedwithit,herealised.Healsorealised,Iamfalling.Sound returned as a dull rumble.Then a greater heat.Gravity pulled at him,accelerationpushed.Agaseousmediumobjectedtohispassagethroughit.Atmosphere,hethought.Planet.The descent lasted minutes, until terminating violently. The impact of hisarrivalboomedthroughhisconfinedworld.Lightpouredinthroughrentsinhiscasing.Theliquidthatwarmedandprotectedhimrushedout.Coughingviolently,hediscoveredhehadlungs.In his fewminutes of consciousness, the casinghadgone frombeingpart ofhim, to a protective externality, to a trap. Its dyingmachineswailed out theirmyriadmalfunctions.Thebeingrippedattheslipperytubespenetratinghisskin,andfoughthiswayfreethroughthemetal.Coldairchilledhim.Whitelightblindedhim.Hisbodywasasexceptionalashisgatheringmind,andrapidlyadjusteditselftothechangeinenvironment.Helookeduponaruggedlandscape.Stone,he thought.Sedimentary formation.Mountain.Tectonicupheaval.Sky.Planetaryatmosphericenvelope.Heknewthenamesandnatureofallthingsasheexperiencedthem,asifaparentwhisperedthewordsinhisearthemomentheseteyesuponthem.He rolled onto his back. Steam rose from his naked body. His casing, hisconveyance,hiswomb,stooduprightonthemountainsidebleedingoilyfluids.Thesilverskinwasblackened,andyet the largenumeral 'IV'stencilledon thesidewasstillvisible.Thebeinglayonthecoldhardstoneandstaredatthemachine.WhatamI?thoughtthebeing.AmIthisnumber?AmI…four?He was not a number. He was adamant. He had a name. It came to himunbidden.Heclenchedfistsslickwithamnioticgels,andstoodonlegsneverusedbefore.'IamPerturabo,'heannouncedtothemountains.

Predictably,theprimarchwasnotatOlympia.Vox communications with the traffic control towers were confusing. Theycontinued tobeso longafter theircrafthad landed. It transpired that theyhadarrived at the worst possible time; Dammekos, the Imperial governor andPerturabo's father,wasrecentlydead,and thestatewas inupheaval.Howtheyhad managed not to hear this before landing was moot. The effects on theirmissionweredisastrous.OlivierassumedPerturabo'sadoptivesister,Calliphone,wouldinherittheoffice,butOlympianpoliticswereanythingbutsimple,andtheLeBonswerecaughtinthemidstofferociousdisputes.They sent data bursts containing all their documentation three times to threedifferentauthorities.Conversationsdevolvedreadilyintoarguments.Eventually,arepresentativeoftheLegionwascalledfor.Theirdiscussionwiththishumanservantwasterse,andpromisednothing.Theywerekeptwaitingforseveralhours.Thatwasalwayshowitbegan.Theywereneverexpected.TheLeBons stayedwith their ship.Transit to and fromorbitwasnecessarilycontrolled on most civilised planets, especially on Legion worlds. Under thecircumstances,itwaspossibletheymightnotbeabletoleavethespaceport.Ontheotherhand,iftheytried,theauthoritiesmightjustletthemdisappearintothecities,wheretheywouldbecomesomeoneelse'sproblem.Whiletheywereattheport, theywerea thorn,and thornswere rarely left insitu.So theystayedandremainedanintentionalirritation.'Someonewillcometogetridofus,'hesaid.Therewasnoneedtosayit;itwaswhathadhappenedmanytimesbeforeMarissahadoncerespectedhimforhiswiliness, until association with the Legions made all his qualities appear tooanaemic.Mencannotcompetewithgods.Iamasmallman,hethought,andIamtootiredtogrowfurther.Theywaitedatthefootofthevoidship'ssingleramp.Gasesburstfromventsastheenginescooled.Itwasearlyevening,andthecloudsofpollutioncomingoffthespaceportwerebrowninthelastofthelight.Apalebluebandofskytothewestbackedsilhouettesofmountainswithsheared-offpeaks.Totheeast,starsstruggledoutthroughthebrume.Allspaceportshadsimilarities.Theyhadopenplainsofhardstandingdividedinto landing fields and aprons. They housed all kinds of craft. Short rangevesselsliketheirswerenearlyalwaysgroupedwithsurfacetoorbitlightersandpurely atmospheric vehicles away from the serious business of transportation.Elsewhere giant lifters, troop ships and cargo haulers, bigger than buildings,

crowded theartificialplains.Toobig, really, to fit into thehumanmind.Theirexistencewasundeniable,but the idea that theymight flybroughtonOlivier'svertigo. Like the mountains ringing the port, the ships seemed part of thelandscape,notconveyances.Spaceportsdiffered in thedetail,mostnotably inwhathadbeendone to thelandscape in order to accommodate them. The Dammekos Space Port wasparticularly dramatic.Olympia hadvirtually no flat land, so amountain rangehadbeenclearedtoprovideit.Mountainswerelevelled,andtheirrubbleusedtofill the valleys between. Two peaks had survived in altered form, carved intogiganticstatuesofLegionesAstartesstandingguardattheentrancetothespaceport.'He's over-compensating.' Olivier nodded towards the colossi. They weremarvellously realised, set in action poses full of motion and dynamism.'Hundredsofmillionsoftonnesofstonebalancedsotheydonotfall.Andlook,theyarefortificationsaswellasadornments.Cannonsforeyes.Howquaint,'hesaid.Marissa tookexception tohissarcasminheraggravatinglysereneway. 'Theyareamazingartworks.''Arethey?Doesn'titlooktoyoulikehe'stryingtoohard?''Youshouldhavealittlemorerespect,'shesaid.Youhavetoomuch,hethought.'Becheerful.Wehaveanewbooktowrite,anewadventure!'shesaid. 'Thinkofallwe'regoingtolearnaboutPerturabo.Weshallwritetheofficialhistoryofhislife.Thereisnogreaterhonourthanthat.'I don'twant that honour anymore, he thought. 'This is notwhat I imaginedspendingmylifedoing,'hesaidinstead.'Youshouldbeglad.DoyourememberFulgrim?'Olivier nodded. 'Hewas the only one that spared us an adequate amount oftime.''Heunderstoodwhythisissoimportant,'saidMarissa.'Itcouldhappenagain.'Heglancedather.'Idon'tthinkso.''Thentellmewhatyouthink,mydearhusband.Youtellmesolittlethesedays.'Was that a flash of annoyance with him? He hoped so; it excused his ownpetulance.Oliviertookasharp,nasalbreath.'Fulgrimwasvain.Hewastooeagertotellushowmarvelloushewas.Likeachild,showingoffallhispreciousthings.''Youcan'tlikentheprimarchstochildren!'shesaid.

But they are children, he thought. He remembered Fulgrim's preening self-satisfaction.Forallhissupposedperfectionhehadseemeddesperatetheyseeittoo, and praise him. He was superficial. Olivier became distant as herememberedthemeeting.Hismomentsofdistanceoccurredmoreandmoreoften.'Areyoulisteningtome?'sheasked.Oftenheansweredhermentally.Torevealwhathetrulythoughtwouldleadtoargument.Heforgotthatnoonebuthimheardhisinternalremarks.Hehadleftherwaitingagain.Hesupposedhemusthavelookedrude.'Olivier!''I'msorry,'hesaid.'I'mtired.''You'reirritable!'Marissalaughed.Thenoisegrated. 'Myhusband,youcannothaveitbothways.Youareannoyedwhenoursubjectsareunforthcoming.Youareannoyedwhentheyspeakwithus.Youmusthavelikedsomeofthem.''IlikedVulkan.Hewasnononsense.Right-headed.''Wehadbarelyanhourwithhim.''Itwasenough,'hesaid.Maybeitwasn'tsufficienttowriteanaccuratebook-thoughwhenhadtheyeverwrittenoneofthose?-butitwasmorethansufficientforOlivier.Hecouldn'thavesurvivedanotherfiveminutesundertheregardofthose burning red eyes. Vulkan was otherwise a ponderous fellow, overlyserious.'WhatofDorn?Didyoulikehim?''No,' he said. 'How could you like any of them? The primarchs might beawesomebeings,buttheyareawfulpeople.''Theyarenottheretobeliked.''Whataretheyforthen?Tobeworshipped?'hesaidharshly.Shelookedstung.Thathadbittenclosetohome.'Olivier,Idonotknowwhatmiseryhasholdofyou.Wehavehadamarvellouslife.Wehavecollaboratedonfiveofthesebooks.'Fivetomesofhalf-bakedsupposition,hethought,arduousyetfruitlessresearchandtediousspeculationpresentedasfact.Lorgarhadrefusedpointblanktoseethem.LemanRusshadn'tevenallowedthemtosetfootonFenris.Hedidn'thaveitinhimtobeinvolvedwithasixth.'Andthoughsomehavebeenhard,'shewenton,'wehavemetwithsomeofthemostmarvellouspeopleinthegalaxy,perhapsevertohavelived.'Shetookhishand.Hetriednottoflinch.Hedidnotlikehertouchinghimanylonger.

'Surelyyoucanbehappywiththat?'shesaid.Happy?He thought. Happy to spendmy life presented to beingswho couldcrushmewithouta thought.Beingswhospeakwithusonlyasan indulgence.Beingswhoyou,myoncedearwife,worship?Hefelt inadequate.Whatmancan judgehisownachievementswellwhensetagainstthoseoftheprimarchs?Thestatuesatthespaceportwereacaseinpoint.Olivier couldneverdo anything like that.TheLordof Iron's abilitieswereonanother plane altogether.Was it any surprise at all that these godswould notspeakwiththem?HeandMarissawereantsbeforethem.Marissa squeezed his hand.He glanced at her.Her skinwas loose.Her eyeswere lostwithin the folds around them. She had been beautiful once.He hadlovedherthen.'Youarehappy,aren'tyou?'Hehadn'tbeenhappyforalongtime.Hemadeanequivocalnoise.Sheseemedsatisfiedwiththat.'Look,'hesaid.Heusedthedistractionasanexcusetoextricatehishand.Hepointed.'ALandSpeederintheLegioncolours.Someone'scomingforus.'

TheshepherdswerepursuingPerturabowhenthejalpidacameuponthem.Intheshepherds Perturabo saw echoes of himself, but hewas different to them.Heknewthateventhen.Hethoughtaboutitwhilehejoggedaheadofthem.Theyknewnothingabouthim.Theyonlywantedtokill thestrangeferalboywhoseteethwerereddenedwiththebloodoftheirflocks,andwhoselimbswerecladinstolenskins.Heoutpacedthemeasily,springingupthesheerslopesaseasilyasthecapridshepoached.Hisagilityseemedtoworrythem.Hissuperioreyescouldreadtheirtiny faces from far away. Theywere afraid, but they still came after him.Headmiredthat.His pursuerswere falling behindwhenPerturabo heard the first screams.Hecontinued on, heading ever upwards towards the reacheswhere the shepherdscould not easily go. Sure of sanctuary in the cold, thin air, he grinned. Thescreamsgrewquieterthefurtheruphewent.He was about to reach a ridge that would hide him from sight, when hehesitated.Thecriesoftheshepherdsweregettingdesperate.Heturnedbacktolook.Downtheslope,theshepherdswereunderattackbyafeatheredserpentfifteenmetreslong.Itsbodywasthick,cominguptothehumanwaist.Itsfangedmaw

waswideenoughtoswallowamanwhole.Themouthwasclosedprotectivelyaround a bundle. Its neck was distended. Curious, Perturabo waited until thesnake swung around so he could seewhat it had, and glimpsed the head andshouldersofaboyprotrudingfromthemouth.Hewasbeingdrawninchbyinchdownintothesnake'sgulletandwouldsoonbeswallowed.Theothershepherdsbeat the snakewith sticks and stabbed hopelessly at itwith their long knives.Theywereagitated,upset.Theserpentwouldnotreleasetheboy.Whydidtheynotretreat?Thecreaturehaditsmeal.Itwouldnotgiveitup,andwhileithadtheboy,itwouldnoteatthem.Theyhadnoweaponsthatcouldhurtit, but continued their fruitless attacks regardless,putting themselves inharm'sway.Itwasillogical.Perturabointendedtogo.Tohissurprisehefoundhe, too,wishedtostopthebeastandsavetheboy.Hewonderedatthisinstincttogototheshepherds'aid.He began to descend, then stopped.His rapidlymaturing brain calculated thelikelihoodofvictory.Hedidnotfindtheresulttohisliking.The serpent rippled, putting on a startling turn of speed and outpacing theshepherds.Thebrushofitshideknockedthemendown,anditwasawayovertherocks.Oneshepherdwailedlouderthantherestas thebeastcarriedoff itsprize.Hecaughtsightof theyoungprimarch,andcriedout ina languagePerturabohadneverlearned,butwhichheunderstood.'Helpus!'hewailed.'Helpus!'Perturabo's half-formedmind judged the shepherd.Was he weak, or was hedeservingofhelp?Hethoughtonthisforafullminute.Perturaboturnedaway,andheadedbackfortheridge.

The LeBons' liaison was a giant slab of genetically altered meat encased inarmour, and in that he was a typical example of the Emperor's enhancedwarriors.Hisfacewassquatandbullishtothepointofinhumanity,withanecksothickhisheadappearedtobeanextensionofhisshoulders,andabrowthatlookedborrowedfromOlympia'scliffs.Olivierhadassumedthatspendingtimewith theLegionswouldmake theirmembers easier to distinguish, but he hadfound the contrary to be true. He had given up trying to see the differencesbetween them, and had come to rely on the markings they wore on theirbattleplate.ThisonewascalledKrashkalix.Hewasasub-captainoftheIVLegion.

Krashkalix opted to sit with them in the Speeder's cramped transportcompartment.'I apologise that you were kept waiting, and that the primarch is not here.'Krashkalixwasforcedtoshoutovertheteeth-rattlingthrumofgravityimpellersholdingthevehiclealoft.Themountainousterrainmadeforshockingturbulence,andthemachinebouncedthroughit.'HewascalledawaytotheSak'Tradadeepsseveralmonthsago.TheGreatCrusadewaitsfornoone.''Weunderstand,'Marissashoutedback.'Wemeetwiththeprimarchsifwecan,butweunderstandtheirdutytotheEmperorsupersedesallotherconsiderations.'ThissatisfiedKrashkalix.'Asitshould.'Olivierdisagreed,butcouldhaveleftitthere.Hedidnot.'Ourlivesareaconstantchaseafteryourgenefathers,'hesaid.'Theyareneverwheretheyaresupposedtobe,andiftheyare,theyneverhavetimeforus.'He'sgoingtofrown,thoughtOliviertohimself.SpaceMarinesoftenfrowned.Theircapacityforexpressionwasseverelylimited.Krashkalixfrowned.Therewego,thoughtOlivier.Hegainedasortofwearysatisfactionfrombeingright.'We are, in short,' Olivier continued before the Space Marine's inevitableobjectiontohiswords,'frequentlydisappointed.''I amsorry,butwe fight for the Imperium, for thewhole futureofmankind,'saidKrashkalix.'There'sawaron?'offeredOlivier.'Youmockme,'saidtheSpaceMarinestolidly.'Iunderstandyoutoohaveyourdutiestoperform.Youwerenotforgotten.Perturabohimselforderedmetomeetwithyouassoonasyouarrived.Heregretshecannotspeakwithyoupersonally.Truthfully.Youcomeatadifficulttime.ThesatrapDammekosdiednotamonthago. There have been problems establishing who should take his place asgovernor.WeIronWarriorsarefewhere.Weprefernot tobecomeinvolvedinpolitics,yetwehavenochoice.Thesituationistense.'Thenews that theyhadnot been forgottenmadeOlivier thinkof the statues,andofFulgrim.Anothervainonethen,hedecided.'You are right that we all have our duties to perform,' said Olivier. 'Ifconqueringthegalaxyseemshard,thenoursismerelyimpossible.''Regrettably the future of mankind must have priority over the past,' saidKrashkalix.'Maintainingstabilityinthepresentistaskenough.'Oliviershrugged.'Ifyousayso.'

'Iapologiseformyhusband.'Krashkalixlookedatthemboth.'Youarepairbonded?''It was inevitable, we spend somuch time together.'Marissa pattedOlivier'shand.The Space Marine looked neither impressed nor disinterested, but kept hisexpressionofbovineindifference.'Imustdisagreewithyoua little, sub-captain.Thepast is important,'Marissasaid, 'because ifwedon'tknowwherewehavecomefrom,howcanwevaluewhatwehave?''ThesearenottheconcernsoftheIronWarriors.Weareconquerors.Weerasepasts,butit isnotmyplacetoquestionthewisdomoftheEmperor'sservants,'saidKrashkalix, though thewayhe said it suggested toOlivier thatheclearlydidquestionit.TheLeBonswereusedtothis,theunwillingbabysitterspoutingapologies and platitudes through gritted teeth. Olivier wondered if escortingremembrancerswasapunishmentdetail.Ifitwas,whathadKrashkalixdone?'Astheprimarchisnothere,whatdoyouwishtodo?'saidKrashkalix.'Ifthereisanything Icanenable foryouso thatyoumightaccomplishyour taskmorequickly—'Andstopbeinganuisancetome,Olivieraddedtohimself.'—thenyouneedbutask.YouhavetheauthorityoftheSigillitehimself.Iamboundtoobey.'ButI'mnothappyaboutit,Olivierthought,addingthesubtext.'Thankyou,sub-captain,'saidMarissabrightly.'We'lldowhatweusuallydointhesesortsofcircumstances.'Towit,everytimewehavewrittenoneofthesedamnedbooks,thoughtOlivier.'Weshallgatherinformationandbegintocompilenotesforthebiography,'saidMarissa. 'The interviewwith the primarch can wait until his return. To beginwith, itwouldbeappropriate tovisitplacesof importance fromhisyouth.Wehaveofcoursebegunourresearch,butIfindvisitingthesitestobemostuseful.''You do not wish to acquaint yourselves with recent information?' asked thesub-captain.'Wecouldspeakwithhisfamily.IhadhopedforanaudiencewithDammekos,buthissisterstilllives,'saidOlivier.'Perhapsshewillspeakwithus?'Again,thefrown.'RelationsbetweenGovernor-electCalliphoneandtheLegionare currently poor. The royal familymay not consent, and I cannot commandthem.''Thenwe shall speakwith them in good time.Wewill probably be here for

severalyears,'saidMarissa.'That'showlongitusuallytakes,'saidOlivieroffhandedly.'Iamalinearthinker,'continuedMarissa.'Iliketobeginatthebeginning.Sitesfromhisyouthtostartwith.''Very well,' said Krashkalix. 'The Legion has arranged accommodadon inLochos. Youmay spend the evening refreshing yourselves, and regarding themanyimprovementsmylordhasmadetothecapital.ThentomorrowIshalltakeyoutotheplacewheremyfatherfirstarrivedonthisworld.'

Perturabo knewwhat he neededwithout being told. His growingmindwas alibrary fullofbookshehadyet to read.Hehadonly to thinkonamatter andinformationwelledupinsidehim.Sometimesitstayedonlyashortwhilebeforesinkingbackintothedepthsofhissubconscious,butmoreofitremainedwithinhisgraspwitheverypassingday.Ashismindgrew, sodidhisbody.The rawskinshehadtakennolongercoveredhim,sohesawthathewasgettinglarger.Ifhewentbacktoithewouldnolongerfitwithinthevesselthathadbornehimtotheworldofmountains,capridsandmen.Hesmeltwhatheneededon theair, scenting it likeahound fromkilometresaway,ahardsmell,richwithpossibility.Fire,andmetal.Forthefirsttime,hedescendedpastthetreelineonthemountain,andheadedforthegreenvalleyswheremendwelledinnumbers.He followed the smell into a village. A ringing sound beat out steadily as aheart. He zeroed in on it, clambering over walls, pushing his way throughhedges,movinginastraightlinetowardshisgoal.Acrowdofchildrenplayinginafieldsawhimfirst.Hegloweredatthem,andtheyranscreaming.Bythetimehereachedthevillage,thealarmhadgoneup.Itwasasmallplace,twentyhouseholdsofhardhighland families set aroundapaved squareon theroundshoulderofthemountain.Hefoundaroad,andwalkedthat,hisbarefeetplantedfirmlyupontheunevencobbles.Therewasacrowdinthesquarewhenhearrived.Theydidnotdarestophimashewalkedtowardstheforge.The smith was engrossed in his work, and only looked up when Perturabopushed his way within. The smithy was enclosed, a red and black world ofsecrets. The smithwas a powerfulman, thicklymuscled andwise in his arts.Perturabowasaspowerfullybuiltashe.Thesmithknewnottoprotest.Perturabolookedaround,knowingthenamesof the toolsand the itemsasheseteyesonthem.'Givemeiron.Givemecharcoal.Highgrade, longburn.Givemetools.Give

methemnow,'hesaid.Heextrapolatedthewordshemustsayfromthelimitedexposurehehadhadtotheshepherds'speech.Whatlefthismouthwastangled,butcomprehensible.Itwasthefirsttimehehadeverspokenwithanotherhumanbeing.TheblacksmithdidasPerturaboasked.Authoritycloakedtheyoungprimarch.Feardidtherest.For hours Perturabo laboured in the forge, crafting an artefact he had neverbeheld, butwhose shapewas carried in his soul. The knowledge towork themetal,tobeatironintosteel,totemperandtohonecametohimasinstinctivelyas theshape. In thebeginning, theblacksmithheldback, thoughhewouldnotleavehisdomain.Intheend,hecameforwardtoassist.Thoseweresuperstitioustimes.Thegodswereprayedtoandhonoured,butneverevident.Herewastheproof of their being. Only an emissary of the gods could be so strange, andappearsomysteriously,andworkthesmith'smagicdespitebeingsoferal.Perturaboallowedthesmithtohelp.Thewholedaypassedbefore theworkwasdone.At itsconclusionPerturaboheldupaplain,ironswordtohisfaceandsightedalongtheedge.Itwasthefirstswordhehadeverseen.Hegruntedinsatisfaction,andturnedtogo.Hehadsaidnothingsincehisinitialdemands.'Whoareyou?'askedtheblacksmithinwonder.Perturabopausedatthethresholdofthesmithy.'IamPerturabo,'saidtheboy.Outside,nervousmenwaitedinsilence,theiruselessweaponsheldintremblinghands.Perturabowalkedbythem,andtheylethimgo.

The supposed site of Perturabo's arrival at Olympia was a cold, wind-blastedplacemarkedbyasimplecairnofstones.Olivierwonderedwhytherewerenotgreatermonumentsthere,becauseithadbecomeabundantlyclearthatPerturabolikedmonuments.ThereweremonumentsinLochos,thereweremonumentsonmountain tops. There were monuments at the sides of roads. Many of themdepictedlegionariesoftheIronWarriors,bothasindividual,helmlessheroesandasfacelessrepresentationsoftheLegionasawhole.ButtherewerejustasmanystatuesofPerturabo.Krashkalixproudlystatedthatmanyweretheworkoftheprimarchhimself.Therewasnothingsoremarkableaboutthelandingsite.The Speeder hung off themountainside, engines buzzing noisily.One of themany faces of thehuge, blockymountaingarbed in ice that lookedout of the

Chaldiceanuplands,theslopewasabarefewdegreesfromqualifyingasacliff.There was nothing alive there. Olivier found it hard to breathe. No sign ofhumanhabitationwasvisible,noteventheubiquitousancientminesandquarriesthatscarredOlympia.Theyhadoverflownmanyofthem.Whatatfirstappearedtobenatural formations turnedout tobevastworkings from theDarkAgeofTechnology. But not on that mountain. Perturabo had arrived in a pristineenvironment. Itwas cold, bleak andwoeful to the human soul.Nobody couldpossiblygoupthereoftheirownvolition.'Whatasadplace,'Oliviermuttered.'Itwasdefinitelyhere?'askedMarissa.Krashkalix looked discomfited. 'Probable location. By the time the primarchreturnedtothesite,hispodhadbeenremoved.Evensohighasthis,aprizelikethat would have been spotted and plundered. Olympia is without accessibledepositsofmanyminerals,thosehavingbeenminedoutmillenniaago.''Couldhenotbesure?'askedOlivier. 'Mostof theprimarchshaveprodigiousmemories.'Again,Krashkalixofferedavariationonafrownthatexpressedawkwardness.'Asdoesmy lord,buthedoesnot remembermuchofhis earliestdayson thisworld.Hismemorybeginswithhis climbing thePhrygean cliffs nearLochos.The legends of the Chaldicean mountain folk inform what we know of hisearliest days. There was a falling star. A strange child was spotted in themountainsshortlyafter.Hekilledsomeoftheirlivestockandwastobehunted,untilheslewa jalpidaandother localpredators.After that they thoughthimagift from the gods of the day, and hemoved from village to village, craftingwondersandslayingthebeaststhatpreyedonthem.''Godsnoonebelievesinanymore,'saidOlivier.'InaccordancewiththeImperialTruth,'saidKrashkalix.'No.'Marissamade copious notes and set toworkwith her picter.Olivier couldn'traisetheinterest.Nakedstoneandaprobablelandingzoneprovidedfewfacts.He watched Marissa warily. She should know better than to attach anysignificancetothisplace.Anaviancawed.FlyinglevelwithOlivier'seyesonlythirtymetresaway,therewasoverakilometreofemptyspacebeneathitsbelly.Lookingdownpastthebirdmadehisheadspin.'There'snotmuchtoseehere,'saidOlivier.'Let'smoveon.'Krashkalix nodded. 'There is a commemorative museum not far from here.Thereismoreforyouthere.''Justaminutemore!'Marissasaid.Shebustledabout,takingpictsandmaking

sketches.Olivier waited impatientlywhile she finished. Krashkalix stared off over thedistance-mistedforests, lakesandrockofOlympia.Hewasnotatallbotheredbythecold.'Thecitywasasimpressiveasyousaid,'Oliviersaidtohim.HewashopingtodrawoutKrashkalixalittle.Architecturewasnotwhathewishedtolearnabout.'MylordPerturabohasmanygreattalents.Hiswish,whenthiswarisdone,istoturnthemovertopeacefulmatters.''IheardsomecallhimtheEmperor'sArchitect,'saidOlivier.Krashkalix's frown made a reappearance. 'It is not his preferred title, nor iswarsmith,warlordorsiegemaster.Noneofthemencompasstheentiretyofhisskills.''Butheisafinearchitect,'saidOlivier.'Yes.'Olivierwaitedamoment.'Iheardshouting,inthestreetslastnight,'hesaid.Krashkalixturnedtolookathimandblinkedslowly.'Itsoundedlikeaprotest,'Olivierwenton.'ThereareelementsinthepopulacewhoobjecttothedemandsofsupplyingtheLegion,'saidKrashkalix.'TheyhavebecomemorevocalfollowingthedemiseofDammekos.''Idon't seemanyyoungpeoplehereonOlympia.Thecity seemedsomewhatempty.''TheEmperor'swarstaketheirtollonallworlds.Olympiaisnoexception,'saidKrashkalix.'Whatwillbedonewiththeprotestors?''Theywillbepunished,' saidKrashkalix.Hewouldnotbedrawnany further,andOlivierwentbacktoslowlyfreezingtodeath.BythetimeMarissafinished,hewasshivering.Overherwind-reddenedcheeks,Marissa's eyeswerealightwithpossibilities.ShewascraftingPerturabo's storyalready,weavinganotherwebof lies inhermind.'Wheretonext?'sheaskedKrashkalix.'Theforgeofthefirstsword,'hesaid.Atthelegionary'scommandtheSpeederdriftedcloseenoughtotherockfacethattheycouldstepaboard.

Perturabowalkedintotheshepherds'farmsteadcarryingtheheadoftheserpentinhisarmslikeaninfant.Acollectionofcrudehutsandbroken-downfencing,

thefarmmadethevillagewiththeforgeseemgrand.Theprimarchwascoveredinblood,andtheswordswungnakedathiship.Theshepherds had seen him coming. They waited inside, peering fearfully fromglasslesswindows.Perturabo threw the head down onto the dusty ground outside the maindwelling,andwaited.The door creaked open. A man came out. Perturabo thought he was theshepherdwho had cried out for his aid. He could not be sure. Hismemorieswould not settle; they were in constant competition with the knowledgeswimming around in hismind andwere unseatedby it before they could takeroot.Theknowledgewas an affliction asmuch as itwas a gift.Hehoped theshepherdwastherightman.Theheadwasforhim.Theshepherdlookedatthetrophy.'Youkilledthejalpida.''Idid,'saidPerturabo.'Youhavetakensevenofmyflock.'Perturabostaredathimimpassively.'But this has taken far more,' said the man. 'And it took my son. You haveavengedhim.''Ihave.''Whatistheprice?'Perturabofrowned.'Whatdoyouwant?'saidtheshepherd.'Fortheservice.Everythinghasaprice.'Perturabo's quick mind analysed the shepherd's speech patterns, refining hisowncommandofthelanguageashespoke.'Idonotwantanything.'Theshepherdwasconfused.'Thenwhydidyouhelpus?'Perturabothought.'Itwasright.Youareweak,Iamstrong.''You have come to protect us.' The man looked hopeful. It was a piteousexpression.The young primarch stared at the shepherd, then gave a single, hesitant nod.'Yes.ThatiswhatIamfor.Toprotect,andtoimprove.'Anothersentimentcrossedtheshepherd'sface.ItwasanexpressionPerturabowas to learn to despise in the coming years. All Olympians, no matter howhumble,wereskilledinexploitingsituationstotheiradvantage.Ifhehadknownthatthen,hewouldhaveturnedandwalkedbackintothehighpeaksanddealtnomorewithmen.

'Wearepoor,'saidtheshepherd.'Therearemanybeastsinthesemountainsthatfeastonourcaprids.Someattackusandtakeourchildren,asyouhaveseen.Wecannotslaythem.Canyou?'Perturabowaited.Encouragedbyhissilence,themancontinued.'A hydraka lairs not far from here.' He pointed to the north-west, wherepinnaclesofrockcrowdedoutthesky.'Threevalleysover,nearanoutcroplikeahornedhead.Wedarenotgrazeinthatterritory,asthehydrakakillseverything.Therearemanygoodpasturesthere,butwecannotusethem.''Ithurtsyou?''Yes.''ThenIwillkillit,'saidPerturabo.The shepherd looked almost regretful. Perhaps he did not expect such swiftagreement;perhapshehad realised the strangeboymightdieonbehalfofhisgreed.Whatever hismisgivings, his attempts to dissuadePerturabowere half-hearted.'Thehydrakaarepowerful,andcunning.Theyarelikethejalpidae,butwithmanyheads.Youmustcutquicklytodestroyit,fortheyhealbladewoundsfast.Itwilldisarmyou.Itwillkillyou.''Itwillnot,'saidPerturabocertainly.Heleftthevillage.Thatnight,hefeastedonjalpidaflesh,notknowingitwaspoisonoustomortalmen.Itdidhimnoharm.Thenextdayhesetouttowardstheoutcrop.Ashemadehiswaydownthepathfrom the high peakswhere he slept, he found a bundlewedged under a rock.Curious, he opened it out, and discovered a suit of clothes like those theshepherds wore cut for his muscular youth's body. The workmanship wasinadequate.Perturabosawamyriadwaysitcouldbebettered.Heimprovedthesuitbeforediscardinghisskinsanddonningit.On theway to thevalleyof thehydraka,hestopped tocuthimselfawoodenclubfromtheheartwoodofatree.Theshepherdwasright.Thehydrakahealedhis sword cuts quickly, and it wrenched his blade from his hand with avenomousmouthandcastitaside,butwhenPerturabocrushedthreeofitsfiveskullswithhisclubitdiedjustthesame.Theheadshedeliveredtothesamefarmstead,andthenextdaymoregiftswereleftout forhim.Food, andutensils - abowl, spoon,knivesandmore.Hehadnone of these things before, but themoment he saw themhe knewwhat theywereandherecognisedtheirworkasinferior.Heabandonedthegifts,andmadehisown.A week later, a storm of rising knowledge dislodged his memories, and he

forgotthatanyofthishadhappened.Sixmonthsafterthat,hefoundhimselfclingingtothePhrygeancliffs,andhislifebeganinearnest.

TheSpeeder took theLeBons to a small townhigh in themountains.Modernbuildingsclingingtosheerrockdefinedthemajorityofitsstreets,butthecentrewasanunevenlypavedsquareatopaknollinthenarrowspacebetweenwhereonecliffendedandanotherbegan.Thesquarewasold,andthebuildingsarounditalso,madeofroughstonelongbeforetheEmperorhadcometoOlympia.Aprimitive smithy stood slightly away from the rest of the buildings. Smokedriftedfromitschimney.AnidealisedstatueofPerturabooccupiedthesquare'smiddle.Castingold,theprimarchstoodoverananvil,hissmith'shammerraisedtostrike.Themasonryofthestatuepedimentwasflawless.Theartistrywassublime.Somuchgold-onimpoverishedOlympiaitwasworthanincalculableamount.Instyleandwealth,themonumentwasaridiculouscontrasttoitssurroundings.A simple flap of hide divided the forge from the outside world. Krashkalixmade straight for it and held the curtain open for the remembrancers. Heatwashedout.Asmithwasatworkwithin.'Inhere,'saidKrashkalix.'Ashrine?'saidOlivierincredulously.'Amuseum,'Krashkalixcorrectedhim.'Itlookslikeashrinetome,'saidOlivier.'We'veseenthisbefore,nearworshipoftheEmperor'ssonsbytheirlegionaries.Wedon'twantthat,wewantthetruth.''Hush,Olivier,'saidMarissa.'IwillnotbequietwhenIseetheImperialTruthignored.'Krashkalixlookedatthefloor.TheLegionsdidreveretheirgenefathers.Olivierwasconvinceditwouldonedayleadtotrouble.'Worshipfulness is notwhy I brought you.Youwanted to speakwith peopleconnectedtotheprimarch.Youwantedtospeakwithpeoplewhoarehonest.''Yes,'saidOlivier. 'Wedid.'Helookedaroundthesmalltown.LikeLochos,itwasunderpopulated.Thefewpeoplewhohadcomeouttoseethestrangerswereold.'TheresidentsmithisGerademos,thegrandsonofAndos.''Andos?Asin,Perturabo'sfoster-brother?What'shedoinghere?'askedOlivierinsurprise.'Whydon'tweaskhim,dearhusband?'saidMarissa,andwentinside.

Oliviertookadeepbreathofcoldair.Krashkalixstoppedhimbeforehecouldgoin.'Becarefulrepeatingwhathesays.Gerademosisnotafraidtospeakhismind.Hespeaksthetruth,mostly,butitisanunfortunateversionofthetruth.''Andheisallowedto?'saidOlivier.'He is our gene-lord's kin,' said the Space Marine. 'I said we prefer not tobecomeinvolvedinpolitics.'Olivier followed his wife into the broiling interior. Krashkalix came last,stoopinglowtoclearthelintel.Thehideflapfell,cuttingouttheglareofthedayandleavingtheminruddydark.Theblacksmithwas twistingwire around a bundle of iron rods to hold themtogether.Thenhesetamodernmachinethatworkedasetofbellowsgoingandthrustthebundleintothefireandspentalongtimeadjustingitspositionwhileitheatedthrough.HeignoredtheLeBonsandtheirescortforfiveminuteswhilehedidthis.Eventually,asOlivier'spatiencewasrunningout,hespoke.'Iwon'tspeakwithhimhere.'Theblacksmithdidn'tlookupfromhiswork.'I'msorry?'saidOlivier.'Thelegionary,hehastogo.Whateveryouwant,Iwon'ttalkwithhiminhere.''Howdoyouknowwewanttotalk?Wecouldjustbevisiting.Surelyyouhavevisitors.''Notmany.NotasmanyasPerturabowouldlike.'Gerademospulledthebundle,nowglowingorange,fromthefireandsetitonhisanvil.'TheSpeeder,'hesaid.'There'reonlyafewSpeedersabout.Andyouhaveoneof themescortingyou.You'reoff-worlders,highrankers.Youwantsomethingallright.Iwon't talkinfrontofhim.'Olivier looked at Krashkalix. The sub-captain employed the obligatoryLegionesAstartesfrown,nodded,andleft.'Iassumeyou'vecomeheretotalkabouttheprimarch.'Withthreetapstosighthisaim,Gerademosbegantobeatthesoftenedmetal,hisblowsweldingtheironbarsintoonepiece.'Assumptions areunreliable,' saidOlivier.Marissagavehima serene look. Itwasarebukenonetheless.'Theytakeallthebest,'hesaid,betweenstrikingthemetal.'NotonlytheboysfortheLegion,butnearlyalloftheyoung.Theytakethemforthefleet,andtheshipyards and for the auxiliaries and they leave the dregs behind. But justbecause Ihaven'tbeenchosendoesnotqualifymeasan idiot,' said thesmith.The metal sang under his attentions. 'You're here to talk about the primarch.

You'renotthefirst.''Thentellusabouthim,'saidMarissa.'Why should I? I haveno love forPerturabo.'He spokeopenly,without fear.Gerademos pushed the iron back into the fire. Creaking leather pumped bygleamingtechnologybreathedlifeintothecoals,andtheheatintensified.Afterafewmoments, the smith took out themetal and recommenced thewelding insilence.OlivierlookedoveratMarissa.Herroleintheirpartnershipwastobreakdownthe barriers their subjects erected around themselves. It wasn't something thathad been assigned, but an easy practice they had fallen into during their longmarriage. He enjoyed watching her talent at work. They still had that. Therewasn'tmuchelse.Marissamovedaroundthecrampedforge,lookingatthisorthat,thoughneveroncetouching.ShestoppedbeforeapileofwhatOlivieratfirsttooktobescrapbronze, but when he looked closely, he saw that there were traces ofmagnificenceclingingtoit.Marissapointedatthemangledmetal.'Thismusthavebeenmarvellous.Isthistheworkofyourancestor?Whathappenedtoit?''That?Thatisnottheworkofmygrandfather.Perturabomadeitwithhisownhand.' Steam whooshed around Gerademos as he plunged the metal into thequenchingbarrel.'Andbyhisownhandhedestroyedit.''Why?'askedOlivier.Gerademos thrust themetalback into the fire.Cherryglow lithis face.Rubycoals reflected in his eyes as he leant against the sill of the coal bed.Hewastense;hedidn'twantthemthere.Heturnedaround.'I tellyouwhat. Iwill tellyouofmyancestor,Andos,whogrewupwith theprimarch,andlosteverythingtohim.Youcandrawwhateverconclusionsfromthatyoulike.Thenyou'releaving.''Thankyou,'saidMarissawarmly.'Thatseemsfair.''Andos was a noble man,' Gerademos began. 'He was kind and thoughtful -indeed,hewassodifferenttotherestofDammekos'kintherewerewhispershewasaforeignseedsproutedinthepoisonsoilofthathouse.''Isittrue?'askedOlivier.'No. Imyself have been gene-typed to settle thematter. Dammekoswasmygreat-grandfather.''Thenyoucouldberich,'saidOlivier.'Rich?'Gerademossmiledhumourlessly.'Iwouldhavenothingtodowithhim.

Hewas as bad as his foster-child,' said the smith angrily. 'Andoswas a greatcraftsman.WereitnotforPerturabo,hewouldhavebeenthegeniusofthisage.Therewaslittleartorcrafthecouldnotturnhishandto,nothinghecouldnotmake beautiful. None could surpass him, except Perturabo. Do you thinkDammekos,hisownfather,sawthat?Hedidnot.DammekoswasbedazzledbyPerturabo,andwhatservicetheforeignyouthcoulddoforhim.'Gerademos pulled out the iron and commencedworking itwith his hammer.Betweenringingstrikeshecontinuedhisstory.'ButPerturabodidseeAndos'worth,anditmadehimseethe.HegoadedAndosconstantly into competition, vyingwith him to seewho couldmake themostmarvellousartorfashionthefinestweapon.EveryoneknewPerturaboexceededAndosineveryway,nonemoresothanAndoshimself,butthemerepossibilitythat anyone, even his own adoptive brother, could better Perturabo's talents,stokedhisrage.Perturaboalwayshadanexcessofrage.SoPerturabocontestedwithAndos,andbeathim,andcontestedwithhimagain,andbeathim,andeachtimeheexultedinhistriumph.Itwaspathetic,likeatenyear-oldcrowingthathehasoutmatchedhisthreeyear-oldbrotherinthewrestlingring.''Thisdoesnotaccordwiththeofficialaccountsofhislife,'saidMarissa.Ahardstrikesentafanofsparksfromtheiron.Gerademoshelduptheironinhistongsandpeeredatitcritically.Itwastakingontheshapeofasword.Themetal cooled to a dull ruby, and he thrust it back into the coals. The bellowsbegantheirpumpingoncemore.'Ofcourseitdoesn't.Perturabowrotetheofficialaccounts.BeforetheEmperorcame, he presented a face to the world that he thought of as calm andcommanding, butwas in truth sullen.He hid his envies, though not all of hisrages.Thisstorywastoldtomebymyfather,whohearditfrommygrandfather.Youwantatrueaccountoftheprimarch,youwon'tgetabetteronethanthis.'Oneday,PerturabochallengedAndosyetagain.Bythistimemygrandfather'spatience had run out. He had come to middle-age, and had withdrawn to hisworkshops.Hehadnodesiretoproveanythingtoanyone,onlytocontinuehisbusiness in the shadow of theWarlord of Lochos as best he could. Perturabowouldnot let himbe.Hepushedandpushed,demanding anothermatchingofskill.Andos'owntemperwasslowtokindle,butitfinallycaughtasanyman'seventuallywill,andsohetookPerturabo'schallenge.TheyweretomakestatuesofShashalofDrast-he'soneofourculture'sheroes,'hesaidsourly.'Yetanotherbloodymurderingtyrant.Wehaveanaddictiontothem.'This time,Andosstroveharder thanheeverhadbefore.Heputallhis talent

into that statue. Perturabo finished well before, but Andos would not hurry.Weekswentby.Perturabo'segowassoothedbywhathe thoughtofasanothervictory.Thatis,untilAndoswasdoneandthestatuesweresetsidebyside,andunveiled.'The smith took the metal from the fire, and began again to beat upon it,speakingbetweenstrikes.'Perturabo'sstatueofShashalwasperfectineveryway.Therewasnotasingleflaw.Incompositionitwasarresting.Asadepictionofthehumanformitwasamarvel. Shashal looked like he might step down from his pedestal at anymoment,thathewouldbreatheandliveasarevenantinbronze.Thepeopleofthecourtweremovedtotears.''Sowhydidhedestroyit?'askedMarissa.Gerademos snorted a bitter laugh. 'Because there was a problem, and forPerturabo itwas a very big problem.'Gerademos' hammer rang off themetal.'Andos' statue was better. A lot better. Perturabo's was technically period allright,butAndossomehowtrappedtheman'ssoulinbronze.Whenviewedfromdifferentangles, thestatuerevealedanotherfacetofShashal'scharacter.Andosdepictedpathosandtragedy.ThroughsubtlemeanshetoldthestoryofShashal'slife in that one, single figure. Compared to Andos' statue, Perturabo's lookedhollow. The way they tell it, there was never a finer piece of art made onOlympia, andPerturaboknew it.His facewentgrey.Buthecongratulatedmygrandfather,andthecourtgaveAndoshighhonours.TheyweregoingtosetthestatuessidebysideabovetheKephalongateatLochosinhonourofbothmen.Thatneverhappened.''BecausePerturabodestroyedthemboth,'saidMarissa.ThehammerclangedagainmanytimesbeforeGerademosanswered.'Youcatchonquick,'he said. 'HeobliteratedAndos' statuecompletely.Ofcourse,noonesaidanythingabout it. Itwentunremarkedupon likeall the restofPerturabo'spetty rages.Hisownstatuehe smashed into thatmangleyousee there,buthewascarefultoleaveenoughofitsothatitsartfulnesscanstillbeglimpsed.Oneofournoblelord'smoresubtlelessonsforus.AndosandPerturaboneverspokeagain.Grandfather let himself age naturally, anddiednearly ninety years ago.Suchawasteofatalent,gonewhilehisparasiticsisterandfatherruledoverus.'Heshookhisheadangrily.'AndoshadsomethingPerturaboneverhad.''Whatisthisthing?'askedMarissa.Gerademosgrunted.'Humanity.'Thebladewentintothefireforaminute.Herepositioneditcarefully,watched

thewayitabsorbedtheheat.Marissawaitedwhileheworked,allowinghimtocalm.'Ihaveafinalquestionforyou,Gerademos,'shesaid.'Youwant toknowwhyIworkhere,when thisplace is socloselyassociatedwiththeprimarch?'hesaid.'It'sremote,foronething.I'mfreertotalkherethanIaminthecities.Don'tletthestatueoutsidefoolyou-onlyoff-worlderscomehere.Thelegionariesarealwaysoncampaign,andtherestofusOlympiansdon'tcare.Idon'tgetmanyvisitors,andIlikeitthatway.Thissmithywasahumanplace,forhumanart.Byworkinghere,Ireclaimitforourownkind.Perturabo'smemoryisastainonthisplace.Perturaboprotestshehasthegoodinterestsofthepeopleatheart,buthe'sinsecure,paranoidastheworstofthesatraps.Mostheredon'tlikehim,buttheyrespecthim,andiftheydon'trespecthim,theyfearhim. I don't respect, fear or like the damn kiritoi,' he employed a strongOlympiancurse.'IfIeverevenbegintofeelanyofthosethingsforhim,Ilookat the remains of that statue in the corner there. It reminds me that it isn'tpossible tomake theperfectman.There'salwaysa flaw.Andoswas thebetterman, because he was a man. No Emperor made him in a jar. Perturabo is amonster.'Hethrustthemetalintothequenchingbarrel.Steamwreathedhim.Hepulleditout.Themetalhadtakenonagentlecurve.'Ah,it'sascythe,notasword,'saidOlivier.'Why would I make a sword?' said Gerademos. 'Don't you think we've hadenough ofwar?' He threw his hammer into a barrel of tools and picked up awhetstone.'Now,ifyou'llexcuseme,I'vegotworktodo.'Heturnedfromthem,makingitclearhewouldsaynomore.'Fascinating,'saidOlivier,astheypassedthemonumentonthewaybacktotheSpeeder. 'A great insight. I'm surprised he hasn't been silenced speaking likethat.' He pitched his voice low to avoid drawing in Krashkalix, who walkedseveralpacesbehindthem.'Someworldsaremoretolerantofdissentthanothers,'saidMarissa.'Idon'tthinkthisisoneofthoseworlds,'saidOlivier.'There'shim,theprotestswe heard. Something's going on here. Perhaps we could explore this storyfurther,andget to thebottomof it?'Heglancedbackat theSpaceMarine,butKrashkalixshowednosignofhavingheard.'No.That'senough.Wecan'tincludeit,'saidMarissa.'Weshould,'Oliviersaidcoldly.'It'sthetruth.''Truthornot,youknowwecan't,'shesaidfirmly.

'IwishtoshowyouwhattheLordofIronistohissons.'ThatwaswhatKrashkalixsaidtotheminthemorning,beforeheflewthemoutofLochostoacastellainthemountains.Directviewingoflegionaryhelmet-feedusuallybroughtonOlivier'svertigo,sohetookananti-nauseapillbeforetheimmersionhelmwasplacedoverhishead.The device was made for a legionary, and it took Krashkalix some effort toadjusttheinternalwebbingandpadouttheinteriorsothatitfit.A stream of numbers detailing date, time and location rushed past Olivier'seyes, and he was plunged into the middle of ferocious battle. Despite beingpreparedforit,hejumpedatthesuddennoise.TheimageshadbeencapturedbyanIronWarrior'sautosenses.Everythingthewarrior had seen,Olivier now saw. Itwas like looking through anotherman'seyes. The pict-feed behind the Space Marine's visor had been used, and thefootagecapturedthehelmplatedisplayaswellasthetumultoutside.Energyboltscrackedpast the legionary'shelm.Theviewswungaboutwildlyas thewarriorpeltedupanarrowcorridorwalledwith seamless, rippled stonewiththetextureandshineofglass.Thewarriorthrewhimselfintocover,raisedhisgunandsnappedofffourquickshotsfromhisbolter.Theimageshookwiththe recoil. Multiple cannon turrets raked the way in return. Between theemplacements, Olivier caught sight of the Iron Warriors' foes: black-robedthralls,supportedbycyberneticslavewarriorstotingenergycannonsbondedtotheir shoulders. Line troopers bearing missile launchers came to the fore,unleashing rockets at the turrets and falling back. The guns disappeared in acacophony of bangs. Smoke filled the corridor. Enemy fire petered out for amoment,andOliviertookaprematurebreathofrelief.A massive explosion shook the image. The view jerked all over the place.Olivierhadafleetingviewofanairlessskybeyondanarmourglassroofasthelegionaryfellbackwards.Thewarriorrecoveredquickly,andranforwardagain,passing thebroken, silverbodiesofother IronWarriors lyingbetweenpilesofsmokingstone-glass.Thewarrior'sbreathingraspedinOlivier'sears.Analarmbeeped repetitively. Some part of the legionary's armour was damaged. Thewarriormutteredtohisbattleplatemachine-spirit,reroutingpowerfromoneparttoanother,andthealarmceased.Hedidallthiswhilefiring.Hedidnotmiss.The focus and ability of the LegionesAstartes chilledOlivier every time hewitnessedit.Thewarriorkickeddownahowlingfanaticbrandishingawarhammerequippedwith multiple chainsword-like tooth tracks. Suddenly there were dozens of

black-robedmeneverywhere,attackingsuicidally.Olivier'shostcutthemdownbythedozen.Theyweresmall,feebleasallmenarecomparedtoanarmouredlegionary, but their fervour carried them forward.Olivier saw an IronWarriorfall,hisarmourcrackedopenbyrepeatedblowsofthefanatics.Hishostmowedthemdownwith a burst of automatic fire.He turnedback to see thewhirringheadofabludgeonslamintohisface.Theviewfizzed.Thepict-capturecutout.Olivierdrewashakybreath,andreacheduptoremovetheimmersiondevice.'Wait,'saidKrashkalix,hisvoiceintrudingintotheblackness.'Thereismore.'Anewfilebegan toplay.Again,a setofdata flickedonandoff, too fast forOliviertosee,andanothervisionofcombatburstintolife.Acyber slave rearedupbefore theSpaceMarine.Olivierdidnotknow ifhewasviewingthefeedofthesamewarriororifthatSpaceMarinehaddiedandthiswasanother.Thewarrior'sopponentlookedsimilartotheservitorsusedallovertheImperium,butitsexpressionsaiditknewfullwellwhathadbeendoneto it, andhadbeendrivenmad in theprocess.The technology attached to themanwas sophisticated, although it had been integratedwith his bodywithoutanycareforhispain.Ablurringvibrobladeattachedto thecyber-slave'shandcutacrossat theIronWarrior.Hedodgedbackandblastedoutthechestofhisfoe.BloodsprayedallovertheSpaceMarineandrandownhisvisionslit,stainingtheview.Hefoughtonunhindered,puttingdownthreemoreoftheconstructs.Orderscrackledinhisears,andhejoggedonwards,fallingintoformationwithother Iron Warriors. They ran through a brightly lit operating chamber. Itscleanliness only accentuated the cruelty of the instruments hanging overvivisectiontables.Deadlegionariesandcyberconstructslayuponthetiledfloorinpoolsofblood.They ran into a tunnel lined by murky glass suspension jars, wheredismembered bodies floated and twitched. Therewas amoment of quiet, andthen a tremendous screaming that cut out, and the soundsof battle oncemoreboomedloudlyastheadhocsquadranintoamassivehallenclosedbyaribbedroof.Hundredsof the cyber slaveswere arrayed there.Behind themwerewarmachines,bigaslegionaryDreadnoughtsandfestoonedwithdeadlyweaponry.'The Black Judges,' whispered Olivier. Stories of their reign of terror hadreached as far as theThroneworld. Seeing them so close sent a shiver of fearthroughhim.Masses of Iron Warriors were engaged with the erstwhile masters of the

Meratara cluster. Perturabo's warriors had come in through thewesternwalls,advancinguplonghalls,takingshelterfromrakingenergybeamsbehindpilesoftheirowndead.Thecasualties,Olivierhadread,hadbeenhorrendousateverystageofthecampaign.Foralltheirmight,theBlackJudgeswerelosing.AtthecentrewasPerturabo,flankedbyhisTyranthikosTerminators.Corposantandresidualteleportmiststillwispedfromtheirarmour.Theyhadarrivedonlysecondsbefore.AsOlivier's host ran into the room,Perturabowas concluding the slaying ofoneofthejudges.Heyankedhishandoutfromthesmoothdomedfrontofthevehicle,dragginganancienthumanfromtheinteriorbythethroat.LifesupportfluidburstfromtherentPerturabohadpoundedintothecasing.Deadwiresandtubesrippedfromtheman'sbodyasPerturaboheldhimhighand throttled thelife from him. Lights flickered all over the war suit, and it collapsed to theground.Seeing one of their masters die, the cyberslaves went into a frenzied attack.Perturabo opened fire on them, shooting through the body of the dead BlackJudgeuntilthebloodytattersfellfromhisfist.Theprimarch'swristmountedcannonsblastedswathesofdeathintothehorde.The ammo feeds running from the back of the primarch's bespokeTerminatorarmour shook as they fed an endless stream of rounds into his guns, butPerturabo did not fire indiscriminately.He switched from target to targetwithpreternaturalspeed,fellingeachfoewithasingleheadshotataratetoofastforthehumaneyetofollow.Olivier lost sight of Perturabo for a moment. Amusical discharge of purpleenergy rocked the unnamed Space Marine sideways. A dead Iron Warriorwheeled overhead, black against violet lightning. The view righted, and thewarriorranontohisprimarch,firingall the timeuntilhisweaponrandry.Heejectedaclipandsnappedafreshonehomewithoutbreakingstride.'Ironwithin,ironwithout!'theSpaceMarinesshoutedastheycrashed,shoulderfirst,intothemassofhorrorsaroundtheLordofIron.The enemy was the stuff of nightmares, an anatomist's collection of flayedspecimens brought back to screaming life. Skinless bodies served as carriagesforheavyweaponry.Agonisedeyesrolled,lidlessinbleedingskulls.Allofthemwere shrieking like the damned from some backward religion. Their sufferingpoisoned Olivier's soul. Over them loomed the giant war suits of the BlackJudges themselves, thegreatmonstersofpopular legend,a living testimony to

howfarintoevilhumanitycouldfall.Theydifferedinformtooneanother,butall were deadly. The weapons of the Dark Age of Technology were theirs tocommand.ATerminatordied to theblindingwhite stabof aneutronbeam.ThewarriorwhosefeedOlivierwatchedreeledback,hishelmalarmstrippedbyradioactivebackwash.PerturabocrashedbodilyintoaBlackJudge.Themachinesstoodtallovertheiralteredhumanslaves,butPerturabowasasbigas they,andhisshoulderbargesent his target staggering backwards. He opened fire with both of his wristcannons, driving the machine further back. It staggered, stamping its ownwarriors intoapasteas itstruggledtoremainonitsfeet.But theroundscouldnot penetrate its armoured skin, and itsmultipleweaponsmounts swivelled tobear upon the primarch.Olivier knew all thiswas history - the campaign hadtakenplacewelloveracenturyago-butseeingitthenwaslikelivingit,andhefearedfortheprimarch'slife.AmissileonacolumnofsmokeslammedintotheBlackJudge'sside,dentingit.Asecondpunchedaneat roundhole in the skin.Ayellowflashprecededagushing slurry ofmacerated flesh and life-support fluids that poured from thebreach.'TheHavocshavearrived,'saidOlivier'shost.Itwasstrangetohearhisvoice.Hewascalm,collected,evenashewasslowlycookedbytheambientradiationaroundtheBlackJudges.'Pressforward.Ironwithin.''Ironwithout!'Severalinsanecyber-constructsattackedOlivier'slegionary.Whenthewarriorlookedagaintohisprimarch,Perturabowassurroundedbythefierybloomsofmissileexplosions.Rubylas-blastscutallaroundhim,sectioningtheairwithalasergrid.Perturabohadpulledagianthammerfromhisside.Inonehand,hegrippedtheweaponarmofawarmachinetheotherswunghismauldownhardinto his assailant. The judge bore a bladed scourge that wrapped aroundPerturabo'sarm,movingwithalifeofitsown.A searing light blastedOlivier'swarrior to the side.His suit systems shortedout,dazzlingOlivierwithaconfusingdisplayofstaticandhalf-formedimages.Darknessfellagain.Krashkalix pulled the immersion helm from Olivier's head. Olivier blinkeddazedly. The sight of Perturabo surrounded by violence as he brandished hishammer would not leave him. He looked to where Marissa sat, her ownimmersion helm in her lap. A look of holy joy suffused her. That,more than

anythinghehadseenintherecord,appalledhim.'If you were seeking to shock me, sub-captain, it won't work.' Olivier gotshakilytohisfeet.'Thatwasnotmyintention,'saidtheSpaceMarine.'Iwishedtoshowyouourlordasweknowhim,inthemidstofbattle.''Heisnolessdauntingafiguretomenow.'An Iron Warriors serf brought Olivier a glass of water. He gulped it downgreedily.Hisheadachedfromthehelmet.'Whyshouldhebe?'saidKrashkalix. 'War isanawful thing.Hewasmadetofightit.'Heleanedforward.'Youseemlessthanrespectfulofmygenefather.TheBlackJudgeswereevilmen.Theysuckedthe lifefromothers toprolong theirown.Todo so, theyheld swayover this entire regionof space, bringing theirterrorevenasfarasOlympia.Inthemountains,theLordofIronslewserpents.Inspace,hetoppledancientevils-theywerebutthefirstofmany.Heworkstodosonow,againstthehrud.Perturaboisnomonster,buttheslayerofmonsters.Heisyourprotector,remembrancer.Youshouldhonourhim.'OliviergaveKrashkalixagrave look. 'I shallbe the judgeofwhomI shouldhonour.'KrashkalixstooduptohisfullheightandglaredatOlivier.Theremembrancerregrettedhispoorchoiceofwords.'Tomorrow,weshallseemore.'Olivierfelthehadseenquiteenoughalready.

Olivierstoodupfromthefloorandyawned.DocumentsdescribingeveryoneofPerturabo'scampaignswereheapedaroundtheirhospitiumsuite.'HedecimatedhisLegion.Thewayhemakeswarissowasteful.Hethrowshismenaway.'Hepickedupabookandletitfall:Perturabo'sHistoryofOlympia.'You have towonderwhy he does it,why he revels in the image he has, thisunbreakable,uncaringrockofaman.He'sshovinghisruthlessnessintopeople'sfaces.'Heputhisfaceintohishandsandgroundtheheelsofhispalmsintohiseyes.'He'sstage-managedhisentirelife.There'snotruthhere,onlytheposturingof an egomaniac. It's nowonder the people are rioting.We should leave.WeshouldgobacktoTerra,andtelltheinstitutethatwecan'tfinishthebook.Thisistheworstassignmentyet.'Marissafellquiet.Therewerepeopleinthestreetsagain.Olivierheardthemchantinginthedistance.Theirdefiancewasalluring.'Itdoesn'tmatter.''What?'hesaid.Hetookhishandsawayfromhiseyesandlookedup.Coloured

spotsdancedinhisvision.'Itdoesn'tmatter,'sherepeated.'Factisnotthesameastruth.''You're talking nonsense. We've had this out before. Why do you insist oncomingbacktothis?Weareheretowriteahistory.''Our job is topresent the subjects as theheroes they are.Nogreat general iswithoutfault.Notone.''What wewrite is the historical record!' said Olivier. His temper was rising.'Thisistooimportanttofallpreyto…to…''Worship?'shesaid.Thetruthismoreimportantthanthefacts,'shesaidquietly.Olivier'stirednessretreated.Irritationdroveitout. 'That'snotbiography,that'shagiography.''MaybethatiswhattheImperiumneeds.''TheImperiumneedsthefacts,'hesaid.'Iwon'tbepartofmythmaking.'She looked up at him. 'Don't you see, Olivier? The primarchs transcend thetruth.They'renotpeople.DoesthegalaxyneedtoknowtheflawsintheLordofIron'scharacter?Can'tyouseehighlightinghisshortcomingswillundermineallthathehasachieved?Abook likeyouproposewillneverbepublished,and itshouldn'tbe.''Thatdoesn'tmatter!'hesaid.'Thetruthmatters.''Wedon'thavethetruth,Olivier.Wedon'tneedit.We'rethekeepersofmodernlegends. These books, these eighteen books, they're the beginning of a newscripture.'Her eyes gleamed. The double-headed eagle pendantwas displayedopenlyontheoutsideofherdress.'Is that the realmeaningof the ImperialTruth?'hesaidscornfully. 'HaveyoucastinyourlotwiththereligiouswhowhispertheEmperorisagod?''TheEmperorisagod,'shesaidfervently.'Ican'tbelieveyou'resayingthis.'Buthecould;allthesignswerethere.He'dignoredthemforfartoolong.'TheEmperorProtects,Olivier,'shesaid.Hermaskofserenityhadfallen,andshelookedupset,desperateeven.Thechantinginthecitywascomingcloser.Itgrewabruptlylouder.Themobhadturnedacornerandwasmarchingdowntheirroad.He backed away from her. 'He doesn't. He can't! Look at what's happeningoutside, and answer honestly, has He protected people from Perturabo's ego?Whendidyoubetrayallwesetouttodo?''WhatwesetouttodobetraystheEmperor.Historyisn'timportant.Findingthetranscendental truth is what matters. The… the purity of vision… the

quintessenceof—''Divinity?'Olivierwhispered.Theystaredateachother,strangersat last.Thenoisegrewlouderandlouder,passing under thewindows of the hospitium. The protesterswere shouting inOlympian.Oliviercould read the languagebuthadnotyetmastered it,andhecouldnotunderstandwhattheyweresaying.TheshriekingthrumofLegionjetbikesracedfromoneendofthestreettothenext.Olivierduckedinshock.Thecrowdhowledinfear.More jetbikes roaredbyon a levelwith theLeBons' apartment, their passingshakingthewindows.Aftercamethenoiseofheavieraircraftengineslabouringtoland.Somethingbigcameveryclosetotheiraccommodation.Theirfurniturevibratedacrossthefloor.Alumenfellandshatteredupontheparquet.IfOlivierhadanythingtosaytoMarissa,hewouldnothavebeenheard.Hecowered.Shestaredathimwithoutmakinganysignshewasawareofthedinoutside.Thechantingon thestreetchanged in tone.Allsemblanceofwordswas lost.Thecrowd'svoicehadbecomean inchoate roarunder the screamof thrusters.Glassshatteredsomewherenearby.Theenginescutout.Arampclangeddown.Guns barked. People screamed. The thunderous drumming of thousands ofpeoplerunningtogethershookthehospitium.Somanyscreamsatonce.Oliviercrepttotheedgeoftheblindandpeeredoutofthesideofthewindow,fearfulofbeingseen.Themobhadmovedon,leavingplacardsandrubbishbehindamongbodiesbrokentopiecesbymass-reactiverounds.Stragglersracedupthestreet.Hecouldn'tseethelegionaries.Afirehadstartedinthebuildingopposite.Afteryearsofcynicaldetachment,hefeltasuddenroaringangertakeholdofhim.'This iswhat your legendbrings you.Oppression, and rebellion,' he gesturedout of thewindow. 'Whatwill thismean for the people ofOlympia? I cannotimaginePerturabowillbeforgiving.'Marissawasclosetotears. 'It isnecessary.It isallforourgood.'Sheheldupheramulet.'TheEmperorprotects!Please,Olivier,youhavetosee!'He was disgusted with her. 'It's all a stupid dream,' he said. 'The Imperium,peace,allofit.'Hestaredoutatthedesertedstreet.'Alldreamsend,Marissa.'Hesighed. A sense of enormous sadness threatened to drown him. 'I cannot gowhereyouaregoing.'Helettheblinddrop.Hecouldn'tlookherinthefaceforfearhemightstrikeher.Hewonderedwhattodo.Furymadethechoiceforhim.'I'mleaving.I'drathertakemychancesouttherethanwallowinyourhypocrisy.

Goodbye.''Olivier!'shecalled.By thenhehadalreadywalkedoutof their apartmentdoor, andwasheadingdownthemarblestairs.Hepassedthroughthedesertedlobby,andoutontothestreet.Smokewasrollingacrosstheroad.Thedarkshapesofpowered-armouredlegionariesadvancedthroughit.Heranfromthem,glancingbehindhimallthewhile,untilalmostbyaccidenthejoinedthecrowdastheOlympiansrallied.Atfirsthewasscared,buthewasswamped,subsumedwithinthem.Hecouldnotescape,sohesankintotheirfuryasifintoawarmbath.Yearsofresentmentboiledoutofhim,atMarissa,andthehollowpromisesoftheImperium.Ifithadjustbeenher,abrokenheartwouldhavebeentheonlycost.Butitwasnotjusther.Toomanyworldslabouredundertheyokeofcompliance,liberatedfromtheirpastmastersinnameonly,whilethepopulaceinchedclosertowardsworshipfulsubmission.OlivierwassweptalongbythepeopleofLochos,uptowardstheshiningpalacethatoccupiedthehighesttierofthecity'stopography.Theyspilledintothemainsquare. More aircraft were coming into the city bounds, but they no longerlandedunopposed.Therewasfightinginthestreets.Thesnap-crackleoflasgundischargesrespondedtotheboomingofboltguns.Awomancameontothebalcony.OliviersupposedshemustbeCalliphone,theprimarch'ssister.Heexpectedhertospeakcalmingwords,tosoothethecrowdandtellthemtogohome.PerhapstheIronWarriorsalsoexpectedhertodefusethesituation,fortheyheldback.Shedidnot.ShedeclaredOlympiafree.Amoment after she gave her blessing to rebellion, a cohort of IronWarriorsadvanced into the square, and opened fire. Human soldiery in the uniform ofLochos responded from the buildings all around the public space. The IronWarriors were massively outnumbered. Incredibly, it seemed to Olivier, theybegantofall.Caughtinthecrossfirethecrowdranagain.Olivierfledwiththem,ananimaldesire to survive theonly thought inhismind.Hesprinted from the squareasbodiesexplodedintoscrapsallaroundhim,leavingthetattersofanimpossibledreambehindforever.

Marissasatimmobile,staringatthedoorwayherhusbandhadleftthrough.Shewassureshewouldneverseehimagain.Thecrowdswerechantinglouderthan

before, their anger echoing all through the warren of streets that made upLochos.Firelightshonebrightlyacrosstheroad.Asighbrokeherinactivity.Shegotup,andopenedadrawertowhichonlyshehadthekey.Withcarefulhands,shepulledoutacloth-wrappedbundleandlaidituponthetable.Shespokeashortprayerforprotectionasshefoldedbackthesilk,revealingabook.Shebowedherheadinrespectandopenedthecover.She read aloud from theLectitioDivinitatus as the explosions of open revoltrockedthecity.

'Iaminblood.Stepp'dinsofarthat,shouldIwadenomore,Returningwereastediousasgoo'er.'

-attributedtotheNamelessThaneofOldAlbia

Theflagshipwastryingtokillthem.Therecouldbenootherexplanation.Blearily, Lotara eyed the canteen that rested upon the arm of her commandthrone,thirstmakinghertonguefatandheavyinhermouth.Sheshookthetinysilverpillboxinherhandabsently,andherlastfewanalgesictabsrattledwithinit.Herheadachewasasharp,grindingreminderthatshehadn'ttakenanyliquidinnearlytwodays.And,ofcourse,shehadnothingtowashthepainkillersdown.TheConquerorwassurelytryingtokillthem.Hership.Angron'sship.Angron'sprison.Herfirstofficercircledaroundbehindtheraiseddais.WhereonceIvarTobinhad been amodel example of the Legions' naval officer class, now hewouldregularly pace the deckwith the nervous agitation of an addict, his browdullwithdry,coldsweat.He halted abruptly, covering his earpiecewith one hand. 'The door is sealedfrom the inside, ma'am. They are sending for a cutter. Still no contact withMistressAndrasta,orherattendants.'Lotarafrowned.Herthoughtscontinuedtodrift.Thebridgespacefeltstiflinglywarm,thoughthatwaslikelyjustanothereffectof the dehydration. The crew preferred to keep the lighting low, because thelumensconceshadbeguntoflickerrandomlyandbuzzlikeangryhornets,andeventhemostvoid-seasonedamongthemcouldnotlastawholewatchwithout

suffering migraines or waking nightmares. Lotara herself had ordered the aircycler vents blocked up, in an effort to keep out the slaughterhouse reek thatclung to every fibre of their uniforms. In a space designed for three hundredsoulsandmore,barelysixtyhadreportedfordutythatnight,andmanyofthemwerered-eyedandstrippeddowntotheirstainedfatigues.Afewweresprawledattheirposts,sleepingfitfully.Therewaslittleshecoulddoaboutthat,beyondhaulingthemdowntothebrigonebyonewithherowntwowearyhands,andhammeringonthedoorsofeverybunk-room to find suitable replacements. All of her slavers - no, disciplinemasters, she corrected herself - were engaged elsewhere on the ship. TheConqueror had to keepmoving, and her engines were thirstier even than hercrew.Tobin straightened, staring blankly past his commanding officer like a grimyparade-ground recruit. It was his new way of reminding her of her duty, hersuperiorrank,withoutactuallysayingaword,anditirritatedherimmensely.'Ma'am…Youmight ask the good captain to intervene,' he offered. 'Send alegionaryortwodowntotheNavigator'schambers,perhaps?We'relosingpacewith theTrisagion and the restof theWordBearers fleet, andLordAurelian'spatienceisnotwithoutitslimits.'Tobinpausedjustlongenoughtomakeitseemasthoughhemightbewaitingforananswer,thenaddressedthewarriordirectly.'Mylord,whatsayyou?'Kharnwastheonlylegionaryonthebridge,thoughthatwasnothingunusual.Hestood,ashesooftendid, in theopenspace to the leftof thedais,swayingslightly and pressing at his temples with raw knuckles. Lotara knew that hisheadacheswere farmore fierce thanherscouldeverbe,worse stillwhen theysailedthe tidesof thewarpas thefleetdidnow,andnothingwhatsoever todowiththeamountofwaterinhisbloodstream.Shedidn'trememberhimcomingthrough the main doors, but he'd clearly been in the process of shedding hisbattleplatewhen the pain had driven him to start roaming the corridors of theflagshiponceagain.Thewarrior'sleftarmwasbare,andhisrightgauntlethungfromhisbelt.Hemurmuredareplyfrombetweenclenchedteeth.Hedidnotopenhiseyes,norturntofacethem,butcontinuedtokneadhisscalp.Tobinraisedaneyebrow.'Mylord?''TheycalledmyfathertheLordoftheRedSands…'herepeated,moreloudly.Aspasmflickeredinhisbicep,theoutwardsignofsomedeeperneuraltwitch.Lotara glared at him. She attempted to swallow three times before she could

actuallymanagetocroakareply.'Wealldid.'Sherarelybotheredtoaddresshimbynameorrankanymore.Hedidn'tseemtonotice.'Hewas theUndefeated,' Kharn continued. 'His triumph rope grew long. HebecametheSlaughtererofNations.TheEaterofCities,andthenofWorlds,withusathisside.Someevendaredtoknowhimas'theRedAngel'.'Asifinresponsetheshipcreakedandjuddered.Itwaslikealeviathanstirringin its sleep, driftingon the unseen currents of the aether beyond the shutteredviewports.Lotararoseunsteadilytoherfeet,sparingaconcernedglanceforthestatic-crazedoculushighoverhead.Sheoftenfeltthatshedidnotknowwhetherheronceprizedvesselwasstillev—Kharnwhirledaround,catchingher inmid-stepandmakingTobinflinch.Hisface was contorted almost into the likeness of the Sarum-pattern helm he sofavoured.'Thosearenothisnames!'hehissed,hiseyesflashinginthedimlight,andshecouldsmellhisrancid,unwashedtranshumanstink. 'Noneofthem.Myfather'snameisAngron.Thatisallhehasleft.'An awkwardly longmoment passed between them.Kharn held the sleeve ofLotara's dress tunic with one increasingly shaky hand, but she kept his gaze.Tobincontinuedtostarepastthemboth,pretendinghecouldn'tseeanyofit.Thenthe legionary'seyesfell to theRedHandemblazonedonherchest- theuntidyprintthathehimselfhadmadeinhonourofherexemplaryservice,whatnowfeltlikealifetimeago.Hisresolveseemedtomeltaway,andheturnedhisbackonheroncemore.'Youshouldjustdrinkit,'hemuttered.'You'llhardlyevennoticethetasteafterawhile.'Shemadetosmoothoutthewrinklesinheruniform,butfoundthatshecouldn'tseeanypoint.Instead,shepickedupthecanteen,unscrewedthetop,andpouredthecontentsoutontothedeck.'Iwon'tdothat,Kharn.YouknowIwon'tdothat.'Itwasblood.Insomegrimparodyof theancientTerranfaiths, theConquerorturnedeverydropofwatertheycouldreclaimintothick,sticky,slowlyclottingblood.ThewarriorsoftheLegionseemedcontenttogulpitdownwhentheyhadnoalternative - especially the primarch's Devourers - though it heightened theirmanias, their rages and rivalries, and led to more deaths than usual in the

fightingpits.But it simplymade thehuman crew sick.Of course itmade them sick, eventhosemostkeentoimpresstheirlegionarymasters.Itwasblood…Was thiswhatAngronwanted? Itwas impossible foranyone, evenKharn, tosay.Lotara'sgorgerose,andsherealisedshewasbecomingdizzywiththeeffortofstanding.She let thecanteenslipfromherfingers,stillgentlyshaking the tinypillbox in her other hand, and trying to think of something to say about theseparation between men and beasts. But the words simply wouldn't cometogetherinherfoggythoughts.Andthatwaswhenthewarprejectedthem.Kharnevidentlynoticedsomethingamissinthesplitsecondbeforeithappened,hisheadsnappingaroundashedroppedintoareflexive,guardedcrouch.Then Lotara felt it - the dislocating reverse-yawn of an unexpected warptranslation, the instant drawn out into eternity but crushed back to an instantagainstitswill,thecoldslitherofthewarpretreatingfromthehull,Gellerfieldsstraining with the almost infinite deceleration between the immaterium andreality…The deck lurched. Sirens and alarms sounded. Lotara reeled, but kept herfootingeven in the slickof spilledblood.TheolderTobinwasnot sonimble,and theirskullscracked togetherashe trippedover thecornerof thedais.Shefell, brightmotes swimming at the corners of her vision, letting out a painedgaspaninstantbeforehershoulderhitthemetal-platedfloor.Totheircredit,anddazedastheywere,thehelmofficersmanagedtobringtheslewingmotionofthestrickenConquerorundercontrolasittumbledbackintorealspace.Hiscombatreflexesstillheightened,Kharnglanceddownather.Hecockedhishead.'What—'Another vessel, perhaps the escort frigate Metzgerei, slammed into theflagship'saftquarter.TheConquerorhowledinpain.Kharnwashurledfromhisfeetbytheimpact.Lotarasawhimcollideheadfirstwiththestandingcrystal-flexpaneofafighter-patroltacticaldisplay,shatteringit instantly. Tobin went skidding in the same direction across the deck, andtumbleddownintothestarboardsensoriumbay.The lumens blinked out across the bridge. The acrid stench of an unseenelectrical fire quickly filled the air. Servitors spewed garbled half-words, their

machine brains moving a few milliseconds faster than their augmitters couldmanage. Someone was screaming. A secondary explosion rocked the hull,probablyadetonationinoneofthelessermagazines.Decompression warning beacons strobed in the enclosed space. The ship'ssuperstructure groaned as it shruggedoff the collision and limped clear of thegrowingdebrisfield.Lotara'searswereringing.Shecouldn't tellwhere thedeckalarmsendedandher tinnitus began but, thankfully enough, it was drowning out the screams.Rollingontoallfours,smearingheruniformredintheprocess,shemanagedtoscanthespacearoundthecommandthrone.Hermouthfellopen.ItwasKharn.Hewasonhisknees.Hewasscreaming.Withonehandthecaptainclutchedattheruinofhisface;itwaslittlemorethanawet, crimson flap hanging from his left eye socket to the open slash of hismouth.Teeth,gumsandcheekboneglintedbackfromthebloodymess,underthebridge'semergencylighting.Withtheotherhand,hegrippedwhatwasleftofIvarTobinbytheneck.Inhisinsensibleagony,Kharnhadtornthemanapart.

TheycalledmyfathertheLordoftheRedSands.Foratime,theylovedhim.He was the Undefeated. His triumph rope grew long. He became theSlaughtererofNations.TheEaterofCities,and thenofWorlds,withusathisside.Someevendaredtoknowhimas'theRedAngel'…Butthosearenothisnames.Noneofthem.Hewaslittlemorethanaslavewhobecameabutcher,butabutcherwhowascrownedaprimarch,andaprimarchwhowasturnedintoamonster.Inspiteofitall,welovedhimtoo.Foratime.My father's name is Angron. In these increasingly rare moments of clarity,between the blood-rages and the infinities of pain that seem to burn his skullfromtheinsideout,thenameofAngronisallthathehasleft.Thatandnothingmore,forIsuspecthenolongerrecognisesthecreatureheseesreflectedinthepoolsofspilledbloodaroundthecreakingshiftingthronethatwebuiltforhim.Wehaveonlyhispious,self-righteousbrotherLorgartothankforthat.Andoneday,wewill.Blood.Drinkitdown.Thetasteis…OnceTerrahasburnedand theWarmaster's claim to theThroneproven just,

theXIILegionwill festoon thenewImperiumwith theskullsofLorgar's sons,the treacherous Word Bearers. We will kill them, maim them, and burn whatremains.Perhapsthen,ourfathercanfindsomesmallmeasureofpeacetocarryhimthrougheternity.AmIlikehim?Dowewalkthesamepath?Maybe.IknowthatIammarkedby…something.Itseyeisuponme,thesamesleeplessandunwaveringeyethathaswatchedmyfatherallhislife,nodoubt.Icanfeelitsmalignantglare,burningunseenintheheavenswiththeintensityofasupernova,theeightfoldheatwashingthroughthebaseofmyskull,pricklingthefleshbetweenmyshoulderswheneverIrest, theechoesofitshalf-rememberednameringinginsideofmyskull.Itwatcheseverything.ItseesallthatIam,andeverythingIcanneverbe.Khârn.Khârn.Khârn.Betrayed.Killthem.Maimthem.Would that I were judged for my atrocities. I could answer to those in aheartbeat,andspituponanywhowouldsaythatalegionary'srightfulroleisnotthatofanattackdog.Rather, I know that Iam tobecondemned forwhatevervestigeofmercyandsanethoughtIcanstillmuster,whenthekillingisdoneandtheButcher'sNailsaresated.Suchthingsas'mercy'and'sanity'areofnointeresttowhateveritisthatlurksbeyond.Andpeaceformyfather'ssoulisnotsomethingthatconcernsitonebit.Burnthem.Burnthem.Thedarknessretreats.Thebrain-firecools.What—Blood.Blood,andpain,andnothingmore.

TheXIILegionfleetclosedarounditsfounderingleader,forthemostpart.TheConqueror'sprincipalbattlegrouphadpreparedtobreakfromthewarpassoonastheydetectedthefluctuationsinherenginepatterns-withtheexceptionoftheMetzgerei,whoseprowwasshattered,theymadearelativelyorderedtranslationand fell into a standard picket around the Gloriana-class beast. Other groups,thoseoftheRedHound,theMercilessandtheRohimnalinparticular,continuedtheir voyage for an hour or more before realising that anything out of theordinaryhadeventranspired,andwereforcedtodoubleback.Several other ships powered on into the aether, heedlessly. Whether theyintendedtokeeppacewith theWordBearersorhaddecided tocarveout their

owndestinieselsewhereinUltimaSegmentum,itwasimpossibletotell.'Hangthelotofthem,'Lotaramutteredunderherbreath,reachinganunmarkedhallwayjunction. 'Letthedisobedientcurslosethemselvesandcallitfreedom.'She paused to orient herself. The agreed dock was one of three in this lowsection, and it rarely saw any traffic other than inter-group supply runs. Shepunchedthenumbershehadscribbledonthebackofherhandintothekeypadbeneathadeadmanifestscreen,thenclearedherthroatandcomposedherselfasbestshecould.Truthbetold,itwasLorgar'sflightthattroubledhermore.TheTrisagionandtheBlessedLadyhadnotevenpausedwhen theConquerordroppedoutof thewarp. A single crimson-hulled destroyer, its name purposefully blanked onauspexdatareturns,emergedonlyminutesafterthecollision,circledthepicketonce with gun ports open, then jumped away again. No vessel of theWorldEatershadbeenabletoraisetheXVIIonanymedium-orlong-rangevoxinallthehourssince,norhadtheirastropathiccallsreceivedanykindofreply.ItwasclearenoughthattheWordBearershaddeliberatelyabandonedthem.Theheavypneumaticsofthevoidlockhatchsquealedasitopenedbeforeher,torevealahandfulofarmsmenfromthebattle-bargeScathlocke,descendingtheramp of their shuttlecraft. She was somewhat relieved to find they looked asdisorganised and slovenly as her own crew, but received their half-heartedsaluteswithassternaglareasshecouldmanage.Advancing somewhat cautiously, theymoved aside to reveal their charges: amostpeculiarspecimenofaman,withagaggleofcourtlysycophantsfawningabouthim.'Shipmistress Sarrin,' he said, ambling forwardswith his astrolabe staff. 'YoubringnoneoftheLegiontogreetus,onboardtheflagship?'Hewastallandwiry,bedeckedinanoutrageouslylongbrocadedcoat,tailoredtomake him look taller still. A velvet capwas pulled low over his brow.HestoodamomentandpeereddownhisnoseatLotara,sippingfromasilverflaskwhilehisattendantswhispereddeviouslytooneanother.She wondered how long it would be before the contents of that flask, too,wouldredden.'That'sFlag-CaptainSarrin,goodsir,'shereplied,clickinghertongue.'Thereisanothermasterofthisship.Youmayhaveheardofhim.'The man nodded in contrition. 'Forgive me, flag-captain. We mean nodisrespect.WeareNavisScionRamosz,oftheHouseTevu.''What,allfourofyou?'

Ramosz's lip curled. 'We… We would be most honoured to answer LordAngron'ssummons,andofferourservicesaboardthemightyConqueror.Wearemerelysurprisedthatnotevenanyofhiscenturionsdeigntopresentthemselvesat this momentous occasion. The fickle and unreliable House Andrasta havefailedtheTwelfthLegion,andtheprimarch,andtheWarmaster'snewImperium,forthefinaltime,andHouseTevuwill—'Lotarasteppedaside,invitinghimontotheshipwithlittlemorethanasighandashrug.'Awordofadvice,sir,'shesaid.'I'dkeepallthosesortsofthoughtstoyourself.'Somewhat deflated, the Navigator reached the end of the ramp, but haltedsuddenlyashis foot touched thedeckbeneath it.Heshivered,his skinpaling,andhisattendantspawedathiscoatsleevesinconcern.'Oh,thisisastrangething,'hemurmured.'Astrangethingindeed.''Sir?'Ramoszgrippedhisstafftightly.Hetookanotherstep.'TheConqueroris…Sheisnotaswerememberher.Thereis…somethingelse…here.Wecanfeelitallaround,eveninherironbones.Itthirstsforblood,truly,andityearns…tobe…free.Anditdoesnotlikeus.'Hepulledawornlacehandkerchieffromhispocketanddabbedatthesidesofhisneck.'No,itdoesnotlikeusonebit.'One of the armsmen had lit up a lho-stick in the empty corridor beyond thehatch.Lotaraslappeditoutofhismouthasshepassed.'Justwait until youmeetKharn,' she called over her shoulder. 'He's going tohateyoutoo.'Ramoszandhiscoteriestruggled tokeepupwithher, though theswaggeringguardsfellintoaneasysteparoundthemall,cradlingtheirlas-carbineswiththesafetiesoff.Occasionally,shewouldseeadejectedcrewmemberorLegionserfsteala lookat themfromupahead,beforedartingback into theshadows.TheConquerorcontinued togrumbleandgroanaround them-backhere,closer tothe midship battery sections, it sounded disconcertingly like a vast, emptystomach.LotaraheldoutahandandRamoszdulysuppliedherwithhisflask.Shewasdisappointednot to taste thecoolwatersheso longedfor,butsomemannerofdecadent,spicedwine.Fornow,atleast.'I'd liketotellyouthatyouwillgetusedtothatuneasyfeelingyoudescribe,'

she sighed. 'But youwon't.Take solace from the fact that you'll be somewhatshieldedfromit,intheNavigatorchambers.Igathertheyaremostcomfortable.'Theypassedacorpsesprawledoutonthedeckplates.Theyoungmanhadbeendeadforsomeweeks,andhistattereduniformhadbeenstrippedofallrankandinsigniapins.Hissidearmwasalsomissing,andsotoowerehisboots.Ramoszcoveredhismouth.Hisattendantswerecompletelysilentforthefirsttimesincetheyhadarrived.Lotarahandedbacktheflask.'Apologies.Ourmaintenancecrewsare…'Shecouldn'tsummontheefforttofinishtheexcuse.

Thankfully, it was not more than nine conveyor-less levels back up to theordnance bay where the medicae triage station had been established. As theyrounded the corner of a doubleback intersection leading into it, the first twoarmsmen faltered in their stride, anda startledwhimpercame fromoneof theNavigator'sretinue.Alegionarystoodguardinthewidedoorway.Heheldtwonotchedaxes,looseandready,andhisoncewhitebattleplatewasstainedwitholdbloodandother,lesssavouryfilth.Heworeatabardofmail,andatrioofwoefullysmallskullshungfromhisbelt.ThewarriordidnotmovetoblockLotara,noranyofthemortalsaccompanyingher. He merely glared down at them through cold, emerald-green eye-lenses,shiftinghisweightslowlyfromfoottofoot,hisbreathaudiblethroughthevox-grilleofhishelm.Casualtyestimatesfromthecollisionvaried,sincetherewerenosolidnumbersfor the flagship's current crew, and therewere certainly too few tomount anysortoforganisedsweepofthemostheavilydamagedareas.Thecompartmentsthat had suffered full decompression had been automatically sealed off, andLotarawasforced toconcede that theywould likelyremain thatwayforsometime.Shehad seen forherself thevoid-frostedbodieson theother sideof theinternalbulkheadviewports.Evenso,therewerescoresofbodiesheretoo.Manyhadbeenbagged.Butwhenthebagsranout,theyhadbeencoveredwithstrippedtunics,orcargotarps,orwhateverelsecametohand.Thedeckdrainsrandarkred-nowafairlycommonspectacleatanyplaceontheship-andthefewmedicaeadeptsthatremainedlookedmorelikeapprenticebutchers.Kharn,thankfully,wasbeingtendedto.TheApothecary,Kargos,wassquattingonhisarmouredchest,staplinghisfacebacktogether.

Ithadtakenawhiletosubduehim.Hisfrenzyclaimedtwomoreofthebridgecrewbeforeanylegionarieshadarrivedtohelp,andKargoshithimwithenoughtranq to kill an ogryn.WhenKharn regained consciousness almost two hourslater,hewassurprisinglycoherent,andrememberednothingofanyofit.Lotarawasn'tsureifitwasstillentirelynecessary,butthecaptain'sarmswerebeing held downby that leering, pallid ghoul Skane and one of hisDestroyersquad.Thesergeantlookedupatherandgrinned;heprobablyintendedittobeshark-like,butshecouldseemoreemptygumsthanteeth,andsharkswerenotknowntodrool.'Flag-captain,'hewheezed,straininghisaugmeticvocalcords.'We'retryingtodecide who it was that gave him these new scars - the helmsman on theMetzgerei,oryourNavigator.Well,formerNavigator.Idon'trecallanyoneevercutting his face before, not even in the fighting pits. It's worth noting. Theremightyetbeascoretosettle.'Lotaradidn't respond.Shewasused to seeingKharncovered inblood,but ittendedtoappearbrighterandmoreunsettlingwheneveritwasmostlyhisown.Sheturned.Ramoszandhisgaggleofattendantswereallstaringhardattheirownfeet.'Kharn,'shecalledout.'He'shere.'The reply she gotwas nothingmore than a questioning grunt. LotarawavedRamoszforwards.'Chief Navigator from the Scathlocke. He's House Tevu. No blood ties toAndrastathatwecouldfind.'Ramoszboweddeeply,evenloweringhisastrolabe.'Lord,wearehonouredtoserveyouandtheprimarch.Doubtlessyouhavenoreasontorecallsuchatrifle,butwewereamemberofMistressNisha'sretinueforawhilesomeyearsback.'Kharngrowled.'Don'tsayhernameagain.Thatweak-willedbitch.'PausingtogiveRamoszapointed,sidelongglanceLotarapreparedtodigherheels inonceagain. 'He's thebestchancewe'vegot.Nooneelsecomesclose,notforguidingaGloriana.'To her surprise there was no further protest, but Kharn shifted in agitationbeneaththeApothecary'sweight.'Aren'tyoudone?GetoffmeBloodspitter.Getoffmenow.'Kargospushedhimself tohis feetwipinghis toolson thebackofone leathergauntlet,whilethetwoDestroyersmovedtohaulthereluctantpatientup.'Arise,KharntheBloody!'Skanechuckled,clappinghimonthepauldron.'Mayyou—'

Kharn felled the sergeant with a single, barehanded blow to the side of thehead,sendinghimcrashingintoanemptyshellhoistcart.Noonesaidanythingforalongmoment.'Wherearewe?'thecaptaindemanded.Hisfacewaspuffyandrawaroundtheroughmetalfastenings,his lefteyehalfclosedandbloodshot. 'You.Navigator.Canyoutellmethat,atleast?'Ramoszstillwouldnot lookup. 'Wehavebeencomparing thefleet'spositionagainstthecartae,lord.WebelievethistobesomewhereattheperipheryoftheRuthanMarches.Beyondtherangeoflocalsystemscrying,certainly.''Ruthan. One of Dorn's conquests. Should we expect a Seventh Legionpresence?''Unlikely,' Lotara replied. 'There have been few reports of them operatingoutsidetheSegmentumSolarinyears,soIdoubtwe'llfacethemuntilwereachtheThroneworld.Assumingthat'sstillourplan.'Theship judderedsoftlybeneath their feet.Castingacursoryglanceover therows of bodies in the chamber, Kharn turned and made to leave, withoutceremony. 'Haveallof these incinerated.Don'tbotherwith funerary rites.AndgetournewNavigatorinstalledimmediately.Wemustbeready.''Readyforwhat?LordAurelianwasorchestratingourcombinedattacks fromsystemtosystem,andnowheisgone.Wehavenotarget.''I do not need Lorgar's permission to make war,' Kharn spat, stepping overSkane'sunconsciousform. 'Weareonourownnow,Lotara.Wewillserveourownprimarch.Noother.'Shenoddedwearily,re-tyingherlankhairbehindherhead.'So,whereareyougoing?''Time is running short. It has been more than a month since we spilled anenemy'sblood.ShouldItellAngronthathisbrotherhaslefthimheretodie?Orshouldwesimplyaskhimwhohewouldhaveuskillnext?'The legionary guard stepped aside, but Kharn halted unsteadily at the opendoorway.Heplacedhispalmsonthedarkironbulkhead,andslowlyputoneeartothemetal.TheotherWorldEaterslookedon,uncertainastowhattheywereseeing.'Somethingwrong?'Lotaracalledout.'Maybe,'thecaptainmurmured.'Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,Icannothearmyfather'sroar.'

What manner of warp-born sorcery can turn plasteel and adamantium to

rippling flesh?Often have I trodden these halls sincewe returned toNuceria,andyetstillitunsettlesme:thetransitionalspaceinwhichthepulseoftheship'sgreatreactorseemstobecomeatrueheartbeat.Onlynow,itisthesilencebeyondtheheartbeatthatunsettlesmemore.Once, thiswas the broad colonnade that led toAngron's triumphal hall. Theanteroomwithitsgreatdoors,thewidestepsleadingdown,down.Intheearliestdays,afterDesh'ea,ahandfulofusstoodhereandlearnedwhathisprolongedboutsofsilencecouldherald.Bloatedandvenous,theselivingwallshavealmost-butnotentirely-obscuredtheancientwordsthatgracethearchhighoverhead.IRAVINCIT,INSANGUISLAVANTO.TheXIILegionbathesinbloodnow,fortrue.Twowarriorsstandbeneaththislegend.TheirhulkingCataphractiisuitshaveleftbruisesonthefloorwheretheyhavepacedbackandforth.Theyarecladinredandbrassandbronze,inimitationoftheprimarch'sownMartianplatefromthelatteryearsoftheGreatCrusade.Weare,allofus,anechoofAngronatsomeleveloranother.Splintersofhisfracturedpsyche,perhaps?'Devourers,'Icallout.'Standaside.Iwillpass.'The first raises his bladed fists in defiance of my rank, traceries of powerarcingbetweentherazor-sharpclaws.Overthepointsofhisexaggerated,toothygorget,hiseyesareweary.'Hold,captain.Youarenotwelcomehere.'HisnameisTarugar.Anunremarkablecenturion,heclaimedhisplaceamongtheprimarch's supposedhonourguardafter I slewhispredecessorBorok,andwalkedaway.Tarugardidnotevenearnthispaltrythingforhimself.HeisnochampionoftheLegion.I do not break my pace. I stride right up to them both, the second warriorlevellinghischain-glaiveandgunningthemotors.Theclick-whineofhisTerminatorarmour'sheavyactuatorsgiveshimaway.Intheinstantbeforehisall-too-obviouslunge,Islaptheweapon'sbladedownwithonehandandbreakthehaftbeneathmyboot.Tarugarslashesatmewithhisclawsonce,twice.Drop.Turn.Comeupbehindhim. The other legionary tries to grapple, to hold me in place for the killingstrike.Hisstrengthisimmense.Thebreathisforcedfrommylungs.Isnatchthecombi-bolterathiship,andpressittohisbareforehead.Singleshot.

Brainmatter,darkblood.HowmanyDevourershaveIslain,now?HowmanymorewillI?Thedeadwarriortopplesoverbackwards,takingmedownwithhim.ItisafewsecondsbeforeIcanslipfreeofhisspasmingarms,tossingthegunaside.Tarugar standsdumbfounded.He raiseshis clawsanother fraction, but takeshalfabackwardstepasImoveinsidehisguardunopposed.Icanfeeltheblades'fieldpricklingthehairsonmyforearm.I lean inclose.Hisadrenaline levelsare spiking.Myvoice isapitched,coldwhisper.'DoesAngronevenknowyourname,Tarugar?Idoubtit.Standaside.'Hegrindshisteeth.Hebattlesnotagainstme,butagainsthisButcher'sNails.Ican readmybrothersaseasilyas I couldonce readour father,andTarugar'ssense of self-preservation soon outweighs his need to test himself any furtheragainsttheprimarch'sfavouredson.'Damnyou,Kharn,'hehisses.'Ihopeheeatsyoualive.'Iglareathimwordlesslyas Iunbar thedoorsandhaul themopen.He turnsaway,cursingunderhisbreathingutturalNagrakali.NochampionoftheLegion.Nofitguardianforourprimarch.Ifwestillhaveanyprimarchlefttoguard.

Yawning black before me, the steps descend into what has become Angron'sdungeoncell. I take themslowly,oneata time,knockingaside thedebris thatlitters themwith the edgeofmyboot.Theair is foul. Imeasuremybreathingurgingmyheartstoslow.Knownofear.Shownofear.Shownopity,andnodoubt.Wehaveplayed thisgamemanytimesbefore, theprimarchandI,andIhavetriedtolearnfromeverybeatingIreceived.Thelaststepdeliversmeontothetriumphalhall'sfloor.'Father?'Ifreeze.Theword,half-formeduponmylipsandyetspokenaloudbyanothervoice,bringsmeupshort.I scan the darkness in the chamber's recesses. The spaces between the skullpiles. The vaulted reaches of the high ceiling. The only light comes from theanteroom at my back. I slowly, cautiously, risk another step forwards, andscattered shardsof bone cracklebeneathmy tread. I cannot seemyprimarch,thoughatleastlnowknowforcertainthatheisstillhere.Halfalegionary-thelowerhalf-liestwistedontheflagstoneslikeadiscarded

plaything, cappedwithaprotruding kinkof broken vertebrae.Thereare largeteethmarksinthebuckledceramiteofhiswar-plate.Iseenopointinquestioningwhohewas,orwheretherestofhimmightbe.Anotherstep.Another.Icarefullyturnmybacktothenearestwall,andletmyvisionadjust.There.Angron's eyes smoulderwith theirown infernal light, though far less so thanthelasttimeIstoodbeforehiminthisplace.Then,hisinhumangazehadbeenfierce, and fearsome, so that not one of us could long hold it. Themurderousglareofthegods'mostlethalcreation.Butnowthedaemonprincewatchesmewithsomethinglike…wariness?He is crouched in the shadow of his throne - and such a thing is no smallmarvelforabeingofhiswarp-giftedsizeandmajesty.No.Notcrouched.Cowering.IcannotprocesswhatIamseeing.TheNails'tickingisananeurysmalpulseinmyears,aswellasmymind.'Father?'he calls again. Gone is the bestial growl, the hoarse rumble of athroat no longer capable of screaming itself raw. I would say, rather, that hesoundsmorelikehimselfagain.Hisoldself.Hisformerself.Thebrokenwarriorhewas,before…beforehis…Idonot know the correct term. I donot care to know it. This is beyondme,beyondanyofus.Wenolongertroubleourselvestowonder.Hisimmense,clawedfingersslipfromthesideofthethroneashepullsfurtherbackintothegloom,edgingawayfromme.'Father…isitover?'Hehasbrokenhischainsagain.Icanseethemtrailingonthefloor.Noonehasever beenable to imprisonAngron.Not for long.And yet, he has not tried toleave.I steady myself, offering a cautious half-bow. To avert my eyes would be toinvitedeath.Iamstaringdownanunleashedmonster.'Sire,itisKharn,oftheEighthCompany.''Khorne…''Khârn,sire.'Silence.Then,'Grave-grubKharn.Yes.Yes,Irememberyou.'Thisisthemostlucidhehasbeeninmanymonths.DoIdaretodream,daretohope,daretopraythatthiscouldbethebeginningofsomethingmore?Perhaps

eventhesalvationthatLordAurelianclaimedtohavesoughtforhim?'Whereistheotherpaperskin?''Sire?''Thesightedone.Idonotfeelhernearby.The…The…'Heisstrainingforsomethinghecannotrecall.'ChiefNavigatorAndrasta.Iamsorrytotellyou,sire,thatsheisdead.'Thedaemon shifts, anddrybones fracturebeneathhis immenseweight. 'Didyouendher?'heasks.Thequestiontakesmesomewhatbysurprise.'Ididnot.Shetookherownlife.'Iimagineallthewaysthisconversationmightplayout,anddecide thatany furtherdetailwouldbeanunnecessaryrisk. 'Wecannotbecertainwhy.Wehavearrangedforareplacement.'Theprimarchreachesslowlyforhisblade,half-buriedbutnotforgottenamidstthedetritusof thehall.Ashis fistclosesaround thescalyhidegrip, therunesetchedintotheblackmetalbegintothrobwithun-light,enoughtosettheNailsfizzing and buzzing behind my eyes. This weapon is not like Gorechild, orBrazentooth, nor any other that Angron has carried before. It was forged fornonebuthim,anditisalwayshungry.IhaveseenitcleavethroughthehullsofImperialbattletanks.But he does not raise the great sword now. Perhaps he merely needed torememberhowitfeelsinhishand.Thelinksofhischainsgrazetheflagstones.'Howlongdotheylive,whennoonetakestheirskulls?'I cannot recall the last time anyone exchanged this many words with him. Islowly,carefullylowermyself tothefloor,makingsuretokeepoureyeslockedthe entire time. Iwill answer any question, nomatter howmundane, if itwillholdhimhereinthemomentforjustalittlewhilelonger.'Mortalsare feeble things,sire.Without intervention, theywillendure for lessthan a hundred years, and much of that is spent in pain. ButMistress NishaAndrasta was somewhat older than that, and curiously frail-minded. It ispossible that she would not allow herself to understand what your Legion isbecoming.'Angron grows very still for a creature capable of such unnatural andunpredictablerage.'MyLegion,'hegrowls.Idonotrespond.Iregrethavingseatedmyselfsoclosetohim.'Whatisitbecoming,Kharn?'Thewordsgaolerandplaything leapunbidden to the forefrontofmyagitatedmind, almost making me flinch. I have no reason to believe that the daemon

prince can read my thoughts, but those two felt disloyal, and irreverent,nonetheless.Iconsidermyresponse.'Wearefollowingyou,sire.Wewillfollowyouintoeternity.''Why?''Becauseyouareourfather.'Thetruthofthisstatementappearstoconfoundhim.Helooksmeupanddown,thenscrutiniseshis talons,his forearms, the tipsofhis foldedwings, lingeringjustamomentlongerthanIwouldlikeupontheheavyironmanaclesaroundhiswrists. Then he shakes his head, rattling the dreadlock-cables that still framethose animal features. It is like watching a mindlocked servitor trying tocomprehendthemyriadhypocrisiesofTheApocryphaTerra-amindthatonceheld thecapacity tounderstand,now tornbetween thememoryofwhat itwasandthepromiseofwhatitcouldyetbe.'I am not your father, grave-grub. You are not likeme. I should not behere.'Thewordssting.Theyalwayshave.Slowly,Angronbeginstoriseout frombehindthethrone.Hetowersoverme,thegreat sworddragging inhisgrip,hishunchedshoulderspushingaside theemptylumenfixturesthathangoverhead.Ikeepmyvoicelevelandmeasured.'Wehaveonlyeverwantedtopleaseyou,sire.Mybrothersandl,we—''Ishouldnotbehere,'thedaemonrumblesagain.Hisattentionisdriftingtothedoorsatthetopofthesteps.Hiseyesaregrowingfiercer.Ineedtobringhimback,toholdhiminthisnowdwindlingmoment.There is an emptybatteredhelm lyingon the flagstonesnearmy foot. Itwillserve.'Do you remember the red sands, sire?' I ask quickly. 'Do you remember thehonourofthecaedereremissum?Doyourememberwhatitsignifies?'Angrontwitches.Hepeersatmeoncemore,ablastofhotbreathgustingfromhissnout.Icontinue.'When we found you, we did not know what you wanted of us. Not really.Nothingwedidcouldearnyourapproval.TherulersofNuceria,thehigh-riders,quicklymade their peace withGuilliman after your rebellion was ended, andgladly joinedwith the empire ofUltramar. Though youwould not allow us toreturn there, we thought to mark the sacrifice that you and the Desh'ean

gladiatorshadunknowinglymadeforus.FortheImperium.'Ipluckthehelmetupfromthefloor.Theeye-lensesarebroken,thegrilledentedinwards.Theprimarch'sexpressionisunreadable.Buthehasnotkilledmeyet.Thatissomething.Iturnthehelmetoverinmyhands.'Here- the twin-crestsof theremissum, likebladedhorns.Whenawarrior inthe arena knew theirmindwas failing,when they had spilled toomuchbloodandcouldnolongerfindpleasureinanythingelse,thentheywouldwearthemasawarningtotheirfoes.Theboutwouldbesanguisextremis.Tothedeath.MybrothersandIsawthatitwasaboldandnoblethingtoproclaimoneselfbeyondhope,sire.Beyondredemption.'And so, as the War Hounds became World Eaters, many of your veterancompaniesadornedtheirhelmsinthisfashion.Wewantedyoutoknowthatwemournedwithyou,andthateverybattlewefoughtatyoursidewouldbetothedeath.''Notforyou!'hegrowls.'Themantleisnotforyou!''Thenyourememberenoughtoknowthatitdidnotendwell,sire?Wetriedtolearnofyourpast,andyoukilledusforit.Wetriedtocelebratethebreakingofchains,andyoukilledusforit.WetriedtoteachyouhowtheImperiumwageswar, and instead youhammered theButcher'sNails into our skulls so thatwewouldeventuallykilloneanother,andspareyoutheeffort.'Withoutwarning,Angron letsouta roarof inhumanhatredand rage,a roarloudenoughtorattlemyarmourplates,andsweepsthegreatbladearoundinaflashing arc. His throne of skulls, the throne we built at his command, isobliteratedinasingleheartsbeat.Chippedteethandfragmentsofboneraindown.IkeepmyeyesclosedforaslongasIdare-andthatcanonlybeasecondortwo. The daemon is breathing hard, less than ametre frommy face.When hespeaks,Icanseethesharp,ironfangsglintinginhismaw.'Ifyouwishtoproveyourselftome,KharnoftheLegion,thenyoumustfollowthispathtoitsend.Wewereallborntobleed,butthegods'favourisnotgiveneasily,orquickly.Youmustpayforitwithbloodandskulls.Bloodenoughtodrownthestars,andskullsbeyondnumber.Thecrusaderwilltellyouasmuch.''YoumeanLordAurelian?'Angrondoesnotappeartorecognisethename.

Iexhaleslowly. 'Aswefearedtheywould,sire, theWordBearershaveleftus.Ourfleetnowstandsalone,deepwithinUltimaSegmentum.''Thenwhydoyoukeepmehere?Whydoyoukeepmeinthedark?''Thisisyourflagship,sire.Yourplaceiswithus.Wespillbloodtogether,sothatyoumayremain.'He shudders, screwing his eyes shut and letting out a vile sound that couldalmost be awhimper. 'No.No.TheLegion is notmine, not anymore.TheBloodGodcallstome.Heiscallingmetohisside,to…to…''Sire,lassureyou,wearefreeto—''No!' he shrieks. 'Reality itself drags against these imperfect limbs! Mystrengthisfailing!Ishouldbesomuchmore,butyou…youwillnotlet…'Theprimarchbeginstoclawathisownface.'Thisisnotfreedom!Itisslavery!'Ifalltomyknees.Itwoundsmysoultoseehimsufferlikethis,andtoknowthatwekeephimhereforourownselfishreasons.It isfarmorethanslaughterforslaughter'ssake.Foroursins,wehaveshackledAngrontothematerialrealm,asLorgarurgedus.Wesimplydonotwishtoloseourfatheragain.Idonotwishtolosehim.But, if this loss of self is the price of immortality, then neither do I wish tofollowinhisfootsteps.Idonotwishtolosehim,butIwillnotlosemyself.The daemon prince rises to his full height, opening those leathery wings sowidethattheyalmosttouchthepillarsoneachsideofthehall.Thedeckbeneathhisclovenhoovesbeginstoshudderasotherworldlyenergiesroilaboutus.Heroarsagain,bringingdustfromthearchesabove.'I will have blood! Blood! Blood for the Blood God! Blood for my lordKhorne!'The runes upon his blade pulse in timewith his black heart, picking out theharshestanglesofhishell-forgedarmourplate,andIwaitforhimtostrikemyheadfrommyunworthyshoulders.

***

ItwasmorethananhourbeforeKharnreturnedtothebridge.Hewascarryinghis battle helm loosely in onehand, the bristles of the centurion crest splayedandunkempt.Lotarabrushedherfingersbackandforthinsideheruniformcollar.Theskinonherneckfeltraw.

'Ididn'tknowifyou'dbecomingbackthistime,'shemuttered.'Thatwasabadquake. We've lost power to life support along the upper portside flank. I'veorderedahardsealoftheembarkationdecksasaprecaution.'Thelegionaryregardedherforamomentashepassed.'Youshavedyourhead.'She shrugged, and stepped up to the command dais, sheathing her combatknife.'Idid.It'salwaystoodamnedhotinhere.'Thesmilethattwistedhisfeatureswascruel,butshort-lived;Kharnwincedasathintrickleofbloodranfromthestaplebeneathhiseye.Itlookedalmostlikearedtear.'WhereisVel-Kheredar?'hedemanded,wipingitaway.'Overseeingtherepairs.''Summonhim,Lotara.Ihaveneedofhistalents.'Theflag-captainsighed,andtookherplaceonthethrone.Fromwhereshesat,Kharnappearedsilhouettedagainsttheflickeringoculus.Hisattentionwasfixeduponthestaineddeckplates.'Admiring your handiwork?' she said,with a sharp click of her tongue. 'Feelfreetotakeabrushtoityourself,ifyoulike.I'msureIdon'thavetotellyouthatbloodisbasicallyimpossibletocleanupwithoutwater.'Hedidn'tanswer.Sherubbedimaginarygrimefrombetweenthebrasskeysonherarmrestpad.'So…hasLordAngronissueduswithanyneworders?Dowehaveaspecifiedtarget?'Kharnshookhishead.'Inthatcase,mylord-whatareyourorders?'He trudged back to his customary position just to the left of the dais, andcarefullysetdownhishelmet.'Have Master Tevu confer with his fellow Navigators across the fleet,' hereplied, 'and plot a course for the nearest occupied system. If we wish ourprimarchtoendurelongenoughtoreachtheThroneworld,thenwemustmakesacrifice.'

TheWorldEatersfleettorethroughthevoid,withtheConqueroratitshead.Theflagship trailed several of her damaged Ursus Claws, the great magneticharpoonsclatteringagainstthescarredhullasshepoweredoninhaste,heedlessofanywiderstrategythantheimmediatepursuitofbloodshed.ThebitterlycoldworldofTekeliwasthefirstthattheyencountered.Hometo

one of the great donjon-complexes raised by RogalDorn at the height of theCrusade,ithadbeenintendedasabastionfromwhichfuturegenerationsmightgoverntheconsiderablepopulaceoftheRuthanMarches.Inthosemoreinnocenttimes,notionsofgalacticUnityandtheImperialTruthhadgenuinelyprevailed,and even theXII Legion had grudgingly agreed that a daymight comewhentheycouldlaydowntheirweaponsforgood.Ofcourseitwasnottobe.Therewasnoorbitalbombardmentnocountenanceofavoidwar.TheWorldEaters simply hurled themselves at the planet, desperate to feel solid groundbeneath their feet and aweapon in eachhand.The skyblackenedbeneath thesheer,overwhelmingweightofthedropassault,fromthehighmountainpassestothefrozenseas,andthedefendersknewthattheyhadalreadylost.Amanipleofengines from theLegioThanataris - theonlyTitanicuselementwithin the sector -had takencommandof the localgarrison.Deploying to thelowlands beyond the donjon with their Secutarii ground forces arrayed inearthworksupon the flanks, theywouldmake the traitorspaydearly foreverymetreofground.Butwhen the firstwaves of traitor drop pods came downwithin the civiliancentres to the northwest, the princeps realised they hadwhollymisjudged theWorldEaters'intentions.TheLegionhadnotcometocrushthebastion,buttoslaughtereverylastman,womanandchildonTekeli.It went on for days. While the vox-net lasted, the open channels became acacophonyofagonisedscreams,offersofsurrenderandpleasformercy,beforefinallydissolvingintolittlemorethanfitfulstatic.Ontheeighthday,whenthelastoftheTitansfell,agrimshadowfinallyspreaditswingsoverthetallestrampartsofthedonjon,andcrimsonlightningsplitthecloudsoverhead.Wreathedin thesmokeofahundredcorpsepyres, thedaemonAngronraisedhis black blade to the heavens, and bellowed in unholy triumph as his blood-crazedwarriorsbrokethroughthegates.

Vel-Kheredarknowsmewell,itseems.ThearchmagosreforgedGorechild.Nowhehasreforgedme.22.Iwillwearthered,thebrass,thebronze,freshfromthearmouryandturnedbymyownhand,thoughIamnoDevourer.IspitonTarugarandalltherest.Our

primarch is a newborn creature of the warp, a prince of blood. He needs noprotectionthatlegionariescanoffer.Rather,Iamsanctifiedinthecoloursthataresaidtomostpleaseournewgod.ButIwillnotlosemyself.23.Manyofmybrothershavefollowedmyexample,evenastheyfollowmenowonthe field of war. The brain-fire keeps our blood hot.With every swing of ourblades,weanointtheicygroundbeforeus.24.25.WewillwalktheEightfoldPath.Wewillwear themantle of the caedere remissum, even though the primarchforbadeit.Wewillrebel,justasherebelled.Wewill killnotbecauseweareordered to,butbecausewe live for it.Blood,andpain,andnothingmore.26.Thislastadditionis thepurest formofworshipIcanimagine,glowingbrightandcrimsoninthecornerofmyvisordisplay.ItisacalmingcounterpointtotheNails'fiercetick,tick,tick…Vel-Kheredarknowsmewellindeed.27.Atally.Ameasureofmyskill,andatetherformysoul.Theothersmaydoastheywish,butIwillnotlosemyself.28.Iwillnotbecomelikeourprimarch.29.30.31.Thisisnobrotherlycontestofold.ThesearemyofferingstotheBloodGod.BythecountoftheirskullswillIprovemyworth,fortheyareallIhavetoofferinplaceofmyown,beforeeachnewbattle'sending.Tekeli.HorganPrime.Dabrosc,andallthreeofitsmoons.Stenyr.Theorbitalcities over Parliax. Another world, whose name I forget. Nebe VI. Nebe II.Deluge.Andon,andon,tothehallowedThroneworlditself.32.33.34.35.Myfather'snameisAngron.Thatisallthathehasleft.WehaveonlyLorgartothankforthat.

Andoneday,wewill.

Nameshadpower.AnynovitiateoftheThousandSonscouldtellyouthat.To know something's namewas tounderstand it, to have awindow into theveryheartofitsbeingandseetheworkingsofthemachinerythatunderpinnedit.Topickthelockonasoul,youneededitsname.Anametoldyoueverything.Theconventionsofanametoldyouofthepeoplewho coined it. Etymological roots spoke to the historical circumstances of itsorigin, and each linguistic change thatmutated it along theway told a uniquestory.Nameswereeverything.WhichwaswhyVistario's ignoranceof thisworld's name sovexedhim.Thestar chart Murshid had empathically drawn from the stagnant waters of theorreryretainednorecordof it,and thecausticwindsblowingover theplanet'sirradiatedplainsonlymutteredthesameimprecationthathaddrawnthemtothisbarrenrockinthefirstplace.'I can stillhear it,' saidAkhtar, adustygauntletpressed to the fadedRaptoraiconatthesideofhishelmet.'Weallhearit,'snappedMurshid.MurshidwasAthanaean;heheardtheplanet'slamentmostkeenly.He'doncelikenedwalkingthesurfaceofdeadworldstosteppingintoastreamof liqniteandfeeling theachingcoldslowlyseepingup throughhisfleshuntilhisentirebodywasrigid.ThegiftsoftheGreatOceanweremanifold,butsotooweretheirburdens.Vistario'sfellowshiphadbeenCorvidae,backwhentheideaoffellowshiphadmeantsomething.He'dlearnedhiscraftunderthetutelageofMagistusAmonin

his clockwork pyramid of brass, honing his ability to unweave the myriadthreads of potential futures. His instincts for the truth ofwhatmight bewerestrong,butinthecenturiessincetheretreatfromTerra,theCorvidaehadwaned,nowashadowofitsformerglory.TheGreatOcean-alwaysatreacherousmistress-hadbecomearagingviragoofpsychicfury,thelastbreathoftheWarmasterstillechoing,centuriesafterhisfall.Yet even themightiest oceans know ebbs and flows, and sometimes the veilobscuring the future would part, allowing brief glimpses into the endless,branchingpossibilitiesofthefuture.OnesuchglancehadlodgedinVistario'smindlikeaknappedshardofflint.Agleaming, reflective blade in which he saw this dead and nameless world, ahollow city and a plaintivemessage from a time already layeredwithmythicallegory, like a sunken wreck overtaken by the encrustation of deep-waterdenizens.Vistariohaddismissedthevisionasmeaningless,castingitfromhismindtoflyontheaether-windsofthePlanetoftheSorcerers.Justanotherfragmentofunknownprophecy.Useless.Or so he had thought until theCrimsonKing appearedwithin his crystallinetower,ablazewithpsychicmight:aterrifyingmonsterofegoandfury.'Go,'Magnuscommanded.'Heedthismessage.Findthemessenger.'

Heedthismessage.Findthemessenger.Twosimpleorders,yettoobeytheprimarch'scommandwasalmostimpossible.Followinga fragmentaryvisionwithout contextwas like chasingawhisperofthought in an angry mob, a hundred echoes spreading from the source, eachamplifying exponentially and mutating until all trace of the original wasobscured.ThethreeofthemhadleftthePlanetoftheSorcerersaboardtheClavisAurea,avesselsotransformedbythatworld'schaoticnatureastobeunrecognisableeventoitsoriginalshipwrights.Guided by Murshid's psychic map, Akhtar steered them through the roilingvastness of the Great Ocean with a seer stone torn from the ruins of theReflectingCaves.High in the Navigator's compartment, Vistario journeyed in the third

enumeration,clingingtothegossamer-thinmemoryofhisdiscardedvision.Hereplayeditoverandoverinhismindinsearchofsomehithertounseenclueastoitssource,someechothatmightpointhimtowardsgreaterunderstanding.Vistariohadlosttrackofhowlongtheyhadsearched.Years,mostlikely,butwhocouldknowinarealmwheretimewasthefirstoftheuniversal'constants'tobebrushedaside?Hehaddespairedofeverseeingthevisionagain.Theirquestwasasfutileasreading a message in a bottle washed upon the shores, writing a reply andcastingitbackintothewatersinhopetheoriginalsenderwouldreadit.ButMagnustheRedhadissuedhiscommand,andtofailinanytask,evenanimpossibletask,wastoinviteterribleretribution.Bettertostayawaythanreturnempty-handed.Then,withhopeallbutlost…amiracle.Themobparted,thewhisperbecameashoutanditssourcewasrevealed.Asimplephrase:ambiguous,yetportentous.TheAncientawaits.

Little remained of the city's soaringmajesty, though Vistario imagined it hadoncebeenbeautiful.Itsdestroyershadbeenthorough.Thegroundstillbore thescarsofanorbitalbombardment so ferocious it hadpoundedanentire substrateof the surface toashandvitrifiedrock.Walkingatgroundlevelwasliketraversingaplateauofvolcanicglass,anditsoutlinehadonlybeenpossibletodiscernfromtheair.Vistariomag-lockedhisbolter tohis thighandbent to liftadelicate shardofwafer-thinglassshapedliketheheadofaspear.Heturneditoverinhishands,thelensofhishelmetstaringbackathimfromitsreflectivedepths.Inthespaceofabreaththeimagechanged.Vistario dropped the shard and it shattered, breaking into an unnaturalarrangement of pieces.He saw significance in the pattern, but a suddenwindscatteredthepiecesbeforehecoulddivineitsmeaning.'What did you see?' askedMurshid, bringing his bolter to his shoulder as hereadthesuddenchangeinVistario'saura.'Idonotknow,'hereplied.'Itwasafleetingglimpseonly.''Ofwhat?'saidAkhtar,traversinghisweaponovertheruins.'Ahostofaccusingeyes,asifreflectedinabrokenmirror.''Avisionofthefutureoranechoofthepast?'askedMurshid.'Youknowbetterthantoaskthat,'saidVistario.Theypressedon,movingtowardswhatheknewwithacertaintyhecouldnot

explain was the heart of the city. The rubble here was thicker, more deeplystacked-perhapsaking'spalaceorsomeothergrandcivicstructure.'Here,' saidMurshid, pausing by a heap of fallen granite blocks of polishedpink,eachwiththesuggestionofswirlingcarvingsuponitsoutwardface.'Thesewereoncepartofagreaterwhole.''Weren'tweall?'mutteredAkhtar.'Haveacaution,'saidVistario. 'AllwhisperseventuallyreturntothePlanetoftheSorcerers.DidUlthar'sfateteachyounothing?'That silenced themall, the fateof theAthanaean splinter cult all tookeen intheirrecollections.'Canyourebuildit?'askedMurshid,turninghisattentionbacktotheblocks.'Easily,' said Akhtar, eager to employ his powers. He rose into the seventhenumeration to lift theblocks, turning themoverwithbrutepsychic forceandtwistingthemupontheiraxesuntiltheyslottedtogetherlikeathree-dimensionalpuzzle.Theremnantofanarchwaywasformed,sevenmetrestallandthreewide,withknotworkcarvingsetcheduponeachcyclopeanstone.Vistario approached the towering arch and paused to examine the carvings.'Theyresemblemusicalnotes.''That isexactlywhat theyare,' saidMurshid,hishead tilted to the sideashefollowedtheircoursewithafingerintheair,likeanorchestralconductor.'Everyblockisasongwithinagreaterwork,achoralsymphonyrenderedinstoneandsungbythosewhotroditsbyways.'A series of jumbled impressions passed throughVistario'smind atMurshid'swords.Of singers andwar, of fire from the heavens: the final cacophony, theclosingcurtainofadrama…'No,nottheclosingcurtain,'hewhispered.'Theopeningact…'Hiseyesweredrawnbysomestrangevolitiontothecrackedterrazzoofaoncetiled thoroughfare, now revealed by the building of the archway. The tilesglistenedwithspotsofgoldinthewansunlightofthedeadworld,andVistarioknelttoliftsomething.'Whatdoyouhavethere?'saidAkhtar.Vistario turned theobjectover likeastageperformerflippingacoinbetweenhisfingers.Ithadoncebeenataperedcylinder,buthadbeenpressedflatbytheweightoftheblocks.Hesawnowthatitwasnotgold,butbrass,itssurfacesstriatedwithheatandafadedmarkthattoldofitsorigin.

Vistariostoodandheldoutwhathehadfound.'That'saboltershell,'saidMurshid,reachingouttotouchit,butthinkingbetterofitatthelastsecondashesawthearmourer'smarkuponit.Akhtarhadnosuchreservations,andpluckedtheshellfromVistario'spalm.Heturned the round over and Vistario read the confusion in his aura as he toorecognisedthemark.'WorldEaters,'hesaid,uncomprehending.Thewind surgedathiswords, andonceagain theyall heard it, adiscordant,screechingpsychiccall.Strongernow,closer.Theyfelt itsgrief,hearditsfury,andmostofall,theysenseditsinfinitepatience.TheAncientawaits.

Followingthepsychicscreamtoitssourcewasnotdifficult.Thesurfaceof theplanetseemednowtoopenupbefore themandpreviouslyobscured pathways ran arrow-straight through the blasted landscape like thegreat Romanii roads of old. Patterns that had been invisible beforewere nowundeniable,andthecity'soriginalplanbecameclearerwitheverysteptheytooktowardsitsheart.Akhtarledthewaylikeaneagerbloodhoundclosingonitsprey.MurshidwalkedalongsideVistario.'Akhtar'smindisblunt,butsurelyyoumustfeel thatwearenotaloneonthisworld?'hesaid.'Ihavefelt…something,'agreedVistario.'Canyouidentifyit?''Apowerfulmind,'saidMurshid.'MorethanthatIcannotsay.EverytimeItrytofocusonitsthoughtsitslithersfrommyperceptions.''We are seeking something desired by the Crimson King,' said Vistario. 'Weshouldhaveexpectedwewouldnotbetheonlyonesinsearchofit.''True,butanythingthatseekstothwartthedesignsofMagnustheRedisnottobetakenlightly.''Dowhatyoucan,'orderedVistario.'Iwill,butwhateverelsehascometothisworldisnotwhatconcernsmemost.ItisthatIbelievewhoorwhateverissendingoutthishowlingmissiveisawareofus.''Thenit isnot justmethatfeelswearebeingreeledinlikeafishonahook,'saidVistario.'No,'agreedMurshid.'Itisnotjustyou.'Thepath led the threewarriorsof theThousandSons toacanyon-likegouge

tornbysomethingmassivefallingfromthesky.Itledtoablackenedabyss,likethegatetosomemythicunderworld.'Notthebestomen,'saidMurshid.'Didweexpectanythingelse?' repliedVistario. 'Buta trap isnota trap if thepreyisawareofthehunter.'Onceagain,Akhtarledtheway.Thedarknesswithinwasabsolute,buteasilypenetratedbythesensesoftheirbaroquewar-plate. The rock of this worldwas glossy andmolten, rippled byunimaginableheat.Itplungeddownwardsatasteepangleuntilitemergedintoadeep, vaulted space of soaring arches, high, fluted pillars and shatteredchambers.'Catacombs?'wonderedAkhtar.Vistario'sgaze followed thecurveofadomed roof towhere its structurehadbeenruptured.Dustdriftedfromaboveandthinsparsof lightspeared into thedarkness.'No,'hesaid. 'Partswereonceopentothesky.Thisentireareawasbuiltbothaboveandbelowground.''Thiswasacityofsecretsandlies,'saidMurshid,takingakneeandplacinghishandontheground.'Onefacepresented,butitwasacompliantmask.Itsserpentfacewashiddenbeneath.'Whispers drifted on the wind, a thousand muttering voices just beyond thethresholdof hearing.Vistario sensed their anger,watchingwith awary eye asdust devils swirled in his peripheral vision. His footsteps stirred the abrasivesands, andVistario heard a scratching sound, as if hewalked upon the ashenghostsofthisworld'speople.Whoknows,perhapsIdo,hethought.Anangledroadwaycurvedawayintothedarkness,andVistariosetoffalongit,pickingapaththroughfallenrocksandskewedgirderstwistedbyferociousheatandpressure.'The furyof thebombardmentwasabsolute,' saidAkhtar. 'That thisplacehassurvivedisnothingshortofamiracle.''Nomiracle,'saidVistario,pointingtowherethestoneworkoftheundergroundcity revealed reinforced steel embedded within. 'This region of the city wasdesignedtowithstandattack.''The world above was built by human hands,' saidMurshid. 'A pre-Crusadeculture,ifIreadtheechoesofOldNightcorrectly.WhywouldtheybuildtheirworldtowithstandthefuryofaLegion?'

'That is amystery indeed,' saidVistario. 'Perhaps the onewho has drawn usherecananswer.'Theroadwaypassedthroughasetofarmouredblastdoors,andfromthatpointonwards,theroughanddamagedstoneofthecityabovetookontheutilitariancharacterofanindustrialfacility.Itswallswerelayeredplascreteandflakboard,itsceilingsreinforcedvaultsoflatticedsteel.The walls were black, as though a firestorm had flash-burned through, andVistario saw negative impressions on the wall where warriors had burned todeath.Theoutlineswereblurredbytime,butdisturbinglyfamiliar.'Youseethemtoo?'saidMurshid,hisvoicewavering.VistarioreadthepaintheAthanaeanwarriorwasfeeling.'Ido,'hesaid,themusclesinhisjawtaut.Deeper into theplanet they travelled,alongmetal-deckedpassageways,downtwistingscrew-stairsanddescendingdormantembarkationelevator shafts.Thepresence theyhad felton the surface lingered inVistario'smind, likeadistantpressure.Whateveritwas,itremainedbeyondalltheirperceptions.'Thiswassomeformofmilitarylaunchfacility,'saidAkhtar.'No,'saidVistario.'Itistoosmallforsquadronsofattackcraft.''I know,' snapped Akhtar. 'More like a hidden, private facility such as aplanetarygovernormightconstruct.''PerhapswearefollowingthelostwordsofalongdeadImperialcommander,'saidVistario. 'Ironic that itwould bewarriors hewould consider traitorswhofinallyheedhiscall.''Traitor?'spatAkhtar.'Webetrayednoone.Weweretheonesbetrayed.'Vistario raised a hand, as much to forestall any careless outburst from theRaptoraadeptastocallahalttotheirlongmarch.'Wearehere,'hesaid.

For all that the infrastructure around the launch facility had survived thebombardment, the hangar itself had not endured as well as its builders hadexpected.Asmall,orbit-capablestarshipsatatthefarendofthehangar,itshullsmashedopenby fallingdebris andone swept-forwardwing sheared from thefuselagebyafallenbeam.Aportionofthecaveattherearoftheshipgleamedlikeglass,vitrifiedbythecraft'sjetwash.'Itwastakingoffwhentheroofcollapsed,'saidVistario.'Momentsearlieranditmighthaveescapeddisaster.''Whoeverhewas,hewasabandoninghisworldtoitsdoom,'repliedAkhtar.'He

deservedtodiewithhisworld.''Weabandonedourworld,'pointedoutMurshid.AngerflaredinAkhtar'saura.'No,wewerewrenchedfromitatthemomentofitsgreatestneed,'hesaid. 'TheCrimsonKingdeniedusthechancetofighttheWolvesandmakethempayfortheircowardlyattack.''Wewouldhavedied,'saidVistario.'Better that than this pitiful existence, brother,' said Akhtar. 'Sent scurryingthrough the shadows like errand boys for a master who broods only on hisfailures.'Vistario rose into a more combative enumeration and fixed Akhtar with thesteelygazeofonewhohasstaredintothefuture.'Chooseyournextwordscarefully,brother,'he said. 'The fellowshipsmaybebroken,butwhathasbeensunderedmayyetberenewed.YouandIbothreadtheprophecyofTemelucha.'Akhtarsnortedderisively.'Thewordsofamadwoman.''Sincewhenhaveprophetsnotbeendrivenmadbythethingstheyhaveseen?'pointedoutMurshid,slappingagauntletedpalmonVistario'sshoulderguards.'Our Corvidae brother hasn't been sane since the retreat from Terra.We havedwelledsolongintheGreatOceanthatmaybeweareallalittlemad.'ThetensionbetweenAkhtarandVistariodrained.'Forgiveme,brother,'saidAkhtar.'Thefiresofthegreatwarmayhavecooled,butminestillburn.'Vistarionodded.'Thegreatwarmaybespent,butthelongwargoeson.WeareyetpartofitandIbelievetheCrimsonKinghasaplanforhowitcanbewon.''Youreallybelievethat?'saidAkhtar.'Ihaveto,'repliedVistario.'ItisallIhaveleft.'Furtherdiscussionwasendedbyaclatterofstonefromthefrontofthestarshipand a screech of twistingmetal. All three of the Thousand Sons swung theirbolterstotheirshouldersandroseintothewarenumerations.Vistariostretchedouthisconsciousness,searchingforhostileminds.Andcriedoutastheforceofanancientmindskeweredhisbrainwithalanceofwhitehotpower.Hestaggeredashefeltpatienthatredstabintohim,itsforcesopotent and singular that his secondary heart kicked in as the main organruptured.'Vistario!'shoutedAkhtarashischesthikedwithasharpintakeofbreath.Vistarioraisedahand,switchingfromenumerationsofwartoonesofdefence.Piecebypiecehebuilthismentalfortress,acitadelfromwhichhismindcould

operatewhileprotectedfrompsychicattack.Thecacophonousroardiminished,andheblinkedthedazzlinglightsawayfromtheinsidesofhiseyes.'Iamfine,'hesaid,pushinghimselftohisfeet.'Whatwasthat?'saidMurshid,gettingupoffhisknees,aviscousfluidleakingfromhisgorget.AsmuchasVistariohadstaggeredunder thepsychic forceoftheassaultontheirsenses,Murshidwouldhavefeltitfarworse.Akhtartoo,bluntashewas,hadsuffered.'Thatwasnopsyker.''No,'agreedVistario.'Fourthenumeration.Advance.'Dustandrubblefellfromtheroofofthecavern,dislodgedbytheforceoftheassault.AnassaultVistarionowrealisedhadnotjustbeenpsychicinnature,butsonic. Hideous aural trauma and dissonant harmonics combined to form ascreechinghowlthatwouldhaveobliteratedtheirhearingbutforthecut-outsintheirarmour.'Careful,Vistario,'saidMurshid.'Thereisgreathatehere.'Vistarionoddedasheroundedapromontoryoffallenrockandsteel,hisboltertrackingtothesourceofthepsycho-sonicassault.Theprowof thecrafthadbeensplitopen in itsabortive take-off,asixmetregashtornthroughtothepilot'scompartment.Atfirsthecouldnotunderstandwhathewasseeing.Ahostofcablestrailedfromthestarshiplikeawrithingcolonyofsnakes.Theywerecoupledwithanoutlandishdevice,thefunctionofwhichVistariocouldnotevenbegintoguess.Butthatwasnotthemostsurprisingdiscovery.Lyingon its side,partiallycrushedbyagiant sparof steel fallen fromabovewas the shattered outline of a Dreadnought. Dust and ash lay thick on itsadamantiumsarcophagus,thecolourofitsarmourallbutobscured.Oneleghadbeenshearedfromitsbody,anditsleftsidewasbuckledinwardssodeeplythatthe flesh within was surely dead. Its weapon arms, a Kheres-pattern assaultcannonanda splay-clawedpower fistwere aimed skywards, as if this ancientherooftheLegionshadsoughttoventhisfurytowardstheheavenswiththelastofhisexistence.The Dreadnought lay upon something half buried in the rock of the cavernfloor,itssurfaceheat-burnedandunrecognisable.Morecablessnakedfromthewreckedstarshipandwerehooked into theobject'sundersideaswellas to thewarmachine'ADreadnought?'saidAkhtar,loweringhisweapon.'Keep it covered,' snapped Vistario, edging forwards to better examine the

strangedevice.Itappearedtobeamonstroushybridofmusicalinstrumentandan apparatus of excruciation designed by a sadistic lunatic. Its colours werefadednow,butonceithadbeenvividlypaintedandelaboratelyornamented.Itthrummed with energy, ripe with potential, and Vistario looked for a way todisconnectit.An angry buzzing built as he reached to unhook the nearest cable, as if themachinerywerealiveandawareofhisintent.'Do.Not.'Vistarioflinchedatthesound,agrating,wheezingvox-exhalation.Hespunandbroughthisbolteruptoaimatthenot-so-dead-after-allDreadnought.Hisfingertightened on the trigger, then eased off as he found himself staring down themultiplebarrelsoftheKheresassaultcannon.'You.Are.NotHim,'saidtheDreadnought.Vistarioslowlyloweredhisweapon,liftinghisfreehandaway.MurshidwasheldintheDreadnought'sfist,strugglinginvainagainststrengththat could tear open the hull of a LandRaider. Akhtar stood apart, his boltertrainedunerringlyontheDreadnought'ssarcophagus.Agestureofdefianceonly.Evenifthemass-reactivepenetratedaweakspotintheDreadnought'sbody,VistarioandMurshidwouldbedeadbeforeAkhtarfiredthefirstround.'So. Long. I. Have…waited,' said the Dreadnought. 'Forgot. Name. Forgotbrothers.Onlyhateendured.Onlyvengeancesustainedme.'Thetoweringbio-machine'svoicewasredolentwithpower,itswordshaltingatfirst, then growing in coherence, as if the very act of addressing thewarriorsbeforeitwasrekindlingamemoryofspeech.Softlightbuiltwithinthecrackedaugmeticorbthatwasallthatremainedofthewarmachine'ssensorium.Coulditseehim,andwhatwoulditmakeofhiswar-plate'scolour…?'WhatLegionareyou?''Fifteenth,'saidVistario.'The sons of Magnus the Red. The Cyclops. The Crimson King. SorcererSupreme,MasterofProspero.HowfaretheFifteenthaftersolong?Tellmeyoudidnotfallintothesametrapasmybrothers.Tellmeyouendureandyetstandatourfather'sside.'He doesn't know, thought Vistario. All these years trapped below, and hedoesn'tknow.Howcouldhe?'TheThousandSonsendure,'hesaid.

'Imaybesmashedandclingingtolife,butIknowevasionwhenIhearit.'Vistarioshrugged.'Youwouldnotlikethetruth.''Mylikeordislikefor the truth is immaterial,'said theDreadnought. 'Truth isallwe have. It is our shield against falsehoods.When facts can be twisted tobecomeweapons,nothinggoodcanendure.TheEmperortaughtmethat,buttoofewofustookthelessontoheartorunderstoodhowvitalitwas.'Vistario briefly considered pointing out the lie that lay at the heart of theEmperor'scrusade,itscorrosiveeffectlikeapoisonpillslowlydissolvingunderthe tongue. But he needed no Corvidae foresight to know the Dreadnoughtwouldkillhiminstantlyforsuchanutterance.'Whatisyourname?'askedtheDreadnought.'MalinVistario,oftheCorvidaeFellowship.Whatisyours?''Iam…hewhoremembers,'saidtheDreadnought.'OrIusedtobe.Anancientmysticoncesaidthatitisthedoomofmenthattheyforgetbutmymemoryisasbrokennowasmybody.Mypurpose…Ihadone.Itwastoknow.Toremember.Examplesofthepastshapethepresent.Eventsofthefuturecompelthepast.'Vistario was acutely aware of how precarious was his position. TheDreadnought was clearly insane, after the long centuries spent in isolationwithout Techmarines to minister the complex bio-mechanical cycles of hisexistenceandmaintainhisfuguestateofslumber.'Whatwereyoutoknow?'heasked.'Toknowwhat,youask?'growledtheDreadnoughtinirritation.Shellsclatteredas rusted auto-loaders slammed them into the assault cannon. 'Does not theFifteenthretainonewhosetaskitistoknow?Toseeeverything!Ionceknewallthe things thatmattered - names, dates, places. Things ofmoment. The oathstaken.Theoathsbroken.Thelitaniesofthefaithless.Iamhewhoremembers.IamtheAncientofRites.'AsuddenflashofpresciencesweptthroughVistario,andhecranedhisnecktolookaroundthechamber,hismind'seyeracingbackthewaytheyhadcometothesurface.Hesawthewar-wrackedworldaboveasthebombsfellfromorbit,shatteringthecityandlayingwastetothosewhodefendedit.'Iknowthisworld'sname,'hesaid,asitsterriblelegacypouredintohim.'Yes,' said theDreadnought. 'Of courseyoudo.Horus cut it into theheart ofeverylegionary,whethertheywerethereornot.''ThisisIsstvanIII.''Yes.''Andyou…'saidVistario.'Youare—'

'IamAncientRylanor,'saidtheDreadnought.

AncientRylanor.Vistarioknewthename.Howcouldhenot?The tales spun around the betrayal at Isstvan III filled entire wings of theGalleryofPergamum.ThiswaswherethecankerattheheartoftheLegionswasfirstrevealed,wheretheLegionshadfirstspilledthebloodoftheirbrothersinopen warfare. Magnus had despatched cabal after cabal seeking truths fromthosewhohadfoughtinthatbattle,desiringtounravelitsrootcauses.Itseemedto Vistario to be a thankless task, for every adept of the Corvidae knew thatnothingeverreallybegan.Therecouldbenosinglemomentfromwhichthisorany other event sprang; the threads could always be followed to some earliermomentandtheactionsthatprecededthem.Toattempttopinanyevent'sorigintoasinglemomentintimewoulddriveamindtoinsanity.Perhaps it already has, thought Vistario, thinking of the desperate need hepretendednottoseeinhisprimarch'sgaze.Those who had fought through the virus-scoured hell-scapes of Isstvan IIIdescribedloyalistwarriorsoftheWorldEaters,DeathGuard,SonsofHorusandEmperor's Children fighting for months against their brothers, enduringunimaginablehorrorsinthefaceofinevitableextinction.TheonlymentionoftheDreadnought'sfatecamefromthatmostunreliableofnarrators, Lucius the Swordsman, who claimed Saul Tarvitz spoke of anundergroundhangartheDreadnoughtwasrumouredtohavefound.'Whydidyounotescape?'askedVistario.'Iwouldhave,but theseismicshockwavesofIsstvan'sdeathwentdeeperandlasted longer than any could have foreseen. The roof of the cavern collapsed,trappingmehereasyousee.'Vistario glanced at the strange device hooked to the interior of the wreckedstarship.'Andwhatisthat?''A sonic weapon of some kind. A handful of my former brothers found thisplaceandsoughttokillme.Theyfailed,butthepoweroftheirweaponscrippledmeandleftmeasyouseemenow.''Andyouwroughtitinto,what?Adistressbeaconofsomekind?'The Dreadnought's vox-caster grated with what Vistario took to be a ruefulchuckle.

'Adistressbeacon?'saidRylanor.'No,alure.''Alureforwhat?'ThesoundofdeadskinslippingoverrocksentachilldownVistario'sspine.AsilkenvoiceansweredtheDreadnought'squestion.'Forme,'itsaid.'Isn'tthatright,Rylanor?'Vistario'smouth fell open as a towering, serpentine shape emerged from theshadows of the cavern. Multi-limbed, sinuous and beautiful, ivory white hairspilledacrosstheshockingpurpleofhissculptedwar-plate.'Atlast,'saidRylanor.'Fulgrim.'

Theprimarchwasanabomination, evenby the standardsofwarriorswhohadseen their own father hideously changed by the transformative energies of theGreatOcean.Vistariofeltaether-firepulsingwithinFulgrim'sbody,hisabilitytomanipulateitsenergiesmassivelypowerfulyetunsubtle.Swordsglitteredathismidsection,andhiseyesrovedthechamber,takingthemeasureofthepresentedtableau.Howlonghadhebeenwatchingandlistening?In the centuries since the Battle of Terra, the Phoenician's behaviour defiedrationalunderstandingorasenseofpredictability.Magnushimselfhadgivenupany form of prognostication concerning his brother's actions, so how couldVistarioevenbegintopredictwhatFulgrimmightdonext?'Ancient,' said Fulgrim, sliding over the floor with grotesque, peristalticmotions.'Youlookterrible.Adisgrace,even.''Whathasbecomeofyou,myprimarch…?'saidRylanor,hishorrifieddisgustcleareventhroughthedegradedqualityofhisvox-caster.'Youareamonster.''Says the scrap of ruined flesh maintained by grotesque machinery,' saidFulgrim,circlingthefourofthem.Hispaleeyeswerepearlescentorbswithoutpupils, soulless and devoid of anything that had once made him great. Theyregardedthewarriorsbeforehimwithonlypassinginterest.'Why does Magnus send his broken sons to Isstvan III? Did you leantnothingfromtheWolves'destructionofProspero?Myhermitbrothershouldknowbynowthathismeddlesomecuriosityonlyleadstodisaster.'Vistario fought to findhisvoice,alwaysaproblemin the faceofaprimarch.Doubly so in the presence of one so altered. Yet even though Fulgrim'sappearancehadchangedsoterribly,pangsoflongingstirredinVistario'sbreast.'Weheardhismessage,'hemanaged.'Too bad for you,' said Fulgrim with a grin, taking in their predicament.MurshidstillhunglikealimpfishinRylanor'sgrip,Vistariowascoveredbythe

assaultcannon,andAkhtarstoodimmobile,hisweapontrainedunerringlyupontheDreadnought'ssarcophagus.ThePhoenicianapproachedRylanor.'So,oldfriend,'saidFulgrim.'Youhavemyattention.Whatisityouwantmetohear?And do try tomake it diverting - after all, you'vehadmillennia toperfectit.'Rylanor dropped Murshid and used the wheezing, grating limb to push itscarapaceupright.Vistariosawthemuzzleoftheassaultcannontrackawayfromhim,followingtheprimarch'smovements.Heeasedhismindintothewarlikeenumerations,lettingthepoweroftheGreatOceanintohisflesh.+Beready,+hesenttohisbrothers.Aflashofthoughtonly.Hefelttheirunderstanding,andflexedhispsycheinreadinessforwieldinghispowers.Conflictingvisionspressedupon themeniscusof hismind: shreddingbulletsandmass-reactives,fireandanunstoppabletideofvirulentdestruction.Theomensarenotgood.Dust and rubble fell fromRylanor's armour like sand in an hourglass. Freshportionsof thesmashedobjectbeneath theDreadnought'sbodywere revealed,andhummingpowercablesranfromRylanor'ssarcophagustoanopenedcontrolpanel.Vistariofelthisbloodchillashefinallyunderstoodwhatitwas.'Has it truly beenmillennia?' askedRylanor, his voice stronger now, comingfromatimelongagoandfilledwithinfinitesadnessandpatientregret.'Ithas,' saidFulgrim,movingcloser. 'Thinkofall that timewasted.All thegloryunearned,allthevictoriesdenied.'Rylanorgaveanothergratingbarkoflaughter.'Glory? You think I sought glory? How little you understood of your ownLegion.Yes, Ihave indeedperfectedwhat Iwishyou tohear,' saidRylanorasFulgrim reached out to touch him. 'And though I am sure you will find itdiverting,itwillnotbemethatsaysit.'Fulgrim's grin faltered as he too saw what the Dreadnought's body hadobscured.'No,'hesaid,asifhethoughthecouldstopwhatwasabouttohappenwithaword.'Yes,'saidRylanor,sendinganactivatingpulseofenergytothearmedwarheadofanunexplodedvirusbomb.

Vistariosawthemomentofdetonationafractionofasecondbeforeithappened.Instantaneously, he beheld a vision of the explosive spread of the Life Eatervirus as it consumed them, dissolving like frost before the sun. He saw theirdoomedbodiestransformedintoreplicatingfleshrefineriesinwhichthehyper-evolving viral strands mutated and found ever more inventive ways ofdestroyingorganicmaterial.Allofthishewitnessedinthespacebetweenlifeanddeath,themostfleetingglimpseintoaninevitablefuture.ButafleetingglimpsewasallanadeptoftheCorvidaeneeded.+Akhtar!+Already in the blunt, pugnacious enumerations, Akhtar was unleashing hispower even as the detonation circuits of the virus bomb triggered.The casingshatteredastheexplosiveheartofthebombcrackedopenandtheisolatedviralcompoundsmixed in thepreciseamounts tocatalyse theunstoppable reaction.Fire bloomed from the warhead in tortuous slow motion, lapping aroundRylanor'ssarcophaguslikelow-gradeviscouspromethium.+Icannotholditforlong!+criedAkhtar,hisRaptorapowersstretchedtotheirlimits in holding back the explosion. Vistario reached out with his mind andpouredhispowerintothewarrior,feelingMurshiddothesame.FulgrimlaughedasthecreepingdeathslidslowlyovertheDreadnought'sbody.'Isthisit?'hesaid.'Yousoughttodrawmeheretokillme?'Rylanortriggeredhisassaultcannon,but-fastasquicksilver-Fulgrimcaughtitandcrusheditbeforeitcouldfire.'No,Idon'tthinkso,'saidtheprimarch,effortlesslyrippingthearmfromtheDreadnought'sbody.Sparksflewfromtheruptured limbandFulgrimgave theweaponadismissiveglancebeforetossingitaside.'Youbetrayedus,'bellowedRylanor.'Yoursons!Youledusheretodie.Thereisnoforgivenessforthat.None!Youmustdiebymyhand!TheEmperor'sjusticewillfalluponyou.NotevenFulgrimtheIlluminatorcanescapetheLifeEater.'FulgrimleanedinclosetoRylanorandshookhishead.'You wish me dead?' he said, scathing pity dripping from every syllable.'Why?Because you think I betrayed you? The Legion? Oh, Rylanor, yourthoughtsaresonarrow.Ifyoucouldonlyseeusnow,howbeautifulwehavebecome.Weshinesobrightly,eachofusabrilliantsun.'Fulgrim reached down, sliding his bare hand inside a rent torn in theDreadnought's armour.He smiled, closing his eyes and letting his tongue slipacrosshislipsashepusheddeeperinside.

'Ah,thereyouare!'saidFulgrim,asRylanor'svox-castergratedinfury.'Wetandwriggling.Icanfeelyourpanic.It'sdelicious!'Rylanor's power fist swung around, bathed in fire. It struck Fulgrim on theshoulder,butAkhtar'spsychicforcewasnotsimplyconfinedtotheLifeEater'sdetonation.Fulgrim laughedoff the sluggish attack andoneofhis lower armsdrewaglitteringswordofalienorigin.Thebladeslicedinacruellyprecisearc,cuttingthroughthefibre-bundlemotivatorsandservos.Rylanor'sarmfelllimpathisside.VistariowatchedtheviralfirespreadovertheDreadnought'scarapace,slippinginside his buckled plates of armour.Rylanor did not carewhether he lived ordied,onlythatFulgrimwentwithhim.'Do.Not.Do.This!'barkedtheDreadnought.'Whynot?Iamyourmaster-IcandowhateverIlike.IcancrushyouorIcanraiseyouup.ReturntotheLegion.AcceptthegiftsoftheDarkPrinceandyouwillwalkatmyside,cladonceagain in flesh.Youcanbeanything,oldfriend!Iwillsculptyouintosomethingbeautiful-agodtothesemortals!''Never!Allwe have left between us is thatwewill die together!' roared theDreadnought,theupperportionofhiscarapaceburningwithblueflames.'IamRylanorof theEmperor'sChildren.AncientofRites,Venerableof thePalatineHost,andproudservantoftheEmperorofMankind,Belovedbyall.Irejectyounowandalways!'Fulgrim laughedandsaid, 'I'm sorry, did it sound like Iwasoffering youachoice?'The primarch wrenched his hand from Rylanor's sarcophagus, dragging asoppingmass of fluid andmatterwith him.Glutinous ropes dripped from hisfingers; he was like a midwife holding a mewling newborn. Ruptured cablesspilled amniotic fluid so stagnant itmust surely have been poisoningRylanorwitheverypassingsecond.'I will remake you, brother,' said Fulgrim. 'You will be my crowningachievement.'Though his body was little more than rags of wet meat, Vistario sensedRylanor's horror at this last violation.An inescapable destinywhere hewouldbecomethatwhichhehatedmost.+Whatdowedo?+The questionwasMurshid's, and the connection between theThousandSonswassostrongthattheAthanaean'sperceptionforemotionspreadtoallthreeofthem.

VistariofeltFulgrim'sinfinitemalice,hiscruelenjoymentofRylanor'sanguishand the helplessness of the Thousand Sons. The primarch of the Emperor'sChildrenrevelledinhisoverweeningpride,atraitMagnushadmorethanoncetoldVistariohadbeenpresentlongbeforehisfall.But more than anything, stronger even than Fulgrim's spite, Vistario feltRylanor's pride and honour, the unbending core of greatness that had set himagainsthisbrothers and seenhimdescend intoobsessivemadnessbeneath thesurfaceofadeadworld.VistariotookthemeasureofFulgrim,seeingnothingworthyinhim.Hiswarriorsfeltthemomenthisdecisionwasmade.+PrimarchFulgrim!+sentVistario.+Rylanordeservesbetterthanyou.+The primarch looked up, his once bright eyes now black and filledwith thedarkestpoison.+Hedeservesbetterthanallofus.+Heraisedhisbolterand firedamass-reactive into thebackofAkhtar's skull.TheRaptora'sheadexplodedandwithhisdeath,thepsychicforceholdingbackthewarhead'sdetonationended.Vistariosawfire.Andoncemore,alllifeburned.

It took much less time for the Life Eater to burn out on Isstvan III's seconddeath.Itsfirstendinghadclaimedeightbillionlives,snuffedoutinamatterofhours when Horus launched his bombardment from theVengeful Spirit. Withsuchplentifulmortal flesh to fuel thebio-killer's fury, thepsychic screamwassaidtohaveeclipsedtheAstronomicanitself.A shadow emerged from the undercity, a serpentine outline of cinders, heldtogether by aweb of neverborn energy.Not even the viral toxinswrought byancient science could unmake that which the darkest powers of thewarp hadraisedup.The Phoenician's form was already weaving itself anew, but his soul wasbroken.Fornopain,nohurtandnoinjurycouldwoundsuchabeingasmuchasdenialofitsmagnificence.ThatwasAncientRylanor'sfinalvictory.

'Everymancastsashadow,nothisbodyonly,buthisimperfectlymingledspirit.'

-Emerson,M2

Years later, long after theTriumph ofUllanor, and the great bloodshed of theHeresy,andthedarknessoftheFallthatendedit,menforgotthehopetheyhadonceshared.It had been a fine thing, a spirit that had invested and fortified every soul,human and post-human alike as they stepped out from Terra upon theundertaking of reunion. Theywere torch-bearers, every one of them, carryinghope likeapure flame to illuminate theworldsandstars thathadbecome lostfromviewinthelongshadowsofOldNight.HistoryknowsthistimeastheGreatCrusade,butthenamewasnotfavouredbythemenwholedit.TheEmperor,whoisnowawatchfulgod,spoketohissonsonmanyoccasions,affirminghisdesire thatabetternamebefound.Theword 'crusade' implied vengeance and cleansing, a scouring of worlds and aruthlessdoomtoallenemies. 'Theremaybenoenemiesatall,'HorusLupercalhadsaid. 'Distanceandstrifehavewalledthegalaxyfromus,andtheoldhighroutes and shiftwayshave fallen to disuse and are chokedwithunstirreddust.Wehavenotpassedthatwayincenturies.Wehavenotbeenable.True,webearour arms and strap our harness-plate upon us, ready to deal soundly withenemiesarising.Butweshouldnotexpectthem,nortreatallwemeetwiththatpotential.'Warshappened,anddeedsofviolentcompliancedrivenbynecessity.Thosearetheactionshistoryremembersfromthatage.Butforeveryworldorculturethatresisted,ordeniedtheofferoffriendship,foreveryxenosracethatbaulkedand

drewarmsattheapproachofmankind,ahundredworldsrejoicedandhymnedtheir relief to see the expeditionary fleets take high anchor in their skies. TheGreat Crusade, so called by those who came later, was for the most partbloodless. Though the expeditionary fleets raced out from Terra like thefragmentsofanailbomb,theyvoyagednottodestroybuttolocatethelostandscatteredbranchesofthehumanspecies,torebuildandre-lightagalacticculturethatStrifeandOldNighthad,together,putasunder.Menforgetthatnow.Theyforgetthehopethathadcarriedthemforward.ThewoundoftheHeresyWaractsasmonstrouspunctuationinthetextsofhistory,making it impossible to recall or even believe the spirit of optimism that hadprevailedintheyearsprior.Two days before his death,Horus Lupercal is said to have cried out that allhopewasgone.Hewasnotforeseeingthemurderthatwouldendthecivilwar.Thoseclosetohim, thoughtherewereonlyafewleftby then,believedhewas lamenting theagebeforeUllanor,beforeDavin,beforeIsstvanandCalth.Thetimeofupliftedspirit,andaresolvethatseemedunbreakable.Agloriousandinspiringtemplateforthefuturethatcamefromdreamsofnoblemajesty,notvisionsofheresy.A future that had seemed possible, until itwas suddenly not.A futureworthdyingfor,and,certainly,worthlivingfor.

Ullanor had beenmarked. The greenskin xenos, 'orks' in expedition parlance,hadrisentobeoneoftheforemostrealenemiesoftheReunionProject.Therewasnodealingwith them.Theirbestialnaturebrookednocomplianceandnonegotiation. Plans had been drawn, threats assessed, and Ullanor had beenidentifiedasthesitewherethexenosmenacewouldbemetandputdown.Theexpeditionfleetswererearmingfordeployment.Timewasprecious.FleetstrategistsproposedawindowofeightmonthsrelativebeforeUllanorceasedtobe a viable fight zone and the xenos campaign would be obliged to shiftstrategiestoanewtargetworld.Lupercal's fleet, the 63rd, lingered in the heliopause of the IssiniumSystem,awaiting the return of compliance missions to Kest's Sun and Velich Tarn.Though eager to make shift, Horus Lupercal would not leave fleet elementsbehind.The63rdhadremainedonstationattheIssiniumfringefortwentymonths,andin that timehadrecordedsixcompliances,allpeaceful.FirstCaptainAbaddonhad led missions to Kiskayde and Phocis, and obtained glad fealty from the

culturesonbothworlds.TheOrdinatorsofKiskayde,indeed,hadfurnishedtheexpedition with auxiliaries to demonstrate their willingness to support theImperialcause.Kiskaydinjump-troopsinengravedchromearmourlodgedinthetroopdecksoftheflagship,drillinginpreparationforthexenoscompliance,andlearning,wide-eyed,thehistoriesofTerrathattheyhadmissedouton.KiskaydewasahumancolonycultureestablishedduringtheAgeofTechnology'sstellarexodus;thoughtheiraccentsandhabitswerestrange,theyhadnotforgottentheirritesofbirthandblood.Captains Targost and Sedirae had brokered peace with the Fiefworlds atOrlustre. Captain Goshen had negotiated settlement with the wary andmistrustfulMotherlandofNewHearth,gentlyeasingtheirconcernswithgiftsofhigh science and assurances of staged integration. Horus Lupercal hadcommendedLevGoshenforhisadroitandsensitivediplomacy.LupercalhimselfhadledanembassytoIssinium,andwonthefreecomplianceofHighConcernswhogovernedthesystem.Hehadfeastedwiththemforninedays,andshownnolossofenthusiasmastheperformanceoftheiroralhistory,whichlastedfortheentirefeast,rolledonandeveron,sing-song.SignalshadcomefromKest'sSun.CaptainsLokenandQruzereportedthattheculturetherewaslongdead.Thesignalsthathaddrawnthefleet'sattentionhadbeen found to be the automatic broadcasts of old telecommunication systems.Some viral plague, long defunct, had taken the ancient colonies during OldNight, and their beacons had been calling for help, pointlessly, for sevencenturies.LokenandQruzehadspentamonthsearchingtheemptytombcitiesforsignsoflife,orofstasis-heldsurvivors.Nowtheywereenroutebacktothefleet.Sevencultures:sixnewfriendsandalliesreturningtothefold,andonelost.Afine result to show for twentymonths' work, with no loss of life, though theMournivalquietlycomplainedforlackofmartialpractice.'Tell them itwill come,'Horus toldMaloghurst, his equerry. 'Ullanor awaits,andUllanorwillgive them the test theyseem to long for.But tell them too…they shouldnotwish for it.Thatwe canbringour kin together, andnobloodspilled, is thewaymyfatherwouldprefer.Wearesensiblebeings,sowehavepreparedourselvesforwarbetterthananyspeciesintheseaofstars.Butthoughwe are well made for battle, we always must desire it least of all possibleoutcomes.'

Velich Tarnwas, then, that least of all desired outcomes.Assessed first as an

outpost,orasmall,starvelingsurvivorstronghold,ithadprovennon-compliant.CaptainSejanus, favoured of allLupercal's commanders, had led the embassythere and met ferocious resistance from the outset. His reports back to thewaitingfleethadbeenbriefandmatter-of-fact.Theenvironmentwaspoor,andthehuman enclave therewell fortified and armedwithwhat he categorised as'bio-mechanoid' weapons. They had first ignored and then rejected Sejanus'requestsforcontact.AllhopeofcompliancehadfounderedwhentheVelichTarnenclave commenced open hostilities. Their population was small - scansrevealedonlyfourhundredpeople-buttheirmindsetwassmaller.VelichTarnwould not submit to Imperial authority or even Imperial contact. 'They areextreme xenophobes,' Sejanus had written in a communique, clearly with aheavyheart, 'and refuse todealwithus.Despite their smallnumbers, theyareformidablyweaponised.Theyaredetermined to resist, and if left alone, I feartheywillgrowintoasignificantthreattostabilityinthiszone.Withregret,mylord,Irequestyourpermissiontoilluminatethem.'Horus read thismissive quietly.Maloghurst and the others present could seefromhishumourthathewasdisappointed,andthatheempathiseddeeplywithhisfriendHasturSejanus'reluctance.Toomanypocketsofhumansurvivalhadreacted to expedition forceswith hate and fear during the course of theGreatReunion, most often the smallest and most isolated. Illumination was a lastresort.Horusgranted the request, and sent tidingsof consolationand forbearance toSejanus.Aweek later,Sejanus requested that the restofhisFourthCompany strengthjoinhim.His reports were now referring to the opposition as 'the biomechs' or the'biomech obscenities', and rating resistance as 'severe'. He had identified theirleaderasamannamedFo,andsuggested'…thereisnodealinghere,noroptionfortruce.Illuminationmustproceedtoitsmostmiserableextent,andthisblightbeerased.''I'mgoingtoSejanus,'HorustoldMaloghurst.'My lord,'Maloghurst chided softly. 'Hastur has it in hand, and is reinforced.Qruze andLoken are due back fromKest's sun in two days.We are ready tomakeshifttoUllanor.''MybravewolfHasturstruggleswiththis,'saidHorus.'Itisabloodybusiness,theworstdealingswemustcontendwithinthisproject.Worsethanxenos-breed,forthisisourownkindturnedferal.Iwillsupporthim.Oh,don'tlookatmelike

that,equerry.This is the lastbusinesswemustundertake in thiszone,and theonlyonethathasprovedbloody.I'llseeitdoneawaycleanlyatHastur'sside.I'llnotleaveamesshereinthisquadrant,norleaveoneofmysonstobearthebitterburdenalone.''If this is your wish, lord,' Maloghurst replied, for he knew when even hisartfullytwistedpersuasionwouldnotwork.'Itis,'saidLupercal.'Besides,Ihavebeenreading.''Reading,mylord?''Idly.Fromtheoldannals.IthinkIknowwhothisFois.'

Evenfromorbit-descent,VelichTarndidnot look likeaplaceanymanwouldwish to stay for more than a day, let alone the millennia Fo's people werebelievedtohaveshelteredthere.Bonespiresofrockroselikelinesoffangsfrommiasmallowlandsandplutoniclakes that were toxic beyond any reason of local enviro-chemistry. Striatedclouds raced across the skies, low and dense, thickwith pollutants, driven bycrosswindsofblast-zoneforce.Illumination had gripped a corner of the landscape, the region of the mainenclave. Uplands had been fractured by orbital weapons, and kilometres ofrubblestillglowedastheheatleakedoutofit.Thebrokencurtainhillslayunderavastpallofgreysmokethatroselikethebreathofasupervolcanohoursfromobliteratingitself.In the scorching twilight beneath the plume, the valley was alight withthousands of snapping, winking, flashing darts of weaponsfire as the entireFourth Company of the Luna Wolves, along with mechanised support,maintainedthegrindtobreakFo'senclaveopen.Hastur Sejanus, his plate scored and dented, hurried up the dirt track to thelandingzone.AStormbird,itswhitehullgrimedwithatmosphericsootwasjustsettling on the wide mesh pads beyond the lines of empty troop carriers andlandingbarges.Daggersofblueflamestabbedfromitsvectorjetsasittoucheddown. Sejanus felt the thump of its mass transmitted through the temporarymeshdecking.Sejanuswasalone.Therehadn'tbeentimetopullmenoutofthefightinglinetoformanhonourguard.Lupercal,withcharacteristicallypuckishglee,hadchosennottogivetheFourthCompanycaptainadvancenoticeofhisarrival.Sejanus strode out across the pad, steam roiling around his feet, the landingmastswinkingintheyellowlight.TheStormbird's landingjawswereopening.

Horuswasalreadyontheramp.'Mylord,'Sejanusbegan.Horus,infullwar-plate,steppedoutandembracedhiscaptain.'Don't,Hastur,'hesaid.'Mylord?''Iknowyou,oldfriend.First,anapologyforthelackofdueceremony.Then,somedemandforcensurefortakingsoverylongtocrushthisnestofvermin.''Iadmit,Ihadbothprepared.''Forgetthem,'saidHorus.'Let'stalkinside.'

Theycrossedtothenearestmodular.Inside,air-scrubberspurgedtheatmospherelock,andrecyclepumpshosedthemindecontamspray.Theyenteredthemaincommandmodule,uncouplingtheirwar-helms.'Letmehavetheroom,'Sejanuscommanded.The officers present saluted and withdrew. They were alone in the low-ceilinged strategy station, unmanned cogitators streaming battlefield data ontotheirraisedglassplates.'Youcameto…?'Sejanusasked,lettingthequestiontrail.'Offer support,' saidHorus.He set down his helm, glanced around, and thensmiledatthecaptain.'Yourreportsarecandid,butbrief,Hastur.Icantell,morebywhatyoudon'tsaythanwhatyoudo,thatthisplaceplaguesyou.'Sejanus shrugged. His face was drawn. Horus had never seen Sejanus sofreightedwithstress.'I have tried to be succinct,' he replied. 'This place is a bane. This enemy…inhuman.Inthelightofthegloriouscomplianceslatelyachieved,IfeltIshouldsparethebaldhorrorofit.Whenthisisdone,itisathingbetterforgotten.''Thetruthiswhatthetruthis,Hastur.I'mnotasensitivesoulthatneedstobecoddled. And even in our worst moments, we may learn things that we maybenefitfrominlaterevaluation.You'vemaintainedafullbattlerecord?''Of course.Wecouldhave reviewed it together at some later date.Lord, thiswar is all butwon.My spearhead squads are just hours away from taking theenclaveheart.''Howmanyhaveyoulost,Hastur?'Sejanuspaused.'Sixteen men dead,' he said. 'Another thirty wounded to such extent thataugmeticrepairwillberequired.Usuallylimbloss.Iamashamedoftheselossstatistics.'

'BecauseyouareafullcompanyoftheImperium'sfinestLegion,andyoufacejustfourhundredsouls?''Yes,lord.''Fo's peoplemust be something indeed. That's an unprecedented proportionalhit-rate.''It is,' saidSejanus, 'which iswhy I havekept it tomyself for now.ButFo'speople…arenotpeople.Fourhundred life signs ismisleading. Ibelieve therearelessthanthirtyactualhumanspresentonthisworld.Perhapsnoneatall.Oursystemsinterpretedmultipleandblendedlifereadingsandcameupwithafigureoffourhundred.Buteachonecouldmean…adozen…athousand…''Adozenorathousandwhat?'Sejanuscrossedtooneoftheprimarycogitators,enteredhiscodeandpulleduppict-capturefromthecombatarchives.Slidingwithhisfingertip,hebegantolaytheimagesoutacrosstheglassscreen,asamanmightspreadpaperpicturesonatable.'Wait,wait,whatamIlookingat?'askedHorus.'Whatisthis?'He touched the screen.Ayellow runehighlightedone imageandenlarged it,bringingittothefore.Ablur,motion-stabilised.Steelteeth,likehumanincisors,arranged in a grinding circle like the head of amining rock-drill. A snout ofcreambonearmour.Massivejaw-musclesexteriorised,reinforcedwithhydraulicbaffles,sheathedinthefoldsofathroatthatbelliedlikeaserpent.'Bio-mech,' replied Sejanus. 'Bio-mechanical constructs. Engineered to kill.Someassmallasaman'shand,otherslargerthanadrop-ship.''Engineered?''Gene-edited.Spliced,reworkedfromhumanstock.'Horuspulledmoreimagestothefrontandstaredatthem.Eachoneshowedanewhorror,asifhewereflickingthroughapict-bookofamadman'snightmares.'Everythingyouseeishuman,'saidSejanus.'There'sbarelyanythingIrecogniseasremotelyhuman,'saidHorusquietly.'Quite.Butbio-scansareprecise.Everythingcomingatusisgeneticallyhuman.Woven from this colony's original human stock. Some combine the genes ofmorethanonesourceindividual.Multipleothersareworkedfromasingleorigingene-donor.Allarereinforcedandweaponisedwithcybernetics.''Hencethemisleadinglifescans?'Sejanus nodded. 'We're facing thousands of individual bio-mech hostiles.Potentially, over a hundred thousand. Every single one of them is capable ofkilling a fully armed legionary. But they are all derived from the same four

hundredhumanoriginals.'HelookedatHorus. 'Mywolveshavegiventhemnames,lord.Ihavetriedtodiscourage it. Cyberzerkers. Biome- cannibals. Misbegots. They are feralhorrors.Theleastofthemmakethegreenskinsseemmild.Theworstis…thereisnosanereasonforanyofthem.''Sanereason?''Imean,lord…inthesenseofdesign.They'rejustlikenightmares.Nightmaresofflesh,madeflesh.Somearesoclumsyandgrotesque theyseemtoservenootherpurposethantodisgust.'Sejanus summoned upmore images.A pallid thing like a starfish, the limbshumanarms, abeakedmouthat thecentre.A thorned snakeas thickas a treetrunk, formed from translucent intestine. Somethingmade entirely ofweepingeyes.Here,fourthick,humanlegsbearingasackthatopenedinagapingorificethatwasamouthwithinamouthwithinamouth.Glistening thingscovered inblisters and horns. Pulsing things festooned with barbs. Things made ofinterlocked hands that cupped drooling mouths and glaring pupils. Thingssheathedinfingernailhorn,theirexposedflanksstippledwithcoarseblackhairsandopensores.'ThesearetheconstructsFohasmade,'saidSejanus.Horusglancedathim. 'IntheDarkAge,'hesaid, 'beforeOldNightfell, therewasamancalledFo.BasilioFo.Abio-engineer.Aself-proclaimedWorkerofObscenity.Thedataisveryincomplete…''Itwouldbe,'remarkedSejanus. 'TheAgeofTechnologyendedfivemillenniapast.'Horusnodded. 'ThecreaturecalledFomentionedintheannalswasamonsterevenbythestandardsofthatgodlessage.Huntedforhisblasphemouswork,hefledTerraduringthestellarexodus.Hewaspresumedlost,longdead.'He looked at Sejanus. 'But given his gifts and skill-set, it may be he hassurvived. Endured is perhaps a better word. Sejanus, wemay have found thehiddenbastionofoneofhistory'sfoulestcreatures.'Thevox-systemchimed.Sejanusturnedandtookthesignal,listeningcarefully.HelookedbackatLupercal.'Illumination complete,' he said. 'We have compliance. Daerec Terminatorsquad reports penetration of the enclave'smain bunker and the capture of Fo.They'rebringinghimhere.Nootherhumansfound.Notwholeones.'Horusnodded,andclappedSejanusonthearm.'Yourbleakeffortsarerewarded,Hastur.'

Sejanusallowedhimselfathinsmile.'I think itwasyou that turned the tide, lord.Wordofyourunexpectedarrivalquicklyspread.TheFourthwasinspiredbyyourpresence.Theyredoubledtheireffortssoasnottodisappointyou.''A coincidence, I'm sure,' replied Horus. 'Since when did the Fourth everslacken?''Perhaps,'saidSejanus.'Butyouhaveaneffect.Theenemymusthavelearnedof your arrival too, through vox intercept. Their heart was lost to learn aprimarch was upon them. Just as our efforts renewed, Daerec reports thebiomechmisbegots lost a degree of frenzy. Their resistance broke, as if theywere,atlast,afraidofus.''TheyfalteredjustasIarrived?'askedHorus.'Asfastaswordspread,'saidSejanus.Horuspaused.Hepickeduphiswarhelm.'Hastur?''Mylord?''Getyourweapon,'hegrowled.'Theywerewaitingforme.'Sejanus began to reply, but hiswordswere lost. The entirewest side of thecommandmodulerippedout,andhellpouredinatthem.

Themisbegotwasthesizeofthreelandingships.IthadboredupthroughrockandsoilbeneaththeLunaWolves'forwardbase,breachingthecrustoftheworldaseasilyasanoceancreaturemightriseupfromtheunlitdepthsandbreakthesurface. Endless rows of grinding teeth had gnawed the ground away. Greatloopsandridgesofmusclehadpulsedtoheavethegiantthingalongitsburrow.Ithadnoform,yetithadallforms.Itwasavastbulk,aslaboffleshreinforcedwitharibcagethatwouldhavemadetheframeofagenerousdwellinghall.Yetitwasalsoawrithingforestoflimbs,ofclawinghands,ofamputeestumpsthatwedgedandstabiliseditsweight.Itwaseyes,wideandweeping,clusteredlikeegg sacks. It was mouths, some opening in its centre mass, some lungingforwardonwhip-spinednecks,everygulletspecialisedanddistinct.Onetosnap,onetobite,onetogrind,onetosever,onetograspandholdasothersfed.It had no symmetry whatsoever. It was a sample of organic nightmares andanatomical shocks fused in one flesh, resembling no creature, terrestrial orxenos.Yet its one defining horror was that it, and every disparate part of it, wasunmistakablyhuman.

Anditwasfast.Despiteitssize,itgropedandslitheredlikeacharginggrox.Itdemolished the module chamber, shredding reinforced fabric in a blizzard ofsplinters,rendingcogitatorstationsintoscattersofsparksanddebris,rippingupdeckplatesandundermattinglikepaper.Staggered backwards by the shockwave of its burst assault, Lupercal andSejanus braced side by side, unslung theirweapons and unleashed streams ofbolter fire into this onrushing misbegot. Wounds stippled the face of it,exploding fibres of flesh and muscle, erupting clouds of blood drizzle. Eachgapinginjurywouldhavebeenthekill-woundforanybeastofcomparablescale.Itdidnotflinch.Evenwiththemostcuriousxenos-form,therewasalwayssomedefiningsenseof biology. A common-sense estimation of vital parts, of head or heart, orprincipalorgans.Themisbegot'slackofsymmetrymadesuchdeterminationsimpossible.'Withme,'saidHorus.Theyfellbackthroughajunctionhallintotheadjoiningmodule,reloadingasthey ran. Alarms were already screeching, triggered by seismic tremblers,perimeterauspexandintegritymonitors.Theklaxonsweredrownedoutbythegrindingroarof thehorroras itpulverisedthemodularcompartments togetatthem.Ahead,Horus sawmen rallying tomeet the attack: the startled fleet officerswhomanned the forwardbase, armyauxiliaries, tactical staff, anda fewLunaWolveschargedwithstationdefence.'LegionesAstartes,atmyside!'Horusyelled.'Therest,fallback!'Onlythearmouredwouldstandachance.Therestwoulddieinseconds.Somewere already spluttering as the corrosive air of Valich Tarn flooded thecompromisedhabitat.Yettheyhesitated,foritwasLupercal,deathopeningitsdoorathisheels,andtheyhadpledgedtheirlivesandcometothestarstostandathisside.'Icommandit!Saveyourselvesnow!'Horuscried.Theyobeyed,reluctant.TheLunaWolves,sixofthem,madealinewithHorusand the Fourth's captain. The misbegot bore down, half submerged in theground,sliding throughflooringandrockalike,humpedspinevisible, flingingdeckplatesasideinitswake.Thewallsperished.Thegaleentered.Eightboltersbegantofire,spatteringmeatandswirlingtheairwithblood-smoke.Itreachedthem,unstopped,unslowed.Someburied,forwardpartofittoreupthrough the decking and dragged a Luna Wolf down, churning tooth-drills

shreddinghislegsandlowertorso.'Mylord!'Sejanushowled.Themisbegotrearedup,itstitanicformsupportedbystrainingappendagesanditsgnarledtrans-skeletalframe.Horusstoodhisground.Hiswarbladegleamedinhisarmouredfist.'Gobacktohell,'hewhispered.

'Youslewit?'askedFo.Horussatdownfacinghiminthestarkcell-blockchamber.Hewasdrenchedinblood,andthechestandfore-guardsofhisplateweregougedandstrippedbacktobaremetal.Hemadenoansweratfirst.Blooddrippedoffhimontothedeck.Atrailoflittlebloodpoolsledbacktothehatch.'Itwas reluctant todie,' saidHorus. 'Idismantledyourworkuntil I found theonepartitcouldnotpersistwithout.'Fonodded.Hewassmallandbird-like,hisforeheadbroad,hiseyesbright.Heperchedratherthansat,hunchedinhissimpleblackrobes.'Youwerewaitingforme,'saidHorus.Foshrugged.'I knew you would come one day, and when you did, I would not win. Iresolved tomakemy standcount for something. If notdefeat the enemy, theneliminatethegreatestofitsparty.Itsleader.''YouknewIwouldcome?'askedHorus.Fonodded.'Mm-hmm.You or something like you.One day.Eventually. It's been a longtime,butitwasinevitable.Terraendures.''Youlefttherealongtimeago.''Myartwasnotappreciated.''Ihaveseenitfirst-hand.Thatdoesnotsurpriseme.Abominations,Fo.''Abominations?' Fo smiled, and showed small and perfect teeth. 'I see tasteshavenotchanged.'Hesatback.'I have been monitoring your activity since you arrived in this zone twentymonthsago,'hesaid.'Throughmylisteningstationsandwatch-networks,Ihaveobserved your dealings with local cultures. Your message. Your offer ofembrace.Iknewyouwouldknockonmydoorbeforelong.''Andyouwereprepared,'saidHorus.'Afraid,foryouthoughtwewouldjudgeyouaspoorlyasthepeopleofTerraoncedid.'

Fofrowned.'No,youaremistaken,'hereplied.'YouthinkIleftTerrabecauseIwasdrivenout? Shunned? Demonised? No, no. All artists and innovators aremisunderstood.''Thenwhy?''BecauseIsawthestartofhisrise,'saidFo.'Eventhen,earlydays,butIcouldseewhathewouldbecome.Yourfather, Imean.Iknewwhatfutureawaitedamanwho dreamed the dreams he did. Though it took decades or centuries orlonger,Iknewhewouldnotbedenied.Iwantednopartofthat.Iwantedtobeasfarawayaspossible.''Why?'askedHorus.'His dream is unthinkable, yet hehas thepower tomake it real. I see hehasbeguntonow.You…youhavereachedthestars.''Yes,bearinghismessage.Hishopeto—''Hope?'Foshookhisheadsadly.'Yes.Naturally,hewouldtellhischildrenthat.Healwaysmadethingssoundsooptimistic.Agloriousandendlessfuture.But,ofcourse,youwouldn'tunderstand.''Idon't,'saidHorus,rising.'Youareamakerofabominations.Acreatorofthemost obscene things I have ever beheld. I presume amind as transgressive asyours would see only horror in the splendour of his ambition. And fear thejusticehewouldmeteuponyouforyourcrimesagainstthehumanform.''Ohgod,no!'criedFoinsurprise.Hehesitated. 'DotheystillspeakofgodonTerra?Dotheystillbelieve?Isupposenot.Theywouldn'thavetonow.Anyway,you'rewrong.Idon'tfearhisjustice.YousayIhavemadeabominations?Lookwhathehasmade.''Whatdoyoumean?'askedHorus.'Imeanyou.Youandbeings likeyou.You think I'vemademonsters? InmywildestdeliriumsIcouldnothavedesignedmonsterslikeyou.Ipractisesimpleand ingeniousartsofgenetics andanatomy. I tinker andedit, tomakepuzzlesanddelightsandcuriouswonders,thingstomakeusthink,andponderthenatureofourbeingandourplaceintheschemeoflife.'HelookedupatHorus.'Idonotmakethingsthatwillburnthegalaxydown.Idonotmakethingsthatwilldoomourspeciesandleaditintoanendlessfrenzyofwar.YouarethemostabominablethingIhaveeverseen.Grotesque.Sickening.Misbegotten.Icouldnothopetokillyouall,buttoabortjustonebeforeitreachedpotential…well,thatwouldhavebeensomesolace.'

Fogotup,andbrusheddownhisclothes.'I'dliketodienow,'hesaid.'Idon'twanttoliveinacosmoswherethingslikeyouareloose.'

'Whatwillyoudo?'askedHasturSejanus.'We'llpurgethisplace.LetnothingofFo'sworkremain.Andquickly,Hastur.Thefleetawaits.''Willyouexecutehimasheasks?'Horusshookhishead.'Forhiscrimesagainst thespecies,Ishould,Isuppose,'hereplied. 'ButIwillplacehimona shipandbringhim tomeetour father.Fo ismad,but Idearlywishhecouldglimpsethehonestandwholetruthoncebeforehislifeends.''Youwanthiscompliance?''His ideas are so wrong, Hastur. This is an enlightened age and we are themessengersofhope.Ahope thatourkindhas lacked throughall theagespastuntilthisera.Iwantthismantoknowhiserror,andappreciatethetruth.It'stheleastIcandoforhim.''Youaretoomerciful,'saidSejanus.'Ifthatismyonlyflaw,Iamgladofit,'saidHorus.'Hisnotionsunsettledme.Howcould anymanmisunderstand thegloryof our enterprise so completely?Howcouldanymanfearthelikesofme?'

Years later, long after theTriumph ofUllanor, and the great bloodshed of theHeresy,andthedarknessoftheFallthatendedit,menforgotthehopetheyhadonceshared.OnancientTerra, in thosefinaldaysof theFall,BasilioFoheardthe thunderapproaching through the stout walls of his oubliette cell in the depths of theImperialPalace.And,despitethemadnessthathadbythenconsumedhim,heknewhehadbeenright,allalong,nottosubmittohope.

ABOUTTHEAUTHORS

JohnFrenchhaswrittenseveralHorusHeresystoriesincludingthenovelsPraetorianofDornandTallarn,thenovellaTheCrimsonFist,andthe

audiodramasDarkCompliance,TemplarandWarmaster.ForWarhammer40,000hehaswrittenTheHorusianWars:Resurrection,theaudiodramasAgentoftheThrone:BloodandLies,AgentoftheThrone:Truthand

Dreams,theAhrimanseriesandmanyshortstories.

AaronDembski-BowdenistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsTheMasterofMankind,BetrayerandTheFirstHeretic,aswellasthenovellaAurelianandtheaudiodramaButcher'sNails,forthesameseries.HehasalsowrittenthepopularNightLordsseries,theSpaceMarineBattlesbookHelsreach,thenovelsTheTalonofHorusandBlackLegion,theGrey

KnightsnovelTheEmperor'sGiftandnumerousshortstories.HelivesandworksinNorthernIreland.

NickKymeistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsOldEarth,Deathfire,VulkanLivesandSonsoftheForge,thenovellasPrometheanSunandScorchedEarth,andtheaudiodramasRed-markedandCensure.His

novellaFeatofIronwasaNewYorkTimesbestsellerintheHorusHeresycollection,ThePrimarchs.NickiswellknownforhispopularSalamandersnovels,includingRebirth,theSpaceMarineBattlesnovelDamnos,andnumerousshortstories.HehasalsowrittenfictionsetintheworldofWarhammer,mostnotablytheWarhammerChroniclesnovelTheGreatBetrayalandtheAgeofSigmarstory'BornebytheStorm',includedinthenovelWarStorm.HelivesandworksinNottingham,andhasarabbit.

GavThorpeistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsDeliveranceLost,AngelsofCalibanandCorax,aswellasthenovellaTheLion,which

formedpartoftheNewYorkTimesbestsellingcollectionThePrimarchs,aswellasseveralaudiodramasincludingthebestsellingRaven'sFlight.HehaswrittenmanynovelsforWarhammer40,000,includingAshesof

Prospero,Imperator:WrathoftheOmnissiah,RiseoftheYnnari:Ghost

Warrior,JainZar:TheStormofSilenceandAsurmen:HandofAsuryan.HealsowrotethePathoftheEldarandLegacyofCalibantrilogies,andtwovolumesinTheBeastArisesseries.ForWarhammer,GavhaspennedtheEndTimesnovelTheCurseofKhaine,theWarhammerChroniclesomnibusTheSundering,andmuchmorebesides.In2017,GavwontheDavidGemmellLegendAwardforhisAgeofSigmarnovelWarbeast.He

livesandworksinNottingham.

GuyHaleyistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsWolfsbaneandPharos,thePrimarchsnovelPerturabo:TheHammerofOlympiaandthe

Warhammer40,000novelsDarkImperium,TheDevastationofBaal,Dante,Baneblade,Shadowsword,ValedorandDeathofIntegrity.HehasalsowrittenThroneworldandTheBeheadingforTheBeastArisesseries.

HisenthusiasmforallthingsgreenskinhasalsoledhimtopentheeponymousWarhammernovelSkarsnik,aswellastheEndTimesnovelTheRiseoftheHornedRat.HehasalsowrittenstoriessetintheAgeofSigmar,includedinWarStorm,GhalMarazandCallofArchaon.Helives

inYorkshirewithhiswifeandson.

LJGouldingistheauthoroftheHorusHeresyaudiodramaTheHeartofthePharos,whileforSpaceMarineBattleshehaswrittenthenovel

SlaughteratGiant'sCoffinandtheaudiodramaMortarion'sHeart.HisaudiodramaDaedalusalsofeaturestheScythesoftheEmperor,alongwiththeshortstories'TheAegidanOath','Heloth','Reclamation'and'TerminalVelocity'.HisotherWarhammer40,000shortstoriesinclude'TheLordsofBorsis','KaldorDraigo:KnightofTitan'and'ShieldofBaal:TheWordof

theSilentKing'.HelivesandworksinLosAngeles,California.

GrahamMcNeillhaswrittenmanyHorusHeresynovels,includingTheCrimsonKing,VengefulSpiritandhisNewYorkTimesbestsellersA

ThousandSonsandthenovellaTheReflectionCrack'd,whichfeaturedinThePrimarchsanthology.Graham'sUltramarinesseries,featuringCaptain

UrielVentris,isnowsixnovelslong,andhascloselinkstohisIronWarriorsstories,thenovelStormofIronbeingaperennialfavouritewithBlackLibraryfans.HehasalsowrittenaMarstrilogy,featuringtheAdeptusMechanicus.ForWarhammer,hehaswrittentheWarhammer

ChroniclestrilogyTheLegendofSigmar,thesecondvolumeofwhichwonthe2010DavidGemmellLegendAward.

DanAbnetthaswrittenoverfiftynovels,includingtheacclaimedGaunt'sGhostsseries,andtheEisenhornandRavenorbooks.HeistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsHorusRising,Legion,TheUnrememberedEmpire,KnowNoFearandProsperoBurns,thelasttwoofwhichwerebothNewYorkTimesbestsellers.HealsoscriptedMacragge'sHonour,thefirstHorusHeresygraphicnovel,aswellasnumerousaudiodramasandshortstoriessetintheWarhammer40,000andWarhammeruniverses.Helivesand

worksinMaidstone,Kent.

AstheIndomitusCrusadedrawstoaclose,RobouteGuillimanreturnstoUltramartofaceanewthreat–thepestilentialDeathGuard!

http://www.blacklibrary.com/newsletter

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