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SpaceMarineBattlesWAROFTHEFANG

ASpaceMarineBattlesbook,containingthenovellaTheHuntforMagnusandthenovelBattleoftheFang

THEWORLDENGINEAnAstralKnightsnovel

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CONTENTS

CoverBacklistTitlePageWarhammer40,000DramatisPersonaePrologueChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteenEpilogueTauXenolexicon

AbouttheAuthorAnExtract‘TheLastHunt’ABlackLibraryPublicationeBooklicense

Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.HeistheMasterofMankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterofamillion

worldsbythemightofHisinexhaustiblearmies.HeisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpowerfromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperiumforwhomathousandsoulsare

sacrificedeveryday,sothatHemaynevertrulydie.YeteveninHisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinuesHiseternal

vigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthewarp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbythe

Astronomican,thepsychicmanifestationoftheEmperor’swill.VastarmiesgivebattleinHisnameonuncountedworlds.Greatestamongst

HissoldiersaretheAdeptusAstartes,theSpaceMarines,bio-engineeredsuper-warriors.Theircomradesinarmsarelegion:theAstraMilitarumandcountlessplanetarydefenceforces,theever-

vigilantInquisitionandthetech-priestsoftheAdeptusMechanicustonameonlyafew.Butforalltheirmultitudes,theyarebarelyenoughtoholdofftheever-presentthreatfromaliens,heretics,mutants–and

worse.Tobeamaninsuchtimesistobeoneamongstuntoldbillions.Itistoliveinthecruellestandmostbloodyregimeimaginable.Thesearethetalesofthosetimes.Forgetthepoweroftechnologyandscience,forsomuchhasbeenforgotten,nevertobere-learned.Forgetthepromiseofprogressandunderstanding,forinthegrimdarkfuturethereisonlywar.Thereisnopeaceamongstthestars,onlyaneternityofcarnage

andslaughter,andthelaughterofthirstinggods.

DRAMATISPERSONAE

PRIMARISSPACEMARINES

OFFICERSLieutenant,XedroFarren

INTERCESSORSBrother,LasonEnrodBrother,DanicVesleighBrother,JacardoThrunnBrother,RopanGsarSergeant,GalusParvellSergeant,DendonOrenst

HELLBLASTERSSergeant,PietrMoricaniBrother,NenstLenkatzBrother,EounDarrodan

THEUNFORGIVEN

DARKANGELSCOMMANDInterrogator-Chaplain,ZaerophCompanyMaster,GabraelLibrarian,DothraelApothecary,VaaradTechmarine,Autinocus

ANGELSOFABSOLUTIONMasterCastellan,Moddren

HERETICUSBrother,Gohorael

IMPERIALCITIZENRY

SALTIREVEXRigswomanPrime,JensaDeelRigswomanPrime,KaitadelAggioRigsman,DerrodMarkens

ALLHALLOWCastellanGuard,LandersHarasenWallsman,FenasBlentarWallsman,VallacVandersen

T’AUEMPIRESurestrike,HighCommanderoftheFourthSphereExpansionTutorTwiceblade,Sub-commanderKais,TheLivingWeaponAun’Shao,EtherealMagister

PROLOGUETHETAKERS

Ferro-GiantOmicroidSaltireVex,PelagicIndustrialWorld

ChalnathExpanse

Sleethammeredon theprayershack’s rusted tin roof.Thedownpourpeltedsohardthatstraydropspatteredthrough,settingtheringofcandlesinsidesizzlinglikehotfatinaskillet.‘OhmightyT’au’va,hearus.’The riggers within raised their voices to compensate for the lashing storm.Robedinochresackcloth,theywerekneelingaroundastatuecraftedfromcheapbarsofsoap.The idolwas sculptedwell enough, showing the likenessof a faceless figurewithfartoomanyarms.Oneofitshandsprofferedastylisedcornucopiamadefrom a crumpled tin rations pack; another held a stilettomade from a brokentoothpick.‘T’au’va,hearourprayer,’calledoutthepriestessinfrontofthestatue.Atallwomanwithasump-swimmer’sbuild,hervoicewasclearandstrongover thedistantrumbleofthunder.Sheturnedanemptysalveflaskoverandoverinherhands.Thestormboomedinthedistance,closernow.‘Hear us, and grant us salvation,’ replied the bedraggled crowd of peoplearoundher.Thepriestessnotedwithapangofempathythatsomeofthemwereshivering,

their twisted limbs wrapped tight to ward against the sodden air. She felttightnessinherchest,avaguenotionthatsomethingbadwascoming.Somethingfarworsethanmerecold.‘Bringusthedeliveranceofthecommunalsoul,’shesaid.‘Weofferourselvestoyou.’‘Wejoinourstrengthwithyours,’cametheresponse.‘Wedothisnotforgiftsfromthestars,’continuedthepriestess.‘Nortoescapethemind-plague.WedothissothatwemightserveyouintheGreaterGood,andberemadeinitslight.’‘Forthegoodofall,’echoedthethrong.Theriggersdrewclose,claspingtheirhandstogetheruntiltheystoodinatightcircle,thestatueanditscandlelightbeneaththem.Thepriestesssmiledthroughherconsternation,makingeyecontactwitheachofherfellows.With a shriek of tearingmetal, a full half of the roofwas ripped away, highwindsblastinginabarrageofsleetthatextinguishedthecandlesandsentseveraloftheriggersscatteringtothewallslikecockroachesseekingcover.Thepriestesslookedupinshock.Inplaces,thenightskyrippledlikewater,theoutline of something huge and strangely transparentmade visible only by theheavyrainreboundingfromitscontourededges.‘Run!’ she shouted, diving headlong behind Gravide, the largest of theirnumber.ShesawUltrechtkickopenthebolteddoorwithagrunt,Aalascoopingup the statue behindhimand cradling it to herself before running through thesleettofleeoutoftheshack’sbolteddoor.Gravidemadeafterthem.Jensa Deel hesitated. Some instinct told the priestess not to follow close.Insteadsheturnedback,makingforadiscolouredpanelattheshack’srear.Asplitsecondlater,shefeltsomethinghotandwetcoverherentireflank,thena backwash of heat accompanying a swelling tide of pain. As the animalisticneed to run fought against the urge to turn and look, the priestess put hershoulder to the discoloured section of the wall – the same section she haddivestedofitsrivetsseveralmonthsago.Foramoment,thepanelheldfast,butadrenalineandpaniclentDeelasurgeofstrength.Suddenly,themetalgaveway.Shetumbledout,grazinghershinontheframeatthebase.‘Jensa,’cameacryfrombehindher.‘Wait!’Thepriestessglancedbackforamoment.Alaweirwasbehindher,slickedwithblood amongst a scattering of torn corpses.Her eyeswerewide in a crimsonmask.ThenablindingexplosionoflightsilhouettedAlaweirforamoment,and

shevanishedinacloudofredmist.Deelgaped.Theywereallgone.Theonlysignthatherfriendshadeverbeenpresent was the blood painting the walls and iron floor. It was already beingwashedawaybythesleet.The priestess ran as fast as she could down the gantry, her steel-toed bootsclanging on the walkway grilles. Driving rain lanced needle-like into herforehead. The chill of it numbed her face as she darted from stanchion tostanchion,hands reaching to clingonto thecold,hardand familiaruprightsofthecolossalpromethiumrig.Shefeltaterriblepressurebuildinginherhead,agrowingheadachesointenseitfeltasifherskullmightburstwiththestress.Thatthingshehadseenabovetheshackhadbeencamouflagedsowellitwasinvisiblebutforitsoutline.Therewasonlyoneexplanation.TheTakershadreturned.Therewasashrillscreamfromabove,cutominouslyshort.Deeldoubledoverandstumble-ranunderthesillofanobservationpost.Shetookalookupthrougha half-grille to the next storey. Something moved, high above; she caught aglimpseofaslow,predatoryadvance.Deel’s breath heaved in her chest, heart pounding from exertion and panic.Forcingherselftocalmdown,sheranacrossanopenexpanseofgantrytowardsa ladder tube and jumped legs-first for the entry port, sliding over the lip andtwisting straight down. She blocked her fall with her elbows extended.Shruggingofftheimpact,Deelgraspedtherungsandstarteddescendingthreeatatime.The pain came amoment later, thumping through her fevered brain, but shepushed it away. Black spots swam in front of her eyes, threatening to mergetogetherandstealhersightentirely.ThethingthathadkilledAlaweirwasclose.Shecouldfeelitsgazeonthebackofherneck.Deel jumped the last twelve feet, landingwithan impact sohard itmadeherkneesfeelasthoughtheyhadbeenstruckwithlumphammers.Recoveringherbalance, she grabbed the rigger wrench from a pressure release alcove. Shebroughtitaroundlikeasword,battingclumsilyatherinvisibleassailant.The blow did not connect, for there was no one there. Her eyes darted intoeverycornerandpoolofshadow,butstillfoundnothing.Slowly,thepaininherheadbegantorecedealittle.Shufflingsidelong,crab-like,downatightmaintenancepassage,Deelreached

another set of rung hollows and began to descend. These contingency routeswerehardlyeverused,buthadbeenbuiltintothelegofthecolossalrigincasethemainapertureswereeverablaze.Thesmellofcrudepromethiumfilledhernostrils,itsodourthickandpowerfulenoughtostingtheinsideofhernosedespitethemistofseawaterthatfilledtheairofthelowerlevels.Withthenoiseofthestormabove,therewasnowayshewould be able to hear the approach of the Takers. An invisible enemy couldsnatchherawayatanymoment.Thethoughtmadehersqueezehereyesshut,reachingoutwithhermindtofeelforanythingthatcamewithdeadlyintent.Therewasanexplosionfromhighabove.Deelopenedhereyesoncemoreonreflex,raisingthewrenchasiftostrike.Therigshookasifhitbysomecolossalimpact,topplinghersideways.Shereachedoutforanearbygrilleoninstinct.Itsrust-sharpenededgescutatherfingers,butshekeptherfooting.Dropsofherbloodwhippedawayintothestorm,somespatteringthemeshofthegantry,otherscarrieddownintotheirondepthsoftherig’sbase.Outtothewestshecouldseetheocean,colderandcruellerthanshehadeverseen it before. It had been thrashed into a frenzy ofwhite-cappedwaves thathammeredintotherig’sthickstanchions.Sleet whipped in from the edge of the rig, carried almost horizontal by thestorm.Assheemergedtofindthenextladdertubedown,anicyblastofairandwaterhitherlikeajetfromaburstpipe.Shestoodfirmandfoughtforwards.Foramoment,shethoughtshesawlightsoutthereinthedarkness,arrangedintight groups.Theyweremoving too fast to be rig ships, too fast even for theValkyriecarriersoftheAstraMilitarum.MoreTakers,then,cometosealherfate.Thistime,itwouldbesomeoneelsethat struck thenames from the rigger’s register themorning after the tempest,someone else that counted the cost and set inmotion the prescribed period ofgrieving.SomethingflickeredintheedgeofDeel’svision.Oninstinct,shethrewherselftooneside.Shecriedoutasaburstoflightandheatflungheralongthegantryinatangleoflimbs.Therustedgrilleshehadkeptclosehadtakenthebruntoftheexplosion,buttheenergieshadwashedthroughit.Thebackofherfatigueshunginrags,exposinglongburns,ribbonsofduraclothandruinedskinflappinginthewind.Deel gave a long, keening cry. ‘Please,’ she said, her jaw shuddering in cold

andpain.‘Justletmelive.’Therewasacrackof lightningand,almostsimultaneously,adoubleboomofthunder.Thestormwasimmediatelyoverheadnow.Inthatstrobingflash,Deelsawalightinthecornerofhereye.Sheheftedherwrenchandranfor thenarrowcorridorbetween twogiant fusilcapacitors,herlungs aching. The backs of her thighs were singing with pain, the icy rainstabbingitscoldtalonsintoheropenwounds.The priestess rebounded from the walls as she half-ran down the narrowpassage,cursingherselfforafoolassherealisedit ledtothenorthernedgeoftherig.Notgoodenough.Theworkplatformontheothersidewasdangerouslyexposed.Deelwincedassheheardanotherscream,thistimecloseby.Wriggling througha triangulargap insideoneof the rig’smain supports, sheusedthecriss-crossingdiagonalbarsliketherungsofaladder,plantingherfeetateachjunctionsoasnottoloseherfootingontherain-slickedmetal.Sheclungtightasshedescended,avoidingscrapingherwoundedbackandlegsonthesalt-encrusteduprightsofthesupport.Anotherdozenstepsdownandshewouldbeabletocrawlbackoutonthelevelbelow.Anothertwolevelsbelowthat,andshehadashredofhopeforsurvival.Perhaps,ifshecouldmakeittothepontoon,anevacuationcraftmightalreadybeloadingup.Klaxonsblaredhighaboveastherig’sauto-responsesfinallyawoketothefactitwasunderattack.Thealarmscamemuchtoolate,asusual.TheTakersworkedtoofastandtoostealthilyforsuchconventionalmeasurestothwartthem.InthedistanceDeelsawblursofmovement,ashadowbrieflyvisiblebehindaring-ironfence.SomethingmassivehadstalkedpastherpositionasshepassedLevelTert-Epsilon.Therewasablazeoflight,andaveryhumanbellowofdefiance.Anotherflash.Thevoicegrewlouder–sherecognisedRotheran’sphlegmyroar–beforeitwasabruptlysilenced.The acrid stink of promethium grew almost unbearable as Deel descendedtowards the vat farms, forcing herself to focus on her progress. ‘Hand overhand,’shepanted.‘Justtakeiteasy.CandefeattheTakers.Justneedachance.’Sherealisedshewasmutteringintothestorm,andforcedherselfintosilencebybiting her lip. She needed to conserve her breath. Another ten steps, and shewouldcomeoutnearthegate.Beyondthatwerethepromethiumvats.There,shewouldmakeittothepontoonsandthefreedomtheyrepresented–oradeaththat

wouldbeswiftandspectacular.Perhaps the vats’ sheer volatilitywould stop theTakers from risking a directattack.Perhapsshecouldmakeitafterall.Deelburstfromherhidingplaceinthestanchionandsprintedthedistanceintothevatfarmthroughthefrontgate.The caulk-swathed servitor caryatids on either side of the promethium gategrowledinconfusion.Itoffendedthemtoseeherpasswithoutthecorrectvocalofferingsandblandishments.Theysettheirhazardklaxonsbleatinganintruderalarmasshepassed,sostridentandaggressivethatevenabornkillermightbescaredaway.Somuchforstealth.AtleastshemightdrawafewoftheTakersawayfromhercolleaguesbeforetheyputherdownforgood.‘ComeanycloserandI’llsparktheseup!’sheshouted,wavingherwrenchatthepromethiumvats.Theonly answerwas theboomofwavespounding against the stubby, broadlegsoftherig’smainsupports.Deel sprinted to the rearof thevat farm, itsmonolithiccylinders loomingoneithersideofthegantryrun.Shepushedintoanothertriangularpillarthroughaslimaperture,blockingthepainfromhermindassheslidoneleg,thentheotherthroughthewidestopeningshecouldfind.Shegotherhipsthrough–nomeanfeatinitself–anddroppeddowntothelowerlevelwithaclang.Bitingbackasobofpainandself-pity,shedesperatelyfoughttheurgetotouchtheruinofskinonthebackofherlegs.Shewassafe,forthemoment.Shehadtobe.Deelsawanotherflickerofmovement,lessthanahundredfeettothenorthontheothersideofthegate.Thetangofbileroseupunbiddeninthebackofherthroat as she wiggled back and away, praying to T’au’va that she remainedunseen. She emerged from the other side of the triangular pillar and ran onanimalinstinct,herhindbraintakingovertodriveherawayasfastasshecouldrun. Putting the promethium vats at her back, she staggered out onto thereclaimant pontoon, hoping desperately to see an evacuation craft loadingnearby.Nothing.Just an endlessvistaof crashinggreywaves, thenearest slappinghard at thecylindricalfuel-siphonsmarchingouttothesea.Somethingmassive loomed from behind the closest of the siphon pillars, itsoutline visible only because of the frozen rain pummelling into its flank. ATaker.

Deelscreamedasatideofpainswelledupfromherspinetoeclipsehermind.Shewentblind,staggeringintoafoetalcrouchasherbrainburnedlikealidlesseyebathed in simmerfuel.Then therewas a sudden release, anda feeling likecoolwaterdousingheraggravatednerves.When she opened her eyes oncemore, the stanchions to her right had beencarvedapart,theiredgesglowingcherry-redasifslashedbysomehigh-poweredcutting laser. A crane rig, two of its legs shorn straight through, creakedominouslybefore looming, topplingandcrashingdown, itsbifurcated tophalfspinningendoverendintotheviolentwatersbelow.Agiantdoublewaverosefromtheimpact,sendingseasprayhighbeforefallingbackwithacrash.Revealedbehindthecranerigwasagiantsometwentyfeetinheight,itsochremass seemingly frozen in place. It was inhuman and surprisingly bulky, itsbulbous head setwithin awide and powerful frame.Standing atop one of thepromethium siphons, it had its armspoised as if itwas about to leap.Strangelightsflickereduponitsextremities,andcordsofelectricitywrithedaroundthedualscarsofmoltenmetalthatcutdiagonallyacrossitstorso.Deelfeltnumbastherealityofthevisionbeforehersankin.TheTakerswerenotghosts,norweretheystormgiantscomefromtheskytoclaimafeastofhumanflesh.Theyweresomethingfarmoreformidable.Xenos.Themassivemachinerippledas ifunderwater, itssmooth-linedsophisticationotherworldly next to the rugged Imperial constructions around it. Even as shewatched, it shimmered, itsoutlinesblurring toblendwith thesteelgreyof thewaterbehind.‘Weareyourallies!’shoutedDeelintothestorm,herwordssnatchedawaybythewind.Shelinkedherhands,fingerstwininginthesignoftheGreaterGood.‘Wearegue’vesa!’The giant machine took a gunner’s crouch, swinging around the strangetripartitegunthatformeditsarm.HorrorswampedDeel’smind.Sheranfromthemachine,leapedfromtheedgeofthepontoonanddivedheadlongintotheragingsea.

CHAPTERONETHETIPOFTHEBLADE

Ferro-GiantOmicroidSaltireVex,PelagicIndustrialWorld

ChalnathExpanse

‘Battlestations.’Xedro Farren opened his eyes, his hands automatically checking the criticalpoints of his bolt rifle.His augmented senses pierced the amber gloomof theNightHarrower’shold.The lieutenant’s battle-brothers sat in two lines aroundhim,most of themassilentandstillascrypt-statues.Someofthemwerelookingaround,takingstockjustashewas,buttherestwereevidentlycontenttowait.ThegrindinggrowloftheRepulsor’sgravplateenginesfilledthetank’sinterior, theracketsolouditalmost drowned out the crashing boom of waves and the occasional roll ofthunderfromthestormoutside.‘Engagementrangeineightminutes,’cametheclipped,disapprovingtonesoftheir superior, Zaeroph. The Chaplain was voxing through to theHarrower’sskull-like relay from the command echelon’s Thunderhawk, Sacred Mace.‘CommendyoursoulstotheEmperorandtheLion.Strikefromaplacebereftofdoubt.’‘Lieutenant,’hissedSergeantMoricani.‘Howdowecommendoursouls?Doesitinvolvekneeling?BecauseI’mnotsureIwishtobenosetonosewithanyofyouarmouredogryns.’Farren raisedaneyebrow,cockinghishead toone side. ‘Wewant to impress

ourDarkAngelsbrothers,Pietr.NotmakethemthinkthatTerraandMarsraiseonlyboors.’‘Impress them?’ scoffed Vesleigh. ‘Primaris Space Marines are the closestgene-sonstotheprimarch.WehavethetruebloodoftheLioninourveins.’‘Havesomerespect,’saidFarren.‘TheseDarkAngelshavegiveneverythinginthedefenceoftheImperiumforthousandsofyears.’‘Andwhathaveyoudoneinthattime,Vesleigh?’saidEnrod.‘Laindormantinastasiscasket?Explaintome,howdoesthatmakeyousuchahero?’‘Wait and see,’mumbledVesleigh, his heavy brows knitted together. ‘I havenothingtoprove.’‘Oh, on the contrary,’ said Moricani, looking thoughtfully at his plasmaincinerator. ‘We have everything to prove. To them, we are new.We will beweighed and measured. It is likely that even this conversation is beingmonitored.Youwillalreadybemarkedasonetowatch.’Atthis,theHellblastersergeantleanedtowardstheservo-skulltetheredviaitsspinalcablestotheRepulsor’srear.‘AswillI.’Featuresunderlit,MoricanimadethesignoftheAquilawithhisfaceanexaggeratedmaskofsincerity.‘Discipline,Pietr.Nowisnotthetime,’Farrenordered.‘Where arewe to strike again?’ askedThrunn, theyoungest of either combatsquaddespitebeingthelargest.HelookedatFarren,eyeswideinafaceringedwith dense sideburns and a strap of a beard. No doubt the affectation wasintendedtomakehimlookmature,but italwaysremindedFarrenofastartledhiveowl.Farrencheckedthedata-slatetohisleft.‘ThepromethiumrigsofSaltireVex,specifically the structure known as Ferro-Giant Omicroid,’ he said. ‘There isevidence of xenos infestation there, and we are to expunge all sign of theirpresence.’‘Excellent,’saidEnrod,hisfacecreasedandtightasifconcentratinghard.‘Mykindofmission.’Moricanisnortedindisbelief,castingaglanceatFarreninthehopeoffindingasimilarreaction.Farrenshothimawarningglanceinstead.‘Andexactlyhowmanyxenoshaveyoukilled,Enrod?’askedVesleigh.Enrodshookhishead.‘Morethanyou,nodoubt.’‘Really?’Farrenwasabout to intercedewhentheRepulsor’s interior lights increased tofull.Itsalarumchimesrangout.Hestoodup,bracinghimselfagainsttherolling,shiveringprogressoftheanti-gravtankasitgroundacrosstheocean’ssurface.

The storm was becoming violent now. He could feel it in the way theRepulsor’s floor tilted and dipped every few seconds. Farren peered at thedisplayslate,butwiththewindandrainlashingoutside,hecouldmakeoutverylittle.‘I’m going for a visual,’ said the lieutenant, donning his Mark X helm andputtingthemag-clampsunderhisbootstohalfyield.‘Goodhunting,lieutenant,’saidThrunn,hisexpressiongrave.‘TheOmnissiahwatchesoveryou.’Farrenhopedhewas right.Theywerecritically lowonpertinent informationhere,andhedidn’tlikeitatall.‘ThisisnothowwewagedwaronMars,norTerra,’mutteredEnrod,echoingFarren’s thoughts. ‘Even when things went wrong, we had more insight thanthis.’‘Yetnonetheless,wewilltriumph,’saidFarren.‘Ordieintheattempt.’‘Perhaps both,’ said Moricani, turning to Enrod with a smile. ‘I have oftenthoughtthelieutenantwouldmakeforatrulyimpressivecorpse.’Farren shook his head and tapped the egress rune under the Repulsor’s tophatch. He gave the bar beneath it a sharp quarter-turn with both hands. Theautomatedsystemstookovertoslideitopen.Sleetslasheddownintothetank’sinteriorasFarrenjumpeduptocatchhisarmoverthelipoftheopenhatch.Hehauledhimselfup,legsdangling,tolookoutside.Thevistathatgreetedhimwasoneofcoldandimpressivegrandeur.Aheadwasa massive promethium rig, its six main pillars holding aloft a multi-layeredstructurethatreachedhighintothesky.Ferro-GiantOmicroid.Colossalchimneysventedburstsofflame,eachvolcanicplumesendingavastwreathofsteamintothenight.Siphoncylindersstretchedout,linkedtothemainrigbymassesofpipesandcable.Inthefardistance,Farrencouldjustmakeoutother such structureson thehorizon, eachcappedwith several tiny tonguesoffire.TheRepulsorbullieditswaythroughthesurftowardsthemegastructureinanelongatedtroughofbrine.Itsanti-gravsuspensorenginespusheddownsohardonthesalt-richwaterthat thetankwassurroundedbycrashingblackwavesofitsownmaking.AstheHarrowerdrewcloser,Farrencouldseea forcefieldshimmeringoverthepromethiumrigahead,ahugeaegisdomeofbluedotsthatfizzedwherethewavescrashedthroughit.

AStygiespatternmacro-field,thoughtFarren.Thoughanadvancingcraftcouldpass through itwith littlemore than a frissonof electrical energy irritating itsmachine-spirit, against bullets and las-beams itwas as stalwart as four feet ofhypersteel, for it was calibrated to let nothing with higher velocity than araindroppenetrateitshemisphericalfield.The energy dome’s readouts on Farren’s autosenseswere spiking so hard hedoubted even a shot from theHarrower’s twin las-talon could penetrate it.Torunsuchamassiveshieldgeneratorforanylengthoftimerequiredanimmenseamount of power, enough Terra-watts to run a hive city. But if the PrimarisMarines’data-slatebriefingwastrue,powerwasnotsomethingtheferro-giantshadinshortsupply.Pushing his helm’s scryer autosenses tomaximum, Farren saw explosions oflight amidst the tangled iron platforms of the megastructure. He saw a bodyfallingwithlimbsflailingintothesea,thenanother.Therewasnotimetowaste.Thexenosattackwasinfullflow.Farrenopenedavox-channeltoGsar,theRepulsor’spilot.‘Maximumspeed,ifshewilltakeit.Avoidthebiggestwaves,andrideouttheothers.’‘Acknowledged, lieutenant,’ came the reply. ‘We’ll be there soon enough. IknowwhatI’mdoing.’‘Youhavenotfailedmeyet.’TwootherRepulsorsflankedtheHarrower.TogethertheyboretheentiretyofStrike ForceBlacksword’s contingent of PrimarisMarines. Their insigniawasemblazonedon thedarkgreenhulls of eachgrav-tank, eachnumeral and icondisplayed in pride of place along with the winged blade symbol of the FirstLegion.On the right was the Heaven’s Troth, Repulsor of Squad Orenst. The twinonslaughtcannoninitscupolawasdrawingabeadontherigloomingahead.Itgunnedforwardas if toovertake–ablatantbreachofspearheadprotocol,andonetypicalofDendonOrenst’sbelligerentnature.Farrenmadeamentalnotetoaddressit,hisjawclenchinginirritation.OnFarren’sleftwasthetransportofSquadParvell,knownastheDireTidings.Thelieutenant’seyesnarrowedashemadeoutthesergeant’sbaldpateglintingorange in the promethium fires. He too was taking a visual from the cupola.After the Noctan Glitchwar – a violent disaster that was supposed to be aregulationdune-huntforatribeofmalfunctioningservitors–GalusParvellhadforsaken his helmwhenever he could, despite Farren’s explicit instructions hewearitinallbattlefieldconditions.Todaywasanotherinfraction–sinceFarren’s

adherencetoprotocolhadoncecostthemhalftheirsquad,therehadbeenquiteafew.This far fromMars’ cloying grip, Farren told himself, a little rebellion wasunderstandable.HeknewbetterthantodampenthefireofaSpaceMarinereadyforthekill.Introspectionsaside,thelieutenantcouldnothelpbutfeelaswellofprideatthesightof thePrimarisspearhead.Hecursedhimself forhavinganydoubtaboutthe battle to come, or the shadows of the past. There was nothing the DarkAngels could not accomplish. No foe they could not overcome through thepinpointapplicationoftheOmnissiah’sfirepower.The PrimarisMarines themselveswere the pinnacle ofMars’ geneto-militarymachine,andeachof theirRepulsor transportswasamiracleofFatherCawl’smastery of the technological. The stoic angles of theHarrower’s constructionechoed Arkhan Land’s iconic Raider design. Some amongst the PrimarisMarines said that Archmagos Cawl had improved even upon that legendaryengineofwar,hardasitwastobelieve.AsprayofspumeslappedFarren’shelmasGsarpushedthroughatallcrestofseawater.The lieutenant rode itout,knowing that evena tidalwavewouldbehardputtoneutralisethetransport.Whenonland,thetankwasabletotraversethemostruggedterrainatspeed,leavingatrailofcrushedrockbehinditasitsengines fought against the local gravity and won. Crossing a storm-wrackedoceanwaswellwithintheRepulsor’scapabilities.Thatversatilityalonemadeitinvaluableforthefast-strikingforcesoftheAdeptusAstartes,andespeciallyfortheDarkAngels.‘How’sitlooking,lieutenant?’cameGsar’svoiceoverthevox.‘Hostile,’repliedFarren.‘Butpromising.’ThePrimaris spearheadwasnot alone. In themiddle distancewere theLandSpeedersof theRavenwing, theonyx-hulled skimmers carving through the airlike groups of raptors on the wing. Behind them came a cloud of murkydarkness,and inside thatwas thehaunting,gloom-bringing relicof technologythatFarren’shelmdisplay recognisedas theHaloofHiddenSaints. Similar inconstruction to the other skimmers but far more arcane in function, theDarkshroud speeder carried a stone-carved statue atop it, barely visible at thisdistance.A relic of long-lostCaliban, thatmonument to the pastwas so thickwithageandmysteryitsaurawaslikeacloudofinkspreadinginwater.‘Allpresentandcorrect then,Farren?’shoutedMoricanifromtheHarrower’sinterior.‘Youarelettinginthecoldair.’

‘Thenendureit,SergeantMoricani,’saidFarren,smilingdespitehimself.‘Thisisaviewworthremembering.’High above the Darkshroud soared two squadrons of compact but powerfuljetfighters – Nephilim, Farren recalled, each pair escorting a priceless DarkTalon with its signature chin-mounted rift cannon glowing strangely in thegloom. Close behind the aerial hunters came two massive Thunderhawkgunships, their forest green livery appearing almost black in the night. InsidetheircavernousholdsweresquadsfromtheDarkAngelsoftheThirdCompany,each battle-brother a tried and tested warrior with years of experience in thecrucibleofwar.Farrenfeltabriefflickerofapprehensionatthesight.ThePrimarisMarinesofhis command – though well trained before their incarceration in their cryo-caskets–hadfoughttentofifteenlarge-scalebattlesintotal.ThevastmajorityofthosehadbeenintestconditionsonMars,andonlyafewofthemhadbeenluckyenoughtofightonTerra.TofightinatruebattlefortheImperium’scause,and to do so beside a strike force of veteran Dark Angels – the First of theEmperor’sLegions–wouldbeanhonourindeed.Farrenhadnointentionofwastingtheopportunity.

Asthestrikeforceclosedinonthepromethiumrig,itsplitintothreeelements,withthesquadronsofLandSpeedersarcingaroundtotheleftflankevenastheiraerialwingtooktheright.ThePrimarisMarinescontinuedtomakeabeelinefortheirtarget,aimingforthenearestofthegiganticcylindersthatformedthelegsofthepromethiumrig.‘Squads Farren, Orenst and Parvell, Third Company,’ intoned ChaplainZaeroph over the magna-vox. ‘Stay the course on full ahead. You have thehonourofthefrontalassault.Rootoutthexenos.Sendtheircorpsesasashintothesea.’‘Aye,Chaplain,’repliedFarren.‘WewillwingloryfortheChapter,forTerra,andforMars.’‘SpeaknotofMars,’saidZaeroph,hisvoicealowgrowl.‘Ineednoreminderofyourdividedloyalties.Justdoyourdamnedduty.’Farren feltMoricani’seyeson thebackofhisneck.This time,he turnedandmethisfriend’sgaze,givingthesmallestofshrugsbeforeturningback.‘At least you remembered to call the Dark Angels a Chapter, rather than aLegion, this time,’ saidMoricani. ‘Aftermillennia of lying around in stasis, Ihave a feeling the terms we learned as aspirants onMars are not necessarily

correct.’‘Easilybaited,thatZaeroph,’saidVesleigh.‘TheydonotlikeitwhenwecalltheEmperortheOmnissiah,theseones.Andespeciallynothim.’‘Don’t bait him too much,’ said Farren grimly as he climbed back into theRepulsor’s transport bay. ‘Youmight receive a powermaul to the back of thehead.’‘Crozius Arcanum,’ said Moricani, gesturing extravagantly. ‘I believe ittranslatesfromHighGothicas“holystick”.’‘Itmeans“arcanecross”inLowGothicasyouwellknow,SergeantMoricani,’saidGsarovertheinteriorvox.‘Enough,’saidFarren.‘Moricani,briefyourteam.Readyfiringsolutions.Gsar,trackandtakedownanythinglargerthananunaugmentedhumanonapproach.’‘Acknowledged,’ said the Repulsor’s pilot. ‘Patching through battlefieldschematicsnow.’TheRepulsor’s sensorarray, remote-linked toFarren’sMarkXarmour, filledhis inbuilt relayswith theSTCdataof theferro-giant rigupahead.Sturdyyetrelatively cheap to build, the colossal rig was one of thousands of suchmegastructures across the planet. Its auto-defences were at high alert. Theservitor-crewed heavy stubbers mounted upon the corners of its platformsscannedfortargetsasthewavescrashedagainstitsthick,rivet-studdedsupports.Farren heard the muffled crump of distant explosions, and saw bursts ofillumination from inside the rig.He zoomed in on the defence nests.Odd, hethought. It was clearly under attack, but none of its gun emplacements werefiring.‘The xenos are well inside it already,’ said Farren. ‘They have bypassed itsouterdefences.Wewillhavetomakeingress.’‘Ohwell,’saidMoricani.‘Aclose-rangefirefightitisthen.Howunfortunate.’‘Forthem,’saidEnrod.TheRepulsorshookhard,topplingFarrenbackintohisseatwithaclang.Everyinteriordisplayfuzzedwithstatic.‘We’vebeenhit,’saidThrunn.‘Thankyouforpointingthatout,Thrunn,’saidFarren.‘Gsar,howbadisit?’Therewasnoreply.Theinteriorcommscrackledwithstatic.FarrenwasgladtoseeGsar’s name-rune still greenonhis helmdisplay, but the internal linkhadbeencut.Anotherimpact,rockingtheRepulsortotheside.‘Omnissiah’swounds,’sworeFarren.‘That’sanenergyweapon.We’regoingto

havetoriskanotherdirectvisual.’‘Getoutthere,’saidMoricani.‘Maybeastraytidalwavewillcoolyourhungertoshowoff.’‘AjibeabouttakingunnecessaryrisksfromaHellblaster?’Moricaniguffawed.‘Asolidhitatlast,lieutenant.’Farrenwasalreadymoving,openingthehatchatoptheRepulsoroncemoreandpokinghis headout.Rain lashedhis helm, his autosenses picking through thegloomtotherigbeyond.The ferro-giant loomed high now, all but blotting out the horizon. Gsar wasopeningfirewiththepintle-mountedgatlingcannon,itsrotarybarrelsblurringasitstitchedbulletsintothesecondstoreyofthepromethiumrig.Where they struck home, something shimmered – something that lookedbulkier than a Space Marine, but bulbous, with one arm little more than anelongatedweaponsystem.‘Contact,’ barked Farren. Gsar panned the stream of bullets across, catchinganother xenos warsuit and sending it rebounding from a girder behind it totoppleintothesea.‘These ones match a known anatomy,’ said Farren, ducking back into theRepulsorashisautosensesfedablurtofxenologicaldatatohishelm.‘Theyareaxenosbreedknownast’au.’‘A physically feeble race made formidable by their blasphemous warsuittechnology,’ said Moricani. ‘Native to the Eastern Fringe, I believe. TheUltramarines,ScarLords,WhiteScarsandHammersofDornfacedthemintheDamoclesCrusade.’‘That’s them,’ saidFarren. ‘Theminorwarsuits thatGsar just cutdownwerewell armed, but I think the energy hits we took were from something muchlarger.Prepareyourselvesforheavyfirepower.’‘Let’s seewho carries the heaviest,’ saidMoricani, hefting his long-barrelledincinerator.‘Phobossianisthegreatleveller,evenagainstgiants.’‘Heisindeed,thoughhehasatemper,’noddedFarren.‘Ipromiseyoucantakedownoneofthebigones,Moricani,whenwefindthem.’‘Gladly.’‘Thereisapontoonbeyondthosesiphoncylinders,withaningresspointtothelowerlevels,’saidFarren,motioningforhissquadtogettotheirfeet.‘Preparetodisembarkinthree.’The Repulsor pushed its trough of water underneath the rig, flanked by itsfellows. It pulled in close to the dock. Side hatches clunked open as Gsar

adjusteditsgrav-pushtomakelevelwiththeironpontoon.OnebyoneSquadFarrendisembarkedonto the swaying,brine-slickedmetalplatform.Themag-clampson theirbootskept themsteady.FarrenclimbedoutoftheRepulsor’sgunneryhatch,leapinguptograbholdofthepipesoverheadwith his bolt rifle clamped to his hip. He pulled himself up in one easymovementas the restofhis squadclimbedup the stanchion ladder to the firststoreyingoodorder.Hewasfirsttogainthewalkway,haulinghimselfontothelevelabovebeforeunclampinghisrifleandscanninghisimmediateenvironmentalongitsbarrel.‘Clear,’ he said. ‘Moricani, get yourmen up here. Parvell, Orenst, cover therear.’‘Already en route, glorious leader,’ came Moricani’s reply. ‘Nice entrytechnique.’‘Lieutenant,’ saidOrenst. ‘Thismission of extermination. Are there civiliansaboardtherig?’‘Thereare,’saidFarren.‘Itgoeswithoutsayingweshouldsparewhowecan.Still,collateraldamagemayoccur.Thatisthepriceofwar.’‘Rather a clean death than a lifetime spent in slavery to filthy xenos,’ saidEnrod.‘Finewords,’repliedFarren.Themainbodyof thepromethium righadbeenbuilt to endure theelements.Farrenknewenoughaboutmaterialtolerancestoknowthemaingantrieswouldbeartheirweighteasilyenough.Hewasnotsosureabouttheauxiliarystructuresandersatzrepairsonitsoutskirts,however.Theywouldhavetotreadcarefullyifthebattletookthemoutthere.EvenaPrimarisMarinewouldstruggleifpitchedintothecrashingwatersbelow.‘Tothewest!’shoutedVesleigh,‘Target–’Thick trails of light whipped across Farren’s field of vision. He divedbackwardson instinct,grabbingan ironpillarwithhis freehandandswingingaroundittoputtheironstrutbetweenhimandtheenemymarksman.Heheardenergydischargesizzleontheothersideofthestanchion.Inonesmoothmotion,thelieutenantcrouchedandcalibratedhisrifleforsingleround, maximum range. He leaned out, took the shot, then leaned back in tonarrowhisprofile.Therewas a distant boom, and aweird shriek that could only have been thescreamofanalien.‘Centremassshot,’saidVesleigh.‘Firstbloodtothelieutenant.’

‘Whydidn’tweseeit?’saidThrunn.‘Camouflagefield,’saidFarren.‘Thet’auspecialiseinthem,cowardsthattheyare.Sticktotheoutskirtsfornow,andwatchforareaswheretheairisdistorted,ortheraindropsdon’tmakeittotheground.’‘Acknowledged,’camethereply.Therewasadullclangfromabove,and thewhirrofanalienweaponsystempoweringup.Moricaniwasalreadytherebeneathit,lettingflyablindingburstofplasma.Thesearingorbburstthroughtheirongrillworkabovehim,burningintosomethinghalf-hiddeninablazeofenergy.TwomoreplasmablastscamefromthoseofMoricani’ssquadwhohadalreadymadetheclimb,blastingapartalargesectionofthegantryoverhead.Abulkyformfelldowntowardsthemamongstascatteringofmangled,red-hotmetal.Moricani andhis squadmateshad tododge sidelong to avoid thexenoswarsuitcrashingintothem.Ithitthegantryhardwithadullclang.Farrencastaroundformoremovement,findingnothing,beforetakingacloserlookathiswould-beassassin.Therewassomethingvaguelyinsectileaboutthexenos thing’shoodedcarapace.Crackling lightplayedacross thewarsuitas itschameleon field attempted to reassert itself, the system still active despite thegapingholethathadbeenburnedthroughitsundersection.Visibleunder thewarsuit’s smoothexoskeletonwasaganglyblue-greybody,its innards cauterised around a blackwound. The vile thing twitched, and thestenchofburningalienfleshroseuptofilterintoFarren’snostrils.‘That is truly foul,’ saidEnrod. ‘Itmustbe slain in theEmperor’sname.’HeloweredthemuzzleofhisautorifleandputaboltthroughtheholeMoricanihadopened. The projectile detonated a split second later, splattering both squadswithalienbloodandsendingshardsofalloypingingfromtheirpowerarmour.‘Soyoubatheusinit?’saidMoricani,wipingagobbetofalienfleshfromhishelm’seye.‘Anymoreofthisfilthgetsonmygun,anditsmachine-spiritwouldbewellwithin its rights tomalfunction. Iwouldnotbesurprised if it tookmyarmoffoutofspite.’‘Enough,’saidFarren.‘Letuscompleteaperimeterrun.Thisone’skinwillnotbeslowtorespond,butthelargestwillstruggletogetfarinside.’‘Theygotthroughtheforcefieldeasilyenough,’saidEnrod.‘Stealthers,’ saidFarren, shruggingbywayof answer. ‘Andnot thekind thatwearfoliageastheircamouflage.Thisshouldbegoodhunting.’Hesetoffatalooserun,autorifleheldcloseathisshoulder.

AsFarrendarted fromonebulkhead to another, therewasmovementover theocean.Hedivedheadlong for cover, some instinct tellinghim to leap forwardinsteadofduckinglow.Thegantrybehindhimexplodedintoflameandscorchedmetalsilhouettes,twistinggirdersblackeninginasuddenconflagrationoflight.Awholesectionofflooringtumbledawayintothecoolwatersbeneath.‘Heavyxenoswarsuitshaveabead,’voxedFarren,checkinghissightwasstillaligned.‘Allsquadsholdpositionbehindthebulkheads.’Brightblursofplasmasizzledpastfromdeepinsidetherig,eachroundsmall,butpotentenoughtokill.Thelieutenantgrimaced.Ifhemovedintotheopen,hewouldbecaughtinacrossfirebetweenthet’austealthersandwhateverxenotechmonstrosityhadjusttakenoutthegantryhehadbeencrossingmomentsago.‘Oathsandblood,’saidFarrenunderhisbreath,drawinguptheschematicsoftheSTCrigontheinteriorofhishelm.‘Thiswon’tbeeasywithoutsupport.’Intruth,hewouldratherdiethanaskhisbrothersintheDarkAngelsforhelp.ThePrimarisMarineshadareputationtowin.Anothervolleyofplasmacrackledpast.Theheavyirongrilles throughwhichthe firepower was coming were thick enough to bar his path to the alienstealthers,butthet’auwithinwereclearlymarksmen.Theywereskilledenoughto thread their shots through the diamond-shaped gaps wherever the PrimarisMarinesappeared.SquadsFarrenandMoricaniwerecaughtbetweenentrenchedxenosinfantryandwhateverchameleonicwarsuitwasoutthereoverthewaves,allbutinvisiblenearthesiphoncylinders.Therewas still away to closewith the stealthers, and get further inside to apositionofrelativesafety.Therehadtobe.Farrenleanedoutandloosedoffaquicktripleburstalongthetrajectoryofthelastfewplasmabolts, threadingtheshots throughthediamondgapswithease.Theexplosionsofhisboltsweregratifyinglyloud.Atwenty-footgapstillyawnedbetweenFarrenandhisbattle-brothers,buthissuppressing fire had likely bought them amoment to regroup.He stowed hisrifle,crouchedandleapeddirectlyupwards,makingthejumptograbholdofthethickpipesbeneaththenextgantry.Pullinghimselfup,hemag-clampedthetipsofhisbootstotheundersideofthepaintedironwork.‘Coverme!’heshoutedtohissquad.‘Boltermuzzlesintothegaps.Opportunefireonly.SquadMoricani,crossandflank!’‘Aye,lieutenant,’cameMoricani’sreply.‘Alreadyoncourse.’Thesergeant’ssecond,Lenkatz,wasthefirsttoleapacrossthemissingsectionof the gantry. He cleared the gap with a hand’s span to spare. The other

Hellblasters were quick to follow, with Thrunn striding forwards close to thediamondgrilleandloosingshotswheneverhesawmovementwithintherig.Avolleyofplasmasearedin,butthebigwarriorduckedbackatthelastmoment.By the timeMoricani’swholesquadhadcleared thegap,Farrenhadclimbedalong theundersideof theceilinggantry,usingasolidgripand the tipsofhismag-platebootstomakehiswaytothesteamingholeleftwheretheHellblastershad cored the iron structure above. Thankfully, the stealthers below had notreactedtohim;theyweretoobusyexchangingopportunisticfirewithhisSpaceMarinebrothers.Uponthislevel,anothercorridor,perpendiculartothegantrybelow,ledfurtherintotherig.Thistimetherewasnodiamond-gappedwalltobarhispath.Farrenreachedupintothehole.Pullinghimselfoverthelip,heyankedhimselfthrough,usingthemomentumofhisswingtogetonekneeoverthestill-glowingedges.The gantry screeched in protest, the distortedmetal giving under hisweight.Farren’seyeswentwideashefrozeinplace.Inchbycarefulinch,hegraduallyclimbedupandthrough,hisfingersgrippingthroughthemetalgrilletopullhimself tosafety.Hisarmour’sdamagereadoutsetalow-gradealertruneflaring,buthedismissedit,mouthingasilentapologytoitsmachine-spirit.Ashegottohisfeetandranalongthesecondstoreygantryfurtherintotherig,Farren saw themuzzle flashof a t’auplasmaweaponon the levelbelow.Thetelltale explosions of bolt rounds boomed as Thrunn and Enrod returned fire.Farrencouldseetwoshimmeringformsdirectlybelowhimduckingintocover,theirmotionandheat signatures all but invisible tohisMarkXarmour’s sub-auspexreader.Grimacingatthebreachofprotocol,hetookoffhishelm,mag-clampingit tohiswaist.Nowhecouldseethemasstrangesilhouettes,patchyripplesofnon-colourbelowhim.Xenotechwitchery,andreasonenoughtokillthemwithoutasecondthought.The xenos warsuits fired another volley, the flashes of light clinching theirposition. Farren drew his broad-bladed power sword from its scabbardwith astrangereluctance;itwasthefirsttimehehaddonesoinbattlefieldconditions.Hedepresseditsactivationruneandcutawaythemetalofthegantrytoleaveasemicirclethesizeofhishelm.Theblessedbladeslicedthroughthethickironbarsasiftheywerenomorethanhempenrope.Therewasathinshriekashepulledthemetalupandawaywithhisotherhand.Below,oneofthet’aulookedupsharply.Thecreatureraiseditsgun,drawinga

bead.Farren’sgrenadewasalreadyprimedanddropping.Thedeadlycylinderspunasitdroppedtowardsthetwot’austealthers,thendetonatedasecondbeforeithittheground.Thewarsuitswereflungsideways,chameleonfieldshaywire.Oneofthembecamefullyvisibleasaheavy-setwarsuittornopenfromshouldertohip.Farren took aim through the hole and put a bolt right in thewound. A splitsecond later, the warsuit’s detonation sent pieces of armour flying amidst anexplosionofgore.Thelieutenantmovedthebarrelofhisgunswiftlytotheotherstealther,placingashotrightinthebackoftheneck.Ithitatjusttherightangletopunchthroughthearmour’sweakspot,blowingclearthewarsuit’sheadinablossomoffire.‘BlessedbetheMaker,’saidFarrensoftlyashechamberedanotherclip.Belowhim,hissquadswerealreadyrunningtothesite,panningtheirownboltriflesleftandright.Enrod’svoicerangout.‘Farren,targetbehind!’The lieutenant ducked on instinct, turning in a pivoting crouch. Four finger-sized bolts of plasma sizzled a hand’s breadth overhead, burning through thetriangularstanchionbehindhiminacloudofacrid-smellingsteam.Farren brought his rifle in tight and shot the only part of the corridor wideenoughtohouseat’auwarsuit.HesilentlyprayedtotheOmnissiahhisballisticstheorywassound.Hissuppositionwasprovedrightwhenaboltcrackedagainstsomethingnighinvisible, the ensuing detonation revealing another ochrewarsuit as it toppledontoitsback.Farren ran.Another twowarsuits emerged from the corridor behind the first,camo fields flickering as rain pelted down from a loading shaft above them.Theysentvolleysofplasmasizzlingin,forcingFarren’ssquadmatesintocover.Glancingup,Farrensawadangling,spider-leggedwinchlift linkedbychainsand pulleys to the stanchions three storeys up. The apparatus was typicallyMechanicusindesign,itsmainbodyintheshapeofastylisedcranium.Farrencalibrated for amoment before shooting at the heavy chains that held it aloft,oneboltfollowinganother.Impacting upon one of the chains, the master-crafted weapon’s ammunitionexplodedwith forceenough to tear its linksapart.Theentireapparatus swungdownatacrazyangle,itssword-sharpappendagesscreechingacrossthegantryinashowerofsparks.The t’auwarsuits below raised theirweapons.Presumably taking it for some

giantImperialservo-skull,theypouredshotsintoit.Aheartbeat later theywereconsumedinfireasMoricani’sHellblasterssentadiagonalvolleyoftheirownthroughthegantry.Theplasmavolleytookthefirststealther right in themidsection, blasting throughhim in a showerof glowinggobbets.ThesecondwasconsumedfromheadtotoeinwhitefirewhenLenkatz’sballofsuperheatedgasclipped thecover it skulkedbehind.Xenosremains toppled tothegantryinaclatterofalloyandhigh-techplasteks.Farrenranforwardtocrouchbetweenthetwostealthers.Helookedforsignsoflife, even replacing his helm to scan their bio-rhythms, but his micro-scryersfoundnothing.The stench filtering through the lieutenant’s helm was awful, the scent ofburningelectricsminglingwith thatofcookedxenosmeat.Thegapinghole intheabdomenofthenearestwarsuithadrevealedamassofcauterisedinnards;ithadburnedright through thealien inplaces.Themoltenarmouraround ithadexposedmuchofthepilotwithin.Itwasagreyishwretchofathing,itsremainsfragileandsmalltoFarren’seyes.With its dying act, the alien had clawed at the air in vain hope of seizing asecond’s more existence. Its hand was four-fingered, clumsy and stubby inproportion,comparedtothatofahuman.Nowonderthet’aufelttheneedtogotowarinsuchheavyarmouriftheirphysiquesweresopitifullyunderdeveloped.‘Mythanks,SquadMoricani,’saidFarren.‘Youcompletedthetrapwithoutmyneedingtosayaword.’‘Apleasure,brother,’saidMoricani,eyespanningforthenexttarget.‘ChaplainZaeroph,’saidFarren,engaginghishelm’smagna-vox.‘AllPrimarissquadshaveembarkedandengagedtheenemysuccessfully.Nolosses.’Therewasnoreply.‘ChaplainZaeroph,thisisLieutenantFarren.We’regoingfurtherin.’Onlystaticcameinresponse.‘Squads Parvell andOrenst, you’re clear,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Get inside, asdeepasyoucan.Thathighyieldwarsuitisstilloutthere,Ibelieve.’‘Acknowledged,’saidParvell,hisname-runeflashinginaffirmation.‘AndifIgetavisualonthatbaldskullofyourswithoutahelm,Parvell,you’llfeeltheflatofmyblade.’‘You can try, lieutenant,’ saidParvell, thewrygrin in his voice audible evenoverthecracklingdistortionofthevox.Raised voices filtered down from the gantry above. They spoke in Low

Gothic – human in tone, thoughFarren could not quitemake out theirwords.The speech had the intonation of a fierce argument, getting louder by themoment. Farren spiked his audio feed tomaximum and looked straight at thesource.‘You’llonlymakeitworse!’shoutedahoarsevoice.‘TheyaretheTakers,fool!Theyareattackingusaswespeak!’‘Thentheyaredoingsoforasoundreason!’camethebellowedreply.‘FortheGreaterGood!’‘Thereareciviliansupthere,’saidFarren.‘Watchyouraim.’A moment later, the telltale crack of autoguns rang out. Farren looked up,spyingdarksilhouettesthroughthegrateofthestoreyabove.Therewasanothershot,closelyfollowedbyaflashoflight.Ascreampiercedthedinofthestorm.‘T’au weaponry,’ said Farren. ‘There are more xenos on the next storey,openingfireupontheriggers.’‘Then let us get up there now!’ cried Enrod. ‘Show these alien scum how itfeelstobeoutclassedbysuperiorfirepower.’Farrencalleduptherig’sschematicwithinhishelmoncemore,examiningthestandard template construct’s architectural data. ‘Yes. There is a stairwaynetwork to the right.Orenst,Parvell, consolidate this level.Watch theexteriorforthatheavywarsuit.Itsstealthtechwillalmostcertainlybebetterthanthatofitssmallercomrades.Lookforashimmerintherain.’‘Aye,lieutenant.’‘Acknowledged.’Motioningforhissquadtomoveout,Farrenranforthestairwayattheendofthe passage. He took the ridged stairs three at a time, canting his shouldersdiagonallysohecouldfithisbroadpauldronsthroughthetopofthestairsbeforeburstingoutfromthetopwithhisrifleraised.Hesweptthebarrelleftandrighttochecktheshadowedareas,andhisgazesettledonapairofriggerscrouchedlowonthepassageway,theirwideeyeswhiteinthegloom.‘Don’tcomenofurther!’shouted thesmallerof the two,his longhairslickedoverapallidface.Hewasholdingalong-barrelledrifleofunknowndesign,itswiderectangularshapeunmistakablyalien.‘Yourfightain’twithus!’The second rigger snarled.His expressionwasangry, savagealmost, but fearcloudedhiseyes.Heraisedhisownweapon,abluntxenoscarbinewithasecondrectangularbarrelbeneaththefirst.‘They’reheretokillus,Gransen!’Farrenstrodetowardsthem,rifleheldinacontrolledfiringgripasheresettheboltinitsbarreltobenon-reactiveonimpact.

Timeseemedtoslowastherigger’striggerfingerbegantoclench.Farren took the shot.His target squeezed off a streaking blur of plasma, butFarrenhadalreadyreaditstrajectoryfromthebarrel’sangle,anddartedleft.TheplasmastreakedpasthimjustasFarren’sboltstruckhome.Withawet thump,the human’s shoulder came apart. Blood squirted high as the figure tumbled,insensatewithshock,totheground.The rigger’s compatriot screamed. Farren lowered his rifle and strodepurposefullytowardshim.‘Leavethisonealive,brothers,he–’ThehumanwashitunderthechinbyapinpointshotfrombehindFarren.Theimpact alonewas sohard it almost tookhisheadoff.Then thebolt exploded,sendingfragmentsofskullandbrainpatteringfromthestanchionsbehindandtotheright.‘Apologies,lieutenant,’saidEnrod,half-emergingfromthetopofthestairs.‘Ialreadyhadtheshot.’‘Youwillpayforthat,Enrod,’saidFarrencoldly.‘Iexplicitlysaidtoleavehim.Youdisobeyedmyorders,brother.Censureisthe–’Thesoundofgunfireinthemiddledistancesnatchedawayhiswords,shortlyfollowedbythegruffthumpofanexplosion.‘Youthinkthisistheoptimaltimeforalecture?’saidEnrod.Farrenturnedaway,feelingbitternessinhisthroat.‘Vesleigh,coverus.’VesleightookpositionattheendofthegantryasThrunnpushedpast,roughlyelbowingEnrod aside as he approachedFarren’s position. ‘Civilians are usingxenostech,lieutenant.’‘Itlooksthatway.Oneofthemtookashotwithoneoftheseplasmaweapons,buttheotherheldhisfire.Heclearlywantedtoparley.’‘Perhapstheydisabledacoupleofthexenosriflementhemselves,andgrabbedtheirweapons,’saidEnrod.‘Theylootedtheircorpses,’saidThrunn.‘Almost certainly,’ said Enrod. ‘Thieves as well as blasphemers against theOmnissiah’sworks.’He kicked the cadaver of the smaller human, and a freshspurtofblooddrizzledfromitswoundstoleakdownthroughthegantrytothelevelbelow.‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Farren. ‘The t’au are infamously adept atbribingthecommonpopulacetotheirside.’Heleanedoverthenearestcadaver,pushingthecarbinefromitsgripwithhisfoot,andtookabriefpictoftheweaponstech.Therewassomethingoddabout

it, somethingevenstranger than theweird linesandunbalanceddesign thathecouldnotplace.‘Rightnowitmattersnot.Wepresson.’The clang-clang-clang of hurrying footfalls came from a corridor runningparallel to their position. Farren raised his rifle, then checked his sword in itsscabbardoutofcompleteness.Moreriggers;quiteafewofthem,bythesoundoftheirsteps,allwearingsteel-reinforcedworkboots.Farrenmotionedforhismen tohug thewall.Asone theymoved to theside.ThelowhumoftheirMarkXarmourwasnothingtothecrashingtumultofthestorm. By keeping still in the lee of a ribbed munitorum crate, they made apassableattemptatstealth.Farrenwatchedasagroupoffivehumansranpastat theendof thecorridor,too intent onmoving quickly to scan their surroundings. Theywere amotleycollection,buteverymanandwomanwassparseandmuscular,cladinoverallsandgauntletedjacketsofheavysuede.The last of them, a man with wild eyes and a scraggly black beard, lookeddownthecorridorstraightatFarrenasheranpast.Hehalted,staringindisbeliefashischestheavedhard.‘No lethal force,’ said Farren across the vox. He held a hand up, a wardinggesture.‘Wearehuntingthexenosinvaders!’hecalledout.‘Wehavenoquarrelwith–’‘FortheGreaterGood!’Asweat-slickedbearofaman,nearlyastallasFarrenwasinfullbattleplate,barrelledaround thecornerwitha rigwrench ineachhand.HescreamedasheflunghimselfstraightforFarren,buthewasmadeslowbyhisownbulk,andtoodesperatetothinkbeyondhisall-outattack.Farren stepped forwardand swept awaybothof the rigger’swrencheswith acircleofhisbolt rifle.Theheavy toolsclanged into thegantry justasFarren’spauldron caught the big man under the chin, slamming his head back andknockinghimoutcold.‘Ultrecht!’shoutedawomanclutchingherbelongingswithonearmasshedrewamakeshiftthrowingknifefromherbelt.‘Youwillpayforthat,Taker!’Atherside the straggle-bearded male sprang forward, a dagger in each hand and astrangelightinhiseyes.Thrunnsteppedforwardtotakethedaggerman’sbladesonhisforearmwithasprayofsparks.Inonesmoothmotion,hebackhandedthehumansohardhewasflungintoastanchion,collapsingunconsciousamomentlater.Moricaniflungagrenadeatthefemalejustasshedrewherknifebackforathrow.Ithitherinthe

foreheadwithsuchforceshewentdownwithacrash.Farren’sheartleapedintohismouthforamomentasthegrenaderolledawaywithatelltaletinkleofmetal.Heturnedhisshoulderwithhisheadtuckedin.‘Pin’sstillinit,’saidMoricaniwithashrug.‘Butit’sstillahardlumpofmetal.’Farren could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Who says Primaris Marines can’timprovise.’Bursting out from a rusted grille behind them came a pair of knife-wieldinghumans,abaldmaleandascruffyblondefemale.Vesleighswunghisboltriflesidelong toswipe the femaleback intoa stanchion, leaning into theblow.Shecollidedwithforceenoughtoslamherintounconsciousness.Enrod swung a punch, hitting the male in the face. The blow caved in hisfeatures and cracked his head open against the stanchion. Purple-grey matteroozedfromtheraggedredsplitsalonghisscalp.‘Omnissiah!Isaidnolethalforce,Enrod!’‘I honestly did not realise they would be so weak,’ said Enrod. ‘Laughable,really,thattheyshouldattackthosesenttosavethem.’‘Disobeymeoncemoreandyouwillneverlaughagain,’saidFarren,fightingdowntheurgetothrottlehisbattle-brotherthenandthere.‘ItiswellforyouthatIhavemorepressingmatters.’The blonde female at Vesleigh’s feet suddenly rose as if hoisted by someunseenforce,armsandlegsdanglingasshehunginmidair.Shegaveahorriblesnortofbloodfromhernose,eyesblazingblueandmattedhairstickingout.Hermouthopened, the jaw stretching far, far toowide.A columnof azure energyshotfromhermawandslammedintoFarren’sside,knockinghimsprawlingintothebaldman’scorpse.Forasecond,Farrenwaslost.Thepaincascadingacrosshisbodywasfierce,evenagonising,butitfadedquicklyashissystem’snaturalanaesthetickickedin.Hispowerarmourfloodedhisbloodstreamwithstimms,andhevaultedupright,onehandclaspedtohiswoundedside.Theotherbroughthisboltrifletobearforakill-shot.Thecreaturethathunginthecorridor,still levitating,hadonlyablood-jettingstump for a neck. Behind her, Thrunn placed her decapitated head against astanchion,thenwipedhiscombatknifecleanuponthestill-floatingcorpse.‘Psyker,’hesaid.‘Well spotted, Thrunn,’ said Moricani. ‘Xedro, that was too close. Neverunderestimatethepowerofthemind,asFatherCawlusedtosay.’‘I’mnotsurethiswaswhathemeant,’saidFarrengrimly,shoulderinghisrifle.

‘Thrunn,mythanksfortheassist.’‘Lethalforceauthorisednow,isit?’saidEnrod.Burning with frustration, Farren turned away and walked down the corridorthrough the bodies of the fallen riggers. The female with the throwing knife,knockedcoldbyMoricani’sgrenade, had let spill herbundleofbelongings torevealastrangestatuewithtoomanylimbs.Farrennudgedtheeffigyoutoftheclothwrappingwithhistoe,thentookaquickpictfromhishelmlensforlaterassimilation.The statue was a faceless, strange thing, somehow alien in its anatomy. ItreekedofblasphemyagainsttheOmnissiah.Onasuddenimpulse,hecrusheditunderhisfoot,kickingtheremainsthroughaholeinthegantrywall totumbledownintotheamber-litdarkness.Farrenmadehiswayonwardthroughtherig,hisbattle-brothersscanningeverycorneranddarkenedcreviceastheypressedfurtherinside.Inthedepthsofthemegastructure they could still hearmuffled explosions as the rest of theDarkAngelsengaged.‘We’lllinkupwiththeFirstifwecan,’saidFarren.‘Oncethefightingisover,Zaerophwillseetothoseheretics.Theyaren’tgoinganywhere.’The Primaris Marines passed stacks of rust-flecked promethium drums andcraneassemblies,hustledpastblood-spatteredwallsandtrodspentbulletcasingsflatagainstwalkwaysas theypassed.Atonepoint, thegantryfellaway to theright,exposingalongdropdowntoadockingplatformbelow.Farren furrowed his brow and engaged his helm’s picter oncemore for laterstudy. In places the metal had been sheared through. The edges were stillglowing,asiftherighadbeencarvedbysomevast,superheatedblade.‘Another energyweapon?’ saidMoricani as he and his squad brought up therear.‘Ihonestlydonotknow,’saidFarren. ‘Itcouldbexenotech,butby theangleandsweepofit…Itlooksalmostasifitwasfiredatrandom.’Therewasasharpcrackofweaponsdischargefromthenorth.‘Theotherstrikeforcesseemhappytoengagewithoutus,’saidVesleigh.‘Youthinktheyusedusasadistraction?’‘Ourbattle-brothersareconcentratingontheirduty,asshouldwe,’saidFarren.‘Watchtheflanks,let’slinkupwith–’‘There!’Aburningwhiteballofenergycrackledthroughthesheetsofrain.Farrendivedhardtotheleft.Theblast’spressurewavecaughthimnonetheless,sendinghim-

tumbling over the rail towards the precipitous drop.He flung out a hand andcaught a stanchion, his shoulder joint burningwith sudden pain as it took theentiretyofhisweight.Anotherdeadly sphereburned through the air, forcinghim to raisehis legs asplitsecondbeforetheballofenergyshotunderneath.Hefeltitsheatalonghisthighsandback.Servos whined inside his power armour as he swung out over nothing, thenhoistedhimselfup togetbothelbowsover thegantry.Enrodextendedahand,but the lieutenant ignored it, pushing his bolt rifle away for a moment andhaulinghimselfbackontothewalkway.Hegrabbedhisrifleoncemorebeforespringinguptohisfullheight.‘Whereisthatthing?’heshouted.‘Iwantitdead.’Therewasashimmerintherain,perhapsahundredyardsdistant.‘Bythepontoons!’shoutedEnrod.Farrenshoulderedhisrifleandtookashot.Aheartbeatlaterhissquadfollowedsuit,adozenkillingroundssearingthroughtherain.The volley of boltswasmet by tiny glowingmotes, a storm of fireflies thatflickered into life tocollidewith theself-propelledrounds.Theydetonated theprojectiles well before they could strike their target. A chain of explosionsflashed in the rain, andorange light caught theedgesof thewarsuit’smassivebulk.Thebattle enginewas far bigger than aPrimarisMarine.Bigger even than aRedemptorDreadnought,cometothat,andyetitwasrenderedallbutinvisiblebyitscamofield.Farrencastaround,lookingforsomethingtotipthebalance.Hespottedastackof promethium drums, a common enough sight on such a rig. Their potentialmade his pulse race. He tapped his lenses to infra-red, and felt his hopesdampen.Theywerereadingempty.Another burst of plasma seared in. This time, Farren and his brothers wereready for it, and got clear just before the sphere obliterated the stanchionsbehind.SergeantOrenstandhissquadmateshadfinallymadethegantry,levellingtheirbolt rifles and sending a tight volley into the rain. Once more, a swarm ofinterceptingfirefly-thingsappearedfromnowheretomeetthem.Theboltslitupthenightoncemore,theirwrathasfutileastherainitself.‘Thrunn,’ said Farren, motioning at the promethium drums some way backalongthegantry.‘Graboneofthosebarrelsandhurlitoutthere.’Heransome

preliminaryballisticsinhishead.‘Icangetitsomeoftheway,lieutenant,but–’‘Doit!’Thrunn’snamerune flashed inacknowledgementonFarren’shelmdisplayastheyoungwarriorpoundedover to thestackofbarrels,manhandlingonefromthetopbeforedroppingitwithaclangandtakinganother.‘They’reempty,’hesaid.‘They’llstillhavethedregs,andtracesofgas.’‘Itwon’treachthe–’‘Itdoesn’tneedto!Justgetoneoutthere!’Anotherballofplasmahurtledtowardsthem.ThistimeMoricaniandhisteamwereready,sendingavolleyoftheirownsuperheatedenergiesfromtheirplasmaincinerators to blaze straight into the incoming shot. Farren heard Moricanilaughharshlyastheairturnedtospectacularinferno.Hisautosenseskickedin,dimminghislensestokeephimfrombeingblindedentirely.‘Now!’SpinningaroundonthespotlikeaMedusanhammerthrower,Thrunnwhirledtheheavyirondrumbeforereleasingitwitharoar.Farrenkneltandtookabeadasitcurvedthroughtheairtowardsthesiteofthestealther’splasmadischarge.‘Maximumyield,brothers,’saidMoricani.‘Andmakeready.’Farrenheardthetelltalewhineof theplasmaguns reaching theirhighestoutput;a lethal risk inany situation, even for those as scrupulous in theirmaintenance rituals as theHellblasters.‘Onmymark…’ said Farren. Hemouthed a silent prayer to the Omnissiah,runninghisindexfingeralonghisgun’sbarreltocalmitsmachine-spirit.Hisboltriflebuckedashetooktheshot.Itstruckthepromethiumbarreldeadcentre,thearmour-piercingboltpunchingstraightthrough.With a deafening crack, the promethium vapour ignited and the barrel cameapart in a puff of flame. Splintered wedges ofmetal burned in all directions.Oncemorethefireflycountermeasuresofthexenosstealthershotout,thistimeflittingtointercepttheknivesofshrapnelcomingtowardsit.Illuminatedbytheflameof thedetonation, thecolossalwarsuithadbeenmadevisible,agiantofsmoothlinesandglintingsensors.‘Fire!’saidFarren.The xenos-thing moved to evade, but with its countermeasures alreadylaunched it had noway to escape. The bolts fired by Farren and his brothersstruckhard,eachpiercingshotpunchingthroughalienalloytodetonatewitha

loudboom.Smokingcratersappearedinthemachine’shull.Amomentlater,SquadMoricani’sblindingspheresofplasmaenergystruckthewarsuit, burning away its front and melting its primary weapon limb to adrizzling,shapelessmass.Themachine,mortallystrickenandwithflamejettingfromwithinitscockpit,toppledbackfromitsperchintotheheavingwavesbelow.Farren cast about himself, looking for signs of any xenos threat. The stormhowled,butofthebattleunfoldingaroundtherig,hesawnothing.‘Andsoitgoes,’saidMoricani.‘ScoreonefortheHellblasters.’Thelieutenanttappedhislensesthrougheveryspectrumavailable,scanningfort’aupresence.Thoughhecouldnotseehimnearby,Parvellwouldnodoubthavetakenoffhishelmbynow, trustinghisownsenses toscanformorestealthers.Yetevenheremainedsilent.‘Easternquadrantneutralised,Chaplain,’saidFarrenoverthemacro-vox.‘Yourorders?’Therewasstillnoreply.Baringhisteethinirritation,Farrenmadehiswayoutontoajuttinggirder.Hepushedoutuntilhefeltthestrainofthemetalunderneathhimnearitsoptimumtolerance.Partoftherig’scorearmature,itwasbuilttolast.Butaftertheblazingenergiesoftheirfightwiththewarsuit,hedidnotpushhislucktoofar.Somethingcaughthiseyetothefarleft,vanishingfromsight.Farren frowned, riskinganotherstepouton thestanchion. It shudderedunderhisfeet,awarningfromtheprimitivespiritoftherigitself.He increased his mag-clamps to maximum as the wind howled around him,eachnewgusttuggingandpushingathimashetookthebestvantagepointhecould. Steeling himself, he raised his bolt rifle to his shoulder and readied tojumpbackifthestanchiongaveway.ItwouldnothelpthePrimarisstrikeforce’salreadyshakycommandstructuretoseetheirlieutenantplungedownintotheicywater.Peeringdownthescryer-scopetothefarleftoftheirposition,Farrenmadeoutagroupofbone-armouredfigures.Eachwasmassiveinbulk,andseveralwereadornedwiththetallfeatheredwing-pennantsoftheFirst’selite.Thesquadhadtaken up a full-circle firing stance as itwas lowered into the sea by awinch-platformonthewesternpontoon.The Deathwing, fabled First Company of the Dark Angels, were seeking toengagebeneaththewaves.Farrenfrowned,theoriesclusteringinhishead,ashewatchedthemdescendto

the base of the pontoon and down into the surging waves. They were stillstanding in weapons-ready position as the crashing waters closed over them.Beforelong,allhecouldmakeoutwastheirarmour-lumens,dimlyglowinginthesea.Theneventhoseweregone.Thesoundofexplosionscamefromthewest.Lashingflamescurledaroundthestanchionsfromaclashhappeningjustoutofsight.Thenthemacro-voxcrackled,lacedwithafizzleofstaticbutstillintelligible.‘Primariselements,’camethevoiceofChaplainZaeroph.‘Youhavedonewell.Thexenosareinfullretreat.Returntoyourtransportsandextractforthwith.’‘Acknowledged,’saidFarren.Anotherexplosionsoundedfromthewest,thistimeamuffledthumpthatsentupaplumeofwater.Farrenopenedthemacro-voxlineagain.‘Forgiveme,ChaplainZaeroph,butitappearselementsofourwider forcearestillengaged.Shouldwereinforce theDeathwing?’‘Returntoyourtransportsandextractimmediately!’TheChaplain’stonehadanoteofragethattookFarrenaback.‘Understood.Headingforrendezvouspointnow.’The lieutenant heard indistinct voices over the vox, muffled ghosts that hecouldnotdiscern.ThenZaeroph’svoicecamethroughoncemore.‘Farren,youaretoattendusintheoctagonalchamberattherig’spinnacle.’‘Aye,Chaplain.’‘Alone.’‘Acknowledged.’Farrenmotionedforhismentomoveout,butdidnotgowiththem.Moricaniraisedaneyebrow,buthewavedhisbrother’sconcernaway.‘Later,Pietr.Ihaveareporttomake.’Withinseconds,thePrimarisMarineswereretracingtheirsteps.Thelieutenantcastaglanceoverhisshoulderasheleftthegantry,staringbackatthecrashingwaveswherehehadseenhisDeathwingbattle-brotherssubmerge.Onlytheblackdepths,profoundwithunansweredquestions,greetedhisgaze.

CHAPTERTWOCOLDTHOUGHTS

Ferro-GiantNetworkSaltireVex,PelagicIndustrialWorld

ChalnathExpanse

JensaDeelwassoddenandnumbwithexhaustion.Shewasfreeofthewateratlast,havingclimbedoutofthestormyoceanuponeoftherig’smainstanchionswith the last of her strength. Shewas not free of the rising tide of panic thatthreatenedtoconsumehermind.Her teeth chattered violently enough for her jaws to clack like those of askeletalmarionette.Sheclungtothestanchionofthepromethiumrigastightlyasshecould,thesharp-spinedshellsofzebralimpetscuttingintoherfingersandwrists.But shewas alive.Through sheer animal adrenaline – and through theinner strengthofa lifetimespentbraving thewatersduringherdowncycles–shehadmadethejourneyfromOmicroidwithoutdrowning.Less thanafewhoursearlier,shehadplungedfromthecrosshairsofaxenosgunintothestormywaters.Thegambithadworked,fortheTakersthatattackedherhadleftherfordead.Perhaps theyweren’tsofaroff themark.Shehadbeenaprimetarget for theremora-mouthed saprays thatwrithed in the surf, having to kick them off herlegsasbestshecouldevenassheswam.Shehadlostalotofblood,andlikelyhadthecold-agueattheveryleast.Giventhenumberanddepthofthewounds,scrapesandgashesshehadsustainedinthelastfewhours,shemightnotlastthenight.Butfornow,atleast,sheclungon.

Jensaforcedherselftolookupwardsandassesstheoutsideoftherig.Theovalhollows in theoutsideof the stanchion leduphigher than shecould see, theirheightseeminglyinfiniteastheystretchedawayintotherain.The priestess imagined a warm bed with a dozen blankets, and stretched ashudderinghandup to the firstmetalhollow in the stanchion’s side.Then shereachedherotherhanduptothesecond.Ittookherthreetriestoforcethetoeofherbootintoanotherofthehollowsbelow,butshemadeit,andpushedupwardstograbasolidgrip.‘You…can…doit…Jensa,’stutteredtherigswoman,herthroatthickwiththeacrid,saltytasteofseawater.‘Done…it…ahundred…times…before.’Musclememorytookover,herlimbssocoldandtiredthatthepaininherjointsand the back of her thighs was almost abstract. Some animalistic need forsurvival took over, and hermovements became almost automatic.One hollowblendedintothenext.Adeepblacksleepthreatenedtosnatchherawayanddropherintothewatersatanymoment.Half-blindwith tiredness,Deel allowedherself amomentof rest.She lockedher limbs into the hollows, pushing her thigh all theway through to sit half-astride. Shewedged her shoulder into the hollow above, just as she had beentrainedtodoonthefirstdayofherindoctrination.She hung there like a rag doll, head drooping. The only thing keeping herawakewas thecold rain lashingher face.Sheknewshewasstill losingbloodfromthewoundsonherlegs.Thefreezingseahadcausedherveinstocontractto the point it would likely be amere trickle, but if she opened them up toomuch,shewouldprobablybleedout.‘T’au’va,spareme,’shewhisperedintothestorm.‘T’au’va,givemestrength.’Forasecond,shefellintothesleepofthedead.Ageyserofwatereruptedfromtheseanearthenorthernsiphonpoint,wakingherupwithajolt.AblackshapeburstfromitsmidstinamannerthatremindedJensa of a spine-whale breaching. With its wings swept in the manner of asoaringraptor,itroaredupintotheskiesontwintrailsofflame.Shecouldmakeout two blunt cannons jutting from the cockpit. Trails of blue sparks crackledacrossoneofitswingsaroundacraterofbattledamagethatfizzedwithenergy.Jensawatcheditwithanumbdetachment.Therewasnosuchcraftonherrig,nor the ones either side of it. Nothing happened on Ferro-Giant Omicroidwithoutherpermission,andlittleontheotherrigswithouthergettingwordofit.Butrightnow,suchconcernsseemedathousandyearsaway.Therewas a sky-splitting boom, and suddenly thereweremore black shapes

jettingoverhead.Thedinoftheirenginesroseabovethecrashandthunderofthetempest.Three squadronsof three fighters, stylisedpinionsemblazonedacrosstheirwings,carvedthroughtheskiesaftertheunknowncraftlikecarrioncrowspursuingagreatblackeagle.Astheymatchedtheirprey’sflightpath,thefleeingcraftshimmeredanddisappearedfromsightentirely.Deelfrowned.Thevesselthathadburstfromthewaterhadbeennowherenearthecloudbanks.Ifanything,ithadbeenheadingforagapinthethunderheads,itsflightpath leadingitstraightfor thestarsheknewas theScorpid’sEye.Sohowdiditjustdisappear?Shefelttheroarofthejetfightersreverberateinherchestastheyengagedtheirafterburners.Theydrovehardalong the samevector, thenpeeledoff, threebythree, before splitting up in a rising spiral that reminded her of a cyclonegatheringforce.Asearchpattern,unmistakeably.Shewasnottheonlyonetohavelostthefirstcraft’strail.Thejetfightershurtledupintothestormclouds,andweregone.

JensaDeelfinallyhauledherselfontothelowestdwelling-leveloftherig.Stilldripping,shesprawledonherfaceontothecoldmetal,eyesclosedandtootiredtocry.Shecouldhearthedullclangoffootsteps,andtheyweregettinglouder.Only through the most tremendous act of willpower did she manage to pushherselfontoallfours.Sheopenedhereyestoseetwomassive,armouredboots.Theirroyalbluehuewassodarktheyseemedalmostblack,andtheyglintedwithamberspotsintheorangelightofthesub-level.Theywerefartoolargetobethoseofahuman.Deel blinked, gathered herself, and stood shakily.Adrenaline pounded in herneck,herchest,herspineasshetookinthebarrelchestandhulking,bear-likemassofanImperialSpaceMarine.Shefeltlikeashiveringchildnexttotheimmensearmour-cladfigurethatstoodbeforeher,asimpassiveasastatue.Thelowhumofitspowerarmourthrummedunder the sound of distant waves. Deel could feel its gaze upon her, itsdisapprovalmixedwithidleinterest.Shewassuddenlyawarethatinsomeothercircumstances,someanimalpartofher would have cowered, shrinking away from the terrifying apparition. Butrightnow,shewastootiredtodoanythingmorethanexist,andgettoshelterbywhatevermeansnecessary.Theadrenaline rushing throughher system,by this

point feeling stagnant and spiky rather than invigorating,made her feelmorewillingtofightthanflee.Itwouldmeanlessmovement,foronething.Eventhoughspotsofexhaustiondancedinfrontofhereyes,sheforcedherselftolookupandmeetitsgaze.Ahoodedfigurestaredback,asdeathlyandsternasiftheReaperhadcomeforher himself. Only the lower half of the Space Marine’s face was exposed, ajuttingjawmaderoughwithdarkstubble,butashereyesightadjustedshecouldsee a little way under its cowl. Strange cables framed the giant’s angularfeatures.Hiseyes,narrowandslittedagainstthewind,seemedtoglowcoldlyintheshadows.Shefeltasthoughtheyboredintothecentreofherbrain.‘Deel,’hesaid,thewordassepulchralanddeepastheblacksea.‘Y-y-yes,’shechattered.‘Youwillcomewithme.BacktoOmicroid.’

XedroFarrenstoodintheoctagonalviewingroomatthetopofthepromethiumrig. Opposite him were two of the most senior members of the Dark AngelsChapter,imposingeventoonewhohadwitnessedArchmagosCawlintheflesh.Lightflickeredfromthecage-lumensabove,castingthemallinawanbluetint.Aroundhimwerecogitatorbanksandwidepanoramicwindowsthatshowedthestorm-wracked ocean beyond. Ferro-Giant Omicroid’s fellow rigs dotted thehorizon,churningexcesspowerfromtheoceantosendtonguesofflameintothenight.Farren’sgazewas firmly fixeduponhis fellowDarkAngels.Solid figures inornate power armour, their presence and gravitas seemed to take up farmoreroomthananymortalcouldeverhopetofill.ChaplainZaeroph’s facewashiddenbehinda stylised skullhelmet,grimandforbidding.AroundhisneckwasasacredRosarius, theforce-fieldamuletheldon a string of pearled beads – for some reason three of themwere black, butFarrenhadnevermusteredthenervetoaskwhy.Evenwithhisfeaturescovered,theChaplainmanagedtoexudeadisapprovalsointenseitfeltlikeitstrippedalayerofpaintfromFarren’sarmourwitheveryglance.CompanyMasterGabraeldidnotwearhishelm,insteadreinforcinghisstatuswithalongandelaboratelyembroideredcloak.HestaredatFarrenwithanevenand passionless expression, the stolid intensity of a castellan watching foesapproachhisfortressbeforegivingtheordertofire.Thedeepbrownofhisskinwasthatofasoulwellusedtofightingunderaharshsun.Threegoldenservicestudsintheshapeofskullsjuttedfromhisforeheadinstarkcontrast,glintingin

theflickeringlightbeneatharecedinghairlineofcroppedblackhair.Farrenknewhewasmore physically imposing than the veteranDarkAngelsofficershewasreportingto,andhewascladinMarkXarmour,thefinesttypeofbattleplateyetknowntotheAdeptusAstartes.TheimplantsinhisbodyweresuperiortothoseofthetraditionalSpaceMarines,givinghimgreaterenduranceand swifter reaction speed.He had coils of hyper-durablemetal around everysinew,aBelisarianfurnaceinhischestandthebloodoftheLionpulsinginhisveins.Morethanthat,hecarriedtherankoflieutenant,anhonourhehadearnedtwiceover.Hehadnothingtofearfromhisbattle-brothers.And still, in the face of the luminaries of hisChapter, Farren felt like a boycalledtoanswertohiseldersandbetters.Therewas a heaviness to them, theweight of centuries spent in battle. Theybore it in theirposture, theirgaze,even theauraaround them.ToFarren, theyseemedsculptedfromstone,withheandhiskinmeredriftwoodbycomparison.Their presence was intimidating, even to one used to dealing with the half-humanmagioftheAdeptusMechanicus.‘MayI tellyouofour fight?’saidFarren,hisvoicecomingoutnotnearlyasstridentandconfidentashehadhoped.‘Itwillbeofinterest.’‘Youmaynot,’snappedZaeroph.‘We await the return of Epistolary Dothrael,’ said Gabrael, his eyes lookingsidelongout theviewscreenwindowas ifFarrenwasbarelyworthyofnotice.‘Hisgunshipjustmadeitbacktotheskyshield.’Farrenkepthispeace.Inhismind’seyehesawMoricanilaughingathim.Howgladhewasthathisbattle-brotherhadnotbeenaskedalongtothedebriefing.‘Heishere,’saidZaeroph,turningtothedoorway.Agaleofcoldwindburstthroughtheseal-hatchastheepistolaryflungitopen,his massively built form holding the worst of the elements at bay. His eyesglowedblue,tinytraceriesoflightningateachcorner.Shovedroughlybeforehimwasahumanfemale,long-limbedandmuscularofbuild,butsmallincomparisontohersaviour.Shestaggeredin,droppingtoonekneewithagruntofpain.Thehumanwasalreadyhalf-dead,bythelookinhereye and the chattering of her teeth. Farren surreptitiously tapped his helm toinfra-red;herlife-signswerepitifullylow.Evenhercorewasbarelyregisteringamberlevelsofheat.‘Thisisthesurvivor?’saidZaeroph.‘Yes,Interrogator-Chaplain,’saidDothrael,thewindtuggingathiscowlasheshut the bulkhead door behind him. ‘Rigswoman Jensa Deel. Somehow she

made it to the next rig.’ Farren frowned at the Librarian’s term of address.Interrogator?‘She is the only human still active from thismegastructure, according to theRavenwing,’saidMasterGabrael,hiscloakofofficebillowingaroundhiminthelastofthewind.‘Justaswell.’Zaeroph snorted through his helm-vox, a sound like that of an impatientstallion.‘Standup,mortal.Letmeassessyou.’Thebedraggledhumanstoodas tall as shecould,her fistsbunchedandarmsshaking.‘G-g-get…’‘Getwhat,woman?’ said theChaplain,moving in close to stare down at herwithred-liteyes.‘G-g-gettothes-sea’sb-bedwithy-you.’ToFarren,she lookedon thepointofdespair,ormadness.Hershiveringwasuncontrollable,almosthardtowatch.‘Orgetherablanket,’hesaid,despitehimself.‘What did you say?’ said Gabrael, his tone incredulous. ‘We are notnursemaids.Yourkindisclearlytoonaivetorealiseit,Farren,butcompassionisaweakness.’‘Ifshediesonus,itwillbenexttoimpossibletounpickwhathappenedhere,’saidFarren,histonelevel.‘Wewillhavetheanswersweneedbeforesheexpires,’saidZaeroph.Nexttohim, the company master turned and looked out of the window, alreadydisinterested.FarrenmovedovertoGabraelandgrabbedhisheavycloak,yankingitsohardit tore away from the clasps on his shoulders with a loud rip. The companymaster spun, his face amask of indignant fury.His power swordwas alreadyhalfwayfromitsskull-workscabbard,glowingbluewithacrackleofdisruptiveenergies.Zaeroph’shandshotoutandgrabbedthecompanymasterbythewrist,holdinghisswordarminplace.TheChaplainfixedGabraelwithanevenstare,daringhimtolashout.Farren turned away without a word, wrapping the heavy cloak around theshiveringwomanuntil shewascoveredhead to toewithonlyher facevisible.Shelookedupathim,gratitudemingledwithshockinhereyesasshepulledthevelvetyfabricinclose.‘ThatcloakonceswathedarelicoftheChapter’spast,’saidGabrael,hisvoice

coldandmonotone.‘Youwillanswerforthat.’‘Themattercanwait,’saidZaeroph.‘Farreniscorrect.Thewomanismoreusetousalive,andintelligible,thanasacorpse.’Farrencastabouttheroom,eyesalightingonabulletflaskwedgedinbetweentwoof thecogitatorbanks.Hewalkedover, ignoringGabrael’sdaggerstareashepulledtheflaskoutandunscrewedthecap.Hehelditunderhisrespiratorfora moment; it had the bitter tang of recaf, mixed with the ester-rich scent ofmoonshine.Badquality,andpoisonousinthelongterm,butclearlytheriggersfounditwarmingenough.‘Here,’hesaid,handingittothewoman.‘Drinkthis.’She took it with shaking hands, sipping at first, then gulping it down. Shecoughedhard,spatathingruelofseawaterandmoonshineontothesteelfloor,andpulledthecloaktightoncemore.‘My…th-thanks,’shestammered.‘B-butreallyIn-needs-somethinghot.’‘Whymustwesufferthisnonsense?’blurtedGabrael.‘Timeisoftheessence!’‘However fast we pursue, we will not outdistance the Ravenwing,’ saidZaeroph.‘Letthemdowhattheywerebornto.’‘We shall findplentyof answers here,’ saidEpistolaryDothrael. ‘Even ifwehavetoresorttounusualmethodstofindthem.’‘Iamgladtohearit,’saidFarren.‘Ihavemanyquestions.’Theroomwentsilent,itsatmospheresuddenlygrowingsocoldthatFarrenhalfexpectedtoseehisbreathfrostinginfrontofhisface.‘Lethimask,’saidtheLibrarian.‘WemaygainsomeinsightintothePrimarismindset, or perhaps even that of his ultimate sponsor, the Lord Macragge.Besides,afterwegetbacktotheBlade,whatdifferencewillitmake?’‘Thereisthat,’saidGabrael.‘PerhapsitistheteachingsofGuillimanthatleadshimtodisrespect theSonsoftheLion,stealingthebelongingsofhissuperiorsand giving them to human serfs. Is that how the primarch told you to behavewhenyoumethim,Primaris?’‘ItisthefaultlesslogicofMars,combinedwiththehumandecencyofTerra,’saidFarren.‘Westillhavesomeofthatleft.’AsGabraelgaveashort,barkinglaughattheimpliedrebuke,questionsblurredtogetherinFarren’smind.Whathadthecompanymastermeant,aboutmeetingthe primarch?Andwhat eventswere due to take place on theBlade?He hadheardnothing.‘Enough,’saidZaeroph.‘Report.Whilstthisonegathersherself.’‘Myteamsengagedthexenosat thesouthernpontoon,’saidFarren.‘Wetook

thefirststoreywitheasebeforeencounteringresistancefromastealthteam.’‘Fascinating,’saidGabraeldully.‘Lethimspeak,’saidZaeroph.‘Didyoulearnoftheirmodus?’‘Theystruckasandwhentheopportunitypresenteditself,placingthemselvesincommandingballisticpositions.Theyreliedon theiradaptivecamouflage toshieldthemfromreturnfire.Inthisliestheirweakness.’‘Goon.’‘Theyusethemindsetof theambushpredator,Chaplain.Yetwearenotprey.Theylittlerealisethatiftheydonotkilluswhentheyhavetheadvantage,theyinviteafardeadlierretribution.’‘Howmanyxenosfelltoyourteams?’askedGabrael.‘Fivewarsuitsintotal.’Thecompanymastersnorted,turningawayoncemoretolookoutattheoceanbeyond.‘Thelastofthemweengagedwassomethirtyfeettall,andcloakedwithsuchsophisticatedtechitwasallbutinvisible.Ithadanionicplasmaweaponofsomekind,judgingbyitsprotonyield,andcountermeasuresthatinterceptedourboltroundswithease.’‘Sohowdidyoukillit?’askedDothrael.‘YouPrimarisMarinesforsakeheavyweapontroopers,doyounot?’‘Wehavesquads intended forengagingheavy targets. I improvised,occupieditscountermeasures, andcoordinatedadual strikewithSergeantMoricani thatsentitbelowthewaves.’‘Hmm,’saidZaeroph.‘Atleastyoukeptoneheavywarsuitoccupied,then.’‘We killed it,’ said Farren. ‘Whereas the Ravenwing, tasked with perimetercontrol,werenowheretobeseen.’‘TheRavenwing’sbusinessistheirown,’saidGabrael.‘Andyoudonotknowthatyoukilledit,ifyoumerelysawitsubmerge.’‘Onthesubjectofsubmerging,’saidFarren,‘IsawmembersoftheDeathwingdescendintothewateronawinchrig.WhenIofferedmyteams’assistance,yourefusedontheirbehalf.MayIask,inmycapacityasthecommandingofficerofthePrimariscontingent,whattheywerehopingtoaccomplish?’‘No,’saidZaeroph.‘Wearediscussing thexenospresence, and their capabilities,’ saidEpistolaryDothrael.‘Didyouencounteranyanomaliesyoucouldnotexplain?’‘Not from thexenos,’ saidFarren,givingZaeropha longstare.TheChaplainremained impassive. ‘Although the site where we fought the macro-stealther

lookedasifithadbeencutapartbyanindustriallascutter,wieldedmoreorlessatrandom,’continuedFarren.‘Wholesectionsoftherigwereslashedaway,andstillglowing.’Farrensawthehumanfemaleglanceupatthis,butshelookedawayassoonasshefelthisgaze.‘Anythingelse?’saidGabrael.Thelieutenantcalledupthepict-captureshehadassembledoverthecourseofthebattle,comingtorestontheimageofthefallenriggersthathadfireduponthemwithxenosweaponry.‘On two occasionswe encountered resistance from indigenous humans, oncedeepwithin the rig, and once on its outskirts. The first groupwere put downefficiently.’AvisionofEnrod’sboltdetonatingwithinanunarmouredhuman’sneckfilledFarren’smind.Hewasnotsurehewouldeverforget thesight.WhentheyhadbeenshootingservitorsonMarsthathadbeendifferent,somehow.Thosethingswerehalf-deadalready,theirtruesentiencelonggone.‘Andthesecond?’saidGabrael.‘Thesecondgroupweintendedtosubdueforquestioning,’hecontinued,‘buttheyfoughthard,andwewereforcedtoputthemdowntoo.’‘Suchisthecostofwar.’Farrenwasabouttomentionthestrangesculpturehehadfoundinthebundleofthe knife-thrower’s belongings, but something inGabrael’s contemptuous tonemadehimkeepthattohimself.Hehadnodesiretofeelthelashofthecompanymaster’stongueagain.‘One of them, on the brink of death, manifested some psychic ability,’ saidFarren. ‘Seemingly spontaneous, and uncontrolled. Telekinesis, I believe.Andsomemannerofbiomancythatsentabeamofwhiteenergyfromthemouth.’‘You slew this creature?’ said Dothrael, leaning forward with his expressionintense.‘Immediately,’saidFarren.‘Summarydecapitation.’‘Did any of your men come into physical contact with the ectoplasmicdischarge?’‘No,’saidFarren,puttingaside theghostsofpain thatstillached inhis flankfromthepsyker’sbeam.Theanswerwastechnicallycorrect;afterall,hewasthecommanderoftheunit,ratherthanapartofit.Dothraelnoddedsolemnly.‘Shewasprobablyanunsanctionedwitchthathadcomehereforrefuge,’hesaid.‘Itiswellsheisdead,andthematterisclosed.’

Odd,thoughtFarren.HehadnottoldtheLibrarianthegenderofthepsyker.‘There was one other thing that made little sense to me,’ said Farren, eye-spoolingbackthroughhispict-captures.Hepickedoutthepictofat’aucorpse,four-fingeredhandclutchingattheair.Hesummonedthepictofadiscardedt’auriflelyingnearadeadrigger,andcomparedthemagainsteachother.‘Well?’saidDothrael.‘Oneof theriggersweencountereduseda rifleofxenosmake. Iassumedhehadrecovered it fromanaliencorpse,and inhispanichewason thebrinkofusingitagainstus.Butitsgripwasforafive-fingeredhand.’‘Therootsofheresypenetratefurther thanever,since theRift,’saidZaeroph.‘Buttheftisaminorcrime,comparedtorebellion.’‘That’s just it.The t’au arequadrodactylous.Four-fingered. I checkedoneoftheircadaversupclose.’‘Isthisbabblerelevant?’saidGabrael.‘Orareyoufurtherwastingourtime?’‘Havesomerespect,’sighedFarren.‘IamaDarkAngeltoo,andanofficeratthat.Youmay outrankme,CompanyMasterGabrael, but one of theAdeptusAstartesshouldnottalktoafellowofficerinthatmanner.’‘Fellowofficer?’saidGabrael, incredulous.‘TheonlythingyouandIhaveincommon,brother,isthecolourofourbattleplate.Tomymind,youMars-lovingbastardsdonotdeserveeventhat.’‘The lieutenant’s report is relevant,’ said Epistolary Dothrael. ‘And hisperspicacitydoeshimcredit.’Heturnedtotheshiveringhumanwoman,staringdown at her. ‘JensaDeel. Did the populace of your rig ever treat with xenosambassadors,andacceptweaponscustomisedforhumanuse?Donotlietome,forIshallknowofit.’‘Wedid,’shesaid,hervoicequavering.‘AndwasthissomethingthatwascommontotheplanetofSaltireVex?’Deel saidnothing, staringup at theLibrarianwith amixtureof defiance andterror.‘Answer him,’ saidZaeroph. ‘Or hewill rip the knowledge fromyourmind,andleaveyouadroolingcretinfortherestofyourshortlife.’Stricken,shelookedoveratFarren.‘Comply,’hesaid.‘W-wesentourmessageboatsdecadesago,’shesaidcoldly,herjawjuttingout.‘Evenmannedshuttleswhenwehadthechance,andsentthemtoQaruNon.Wegotnothing!Theastropathswouldn’tevenseeus.’‘And?’

‘The Imperium ignoredourcalls formedicine, for supplies,vitae-paste, freshblood,everything!Wehadepidemicsofbone-twist,ofrickets,andoutbreaksofulcers inside andout.Even the supply ships stopped coming to take away thepromethiumweminedfromtheseabed.What’sthepointofminingitifit’sjustgoingtogetstockpiledandneverused?’Deelseemedtobewarmedbyheranger.Someofthecolourwasreturningtohercheeks,andherstutterwasgone.‘Ifitisyourdutytomineit,thenIdonotseetheissue,’saidFarren.‘Wecan’tturnthemachinesoff.Ourwarehouselevelsarepackedtocapacity.We’re so overloaded we have to burn the stuff off each night, or we’d bedrowninginit!’‘AndthatiscausetobetraytheEmperor?’saidChaplainZaeroph.‘Tofleeintothearmsofxenosscum?’Hetookastepforward,hisfistsclenchedathissides,andleanedforwardasifhewereabouttobiteher.‘Youarealreadylost,human.’‘Wehadnochoice!’saidDeel,hervoicehigh.‘Withoutthem,withoutT’au’va,we would all be dead. This world’s population would be nothing more thanfloatingcorpses.’‘Better that than xenos sympathisers,’ said Gabrael coldly. ‘You will die atraitor,andyourkinwillbeputtodeath.Butnotuntilwehavewrungeverylastiotaofinformationweneedfromyourworthlessmind.’‘Imeannodisrespect,butyoudon’tunderstandwhatwewent through,’ saidDeel.‘TheImperiumisblindtoSaltireVex.Ithasforgottenweexist.Andwhy?Wehaveourtithesready,andtheImperiumneedsfuelmorethanevertowageitswars.Sowhyarewebeinglefttostarve?’‘Thegalaxyisabigplace,’saidFarren.‘Sometimesmistakesaremade.’‘Some comfort that is! With the Emperor’s light taken from us, we can’tpossiblyhope tosurvive.Malnutrition isone thing,but there’snotmuch todoouthereatnightbutstargaze.Andthere’ssomethingnewinthesky,isn’tthere?Thatgreatpurplescar?’‘Itisforbiddentolookuponit,’saidDothrael.‘Evenyoumustknowthat.’‘I’mnotsurprised.Thosewhostaredat it too long, they lost theirminds.Wehad outbreaks of violent psychosis every month, then every week.We knowwhat’s in store forushere.Without the t’au’shelp,wewouldhavewoundupeating each other when the food ran out, and even then the survivors wouldfreezetodeath.’‘Howso?’askedFarren.‘Withthatmuchexcesspromethium,surelyfireisnotaproblem?’

‘This planet’s orbit takes us far from the sun,’ said Deel. ‘Barrel-fire’s notnearlyenoughtokeepthatkindofcoldatbay.TheGreatCycle,wecallit.InthepasttheAdeptshavealwaysevacuatedus,takingusoffworld.Theyresettletherigsoncethecoldtimeisover.Butthere’snoreplytoourdata-psalms,notalkofevacuationnow.Notthistime.’‘TheEmperorhasmorepressingconcerns,’saidZaerophdrily.‘Whatdoeshecareifaworldofxenos-worshippinghereticsdiesout?’‘Youaren’tlistening!Withoutawayoffworld,anotherfivemonthsgopastandwe’ll all have frozen to death, or else gonemad and killed one another,’ saidDeel.‘Whenthet’aucameofferinghelp,whatwasIsupposedtodo?’‘Fightthemtothelastdropofblood,andthendieintheEmperor’sgrace,’saidGabraelwithahalf-shrug.‘Onlyindeathdoesdutyend.’‘Anindustrialoutpostworldcan’tholdoutagainstanalienempire,’saidDeel.‘That’s why the Emperor made people like you, to fight on our behalf.’ Shemadeagrimace.‘Alotofgoodyoudidus.Thedefendersofhumanityindeed.’‘Wesavedyoufromthexenosthatwerecorruptingyou,’saidFarren.‘Thoughyou yourselves attacked us as we did so. One of your number turned xenosweaponryagainstus,andanotherusedsomemannerofpsychicassault.’The lieutenant unconsciouslymoved his arm to cover his side, the scorchedblack ceramite clustered around a deep crater that exposed layers of shiningalloyandreinforcedfibrebundlesaroundapittedcraterofflesh.It looked much like a plasma wound, thank the Omnissiah. No one hadquestioneditthusfar,butsomethingaboutitfeltwrong.Hecouldfeelthestingofthewoundatthecrater’scentre,almostredhotwiththeprocessofacceleratedhealingashisadvancedbiologywenttowork.‘ThosewhoattackedyoulikelythoughtyoutobeTakers,’saidDeelsullenly.‘Takers?’saidZaeroph.‘Explainthisterm.’‘Over the last few months, thirty-four riggers have gone missing. Usuallywheneverthecloudcovercomesinlow,orwhenthestormsrollin.’‘Collateraldamagefromthetempests,’saidZaeroph.‘Suchanopenstructureisboundtotakelosses.’‘No. We know how to batten down the hatches. We train for that. This issomethingelseentirely.Wearebeingabducted.’‘Speakon,’saidZaeroph.‘Nooneknewhow,orwhy,orbywhat.TheseTakersareinvisible.Theycomedownfromtheclouds,seizeyou,andtheytakeyouaway.ButthenIsawoneofthethingswithmyowneyes.’

‘Theywerethesamebreedofxenosyouclaimedhadcometosaveyou,’saidFarren.Deellookedatthefloor.‘Yes.’‘Seehowyournewmastersrewardyouforyourcompliance,’growledGabrael.‘Youreapthatwhichyouhavesown,’saidZaeroph,nodding.‘Treatwithdarkforces,andyouwillfindyourselfinthedepthsoftheabyss.’‘SoIsee,’saidDeel,hereyesflashing.Zaeroph, Gabrael and Dothrael stared at her, saying nothing. She pulled thecloaktightaroundheroncemore,seemingtoshrink.‘Wasthereanypatterntothosetakenbythexenos?’askedFarren.‘Yes,’ said Deel quietly. ‘The abductees were always those who hadexperiencedsplittingheadachesbeforehand.’Zaerophleanedforward.‘Elaborate.’‘Therearethoseamongstuswhohaddevelopedmigraines,recently,’shesaidwithashiver.‘Migrainesandmemoryloss.Theywerealwaystheonesthatweretaken.Ikepttrack,andmarkedtheregistersmyself.’‘She’shidingsomething,’saidDothraeltoZaeroph.‘Woman, you had better speak the full truth,’ said Gabrael. ‘Your time isrunningout.’FarrensawDeel’seyesdartovertohim.Henodded,justonce.‘Shehadthesesymptomsherself,’saidZaeroph,histonesly.‘Yes,’sheconfessed.‘Ihadthemtoo.WhentheTakerscameforme…thatwaswhenIdivedintothewater,andswamtoThetoid.’‘Anunaugmentedhumanmanagedtoescapeaxenoswarsuit?’‘Somethinghappened. I…myhead felt like it splitopen,andwhen Iopenedmyeyes…’‘Yes?’‘Thewarsuitthinghadbeenhitbysomekindofweapon.’‘Youmeanyouhadmanifestedapsychicability,’saidDothrael.‘AllIknowisthegirdersaroundmehadbeencutthrough,andthethingwassuddenlyvisible,withtwodeepgashesacrossitschest.’DothraelandZaerophsharedaglance.‘ThesiteIspokeof,’saidFarren.‘Itwashuge,’continuedDeel.‘FarlargerthananyloaderarmatureorsentinelarrayIhadeverseen.Itlooked…advanced.Therewerethesediscthingsflyingaround it, a little like servo-skulls, I suppose, butmuch bigger. But it wasn’t

moving.’‘Andthatiswhenyouran,’saidFarren.‘Yes. Idived into thewater,andswam.That’sall.’Shestaredatnothing,andspokeasiftoherself.‘Ineedtogettoafire.Imustgo.’‘Manifesting untrained psychic powers is amongst the most severetransgressionsintheImperium,’saidDothrael.‘So,no,youcannotsimplygo.’‘Youwillstayunderourauspice,’saidZaeroph,nodding.‘Somewheresecure,and discreet. You are the self-confessed leader of a group of known t’ausympathisers.Havingalreadybeenthetargetofoneabductionattempt,youwilllikelybeaprioritytargetforwhateverforcetriedtoremoveyou.’‘Inshort,youmakeforgoodbait,’saidDothrael.‘Ihavetoask,’saidFarren.‘Whydidthemembersofyourrigsuddenlybeginto manifest empyric phenomena? The data slate on these t’au says they arepsychicallyinert.’‘That is enough in thewayof questions for today,’ saidZaeroph, turninghisbackontheassemblytogazeoutofthewindowtotherigsonthehorizon.‘Wewilllearnmoresoonenough.’‘Butwithallduerespect,Chaplain,thatinformationcould–’‘Farren, leaveus.Return toyour squads.Dothrael, youwill keepwatchoverthisrigger,somewheresecure,andtakeanytruthsshehasyettogiveus.Iexpecta full reportwithin the hour.Wemust rendezvouswith theRavenwing at themusterpointoncetheyhaveseentotheirquarry.’‘Ofcourse,ChaplainZaeroph,’saidDothrael.‘Interrogator-Chaplain,wasn’tit?’saidFarren.‘Thatwaswhatyoucalledhimearlier,isn’tit,EpistolaryDothrael?’Gabraelspokethroughhisteeth.‘Itmatterslittle,intheend.’‘Leaveus,Farren,’saidZaeroph,histoneascoldasburiedsteel.‘Donotmakemerepeatmyselfagain,oritwillgotheworseforyou.’‘Asyouwish.ButIwouldrecommendkeepingMamzelDeelinside,asclosetowarmanddryasyoucan.Ifpossible,youshouldgetApothecaryVaaradtoseetoher.’ZaerophandGabraelstaredlongatFarren.Thefeelingoftheirdislikewassointenseitwasalmostpalpable.‘Wemust honour the tenets of the LordMacragge,’ saidDothrael dully. ‘Ofcourse.’‘Make ready your contingent, Farren,’ said Zaeroph. ‘We will leave thiswarzonewithinthehour.’

‘We have business elsewhere,’ said Company Master Gabrael. ‘You will bebriefedattheappropriatejuncture.Nowisthetimetoleave.’Farrenturnedonhisheelandmadeforthedoor,turningthewheellockbeforestridingoutintothepeltingrain.Questionswhirledaroundhisbrain,butsomethinginsidehimknewbetterthantoaskthem.

Thewheel-lockdoorslammedshutasFarrenleft,withDothraelandDeelclosebehindhim.Alldisappearedpasttheviewscreenandmadetheirwaydownthereinforced iron stairs before Farren peeled off. Inside, Zaeroph and Gabraelwaitedpatiently,listeningtothreesetsofretreatingfootsteps.‘Keepinganuntrainedpsykercloseathand,’saidGabraelwhenhewassurenoonecouldhearthem.‘Areyousurethatiswise?’‘Itisnecessary,’saidZaeroph.‘Havesomefaith.’Gabrael nodded as if convinced, but he felt the need to finish what he hadstarted.‘Youtrulybelieveshewilllurethexenosbacktous?’‘Not for an instant,’ said Zaeroph. ‘These t’au are not imbeciles. There is areason they rely on stealth so heavily. In a straight fight against us, they arehopelesslyoutmatched.’‘Youthinkshehasvalueinthewiderwork,then.’‘Shemayhaveseenourquarry firsthand,even if shedoesnot remember it,’repliedtheChaplain.‘Shemayevenhavebeenaffectedbythedevice.Ifso,herbrainwillbeofusetous.’‘ShouldwehaveVaaradextractit?’‘No.Dothraelwillkeepherpsycheundercontrol, ifnecessary,andexcisetheanswersweneedafterweremoveher.Youknowfullwellwhatheiscapableof.’Gabraelnodded,lookingoutoftheviewscreenstothestormcloudshighabove.Theywerebeginning topart inplaces, revealing thestar-studdedvaultand thelividpurplewealofunrealitythatcutacrossit.‘Farrenisstilladangerousliability,evenwiththeassetinplay,’hesaidafterawhile.‘Heoverstepshisbounds.Thistendencyisrooteddeepinhim.’‘He and his warriors are emblematic of a wider issue. One that gives theAdeptusAstartesnewhope,evenasitdoomsouroldwaystoobsolescence.’‘Doyounotsayyourselfthatcuriosityisaninfection?’saidGabrael.‘Onetobequarantined,movedintothevanguard,anddashedagainsttherocksofduty?’‘Istandbythosewords,’noddedtheInterrogator-Chaplain.‘Theirfreedomof

thoughtdisturbsmeasmuchasitdoesyou.ButtheLordofUltramaroutlinedhis vision very clearly at the Summit, and he watches from afar. This is hisinitiative.’‘His initiative,with thePrimarisMarines as his eyes and ears,’ saidGabrael.‘We tempt fateevenbyallowing them inour sanctums.Let thembelieve theyarepartofourChapterforthesakeofappearanceifyoumust,butIimploreyou,Zaeroph, send them far away. Can you not speak with Azrael, or contactEzekiel?Findawaytodespatchthesenaïfstoanotherwarzoneentirely?’‘Youwishforus todeliberatelymisinterpret theprimarch’swishes?Forus torefusethesenewbodies,tokeeptheUltimaFoundingfromourranks,wouldbeassureawaytoinvitethescrutinyoftheLordImperiumasifwedirectedourguns at Ultramar ourselves. We proceed with the induction programme asplanned.’‘Isupposethisisnotthetimetodeviatefromourcourse.’‘Noindeed,’saidtheChaplain,studyingtheornatewingedskullattheendofhiscroziusarcanum.‘Wecontinuethehuntapace.’‘Wehavelosthimalready,’saidGabrael.‘Icanfeelit.’‘I toohavemydoubts.Butweshouldnotgiveuphope, lestdespairdiminishour perception. Our Thunderhawks are still searching the skies, as are theNephilim, and the rest of theRavenwingcontingent are still tracinghis spoor.WemayfindhimonSaltireVexyet.Andifnot,wewillintercepthimathisnextdestinationinstead.’‘Dowehaveanextrapolationofheading,atleast?’‘Apparently so,’ said Zaeroph. ‘And according to the Ravenwing’s lastcommuniqué,thexenosarefollowinghimtoo.TheyareboundfortheScorpidcluster. If Autinocus is right, their blasphemous technology has a far greateraugurrangethanours.Theywillleadusrighttohim,andgiveusallthereasonweneedtostrikeathisdestination.’Gabraelnodded,deepinthought.‘The Scorpid star system is home to the Angels of Absolution’s primehomeworld, Allhallow,’ continued Zaeroph. ‘Wewill trap him there, with ourhammercrushinghimagainsttheanvilofSoul’sWell.’‘Thisdoesnotsitwellwithme,Chaplain,’saidGabrael.‘Employingthexenosinsuchafashion.’‘Wecameclosethistime,oldfriend.Veryclose.Ifwekeepupthispressure,hewilloverplayhishandsoonenough,andthenwewillseizehim.’‘Whatoftherigsmen?’

‘They must be eradicated. The taint must not spread. Nor can word of itssource.’‘I agree. But we cannot incur the world-fire without censure, even with theexpress consent of the SupremeGrandMaster.Wewill draw undue attentionfromtheInquisition.’‘I realise that,Gabrael,’ said theChaplain. ‘If itwereatallpossible, Iwouldalreadyhaveenactedit.’‘The populace of this outpostmay already have spread to another site, evenbeforewemadeplanetfall,andspreadtheinfectionwithit.Andtheymayhavetakenincriminatinginformationalongwiththem.’‘Thepopulationiseffectivelyquarantinedalreadybytheirseverancefromtheastropathicducts.Ihavealreadyseentoit thatnomorecommunicationcanbeshared between Saltire Vex and Qaru Non, nor that which remains of theImperiumthissideoftherift.’‘Thentheproblemwillsolveitself?’‘Essentially, yes.’ The interrogator turned, the forbidding skull of his helmstaringstraightatGabrael.‘Withinafewmonths,thepeopleofthisworldwillbelittlemorethanstatuesoffrozenflesh.’

HighaboveFerro-GiantThetoid, therewasashimmer in thenightsky. It rosehigh above the thunderclouds, and seemed to ripple, for amoment. Then thelight from the planet’s nearest moon caught it fully, playing across swept-forwardwingsandapairofcannonsjuttingfromabluntnoseconeofjetblack.The aircraftwas deadly enough in itself, but inside itwas a concentrationofforcelikenoother.‘Theyhadtheirchance,’saidthefigureinthecockpit.‘Andtheyfailedtoseizeit.’ThepilotwasaSpaceMarine,oratleastanapproximationofone,tuskedinthemannerofabeast.Avice-likeapparatusoftubesandcoilsgrippedhisheadasifholdingittogetherfromsomegrievouswound.Thesparkplug-likeprotrusionsjuttingfromhisstrangecrowncrackledwithblacklightning.Around his torsowas a chain-link necklace of eight rune-emblazoned skulls,eachlargeandbroadofbrow.Theywereyellow-brownwithage,andeachhadapatinaofcrackedshellacvarnish.Seawaterdrippedfromthegappyteethofthemostintactskulls,andsmallrivuletssloshedfromtheemptysocketsoftheoneatthebottomofthechain.Toasimpleman, theskullswereagrislyadornment,unsettlingbutcrude.To

onewith thewitchsight, theywould appear as threatening as a string of timebombs,primedandreadytoexplode.Thecockpitsmeltofsaltandincense,withafainttangofelectricaldischarge.‘Theyshotatme,’muttered thepilot. ‘Shotatmeas if Iweresomecommonmortal.Notsomuchasaword.’Theskullsclatteredasheshiftedinhisseat,thesoundofboneclackingagainstboneoddlyoutofplaceamongstthesophisticatedinstrumentsanddials.‘What?’said thepilot. ‘No, theyhadno idea.Thoughtheywill findoutsoonenough.’Atrickleofseawaterdrizzledfromoneof theskulls, thenbeadedandfloatedawayasthecraftpusheditswayfreeoftheplanet’sgraviticenvelope.‘I imagine theywill, yes,’ the pilot continued. ‘They have proven tenacious.ThoseofyouwhoareMystaiwillunderstandthatalltoowell.Besides,withthehelpofyourtalentscombined,Iintendtomakemyinfluenceobvious.’A distorted sphere of brine wobbled past the pilot’s tusked helm, trailingsmallerdropletsinitswake.‘The Scorpid,’ said the pilot gravely. ‘Let us visit the lessons of the past onthosewhowould rather forget.Lessons someofyouwillunderstandwell,oldfriends.Weshallshowthemwhatitmeanstobeunforgiven.’Theskullskepttheirpeace.Theblack-wingedcraftshotonthroughloworbitandintospace,itscargoofmadnessanddeathfreeinthevoidoncemore.

Company Master Gabrael’s face appeared on the interior of the NightHarrower’stelemetrylinkforastatic-lacedsecond.‘We’retomoveout,’hesaid.‘Thunderhawksinbound.’Hisimagethendisappearedagain.Moricanisatupsharply,combinghissandyhairwithhisfingers.‘WasthatthedashingMasterGabrael?’Farren laughedquietly. ‘You’ll get your chance to impresshim soon enough,Pietr,butI’dadviseagainsttryingtodosowithyourwit.’‘Butheseemssuchalight-heartedsoul.’‘Don’ttheyall,’saidVesleigh.‘You know as well as I that they have good reason for their attitude,’ saidFarren.‘Thereislittleroomforlevityinanactivewarzone.’‘Certainlynotwithyouascommandingofficer,’saidMoricani.‘Cease,’ saidFarren, consulting the skull-styled cogitator relay as it chatteredoutastuddedlengthofparchment.‘Wearestilltechnicallyengaged,evenifthe

enemy have fled. The Chaplain wants us to rendezvous over open water inthirty-threeminutes.’Hethoughtaboutthedebriefoncemore.Variousoddphrasesandfragmentsofinformationplayedthroughhismindoverandover.‘ButIhavesomethingIneedtodobeforethen,’hesaid,standingup.‘Ineedsomeanswers.’‘You’renotgoingtotrytoconferwiththeotherofficersagain,areyou?’saidMoricani.‘Notthem,’saidFarren.‘Someoneelse.’‘Areyousurethat’sagoodidea,lieutenant?’‘Trustme.’

CHAPTERTHREETRIALANDERROR

Ferro-GiantOmicroidSaltireVex,PelagicIndustrialWorld

ChalnathExpanse

Omicroid’s seabrig lookedadankand lonelyplace.Held suspended fifty feetbelow the underside of the promethium rig, the cuboid structure languishedamidstafug-likestenchofunrefinedfuelandrottingbivalves.Theroughcaulkofitswallswasdiscolouredbystrataofalgaeandcakedsalt,andlongstrandsofbladderwrackhungfromitsundersidelikethebeardofanunderseagod.Handhold by handhold, Farren swung by his arms under the rig’s deckingtowardsit.Withhislegsinaloosecrouch,hehadgrippedtheundersideofthelowerwalkwaysbytheirgrillesandgrate-holes,reachedoutforthickpipesthatlookedsolidenoughtotakehisweight,andgrabbedfortherunghollowsofeachintermediatestanchionwhilstignoringthetricklesofpromethiumdrizzlingfromabove.Thusfar,hewasmakinggoodprogress.Behindhim, the threeRepulsorsweresmudgesofdarkgreen in thedistance.ByGsar’sestimate–andFarrentrustedthatimplicitly–thetanksweretootalltomakeitundertherigwhentheirengineswereactive,failingtoclearitbyamatter of a few infuriating inches. Besides, where a Repulsor made for anobvioussight,asingleSpaceMarinehadachanceofmakingittothebrigandbackwithoutbeingseenbyinquisitiveeyes.So,withoutsomuchasamoment’shesitation,Farrenhadtakenthehardway.Ahead the makeshift cell was a lump of dark, near solid black on the

lieutenant’s helm display. He could see a tiny trace of yellow through the airventsthathintedattheoccupantinside.Doubtcreptintohismind,thesuspicionheshouldhavestayed in theHarrowergraduallycoalescing in theshadowsofhisintent.Buthecouldseenootherwaytothetruth.Reaching the framework of girders around the brig, Farren moved hand-by-hand around its periphery, taking care not to move too close to the ladderstanchionthat led towards itscircularvault-hatch.Above thebrigwasagrille;above that, no doubt, was the occupant’s jailor. His breath quickened, and hepushedasidethepaininhiswoundedsideashisbreathcameheavier.The lieutenant knewhewas taking a hugegamble in comingdownhere.Hewasriskingbeingthebruntofanotherpsychicattack,evenbyshowinghisfaceto thebrig’soccupant.But itwas the thoughtofhis superiors’ reaction if theyfoundhimquestioningtheirprisonerthatwasmakinghistwinheartspound.Hewasalmostcertaintheywouldsettlethematterinviolence,swiftandfinal.Thelieutenantdroppeddownontothecornerofthebrig,takingcaretocrouchwith his impact so he didn’t smash the whole thing into the waves. ‘Who’sthere?’ came a harsh, croaking voice, barely audible over the pounding surf.‘I’vealreadytoldyoueverythingIknow!’Farrenkneltdown,thenlaidflatonhischestatopthebrig,leaningforwardovertheedgesohisfacewaslevelwithoneoftheairvents.‘XedroFarren.LieutenantPrimaris,assignedtotheThirdCompany.’Hecaughthimselfforamoment.‘Fromthehearingroom.’HecouldjustaboutmakeoutDeel inthedarkness,huddledaroundathermalbattery that–according tohis infrared–wasallbutdrainedofcharge.Sittingthere inacoupleof inchesofbrackishwater, she looked trulyawful,hereyesstaringwhiteorbsintheshadowsofaskull-likeface.‘Sadtoseethecompanymastertookhiscloakback,’saidFarren.‘Itlookedbetteronhimanyway.Areyouheretokillme?’‘No,’ saidFarren. ‘Simply to talk, andcheckyouare stillwhole inbodyandmind,’hesaid.‘I’llbedeadbynightfall.’‘Didtheytortureyou?’‘Yes.No.Idon’tknow.Iacheallover,especiallymybrain.Andpartsofmymemoryarejust…missing.’‘Unfortunate,’saidFarren.‘Weare towithdrawinthenext…’hecheckedhishelm’s chronometer ‘…eighteenminutes.Therewill be anextraction,not toofar fromhere. Ifyouanswermyquestionsquickly, Iwill leave the topof this

brigopen.Youcanclimbout,andbegintorebuildyourhome.’‘Theyhavewhattheyneed,lieutenant,’shesaid.‘Theywon’tleaveOmicroidtofreeze,it’stoomuchofaliability.They’lltorchthisplaceastheygo,andletthecoldtakecareoftherest.’Farrendidnotreply.‘One day my corpse might be found in the brig, I suppose. Maybe evenidentified. Evidence enough of mutiny, especially when the fact we colludedwiththet’aucomestolight.’‘Thatisthetruth,isitnot?Somemightsayyoudeservepunishment.’‘Wehadnochoice,Ialreadytoldyouthat!Thewholethingwillbeputdowntoaninsurrectionrightlypunished,itsleadersslainbynobleAdeptusAstartes,andtherestbroughtbackintotheImperialflock.Justintimetodieasdutifulsheepinsteadofvileheretics.’‘Youhaveastrangewayoflookingatourrescuingofyoufromthexenosthatwere attacking you,’ said Farren. ‘I am sure you will be relocated from thisplanetandsettledoncemorewhenyourplanet’swintercycleisover.Iwillmakethearrangementsmyselfifnecessary.’‘Emperor’sThrone,Farren.Theywilljustletmedie,andnotthinktwiceaboutit.Whyaren’tyourbrothersvisitingtheotherrigs,then,ifyou’reheretodriveoff the xenos influence? I saw that black craft come out of its hiding place,fleeingfor loworbit.YouSpaceMarineshadbettergetafter it, ifyouwant tocatchup.’‘Whatcraft?Whatareyoutalkingabout?’‘Theblackwingedcraftwiththetwincannons.Impressivetech.Notmanycraftcanplay submersible, thenbreach fromunderwater andboost straight into thesky.’‘NosuchcraftispartoftheChapter’sarmoury,’saidFarren.‘ItmustbeNavy.’‘Whateveryousay,’saidDeel.‘Itlookedagooddeallikethefighterspursuingit.Andithadmanyofthesamemarkings.Swords,wings,thatkindofthing.’‘Really.Wherewasthiscraftheading?’‘Hard to say. It vanishedwithin a fewsecondsofbreach.Looked like itwasheadedfortheScorpid’sEye,thatsystem’sinroughlythatdirection.There’snotmuchelsewithinreach.Thepilotwaskeenonescapingyou,nodoubt.’‘Falsehoods,’saidFarrenquietly.‘Thisisdelirium.’‘Atthispoint,Idon’tmuchcareifyoubelieveitornot.I’mdeadeitherway.’Farren lookedbackat theRepulsor,andglancedathischronometer.Fourteenminutes.

‘Youknowtoomuchtojustbeleftinhere.’‘Isthereanyotherchoice?’shespat.‘Youkeptmealive,onlytoletmedie!’Farrenlookedupatthegrille,thendownatthesurgingwavesbelowthebrig.Theyhadriseninheightandintensityinthelastfewminutes,andnowtheywerecrashing against the stanchions and the underside of the brig with a steadyrhythm.Thecoldsalttangoftheirspumefilledtheair.Farrenballedafistandpunchedtheventashardashecould,timingtheimpactjustasawaveslappedagainsttheundersideofthecuboidtomaskthenoise.Themetalbuckled,oneoftherusted-inscrewsalongitslengthpoppingfree.Anotherwavebroke, andFarren levelled another punch, this time forcing aninch-thick hunkofmetal to stick outwards.A thirdwave came in, andFarrengrabbedtheprotrudingflapofmetal,tearingithalf-openwithadullclank.As he was drawing back for another punch, the entire thing came spinningawayintothewaterbelow.ThetoeofDeel’sbootjuttedfromtheothersideoftheventforasecondbeforedisappearingoncemore.Theholetheyhadmadewastoosmallforahumantofitthrough,butintearingthemetalaway,Farrenhadcrumbledsomeof the rebarsupportbeneath it.Hegrabbedthejuttingmetalstrutsandyankedthembackandforth,dislodgingevenmoreofthepebbledstone.Deel scrabbled at the mortar and slivers of rock from the other side. Shescrapedandpulledatthebaseofeachstrut,thentookoffherbootandusedthesteeltoecapasahammer,slammingitrepeatedlyintothestonework.Scatteringsofpebble-sizedstonesfellaway.Grittinghisteeth,Farrenwaitedforthenextwavetocomeinbeforeviolentlywrenching the rebar leftand right,clearing loose rockwithhisotherhandandforcingjaggedstrutsofmetalasidewithagruntofeffort.‘It’lldo,’saidDeel.‘Moveaside.Please.’Farrencheckedhislenschrono.Eightminutes.Hewaslingeringtoolong.Deelwasalreadyupatthevent’sedge,reachingthroughtograbFarren’shand.Hepulledher through as carefully as he could, but he could seeher facewasashenwithpain.Shesqueezedherhunchedshouldersthroughthevent’swidestpart.Heheld his armout, braced rock-solidwith his power armour’s support,andsheclamberedontoitasifitweretheboughofatreeuntilhisforearmwasunderherwaist.Then,shufflingforward,hereachedoutasshefoughttogetherhipsthrough,allowinghertobringherlegsupandout.Gruntingwitheffort,Deelclimbedoverhispauldronandbackpack,smearingbloodfromthedozencutsandgrazesonherarmsandlegsacrossthedarkgreen

ofhispowerarmour.Withafinaleffort,sheslumpedatopthebrigwithaheavysigh.‘Notimeforrest,’saidFarren.‘Weneedtomove.’Sixminutesleft,andthewaveswererising,gettingfiercer.‘Armsaroundmyneck,’saidFarren.‘There’sstillachancewecandothis.’Biting her lip in exhaustion and frustration, Deel wrapped her arms aroundFarren’sgorget,lockingonehandonherwristandtheothertotheundersideofhischestplate.Shepressedherbodytohisbackpack,buttoFarren,herweightwasnothing.Whenhewassureshewassecure,FarrenlaunchedofftheedgeofthebrigandcaughtanH-shapedgirderwiththeeaseofagymnastcatchingabar.Ridinghismomentum, he let go with one hand, reaching out for the next grip. Hisfingertipscaughtit,butnotbymuch.Hefeltahotsensationinhisside,nearhispsy-wound.Hepushedthefeelingaway,andfocusedongoingforwards.Timewasrunningshort.On and on Farren went, the engine of his enhanced physiology driving himforward.HewasAdeptusAstartes.APrimarisMarine.Hewouldnotfall.Heglancedatthehelm’slenschronooncemoreasitsteadilytickeddown.‘Holdon,’hesaid,hangingwithbothhandsfromarobustgirderashegatheredhisstrength.‘Just get on with it,’ said Deel through gritted teeth. He felt her legs wraparoundhiswaist and tighten.Hesawmuscledarms inhisperipheralvisionasthe rigswoman reached up and grabbed the girder herself to take some of theweightoff.‘It’sfine,’saidFarren.‘Ihavethis.’‘It’squiteaway,’shesaid.‘IsaidIhavethis!’Hescowledandsetoffoncemore.Foraminutehemadegoodprogress,butthewoman’sweight seemed tobegrowingwitheachpassingminute.Hecheckedhisvitalsigns,andnotedwithakindofabstractinterestthathehadlostagooddealofbloodfromtheinjurythehumanpsykerhadinflicted.Awound in aSpaceMarine’sphysiologywouldnormally clot and scaboverquickly, the haemastamen’s vital elixir conserving the fluids in a matter ofseconds,butthiswoundhadnotbeeninflictedbyanynormalweapon.Forsomereason,thebloodwasnotcoagulating.Freshandunhurt,inthearidairofMars,Farrenknewhewouldbeabletomakesuch a journey three times over and feel little more than a pleasing burn of

exhilaration.Buthere,aftertheexertionofabattle,withahumancargoskewinghisbalanceandwithapsy-woundopenandbleeding…Slowly,insidiously,thesecondsonthechronotickeddown.Fiveminutesleft.Nowthewaveswereslappingathislegs.Hetuckedthemupasbesthecould,andpushedonwards.Swing,catch,readjust,swing,grab,swing.Somehow, he had lost focus.He had not come thisway, before. The girdershere were slick with algal slime, and with each handhold, he felt his fingersslipping.Hehadtomakeittothenextsolidgrip.Withaheaveofexertion,Farrenlungedforthepromethiumpipeline.Hecaughtiteasilyenough.Thenawaveslammedintohislegs,andhenearlylosthisholdcompletely.‘OhGod-Emperor,’saidDeel.‘Pleasetellmeyoucandothis.’‘It’s fine,’ said Farren, tensing and relaxing hismuscle groups to keep themfromburningwiththeacidofexertion.‘Isit?’Farrendidnotreply.TheRepulsorwasstillafulltwo-thirdsoftherig’swidthaway,andtheywerefastrunningoutoftime.

‘Where in the Omnissiah’s holy wilderness is he?’ said Vesleigh, racking theboltsintohisammoclipfortheninthtimeinasmanyminutes.AroundhimtherestofthesquadwereseatedinthepassengerholdoftheHarrower,eachbusywithhisownthoughtsorrituals.‘Hewillmakeitbackintime,’saidGsaroverthevox-link.ItwasacredittohisrapportwiththeHarrowerthathehadbroughtitbacktofullfunctionafterthebattle,forthetankhadtakenseveralplasmahitsandiondischargesonitsouterhull. With the electrical interference still affecting its systems, Gsar’s voicecarriedastrangetinnyquality.‘No doubt hewants tomake a grand entrance,’ saidMoricani. ‘I imagine hewillburstthroughthatdoorattheeleventhhour,toourrapturousapplause.’‘Whatifhedoesn’t?’saidThrunn.‘Avalidquestion,’saidVesleigh, taking theboltsoutofhisammoclipagain.‘What if they’ve discovered he made an unauthorised sortie? That will notreflectwellonus.Wemightevengetreassignedaltogether.’‘Thenweshallexcel,centrestage,inadifferenttheatreofwar,’saidMoricani.‘Be serious for once in your life,Moricani,’ said Enrod. ‘We can’t miss the

muster.Farren’sgotusinenoughtroubleasitis.’‘Iambeingserious,’saidMoricani.‘Hewillbebackintime.’‘Ihopeyou’reright,’saidEnrod.SilenceenvelopedtheinterioroftheHarroweroncemore, theonlysoundtheregular tick-clack tick-clack of Vesleigh’s bolts being racked, cleaned and re-rackedinhisrifleoverandover.

Farren hung from the underside of the promethium rig, Deel’s arms lockedaroundhisshoulders.Shehadbroughther legsuphigharoundhiswaist,now,andentwinedheranklesandfeettokeepfromdroppingdownintothecrashingwaves.Thelieutenantswunghislegsbackhard,thenbroughtthemforwardandturnedwiththemotion,extendinganarmtograbatthenextstanchion.Hefoundasolidgrip, then rode themovement to grab for the next. He waited for a moment,tucking his legs as a crashingwave rose up to grab at him.Without the tide,Farren could have got into a rhythm, let the swing of his ownmomentumdomuchofthework.Butwiththewavesagainsthim…‘We’renotgoingtomakeit,arewe?’saidDeel.‘Wehaveto,’gruntedFarren.‘Besilent.Imustconservemystrength.’Fourminutes.One slip is all it would take. Even if Deelmanaged to swim to safety oncemore, shewould be frozen to death before long. Farrenwould die far sooner,plungingdownintothedepthslikeastone.Swing,grab,scrabble,shift.The running joke amongst the Primaris brethren was that though a SpaceMarine would sink fast – his sheer muscle density and the weight of hisbattleplatewouldbearhimdown–hisarmourandphysiologywassorobusthecouldsimplywalkalongtheseabedtotheshore.Butonanoceanworld,withaholethroughhisarmourandawoundthroughhisblackcarapacerightintohisabdomen,thepressureofthedeepwouldclaimhim,just as itwould anymortalman.His progenoid glands and the geneseed theycontainedwouldbeirretrievablylost,leavingaholeintheannalsoftheChapterforevermore.Swing,grasp,breathe,reposition.Threeminutesleft.Theywerestillonlyhalfwayback.Andithadtakentwelveminutestogettothebriginthefirstplace.Farrenreacheduptoasparofmetalgirderwhereapatchofseaweedhadtaken

root,andthebrinepainthadflakedaway.Takingtheircombinedweightononehand,hehammeredthemostrustedpartofthegirderwiththeballofhisotherhand.Afewmoretimes,andajaggedwedgeofmetalfellaway.Farrencaughtitdeftlybefore it fell into the crashingwaves.He examined the long triangleofmetalforamoment.‘Takethis,’hesaidtoDeel,holdingitbythesharpend.‘Why?’‘Justtakeit.’Shegrabbedholdofitwithoutsayingaword.‘Nowdriveitintomysidewound.Aimfortheheart.’‘What?’saidDeel,hervoiceadisbelievingscreech.‘Areyoumad?’‘Justdoit.Itisouronlychance.’‘You’reinsane,’shesaid.‘You’llkillusboth!’‘Doit!You’rewastingtime!Trustme!’Deelyelledout, a cryof angerand frustration.She slammed the long, rustedshivintoFarren’swound,allthewayup,sinkingitintotoughfleshuntilitwasburieddeep.Farren’slipscurled,hiseyeswateringasthepainshotthroughhim.Hisgriponthe algae-slick girder grewweaker as he felt the rustedknife grazinghis ribs,cuttingathisrightlungandpuncturinghissecondheart.Itwasenough.AhugerushofstimmchemicalsroaredaroundFarren’ssystemas the implantedorganknownas theBelisarian furnacepumpedhard into fulleffect.Triggeredbynear-fataltrauma,thefurnacewasdesignedbyArchmagosCawltogive thePrimarisMarinesone lastburstofkillingenergy to let themclaimrevengebefore theirdeath inbattle.Or inanyextremesituation,come to that.Farren felt his strength return, flow through his limbs, every blood vesseltinglingandpulsingashepulledhimselfuponcemore.Withhiseyessowidehefeltliketheywouldnevercloseagain,Farrenswungfromgirder tostanchiontopipewith jerking,desperatespeed.Hepunchedhisfingers throughrustedmetalandcrushedsteelpipesashemade thestraightestcoursebetweenhimselfandtheRepulsor.Deelhungonforgrimlife,armsandlegslockedandhairwhippingacrossherfaceasthewindandspumetuggedatthem.Thehungrywavesreacheduptograbattheirlegs,butFarrenbarelyregisteredthem.Hebreathedthroughfroththattastedofcopperyblood,feltmusclessingevenashisinjuredheartbledintohisthoraciccavity.

Hewasdying,thatmuchwascertain.ButtheRepulsorwasclose,andhewasgettingcloserwitheverypassingsecond.Farren sensed something watching them, back at the brig; a sensation ofdisapprovingeyespiercinghisbackniggledatthebackofhismind.Thenitwaslostamongstthepain,andagrowingsenseoftriumph.

Thirtysecondslater,FarrenwaskickingattheHarrower’sdoorwiththetoeofhisboot.Theingresshatchhissedopen,andVesleighlookedout,hishandsomefeaturesamaskofconfusion.‘Getherin!’shoutedFarren.Stillhangingfromtherig’sunderside,FarrenshruggedDeelforwardwithhiship.Shetookthehint,andclimbedintoVesleigh’sarms.Hisbattle-brother,toostunned to argue, carried her inside. The lieutenant swung in close behind,cominginsohardthathebowledVesleighbackwards.Deelstaggeredawaytorebound fromMoricani’s broad chest. Farren fell clattering to the floor of theRepulsor,clutchingathisside.Hishandwascoveredinhalf-clottedgore.‘Throne,Farren,’saidEnrod.‘Youstinkofpromethiumandblood.’‘He needs help, you fool,’ said Moricani, punching open the Repulsor’semergencycacheandcarefullyextracting thedormantmedi-skull inside it.Hemuttered an activation phrase – Hellblasters were no strangers to tacklingirasciblemachine-spirits–andsettheskullhoveringfree.‘He’sshaking,’saidGsarovertheintravox.‘Hisfurnacehasactivated.’‘Hemademestabhiminhiswound,’saidDeel.‘Itwastheonlyway,hesaid.Somehowitmadehimfighttwiceashardtogetback.Icouldbarelyhangon.’Farrenstruggledtostayconsciousastheskull-machinehovereddownclose,itssyringe-tippedmanipulatorsreachingfortheredmessthatwashisside.Asharpspikeofpain,andhisentireflankbecamenumb.Dimlyheregisteredhischronometer.Minusthreeseconds.‘Youranti-coagulantsareworkingagain,Farren,’saidMoricani.‘We’llgetyoustable,thenVaaradandAutinocuscanseetoyouwhenyougettotheship.We’lltellthemitwasembeddedshrapnel.Restnow.Gsar,getusoutofhere.’Farrennoddedweaklyinthanks,andlethimselfslipaway.

CHAPTERFOURSHIELDOFUNTRUTH

TheLiminalConquestProgress-ClassStarCruiser(SlipstreamEnabled)

FlagshipOfTheFourthSphereExpansion

‘High Commander Surestrike, most profound greetings of the T’au’va,’ saidTutorTwiceblade.Hiseyeswerecastdownandhishandswereheldouttowardshissuperiorintheofferinggestureofthegift-well-meant.‘The surviving teams are recovered.We have experienced the losses of twoGhostkeelwarsuits and five stealth teams in total, with another three reducedbelowoperationalparameters.’‘Yourcandourandprecisionisappreciated,asever,’saidSurestrike.Theregalfigure standing in the flagship’sunderslungviewingdomedidnot look round.‘Mythanks,loyalSha’ko’vash.’‘Imeannottocontradictyou,butitisTwicebladenow,highcommander.’‘Ioffercontrition. Ihadonly recently reconciledyour lastalteration.Perhapssuchalongstasisdemandsfrequentchange,tokeepthingsinbalance.’Thehighcommanderstilldidnotturn,insteadstaringoutatthestunningviewbelow. According to the honour guard outside, Surestrike had not left hispositionforanentirerotaa.Hehadstoodmotionless,seeminglyspellboundbythepanoramicviewoftheoceanplanetthegue’vesacalledSaltireVex.Twicebladecould seewhy.Swathesof spirallingcloudovera jadeandblackoceanwere dotted by the tiny orange pinpricks of the human rig-settlements,each circled by screeds of relevant data on Surestrike’s vast command suite

overlay.TutorTwicebladeknewthecommanderwellenoughtorealisehewaspresentin body andmind, but not necessarily in spirit. The journey through the sub-realmhadtakenaterribletollonthecommander.Eversincetheirre-emergence,hisfamousclarityofthoughtanddeedhadbeencompromisedbeyondrecovery.Some amongst the fire caste’s least circumspect were saying the surety forwhich the commander had been named – that confidence with which he hadcarved a new destiny for the Fourth Sphere Expansion – had been shaken,shatteredandcastaway.‘Theaircastereport that theanomalyis leavingloworbit,commander.Ithasrendezvousedordockedwithalargercraft,andisnowboundfordeepspace.Itis still baffling our scanners somehow, but the earth caste say they can stillfollowitsheattrails.’‘Thank you, Sha’ko’vash,’ said Surestrike. Twiceblade folded his hands overhissolarplexusintheguard-against-offenceatthissecondnomenclaturegaffe,buttheimpliedadmonitionwaswasted.Hissuperiordidnotseeit.‘Thatisgoodnews,’continuedthehighcommander.‘Perhapswecanrevealtheanomaly’slocation,anddestroyitbeforeitbearsitstainttoanyothergue’vesaworlds.Ortoanyofthegue’laspecies,cometothat.Theyarealreadycorruptedahundredtimesover.’‘Thatistrue,’saidTutorTwiceblade.‘Roguemind-scienceistoxictotheorderfromwhichtheT’au’vaisborn.Doublysoamongsttheuninitiated.’Thecommandersighed,hisheadhanging.‘Wecannotdestroyeverygue’vesaworld, facility and ship, Twiceblade. Let alone every gue’la stronghold. Evenshouldwemakeitbacktotheseptworlds,andevenshouldweconvincetheaunoftherighteousnessofsuchacause,itisnotlogisticallypossible.’Thetutordidnotreply.‘Our very empire would turn against us to ensure our failure,’ continuedSurestrike.‘Itisimpossible.’‘What if we could show them the evidence, commander,’ said Twiceblade.‘Whatifwecouldshowthemwhatwehaveseen?’‘They would never believe us. Not if we had a thousand recordings of themind-cursetoproveit.Todealwiththispoison,wemustusethetourniquet,andtheheatedblade.’‘What if thecurse spreads?What ifwe fail, and themainvectorof infectionspreadsthroughanotherpopulace?Thesebarbariangue’laknownotthemeaningofquarantine.’

‘Wewillnotfail,’saidSurestrike,stillnotlookinground.‘Wewillcauteriseitbeforeitbleedsanymoreofitsvenomintothecosmos.’‘ShouldItelltheaircastetoengageiftheyhavethechance?’‘No,’saidSurestrike.‘Identifyingparticularbodilyremainsinadebrisfieldisallbutimpossibleafterthemacro-leveltraumaofanavalengagement.Fornow,wefollow.Maximumsensorrange,plusfifteenpercent.’‘Asyousay,commander,’ saidTwiceblade,adjustinghisstance to thatof theprotégé-at-attention.‘ThesiphonstructureonSaltireVexmaystillhaveinfectedgue’vesauponit.Someofthemareundoubtedlymind-cursed.Wouldyouhaveuslaunchanotherstrikeanderadicateitcompletely?’‘No,’saidSurestrike.‘Nomoreovertactionatthissite.’‘With respect, we must stop them,’ insisted Twiceblade. ‘The gue’vesaexemplify thecorruptionof theT’au’va.DidImisunderstandyourpositiononthesubject?’‘Wecannotriskopenattack,’sighedSurestrike.‘IfwordgetsbacktotheseptworldsthatweareslaughteringhumanhelpersinductedintotheGreaterGood,theFourthSphereinitiativeisasgoodaslost.’‘Asyousay,’saidTwiceblade,doinghisbesttokeephistoneneutral.‘Thoughperhaps, if the greatest concentration of the mind-cursed is upon the rig thegue’vesadesignateOmicroid,wecouldengineeritsdestruction,andleave.’‘Thereisnoneed.Ihavealreadyassureditsdestruction.’‘Highcommander?’Surestrikemoved a finger and slid it over a wide circular informational. Heenlargedtheviewofthehumansettlementtenfold,tap-engagingsatellitedronesandcomplexstarsunfilterstocutthroughthecloudsofwatervapour.Intrigued,TutorTwicebladeapproachedSurestrike’spersonalhexdisplayandpeereddownat thecrudestructure.Fromabove, itsgirdersandsupportscameinto focus; a skeleton made from ferrous ore, according to the earth casteanalysisteams.How the humans imagined that primitive iron structures would last amongstsuchaconcentrationofsalinesolutionhedidnotknow.Hundredsofsuchrigsdotted theoceanworld’s surface, their stout legsdrilled into theplanet’s crustundertheseabed.‘Itishardtobelievethatathickcoatingofpaintistheonlythingbetweenthesefacilitiesandtheentropyoftheoceantheyparasitise,’musedTwiceblade.‘Theystandagainststormandtidealike,’saidSurestrike,liftingtheraisedpalmof the gate immovable. ‘Proud and stubborn, yet locked in awar they cannot

win.Thereisastrangebeautyinthat.’Twiceblade was about to make a neutral reply when the image of the rigsuddenly exploded, blossoming into a spreading flower of orange and blackflame.‘Commander,’ saidTwiceblade. ‘Was this thework of thegue’ron’shaSpaceMarines?’‘No.’‘Thenyoubroughtaboutitsfate?’‘I ensured it in person.My Coldstar is subtle enough to evade detection byImperial craft, especially in an active warzone, and deft enough to placeexplosivesatcriticalpoints.’‘But…itwasmyunderstandingyouneverleftthisbridge,highcommander.’Surestrikefinallyturned,fixingTwicebladewithastrangestare.‘IwilldoanythingfortheGreaterGood,TutorTwiceblade.ButIwillnotturnthe empire against itself, nor inflame the war between the T’au Empire andHumanity.TodosoistoactagainsttheT’au’vainadirectfashion.Thatisafargreatercrimethanallowinganabstractthreattosurvive.Now,ifyouwillkindlyleavemetomythoughts.’Tutor Twiceblade averted his eyes, made the hands-clasped sign of thechagrinedstudent,andlefttheviewingbridgewithoutlookingback.

HighCommanderSurestrikeshutdownthehexinformationalsandstaredoncemoreattheoceanvistastretchingbeforehim.One of the recessed alcoves to Surestrike’s left slid open. He did not lookround.‘Itiswisetohaveonewhochallengesyoursuppositionssoclosetoyou,’saidasmooth, feminine voice. ‘To have one who fears for a greater conflict, yetfollowsordersnonetheless.’‘Iknowthis,’saidSurestrike.‘ThatiswhyIgivehimaudience.’‘Doyoukeepmycounselforthesamereasons?’‘Your guidance is invaluable, most noble Aun’Shao, in ensuring the FourthSpheredoesnotbecomeafootnotelosttohistory.’‘Therightwords.YetIfeelthereisnothingbehindthem.’‘There is nothing behind my eyes, either. You said so yourself, wise one. Irememberitalltoowell.PerhapsIhavemoreincommonwithourguestinthemunitionsdeckthanIliketothink.’‘AndyetyouhaveaplaceintheGreaterGood.Animportantone.Aun’Vasaw

somethinginyou,andAun’Weibeforehim.Yourtimeisnow,HighCommanderSurestrike.’‘ThisIknow.ItiswhyIamhere,asthefigureheadofthisexpedition,talkingtoyou.’‘Thendonotforgetit.Youhaveadutytofulfil.’Thespeakerinthewingsofthedomemadethegestureofthesettingsun.Withasofthissofanirisportalopening,sheleftforherownquarters.Surestrike dismissed every drone attendant still hoveringon standby, sendingthem away one by one with complex motions of his fingers. He staredunblinkingatthevistashownonthecommandsuiteforawhilelonger.Hepaidparticular attention to the tiny flames dancing above each of the survivingpromethiumrigsthatdottedtheoceanworldofSaltireVex,andthelargerflamethat was once Ferro-Giant Omicron. The flickering lights reminded him ofsomething,somethingthatmadehissoulachewithloathingandloss.Then,whenhewassurehewasalone,hecroucheddowninaballandkeenedindespair.

CHAPTERFIVEWHITELIES

ApothecariumTheExecutioner’sBlade

Xedro Farren opened his eyes, his hands automatically checking for his boltrifle.Itwasmissing,andwithit,agreatpartofhiscalm.Hisaugmentedsensesfocused, relaying information through the fevered mist that threatened toconsumehismind.Abrightazurelightshonedownuponhim,directedrightintohiseyes.Itwasdimming,thennarrowing,thendimmingagain,beforeblazingsobrighthecouldfeelhisirisescontract.Afirmhandpresseddownonhisneck,thenonhischest,coolandcertain.Hefeltasharppaininthesideofhisthroat.‘Progenoidsunharmed,’ saidavoice. Itwasso flat itwasalmostmechanical,withadefinite raspofaugmetics. ‘Thesamecannotbesaid forhis third lung,norhissecondaryheart.’Farren struggled to speak, to sit upright, to tell them he was conscious. Hefoundhecouldnotmoveanything,notevenhiseyelids,orhispupils.Yethewasundoubtedlyconscious.‘I still find this bio-architecture impressive, even for one of the AdeptusAstartes,’saidthevoicebeyondthebrightlight.‘Everysinewisreinforcedwiththesecoiledmetalsprings.There is thisbio-amplifierbehind thehearts…Andsomemannerofhybridgland.Iconfessitisstillamystery.Therhythmsdonotmap.’

‘Just do what is required of you, Vaarad.’ The second voice was familiar,registering in Farren’s half-comatose mind as a malignant presence on somelevel. But with his bodily systems locked in a silent battle and his mindstruggling to remain barely conscious under a cocktail of suppressants, Farrencouldnotquiteplaceit.His eyesight was adjusting now. That omnipresent azure light was cast bysomethingthatfloated,closeenoughtograb.Long,thickcableshungaroundaserried string of bone protrusions that reminded Farren of a dangling spinalcolumn.Ashismindslowlypieced together themeagrestimulus itcouldfind,herealisedthatitwasjustthat.Aservo-skull,adaptedfortheuseofsanctionedmedicae.He was amongst his Dark Angels brothers, then, in the apothecarium. Heshouldhavebeenreassured,butstrangely,thetightfeelinginhisthroatdidnotrecede.‘Wewillhavehimatfullcombatefficacywithinaday,perhapstwo,’camethesonorousvoice,thebuzzofsibilancemakingitsoundasifitwascomingoveravox-linkratherthanfrommerefeetaway.‘Whatofhisbattleplate?’‘Autinocusisseeingtoit,’saidthesecondvoice.‘Hewillensureitisreturnedtohimin…anappropriatecondition.’‘Hashemasteredthispattern,then?ThisMarkXmodel?’‘HestudiedforyearsuponMars’soil.IfanyamongstourcirclecanunderstandthecraftsmanshipoftheMartianpriesthood,itishe.’‘Ifeel,giventhecomplexityoftheirbiologicalandpsychologicalsystems,thathewillfindthatachallenge.’‘Thatishislookout.Concentrateonyourownduties.’‘Ofcourse.’Farrensawsomething–apointofdarkness–growcloser.Itblurred,becominga fuzzy black spot.He felt a sensation of proximity, and then a piercing painrightinthecentreofhiseyes,lancingtothebackofhisskull.

‘Welcomeback,brother!’Farren felt someof his old confidence return at the soundof his old friend’svoicecallingfromthecommunalspacedesignatedforPrimarisuse.Hesmiled,justalittle.ItwasalwaysamusingtohimthatMoricanicouldtellhisapproachpurelybytherhythmofhisfootsteps.Farrenwalkedwithoutevenatraceofalimp,forhistorsowoundwasalreadyat operational parameters. The boots of his recently repairedMark X armour

thuddedevenlyon thevaultedchamber’salloyfloor, theirsolidcrumphelpinghissuretyreturnlittlebylittle.TherewasMoricani,seatedatabrushedsteelmesstable.Hismadivorysmilewas sowidehis incisorswereplainlyvisible in the cornersofhismouth.TheHellblastersergeantgotupandstrodeforwardasFarrenmadehiswayintothecommon vestibule, clasping the lieutenant’s upper arms in the Terran fashionbeforemakingtodeliverasuddenheadbutt.Farrenjerkedback,thenbrokeMoricani’sgripwithashrugofhisarms,inthesamemotionstabbingapairoffingersuplikeadaggertopushhardunderhisfriend’sjaw.‘Omnissiah. You’re as quick as ever, then,’ saidMoricani, swatting Farren’shandaway.‘Justcheckingthatpsy-woundhasn’trobbedyouofyourfaculties.’‘Youdoanything like that in frontof theothers,SergeantMoricani, andyouwillreceiveaswiftandbrutalreminderofwhyIcarryasuperiorrank.’‘Andeverybitasserious!’laughedMoricani.‘Irememberwhenyouvaluedaquicktestofreactionspeed.Itbrokeuptheboredomoftransit.’‘HowlonghaveIbeenout?’‘Twodays,perhaps,noteventhat.WePrimarisMarineshealquickly.’‘DidImissmuch?’‘WearemakingfortheScorpidcluster,accordingtoourbrief,’saidMoricani.‘Which,ashardas it is to imagine,was thebriefestyet.Weare torendezvouswiththeAngelsofAbsolutionbeforemakingournextattack.Ultimatelywewillfacethegreenskinnedmenace,Iampleasedtorelate.Asimple,straightforwardwarofextermination–likelyonethatevenyoucanwagewithoutendingupontheslab.’‘Anotherjab,brother?’saidFarren.‘Imustleavemyselfopentothem.’‘Usually.’‘Arewenottoconcludeourbusinesswiththeset’au,then?Anynewsonwhywewithdrewsosuddenly?’‘Notsomuchasabinharicscreed.’Farren’sbrowknotted.Thisbehaviourwas likenootherstrategicprotocolhehadheardof,withintheAdeptusAstartesranksorwithout.‘Odd.Howisthe…theHarrower?IsshestillinthesameconditionaswhenIleft?’‘Sheis,’saidMoricani,hissmileflashingwide.‘Sheisdoingfine,insideandout,thankstoGsar’sministrations.’‘Thecargo,Imean?’

‘Wellenough,thoughalittleshakenbythebattle.StowedawayonthetransportdeckdesignatedforusPrimarisMarines,asthoughwe’relessercitizens.Sheisdowntherewith…alltheotherRepulsortransports,ofcourse.’‘Excellent,’saidFarren,smilingatMoricani’sdouble-talk.‘Wemustmakefulluseoftheopportunitiesaffordedtous.’‘You have beenmissed,Xedro,’ saidMoricani. ‘By all of us. Iwill bemorethangladtoaccompanyyoutocheckontheHarrower.’‘Iwill not refuse your company,’ saidFarren, his expressiongrave. ‘Anotherpainfulmemorycame tomeas Iwasout.Or itmayhavebeenadream.Icanbarelyrememberit.’‘Oh?Wasittheonewhereyougambolledthroughafieldoftulips?’‘Anintenselight,ebbingandflowing.Andpain.Lotsofit.’Moricani’sexpressioncurdled,turningfromhishabitualwrysmiletoalookofsevereconsternation.‘Brother?Issomethingwrong?’‘Thatlight,’saidMoricaniquietly.‘Blueincolouration?’‘Itwas,’saidFarren.‘Lightazure,maybewhiteattimes.’Moricaniputahandtohisforeheadandrubbedit,staringintentlyatthegrilleofthecorridor.‘Hmm.Andthepain?Wasitintheeyes?’‘Itwas,’saidFarren.‘Andbehindthem.’Moricanimethisgaze,andforamoment,heseemedlikeanoldman.‘Enrodhasbeenhaving the same recollection,’he saidquietly. ‘AndLenkatzrecently confidedmuch the same. I don’t know if you noticed, but yesterdayVesleighintimatedthathetoohadapainbehindtheeyes.’Farrenfrowned.‘Itmustbeanartefactoftransitionsickness.Iwouldnotpayitmuchmind.’‘Iamnotsosure,’saidMoricani.‘WhenImentionedittoEpistolaryDothrael,hesaidhehadfeltittoo,andthatitwascommonenough.Buthedidnotlookatmewhen he said it, and he changed the subject immediately afterwards. Isn’tthatapotentialsignofduplicity?’‘Wehavetotrustthem,Pietr,’saidFarren.‘Wehavenochoice.TheyareactinginthebestinterestsoftheLegion,andsomustwe.’‘InthebestinterestsoftheChapter,youmean.’‘Chapter,damnit,’saidFarren.‘Oldhabitsdiehard.’‘Andsodoyou,Xedro,’saidMoricani.‘Maybeyou’llevenlivelongenoughtoeventuallygetthehangoftherightnomenclature.’

‘Thankyou,sergeant,’saidFarrendrily.‘Withthewarptidesinourfavour,itisonlyamatterofdaysbeforewereachour new hosts uponAllhallow. Perhaps you can bring some of your excellentdiplomaticskillstobearupontheminstead.’‘PerhapsIshall.Wewillsee.’‘Shallwemakeourwaytothedeck,then?’‘Notjustyet,’saidFarren.‘Imustmeditate.Meetmeatmycellinanhour,andweshallproceedfromthere.’

Farren tapped the release rune of his cell’s alcove, and then pulled the heavymetaldooruntil itslidclosedwithadullclang.Hismindwasachingfromthesheervolumeofinformationhewastryingtocollate,toparse,tofittogether.Itwasliketryingtofindawaythroughadensefogatnight.Forsomereason,thedetailsjustwouldn’tfit.Hesatonhisspartanslabofabunkandlethisshoulderssag,pressingtheheelsofhishandsintohiseyes.Atleastthewoundinhissidehadclosedover,seentobyApothecaryVaarad.Hetookaquicklookunderthebindinganditspoultice,peeringdownthroughtheheadachetoassessthedamage.Thehealingprocesshadbeenhyper-acceleratedsothatathickwealofpinkandwhitescartissuecoveredthefist-sizedwoundinhisside.Whenhetwistedtotheright, he could still feel the damage done to his lung and heart by Deel’simprovised dagger. Yet that pain too was dulled, and presumably the woundwithinhimwasalsosealedoverbytheincrediblerecuperativepropertiesofthePrimarisphysiology.ItwasatestamenttoVaarad’sskillsthatFarrenfeltabletofightmeredaysaftersuchagrievouswound–andtotheskillsoftheTechmarineAutinocusthathisbattleplatewaswholeoncemore.Eachseparatepiecewasset into thealcoveswithinhiscell, readyforre-attachmentshouldthecall toarmsbesounded.Hewentovertothearmourandlitthetwosticksofpreparationincenseoutsidethealcoves,sayingaplacationprayertothemachine-spiritbeforetakingtheplatesonebyone andholding them to the lumen-brazier.Hedonned themcarefully,feeling their interface ports click home into the sockets of the black carapacemembraneunderhisskin.Farren frowned. Not so long ago, Techmarine Autinocus had claimed to beunfamiliar with Mark X armour. Yet, the damaged midsection plate – whichuponleavingSaltireVexhadagapingholeintheside–wasnowsealedover,re-layeredwithceramite,neurolinked,weldedimpeccably,filed,buffed,repainted

indeepforestgreenandburnishedtothesamesheenastherestofthearmour.Itwas a feat of engineering thatwould impress even a tech-priest. It seemed tostretchcredulityalittletothinkthattheTechmarinehadnopriorknowledgeofMarkXplate.Better yet, the machine-spirit was placated. Farren had expected to have tospendhoursappeasingit,ifnotlongnights,asitwasbroughtinharmonywithhis own bio-rhythms. But to him it seemed wholly at peace with the repair.Perhapsevendocile.Recallingtheanomalieshehadexperiencedinthebattleonthepromethiumrig,Farrentappedthroughthearmour’srecordstofindtheimagesofthexenosfoeandtheweaponofthehumansympathiser.Thepictswerenolongerthere.Noneofhisbattledatawasthere,infact.TheMarkXwasasgoodasnew,justastheTechmarinehadpromisedhim,butinthemost literal sense. It was as empty of data and logged combat experience aswhenhehadfirstputiton.That in itself was highly irregular. A Space Marine grew with his armour,learnedtotrustitjustasitlearnedtotrusthiminturn,likeaknightoftheeldertimesbecomingonewiththeleatherinsetsandpaddingofhismailuntilheandthearmourmovedasone.Thearmour,too,learnedofitsincumbentasthetwofought together, its systemsmeshing evermore efficientlywith the biologyofthe wearer until the two were all but inseparable. Yet here hisMark X plateseemedalmosttoopolished,toocleantodoitsjobatoptimumperformance.Farren released the clamps at his jaw line, tookoff his helm, and rubbedhiseyeswiththeheelsofhishands.WhatintheOmnissiah’snamewasgoingon?Farrenreachedunderhiscell’sbedslab,pullingoutthethickhalf-shelfbeneathit and taking an autoquill and synthvellum scroll from the recesses there.Pushingat theheelofhishand,heslidoffhispoweredgauntletwithahissofescapingpressurevalves.Hedepressedtheheatruneonhissmallwellofsealantwax,pausedforamoment,andbegantowrite,theonlysoundthescratchingoftheautoquill’snibasFarren’sneatscriptunfurledacrossthepage.Therewas a loud knock on the jamb of his cell’s archway.Moricani’s voicecamethroughthedoor.‘Isyourhairpieceinplace,lieutenant?MayIcomein?’‘Onemoment,myfoolishfriend,’calledFarren, takingablobofsealantfromthewaxwellandpressingitontothefurledscrollofparchment.Hepressedhisindexfinger’sprintintothewaxbywayofanofficialseal.ThenFarrenstowed

thescrollathiswaist,openedthecelldoorbywayofanswer,andstaredhardathisfriend’swildgrin.‘You’reearly,Pietr.’‘Youpresentacommendablyintenseappearance,brother,’saidMoricani.‘I’m not in themood for sparring,’ said Farren. ‘My armour’s recent data ismissing.’‘Itis?’saidMoricani,hissmiledisappearing.‘Wasitlostintherepairs?’‘Isupposeso,’saidFarren.‘Butgiventhatitwastherightmidsectionthatwasbeingrepaired,Ifailtoseewhythehelmwouldbecompromised.’‘Let’stalkaboutitwhenwegettotheHarrower,’saidMoricani.‘It’ssomuchbalmierdownthere.’Farrenshookhisheadandmovedoff,theHellblastersergeantstridingtowalkathisside.‘Oneday,Pietr,thatsenseofhumourisgoingtogetyoukilled.ItisnotafitwayforaSpaceMarinetobehave.’‘Wewere takenbeforeourprime,’saidMoricani, ‘made to fightoneanother,putunder theknife fornearlyadecade,andmentally reconditioned tobecomelivingweapons.’‘Andthatisamusingtoyou?’‘Itisnotamusingatall.Admittedlythereisacertainironytothefactweweremade to save the Imperium,butevenaglanceat the skiesbetrays the factweawokefartoolate.Wehavenotbeenwelcomedasbrothers,norevenasmuch-neededreinforcements,buttoleratedasinconvenientremindersofaneralonginthe past.We now exist only to kill, or be killed. Andmy particular breed ofmurderer specialises in the use of a gun that can snuff out itswielder just asquicklyasitstarget.’Farrenwastootakenabacktosayanything.‘Someofourkindembraceangerandbitterness,becomingaddicted towar. Ilook for solace elsewhere, and attempt to bring some levity to this bleakexistence of death, destruction and endless, grinding repetition.Tellme again,brother,whatiswrongwiththat?’‘Nothing,’saidFarren.‘Myapologies,Pietr.Nothingatall.’

TheairoftheRepulsordockwassothickwithsacramentfumesandscorchedoilthat Farren found his eyes stinging. He replaced his helm, thankful for hisrebreather.Moricaniwasquicktodothesame.‘The dockers aren’t mean with their reconsecrations, are they?’ said thesergeant.

‘Themachine-spiritsneedtherespecttheyaredue,’saidFarren.‘We’llbebackinthefraybeforelong.’Stretchingaheadof themwasa low-ceilingedhangar. Ithad tenalcovedocksstretchingaway,fiveoneachside.Threeofthenearestberthswereoccupiedbythe slab-sided formsofRepulsor transport tanks, theirgrav-unitsdecoupled sothey sat heavy as bunkers in the gloom. The two alcoves at the far endwereoccupiedwithsingle-personcraftthatwerepresumablyfromapreviousmission–aduo-AquilapatternThunderboltandadrabgreyArvuslighter.Beyond thosenimblecraftwasanairlockbayoptimised for fastdeployment.Itswinking lights illuminated black and yellow chevrons that stretched out toformasafetyperimeter.Workerservitorsidlednearby,turningtheirpallidheadsandpoweringuptheirloadingclawsasFarrenandMoricanientered.Farrenmadethesignofthecogastheirbioniceyesreadhisnoosphericaura.Theyrecognisedhimasanallyoftheirtech-priestmasters,andasonetheyenteredastandbytrance.‘We’re here for the Night Harrower,’ said Farren. ‘My name is PrimarisLieutenantXedroFarren.’Hepointedtotheclosestservitor,asteel-jawedcorpseofathingwithahoseforarightarm.‘You.GetthatArvusfuelledtomaximum.’Theacceptancelumenontheservitor’stempleflashedgreen.Itthumpedoverto a stack of engine fuel cells. The others went back to dormancy, awaitinginstructions.‘Let’sboardaround theside,’saidFarrenquietly. ‘It’spossibleothereyesarelookingthroughtheopticsoftheseservitors,andIaminnomoodtoansweranymoreawkwardquestions.’MoricaniheldhispalmuptotheHarrower’singressplate,andthesidedoorofthe tank slid open, revealing the white, hard-edged metal interior within.SlumpedinthefarcornerwasDeel,hereyessunkenandherstraggly,curledhairhangingdown.‘Fromoneprisontoanother,’shesaid.‘Atleastthisoneisn’tswillingwithcoldwater,’saidFarren,climbingthroughthesidehatch.ShenoddedgloomilybywayofanswerasMoricanijoinedthem,pressingthepanelthatsentthedoorhissingclosed.‘Sohaveyoufinallycometokillme?Tieupthatlastlooseend?’‘Notassuch,’saidMoricani.‘Quitetheopposite,infact.’‘I have something for you,’ saidFarren.Heheld out the parchment scroll hehadpreparedinhiscell.‘Whatisthis?Pleasetellmeit’sapardonfortreason.’

‘Close,’ saidFarren. ‘It ismypersonal vindicatum. It bears clear instructionsforwhicheverImperialservantyoupresentitto.Whenyoureachtheastropathicnexus atQaruNon, hand it over towhoever passes for a chamberlainmaster.The word of a lieutenant of the First Legion should be enough to see itexpedited.’Moricanistifledacoughattheterm,butFarrenignoredhisrebukeandcarriedonnevertheless.‘Wewillsetyouonyourwayinjustamoment.Youmustcarryword of those stranded upon Saltire Vex to the relay. Restore the evacuationprotocolsbeforethecoldcyclekillsyouall.’Deel’seyeswerewide,whiteandstaringinthegloom.‘YouthinkIcanmakeitthere?’‘Canyouflyalightmulti-atmospheric?’‘Well, yes,’ she said, blinking slowly as if shewere talking to an idiot. ‘Wedon’thavemanyroadsonSaltireVex.’‘Voidcapable?’‘I’vemadeafewtripsoffworldinmytime.ButhowamIsupposedtostealaship?AndwhatamIgoingtodowhenIgettoQaru?Startanewlifewhilstmyfriendsfreezetodeath?’MoricaniopenedthefarsidedooroftheHarrower,revealingtheArvuslighteratthebackofthehangarbeforepressingthedoorclosedoncemore.Ahazeofincensesmokewaftedin,causingDeeltowaveherhandinfrontofherface.‘ThatlittlefellowshouldgetyoutoQaruNonwithinthemonth,’saidMoricani.‘We’remostofthewaytothatwaypointalready,andwe’venotyetreachedtheMandevillePoint,sowe’restillinrealspace.FarrenthoughtitwouldbegoodtosendyouonyourwaywhenwewerealittlenearertoQaruthanSaltireVex.’Deelnodded.‘Thatwouldbebetterthangood.Youthinkthisscrollwilldoit?’‘Almostcertainly,’saidFarren. ‘ThewordofaPrimarisSpaceMarinecarrieswithitastrongassociationwithLordGuilliman.’Moricanimadeanoddnoise,somewherebetweenalaughandasnort.‘Xedrolikestothinkheisclosertotheprimarchsthanmost.’‘We are forged from their lifeblood,’ said Farren solemnly. ‘That carriesweight.’‘Wellthat’stwiceyouhavecarriedme,then,’saidDeel.‘Iwillnotforgetit.IfIcanputinmotionalarge-scaleevacuation,I’llmakesureeveryoneknowsitwasyourChapterthatmadeithappen.I’llmakesurepeopleknowitwasthet’authatattacked us, and the Dark Angels that came to defend. That the Emperor isbeneficentafterall.Overtime,IthinkIcanmakeadifference.’

‘Thatwouldbewelcome,’ saidFarren, feelingsome forgottenemotionstir inhisheart.‘Itisgoodtohearthat.’‘Enoughofthis,’saidMoricani.‘Setherloose,forcog’ssake,beforeIvomitinmyrespirator.’‘EveryonceinawhileSergeantMoricaniisright,’sighedFarren.‘Youshouldgo.You’reonyourownfromthispoint.Iwillcovertheairlockprotocols,andensurethesystemrecognisesyouasanauthoriseddeparture.It’suptoyoutogettoQaruNonandraisewhateverhelpyoucan.’Deelnodded.‘Youhavefuel?Andfood?’‘Your autocrat’s chariot is being refuelled as we speak,’ said Moricani,sketching amock bow. ‘But our particular brand of sustenancewould do youmore harm than good.There should be a decent survival pack in the lighter’scockpit,shouldtherenot?’‘Probably,’noddedDeel,standingupandstretchingoutherlimbsonebyone.‘Good.Let’sgo.I’mready.’Farrennoticedherhandstrembling,butdidnotmentionit.Instead,hegottohisfeet,noddingathisbattle-brother.Moricani hit the far side door’s release again, and Farren stepped through,staying infrontofDeel tostaredownthe loaderservitor thatcametostand intheir path.Moricani shielded the rigswoman from the second servitorwithhisbulk,grinninginsincerelyatthecyborg’srecorder-lensashepassed.Whenshewasclearoftheslow-movingservitors,Deelranaheadandtappedasequence into the exterior data-slate of the snub-nosed Arvus lighter. Shebunchedherfistsasthecodeachievednothing.Farrenloomedoverfrombehindherandpressedhispalmagainstit.Thecraft’srudimentarymachine spirit recognisedanAdeptusAstartesheat signature, anditspilotdoorhingedopenwithahiss.Deel flashed a smile up atFarren fromunder his arm, and clambered inside,linking her thumbs in the sign of the Imperial Eagle as she climbed into thecockpitandpowereditup.HecrossedhisforearmsoverhischestinthedoublesaluteofthePrimarisMarines.‘You’resureabout this,Xedro?’saidMoricanias the lighter’shatch thumpedclosed.‘Sureit’sworththerisk?’‘To save aplanet full of humans, evenmisguidedones, andbring thembackintotheEmperor’slight?Yes,Ithinkitis.Especiallyifitcomesoutamongstthesystem’s rebels that she turned gue’vesa, as she put it, only to find that shebelongedintheImperiumafterall.Thewordofonelikeherwillcarryfar.’

‘Ihopeyouareright,’sighedMoricani.‘Butnottoofar,orwewillpaydearlyforit.It’sonethingtoworkbeneaththenoticeofourmasters,butquiteanothertoshattertheirunwrittenrulesintopieces.’

CHAPTERSIXTHELIVINGWEAPON

TheLiminalConquestProgress-ClassStarCruiser(SlipstreamEnabled)

FlagshipOfTheFourthSphereExpansion

TutorTwiceblade felt his pulse quicken at theprospect of disobedience, as healways did, but forced his unease back down. The hex-lift was coming to asmoothhalt, the statusdisplay iconwinking two levels from thebottomof itsrange.‘Identneeded,’saidthehex-lift’sdroneintelligence.‘Pleasesupply.’Twiceblade pinched his finger and thumbover the sensor plate, rubbed themtogether,andblewsoftly.Theplateturnedfromtheslategreyofuncertaintytoahealthygoldasfreshskincellsandbreathdropletshititsbio-scanner.‘GreetingsoftheT’au’vatoyou,TutorTwiceblade,’saidthedroneintelligence.‘Shallweproceed?’Hehesitatedforamoment,weighinghisoptionsforthehundredthtime.‘Yes.Pleaseproceed,faithfulhelper.’Thehex-liftcontinuedon itsway,anda fewmoments later thestatusdisplayiconslidtothelowestsetting.‘Munitions storage,’ said thedroneas the liftdoors slidopen. ‘Mayyou findthatwhichyouseek,tutor.’‘Mythanks,’saidTwicebladeabsently,venturingout.Herealisedhishandwashovering close to his pulse pistol, and forced himself towalk as if he had nomore on his mind than retiring to his communal quarters after a long day of

training.TheLiminalConquest’smunitionscontingencydeckwasdark,coolandsterile.Itwas the domain of the earth caste, a subculture includingmanywhowouldgladly forsake sunlight, news of current affairs and the company of the othercastes if it made their operational parameters more predictable. All for theGreater Good, of course, for it was their technology that underpinned theexpansionoftheentiret’aurace.Onlythehighest-rankingfirecastehadclearancetoventureintotheirdomainatwill.Eventhenitwasusuallybyinvitation,toinspectsomeprototypeweaponorsurvey some ballistics results as the earth caste proudly displayed their nexttriumphofdestruction.TutorTwiceblademadehiswayaroundthesideofobservationdecks,throughthealleysofammunitionwarehousesandalonggantriesoverlookingworkareas.All thewhile he took care to stick to the shadows.When an earth casteworkteamthumpeditswaytowardshimontheirheavyfeet,hewasquicktofindanalcove,stackorhoverbiertohidebehind.Hisnaturalhunter’sinstinctsmadeiteasyenoughtostayonestepaheadofthemyopicscientiststhatcalledthisareatheirhome.The earth caste were excellent at focusing on matters which they weredeliberately investigating, but they were famously poor at spotting anythingoutside their sphereofexpertise. Itwas somethingTwicebladehadcountedonmany times as he went about his private work whilst theConquest ploughedthroughspacefromonezonetothenext.Twicebladeventureddeeperintothebowelsofthegreatship,pacingalonglongcorridorslinedwithlozengelights.Hefoughttokeephisdemeanourcasual,justincasehewasobservedorrecordedbyamicro-drone.Noonechallengedhim.Atonepoint,whenthecorridorsnarrowed,hehadtoshakeoffthememoriesofthe passageways underneathGel’bryn City, where he hadwaged his one-mancrusade against the gue’ron’sha known as the Scar Lords. They were still asfresh as if he had experienced those events yesterday, despite the fact wholecenturiesofchronostasishadslidpast.It was not the first time Tutor Twiceblade had been down to the earth castehangarssincehisrecoveryfromhisentrapmentintheImperialstasisfield,butitwasdefinitelythestrangest.Thistime,theweaponhehadcometoinspectwasverydifferent.No t’auwithrank less than‘O’evenknewof itsexistence,andeventhentheaunhadimpresseduponthemthatthemeasurewasonlytobeusedinthedirestofcircumstances.

Tha’hasiro,itwascalled,onthoserareoccasionsthefirecastewhisperedofit.Atermthatmeant‘LivingWeapon.’Butithadanothername,too.Kais.Making his way to Contingency Zone Eight, Tutor Twiceblade saw hisdestination; a tall cylinder that tapered towards the top in the manner of aprimitive race’s bullet. He stepped closer with great care, his breath comingshallowanduneven,andlookedintotheelongatedovalthatformeditsviewingwindow.Thefigureinsidewasrelativelyslightofbuild,hisskindarkblueandwrinkledoverasparsemuscularframe.Hisfeatureswerepleasingenough,yetsomehownondescripttothepointofblandness.Not much for the holographers of the water caste to use there, thoughtTwiceblade–his featureswerehollowandgaunt,a starkcontrast to thenoblecountenancesofhisfellowStudentsofPuretide.Aftertheaun’sgreatexperimentwith Commander Farsight had failed, Shadowsun’s warrior visage had beenspread far and wide across the empire’s informationals in his place. She hadexcelled in the role of exemplar of the T’au’va. But after his successfulprosecution of the Fi’rios campaign, Kais had been allowed to return to hiscryostasis cylinder rather than elevated to the status of a figurehead.With thewatercastedeletingallfootageofhisvictoriesattheetherealcaste’srequest,hehadsoonafterfadedbackintomyth.OnlythosewhohadlookedKaisintheeyeknewthetruthofhisquietpower.Thiswas awarriorwho had seen the face ofmadness and survived,who hadconsumed the darkness in his soul and made of it a potent weapon. ToTwiceblade’smind, the commander in front of himwasmore lethal than anyother t’au in existence. Even in dormancy, his tensed posture held the hair-triggerviolenceofaFio’taunflintlockprimedtofire.Twiceblade had seen that violence erupt in person. It was a sight he wouldneverforget.TherestoftheexpeditionbelievedKaistobedormant,heldinbetweenlifeanddeathasaherowhocouldberevivedandunleashedonaparticularlyintractablefoeiftherewasnootheroption.ButTutorTwicebladeknewbetter.The first time he came to gaze upon the stone-cold features of the MonatSupreme – that warrior he had once thought of as his idol – he had seen amuscular twitch under the eye. That miniscule movement had hit him like abatteringramtothechest.Theonlyconclusionwasthatcryostasiswasnotfullyoperative–whetherthatwasbyaccidentordesign,Twicebladedidnotknow.

‘Awaken,Monat-Kais.Please.ItisSha’ko’vash.’The figure’s eyelids flicked open, hismismatched irises of purple and blackdilatingashispupilsadjustedtothelight.Twicebladefelthisstomachlurch–nomatterhowmanytimestheawakeningritualtookplace,itstillfeltlikeaclawoficeclenchinginhisinnards.‘Comecloser,’whisperedthefigureinthestasistube.‘Iwillnotraisemyvoicetoyou,tutor.’‘Ofcourse,’saidTwiceblade,hisheartthunderinginhischest.Longago,hundredsofkai’rotaaago,hehadbeenKais’firstofficialteacher.HehadpersonallytutoredKaiswhenthecommanderwasacadetofnomorethanfour years old. He had shouted at the young warrior to reprimand him forslinking away, chastening him in front of his fellow students on his very firstcycle of training. Kais’ eyes had hardened that day. Even now, there wassomething in theway thekiller looked at him that saidhehadnever forgivenhim,neverforgotten.TutorTwicebladetookafewtentativestepsforward.Hestillfelthisbonesachewith the need to runwhenever he stepped into theMonat’s presence. It neverwentaway,thatfeeling.Shortly after Commander Farsight had given him the name Sha’ko’vash – ‘fire’sworthycause’–andallowedhim tomakepenance forhismisdeedsasSha’kan’thas, the tutor had launched a one-man attack on a Space Marinecommandechelonasatonement.EventhatwasnotasdauntingasapproachingtheLivingWeapon.AsaresultofthatstrikeTwicebladehadspentthreehundredt’au’cyrlockedinanexperimentalchronostasisfieldasalivingmonumenttotheGreaterGood,apparentlyusedasamotivationalexhibitoutsidehisownbattledome.HewasaherooftheFourthSphereExpansion,laudedbyhispeers.Noneofthatmatterednow.Allthatwasalifetimeaway,anage,asoul’sjourneymadelonginthepast.‘Thegue’vesacurseisspreading,’saidthetutorquietly.‘Ofcourse,’camethereply.Kais’voicewasemotionless,devoidof inflectionortone.Hisspeechhadnogesturalcomponentatall.ToTwiceblade,itwasasunsettlingasifhewasscreechingfromamouthwithnotongueorteethtoformthewords.‘Itmustbestopped.’‘Thenstopit.’‘Icannot.Mycommanderbelievesthatcircumspectionisthecorrectpath.’‘Halfmeasuresaretherefugeoffools.’

‘Hehasnotyourclarityofvision.YetIcannotconvincehimalone.’‘“Alone,awarriorcannottrulyfinishabattle.Buthecanstartawar”.’‘MasterPuretidespeaksthroughyou,asever.’‘He still has relevance,’ said Kais. Inside the stasis pod he made neitherinflectionnorgesture,butTwicebladecouldstillhearthesteelinKais’voice.‘If thevectorof themind-curse couldbe isolated anddestroyed,wecould atleastlimititsspread,’saidthetutor,makingthecircularmotionoftheguardian’sperimeter. ‘Then the work of cutting away the infected tissue from the bodycouldbegin.’‘Thenreleaseme.Iamthesharpestofinstruments.’‘Ibelieveit.Butoncethevector isslain,howcanweprevent thesamecursefromrisingagainfromthoseithasinfected?’‘The earth caste will answer that,’ whispered Kais. ‘Atmospheric poison.Chemicalsterilisation.Planetarycoredisruption.Alloftheseareviable.’‘Thatcannotbeborne.Thegue’vesasharetheirworldswithtoomanyt’au,andthe losseswould outweigh the gains.As a commander, you should appreciatethatbetterthananyone.’‘Iamnocommander.’‘Youusedtobe.Youhavetobe.ThatiswhyAun’Va,theSupremeEthereal–’atthisTutorTwicebladestressedhiswords–‘placedyouasacriticalpartoftheFourthSphereExpansion.’‘Iamaweapon,’saidKais,somethingfierceinhisvoice.‘Ishouldbewieldedasone.’‘Wouldyounotprefertobethehandthatwieldstheblade?’‘No,’saidKais,thewordcuttingassharpasanexecutioner’ssword.‘Wemust transcend the notion ofMonat as a lonewarrior,’ saidTwiceblade.‘Wemustmakeofthatarchetypealeader,anexemplar,alegend.Ibelieveitwasalways Master Puretide’s intent that you bring its philosophy to its naturalconclusion.’KaisstaredathimwithanintensitythatTwicebladefeltmightborethroughtheglass.Thetutorswallowed,andcontinuednonetheless.‘Youmustactastheleaderofaloneforceinthegalaxy,actinginthenameoftheGreaterGood,unseenandunheard.Yetyoumustdosowithnotonelife,buthundredsofthousands.ThistheT’au’vademandsofyou.’‘DonottellmewhatImustandmustnotdo,tutor.IhaveplannedyourdeathmoretimesthanIcancount.’

‘Commander?’saidTwiceblade,hisbloodgoingcold.‘Ihaveonlyeversoughttoaidyou.’‘Ihavebeenfullyconsciousforthreehundredt’au’cyr,’saidKais,hishissingtonesfierceandclipped.‘Anerrorinthecryonicprocess.Mybodywasasleep,inviolate.Butnotmymind,TutorSha’kan’thas.’Thetutorwasstunnedintosilence.Tobetrapped,motionlessandlockedinaprisonofimmobilefleshandbone,forsolong…itwasachillingprospect.‘My mind was not allowed to age, to fall apart as all things do. I do notunderstandwhatmannerofbiostasispreserveditfromentropy,yetleftitactive,abletoparsewhatinformationIwasfedandlayplansastohowbesttouseit.ButIdoknowthattheordealtransformedme.AttimesIwaspermittedtoroam,livingwakingdreams inwhich I commanded thousandsof t’au teams and ledthemtovictory.AtothersIfell,furtherandfurther,intothedarkness.’Twicebladeswallowed,histhroatdry.‘Doyouknowhowmanydecsthatamountsto?Threehundredt’au’cyr?Inthattime, I have planned the death of my enemies a thousand times over, in athousanddifferentways.Itwastheonlythingthatkeptmesane.’Keepinghispeaceastohistruethoughts,Twicebladelookeddown.‘I built awarmachine of causality, image by image, sliver by sliver,’ hissedKais. ‘I have mentally rehearsed every permutation of every conflict againsteveryknownfoeofthet’aurace.Everystrike,everymanoeuvre,everypossibleangle or nuance I have analysed and memorised and perfected. In all thosethings,onlyoneconstant–Iamalone.IamMonat.’Kaisstared,hiseyesopenafractiontoowide.‘Andinmanyofthosevisions,Ihaveseenyoudieoverandoveragain.’Twicebladefeltcoldsweatonhiswrists.Thecreaturebeforehimwasnolongert’au, thatmuchwasobvious.Butperhapssome traceof theGreaterGoodwasleftinsidehim.Hetookadeepbreath,andspoke.‘Youknowthemind-plaguemustbecontained,quarantinedandburnedclean,’hesaid.‘Thegue’vesacursewillspreadifwedonotlimitit.ThisiswhyIstandbeforeyou,here,now.Surestrike’shesitancywilldoomusall.Youaretheonlyone who can stop this. Tell me what I must do. Teach me. Let me be yourexemplar,yourprotégé.’‘Unsealthisdevice,andIwillbegintheworkIwasborntodo.’‘YouknowIcannot.’Kais flew at the viewing lozenge, face distorted into an animal snarl as he

hammeredatitwithhisfists.Heslammedthemintotheplexiglasssohardtheyspreadsmearsofbloodacross the inside.Twicebladestaggeredback,hishandflyingtohispulsepistol.Then,justassuddenly,Kaisstopped.‘Ioffercontrition,’hesaid,hisvoiceperfectlycalm.‘Itisthestasisburn.’‘I…Isee,’saidthetutor.‘Ishallconsultwithmycontactsintheearthcasteastohowtoalleviateit.’Kais nodded, his face amask of composure as he sombrelywiped away thebloodon the insideof theviewingwindow.Twicebladewatchedas theMonatcleansedevery last spotof theblood,meticulousasa spider,withoutbreakinghisgazeforaninstant.The tutor re-engaged the cylinder’s systems, backed away a few steps, andbowed his head with his hands forming the closing book gesture of thesupplicant-whose-questions-are-complete.He turnedonhisheel andwalkedatspeedbackthewayhehadcome.

JensaDeelstoodimpatiently in the longqueueof tatteredpilgrimsandscruffysupplicants that led to the choral node.The rib-like archesof the solar stationQaruNonstretcheduparoundher.Ithadtakennineteenhourswithoutfoodorresttogettothefront,withnothingtooccupyherbuttheacheinherbones,thegnawing in her belly, and the fear that shewouldhave a relapse of themind-plague – that horrible, migraine inducing psyker-spasm that had afflicted hereversincethedayshehadswumtoodeepunderFerro-GiantOmicron.Shehadkept the fear away with detailed thoughts of how she would rescue the lastremnantsofSaltireVex,thenlaterresettleitinherownfashion,turningitfromadrowningworldtoathriving,fighting,killingengineofwar.Herstomachrumbledeveryfewminutes,thathungryanimalinsideherwakingupandbeginningtoprowlaroundherguts.ShehadfoundasurvivalpackintheArvusLighterafterall,anditsvitae-pastehadfilledagap,butithadnotlastednearlylongenough.‘Deel, Jensa,’ intoned the gaunt,wrinkle-headed adjudicator at the top of thejudicial lectern.She lookedup sharply.Theancienthada collarof autocandlelumensextendingfromhis ruff,anda tattooofa thirdeyeonhis forehead, itsraysofblackandwhitefadedtotranslucencywithage.‘Thatisme,’shesaid.‘Present,Imean.’‘Rigswoman Jensa Mahlia Deel. Present your proposed missive before themastersofthechoir.’

Shesteppedforward,eyebrowsraised,andfixedtheadjudicatorwithhermostcommanding stare. It was a look that had intimidated drunken riggers intocompliance,usuallypromisingaswiftslapofherwrenchonthesideofthehead.Buthere,directedupatanimpassivejudiciarysomeeighteenfeetaboveher,itlackedsomethinginthewayofthreat.‘IrequesttheregularwinterevacuationfleetbesenttoSaltireVex,forthecoldcycleisgrowingclose,’shesaid.‘Thisisaroutinerequestandprocedure.’Thewrinkled judiciaryscreweduphis face,makinghimlookancientbeyondwords.‘HaveInotseenthisexactrequestfromSaltireVexbefore,younglady?HaveInotalreadygivenitanegativeverdict?’Helookeddownatherasifshewasnomorethanaclotofbloodstucktohisshoe.‘YourealisethepenaltyforwastingthetimeofanImperialadept?’‘This time,youhave little choice in thematter,’ saidDeel, grabbingFarren’sscroll from her waist and holding it up. The adjudicator sighed theatrically,extended a multi-jointed limb from a hidden compartment in his lectern, andgrabbedthescrollwithathree-prongedclaw.The artificial appendage transferred it up to his wrinkled, bulge-knuckledhands.He tuttedbefore checking its seal.Deel felt awarmglow inside as thepompous fool’s expression curdled through confusion, to disbelief, to barelyconcealedawe.‘Emperor’sgrace,’hewhispered.‘Isthis…isthisaPrimarisseal?’AsusurrusofwhispersspreadbackthroughthequeuebehindDeel.‘Yes,’shesaid,tryingtomakehervoiceasstridentaspossible.‘Readit,fellowservantoftheThrone.Ihavenomoretimetowaste.’Theadjudicatornodded,andunfurled thescroll.Hedrank in the information,his watery eyes seeming to bulge from his skull as he read and re-read itscontents.‘Isee.Andyouwouldhaveourastropathicchoirsendforevacuationcraft toescortthepopulaceofSaltireVextosafety.Isthatcorrect,RigswomanDeel?’‘Itis.’‘Unfortunate. I have a listed prohibition against that exact course of actionsomewherehere.’Hesortedthroughtheparchmentsonhisdesk,pullingoneouttopeeratitwitheyescreased.‘Andthoughitisvagueastoitsorigin,itbearsthehallmarkoftheAdeptusAstartes.Thesealisauthentic,thoughunfortunatelytheauthordidnotdeigntostatehisrank,norhisChapter.’‘My scroll is not vague. As you can see, it comes from Primaris LieutenantXedro Farren of the Dark Angels, formerly of the Indomitus Crusade, and it

mustbeobeyed.’‘Imustconfess,iftherumoursaretruethatthePrimarisMarinesareacquaintedwithRobouteGuillimanhimself…’Atthistheadjudicatorlinkedhisthumbsandcrossedhishandsinthewingedsignoftheaquila.‘Thissetsanewprecedent.’‘Thatisgoodtohear,’saidDeel,atinyflameofhopeburninginherchest.Shereturnedthesign,tryinghardnottosmile.‘Willyouhonourit?’‘Thistime,’saidtheadjudicator,hisgoldfish-likeexpressionbetrayingthefacthe saw Deel in a whole new light. ‘I believe I will. Is there anything else,mamzel?’‘Yes,’saidDeel.‘Kindlysendamissivetothemercenariesgatheredupontheneighbouringworld,SaltireNonAqua.Athousanddrumsofrefinedpromethiumtothefirstalphic-categorywarshiptoenter loworbitandestablishadefensiveperimeteraboveFerro-GiantThetoid.All Ineed isaparley. Iwill take it fromthere.’‘Asyouwish,mamzel,’saidtheadjudicator,hisquillscribblingharduponhisdata-slate. ‘Mercenaries… fuel… thousand barrels of promethium…defensiveperimeter.’‘Tell them tomakehaste,’ saidDeel. ‘Warwill findusbefore theevacuationvesselsbearustosafety,Iamsureofit.’‘Awarthatrequiresanarmyofmercenaries.’‘Yes.’‘We have… contacts.A hireling alliance recently gained permission to bringone of their macro-class warships into Qaru nearspace. You will have youraudience,JensaMahliaDeel.’‘Good,’saidDeel,hereyesnarrowing.‘SaltireVexwillnotbecaughtoffguardagain.’

SixKai’rotaaPreviouslyUnknownCoordinates(Sub-Realm)

HighCommander Surestrike stared out from the viewing dome, focusing uponthetinyflamesthatflickeredinthenothingnessofthesub-realm.Hehadlatelyfoundthemhypnotic.Hecouldnotshakethesuspiciontheyseemedtomoveallthemorewhenhefocusedonthem.Folly, of course.No living thing could survive out there, let alone detect histhoughts.Notevenhere,intheotherworldlyspacethatfewunderstood.TheFourthSphereExpansionhadbeensentoutfromtheseptworldstogreatfanfareandrejoicing.Likeitslasttwopredecessors,ithadoneoftheStudentsofPuretide with it. This time, though, the Kan’jian alumnus had been in stasisinsteadofatthehelm.TheSecondSphereExpansionhadbeen ledacross theDamoclesGulfby thenow-infamousCommanderFarsight,specialistintheMont’kaschoolofwarfare,and the third led by the avatar of the Kauyon, Commander Shadowsun. Thefourth carriedwith it the geniusMonat knownasKais, but hewaswith themmoreasatotemthanaleader,anexemplaroftheGreaterGoodembodiedinasoulthathadsacrificedeverythingelse.Kaiswas the thirdof the trinityofyoungprotégés thathadstudiedunder theMasteratopMountKan’ji.ItwassaidhehadbecomesodevotedtotheMonatwayofwar thatAun’Vadecreedhebealoneat all times, lest others sully thepurity of his vision. He was only to leave his cryostasis cylinder in times of

desperateneed.Thoughthatseemedoddtoaracethatthrivedoncommunality,thefirecastehadofcourserespectedthatcommand.Leadership of the Fourth Sphere Expansion had instead been entrusted toSurestrike.HehadfoughtalongsideShadowsunonMu’galathBay,Voltorisandbeyond,andearnedthetrustofthefirecasteindoingso,earningthepositionofHighCommander.YetwhereFarsighthadfoundinfamyandShadowsunearnedundying glory, Surestrike had found his destiny swallowed whole by the vastinterstellaranomalyknownofficiallyastheGreaterAxialRift.Of late, the t’au had been using another term for it. TheMont’yhe’va. TheDevourerofHope.NowtheFourthSphereExpansionfloatedlikeafleetexpelledfromastorminforeign waters, carried like flotsam upon currents they had no way ofunderstanding, let alone controlling. They were directionless, at the mercy offorcestheybarelyunderstood.OnlythegraceoftheT’au’vacouldcarrythemtotheirtargetnow.DuringtheFirstSphereExpansion,theearthcastehadexperimentedwithhowtobrieflyoscillatebetweenrealityandthatstrangehalf-realitythegue’lacalledthe warp. They had limited success, utilising only the surface of the deep,mysteriousdimensiontheyhadfirstencounteredintheDamoclesGulf.Intrigued,butstillnotfullycomprehendingthatwhichtheyweredabblingwith,they toyed with the breakthrough technology, never truly understanding it,makingshortjumpsasastoneskimsalongthesurfaceofapond.DuringtheDamocleswar,thescientistsandmetatheoristshadlookedwithaweandnolittleenvyat theImperialwarshipsthatdisappearedfromthevoidinapulsing, roiling explosion of light, divingwholly into this alternate dimension,travelling great system-spanning distances upon its underwater currents andthensurfacingagaininrealspacewithoutwarning.Moreoftenthannottheydidsospecificallytorainhellupontheirfoes.Itwasjustsuchatacticthathadseenthegue’ron’shalaunchtheinvasionofDal’yth.Dal’yth,awar soviolent, so sudden, soepoch-shattering thateven itsdebrishad yielded the key to a new future. That future had seen the Fourth SphereExpansion built, modified for sub-realm travel, and now lost with all hands,Surestrikeatthehelm.Thehighcommanderscrewedhiseyesshuthardasiftobanishhisfailure.TheAunshouldhavenevertrustedhimtobreaknewground,toleadanexpeditionofbillionsof lives, letaloneto findnewhorizons in thequest toexpandtheT’auEmpire for thegoodofall.HewasnoStudentofPuretide.Hewasa talented

leader–hehadtobe,orelsehewouldneverhaveachievedO-rank–butwhenitcametothegeniusneededtoleadanentireexpansion,hecouldnothelpbutfeelthathefellshort.Thenebula-likesub-realmoutsidetheviewingdomeroiledandspun.ItseemedtoSurestrikethatitformedfacesintheether,hideousvisagesthatgrinnedandhowledandscreamed.Itwasamazinghowthesystemsofthemindplayedsuchtricks, enforcing pattern recognition on the most abstract of sights. Yet thephenomenon seemed strangely frequent, happeningmore andmorewith everypassingdec.Lightsdancedintheeyesofthephantomskullsoutthere,spinninglikeVior’lanfireflies caught in specimen flasks as they played around the Fourth Sphere’sbecalmedfleet.Surestrikecouldnotshakethefeelingtheskeletalfacesweremockinghim.

CHAPTERSEVENDESCENTOFDARKNESS

DuskenwaldAllhallow,ScorpidCluster

Amurder of crows shot upward from the endless canopy of theDuskenwald.Theysquawkedinalarmastheyflapped,ungainlyandscared,intoAllhallow’sevening skies. Something large but completely invisiblewas descending fromthecloudsabovethem,itsretro-jetsroaringlowasitgraduallycametoahaltintheclearingbelow.Gohoraelnarrowedhiseyes,detachinghispsy-crownandpushingitbackintothecockpit’salcoverecessasheguidedtheDaggertohalt.Thecrown’smentalamplifier hadmade an uninterrupted planetfall almost too simple, in the end.Part ofGohorael longed for the signal bells on the cockpit’s auspex recess tochime, for an aerial engagement inwhich to prove his power over theweak-bloodedsuccessorChapterthatcalledthisworldhome.Theworkofaeonswasmoreimportant,ofcourse.WiththecrownandtherelicfromSaltireVexboostinghispsychicability,hehadexcisedhispresencefromthemindsofanythatsoughthim.Nonethelesshestillhadanagging,scratchingsuspicioninthebackofhismind,asensethathewasbeingfollowed–andnotjustbythedeludedthinbloodsthatthoughtthemselvestruesonsoftheLion.He rearranged the octocraniad around his neck, ensuring the skulls all facedoutwards.Itwouldnotdotorobthesoulsheldwithinthemoftheview,notaftertheyhaddonesomuchforhimalready.ThecorebeautyofAllhallowwasitsforests.EvenGohoraelhadfeltsomething

swellinhisbreastashehadflownovertherollingseaofitsendlessfoliage.Thetreesweredense,coniferous,green-black,and inplacescut throughwithbeasttrails that led to wide clearings. Gohorael had taken careful note of theglimmering lights of theplanet’s civilisation centres ashehaddescended, andavoided their greatest concentrations, instead seeking lesser settlements in theforest’smidst.In places, the trees of Allhallow had been cleared away to leave islands offertile ground, areas claimed long ago by the indigenous people. Those greatclearingswerehost to largekeeps,watchtowers,citadelsandcastles,all linkedtogetherbyhard-packedroadsandtrailsthatwoundthroughtheforests.ThegreatestofthesettlementsbyfarwasundoubtedlySoul’sWell,thefortress-monasteryoftheAngelsofAbsolution.Itwasamountainofconcentriccurtainwallsreachinguptoahigh-walledfortressofblackstonethatpiercedthelowestclouds.Thetimetopaythatgrandedificeavisitwasalittlewayoffjustyet,butGohoraelwouldgetthereintime,bearinghisownparticularkindofgift.There was no doubt this Chapter had chosen their homeworld for itsresemblancetothelong-lostplanetoftheFirstLegion.Gohorael felt gratification mingle with a fierce sense of indignation. Thesymbolism was half the reason he had made the journey, but the planet’ssimilaritygratednonetheless.Allhallowwasunmistakeablyanechoof ancientCaliban,thoughgiventhewidthofthebeastpaths,themonstersthathunteditsforestswere far less dangerous than those of the First’s homeworld. A fittinganalogueforitssettlers,too.Gohorael felt his blood curdle the more he thought about it. A successorChapter, theirbloodevenweaker thanthatof theso-calledDarkAngelsof the41stMillennium,had thegall toclaimanarborealplanet and fashion it in theimageofhisforefathers.Worse still, and uniquely amongst the Unforgiven, this was a Chapter thatconsidereditselfliterallyabsolvedofthesinsofthepastthroughthepurgingofCaliban.ThoughtheyworkedalongsidetheirfellowChaptersandfoughtwellbyall accounts, they saw those ancient events as travesties committed byforefatherssodistanttheymayaswellhavebeenanotherraceentirely.Gohoraelsnortedindisgust.Noact,nomatterhowapocalyptic,coulderasetheshame,theterror,theimmortalstainofdishonourthatwasknowntotheAdeptsof the Imperium as theHorusHeresy. Itwas indelible, impossible to remove.Chaos was in everything, in every one of the Adeptus Astartes, and in everyman,woman and child. This, at least, the upper echelons of theDarkAngels

werefinallycomingtoacknowledge,andtoloathethemselvesallthemoreforit,aswasonlyright.Butforabrotherhoodtopretendotherwise,toopenlycallthemselvesabsolvedofsin,thiswasaninsultthatcouldnotbeborne.Gripping his staff of Calibanite oak, Gohorael set his jaw andmade for thecrenelatedguardfortressonthehorizon.

‘Well,well,’saidLandersHarasen,tappingacrackeddata-slatefoggedwiththepatinaofbadmaintenance.‘Comeover,youngFenas.Lookwhatthegate-skullspickedupon.’Fenas,thelankyyouthwithwhomHarasenhadsharedgarrisondutyforthelastsixweeks,camecloser,peeringoverhisshoulderpauldronwiththeexpressionofamolethathasburrowedupintothesunlight.‘Emperor’sgrace.It’soneofthem,isn’tit?’‘Yesandno,’saidHarasen,peeringcloserhimself.Itwashardtomakeoutthefigure in anydetail, especially in the eveninggloom,but therewas somethingdifferentaboutit.‘Notmorebloodyriddles,’saidFenas.‘IsitoneoftheAbsolversornot?’‘I doubt it,’ saidHarasen. ‘Wrong heraldry.This one’s battleplate is black asmidnight.’‘Thestoriessaythey’rewhite.’‘Yes,’saidHarasen.‘Iknowthat,boy.Itoldyouthatmyself,remember?’‘Ican’twaittoseethelookonthefacesofthoseblaggardsatSixNorthwhenwe tell them that we got chose over them. That’ll pay ‘em back for the lastChallengeallright.’‘But theAbsolvers never come this farwest.We’re not good enough for thelikesofthem.EvenifwewontheFiveChallengesthey’dstillfindareasontoignoreus.’‘Andyetthereheis,right?’‘I told you, this isn’t one of them! Emperor’s teeth.Awaken the other skull,boy,youcanworkthisthingbetterthanme.’Fenasfiddledwiththerunesonthesideofthedata-slate,hummingatunelesspsalmofappeasement to itsmachine-spiritbeforeknocking itwith theheelofhishand.Thescreenglitched,fuzzed,andcameintofocusalittlemore.‘Throneabove,’saidFenaswithashiver.‘Bigbrute,isn’the.’‘What’s he wearing there?’ said Harasen, pointing to the wreath around thefigure’sneck.

‘Somekindofnecklace,’saidFenas.‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Harasen levelly. ‘It does look a lot like… I don’tknow. Trophies of battle, maybe. Look, you can see the eye sockets.’ Heswallowedhard.‘I’mnotsureIwanttoseethemcloseup.Maybehe’llreconsecrateourgate-skulls,thenleave.’Without taking his eyes from the data-slate, Harasen slapped Fenas on theforehead.‘Lookathim,boy.Helooklikeatech-adepttoyou?Aservitor,perhaps?Youthinkhe’sonanerrandtoswapoutfaultyservo-skulls?’‘Sowhatisheherefor,then?’Harasendidnotreplyforalongmoment.‘Nothinggood.’Seconds stretched past as the castellans watched the figure thrash his waythrough the undergrowth towards the dry-moatwith long, powerful strides.Alizard-mule,startledfromits lair, raised its frill inanger, thensawthe intruderforwhatitwasandslunkoffforeasierprey.Thestrangerhadalongstaffinonehand,andathishipwasasidearmsolargeitwouldprobablyhavetakenallofHarasen’sstrengthtoliftit.‘Shouldwesoundthealarm,doyouthink?’‘No.Notofficially,anyway.Itwouldn’tgodownwellifhewasanAbsolver,ifyou take my meaning. Bearing news, summoning us to war, or similar. Weshouldjust…spreadthewordthatwehavecompany.’‘Right.’The tall youth peered in close, taking in the tusked helm of the figureapproachingthegate.‘Imeanyoushoulddoit,Fenas!Goandtelltheothers!’‘Right,right.’Theyouthscurriedoffdownthecorridortowardsthecommandhall,grabbinghishalberdonthewaypast.

‘Greetingsoftheday,mylord!’calledoutHarasen.Hesteppedforwardfromtheshadowof the lowereddrawbridge, thumpedhischest twicewithaclosedfist,thenmadeasdeepabowashisstarch-stiff tabardwouldallow. ‘IamLandersHarasen,castellanofthismeagrefortress.Thehonouryoudousistoomuch!’TheSpaceMarine,stillsomefiftyyardsaway,madehiswaytowardsthematan unhurried pace. Harasen cursed himself for a fool. Had the stranger heardhim?Orhadhesimplyannouncedhimselftoosoon?

Therewasastifledlaughfromthebattlementsbehindhim.Themenuptherewereenjoyinghisdiscomfort,nodoubt.Themostpartofthefortress’guardwasup there, gathered to see a Space Marine in the flesh. They were standingdeliberatelyapart from the Icarusquad-gunsat thecorners soasnot tooffendtheir distinguished visitor. Harasen glanced back for a moment; they wereshieldingtheireyesfromthesettingsun,peeringintentlyat thefigureinblackarmour striding towards them. There was a part of him that would definitelyhavepreferredthemtobemanningthegunsinstead.Oddly, the stranger still didn’t seem to have come into focus. The gloomgathered about him like a shroud. There was definitely something unsettlingabout him. The Absolvers usually came in massive transport vehicles or onruggedwarbikes,butthisSpaceMarinesimplywalked.Harasen had stationed three men hidden in the gatehouse above the murderholes–a regulationmeasure,ofcourse.Their lasgunswouldsoonbepointingstraightdown,readyforashotintheremotechancetheirvisitorprovedhostile.The men up there had complained bitterly, for everyone amongst them knewtheywouldlikelybethefirsttodieiftheSpaceMarineattacked,andhavelittletonochanceofescape.Buttheyhadtakentheirpositionsallthesame.DirectlybehindHarasen,Fenasandadozenofhis fellowcadetswere in fullceremonial armour, theirhalberds raisedas thoseofanhonourguard.Harasenhadaskedforthemtokeeptheirlimberstrapsgoodandloose,justincase.Andyet,inthefaceofthetoweringfigurethathadclompedacrossthedrawbridgeasif he owned the keep himself, the ten-foot polearms seemed little morereassurancethantoothpicks.Harasen felt sweat run the length of his spine, a palpable sense of dreadovercominghimasthenewcomercamewithintenfeetandstopped.Nowhewasinfocus,everydetailetcheditselfintoHarasen’smind.Tosaythenewcomerwasforbiddingwasagrotesqueunderstatement.Hewasalmost eight feet tall, clad in ornate black power armour etchedwith silveredgothicscript.Heheldinonehandatwistingstaffofpolishedwood,itsknotsandstubbyprotrusionsatoddswiththebaroquesculpturesandsmoothfinishofhisdeepblackplate.Age-browned skullswereworn in awreatharoundhisneck,somesmall,somesolargetheycouldnotpossiblyhavecomefromahuman.The figure’s sheer presence was terrifying. But it was his visage that wouldhauntHarasen’snightmares.‘Tell me the name of this fortress,’ intoned the figure. His voice was deep,cultured and smooth, emanating from a snout-like grille framed with large

juttingtuskslikethoseofabeast.Aroundhisheadwasacomplexapparatusofcoilsandsparkplugsthatgrippedhistempleslikeavice.‘Er… it is simply calledSixthWest,my lord,’ saidHarasen, castinghis eyesdownatthefloor.‘We’renotanoldenoughfortificationtohaveaherald’sname.Forsuchlowlysoulsitisasignalhonourtoevenspeakwithyou.’‘Itisserviceable.’‘G-good,’saidHarasen.‘Gladtidings.’‘ArethereanyotherAdeptusAstarteswithinaday’stravel?’‘That is very unlikely,’ saidHarasen. ‘The vastmajority of them are still oncampaign.’‘Engaged at the CadianGate, no less,’ added Fenas proudly, puffing out hischest.‘Shutup,Fenas,’hissedHarasenoverhisshoulder.‘TheCadianGate,’ said the stranger,hisvoicea lowgrowl. ‘I see.But somehaveremainedhere.’‘Soul’s Well has a garrison of Adeptus Astartes, I believe,’ said Harasen,pointingtothesharptriangleofblackstonethatdominatedthenorthernhorizon.In truth, he was glad of the excuse to look away. ‘We see craft coming andgoing.ButwerarelyseetheAbsolversthisfarsouth.’‘Absolversindeed,’saidthestranger,raisinghisstaff.‘Theycastthemselvesasiftheybringabsolution,andtellthemselvestheyarealreadyabsolved.Fearnot.Wewillhavethemheresoonenough,andteachthemtheirplace.’The vice of pipes and cables around the stranger’s head glowed bright for asecond.Harasenfeltapressureinhisheadgrowquicklyfromapulsetoanache,thentoasplitting,agonisingmigraine.Hefelltohisknees,hisspinetwistinginasenselessattempttowrigglefreeofthepain.Hegroundhisfistintooneeyeastheotherbulged.Sightsandsoundsflashedthroughhismindliketheflickeringofabrokenzoetrope.The guardsman saw the stranger striding past him, glowing staff sweepingthrough theair.Tendrilsofpinkandblue light shotout toconnectwithFenasand his fellow wallsmen. Harasen saw human bodies twisting and bulging,craniumsdistendingandeyesburstingfromheadsinshowersofnamelessfluids.Screamsfilledtheairasmen’sheadssankintotheirchests,armselongatedandgrew extra joints. Liquid flame cascaded from the mouths of men who weregibberinganddroolinginpanicandterror.Fenassuddenlyelongatedasifbeingstretched on the rack, gangling limbs and knobbly neck stretching upwardsbeforefillingoutwithrandombulgesofmuscleandjuttinghorn.

Desperately scrabbling to focus and draw his pistol, Harasen felt a ripping,tearingpaininhisarmpits.Hefellforwardswithascream–notontotwohands,butfour.Twostrangeglisteninglimbsshiveredandbuckledbeneathhisown,aspinkasaninfant’sskinbutheavywithmuscleandcabledsinew.Hewasabouttoscreaminhorror,butitdiedinhisthroat.Therewasashockingwarmthinthelowerpartofhisface.Withmountingpanic,hefelthisjawsdistend,hismouthfillingwithlongneedleteeth.‘Emperor save us,’ said Harasen, his words distorted by his weird, needle-toothedmouth.‘Please.No.’Hurriedfootstepscamefromabove–theguardsatopthebattlements,nodoubtrushingtotheIcarusquad-gunsatthefort’snearestcorners.Harasenlookedup,eyes misted with tears. The stranger had spotted them running along theramparts,andgavevoicetoaweird,sibilantphraseashetooksomethingglass-likefromhisbelt.The stranger opened the phial and sent out a scattering of something thatglintedinthetwilight.Insecondsthebattlementsechoednottofootsteps,buttoscreams.Harasen saw a chink of black in the keep’swall as the sally port behind thewest tower opened a crack.He shouted out and clawed at the kneepad of thestranger,hopingtodistracthim,buttheSpaceMarinejustbrushedhimaway.Hestruggled to get up, but his centre of gravitywas allwrong, and he stumbledforwardsagain,scrabblingonsixlimbsratherthanfourtowardsthenewcomer.Thestrangerkickedhimasifhewereatroublesomedog,theimpactsoviolenthefelthiscollarbonebreakandacoupleofribsalongwithit.Cryingout,Harasentwistedasherolled,sharpagonyjanglinginhischest.Hebuckledoverandcurledinpain,catchingaglimpseofVallacVandersen–oneoftheyoungerwallsmen– sprintingout from the sally port towards the treeline.For a second, he thought that his distraction had been in vain, and that thestrangerhadseenVandersendisappearintothetrees.Butthegiantwasalreadystriding onwards, the energies flickering from his staff focusing his strangemagickonthegarrisontroopsatopthecrenelatedbattlementsoncemore.Harasen felt theedgesofhisvision turnblack, theconfusionandpainof thelast fewminutes threatening to riseupand takehim intooblivion.Within lessthanaminutetheguardsofSixthWesthadbecomeawful,horriblemockeriesofmen,morelikeafreakshowfromthemostdementedofcarnivalsthanasentrypatrol.Throughitallstrodethenewcomer,resplendentinhisblackplatearmourashewalkedthroughtheopendrawbridgeintothekeephehadtakenwithoutso

muchasdrawinghisgun.Thestrangerstoppedonthethreshold,lookedupattheemptymurderholesinthegatehouse,andturnedbacktothefleshynightmareshehadleftinhiswake.HewasthelastthingHarasensawwithhismortaleyesbeforetheymeltedfromtheirsockets,turnedliquidbythesheerChaoticpowerripplingintheair.‘Comebackinside,then,bravemenofSixthWest,’saidthestranger.‘Wehavemuchworktodobeforeouraudiencearrives.’

VallacVandersenploughedonwardatastumblingrunthroughthebrackenoftheLongfield Fallow, nettles stinging his shins and sharp rocks cutting into thethreadbare soles of his ill-fitting boots. It had been two days since thehorrendous events at SixthWest.Twodayswith no sleep, and no food either,otherthanthepinenutshehadforagedontheway.Hewassosickofthemnow,sickof thesmellofstickyambersapandthesharpedgesof theDuskenwald’spinecones.Whathewouldn’tgiveforhalfaroastpig.For the fifteenth time thatdayhedaydreamedof the juicesofa thickslabofgammon,themouth-wateringsmellofit.Thenhethoughtofthestinkofburninghumanfleshbackatthefort,andhisappetitelefthimcompletely.Not longuntilhemade it into theneedle-treesagain,Vandersen toldhimself.Not long until hewas out of themoonlight and into the relative safety of theforest. If he could find a patrolling servo-skull, his chances of survivalwouldincreasetenfold;hemightevenbetakentoakeepbeforenightfalltoreportonwhathehadseen.MaybeevenSoul’sWellitself.Andyetthefortress-monasterywasstillalongwayoff,saidanastylittlevoiceinhishead.Dozensofleaguesaway.Daysandnightsofconstanttravel,evenifhesomehowfoundalizard-mulebigenoughtoride.Andifthethingthatfollowedhimdidn’trunhimdowninthenight.‘Shutup,’saidVandersentothevoice.‘Leavemealone.Icanmakeitthere,it’snotthatfar.’The thing inhishead laughed,mockingandcruel.He turnedround, trying toshake the feeling that it wasn’t just his imagination, but that he had actuallyhearditthistime.Some nameless instinct flared up, the same hind-brain warning that hisforefatherswouldhavefeltwhenwych-wolveshowledinthedistance.Thehairson his neck, his forearms, his shoulders all stood and bristled, his musclesuncomfortablytense.Vandersencouldfeelsomething,notsofaraway,lookingathim.Lookinginto

him.Theyoungwarriorbrokeintoarun,panting,thintrailsoftearstricklingfromthecornersofhiseyes.Hetripped,stumbled,cuthishands,andgotuprightoncemore,hisawkwardstaggerturningintoarunashefinallyfoundapatchofsolidground.Hefelthislungsburnastheeavesoftheforestloomedupahead,thenlaunchedintoabedofbracken,scoopingoutwithhisarmslikeachampionswimmeratthe Five Challenges as he fought through to the woods behind. Then he wasthrough,burstingoutlikeastartledboarontoaslightinclinecarpetedwithtree-needles.He looked behind him, but nothingwas coming through the bracken.Thenightairwasstill.Finallysafe,Vandersentoldhimself.Thenastyvoiceinhisheadsnickeredagain,nodoubtenjoyingthesensationofhimlyingtohimself.‘Notyet,’saidadeepvoicetohisright.‘Aaaagh!’shoutedtheyoungguard,fallingbackawkwardlyontoonehandsohardhiswristbrokewithanaudiblecrack.Hepushedaway,scrabblinginpanicthrough thepineneedles as amassive shape loomedout of the shadowof thewoodsahead.Thestrangerfromthekeep.‘Donotrun,’hesaid,hisvoicestrangeashecockedhistuskedheadtooneside.‘Ibringagift,tohelpyou.Look.’Vandersenfelthimselfcompelledtolookupatthemonstrousgiant,hisbalefulred eyes glinting in a bulky, broad silhouette. He was holding something outtowardsVallac,thesoftblueofthenightskyshiningfromitsroundededges.Ahumanskull,brownwithageandpolishedtoahighsheen.‘Thisisaboonforyou,mortalman,’saidthegiant.‘Anditwillbringgiftstoothersinturn.’Hetookoutawidestripofhessianandwrappedtheskullinit,tyingthecloth’sendstogetherandtuckingitroughlyintoVandersen’sbelt.‘Donotloseit,oryouwillsufferthesamefateasyourfriendsatthekeep,andbegivenanewbodythatyouwillnotfindtoyourliking.’Vandersenlookeduncomprehendinglyupwards,hisminddrowninginaseaoffear.‘Youwillbeflesh-changed.Doyouunderstand?’‘Yes,yes!’saidVandersen.‘Justletmelive!’HebrieflyrecalledseeingHarasenwrithingonthefloor,fleshyarmssproutingfromhisarmpitsashiseyesgoggledinpanicandpain.

Thetuskedstrangergaveasigh.‘Oh,youwilllive,littleman.Youhaveworktodo.’Thegiantreachedouttwofingers,eachthewidthofadagger’shilt.Vandersen,outofhismindwithfear,frozelikeawintercorpse-ratasthegiantpressedthetipsofeach fingeragainsthis temples,holding them there fora secondbeforeremovingthemwithaslightshiver.‘Now.Gettoit.’Vandersen nodded vigorously before backing away. The stranger stood,watching him with those glowing red eyes. He seemed to be studying himintently,hismannerasifhewasaparentwatchinganinfantanimaltakeitsfirsttentativesteps.Vandersen put a tree trunk between them, pressing his back against it in thehopethatthestrangerwouldleave.Thenheheardafainthumofservo-motorsasthegiant turnedandstrodeoff,woodcrackingandsplinteringunderfootashewent.Theguardsmanranforhislife.

Half-deadwithexhaustion,malnourishedandsotiredthathiseyeskeptrollingbackinhishead,VallacVandersenstumbledupthemosaic-pavedroadtoSoul’sWell.Notlonguntilhewassafe,hetoldhimself.Butsomewhereinhisheadheknewthatwasalie.Nowandagainatatteredsupplicantwhohadcometogazeatthefortress’glorywouldwishhimwell,holdoutacaskof stalewater forhim todrink from,orsprinkle himwith cheap incense droplets as he passed. Even the thrall-guardsandarcherserfsinthetowerslookeduponhisbloodyfeetandthesmearsheleftbehindhimwithapproval.Theysawonlyapilgrimwhohadsacrificedmuchtocome before them; somewhere Vandersen had lost his boots, and he had theweather-beaten,sunburnedlookofamanwhohadwalkedfordayswithoutrest.Vandersenignoredthemall.Afterall,hehadworktodo.Themain arterial route to the fortress-monastery, the Road of Supplications,stretchedacrosstheentirecontinentinoneformoranother.Hereitwasawidemosaic-tiledpathwaycleanofallbutdustandthegiftsofvassalsupplicants.Itwasflankedbylong,flutteringbannersthatdisplayedthefinestvictoriesofeightthousandyearsofloyalservicetotheEmperor,eachmountedonatallpinetreedenudedofitsbranchestobetterdisplayitsadornment.Highabovethem,crowscircledandcawed,keptawayfrombannerandmosaic

by burning, crown-like braziers. The high torches lit the gloom, casting anorangelightdownfromeachstripped-baretree.Everysooftenthecrackleandpop of boiling sap would send a flurry of embers trailing lazily through thenight.Thefortressupaheadwasbuiltatopamountainofastonishinggrandeur.Soul’sWellwasrumoured tohaveadeepabyssalpitat itsheart that leddownto thewater tablebeneath themountain.Vandersen’sgrand-sireshadalways said themountainhadbeencoredbythearborealgodFerna,itsgreatpitscoopedoutbyhisvast gnarledhand so that hemightquenchhis thirstwhilst he sat atop thepeak and marvelled at the planet’s arboreal vistas. Now, only the Absolversdrankfromthatdeepartesianwell.TheyhadtakenFerna’sseatforthemselves–aswastheirrightastherulersoftheplanet,anddefendersoftheImperium.Eyes cast down, Vandersen saw depictions of sacred scenes in the mosaicsunderhisbloodiedfeet–ofFernagiftingtheMountaintotheAbsolvers,oftheCrushing of the Green Beast, of the Time of Upheaval and the Smiting ofCardinalBucharis.Eachtimehefelthisspiritsupliftedbythedepictionsofsuchglory, thehorriblevoice inhisheadwould tellhimtheawful truth– thedeathtoll,theconfusion,thestarvationandanarchyleftinthewakeofeachconquest.Thevoicewouldnotlethimrest,talkingtohimeverytimehisminddriftedoff,andwakinghimbackupeverytimehelapsedintoahalf-secondofsleep,evenashisfeetshambledeveronwards.Nearlythere,hetoldhimself.Nearlydead,repliedthevoice.Vandersenwandered into theshadowof thePortalofSoul’sWell,a toweringedifice that was asmuchwater clock as it was gateway. Sculptures of saints,dragons and sacred engines ofwar ticked and swung and clattered into place,clashinglancesagainstmetalscaleswithfaintmetallicnoises.The Portalwas one of theWonders ofAllhallow, beloved by allwho hailedfromthere.ItsmaingatesonlyswungopenwhentheImperialKnightscametopayhomagefromnearbyHenchkeep;Vandersenhadalwayshopedtoseethemin person one day. The personnel doors at the gate’s base seemed tiny bycomparisontothoseofthePortal,buttheyweretheonlychanceVandersenhadofgettinginside.Asheapproached,aheraldiccyber-servitor,dwarfishinsizebutwithachild’shead upon its thickset body, descended from its gargoyle’s perch. It washovering upon a repulsor pack fashioned to look likewide silver pinions, andbearingasetofscalesinonehandandashortspearintheother.

‘Halt-you… pilgrim,’ it said, its voice tinny and oddly squeaky. ‘Pay…respects…here.’‘I have work to do,’ said Vandersen, his voice ragged and wheezy fromexhaustion.‘You…will…halt,’saidtheseraph-servitor,itscyberneticeyewhirring.Partofits chest fell away, a nozzle extruding fromwhere its heart should have beenwithatinypilotlightflaringinfrontofit.‘I bring news to themasters.News of a visitor.An angel of death, in blackratherthanwhite.’‘An…’Theseraphpaused.‘Explain.’‘This newcomer took SixthWest by force. He is one of them, I swear it. ASpaceMarine.Ablackangel.’‘Black… Angel,’ said the seraph, its bionic eye unfolding like a flower toexpose a long lens that sent ruby light panning across Vandersen’s face.‘Protocolinitiated.’‘Whatisthatlight?Idon’t…’Therewas a loud clank from the gatehouse ahead.Three heavily-built vassalwarriors,theirliveryintheboneandblackoftheAbsolvers,emergedfromtheshadows of the gate ahead. One stood right in front of him, the other twoflanking him so that he had noway out. They lowered their ornate las-spearstowardsVandersen’schest.‘What’sinthehessian?’saidtheclosestguard.Vandersentookitoutofhisbeltandopenedittoshowtheyellow-brownskullinside.Hewantedtotellthetruthof what had happened to him, let the words spill out in a jumble until thedreadfulweight upon himhad lifted, but for some reason he just couldn’t getthemout.Itwasasifhismindwasstuffedfulloffrayingthread,confusinghisthoughtsanytimehetriedtofocusontherecentpast.‘Arelic,’hemanaged,turningitoverinhishandstoshowithadnoaugmetics.Theguardsnodded inassent; itwascommonenough forpilgrims tocarry thebonesoftherevereddead.‘Congratulations, runt,’said theeldestof theirnumber,apox-scarredbrute inornate plate armour with a laurel wreath curling around his helm. ‘You haveyourselfanaudience.’

CHAPTEREIGHTPLAGUEOFCHANGE

Soul’sWellAllhallow,ScorpidCluster

Vandersen limped and staggered through the tall, vaulted corridors of Soul’sWell, too tired to take in the beautiful tapestries and ornate autosconces thatlinedthewalls.Hewasledthroughinnergatesandalongdarkenedtunnels,hisescort the three vassals from the Great Portal. The fortress monastery wasimmense.Itfeltlikehehadbeenwalkingforthebestpartofadaysincehehadpassed through its legendary gateway, and he had long ago stopped staring inaweatthespectacleandgrandeurthatsurroundedhim.Theolderwarriormarchinginfrontofhim,whoVandersennowthoughtofasElderPoxbecauseofhisacne-crateredvisage,wasstillstaringstraightaheadashe marched with clockwork precision along the cold stone corridors. Bycontrast, the two guards behind their sergeantwerewatching him like hawks.WheneverVandersenveeredclosetoawall,hopingtoresthisheadonabuttressorstonememorialplinth,oneofthetwovassalwarriorsbehindhimwouldprodhimwiththebuttofalas-spear,orsimplyguidehimwithafirmhandbackoncourse.After a while Vandersen came to realise that the one to the left of himwastaking any excuse to hit him, whilst the one on the right was stern, but notviolent.Theywillbeatyoutodeath,youknow,said thenastyvoice inhishead.Onceyouhavegivenyournews.

He risked a glance backwards, catching a glimpse of his two guards – onegrizzledandbeardedwithheavybrowncurls,onewithacleanjawandanastysmirk. The smirker saw him looking and brought the end of his polearm up,catchingVandersen under the chin and rattling his brain as his jaws thumpedclosed.He half-fell as he turned, steadying himselfwith an outstretched handbefore staggering onwards, almost falling into Elder Pox before resuming hisstumblingwalk. The bearded guard gave a tut of disapproval, but hewas notsureifitwasaimedathimoratSmirker.Threemoreminutesandtheyhadreachedamassivevaultedhall,longcolumnsreachingup toarcoutandbecome the inner ridgesofvastdomes.Despitehisexhaustion, this timeVandersen couldnot helpbut lookupward, taking in theelaboratefriezesandfrescosthatstretchedupandaroundthedomes.Therewasenoughgoldleafheretofeedakeepforadozenwinters.‘The grand atrium,’ said the guard with the beard. ‘Count yourself lucky,pilgrim.Fewofyournumberevergetthisfar.’‘It’svery…amazing,’saidVandersenlamely.‘ButIhaveworktodo.’The cruel voice in hismind laughed, a high-pitched andmocking sound.Heshookhis head, trying to clear it out.His brainwas hurting, now, a thumpingheadachethatgotworseeverytimehelookedupatthefrescosofImperialsaintsandthegargoyle-likecreaturestheywereimpalingontheirlances.Thump,thump,thump.Vandersenrealisedthenoisewasnothisheadache,butfootsteps.Footstepssoheavytheyechoedaroundthedomelikethedrumsofwar.‘Is thishim,HighVassalFiorenz?’saidavoice frombehindand to the right,richandmellifluous.‘Itis,myliege.’ElderPox’svoicesoundedlikearoughcroakbycomparison.Vandersenlookedaround,andsawafigurefromlegend.TheLord of Soul’sWellwasmassively built, head and shoulders taller thanElder Pox and near twice as wide. His armour was every bit as ornate andexquisitely fashionedas thatof the strangerwhohadattacked the fortress,butwhere that one had worn battleplate of black with ornate gold filigree, theAbsolverlordworeflutedandsculptedarmourofivorywhite.Anerminecloakcascadeddownfromagorget framedby twomassivepauldrons,andastrangebackpackofonyxrosebehindhishead.Hisexpressionwasnotthatofaking,noreventhatofaguardlookingdownonhim.Hehadaneasysmile,andaglintinhiseyethatmadeVandersenfrownasifheshouldrecognisehim.

‘Longday,mylad?’‘I…Ihaveworktodo,’saidVandersen.‘Andwhatworkisthat?Canyounotaffordarespite,giventhecircumstances?’‘IbringamessagefortheCastellanofSoul’sWell,’hereplied,doinghisbesttoshake his head clear of the chuckling that echoed through it. He felt himselfshrink insideforamoment, thewordsbubblingoutofhim.‘There isoneherewhowouldmakeyoupayforyourpres…presump…’‘Let’s take this somewhere a little quieter,’ said the armoured lord, lightlyplacing a hand that could have crushed a human head upon Vandersen’sshoulder.‘Thatwillbeall,highvassal.Pleasewaitinthesouthernvestibule.’‘Ofcourse,myliege,’saidElderPox.‘Thoughyourmessagesaidweweretoescortthe–’‘Thatwillbeall.’‘Of course.’ The guard sergeant, his face twisted up into what he probablythought was a smile, backed away, motioning his men to do the same. Theybowedasone,turnedsmartly,andmadetheirwaybackthewaytheyhadcome.TheAbsolver, his hand still onVandersen’s shoulder, started slowly towardsoneofthesidechambersthatopenedoutfromawallfullofsculpturalscenesofbattle.Halfdazed,Vandersenwalkedalongsidehim,shootingoccasionalglancesup at the lord’s handsome features as he talked. Vandersen had to keepremindinghimselfthekinglyfigurewastalkingtohim,andhimalone.‘Youhaveimportantnews,Ihear.Let’sretiretothischamberbeforewespeakofit.’Vandersennodded.Hehadafeelingthatretiringanywherewouldmeanhewasunlikelytocomebackout,butwastoointimidatedtodisagree.‘I find the grand atrium to be excellent for bellicose speeches, my lad, butabsolutelyawfulforpersonaldiscourse.Ionlychoseitasarendezvoustofulfilcertainexpectations.’‘Yes,but…Ihaveworktodo,’stammeredVandersen.‘Soyousay,’noddedtheking,guidingVandersenthroughintothechapel.‘Andweshallseeyoutothisworkassoonaswecan.’Hard,confidentfootstepsfilledthehallasanotherAbsolverstrodequicklyupto them. He was clad head to toe in ivory battleplate, wax-sealed ribbons ofparchmentoneachofhisgreatpauldrons.‘MasterCastellan,’saidtheivorywarrior,‘itisasyoususpected.Therecentlytranslatedfleethaselementsof theFirstemergingfromsomemannerofbroadspectrumdata-shroud.Theircommandechelonhasalreadymadeplanetfall,and

onlynowisapproachingusforanaudience.’‘I have business to conclude here first,’ said the king, ‘for this young manspeaksofanangelicfigureinblack.Iamsuretheywouldunderstand.’Thenewcomerbowedhishead.‘Ofcourse.’‘HaveSergeantNexareadyhishunters fordespatch to their location,and tellhim to act as necessary to ensure our shared agendas align. Use those exactwords.Tellhimtogreetourvisitorswithduehonour,andletthemknowIwillbewiththemassoonasIcan.’Strikingafistuponhisbreastplateinsalute, themessengerturnedonhisheelandmarchedback thewayhehadcome.Theking smileddownoncemoreatVandersen,guidinghimtowardstheroomattheedgeoftheatrium.Thechapelwas a visual feast, all statue-lined alcoves and elaborate chandeliers, butultimatelyitwasnothingnexttothepresenceoftheAbsolverlord.Vandersen still found it difficult to look away from him. His tanned skinwrinkled around the eyes, reminding Vandersen of his father. His teeth werewhite,butonewasbrokenbehindaswollenandslightlybruisedlip.Thelackofperfectionmade the SpaceMarine seem a little less frightening,more humanthanthestatue-likesaintsofbattledepictedinthekeep’smosaicsandfriezes.Thearmouredgiantpressedhispalmagainstarune-slateastheypassedinside,andaheavydoorslidshutbehindthem.‘MynameisMasterCastellanModdrenoftheAngelsofAbsolution,’hesaid.‘Ihavethehonourofbeingthestewardofthisgreatfortress,Soul’sWell.Andyou,myyoungguardianoftheforest?’‘VallacVandersenofSixthWest.’‘Isee.Tellme,Vallac.Thisworkyouspeakof.Isittobearmeamessage?’‘Yes!’saidVandersen.‘Ifyouaretrulythemastercastellanofthisfortress.’‘Idoindeedhavethathonour.SometimesIevengettodefendit.’‘ThenIamtotellyouthis.’Thewords came out in a strange groan, as if itwere someone else speakingthroughVandersen’smouth.‘You will wear your innate corruption for all to see,’ he said in a gutturalmonotone. ‘You and all those who consider themselves absolved, you willexhibit thesinsofthefathers,andwewillexposethetruthwithin.Thereisnoescapingit,theworkofaeonshasalreadybegun.’Vandersensuddenlycollapsedtothefloor,panting,withsweatrollingdownhistemples.Histhroatfelthot,stinging,asifhewerechokingbackvomit.Moddrendropped tohishaunches,placingone largehandbehindVandersen’sspineand

proppinghimup.‘Wheredidtheblackangelgiveyouthismessage,Vallac?’‘IntheDuskenwald.Iescapedthroughthesallyport,buthetrackedmedown.’Thewordscameinarush,asifadamhadbroken.‘Ididnotwantanyofthis,Ijustwantedtoescape,Idon’tbelonghere!’‘Catchyourbreath,son.Noneedtoproceeduntilyouareready.’‘Aren’tthereotherAbsolverscomingtomeetyou?’‘Intime,’saidModdren.‘Ifthereisahostileactionlevelledagainstourplanet,nomatterhowsmall,thenithasmyfullattention.Theycanwait.’Vandersen gulped down air, sitting upright and nodding. After aminute hadpassed, he pushed the giant’s hand to one side. ‘I can continue,’ he said,coughingtoclearhisthroatashegottohisfeet.Hisvisionswam,churninglikebloodinawhirlpool.Hestaggered,butModdrenguidedhimtositononeofthechapel’spews.‘You can talk sitting down,’ said Moddren gravely. ‘Go on. You say youescaped.’‘Yes,’ saidVandersen,noddingagain. ‘Heattackedus.But I’mnot surehow.Somekindofwitch-magic,Ithink.Hedidn’tevenfireashot.’‘Whatdidthismagiclooklike,Vallac?’‘Itchangedthem,’said theyoungman.‘Itcameoutofhisstaff,andchangedthemintomonsters.’HelookeduptomeetModdren’seyes.TheAbsolverlordwasgazingdown,fullofconcern,thefinger-thinbeardaroundhismouthpulledinto a triangle by his downturned lips. Vandersen found himself caughtsomewherebetweenaweanddreadbeforepullinghiswitsbacktogether.‘Icancontinue,’hesaid,hugginghimselfforamomentbeforeexhalingdeeply.‘It’sfine.’‘Good.ThisSpaceMarine,Vallac.Helookedsomethinglikeme,didhenot?’‘No,’saidVandersen.‘Notreally.Hewas…big,buthehadallthisgoldscriptonblackarmour,strangetusksonhishelm,andaweirddeviceclampedaroundhishead.’‘Didithavecoilsatthetemple,andakindofhood?’‘Ithinkso,’saidVandersenwithaninvoluntaryshiver.Thehairsonthebacksofhisforearmswerestickingupatthememory.‘It’shardtoexplain.Thehoodlitup,beforeallthemenbeganto…change.’‘Thatmakessensetome.Hewasusingwitchery.Whatelsedidyouseebeforeyouran?’‘Up on the battlements, the men were being attacked by something. I saw

glimpsesofsomethingweird.Whatevertheywerejustappearedoutofnowhere.Icouldhearthem,butIneversawthem.Ijustran.’‘Understandable,’saidModdren,nodding.‘Butyousayhecametoyouinthewoods?’Doit,pawnoflies, said thevoice inVandersen’shead.Dowhatyoucame todo.Hefelthisheadachebuildtoapeak.‘Yes,’hesaid,screwinghiseyesshut.‘HeranmedownasIwastryingtogetawayfromSixthWest.Hecameatnight,andcaughtmeup.’Hisheadachewassplitting,now,robbingthecornersofhissight.‘Hetoldmetogiveyouthismessage.’Reaching out with his good wrist, Vandersen grabbed a heavy shriving ironfrom the end of the pew and brought it round hard towardsModdren’s scalp.Quick as a snake, themaster castellan caught his arm, squeezing so hard thewrought iron stick fell fromhis shakinghand.Vandersen could feel his bonesgrinding.Heconvulsed,nonsensespewingfromhislips.Let it flow, foolish curseling! screamed the voice inVandersen’s head.Let itout!‘I think that concludes our conversation. For now,’ said Moddren, haulingVandersen to his feet and sliding the chapel door openwithhis other hand. ‘Ihaveenoughinformationtoworkwith,highvassal!’Vandersenswaminahazyfugue,fightingtokeepfocus.Fromtheothersideofthegrandatrium,hecouldseethetrioofguardsrunningtowardshim,theirlas-spearsheldattheready.‘Escort this young man to a holding cell. Do so with great care. He isunpredictable,andlikelymind-snatchedbysomeentitythatwishesusharm.Heattackedme,oratleasttriedto.Hestillhasmuchtoofferus.’‘Yes,myliege,’saidElderPox.‘Ifthisisthebesttheycando,theyhavesorelyunderestimatedus.’ThesmirkermovedquicklybehindVandersenandgrabbedhimbythewrists.Hefelt themyankedbackbeforethecoldmetalofafinger-thickchainpressedagainsthisfleshandpulledtight.The master castellan pulled his helm from its mag-clamp at his waist andplaced it over his head, its laurel-crowned faceplate glinting in the gloom.‘Command,’ he said, the vox unit making his voice strangely mechanical,‘musteranimmediatespeartipstrikeforceforSixthWest.Primeclearance.’The bearded guard scowled disapprovingly in front of Vandersen, his las-

spear’stiphoveringclosetohisthroat.‘Move,traitor,’hesaid.Vandersenwaspushedhard,andhestaggeredaway,bulliedacrossthemosaicflooroftheGrandAtriumandintoadarkcorridorleadingawayfromthelight.HecaughtaglimpseofMasterCastellanModdrenasheleft,staringintentlyathimasifhewereabothersomeinsect.

Vandersenwasshovedroughlyintoacellthatwasnolargerthantheinsideofaprivy.Hewasforcedtostoopandcrawleventogethislegsclearoftherapidlyclosingdoor,scrabblingtothebackofthetinyroomtogatherhislegsupagainsthischest.Thedoor slammedshutwitha resoundingclang thatmadehisbrainrattleinhishead.‘Makethemostofit,’saidSmirkerfromoutside.‘That’llseemlikeparadisebythetimewe’refinishedwithyou.’Thebeardedguardlaughed,apeculiarcrossbetweenagruntandasigh.‘Theyaren’ttookindtoheretics,downhere,’herumbled.‘Andrightlyso.’Vandersen shookhis head as if trying to shrugoff a baddream,desperate tothinkof thewords thatwouldpersuade thevassalsoutside tounlock thedoor.The low throb of pain in his forearm brought hismind back into focus; if hewanted to get out, he had to gather his strength. He stared down at his arm.Thickbruises,purpleandyellow,werebeginning toblossomwhere theking’sgauntletedfingershaddugintohisflesh.It’snomore thanyoudeserve,basalwretch, said the little voice in his head.Eventhiscellistoogoodforyou.‘Shut up!’ said Vandersen, unconsciously scrabbling at the cloth bundle stilltiedtohiswaist.Hefeltsomethingthere.‘Shoutandscreamallyouwant,’saidSmirker.‘We’requiteusedtoit.’Vandersenpluckedathiswaistsomemore.Somethingwasmakingitdifficultto sit down.His hands found something there, something large and round.Hedimlyrememberedbeinggivensomethingintheforest,andfeltarisingfeelingbetween relief andmounting terror that the guards had not confiscated it. Hetookoutthehessiansackathiswaist,staredatitasifhehadneverseenthelike,unravelledit,andlookednumblyatthecontents.Afleshlesshumanskullstaredback.‘Doashesays,littlepiglet,’itsaid.‘Scream.’Vandersenscreamed.

InthehearthchamberofSixthWestsatGohoraelofCaliban.Thehigh-backed

castellan’s seathehadchosen forhis thronewaspositionedat theheadof theelder-table, andoneof thekeep’s servo-cherub attendants hovered above eachshoulder.Before him were the remnants of the keep’s defenders – those that hadsurrenderedtohim,suffereddebilitatingwounds,orbeensoovercomewithfeartheycoulddonothingbutwatchastheirnewmastertookhisdue.Notasinglemanorwomanamongstthemhadkepttheirtrueform,eachtwistedbyeldritchpowerintosomethingfardeadlierandmoreunsettlingthanahumanbeing.‘Comeforth thebrave,’saidGohorael. ‘Youwhowouldcarrymymessage tothenextflock,andthenext.’A barrel-chested creature with tiny, handless arms no thicker than sticksstumbled forwards. The distended sac of its cranium flapped like the bulgingheadofanoctopus.‘Isherve,’itslurred,thickstringsofdroolpouringfromitsdiscolouredjaws.Itwas repulsive, thought Gohorael, but the killing light of bloodlust was in itseyes. Itwouldserveasadistraction,at least,andasavessel for the infectiouschangestocome.‘So you do,’ said the giant. ‘I name thee Non Manus. You may spreadenlightenmenttothenon-believers.’Atthis,Gohoraeltookoneoftheage-brownedskullsfromaroundhisneck.Heuntangled the cordwrapped though its eye sockets, and placed it aroundNonManus’neckwiththeceremonyofakingbestowingamantleofleadershipuponhisfondestarch-duke.Themutantclackeditsjaws,ropesofspittleflyingleftandright.‘Nowbear that relic south, andmakeyourway into thenextkeepyou find,’saidGohorael. ‘Use its power to destroy anywhowould resist the gift of ourpresence,thenreturnithere.’‘Yesshhh,’saidthecreature,noddingasifithadonlynowseenthelight.‘AndwhoelseamongstyouwouldspreadthewordoftheArchitectofFate?’saidGohorael,hisarmsheldwide.‘Thisworldisingraveneedofhisteachings.’‘Iwill,’ said a long-limbed freak of aman, odd bulges ofmuscle protrudingfromhiselongatedneck.Heseemedas ifhehadbeencrying,butstoodproudnonetheless.‘Iwillbearthisnewtruthforthebettermentofall.’‘Ah!’saidGohorael.‘Aneloquentone.Howgratifying.Bowthatmightyhead,andinherityourdestiny.’The lanky creature knelt down, eleven foot of ganglingmuscle folding itselfintoacrouchbyGohorael’s throne.TheSpaceMarinetookanotherskullfrom

theoctocraniadwreath,placingitoverthemutant’sneck.‘YouwereoncecalledFenas,wereyounot?’‘Iwas,’saidthecreature.‘ButIhavesinceseenthelight.Mymindisaflame,andIhavebeenreborn.’‘So you have,’ saidGohorael. ‘Youmay keep yourmortal name. I dub theeFenastheBrave.Youwillmakeafinespokesman.Goeastwardintothenight,carrythattreasurewithyou,andspreadthewordofthePrimordialTruth.’‘Ishall,’saidFenas,unfoldinghimselfbeforewalkingoutofthehearthroomasifinadream.‘MayIapproach?’Gohorael looked askance at the next supplicant.He had the appearance of anormalman,olderthantherestandrunningtofat,butfortwothings–hiseyesweremissingfromtheirsockets,andasecondpairofarmshunglimplyfromhisarmpits.‘Ah.Mywould-behost.’‘Yes,’saidthehuman,scrapinganailgingerlyattheedgeofthered-blackpitsthatwereoncehiseyes.‘Harasen.Iwastheonefoolishenoughtoresistyou.’‘Andnow?’‘Iseethingsmuchclearer,mylord.Youhavemyundyingallegiance.’‘Icanbelieveit.Youarefortunate,forIaminaforgivingmood.Cometome,Harasen.Igiveyouanewnamethisday.’The castellanmoved forward, easily avoiding the debris of the broken chairsandshatteredcandelabrasthatlayonthefloordespitehisblindness.Hekneltinfrontoftheimprovisedthrone,andbowedhishead.‘InametheeTruthseer,’saidGohorael,carefullytakingoneoftheskullsfromaroundhisneckandplacingtheleatherloopthatbounditoverHarasen’seyelesshead. ‘You above all others have looked upon the glory of change, seeing itslightwithoutmortalsenses tocloudyourperception.Goforth,headeastatalltimes,andshareyourvisionwithallyoumeet,evenwhentheunbelieverandthenaïftriestostopyou.’‘Yes,mylord,’saidHarasen.Hegottohisfeet,alittleunsteady,andheadedforthegate.‘The work of aeons is underway once more,’ said Gohorael. ‘Now whoamongstyouhasthecouragetobenext?’

Inhistinycell,Vandersenbithislip,tearsappearingatthecornersofhiseyes.The varnished skull was still staring at him, that maddening grin seeming to

mockhim.‘Goon,moon-child,’itsaid.‘Screamagain.You’regoingtodiehere,friendlessandalone.Youknowittobetrue.’‘No,’saidVandersen,pushinghisfistsintohiseyes.Itwasnouse.Thepainwasstillthere,andtheimages.Oh,theimageshehadseenoverthelastfewminutes.Evenoneofthemwasenoughtoscarthemindforever.‘Letitallout,insignificantworm,’saidtheskull.‘It’sbuildingupinyourhead.Ifyoudon’tletitout,it’llburst.’‘Leavemealone!’shoutedVandersen,hiswordsreverberatingaroundthecellasifitwerethesizeofanemptycathedral.‘Butyouarenotalone,plaguebringer,’saidtheskull.‘Iaminherewithyou.AndIwillhavemysport.’‘No!’ saidVandersen, flinging the skull hard against thedoor.Thedoor flewwideopen,and theskullsimplystopped inmid-air, turning tofacehimwithamocking grin. In the corridor beyondwas Smirker, scrabbling upright from ahalf-slump.‘WhatinFerna’schaliceis–’Vandersenfoundhimselfshivering,quaking,convulsingashismind-wrackingheadache spread to encompass his entire body. His stomach convulsed, awrenchingfeelinginhiscoreasifaninvisibleclawclenchedathisguts.Astreamofglowingwhiteenergysuddenlyshotfromhismouth,pasttheskulland into Smirker’s open jaws, slamming him back against the corridor wall.Smirker spasmedandshook, limbs flailingas theoutpouringofenergypinnedhimagainstthewall.Thebrickworkblackenedandcrackedaroundhim,ahaloof incendiaryenergy that leftan inversesilhouetteas ifhehadbeenshotbyaheavyflamer.Vandersenheard running footsteps, the soundsomehowclearasdayover thehorror that eclipsed hismind. It was the bearded guard, disbelief slowing hispaceashewitnessedthesupernaturalspectaclebeforehim.Vandersenbitdownhardon theenergypouring fromhismouth.The strangeemanationbeamingoutofhiscrawceasedforablissfulmoment.Smirker slid to the flagstones,wisps ofwhite smoke curling fromhismouthand nostrils. The other guard turned toVandersenwith an expression of purehatred,speartippointedstraightathischest.Thefloatingskull turnedin theair tostarerightatVandersenoncemore.Hismind filledwith flickering imagesofbloodycarnage.Heopenedhismouth to

scream.As the guard stepped forwardswith his spear levelled atVandersen’schest,anotherbeamoflightshotout,catchinghimintheneck.Thebigmanconvulsedas thecascadingbeam travelledupoverhischinandinto his mouth, forcing its way in like a snake burrowing into a prey-beast’stunnel.He dropped the las-spear to the flagstoneswith a clatter and fell limpontotherecumbent,comatoseformofhisguardmate.Vandersengave an involuntary sobof fear and confusion. It became a ruefullaugh,thenagabbleofunintelligiblesyllables.Then,asSmirkerandhisbeardedcomradeclamberedclumsilytotheirfeetandstoodvacant-eyedbeforehim,hislaugh turned into a horrible cackle that sounded as if it came from no livingthing.

Fenas the Brave stumbled through the woods, the skull around his neckbouncingmadlyashestoopedunderthistreeandthat.Forcedtorunalmostbentdouble by his impossible height, he had scratches all over his arms and legs,somequitedeep,andhisthroatwassorefromcrying.He ploughed on regardless, driven by some nameless desire to… share. Topropagatehisgift.Fenasfelthisvisionbegintoclear.Heslowed,thenstoppedaltogether,staringin horrified amazement at his elongated, over-muscled limbs. Sobs rose in hischest,greatwrackingspasmsofterrorandpanic.Fearnot,saidthevoiceinhishead,thevoicehecouldswearwascomingfromthevarnishedskullaroundhisneck.Theglorythatyouholdwithinyouismorebeautifulthanthesunset.Youserveadivinepurpose.Marchon.Fenasnodded,chokingdownhisanguishandmakingoffagain.There,onthehorizon,hecouldseehisquarry.Asetof lowwalls, the remainsofanancienthillfort.Firessentlazytrailsofsmokeintotheeveningair,andfaintstrainsofviolmusicreacheddowntohim,piercingthefoginhishead.Herecognisedthetune–theDancingDuke,itwascalled.Ithadbeenoneofhisfavourites,before.Youarethebringeroftruth,saidtheskullaroundhisneck.Thisnight,theywilldancetoadifferentmelody.Fenasnodded,hisgrinexposingfartoomanyteeth,andresumedhisloping,ungainlyrun.

ThevassalguardknownasJethredGhaunngotunsteadilytohisfeet.Foronce,his habitual smirkwas entirely absent.Hewas still in the corridor outside theholding cell, but his throat and chest were aching as if he had choked on alungfulofdankfiresmoke.Jethred had been looking forward to spending some quality time with the

captive,Vandersen.OncethatbeardedoafTrentonwasoffhisattendancecycle,Jethredwasgoing topracticea littlewithhisknife, telling thehighvassal thewounds he inflicted were in self-defence. Such little indulgences helped himforgetwhathappenedattheFiveChallengeslastyear,ifonlyforawhile.Instead, though, Jethredhadbeencaughtoffguardwhen thedoor flewopen,hisspearupassomekindofservo-skulldistractedhim.Theprisoner,Vandersen,had taken his shot.He had felt something hit him, pushing inside him beforedisappearingentirelywithoutleavingsomuchasabruisebehind.Theprisonertoowasgone,histinycellemptyofeverythingsaveascrapofsackcloth.TherewasnosignofTrenton.Jethred felt a risingneed to flee, or at least tomove away from that horriblecell,andfindsomewherebright.Somewherewithlotsofpeople.Thekitchenswereagoodplacetostart.Thevassalguardfeltsomethingburninhischestashesetoff.Itfeltlikeaveryweakacid,butcoveringhisskinaswellashisinsides–andititchedlikefury.Each timehe scratched it, itgotworse.Hecould feel itmovinguphis throat,slowlybutsurely.He heard heavy footsteps, the thunderous thumping of a Space Marine. Heturnedthecornertobeconfrontedbyaloomingwallofwhiteceramite–oneoftheAbsolvers,accompaniedbythreevassals.‘What happened?’ asked the Space Marine, his vox-cast voice intense andangry.‘Theautoseraphsarereportingaprisonerbreach.’Jethredwasabouttoreplywhenagreattorrentofburningwhiteectoplasmshotfromhismouth, spraying theAdeptusAstartes and splashing onto the vassalsnearby. The Space Marine fell back, clutching his helm. His attendantsscreamed, clawing at their clothes as the fabric clung to the molten fleshbeneath.All three of them began to shudder, strange growths jutting from their skin.JethreddrewhisknifeandstuckitrightintheneckjointoftheSpaceMarine’sarmour,aimingforhisjugular.Thebladesnapped.ThentheAbsolverbackhandedhiminthegut,sendinghimsprawlingdownthecorridor.Jethred rolled in a tangle of limbs. His stomach had ripped open inside himundertheforceoftheblow;hecouldfeelitasaqueasyknotofhorrorandpain.Itwassopainfulhecouldnothelpbutletthatfeelingout.Hisvisionbecameablindingwhiteblur,theagonisinglightinhisheadturninghisworldinsideout.

When he recovered hiswits, thewallswere streakedwith glowing red-blacklines,moltenstonedribblingfromtheirundersides. In thecorridorbeforehim,theAbsolverhadbeencutintothreesmoulderingchunks.Oneofthevassalswasneatlybisectedfromshouldertohip,hisremainssteaminggentlyinthecorridor.The other two were staggering away, one clutching his stomach, the othergrabbing at his head as if to keep it from splitting open. Glowing whiteectoplasmdribbledfromhismouth.Agoodstart,youngdolt, saidavoice insideJethred’shead.Butwestillhaveworktodo.

CHAPTERNINEHOPEYET

Ferro-GiantThetoidSaltireVex,PelagicIndustrialWorld

ChalnathExpanse

Rigswoman del Aggio picked her nose absently as she stared through themonitorroom’swindow.AnArvuslighterwascomingthroughtherain,itsstab-lights illuminating Thetoid’s skyshield pad. She checked her manifest’s data-slatefortheincomingcraft’scredentials.Noscheduledvisit.‘What did I say,Markens,’ she said over her shoulder to her colleague. ‘Noidents.’Aswasinvariablythecasewhenanythingunusualneededdoing,thebigmanwasasleepathisstation.‘Markens,youuselesslumpofsump-sludge!’‘Huh?’ThesoundofoldrecafftinsscatteringaroundheraldedMarken’sreturntowakefulness.‘Wehavecompany.Theunscheduledkind.Mightbebringingwordaboutwhenwe’regettingoff-world.I’mheadingouttocheckit.’‘In this weather?’ said Markens, shaking his head. ‘Want me to come withyou?’‘No,I’vegotit.Nosensebothofusgettingthecold-ague.’DelAggiopulledherblanketsaroundhershoulderslikeacloak,thenpulledatarpaulincoveralloverherheadandstruggled itdownover thewhole lot.Shefeltmorelikeanambulatoryconethanawoman,herglovedhandspokingoutlessthanafootoneitherside,butatleastshewouldkeeprelativelywarm.

As she neared the door, del Aggio grabbed her pulse pistol from the desk,secretingitunderherblanketsandtuckingitshandleintoherbelt.Shehadbeendying to fire the bulky sidearm in earnest since the first shipment ofweaponscameinfromthet’au.Ifneededitwouldburnthroughtheblanketsjustfinetogiveanyhostilesanastysurprise.Perhapstodaywastheday.Fightingopenthedooragainstthehowling,cuttingwind,delAggiosteppedoutintothecoldofthegantryandgrippedtheicyrailhardasshedescendedtowardsthe skyshield. Ahead the Arvus lighter had already landed; no mean feat ofpilotinginthehowlinggale.Itwaspoweringdown.DelAggiobroughtonehand insideherblanketcloakandup to thehandleofthepulsepistol, thumbing the slide so itpoweredupandbecamewarm to thetouch.‘Comeon,Taker,’saiddelAggiosoftly.‘Makeyourmove.’Thelighter’srearhatchsprungupwithajerkofmotion,comingtoahaltbeforea well-muscled brown arm pushed it all the way open. Stepping out of thepassengerbaywasatall,well-builtwomanwithanexpressionlikeastormabouttobreak.Herdreadlockedhairwaspulledback ina tightsheaf,andshehadabloodybandagewrappedaroundherneckasanimpromptuscarf.‘Throne above,’ shouted del Aggio, recognising the woman from last year’spromotionsbriefing.‘You’reDeel,right?’‘Yes!Canwegetinside?’DelAggiobeckonedherover.Together the rigswomenclimbedback into theoctagonalviewingroom,Deelpullingthedoorclosedbehindherandre-sealingitwithaclunkofthewheellock.DelAggiowavedMarkensdown.ThebigmansatbackinhisprizedreclinerandlaydowntheheavyironrodhekeptincasetheTakerscameforhim.Theweakbluelightofthecage-lumenslitthethreeofthemasdelAggioandDeelslumpedintothenearestseats.‘Damnation,butit’sgoodtoseeafreshhumanface,’saiddelAggio.‘Markens,this is Rigswoman Jensa Deel. Big name from Omicroid. According to thegossiptraders,sheliterallybreathesfire.’‘Well,Ihaven’tdonethatinyears,’saidDeelwithatiredsmile.‘ThoughIcanstillrememberthetasteofpromethiumjustfine.’DelAggio laughed. ‘I bet.’ She took a bell jar ofmoonshine fromunder herdeskandhelditout.‘I’mKaitadelAggio.ChiefrigswomanofthisfineImperialedifice.’

‘Thanks,’ said Deel, reaching out a shaking hand. She swigged from the jarbeforemakingagrimace.‘Throne,that’sbad.’‘Betterthanyourpiss-weakOmicroidmuck,’saiddelAggio.‘Pickedanicenightforit,’saidMarkens,throwingDeelaraggedblanket.Shewrapped herself in it with a grateful nod. ‘Nowonder you look beaten. Hey,Aggro,didn’tyousayOmicroidwentupinflames?’‘Itdid,’saidDeelbeforedelAggiocouldreply.Shegulpeduncomfortablyasthemoonshineburneditswaydown.‘Ijustflewoveritssmokingremains.’‘Emperor’sfist,’saidMarkens.‘Alotofgoodsoulsthere.’‘ThescuttlebuttfromGammicsaidyoulotwerehitbyTakers,’saiddelAggio.‘Worststrikeyet.’‘Somethinglikethat,’saidDeel.‘They’retakingtheirowndamnedtimeaboutgettingtherelieffleethere,’saidMarkens.‘That’sbecausetheycancelledit,’saidDeel.‘What?’barkeddelAggio,standingupwithajolt.‘They’releavingusheretodie?’‘Verydeliberately.’‘Idon’t…’delAggio’seyeswerewild.Markenssatforwardinhischair,handsgrippingitsarmreststight.‘I’mworkingonit,’saidDeel.‘There’sashipinboundthatcangetusalloff-planet in one go. We need to let the other rigs know that single-point evacprotocolsneedeffectingifthisisgoingtowork.’‘Can’t do that from here,’ said Markens, shrugging. ‘You need at least twoseniorstafffromdifferentrigsto…’HestoppedwhenhesawDeelanddelAggiobothstaringdaggersathim.‘Ohyeah,’hesaid.‘Right.’‘Think of all those administratum slates we will have to wade throughafterward,’saiddelAggio,rollinghereyes.‘Whichwouldyouprefer,’saidDeel.‘Deathbyboredom,orhavingyourbloodfreezesolidinyourveins?’‘Point,’saiddelAggio.‘Beforewegettoallthat,though…’Shefrowned,andthe serpentine dragon tattoos that formed her eyebrows creased until theirtonguesweretouching.‘Howdidyouescapeyourriggoingdown?’‘Well,’saidDeel.‘That’salong–’Shestopped,lookingpaleandstricken.‘Youallright,girl?’saiddelAggio.

‘Can’t handle her shine,’ chuckledMarkens. ‘Told you these ‘croids got noguts.’DelAggiojumpedbackasDeelpukedagreatstreamofmoltenlightontothefloor,thesubstancehissingasitdribbledthroughthegratebeneathherfeet.ShejerkeduprightandlookedstraightatdelAggio.Hereyesandmouthwerelitbyafiercelight,herfaceahorrifyingmaskwiththreewhiteholesaglow.‘Bloodyhellfire!’shouteddelAggio,leapingupontoherseatandscrabblingtogetherpulsepistoloutfromthetangleofherblankets.Shefumbledit,thebulkysidearm skittering into the glowing puddle of vomitous discharge that wasseeping through the floorgrate.Markensgrabbedhis iron rod, lifting it acrosshimselftodeliveraheavybackhand,andswung.Deel outstretched a hand, and Markens froze, unmoving, his flabby bulkunbalancedbutsomehowremainingheldinmid-swing.‘Wait,’coughedDeel.‘Ican…Icanexplain.’‘Can you?’ shrieked del Aggio, scrabbling up the pulse pistol. ‘Aagh!’ Theglowingwhiteliquidburnedherskin,andshejuggledthepistolbeforepullingasleeveoverherhandandregaininghergrip.Shedesperatelytriedtogetacloth-coveredfingerintothetriggerguard,butherheadhurt,asuddenonsetheadachethatmadeitimpossibletoconcentrate.‘SevensocketsoftheHolyThrone,whatonTerraiswrongwithyou?’Deeltookthepistolfromherhandandsetitdownbehindherasifrelievingitfromachild.Despiteherself,delAggiowastooshakenuptoresist.‘Idon’treallyknowwhat’shappeningtome,’saidDeel,herhandstrembling.‘Butyouneedmealive,thatIcantellyou.Orwe’realllost.’‘Whatdoyoumean?’‘It’snotjustsomeerrororaccidentthattheyaren’tgoingtoextractusthistime.Theywantusdead.’DelAggiopaled.‘Why?’‘Theyknowabout the t’au.But you and I are going tomake sure that everyman,womanandchildgetsoffthisplanetbeforeweallfreeze.’‘How?Andwhatabout…this?’Shemotionedatthestillsizzlingvomitontheoctagonalchamber’sfloor.‘I…Iate food supplies intended fora t’aumetabolism. It’s fine. Ihad toeatsomething.’‘Iknewthiswholexenosthingwouldturnoutbad,’saiddelAggio.‘Youheardabout that alien mercenary warsphere in Saltire nearspace? The one full ofcannibals?’

‘It’sgettingnearer,apparently,’saidMarkens.‘Nooneknowswhy.’Deelmadeaface.‘No,’saiddelAggio,hereyeswide.Deelnoddedslowly.‘Ohyes.That’souronlyrideoutofhere.’

CHAPTERTENSIEGEBLITZ

FortressSixthWestAllhallow,ScorpidCluster

‘Battlestations.’Xedro Farren opened his eyes, his hands automatically checking the criticalpoints of his bolt rifle.His augmented senses pierced the amber gloomof theNightHarrower’shold.Hisbattle-brotherssatrangedaroundhim,silentandstill.Someofthemwerelooking around, taking stock just as he was. The grinding growl of theRepulsor’sgravplateenginesfilledthetank’sinterior.Farren glanced at the data-slate mounted on the control interface. TheHarrowerwas making its way through a thick coniferous forest with a long,windingpathcuttingthecentre.Farren leaned over and pressed the script-rune at the base of the data-slate,refreshinghisknowledgeof themissionparameters.Theyhadmadeplanetfall,the drop-ships landing in a vast clearingwithout incident. Now theywere enroutetoatraditional-lookingImperialkeep.Itwasagarrisonpointformerlyheldbythevassalsoftheirallies,theAngelsofAbsolution,butaccordingtothebriefitwasnowinthralltodangerousrebels.Lately Farren had been longing for battle, and those who stood against theAdeptus Astartes upon their own home planets were in dire need ofextermination.Thesweetreleaseofcombatwasclose.Astraythoughtsurfaced,scratchingatthebackofFarren’smind.

OnanAdeptusAstarteshomeworld,couldn’ttheresidentChaptertakecareofonesinglefortressinrebellion?‘PrimarisoftheThirdCompany,’cameChaplainZaeroph’svoiceoverthevox.‘WeareuponAllhallowat the requestofour successorChapter, theAngelsofAbsolution,whocallthisforestworldtheirhome.Wearetoextinguishthefiresof a rebellion. The planetary sub-class is feudal, so we do not expect heavyresistance.’‘Wepeasantsshouldfitrightin,’saidMoricani.Farrenshothimalook.‘One of the Chapter’s sentinel fortresses has turned from the light of theEmperor,’ said Zaeroph over the magna-vox. ‘Squads Farren, Orenst andParvell, stay the course on full ahead. You Primaris Marines will form thevanguard,attackingviathedrawbridgeandthegate.Youareclearedtokillonsightanythingthatisnotwearingbattleplate.Makeitcount.’‘Aye,’repliedFarren.‘Understood.WewillwingloryfortheChapter,forTerra,and…’Hepaused,frowning,beforecompletingthephrasebyinvokingtheholynameofMars.Somethingwasnotright.‘Engagementrangeinthreeminutes,’saidGsarovertheinteriorvox.‘Icanseethetargetedificethroughthetrees,lieutenant.Thesitehasextensivelyfortifiedouterwalls,andahighkeepwithin.Relayingpict.’Farrenshookhishead,dispellinghisdoubtsashetookstockofGsar’svisual.Alarge fortress with a prominent gate house and a raised drawbridge behind amoat,ithadIcarusbatteriesoneachtower’scornerandahigh-walledkeepatitsheart,eachfasciaadornedwithasixty-footcarvingofafaceless,hoodedangel.Henoddedasthebattleaheadunfoldedinhismind,planninghismodeofattackinamatterofseconds.‘Lieutenant,’saidThrunn,‘Imustask.If this isaChapterplanet,whyareweattackingit?Cantheynotseetotheirownbusiness?’‘And were we not intending to engage an ork presence after transit?’ addedGsar.‘Don’task,’saidVesleigh.‘Justact.’Farrennoddedinaffirmation,butsaidnothing.‘These Angels of Absolution are not the Lion’s first sons,’ said Enroddismissively.‘Theyneedaneducationintheartsofwar,iftheycan’tkeeptheirownhousesinorder.’‘Doesitmatterwhyweareattacking?’saidLenkatz,Moricani’ssecond.‘Ifwearetoldtotakeoutarebelstrongpoint,thenwetakeitout,andleaveasmoking

craterasawarningforthenextidiotstoentertainhereticalthoughts.Mygun’smachine-spirithasbeendormantwaytoolong.’‘Iknowhowitfeels,’saidEnrod.Moricani smiled. ‘Nothing like revolting amounts of firepower applied tohereticswhoconsiderthemselvessafe.’‘Justgetthejobdone,’saidFarren.‘Andstayfocused.I’manticipatinghavingtosplitourforcesifwe’retogetallofthem.’‘TheRavenwingwilllikelytakecareofanystragglers,’saidVesleigh.‘I’mnotsosure,’saidFarren.‘Ican’trecalleveractuallyseeingtheminbattle,and I’mbeginning to think that’s deliberate.Helms on. I’mgoing for awide-spectrumview.’Heopenedthehatchat thetopoftheRepulsorandsprungup,catchinghimselfbeforeliftinghisupperbodysmoothlyupwards.The grinding of the Repulsor tripled in intensity as it accelerated to combatspeed, its anti-grav engines shaking the hullwith a perceptible vibration. Theblack-walledfortresscamecompletelyintoviewastheHarrowerturneda longcurvingcornerontheforestpath.Withitsbattlementsloomingoverthetreelineahead, Farren could see it was clearly designed after the classical fortress ofCalibanitedesign,itswallscantedandangledtodeflectincomingshotwiththeminimumofstructuraldamage.Fromwhateveravenueofapproachtheattacker’sshotscame,hisassaultwouldbeblunted,andanywhobravedthekillingfieldthathadbeenestablishedarounditwouldpresenthimself to thequadautocannonarraysmountedoneachof itseightpoints.Eachemplacementwasmountedonaballandsocketgimbalsoitcouldbebrought tobearonany foe thatdaredapproach.Themaingate itselflooked almost impenetrably thick, a giant slabofmetal and stone emblazonedwith stylised battle scenes. On a Chapter planet, such a gate would likely beproofagainsteverythingshortofamulti-melta.‘Can you take down one of these trees so it falls away from us,Gsar?’ saidFarren.‘Oneofthereallylargeones?’‘IfIputtheIcarusrocketstoitaswell,almostcertainly,’saidGsar.‘Therearea fewcontenders.Bymyestimates thegarrisonherehavebeen lazywith theiraxesoflate.Wantmetoknock?’‘Ifyouwould.’‘Engagementrangeinthree…’saidGsar.‘Two…one…target.’The hull of theHarrowerwas filled by the screaming roar of its las-talondischarging.Twinboltsofcrimsonenergyslammedlowintothetallest,widesttreeattheclearing’sedge.Gsarfiredagain,theseconddualboltblastingintothe

baseofthetreetoweringnexttoit.The trunkscameapart inanexplosionof thickflinders.Thefirst treemoved,thenthesecond,eversoslowlyleaningtowardsthepath.TherewasawhooshfrombehindFarren’shead,andtwopairsofmissilesshotoutfromtheRepulsor’sIcaruspodtoveerupwards,strikingeachtreethirtyfeetfromthetipofitstrunk.Themissilesdetonatedwithanear-splittingbang,theirimpactsendingthegiantconiferoustreesbacktotopplestraighttowardsthefort.Gsar’scalculationswereimpeccable,asever.Thefirst treecrasheddownintothecurtainwallwithtremendousforce, thetipof itshardwoodtrunksmashingdown the battlements even as the other trunk crashed home.A great cloud ofgrey dust, needle leaves and spinning debris rose up, but the fortress wallremainedwhole.Farren ducked back into the Repulsor just as the point defence guns on thebattlements swung around to face him.He heard thebrak-brak-brak of heavyautocannonsfiring,eachpunchingimpactringingloudontheHarrower’shullinapercussivestormofshells.Moricani laughed, somethingwild inhis tone.Farren savoured the feelingofthecocktailofstimulantchemicalsflowingthroughhisbloodinresponsetohisspikingheartrate.HethoughtofoldPaterCawlinthatmoment,ofthecontempttheancientarchmagoswouldhavehadat thevery ideaofanenemyhoping tostopaRepulsortankwithavolleyofconventionalshot.Nomatterhowmanyoftheirgunstheybroughttobear,itwouldnotbenearlyenoughtosavethem.TheHarrower slewed across the clearing from the wide road to follow theforest’s eaves. Itsbrother transportsbulled forward together for themaingate.TheDireTidings, transport of SquadParvell, swept a killing volley along thebattlementswithitsheavyonslaughtcannon.Farrennoddedinapprovalwhenhenoticedthatthetank’sgunner,Ferendt,hadfiredinstutteringburstssoitsboltsfound the gaps in the battlements and not the crennelations themselves. Thevolleywasrewardedwithscreamsofpainfromthegarrisontroops.Nottobeoutdone,theonslaughtcannonofSquadOrenst’stransport–Heaven’sTroth–pouredastreamofbulletsintothequad-gunarrayonthenearesttower.Theheavycalibreshotsknockeditoffkilter,blewofftwoofitsbarrels,thentoreitawaycompletelyinascreamoftorturedmetal.The Harrower, having ground a path of mud and rock across the verdantclearing,wascloseenoughtomakeapushforthewalls.Farrentookholdofthepintle-mountedcannon’smanualcontrolsandsentalong,sustainedvolleyatthe

treesGsarhadfelled,splinteringawayswathesoftheiroutstretchedboughs.‘Nowornever,’hevoxedtoGsar.TheRepulsor rose upon its grav impulsors andmounted the two fallen treesnear theirbases.The treesgroaned,splinteringandcrackingas the tank’santi-grav fieldpusheddownwith immenseweight,butGsar’s skill asadriverwassuchthattheHarrowermadetheclimboverthemoatatanevenpace.Thetankgrounditswaystraightupthemightytrunks,itsgravfieldsnappinglesserbranchesandhurlinggreatcloudsofpineneedlesintotheairasitpushedinexorablyupwards.AsitgotclosertothebattlementsGsaracceleratedhard,thejutting stumps of the trees’ broken boughs no impediment to the Repulsor’saggressivegravfield.FarrenwatchedastheHarrower’smainarmamentcantedupwards,itslas-talonliningupwiththequad-gunarraythatwastearingatitsflankwithrakingblastsof autocannon fire.A dual blast of ruby light, and the quad-gun emplacementwasreducedtoamangledclawofmetalreachinguptothesky.ThentheRepulsorwasupandover thewall.Farren’sstomachlurchedas thetank launched from the battlements. There was a moment of weightlessnessfollowedbyastrange,cushionedthump.Thelieutenantunslunghisboltrifleanddroppedinside,readyingafraggrenadewithhisfingeroverthereleaseswitch.‘Now!’Thetransport’sfrontalrampflewopenwithaclangofpistons.Sunlightpouredin. In the courtyard before themwas a rag-tag assemblage of vassals, humanscladindefacedheraldry,manyofwhomwerebringinglasgunstobear.Someofthem were disfigured mutants, badly changed by whatever vile gods theyworshippedinplaceoftheOmnissiah.Spearsof ruby light shotout from theirguns,glancing from theHarrower tolittleeffect.Farrenhurledhisgrenadeatthethickestconcentrationoftherebels,the detonation sending a group of them sprawling in a cloud of blood andshrapnel.‘Traitors,’shoutedFarren,‘yourdeathhascomeforyou!’EnrodandVesleighwerealreadyfiring,kneelingoneithersideofFarren.Hetookuphisownboltrifleandpickedoffonetarget,athree-eyedfreakwithtoomanychins.Hissecondbolttookdownthequadrupedalmutanttohisright,andhisthirdtheelephantinebrutebehindhim.Eachroundtookarebelinthecentremassbeforedetonatingtospraygore,boneandoffalinawideradius.FarrenheardthesearinghissofplasmashotsfromeithersideoftheHarrower,alongwithMoricani’sfamiliarbarkinglaugh.Thesergeantandhissquadwere

taking adeadly tallyof their own,burning spheresof superheatedgasblazingoutintightvolleystovaporisethelasgun-armedmutantsbythedozen.This was not glorious work, thought Farren. Not a worthy foe. But it wasnecessary.‘Anymoment,theycharge,’saidFarren,watchingmoreofthemutantcreaturesspill fromthespiralstaircases,barracksandgatehousesaroundtheedgeof thecourtyard.Hecouldreadthehatredintheireyes,thesetoftheirshoulders,thesnarlsontheirlips.‘Gsar,beready.’The rebelswere gabbling, screaming andmoaning in pain as they levelled atatteredvolleyoflasfireatFarrenandhisbrothers.Afour-hornedmutant’slas-shot smackedhim in the leg,but theauto-reactiveplateoverhiskneecap tookmostoftheimpact.Hereturnedfire,hisbolthittingthemutantinthenose.Theshotcavedinhisfaceasplitsecondbeforeexplodingmessily,leavingaheadlesscorpsetopplingintothedirt.Farrenlookedleftandrightbeforescanningthetoplevelsofthefortress.Ashewatched, a building-levelling explosion blasted away a massive chunk of thebattlements from the top of the keep ahead. Through the clouds came aThunderhawkgunship,lowandsteady,withitsmetaljawsagape.‘HerecometheFirst,’saidVesleigh.‘Highandmighty.’‘Focus on the enemy,’ said Farren. ‘The counter-attack is close.’ Nearby themutantcreaturesweremassingintoathrong,twoofthemcarryinghessiansacksfilledwithbulkycylinders.AgreatroarwentupastherebelsrushedtheRepulsor.Farrenputaboltintothebulging,distendedneckofthenearestonecarryingasack-charge.Hewentdownhard,hissackofdynamitespillingitscontentsacrosstheyard.Vesleighgotthesecondmutant with a chest shot just as he hurled his explosives towards thePrimarisMarines.Amomentlater,therebelburstinawelterofredfluids.‘Fire in the sky,’ saidMoricani, loosing a bolt of plasma at the satchel as itarcedthroughtheair.‘Brace!’shoutedFarren,turninghisshoulderashisbrothersfollowedsuit.Thesatchelsofdynamitedetonatedwithaseriesofstaccatobooms.Theblastwaveflungmutantbodiesbackwards,paintingtheflagstonesredasitbowledFarrenandhisbrothersbackintotheHarrower.Therewasamomentofstunnedsilenceamongstthethrong.‘Getbackinside,’saidFarren.‘Wehavesecondsatmost.’Hisbrothersmovedinwithpractisedefficiency,somethroughthefrontramp,othersthesidedoor.

Then,asifdrivenbyasingleoverridingimpulse,theremainderofthemutantmobchargedwiththeirvoicesraisedinachorusofhellishscreams.‘Gsar,’saidFarren.‘Doit.’‘Aye,lieutenant.’TheHarrower’sengineswhinedasifoffended,thengaveacoughingboom.Amassive pulse of anti-gravitic energy burst out from its perimeter of bulkyrepulsionplates.Thechargingmutantswereflungawaybyaninvisiblewaveofforce, tumbling back into the dirt or slamming into the walls of the garrisonbuildings.‘Go!’saidFarren.HechargedfromthefrontoftheHarrowerwithEnrodandVesleigh closeonhis heels.Farren sent threebolts into threedifferent targets,eachofthemwithinadozenpacesofthenext.Hewasalreadysearchingoutnewhostilesasaseriesofdetonationsrippedapartthosehehadalreadydoomed.His squad claimed their own impressive tallies as they moved, killed andmoved again. Loud hissing roars came from close behind as Moricani’sHellblasters took out the quad-guns pivoting around to draw a bead on thePrimariswarriors.TherewasaloudexplosionfrombehindthemastheHeaven’sTrothandDireTidingsfinallytookdownthemassivedoortothekeep.Shatteredatthehingesby las-talon shots, the giant structure toppled in an avalanche of broken stoneanddust.TheTrothwasfirstthrough.TheRepulsor’sfrontjawsopenedwide,andOrenstandhisbrotherschargedout,adding theirownbolt rifleshots to theone-sidedfirefight.‘Secondlevel!’shoutedFarren.‘SquadOrenst,you’rewithme.There’sawayintothekeepupthere.Moricani,taketheright.’‘Itwouldbemypleasure!’shoutedbackMoricani,farlouderthannecessary.Farrendarted into the leftmost corridorwithin the thickestpartof thecurtainwall.Heturnedthefirstcorner,andtookalasgunshotrightinhischest.Itfeltlikeapunchtothesolarplexus,butheshruggeditoff;hehadtakenworseonthedunesofMars,andhewasalreadyrunningthroughit.Asilhouettedfigurestumbledbackwardsinthecorridorahead.Farrenshothiminthechest.Themutantsprawledasacratersuddenlyappearedwherehislungsshouldbe.Hefellbackintotheshaftoflightfromanarrowslitbeyondtorevealahideousmaskofpinkflesh.Beyondthemutant’scorpsewasawidesetofstairs.Farrenleapedthecadaverwithoutbreakingstride,Enrodclosebehind.Thelieutenantwasalreadyhalfway

uptheflightofstairswhenheheardVesleigh’svoice.‘Whatincog’snameis–aaagh!’Farrenspunround,lookingoverEnrod’sshoulder.Themutantwhosetorsohehadblastedopenhadrisenupasifpulledbyinvisiblestrings.Hewashanginginmid-air.Astreamofwhiteenergywaspouringoutofthemassoffleshwherehisfaceshouldhavebeen,boringintoVesleigh’schestlikeaplasmatorch.Shadowsdancedacrossthewallslikefiendsatsomehellishbacchanal.‘Killit!’shoutedFarren.HepushedEnroddown,bringinghisboltriflearoundtotakeashot.Tooslow.Thrunnhadalreadylaunchedhimselfatthehoveringcorpse,bringingitdownhardinapit-fighter’sslamhold.SicklywhitelightpouredouteverywhereasThrunnputhiskneeonthething’sneck,leaningallhisconsiderableweightonitwithasickeningcrack.Withonehandhegrabbeditshead,forcingitatanunnaturalangletopointtothewallincase it vomitedmoreenergy.With theotherhegrabbed its collarbone, fingerssinkingdeepintoitsflesh.Then,withagreatheave,Thrunnpulledthecorpse’sbodyonewayandpusheditsheadtheother,decapitatingitinamessyburstofbloodandectoplasm.‘Youcouldhavejustshotit,’saidEnrod.‘Enough,Enrod,’saidFarren.‘Vesleigh,areyoufittogoon?Thatlooksbad.’Theyoungwarriorshookhishead.‘Iamcompromised.Iwilltaketherear.’Heheavedas if tovomit,andbloodspilledfromhishelm’sgrille. ‘It’sgonerightthroughme,Ithink.Myfurnace…Myfurnacehasbeentriggered.Imustfighton.Icannotwasteit.’‘Understood,’ saidFarren. ‘Imade it back fromaBelisarian surgeonce.Youcantoo.’Vesleigh nodded stiffly, struggling his helm off and mag-clamping it to hiswaist.‘Ineedair,’hesaid.‘Comeon.’Farrentooktheleadoncemore,takingthestairsthreeatatime.‘Wait,’saidVesleigh,screwinguphiseyes.‘Idon’tthinkI’mgoingto–’Suddenly, theyoungwarrior convulsed, his back archingunnaturally far, andscreamed like a man on the rack. He started to lash out, hands grasping likeclawsathisbrothersnearby.ToFarren’shorror,hiseyesstartedtoglowwhite.Thrunnstruckhimhardinthesideoftheheadwiththebuttofhisboltrifle,andVesleighwentdown.‘Cogsabove,’saidFarren.‘Thatispsyker-mark,withoutadoubt.’Heopenedasecondary vox channel. ‘Orenst, followus upwhen you’re able to and secure

Vesleigh if you can.Wemust findwhatever phenomenon it is that is causingthis,andpullitoutbytheroot.’Heturnedtohisbrothers.‘Wemove,now,onme.’Runningonwardsupthestairswithhisbrothersintow,Farrenmadehiswayuptowardsawidehardwoodscaffold.Hepannedthebarrelofhisboltriflearoundashereachedthearchwayentrance,itsbulkpulledtightagainsthisshoulder.Ashe emerged, his eyes widened in disbelief. Before himwas a scene from theImperium’sdarkestnightmare.Fromthecornerofhiseye,Farrencaughtaglimpseofat’austealtheremergingfromtheshadows.Beforehecouldreact,thexenos’shotstruckhiminthehead.Farren’sworldexploded.

CHAPTERELEVENGRIMREVELATIONS

FortressSixthWestAllhallow,ScorpidCluster

SergeantMoricanisprintedhardupthestairs,hisplasmaincinerator’srechargecoilslightingthestonecorridor’swallsastrangeunderseablue.‘Timetodieinflames,heretics,’hecalledintotheshadows.Thereweresoundsofbattleinthedistance,comingfromthetopofthekeep,byhisreckoning.NodoubtZaerophandhisveteranDarkAngelswereuptherealready,havingallthefun.The Hellblaster sergeant reached a long stretch of tunnel and ran down it,Lenkatzandtherestofhismenhardonhisheels.‘No signal on this level,’ saidDarrodan, his forearm auspicator pinging. ‘Allthisfirepower,butnoonetouseiton.’‘Sowegoonward,’saidMoricani.‘Andup.’Heranupanotherflightofstairs,heavy footsteps pounding on the flagstones, and emerged on the top of thebattlements. He checked down the line of his gun for signs of life, but sawnothing–thedefendersofthissectionofthecastlehadbeenkilled,andlessthanaminuteagobyhisreckoning.‘Energyweapons,’hesaid,lookingdownatacadaverwithafist-sizedholeinits chest. ‘Plasma, by the look of it. Perhaps our Ravenwing or Deathwingbrothersgotherefirst.’‘Bitsmallforaplasmagunshot,’saidDarrodan.‘Iwasthinkingthattoo,’saidMoricani.‘Pistol,maybe.’

Leapingthecorpsesofslainmutants,heranoverahardwoodscaffoldtoreachthekeepbeyond.‘Dokeepup,’hecalledbacktoLenkatzandtheothers.Theyredoubled their pace, gathering aroundMoricani with their bulky incineratorsaimedtocoverallpossibleentrances.Aheadofthemwasalargeirondoor,bandedwithsacredtextsandinfo-locks.ItwasProteus-pattern,byMoricani’sestimation,andthereforeproofagainstevenahydraulicbatteringramarray.‘Right,’saidMoricani,holdinghisguntohislipsforamoment.Hetookastepbackandaimedatthelock.TherewasahighwhineasMoricaniranhisgun’splasmacoilstomaximum.Itwasfollowedbyasearingbang,andaflashofpainfullybrightbluelight.Awideholeappearedwherethedoor’sinfo-lockhadbeenamomentbefore,thechokingfumesofvaporisedmetalfilteringthroughthePrimarisMarines’helmstostingattheirnostrils.Moricanikickedhardjustbelowthehole,andthedoorflewopenwithaloudclang.Thesergeantwasthefirstthrough,chargingupalongspiralstaircasethatringedtheinsideofthecylindricalkeep.Highintheinteriorwasanenormousbell,sothickwithdustandguanoithadto have been silent for decades. The sounds of explosions and gunshots camefromhighabove,and thegiantbell rangdullyon thecuspofhearingwith thereverberations.‘Thosearestormbolterrounds,’saidLenkatz.‘Doubledetonation.Mymoney’sontheDeathwing.’‘Thenlet’sgetupthere!’Moricanishoulderedhisplasmaincineratorandranupthestonestairsthreeatatime,takingcaretostickclosetothewallashemadehiswayuptheinsideofthetower.Thesergeantheardthethunderandcrackofbattlemuchclearerashegotcloserto the top of the tower, so clear he could make out the weapons beingdischarged.He could feel a glorious thrill of anticipation coursing throughhisveins.Underneath his jests, he had often wondered what it would be like to fightalongsidethefinestwarriorsintheFirstLegion,toactivelywagewarshoulderto shoulder with the heroes of theDarkAngels. The thoughtmade his bloodpumpfarmorethanhewouldeverpubliclyadmit.Moricanireachedthetopofthestairs.Astouthardwoodtrapdoorbarredtheirpath. He put his shoulder to it and pushed hard, but the whole structure wasreinforcedwiththree-inchstrapsofiron.Withonlythesmallestfractionofgive,

itfeltasifithadbeenslab-boltedfromtheotherside.‘A little room, please,’ said Moricani. ‘I am about to offend Phobossian’smachine-spiritforasecondtimeinasmanyminutes.IfIhavetohavemynameetchedonthepillarsoftheHallofFireasaresult,Iwouldratheryourswerenotbelowit.’Moricaniretreatedacoupleofsteps,kneelingandraisinghisguntoanalmostverticalanglebeforetakinghisshot.Thetrapdoor’sright-handsidedisintegratedin a shower of molten metal and burning flinders. He stood tall and put hisshouldertoitoncemore,thistimepushingitajarashebroughthisgunupwithhim,andfoughthiswayupandoutasbesthecould.Thesergeanthadbeentrainedforyearstotakeinabattlesituation,assessthebestroutetovictory,andactdecisivelyinthesamemoment.Yet thesight thatgreetedhimontopofthevastbelltowerwassounexpecteditleftMoricaniallbutdumbstruck.The bone-coloured armour of the Deathwing stood stark against soot-blackbattlements.Nearbywere the forbidding figures of CompanyMasterGabrael,Epistolary Dothrael and Chaplain Zaeroph standing with legs braced as theytookkillingshotswith theirplasmapistolsatanything thatcamewithinrange.TogetherwiththeveteransoftheFirst, theywerehammeringfireintonotone,buttwobreedsofenemy.Stomping,screaming,runningineverydirectionweremisshapenmutantsstillclad in scraps of the fortress garrison’s livery. Some of them were twice theheight of aman, nests of tentacles thrashing from their necks and armpits asstrange crustacean claws snapped and bulging eyeballs burst with the sheerintensity of themutative energieswracking their bodies. They foughtwith nofinesse or direction, bellowing like wounded bulls as they stormed throughplasmashotandboltersalvotofalluponthoseDarkAngelstheycouldreach.The other breed of foe atop the parapet was sleek, sophisticated and highlyadvanced,almostclinicalinitsattack.Moricanirecognisedthetoweringshapesoft’aubattlesuits–notthenear-invisiblestealtherstheyhadfaceduponSaltireVex, but gun-limbedgiants twice the size of aSpaceMarine.They laid downpulsingburstsoffireintoDeathwingTerminatorsandfleshymutantsalike.Theancient,bone-colouredTacticalDreadnoughtarmouroftheFirst’sveteranswas livingup to its reputation;Moricanicouldonlysee twoof theDeathwingthat had gone down, and even theywere firing their storm bolters from theirslumpedpositions.Thesamecouldnotbesaidforthemutantcreatures.Everyvolleyofpulserifle

firethatstruckoneofthemsearedittothebone,leavingdeepredwoundsinitsflesh.Thescentofsizzling,taintedmeathungintheairsostrongthatMoricanifelthisdiaphragmtwitchandhisgorgerisewiththeneedtogag.Hehadheardtellof the stenchofChaos,but to feel it in thebackofhis throatwasanothermatter.Hefoughthishorrorbackdown,takingadeepbreaththroughhismouthtore-establishhisbattlefocus.Athree-legged,slaveringhulkwiththelowerjawofacrocodilescrambledpast,intentontheDeathwingbehind.Moricanitookashotat its flank, blasting it away. It landed ten feet away amongst the steamof itsownatomisedflesh.Anothermutantwasquicktoreplaceit,aslenderthingscramblingforthonallfours with its back arched high. It gave a thin, keening scream as a trio ofDeathwing bolt rounds thudded into it and detonated in a spray of blood andbone.Each leftamassiveholeright throughthecreature,butsomehowitkepton.Thething’sshrieksseemedtocomefromeverywhereatonce,frombeyondthebattlementsaswellasatopthem.Severalmore of themutants joined in the din, voices raised inmadness anddespair.ThesoundcutrightthroughMoricani,asifthinneedlesofsoundwerepiercinghissoul.Heshotawingedfreakwith toomanyfingersas it rearedtopounce,blastingitoverthebattlements.The ravaged quadruped nearby shook as if in the grip of a palsy, howling.Whitefireburstfrominsideit,pouringoutfromitseyes,itsmouth,andtheentryandexitwoundsinitsflank.Moricaniduckedasoneofthewhitebeamssearedoverhead to strike a hovering t’au warsuit in the chest. He glanced back; thebeamhadcoreditfromfronttoback.Incredibly, thexenosmachine foughton fora fewseconds,dischargingmorepulseshotsintothespasmingmutantbeforeboostingbackwardstoslamintoabattlement wall. The warsuit fell amongst toppling crennelations beforebecomingstill.Wherethexenosgunner’sbeamshadputholesinthecreature,morewhitefiregushedout.Someofitstruckothermutants,andtheytooshuddered,thestrangeeffluviumshootingfromtheirmouthsandeyestocascadeacrosstheranksoftheDeathwing.Moricani took one down, Zaeroph another, but the chain reactionwasalreadyoutofcontrol.One of the veteran DarkAngels was hit in the thigh, andMoricani’s breathcaught as he saw the beam burning through to the flesh beneath, felling the

bone-armouredgiant.HehadseenTacticalDreadnoughtarmourturnasideevenalascannonblast,butthepsychicectoplasmhadmelteditasifitwerewax.Whatmannerofphenomenonwasthis?‘Sergeant,’camethevoiceofNenstLenkatzfrombelow,‘permissiontojointhefray?’‘Getouthere,’saidMoricani,sendingablastofplasmaintothenearestmutantbefore clambering out onto the parapet’s flagstones. Lenkatz’s head andshouldersemergedfromthetrapdoor,hisheavyincineratorcarriedupandoverashecame.‘Butstaylow,’saidMoricani.‘ThisisafarcryfromthebattleswefoughtonMars.’‘Icanseethat,’saidLenkatz, lookinginaweat thesurrealstruggleunfoldingaroundhim.Heraisedhisgun,overchargeditwithapiercingwhineandtookashotatthenearestt’aubattlesuit.Ithitthexenosmachineunderthearm,rippingthelimbfreeinasprayofmoltenalloysandgobbetsofalienplastektoexposethepilotinside.Thexenoswarsuit crouched for amoment before boosting away into the air.Another giant machine thumped down from the skies to cover his retreat,streamsofenergypulsingfromitsquad-barrelledcannons.Tothenorth,asquadofDeathwingstoodovertheirfallencomrade,theirstormboltersrippingapartthemutantsthatflailedtowardsthem.Anotherclutchofthevile things were throwing themselves towards a trio of t’au warsuits toMoricani’s left. Those that survived the xenos team’s punishing firepowerchargedphysicallyintothealiensuits.Oneofthegiantmachineskickeditsassailantsquareinthechestwithitshoof-like foot, sendinghim tumblingaway tocrouch lowandvomitbloodonto theflagstones. At the same time, another warsuit batted a mutant aside with thelong-barrelledweapon systemattached to its forearm.Themutant creature, itsgangling limbsgrasping, boundedbackup again tograb for the t’auwarrior’sbox-likehead.Ithungfromthewarsuit’snecklikeajunglefelidtryingtobringdownanogryn.Moricani tooka shot, the sphereof superheatedgasblasting themutantapartandslammingintothetorsoofthebattlesuitbehindwithforceenoughtosendittopplingoverthebattlementsinacrackleofenergies.‘Goodshot,’saidLenkatz.‘Thankyou,Nenst.’Moricani stoodup tohis fullheight,deftly trippinguparushing mutant only to stamp its distended head into the stone floor of theparapet a moment later. ‘Though this is what you might call a target-rich

environment.’Therewas amuted bellow as amutant with a pair of limbs jutting from itsdistended maw strode confidently towards Moricani, its halberd thrustingtowardshim.Moricanibackhandedtheflatofitsblade,swattingasidetheblowashisincineratorrecharged.Themutantwasquick,though,andspunthehalberdinafullcirclebeforethrustingoncemore.Moricanidivedasidetoavoidtheriskofbeingspitted.Droppinghisstill-chargingplasmagun,hedrewhisboltpistolfrom his hip and put a round between the creature’s mouth-arms beforeholsteringitagaininonesmoothmotion.The mutant fell back as its head burst wide open. Then the screams thatMoricanihadregisteredonthecuspofhearingsuddenlygrewloud.Theywereso piercing they hurt the soul, but he stillmanaged to scrabble up his plasmaincineratorandwhisperappeasementtoitsmachine-spirit.A swarm of strange fish-like creatures, much like the giant remora sapraysMoricani had spotted in Saltire Vex’s oceans, burst up from behind thebattlements and soared into the air. They shimmered in the light, their bodiesglisteningas ifcovered inmulti-huedoil.Theywereatoncedarkblueandallthecoloursofthespectrum.Daemons.Notthered-skinnedfiendsMoricanidimlyrecalledfightingatTerra,thanktheOmnissiah,forthosecreaturesofbloodandhatredhadcomeonbythethousand.Evenwithasingleglance,hecould tell theywerenotof thenaturalworld. They seemed somehow super-imposed over the reality of theirsurroundings,andthepatternsoftheirflightemanatedarawothernessthatmadethesergeant’sskincrawl.One of the creatures suddenly burst apart into gobbets of what looked likequicksilver. A lash of emerald lightning crackled over Moricani’s head – theworkofEpistolaryDothrael.Therestofthecreaturessuddenlyturnedinmid-air,theirpreviousupwardsmomentumintoasteepdownwardsdive,thenaswoop.Where the creatures plunged into the melee, their wings slashed limbs fromtorsos and heads from necks. With each pass they cut down mutants, t’auwarsuitsandSpaceMarinesalike.Moricani trackedoneof the thingsas it rosebackup, leadinghisshota littlebefore letting fly. The beast veered at the last minute as if it had known theattackwascoming,turningitsupwardflightintoaspiralandavoidingasalvoofboltshellsfromtheDeathwingbelow.The sky-shark creatures winging behind it gave a triumphant shriek as theypeeled away, swiftly coming back around to whip their mace-like tails at the

headsofthoseDeathwingdesperatelytryingtoshootthemoutofthesky.OneoftheSpaceMarineswasbowledover,hishelmcrushedsobadlytheheadinsidemust have been caved in.A pair ofmutants fell on him to rip and tear at hisneck.More of the fiendish creatures slashed through the skies, screaming as theyspun in strange helical patterns that dipped down to mutilate and slice thosebelow.Moricani’splasmaincinerator indicateditwasatreadiness,andhetookanothershot,thistimesingeingthetipoftheleadingdaemon’swing.Itcorrecteditsflightandflewonwithstrangegrace.Asalvooft’auenergypelletshurtleduptomeetthecreatures,thebrightlittlebeads appearing in suchprofusion the leadingdaemons could not avoid them.Theypiercedthefirsttwocreaturesthroughinadozenplaces,theirshimmeringnon-flesh quivering like jellyfish hit by a shotgun blast.Amoment later, theydiscorporatedincloudsofdroplets.Theichorspattereddownasacidraintohissandsmoulderontheparapet,andtherestofthedaemonsdispersedthroughthemorass,theirpiercingshriekstearingatthemind.‘Audio dampeners to full,’ said Moricani, drowning out the sound of thatinfernal screaming as best he could. He sent his next shot at the intersectionwhere two daemons were likely to cross flight paths. He had read theirmovements well; one of the beasts took a direct plasma blast. It burst into acloud of what looked like tiny silver fish spasming as they scattered in alldirections.‘Farren,’ said Moricani, ‘if you can hear me, you’re missing out on someweapons-gradestrangenessuphere.’Thesergeantdimlyheardashoutofrage.Hehalf-turnedatthelastmomenttoseeamonstrousmutantwithabull’sheadandtentacle-fingeredhandsslamintohim, liftinghimoffhis feetwith the impetusof itshornedheadbutt.Thinkingquickly, he thumped it between the eyes with the butt of his rechargingincinerator,thenreachedaroundforhisboltpistol.Thecreature’spresumptioninthinkingitcouldgorehim,especiallywhencladintheCawl-markedmiraclethatwasMarkXarmour,wassorelymisplaced.Withacoldshiverofapprehension,Moricanirealiseditdidnotintendtogorehimafterall.The bull mutant had its tentacle-talons wrapped around him tight, and wasabout tobowlhimover theedgeof theprecipice-likebattlementsanddowntotherockstwohundredfeetbelow.Therewasarushofhotairfromabove.Oneofthet’auwarsuitsdroppeddown

to stamp on the horned creature’s shoulders and neck. The creature crumpledintotheflagstones,knockedcold.Moricanifellbackwards,catchingacrennelationinthesmallofhisbackashereboundedfromthecastlewall.Herolledawayfromtheshimmeringjetturbinesofthexenoswarsuitsuddenlyinfrontofhimasthet’auwarriorpouredastreamofglowingenergybeadsintothefallenmutant.Flat on his back, Moricani saw one of the sky-sharks diving down fast, itswingsextendedtoslashatthet’auwarsuitfromabove.Hepulledhisincineratorincloseandfiredverticallyupwards, theplasmaboltvaporising the thing inacloudofmulticolouredmist.‘Ioweyounothing,’hetoldthewarsuit’sback.Itmovedawaywithoutaword,drivingbackapairofmutantswithafocusedinfernofromitscylindricalflamerweapon.Atsomeunheardcommand,thoset’auwarsuitsstillaloftturnedtheirgunsonthedaemonsswoopingoverhead.Flickeringstreamsofplasmafireandenergybeadsshotdiagonallyupwardstointercepttheflying,swoopingsky-sharks.AsMoricanigottohisfeet,hesawtheearthboundt’auwerefocusingtheirfireonthemutants,sendingcolumnsofflameandheat-seekingmissilestoincinerateand blast apart those fleshy creatures that still fought back. Togetherwith theDarkAngelsandPrimarisMarines,theywereregainingcontrolofthefight.To the west, CompanyMaster Gabrael vaulted up onto a rampart, and fromthere onto the control revetment of an emplaced Icarus quad-gun atop theparapet.Heswungitroundwithpractisedease,hammeringautocannonfireupattheswoopingdaemonsinlongstreamsofsolidshotthatglowedinthedarkeningsky.Threecameapart in thespaceofasmanyseconds.TheDeathwingaddedtheirownfirepower,andtheskiesweresoonclear.As one the t’au began to pull back, firing their jetpacks to jump over thebattlementsanddriftaway.Manywerestillpouringfirepowerintothedaemonsandmutantsalikeastheynearedthecanopyofthetrees.MoricaniandLenkatz sharedaglance, thenboth tookaimat thenearest t’auwarsuit.Theirdoublevolleycaughtthexenoswarriorfullinthechest,droppinghimlikeastone.‘Primariscontingent!’camethevoiceofChaplainZaeroph.‘Leavethet’autoflee.Theyarenolongerapriority.’‘Theyarexenos,sergeant,’cameLenkatz’svoiceover thePrimarisbrethren’sclosedcommsline.‘Theymustbeannihilated.Thisrebellionistheirwork.’‘Obeyyourorders,’saidMoricani, turning toDarrodanashepushedupfrom

thetrapdoortojointhefight.‘Confineyourfiretotherebels.’With the t’aumoving out of the fight,Moricani and the Deathwing broughttheir firepower to bear on the remaining mutants and daemons with terribleeffectiveness.NowtheSpaceMarineshadtheroomtopicktheirtargetsatwill,stormbolter shots shreddedhideousgrotesquesand sailing sky-sharks left andrightwithmethodical,contemptuousefficiency.MoricanimovedtofightalongsidetheclosestDeathwingTerminator,kickingahalf-dead mutant in the throat as he shot another in the back. Nearby theLibrarian,Dothrael,madeshortworkofthosedaemonsthatcametooclosewithhiscracklingforcesword,eachcarvingblowcuttingaswoopingsky-sharkapart.Those that kept out of reach he blasted apart with crackling arcs of bio-electricitythateruptedfromhiseyestowhipleftandright.‘Dothrael,’ shouted Moricani as a knot of mutants, previously playing deadamongstthecorpses,surgeduptolungefortheLibrarian’sback.Suddenly,CompanyMasterGabraelwasathisfellowofficer’sshoulder.Hecutdown themutants as if hewas born to it, impaling and bisecting and lungingagainandagainwith the easeof aChapter champion in apractice cage.Eachblowsentweltersofbloodsizzlingtothickenthescentofcookedmeatthathungin the air. Chaplain Zaeroph waded through the corpses to join him, simplybludgeoning those mutants that came within arm’s reach. Each swing of hiscrozius arcanum snapped a spine or caved in a skull in a flare of actinic bluelight.Inamatterofmoments,thefightwasover.‘Moricani,’cameafamiliarvoicefromthesergeant’sleft.ItwasDarrodan,atthetrapdoorwithLenkatz.‘What’shappening?’‘Gobackdownbelow,’ saidMoricani,motioning toDarrodan as hemade toapproach.‘Youtoo,Lenkatz.Somethingisgoingonhere.I’lldebriefyouonceI’vegainedaclearerpicture.’‘Ifyouaresure,’saidLenkatz.‘I am extremely sure,’ said Moricani seriously. ‘Given present company,Primaris trooperswillnotbewelcome.Neitherwillourofficers,come to that,butsomeonehastofillinforFarren.’‘Acknowledged,’saidLenkatz,followingDarrodanasheclimbedbackthroughthetrapdoorandontothespiralstaircasebeneathit.MoricaniheardDarrodan’svoiceastheywentbelow.‘Nojokes?Itmustbebad.’

Farren felt like his headwas going to split in two. His helmwas cratered so

badlyhecouldfeelthewoundpulsinginhisscalp.Hehadrolledasfastandasfarawayfromthesourceof theshotashecould,bolt riflepulled in tight,andshookhisheadtoclearit,butithadalmostmadehimpassoutinstead.Alreadyhecouldfeelhissystempumpinginvigoratingchemicalsintohisbodytocompensate.HisBelisarianfurnacehadnottriggered,thankfully,buthestillfeltliketheinsideofhiscraniumwasonfire.Hepushedtohisfeet,unsteadyforamomentbeforesteelinghimself.Muscle memory took over as he slid into a loose gunner’s crouch. Hesubmergedthesplittingpaininthecalmwatersofthebackofhismind,yearsofbattle trance meditations pulling his focus together despite the ringingdisorientationoftheambushingt’au’sheadshot.Around him his squad had formed a tight perimeter, fighting against someunknownenemy.Theirtightvolleysweresentinstaccatoprofusion,andthepaininFarren’sskullflaredalittlewitheverybolt loosedfromtheirrifles.Withouthis helm, the syncopated, percussive din of war would have been almostdeafening.Butthepainwasebbing,andhisfocuswascomingback.Aroundhimwasasceneofuttercarnage.Thewide,hardwoodplatform theyhadburstoutontoreverberatedbeneathhim,shakingunderthearmouredfeetofastrikeforceofAngelsofRedemption.DozensoftheirfellowSpaceMarinesfoughtbacktoback,sidetoside,boltershammering at the ghost-like forms that Farren dimly recognised as t’austealthers.He raised his bolt rifle and took a shot of his own at a chameleonic blur,missinghistargetbyahand’sbreadth.‘Cog damn it,’ said Farren under his breath. ‘Waste of a bolt.’ Ducking, heforcedhisfrustrationdownandtookstockoncemore.The platform was slick with blood, the gory remains of the keep’s garrisonspread liberally from one side of the scaffold to the other.Here and there thepower-armouredformsofslainAngelsofRedemptionwerestrewnamongstthecarnage, laid low by sustained plasma volleys or cored through by the sameintensepsychicdischargethathadclaimedVesleigh.Someofthemhadeyesthatwereglowingwhite,aghostlycorposantplayingaroundtheirsockets.Farrenshookhisheadandstoodoncemore,handsautomaticallycheckinghisbolt rifle. His helm recalibrated, presenting firing solutions on the nearestenemies.Stillplentyofxenosleftforhimtokill.Aslowlyrisinglustforrevengeswelledinhischest,demandingtobequenchedinblood.Hetookabead.

Then,inthespaceoflessthanasecond,thet’austealthersunderhiscrosshairsdisappearedfromhishelmdisplay.Farrencastaround,seeingstrangeripplesintheairforamoment.Thenthexenosweregonecompletely.‘WhatintheOmnissiah’sname,’saidEnrod,thebarrelofhisgunpanningleftandright.Thrunn,too,hadstopped.‘Wheredidtheygo?’hesaid,lookingaroundinpuzzlement.Parvellwasstillfiring.‘They’rerightthere,lackwit!’heshouted.Apulseshotcame from the shadowsandhithim in themidriff.Hecriedout as the impactsent him clattering back into Farren. Parvell’s bald head bounced off Farren’spauldron,hardenoughtoelicitastagger,butFarrencaughthimandpushedhimbackintothefight.Thet’aushothadbeenstoppedbythelayeredceramiteofhisMarkXarmour,andhewouldshakeoffhisdisorientationfast.FarrenloosedadoubleshotstraightpastParvellinthedirectionhehadlastseenthestealthers.‘They’rerightthere!’screamedParvell,shootinghisboltrifleintothecornerofthekeep.‘Whyaren’tyoufiring?’‘Xenotechhasattackedourmachine-spirits,’shoutedFarren.A volley of pulse rifle fire came in from a nearby battlement, lancing in tostrikeThrunnhardintheshoulderandburnhisChaptericonographydowntothebareceramite.Hewentdowntoonekneebeforegettingbacktohisfeet.‘Getincover,’saidFarren.‘Weneedtorethinkthis.’Hissquadduckedbackintotheleeofastonebuttress,shouldertoshoulderasthey reloaded and checked their rifles. Enrod primed a pair of frag grenades,hurling themout to cover their retreat.Thrunn slunghisweapon andmade totakeoffhishelm.‘No,’saidFarren,puttinghishandontheyoungerwarrior’sarmasthegrenadeswent off with a double explosion. ‘I won’t risk you taking a head shot.’ Heunclamped his own helmet with a hiss and mag-clamped it to his belt. ‘LetParvellandItacklethis.’‘That’s ironic,’ saidParvell. ‘Consideringyourordersduring theGlitchwarattheNoctisLabyrinthus.’‘Thatwasduringourtrainingwars,Parvell,’saidFarren.‘Againstmostxenosforcesyouexposeyourselftoneedlessdanger.’‘ButbackonMarsyouinsistedallofuswearourhelms,andindoingsoyoutookuseffectivelyoutofthefight.Fiveofourbrothersdied.’‘This is not the time to bring up old ghosts,’ said Farren tersely. ‘In myexperience nothing short of a headshotwill convince you to value a piece ofequipmentdesignedtokeepyourbrainsinsideyourthickskulls.Atleastcover

me,andcoveryourprofilewithapauldronwhereyoucan.’‘Aye,’saidParvell,‘that’swhatI’vebeendoingforthelastsixteenmonths.’A burst of plasma shot in, smacking off Farren’s gorget and scalding hisjawline. ‘Gah!’he said, turninghis shoulder and leaningout to return fire.Hecould see something shimmeringout there now, standing in the lee of a stonetower.Heputaboltrightinitscentreandleanedbackagain,narrowinghiseyesin satisfaction asheheard themuffledboomandpatter of an armourpiercingrounddoingitsjobinspectacularlygoryfashion.A dull murmur behind Farren grew to a shouting crescendo. The lieutenantspun on his heel, grabbing a frag grenade fromhis belt and priming it in onesmoothmotion.Sprinting towards themup thestairs fromthecourtyardwasamotleythrongoftwisted,hideousmutants,stillcladintheraggedscrapsofthegarrison’schainmail.Manywerearmedwithaswordandshield in theancientfeudal fashion. Farren made out snatches of slurred war cries amongst thegibberishshoutedbytherest.‘Destroythetraitors!Rushthem!’‘Castthembackintothedarkness!’Farren’slipspulledbackintoasnarlashelobbedthefraggrenade.Itbouncedwithapairofsolidthumps,itspassagetimedtoperfectionsothatitreachedtheclutchofmutantsjustasitwasabouttodetonate.The foremost mutant, a bulging sack of meat and ragged chainmail, threwhimselfatop thegrenadewithaplaintivecry thatwas far toohigh-pitched forsuchamassivelybuiltframe.Heflewapartamomentlaterasthefragmentationdevice detonated with a wet thump, its killing force choked by the rebel’ssacrifice.Thecreature’sfellowmutants,coatedwiththeircomrade’sremains,scrambledonwards.AstheypassedthroughtheshadowofacirculartowerFarrennoticedtherewassomethingdifferentaboutthem–alightthatsettheireyesandmouthsaglow in the gloom. Three white witchfires glimmered in each fleshy head.Whatever was causing the garrison’s mutation and orchestrating the rebellionwaslikelydownthere,inthedarkofthekeep’sdungeons.Farrenraisedhisboltrifleoncemoreandsetittofullyield,planningtoshoothiswaythroughthewalloftransmutedfreakstothetruthsthatlaybeyond.Hehadalingeringfeelingofuncertaintyinhisgut.Hewasbeginningtothinkitwasnotfleshandbloodtheyfoughtthisday,butsomethingfardeadlier.

Moricani closed the trapdoor behind his men, and turned back to the DarkAngelsatoptheparapet.ChaplainZaeroph,DothraelandGabraelwerestandingin themiddle of the circular tower, talking amongst themselves. Four hulkingDeathwingTerminatorsstood ina roughsemi-circlebehind theirofficers.Twoof their fellowswereononeknee,havingsustainedseriouswoundsduring thefight,butthebarrelsoftheirgunsdidnotwaverastheypannedslowlyacrossthecanopy beyond the battlements. Moricani made out their words as he movedcloser.‘Whatword from theRavenwing, Interrogator-Chaplain?’ said theDeathwingsergeant,agiantwithathunderhammerandtwostylisedwing-pennantscurvingfromhisshoulders.‘Thequarryiscontained,’saidZaerophtersely.‘Westillhavethebestvantagepointuphere.Fornow,weremainalert.’The Deathwing sergeant saluted. He and his squad were surrounded by thestrewn remains of dozens of mutant corpses, the scene reminiscent of somedemented abattoir. The air smelled strongly of burning flesh, scorched bone,gaseous plasma residue and vaporised plasteks. Liquid ectoplasm still drooledfromseveralofthemutantcadavers,glowingasitpooledbeneaththeirshatteredbodies.The fifth Deathwing Terminator, his leg half-severed from his body by thebeamofwhitepsychicdischarge,wasshudderingasifinterriblepain.Hiseyeswereglowingslightly–not theredofabattlehelmin lowlight,but thesamewhiteastheunnaturaleffluvium.Moricaniwas on the brink of saying somethingwhen one of theDeathwingstoopedand,coilsofenergywreathinghispowerfist,wrenchedopenedafallent’auwarsuit thathadbeenbreachedbythesamepsyker-stuff.Heyankedawaythe multiple layers of the suit’s outer armour with a series of loud metallicscreeches,dismantlingthewarsuit’schestsectiontorevealthepilotinside.Thealienbeingwithinwascomatose,but still breathing.He looked frail andmalnourished, especially next to the Space Marine examining him. Moricaninodded to himself. No wonder the xenos race put so much stock in thetechnology of war, compensating for their physical weakness with the mostimpressivebattleplatetheycoulddevise.Butwhatweretheywithouttheirsuits?Andwhatmannerofsoulcouldthriveinsidesuchapaltryphysicalshell?ThethoughtofaxenosspiritdidnotsitwellwithMoricani,andneitherdidtheidea of them carrying some manner of psychic curse. He saw traces of thestrangeectoplasmthathadblastedopen thesuit in theheatofbattle, spattered

acrosstheinsideofitscontrolhub.Hehadhalfexpectedthet’aupilottohaveglowingeyesliketheDeathwingveteran,buttohissurprise,thepilotseemedtobeunaffectedbywhateveraguehadclaimedtheSpaceMarine.‘Well?’saidDothrael.‘It’s inert,’ said the Terminator. ‘As you surmised.’ He reached in with hispower fist, its fingers closing around the xenos’ head. With a hum ofservomotors, it closed until the t’au pilot’s skull cracked, then collapsed in arevoltingmorassofboneandredflesh.‘Theywouldlikelybeideal,’saidDothrael.‘Idealforwhat?’mutteredMoricanitohimself.AstheTerminatorfinishedhislethalexaminationandstooduptorejoinhisfellows,MoricaninoticedGabraelmovetostandovertheinjuredDeathwingwarrior.Thecompanymasterseemedsmall incomparison to the fallengiant, especiallywithouthis trademarkcape.Hedrewapowersword,anornatebroadbladewithablacksheen.‘InthenameoftheLion,’saidGabrael,‘Ibringyoudeliverance.’‘Wait,’ said the wounded Terminator, going rigid in an attempt to keep thespasmswrackinghisbodyundercontrol.‘Icanassistwith–’Gabrael’s broadblade came down in an arc of hyper-disruptive energies. Thepowered edge, designed to cut through even layered ceramite, neatly took thewarrior’sheadfromhisneckinabriefcrackleofenergyandapuffofatomisedflesh.‘Mayhebecleansedindeath,’saidGabrael,burningofftheresidueofthekillbeforesheathinghisswordoncemore.Unnerved, theHellblaster sergeantmadehiswayover to theofficersbeyond.‘Anexecution?Hadhebeentainted?’‘Yes,’repliedZaeroph.MoricanithoughtofFarren’spsy-wound,then,andfelthismindrecoilfromtheimplications.HeapproachedtheDarkAngelstofindoutmore,expectingtofeelthe full force of their disapproval. Instead, he saw them all raise their eyes tolookatsomethingaboveandbehindhim.DothraelandGabraelputtheirhandstotheirweapons,evenastheDeathwingraisedtheirstormboltersandassaultcannonstoafiringstance.Moricaniturned,hisplasmaincineratorhumminginreadiness,toseewhattheywerelookingat.Zaerophwavedtheirweaponsdown,puttingthemonguard.‘Notyet.Justkeepwatch,insideandout.’DescendingfromtheskieswasaxenoswarsuitsolargeandstatuesqueitmadeeventhehulkingDeathwinglooklikechildrenbycomparison.Ithadanhonour

guardof its own– eight of the contoured stealtherwarsuits thatMoricani andFarrenhadfacedonFerro-GiantOmicroid.Amidstadullthrumofxenosjetpackstheyalituponthebattlementsbehindthewhitewarsuit, takingposition ina loosegrouparound it.Theirmulti-barrelledgun-limbswerestudiouslypointedattheflagstones,agestureofparleythatevenapeasantcouldunderstand.Where the Dark Angels were spattered with blood, stained with soot andwreathed in the smokeof spent bolter shells, thegiant xenos suit before themwas spotlessly white. Its helmet had cleanly delineated red markings, and itsprimary,quad-barrelledweaponsystemhummedinanalmostpleasingchordofenergydischarge.‘Wehaveacommonenemy,’saidthewarsuitinperfectLowGothic.Moricanirecalled fromhis learningsafterSaltireVex that the t’auhadexcellent facilitywith language, and even had awhole caste of their society dedicated to suchmatters.‘Letusnotwasteourresourcesindestroyingeachother,’itcontinued,‘therebyallowingtheinfectiontospreadfurther.’‘Theywouldberesourceswellspent,’saidCompanyMasterGabrael,placinghishandonthehiltofhissword.‘Yourdestructionisonlyamatteroftime.Butwe’vealreadylostthreementothiscurse.Whateveriscausingthiswhitefiretospread,itisrapacious.’‘Not forus.Nonetheless,wedonotknow itsnature.Weare concernedas tothatwhichitrepresents,’saidthewarsuit.‘Itmustbeaddressed.’‘Why are we treating with this xenos scum, master?’ asked one of theDeathwing.‘Andwhyisthisoneprivytoit?’HemotioneddismissivelytowardsMoricani.Thesergeantsmiledwithoutmirthbywayofreply.ZaerophandGabraelbothignoredtheTerminatorveteran,insteadgivingtheirattention to thegiantwhitebattlesuit. ‘Whenyourkindare struckby thispsy-product,youareunaffected.JustaswasthecaseuponSaltireVex.Whyisthat?’‘It is Humanity’s disease, not ours,’ said the warsuit. ‘Are you not moreconcernedabouteradicating thecauseof thisplague, rather thanexamining itseffectsuponmorecivilisedraces?’‘Knowledgeistheretobeseized,’saidGabrael.‘HowinterestingIfindyourchoiceofwords,’saidthexenoswarsuit.‘Thecursemustbeexpunged,’growledZaeroph,‘andthevectorthatcarriesitobliterated.Donotstandinourway.’‘I concur. However, for the vector to have taken such a toll on this site’sinhabitants,itmusthavelingeredhereforsometime.Theentireplanetmaybe

compromised.’Zaeroph looked atGabrael.Moricani could tell an exchange passed betweenthemwithouteitherofthemsayingaword.‘Ifearheisright,’saidDothraelquietly.‘Butaswediscussed,wecannotlevelthebladeagainstourownfleshandblood.Letalonebringitdown.’‘We face a similar dilemma,’ said the xenos. ‘The ocean world is stillcompromised.Yet it isourallies thatbear the infection,andwecannotopenlyfire upon them. The dictates of honour trouble our warrior caste as well asyours.’‘You have no conception of how honourworks,’ growledGabrael, ‘nor howinsignificant youxenos are in the faceof the Imperium’smight.What doyouknowofourtravails,insect?’‘Weknowthatyourracecorruptseverythingittouches,andpervertseverythingthatseekstorealignitforthegoodofall.Thathasbeenmadeabundantlyclear,bothhereandontheoceanworldofSaltireVex.’‘Aworldyouclaimtohavesaved.Yetyousystematicallyattackedthosepeopleyouoncesoughtsohardtobringintoyourempire.’‘Those tainted by themind-science plaguemust be burned from theT’au’valikea canker.Mustwebear theburdenof that truthalonewhen it isyourkinwhospreadsit?’A pregnant silence hung in the air. Moricani found his thoughts turning toFarren’s psy-wound. The lieutenant had seemed unaffected by the psychicelementofwhateverhadstruckhim–perhapshehadsomenaturalresistancetoit,orperhapshehadjustbeenlucky.‘This is not over,’ said Zaeroph. ‘We have much to discuss, and will speakagain,atthelargestderelictinloworbit,oncetheimmediatematterisresolved.Fornow,youwillleavethedemiseofthissitetous,andusalone.’‘Ifthatistheonlywaywecanworktogetheragainstthegreaterthreat,’saidthewarsuit.‘Butthisinfectionofthemindmustbeeradicated.Quarantined.’‘Itwillbescouredfromthefaceofthegalaxy,’growledChaplainZaeroph,theeyes inhis skull-maskedhelmetglowing like red embers. ‘That I assureyou.’Theskull-facedofficercastaglancesideways;foramoment,Moricanicaughthisvisage full onbefore theChaplain turnedback to thexenos. ‘Andwewillfindyou,whenthis isover,’hecontinued, levellinghiscroziusarcanumat thegiantwarsuit. ‘Wewill findyou,andwewillextract theknowledgeofhowtodefeatyourentireracefromyourworthlessminds.BytheLion,Ipromiseyouthat.’

‘Surely you have more pressing business than making unrealistic threats topotentialallies,’saidthexenosleader.‘Findingthetraitorinyourranksseemsalogicalfirstpriority.’TheDarkAngelsdidnot reply,butMoricani felt their loathing for thexenosnonetheless.‘WewillestablishaperimeteroneImperialmilefromthislocale,’saidthet’auleader,‘andeliminateanyofthegeneticallyaberrantcreaturesthatcrossit.Theinfectionwillbecontained,forthegreatergoodofall.’GabraelturnedtoZaeroph,amomentofsilentaccordpassingbetweenthem.‘We have not seen him make his move yet, even from here,’ said Zaerophquietly. ‘He is likely still in thedepthsof thecomplex,burrowedasdeepasatick,muchlikeonSaltireVex.Hesendshisflockagainstuswhilstheknowswearedistracted.WemustjointheRavenwingandbringthismattertoaclose.’Thecompanymasternoddedandturnedawayfromthexenosashemadefortheedgeofthekeep’sbattlements,theDeathwingclosebehind.‘Youwill leaveunhindered,’ said theChaplain. ‘Our interests align, for now.Wewillensurethetaintedonesareannihilated.Wehavebusinessonthelowerlevels.’The white t’au warsuit crossed its weapons in front of its torso in whatMoricani thought was uncannily like a Primaris salute. It boosted away assmoothly as it had descended, the air shimmering behind its jetpack as itdisappearedbehindthebattlementswithitsstealtherescortintow.For amoment,Moricani felt Zaeroph’s gaze upon himoncemore. Itwas anintense sensation, the glowering orbs of the Chaplain’s skull-like faceplateetchingthemselvesintothesergeant’smind.‘Epistolary Dothrael,’ said the Chaplain. ‘Accompany the Primaris sergeantheretohismen.LinkupwithLieutenantFarren,andfromtheredescendintothelower levels.Aid theminfindingandcapturing the leaderof this rebellion,nomatterhisnatureorstation.’‘Aye,Chaplain.Itwillbedone.’‘Ensureanyandallradicalelementsaredealtwithaccordingly,’continuedtheChaplain.‘ThenmeetwithApothecaryVaaradandemploywhateverassetsyouneedtoinordertobringthemattertoaclose.’‘Acknowledged,Chaplain,’saidDothrael,stridingpastMoricaniwiththeheelofhisornatepsyker-stafftappingontheflagstones.Moricani turned and walked after him, wrong-footed by the events he waswitnessing, but eager to rejoin his brothers. There were still sounds of battle

fromthecourtyard.‘Inbound,Farren,’saidMoricanioverthePrimarislevelvox.‘We’retocleansethelowerlevels.’‘We’re already on our way down there,’ came Farren’s reply, tinny andcrackling.AsMoricanineared the trapdoorDothrael slowed. ‘On reflection,youshouldfirstrejoinyoursquad,sergeant,’saidDothrael,gesturingforhimtogothroughfirst. ‘It is not ideal for us to assume leadership of a Primaris contingent.Doubtless you have your own protocols andwar-cants that your brotherswillrespondto.’Moricaniraisedhiseyebrowsinpuzzlementasheslunghisplasmaincineratorandmade to push himself back through the narrow aperture. ‘My thanks,’ hereplied quietly. ‘It will be an honour to fight alongside you, even at arm’slength.’As he turned to the trapdoor and began to pass back through to the stairsbeneath,Dothraelplacedahandgentlyuponhisplasmaincineratorandmutteredsomethingunderhisbreath.‘Epistolary?’saidMoricani,half-turning.‘Ablessinguponyourwargear,’saidtheLibrarian,inclininghishead.‘Ifeelwewillhaveneedofit.’

CHAPTERTWELVETHATWHICHLIESBELOW

FortressSixthWestAllhallow,SpaceMarineChapterPlanet

Farrenbludgeonedachargingmutantwithasidelongswipeofhisboltrifle.Hedasheditsbrainsuponthewallofthenarrowtunnelbeforekickingithardinthespine. This one had been covered in matted hair so thick it gave him theappearanceofsomeprimitivefrommankind’sdistantpast. ItmadeFarrenfeeluncleanjusttolookatit.The lieutenant found a moment for a silent prayer to the Omnissiah. Afterfighting what seemed a dozen of the things on the stairs that led to the sub-levels–andinseveralcases,barelyovercominghisassailants–hewasgladofthereprieve.‘Spreadout,’ he said,motioninghis squad to advancedown the stone-walledstairs.‘Shootfirst,worryaboutcollateraldamagesecond.Iwon’thaveanotherVesleighonmyconscience.’Onreflex,helookedforthesquadrunesofThrunnandEnrodinhisperipheralvision, then realised thatheandParvellwerestillhelmless.Hewaskeeping itoff forgood reason,evendownhere in thegloomof thekeep’sdungeons; thet’au stealthers had caught him off guard once already. Parvell had a point,althoughhewasloathtoadmitit.Thatsaid,thexenoshadnotattackedforsometime, perhaps driven off by the throngs of mutants that burst out of everycorridorandshadowedstairway.‘Whatarewelookingfordownhere,lieutenant?’saidEnrod.

‘Enemies,’ said Thrunn, helpfully. He kicked open a wrought iron gate, themetalscreechingbeforeringingoffthewallofthecellbeyondwithadeafeningclang.Farrenshookhisheadandreplacedhishelm,reasoningthatasniperinthedarkcouldseehimsilhouettedeasilyenoughnowThrunnhadrevealedwheretolook.Thebigwarriorhadneverreallyvaluedtheconceptofstealth.‘These rebels,’ said Farren over the vox, peering around a column beforestepping out to the next. ‘These mutants. They are a grotesque distraction.Nothingmore.’‘Lieutenant?’askedThrunn.‘Howso?’‘Idonotknow,tobehonest.Butthetruequarry,thatwhichIbelievetheDarkAngelsareseeking,willbehardertofind.’‘Thexenoscommander?’‘No,’saidFarren.‘Idon’tthinkit’sthexenosthattheFirstareafter,despitetheconflictthusfar.Itwillbethesourceofthesemutations,andtheyarenotofalienprovenance.’‘Sowhyarethet’auhere?’‘Mercenaries,’statedThrunnflatly.Farrennodded.‘Ithinkthatmightverywellbethecase.That,ortheyareunderthespellofwhateverhauntsthisplace.’‘Somekindofempyriccurse,’saidEnrod.‘Hastobe.’‘Those who are struck by that white psy-discharge, they are infected by itthemselves,’ said Farren as he peered around a pillar. ‘Then they either die,provestrongenoughtorideitoutorturnintothosemutantthings.’‘SoVesleigh’sgotthattolookforwardto,’saidEnrod.‘Ifhesurvives.’‘Stop,Enrod,’saidThrunn.‘Itwasthelieutenant’scalltoleavehim,’saidParvell.‘Sowesupporthimonit.Orenst’slikelywithhimnow.’Bywayofanswer,Farrenranhisthumbalongtheilluminatorruneofhisboltrifle as the gloom closed in around them. A thin but powerful beam of lightspeared out into the darkness.His squadmates did the same, and the stairwellwaslitinstarkwhitelightastheyreachedthebottom.AcorridorwideenoughtofitaRepulsordownstretchedaway,dingycellsliningitswallsoneitherside.Farren could hear something in the middle distance; something like humanspeech.Averse and response, or somemanner of chanting, perhaps.But onlyoneofthevoicessoundedhuman.Thoughthesqualid,moisture-slickedcellsoneithersideofhimwereempty–

Thrunn,EnrodandParvellhadsystematicallycheckedthemastheyprogressed–Farrenwassurehecouldhearwhispersinthedarkestcorners,maybeeventhesuggestionofclothrubbingagainstflesh.Ithadunsettledhim.Hefoughttokeephis eyes straightdown the tunnel, knowing that truedangerwould come fromthereifanywhere.A new light source glowed at the far end of the corridor. Farren squinted,making out the flickering of some strangely-hued fire in the distance. It sentgreen light down tomeet them, giving a strange bio-luminescent glow to theheavystonewalls.Somemanner of vehicle rumbled far overhead, sending thin streams of dusttricklingdownfromtheceiling.ByFarren’sestimatetheywereunderneaththecourtyard now, perhaps even beyond the curtainwall as the First engaged therebels above. Moricani and his team were up on the parapet, according toEnrod’slastscan,butwithhundredsoftonsofrockandstonebetweenthemthechanceofclarion-levelvoxcontactwasslimtonone.Thelightcomingfromthefarendofthecell-linedcorridorwasslowlygettingbrighter. Farren moved as quietly as he could to the edge of the corridor,gesturing for his brothers to do the same on the opposite side, but did notcompromisehisgunstance.Heandhisfellowsweresobulkythattotrytohidetheirapproachaltogetherwouldbeanexerciseinfutility.Therewassomethingmovingupattheendofthecorridor,somethinggangle-limbed and inhuman.More thanone figure, now, silhouetted against the light.They had such strange anatomies it was difficult to see just howmany therewere.The things peeled away from the strange green flames beyond them, thincackling laughs echoing down the corridor. Farren switched to infrared for amoment, and saw that thewallsofblack rockwerecrispingoverwith strangehoarfrost, fingers of cold spreading in fractal patterns towards the PrimarisMarines.‘Now?’hissedEnrod.‘Now,’ said Farren. He came out into the passageway and strode forward,makinghimselfanobvioustargettobringoutanythingwaitinginambush.Hedidnothavetowaitlong.Oneoftheinhumancreaturesemergedintothelightofhistorch,itsimpossiblylongarmsflailing.Ithadtenfingersoneachof itshands,eachfingeraribbedtubethattrailedflamelikeacandleheldaloft.Strangerstill,itsheadwasentirelymissing.Insteadagrinning,cacklingmaskofinsanityspanneditschest,amouth

withathousandteethleeringwide.Farrenfelthisgutwritheatthesight.Hetookhisshot.Thecreaturedancedoutofthewaywithsurprisingspeed,butthelieutenantreaditsevasivemanoeuvre,andsentanotherboltintogreetit.Itstruckthecreaturerightbetweenitsglimmeringeyes,disappearinglikeastoneinwaterbeforedetonatingwithawetthump.Splitinhalf,thethingcriedoutinhootingdismay.Itsflesh,pinkandtautlikethatofarecentburnsvictim,peeledaway,discolouringtoadeepblueasitdied.Thensomethinghappened that stretchedFarren’s sanity to the limit.The twohalves of the daemon creature swelled, unfolded, and stood up to revealthemselvesassmallerversionsofthefirst.Theygrumbledandmutteredtooneanother as they loped forward, many-jointed fingers making strange arcaneshapesthatcrackledwithmulticolouredsparks.Another pink-skinned creature came capering from the end of the tunnel, amaniclaughspillingfromthemawinitschest.Thisonewascladingold-chasedrubies;glimmeringinthelightofThrunn’sspear-torch,theylookedlikedropletsof blood frozen in time.Thrunn put two bolts into it, one in each eye socket.That creaturewas ripped in half by the resultant detonation, and Farren felt abriefflickerofsatisfactionatthesight.‘Youdonotbelong,’saidThrunn.‘Youshouldnotexistatall.’Farren’sfeelingofconfidenceebbedawayinaheartbeatashesawthreemoreoftheganglingthings,lurkingbehindtheremainsofthetwotheyhadjustshot.Worst still, the corpse of the beast Thrunn had just put down was bubbling,seething,splittingapart.Bluishlimbspushedupfromthepink-greyresidue,thintothepointofdisturbingemaciation.Nowtherewerefourofthebeastscomingforthem;smaller,butjustashorribletobehold.‘Whereisaflamerwhenyouneedone,’saidEnrod.Farrengrimacedandslidtherunenodeonthesideofhisboltrifletostaggeredburst.Heopenedfireonthestrangebluecreatures,hisboltsfindingtheirtargetstosendall fourbowlingbackwardsbeforedetonating inpuffsof flame.Thesetoosplit,bifurcatingintotinyflickeringfire-monstersthatdancedandshriekedinindignation.‘I am not sure a flamer would do us much good,’ said Parvell, priming agrenade.Farrenwasabout toshootagainwhenhesawasheetof firewhoosh towardshim.Heturnedhisshoulderintoit,coveringhisface,andfeltahorriblewaveof

heatwashoverhisflank.Thoughtheflameswerestoppedbyhispowerarmour,his fleshsuddenlyfeltsweaty,pricklyandas itchyas if ithadbeenwashed indiluteacid.Hischeekburnedespeciallyfiercely,feelingalmostlikeitwasriddledwithshardsofglass.Hetookashotdownthecorridoroverhispauldron,theboltsmackingintothecacklingdaemon-thingattheendwithawetslapbeforedetonating.Twosmallercreatures spilled out of an explosion ofwarp-matter. Enrod put two bolts intotheir torsos, one after another, only for them to split into yetmore of the tinyfire-creatures. Shortly after, Parvell’s grenade went off, and the dancing fire-fiendsweregone.The smell of burning bodies filledFarren’s nostrils for amoment, remindinghim of the hit he had suffered. He looked down at his pauldron where theempyricflamehadstruckhim.Theleftflankofhisarmourhadbeentransmutedtoknobbled,porousbone.Asingleeyestaredupathim,lidlessandmad,beforeburstinglikeasoapbubbleinapuffofatomisedblood.Another sheetof flame shotpast, but insteadof the roarof a conflagration itwasaccompaniedbythetinklingofwind-chimes.Enrodsteppedbehindavaultpillar,narrowlyavoidingbeinghitastheflamewashedaroundit.‘Donotletthefirestouchyou!’saidFarren.‘Theyaredaemonic.’‘DaemonswefacedonTerra,’repliedEnrod.‘Theyareredofskin,andattackinagreatonrushinghorde.Thesearesomevilespeciesofxenos.’‘We have no time to argue this,’ said Farren, opening firewith his bolt rifleoncemore.‘Justbecausewedon’tknowaboutsomething,doesn’tmeanit’snottrue.’Thereweremorefiguresattheendofthecorridornow,tallandthick-bodied.They had curving spines and gangling arms that stuck out like those of ascarecrow.Theliquidfiresthatdrizzledfromthemaw-likeopeningsintheirfistsflared bright as they lurched forward amongst the tiny flame-creatures, thecumulativeeffectsobrightthatFarrenhadtoaverthisgaze.More sheets of flame illuminated the corridor, this time setting light to thevault’s pillars and walls. The prickly, itchy heat that came off them wasunsettling in the extreme, but it was not that which was making his heartsthunderinhischest.Thesightofthestrangeeyeballstaringupathimfromhispauldronwouldnotleavehim.Thesedaemonswereanewbreed,andmoreterrifying,intheirownway, than the gore-dripping hordes they had faced in defence of Holy Terra.

Therewasastrangeintelligencemingledwiththemalevolenceintheirglitteringblackeyes.Farrenheardinhumanlaughterfromoneofthecellsbehindhim,thenawhooshofflamethatcrossedthecorridorleadingtothestairs.Hisbreathcaughtinhischestasherealisedthattheywerebeingpennedin.‘Trapped,’saidThrunn.A growl of irritation came from the vaulted chamber at the far end of thecorridor, sounding like it came from a human throat – or that of an AdeptusAstartes.‘YouarenotoftheFirst,’itsaid.Theacousticsofthevaultandthecracklingoftheflameslickingaroundthewallsonlyaddedtoitsforbiddingtimbre.Itwasavoiceofdust,andbone,andhatred.‘Weare,’saidThrudd.‘Now.’‘You are not,’ came the reply. ‘Neither are you amongst thosewho considerthemselvesabsolved.’‘Comeout,andwecandiscussitproperly,’saidFarren.‘Wecanescapetheseflamestogether.’‘Theywillnotburnme,’laughedthevoice.‘Thisisyourwork,thisempyricinfestation?’saidFarren.Hecouldseearunewinkingonhislensdisplay.‘Youconsortwithdaemons.’‘Withneophytes,thereislittletodiscuss.Youareguiltyonlybyassociation.’‘Thesamecannotbesaidforyou,’saidFarren,checkinghisboltrifle’sammoclipandstridingforwardasThrunnandEnrodsteppedouttoflankhim.Therewas a tall, black silhouette at the back of the far vault, a necklace of skullsvisible as pale orbs in the gloom. Farren had heard whispers of rogue SpaceMarines,renegadesthatsoughttoteardowneverythingmankindhadachieved;Cawlhimselfhadspokenofthemonce,namingthemtheworstkindoftraitors.Bythe lookof thefigureat thecorridor’send,andthebeastsofwarpflameheconjured tohis side, thisonehad fallen from theEmperor’sgracea long timeago.Farrentooktheshot,boltriflebuckinginhishands.Thebulletexplodedtenfeetfromthesilhouettedfigure,itsexplosioncontainedinasphereofforcethatshrunkrapidlytonothing.‘Andyetitisyouthatwillburnforit,’camethereply.Halfadozenmulticolouredformsemergedfromthearchways,eachagangling,stoopingcreaturethatwasshimmeringandstrange.Theyletflytwintorrentsofflame from their claw-like hands. Farren dived headlong into one of the side

cells, desperate to evade another horrible transmutation, then felt a pulse ofshockasherealisedhehadgivenhimselfnowheretoescapeto.‘Perhapsitisfittingyoushoulddiescreaminginacell,’saidthetraitorangel,‘likesomanyofmydearestkin.YournewbrothersareunforgivenbymorethanjusttheImperium,youknow.’Farrensawanotherjetofflameshootpasttheentranceofhisrefuge,andheardashrillscreamoflaughterastwoofthegangle-limbeddaemoncreaturessteppedintothecellopposite.Theirfingerswerealightwithpinkflame,andtheireyesburnedwhite.The cell aroundFarrenwas becoming hotter, stifling air filtering through hisrebreather even with his Mark X armour working hard to cool it. It wasbeginningtoscaldhislungs;hecouldfeelitwitheachbreath.RecallinglessonsfromtheOmnissianmonksaboutthetemperatureatwhichhumanfleshbegantomelt, he glanced at his helm’s internal thermometer. The two values werebecominguncomfortablyclose.Therewerefacesintheflames–facesthatseemedtobemockinghim,almostdaring him to run through them. The lieutenant screwed his eyes shut for amoment, then opened them, only to see the same thing even clearer. Despitehimself,helookeddownattheporousbonethathadreplacedtheceramiteofhisshoulderpad,andthoughtoftheimageofthatsingulareyestaringbackathim.Intheactoffightingon,wouldheturnintosomegrotesquemutant?Wereheand his squadmates already doomed?He could not order them to run throughthatfire.Notwhenheknewwhatitcoulddo.SomethingakintoparalysisseizedholdofFarren’sspine,andwouldnotloosenitsgrip.‘Lieutenant!’shoutedParvellfromacrossthehall.‘Whatareyourorders?’Farrencouldbarelyseehim,trappedbehindawallofflameinacelloppositehimwherehehad takencover fromtheprevioussalvo.Againstall reason, thesheets of flame between them were not dissipating, but forming ever thickerbarriersthatrippledwithethericpower.‘Lieutenant!’Farren felt somethingdark andhorrible close over hismind.Doubt, perhaps,cripplingandstifling.Itwasrobbinghissurety,hisabilitytothinkstraight.Wasitweakness that this fieryphenomenonhadcaused?Had itmerelyhighlightedsomethingfrailandworthlessinFarren’ssoul?Wasthatalltherewas,behindhisswollenphysiqueandpreciousarmour?Justascaredchild,naiveandpowerlessinthefaceofanuncaringuniverse?

Farren felt hewas drowning in a tide ofmerciless time thatwould suffocatehim.Itwouldcrushhimandrenderhimnomoreimportantthanaspeckofdustflickeringtonothingnessintheheatofathousanddyingsuns.Therewouldbenoescape,notinthislife.Onlypain,infinitelyslow-burningandintenseenoughtorenderhimanimbecile.Agonyandsuffering,saidavoiceinhishead.Themental imageofaburningskull hung before each of his eyes, crossing over, blending, then separatingagain.Pain,machine-child,fortherestofyourlife.Farrendroppedhisgun,hisfingersnumbwiththedarkchillofdespair.Therewas a sudden crash as the ceiling above the corridor caved in. Farrenlookedupdumbly,stupefiedforamoment.Hefeltadistinctsensationofcoldtendrilswithdrawingfromhisbrain.Avastswatheofearthandrocktumbleddowntoburyandextinguishmostofthewitchfiresthatlinedthecorridor.Thenoisewasalmostunbearablyloudasanavalancheofburningbrickworkcascadeddownthecorridor.Avast silhouette flewoverhead, somethingso familiar in shape it triggeredasurgeofhopeandpride inFarren’smind.AThunderhawkgunship,capableoffellingafortresswallwithapunitivesalvofromitsdorsalcannon.The rockfallwasclosely followedbya trioofhulkingblackshapesplungingthroughthesuddenshaftsoflight.Theylandedwithaseriesofheavythumpsinthe corridor before revving their engines and careening, riding the cusp ofcontrol,downthecorridor.The ridersopened fireas theycameon, theboltersmountedunderneatheachangel-wingfiringthumpingtwinshotsintothecaperingdaemonsatthefarendof the passageway. The detonations, mind-wrackingly loud in such closeconfines,rippedonedaemonafteranotherapart.Theypouredmorefireintothedaemonsthathatchedfromtheirremains,andyetmoreintothestrangesentientflamesthatcamefromthem.Anotherblackshapeshotthroughtheskiesrevealedbythelandslide,itsswept-forward wings and blunt, stubby shape unfamiliar to Farren. It twisted mid-flight, strafing thecorridorwithsuchvigour thatThrunnhad to leapback intothe cell from which he was emerging. The twin pathways of the flyer’sammunition stitched down the centre of the corridor to the vault at the end,elicitingacacophonyofthinscreamsfromtheflame-spurtingcreatures.Thesquadronofbikes,ridingatspeeddownthecorridor,slewedtoahaltjustoutside the vault to make impromptu barriers with the chassis of their bulkymetal steeds. The Ravenwing riders cast about themselves, looking for their

quarry even as theyopened fire point-blank at the daemons.By theway theirhelmsdartedleftandright,Farrencouldtelltheyhadnotfoundwhattheywerelookingfor.‘Xedro!’Moricani’svoice,andcloseby.Farrenleanedoutofthecell,waryofthehellishflamesburstingbacktolifeatanymoment,andsawhisfriendatthebottomofthestairsthathadledthemdownhere.Neverbeforehadhebeensogladtoseethatgrinning,manicface.‘Moricani,’shoutedthelieutenant.‘Guardtheexit!’‘Itwouldbemypleasure!’ thesergeantshoutedback.Farrenfoundhisspiritslifting at the sound of his old friend’s habitual irreverence, and felt his headbegintoclear,justalittle.Something glimmered in Farren’s peripheral vision. A blur, dull black andglintinglikealivingstatuemadeofonyx.Oppositehim,itwasmovingfromonecell toanother–withhishelm’smotiontrackeratfull,Farrencouldjustaboutmakeitoutamongsttheflames.Thefigurewaspassingthroughthewallsofthecells,inandout,straightthroughrockandflamewithoutsomuchasatwitchofconcernasthemutativefirescascadedacrossit.‘There!’saidFarren,rune-markingitonhishelm’sdisplayandcommuningthedatawiththemachine-spiritofMoricani’sownarmour.‘That’stheorchestrator.Apsyker,hehastobe.’‘WhatonMarsarethosecreaturesattheend?’shoutedMoricani.‘Theyaretakencareof,’shoutedFarren,‘justmakesurenothingescapes!’‘Understood,’saidMoricani.Thetelltaleblue-whiteofchargingplasmacoilslittheendofthecorridorasLenkatz,Darrodanandtheotherscameinbehindtheirsergeant.Theyletflywithabarrageofplasmathatseareddownthepassagewayat thedartingblack figure, but theydidnothit theirmark, forhewas alreadyelsewhere.UpaheadFarrencouldseethedaemonshurlingcoruscatingcloudsoffireattheRavenwing bikers. The black-armoured riders swerved this way and that toavoidthem.Pinkfiredulledtoblue,thinnedtoyellow,thendissipatedentirelyasthunderousvolleysofboltershotsfilledthevaultattheendofthecorridor.Thedinwasall butunbearable as thebellowsofwoundedSpaceMarinesmingledwith the high-pitched screams of daemons caught in the Ravenwing’s lethalcrossfire.TheflamespenningFarren inwere thinning.Hegrittedhis teeth,sending therune of command to Parvell so hewould take themantle of leadership in his

stead.‘Emperor, Omnissiah, Motive Force, watch over me,’ he said. ‘Protect mywargear.’Hetookadeepbreath.‘ThisIdoforyou.’Shoulderfirst,Farrenranstraightintothemutativeflame.

SergeantMoricanisawhisbrotherFarrenburstoutofthecellaheadandtotheleft,wreathedinoddlyburningflames.Heputthesightoutofhismind–powerarmourwas proof against the vagaries of fire, even able to withstand a closerangepromethiumblast.Therealthreatwaselsewhere.‘Blocktheexit,’saidMoricanitoLenkatz.‘Coverthatgapingholethatusedtobetheceiling.Anythingtryingtogetoutneedsbringingdown.TheDarkAngelsseektheleaderofthisrebellion,andwearenotgoingtodisappointthem.’‘Understood,’saidLenkatz.Moricaniwinced, scanning the cellsoneither side in thehope that the targetruneFarrenhadsentacrosswouldflare.There,totheside.Somethingwas–A sudden blast of black lightning slammed into Darrodan, hurling himbackwards in a storm ofmalfunctioning plasma energies. The ceramite of hisarmourstrucksparks fromtheroughstoneof thestaircasebehindashefell totheflagstones.Moricaniraisedhisplasmaincineratorandspunonhisheelashedepressedthetriggertomaximum,droppingtoacrouch.Anotherboltofblacklightningshotoverhead.Theincineratorwhinedinanticipationasitpowereduptomaximumcapacity.‘Iamnothereforyou,childoftheRedPlanet,’cameasepulchralvoice.‘Notthistime.Letmepass.Imustteachthesepalereflectionsofourprimarchaboutthetruenatureoftheirkindred.’Moricanilookedforthesourceofthevoice.Totheright,thetargetingruneonhishelmdisplayflickeredlikeadyingfireflyoverapatchofdarkness.‘No,’saidthesergeant.Heswunghisincineratoranddepressedthetriggerlevertofull,intendingtosendasuperheatedsphereofkillingenergyrightattheheadoftheblackfigureintheshadows.Theplasmaweaponscreamed.ItexplodedinawhitefireballthatincineratedafullthirdofMoricani’sbodyinasinglesearinginstant.

‘No!’Farrenstaggered,multicolouredflamesstilllickingfromhisarmour,downthe cell-lined corridor. He had emerged from the fires a little scorched, butessentially unscathed – perhaps his quick prayer to the Omnissiah had been

answered.ThesamecouldnotbesaidforMoricani.Farrenwashorrifiedtoseewhatwasleftofhisfriendswayingasifhitbyaknockoutblow.TheHellblastersergeanthadalwayspridedhimselfonknowingthetolerancesofhisplasmaincineratortothesmallestdegree.Yethereitlookedasiftheweaponhadkilledthewielder.FingersofdespairpushedintoFarren’smindashesawtheHellblastersergeanttoppleover,hisbattleplateburnedcleanawayacrosstherighthalfofhisbodytoleave behind a hideous, red-black mass. From nowhere a black shape leapedoverhim,ashadowygargoylethatlandedwithaclanguponthethirdstairofthespiralstaircasebeforetakingthemfouratatimetodisappearfromsight.Ignoring the billowing inferno slowly claiming the corridor, Farren huncheddownandrantotheendofthepassagewaytoMoricani’sside.Evenhisfriend’shelmwashalf-molten,hisfaceburnedbacktotheskullacrosshisjawandleftcheek.‘Ishedead?’saidLenkatz,hisvoicetightwithstressashelaiddownaburstofsuppressive fire from his incinerator. Three small spheres burned down thepassageway,eachhurlingbackahalf-formeddaemonwheretheystruck.‘Verynearly,’ saidFarren, takingacoupleof snapshotsdown thecorridoratthenearestfire-creature,‘buthisruneisstillactiveonmyhelmview.’‘Hisfurnace,’saidThrunn.‘It’lltrigger.’‘He’slikelytoofargonefor–’Moricani sat up suddenly and got back to his feetwith a half-strangled roar,lurching around to run back up the stairs. Lenkatz went after him withoutanotherword.Farrenfeltsomethinghithimintheback,andspunaround.Ahideous,leeringmonstrositycackledas it rippedathim,one ten-fingeredhandclosingoverhishelmandyankingatitasittriedtogetatthefleshbeneath.Farrenkneedithardinthemouth,feelinglongteethbreakevenashebroughtbothelbowsdowninanoverheadstrike.Thethingbuckledandwentdown.Hestampedhardonthebulgingmassofitsface,againandagain.‘Justdie!’‘We live!’ it screamed back, its pink flesh separating under his boot as itbifurcated into two grimacing blue creatures, hideous and nightmarish. Theygraspedatthelieutenant’slegs.Farrenkneedoneaside,flingingoutaboottopinittothewallasheshottheotheronepointblank.Theboltthrewitsremainsinalldirections,andthelargest

chunks turned into shrieking fire-daemons that danced around each other,drizzling flame. Their faces were contorted and cruel, as if they were besidethemselveswithanger.Farren ignored them, turning to put the clip’s last bolt into the torso of thesecondbluishcreature.Ittooturnedtoflame.ThenThrunnappearedatFarren’sside,stampingthefire-creaturestoscatteringsofsparks.Asoneofthecrescent-shapeddaemonsboundedinclose,Farrendrewhisswordandimpaleditthroughitsmouth before punching the side of its head repeatedly. It dissipatedwith awail. Nearby, Parvell took the rest of the fire-sprites out with two carefullymeasuredshotsfromhisboltrifle.‘Whatarethesethings?’‘Chaos,’saidThrunn.‘Somemannerofservitorcreature,Ithink,’explainedFarren,‘summonedfromtheempyrean,perhaps,bythatwarriorinblack.’‘TheoneMoricaniwentafter,’saidEnrod.‘Hehadthelookofatraitor.’‘Iknow,’repliedFarren.‘Let’sgetupthere.’HecastaglancedownthecorridortowardstheRavenwing,stillhammeringfireintothestrangeflame-beastsinthevaultattheend,andhesitatedforamoment.Thenherememberedhisoldfriendtopplingover,andsprintedupthestairs.

Farren burst out onto the upper scaffolds of the fortress, bolt rifle panningaroundinthreequickmovementstocoverthecornerswhereashadowedenemycould skulk. Thrunn, Enrod and Parvell emerged behind him, their own riflesmoving smoothly left and right.AheadwasEpistolaryDothrael, his psy-stavecrackling with coils of deep green energy, and Gabrael, holding a chargedplasmapistolathisside.‘Whereishe?’saidFarren.‘Youdon’thavehim?’saidDothrael,histoneurgent.‘But–’A black blur shot past them, sprinting for the vault door that led to the belltower.Farrenwasthefirsttofire.Hisboltspedtrue,butjustasitwasabouttostrikethetraitorangelitdetonatedinaburstofflame.ThegunsofThrunnandParvellboomedbehindhim,buttheirboltsmetthesamefate.Eventheballofplasma unleashed by Gabrael splashed like liquid flame across the invisibledomethatprotectedtheirfoe.Dothraelsuddenlydroppedtohisknees,clutchinghisheadandcryingoutinavoicethatdidnotsoundevenvaguelyclosetohuman.‘Pathetic,’ said the traitor angel, suddenly visible next to the battlement. His

imagewasdistorted,hiddenbehindashimmeringfieldofforcethatmadeitlookasifhewasunderwater.Farrentookanothershot,andanother,astormofboltshammeringoutfromtheIntercessorsbehindhim.Theytooburnedtonothingonthefaceofthepsy-shield.Thelieutenantgrimacedandthickenedhisfire.Underthecrack-boomofdischargingboltriflestherewasaroarlikethatofanenraged grox. Moricani came barging out from the vault door with his armsspreadwide.Hemadeforahideoussight;onehalfofhisbodywasscarletruin,therightsideofhisfaceastinkingmorassofmoltenflesh.Farren recoiled as his old friend plunged through the rippling psy-shield andstruck the traitorangel fromthesideat fullpelt, themomentumofhissuddenchargeenoughtoslamthepsykerstaggeringsideways.Withhisfoecaughtinathrashinggrapple,Moricaniheavedonwards,pushingwithallhismight.Farrenwatched in disbelief as he bowled the traitor straight over the battlements,followingclosebehind.‘Gsar!’ shouted Farren over the vox, ‘get in close as possible to the tower!Now!’ThegrowloftheRepulsor’santi-graviticengineroseupnearby,gettingcloser.Farrenraninaseriesoflongstrides,extrapolatingthecourseoftheHarrower’srune,thenleapedthroughthetwonearestcrennelations.HeheardParvellshoutbehind.‘Followhim!Totheramparts!’Farrenhadabriefsensationoffalling.Thenheslammedfeet-firstintothetopof theRepulsor tank, rocking itwith hisweight as it cushioned his fall on itsanti-gravfield.Inaheartbeat,hewasalreadyup,hisboltrifleathisshoulder.There was the traitor angel, fighting hard amongst a blood-slicked mess ofmutant corpses, his necklace of yellowed skulls bouncing crazily around hisneckashepunchedMoricanioverandoverintheface.Ashatteredwoodenstafflaynearby,itssplinteredremainsfizzingwithblueandpinklightning.Thesoundofthesergeant’swildlaughterrosehigh.Farren breathed out slow and pulled the trigger. This time the bolt slammedunder the traitorangel’spauldron, theexplosionof its impactrockinghim,butnotdislodgingthedeathgriphehadtakenonMoricani’sthroat.Then Gsar added his own fire, a stream of high-impact bullets from theHarrower’s onslaught cannon slamming into the traitor’s side. In a cloud ofsparks and smoke he was bowled away from Moricani, who slumped backunconscious.Thetraitorrolled,comingupbracedwithonehandoutstretchedasif tocrush

something.Therewas a screamof torturedmetal as the front of theRepulsorbuckled. Farren leaped clear, landing with a thud amoment before the entiretankwasliftedintotheair.Itslammedbackintothemonolithicstoneblocksofthecurtainwallbehind,thenpitchedontoitsside.WithpractisedswiftnessFarrenreloadedhisrifle,ejectingthespentclipevenas he grabbed a fresh one and slammed it into the rifle’s breech. He sawDothrael, drifting cruciform with arms outstretched into the courtyard. TheEpistolary’s staff crackled with energy, sparks leaping from the eyes of thehornedskullatitstip.The traitor angel, intent on buckling the front of theNightHarrowerwith atwist of his outstretched hand,was struck in the side of the head by a bolt ofglowing force from Dothrael’s staff. The black-armoured psyker went downamongst themutilated fleshofhis formeracolytes–andsodid theHarrower,fallingtothegroundwithathunderouscrunch.Farrendartedright,firingafreshboltatthetraitorangelashewrithedinpain.The psyker flung out a hand at the last moment, and the bolt disappeared inflameafullthreefeetfromimpact.‘Omnissiah’srage!’shoutedFarren.‘Whywon’tyoudie?’Withacry, the traitorangelsuddenlystood, leaningforwardas if intoagale.Dothrael’s helm,held in thevice-like apparatusof his psychichood, suddenlyburstintoflame.Hewasflungbackwardsintothetwistedremainsofashatteredportcullis.The traitor angel grabbed an avian skull from the necklace garlanding histhroat. He ripped it free, hurling it hard into the flagstones to shatter in anexplosionofbonefragments.Acloudofbluesmokebillowedupwards,shotthroughwithcracklingburstsoflight.Thesmokeformedintotwocolumns,thengatheredtogetheratthepeaktoformatwistingarch.Realityseemedtoripplewithit.Farrencouldjustmakeoutahellscapeofmaddeningcrystalanglesbeyond;itmadehiseyeshurt to lookat it.Aseriesofpiercingpainscascadedacross themusclesofhisshoulderbeneathhistransmutedpauldronofbone.Out from that archway came a giant bird-like claw adorned with jewelledbanglesthewidthofhalf-trackwheels.Itwasfollowedbyascreechinghead,itsshapesomewherebetweenthatofaneagleandacrocodile.Therewasahorriblemalevolenceinitsbeadyeyes.Up on the rampart, Parvell, Thrunn and Enrod opened fire, their volleythundering into the creature’s flesh. To Farren’s eyes it seemed as if the bolts

turnedtoblobsofquicksilveramomentbeforeimpact,doingnomoreharmthanashowerofsummerrain.Still hauling its bulk from the smoke portal, the creature waved its colossalclaw.ThethreePrimarisMarinesontherampartsuddenlyfroze.Amomentlaterthey burst into flame, their paralysed bodies quickly turning black as tiny,shriekingflame-daemonscrawleduptheirarmourtowardstheirhelms.Therewas a shriek of turbine engines, and a black shadowwith the angularwings of aDarkTalonpassedoverFarren.A split second later themonstrouscreatureemergingfromthearchwasstruckbyabeamfromtheround-barrelledcannon under the fighter craft’s nose. Blinding in its intensity, the light waseverycolourandnone,allatonce.The monstrous avian spasmed as if caught in the grip of a terrible palsy,desperately trying to fend off the light. The Dark Talon was angling its jetsdownwards,hoveringlowlikeabirdofpreysetonthekill.Thekaleidoscopicbeamfromitscannonwasrelentless.Foramoment,Farrenthoughthesawthedaemontearopen,andtheairaroundit tearwithit,as if itwerenomorethandampparchment.The gigantic daemon gave a shriek of rage and denial that seemed to ringthrougheveryboneofFarren’sbodyasif theywereglasschimes.Thenitwasgone,thetraitor’sarchofsmokedissipatinginwispsofsparklinglight.CriesoftriumphandreliefcamefromtherampartsaboveasFarren’sbrothersfoundtheflamesconsumingthemsuddenlysnuffedout.Thelieutenantscannedthecourtyard.Themind-blastinglightwasgone,buttohisdismaytherewasnosignofthetraitorangel.Ithadallbeenfornaught.Allthat sacrifice and suffering. Farren felt like his heart had been plunged into abottomlesslakeofcold,blackoil.Then the Harrower’s onslaught cannon opened fire, pouring bullets at anobliqueangle toslamintosomethingacross thecourtyardas itpassed into theshadowofthecurtainwalltothegatehouse.Thetraitorfelloutoftheshadows,blacktendrilsofpuredarknesstrailingfromitslimbs.Heturned,eyesblazingredwithangeranddefiance.Farrenwasalreadyhalfwayacross the flagstones.Hisconfusionanddespairhad turned to pure, undiluted hatred. It was a driving force, an irresistibleimperativethatmadehimrunashardashecould.GonewastheXedroFarrenthatanalysed,reviewedandmadethekillwithahunter’sprecision.Hedrewhisblade from its scabbard, activating its disruption field as his run turned into asprint.

ThisXedroFarrenwantedtocut,andimpale,andhackhisenemyapartfacetoface.Thetraitordrewhisownblade,anornatecharnabalsabreintheancientTerrandesign,andsketchedasalute.Farren charged in, his vicious swing deftly batted aside with a ring ofimpeccably forged metal. The traitor angel weaved to one side as Farren’smomentum carried him past, but the lieutenant spun swiftly with his bladeoutstretchedtomakeaslashathisadversary’swaist.Thistimehefelttheparryjarhiswrist,thesabreflickingaroundhisheavierbroadbladetostabathisneck.OnlytheMarkX’sraisedgorgetstoppedtheswordfromopeninghisthroat.Farren rode the impact, making a jab that tapped the side of his opponent’sblade.On instinct the rapierwas drawn across to block.Quick as a snake thelieutenanttwistedthetipofhisswordunderneathtocomeinforakillingthrustontheoppositeside.Thetraitorgaveground,threequickpacestakinghimawaysohisbackwastothewall.ThentheshadowoftheDarkTalonflittedoverhim,andaweaponfrombeforetheAgeoftheImperiumtumbledoutofitsyawninghold.Thearchaicbombstruck the traitorangelamomentbeforehisoutflunghandcould ward it off. The rippling burst of its detonation became a shimmeringimplosionoflight,andforamomentthepsykerwascaughtinthatsamepose,armoutstretched,yetcompletelyimmobile.Dothrael ran across the courtyard,withChaplain Zaeroph sprinting from thebottom of a set of stairs to join him as they converged upon the time-frozenangel.‘Stayback!’shoutedZaeroph,motioningforFarrentogivethemspaceas theDarkTaloncameinlow.Thecraft,itsenginesblastinghotandbuffetingwindsintothecourtyard,droppedslowlywithimpeccableprecisiontolandonthefarside.Farren kept his blade pointed at the traitor angel nonetheless, convinced thatanymoment someother sorcerywouldbe invoked to turn the tables.Dothraelwas letting psy-energy play out from his staff, the tendrils of crackling forcebinding their captive even as he slowlybegan tomove in the remnants of thefield.With the winged edges of his crozius arcanum, Chaplain Zaeroph gingerlyliftedthenecklaceofskullsfromaroundthetraitorangel’sneck.Withtheutmostcare he held it out toGabrael, the companymaster taking it reverently before

handing it to one of the Deathwing that had entered the courtyard. TheDeathwing sergeant strode up to the traitor, a bandolier of strange vice-likedevicesheldinhisgrip.‘Such is the vengeance of lost Caliban,’ said Zaeroph as the sergeantapproached.Amatteroffeetaway,thesculpturalbas-reliefsofthelandedDarkTalon slid apart along their length to reveal a dark space inside it lined withcracklingcoils.Itwasacell,ofthatmuchFarrenwassure.‘IherebyclaimyouinthenameoftheLion,’saidZaeroph.Hewalkedaroundtotheothersideofthetraitorangel,interposinghimwiththeaircraft’ssecretcellontheotherside.‘The primarch was a lie,’ said his captive. His voice was slurred by theaftermathofthestasisbomb,butheseemedtorecoverwitheveryword.‘WhilstIlanguishinthecolddungeonsoftheRock,Icanwarmmyselfwiththeknow-ledge youwill be forced to slay your spiritual sons on this planet. Just as theLionslewhisuponCaliban.’‘We will become far better acquainted, you and I,’ said Zaeroph, his tonesinister.‘Fornow,though,youwillwait.’Heraisedafootandbootedthe traitorangelashardashecould in thechest,sending him staggering back into the cell-like interior of theDarkTalon. Thebas-reliefstatuesofthecell’sdoorwaysthunkedshutasplitsecondlaterwiththesoundofpneumaticbolts,a thin trailofsmokedriftingfromthehairlinecrackthathadformedthedoor.TheDarkTalontookoffasecondlater,itsenginesatdeafeningintensityasitlifted from the flags and rose into the darkening skies.Within seconds itwasbracketedbyapairofthenimblecraftFarrenrecognisedasNephilimjetfighters.A few seconds after that, the huge and blocky hull of a Thunderhawk flewoverhead,followingthetriooffightersastheyroseintotheclouds.Farrenwatched the strange squadron of aircraft go for amoment,wonderingwhatinMars’namehehadjustwitnessed.ThenheturnedhisattentionbacktotheDarkAngelsinthecourtyard.Moricani was out cold, unlikely to survive without a lengthy stay in theapothecarium. Parvell, Thrunn and Enrod were gone from the battlements,presumablyalreadyontheirwaydown.Nearby,Dothraelhaddonnedcircuit-linedgauntlets that lookedtoFarrenlikeelaborate power fists. Close to himwas a Ravenwing riderwith sweptwingsuponhishelmet.TheLibrarianwastakingtheskullsonebyonefromthecaptiveangel’s necklace with the utmost care, and setting them within vice-like

artefacts, handed to him by the Deathwing sergeant, so that the pads of thedevicesgrippedtheskulls’temples.TheLibrarianshotFarrenaglance,daringhimtosaysomething.Farrenreadhisunspokencuesjustfine,andremainedsilent.‘Withdrawallunits,’saidChaplainZaeroph,stridingovertoFarrenasParvell,ThrunnandEnrodemergedfromthebottomofthenearesttower.‘Thisisover.Wecannotriskfurthercontamination.’‘Chaplain?’saidFarren.‘Wehavebrothersstillactive,brothersdown,andtheAngels of Absolution have engaged the rebel survivors on the upper levels.Theirattackhasbeenswiftandefficient,butweshould–’‘Withdrawal.Now.Rendezvouswithyourtransportsoutsidethemainbarbicanandleave.’‘Withrespect,Chaplain,I–’‘Justdoit,lieutenant.Thisisnotthetimeforimpertinence.’Farren shook his head, eyes wide inside his helm. ‘This can’t be in theEmperor’sname.Irefusetobelieveit.’‘I just received a personal missive,’ came Parvell’s voice over the Primarissolovox.‘Theysaidifyoudon’teffecttheorderimmediately,they’llgivemeafieldpromotionandensureIdoitinstead.’‘Theycan’t,’saidFarren,butheknewalreadythatwasalie.Somethinginsidehimthathadbeentwisted,batteredandchippedawaybytheeventsof the lastfewmonthsfinallybroke.Thrunnwalkedpasthim,notmeetinghisgaze. ‘I’llgetMoricani.Enrod,youshouldmeetupwithOrenstandgetVesleighwhilstwestillcan.’Therewasthechugofabikeenginebehindthem.FarrenturnedtoseeoneoftheRavenwingKnights staring right at him, the plasma talonmounted on hisbike’sfairingspointedstraightatThrunn.‘Noheshouldn’t,’saidtheblack-armouredrider.‘Youarewithdrawing,justasthe Chaplain says. Make for your intact Repulsors and leave the warzoneimmediately.WewillseetoSergeantMoricani,andrecoveryourlostbrother.’Farrenfelthisdefiancewitherinsidehim.Asenseofimpliedthreathungintheair, thegazeof theRavenwingriderasunwaveringashisguns.The lieutenanthadlongagolosthisgriponwhatwashappening,buthehadadistinctfeelingthat to go against these orders would lead to violence. And when PrimarchGuillimanheardofit–andhenodoubtwould,evenifFarrendidnotsendwordhimself–thatstrifewouldescalatetocensureofthemostextremekind.Perhapsitwouldevenleadtocivilwar.

Somehowthesensationofutterdefeatfeltfamiliar.‘Wewithdraw,brothers,’hesaid.‘Now.’

CHAPTERTHIRTEENTHEWITNESS

ApothecariumTheExecutioner’sBlade

Moricani had been engaged in a silent battle against his own bio-system forhours.HewasdesperatelytryingtofindameasureofcalmastheaftereffectsofhistriggeredBelisarianfurnaceragedwithinhim.The potent cocktail of hyperstimulants, anaesthetics, pain suppressants andhormoneboostssuppliedbytheimplantnexttohistwinheartswasaheadymix.Whilst it ragedaround the system, itmadehim feel truly invincible.But evenshouldhe fight throughwhateverhaddealt thatgrievouswoundand findhelpfromhiscompany’sApothecary,itmightnotbeenoughtosavehim.Not that thatwas the purpose of the implant. PaterCawl had given it to hisPrimariscreationssotheycouldwreakthemaximumamountofhavocupontheenemybeforetheirexpiry.AndthoughhismemoriesofthebattleatSixthWestwerehazy,Moricaniwasfairlysurehehaddonewellatthat.Whatitwouldbetofeelthefurnace’srushwithoutthecrippling,typicallyfatalinjury that triggered it.What itwouldbe toharness thatpower.Perhaps, ifhelivedthroughthisordeal,hecouldfindasympatheticbio-maguswhocouldhelphimoutwithanautonomoustrigger.Infact,ifhemadeitbacktoMars,hewasfairlysurehiscontactsinthe…Moricani opened his eyes, just a crack, at the sound of power armoured feetthumping towards the apothecarium. Something made him close them again,taking as deep breaths as possible as two sets of Adeptus Astartes footsteps

clumpedintothechapel-likemedicalcentre.‘Two, this time,’ said an augmetic-fuzzed voice. Moricani recognised it asVaarad’s.The insectilebuzzof theApothecary’s lumen-skullgrew louderas itscannedthewarriorsontheslabswithinthecandlelitalcoves.AwashofazurelightcameoverMoricani;itwashisturn.Azurelight.SomethingfeltfamiliarinMoricani’smindaboutthat.‘One of them is that Lion-damned sergeant of the plasma gunners,’ said thevoiceoftheApothecary’scompanion.Itsoundedfamiliar.NotDothrael;itwastoocasualinitssentimentforoneoftheLibrarius.Gabrael,perhaps?‘SomehowIfeelsurehewillbebroughtintolinesoonenough,’saidVaarad.‘Sowe’llmakeausefulbulletshieldoutofhimyet.’Moricanifoughttheurgetoraiseaneyebrow.ThatwasGabraelallright.‘Areyousurewewillnotbedisturbed?’saidthecompanymaster.‘Yes,’ said Vaarad. ‘All of the incumbents should be unconscious or worse,according tomydata.Thisarea isshutoff.ZaerophisbusyhumouringoneofGuilliman’sspies.’‘Good.Hehasmuchpotential,thatone,butentirelymisplaced.Servitor,bringintheasset.’There was a low purr, and the scent of auto-sanctic incense as somethinglarge – an autobier or hover-throne, by Moricani’s estimation – entered theapothecarium.‘Lookatthis,’saidVaarad.‘Thisonetookapsy-woundtothechest,andabadone.OneDanicVesleigh,accordingtomyauspicator.’‘Theapewiththeeyebrows?Farren’sadoptedsquad?’‘Yes.I’mscanningforempyricresidue.’Moricani heard the telltale chimes of a psyoccular auspex, undercut by therisingwhineofaplasmapistol.‘Unaffected,’saidVaarad.‘AtleastnothingthatIcandetect.’‘Odd,’saidGabrael.‘Notthatweshouldbecomplaining.Whatmannerofcurseisit,doyouthink?’‘The plague appears to spike quickly, creating explosive psychic discharge,thenrecedetoadormantstate,’saidVaarad.‘WhetheritdisappearsaltogetherIcannotsay.Ihypothesise that inmostcases ituses thepsychicpotentialof thehostbody in the actof infectingothers around it.Somearekilledor renderedunconsciousintheprocess.Theresultsherecertainlyimplythattobethecase.’Theplasmapistol’swhinedescendedoncemore.

‘It is those who survive to transmit the plague that I am concerned about.Uncheckedpsychicabilityisthegatewaytodamnation.’‘Willthisonelive?’‘Unlikely.Hissecondheartisalmostascompromisedasthefirst.’‘Buthemight,though.’‘It’spossible.’‘Thenwecan’ttaketherisk.Rigupthecannulas.Andifthatfails,wereadytheincinerator.Ultramarbedamned.’‘Givemeamoment,companymaster.’MoricanifoughttokeepcalmastheApothecarycutintoVesleigh’sneckatthebase,thenpushedafingerdeepinside.‘Yes,hisprogenoidsarestillintact.Thesesinewcoilsareremarkablyeffectiveas protective measures, as well as in lending mechanical strength to musclecontraction.’‘Allthebetterforthemtotakeaboltonourbehalf.’‘Quite.Rather than lookingovermyshoulder,MasterGabrael,wouldyoubecapable of administering the sedatives to the second patient whilst I treat thefirst?’‘If I can find a vein, yes. Though why we do not simply allow EpistolaryDothraeltowipetheirmindscleanIdonotknow.’‘It is an imprecise technique.Toobtainoptimal results from theseones, theyneedtofightatpeakefficiency.Iflattermyselftothinkthatmypsycho-hypnoticadjustmentsaremoreproductivethantotalmnemonicobliteration.’‘Asyousay.’‘The requisite materials are on that tray. Please make ready. I have morespecialisedworktodo,andalimitedwindowinwhichtodoit.Afterthesewestillhavetheotherstodo,andtheprocesstakestime.’‘Ofcourse,’saidGabrael.‘Letusproceed.’‘Servitor,bringforththeasset.’Moricaniheardthelopsidedshuffleofaservitoronthemove,accompaniedbythe hum of a hover-throne. It was followed by the sound of tiny autodrillswhirring, and the faint sucking of fluids being drawn through a tube. Withstimulants still raging around his body,Moricani could not resist opening oneeye,justalittle.Thescenewasblurred,rightontheextremeperipheryofthesergeant’svision,butitwassoonetchedintohissoul.A network of thin transparent tubes jutted from Vesleigh’s head and throat.

Theywerebunchedathisshoulder,tiedintoathickcablefilledwithfluidsthatbubbled pink and red. Less than three feet away, the tubes were joined in asimilarmanner to the neckof a naked, over-muscledhulkwith a heavymetalvisorandmetalliccat-o’-nine-tailswhipsinplaceofitshands.An arco-flagellant. The perpetrator of some unforgivable crime, mind-wipedand turned intoasuper-weaponat thehandsof theAdeptusMechanicus’mostinhumansurgeons.MoricanihadseenapackoftheminactionduringthedaemonwarsofTerra,goingfromdroolinginactivitytoscreaming,berserkfrenzyattheutteranceofasimpletriggerphrasefromtheirMinistorummasters.‘Now,’saidVaarad, tappingasequence into therunenodeson thesideofhisservo-skull. The azure light began to pulse, flashing arythmically as theApothecaryleanedinclose.‘DanicVesleigh.YoudonotclearlyrecalltheeventsoftheattackuponthefortificationknownasSixthWest.Infact,youdonotwishtodwellontheeventsofthepastatall.Theyarehazyandpainfultosummontomind.’A figure moved in close, blocking out the light. Moricani shut his eyecompletely oncemore, fighting the urge to spring up and fight – an urge thatwouldalmostcertainlygethimkilled.Vaaradcontinuedtotalkfromthealcoveacrosstheapothecarium.‘Shouldyoufeelanysurgeofcerebralactivitythatisunusual,youwillreturntothisstateandremaincomatose.Furthermore,whenyouhearacertainphraseyouwillimmediatelymakereadyforconflict,andconcentrateonlyonthoseeventsabouttounfold.’Moricani felt a pain in the side of his neck. Just as his senses began to blurtogether,heheardVaaradconfirmadarksuspicion that turnedhimnumbwithbetrayalandshock.‘Thatphraseis“battlestations”.’

CHAPTERFOURTEENAWFULTRUTH

ApothecariumTheExecutioner’sBlade

FarrenstrodethroughthecorridorsoftheDarkAngelsbattle-bargeasitmadeitswayfromAllhallowtodeepspace.Hehadreceivedhisordersonlyamatterofhoursago,andhadnotthoughtaboutmuchelse.Nomatterhowlonghedweltonthem,theymadeaslittlesensetohimaswhenhehadfirstheardthem.TheentireDarkAngelsstrikeforcewastoreturntotheplanetSaltireVex,thistimetodestroyitsinstallationsutterlyforthesinofbeingtaintedbyxenos.The notion of returning to a former warzone rankled in Farren’s mind,especiallyaftermakingthelonghaulfromthatlocationinthefirstplace.Therewassomethingin themindsetofallAdeptusAstartes thatdemandedtheykeptgoingonwardatalltimes;keptmomentumsotheenemyneverhadachancetopreparefortheirdevastatingassaults.Thatsaid,withhimhavingletthewomanDeel go free, there was every chance the people they sought were no longerthere.Thewholeaffair couldbeanexercise in futility,orworse, awitchhuntwithhimasthetraitorontrial.ButthatwasnotthepartthatrankledthemosttoFarren’smind.Toattacktheverypeopletheyhadformerlybledfor,strivenfor,giventheirlivestosavefromthexenosinvadersthatwerepreyinguponthemseemedgallingintheextreme.YettheyhadwillinglylefttheEmperor’slighttoembracethealien,andthatwasrightfullypunishablebydeath.Thedissonancemadehisjawclench.Theapothecariumwasnotfar,now.Lessthananhourago,ChaplainZaeroph

hadtoldhimnottodisturbthehealingprocessbyenteringthechamber.HehadtoldhimthatMoricaniwasmakingafullrecovery,andthatalieutenant’sdutyshouldbeinplanningthoseattackstobemadeinthefuture,ratherthandealingwiththefalloutofthosemadeinthepast.Thewordshadweight,atthetime.ButFarrencouldnomoreignoreMoricani’splightthanhecouldforgetthesightofhisbrother’sruinedfleshaftertheplasmamalfunction.HehadsentThrunntotheChaplainwithinminutesofhisreturntothePrimariscontingent’squarters.Theyoungwarriorhadquestionsofhisownaboutwhatthey saw in the dungeons of the keep, and sometimes the most honest andcompellingmotiveofthemallwasaneedforthetruth.WhilstthebigwarriorkepttheChaplainbusywithsimplequestionsthatallhadverycomplicatedanswers,Farrenhadtimeenoughtoseekoutsometruthsofhisown.Hehadalreadygonethroughtheritualofungirdinginhiscell,paddedoutintothecorridorinawovenrobeandheadedfortheapothecariumtoseehisoldfriend.Orwhatwasleftofhim.Allplasmaweaponswerevolatile;itwaswhytheyhadsuchareputationinthearmed forces of the Imperium. To be entrustedwith their usewas asmuch acurse as it was a blessing. But the Primaris Hellblasters knew their weapontolerancesbetterthaneventheplasmagunnersoftheAdeptusAstartes,fortheyweretrainedintheuseofthatoneweaponaboveallothers,andwereatonewiththeirmachine-spirit.Tosuffersuchacatastrophicmalfunctionatacriticaltime–it had to be the work of the psyker that had summoned the ether-spawn todistractthemasheescaped.Theblackarmouredfiguretheyhadrundowninthekeep.What had become of that figure since he had been incarcerated in the DarkTalon’sstasishold,Farrendidnotknow.Presumablyhewaslanguishinginacellsomewhere, if he had not already been executed. There was no way thelieutenantwouldbeentrustedwithanyinformationastohisfate,thatmuchwasobvious. Zaeroph and his fellows were not the giving type, and they seemedespeciallyreticenttogiveanydetailswhenitcametotherebellion’sleader.Thecorridors leading to theapothecariumwerewide, farwider than thoseofthe Primaris contingent’s quarters upon the Blade. The faint smell ofcounterseptictingledatthebackofFarren’snoseashepassedalargevestibuleareaandapproachedthedoor.Asalieutenant,hehadclearancetomakehiswayin,thoughshouldVaaradbe

inside at the timehewouldnodoubt have adifficult conversation ahead.TheApothecarywasastight-knitwithZaerophasGabraelandAutinocus,andwouldnot look kindly upon an unsanctioned visit. Should word reach Zaeroph, theresultantinterrogationabouthismotiveswouldnotbepleasant.The thick lintel of the apothecarium’s entrancewas framedby two skeletallythin caryatids that Farren at first took to be sculptural. When one of themwhirredintolifeandstaredathim,hewastakenabackforamoment,buthidhisdiscomfiturewiththesignoftheHolyCog.‘PrimarisLieutenantFarren,’hesaid.‘Denied,’ said the servitor, its voice as dry and rasping as two pieces ofgroundglassparchmentrubbedtogether.‘LieutenantFarren,’hesaid.‘FormerlyoftheIndomitusCrusade.’‘Denied.’Farren’s eyes narrowed as he recognised the servitor’s mech-pattern. Hereached up to the servitor’s neck, peeled away the outer casing of two of themanytubesrunningfromthecogitatorpillarbehinditintothebackofitshead,andcarefullysqueezedthemflatwithfingerandthumb.Bereftofitsmind-linkchemicals,itsquawkedinalarmforafewmoments,butwasunabletosendforhelp.Afterawhile, it fell still,black liquiddrooling from thesideof its slackmaw.‘Thetech-priestsofMarssendtheirgreetings,’saidFarren.The apothecarium’s vault doors ground open, the noise loud enough to haveFarren darting a glance over his shoulder despite his attempt to appear incommandofthesituation.Hestrodethrough,lookingleftandrightforanysignof Vaarad. To his relief, there were only wounded warriors in the bay, eachstrappedtoaslabwithcannulasandwheezingresp-tubesattachedtotheirtorsosandnecks.Farren passed a prone Dark Angel whose legs weremissing from the kneesdown, then the cybernetic replacements propped on a nearby lectern of darkgreenmarble.TohisrightwasaSpaceMarinewhoshouldbyrightshavebeenlongdead,forhisentirechestwascavedinasifbyamassiveboulder.Anestofpipesandwireswasconnected to theplugs inhisblackcarapace, suckingandgluggingas they tookoutextraneousfluidsandaddedback in thoseneeded tokeepthewarrioralive.The lieutenant raised his eyebrows.AnyApothecary skilled enough to bringthatsevereacasualtybacktoactiveservicewasworthyofthenametwiceover.Farren’sheartsthumpedashescannedtherestofthebeds.TherewasMoricani,

strapped to amed-slab at the back of the pillared hall.Despite his height andbroadshoulders,heseemedshrunken,robbedofhiseasypostureandwrysmilebytheterriblewoundthathadlaidhimlow.Almostasifhewasalreadyacorpse.Farrenwalkedcloser,hisgaitthatofathieftryinghisbestnottomakeasound.EvenataglancehecouldseeMoricani’swoundswereawful.Amorassofred,pink and black flesh,marbledwithwhite streaks and the odd gleam of bone,coveredhisentirerightside.Inplacesevenhisblackcarapacewasburnedaway,theribsandlungsbeneathopentotheair.Thesoftpinktissuebeneathpuckeredand flexed,puckeredand flexed,whilst ribbedandcartilaginous tubesgurgledsoftlyfromhistorso.‘Pietr,’saidFarrensoftly,‘wellmet.’He waited for some sarcastic reply, but the figure on the bed lay still,motionlessapartfromtheveryfaintmotionsofitsbreath.‘Pietr.Ihavecometowishyouwell.Canyouhearme?’Amomentpassed.‘No,’camethefaintreply,rightonthecuspofhearing.Farrenfeltthegutteringfireofhopeinhissoulflaretolifeoncemore.‘ThanktheOmnissiahyou’realive,’hesaid.‘Evenifyoursenseofhumourisstillintact.’‘Barely.’‘Whathappened,Pietr?Idon’tbelieveforonemomentyouoverchargedyourincineratorthatbadly.’‘Didn’t.’‘Sowhydiditcometothis?’‘Sab…otage,’saidMoricani.‘Whowoulddothat?’‘TheFirst.’‘Notpossible,’saidFarren,butevenashesaidthewords,heknewthatwasnotthecase.‘Isaw…somethings,Farren.’‘What?Somethingyouwerenotmeanttosee?’‘Yes.Therewas…anaccord.Inbattle.’‘Youmeanthedaemoncreatures?’‘No,’saidMoricani.‘Listen,Xedro.Justlisten.’Farrencastaglancebehindhimacrosstheapothecarium,butallwasasheleftit.

‘TheFirst,’saidMoricani.‘Talked…withthe…xenos.’‘Aparley?’‘No,’wheezedMoricani,shakinghisravagedskullanimperceptibleamount.‘Apact.’‘Howso?Didtheyuniteagainstacommonenemy?’‘Yes,’saidMoricani.‘Thedaemons?’‘Not…exactly.They…intimated…theyneeded…thet’au.’‘Whatfor?’‘To…attack…Allhallow.’Farrensteppedback,hismindwhirling.Moricanihad tobedelirious.TosidewithaxenosforceoveraSuccessorChapter…itwasunthinkable.Therehadtobesomemistake.‘What?Whydothis?’‘The…Angelsof…Absolution.Theyare…tainted…byapsy-plague.’‘Tainted?’‘That…white…psy-fire.Itis…infectiousto…otherAdeptus…Astartes.’‘Notallofthem,’saidFarren,gesturingtohisside.‘It…appearsnot.We…mustbe…madeof…strongerstuff.’‘AndtheAngelshavebecomeinfected?’‘Yes.Butwe…cannot…purgeit…ourselves.’‘Andthet’aucan?Ihardlythinkthey–’‘Yes,’interruptedMoricani,exasperationquickeningthewheezingofhisbreath.‘Theyare…allbut…psy…inert.Dimsouls.Immune.’‘SotheFirstaresendingxenosagainsttheirownsuccessorChapter?Thatcan’tberight.’Moricani’s lefteye,bloodshotandcrustedwithyellowdischarge, slidover tomeetFarren’sgaze.Foronce,therewasnotanounceofhumourinit.‘But why stray so far from the light?’ said Farren. ‘Why not inform theInquisition,andhavethemdealwithit?’‘Oldsecrets,’saidMoricani.‘Mustbe…kept.’‘And why would the t’au even agree to such a thing?’ Farren’s mind wasalready racing as it sought the answer. He thought of the stealther t’au theyfoughtonSaltireVex,ofthestrangepsyker-plaguetheyfirstencounteredthere,andoftheirorderstoheadbackandpurgethesiteforgood.Theeventshadtobeconnected.Morethanthat,theywerecauseandeffect.‘The t’au want us to attack their human allies in return,’ said Farren as

realisationdawned. ‘Theywantdeniability, so theycankeepup theirpretencewitheveryotherhumanworldthey’veluredintotheirempire.That’swhyweareheading back to the ocean world. We are to be their proxies, and finish theriggersforgood.’Moricaninodded,grimacingas themovementopeneda furrowofwoundsonhisneck.Whitish-yellowpusleakedoutofthetinychasmsthatappearedbyhiscollarbone.‘Whowouldmakesuchadealwithaxenosforce?WhatwouldbringtheFirstsolow?’‘The…quarry,’saidMoricani.‘Itssecret…mustbe…worse.’Farrennarrowedhiseyes. ‘Aquarry thatsummonsdaemons tohisside?Thatwouldbeworse,inmybook.’‘True.’‘But tokeepall thisfromtheInquisition,’saidFarren,frowningas thepiecesfittedtogetherinhismind,‘thatimplies…’Moricani’s left eyebrow raised, just a little, a perfect curve of hair incomparisontotheburnedandslug-likewealoffleshontheotherside.‘Thequarry…isone…ofus,’saidMoricani,liftingaclaw-likefingertopointatthewingedswordemblazoneduponFarren’srobe.‘ADark…Angel.’Farren felt sick. From the start, their enemy had not been a force of alieninvaders,norarebellion,norapsychiccurse.Ithadbeenoneoftheirown.‘Thatcannotbe.All thisdeath.All thiswar. It cannotbe for the sakeofonelonetraitor.Irefusetobelieveit.’Moricani struggled to sit up, his tubes straining as flesh and skin cracked inshining red deltas across his burned flesh. ‘You… know… it is… true!’ hehissed.Farren’seyeswentwide.‘Calm,’hesaid,gentlyplacinghishandoverthesideofMoricani’sfacethatstilllookedvaguelyhuman.‘Calm,myfriend.’The sergeant allowedhimself tobepushedbackdown,hisgoodeye sendingspears of accusation at Farren even as thewhite orb of his lost socket leakedwhitishfluidsacrosstheravagedfleshofhisburns.‘If this is true,’ said Farren coldly, ‘I will keep the spark of this truth, andnurture ituntil itbecomesa flame, thenan inferno. Iwillburn thisconspiracyfromtheheartoftheChapterifitismylastdyingact.’Something shivered in Farren’smind, a sense of familiarity, and a vision ofstrobinglightsandfacespeeringdown.Hewasabouttodismissitwhenhesaw

hisfriend’sgoodeyecreasedwitheffort.‘There is… more. The… memories,’ said Moricani. ‘You… told me. Youhave…themtoo.’‘Thenightmares?’‘The… memories,’ hissed Moricani. ‘I heard… Vaarad. And… Gabrael.Workingon…Vesleigh.’‘When?’‘Not…sure.Theythought…Iwas…out.’Farrensaidnothing,achillsenseofdreadclosingoverhim.‘Theywere…usingfluids…fromabattleservitor…’‘Toacceleratethehealingprocess?’‘To…mind-wipe…Vesleigh.Then…thenme.’SomethingsankinFarren’sstomach.‘What?’hesaid.Hismouthtastedofash,andofcold,deadthings.‘Theyremove…ourmemories,’saidMoricani.‘They…mind-wipe…usall.’‘No!’shoutedFarren.Hisarmsfeltfullofburningbio-fuel,hishandsreadytoripandtearashyperdrenalinethunderedthroughhissystem.‘Theytake…ourmemories…andsendus…towar…overand…over.But…theydidn’tknow…aboutour…furnace.Keepsus…half-awake.’Farren felt the floor of his mind fall away for the second time in as manyminutes.Itmadesomuchsense.Thesensationofwaking,as if fromdeepmeditation,when they were going into battle. The flashbacks, the dreams, the sense offigureslookingdownandshiningazurelightsrightintheirfaces.Thefactthatalmost every one of the PrimarisMarines had experienced the same thing atsomepoint.Theywerebeingusedaspuppets.Asdistractions.Asshieldsoffleshandboneto be hurled against a convenient enemywhilst the realworkwas being donebehindthescenes.‘It’salllies,’saidFarren.‘ThiswholeChapterisbuiltonlies.’Moricanisaidnothing,histubeswheezingashestaredupunblinkingatFarren.‘Whatdowedonow?’saidFarrensoftly.‘Getto…theheart…ofit,’saidMoricani.‘Expose…itall.’Farrennoddedsombrely,somethinghardeninginsidehissoul.‘Yes,’hesaid.‘ThatIcando.’

CHAPTERFIFTEENSAVAGEMEASURES

SaltireNearspaceKrootWarsphereVawkKaraow

JensaDeelpushedtheArvustoitsmaximumspeed.OncetheyhadleftSaltire’sorbit, she had been able to see her reflection against the starlit void, lit frombelowbythewanilluminationofthecockpitdisplays.Thevisagetherewasthatofastranger,perhapstwentyyearsolder,theskinmorelikeawashed-outgreythan her normal healthy brown. More than once she had seen her long-deadmotherinthatreflection.Nowtheintrospectionofthevoidwasarapidlyvanishingmemory,eclipsedbytheimmensityinthemiddledistance.Akrootwarsphere.Partspacestation,partmigratorycity,partbattleship.Andentirely inhabited by ruthless alien cannibals that sought their strength fromeatingthebodiesofthedead.Thexenosshipwasslategreyandgunmetal,alittleliketworingedcity-domescutfromaplanet’ssurfaceandweldedoneithersideofamassivespindle.Itwasoddlyfascinatinginitsugliness.Nohintofstreamliningorgracecouldbefoundhere,noreven the jutting,pugnaciousarroganceofImperialcraft.Thiswasanalien vessel in the truest sense of the word, built to satisfy sensibilities anddesiresthatnohumancouldtrulyunderstand.‘Ican’tbelieveyou’retakingusontothatThrone-damnedmonstrosity,’saiddelAggio. ‘Especiallywithyour,whatever it is,Deel.Your sickness. This is totalmadness.’

Markensnodded.‘She’snotwrong.’‘Soisstayingbehind,’saidDeelsoftly,steeringtheArvuslightertowardsthewinkingingresslightsshehadbeentoldtoaimforbythemercenaryxenocratsofQaruNon.‘Soiswaitingfordeath.’The rigger linedup the transportwithwhatsheassumedwas thewarsphere’sdockingbay.Sheengagedthecraft’smachine-spirit,rudimentarythoughitwas,tohelpguideherinsafely,andfocusedhardontheapproach.Thewarspheregrewsteadilyuntilitcompletelyfilledtheviewscreen.Shecastaglancedownat the recommissionedpulse carbine shehad stashedunder theseat,reassuredbyitslethallines.‘Oh-kay,’ said Deel, huffing out a long breath through pursed lips. ‘Anyoneknowanythingaboutkrootthatwehaven’talreadycovered?’Markensspokeup.‘RememberthatwatercasteoperativebackonThetoidlastsummer,Aggro?Asheputit,“theyhaveadistinctivescent”.’‘Sotheystink,’saiddelAggio.‘Bad.’Noonelaughed.The warsphere loomed even larger now, the details on its surface visible.Everythingaboutitwaswroughtonamassive,crudescale,asifithadbeenbuiltbysomecyclopeanraceoftitans.Inpartstheoutsideofthesphereseemedtobeovergrown by cables,winches and badlywelded girders, a separate andmoreorganicsuperstructureyearningtogetout.ItremindedDeelofthepict-capturesthathad fascinatedher as a child, hervisualbook imagesofmajestic, column-likearborealsthrottledbyparasiticvinesofbrightgreen.The ingress lightsblinked in series, silentlyguiding them in to thepipe-linedpassageway that led inside.ToDeel’s feveredmind, the ingresspoint lookedalotlikethegulletofsomestrangecyberneticbeast.‘Inwego.’‘So your plan is to persuade them to help us with a single barrel ofpromethium,’ said delAggio. ‘Andyou think thatwill be enough to convincethemtofacedownwhateverretributionissentourway.’‘UptoandincludingastrikeforceofSpaceMarines,’addedMarkens.‘Doyouhaveanymorerealisticideas?’snappedDeel,ballingherfiststokeepthemfromtrembling.‘Anyoldfriendsin-systemthatcouldmakeadifference?’DelAggiosaidnothing.‘Sowegoin,’saidDeel.‘Just…don’tsayanythingtothem.’‘That’snotherforte,’saidMarkens.‘Whatifyou…whatifyouhaveanepisode,likebefore?’saiddelAggio.‘I’ve

hadaheadacheeversince.’‘Then I reckon you’ll have to take it up fromwhere I leave off,’ saidDeel.‘SaltireVexiscountingonyou,evenifitdoesn’tknowit.’Another long silence.Deel guided theArvus lighter further in as the ingressportalledthemtoamassive,darkhangar.Adoublesetofvaultdoorsirisedopenandshutas the lighterpassed,and the lighter’spressuregauge flashedas theyformedanairlock.Dimlylit, theinsideoftheshipseemedhalfderelict.Aroundtheedgesofthewide,low-ceilingeddockwerethescatteringsofshipsfromhalfadozenraces,each dormant and part-disassembled at the edges of sight. A strange blackdiscolouration, a little like the oilmould that clung to the lower layers of therigs,hadclaimeda fair fewof them,and someevenboasted small clustersofvegetation.Here and there, condensation dripped from the rust-spattered ceiling. Thecolumns of lights that had guided them in turned through ninety degrees andwinkedtowardsawide,emptyberth.‘Guesswesetdownherethen,’saiddelAggio.‘Whereiseveryone?’mutteredDeel.‘Somewelcomingcommittee.’‘Finebyme,’saidMarkens.‘Youneedsomeonetowatchthelighter,ofcourse.Iherebyvolunteer.’‘Not a chance,’ said del Aggio. ‘You’re gonna make good friends with thatbarrel,haulingitupanystairs,pushingitupramps,carryingitoverropebridges,whateverwefind.’‘If I do that,’ saidMarkens, ‘and if wemake it back, and if our ship hasn’talready been stripped for parts, then you have to officiallymakemeRigsmanSecondClass.’‘Eurgh,’saiddelAggio.‘Fine.’TheArvuslightersetdownhardwithatripleclunk,thepneumatichissingofitslandinggearaudibleeveninsidethecockpit.‘Sorry,’saidDeel.‘Badlanding.’‘You’re not vomiting white gunk today,’ said del Aggio. ‘So as far as I’mconcernedyou’redoingfine.’Deelunclippedherharnessandmadeherwaytothebackofthelighterbeforesteppingoutintothehangarbeyond.Theairwashumid,horriblyso.Alreadyshecouldfeelsweatprickingatherback,herarmpits,theoldwoundsinthebacksofherlegs.‘It’shotasaburnsman’sforgeinhere,’saiddelAggio.

‘Smells even worse,’ grunted Markens, manhandling the promethium barreltheyhadtakenfromThetoidandrollingitoutof thebackof theArvuswithaloudclang.Deelwavedthemquiet,butthebigmanhadapoint.Theplacewastrulyfoul,hometoanacridstink thatstuck likerancidfat to thebackof the throat.Deelflexed the muscles in her nose to block her nostrils from the inside; an oldrigger’strick.Itmadehervoicesoundasstrangeasifshehadignifluenza,butithadsavedherfromnauseaahundredtimesover,especiallywhenmuckingoutthedrops.‘Justdealwithit,’shesaidinanasalmonotone,‘andkeepyoureyeswide.’The ingress lights suddenly changed,winking in a newpattern that led themintothecavernousrearofthehangar.Atthebackwasacorridor,roughlyovalinshape and ridged with thick stanchions that reminded Deel of the rings ofcartilagereinforcingahumantrachea.Longpipesandribbedcablesranalongitslength like tendons and veins, reinforcing the impression theywere venturingintotheinnardsofsomeimmensesteelgiant.WithDeel takingpoint,pulsecarbineheldready, the threeriggersmade theirwayonwardsintothegloom.Jensacastaglancebackwards.DelAggiowasather shoulder,watchful eyes under a tattooed scalp, her pulse pistol concealedsomewhereunderherraincape.Markens was dutifully rolling the promethium barrel along in front of him,tricklesof sweatonhisheavyarmsand fat-rolledneck.Theheavy steeldrummade a low, grinding rumble as it traversed the passageways – audible evenunderthebassthrumofthewarsphere’sengineunits,itputthemallonedge.‘Shouldhavelineditsridgeswithpacker’stape,’mutteredDeel.‘Toolatenow.’Therewasastrange,gutturalcawfromahead.Allthreeofthemstoppedforamoment,theirattentionfixedonashadowthatflickeredintheflashinglightoftheingresslumens.Ahunchedaviancockeditsheadatthem,rufflingitsmangyfeathers.Itshookthesheafofquillsbehinditsbeadyeyesandalongandjaggedbeak.‘Right,’saidDeel.‘Probablysomekindofpet–’Therewasaflickerofmovement.‘Oradistraction,’shecontinued,slowlyloweringthebarrelofhergun.‘Don’tmakeanysuddenmoves.’Sheturnedslowlytoseefourfiguresdroppingdownfromthepipesabove,theirolivegreenanatomies litheandsparse.Clawedfeet like thoseofbirdsclangedontothemetalfloorofthecorridor,andlongrifles,eachofwhichwastippedat

eitherendbyviciousblades,whippedaroundtopointrightatthem.Deelfeltoddlyproudthattwoofthefourwerepointedather,leavingoneeachfordelAggioandMarkens.Thexenosstaredovertheirbluntbeak-mawswithpenetratingblackeyes.Thenestsofquillsthatjuttedfromthebackoftheirheadsfannedup,asiftomaketheir silhouettes larger. The quills rattled,whilst some tinkledwhere nuts andmetaltrinketshadbeenwoveninamongstthem.Thekrootwerecladinleatherandcovered inwhat looked like thick, fattygrease; inplaces, itwasdark,andstreakedlikewarpaint.‘Weareheretoparley,’saidDeelinLowGothic.Shefeltsomethingliftoneofher dreadlocks frombehind, and turned just a fraction to see the tip of a rifleblade an inch fromher eye.The blade tugged a fewmore dreadlocks free, itsownermakingtheapproximationofacacklebeforelettingitfall.‘Par-lay,’ cawed the kroot in front of her, a scarred brute some eight feet inheight.Hewasmissing a large portion of his skull, and had a scorched blackaugmetic in its place. ‘Sal-taw Vec-kas,’ he trilled, his pointed black tonguestickingoutfromhisblood-encrustedjaws.‘SaltireVex,yes,’saidDeel.‘Wewanttohireyou.’Thekroot threwback theirheads,makingshrillcawingsounds thatDeelwasalmostsureweremockingher.Shesmiledinsincerely.‘Carmtohseemas-tarshay-par,’saidthekrootleader.Heshoulderedpastherroughly, his fellows close behind. The bodily contact left a smear of evil-smelling fatonDeel’s shoulder.Under thegrease,hisanatomyhadbeenhard,strong;littlemorethanmuscleoverbone.Itfelt…hungry,somehow.‘Deel?’saiddelAggiosoftly.‘Ithinkhesaid“cometoseemastershaper…”’‘Huh,’saidMarkens.‘Thatsoundslikewhowewant,right?’Heputhisweightagainstthepromethiumdrumandstartedrollingitoncemore.Thekrootaheadclickedandcawedtooneanother,makingtheshrillmockingsoundoncemoreastheywent.‘I hope so, Markens,’ said Deel, noticing a patch of stitched pink leatherdangling from the rearmost kroot’s belt. The hairs on her neck and forearmsstoodupassherealisedithadeyes,nostrilsandamouth.‘Ireallyverymuchhopeso.’

Thecavernousspaceofthekrootleader’scourtwashuge.Oppressivelyhotandstinking of acrid xenos flesh, it was lined with hundreds of tall, branching

structures,eachsomehowreminiscentofDeel’soldarborealpict-book–yetthisjunglewasmadeofgirders,coiledwireandironstanchionstwistedoutoftrue.Lithe,quadrupedalshadowsslinkedinitsreaches,jawsagape,whilstdozens–no,Deel thoughtasshe lookedcloser;hundreds–ofkroot-mercenaries leanedagainst,satnearanddangledfromthesteeltrees.Theywerehardtomakeout–deliberately so, for their grease-painted skin was streaked with darkdiscolourationbywayof camouflage.Tendrils of actual vegetationhung fromthestructuresinplaces,andstrangemulti-jointedinsectsbuzzedandflutteredinshaftsoflightthatstabbeddownfromabove.The largest beam illuminated thekingof this strange assembly.Seatedon animmense pile of captured weapons and bone trophies at the heart of thecavernousspace,hewasmassiveevenbythestandardsofhisloomingkindred.The sheaf of greyish quills that protruded from his skull stuck out in alldirections,eachspine-likeappendageadornedwithcomplexmetaljewellery,andhiseyeswerecoveredbycomplex infrascopicgoggles thatwouldhave lookedmoresuitedtoaSpaceMarineScoutthanabarbarianwarlord.Ahunched,elderlykrootperchedonhishaunchesonaricketyplatformatthewarlord’s side, wearing a cloak of long feathers and a stylised leather maskholding his own sheaf of quills. He stood unsteadily, propping himself on agnarledstaffoflacqueredheartwood.‘Yu-mansbowbee-foretheGreyKing,’hesaidinaharshcroak.Shivering, Deel bowed low. Markens followed suit after shoving his barreluprightwithaclangthatsentahundredbladedriflesclatteringupwardstofocusonhim.Hefrozemid-bow,notdaringtostandagain.‘Thatwunnotbow,’saidthefeather-cladspeaker,motioningatdelAggio.‘That’sright,’saidtheriggerloudly,‘Idonot.Fartoomuch–’Ashadowmovednearby.ThehiltofakrootriflethumpedintodelAggio’sgut,hardenoughtosendhertoherkneesinawheezing,red-facedball.‘Youdoonow,’saidthespeaker.TheGreyKinggaveacroaking,basscawthatwasalittletoomuchlikehumanlaughterforcomfort.‘Yoocomeasfood,’saidthespeaker,cockingitshead.‘Smallflesh,’itadded,itsquillsdippingindisappointment.The pungent stench of the place was getting thicker. It was so foul it wasbeginningtomakeDeel’seyeswater.Thatwaswhatshetoldherself,atleast.Shewasdefinitelynottearingupthroughfear.‘We come as employers,’ she said, keeping her voice steady. ‘To enlist yourservicesasmercenaries.Allofyou.’

A great cacophony of cawing, barking, hooting and clapping of hands camefrom all around as the metal jungle came to life, the sound deafening in itssudden intensity. Deel waited for it to subside. Sure enough, the Grey Kingraisedagiantclawedhand,andtheassemblygraduallyfellquiet.‘Yoowant to hi-yer us,’ said the speaker, his tone harsh.The feathers on hisbackfannedout,andDeelrealisedwithastartthattheywerenotacloak,asshehadfirstthought,butwings.‘Wattcouldyouposs-ab-leeofferus?’Willingeveryounceofherselfcontrolintokeepingherhandsteady,Deelheldupafinger.ShetookoutthehipflaskandtinderswitchshehadsecondedfromdelAggiofromherjerkin–adozenriflesswingingaroundtocoverherasshedidso–andunscrewedthetop.‘Al-ca-haul?’saidtheGreyKing,hisposturestiffeninginhischair.Hesnortedlikearhinoabouttocharge.‘No,’saidDeel,swiggingabiggulpfromtheflaskwhilstfightingtheurgetovomit.Sheflickedthetinderswitchand,lipspursed,breathedoutagreatcloudofpromethiumdroplets.Theycaught instantly.Amassivepillarofflameandgreasyblacksmokeshotupfromherlipstotheceiling,sendingcrazyshadowsdancinginthemetaltreesandsendingtheassemblyintoahooting,cawingcacophonyoncemore.‘Promethium,’shesaid,kickingMarkens’barrelwithasteel-toedboot.Itgaveapleasinglyloudclang.‘Pure,undilutedfirejuice.’‘Wehave that,’ said the speaker.His tonewas stillharsh,buthiswingswerefoldedbackagain,andhiseyeswerebright.Heflungoutahand.‘Wearewar-sphere,VawkKaraow.Onebar-ralisnuth-ing.’‘Thisisjustaqualitysampleofourgoods,’saidDeel.‘Wehaveliterallytensofthousandsofbarrelsofthefineststuff.Tensofthousands.Allyouneedtodoisland,andwerollitaboard.Oneberth,onebarrel.’‘Oneberthonebar-ral,’saidthespeaker.‘Yes.Thenwedebarkatthenextsystemalong,andleavethegoodswithyou.You’llhaveallthefuelyouneedforyears,decades.Andthere’sroomenoughonthisvesselforallofus.’‘Isssthere,’hissedtheGreyKing.‘Yoohaveweap-onsoft’auser-vant,’saidthefeatheredspeaker,pointingatherpulse carbine. He had made ‘t’au’ two staccato halves, and mangled a fewsyllables,but themorehespoketoher, thebetterhisfacilitywithLowGothicseemedtoget.Shehadheardofthekroot’sabilitytomimicothers,buttoseeitinpracticewastrulyimpressive.Nowondertheymadesuchadeptmercenaries.

‘We are not bound to Great Good,’ the speaker cawed, something close todisdaininhiseyesandthecockingofhishead.‘Hereawayfromsepts,wedoasweseefit.’‘TheT’au’vaisanobleideal,’saidDeel.‘Anditunitedourplanet,once.Butthere are those amongst the t’au thatwould see us dead, just for the crime ofbeinghuman.Whatkindofunityisthat?’Therhetoricalquestionhungintheair.Deelcouldnottellifitwasthesilenceof contemplation, or whether the kroot had lost interest andwere thinking oftheirnextmeal.‘We come to you as independents,’ she said, pressing on. ‘As a peoplewithmuchtooffer,butnoalliestoofferitto.’Therewasanotherlongsilence.‘Oneberth,onebarrel,’saidthespeaker,tiltinghisjawback.‘Yes.’Henodded,runningastringoffingerbonesthroughhistalons.‘Tellmore,’hesnapped.‘Wemakepact.’Deel felt a cold shroud lift from her heart, fluttering above it, but ready todescendoncemore.‘Haltit,’saidtheGreyKing.Downcamethatshroud,overDeel’sheart.‘Haudo,we-know,’saidthewarlord.‘Haudoyoutelltruthweknow.’Deel frowned. ‘I don’t lie. Check the quality of that barrel’s contents if youdon’tbelieveit’sthegoodstuff.’‘Notenough,’saidthespeaker,slowlyshakinghishead.‘Toriskwar-sphere.Isaytoyou,no,wecannot.’‘Comeheer,’ said theGreyKing, extendinga long talonandbeckoningDeelcloser.The talonwas like the clawof someancient saurian, scaled andblack-nailed.Ithadthreeotherclawsreadytograsp,torip,toplungeintohumanfleshbehindit.‘Come.’Deel stepped forward hesitantly, then caught herself and strode, confidenceradiating from her every step despite the fact she felt nothing but pure terrorinside.‘Giffftme,’saidthewarlord,motioningatherfingers.‘Iwilltaste-trooth.’EveryinstinctinDeel’smindscreamedathernottoholdherhandout.Sheheldherhandoutanyway.Thewarlordgrabbedit,enfoldingherbrowndigits inhisgiantclaw.Hisgripwas a wrench-vice, inescapable. The warlord leaned in, his acrid stench

overpowering. His eyes, though hidden behind the high-spec Imperial snipergoggles,seemedtoboreintoher.Then thewarlord’smassive, jagged beak,more like that of a snapping turtlethanabird,dartedforwardandclippedofftwothirdsofDeel’slittlefingerinasinglemotion.Deel’s lipscurledasshe foughtwithallherbeingnot toscream.Sheyankedherhandbackandpinchedthestemofherseveredfingertosavefromdrizzlingbloodalloverthemakeshiftthrone.Thewarlordsatback, lickingtheedgeofhisbeakcleanofDeel’sblood.Sheheard the crunch of her own fingerbones as the master shaper chewedthoughtfullyonherflesh.‘Hah,’hesaideventually,asifsurprised.Thefeatheredspeakerclickedandwhistledintheunintelligiblekroottongue.‘She is, trooth-teller,’ said the Grey King in response, nodding. ‘And psy-spiced.’‘Psy-ling?’ said the speaker, his eyes glinting as his quills rose high. ‘Goodmeat,forshay-man.’‘No,’saidtheking,shakinghishead.‘Toouse-fuel.’Theshaman’squillsdroopedoncemore.‘One berth, one bar-rel,’ said the giant xenos thoughtfully, looking down atDeel.Shewasshakingnow,uncontrollably.‘Y-yes,’shesaid.‘JustgetusoffSaltireVex,andputusdownsomewheresafe.Warm.Wedon’tcarewhere.’‘Youseekwarm,’saidthekrootmonarch,eyelidslowered.‘Yes,’shenodded.‘Please.’‘Done.’AfloodofreliefwashedoverDeelasshebackedaway,bowinglow.Shesawtheblack spots returnat theedgeofhervision, and fellback,only to feeldelAggiocatchherandcarryherbackovertoMarkens.WhilstdelAggio toreoffastripofclothfromhercuffandboundthefinger-stumpasbestshecould,DeelleanedheavilyagainstMarkens’reassuringbulk.Thesmellofhisstalesweatwasreassuringlyhumanaftertheolfactoryassaultofthekroot’sstench-grease.Deelfrowned.Cometothinkofit,shecouldhardlysmellthevilestenchofthekroot.Ithadallbutdisappeared.‘Gonow,’saidthespeakerfromatopthepodium.‘Readyyourpeople.Wewillcomeforyouonfifteendayfromhere.’

‘Fifteen days,’ said delAggio pensively. ‘With the evac protocols already inplace…’Shepaused,countingonherfingers. ‘Andbythen, thewatersaroundtherigswillalreadyhavestartedtofloe…’Two heavy-set kroot approachedMarkens and yanked the promethium drumaway fromhim, cawing harshly in triumph as they carried the barrel betweenthemtotherearofthewarlord’sthrone.‘Allyours,’saidMarkens.‘You’rewelcometoit.’Jensafelthersensesswimbackintofocusasthekrootkingwavedthemaway.SheleantheavilyonMarkensastheymadetheirwaybacktothelighter.‘Deel,my girl,’ said del Aggio, the dragons on her eyebrows kissing as shefrowned.‘IthinkImightjustloveyoualittlebit.’

FifteenDaysLater

The vast sideways domes of the descending starship were blurred by thepunishingly cold winds that whipped across Saltire Vex’s ice floes, but JensaDeelcouldseethemgrowingclearerbytheminute.Welloveramilefromthetipofonedometotheother,thevesselwasasincongruousandunsettlingasavastmetallicmeteorhangingsuspendedinthesky.YettothepeopleofSaltireVex,thearrivalofthewarspherewastheirsalvation.Deel looked back to see long columns of huddled refugees stretching behindher,thousandsofriggersshufflingacrosstheicefloesthathadslowly,inevitablyformedover theirocean.Thefloeswereasignof thedeathlytemperatures theplanetwouldplungetoasitcontinuedonitsellipticaljourneyawayfromthestarSaltiros; amongst the riggers, it was said that if you saw an ice floe, it wasalreadytoolate.Nowthatsuppositionwasbeingputtothetest.Theriggerfamiliesmakingtheirwayfromthelowestpontoonsoftherigswerewrapped up so completely they looked more like columns of penguins thanpeople.Deelknewthatsomeofthemhadmadethetrekfromonerigtoanotheracross dozens of sites, using them as staging posts for a far larger pilgrimagetowardstherendezvouspointofFerro-GiantThetoid.Manyhadmadetheirjourneyonboats,ferriesorlow-altitudeflyers;othershadcrossedonice-skiffsorevencanidsledsasthefloeshadclosedtheirgriparoundthepromethium rigs.Eachof themboreabarrelofpromethium, though some

were larger thanothers– the terms thatDeelhad laidout toher fellowchiefswereclearenough,butshehadnotspecifiedthesize.Thestrongestamongsttherefugees rolled barrels even larger than the one Markens had carried to thewarsphere by way of an example, whereas the children carried barrel-shapedpailsthatsloshedwithhalf-frozenpromethiumsludge.It galledDeel to think thathundredsof riggershadalreadydied in thisgreatexodus–fallenthroughtheice,perishedfromexposureinthestormsthatlashedthemeveryweek,orsimplyfrozentodeathastheirbodiesgaveupentirely.Yetthousandsmorehadmadeittotherendezvoussiteintime.Greatcrowdsofherpeople stamped their feet, hugged themselves and stared up at the sky as thewarspheregraduallymadeitswaydowntowardsthem.DeelpulledouttheauspicatortubeshehadtakenfromThetoid’ssurveyornookandfocuseditonthecolossalstarshipasitgrewevercloser.Thelowerstrataofits composite hullwasnowdiscolouredwith someweirdmanner of caulk, nodoubt an insulating material of some kind intended to protect it from theimminentlanding.On thecuspofhearingDeelcouldmakeout the soundsofherpeoplecryingout;someinoutrage,othersinawe,orinsheergratefuldisbeliefthattheirarcticnightmarewasabouttoend.‘Ungratefulbastards,’ saiddelAggio, shiveringhard.Shehadbeencopiouslysickthenightbeforeintheirsharedbunk,andhadnothadanythingpositivetosayeversince.DeelcouldnotshaketheimageofwhiteectoplasmgoutingandsprayingfrombetweendelAggio’s teethasshe trieddesperatelynot to let thepsychicenergiesroilinginsideherflyoutofcontrol.‘Notallofthem,’saidDeel.‘Andyoucanbetyourlastcointhatnoneofthemwillstay.’‘I’m looking forward to getting back into that stinking nest,’ said Markens,blowingintohiscuppedhands.‘Atleastit’swarminthere.’The three riggers watched in silence as the warsphere slowly, majesticallylowered itself into the ice floes with a grinding bass crunch. Jets flared fromdozensofportsontheoutsideof thedomerings,slowingthedescent,butstillthe landingwas anythingbut elegant.The thing threw tidalwavesof freezingwater into theairas itbellieddown,vast spraysof spumeerupting.Cloudsofsteam wreathed its underside as the heat of its atmospheric entry wascounteractedbytheicewater.For a longwhile, nothinghappened.The susurrusof awedwhispers amongstthepopulacebegantorise,withsomeloudervoicesshoutingoutinimpatience.

Then, just as Deel feared a riot might break out, several massive chunks ofmetalfoldedawayfromthewarsphere.Theyhingeddown,comingtorestuponthelargericefloesinasprayoficecrystals.‘Rightthen,’saiddelAggio.‘Rightthen,’repliedDeel.ShecastalookatMarkens,andheshrugged.‘Let’sgetoffthisicydeathtrap,’hesaid.‘Iforonewon’tmissit.’Somehow,Deelknewthebigmanwaslying.Butthatwasallright.

CHAPTERSIXTEENCONFRONTATION

SaltireNearspaceApproachingKrootWarsphere

TheExecutioner’sBlade

Aservo-skulldrifted into the communal spacewhere thePrimarisMarines sataroundtheirmesstable,itsspinalcordwavinglikeatentacle.‘LieutenantFarren,’cameApothecaryVaarad’stinnyvoicefromitsaugmitter.‘SergeantParvell.BrotherGsar.BrotherThrunn.BrotherEnrod.Pleasereporttotheapothecariumimmediatelyforroutinepsy-scan.’Farren took a deepbreath, sharing a lookwith his brothers.EvenEnrod casthimaglance,hisusualstudiedindifferencereplacedbygenuineconcern.IthadnotbeenlongsincethelieutenanthadvisitedthemintheircellsandpassedonwhathehadlearnedfromMoricani.‘Herewego,then,’saidThrunn.‘Yes,’saidFarren.‘Timefortheroutineprocedurewediscussed.’‘Istherenowayaroundthis?’askedParvell.‘Sadlynot.Wecannotaffordtolosethatwhichweworkedsohardtogain.’The lieutenant turned togo,andasone thePrimarisMarinesfiledoutbehindhim. Nothing of their usual surety remained in their step, only a profoundunease.ToFarren,theirexpressionswerethoseofcondemnedmengoingtothegallows.‘This shouldn’t take too long,’ said Farren. ‘Gsar, you have what wediscussed?’

‘Aye,’he said, rappinghisknuckleson the combatknifeunderhis robe.TheamountofangeranddisappointmenttheRepulsordrivermanagedtoconveyinthatsinglesyllablewasimpressive.They followed the servo-skull with its weird, dangling spinal cord for a fullfifteenminutes,passing throughvaultedcorridors andechoingmunitionshallsas theymade theirway fromone sideof theExecutioner’sBlade to theother.Notanotherwordwasspokenuntiltheyreachedtheapothecarium.The smell of counterseptic reached them before the med-suite’s caryatidservitorscameintoviewattheendofthecorridor.AsFarrenrecalled,therewasasmallvestibuleareaofftotheside,anareawherethosewhowereyettoseektheApothecary’sserviceswereencouragedtowaitinmeditativecontemplationoftheprocedurestocome.‘In here,’ he said, motioning for his brothers to go inside. They filed inwordlessly.Themacabreservo-skulldriftedinafterthem,itsflickeringazurelumendimlycastingapoolofilluminationacrossthefloor.‘Procedureimminent,’itbuzzed.‘KindlyinformApothecaryVaaradwearehere,’saidFarren,‘andrelatetohimthatwearefindingaconstantbio-rhythminpreparationforhisprocedure.ItisaPrimaris-specificritual.Wewillbereadyforpsy-scaninpreciselysixminutes.’The servo-skull nodded in mid-air. ‘Six minutes. Acknowledged,’ it said,turningtoslideawaywithasofthumofanti-graviticmotors.‘Is that enough to fire it up?’ askedEnrodonce the apothecarium’s door hadslidclosedbehindthefloatingskull.‘Trustme,’ said Farren. ‘I amwell aware of the timescales here. Gsar, yourcombatknifeplease.Weneedtomakethisquick,andsubtle.’Gsarunclippedthecombatknife–sixteeninchesofrazoredhypersteelsosharpitcouldsawthroughanironstanchion–andflippedit,profferingithilt-firsttothelieutenant.‘No,’ saidFarren,pushing thebladeback towardsGsar. ‘Weeachdeliver thewoundtoanother.’Heraisedhisarmandpointedtothedentbeneath.‘Throughthe armpit into the heart. Close it quick, so it has time to clot. By mycalculations,thatwillbeeasiesttoconceal.’He looked at Enrod, expecting him to call out the plan asmadness, or evendenounceitaltogetherashestrodeoutwithnotsomuchasabackwardsglance.Hisbattle-brothersimplymethisgaze,andnodded.Parvell,tohisleft,crossedhisforearmsinthePrimarissalute.

‘Gsar,’saidFarren,turninghisflank.‘Doit.’Thetankdriverlunged.‘Hnnngh!’Farrenfeltablindingwhitepainburstinhismindasthelong-bladeddaggersanktothehiltinhisarmpit.Itscrapedbonebeforeprickinghisprimaryheart.Gsartookthedaggerout,slickedredfromhilttotipwiththelieutenant’sblood,andpassedittoThrunn.AsthebigwarriortookitandlinedupthepointunderGsar’s raisedarm,Farrencouldalready feel thechemicalspulsing throughhisbloodstream from his Belisarian furnace. They were pushing his system intooverdrive,arapidresponsetotheblade’sintrusionintothemeatofhisheart.Thrunnputtheheelofhishandagainsttheblade’shiltandpushedithomeintoGsar’schest.Thetankdrivergrimacedandbreathedquicklyinandout,hiseyeswatering and tendons standing out on his throat as his ribcagewas penetratedandhisheartwaspierced.He shook, as if in revulsion,buthe still stood.Thecombatbladeslidoutofhistorso,thenThrunnpassedittoParvell.ThebaldsergeantnoddedsolemnlyasEnrodraisedhisarmandturnedhisheadaway.‘Thisisatruebondofbrotherhood,yourealise,’saidParvellasheplacedthe tip against Enrod’s bare flesh. ‘This is different from the kin-lines of theChapter,orevenofloyalallegiancetotheprimarch.Thisbondisours,andoursalone.’Parvell pushed the long knife hard, its impossibly sharp tip slicing throughsinewcoilsandblackcarapacealike.Enrodstifledacry,bitinghisknucklessohard theybled,buthekeptsilent,onlygaspingwhen thebladecameoutoncemore.ThenitwasThrunn’sturntohavethebladepushintohisheart,andfinallyParvell’s,withFarrenwieldingtheknife.The five SpaceMarines stood with blood dripping down their flanks. Theirchestswereheavingasiftheyhadeachgonetwentyroundsinthepracticecagesas their Belisarian furnaces pumped a heady mix of stimms around theirbloodstreams.Farrencouldalreadyfeeltheveinsinhisarmsandthighspulsing,becomingacutelyawareofbloodclottingunderhisarmas thehypercoagulantchemicalsofhishaemostamenwenttowork.‘Fiveminutes,’ he said.His jaw clenched involuntarily. ‘Clean up any bloodsplatterbefore thatcog-damnedskull comesback.Andkeepyourbio-rhythmsfromspiking,ifyoucan.Justrideitout.’ThePrimarisMarineswenttowork,eachonedabbingattheclotwhereGsar’sbladehadgoneintotheirflesh.Sosharpwasthecombatknife,soresilienttheirflesh,thatthewoundswereallbutinvisiblewhentheirarmswerelowered,just

asFarrenhadhoped.Yettheoperationhadnotbeenaprecisescience;noneofthem were apothecarium trained. By the blood trickling from his armpit, thecombatknifehadseveredoneofThrunn’smajorveins.‘Just hold it tight,’ said Farren, his vision pulsing slightly in time with hisheartbeatashisfurnacewenttowork.‘Weonlyhavetogetinthere.’Evenashespoke,heknewitwasalie.HowdidtheyeverhopetodisguiseallthebloodfromatrainedApothecary,especiallyoneasadeptasVaarad,lessthanaminuteawayfromexamining them?Fourof thewoundshadclotted,but thefifth…‘Six minutes,’ came a metallic voice from behind Farren. He spun, almostknocking into the floating skull and spinal column that formedVaarad’smed-familiar.‘Theapothecariumisreadytohealyou.’Farren cast a glanceback atThrunn.Thebigwarrior tookhis hand fromhisarmpit,therichredoffreshbloodstillobviousinhispalm.‘Nochoice,’hemouthed.Thefiveventuredintotheapothecarium,Farrenattheirhead.HecouldfeelhisbloodthunderinginhisveinsashesawtheberthwhereMoricanistilllay,adarkvelvetcurtaindrawnacrossit.Nodoubthewasbeingkeptonthethresholdofconsciousnessuntilthetimewasrighttousehimasaweapononcemore.ApothecaryVaaradwasatthefarendofthechamber,bentalmostdoubleoverthecorpseofadeadSpaceMarine.Hewassuturingclosedtheholewheretheprogenoidglandshadbeen;ashefinished,heplacedafullgene-flaskcarefullyonthedesk.‘BacktotheChapter,’hesaidinhisstrangerasp,hisaugmeticjawglintingasheturned.‘Theultimatefateofusall.’‘Justso.’‘Just so indeed, Lieutenant Farren. Though in the fullness of time you willundergo a similar procedure, today you and your brothers are here for a psy-scan. It is a routine procedure after exposure to an unsanctioned psychicpresence.Thereisnothinguntowardaboutit.’‘Isee,’saidFarren,fightingtokeephistonelevel.‘Brothers,totheslabs.’Wordlessly the Primaris climbed onto the level berths, one in each alcove.FarrenfelthispulsethunderalltheharderashesawThrunntrailingbrightspotsofbloodinhiswake.‘You arewounded,Battle-BrotherThrunn,’ saidVaarad, kneeling to examinethe blood. His servo-skull flew in close, its azure light turning the spilt vitaeblack.

‘My fault,’ said Enrod, holding up his knuckles. They were red with blood,flesh peeled back where he had gnawed on them to stifle the pain of theirfurnace-triggering pact. ‘A slight disagreement, settled in the warrior fashion.The others broke it up, but I proved myself to have the more compellingargument.’Vaaradhissedthroughhisteeth,turningawayindisgusttorunhishandsoveratrayofsyringes.Heselectedone,attachingittotheprimarymanipulatorarmofhis servo-skull. ‘You will keep that temper in check,’ he said, his voicepassionlessasthatofaKataphronbattleservitor,‘ifyouwishtoearnyourtrueplaceintheDarkAngelsChapter.’‘Of course,’ said Enrod, his tone contrite. Farren caught his eye; there wassomething unfamiliar there, under the too-wide stare of one whose furnaceburnedhot.Collusion,perhaps.‘Alittlecortexsedative,now,’saidVaarad,‘administeredtoprepareyouforthepsy-scan.’Vaarad’s servo-skull hovered in close to Farren, the syringe glinting in thebluish light of its lumen. He bared his throat, knowing that in doing so heapproached the precipice of amnesia. Furnace or not, there was a distinctpossibility he would forget everything, waking once more in the hold of theNightHarrowerwithhishandscheckinghisboltrifleforthehundredthtime.‘Just let yourself relax,’ buzzedVaarad as azure light shone brightly into thelieutenant’s eyes. ‘This will not take long, and then everything will be as itshould.’Inside,thebeastcagedbehindFarren’sheartragedwild.

CHAPTERSEVENTEENTHEBLADEUNSHEATHED

ViewingDomeTheLiminalConquest

Progress-ClassStarCruiser(SlipstreamEnabled)FlagshipOfTheFourthSphereExpansion

Tutor Twiceblade stared balefully at the holovis suite as his high commanderreplayedan airborneviewof the events transpiringon theprimitiveplanet farbelow.Thesitewasvisibleasagreensmudgeontheviewingdome’svoidscape,but it was shown in pinpoint detail on the subsidiary hex informationals. Itlookedforbidding,foraprimitivestructure,especiallyswathedinsmoke.Uponenteringthesystem,CommanderSurestrikehadimpresseduponallofVrerankorhigherthatsuchsitesweretobetreatedwithextremecaution.At one point, Twiceblade had not known why. What harm could such aprimitive,evenfeudalgovernmentposetoanadvancedcivilisationsuchasthatofthet’au?Yetnow,watchingtherelayunfoldingbeforehim,hebegantoseejustwhatsuchplanetsrepresented.Anarchy,rawandinfectiousasasuppuratingwound.The fortress that Surestrike had descended to in his Coldstar was once aformidabledefensiveposition,albeit static,buthehad left it littlemore thanasmoking ruin. The high commander had already transloaded his drones’ warfootage to the fire caste’s information web, and Twiceblade had memorisednearlyeverydetailoftherecordings,eveneditingtogethertherelevantsectionsin a flagrant breach of caste protocol. He and Surestrike had resolved to

understand every nuance, just in case they had missed something about thegue’ron’shaandtheirstrangeservants.Onthehexinformationals,thickblacksmokebelchedfromthefortress’towers,its walls, the stairways that led to its subterranean levels. Its courtyard wasstrewn with the remnants of mutant human bioforms, some ripped apart ormangledsoviolentlytheyappearedsavagedbyapackofgreatknarlocs.Figuresstaggered or fled from the tumbled walls and shattered gatehouses of theprimitive megastructure for the woods around. Some were cut down byexplosive rounds as they fled, others making it to the apparent safety of thetreeline.‘Observethispattern,’saidSurestrike.Thedisplayzoomedout, rushingbackwardsas thedrones that assembled thefootage took a new vantage point. The fleeing humans were lit with variousdesignatorsand target locksas they fled.After reachingamileor so from thesite of the carnage, many of them were snuffed out, their designatorsdisappearing. Others were consumed by sudden white fires that blazed brightbeforetheirdesignatorsturnedfromsilvertored.‘This footage is from the last diurnal rotaa,’ said the commander, a note ofsadness in his voice. ‘We already know the quarantine has not been effective.Thoseinfectedbythemind-plaguehaveproventobe…highlyunpredictable.’The footagezoomedoutagain.Severalother structureswereon firewithinatwenty-mile radius of the first, columns and palls of black smoke trailingwestwardintheprevailingwind.‘Andthereisnowayoftrackingdownthoseelementsthathaveescapedwhilstthey are still relatively contained?’ asked Tutor Twiceblade. ‘Surely the earthcastehavesomemannerofdelineator.’Commander Surestrike made the downward gesture of the saddened soul.‘Theyhavenothingwecoulduse.’‘Then the infection will spread,’ said Twiceblade. ‘We cannot engage anddestroyeverycraftthatleavesague’ron’shahomeworldwithoutinitiatingafull-scalewar.’‘That is true,’ said Surestrike. ‘And the gue’ron’sha delegateswe spokewithupon the derelict space station already realised that.’ The high commanderturned,astrangelightinhiseyes.‘Thatiswhytheygaveusthis.’Surestrike motioned to the artefact held aloft on a cushion of anti-graviticenergies, projected from a hover disc that Tutor Twiceblade could have

encompassedwithhisarms.Thehumanrelicwasayellowedskullinaviceofmetal.ToTwiceblade,themacabrethingseemedbluntandsimian,itspowerfuljaw, wide orbits and a heavy brow the hallmarks of a primitive but effectivehunter.‘They believe this can be used to seek out those who are infected,’ saidSurestrike,‘betheygue’laorgue’ron’sha.Yettheycannotbetheonestodoit.’To Twiceblade, the human skull seemed a vile and atavistic thing. Yellowedwith immense age and surrounded by a mechanism of primitive pincers andcoils, it seemedall themoreanachronisticnext to theclean,high-tech linesofthe hover disc that held it upright. Gaping sockets stared up at the tutor, thewholeartefactseemingtolaughathimwithitsmaddeningrictusgrin.‘Isthatpurelysomemannerofprimal,fetishisticartefact,’askedthetutor,‘ordoesithaveanactualuse?’‘It may seem too surreal to contemplate, given its lack of technologicalembellishment,’repliedSurestrike.‘Butaccordingtothemind-sciencespecialistDothrael,itwillemitasignalofsomekindwheneverapsykerisclose.’‘Nodoubtithascircuitrylaidintotheactualbone,’saidTwiceblade.‘As you say,’ nodded Surestrike sagely. ‘Though having seen what wewitnessedinthesub-realm,therecanbenosuretyastowhatmeasureofmind-scienceinfectsit.’Twicebladesuppressedashudder.‘Ultimately, it is largely irrelevant,’ continued Surestrike. ‘We have not thesanctiontouseitfromanelementalcouncil,northetoolsneededtotrackdownandslayeveryinfectedhumanonastrongholdplanetofhighlytrainedelites.’Nodding absently in agreement, TutorTwiceblade said nothing.His thoughtshad turned to the taleofCommanderFarsight,as theyoftendid.Farsight,andhisdarkercounterpart.‘Imust talkwith theaun immediately,’saidSurestrike. ‘Allof thosewehaveleft,thatis.Ihavealreadypetitionedforanaudience,andtheyhavegrantedit,for it is no secret that I need their guidance.’Hemade the gesture of the lostswanbeforecontinuing.‘Pleasefeelfreetousethisviewingdomeasyourown,tutor, andmeditateuponyourowncourse. I shallbe takingmysaz’namiwithme,ofcourse,soyouwillbewithoutguardianship.’‘I… see,’ said Twiceblade, subconsciously making the sign of the dutifulservant.Itwasanuninspiredchoice,butitwouldhavetodo,forhismindwasalreadyracing.‘IknowIcan trustyou todo theright thingfor theT’au’va,’saidSurestrike,

holdingTwiceblade’sgazeforalongmoment.Thenheturned,andwalkedawaythroughtheviewingdome’smainportal.Hissaz’nami bodyguards followed him in a swirl of ceremonial cloaks, leavingTwicebladealonewiththedisturbingImperialartefact.Itstaredupathim,grinningasifhewastheonlyfoolintheworldthatdidnotappreciatethejoke.

TutorTwicebladefeltachillpassoverhimasheadvancedfromthecorridorthatled fromthebattlesuitbay into theatriumofContingencyZoneEight.Hehadfeltonedge foralmost a full cycle, ever sincehis return to theviewingdomewhere he had spoken to Commander Surestrike and his subsequent…unauthorisedrequisitionoftheImperialartefact.Hehelditclose,wrappedinathickcloakandcradledunderhisrightarm.Thefeelingofnervousnesshegotwhenhewasdisobeyingorderswasreachingfeverpitch.There it was, the stasis cylinder that haunted his dreams, its shape that of apiercingprojectilefromablackpowderage.A‘bullet’,thegue’vesacalledit.Eventhewordsoundedcompact,aggressive.A final, swift and thoughtless answer that could be made to conclude everypossibledisagreement.Twicebladeshookhishead.Hecouldnotaffordtothinklikethat.Likehim.Ghostsof concern flickered throughTwiceblade’smindasheapproached thecylinder. He had been expressly forbidden by Surestrike to seek out theirresident stasis guest, on pain of demotion and instant exile. That in itself toldTwiceblade much about the true status of their guest, and about Surestrike’sunderstandingoftheMonat.Hecouldnotblamethehighcommander,however.Onecouldnotwalkinthelightofleadershipandthedarknessofthesingularpredatoratthesametime.Those who studied the Way of the Lone Soul paid a high price for theirlearnings.Theywouldneveragainfeelthetruecompanionshipoftheirfellows,thesoul-affirmingcamaraderiebetweent’au,thereflectedlightofateam-mate’svictoryorthedeepemotionalconnectionoftheta’lissera.Butinreturn,theylearnedofautonomy,independenceofspirit,and–thoughitwasnever said aloud– a knack for knowinghow to circumvent the rules andsuppositionsofthoselessenlightenedbypotential.ItwasknownastheFreedomofOne.Yethere, in thismoment, thatphilosophyfeltnotsomuch like freedom,asa

trap.Itwasnot theopprobriumorcensureofhismasterSurestrikethatblottedTutorTwiceblade’smindlikeaspillofcephalopod’sink,threateningtodarkenandstaineverythingittouched.Itwasfear,plainandsimple.Fearofthethinginthecanister.Kais,theLivingWeapon.TutorTwicebladeapproachedthecylinderasifitwereanimprovisedexplosiveon a kinetic hair-trigger.He placed the bundle of cloth containing the strangeImperialartefactonthefloorwiththeutmostcare,andstoodbackup.Thenextpartoftheritualwasvital,andithadtobeobservedcorrectly,orelseheriskedignitingKais’temper.That rage was less obvious, perhaps, than Farsight’s famous ire. TwicebladeknewfullwellthefireinsideCommanderFarsight,forhehadbeenburnedbyitmore than once; it was exothermic, an honest conflagration that shed light asoftenasitdiddestruction.TheverynamethatTwicebladehadgivenFarsightinthe battle domes of his youth – ‘Shoh’ –meant ‘inner light’. By contrast, theangerofShadowsunwasinternalised;itwascool,measuredandslowburning,inevitablyculminatinginmeticulousrevenge.ThetemperhehadseenexhibitedbyKaiswasmoreterrifyingstill.Itwasmorelikethesuddenformationofablackhole–anutterabsenceofmotion,adeathlysilence, followed by a dramatic burst of killing violence that sucked ineverything around it, yet was still somehow immutable law. It was like ametaphysicalequationunfoldingwiththeauthorityof thecosmosbehindit,anonyxdetonationthatannihilatedeverythingevenclose.Though he had never admitted it to another living soul,Twiceblade feared itaboveallelse.‘Awaken,Monat-Kais,’hesaidsoftly.‘Please.ItistheoneyouknowasTutorSha’kan’thas.’The figure’s eyes flicked open. The mismatched eyes were hooded,emotionless, like those of a void mantis suddenly aware of nearby prey.Twiceblade felt the familiar sensation of dread blossom within him. He usedeveryiotaofhisfocustomeetthatgaze,toswallowtheterrorinsidehimsoitcouldnotspilloutofhismouth.Toshowfearnowwouldbeassurearoadtoruinastodrawhisbondingknifeandcuthisownthroat.‘Tutor,’saidKais,hisvoiceas levelandculturedas thatof theeldestscholarfromtheacademiesoftheT’auseptworld.‘Youcometosetmefreeatlast.Mythanks.’

‘Perhaps,’liedTwiceblade.‘Butfirst,master,wemusttalk.’‘Master,’saidthet’auinthestasiscylinder.‘Iamstillnotusedtothatformofaddress.’‘Iseekyouraid.’‘Doyou.’‘Muchhastranspiredsincewelastspoke.’‘Thenspeakofit.’‘Themind-curse,’saidTwiceblade,touchinghisforeheadwithalleightfingers.‘Itspreads.’‘Theplanetweorbithasformidabledefences.’‘It…itdoes,yes.Itisahomeworldofthegue’ron’sha.’‘Andyouwishmetodestroyit.’‘Notexactly,’saidTwiceblade.‘It…ithasbecomeinfectedbythemind-curse.It has affectedgue’la andgue’vesa alike, causing spontaneousmutationof themindaswellas thebody.WewithdrewatCommanderSurestrike’scommand,butIsawmanyofthoseinfectedfleeingfromtheinceptionsiteintotheforest.’‘Thenyoumusthuntthemdown.’‘Surestrikebelievesthatplanetisalreadylost.’‘Likelyheisright.Letitdie.’‘We cannot, master!’ He too felt a strangeness at the shifting of the powerdynamic, and tried oncemore to recall Kais as a youngman, but it was likelookingatarazoredsteelbladeandtryingtoseethechunkoforeinitspast.Alltrace of the cadet was gone, and all sense of empathy with it, if it had everexistedatall.‘Thegreatestlikelihoodisthatthemind-cursewillcauseotherinfections,’saidTwiceblade. ‘Especially if allowed to spread unchecked. If even one of thevectorsreachesague’ron’shaworldandinfectsthehumansthere,thetollupontheT’au’vacouldbeintolerable.’‘How can a human mind-curse possibly harm the T’au’va,’ said Kais, hisexpressionasstillasthatofacorpse.Twicebladecentredhimself,recallingtheninemeditationsbeforecontinuing.‘The journey to this part of the galaxy was eventful. Whilst you were incryostasis,wefellintodarkness.’Kaisdidnotsomuchasflickeraneyelid.‘Speakon.’‘Theearthcaste.Atthebehestoftheethereals,theyweretaskedwithfindingawaytocrossinterstellardistancesatafractionofthetraditionalspeed.’‘Theyskimmedthesub-realm.’

‘No,’saidTwiceblade.‘Notassuch.Theaunwantedmorethaneventhat.Thedebris from the invasion of Dal’yth… amongst it was a large Imperial warpdrive.Ithadcertainsimilaritieswiththeenginesofanarchivedkrootwarsphere,harvestedlongagowithoutthepech’vesa’sknowledge.’‘Wise,’ said Kais. ‘They are protective of what remains sacred to them, andtheyareoneofveryfewthreatsthatcouldteartheseptworldsapart.’‘Theetherealsdemandedthatanewsphereofexpansiontakeplace,andwithina punishingly narrow timescale. The earth caste obliged, of course. Bycombining insights from Imperial andkrootwarp technology, they created theSlipstreamdrive.’‘Whichisnodoubtamiraculousadvancement.Butnotperfect.’‘As Iunderstand it, itharnesses themassiveamountofenergy resultant frommatterandantimattercolliding,andusesittoripaholeinthefabricofspaceandtime.’Kaisfrowned,justalittle.‘Thatisepoch-makingtechnology.’‘Itis,’noddedTwiceblade.‘Butnotforthegoodofall.’‘Youneartheheartofthematter,’saidKais,hiseyesnarrowing.‘Icanseeitinyour eyes.’ He leaned forward. Unconsciously, Twiceblade leaned back, hishands forming thehalf-warding,half-pleading shapeof the storyteller-seeking-peace.‘Theearthcastestagedademonstrationoftheirnewinvention,’hecontinued,‘attaching theSlipstreamdrive to anXV65Marlin.A small craft, andnimble.Thetestwasasuccess.TheMarlinslidfromonesideofseptspacetotheotherinanincrediblyshortamountoftime.’‘Thewatercastewereoverjoyed.’‘Theywere.Everycastewasjubilant,master,savethatoftheearthcastewhoinvented it. Their warnings that it was fit only for small craft fell upon deafears.’‘Theaunordereditreplicatedonagrandscalebeforeitwasrefined.’‘They did,’ said Twiceblade, his own brow furrowing. ‘They claimed it wasintegraltotheconquestsofthefuture,andthatnothingshouldstandinitsway.’‘Andtheearthcastedidastheyweretold,despitetheirmisgivings.’‘They did, yes. They had been entrusted with a sacred duty by the aunthemselves,andtheywouldnotbeseentofail.’Kais nodded, just once. ‘So the ethereals demanded the Slipstream drive beattached to an entire fleet, and a Fourth Sphere Expansion driven deeper intocorewardspacethananybefore.Thismuchwasinevitable.’

‘Perhaps,’admittedTwiceblade,impressedatKais’insight,‘fortheyarealwaysseekingwaystoincreaseourinfluenceuponthestars.’‘Byyourtone,Icantellthisgrandendeavourendedindisaster.’‘Worse,’saidTwiceblade.Kais closed his eyes, just for amoment, before transfixing Twiceblade oncemore.‘The Fourth Sphere Expansion was gathered and ready,’ said the tutor. ‘AgreaterassemblageofcrafthasneverbeenseensinceFarsight’saddressoutsideGel’brynCity. The ethereals announced its readiness, for each ship –whethert’au or that of an allied race – had been fitted with an upscaled Slipstreamdevice.TheLiminalConquest,uponwhichwenowstand,wasatthefore.’‘Theearthcastewerestrangelysubduedthatday,nodoubt.’‘Theywere,master,yes.’‘Andyetthelaunchwentasplanned.’‘No.’‘Speakofit.’‘As the ethereals gave permission for the fleet to launch, and the Slipstreamdevicesweretriggered,somethingterriblehappened.’‘There was a loss of millions of t’au lives,’ said Kais. ‘And the etherealsmaintainedthatsuchwasthepriceofprogress.’‘Notimmediately,’saidTwiceblade.‘Spaceitselfseemedtounravel,thespiralarmsofthegalaxyshuddering.Apurplelightburstoutwherevertheshimmeringskiesbegan tobuckleand tear.Therewasa splittingandunfurlingof the sky,something like flowers of sickly light blossoming from a slowly splitting gut.TheMont’yhe’va had come. The sight caused us all to wail in disbelief andhorror–tous,itseemedasiftheuniversehadrippedalongitsaxis.’‘Thatwashowitfelttome,too.Isawvisionsthatday,andnotmyown.’‘Inan instant,weweregone.Somethingpulledus through that rift–perhapsthefactof itsveryopening.Isawonlylights,crashingpast intheir thousands.Tothoseoftheseptsviewingthephenomenonitmusthaveseemedasiftheriftyanked us into its gullet like a Dal’ythan cetacean drawing in a shoal ofshellmites.’‘Andtheetherealsdidnothing.’‘Theyhadnoideawhetherthatwastheanticipatedresult,’saidTwiceblade,histoneaggrieved.‘HighCommanderSurestrike,givenleadershipatShadowsun’sexplicitrecommendation,toldustosimplyholdtothesameheadingandlettheSlipstreamdevicedothework.Sothatwaswhatwedid.’

‘Andcontinuedtodo,untilpeoplebegantodie.’Twiceblade let his head hang. There was a part of him that railed at Kais’extrapolationsandcomments,athisinterpretationsoftheiractionsbeforehehadbeeninformedofthem,fortheywereneverflattering.Yettheywereallcorrect.Therewasanotherpartofthetutor’ssoulthatagreedwithhim,thatfeltthesamesenseofdisillusionmentatthecoursetheyhadbeenforcedtotake.‘Thefirsttodiewerethemercenaries,’hesaidsoftly.‘Thatisusuallythecase.’‘WewerecaughtinthereforwholeKai’rotaa,’saidTwiceblade.‘Itwasalmostimpossiblenot to lookoutof theviewscreensat…whatever itwas that roiledoutside. It was hypnotic. If it was the empyrean spoken of by our gue’vesacontacts, it was deeper than we ever suspected. We had only skimmed thesurfaceofthatgreatoceanbefore,butnow,withtheSlipstream…Wewereinitsdepths,andwithnocartographytoguideusout.’‘Howchilling,’saidKais.‘Morethanyouknow,’saidTwiceblade,feelingacoldsenseofinjusticeflowoverhim.‘Theydidnotcomeforus,notforthepuret’auships.No,’hesaid,aderangedsmilespreadingonhisface.‘Theyhadotherpreyinmind.’‘Whohadpreyinmind?’saidKais.Hiseyesnarrowedtoslits,oneblack,onepurple.‘Whatwerethesepredators?’‘Tothisday,Ihavenoidea.Buttheycamefromthenothingness,circlingtheconvoyshipsintheirmillions.Theyhadnorealform.’‘Yetyousawthem.’‘Only when I did not look directly at them. They were more like wisps ofnothingness, drawn into approximations of the t’aunoid physique. Some hadwings,somehadtentacles.Somehadelongatedheads,orhorns,orserriedranksof teeth,or split stomachs,or looked likegue’ron’shawithhelms like flamingskulls,orwieldedbladesthatlookedlikesliverscutfromthevoid…theyweresostrange thatearthcastemind-helper teamscamefor thosewholookeduponthemtoolong.’‘Andoneday,theyattacked,fortheirkauyonwascomplete.’‘Itwas.ButtheydidnotattacktheConquest.’‘ThisIknow.’‘Theywentforthemercenarywarships,master.Wesawthemflockaroundthelineshipsof thegreet, thewingeddiscsof theostensecouncil, thecruisersandcutters of the humans, thewarspheres of the kroot. Around the dhows of thenicassar,theymassedasthickasaswarmofalkali-gnats.’

‘Didyouintervene?’‘Whenwehadaclearshotwetookit.Itprovednomoreeffectivethanfiringanarrowintothecrashingsea.’‘Howdidtheysurvive,thesecreatures,inthevoidofthissub-realm?’‘Ihavenoidea,’saidTwiceblade.‘Icanonlyassumetheyhadsomemannerofbio-tech in their blood.But the same could not be said of their victims.Theyripped open the craft of our allies, physically carving them apartwith blades,axes,theirbarehands,eventheirmouths.Itwas…distressingintheextreme.’Kaisseemedentirelyunmoved,butTwicebladewascaughtinthetellingofthestory,relivingitwithadesperateintensity.‘Astherotaaclickedby,theyfeasted.Allthosewhoactedashonourdemanded,thosewhotooktheirvesselsoreventheirColdstarbattlesuitsintothatswirlingsea,were soon taken. Therewas nothingwe could do butwatch as our allieswereslowlytornapart.’‘Therewasnothingyoucoulddo.’‘No,’saidTwicebladecoldly.‘AndIforoneamgladthatsomeofussurvived,towitnessthatwhichwastocome.’‘Andwhatmanneroffatewasthat?’‘Wewerebecalmed,’ said the tutor. ‘Nochanceof escape.’Hedrewa fingeraround the palm of his hand, making the swirling gesture of the whirlpoolinescapable. ‘Wehadbeensucked into thedarkheartof that sub-realm,whereeventhecurrentsthemselvesaredevoured.Then,asthedecsslidby,webegantohearascrapingnoise.’‘Ontheoutsideofthehulls.’‘Yes. Itwas interminable.Thebridgesof eachofour ships showed the samething–noforwardmovement.Nomomentumofanykind.Thethingsouttherewere laughing.’Twiceblade shuddered at thememory. ‘The swirling faces, thecreaturesscrabblingatthehull…theywerelaughingatus.OfthatIamsure.’‘Tauntingyou,asapoorlydisciplinedhunterdoeshiscorneredprey.’‘Yes.’‘Andindoingso,theyallowedyoutoescape.’‘TothisdayIamnotsurehow.’‘Describeit.’Kais’eyeswerenarrowoncemore,hungryfordata.ThetutorhadseenthatsameexpressiontheveryfirstdaytheMonat’stutelagehadbegun.‘It is almost impossible todescribe it,’ saidTwiceblade carefully. ‘Therewassomethingout thereamongst theswirlingnebulae,somethingvast.Moreofanimpressionofasentiencethananactualcreature.’

‘Largerthanthesebeastsattackingthecraft.’‘Immeasurablyso. Ithad…manyarms, I think.Someof thoseweremade tonurture,ortoprovide,otherstodestroy.Inphysiqueitwasfamiliartous,foritwasbuiltmuchlikeamemberoftheaun.’Hepaused,lost inthememory,andhisshio’hewrinkled.‘Thoughinretrospectitwasbulkier,andmanyofitshandshadfivedigits.Asifthenotionofhumanbeautyhadmingledwiththeoptimalformofthet’au.’‘Anddidthishallucinationspeak?’‘Itdidnot.Ithadnoface,onlyablankandimpassivemask.Itwassomehowfamiliartome,reassuringeven,yetitwasrepugnantatthesametime.AndIcanassureyouitwasnomirage.’‘Really.’‘Every member of every vessel saw the same thing, though as with all theformsinthesub-realm,itcouldnotberecorded.’‘So there is no proof that it occurred. There is such a thing as collectivehallucination.’‘Perhaps,’saidTwiceblade.‘Butthis…entitywasoursaviour.Itlookeddownupon us. I felt something of good in it. Some twisted form of altruism, orcommunality,perhaps.’‘Andyetyourvoicetremblestospeakofit,’saidKais.‘I found it strangely calming to behold,master, But I also felt its hunger togrow,tospreaditsmanylimbsfromthetipofoneofthegalaxy’sspiralarmtotheother.Toremakeeverythinginitsownimage.Irememberfeelingthat,andthenfeelinglikeitpeereddirectlyintomysoul.’Kais scowled, and Twiceblade felt a far more real, immediate fear rise upwithinhim.Hetookadeepbreathbeforecontinuing.‘JustwhenIthoughtIwouldignitefromtheinside,itreachedoutwithitsmanylimbs,andrippedaholeintheswirlingnebulaethathadbecalmedus.’‘Ittoreaholeinthesub-realmitself,’saidKais.‘Yes. But not like the rift that had opened before us to swallow the FourthSphereExpansion.Itwasmorelikeatunnel.Thethingreachedthroughit,thenseemedtofadeaway.Thetunnelswirledbeforeus,drawingusin–atfirst,withalmostimperceptibleslowness,butaswenearedthehole,itdrewusinatgreatacceleration.’‘Ananomalywithinananomaly,’saidKais,hisfaceemotionless.‘Togetout,youhadtogofurtherin.’

‘Exactly,’ said Twiceblade,making the hands-wrapping sign of the quandarywithintheenigma.‘Wehadlittlechoice.Butweangledourcraft towardsitasbestwecould,androdetheforcesdrawingusin.Weheardsomething,then.Achorusofhowls,ofshrieks,as if thecreatures thatclungto theexteriorofourshipswereinterriblepain.’‘Howpleasing.’‘Even those took their toll,’ said the tutor heavily. His hand made a cuttingmotion before he could stop it, an old tutor’s sign of displeasure at aninappropriatelineofenquiry.Kais’lipscurled,justalittle,toshowasliverofperfectwhiteteeth.Twicebladefeltsomethingatthebaseofhisstomachstwitchatthesight.‘Continue,’saidtheMonat.‘Thefunnelthatdrewusin,’saidTwiceblade,‘itwaspainfuleventolookatontheConquest’s viewing bays. Its walls were spiralling vortices of colour, ofscreamingfaces,oftheconstellationsandthespiralswirlofthegalaxyallmixedintoonetwistingtube.Itfeltasifwehadbeeninthereforentirekai’rotaabythetimeitfinallyspatusout,butthedatasuitesinsistedonlyafewdecshadpassedbythetimewere-enteredmundanespace.’‘Andyourshipswereintact.’‘Largely,’agreedTwiceblade.‘Thoughmostofthet’auinsidethembearsomekind of mental wound at the experience. Sleep is rare amongst those of theFourthSphere,of that Ihaveproof. Istillsee thatsub-realmeverydarkcycle,whenIclosemyeyestomeditate,andthatentityloomingwithinit.’‘Youhaveatheoryastowhatthatcreaturewas,’saidKais,‘andyouabhortheconclusionyoureached.’‘Ido,’saidTwiceblade.‘Itisthereasonnogue’vesacanbeallowedtolive.Norcananyalliedraceofthet’au,cometothat.’Kais raisedonebaldeyebrow, just a fraction. ‘That isnotwhat I expected tohear.’‘Ihavestudied theworksofCommanderFarsight in thepast.Ashisoriginalmentor,ithasalwayspleasedmetoseewherehisconclusionsleadhim.Therearehints,inthosewritings,andmessagesbetweenthelines.Hintsastoanothertypeofcreatureabroadinthegalaxythatisnotfleshandblood.’‘Ghosts,’ said Kais. ‘Kauyon-Shas, the one you know as Shadowsun, wasalwaysover-fondofthem.’‘No,’saidTwiceblade.‘Notthespiritsofthedead.Somethingelse.Somekindofechoanimusgivenlife,givenform.’

‘Youbelievethatsuchathingispossiblethen,’saidKais.‘Youbelievethatthisentityis…anechooft’ausouls.’’Notassuch.’Therewasasharpintakeofbreathaudiblethroughthecommunionrelay.‘Thenyouthinkthatentitytobeacoalescenceoft’aubelief.’Twiceblade shook his head. ‘No, master, I do not. That entity was not theculminationofthewholesomebeliefsofourkind,asstrongasthatforcemaybe.NeitherisittheavataroftheT’au’va,assomehavesuggested.IbelievethatitisinsteadacorruptionoftheGreaterGood.Atwistedreflection.’‘Howcanthatbe?’‘Theotherracesthatwerewithus,’saidTwiceblade.‘Theywerepreyeduponbythecreaturesinthesub-realmfarearlierthanus.Theymusthavebeenseenasmoredesirableprey.’‘Because their souls were louder, brasher. Because they could not pass byunseen.’‘That wasmy conclusion, too,’ said Twiceblade. ‘They are of that realm, orconnectedtoit,somehow.Theechoesinthesub-realm…theyarethereflectionsofthoseracesthatpossessmind-science.Thatwhichexistsintwodimensionsatonce.This iswhatCommanderFarsight speaksof inhis reminiscences, infersbetweenthelinesofthosetextsforbiddenbytheaun.’‘Theentityyouwitnessed.Itwasahumangod.’‘Inaway,’saidTwiceblade.‘Thatentitywasthegue’vesa’sconceptionofourfaith,givenstrengthbytheotherpsychicracesthatbelieveinthesametenets.’‘Wehavenogod!’spatKais,hislipscurlingback.‘Wedonot,andrightlyso,’saidTwiceblade.Hewasshaking,buthehadcometoofartogobacknow.‘Buttothem,evenaphilosophycanbeworshipped.Tothem, the line between faith in concept and faith in a divine being is thin.Perhapsevennon-existent.’‘They have created a false god,’ said Kais. His eyes were wide, his veinsstandingoutasifheweretrappedinhardvacuum.‘Themind-scienceraceshavecreatedagodintheimageoftheT’au’va.’‘Theydidnotdosointentionally,’saidTwiceblade.‘Itistestamenttothewatercastetheybelievesostronglyinourideals.Trulybelieve.AndthatentitysavedtheFourthSphereExpansion, orwhatwas left of it. Perhaps, if our teachingshadnotbeensoconvincing,theentitywouldnothavehadthestrengthtoopenthewormhole.Thetunnelthroughwhichwepassedfromonesideofthegalaxytotheother,andultimately,foundedtheNem’yarAtoll.’

‘Itmattersnot,’saidKais.‘Thiscannotbeborne.’‘Iagree.Theymustdie,everyoneofthem,beforetheycorrupttheidealsofourkind still further. Those who gave rise to this alien conception must bedestroyed.’‘Thatiswhyweattackedthegue’vesaoceanworld.’‘Itis,’saidTwiceblade.‘Wordofthiscannotreachseptspace,’saidKais.‘Wewouldmakeenemiesofour allies aswell as our foes.Wewouldbedisavowed, and exiled,much likeMont’ka-Shoh.’‘Almostcertainly.’‘Theaunhavetheirownconclusions.Theviewsofthefirecasteuponmatterssupernaturalwouldnotbewelcome.’‘Itwouldnot.’‘Thenwe of the Fourth Spheremust eradicate all alien auxiliaries.Anythingwiththeleastpresenceinthesub-realmmustdie.ItistheonlywaytheT’au’vawillremainpure.’‘Isharethesameviews,asdoesHighCommanderSurestrike.’‘Butwemustdosowithouttheseptshavingknowledgeofouragenda.’‘Wehavebeenmakingextensiveuseofstealthtechthusfar,’saidTwiceblade.‘Weshowourselvesonlywhenabsolutelynecessary,andweactthroughagentswhereverpossible.Wemusthaveplausibledeniabilityifchallengedbytheaunofseptspace.’‘Agents,’ said Kais. ‘You intend to stoke the Imperium’s wrath. To turn itagainstthosethathavestrayedfromitstenets.’‘Thatworkhasalreadybegun.Wehavecontactsinaneliteforceofgue’ron’shaknownastheDarkAngels.Theyaretofinishwhatwestarted.’‘Andtheyaskedsomethingofusinreturn.’‘They asked that we exterminate that which they cannot be seen to engage.They have a similar quandary, in that their overseers cannot learn of thedestructiontheyintendtounleashupontheirownkind.Theirfragilenotionsofbrotherhoodandsanctitycouldnotsustainit.’‘Andthesitewearetodecontaminateisonethatisbadlyinfectedbythemind-curse.’‘Thismuchistrue,perceptiveone,’noddedTwiceblade.‘ThinkingisallIhavedoneforthelasteightlifespans,’saidKais.‘IwishtoputmyMonattheoryintopractice.Iamwellversedinoperatingonthefringesofawarefforttoachieveitstruegoal.Iwillhuntanderadicatethosewhobearthe

mind-curse.ThisIpromiseyou.’Kaisleanedforwardinhisclaustrophobicconfines.‘Butfirstyoumustletmefree.’Twiceblade nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, tapping the authorisation codes he hadobtained from his earth caste contact into the cryostasis cylinder’s controlpattern.‘IbelieveImust.AndIbringyouagiftforjustthatpurpose.’Heheldupthecloth-wrappedskullwithbothhandsinthegestureoftheguest’sgift.Thecylinderbegantohum,lowandominous.Alight-barthatcoveredhalfitsheight slid from charcoal, through gunmetal, iron and steel. Tutor Twicebladefelt his pulse race as it moved through copper, then bronze, then silver, andfinallygold.Therewas a bright chime, and a soft hiss of equalising pressure as the doorswungajarbythetiniestamount.Kais flewoutof the stasis chamber like a starvingghoul, his face amaskofrage.HeballedafistandslammedithardintoTwiceblade’sthroat.Thetutor’sworld exploded into painmingledwith primal terror. Hewent down onto hisrear,strugglingawayinuttershockashedesperatelytriedtodrawbreath.‘If I hadmeant to kill you, youwould already be dead,’ saidKais, suddenlycalmasamountainlakeashesatonhishaunches.‘Thatblowwillmerelyrenderyou silent for amoment, for I have grown tired of your voice. In less than aminuteyourwindpipewillopenandyouwillbeabletobreatheoncemore.’Twicebladestaredup,goggle-eyedandtoofrightenedtomove.TheLivingWeaponstooped,pickingupthestrangeclothbundlethathadbeenplaced to the side of the cryostasis cylinder. Twiceblade saw thin wisps ofcondensation rise from the nakedwarrior’s hide. To the tutor his lean, cabledframelookednotlikethatofahealthyt’au,butmorelikeaweaponinat’aunoidform–aweaponforgedinthedistantpastandreadytobequenchedinthebloodofthepresentday.Kaisunwrapped thecloth-shroudedartefactdeftly, takingout thevice-framedskullinside.Hefrownedslightly,examiningtheapparatusasifitwasaweaponforwhichhecouldnotfindthetrigger.‘This issomethingIdidnot foresee,’hesaidflatly.He lookeddowntoTutorTwicebladeashestruggledtohisknees.‘ItappearsImusttolerateyourvoicealittlelongerifIwishtolearnitsfunction.’Twicebladenodded,makingtheslowlypushinghandsoftheworthylessonyettobe imparted.Thenheheldupa fingerand thumb, thesignforamicrodec’sindulgence.

Kais sighed through his nose.As hewaited, he ripped a long strip from thecloak that had encased the skull and twisted it tightly before tying it into aknottedgarrotte.Satisfiedwithhishandiwork,hewrappedtherestoftheclotharound his groin to form a loincloth reminiscent of those worn by firstdocumentedhunter-tribesof theFio’taunPlateau,andtuckedthegarrotte in itsfolded-overwaistband.‘Ihavepavedthewayforyou,master,’croakedTwiceblade.Kaisraisedaneyebrow,hisbodycantingforwardstoradiatethreat.‘That device,’ said Twiceblade, his voice as strangled and thin as if he hadtravelled a desert for days. ‘The Imperials called it a psyoccule. It triggerswheneveronepossessedofmind-scienceabilityisclose.’‘Useful,’ saidKais, nodding. ‘Especially given the perversion of the T’au’vayouspokeof.’‘These gue’ron’shawere Imperial shas’vre equivalents,’ hewheezed. ‘Maybeevenshas’o.Theyadmittotheirownincompetence,andwishustoexterminatethosetheycannotcatch.’Kaisnoddedagain.‘Thatisacceptable.’‘I have ensured you have the tools. The corridor at the far end,’ saidTwiceblade.‘Itleadstothebattlesuithangars.’Kaismadetomoveoff,hiseconomyofmotionthatofadancer,oranassassin.‘Wait,’saidTwiceblade.TheLivingWeaponturnedback.‘Thereisonebattlesuit intherethatyouwillfindopen,andinitiatedwithmyownleadershipsignature.ItisamodelthatIfeelyouwillappreciate.Afarmorepowerfulextensionofthestealthsuityouonceused.’‘AnXV95,’saidKais.‘Yes,’repliedTwiceblade.‘Howdidyou…howdoyouknowofit?Itdidnotexistatthetimeofyourstasisinterment.’‘TheprototypicalspecificationsoftheGhostkeelwereremotelydownloadedtomychamber’sedificationsuiteeighteenhundredandsixpointninerotaaago.’Twicebladefrowned,suddenlyfeelingadriftoncemore.‘What?Thatiswholegenerationsago.BeforetheGhostsofN’draswereevenrevealedtothesepts.’‘Nonetheless.TheywereuploadedbyoneusingaFio’O identdatingback tothebeginningof theSecondSphereExpansion.Ihavemademyselfmore thanfamiliar with the battlesuit’s capabilities, and that of its drones. Is there adesignatedvectorshipassignedtoit?’‘There is,’ said Twiceblade. ‘An Orca, authorised with my own command

signature. It has an automated y’eldi helper-program supplied by an air castecontact ofmine. You need onlymention the destination, and it will bear youthere.’Kais cocked his head, reminding Twiceblade of a raptor sizing up its prey.‘Whyareyoudoingthis?’‘FortheGreaterGood,’saidTwiceblade.‘Ofcourse.’KaismadethesignoftheT’au’va.Somehow,ithadneverseemedsoterrifying.Twicebladeswallowed.‘IwillbeobservingfromaninversetelepresencesuiteviaoneoftheXV95’sstealthsuitdrones.’Kaisnarrowedhiseyes,histoplipcurlingback.‘AllIaskistowatchandlearn,’hesaid.‘Iwillnotinterfere.’‘Ifyoudo,itwillcostyouyourlife,’saidKais,somethinginhisvoiceascoldasawintergrave.‘Itmayevencostmine.’Twicebladenodded.‘Understood.’Kaisturnedonhisheelandleftwithoutanotherword.TellingwhentheLivingWeaponhadleftwasdifficult,forhemadenosoundashemoved,butTwicebladehadpatiencetospare.Afterastretchoftwofulldecshefinallyrosetohisfeet.Twodecslaterheleftthemunitionsbay,holdingontotherailinsidethehex-liftasifitwerepartofaliferaftinastormysea.Heglimpsed,justbeforethehex-liftdoorclosed,anovalpanelonthefarsideofthehangarslowlyslidingbackintoplace.Therewasafigureinside,slenderandelegant.Thenthedoorsclosed,andthevisionwasgone.

CHAPTEREIGHTEENTOSTRIKEASONE

Duskenwald,NearSoul’sWellAllhallow,ScorpidCluster

The survivors sat huddled around a meagre campfire, passing around theremnantsofaflagonofsourwine.Aroundthem,beyondthemouthofthecaverninwhichtheyhadsoughtshelter,thewoodspressedin.Theywerecomposedofthick, ancient needle trees that were in some cases over five centuries old.Thoughwidelyspaced,theirbranchesformedacanopyofentwinedbranchessothicktheyallbutblottedouttheharvestmoongloweringdownfromabove.All threeof theraggedfiguresaround thefirewerehunchedoverandheavy-lidded,everyoneofthemagrotesque,mutatedinsomemannerorother.Fenas knew hewas theworst.He reached up a gangling arm thatwasmoretentacle than human limb and banged a flat hand against his ear, trying tosomehowdislodgethetinnitusrisingwithinit.Everyday,anewtrial.Itwasbadenoughhewasaneleven-footfreakwithbulging,misshapenlimbs.Goingdeafwasjustaddinginsulttoinjury.‘Passmethatwine,Harasen,’hesaid.‘Onyourleft.SoonerIcandrinkmyselftodeath,thebetter.’‘Iknowwhereyouare,boy,’saidtheflabby,pale-skinnedmantohisright.‘I’mblind,notstupid.’Heturnedhisravaged,emptysocketsonFenasandbaredhisteeth,butheldouttheflagonnonetheless.‘Ishouldgetthemostofthatswill,’saidthethirdoftheirsorrygroup.‘ItwasIthatliberatedit.’JethrenhadescapedfromtheAbsolvers’fortress,wayupnorth,

whilsttheyhadbeenpreoccupiedwiththeoutbreakravagingtheinnercorridorsoftheirsacredstronghold.‘Youandyourvassalchief there,’saidFenas,noddingoverat thedecapitatedhead at Jethren’s feet. Horseflies were fussing around its orifices, seeking aconvenientplacetolaytheireggs.Jethrenshooedthemaway.‘OldFiorenzherewashelpfulenough,afterabitofpersuasion,’hegrinnednastily,‘andIneededhis eyes, as itwere. But he doesn’t get any of the good stuff.He’s givenmenightmaresenoughwithoutseeingwinedribbleoutofhistubes.’‘Atleastyoudon’thavethememoriesofthoseskullstogetridof,’saidFenas.‘Ican’tsleepforseeingmyone,staringatme.Worsethanyou,even,Harasen.’The eyelessman just nodded. ‘Just beglad they chose someone else to latchonto,’hesaid.Hetoowasfiddlingwithhisear,stickinghislittlefingerdeepinthereandwiggling it around.Fenas sympathised. Itwashard tohear even thecrackleandsnapofthefirewiththeringingnoisegrowingsteadilymoreintense.‘Isuppose…Isupposewhateverghostslingeredinsidethemgaveusupasbadprospects,’saidFenas.‘NokeepnorcastleonAllhallowwill let inthelikesofus,notnowhere.Especiallynotafterthoserumoursofaliens,andnewlightsintheskynottwodaysago.Itellyou,thoseweren’tImperial.’‘I’mall rightwith that,’ said Jethren,gesturingat thebadly skinnedcrawhogtheyhadroastingonaspitovertheirmeagrefire.‘Keepourheadsdownandletthedemigodssortitout.Icanliveoffthelandwellenough.’‘Can you eat it without it falling out your belly?’ asked Harasen, gesturingvaguelyinthedirectionofJethren’sgapingstomachwound.Fenascouldn’thelpbutlook.Thegashstillhadn’thealedsomuchassolidified,andevenoverthecourseoftheirshortacquaintanceithadturnedintosomethingvaguelyresemblingamouth.ThesightturnedFenas’ownguts.Thickgoopandclear liquid alike drooled out of the jagged, pink teeth that lined the vassalguard’storn-openabdomen.‘Whatareyoubabblingaboutnow?’askedJethren. ‘Can’thearadamn thingforsomereason.’Then,rightinfrontofFenas’eyes,Jethrendisappearedfromthewaistupinacloudofpinkmist.‘Whatinthe–’Harasen leaped up, scrabbling at his blunt halberd. Then he too seemed tovanish,hisentirerightsidedisappearingtoleaveonlyataperingwedgewithonearmflailinguselessly.It toppledintothefire, thethickstinkofburninghumanfatreachingupintoFenas’nostrils.

‘Goon,then!’shoutedFenasintothewoods.‘Getitoverwith!’He saw something, then, out of the very corner of his eye. It was atechnologicalmonster of some sort, a shimmering blur in themoonlight neartwentyfeettall.ItsoutlinelookedmorelikeoneofthelegendaryDreadnoughtsofAllhallow than one of the SpaceMarines he had been expecting.Disc-likedistortionsrippledintheairbehinditsbroadshoulders.Fenas felt his diaphragm convulse, and he heaved a great stream of psychicooze,theprojectilevomitsplashingacrossthetreesonthewestsideofthefire.His eyes watered, but he strained to see what had become of the monsternonetheless.Hecouldnotmakeitout.Allthatfilledhisheadwasthatdamnableringing.Then he felt something behind him. He turned around, ectoplasm dribblingfrombetweenhisteeth,andsnarled.FenastheBravediedonhisfeet.

Kaisscannedtheskieswithoneeyewhilsttheotherzoomedinonthepartoftheclearingwhere the trees thinned. Independent focuswasa trickhehad learnedlifetimesago,andithadimprovedhiskillratioeversince.BrieflyherecalledayoungKauyon-ShasteachingthetechniquetohimontheslopesofMountKan’ji,withMont’ka-Shohsittingcross-leggedinthedappledsunlight nearby. It was strange to think they had gone on to become thelegendarycommandersShadowsunandFarsight.Mont’ka-ShohhadchuckledatKais’ discomfiture as their team-mate had dropped two leaves in front of himthat spiralled indifferentdirections, thendemandedhe followbothof thematonce.Hebanished thememory, fixating insteadon thereadoutsspoolingacross theinteriorcontrolsuiteofhisXV95Ghostkeel.Itwasalethalmachineindeed,andhehadplansforit.Butitwasyettofullyproveitsworth.In the darkness of the trees, picked out by the spectrographic overlay of histargetlock,wasthemouthofalargecavern.Itwashiddenbyathickdrapeofmossandbrackenthathadgrownoveracurtainofrootsfromthelargest treesoverhead.Toacommonwarrior,itwouldhaveseemedmuchlikeanyotherpartoftheforest,butKaishadnoticeditshiddenpotentialimmediately.Therewaswater seeping fromwithin it,making the ground boggy in placesbefore spreading out into a dozen trickling rivulets that led further into thewoods.On the Ghostkeel’s screens the space behind the curtain of vines and roots

registeredcoldblueandblack,implyingagreatdepthamongsttheambersanddunsofitssurroundings.Kaisnoticedsomethingelseashiseyesflickedleftandright.Hezoomedinon thestemofafernahundredfeetaway. Itwasbroken,albeitonlyalittle,withthefrondsnowfacingawayfromtherootcurtain.Oneofthegue’lahademergedfrominside;sometworotaaagogiventhehardenedstateofthesapthathadleakedfromthebrokenstem.Ithadtobethehumanwiththestrangestomachwound,thoughtKais–oneofhis companionswas too tall and ungainly to exitwithout causingmuchmoredamagetotheflora,andtheother,havingnoeyes,wouldlikelyhavebeenevenclumsier.KaistriggeredoneofthesensororbsintheGhostkeel’sheadtopanacrosstotherelevantcorpse.Theguardworethetatteredremainsofaheraldicuniform,its colours and iconography mapping as a variant of an archived gue’ron’shacadre.Another sensororb slid, like theeyeof somearachnidhunter, to themassivemountaincitadelthatreachedupoverthetreelinetoshimmeronthefarhorizon.Thegue’ron’shastronghold.TheGhostkeelstalkedovertothecurtainofroots,thetwovaneddiscsofitsX5Stealthdroneshoveringclosebehindit.Callinguphisecholocationsuitewithadeftflickofhispupil,Kaissentahypersonicpulseintothedarkness.Aheartbeataftertheechoeshadreturned,aglowingbluesonographicmapofthe tunnel network appeared on the Ghostkeel’s destination hexscreen. Everycrack and fissure emanated from a wide arterial passageway leading into thedepthsofthemountain.Narrowinghiseyes,Kaispushedthroughintothedarknessbeyond.

Almost an entirenocturnal cyclehadpassedbeforeKais reached the first trueline of resistance. They had been sentry guns, of a sort, hidden in darkenedfissuresandcrackswith tiny laseropticsonahair-triggeralert.Hehadpursedhis lips in impatience as his battlesuit located and automatically target-locked,knowingeventhatmeasurewasunnecessary.Kaishadoutwittedpointdefencedroneson thefirstdayofhis trainingunderTutorSha’kan’thas,whenhewasbutfouryearsold.Now,withtheXV95athiscommand, even the most advanced Imperial drone was an insult to hiscapabilities.Hehadwalkedpastthemwithoutbreakingstride,thefull-spectrumcountermeasuresofthegiantbattlesuitbafflingthesentrygunstosuchanextenttheyperceivednothingmorethanasliverofglitchingconfusion.Toallbutthe

mostadvancedmachines,theGhostkeelwasaphantasminthewind.The second trial had taken the form of a vast chasm,water spattering downfrom a thin tunnel above it.Had he left his battlesuit, hemight have climbedupwards,followingthetrickleofwaterverticallyuntilitledtoanotherriver.ButKaiswouldnotleaveaweaponliketheXV95behind,notiftherewasanotherway.Firinguphisjumpjets,heboundedacrossthatthirty-footwidefissurewithnomoreeffortthanakroothoundleapingoverapuddle.On the other side, Kais had followed the channel that cascaded as a set ofminiature waterfalls through the pitch-black tunnels until it became a rivulet,thenastream.Now he found himself at an underground river. The source was a widesubterranean lake, withmurkywater dripping into it from the stalactites highabove.Onimpulse,heopenedhisolfactoryrelayandbreathedinthecool,dampairofthecave.Hesavoureditlikeafineelixir.Ithadbeensolongsincehehadbeenabletotrulyappreciateanaturalenvironment,itwasallhecoulddonottoopentheGhostkeel’splexushatchanddrinkitallininperson.Amongst the stalactites was something that looked like a cyclopean well ofancient, chisel-dressed stone, but inverted, built into the ceiling by primitivehumanmasons.Light spilled fromwithin.Kais smiledcoldlyand initiated theGhostkeel’s jet pack, proximity-locking his stealth drones to follow his exacttrajectory.HemanoeuvredtheXV95toascendthroughtheinversewell,takingcarenottosomuchasscratchitschameleonicalloyashewent.Momentslaterhewasrisingtothetop,thedronesbeneathhim.Heroseintoawideoctagonalchamberatthetopofthegiantwell.Sevenofthewallshadalcoves,eachholdingastatueofsomehoodedgue’lasaint.Theeighthhadavastvaultdoor.Acursoryscanrevealedthatitwasslab-locked,aretinalrecognition scanner built into the eye of a bare skull the intendedmethod ofunlockingit.KaiswasquiteusedtotheImperium’sdisplaysofdisrespecttotheirancestors,but had no wish to engage with human remains. He simply raised his fusioncollider and melted away the vault door’s slab-locks – adamantium cores,dressedstoneandall.Moltengoopbubbleddownthesideofthedoor.Kaissenta tight beamelectromagneticpulse fromhis sensor-arm, and the entire edificehingedslowlyopentorevealthecorridorsbeyond.KaiswasgladtoseetherewasroomenoughfortheGhostkeeltotraversethepassageways beyond. The Imperials were so fond of their own warsuitequivalents–thesquatandslowmachinestheycalledDreadnoughts–that the

lowerlevelsoftheirprincipalfortificationswerebuilttohousethem.Hesentanecho-pulsetoseeiftherewasanythingtokillcloseby,andwhenitcamebacknegative,pushedfurtherinwithhisbafflersatmaximumsaturation.After half an hour of prowling the corridors, the so-called ‘psyoccule’ skullartefact that Tutor Twiceblade had given him – and that was sharing theGhostkeel’scockpit–begantoshudderofitsownaccordoncemore.Itslowerjawrattledunsettlinglyinthewireapparatusthathelditupright.Afterstaringatit for amomentKais turned theGhostkeel thisway and that, listening for theskull’sshiveringtogrowmoreintense,asitdidwhenitwasfacingthedirectionofthenearestpsychicpresence.Thepsyocculeseemedmoreagitatedthaneverwhenhefacedeast.Soeasthewent.Hebypasseddull-eyed,slackjawedservitorswiththeirlimbsentirelyreplacedbycrudeheavyweaponry,stalkingpastthemwithoutelicitingsomuchasablink.Whenheenteredacorridornetworkwithapairofgue’lachattelonpatrol,thefirstthingtheyknewofhispresencewasatightbeamfromhisdualfusionblasters.Theweaponsystemsgavenomorethanafainthissastheyvaporisedthehumans’disgusting,hairybodies.Now,astheskullshookwithmanicintensity,hecouldfeelanimminentdangertinglingbehindhiseyes.Theheartofthegue’ron’shakeepwasnotfaraway.

Theiron-boundskull’steethclackedtogetherwithhorribleanimus.Suddenly,anonsensicallystrongsmellclungtoit,somehow,fillingthecontrolcocoonoftheXV95withthescentofbrine.Kaispaiditnomind.LetShadowsunobsessoverspectresandphantasms,hethought.Itwasnothisway.AstheGhostkeelpaddedforwardswiththesmoothgaitofastalkinglion,theMonatcommanderfocusedinsteadonthestonearchwaysandalcovesofthecorridorahead.Thepreywasclose.Therewastheunmistakeablesoundofheavilyarmouredfeetmarchingintotheatrium up ahead. Kais pinged another hypersonic pulse, his XV95’s echo-location software building the architecture ahead in impressive detail. Hebounceda spreadofhigh-densitydataharvestingpulses towards the figures inthe middle, refining his picture of their disposition. The atrium was a chokepointandacrossroadsallatonce,andaccordingtohisreadings,ateamoffivegue’ron’shahadchosenitastheirplacetodie.Kaisthoughtthroughthecomingengagement’sproblemsoneafteranother,theoptimumsolutionsunfurlingfromthestasisofhismemorywithoutsomuchasa

frownofconcentration.Subjects:fivegue’ron’shawithmassreactiveballistics,allaware.Firstdatapoint:oneobviouspointofegress,covered.Seconddatapoint:targetsinheavypoweredarmour.Thirddatapoint:mind-scienceevidentaccordingtoforeignsensorreading.Onebio-readingimplication:centremostnotwearinghelm.Hypothesis:targetwithmissinghelmlikelytobepsychicthreat.Kais blinked, just once. A very close analogue was the kill pattern he haddesignatedMono-ImperialScenario2934/Eduringhiscryostasis–itwasoneheconsideredchallenging,butbynomeanslethal.HeswungtheGhostkeelintotherecessofavaultingalcoveandpreparedhis strikewitha seriesofdartingeyemovements.Theskullchattered loud,as ifbeside itselfwithexcitementat theprospectofthekill.Solution one, thoughtKais.He sent in a volley of blind-pulse flechettes thatwhippedaroundthecorner.Thegue’ron’shacriedoutinalarm,openingfire.Theflechettesburstinamulti-spectralexplosionoflightandsound.Imperialscouldalmostalwaysbereliedupontohavehair-triggerfingers,and thisgroupwasnoexception.Hiscontrolcocoon’sautotransspooledtheirleader’swords.‘––BROTHERS–ITISAMONGSTUS––’Solution two. The Monat swung round the corner of the alcove, datablossomingonhistargetlockasthewhite-armouredSpaceMarinesreeledfromthedebilitatingburst.Thenearest twogue’ron’shawereallbutobliterated inasilent storm of energy. The clattering of their disembodied limbs upon theflagstoneswastheonlysoundtomarkhisfusioncollider’swrath.Solutionthree.Oneof thetargetsstartedtoshake,whiteenergypouringfromhis eyes and mouth as it rose off the ground. It was shouting in its gutturaltongue.‘––ITMUSTDIE––’Hypothesisproven,thoughtKais.Hewasalreadyairborne,hisboostershissingas he leaped into the vaulted ceiling of the atrium. He pivoted mid-jump,stabbingtheiconofhisleft-handdronetodecloakitsstealthfieldandsuddenlyrevealitselfamongsttheSpaceMarines.Oneofthemcriedoutawarning,shootingfromthehip;Kaisswerved,andthehigh-calibreboltsricochetedfromthecurveofhisarmour.Theotherraisedhisfirearmandaddedhisownvolley.Two shotshitKais in thehip, exploding toknockhimback.

The Ghostkeel sent a ballistics report blossoming upon his damage controlsuite.Kaisscanneditwithoneeyeasheblink-triggeredthefusioncolliderwiththeother,blastingthenearestSpaceMarinetoredruinjustastheXV95reachedtheapexofitsleap.TheotherSpaceMarinetwistedawaywithsurprisingspeed,primingagrenadeandhurlingitathim.Kais flickedhiseyes todesignate two targetsatonce.Oneof the twinfusionblastersmounted on the battlesuit’s shoulders took out the grenade inmid-air.Theother turned thegue’ron’shawarrior to aburning stumpandadissipatingredmistafractionofamicrodeclater.Thepsyker,unsteadyonhisfeetaswhiteeffluviumpouredfromhiseyes,noseandears,screamedintwovoicesatonce.Thesoundwouldhavebeenunsettlingtoanormal t’au,Kais thought,butforhimitwasaninvitationfor thekill.Hedroppeddownandstampedoneofhissuit’shoof-likefeetintothegue’ron’sha’sunprotectedskull,crushingitlikeanegg.Theclosequartersattackwasanindulgencewithallhisweaponssystemsstillregisteringingold,andKaisknewit.Butthenhehadbeenincarceratedforthemostpartofthreehundredt’au’cyr.Hecouldaffordtorelishhisworkalittle.Ifhewashonestwithhimself,everykillingmovementwasasclosetojoyasKaishadeverfelt.

Thenextlikelysiteoforganisedresistance,accordingtoKais’preliminaryecho-location, was a long hall that appeared empty of targets. He scanned itnonetheless,andsentadroneaheadonoptimumstealthrecon.Hiscommandsuitebuiltupacomprehensivepicture.Endinginabroadsetofstairs that curved upwards, the hall hadwalls of glass asmuch as rock, eachgleamingbarriercoveringoneofeightalcoves.Theseeachhadafacetedglassfaçade wrought with lead lining, the patterns and figures they depictedpresumablyintendedasaprimitiveformofart.Abovethealcoveswerelance-like protrusions hung with long cloth banners, much like those that onceflutteredfromthefortressesoftheFio’taun.Thezonehadallthetrappingsofafeasthall;allthatwasmissingwasalongtablemadefromsomespeciesofhardflora.Howthesegue’ron’shalikedtoveneratetheiringloriouspast.Kais was cautiously pushing his Ghostkeel inside when an energy readoutspikedhardonhisemissionreader.TheMonat’sbrowcreased.Thepatternwasanunknownformtohim,andhedidnotlikethatatall.Leaningbackhardinhiscontrolcocoon,Kaisboostedawayjustasablazeof

azure energy erupted in the centre of the grand hall. A pair of missiles shotthroughtheairwherehehadbeenstandingaheartbeatbefore, tearingachunkfrom the doorway arch.Almost simultaneously a stormofmass-reactive boltshurtledin,manylessthantwofeetfromhiscarapacehood.Eightwarriorsmaterialisedoutofnowhere.Thestrangeteleporttechnologyofthe Imperium, the envy of the earth caste, phased them into the hall in acracklingdomeoflightning.Thepsyocculeshivereditsteeth,indicatinganotherpsychicpresence.Kaishadalready taken stock of his situation by the time he had twisted his Ghostkeelback into the corridor, sliding it out of sight with an impressive grace forsomethingoftheXV95’shulkingsize.Theywereheavilyarmed,theseones,andfarlargerthantheprevioustargets.Twohadbulkymissilearraysupontheirshoulders,whilsttwomorehadrotarycannonsslungundertheirrightarms.Kaissawthemaslesserreflectionsofthemighty Broadside; they were not a lethal threat to a cutting edge XV95 at adistance.Atclosequarters, if theybrought thecracklingpoweredgauntletsontheirleftflankstobear,thatassessmentwouldsoonchange.Subjects:eightgue’ron’shawithexplosiveballistics,fourheavy,allaware.Firstdatapoint:oneobviouspointofegress,covered.Second:targetsinBroadside-equivalentarmour,meleeadapted.Third:wallsadornedwithprimitiveweaponry.Fourth:mind-scienceresiduedetected.Nospecialisedequipmentapparent.Kais twitched his shio’he in thought. The situation mapped against Mono-ImperialScenario2991/D,oracloseanaloguethereof.He stepped out of cover, triggering the battlesuit’s entire spectrum ofholophotoncountermeasuresbeforelettingflywithavolleyoffusionenergy.InthatmomenttheImperialsfoundthemselvesconfoundedadozentimesover.Kais knew what they would be experiencing on their own targeting screens.They would be plagued by images of overlapping, independently actingGhostkeelsmovinginalldirections,layeredhologramsofthegue’ron’shafromthe previous chamber firing at them, stroboscopic orbs of light flashing atfrequencies designed to disrupt biological perception, and insidious waves ofstaticthatcausedtheirammunitionfeedstoback-cycle.Everyaspectoftheearthcaste’sartificeintakingaparttheenemy’stechnology,replicatingitandlearninghowtohijackitwasbrought tobearatonce.Foranentiresecond,thegue’ron’shaeliteswerestunnedintoinactivity.ItboughtKaisallthetimeheneeded.

Prioritisingthoseamongstthemwiththeheaviestweaponry,hehitthecannon-armedwarriorsfirstwithhisfusioncollider,swipinghisarmacross therestofthe squad so the heat of its discharge cooked off the ammunition on theshouldersoftheirmissile-armedbrothers.Thegue’ron’shawererippedapartinamessyseriesofexplosionsastheirownmunitionsdetonatedatoptheirarmour.TypicaloftheImperium,tousegunsthatcouldsoeasilykilltheirowners.Thefoursurvivingmembersofthesquadcharged,voicesraisedinawordlessbattle cry. Kais moved left, smashing through one of the compartmentalisedwindowstoshrinkhisprofileandletthefirstonepast.HecamebackoutatanangletoshoulderbargethesecondoftheImperials,knockinghimoutofthewayandoverrunninghimasheturnedbackaroundtoshoot.Healmostmadeit.Kais felt the slamming impact of an energised fist under his cocoon as hepassed. His own readouts fuzzed with static as the weapon’s disruption fieldspooked the Ghostkeel’s readouts for a moment. Kais hit the suit’s flechettelauncherandcountermeasuressuiteatonce tobuyhimtime.Theresolutionofhisscreencrystallisedamoment later, revealinganotherrecoveredgue’ron’shadrawingabeadwithhissnub-nosed,double-barrelledgun.Kaiscrouched,extrapolatingaballisticstrajectoryinthespaceofamillidec.HeusedtheGhostkeel’sarmouredthightodeflecttheincomingboltsatjustsuchanangletheydidnotdetonateuponhiscarapace,butupontheglasswallbesideit.There was a tinkling explosion of ancient glass as the window across thearchwaycameapart.Kais looped the soundwaves of the shattering glass on his audioscopic suiteandanalysedtheirresonantfrequencywithoneeye.Hedirectedablastfromhisfusion array at the gue’ron’sha brawler with the other even as the brutishcreaturecameinwithawildpunch.Just as thewarrior disappeared in a flash of superheated energy,Kais sent asonicpulsefromhiscountermeasuressuite.Itshatteredeveryglasspaneintheentirehallinasinglecrashingmoment.Two of the three surviving gue’ron’sha turned their heads as broken shardsclattered across them. Seeing an opening, Kais stepped past with a half-turn,backhandingoneoftheSpaceMarineswithhisbluntelectrowarfarelimbtosendhim sprawling. He panned the fusion collider’s shimmering beam across thestaggeredwarrior,andhewasblastedtonothingnessbeforehehittheflagstones.Theotherraisedhisgun, thunderingasalvoatKais’head,but theGhostkeel’salloyswereproofagainstit.AshotfromoneofKais’shouldermountedfusion

blasterswas turned aside by some kind of energy field, but the other tore theSpaceMarineapart.Thelastgue’ron’shawarriorstoodbeforehim,defianttothelast.‘––YOUWILLDIEHEREXENOSSCUM––’theautotransrelayed.‘––THEREWILLBENOESCAPEFORYOU––’Kais summoned up the death scream he had recorded from the psy-taintedgue’ron’shaandbroadcasteditatmind-splittingvolumeinresponse.Snarling,thewhite-armouredwarriorraisedalong,poweredbladeandcharged.Hewasamazinglyfast,farmoredextrousthanKaishadexpected.Kaistookalongstepbackwards,butitwasnotenough.Thebroadswordarceddown, its disruption field hungry to rip right through the XV95’s torso andimpalethepilotwithin.AtthatmomentoneoftheGhostkeel’sdronesshotforward.Thebladecleavedrightintoit,cuttingitintwowithhorribleease.KaisshottheImperialwarriorpoint-blank,ribbonsofgoreandsteamsplashingacrossthehall’sflagstonesashediedinasingleblindinginstant.Frowningashisdrone’shexinformationalturnedcharcoalgrey,Kaismovedonto the end of the hall. He listened for the jittering teeth of the psyoccule toincrease in their frequency, and was rewarded when he neared an archway-shapedpanelonthewall.Zoomingin,hefoundahairlinecrackandtwoareaswithflakingplasterthatimpliedhinges.Cyclinghisfusioncollidertofull,Kaistookashotatthedoorwhereague’lawouldthinktoputalock.Thedoorcrackedinhalfalongitsmiddle.AswiftkickfromtheXV95anditfellincompletely,revealingaboundfigurebehind–farlargerthanastandardgue’ron’sha,andshackledfrommawtotoe.Thepsyocculegnashedandclacked;likelythiswasthepsykeritsought.Thefigure’seyesbegantoglowwhite.Hissuspicionsconfirmed,Kaistooktheshot,vaporisingthefigureinaninstant.Kais slid the olfactory relays of the battlesuit tomaximum as he took in theaftermath of a long-calculated strategy put into lethal effect. The air stank ofvaporisedblood,burnedalloyandozone.Heinhaledthescentdeeply,andmovedonupthestairstotheuppermostlevelsofthefortress.

MasterCastellanModdrenoftheAngelsofAbsolutionstoodsurroundedbyhistrusted veterans, his powered broadsword drawn and his storm shield cantedagainsthisthigh.Ascowlmarredhispatricianfeatures,litbythecandle-lumens

of the Great Octagon. Above himwas the Dome of Saint Ahtoa, the paintedcherubsandseraphssmilingdownastheybroughtwatertoFernaoftheForest,andwindingaroundhimwas the incenseofhismostpiousservitorattendants.As themastercastellanofSoul’sWell,hehadaduty todefend itwithhis lifeandlimb,leadingthegarrisontroopstovictoryoverwhatevermalignantforceswereactinguponit.With the fires of outrage burning at his heart, Moddren felt more like anangered animal than a leader of men. The urge to kill was upon him. Hissanctum,hisfortress,hadbeeninfectedbyaplaguethathadalreadyclaimedadozengoodmen.Andnow– according to theHiddenBrotherhood– an alienchampion was loose in their midst, running riot in some manner of stealtherwarsuit.‘We will engage it in here,’ said Moddren, his tone cold and certain. ‘It isnothingmorethananassassin,andIwillnotrunfromit.’Heputtwofingersontheexteriornodesofhisdisplacerfield,checkingthetemperamentaldevicewasstillactive,andnoddedtohimself.‘Aye, my lord.’ Moddren’s company champion, the stocky but dextrousbladesmanknownasBrotherJalamus,broughtthehiltofhisTerrangreatswordtohishelmbeforewhippingitawayinadiagonalslash.‘Iwillcutitslimbsfromitsbody,anddeliverittoyou,sothatyoumayhavethepleasureofdealingwiththepilotinside.’Moddrennodded.‘Pleasedo.’Hemotionedtohishand-pickedteamofveteranstotaketheirplacesaroundtheedgesoftheroom.‘ThoughImakenoapologiesifIspititonmybladefirst.EpistolaryThorne,ensurethebaitdoesnotgetunderourfeet,orexhibitanybehaviourthatwillcomplicateourwork.Thiswillbenoeasyfight,andourlocationsareofvitalimportance.’Themastercastellancheckedtheglowingtrianglesuponhishelmrelay;allwasinpositionaboveaswellasbelow.HecastaglanceattheDevastatorsquadhehadstationedintheWhisperingBalcony,behindtheornatebalustradethatlinedthe upper stratum of the mosaic-lined dome. He nodded, satisfied they werehiddenwellenough.Then,despitehimself,hefoundhiseyesdrawnonceagaintothethreeastropathsinthecentreofthemassiveoctagonalhall.The psykerswere bound one per side to the grille-like facings of a tripartitetruthfinder rackofancientdesign.Theyhad theireyeshiddenwith ironmasksand their mouths clamped with the long-forsaken devices known as scold’sbridles.Thebrutal instrumentswerestill thickwithdustafterbeingbroughtout from

reliquariesthathadlainundisturbedformillennia.TheywereamongstthosefewrelicsofthepastthattheAngelsofAbsolutiondidnotliketovenerate.Butthemastercastellanknewwellfromtheeventsofthelastfewdaysthatthepsyker-plaguecouldappearinmoments,causingoneafflictedbyittoexpelavileliquidthatspreadittoallthoseittouched.OnlyamemberoftheLibrariuscouldkeepinfectedpsykersundercontrol,andhehadsummonedThornetohissideforjustthatreason.ButtoModdrenitseemedaphysicalblockadeagainstsucheffectswasawiseadditionalprecaution.‘Mastercastellan,’saidThorne,‘Icanfeelitsapproach.Itwillbehereinlessthanaminuteatitscurrentpace.’Moddrentouchedtheaquilatattooeduponhistemple,andclosedhiseyes,justforabriefmoment.‘ThenmaytheLionblessourswords,’hesaidsoftly.

Tutor TwiceblademonitoredKais’ progress from the safety of theConquest’srelay throne.Hewascouchedinanergonomicallyoptimalposturedesignedtopromote wellbeing, yet his eyes were sore from staring, and his veins werethumpingfittoburst.ThesurvivingX5stealthdronethataccompaniedKais’infiltration,boostingthechameleonic properties of his Ghostkeel in the process, was still beaming upeveryaspectofhisprogressthroughthegue’ron’shafortress.TheMonatnearedthemountain’sheartnow,havingbypassednearlyeveryhazardthatstoodinhisway.Kaiswasafarmorelethalweaponthananymissile,macro-pulsecannonorhigh-calibrerailgun,a leader indeedrather thanwordandarguablyoneof thethreefinestwarriorsinalltheT’auEmpire.Inalllikelihood,hewouldachievehis goals with utmost efficiency; Tutor Twiceblade had learned a lot just bywatchinghim.Buthewasalsooneof the three famousStudentsofPuretide, an iconof theT’au’vathatwasofconsummateimportance.Hiswasageniusofsuchinsighthecould secure victory for expeditionary forces time and time again. He wasirreplaceable,ofparamountvaluetotheGreaterGood.To lose him to an unauthorised sortie would be amongst the worst crimesagainsttheT’au’vaimaginable.TheinfamouspunishmentoftheMalk’laritual,levelled only at those commanders who committed a criminal waste ofresources, would only be the beginning. But whatever censure was broughtagainst him, it would be nothing next to the scouring soul-pain of a trulygrotesque failure. The disgrace of gettingKais killedwould eat him from the

insideoutuntilhisfinalend.Itwastoolate.Thedeedwasdone.Ashewatched,Kaisdrovefurtherintothegue’ron’shacitadel.Tutor Twiceblade sat forwards in his seat, hands like claws digging into thequasi-foam of the throne’s armrests. TheMonat was steadily approaching thecentre of the gue’ron’sha fortress and the complex energy signatures that laywithin.Transfixed,thetutordidnotnoticetheiconforoneofthegue’ron’shashipsinloworbitslowlyrelocateon thedisplay’smacro-informational,movinguntil itwasdirectlyabovethegiantfortification.

Kaissentacomplexpulseofhypersonicsoundalong thecorridorand into themassivechamberhecouldseejustbeyond.Octagonal,ringedbyabalconyandwith a tall dome at its peak, it had a simple rotational symmetry that waspleasingtotheMonat’seyes.Suchstructureswereeasytoprocessandeventoweaponise, mapping well over his root calculations concerning engagementsconcludedwithininteriorspaces.Itcouldprovideuptoa3.4percentefficiencyenhancementtohiskill-to-durationratio,andhencemetwithhisfullapproval.Withintheoctagonalspaceweremoregue’ron’shawarriors,somepresentattheheartofthechamber,othersstationedinambusharoundthegalleryinitsupperlevels. They believed themselves hidden – it was an amazing feat of naivety,giventhattheywerewearingbrightlycoloured,heavy-emissionpoweredarmourthatmadeaconstantlowthrum.Attheheartofthechamberwasatriooffigureswearinglittlemorethanrobesandelaboratenecklaces.The ironbound skull shiveredvigorouslynext tohim,theconstantclackclackclackclackofitsteethanadditionallayerofinformationthatKaiswasgladtoprocess.Tohearasoundfirsthandwasunusual,andmadearefreshingchangefromthesecond-hand,pre-parseddataoftheXV95.Hewaited,asimmobileasamantis.Itwouldnotbelongbeforethegue’ron’shagaveintotheirneedformindless,tribalchatter,providingtheirowndistraction–andhecouldwaitaslongasnecessary.Patience,asShadowsunhadtaughthimso long ago,was the brother of silence and stillness, together themost lethalweaponsofall.Sure enough, it was a matter of less than a dec when the most elaboratelyarmouredoftheirnumberturnedtotalktohissubordinates.Kaisknewenoughabout the gue’ron’sha mindset to know that as soon as the celebrated leaderfigurespoke,everywarrior’seyeswouldbeonhimoutofrespect.

TheMonatcalleduphiscountermeasuresanddarteddownthecorridorforthekill.

MasterCastellanModdren turned tohisbrothers, and spoke. ‘When thexenosmovesinto–’The room suddenly exploded into blinding light, a thousand contradictoryimages appearing onModdren’s helmdisplay.His artificer armour’smachine-spirit screamed in pain and confusion, but he was already moving, dartingbehindBrotherJalamustocoverEpistolaryThornewithhisstormshield.Hisinstinctswereprovencorrect.Theshieldsuddenlycrashedbackwardsinaburstofenergy,thebackwashofheatsointenseModdrencouldfeelit throughhisarmour.Hewasfightingblind,ridinghismomentumtoskidintotheleeofthenearestpillarevenashelistenedfortheenginesofthegiantxenosmachine.Thereitwas,underthemulti-tonescreamofhismachine-spirit–afainthumofengines,comingintoskirttheedgeofthechamber.Moddren’svisioncleared in timetosee theastropathsdisappear inablazeoflightandflame.Allthreeofthemsimplydisintegratedfromthewaistup,alongwith the tophalfof the truthfinder rack.Bloodspurted from thosearteriesnotcauterisedbytheblast,aclusteroftinyfountainsthatturnedthepsyker’srobesfromgreentocrimsonandblack.‘Westflank!’heshouted.‘Killit!’Thecompanychampion,BrotherJalamus,chargedpastEpistolaryThorneandontowardstheshimmerofenergyatthewall.Hismovementsseemedtoblurashe passed the chanting Librarian. Jalamus leaped, evading a sudden blast ofenergytoplanthisfeetonthesideofthechamber,thenpushedoffhardwithhisgreatswordoutstretchedforakillingthrust.Hepassedstraightthroughthewarsuit-sizedshimmerofenergytocollidehardwiththemosaicbeyondit,staggeringawaybeforeregaininghisfeet.Amirage.Grimacing,Moddrenrippedoffhishelm.Atleasthecouldtrusthiseyes.‘No!’shoutedThorne.Moddrenduckedjustasacolumnofenergyshotoverhishead,thesmellofhisown burning scalp mingling with the dry, choking fug of burned stone. Heduckedandrolledagain,suddenlyawareoftheloomingwarsuittohisleft,thencameupwithhisshieldbeforehim.Hedidnotsomuchdeflectthesecondblastas rush into it, trusting to the stormshield’sancient force field toprotecthim,thenbrokeleftandswunghisbroadswordinarisingdiagonalsweep.

Thewarsuit raised its shin to intercept theblowevenas itblastedJalamus toatoms,butitdidnotevade.Theswordbitdeep,allbutcuttingthelimbfreeinasprayofwhitesparks.Thewarsuitboostedhigh,nearlyyankingthebladefromModdren’shands,beforekickinghimsohardheskiddedacross the flagstonesonhisback.Themastercastellanfeltasavagesenseofreliefwhenherealisedhisswordwasstillinhisgrip.EpistolaryThornewassuddenlyabovehim,conjuringaburstofbluefirethatracedoutlikeavengefulghost.Itswathedthexenossuit’smulti-lensedheadinblisteringfire.Thexenosthingrecoiled,andThornemovedinforthekill,butaheavy disc-like drone raced in to smack hard into theLibrarian and send himsprawling.There was a crack-whoosh from above as missiles arced down from theDevastator teamon theWhisperingBalcony.Thedisruptiveelectro-gheists thexenoswassendingouthaddonetheirjoballtoowell,fortoModdren’shorror,the krakmissiles struckThorne instead of thewarsuit. TheLibrarian fell in ablackened,tornheap,bloodseepingfromhisrentarmour.‘Helms off!’ shouted Moddren, his sensation of outrage mingling with agrowing suspicion the situation was already long out of his control. ‘It’sconfoundingourmachine-spirits!’He jumped upright as the warsuit opened fire upon the Devastators in thegalleryabove.Thekillingbeamfromitsstrangetripartiteweaponvaporisedthebalustrade and much of the pillar, taking with it two of the heavy weapontroopersbehind.Moddren charged, slashing his powered broadsword into the jet vents of thexenoswarsuit.Attheedgeofthechamber,VeteranSergeantPaethenraisedhisplasmagunandtookhisshot,onlytofallbackinanexplosionoflightamomentlater.Cryingout,Moddrenswunghisswordhardandcarvedawedgefromthething’sarmbeforedodgingaway,moving to itsblindspot, andstriking for itstorso.Thebladecut in, its tipdiggingdeep,but itdidnot find thepilot inside.Thexenos creature’s armour was a formidable defence, even against a poweredweapon.ButModdrenhadnottrulyexpectedtomakethekillwithhissword.Thexenosthinghadmovedclose,now,tothecentreoftheroom.Close.Soveryclose.

Tutor Twiceblade felt himself shakewith emotion.Hismindwas swamped, atide of frantic hope crashing against cliffs of stone-cold fear. As he watched,

Kaiswastakingapartthegue’ron’shacommandechelonwithconsummateskill.Itwaslikewitnessingamasterbladesmangothroughstepslongrehearsed,eachmovementleadingtoatrap,anillusion,akillingstrikethatmadehisopponentsseemclumsyandslowbycomparison.Twicebladeshookhishead inamazementas the tempoof thedancespedup,thegue’ron’shaslaininones,twosandthreesliketheinevitableculminationsofastringofmathematicalequations.Tothetutor’smind,thiswasthesupremacyoftheT’au’vawritlarge.Atinychimecamefromtheorbitaldistributionsuite.Hesparedthehex-screenanirritableglanceforafractionofaheartbeat,idlynotingthatthegue’ron’shashipnowpositioneddirectlyoverthemountainfortress–despitethatshipfacingdirectlyaway from thenearest t’aumonitorvessel thatwasobserving it–hadturnedred.Thelethal,warningredthatdenotedtargetlock.Twiceblade’seyesgrewwidewithhorror.

Kaisdodgedoutofthepathoftheshimmeringbladeofthegue’ron’shaleader,slidingleftasanotherhackingsweepcamein.Aglancingblow,itcarvedathickwedgeof alloy fromhis arm, but did not compromise the systemsbeneath.Afewmomentsbeforetheswordsmanhadlandedaheavyblowuponhisjetpack,butbyKais’calculationthatwasacceptabledamage.Insuchcloseconfineshecould afford up to a thirty per cent loss of efficacy before lack of verticalmobilitybecameahindrance.Ague’ron’sha tohisright firedablast fromsomemannerofplasmaweapon.Thecontrolcocoongrewpainfullyhotasthesuperheatedenergypenetratedthemachine’sflank,burningallthewaythroughtotheinterior.Without diverting his attention from the gue’ron’sha leader, Kais hit therecessedpanelbyhisfeetthatejectedthesuit’spulsepistol,tookitupwithhisoffhand,andpointeditthroughthesteamingholetoshoottheplasmagunnerinthehead.TheSpaceMarineleadercameinhard,hisbladeleavingcracklingarcsashehackedat theGhostkeel’splexushatch.Kais ranaswift recalculation,blastingthe gue’ron’shawith a dual beam from his shoulderweapons to force him toraise his shield.He kicked the crude protective slab hard, sending thewarriorsprawling to buy him enough range for the kill. The gue’ron’sha wasted avaluablesecondreplacinghishelm.Afoolisherrorofjudgement,thoughtKais,especiallynowthathisEMPreservoirwasnearlyatfull.Firstthepulse,thenthe

kill,thenhewouldmakehisescape.‘––NOW––’readtheautotransasitrenderedthehuman’scommand.‘Kais!’camethevoiceofTutorTwiceblade,emergingpainfullyloudfromthespeaker-nodesofhiscontrolcocoonasalertsignalsflaredonhiscommandandcontrolsuite.‘Theyhaveorbital–’TheMonatfelthisconcentrationflickerandgoblank,justforamoment.Justas he was rerouting all his power to the XV95’s emergency force shield, hisfocuswasshatteredbytheoneelementhehadnotfactoredinhiscalculations.Aid.Inthatsamemoment,thebeautifullypainteddomeabovethemcameapart.Acolumn of killing energy lanced down from low orbit, and Kais’ perfectlycalculatedrampagediedinastormoflight.

CHAPTERNINETEENTHEBATTLEWITHIN

SaltireNearspaceKrootWarsphereVawkKaraow

‘Battlestations.’Xedro Farren opened his eyes, his hands automatically checking the criticalpointsofhisboltrifle.Slowly,hisaugmentedsensespiercedtheambergloom.HewasnotwithintheNightHarrower,ashehadsomehowpresumed,butheldtightinaharnessonthesidewallofaGoliath-classboardingtorpedo.Helethishandsrunovertheexquisitelycraftedrifleoncemore,mentallypreparingforthebattletocome.Thensomethingchanged.Like a radioactive sunbreaking through themurkof a coldwinterdawn, theeventsofthelastfewweeksbegantocoalesceinFarren’smind.Everything. The fate of Saltire Vex. The plight of its riggers. The twistedvictimsofAllhallow.The jetblackarmourof the traitor angel.Thenewsofapactmade by theDarkAngelswith the xenos, an arrangement thatwould letthemattacktheirownsuccessorChapterbyproxy,anddothedirtyworkofthet’auinreturn.Andworstofall,therevelationsofPietrMoricani–andtheimplicationsofhisabsence, for he was not present on Farren’s rune display. No explanation, nostatusregisterentry.Justanemptyberth.Itdidnotbodewell.FarrenwatchedtheexpressionsofhisbrothersaroundhimchangeastheytoocamearoundfromVaarad’sbotchedmind-wipe.Realisationbegantodawn,after

amomentoftakingintheirsurroundings.HesawvagueconfusiongivewaytoslowoutrageonEnrod’spinchedfeatures,smoulderingangerbecomingvisibleupon Thrunn’s broad and uncomplicated face. Gsar’s thin lips peeled back torevealagrimaceofdisgust,whilstParvellclutchedhisbaldhead inhiswhite-knuckledhands.Despite it all,Farren’splanhadworked.At thecriticalmoment, thePrimarisMarines had pushed their augmented biological systems so far into overdrivethattheirfurnaceshadburnedoutwhateverbalefulchemicalshadbeenpumpedintothem.This time at least, the mind-altering treatments of the Dark Angelsapothecariumhadfailedtoerodetheirmemoriesentirely.ChaplainZaeroph’ssepulchraltonescamefromaruby-eyedservo-skullatthefarendofthetorpedo,staticlacinghiseveryrecordedsyllable.‘We will not be returning to the heretic planet of Saltire Vex this day,’ saidZaeroph through the skull. ‘Ill-discipline within our ranks has allowed itstraitorouspopulaceachancetoescape,andtospreadtheirheresystillfurther.’‘You’rethetraitorhere,’growledFarrenunderhisbreath,buthedidnottriggerhisvox.Insteadhemadehislipsintoatightline.Heknewwell,asalieutenantsurrounded by his men, this was not the time. A collapse in morale, theconfusionanddoubtthatwouldfollow,couldbedisastrousinanactivewarzone.Perhaps, thought Farren, the Interrogator-Chaplain and his coterie werecountingonit.‘Becalm,brothers,’saidFarrenoverthePrimarisvoxlink.‘Ifwearetoseekjustice,wemustsurvive.’‘TheEmperorhasrevealedthetruthtousthroughhisDivineTarot,’continuedZaeroph’svoice.‘It is thePawnof theVoidweseek thisday.These traitors tohumanity have taken refuge upon a mercenary ship codified as a krootwarsphere.’Farrenfeltthetightnessinhisthroatgetworse.Heknewnexttonothingabouttheenemytheywereabouttoface.EventhepriestsofMarshadnothadmuchtosayaboutsuchexoticwarships,otherthanthattheyshouldbedestroyedatrangeifatallpossible.‘Manyof the unsanctioned refugees aboard thewarsphere have contracted apsychicplague,’continuedthemessage.‘Donotlettheiremanationstouchyouunder any circumstances, and give theEmperor’sMercy to those that becomeafflicted.’Enrodspatagobbetofacidicsalivaonthebulkheadopposite.Ithissedgently

asitscarredthearmaplas,fillingtheairwithaneye-stingingscent.‘YouPrimarisMarinesoftheThirdCompanyhavebeengiventhehonourofthevanguardassault.Wewillattack fromanothervector,andmake for theenginecores.Togetherwewilldestroy thisnestofcorruption, thisoffenceagainst theImperium’srightfuldomain.Orweshalldieintheattempt.’The message cut off abruptly. For a while, the only sound in the boardingtorpedo was the dull thrum of its passage through space. Then the proximityalarmattheboardingtorpedo’stipgavealoud,brightchime.‘Brothers,’saidFarren.‘Wewilldoourdutyhere,asDarkAngels,andastruesonsoftheLion.Wewillleadbyexample.WewilldestroytheenemiesoftheImperium,aswewereborntodo.’Thrunnnodded,butother than that, hisbrethren remained still.Thechimeattheforeoftheboardingtorpedorangoutoncemore.‘Remember this is a plague site, and that the infection it bears could affectcountlessotherworldsunlesswedestroyit,’continuedFarren.‘Donotletyourfocusberobbedbythetruthswehaveuncovered.Wecandealwiththatsituationproperlyuponourreturn.’NoneofthePrimarisMarinesreplied.Farrenchosetotaketheirsullensilencefor acquiescence, if not agreement.Perhaps thiswaswhat it trulywas tobe aDarkAngel.Tobeadourandstoicforceofdestruction,fightingnotforglory,norforthejoyofbattle,butforduty,anddutyalone.Theproximityalarm’sinfrequentchimebecamemorestrident,moreinsistent,untilitranglikeaninfernomonitoratfullblast.‘Readyyourweapons,brothers,’calledoutFarren.Therewas a deafening boom and a tremendous, bone-shaking impact as theboarding torpedo slammed home into the side of the xenos craft. Farren felthimself yanked forwards and thenhurled back, the torpedo aroundhim fillingwitha fierce roar as the circularmelta arraybehind its tipburned through theouterhullofthewarsphere.Then,witharinging,slammingimpact,thetipoftheboardingtorpedohingedoutwardintotheenemycraft.TheharnessesholdingthePrimarisMarinesshotopenwithafiercehissofhydraulics.Farrenwasthefirstout,asever,hisboltrifleathisshoulderasheburstthroughthesmokelookingformovement.Hisbrotherswereclosebehind.Thecorridortheyhademergedintowasdark,mistedandalmostsurreallyhumid,itssidesandceilingnotwallssomuchasathickmassofcables,twistedgirdersandcoilingpipes.

Fartoomanycrawlspaces,thoughtthelieutenant.Fartoomanyplacesforan–Farrenhadalreadyshotthefirstkrootoninstinctbeforehehadfullyregistereditspresence.Itsrangybodytoppleddownfromthepipelines,oneanklecaughtsothatitdangledupsidedownwithitssheafofhead-quillsscrapingthegrillesofthefloor.Enrodtookanotherfurtherdownthecorridorasplitsecondlater,hisexpertlyplacedboltstrikingtheganglinggreen-greyxenosinthechestjustasitdrewabeadwithalong-barrelled,spinedrifle.Thrunntookahit intheshoulderfromabove, growling in wordless anger before threading a shot into the gantryoverheadtofellathirdavianxenos.Farren’shelmdisplayshowednohostiles.‘Clear.’Parvell came up beside him, his bald head glinting in the green light of thebuzzinglumen-spheresthatweredottedseeminglyatrandomalongthestrangelyorganiccorridor.‘Yourealisethet’aumakeuseofkrootassnipers,’saidFarren.The sergeant nodded. ‘Good point, lieutenant,’ he said, unclipping his helmfromhiswaistandslidingitsmoothlyoverhishead.Farrenwastakenabackatthebaldman’sacquiescence,buthesaidnothing.‘ShouldItakepoint?’saidEnrod.‘Iftheyusesnipers,youshouldnotbeatthefore.Wecannotaffordtoloseyourleadership.Notnow.’‘Mythanks,’saidFarren.Thoughitrankledtoseeanothertaketherisksonhisbehalf,itdidmakesensetactically.‘Omnissiahblessyouraim,then,Enrod.Andgowell.’Thelieutenantcouldnothelpbutsmileashissquadsmovedon,Enrodat thefront and Parvell clad in full battleplate from head to toe. A fierce sense oftriumphfilledhischest.Maybetheyhadachanceafterall.‘Moveswiftly,brothers,’hesaid,standingstraighter thanhehaddonefor thefirsttimeinyears.‘Wehaveanexampletoset.’

PietrMoricani felt something shift inside hismind, a wyrm of consciousnesswrigglinginhisforebrain.Itwasdisturbinghislong,deepsleep.Hemadeafistinhismind,enfoldingthewyrminhisetherealgraspandhopingtosquashthelifefromit.Butallthatcamefrombetweenhisfingerswaslight.Heopenedhis eyes, just a fraction.Vaarad’smutilatedvisage stareddownathim.TheApothecary had a look on his face as if hewas examining a bacto-culturedish,andonethathadnotyieldedtheresultsheexpected.ThemetallicjawthatdominatedthelowerhalfoftheApothecary’sfacemovedaninchtoone

side,givinghimadisappointedleer.‘Itappears,bythemovementofthesubject’spupils,heisconscious.’Moricanimadetocontradictthatstatement,purelyoutofsheercontrarianhabit.Allthatcameoutwasastrangegurgle.‘The after effects of the asset’s cerebral fluids are still powerful,’ said theApothecary.‘Hesenseshissurroundings,butdoesnotfullyregister.’Moricani’s spirit laughed inside.He felt his chest twitch, a slightvibrationatfirst,butthenaswelling,ashaking,andtheapproximationofatruelaugh.‘Interesting,’saidtheApothecary,beckoningtohisservo-skull.‘Dacius,recordthis,please.’Moricanifelthisbreathfillhislungs,hisintercostalmusclesflexingasfeelingreturnedtohischest.Whateversedativehehadbeengivenwaswearingofffast.‘You are…’ saidMoricani. His vision swam for a moment, then came backagain.Vaaradrecoiled.‘Iamwhat?’askedtheApothecary,hiseyesnarrowing.‘Youarenotas…clever…asyouthink,’slurredMoricani,smilingdumblyintriumphatmanagingawholesentence.‘Ohreally?Andwhyisthat,SergeantMoricani?’‘Wegavetheriggersawayout.Andweknow,’hesaid,noddingslowly.‘WeknowwhatyoudointheLion’sname.’‘Whatareyoutalkingabout,sergeant?’‘We,’hesaid,screwinghiseyesup.Whywasthedamnedmedicaemakingitsodifficult?‘WePrimarisMarines,’hesaid,awkwardlyjabbingathumbathisownchest.‘Weknow.’‘Andwhatdoyouclaimtoknow?’‘About themind-wipe,’saidMoricani,hiseyesopencrazilywide.‘About theasset,andthetraitorangel.’Vaarad’s face – those parts of it that were still flesh and blood – suddenlyshowed an unhealthy pallor. For a moment, he did not speak, move, or evenbreathe.‘Subject is sadlydelirious,’ he saidmatter-of-factly, turninghis head towardshis servo-skull. ‘These babblings are of no logical use. Codify the last twominutesunderenigmaprotocolsandarchivedumpatthefirstopportunity.’Theservo-skullgaveashortblurtofacknowledgement.‘We know!’ cried out Moricani, his thoughts crystallising as his smilebroadened. ‘More thanyourealise.Weknowyoursecrets.AndyouknowlessabouttheworksofPaterCawlthanyouthink.’

Vaaradlookedthoughtful.HepulledonthestrapsbindingMoricanitothetable.Theyweretightasever,notallowingmorethanasingleinchoffreemovement.Then theApothecary stood up to his full height andmade his way over to acorneroftheroom,hisservo-skulldriftingafterhim.Moricaniheardhimspeakfromthefarcorneroftheroom,hisvoicealmosttoofainttohear.‘Psyvoxrelayinitiated,’hesaid.‘Extremisprotocol.’Thesoundsofstaticdriftedacrosstheroom,accompaniedbyadistantwailing.‘Brother Dothrael,’ said Vaarad. ‘The asset was not as we thought. Newcontingentaware.RecommendimmediateMortisprogram.’Moricanifrowned.Whatwashesaying?‘Repeat. Recommend location of following subjects during active service.Recommend premature termination of subjects Farren, Thrunn, Gsar, Parvell,Enrod.PrioritisereclaimoflistedPrimarisactivegene-seed.’AdarkcloudofmisgivingsrumbledacrossthehorizonsofMoricani’stroubledmindscape.ThefeelingonlyincreasedwhenVaarad’sfaceswambackintohislineofsight.The Apothecary was red-faced, flushed almost, his eyes slits of disapprovalborderingonhatred.‘You’ll get what you deserve soon enough,’ said Moricani. ‘We PrimarisMarinesarethefuture,andwewillbethedeathofyou.’‘Experimentterminated,’saidVaarad,takinghisdrill-tippednartheciumfromasteel shelf under hismed-lectern. ‘Subject irreconcilable.On this day,BrotherPietrMoricanidiedofhiswounds.’Thebulkyapparatushadthewhitehelixofthehealeremblazoneduponitsside,buttherewasnodoubtastoitsprimarybarrel’struefunction.Moricanithrashedandspasmed,hopingagainstallreasonhecouldbreakfromtheheavystrapsthatheldhimtotheslab.Someofthemgavealittle,butmostweresotighttohisbodytheydidnomorethancreakinprotest.ThelastthingthatHellblasterSergeantPietrMoricanieverfeltwasthecooltipoftheApothecary’snartheciumplaceduponhisrighttemple.

Interrogator-Chaplain Zaeroph smashed the last kroot out of his path with abackhandsweepofhiscroziusarcanum.Ropesofelectricitycoursedacrossthealien’s broken body as he kicked it out of theway, its hollowbones breakingunderhisbootwithasatisfyingcrunch.‘That’sthelastofthem,fornow,’hesaid.‘Ashame.’

‘Therewillbemore,’saidCompanyMasterGabrael,wipingthegorefromhisbladewiththehemofhisnewsilkencloak.Behind them, the gantry was thick with alien corpses. Many had beenbludgeoned to death, the scorch marks of the crozius’ disruption fieldsurroundingeachshatteringblow.SomehadbeenhackedapartorcutintwobybrutalsweepsofCompanyMasterGabrael’spowersword, theircorpsesgentlysmouldering.ThevictimsofAutinocus’clinicalattackslayhereandthere,coredthroughthechest by spheres of superheated gas, hacked apart by his cog-toothed axe ormangledbythegrasping,mercilessgripofhisservoarm.Yetmorewereburnedtotheboneasiftheyhadstoodtooneararagingblastfurnace–inmanywaystheyhad,forwhenhisbattleirewasup,thepsychicwrathofEpistolaryDothraelwassomethingtobehold.ThetrailofcorpsesstretchedallthewaybacktotheThunderhawk,perhapsaquarterofamiledistantwithitslandingapparatusmag-lockedtotheoutsideofthewarsphere.‘That’stheenginecore,upahead,’saidAutinocus.‘Theedgeofit,atleast.Itisawell-preservedexampleofitskind,reliablebutprimitive.Andeasyenoughtodestroy.’‘Excellent,’saidZaeroph.‘Makereadythedetonation.’TheTechmarinenodded curtly andwent towork.His servo-armpeeledbacklayersofinsulationtogetatthegiantcylindricalcorebeneathashetookastringofmeltachargesfromhiswaist.‘Interrogator-Chaplain,’saidEpistolaryDothrael.‘Amoment,please.’Zaeroph turned to Dothrael as the Librarian held up an arch-shaped relic.Within it was a yellowed cranium covered in the patina of extreme age. Theskull’s teethwereclackingas if itwastryingtocommunicate.Dothraelhelditclose,staringintotheemptysocketsandcockinghisheadasifhewasstrainingtohear.Bloodbegantoseepoutoftheskull’seyes,butheseemedtopayitnomind.Zaerophtooignoredit.Onlyfornow,hetoldhimself.Onlyfornow.‘Vaarad sends word from theBlade. It is not good. He says the asset is nolongerworkingaswethought,andthat thesubjectsareaware.HerequestsweengagetheMortisprogram.’Zaeroph felt his ire build to truly volcanic levels. The Primaris contingent,underthecapablebuttroublesomeLieutenantFarren,hadstumbledoversecretsthat should never come to light.And that, as anymember of the InnerCircle

knewwellenough,couldnotbeborne.‘Finishupswiftly,Autinocus,’hesaid,hisvoiceasseriousas thegraveashelocated the Primaris runes on his helm display. ‘We make for the centralchamber.Wemustpaythelieutenantandhismenourfinalrespects.’

Xedro Farren emerged from the corridor network into the light of the ovoidchamberbeyond.After several hard-fought skirmishes against small groupsofkroot,hewasspatteredwithstinkingxenosbloodandlowonammunition.Still,hehadabuoyantconfidence inhisstep thathehadnot felt formonths. Inhisexperience, theblackandwhiterealitiesofcombathadawayofdrowningoutanunquietsoul.Theartificialcaverntheyfoundthemselvesinsidewaslinedtoptobottomwithcables, girders and tree-like constructions festooned with actual vegetation,togetherforminganindustrialforestallarounditsedge.Theoveralleffectmeantthat the area felt more like a wood-lined clearing than a space aboard aninterstellar craft. Right in the centre was a mound of captured weapons andskulls,atopwhichwasathrone.Gsar, redeployed in Farren’s squad whilst the Harrower was undergoingrepairs,hadquicklysurmisedthewarspherewasbuiltalongastrongcentralaxis.After that he had led them to their destination with an unstinting sense ofdirectionandpurpose.Alreadyitwaspayingoff.Hishypothesisheldoutwhenthey found the corridors fanningout fromacentralpoint, like the spokesof awheel;itwasaprimitivebuteffectivedesign,andnothardtonavigate,despitetheclusteredjungleofpipesandstrutsthatcluttereditscorridors.‘Spreadout,brothers,’saidFarren,despatchinghissquadsleftandrightwithagesture. ‘These xenos like to believe they specialise in ambush. They willattempttoconfounduswithstealth.’Agreatyappingcacophony,likethehowlingofmutanthounds,emergedfromthecorridorsstretchingawayontheothersideoftheartificialcavern.Suddenlyalivingtideofbeastscamepouringthroughthecorridorstospilloutandfillthespacewithhorrendousnoise.Theywerelithe,long-beakedcreaturesthatlookedhalfwaybetweenkrootandgiant,baldattackdogs.‘Orperhapsnot,’saidFarren.‘Fireatwill.’Farrenandhisbrothersbegantoputdownthecreatureswithclinicalefficiency.Everyshotfiredbowledoneofthebeastsoverbeforespreadingitsremainswidein the ensuing explosion. Soon enough, the site had turned into a blood-maddened tableau of butchery that had more in common with some hellish

daemonicvisitationthanacleanmilitaryexercise.Farrenreloadedhisclip,pickingoffkillshotsoncemoreasGsarreloadedhisownrifleandthickenedthevolleybesidehim.OnMars,theyhadrelishedsuchsituations, the quadrupedal servitors of the tech-priests expended in greatmeasureonlytohavetheirbraincanistersrecoveredattheendofeachexerciseandvat-grownanewbodyovernight.The trainingwas intended to teach themhowtorefinetargetpriorityandammunitionconservationinthefaceofsuperiornumbers.IfonlyPaterCawlcouldseeusnow,thoughtFarren.WhenFarrenkilled the fifthbeast in a row,hisbolt rifle clickedemptyoncemore, the last of his clips already expended in the butchery since they hadboardedlessthantwentyminutesago.Gsar,Enrod andParvell needed to reload, too, but they hadmade every boltcount.Bythetimethelastbeast-packshadmadeithalfwayacrosstheartificialclearing they were starting to waver. Most of them had turned and ran, theexplosive deaths of their brethren enough to send the rest packing once theirimpetuswaslost.OnlythreeofthecreatureshadmadeittothePrimarisline.Farrenunsheathedhispower swordand slicedoneof thebeasts in two,withGsar stabbing anothermid-leapwithhis combat knife.Nearby,Thrunn caughtthe thirdbeast by the jaws and ripped its skull in twowith anursinegrunt ofeffort.Asanattackwave,theyhadleftalottobedesired.Butasadistraction,theywereexcellent.Even as the last of the houndswere despatched a dozen heavily ornamentedkrootstoodfromamongstthepileoftrophiesinthecentreoftheclearing.Therewas a motley assortment of humans with them, mercenaries and traitors whoopenedfirealongsidethekroot.Weapons and skulls cascaded down around their legs as the ambushers tooktheir shots.Caught in theopen, thePrimarisMarines hadno immediate reply.Enrodwentdownheavily,hisrighteyeshotoutthroughhislens.Farrenwashitintheneck,stumblingbackwiththecommandtotakecoverdyinginhisthroat.Gsar took threebullets atonce, andwasknockedoffhis feet,hitting thedeckwithaloudclang.Thenthegiantgreykrootattheheartofthepileoftrophyweaponslevelledalong, sling-held plasma riflewith a blade jutting down from its tip.He aimedcarefully,andputasizzlingblueboltrightthroughThrunn’schest.Farrendrewhispoweredbroadbladefromitsscabbardandcharged.Heturned

his shoulder to take two sniper’s bullets on his pauldron as he closed thedistance.Hefeltthepaininhisthroatsubsideastheshockofthesniper’sbulletpassed,andaswellofangerroseinhischestashepointedthetipofhisbladetowardsthegiantgrey-quilledxenosinthemidstoftheenemy.‘Faceme!’Thechallengecameoutasmoreofastrangulatedraspthanthebellicoseroarhehadhopedfor,butitsmessagewasclearenough.Thegrey-quilledgiantsteppedoutofthetrophypilecompletely,itstalonedfeetclackingasittookawarrior’sstance.Farrenpoundedtowardsit,armsspreadtomakehimselflargeandhencekeepitsattention.Justafewmoremetres…Thebladedplasma riflecameathim, fastasawhip.Hehadbarelybegun toparrywhenitsmackedhardintohishead,smashinghisfocusrightoutofhim.Theriflecamearoundagainatterriblespeed,clangingfromhisgorgetsoharditnearly toppled him over. The third blow hit the heel of his palm. It took thepowerswordfromhisgrip,sendingthebladespinningaway.Thexenoshadstrength,speedandreach–farmorethanFarren,especiallywithhisbroadblade a few stridesdistant.Hedodged thegreymonster’snextblow,but the riflecamebackfast in theoppositedirection.Thehookingsweep tookhis legs out from under him, and he landed heavily in a pile of long-rustedlasguns.Thekrootwarlord roseover him, a horrible barking laugh emerging from itsbluntterrapin-likebeak.

JensaDeelwincedasshewatchedtheGreyKingtakeFarrendowninamatterofseconds.Shehadrecognisedthelieutenant’sdistinctivehelmetthemomenthehadcomeinto the cavern, and felt a wash of mixed feelings even as the kroot houndsboundedpastherandtheirambushbeganinearnest.Hehadsavedher,backonSaltireVex,andindoingsogivenherandherpeoplearealchanceatsurvival.Shecouldnotrepaythatwithanattemptonhislife.Insteadshehadshotatthestanchionsabove thePrimarisMarines,missingonpurpose,butnotby suchamarginthatthekrootwouldlatercallheronit.WiththreeofthePrimarisMarinesdownalreadyandFarrenonhisknees,shefelt as if she had made the right choice. She lowered her pulse carbine andsteppedback,hereyesfixedontheduel.‘Deel,’shouteddelAggioasshetookashotatthePrimarisMarinesconvergingontheirposition.‘Whatthehellareyoudoing?Takethemdown!’

Bytherigswoman’sside,Markenswaslettingflywithaflamerlinkedstraighttohisoldbarrel of promethium.Eachgiant plumeof flame filled the airwithgreasy black smoke as it billowed towards the SpaceMarines recovering andreloadingtheirgunsinthemiddleoftheclearing.‘Theyareallies,’sheprotested.‘Atleast,theywere.’‘Hu-man,’saidthewingedkrootshamanasheglidedinfromthefalsetreestoland behind her with a crunch. He grabbed her arm roughly and raised hercarbine to point at the Primaris Marines once more. ‘Must kill. For good ofgreat.’Deel grimaced, shaking the bird-like creature off, before taking a few moredesultoryshotsatthenearestPrimarisMarine.Whateverhappenedhere,shehadafeelingitwouldnotendwell.

Farrenscuffledbacktowardshisbroadblade,slidingamongstthescrapasablastofplasmameltedasteamingholebetweenhislegs.Thegreygiantwasshootingathimnow,presumablyconsideringthedueloverbarringtheexecution.The creature’s very arrogance gave Farren a pulse of pure, Emperor-givenhatred.Hishandtouchedsomethingsharpinthetrophypile,andbeforeheknewithehadhurleda jaggedxenosknifehardat thecreature’shead. Itbatted thebladefromtheairwiththeendofitsrifleasifswattingawayafly.Itwasanopening,atleast.Farrenmadefulluseofit,springingforwardwitharoar tocatch the toweringxenosaround thewaist andbearhimdown into thetrophypile in a crash of limbs and scatteringweapons.The giant grabbed hisheadalmostimmediatelywithitsscrabblingclaws,wrenchinghishelmthiswayand that so hard that Farren felt his neckwould tear open and his head comecleanoff.Thecreaturehadoneleglockedaroundhisarm,pinningittohisbody.Itsfrantic,crocodilianthrashing,combinedwiththethickgreasyoilofitsskin,madeitalmostimpossibletogainpurchaseinreturn.Farren felt one of its talons pierce the neck seal of his helm and push upunderneathtopenetratethesoftfleshunderhisjaw.Hefoundpurchasewithoneofhisfeetandpushedhard,breakingthecreature’squestingfinger.Thething’sgripwasbackinamoment,pinninghisotherarmwithitskneeasithammeredasaw-bladedknifeattheneckjointofhisarmouroverandoveragain.Anymomentandthatbladewouldbestuckrightthroughhisneck.Incredibleasitseemed,hewaslosingthefight,meresecondsawayfromdeath.The fire of frustrationwithin Farren, stoked to a raging conflagration by theeventsoftheselastfewweeks,blazedbright.Hefeltawashofmoltenstrength

cascade through his tired limbs, a cascade of chemicals thatmade a surge ofadrenalineseempalebycomparison.HisBelisarianfurnaceburned.Thelieutenantstoodupwithacryofpure,animalrage,haulingthegiantxenoswithhimintotheairinonevitalfeatofstrength.Hebrokeitslegwithasharpmovementofhisarm,thentoppleditsidewaystoslamthebeastintothejuttinganglesofthetrophiesbelowwithallhisconsiderableweight.Farren’shandshotup,catchingthecreature’swristasitraisedthecombatknifefor a stabbingdeathblow.He squeezed, the hypersteel coils aroundhis sinewscontractinghardastheybroughttheirterriblecompositestrengthtobear.Onebyonehefeltthecreature’sbonesbreakinhisgrip.The jagged knife tilted, then fell from its quivering claws. Farren grabbed itbefore itcould landandslammed it sodeep into thecreature’seyesocket thatonlythehiltprotruded.Thegreygiant’spointedblacktonguestuckout,longandquivering,asitfellbackwithalouddeathrattle.Outofthecornerofhiseye,FarrencouldseeEnrodandGsaropeningfireupontheshadowyfigures in theartificial treesaround them.Three fell, theirbodiesburstingapart.Itwasenough.Thekrootbegantomeltawayanddisappear.Thelieutenantpeeledhisfallenfoe’sdeathgripfromhisarmandstoodatopthepileoftrophies.ItwasallhecoulddonottoraisehiseyestotheceilingandcryouttotheOmnissiahasthesavageenergyofvictorycoursedthroughhislimbs.He took in his surroundings like a barbarian king surveying his new domain,pleasedtoseethathisenemieshadfledbeforehim.Andsawthefaceofaghost.

Interrogator-ChaplainZaeroph emerged into themassive artificial clearing, hiscommand squad close behind him. As he made his way through the strange,twistedtreesthatlinedtheperiphery,hesawastrangevista.There, amongst literally hundreds of dead kroot-forms, stood the PrimarisMarines he sought. Their leader, Farren, was atop a pile of what looked likediscardedweapons–trophies,nodoubt.Beforehimwasafigurealltoofamiliar.JensaDeel,chiefriggerfromSaltireVexandarchitectofherplanet’sexodus.‘Letusleavetheloverstoit,’saidGabrael.‘Wecandetonatethecharges,andclaimcollateraldamage.’‘Imprecise,withrespect,’saidAutinocus,hisoutstretchedplasmapistolsteadyasarock.‘Ihaveabead,Interrogator-Chaplain.WhichoneshouldIkillfirst?’‘Neither,’saidZaeroph.‘Let’sseehowthingstranspire.’

‘Deel,’saidFarren,‘you’realive.’‘Yes,’shesaid,‘thankstoyou.Ouronlychanceforsurvivalwastolinkupwiththesemercenaries,andtogetasfarawayaspossible.Thousandsofusmadeitaboardtotheouterdecks,crampedbutsafe.Andyougaveusthatchance.’‘What?Ithoughtyouwantedtowaitoutthegreatcycle,thenreturn.’‘We cannot,’ she said. ‘You know aswell as I do thatwewould need to bequarantined.Thatweirdpsychicplague…it liesdormant fornow. Ithas somekindoflifespan,burningbright,thenpassingon,buthowlongbeforeitisback?’Farrensaidnothing.‘Wearestrikingoutforpasturesnew,’shesaid.‘Letusgo.Please.WewillfindaplacefarfromtheImperium,andsettlethatinstead.Anewbeginning.’‘You have not the requisite Warrant of Trade,’ said Farren coldly. ‘Nor theprimarch’sgracetoclaimaworldintheEmperor’sname.’‘What else can we do?’ shouted del Aggio. ‘We have families on this craft,hundredsofrefugees,andatradedealthatwillseeustosafety!’‘Youfiredonus,’saidFarren,lookingsidelongatMarkensashetriedtohidehisflameramongstthescatteredtrophiesunderfoot.‘Youfiredonus,andsidedwiththexenosoveryourownkind.’‘Ifiredtomiss,’saidDeel.‘Iwillnot,’saidFarren,reachingoutahandbehindhim.Enrod,hiseyesocketbleeding,placedareloadedboltrifleinthelieutenant’shand.Farrennoddedhisthanks.‘I saved your life on SaltireVex,’ he said, looking down atDeel. ‘I saved itagainbygettingyouoffplanet.Iwillnotsaveitathirdtime,soyoucanstoopevenlowerandspreadyourtreasontomoredeservingworlds.’‘Wait,’saidDeel,desperately,asingletearappearingatthecornerofhereye.Sheabsentlywiped itawayacross thesideofher face. It leftaglowingwhitestreakinthegloom.‘Thiswillallbefornothingifyou–’Farrenshotherinthehead.Aheartbeatlater,GsarturnedhisrifleondelAggioandgunnedherdownevenasEnrodshotMarkensinthechest.‘Let’sget this overwith,’ saidFarren, turning awayandwalking towards thecoreofthexenosship.‘Lieutenant Farren,’ said Zaeroph, emerging from the treelinewithCompanyMasterGabrael,EpistolaryDothraelandAutinocusclosebehind.‘BrotherGsar,Brother Enrod. Well met. We observed your measures here. Most effective.PerhapsthelinkyouprovidewiththeCultMechanicuscanbeputtogooduseafterall.’

Farrennodded,butcouldnotbringhimselftomeettheChaplain’sgaze.‘It is time to leave,’ saidGabrael. ‘Autinocushasprimedmeltachargesupontheenginecoreinsuchafashionitwilltriggerachainexplosion.YouandyourmenwillaccompanyustotheThunderhawkPrideofLionsandreturnwithustothestrikecruiser.’‘Acknowledged,’saidFarrendully.‘Have faith, lieutenant,’ said Zaeroph, laying a reassuring hand upon hispauldronasheguidedhimtowardstheexit.‘Yourdeedsthisdayhavenotgoneunnoticed.NotbytheEmperorHimself,norbyyourimmediatesuperiors.’ThatiswhatIamafraidof,thoughtFarren.Buthedidnotsayaword.

Farren felt the pressing weight of acceleration as the Thunderhawk Pride ofLionsshotfromtheexteriorofthekrootwarspherelikeaneaglesoaringfromamountainpeak into theopenskies.When itwassomedistanceaway, itspilot,Autinocus,senta tight-beampsalmofactivationto themunitionshehadsownwithinthewarsphere’score.Tappinganappeasementrune,Farrenbroughtthewarsphereintofocusonthefadeddispositiondata-slatewithinthetransporthold.Theuglinessofthexenosfortressandtheeventsthathadtranspiredinsideitmadehissoulache.Then,ashewatched,lightbegantostreamoutfromtheinsidesofthegiantspacecraft.Itbegantofallinonitself,thencomeapartinastatelycollapsethatleftitnomorethanafieldofvoid-claimeddebris.Notoneofthethousandsofscreamingvoicesthataccompanieditsdestructioncouldpossiblyhavemadeitswayacrossthevoidofspace,butLieutenantXedroFarrenfeltheheardthemnonetheless.

EPILOGUE

Master Castellan Moddren came round slowly, screwing his eyes shut hardbeforeblinkingaway the searing,blindingafterimageof theorbital strike.Hisdisplacerfield,anirreplaceablerelicofhisChapter,hadteleportedhimawayatthe moment of the orbital lance strike, and in doing so had unquestioninglysavedhislife.Theoctagonalhallstankofacridsmoke,burningpaintandionisedstone.Apartfrom winding trails of dust, nothing moved amongst the ruin of rubble, tornbodiesandcollapsedslabsofceiling.Severalofhisbrotherswereburiedunderthe detritus, including those he counted closest to him. It was a heavy priceindeed.There itwas, the architect of all this destruction.The xenos killingmachine,finally revealed as the giant white warsuit it truly was. Even broken andsplintered, even half-molten and gouting smoke, there was something elegantabout its contoured plates and sweeping lines. The T’au Empire was gettingmoreadvanced,moredangerous,witheverypassingyear.Moddrenstoodup,staggeringasrubbleshiftedunderhisfeet.Hisbodyachedinadozenplaces,andhecouldtastebloodonhisgums,buthewasalive.Itwasmorethancouldbesaidforhiscompanychampion,hisforemostLibrarian,histrusted veterans and his finest Devastator squad. Here and there a white-armouredlimbstuckoutfromtherubble,butfewlifesignsregistereduponhis

helmdisplay.Thoughhehatedhimselfforit,therewasonelifesignhecaredaboutmostofall.Moddrenmadehiswayover to the torn-openxenoswarsuit, his blade– stillclutchedinonenumbfist–heldready.Shouldtherebesomuchasashiver,atwitchofaneyelid,hewouldhaulthatxenosbastardoutfromhisnestandmakehimpayathousandtimesover.Somehow, the master castellan knew he would be sorely disappointed, evenbeforeheplacedabootontheflankoftheruinedwarsuitandhefteditontoitsside.Sureenough,thecockpitinsidewasempty.Almost.Moddren was about to turn away and begin the long and painful work ofrebuilding when he saw something odd within the contoured, over-luxuriouscocoon.Hefrowned,reachingdowntotaketheobjectfrombeneathanejecteddrawercastinthenegativeimageofabulkypistol.Smooth, round, and held clamped within a vice of iron, the artefact wasunquestionably a yellowed skull. To his disgust, its teeth bit together in astrange, irregular rhythm – clack, clack-clack, clack, clack. He snatched up alength of heraldic banner that had once hung from the chamber’s wall, andstartedtobundletherelicawayfromsight.Ashewrapped, itwasnot theskull itself,but thefamiliar icononthesideoftheirondevicethatmadeModdren’sbloodruncold.ItwasthesymboloftheirparentChapter,theDarkAngels.

‘It appears the tutor succumbed to his obsession with the student,’ saidAun’Shao. As she approached the empty cryostasis cylinder in ContingencyZoneEight,CommanderSurestrikewatchedhermaketheslashingfingermotionofthewoundedsoul.‘Asweknewhewould,’shecontinued.‘Thoughtheirrolesaresoontobereversedoncemore.Theirconnectionhasastrangebeauty,poisedasitisbetweensymbiosisandmutualhatred.’‘Weof thefirecasteareoftenruledbyourhearts,’saidSurestrike, tiltinghisheadinagreementashecamealongsideher.‘Itisourgreateststrength,andourdeepestweakness.’Thecommanderwatched,afeelingofnumbnessspreadingwithinhim,as theetherealplacedherhandonthejambofthecylinder’scryolockandhelditthereasiftofeelitsheartbeat.The two stood in silence, the emptiness before them echoing the void in

Surestrike’schest.Thevoidattheheartoftheentireexpedition.‘Do you judge the Tha’hasiro a success, honoured aun?’ said Surestrikeeventually.‘Ohyes.Iamnowarrior,butIhaveseenenoughofthefootagetoappreciatethepotencyoftheoutcome.Againstgue’ron’sha,noless.’‘Atruedisplayofthefirecaste’smasteryofwar,’agreedSurestrike.‘ItisonlyashamethatO’Vesacannotknowjusthowsoundhistheoriesprovedtobe,allthoset’au’cyrago.’‘Soundenoughtoreplicatetheprocess?’‘Certainly,’saidAun’Shao.‘MypeersandIshalldeterminejusthowthatistobedonebefore thematter is taken to anElementalCouncil. I should think anevensixty-fourTha’hasiroshouldbeagoodplacetostart,shouldwebeabletofind that many Monats of the requisite potential. It will take at least a fewgenerationsforthemtoyieldresults,ofcourse.Butupontheculminationoftheprocess,wewillhaveanarmylikenootherinthegalaxy.ItwillbemylegacytotheT’au’va.’‘AndwillTutorTwicebladebesentencedtotheMalk’laforhiscrimes?’‘Of course,’ said Aun’Shao, turning with a look of mild confusion. ‘That iswhattheritualisfor,afterall.’‘Eventhoughwedeliberatelyallowedhimtotransgress?ThoughweledhimtotheactofunleashingtheLivingWeaponbythemannerofitsforbiddance,andensuredthatnonestoodinhisway?’‘Evenso.’‘Isee,’saidSurestrike,histonecold.‘How could it be any other way, after what he took it upon himself to do?’askedAun’Shao,thedeeppoolsofhereyeswide.‘AfterhecommittedtosuchaflagrantgamblewiththeT’auEmpire’sresources?Wecanattributethesourceofhisbehaviourtohisstasisanachronism,andtothefactheoncefoughtatthesideoftheRogueCommanderFarsight.Lookeduptohim,iftherecordsofDal’ythare true. Tutor Twiceblade will become an exemplar as to why taking theinitiativeininter-castemattersistobediscouraged.IfhesurviveshisMalk’la,ofcourse.’‘Asyousay.’Surestrikesummonedhisnerve, finding theremnantsofhisoldconfidencewithinhimselfbeforecontinuing.‘Aun’Shao,’ he said. ‘Might I be allowed to enter cryostasis myself, in theconventionalmanner? Iwould greatly value a chance to rest, body and spirit,andhelptheT’au’vaofthefutureinsteadofthepresent.’

Thatwayhemightbefreeoftheghoststhatplaguedhim,thoughtSurestrike,andthememoriesofthesoulshehadconsignedtooblivion.Sincetheordealoftheirexpansion,thelimbooftimelessnesshadseemedinfinitelypreferabletothetraumathathauntedhismindeverydark-timedec.Thoughthecommanderdidnotspeakofhisfeelings,somethinginAun’Shao’seyestoldhimsheunderstoodhismotivesverywellnonetheless.Theetherealmadethesignoftheflowerpetalsclosingatdusk,sighinggentlybeforecontinuing.‘Ohno,commander,’shesaid,‘youarefartoovaluableasafocalpointfortheFourthSphereExpansionforustoallowthat.Youmustknowthis.’Surestrikecasthiseyesdown.‘You and I witnessed something in the sub-realm,’ continued Aun’Shao.‘Somethingunnaturalandtwistedthatneedstobedestroyed.NoneamongstusmayrestuntiltheT’au’vaispureagain,evenshouldthattakeustothewinterofour lives and beyond. Now, put intomotion the location and recovery of theLivingWeapon.Heistoousefultolose.’‘Ofcourse,’saidSurestrike,maintaininghismaskofcomposureashemadethesignofthedutifulservant.Inside,hissoulwasscreaming.

Deepin thesecretheartof theExecutioner’sBlade,LieutenantFarren,BrotherGsar,BrotherEnrodandSergeantParvellstoodshouldertoshoulderinaroughcircle. Theywere surrounded by tall, sputtering candles, each ringedwith theiconography of the First Legion, and the scent of incense hung in the air. Astrange,half-cyborgservitorwithaskullforaheadscratchedatthewallswithahammerandchisel,engravingsomethingintothefurthestcorneroftheroom.‘I had my misgivings,’ said Zaeroph as he walked slowly around the fourwarriors.‘Soremisgivings.Butyouhaveprovedmorethanusefultoourcause.Youhaveproved…discerning.Resourceful.Lethal.Unstoppable inyourduty.ThesearequalitieswevaluehighlyintheupperechelonsofourChapter.’Farren felt his spirits rise, just a little, at Zaeroph’s words, though thethunderclouds thathadgatheredaroundhispsychestill rumbled in thebackofhismind.‘More than that,’ said the Chaplain, coming to a halt in front of Farren andlookingrightintohiseyes,‘youhaveprovenresistanttotheenergiesusedbyourdirestfoes.Abletohealfromthemwithoutcorruption.Thatisofimmeasurablevaluetous.’

Farren thought of his psy-wound, then, and the vile mutating fire that hadburned itself into hismemory to haunt hismeditations at night.Had theDarkAngelsknownaboutthemallalong?‘There existmany structures and rankswithin theChapter that you have notbeenmadeawareof,’saidDothrael.‘Theyhavestoodformillennia,primarilytoenableustohuntdownandredeemthosesoulswhowereoncetrustedbrothers,absolvingthemofpastcrimes.’‘Thetraitors,’saidFarren.‘Yes,’saidZaeroph.‘TheFallen.’‘Yet we cannot elevate you to the brotherhood of huntsmen,’ said Dothrael.‘NotwithouttheconsentofSupremeGrandMasterAzraelhimself.Instead,’atthis,hepulledoutagoldenaspergillumandflickedblessedoilattheirfeet,‘youwillbeinceptedintoanewbrotherhoodentirely,until theChapter’selderscandecideontheultimatefateofyourkind.Butyouhaveproventoousefulanassettowaste.’ThehairsonFarren’sneckstoodupat theLibrarian’schoiceofwords.Foramoment,hethoughtofhisfriendMoricani,andthemannerofhisdeath.Buthesaidnothing.Hehadafeelingthatwithinthebrotherhoodof theDarkAngels,keepingsilentwouldprovethemostusefulskillofall.‘TheCirclePrimaris,’saidZaeroph,touchinghiscroziusarcanumonFarren’sshoulders one after another, then doing the same to Gsar, Parvell, and lastlyEnrod,whosenewbioniceyewhirredquietlyasitfocusedonZaeroph’sskull-likemask.‘Youwillpursueleadsthatwecannot,’saidtheChaplain.‘NotonlywithintheUltimaFoundingandtheworksofthePrimarchGuilliman,butalsotheMartianpriesthood.YouwillputtheagendasoftheChapter,asstatedbyyoursuperiors,beforeallotherconcerns.AllthatwhichyouwitnessfromthispointonbelongstotheChapter,andtheChapteralone.Doyouunderstand,aspirantbrothers?’‘Aye,’theysaidasone.‘Thenwelcometoyournewlives.’Farrenbowedhishead,conflictingemotionstearingathisheartandmind.‘Itiscommonpractice,inthesecircumstances,foryoutobegivennewnames,thoseofsaintedwarriorsfromthedawnoftheChapter,’saidDothrael.‘But as amark of this historicmoment, and of your unique origin, youwillinsteadbeallowedtokeepaversionofyourownnames.’Utteringaphraseunderhisbreath,Zaerophbade the skull-headed servitor inthecorneroftheroomshutdown.Itsankintoitself,becominglittlemorethana

pileofragsandbonyarmaturesthatfoldedawayintoasmallheap.Indoingso,itrevealedthewordsithadbeenetchingintothewalls.BrotherRopan.BrotherGalus.BrotherLason.AndBrotherXedro.‘Welcome,atlast,’saidInterrogator-ChaplainZaeroph,‘totheDarkAngels.’

TAUXENOLEXICON

TAUWORD–BESTTRANSLATIONAun–Ethereal/CelestialAun’ar’tol–EtherealcastehighcommandBe’gel–OrkD’yanoi–TwinmoonsEl–Secondhighestt’aurankFio–EarthFu’llasso–Overlycomplicatedsituation(lit.‘cursedmindknot’)Ghoro’kha–DeathhailGue’la–HumanGue’ron’sha–SpaceMarine(lit.‘engineeredhumanwarriors’)Gue’vesa–HumanswhohavejoinedtheT’au’va(lit.‘humanhelpers’)J’kaara–MirrorKais–SkilfulKau’ui–CadreKauyon–Metastrategyofpatienceandambush(lit.‘PatientHunter’)Kavaal–Atemporarygroupingofcontingents(lit.‘battle’)Kor–AirKor’shuto–OrbitalcityKor’vattra–Thet’aunavyKor’vesa–T’audrone(lit.‘faithfulhelper’)Ko’vash–Tostrivefor(lit.‘aworthycause’)La–Lowestt’aurank

La’rua–TeamLhas’rhen’na–Euphemismfornoblesacrifice(lit.‘shatteredjade’)Mal’caor–SpiderMal’kor–Vespid(insectilemercenaryrace)Malk’la–RitualdisciplinemetedouttoleaderswhofailtheT’au’vaMesme–CombinationMonat–Asolooperative(lit.‘lonewarrior’)Mont’au–TheTerror–abarbarictimeofwarMont’ka–Metastrategyoftheperfectstrike(lit.‘KillingBlow’)Mont’yr–Blooded(lit.‘seenbattle’)Mor’tonium–HighlyreactivealloyusedaskeyelementofionweaponryM’yen–UnforeseenNont’ka–TimeofQuestioning(conceptusedbyEtherealcasteonly)O–Highestt’aurankOr’es–PowerfulPor–WaterPor’sral–PropagandacampaignRinyon–Metastrategyofenvelopment(lit.‘CircleofBlades’)Rip’yka–Metastrategyofcumulativestrikes(lit.‘ThousandDaggers’)Run’al–Observationpost,smallblindorbunkerSaz’nami–Etherealhonourguard/enforceroftheT’au’vaShas–FireShas’ar’tol–FirecastemilitaryhighcommandShas’len’ra–CautiouswarriorShi–VictoryShio’he–Olfactorychasm,t’auscentorganequivalentShoh–InnerlightShovah–FarsightedTa’lissera–Communion/Marriage/Bonded;sacredritualfort’augroupsTa’ro’cha–Unityofaspecifictrio(lit.‘threemindsasone’)Ta’shiro–Fortressstation(spacebound)T’au’va–TheGreaterGood,cornerstoneoft’auphilosophyTio’ve–Contingent

Tsua’m–MiddleUa’sho–Allforcesofagivencasteinonelocation(lit.‘command’)Ui–Secondlowestt’aurankVash’ya–Focusedonmorethanonething(lit.‘betweenspheres’)Ves’ron–RoboticbeingVior’la–HotbloodedV’ral–UndercutVre–Middlet’aurankY’eldi–Giftedpilot(lit.‘wingedone’)Y’he–Tyranid(lit.‘ever-devouring’)

ANOTEONTAUUNITSOFTIMEAT’au’cyrisanannualcycleonthecoreseptplanetT’au(eachisapproximately300Terrandays).

AT’au’cyriscomprisedof6Kai’rotaa(eachisapproximately50Terrandays).

AKai’rotaaiscomprisedof80Rotaa(eachisapproximately15Terranhours).

EachRotaaisbrokendowninto10Decs.Decsareeitherlight-timeordark-time.

Mostt’auneedonly1-2Decsofsleepperrotaa(eachisapproximately1.5Terranhours).

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

PhilKellyistheauthoroftheSpaceMarineBattlesnovelBladesofDamocles,theWarhammer40,000novelFarsight:CrisisofFaithandthe

novellasFarsightandBloodOath,aswellastheWarhammertitlesSigmar’sBloodandDreadfleet.Hehasalsowrittenanumberofshort

stories.HeworksasabackgroundwriterforGamesWorkshop,craftingtheworldsofWarhammerandWarhammer40,000.HelivesinNottingham.

AnextractfromTheLastHunt.

TheSpurofMankindDescendedwashushed.Lightfloodedthroughtheglassaicdomeofthetempleprimaris,paintingthesweptflagstonesandcarvedrustwoodpews in vibrant shades of blue, green and gold. The air was heavywith dustmotesandthesilentexpectationsofthreescoredignitaries,sweatingintheiryatwool gowns and broad-rimmed ceremonial caps. Theywere seated before thespuritself,tribalhetmenandAdministratumadeptsalike.Darkand’srulingelite,cometotheslope-cityofHeavenfalltoobservetheonsetoftheFurnaceSeason.The rattle of beads disturbed the expectant silence. Wordlessly the HighEnunciator, Septimus Traik, made his way between the pews, head bowed insupplication, features unreadable behind the thousand white beads of histraditional shontii veil. Only Governor Harren turned his head to observe theleaderoftheChurchoftheEmperor’sVoiceashepassedby.HewonderedhowTraikcouldwithstandtheheatinhisimpracticalgarments.Harren’sownageingfleshwas slippery beneath the thick folds of red-dyed yatwool. LikeHarren,Traik was an off-worlder, born not on Darkand’s wind-whipped steppes, butamidsttheupper-hivegravspiresofSoltara.Traik,however,seemedunaffectedbythestiflingnatureofthelocalgarb.The governor felt Chancellor Tugan, seated next to him, shift and lean in.UnlikeHarrenorTraik,TuganwasDarkandbornandbred,hisdusky,weatheredskin and stocky build speaking of decades hunting across the steppes beyondHeavenfall’sFoundingWall.‘AmessagefromGanzorig,’thechancellormurmuredinthegovernor’sear.‘Whatisit?’Harrenhissed,fightingtheurgetoscratchatthesweatslidingitswaydownhissides.‘Doeshenotknowit’sDescentDay?’‘He knows,’ Tugan said, lips so close they almost brushed Harren’s auralaugmetics.‘Hesaysit’sahighprioritycontact.Codealeph.’‘Aleph?’Harrensaid,voicespiking.OneoftheAdministratumadeptsseatedinfrontglancedround.

‘Youthinkit’s…’Harrenbegan,loweringhistone.Tugansimplynodded,darkeyesfixedonthegovernor.Hedidn’tneedtosaywhathadtriggeredanaleph-levelcommuniqué.Itcouldonlybeonething.Theywerehere,andtheywereearly.‘Canyoudealwithit?’Harrenasked.‘Placatethemandbriefmeinthecentrumdominusthemomentthisfoolishnessisover?’‘Icantry,’Tugansaid.‘Thewarpmusthavefavouredtheirarrival.’‘Or they desire more from us than usual,’ Harren said. ‘Don’t keep themwaiting.Go.’Tugan rose from the pews and slipped out of the temple, golden chancelleryrobeshitchedaroundhisankles.Harren realised thatTraik’sstatelyprocessionhadreachedtheceremony’sdestination.TheSpurwastherockfacethatstoodinplaceofoneofthetemple’swalls.Thecraggyochrecliffreachedallthewaytothewidechamber’sglassaicdome,itsnatural surface untouched by the masons and artisans that had fashioned theplaceofworshiparoundit.Itsonlyblemishwasatitscentre–theretherockhadbeen smashed and shattered, left scarred by plasma burns and blunt-forcetrauma. The blackened vents and exhaust chutes of a landing shuttle stillprotruded from the rock, where the craft had buried itself three millenniapreviously. Thiswas the heart of the Spur ofMankindDescended, the sacredplacewherehumanityhadfirstsetfootonDarkand.Harren approachedTraik. TheHighEnunciatorwaited beneath the shuttle insilence. The governor had never liked him, or the cultish offshoot of theMinistorum – the Church of the Emperor’s Voice – that had held sway onDarkand since the purging of the Bor-tri cult. Given that he’d only beenplanetsideforeightyearsTerranstandard,HarrenhadbeensurprisedwhentheCongregationalMinistershadvotedunanimously forTraik to take thepositionofHighEnunciator.Hewastheyoungestoff-worldertohaveeverheldthepost.ThiswashisfirstDescentDay.ItwasthefirstDescentDayforallofthem,Harrenremindedhimself.FurnaceSeasononlyoccurredonceacentury,whenDarkand’sorbitdraggedtheplanetclosetothefixedstellarflarelistedbytheAdeptusAstro-cartograpaeasFury’sPillar.Theclimatologicalphenomenonleftnine-tenthsof theplanetascorchedwastelandanddrovethesteppetribestothepolarregions,whilethecitizensofDarkand’s only fixed habitation centre, Heavenfall, sought shelter in thecatacombsthatriddledtheslope-city’smountainside.TheFurnaceSeason’sstartwasheraldedbyDescentDay,whenbothtribalrepresentativesandtheplanet’s

off-world Imperial elite came together to ceremonially re-enact the arrival ofmankind’sfirstcolonists.HarrenjoinedTraik,andthetwoofthemmountedthestepstotheshuttle’srearhatch.Therewasascrapeofrustwoodonstoneandascufflingofslipshoe-cladfeetasthecongregationrose.The two came to a halt before the closed hatch. Traik raised his hand andsplayedhis long,palliddigitsagainst thegene-lockpad.Therewasawhirringsound as the ceramite-plated hatchway slid open. The shuttle’s interior was alightless depth, the illumination of the temple picking out only a few feet ofworn,rustydeckingplates.AstenchhitHarren,likethegaseousexhalationofarottingcadaver–voidmould, themuskofoldrubberandmechlubricants, thesickly sweet stink of long-dead vermin. Despite the heat of his gown, heshivered.Another fewminutesand itwouldbe finished.Heonlyneeded to takea fewpaces into the darkness of the shuttle with Traik and recite the FoundingCanticle.TheHighEnunciatorwouldholdayellowing, jawlessskull–said tohavebelongedtooneoftheveryfirsthumancolonists–forHarrentoplacehishand uponwhile he rededicated the planet’s government to the God-Emperorandtheirforefathers.That,alongwithabriefceremonialconfessionofritualisedsins,andthegovernor’spartintheDayofDescentwouldbeover.Hecouldre-emerge,ancienttraditionobserved,andbeinthecentrumdominuswithinhalfanhour.Sowhywashehesitating?Traik shifted next to him. It was a tiny movement, almost lost beneath theheavyfoldsofhisgown,butitsentHarren’shesitationintoflight.Hewasbeingridiculous.Headbowedandrobeshitched,hesteppedacrossthethresholdandinthroughtheshuttlehatchway.Thestinkof theancient, long-abandonedcraftgrewworse,andhefought theurgetobringagold-embroideredsleeveuptohisnose.Hetookanotherstepintothedarkness, just far enough tobehidden from the congregationbelow.Deepenoughforthree-thousand-year-oldshadowstofullyembracehim.He heard a clicking noise, faint and regular. It made him frown. Amomentpassedbeforehecouldplaceit–itwasthesoundofthegene-lockpadengaging.Hebegan to turnback towards thehatch justas thenoisewas replacedby thewhirringofthedoor.Thegovernorcaughtasplit-secondglimpseofTraik,stillshroudedinhisheavyceremonialgownandveil,loominginthehatchway.Thenthedoorsealedwithacrumpoflockingbars,andHarrenwasplungedintothe

lightlessdepthsoftheshuttle.Foramoment,hedidn’tmove.Foramoment,hedidn’tbreathe.Foramomenthewasangryandconfused.He tooka step towards thehatch,armsout in thedarkness.Thenhehearda slowscraping sound,and theangerandconfusionvanished,eatenupbysudden,heart-joltingterror.Hewasn’talone.Therewassomethingelseinherewithhim.Hisangrywordssoonturnedtoscreaming.TheDayofDescentwasover.Theascentwasonlyjustbeginning.

ThePinnacle,Heavenfall

Thedoortotheprimaryvox-hub’sgene-lockreadChancellorTugan’spalmandslid open to admit him. A government landcar had taken the chancellor fromHeavenfall’stempledistricttotheadministrativesector,thenagrav-liftuptoitscentral communications station nestled at the very peak of the city’s cliff-likearchitectural strata. VoxMajoris Ganzorig, a skinny, myopicman, Heavenfallbornandraised,methimatthemainentrance.‘They’reonchanneleighteen-nine,chancellor,’thecommunicationschiefsaidashewalkedTugan into thechamber.The roomwashigh-roofedandcircular,with six tiered rows of wall gantries lining a central hub filled with brass-rimmed vox-relays and monitoring stations. Though filled with dozens ofcommunications adepts, it was strangely subdued. The staff were all at theirworkbenches, reportsreducedto lowmurmurs thatcompetedwith thefizzandcrackle of the vox-horns.Ganzorig tookTugan into a substation sectioned offfromthemaintheatrebymoresecuritypanels.Thisroomwassmaller,withonlysixadeptsmonitoringhigh-yieldarrays.LikealltheprimaryhubstafftheywereHeavenfallnatives,theirlonger,leanerbuildsand paler features contrastingwith the stocky breeding of the steppe peoples.Even after three decades serving Governor Harren at the heart of Darkand’sgovernment,GanzorigstillfeltoutofplaceatthePinnacle, thenervecentreofHeavenfall’s government. Bar the tribal representatives and steppe lobbyists,almosteverynon-ImperialmemberofDarkand’srulingelitehadbeenbornandraised inHeavenfall’s steep,narrowstreets.Compared to themTuganstruckasquat, bald figurewhoseheavy robeshidmuscle hardenedon the steppes andskinleftdarkenedandcrackedbywindandsun.HewouldnevertrulyfitinwiththeHeavenfallelite,themountainsidepoliticoswhoruledtheplanet’sonlyfixedsettlement. That, he suspected, was part of the reason for his appointment as

chancellor.Divideandrule;ithadeverbeentheImperialway.Ganzorigpausedatthedoortothesmallersubstation,onehandpressedagainstthebulkyvox-arraythathadbeengraftedintohispale,baldingskull.Hiswornexpressiongrewevenmoredistressed.‘They’rerequestingadirectiontransmission,’hetoldTugan.‘Facetoface.’‘Wedelayedtoolong,’Tugansaid,hisvoicegrim.‘Itneverpaystokeepthemwaiting.Putmeontheplate.’‘Rightnow?’Ganzorigasked,hesitating.‘You’resure?’‘Yes,’ Tugan replied. ‘If we wait for the governor the situation will onlyworsen.I’llofferthemwhatassurancesIcan.’Ganzorignoddedandgesturedtooneofhisadepts.‘Activatethetransmissionplates.’Tuganpausedtocheckhisrobes,adjustedthegoldenyat-hornpinthatwashisbadge of office, and then stepped onto one of the substation’s six hololithicplates.Hefeltthesurfaceunderfootvibratingupthroughhisslipshoes,andtheairfilledwithalowhum.Thelumenstripsoverheaddimmed.‘We’veacceptedtheirtransmissionrequest,’Ganzorigsaid,handpressedoncemore to his vox augmetics as he synthesised the information flow. ‘Codesverified,establishingconnection.Standby,chancellor.’The hololithic plate opposite his own came online. There was a crack ofelectrical charge, and the humming grew louder. The space above the platebeforehimflickeredandshifted,paleluminescencefillingthedarkness.Awhitephantommaterialised,agrainyimagewashedwithpulsesofstaticinference.Itwastheghostofagiant,cladinetherealbattleplateandthickpelts.Onegreatwhite pauldronwas emblazonedwith a jagged lightningbolt crest. Itworenohelm,andthehololithicprojectionpickedoutsharp,proudfeaturesandalong,trailingmoustachenotdissimilar to theoneaffectedbyTugan. Itshighcheeksweredisfiguredbyritualscarring,threelinesrunningdowneach,slicingtowardsa strong jaw. Even distorted and flickering, the giant’s eyes had a piercing,hawkish quality, almost cruel. It looked down on Tugan imperiously as thechancellorheldoutbotharms,palmsfaceupandopeninthetraditionalDarkandstyleofgreeting.‘Hailandwellmet,SkyWarrior,’heintoned,fixinghisattentiononthesingleeyeofthetwin-headedImperialaquilaembossedonitsvastbreastplate.Thegiantbroughtoneclenchedgauntlet–easilythesizeofTugan’shead–uptoitsbreastplate.Therewasaclickasthevox-speakersbuiltintothehololithicplate’sbasecameonline.

‘Well met, Chancellor Shegai Tugan,’ said the giant. Its voice was deep butcuriouslymelodic,lentpoeticcolourbythethicknessofaflowingaccent.TugandidnotquestionhowtheSkyWarriorknewhisname.‘IamJoghaten,MasterofBlades,Khan-Commanderof theWhiteScars,’ thegiant continued. ‘I am accompanied to your system by the entirety of mybrotherhood.Wehavecomeherewithallhaste.’‘Thetidesoftheempyreanhavebeenkind,GreatHetman,’Tugansaid,usingthehonorificappliedbythenativesofDarkandtotheSkyWarriors.‘Wedidnotexpectyourarrivalforsometime.’‘Yourassumption iswrong,’ Joghaten replied. ‘Wearenot early.Weare late,andgrievouslyso.’‘I… do not understand,’ Tugan began, hesitating as he tried to process thegiant’swords.‘Itisnotnecessarythatyouunderstand,’Joghatensaid.‘Anenemyiscoming,agreatandterriblexenosthreat.Mybrotherhood’sZadyinArgahasseenitmanytimes in his entrails and spirit-walks. Yourworld already feels the tremors oftheirapproach.Youmustmovethenomadtribesinsidethecapital’swalls.’‘I will inform Commander Harren of this,’ Tugan said, fear warring withprotocolastheenormityofwhatJoghatenwassayinghithome.‘Whatmannerofxenos?I-Iwillneedauthorisation–’‘Why is Governor Harren not here to treat with me directly?’ Joghatendemanded.‘DotheWhiteScarsnotwarranthisattention?’‘We… we did not expect you so soon, Great Hetman,’ Tugan said, forcinghimself to turn back towards the giant. ‘Today is theDay ofDescent.He hasbeencalledawaytotheceremonialstartoftheFurnaceSeason.Iwillfetchhimimmediately.’‘Deliverthismessagetohim,’ Joghatenordered. ‘Wearerunningoutof time.Youmustbegintherelocationofthetribespeopletothecapitalimmediately.TheShadowintheWarpwillsoonbeuponus.’‘TheShadowinthe–?’Tuganasked,tryingtoforcehisvoicetostaylevel.Hemust not dishonour his post by panicking, even if it was in front of a SkyWarrior.‘Youwillbe fullybriefedwhenwemakeplanetfall,’ Joghatenresponded. ‘Goandbeginpreparations,chancellor.’Tugan nodded hastily before crossing his arms and bowing his head in areverentexpressionoftraditionalDarkandcompliance.‘Asyouwillit,GreatHetman,’hesaid.‘Ishallreturnasswiftlyaspossible.’

‘Iprayyoudo,ChancellorTugan,’Joghatensaid.Foramoment the toweringghostformglareddownathim,likeahawkeyeingitsprey.Thenthehololithicflickered,andwasgone.TuganturnedtoGanzorigasthelumenscamebackon.‘Issueacodealephalert toalldepartments, recall thecabinetandgetme thegovernor.Idon’tcareifitinterruptstheceremony.’‘Understood,’Ganzorig said, signalling to one of his vox operators. ‘Open asecurechanneltoCommanderHarrenimmediately,maximumpriority.’As the sound of fingers tapping at rune keys echoed through the substation,Ganzorig and Tugan bothmade for the doors. They never reached them. Thehatchway slid open to admit half a dozen PinnacleGuard in their ochre flak-plate.TheywereledbyNergüi.Guardmaster Nergüi, Captain of the Watch, was head of security forHeavenfall’s government district. Like Tugan he was a rare beast, a steppetribesman inducted into the capital’s inner circle.When seeing the chancellorandtheguardmastertogether,manyassumedthetwosonsofthesteppessharedasortofnativerapport.Nothingcouldbefurtherfromthetruth–thetwocamefrom rival tribes, the Tug-ai and the Shontaj. Competitionwas bred into theireveryencounter.TuganpausedasNergüiandhissecuritydetail–fullyarmedandarmoured–steppedintothesubstation.‘Whatareyoudoinghere?’Tugandemanded.‘There has been a security breach,’ Nergüi said, stopping in front of Tugan,flanked by his men. They wore their helmets’ blast plates down, the fangedimages of the steppe canids carved into the visors snarling silently at thechancellor.Henoticedthatthevox-adeptshadalsoceasedtransmitting,therattleof fingers on rune pads suddenly silenced. Theywere all staring at him. Thehairsonthenapeofhisneckbristled.‘Whatmannerofbreach?’hedemanded.Ganzorighadstartedworryingatthecollar of his robe, seemingly also unnerved by the sudden appearance of thePinnacleGuard.‘Tierone,’Nergüisaid,takingastepforwardsandforcingTuganback.‘ImustspeakdirectlywithCommanderHarren,’thechancellorsaid.‘The commander is indisposed,’ said Nergüi. ‘He is being introduced to theMasterofCeremonies.’‘The SkyWarriors are on their way,’ Tugan responded, forcing his voice toremainslowandlevelashesoughttoregaincontrolofthesituation.‘They’llbe

heresoonerthanweanticipated.’He’dhopedmentionoftheSkyWarriorswouldgiveNergüipause.Itdidnot.Themansimplysmiled,theexpressiondisconcertinglydead.‘ItisastheHighEnunciatorforesaw,’hesaid.‘Oursalvationisfinallydrawingclose.’TheguardmasterturnedtohisdetailandgesturedatTugan.‘Seizehim.’Tugan went for his concealed Drexian autopistol, but he was too slow. ThePinnacleGuardwereonhim,pinninghisarmsathissides,hisageingmusclenomatchfortheircombined,armouredbulk.‘The voxmajoris too,’ Nergüi snarled. Ganzorig wasmaking for one of thehub’ssecondaryexits,butthestaffinterceptedhim.Hedidn’tresist.‘Unhandme,’Tugansnapped.Hisheartwaspounding,andhestrainedagainsthis captors. His anger was stoked. Chancellor, minister, councillor, it didn’tmatter anymore. Tuganwas a son of the steppes, proud and fierce.Whatevertreachery was unfolding before him, whatever madness had gripped thosearoundhim,hewouldnotsurrendertoitmeekly.HespatatNergüi.Nergüipunchedhim.TheblowthumpedintoTugan’sgut.Hegaspedwithpain,butthePinnacleGuardkepthimstanding.‘Wearethesecuritybreach,’Nergüisneered,pressinghisfaceagainstTugan’s,fillingthechancellor’ssenseswiththestenchofrancidyatmilkandthegreasyreekofweaponoils.Tugantriedtoheadbutthim,butoneoftheguardssnatchedhisgreytopknot,pinninghimback.Nergüilaughed,andtherewasnothingbuthungerinhisblackeyes.‘Ihavewaitedalongtimetodothis,’theguardmastersaid,drawinghiskindjal:thelong,razoredknifeallsteppetribesmencarried.‘Tug-aiscum.’He thrust theblade intoTugan’s stomach.Thechancellorgrunted,morewithshock than anything else.A part of hismind still refused to acceptwhatwashappening.Thenthepainhit.HiscrywasmuffledbyaglovedhandasthePinnacleGuardskepthimpinned.Ganzorig’syelpwasalsocutshortasthevox-adeptsstruckhisheadagainsta transmitternodeandbegan toviolentlykickhimwhenhewentdown.Theydidn’t letupuntil thevoxmajoris stoppedmoving. It tooka longtime.Nergüi twisted his blade in Tugan’s stomach, slowly. The chancellor’s robeswere red and dripping.Nergüi held Tugan’s gaze as hemurdered him, a grinsplittinghisblunt,darkfeatures.Thiswasnotacold-bloodedassassination,not

some coolly executed coup. The features of the men and women Tugan andGanzorighadworkedwithforyearsweretwistedwithavicious,inhumanmixof rawhatredandviciousglee.Therewasdeep,abidinghunger in theirmanicgaze.Tugan,breathlesswithagonyandweakfrombloodloss,coulddonothingto break free. The other Pinnacle Guards had drawn their own ceremonialkindjals and were stepping in close, joining Nergüi. Those holding on to thechancellorreleasedhim.Likemanybeforehim,Tuganhadwonderedwhat thoughtswouldoccupyhismind at the point of death. He had always assumed it would be somethingrelating to thebeautyof thesteppes,ormemoriesofhis family. Itwasnot thesteppeshethoughtofthough,astheknivestookhimonthefloorofthevox-hubsubstation.Norwasit thememoryofunclesandsisters,motherandfatherandcousins.Hisonlythoughtswereofterror.Terrorathavingfailedthewhite-platedgiant.Terroratwhatwascomingforhispeople,forhisworld,fromthedepthsofthevoid.Terroratwhatwasalreadyhere,lurkinginHeavenfall’sheart.

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