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MoreWarhammer40,000storiesfromBlackLibrary

TheBeastArises1:IAMSLAUGHTER2:PREDATOR,PREY

3:THEEMPEROREXPECTS4:THELASTWALL5:THRONEWORLD

6:ECHOESOFTHELONGWAR7:THEHUNTFORVULKAN8:THEBEASTMUSTDIE9:WATCHERSINDEATH

10:THELASTSONOFDORN11:SHADOWOFULLANOR

12:THEBEHEADING

SpaceMarineBattles

WAROFTHEFANGASpaceMarineBattlesbook,containingthenovellaTheHuntfor

MagnusandthenovelBattleoftheFangTHEWORLDENGINEAnAstralKnightsnovel

DAMNOSAnUltramarinescollection

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ContainstheWhiteScars,RavenGuardandUltramarinesnovellasBloodOath,BrokenSword,BlackLeviathanandHunter’sSnare

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Stormseer,ShadowCaptainandForgeMasterARMAGEDDON

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LegendsoftheDarkMillennium

ASTRAMILITARUMAnAstraMilitarumcollection

ULTRAMARINESAnUltramarinescollection

FARSIGHTATauEmpirenovellaSONSOFCORAX

ARavenGuardcollectionSPACEWOLVES

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CONTENTS

CoverBacklistTitlePageWarhammer40,000PartOneChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreePartTwoChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenChapterFifteenChapterSixteenPartThreeChapterSeventeenChapterEighteenChapterNineteenChapterTwenty

ChapterTwenty-OneChapterTwenty-TwoAbouttheAuthorAnExtractfrom‘TheEyeofMedusa’ABlackLibraryPublicationeBooklicense

WARHAMMER40,000

Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.Heisthemasterofmankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterofamillion

worldsbythemightofhisinexhaustiblearmies.HeisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpowerfromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperiumforwhomathousandsoulsare

sacrificedeveryday,sothathemaynevertrulydie.

Yeteveninhisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinueshiseternalvigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthe

warp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbytheAstronomican,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.

PARTONE

THEDEATHOFAPRIMARCH10,000YEARSAGO

CHAPTERONE

THESSALA

Thevoidisimpossibleforthehumanmindtoencompass.Within the galaxy mankind calls home there are three hundred billion stars.Aroundtheserevolvehundredsofbillionsofworlds,andthespacesbetweenarecrowdedbyadiversityofobjectswhichdefyenumeration.Mankind’sgalaxyisbutoneoftrillionsofgalaxiesinauniverseofunguessablesize.Thedistancesbetween even proximate astronomical bodies are inconceivable to creaturesevolvedtowalkthewarmerregionsofsinglesmallworld.Thisiswhythevoidcannotbeunderstood.Notbymen,norbytheirmachines.ThemagiofMarsinsistontheirunderstanding,buttheirapprehensioncanonlyever be an abstraction, dead numbers modelled by dead-flesh cogitators. Nomatterhowbrutallyexpandedtheirminds,mencannotcomprehendthemajestyofthevoid.Andwhenoneconsidersthewarp,thatnightmarerealmskulkingbehindthatoftouch, sound and sight,well…any beingwho claims understanding of that iseitherdeludedorinsane,andisinbothcasesdangerous.Among the higher races there are those better equipped to grasp their ownlimitations. They understand that the cosmos is ultimately unknowable; theyaccepttheirlackofinsight.Bycomparison,thecreaturesofTerraaresocrudeinthought that – in the opinion of thesemore enlightened civilisations – it is awonderhumanitycanunderstandanythingatall.Humansarebeingsofshortreach.Givethemvoidships,changetheirshapeby

geneforgeandaugmetic,providethemwithweaponsofsufficientpowertobreaka star, and the children of Old Earth are still but apes removed from thesavannah.Andjustasanape’smindcannotholdanocean,andthenotionofawholeworldisinexplicabletoit,soaman’smindcannotholdthevoid,andthelayeredinfinitiesofthewarparebeyondhimentirely.The Imperium claims a million worlds as its own. It is an empire spreadgossamer-thinacrosstherunofstars,itsworldssofarremovedfromoneanotherthatitrequiresthebloodyeffortofcountlessmenandwomentosustain.Inthegrandflowofhistory,theImperiumisthegreatestgalacticempireofitsday.Tothepeoplewhopopulateit,itisthemostpowerfulevertohaveexisted.However, to the uncaring universe, it is nothing, the latest in a line of suchrealmsthatstretchesbacktothedaysofthefirstthinkingbeings,whenthestarswereyoungandthewarpwascalm,andhorrorhadyettouncoilitstendrilsintothematerialrealm.There are philosophers that argue war is man’s natural state, and to theinhabitants of this era of blood it is a proven hypothesis.War is everywhere.PeaceisthedreamofasilentEmperor,brokenbyHistreacheroussons.Thosesonscontinuedtofight.Over the green gas giant of Thessala, two great battlefleets engaged. Titanicenergiessnappedandblinkedintheeternalnightofspace.The total efforts of star systems went into the construction of these fleets.Neither was free of the taint of blood, not in their construction – for tens ofthousandsofliveshadbeenexpendedintheirmaking–norintheirusage.Theresourcesofplanetshadbeenpouredentireintotheforgingoftheirframes,andthesecretsofancientsciencesplunderedtobringthemtomurderouslife.Bothhadbeenresponsibleforthelevellingofcivilisations.Thefleetsdifferedinonlytworegards.Firstwasintheirappearance.Onewasagaudyassaultonthesenses,theotheramotleycollectionofsoberliveries.Thesecondandmorefundamentaldifferencewasintheirallegiance.Thesoberfleetfoughtforthecontinuationofhumanity’sgreatstellarempire;thegaudyonewasdedicatedtoitsextinction.The battlefleets pursued each other in a slow dance that broke throughThessala’srings,hundredsofvesselsploughinggapsthroughthedustthatwouldtakecenturies toclose.Thevoiceless lightningof theirguns filled theskiesofThessala’s inhabited moons. The lives of millions below depended on theoutcomeofthebattle,buttheconsequenceswouldripplemuchfurther.At the centre of this iron storm there was no calm, no eye in which respite

mightbefound.Instead,therewasapairofleviathans:theUltramarinesbattle-bargeGauntlet of Power and the Emperor’s Children battleship Pride of theEmperor.Twovessels,forgedinacommoncausebutnowimplacableenemies,lockedtogetherinmortalcombatonlythirtykilometresapart–nodistanceatallinvoidwar.Eachwas theflagshipofaprimarch,geneticallyengineereddemigodscraftedby the Emperor of Mankind. Aboard the Gauntlet of Power stood RobouteGuilliman, the foundling of Ultramar, the Avenging Son. The Pride of theEmperor was home to Fulgrim – the traitor, the fallen exemplar, the blightedphoenix. Once covered in his Emperor’s blessings, Fulgrim had followed thearch-traitorHorusandpledgedhisallegiancetoancientdarkgods,becomingtheheraldofperversity.In fighting for their father, both primarchs were made fathers themselves,though not of princes or strong daughters; through the application of arcanescience, they were the sires of two of the Space Marine Legions, mankind’sgreatest warriors. The Space Marines were lords of the galaxy, designed toreunite the human race and shepherd it to a glorious future. Instead, they hadfailed and turned upon one another, and their war had nearly destroyed theImperium.Suchfuryabattlefleetcanunleash!It can cow a world without a shot. It can extinguish the life of a species.Battlefleets are the tools of tyrants, whomever they fight for. Whether theiradmirals espouse salvation or damnationmatters not to the execution of theirpurpose.Deathfollowsintheirwake.Tothoseparticipating,avoidwarseemsaterrifying,roilingchaosofviolence,but it is the pinnacle of mankind’s destructive ingenuity, a whirl of giganticexplosionswherelivesaresnuffedoutbythehundred.Insuchcombat,asinglemanisnothing;heisbutpartofthemachineoftheshipheserves,asessentialorotherwiseasasteelcogoranindicatorlumen.Hecandonothingbutworkhisappointedtaskandprayhislifewillnotend,orifitmustend,thatitdoessoinpainlessdisintegration.Asinglecrewman’staskdominateseverything,evenhisfear of death. There is no escape from service.War and his part in it are thetotalityofhisexistence.Yetwhatisavoidwartothetimelessdeepsoftheblacknessthatenvelopsallthese footlingmotesof light that sentient creaturesbattle soearnestlyover?Avoidwar is twinkles in thedistance. It is silence. It is infinitesimalsofmattersparkinganddying,scintillasofmetalandfleshconsumedbytransientfires.The

detonationofabattleshipkilometreslongisinsignificanttoacosmoswherethedeathofasunatomisesworlds.Onagalacticscale,thelossofawarshipandtenthousand lives is a nugatory flash outshone by the billion-year candles of thestars.Theinverseistruetoasingleman.Hislifeisallthatmatters,foronelifeisalla man has, and he fears to lose it. Yet he must blindly serve in terror. Theuniversegivesmeagregifts,anditdoesnotcarehowtheyarespent.Over Thessala, mankind fought in a civil war already centuries old. TheEmperorofMankind,ahumanwiththepowerofagod,hadtriedandfailedtounite humanity’s scattered worlds so that the species might survive thesupernatural threat of Chaos. His sons, the primarchs, godlike beings He hadcreatedtocompletethistask,hadthemselvesbeencorrupted,andhalfhadturnedagainstHim.TheHorusHeresy,thatwarwascalled.IthadendedtheEmperor’sdream.TheHeresywaspartofawarthathadcontinuedforaeonsandwouldcontinueforaeonsstill.Tothebeingsofthisgalaxy,thewarwaseverything;totheblankgazeoftime,itwasnothing.Andyet,forallhumanity’sseeminginconsequence,thechildrenofitsgreatestsonheldthefatesoftworealitiesintheircarelessgrasp.RobouteGuillimanremainedloyal toTerra.Hisshipwassternlydecoratedingold, somuchso that it rivalled thatofFulgrim’svessel inornamentation,butwhereas theGauntletofPowerwasornate, thePrideof theEmperor appearedvulgar.Itsdecorationhadbeenappliedwithabandon–everythingthatcouldbeadornedhadbeenadorned.Backwhenthetwoshipshadfoughtsidebyside,itsextravagancehadnot been to the taste of theUltramarines,whowere bornofmoresolemnworlds.Nowitwasanaffront todecency,addedtoandadded toagainuntiltawdryobscuredalltraceofart.Neglectwenthandinhandwiththisostentation,anditmadethePrideoftheEmperorappearugly.Itwasadecayedrelicfromabygoneage,likeatheatrefromadecadentcenturylefttorotintherain.However,thePrideof theEmperor’sability tometeoutdestructionremainedundiminished.Atpoint-blankrange,ittradedpunishingblowswiththeGauntletofPowerastheshipspassedslowlyalongsideeachother.Hugecannonsflared,exchangingprojectilesthesizeoftransitcontainers.Thespacebetweenbecameadeadlythicketoflancebeamsandlaserlight.Voidshieldsblurredandsparkedwith the dissipation of mighty energies. Multi-hued lightning silencedcommunications and burst sub-systems with their feedback for thousands of

milesaround.Weaponrycapableoflevellingcitiesblinkedandflashedonbothsides.Around these metal behemoths, dozens of other ships struggled in cosmicsilence,someapproachingthesizeandpoweroftheflagshipsintheirownright.Without exception, those on Fulgrim’s side were the damned ships of theEmperor’s Children. Though Fulgrim had lost his war and his humanity, hisLegion yet held some cohesion. On Guilliman’s side fought half a dozensuccessorChaptersoftheproudXIIILegion:theUltramarines.DissolutionhadbeenthepriceoffaithfulnessfortheLegionofUltramar,andthoughtherewerestrengths in the smaller formations Guilliman had forced upon the SpaceMarinesaftertheGreatHeresyWar,therewereweaknessesalso.For all their primarch’s famed strategical genius, the loyalists had been out-manoeuvredandcaught.Theirpursuitofthefallenprimarchhadbecomeafightforsurvival.ThreefleetelementsofEmperor’sChildrenhadpinnedtheloyalistsinto place above Thessala; Fulgrim had turned his flight from Xolco into adevastatingtrap.Once,RobouteGuillimanwouldnothavemadesuchanerror.PerhapsthediresituationovertheemeraldskiesofThessalawassimplemisfortune,andFulgrimwasnoordinaryopponent,afterall.ShouldGuillimanfail,historywouldsurelybeforgiving,iftherewereanygoodmenlefttowriteit.OrperhapsthetruthwasthatragehadcloudedtheAvengingSon’sjudgement.Perhaps, some dared whisper, Roboute Guilliman had allowed his desire forrevengetoovertakehisreason.RobouteGuillimanwasstretched.Althoughseveralotherprimarchsstillstoodaschampionsofhumanity,thewoundedImperiumlookedtoGuillimantosaveit.Everymanhasalimit,demigodorpeasant,andGuilliman’sburdenwastheheaviestofall.Hewasthesaviourofhumanity.ThePrideoftheEmperorheeledover,bringingitsportsideweaponsbatteriesintobetterfiringarcs.Inresponse,theGauntletofPowerintensifieditsbarrage,andthevoidshieldcoveringthePrideof theEmperor’sventral towerswinkedout.Explosionsbloomedsuddenlyacrosshullplatingencrustedwithgoldandfilth.Anopeninghadbeenmade.On board theGauntlet of Power, one hundred of Ultramar’s finest warriorswaited on teleport blocks surrounded by buzzing machinery. They comprisedfiftyoftheFirstCompanyandfiftyoftheSecond,allgarbedinthedeepblueofthe Ultramarines Chapter. The white helmets of the First Company’s veteran

SpaceMarines, recessed under the cowls ofTerminator armour, looked out athundreds of tech-adepts and mortal crewmen labouring to prepare theUltramarines’waythroughthewarp.TheSpaceMarines of theSecondCompanywere in standard power armour,andwerebeingequippedwithtallbreachingshieldsbyarmingservitors.Theirbattleplate lacked the sheer thickness of Terminator armour, and the shields,thoughbulky,wouldincreasetheirsurvivabilityintheclose-quarterfightingofthecomingboarding.Ammunition trains rumbled across the deck on plasteel wheels. SmartlyuniformedUltramarinesChaptermenialshandedoutmunitionstotheirmasterswhile the enhanced warriors performed last-minute armour checks onthemselves and their brothers. Chaplains strode from platform to platform,hearingoathsandaffixingpapers toarmourwithwax thathissedas theywereimpressedwithsacredironseals.Whetherhumanortranshuman,everymemberoftheChapterworkedwithperfectefficiency.Evenso,asinvestedastheywereintheirpreparations,allofthemhadhalfaneyeonthegrandarchwayleadingontothedeck.Theshipshookviolently.Alarmsblared.Lumensspatsparksandwentdark.Asectionofgantryclangeddownfromthetangleofstrutsandpipesthatcloggedthe ceiling high above. The crew continued upon its business with unhurriedpurpose. Orders were given to reroute power. Emergency teams of armouredvoidsmen and specialised servitors began clearing the wreckage. All wasrestoredtoorder.Such calmmade it easy to forget the punishing fire the shipwas under. Buttherewasnodoubtthattheywerelosing.Thiswasnothowthebattlewassupposedtohavegone.Fromvoxmittersstuddedintothecolumnsandwalls,aclippedvoicesounded.‘Shields down on thePride of the Emperor. Prepare for assault.’ The wordswere swallowedby the clatter of preparation and tumult ofwar beating at theship. They were not repeated, for the superior hearing of the Space Marinescaughtthemall.Aclarion followed shortly, sharpand loudenough tobeheardbymortal andtranshumanalike.TheservantsofUltramarstoppedwhat theyweredoingandstoodtoattention.A towering figure clad in the famous Armour of Reason strode through thearchway.Onhis left handhewore theHandofDominion.BeltedathiswaistwastheGladiusIncandor.Thebeareroftheseweaponswastallerbyfarthanthe

InvictarusSuzerain guard escortinghim.He exuded a power andpurpose thathaltedthebreathofmortalsintheirthroats.‘FirstCaptainAndros!SecondCaptainThiel!Areyourcompaniesready?’thegiantcalled.Thetwocaptainscrossedthefloortomeettheirlord.SecondCaptainThielwashelmetlessinpowerarmourheavywithhonours,whileFirstCaptainAndroswascompletely enclosed in a hulking suit of Terminator battleplate. They salutedtheirfathertheUltramarianway,onefistacrosstheirchests–theoldsymbolofunity.‘My Lord Guilliman! Your veterans await your command,’ said Andros, hisvoiceringingfromthevoxmittersetbelowhishelm.‘Westandprepared,myprimarch,’saidAeonidThiel.Hisvoice,richandsoft,was unmoderatedbymachinery. Itwas not so very long after theHeresy, andThielwasstillyoungforaSpaceMarine,thoughhisfacewaslinedwithcares.Guillimanlookeddownuponhiscaptainsresolutely.TheprimarchovertoppedevenAndrosinhismassiveTerminatorarmour.Hewasalivinggod,humanity’smightcapturedandmouldedasflesh.Thielgazedback,seeminglyunabletotakehiseyesfromthefaceofhisgene-sire.Thielwasagoodwarrior,testedinbattlemanytimes,unafraidtovoicehismindandmodestenoughtohidethelovehehadforhislord,butitshoneinhisfacelikealight.Suchdevotiontheybearme,thoughtGuilliman,evenasIfailthem.ThereweresofewofhisoriginalLegionleftalive,andtheirreplacementswereborn of a different, less certain era. Thiel’s regard was tempered by longfriendship, and he had never lost his rebellious streak. The younger SpaceMarines were another matter. Guilliman remembered when his warriors hadbeenlessreverent.Theyhadbeenbettertimes.‘Wedepart immediately,’hesaid,hisvoiceuncompromising.‘Thetraitorwillnotescapeagain.ThewarriorsofsixChaptersstandreadytoaidus.Weshallnotfail.Toyourstations–prepareformassteleport.’‘My lord, we are prepared,’ said Andros carefully. ‘But the enemy willoutnumberusgreatly. I amconcerned for our chancesof success.What is thepractical action should resistance prove overwhelming? It is Second CaptainThiel’sandmyopinionthatyoushouldremainhere.Weshalloccupytheenemy,whiletheGauntletofPowerwithdraws.Wecannot–’TheAvengingSoncutAndrosdeadwithalook.‘Toomuchbloodhasbeenshedonmybehalf. Iwillnotshyfromthisfight,’

Guilliman said, and his tonewould brook no disagreement. ‘There can be noretreat until thePride of theEmperor is crippled. Imust facemy brother andoccupyhimwhilethesetasksaredone.AndifImustfighthim,Iwillkillhim,orIwilldieintheattempt.Icannotlethimescapeunpunishedagain.Mysons,’headded,hisvoicesoftening,‘itistheonlywaytoescapethistrap.’Andros bowed his helmeted head. Thiel paused amoment, uncertain, beforedoing thesame.Sureof theiragreement,Guilliman tookhisownhelmfromagrav-platformpushedby twomortalmen.Hemounted the teleport platform–steppingdirectlyontoitwithnoneedofthestepsthatledfromthedeck–andturnedtoaddresshissons.‘Now,mywarriors, letusshowmybrother theconsequencesof turningupontheImperiumofTerra!’‘We march for Macragge!’ they bellowed, and their combined voices wereenoughtodrownoutthethunderofbattle.Guilliman’sInvictusSuzerainguardfollowedhimontotheteleportpad.Theyformedaprotectiveringaroundhim,theirshieldsandpoweraxesheldupinashieldwallinpreparationforteleportationdirectlyintothejawsofbattle.To those around him, Guilliman was an infallible leader, his abilitiessupernatural. Even to the rational Ultramarines, who believed the Emperor ofMankindtobeamanandnotagod,andlikewiseHisprimarchsons,asenseofnear-religiousawehadcreptintotheirattitudetowardshim.IthadonlybecomemorepronouncedsincethelastdaysoftheHeresy.ButRobouteGuillimanwasnotinfallible.Heknewthiscourseofactiontobefraughtwithrisk.Androshadbeenrighttoraisethepossibilityofdefeat.Theprimarchonlywishedhecouldpraisehissonfor his insight rather than dismissing his concerns. His campaign against theEmperor’s Children had, to all purposes, failed. Fulgrim had the initiative.Guilliman’schoiceshadbeenmadeforhim.Thepiecesweresetontheboard,therewasonlyoneoption:theyhadtowithdraw.Currently,withdrawalwasimpossible.IftheGauntletofPowerbrokeofffromthefight,thenthePrideoftheEmperorwouldinflictmassivedamageuponthebattle-barge.Fulgrimwould thenmost likely attempt aboarding assault of hisownoncetheirdefenceswereshattered.Guillimancouldnotallowhisbrothertodothatatatimeofhischoosing.Theprimarch’spowerfulmindhadexaminedallpossibilities.Hisownstrategictreatiseswouldhavehimretreatquickly,formingafightingrearguardsothathemightwithdrawthoseofhisships thathecould,minimisingthedamagetohis

flagshipbysacrificingmanyofhisothers.Expendingthelivesofothermentosave his own was not to Guilliman’s liking, especially when he saw a slimchance for true victory. He could not ignore this opportunity to slay histreacherous sibling.Guilliman had come to the conclusion that by defying hisowntacticalorthodoxies,hemightsurpriseFulgrim.Itwasaslenderchance.Fulgrimmightwellhavedroppedhisship’sshieldsonpurpose, a mocking re-enactment of Horus’ last gambit to lure the EmperoraboardhisshipattheendofthesiegeofTerra.Guilliman had his own plans. Several boarding forces with independent butmutually supportive objectiveswould teleport in simultaneouslywith his ownforce. Teams drawn from multiple Chapters were tasked to head for theenginarium,thecommanddeck,thenavigatorium,themagazine,thesubsidiarycommand deck and themain gunnery control. If only half of his strike teamsweresuccessful, theyhadagoodchanceofcripplingthePrideof theEmperorfrom within. His warriors had orders to withdraw immediately once theirobjectives had been achieved. He would make sure as many survived aspossible;hewouldnotlethissonspaythepriceforhismistakes.Hehadtosettlethereckoningforhisownerrors.Guilliman could not denyhe had beenhooked andplayed like a fish.All hecoulddowasstrugglefreeandbitetheonewhohadsnaredhim.‘Makeready!Wegotowar!’hecalled.At his signal, the machines of the teleport deck hummed into life. Giantreactioncolumnscrackledwithimmensepower,feedingthefocusingarraysthatwould tear open the veil between realspace and the warp. They glowed withpainful light. As they shone brighter, curls of materialising corposant wereleachedfrominitiationprongsandfedintocontainmentflasks,whereittwistedasifalive.Somanyofmybrothersaredead, fallen toChaosor lost, thoughtGuilliman.Weassumedwewereimmortal.Wearenot.Mytimemustcome,butnottoday.NotatthehandsofFulgrim.The arcane machineries of teleportation whooped and hummed, the deckvibratingwiththeiractivity.Thetumultbuilttoacrescendo.A booming crack and flash of actinic light whited out the teleport deck.Suppressant vapours gushed fromwide-mouthed tubes in anticipation of firesfromover-stressedmachinery.Humanarmsmenraisedtheirshotgunsincaseofwarpbreachanddaemonicincursion.Nonecame.Signalstrobesblinked:red,red,red,thenblue.

‘Teleportsuccess,teleportsuccess,’dronedamechanicalvoice.The lumens came back on. Corposant flasks emptied to the sounds of half-formed screams. Atmospheric vents drew smoke away, revealing empty pads.Adeptsconsultedvidscreensandpapercogitatorstrips,andreliefcrossedtheirfacesatthereadouts.RobouteGuillimanandhiswarriorswereaboardthePrideoftheEmperor.

CHAPTERTWO

THEPRIDEOFTHEEMPEROR

There was always a moment of enlightenment for Guilliman duringteleportation,whenhehunginastatethatwasneitherlifenordeath.In thosemoments,when his soul straddled twoworlds, he knew himself forwhathe trulywas:notabeingofmatteralone,butacreatureofbothrealities.Andinthosemoments,hewasconvinced–no,heknew–thathewasspunfromwarpstuffandmatterboth.Though the feeling fadedandbecameabsurdafterhis deliverance to his destination, at the time it was profound, as if anunderstandingof themysteriesof creation awaitedhisdiscovery if hehadbutthecouragetoaccepthisnatureandlookalittledeeper.Hehadthecourage,butheneverlooked.Damnationlaythatway.Temptationpassed.Thesenseofenlightenmentfled.Ablazeoflightdeliveredhimandhiswarriorsbackintoignoranceandtotheirtarget.Theafterlightwasslow in dispersing, putting them at risk of attack while they were half blind.Guillimantensed,readytofight,butnochallengecame.Greasywispsofwarpenergy contorted themselves out of existence, leaving the boarding party indarkness.It was darker than a terrestrial night, but systems in his helmet aided hissuperioreyesincreatingagrainyimageofthevoidship’sinterior.Forasecond,Guillimanthoughthimselflost,castintotheempyreanitself.Helookeduponascenedrawnfromlonelynightmare.Inthecenturysincetheendof the Heresy, Guilliman had fought daemons, he had trodden the surface of

worldschangedbytheuncleantouchofChaos,hehadseenthroughwindowsoffleshconjuredbysorcerersintodepthlessdimensionsofevil.TheinteriorofthePrideoftheEmperorwasofsimilarilk.As intended, the boarding party had emergedwithin the TriumphalWay, thegreatcorridorrunningthelengthofthePrideoftheEmperor.Once,themassedChapters of the Legions had marched its length in celebration of Fulgrim’svictoriesfortheImperium,butthosedayswerelifetimesdead,andthederelictavenuewasempty.ThewarriorsofUltramarwerealonelyislandofblue.Guilliman’s Invictarus Suzerains scanned their surroundings, shields andLegatinepoweraxesheldinanticipationofanattackthatdidnotcome.Hand-heldauspexeswhinedandchimedouttheallclear.Lampsstabbedoutfromsuitmountings,theirpoolsofbrightilluminationdancingovervileshapes.Thielwasfirsttobreakthesilence.‘TheTriumphalWay,’hesaid.‘Ithaschanged.’‘A century of years is more than enough time for evil to do its work,’ saidGuilliman.‘TheEmperor’sChildrenhavefallenfar,’saidAndros.CogitatorsystemsbuiltintotheArmourofReasonhighlightedpointsofinterestand threat for Guilliman automatically. He examined them all cursorily. Theprimarch’sengineeredbrainwascapableofprocessingaphenomenalamountofinformation;thathadalwaysbeenhisspecialtalent.Helistenedintothebattlechatterofthefleetsandthequietorderexchangesofhissquadsastheyspreadout.Hescannedthefrequenciesfornotificationfromhisotherstriketeams,allwhile he examined the avenue and readmultiple datascreed readouts scrollingdownhisface-platedisplaywithequalattentiveness.Heformulatedplans,gavebriefordersviavoxanddataburst,butitwastheshipthatabsorbedhimmost.The Triumphal Way had changed beyond all recognition. Where once wassplendour,darknessheldcourt.ThelittlelightthattheUltramarinesbroughtwasswallowed quickly, reduced to a dismal silver that took the edges fromeverything, smearing all features into an uncertain blur where distance wasdifficulttojudgeandthedarkestareascouldprovetobeanythingbutshadows.The primarch remembered theTriumphalWay as it had been,when itwas ashowcaseforallthatwasfineinhumanart.Gonewerethebronzeheroicstatuesthathadlineditsbroadpath,aswerethemasterpiecespaintedbytheartistsofthe 28thExpeditionary Fleet that had hung between them. In their steadwerehideous abominations, contorted sculptures of a shocking nature and artworksthat depicted the profane and the obscene. The latter had been rendered in

pigmentsderivedfromuncleanfluidswhich,leftalone,hadsproutedthickmatsofmould.Noattempthadbeenmadetoplacethesenewadornmentscarefully,ortoclearaway the old. Shattered frameswere heaped like driftwood. The bronze scrapwasscatteredacrossfloorsobscuredbyaclottingoffilth.Themarblecladdingof thewallswas pitted all over, and black liquid oozed sluggishly fromwidecracks.Onyxcolumnshadbeenwrenchedfromtheirsettingsandlaybroken,theengravedlistofpastvictoriesonthemreducedtoajumbleofletters.Thepavingwasshatteredinmanyplaces,andwherethemetalofthedeckshouldhavebeenvisibletherewereonlyblack,watchfulpits.Worstofallwasthesilence.Soundwasunnaturallymuted.Battleragedoutsideandtheshipwasunderheavybombardment,butunliketheGauntletofPower,whosehallsrangtoexplosionsandthehowlsofoverworkedmachines,thePrideoftheEmperordidlittlebutshiverfromtimetotime,likeagiantstirringinitssleep.No light flashed through the high armourglasswindows at the avenue’sapex; only darkness was visible. Discordant music drifted from somewhere.Threescreamsissuedfromanotherdirection,shockinglyclose.GuillimanhadseenmoreoverthorrorswroughtbytheminionsofChaos,oftenonastupefyingscale,buttherewasapregnantdoomtotheTriumphalWaythatovertookeventhegoriestdisplays,andunsettledhismind.‘Be on your guard,’ he said. ‘Things are not as they seem. ThePrideof theEmperornolongerwhollyoccupiesrealspace.’‘Yes,’voxedThiel.‘Thisplacestinksofthewarp.’ASpaceMarine’smindisrobust,alteredduringhisapotheosisfromhumantosuperhuman,andhardenedagainstfearbyyearsoftraining.Guilliman’sveteranshadseenmuchofwhattheirprimarchhad,andtookthedisquietintheirstride.They arrayed themselves for battle: shield-bearing breacher teams taking upstation near ingress points; Terminators forming up into squads; his ownInvictarusSuzerainhonourguardtakinguppositiontomaximisetheprotectiontheirslabshieldscouldprovidetheirlord.Thedisruptionfieldsaroundtheiraxesshonepalelyinthegloom.Guilliman set his vox to encrypted wideband. ‘We have arrived. Taskforces,informmeofyourstatus.’Garbled static laced with laughter and screaming burst into his ear. Half aminutewentbybeforeavoiceresolveditselfpainfullyfromthecacophony.‘Mylordprimarch,canyouhearme?’‘Ihavecontactwithyou,MasterLudon,’saidGuilliman.

‘Ihavebeenattemptingtoreachyouforseveralminutes,mylord.TheAuroraChapter stands firm. We are meeting minimal resistance. There are–’ TheChapterMaster’svoiceblurredout foramoment, replacedbywildshrieks. ‘–onlyfourteen.Mostlybodies.Allofthemmutilated.Weareproceedingtowardsourobjective.’‘Strike Group Wrath, my lord,’ said another voice. A rune blinked inGuilliman’s display marking out a position on his cartograph twenty decksbelow.The report camewith a backgroundof banging bolters and the roaringsoundofatmosphereflash-heatedbymeltaweapons.‘MasterCorvo,’saidGuillimanwithasmile.Thereweretoofewveteransleftfromthetimesbefore.‘TheNovamarines are engagedon three fronts,my lord,’ theChapterMastershouted.‘Enemynumbersarehigherthanexpected.Estimatedarrivalattargetzonetwelveminutesafterintention.’‘Keepme informed,’ saidGuilliman.His own group remained unharried.Heswitchedthroughtotheothertaskforces;allbutthatoftheAuroraChapterhadbeenengagedby largenumbersof theenemy.TherewereEmperor’sChildreneverywhere,butnotontheTriumphalWay.‘Advance!’Guillimanordered.Hisguardbrokeintoaswiftstrideashesetout,headingintothenightthathadholdofthePrideoftheEmperor.‘Wewillmeetnoenemyhere.’‘Wecannotbeundetected.Thisisanothertrap,’saidAndros.‘My brother is challenging me,’ said Guilliman. ‘Fulgrim always was tooenamouredoftheatrics.’‘Wemustbeonguardforambush,’saidAndros.‘Do not expect it, brother,’ said Thiel. ‘This dismal corridor would not suitFulgrim.Whereelsewouldhebebutonhisgreateststage?WewillfindhimintheHeliopolis.’

Combat reports came through with relentless efficiency. Guilliman cycledthrougheachofhissub-commander’sdirectvoxfeedsoneafter theother.ThePrideof theEmperorcontinued to shiverminimally from the bombardment itsuffered fromGuilliman’s fleet.Reports from theGauntletofPowersaid theirfoewastakingheavydamage,buttherewasscantevidenceofanyofthatinsideFulgrim’sship.Thetwoshipshadpassedeachother,theirescortsfightingrapidduels toclear thewayfor the twoflagships to lumberaboutandmakeanotherpass. Lesser ships succumbed to concentrated firepower as other vessels lent

theirmighttothestruggle.Guilliman’sfleetwasfightingwell,butitwasheavilyoutnumbered.Hedidnothavemuchtime.TheSecondandFirstcompaniesascendedstairsastallashills.Theatmospherebecame cloying with the scents of sweat and perfume and blood. Anoverpoweringmusk that derived from nomundane body penetrated the SpaceMarines’ respirator grills, though they had sealed them tightly enough to defyhardvacuum.ThelasttimeRobouteGuillimanhadwalkedtheTriumphalWay,ithadbeenasanhonouredguest.TheEmperor’sChildrenhadlinedthestairsandlandingsintheir hundreds, andbright light had sparked from their artistry as they salutedhim.Hisbrotherhadgreetedhimwarmly.Guillimanfeltapangofsadnessforwhatmighthavebeen.Now,inthemurk,hereturnedlikeathiefinthenight.TheatriumtotheHeliopolisemergedsuddenlyfromtheunnaturaldark.Fromits rear, thePhoenixGatecameat themlikeanogrestridingoutof itscave inchallenge.Guillimanhadhismenhaltandspreadout.Thereportsfromtheotherstrikegroupscrackledinhishelmet,interruptedbyhellishscreamsandmoans,as – with sorrowful eyes – Guilliman took in what Fulgrim had done to thePhoenixGate.In the days before thewar, the PhoenixGate had been amasterpiece of thesculptor’s art. Together, the closed bronze gates had depicted the crowningmomentofFulgrim’slife.TheEmperorstillstoodthere,holdingoutthepalatineaquilatoFulgrim,whosefigure also remained. The giving of this honour was the ultimate display ofrespect from their father, and thegatehadbeena reciprocal showofdevotionfromHisson.Behindthetwofigures,acrowdlookedworshipfullyon.Inallotherrespects,thegatehadchanged.The rich artwork was much abused. All over the soft bronze had been cutartlesslywithprofanesymbols.Thefiguresbehindthetwoprincipalactorshadbeenreworkedintocavorting,lewdthingsofunnaturalorigin.Theworkwasofvariable quality. Someof itwas executedwith skill, other parts crude, and itsinconsistency destroyed the careful illusion of depth its original sculptor hadcreated.Originally,thelesserfigureshadsubtlydrawntheeyetotheprincipalactorsofthe piece; now these background characters clamoured for the eye’s attention,overwhelmingtheEmperorandHisson.OnlyFulgrim’sLegionhadbeenpermitted todisplay thepersonal symbolof

the Emperor. The irony of the honour weighed heavily on Guilliman’s heart.Fulgrim had been pompous, vainglorious, boastful and proud, but his betterqualitieshadoutshonethesefoibles.Examiningthewreckofthedoor’sarthardenedGuilliman’sheart.Theaquila’seyeshadbeenhackedout.TheheadoftheEmperorhadbeengougedfromthereliefandreplacedwithamessofboneslashedtogetherwithblackenedsinew.Fulgrim’s face was now a moving mask of silver which shifted almostimperceptibly through a range of expressions, all of which were hatefulvariationsonsneeringarrogance.Hisbodytoohadbeenchanged,mademulti-limbedandserpentineinamannerthatsuggestedithadalwaysbeenthisway.Itdepictedhimasasavagegod,richwithpotency,thoughitcouldnotmatchthetruthofhisnewform.‘He will be within, waiting,’ said Guilliman, running his gaze over thevandalismonemoretime.HeturnedfromthegatestoaddressThielandAndros.‘Awaitmehere.’‘Mylord,’saidThiel,‘heundoubtedlyiswaitingforyou–thatishisway.Allthis showmanship appears childish, but he is dangerous. I remember how hewas.Byentering,youareplayingintohishands.Weshouldnotplayhispettygames.Weshouldgooninforceandslayhim.’‘Igoalone,’saidGuillimanfirmly.‘Ifweattackenmasse,hewillrespondinkindandwewillbedrivenbackordestroyedbeforeourbrotherscancompletetheir tasks. Let me occupy him. His arrogance will demand he gloat awhile.Whileheisengagedinpointlessdisplay,hisattentionisawayfromtheothers,andwewillhavetheopportunitytodisabletheship.’‘Hewillwanttofightyou,’saidThiel.‘Hewill,’agreedGuilliman.‘Hemayambushyou,’saidAndros.‘Thatisunlikely,’saidGuilliman.‘Hewillwanttoproveheisbetterbyfeatofarms.’‘Hewillkillyou,mylord.Donotdothis,’saidThiel.Guillimanstaredback,hisexpressionhiddenbythemuzzleofhishelmet.‘Imustfighthim.’‘Doyoutrulybelieveyoucanbeathim?’askedThiel.‘Idonotknow,’answeredGuillimanafterapause.Thiellookedawayandsighed.Hishelmrendereditasagrowl.‘Ifearthereismoretoyourdesiretofaceyourbrotherthanpracticality,mylord.’‘Whatdoyoumeanbythat?’

Theshiptrembledasaheavyhitburstitswayinwards,perturbingtheunnaturalserenityofthecraft.‘Pridedoomedyourbrother,’saidThielsimply.‘Prideundoesthemightiest.Donotbeproud,mylord.’‘Areyounotproud,myson?’‘Iamproud,’saidThiel. ‘TobeUltramarine, tohaveyouasmygene-sire, tohavefoughtwithyouforsolong.ButIamnotproudenoughtoletitkillme.’Guilliman smiled beneath his helmet. ‘You have not changed, Aeonid. Fearnot–Iwillnot letpridedoomme.Standasidebutfor themoment.Guardmyback.IfIcannotbestFulgrimaloneincombat,comewhenIcallandweshallgivehimthehonourlessdeathhedeserves.’‘Mylord,’saidThiel,relieved.‘Itwillbeso,’addedAndros.Reluctantly, the sons of Roboute Guilliman stood away from the doors. Theprimarchplacedhispalmsflatupontheirdefiledmetalandpushed.Heexpectedthemtocreakandsqueal,buttheyopenedsoundlessly,emittingagustoffoul-smelling air as they parted.Nothing but darknesswas beyond, closer yet thanthatintheTriumphalWay.GuillimanenteredtheHeliopolis,andthegatesswungclosedbehindhim.

CHAPTERTHREE

THEFALLENPHOENIX

TheHeliopoliswas in a ruinous state.Shattered tiersofmarble seats crowdedthedark.Intimespast,thefollowersofFulgrimhadgathereduponthemtoheartheirprimarchspeak,beforehe fell todarknessand tookhisLegionwithhim.Now,pageantryandlighthadbeencastoutbydecayanddereliction.Thegreatwindowsinthedomeweredark,theirshuttersclosedfromneglectratherthanbynecessity.Athicklayerofdustcoatedeverything,andtheairreekedthicklyofsweatandstalemusk.Boneswerescatteredaboutamidtoppledfirebowls.Theyweremostlybaselinehuman,buthereandthereweretheskeletonsofSpaceMarines,identifiablebytheir greater size, the solidly fused bones of their ribcage and the tatteredremainsofblackcarapaceclingingtothem.Shellholesinthemarbletoldofabattlelongago.Thecraters’largecircumferenceshadthesignatureblastpatternsof bolt detonation in soft stone: SpaceMarine had fought SpaceMarine here,thoughwhenandwhy,Guillimancouldnotguess.PerhapstherehadbeenalaststandofEmperor’sChildren loyal toTerra, though itcould justaseasilyhavebeenaclashbetweenrivalwarbandsdecadeslater.Itwasimpossibletotell.Themosaicsontheceilingwerefullofholes,thefacesallsmashedin.Hooksbetween the figuresheldbentbannerpoles.Shredsof triumphal silk standardsmovedintheship’sbreath.Whenwhole,theseflagshadproudlycommemoratedthousandsofvictoriesintheEmperor’sname,butnowtheywereasspoiltastheoaths of thewarriorswho hadwon them.A rare complete example stood out

amidtherags.Thedevicesonitweresmirchedwithfilth.Thatwasworse,inaway.Silencemade theHeliopolis its domain.Vox reports chattered inGuilliman’shelm,tellingofgoalsalmostaccomplished,andbringingtheclamourofwarintothedeadauditorium,buttheracketwascontainedbyhishelmet.Thesilencewasstronger,pressinginharduponhisceramitefaceplateanddistancingGuillimanfromthemenfightinginhisname.At the centre of the Heliopolis was a ring dominated by a black throne.Guilliman recalled standing there beside his brother and speaking in the dayswhenall thismadnesswas inconceivable.Aconeof soft light ignited and fellontoit,castingshadowsfromchunksofrubbleandbringinganeerieshinefromtheblackterrazzooftheflooring.GuillimandescendedthestepsslowlyfromthePhoenix Gate, down the main stairs whose once shining finish had beenscratcheddull.Thebattlecriesof theAuroraChapter, thewaroathsof theNovamarinesandthehowlingoftheDoomEaglesallechoedinhishelmet.Aburstofloudstaticsignalledanexplosion.AsignifierruneinGuilliman’shelmblinkedgreen–theAuroraChapterhadknockedouttheship’snavigatorium.Garbledreportsfromtheircaptainscompetedwiththeotherincomingtraffic,ecstaticwithhardwonvictory,signallingtheirwithdrawal.Heoverheardjubilantcallsforteleportlock,andthentheyweregone.Other signifiers glowed dull red around the top of his faceplate display,representinghisstriketeams’remainingtargets.Twomorecriticalsystems,twomoregreenrunes,andtheymightescapethisyet,buthismenneededmoretime.‘Continuewithyourobjectives,my sons.’He spokeclearly intohisvoxpickup.‘Fallbackupontheircompletion.TheEmperorwatchoveryou.’Hecuthisvox.TheHeliopolis’malevolentsilencerushedintohishelmet.Guillimanreachedthelaststepandpausedattheedgeoftheinnercircle.Thelastofhisheavyfootstepsechoedtonothing.Thelightwasunclean,somewarpeffectobscuringthefarsideoftheHeliopolisfromhisvision.Hewasvulnerablehere. This was the stage his fallen brother had chosen for their finalconfrontation:thederelictsiteofFulgrim’slostglories.‘Fulgrim!Iamhere.Fulgrim!Yourbrother,RobouteGuilliman,stands in theHeliopolisagain.Willyounotgreetme?’Guilliman’s vox-amplified voice echoed around the Heliopolis, each repeatgrowingwithsadnessuntilitbecameasobbingcaricature.The effect disappointed Guilliman. ‘My once brother, your cheap sorcery

cannot upsetme.Comeout and faceme, if you dare, or have you become ascowardlyasyouaredebauched?’Therewasametallicrattle,andaraspingofscaledskinoverstonethatechoedaround the outer row of seats. Guilliman squinted, but the light before himcheatedhisvision,allowinghimtoseeonlyintothecircle.‘Ihearyou,Fulgrim!’hecried.‘Comeoutintothelight!’Thistime,Fulgrimreplied.Hisvoicewasasmellifluousasitalwayshadbeen,but theneediness thathadalwayslurkedat thebackofhiswordshadcometofore,apoisonmasqueradingasconfidence.‘Why are you in such a hurry?’ he said, his whisper filling theHeliopolis.‘Yourstrategyistoplayfortime,isitnot?Toallowyoursonsintheirfinenewpaints to cripple this ship. They look so colourful now,Guilliman, somuchless dull than blue, blue, blue. How was it to break up your Legion,Guilliman?Didithurt?’‘Comeandfaceme.Letussettleourdifferenceshonourably.’‘Do you want to talk?’ Fulgrim, still unseen, tittered. ‘About what? A littlefamilyreunion?YouandIhavenothingincommon.Weneverdid,andnowwehaveevenless.Iservethetruepowersofthisuniverse,whileyoulanguishunder the dead hand of our father. You are so predictable, Roboute.’ Helaughed.‘Sodull,sostolid.BoringoldRoboute!Youwere theunlovedchild,whilethebrighterstarsgotalloffather’sattention.Overlooked,untiltheend,and then when you were needed you were not there. It must have stung,brother,tobesooutshone.Perturabodidnotenjoyit,Iknow.Didyou?’Guillimanpeeredhardthroughthelight.Itrespondedtohisprodigiouswill,itsobscuringeffectlessened,andhecaughtahintofsinuousmovementonthefarsideofthecircle.‘Ourfatherhonouredmealways,’shoutedGuillimanacrosstheemptychamber.Fulgrimlaughed, louderandlouderuntil theHeliopolisfilledwithwildmirththat seemed to issue from a thousand throats. ‘Oh, forgive me! That is soprecious.Do you not remembermy eagle, dearRoboute? It was I whowashonoured,notyou.’The rasping of scales drew closer. Luminous green eyes glinted on the othersideoftheinimicallight.Guillimansethimselfandstoodtall.‘MyLegionmaynothavewonyourplaudits,Fulgrim,butIchosetheslowandsteady road, and that was the better way. You were always racing towardperfection,awayfromyourfearoffailure.Yourfearmadeyourunrightintothearmsofdamnation.’

‘Failure?’ Fulgrim scoffed. ‘Damnation? I have not failed! I am notdamned!’Fulgrimslitheredintothelight.‘Iamsaved.’‘FortheloveofTerra…’whisperedGuilliman.Guillimanhadseenpict-capturesofhisbrotherfromthesiegeoftheImperialPalaceonTerra.Hehadviewedthemmanytimes,notingthechangeswroughtuponhis sibling asdispassionately ashe could, fightingback the revulsionhefelt at the sight.Reports and the occasional image of his sibling had surfacedfromhis reavingssince.The imageon thePhoenixGatehadbeennosurprise.He knewwhat to expect, but facedwith Fulgrim in the flesh, he struggled tocontainhisdismay.ThePhoenician’slegsweregone,replacedwithalongserpent’stail.Historsoandfacehadbecomeelongated,hischestalteredtoaccommodateanadditionalpair of arms. Despite his obscene form, everything was weirdly perfect. Themuscles in his bare chest were exquisitely defined. His skin was a gorgeousshadeoflilac.Thesnakeskinofhislowerhalfshonewithjewelledcolour,andhemovedwithgrace toshame theaeldari.Butall thiswasaperversionofhisformerbeauty,ifnotoftheveryideaofbeautyitself.Itwastoomuch,soperfectin its awful twisting of the human form that itwent beyond the ability of themind to process. Fulgrim’s new shape provoked revulsion by its very nature,whileawingwith theartfulnessbywhich ithadbeendone.Bydesign,hewasmadetoarouseandrepulseequally.His head in particular was changed, long and crowned with horns that rosecrimson fromhis shockofwhitehair.His face,however, remainedhisown, asickening joke to crown his dark transcendence. Seeing the features of hisbrothermeldedtothismonsterbroughttearstoGuilliman’seyes.FinelywroughtornamentsjangledonFulgrim’slimbs.Softleatherstrapsheldlongglovesinplaceonhisrightarms.Theleftarmswerepaintedwithdelicatepatterns, his fingers hungwith chains and their nails stained clashing shades.Vile sigils decorated the buckles of his harness.Morewere tattooed upon hisskin.Fulgrim rose up on his banded tail, holding his four armswide in the sicklylightoftheHeliopolis.‘Behold,mybrother.See!What theEmperormade, thePrinceofPleasurehasimprovedupon.AmInotperfection?Iwasmadetobeaslave,butnowIamfree,andthecompaniontoagreatergodthanourfathercaneverbe.’‘TheEmperorisnotagod,’saidGuilliman.The shipquaked.A signifier inGuilliman’shelmet turned from red togreen.

The portside void generators had been disabled.Datascreed informed him theFourthCompanyoftheIronSnakeswasmakingafightingwithdrawal.‘Do you still believe that?’ said Fulgrim. He inched forwards, swayinghypnotically. ‘He always did protest toomuch about that. You think I am atraitor,Iknow.YouthinkIamselfish,anddeluded,butnomoresothandear,dearfather.Hegavemesomuch,notleastatastefortreachery.’Fulgrim leaned closer, close enough for his hot, perfumed breath to caressGuilliman’s armoured face. The cloying stink of it penetrated his breathinggrille, making him gag. There was a scent of something rotten beneath themelangeofspices,onenoteofdecayinabouquetofopulence.There is the truth, thoughtGuilliman.Themiasmaof corruption, amurderedcorpsehiddeninabedofflowers.‘Joinwithme,’saidFulgrimseductively.‘Youmustbetiredofallthisstrife.Wecanbringanendtowar,andreveltogetherinsweetexcessforalleternity.Icanshowyouthings,pleasures,youwouldneverhavedreamedexisted.Youthinkofthewarpasahell,butitcanbeaheavenalso.Together,wecanusherinanageofdelightforallmankindthatwillneverend.’‘Never,’ saidGuilliman. ‘Youhavebeendeceived. Iwill not followyou intodarkness.’ He stepped backwards, his hand going to the hilt of the GladiusIncandor. The primarchsweremighty beings and great in stature, but swollenwiththepowerofChaos,FulgrimovertoppedGuillimanbyalmostametre.‘Itisyouwhohasbeendeceived,Roboute,’saidFulgrim.‘Lookatwhatyouhavebecome,andyouwillseethewagesofdisloyalty.’‘Youspeaktomeofloyalty.’Fulgrimtuttedandshookhislongwarpedhead.‘Andwheredoyourloyaltieslie,lordcommander?YouwerelatetothePalace,wereyounot?Delayed.Always,yourloveforyourownkingdomtrumpsyourso-calledloyaltytoourfather.LikealittleEmperor,playingatbeingdaddyinthe sand, making tiny empires. You would have saved the Five HundredWorlds and lost the million of our father. Pathetic.’ A long, forked tongueflittedoverhispaintedlips.‘HowareyourFiveHundredWorldsnow,brother?Howmanyareleft?Fourhundred?Three?IhearAngronandLorgarhadarare time bringing down the bastions of your puny realm and slitting thethroatsofyourpeople.’Guilliman’sangerranhot.‘Iwillnotbendmykneetoyourmasters.Thesegodsyouandtheothersprofesstoworshiparenotgods.Theyaremonsters,nothingmore.Therecanbenorapprochementbetweenus.Noreconciliation.Youhavebecomethetooloftheenemy,andsoImustkillyou.’

‘Youhave come tokillme?Really?Howamusing,because Ihave come tokill you!’ said Fulgrim with mocking surprise. He clapped his upper pair ofhands. ‘What a coincidence. You do realise, I need no starship to travel thevoid.’Hegesturedathisbody,hisfourhandsmovingwithobscene,suggestiveprecision.‘Iamnolongerathingofthisrealmofashanddust,butaradiantcreatureofthewarp.’Hepulledamoueofsympathy.‘Oh,Iamsosorry,butthiswasatrapforyou,Roboute–thewholething,frommyfirstraidstoyoursupposedvictoryatXolco,andyouhavefallenintoit.’SincethefirstindicationofFulgrimturningtofighthere,Guillimanhadknownhe had been outplayed, but he would not give his brother the satisfaction ofknowingthis.Hesteeledhisheartandpreparedtofight.‘Iwillnotbeturned.’‘Ineverthoughtyouwould,’saidFulgrimsweetly.Another shudder passed up thePride of theEmperor. The rune denoting thestrikeagainsttheenginariumturnedgreen.CorvowouldbepullinghisChapterback.‘Youcanrunnow, ifyouwant,’ saidFulgrim. ‘Ibelieveyourwarriorshaveaccomplishedwhatyousentthemtodo.Thisvesselcannotpursueyou.Someof youmight even live. I do not care. All of you will bow before Slaaneshbeforetheend.’‘Enough!’saidGuilliman.HedrewtheGladiusIncandorinhisrighthand.TheHand of Dominion sparked into life on his left, an oily field of blue lightencasingitsmassiveroboticfingersandunderslungboltguns.Raisingtheflatofhisbladetothemuzzleofhishelm,hesalutedhisbrother.Hethumbedaswitch,andasheathofenergycoveredthebladetomatchthatofhisfist.‘You are staying?’ said Fulgrim. ‘No dramatic teleportation? No strategicwithdrawal? You actually want to fight someone you cannot hope to beat?Well,well,well, youarebeginning to surpriseme,Roboute. Inever thoughtyouhaditinyou.Perhapsyouarenotsoboringafterall.’‘HonourdemandsIslayyou.’Fulgrimstretchedouthis arms.Blades rose fromnothing, sprouting fromhisclenched fists, black vapours boiling off their metal as they were forced intobeing.The swordsweremismatched in form, and every one a different pastelhue.Brightpoisonsdrippedfromtheiredges.‘Honourwill get you killed.’ Fulgrim raised his own blades to his face, theedges ringing off one another. There was nomockery to the salute. ‘So it is,brother.Wecometotheend.Withyoudead,ourotherbrotherswillfollow,one

byone.TheImperiumcannotlastwithoutyourguidance.Itisyouwhoholdsthewhole crumbling thing together.’He smiled sadly. ‘Dull as youare, youwereamongthebestofus.Ialmostfeelsorrytokillyou,ifonlybecauseyouwill not see the triumph of the true powers of the universe, and know theliberationtheybring.’Swiftasastrikingviper,Fulgrimattacked,allfourbladesdrivingdownathisbrother primarch so quickly that they did not seem to pass through theinterveningair.GuillimancaughtthemontheedgeoftheGladiusIncandor.Itsfield generator smoked at the effort of halting them.The resulting eruption ofenergythrewbothprimarchsbackwards.Fulgrimattackedagain.Guillimancriedoutasonebladefounditswaypasthisparriesandleftasmokinggrooveintheceramitearoundhisleftarm.Hewouldnotwinthisfight.‘Thiel,Andros,’voxedGuilliman.‘Now.’Therewasasoundlikeasighthatturnedintoarumblinggroan.TheHeliopolisboomedwith conflicting resonances, and the PhoenixGate exploded inwards,showering the room with gobbets of molten bronze. The Ultramarines of theFirst and Second companies came charging in, bolters firing at the daemonprimarchbattlingtheirlord.‘At last!Your truecolours,’ saidFulgrim. ‘Forallyour talkofhonour,youwillnotfacemealone.’Angered,herainedaflurryofblowsdownonGuilliman,drivingtheprimarchbackuponestep,thentwo.Theboltsaimedatthedaemonprimarchwereturnedasidebydiabolicalart,andhestoodinthefullfaceoftheUltramarines’attack.‘Mysonsareheretogreetyours,’hesaid.‘Letthemjointherevel.’ParryingGuilliman’s attackswith insolent ease, Fulgrim threwbackhis head.His jawsopened wide enough to swallow a man whole, and he let out a shriekingululation.FromthefarsideoftheHeliopolis,aharrowing,discordantnoiseansweredthecall of the daemon primarch. From the upper tiers of the Heliopolis’ seatsmarched the twisted warriors of the Emperor’s Children, many bearing sonicweaponsfromwhichcamethethrummingofdestructivemusic.‘Now,weshallseewhosechildrenwillsurvive!’snarledFulgrim,andcameathisbrother.Guillimancounteredandparried,hismightygauntletbattingasideFulgrim’sswordsashisownhuntedthroughthecageofsteelFulgrimwovewithhisfourblades,seekingoutthetaintedfleshbehind.FulgrimsnarledasthetipofGuilliman’sgladiusnickedhisskin.Risingupon

his tail, he swept down with his swords in quick succession. Guilliman’sweapons found them all, turning them aside with economical movements.Nevertheless,hewassorelypressed.Hehad foughtdaemonsofeverykindonmanyworlds and bested them all. Fulgrim, however, was an unholy blend ofprimarchanddaemon.Inhim,theenergyofthewarpwasmarriedtothewisdomofancientsciences.Hewaspartmaterialgod,partimmaterialdaemonlord,andhispowerwasgreat.Guilliman cut and feinted, using the Hand of Dominion to catch the swordwieldedbyFulgrim’slower-leftarm.Theunholymetalofthebladecutintothethick ceramite of the gauntlet, and corrosive poison spattered the Armour ofReason,eatingintoitwithsmokingferocity.PainsomehowafflictedGuillimanthroughhisarmour,asifhiswar-plateitselfwere hurt. A spicy agony burned up the nerves in his arm from his interfacesockets. He gritted his teeth and twisted the gauntlet. Energy crackled andbanged,and theswordsnapped in two. Ichorpumpedfromitshollow innards.Strings of flesh tore free as Guilliman cast the broken tip aside. Fulgrimscreamedas ifhis limbhadbeenrippedoff,andherecoiled.GuillimanfoughtagainsthisownpaintoslashhardwiththeGladiusIncandor,cuttingdeeplyintoFulgrim’sswordlessarm.‘Howdareyou!’Fulgrimscreamed,rearingback.Helungedathisenemyandcrashed bodily into him, knocking Guilliman from his feet. The InvictarusSuzerains thundered down the steps to join their lord, forming a shield wallabout him as he scrambled up, but Fulgrim slithered into them, barging themfromtheirfeetandslaughteringthemcontemptuously,hisswordsloppinglimbsoffwitheverystrike.‘You will die!’ shouted Guilliman, and he surged past his last bodyguard asFulgrim’sswordspunchedthroughtheSpaceMarine’sshield,armourandbody.Heswunghardwithhisgauntlet,butFulgrimwastooquickandweavedtotheside; the Hand of Dominion punched down and into the marble steps,pulverisingthreeofthem.Guillimanspanaround,anticipatingFulgrim’snextstrike,butthedaemonhadgone.Hesearchedforhisbrotherintheconflict.Theirtwoarmieshadmet,andtheirstruggles filled the Heliopolis side to side. His warriors and the Emperor’sChildrenwereintermingled,thebluearmouroftheUltramarinesdottedwithinaseaofclashingcoloursandbattleplatedecoratedwiththestretchedskinsofthedead.Conesofsoundvisiblytorturedtheair,blastingGuilliman’swarriorsfrom

their feet. Blood fountained from breathing grilles as dying Space Marinescoughedupshatteredinternalorgans.Aknotofwhite-helmedTerminatorsstoodback to back, dealing death to any traitor that strayed near, while a wall ofUltramarinesSecondCompanybrothersadvanced,gunsbooming,pushingbackinsanewarriors.War was everywhere, desperate and wild. The situation in the void wasmirroredwithintheHeliopolis.Hismenwereoutnumbered.Theywoulddie.Firsttheoretical,Guillimanthought.Fulgrimisaprimeevilinthisworld.Firstpractical,Iwillkillhim.Second theoretical, he countered, you are angry. Second practical, you willthrowyourownlifeandthoseofyourmenawayfornothing.Youhavefailedinthiscampaign.Retreat.AmemoryofKonorGuilliman,hisadoptivefather,flashedinhismind.‘Controlyourhumours,’Konorhadtoldhim.‘Youaremightierineveryregardthananyman,andthatincludesyourpassions.Masterthem,oryouwillfail.’Temper.Therewasalwayshistemper.Formostofhislife,RobouteGuillimanhadkepthisemotions incheck,but therehadbeennotableoccasionswhenhehad lost his head. At Calth, and when Sotha was attacked. Or when he hadarrivedlatetoTerra.OrtheearlydaysoftheScouring…Hewouldaddthisdayto that record.Beneathhis commandingexterior,Guillimanwas seethingwithfury.‘Fulgrim!’hebellowed.‘Faceme!’A whip-fast motion flickered to his side. Fulgrim sped through the melee,coming from the left. Guilliman barely had time to raise his sword beforeFulgrimcrashedintohim,snarlingincoherently,knockinghimbackwards.‘You hurt me, you corpse-master’s lapdog.’ The last vestiges of Fulgrim’shumanitymeltedfromhisfaceasittransformedintoamaskofpurehatred.‘Noonehurtsme.Noonebeatsme!’Hewrapped his tail around his brother primarch, constricting himwith suchforce that his armour plate began to crack. Casting aside one sword, FulgrimreacheddownandgraspedGuilliman’shead.‘You wanted to face me, so face me!’ he said, wrenching free Guilliman’shelmet,exposinghisnakedfleshtotheair.ThestinkofhiscorruptedbrothermadeGuillimangag.Hisheadswamasthedaemon primarch’s scent invaded his nose and throat, unmoderated by hisbattlehelm’ssystems.‘Pathetic!’criedFulgrim.Heuncurled,flingingGuillimanaside.Hiswounded

armwas already healing, cracklingwarp energiesworking in tandemwith hisprimarch’s physiology to make him whole again. He conjured swords frompoisonedmiststofillhisemptyhandsandflewattheMasterofMacragge.Guillimanstaggeredupright,gasping.EverybreathpouredmoreofFulgrim’slethal perfume into his lungs, a poison so potent that it taxed his superhumanbody.Heparried,andparriedagain,buthecouldlandnocounterstrikeandwasforcedbackupthestairs.Ablowflunghisarmwide.Heneversawthebladethatcuthimcoming.Acoldkissacrosshisthroat,followedbysearingagony.Arterialbloodsprayedfromhisruinedneck.Heclampedhishandtothewound,butitgapedbeneatharmoured fingers, and the bloodwould not stop. Poison crawled inwhere hisbloodfloodedout.Alreadyitaffectedhim,numbinghislipsfirstandmakinghiseyesheavy.Withsupremeeffort,RobouteGuillimanraisedtheGladiusIncandorforthelasttime.‘How?’ he mouthed. His vocal cords were severed. Blood spilled from hismouthinplaceofwords.‘IseethemarkofKorPhaeron’sathame.’Fulgrimswayedasheapproached.‘Hecouldnever turnyou,but thecuthe inflicted isascaron thewarp thatcouldneverheal.Itisasgreataweaknessasyourrectitude.’Fulgrimsmiledwithlipscoatedinpoisonpaint.‘OrIshouldsaywas.HeretheAvengingSonmeetshisend.’He smashedatGuilliman’s sword sohard it flew fromhis limpgrip into theheaving battle. Fulgrim raised his swords for the killing strike. ‘Say hello tofatherforme.’Astormof fireblasteddownthestairs,bolt-roundsstreakingby, followedbyburningstreamsofplasma.Fulgrimscreeched.Theunearthlyfieldthatshieldedhim shrieked and flickered, splitting his image. He screamed as a blaze ofincandescentgaspiercedhisprotectionandburnedhisside.‘Theprimarch!Totheprimarch!’roaredCaptainAndrosinanguish.Guilliman sank to his knees, unable to speak. His perceptions becamefragmentary.Warriors in blue threw themselves at the reeling daemon prince,onlytobecarvedupintoredchunksininmid-air.Hissonstossedtheirlivesawaytospareafewdropsofhisblood.Namesandfacesflashedthroughhismind,somanyboldandhonourablemencastdownbybetrayal.Hisbrothersunwittinglycorruptedorundonebypersonalfailing.Othersslain.Hissons,dyinginbattle.Somanyofhissons…Aroaringblacknessencroached.Hefell,buthehitnothing.Itfeltlikefloating.

Aperfumedoceanlappedathim.Joyrodeuponitswaves.Lies,hethought.Lies!Icannotdie!Guillimanforcedopenhiseyes.Hewasonhisback,lookingupattheceiling,his limbs deliciously numb. A treacherous pleasure thrilled his mind as thepoisonworkedonhim.CaptainAndroswasathisside.Awallofblueceramitesurroundedhim.‘Now,damnyouall!Now!Emergencyteleport!Emergencyteleport!’shoutedAndros,hisbolterbarking.Heispanicking,Guillimanthought.Androsispanicking.ThehowlingthrumofsonicweaponrytoreawaythelastofAndros’words,andhis head vanished in a mist of red. Chained explosions boomed aroundGuilliman. Part of thewall ofmen guarding himwas knocked down.A bodysailed through theair, theUltramarinesblueof itspowerarmourcrackedopenand stained red.Battle roared.Adozenbolters firednear his feet as desperatehandsdraggedandpulled,haulinghimupthestepstowardstheruinedPhoenixGate.Hisarmourcaughtonthecorpsesofhissons,eachknockaspikeofagonyinhisruinedneck.Bloodpoureddownhiswindpipeintohislungs,makinghimsplutterfeebly.Hewasgoingtodrowninhisownblood.‘Retreat!Retreat!’calledavoice.‘Thedayislost!’Thiel?thoughtGuilliman.Isthatyou?HecouldhearFulgrim’ssilken,daemoniclaughterdrawingnearer.HowmanyUltramarineshavediedtosaveme?Aninstrumentchimed,louderthanthebleatingalarmsofGuilliman’sbatteredarmour.‘They have locus lock, my lord,’ someone else said, close enough thatGuillimanfelt theirbreathonhisear, thoughhecouldnot turnhishead toseehim.‘Wewillhaveyousafesoon.’Guillimantriedtoplaceafacetothevoice.Heknewmanyofhissons,butthisoneeludedhim.Hismindwasfillingwithblackfog.‘We’relosinghim!’saidthevoice,risinginpanic.‘Where’stheteleport?Getusoutofhere.Getus–’Thiel,thoughtGuilliman.DefinitelyThiel.A flash of blinding light and the bang of air displacement stole RobouteGuillimanawayfromthebladesofhisbrother.Timehung,caughtbetweenaninstantandaneternity.Guillimanceasedtobe.Foramoment,therewaspeace.‘–outofhere!’

Anotherroar,andtheneedlingdiscomfortofrematerialisation.Guillimanwasthrust back through the veil into theworld ofmen, and he fell to the teleportdeckwitharesoundingclang,jarringhiswound.Fierypoisonsketchedouthiscirculatorysystem,thrustingtherealisationofhisownmortalityuponhim.Hewasgoingtodie.Inhisfinalmoments,Guillimanbegantopanic.Hedidnotfearhisdeath,butwhatitmeantfortheImperium.Androshadbeenright.AndnowAndroswasdead.Icannotdie,hethought.Icannotdie!Iwillnot!Heexertedhisformidablewilltokeephisbodyalive.Afruitlesseffort.His dispassionate nature did not desert him, not even at the very end.As herailedagainsthisfate,herationallynotedthefailureofhisorgans,thedarkringthickeningabouthissightandthepleasurablepainthatfadedintoanumbblisscreepingtowardshishearts.Itwasasifhewerereviewingprogressreportsontheconstructionofnewpublicbuildings.Faces crowded around the narrowing well of his vision. Helmets were castasidetorevealharrowedfaces.Theymournme already, he realised. I am dead. I cannot die now, not now.Thereistoomuchtodo.Toomuch,toomuch.WhatwillRussdowithoutme,ortheKhan?Toomuch…Ultramarines shouted for their Apothecaries. Something tugged at his ruinedbreastplate.Awhitegauntlet flashedpasthisdimmingeyes.Thecool reliefofdrugspushedbacktheexquisiteburnofFulgrim’spoisonforabreath,buttheycould not stop it and it surged back anew. His pulse slowed. Coloured spotswhirledaroundhiseyes.‘Father,’hemouthed.Poisonedbloodfrothedat thegash inhisneck. ‘Father,whowillguidethemnow?’‘Whatishesaying?’criedananguishedvoice.‘Whatdoeshesay?’Father,thoughtGuilliman.Saveme.Hisheartsquiveredonelasttime,drawingthemselvesinforafurtherbeatthatwouldnotcome.Thevoicesofhissonssoundedfaraway.Darknessenvelopedhim.Hisheartsrelaxed.Theflowofbloodceased.He stood upon a precipice.A roaring, terrifying sea of souls haunted by thelaughingofmadgodschurnedallaround,redandugly.

‘Father!’Guillimanshouted,hisvoicefreefromtheprisonofhisflesh.Hissonscouldnothearhimnow,buthewasheard.Therewasacold,goldenlight,andanendtopain.Theroaringseavanished.Sorrowengulfedhissoul.RobouteGuillimanwasnomore.Theimmensityofthevoidisimpossibletounderstand;thelayeredinfinitiesoftheempyreanevenmoreso.Onlydeathcanencompassthemboth.

PARTTWO

CRUSADE’SENDTHE41STMILLENNIUM

CHAPTERFOUR

GUILLIMANLIVES

RobouteGuillimandrewinadeepbreath,thenanother.Helived.Blood rushed around hismassive frame.Air passed in and out of lungs fourtimes the size of a baseline human’s, gusty inhalations and exhalations thatmovedwiththepoweroftides.Death had come. For ten thousand years he had slept, his body preserved instasisuponhishomeworldofMacragge,untilacenturyagowhenArchmagosBelisarius Cawl, aided by the alien aeldari and a saint said to be thepersonificationoftheEmperor’swill,hadawokenhimtoagalaxytormentedbywar.Traitors fromHorus’ time had emerged from the Eye of Terror, a wound inreality where the warp bled into realspace. By destroying ancient alientechnology,theirleader–AbaddontheDespoiler,one-timelieutenantofHorus–had caused the Eye of Terror to spread across the galaxy as the CicatrixMaledictum,agreatwarpriftthathadcuttheImperiumintwo.To Guilliman, the dire state of the Imperium was a horrifying surprise. Heawoke from death to find himself fighting a war he thought he had won ahundred centuries before. There was no hope in this world. There was nopromise.TheEmperor’splanshadfailedcompletely,andsufferingwasthelotofallmen.Thegalaxywasworsethaneverbefore.OnlyduringthelongdarktimesofOldNighthadhumanitystoodsoclosetothebrink.Hewasallthatremained

oftheolddream,thelastfeeblelightindescendingnight.Since thenhehad led.Hehad fought.Hehadbled.Buthehadnot slept.Hecouldnot,evenhadhethedesireto–theImperiumwasdying.Insleep’splace,heretreatedtohisprivatequarters,totheChamberofReflection,andmeditatedtherewhenhewasweary.Deathhaddisturbedhisbeinginseveralways.Sleepwasonecasualty.Since his resurrection, he did not feel the need to sleep often. His personalphysicians could not tell him if this was a genuine physical change or apsychological effectofhis traumaticawakening.Both themindandbodyofaprimarch were so far beyond understanding that any medicae was next touseless. Only Archmagos Cawl, that insane polymath, might begin tocomprehendhowhisbodyfunctioned.Whatever the cause of his sleeplessness, after ten thousand years in stasis,RobouteGuillimanthoughthehadsleptenough.Fulgrim’s poisoned blade had come close to ending him.Were it not for theactionsofhismenhurryinghimintoastasishold,Guillimanwouldhavedied.Asitwas,hisabsencehadbeencostlytotheImperium.Somuchhadbeenlostbecauseofhismiscalculation.Hehadvowednevertounderestimatehistwistedbrothersagain.WhathappenedintheaftermathofThessalahadbecomemyth.LikesomuchofGuilliman’slifehistory,thetruthofhisdeathwasshroudedintheimpenetrableembellishment of repeated telling; he had found no less than twenty-sixdivergentversionsoftheeventintheUltramarineslibrariumsalone.Whatwascertainwasthathehadbeenasgoodasdead.Mostofhisfleethadbeendestroyed,andthemoonsofThessalawereblightedwastelandstothisday.He did not know what had become of those of his sons who had foughtalongsidehim.Inmostcases, theirnameshadbeenlost to time.AeonidThiel,forexample–Guillimancouldnotdiscernwhathadhappenedtohim.BackonMacragge,hehaddiscoveredthesecondcaptain’snameonwornhonourplaquesin a chapel buried deep under the gothic accretions that had smothered theFortress ofHera’s original form. These suggested that Thiel had survived thebattle,butGuillimandidnotknowforhowlong.Hedidnotknowhowhehadbornethelossofhisprimarch.Didheriseaboveit,orwashislifeonetormentedbyguilt?Guilliman did not know which Apothecary had saved him, or who was incommandof theChapterwhen theGauntletofPowerbroke free of Fulgrim’strap. In the archives of the Aurora Chapter and the Novamarines there were

fragmentary accounts of what had happened to their lords and captains atThessala,butlittleconcerningtheUltramarines.Itwascertain thathehadbeen saved, just as itwascertain thathis sonshadpaidaheavypriceforhisblunderingintoFulgrim’sweb.Hehadwokennearlytenthousandyearslatertoanotherbattleinthesamewar.Hehadbeengivenachancetoputthingsright.Heranthroughthosefirstmomentsofawakeningagain.He had come to in the Temple of Correction, clad in unfamiliar armour,surrounded on all sides by his sons battling the servants of theGreat Enemy.Wrenchedfromoneconflict toanotherninetycenturiesapart, therehadbeenamomentwhenhecouldhavefallen,whenhisconfusionthreatenedtoleavehimvulnerabletotheHereticAstartesoftheBlackLegion.The Black Legion – even the names of the enemy were unfamiliar in theseterribletimes.Everything had changed, andwarwas everywhere.Yetwar he knew, sowarwaswhatheprosecutedwithgreaterzealthaneverbefore.Itwasaconstantinauniversethrownoutoftrue.Inhisdarkestmoments,Guillimanthoughthecouldwellhavediedandbeencondemned to thehellofsomeprimitivecult.Buthedidnotbelievesuchthings,andhedidnotbelievehedeservedsuchpunishment.In a sense of heightened awareness, serene within his own expansive mind,RobouteGuillimantookstock.Today,thehammerblowwouldfall.Thewarwasfarfromdone,butafteronehundredandtwelveyearsofhardcampaigning,theIndomitusCrusadeneareditslogicalconclusion.HehadbattledtoreachTerra.He had spokenwith his father.He hadmade his decision as towhatmust bedone.He had turned the Imperium over to a state of complete and totalwar.Newfleets had been constructed and whole populations recruited into the armedforces. Archmagos Belisarius Cawl had been good to the oaths he had madebeforetheprimarch’sdeath,andhehadspentthemillenniaofGuilliman’slongsleepfashioninglegionsofnew,improvedwarriors:thePrimarisSpaceMarines.Fromtheirranks,dozensofnewSpaceMarineChaptershadbeenfounded.Allacross the besieged Imperium,Guilliman’s crusade had fought, speeding fromone crisis to another, even crossing theGreatRift that had split the galaxy intwain to reach the lost sectors of Imperium Nihilus. Everywhere it went, theIndomitusCrusadebroughtreliefandreinforcementstothebeleagueredworldsofmankind.Morethanthat,thecrusadebroughthope,andtheimpossibletruththatasonoftheEmperorstrodethestarsagain.

Thatphasewasover.TheGreatRiftstillsplitthesky,buttheenemyhadbeendealt a grievous blow. Several traitor fleets had been shattered and daemoniclegionsbanishedbacktothewarp.Manyworldshadbeentakenback,andmanyotherspurgedofcorruption.WiththeImperiumshoredup,thetimeofthegreatarmadawasdone.Achangeinstrategywascalledfor.WhathappenedatthePitofRaukosinafewhourswoulddictatethatstrategy.Somuchhadtofallintoplaceforvictorytobeassured.Guillimanrevisedplanslonginthemaking,thinkingthroughcountermovestomultiplepotentialenemyactions.He found it hard to find time to thinkdeeplywhenhewasnot in hisChamberofReflection.Therehadbeensomanydemandsonhisattentionsincehe had been revived.This small, cubic room– fourmetres by fourmetres byfourmetres–wastheonlyplacehemightbringallhisprodigiouspowerstobearonasingleissue.Today,thatissuewasvictoryatRaukos.A metallic voice broke his concentration. ‘My lord, we are approaching108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2.’Guilliman’s eyes opened upon a plain space lit in a soothing blue light. Thehideousgothicextravagance that typifiedhumanart in thiserawasabsent.Hefilledhislungswithblood-warmair,heldhisbreath,thenblewitoutinalong,controlledexhalation,lettingalittleofhistensiongowithit.He stood and rotated his neck,wincing at the awkward stretch of skin at histhroat.Thewoundstillhurt.Primarchsdidnotscareasily,butFulgrimhadlefthimafineone.Athickropeofascarcrossedhisthroatfromsidetoside.Slightlyofftrue,itslopedjustenoughfortheraisedendtocatchannoyinglyonhisarmourseals,nomatterhowmanytimeshehadthemadjusted.‘Givemeanexactestimatedtimeofarrival,’askedGuilliman.Therewasashortwaitwhile thepickledbrainsofdeadmensearchedfor theanswertothequestion.‘Fourhours,thirty-sixminutes,nineseconds,primarch.’‘InformCaptainsFelixandSicariusthatIamrested.Tellthecommanddecktoexpectmypresenceshortly.Summonmyarmingservitorsandmasterofarms.Iwillgotothemnow.’‘Asyouwish,primarch,’saidthevoice.Guillimanreachedout.Themeditationchamberwassmallenoughforhim tobeabletotouchthedoormechanismwithouttakingastep.Hisfingersbrushedablanksteelsheet.Theembeddedsensorsrecognisedhisuniqueenergysignature,

andthedoorswungopen.Guilliman stepped out of the room into his private chambers. Awhole spireupontheMacragge’sHonourwashis,as ithadbeenlongago,forGuilliman’squartershadbeenleftpracticallyuntouched.ThisGloriana-classbattleshiphadbeenhisflagshipthroughouttheGreatCrusade.AtthebeginningoftheHeresy,he had ordered it to pursue the Infidus Imperator, the flagship of his traitorbrother Lorgar. Guilliman had thought the Macragge’s Honour lost in thispursuit, but it was not, the battleship finally limping home long after theprimarchhaddied.Uponitsreturn,hisquartershadbeenpreservedasGuillimanhadleftthem.AGloriana-class battleship was designed for a Legion of old, a formation ahundred times the size of a contemporary Space Marine Chapter’s thousandwarriors.TheofficialcomplementwashundredsofAdeptusAstartes,butithadbeen rare for so many to be aboard theMacragge’s Honour at once beforeGuilliman’s return. Under the reborn primarch, the Ultramarines flagship hadagainrungtothemarchofarmouredsuperhumansasithadinagespast,butforthe ten millennia before that, the halls of theMacragge’s Honour had beenunderused,andtherehadbeennoneedtoemploytheprimarch’soldchambers.TheUltramarines everwere a practical breed, but sentimentalitywas in theirmake-up,andreverenceaddedinvisiblelockstotheirfather’squarters.Notoneof the Chapter Masters that followed Guilliman had ever taken up residencethere, though theyhadevery right to,and theprimarch’spalacehadbecomeashrine.Beyondceremoniescommemoratingtheirprimarch’slife,theroomshadremainedsealed.In the main, Guilliman’s palace had been carefully maintained, but entropywormed its fingers into the complex’s fabric nonetheless, dulling metal androttingcloth.Evennow,refittedandoccupiedfor thecenturyof theIndomitusCrusade, RobouteGuilliman still caught the scent of neglect beneath the oilysmellofship’sair.He passed through state rooms and down corridors whose doors opened onopulentguestchambers.Thisareawascurrentlyunoccupied,andhepassednoonesave fora scatteringofmaintenanceservitors.Hishouseholdservantshadlittlebusinessontheselevelswhenhehadnoguests,andGuillimandemandedsolitudewhennotattendingtohismanyduties.Bygrandstaircaseandexpresslift,hemadehiswaytohisarmingchambers.Therewerebut a handful alivenowwho remembered theGreatHeresyWar.The teemingmultitudes of the Imperium had no inkling of the dreamHorus’

betrayal had killed. Few beings lived that would have noted the changes theAvengingSonofUltramarhadundergone.Hispatrician’sfacewaslined,morewithcaresthanwithyears,andsunkeninonitselfatouch,especiallyaroundthecheeks.Hewasstillhandsome, ifnotbeautiful, forall theEmperor’ssonshadbeen made to be perfect in thought and form. But though his features had afinenessasculptorwouldstruggletocapture,hiswasanerodedhandsomeness,wornat theedges likeamountain’scrags.Hisgoldenhairhad thinneda little,andatthetempleswereafewstrandsofgrey.Palebrowncirclesgatheredunderhiseyeswhenhegrewtired,andtherewastightnessinhisjaw,alegacyoftheinternalpainhehadbornesincehisresurrection.Part of this discomfort – and it was constantly with him –was physical, anineradicable effect of Fulgrim’s poisons. But there was also a sense of anabsence in his gene-forged body thatmade itself known often as a dull ache.Guilliman called it emotional pain. After all he had seen in this new age, heremainedloathtonameitspiritualinnature.Hewastooenamouredofreasontotrulybelievehissoulhadbeeninjured.Incontrasttotheupperlevels,thelowerdecksofthepalacespirewerefullofactivity.Humanservantsbustledtoandfro.Servitorsclumpedbybearingheavyburdens.A pair of tech-priests broke off their conversations and bowed as hestrode past them. Men clad in a variation of Ultramar’s Praecental Guarduniform stood to attention as he approached his arming chamber doors. Thedoorshissedopen,andhepassedwithin.‘Arming chamber’ did no justice toGuilliman’s collection ofweaponry. Partmuseum, part armoury, itwas a complex in its own right. TheGrandHall ofArmamentwasitscentrepiece,housingnotonlyhispersonalwargearbutxenostrophies and ancient designs of human weaponry. A huge window filled onewall.Thecentralpanelswere takenupbya stainedglassmapof theoldFiveHundredWorldsofUltramar,commissionedbytheprimarchattheship’srefit.Amezzaninecrammedwithmoredevicesofwarranaroundthethreesidesoftheroomnotoccupiedbythewindow.Anhonourguardofemptysuitslinedthecentralaisle,examplesofeverysortof power armour worn by the Ultramarines in their long history. There werethreedozenofthemalltold,withmanyvariantsofeverymark,fromlightweightscoutarmourstoenormousprototypeTerminatorsuitsconstructedattheheightoftheGreatCrusade.Guilliman passed the last podiums, where stood numerous iterations ofBelisariusCawl’snewMarkXpowerarmour,alldesignedfordifferingcombat

roles. Between them stood more men from the Praecental Guard’s NavalDivision,theirenergypikesdippinginsaluteashepassed.From theGrandHall ofArmament,Guillimanwent into his personal armingrooms.Serfsandservitors stoodwaiting forhim,apairof tech-priestsat theirhead.Thepiecesof theArmourofFatewereneatly arrayeduponamalachiteslabcoveredwithbluevelvet.ThesuitwasofArchmagosCawl’sdesign,likesomuch else, and superior to theArmour of ReasonGuilliman hadworn in hispreviouslife,andwhichnowresidedinthereliquariesofMacragge.TheVictrixGuardweretheretogreethim.CaptainCatoSicariusledthem.‘Mylord,’saidSicarius.TheVictrixGuardgotdownonbendedknee.‘Rise,’ commanded the primarch. He entered an outsized arming frame andtookoffhisrobe.Themanhehandedittowasalmostlostinitsfoldsashetookit.Guillimanalreadyworeadarkgreybodyglove,itssurfacemarkedwiththedullsilverofinactivecircuits.Theygatheredincomplicatedwhorlswherethemetalinterfaceportsthatstuddedhisbodypokedthroughtheglove.‘You are ready, my lord?’ asked the senior of the tech-priests, his voiceemanatingfromvoxmittersembeddedinhisback.‘Armme,’commandedtheprimarch.Guilliman held out his hands.At the orders of theAdeptusMechanicus, thearmingteambegantoassemblethearmouraroundtheirlord.Itwassomassivethatdedicatedservitorsequippedwithindustrial-gradeaugmeticswererequiredtomoveeachpiece.Thebootswerebroughtforwardfirstinsoft-grippedcargopincers.Theyaloneweighedhundredsofkilograms.‘CaptainSicarius,reporttome,’saidGuilliman.Sicarius approached the arming cage with the easy swagger of a masterswordsman.CaptainoftheSecondCompany,MasteroftheWatch,GrandDukeofTalassar,KnightChampionofMacraggeandHighSuzerainofUltramar,histitlesfittedhisego.As always, he rested his hand on the pommel of his sheathed broadsword.Guilliman only recalled seeing Sicarius’ right hand off the blade a couple oftimes. Despite his many honours, the captain had been headstrong. Hisstubbornness remindedGuilliman a little ofThiel, and the primarchhad spentconsiderable time forming Sicarius into something other than merely anexemplarywarrior.‘My lord,’ saidSicarius. ‘Theenemy isgathering instrengtharound the thirdplanetofthesystem.ElementsoftheWordBearers,BlackLegion,IronWarriors

andvariousrenegadeforcesactinconcert.Theynotedourpresenceassoonaswe departed the Mandeville point, but have not moved from the planet tointercept.TheWordBearersarethegreatestcontingent.’‘Good,’saidGuilliman.TherewereancientgrudgesbetweentheUltramarinesand theWordBearers. ‘A chance to spill the blood of Lorgar’s get is alwayswelcome.Their presence is unsurprising.Only those fanaticswould undertaketheconstructionofsomethinglikethisorbital.Howistheenemy’sdisposition?’‘Theyarefragmented,andlackourorganisation,mylord,’saidSicarius.‘Thereareenough toputupacreditabledefence. Itdepends–as italwaysdoeswiththese heretics –whether they have a strong leader. If not, theywill be easilydealtwith.’Guilliman frowned as an interface spike buried itself in a neural socket. ‘Wemustbeswift,beforetheirsorcerersbringforthdaemonstoaidthem.’‘Byourstrategos’calculations,thisflotillarepresentsasignificantproportionoftheenemy’sstrength in thissector,’saidSicarius. ‘It is their interpretation thatthisgrouphaveassembledtoprotecttheorbitalfane.Iftheygatherheresothatwemaydestroythemmoreeasily,weshouldnotcomplain.’‘Iadmireyouroptimism.’Servants with powerdrivers for hands bolted Guilliman’s greaves to his legswhilethetech-priestsmutteredbenedictionsofprotectionandsmoothoperation.‘OrderTheNewDawntoturnabout,’saidGuilliman.‘Havefourcruisergroupsbreak off fromour formation to escort it.CaptainDiameos is to lead them inreinforcing our rearguard. The rearguard will hold position five millionkilometresrearward.Iwantpicketgroupsonregularsweepsaroundtheedgeofthesystem,andfulldeep-voidaugurscanseveryfiveminuteslookingforwarp-exitsignatures.ChecktheMandevillepoint,gravipausesandeveryareainthissystemwheregraviticinterplaymightallowanemergencyingress.Thetraitorsare becoming desperate. We must be wary of reinforcements of traitors anddaemons.’‘Asyoucommand,LordGuilliman.’‘This system is critical, Sicarius. I will not lose it. Send word to DominusGiFellivo that I want him and the higher-tier command of his battlecongregation, togetherwithPrimeHermeticonCordus-Rho, toattenduponmethemoment the battle is over.’He avoided the term ‘Taghmata’. ThemilitaryorganisationoftheAdeptusMechanicushadchangedradicallysincethedaysoftheoldMechanicum.‘Together.Makethatabsolutelyclear. Iwillnotentertaintheirpettyrivalriesanylonger.TheDominusistoaidthePrimeHermeticonor

theywill answer tomedirectly.Make thatunderstood.Wemustworkquicklyoncethethirdworldistaken,withnodissension.’‘Yes,mylord.’‘HavetherebeenanydevelopmentswhileIrested?’Sicarius smiled slightly.Guilliman’s attention to detailwas exacting.He hadbeenmeditatingforthirty-twominutesonly.‘Allrelevantinformationhasbeeninputtedtoyourpersonaldatafeeds,mylord.Thereisnothingofnotetoreport,eitherfromwithinthissystemorelsewhere,thoughproximitytothePitofRaukosmakesastrotelepathyproblematic.’‘Nothingrelayedfromtheouterfleetsorourotherarmadas?’‘No,mylord.’‘Then all is well,’ said Guilliman. His armourers had clad him as far as hiswaist.Theiractivitylessenedamomentasdiagnostichandsetswerepluggedintohis armour’s interface ports to check the function of the lower assembly. Thelegs tensed as their fibre bundles contracted. The handsets chirrupedaffirmatively,andthearmingcommencedanew.‘Leave Macullus and Dibus here,’ said Guilliman, nodding at two of theUltramarines.‘IwishtospeakwiththemabouttheirplansforredevelopmentoftheVeridian system.’ TheVictrixGuardwere asmuch statesmen aswarriors,anotherpracticeGuillimanhadreintroducedtohisChapter.‘TaketherestoftheVictrixGuardwithyoutothecommanddeck.Iwilljoinyoushortly.’‘Asyoucommand,’saidSicarius.‘AndwhereisFelix?’saidGuilliman.‘Heisdelayed,mylord.Hesendshisapologies.’‘Verywell,’saidGuilliman.‘Seeheiswithusattheopeningofthebattle.Iwillhaverepresentativesofallarmsofthecrusadepresent.Thisisanimportantday,Sicarius.’ThebackplateofGuilliman’sarmourwasloweredintopositionbyacraneandheldsteadybythevelvet-glovedhandsoffourmortalservants.Twomassivelyaugmented servitors manoeuvred the Armour of Fate’s breastplate from thetable.Movingitintoperfectalignmentwithtinywhiningsoftheirservomotors,they slammed the breastplate home. Small clicks sounded as it locked to thebackplate, and twomenworkedquickly to tighten thehex screws,making thesealfast.‘My lord,’ saidSicarius.With one last bow, he departed, leaving twoVictrixGuardbehind.‘Praise the Omnissiah for the Armour of Fate!’ proclaimed the tech-priest.

‘PraisetheEmperorforHiswisdom!Praisethemotiveforcefortheactivationoftheprimarch’sshield.’Guilliman hid a wince at the tech-priest’s fervour. He had little time forreligion.Atleasttheyarenotsinging,thoughtGuilliman.Hehadputastoptothat.‘Dibus,Macullus–comehere,’Guillimansaidtothetworemainingmembersof theVictrixGuard.He settled back into the arming frame as the rest of hisarmourwasassembledaroundhim.‘Tellmemoreaboutthiswater-conservationregimeyouwishtoimposeonCalth’sfeedworlds.Iunderstandyouhavebeensufferingdisagreement.Wewill resolve thisnow,or Iwilldecryyouasworsethanthearchmagi.’The two warriors glanced at each other and approached. They set out theirplans,andwheretheydidnotaccord.Theprimarchlistened.SomattersofpeacewerediscussedasGuilliman’sarmadaspedontowardsthePitofRaukos,andtheenemyawaitingthemthere.

CHAPTERFIVE

GUILLIMAN’SMERCY

Theprimarch’swarhadtakenhimawayfromthestar-realmofUltramar,butstillhefoundtimetogovernhishomefromafar.Warraged inUltramaras itdideverywhereelse.Thefollowersof thePlagueGodNurgleassailedtheworldsoftheUltramarines,andtheinfernaldiseasesoftheenemyclaimedfarmorelivesthantheirbullets.AtRobouteGuilliman’sdirectcommand,sickandinjuredsoldierswerebeingbroughttotheplanetIaxfromacrossUltramar.Iaxwastithedasanagriworld,butsuchwasitsbeauty,itwasinformallyreferredtoastheGardenPlanet.Thatwasbeforethewar.TheempireoftheUltramarineswasbleedingmanpowerataterrifyingrate,andsoGuillimanhadredesignatedIaxasahospitalworldforthedurationoftheconflict–thatistosay,mostlikelyforever.Landing thesickandwoundedat Iax’sHortusiaspaceport tookanamountoftimecongruoustothecomplexityofthetask.Thediseasesspreadbytheenemyweresupernaturallyvigorous,soquarantineprocedureshadtobestringent.LikeeverythinginUltramar,ifajobweredeemedofimportanceenoughtobedone,thenitwouldbedonecorrectly.A fresh shipment of patientswas coming in by shuttle. The decontaminationcrewreturnedtothelandingfieldanditssurroundingmushroompatchofwhitedome tents for the seventeenth time that day. Between each trip, the shuttleswerecleanedontheward-shipsinorbit,for thatwastheresponsibilityoftheirmedicae-captains, but ensuring the purity of the landing fields fell to the

Chirurgeon-General’sofficeonIax.Though Caradomus, the Chirurgeon-General, would have preferred todecontaminatetheshuttlesaftertheirjourneyfromanchortothesurfaceaswell,speed had to be given some consideration – cleaning the landing aprons wasfasterthancleaningtheexteriorofthelanders.HisconcernswereallayedalittlebytheAdeptusMechanicusbiologiansattachedtotheOfficioMedicaeuponIax,whose atmospheric re-entry patternswere calculated to burn theworst of anycontaminationaway.MagosKromekhadsuggestedthecleaningprocedurecouldbe omitted from the landing protocols altogether, but Chirurgeon-GeneralCaradomuswasdiligent,andifhecouldavoidriskshewould.Propaganda had its role to play. The ships were not serious vectors ofinfection–thesoldierstheycarriedtoIaxfromthewar’smultiplefrontswere.But they couldn’t be turned away.The outgassings of high pressure cleansinghosesattheapronscouldbeseenformiles.Theywerereassuring.Sothelandingapronswerecleaned,andoften.Upon Iax, the lesser sick recuperated alongside the injured. Some of thediseases unleashed into Ultramar could be treated under median-rangequarantine conditionswith standardmedicines.Others required specialist care,up to and including AdeptusMinistorum-approved exorcism. Those sufferingfromthemoreaggressive,spirituallycorruptingillnesseswereheldinspeciallycommissioned stations in orbit. As few as possible were euthanised – if theycouldbehelped,theywere.This,itwassaidinUltramar,wasthedifferencebetweenRobouteGuilliman’sandtheEmperor’smercies,andthebeleagueredpeopleofthatrealmtookheartintheirlord’sconcernfortheirwellbeing.IntypicalUltramarianstyle,multipleImperialordosandofficioswerebroughttogether to tend to thewar’scasualties,and theyweremade tocooperatewithuncharacteristic amity. Regarding the screening of the injured and sick, theOfficioMedicaewasgivenfreereign.Muchoftheprocessingwentoninorbit.As the hospital ward-ships arrived from Ultramar’s warzones, the woundedsoldiers on boardwere screened for infectious agents. Those passing the firstround were transferred to smaller voidships, most commandeered for thispurpose from the chartist merchant fleets or taken from among those Navalvessels too badly damaged to bemade combat ready quickly.The smaller thebetter, in the Chirurgeon-General’s view, for smaller ships could be morethoroughlyisolated.During transit from the front back to Iax, the soldiers were kept in solitary

confinement toprevent thespreadofdiseaseamong their fellowpatients, theirphysicalneedsattendedtobyservitorsofonlythehighestclassesofbiologicalsanctity.Therewerenotenoughshipsleft toseparatethesickfromtheinjuredbeforetransit,notthatitwouldhavepreventedcross-infection;somanyofthosewoundedinbattleharboureddiseaseunawares.AroundIax,troopsexhibitingsymptomsweredividedbytype.Thosewhohaddieden routewere easiest to separate.After thedead, the first appraisedwerethose suffering purely from injury, be it physical or mental. They were alsorigorously tested for disease. Those who proved free of secondary infectiousconditions were separated from the rest and taken to the surface viadecontaminationprotocolsat thestar fortKorsteel,whichhad takenupanchoroverIaxforthepurpose.Theremainderofthecasualtiesadjudgedsick–injuredornot–werereturnedtothemaingroup.Thesickweresplitintoknownandunknownpathogengroups,thenfurtherintophysical,mentalandspiritualafflictions,thenbygradeofseverity,andfinallyallthesegroupsweredividedbetweenthewoundedsickandthemerelysick.Afterall this,groupsweresubdivided intonumberedcohortsandrelocated toholding vessels in permanent orbit. There, further anti-biological procedureswere undertaken. Second and third rounds of testing virtually eliminated anypossibility of transmission. Those that passed the third testwere deemed safeandtransferredtothesurfaceofIax,boundforfacilitiesthattreatedallailments.Thosewhofailedthesecondorthirdtestswerekeptaboardtheisolationships,where they were treated and repeatedly tested for pestilence. Those thatimproved were transferred in time; those that did not were given their finalblessingsandtheircorpsesincineratedinpsi-wardedplasmapyres.Thusitwasthat–withbreath-takingefficiency–hugenumbersofUltramariancasualties were broken down by stages into the smallest manageable groups.Hundredsofthousandsofmenbecamethousands,thenhundreds,thentens.Andall were thoroughly, relentlessly catalogued by the Officio Medicae’s DivisioDescriptor. Elsewhere in the Imperium, such work would have beenunimaginable.Onmostworlds itwouldneverhavebeenundertaken–thesickwouldhavebeenexterminated;thewoundedwouldhavebeenlefttotheirfate.NotinUltramar.Thewhite-and-blue-cladhumanauxiliarieseachrepresentedasignificant investment in training, and most had accrued substantial combatexperience. By treating and returning its casualties to the war, the realm ofUltramarkeptitsarmiesfightingwithoutlossofexpertiseoreffectivenessattheheightoftheImperium’sdarkestperiod.

‘Bythepreservationoflifedowemaintainourcapabilitytometeoutdeath.’Sothe primarch had said.Or, at least, the records indicated he had said so.NowGuillimanwasamongthelivingoncemore,itwaspossibletoaskhimifallthewordsattributedtohimweretrulyhis.Forthefirst thirtyyears,Guillimanhadbeeninthehabitofcorrectinghissubordinates,insistingmanyofhissupposedsayingswereapocryphal,untilhehadgivenupinexasperation.Hewassimplynot believedbymost, forwhom the primarch remained an ideal.They valuedtheirpreconceptionsofhimoverthelivingevidence.Despite thismasscognitivedissonance,noonecouldargue that theefforts tosavethetroops’liveswereundertakeninamanneratoddswiththeprimarch’sown beliefs. Though diminished in efficacy, something of Guilliman’smeticulousmethodologyhadsurvivedtheages.Iax had become the hub for all counter-plague efforts, a laboratorium andsanatoriumboth,where treatments for thewar’sever-evolvingsicknesseswereconcoctedanddisseminatedtothefrontsofUltramar’swarasfastastheenemycouldunleashthem.The processing of casualties was labour intensive, no matter how efficient.Ensuring thepurityofbulk landerswashard, so theywere forbiddenfromthesurface,butsmallerlightersorshuttlesmeantmoretrips.Asaresult,landingallthe troops from a singlemedicaeward-ship took a long time, and therewerealwaysplentymorewaiting.To the untrained eye, the cleansing of the landing apronswas an impressivesignof thediligencewithwhich the screeningprocedureswereundertaken. Inreality, itwas the least important and easiest, entrusted to low-rankinggroundcrew and mono-task servitors whose biologic components were sealed deepwithininorganicframes.Iax had a pronounced axial tilt, and the southern hemisphere’s autumn wascoming to an end. It was evening and growing cold as the cleansing teamclimbed down from their transports. They unspooled their lines and passedthrough a spray gate, the only gap in the complex of bubble tents around thefield.Drenched in strong antibiologics, they paced to and fro, the huge hosesleadingfromthetankersloopedovertheirbacksandpointedattheground.Theirhumanformswerelostinthebulkoftheirprotectivesuits,sothatservitorandtrue man were hard to tell apart. Blasts of boiling water were followed bysheetingspraysofanti-virals.Bio-killerssweptacrosstherockcrete.Thewatersentuphugecolumnsofcondensingvapourintothechillair.Appearancesweremaintained.

Whenthecleansinghadbeendone,priestsinbiohazardsurplicesmarchedoutfromtheinterconnecteddomedtentscrowdingtheapron.Theytrailedbackandforthover the antiseptic ground, flicking aspergillums full of sanctifiedoils tokillthosepsychiccorruptionsthatchemicalscouldnotpurge.Finally, thequarantinemasters–themid-rankingmedicaeofficials, theFraterHospitallerMajorisInferiorofthelocalAdeptusMinistorumandpurityofficersfromthecommissariat–cameoutfromthetents,inspectedthework,gavetheirapprovalandaffixedtheirsealstotherelevantorderparchments.Onlythenwasalightergivenclearancetoland.Thewholeprocesstookhalfanhour,everysingletime.The ground crew were kept on hand in case the cleansing had not beenperformed satisfactorily.With relief, they watched their superiorsmarch backintotheclutterofbubbletentsaroundthefield.Asthelastclosurezippedshut,the ground crew wearily rolled up their disinfectant hoses, retreated backthrough the spraygate to their servicevehicles and spedbeetle-fast across thelanding fields tograb fortyminutesof rest, one cleansing closer to the endoftheireighteen-hourshift.The fieldwas nowyielded to severalmedicae equippedwith bulky auspexesattached to their suits with sealed, flexible pipes. Angry red lights flickeredcondemnatorypatternsontheinstruments’uppersurfaces.Brightpointsshimmeredagainsttheeveningthousandsoffeetintothesky.Thelighter came in fast.When it had grown to a growling, angular shape, blackagainst the low sun, the medicae set off cleansing bombs around the landingapron that shot out plumes of astringentwhite smoke in noisywhooshes.Thelighter touched down in a mist of anti-biological agents, dropped its rampswithout powering down its engines, andwas away as soon as the last injuredsoldierwasoutofitshold.Inthisway,TulliusVarensofthePrandium30thUltramarAuxiliaryRegimentcametoIax.Heshuffledontotheapronwithahundredotherslikehim,blinkingagainstdaylightafteraweekinsideadimlylitvoidshipcell.Hecarriednothingbuthislasrifle,hisflakarmourandtheuniformonhisback.Everythingelseheownedhadbeenincinerated.‘Stayclose,Bolus,’hesaidtothemanbesidehim.‘Don’twanderoff.’Bolus,anoldermanwithroughsalt-and-pepperstubble,staredaheadwiththeeyesoftheprofoundlydisturbed.Themedicaecameoutofthechemicalfog,shovingtheexhaustedtroopersintoa line.Varenswas tooweak to resist as rubber-glovedhandsgrabbedhim.He

growledoutachallengeashiswoundedbackwasroughlypawed.‘Careful,’ he said. The medicae manhandling him went on to the next manwithoutcomment.Varensshuffledalongwiththequeueofmen.Heturnedwhenhe realisedBoluswasn’t followinghim,butwas still standingconfusedwheretherampofthedepartedshiphaddepositedhim.Sighing,VarenswentbacktoBolus’side.‘Comeon,Bolus,’hewhispered.Hetookhisfriendbytheelbow.Bolushadneverbeen thesamesince the lastassaultatKonor’sReach.Oncevolubleandconfident,henowwentmeeklywhereVarensled.‘Weapons in a pile in the red circle. Armour and webbing in the green,’ amedicae barked through voxmitters set into his thick armourglass visor. Hepointed at painted circles offset from the entrance to the bubble-tent complex.‘Uniformsintheblue.’‘Everything?’ said one of the other soldiers. Hewas stupidwith exhaustion.Oneofthemedicaewavedhisburblingmedicalauspexupanddownhisbody.‘Everything,’themedicaesaid.Wearily,theauxiliariesstripped.Emaciatedbodiesshiveredinthecoolevening.Varens reached for Bolus’ gun. His own lasrifle slipped on a shoulder gonescrawny frommonths of poor rations, rubbing his injury. The gun felt like itweighed as much as a heavy bolter, but he gritted his teeth against the pain,unslungitand tookholdofBolus’weaponaswell,gentlyunhooking thestrapfromhisfriend’slimpfingers.‘Bestgetundressed,’hesaidtoBolus.Bolus lookedathimwildly. ‘Fifteen!Fifteen!’hesaid.He jabbeda fingeronhisgoodhandatoneoftheothertroopers,amanbythenameofGideon.GideonwasoneofthefewothersVarensknewinthegroup.Hewasabraggart.Varensdidnotthinkmuchofhim.‘Fifteen!’Bolussaid,urgentlygesturingatGideon.‘Hey! Hey!’ Varens snapped his fingers before Bolus’ face. The older manquietedandstaredattheweaponsinVarens’handswithred-rimmedeyes,asiftheyaffrontedhim.‘What,theguns?’saidVarens.‘I’lldealwiththose.Getundressed,oldman,I’llpileeverythingupforyou.Don’tdrawattentiontoyourself.Yougotthat?’Bolusnodded.Varenssqueezedhisshoulder.Reluctantlyhelefthimaloneandtrudged to the coloured circles. Guns and equipment made fragile-soundingclattersastheyweretossedintopilesontherockcretebythetroopers.It didn’t seem right to Varens, disrespecting their weapons like that, and he

scowledathisfellows.Mostofthemwerefromworldsfarawayfromhis.Theywere too tired and too sick to notice his disapproval. He elbowed his wayforwardandcarefullylaidhisandBolus’gundownatthecircle’sedge.‘You’veservedmewell,’he saidquietly, restinghishandon the stockofhisrifle.‘Iprayyourspiritfindsrest,ifyouarenottoreturntothewar.’Leavinghisgunwaslikeleavinghisheartonthefloor,butwhenhestoodandletoutashakybreath,herealiseditwasareleasetobefreeofit.Hishandswenttothebucklesfasteninghiswebbingandarmour.Hewasstillclothed,buthewascoldandshiveringalready,andhisnumbfingersstruggledwiththecatches.Itwasn’tjustthechill:hishurtstroubledhim.Therewasacoreof fleshmissing fromhis back, just belowhis shoulder blade. Itwas still rawaroundtheedges,unnaturallyhot.Hehadnotevennoticedreceivingthewound.In one moment what had once been simple had become permanently fraughtwithpain.Tryashemight,hecouldnotrefusetoacknowledgethefrailtyofhisown flesh.Theevidenceofhisweak fingers slippingon thecatcheswas rightbeforehiseyes.Afterhalfaminuteoffumbling,thecatchcooperatedandundid.Hisshoulderplatesslidweightilyfromhisbody,takingagoodportionofhisbodilywarmthwithhim.Hewasn’tlookingforwardtotakinghisuniformoff.Bolus’shoutshadhimlookingup.‘Fifteen!’Boluswas struggling in the restraining armsof amedicae.HewastryingtogetatGideon,hisarmsoutstretched.Shoutedordersfromthemedicaeteam ripped across the throng, augmitter harsh. In a minute, there would bearmedmenemergingfromthetents.‘Don’t know what’s got into you, old man!’ said Gideon as Bolus lungedtowardshim.Hesmiledwidely.‘Youshouldcalmdown.Easystreetforamonthorso,beforewe’rebacktothefront.’‘Fifteen!’shoutedBolus.Hepawedatthemedicae’sfaceplate.‘Stand down!’ shouted the man. His colleague was reaching for a compactwebber.ItlookedtoVarenslikethemedicaewereusedtothiskindofthing.Hewasn’tsurprised.Thesightsthey’dseenwereenoughtodriveanyoneinsane.‘Hey!’calledVarens.Hedroppedhisarmourwhereitwasandshovedhiswaybackthroughthesoldiers.Agagglehadstoppedtowatch,anditmadethegoingtougheronthewayback.Hecarvedapathwithhiselbows.Bolushadmadenomovetodisrobeorremovehisarmour.‘Putyourarmourandwebbing in thegreencircle,uniforms in theblue!’onemedicaeshouted.Thewebberwasoutnow.VarenswasafraidhowBoluswould

reactifheweretrappedagain.TheygrabbedatBolushard,makingthemantwitchandwail.‘Leave him be!’ shoutedVarens. ‘He’s not in his rightmind – he’s sufferingcombatstress.Emperor’steeth,Ithoughtyouwerehealers!Can’tyousee?He’llbealrightsoon,ifyoulethimalone.Bolus,Bolus,hey!’Themedicaepartedenoughtolethimnear.‘V-v-varens?’splutteredBolus.‘Yes,myfriend,it’sme.Doasthemedicaesay,doyouunderstand?’Boluslookedatthemedicalstaffsuspiciously.‘Bolus!Comeon,doyougetit?’The medicae still had his compact webber out. Bolus was oblivious to thedevice.Hesitantly,Bolusnodded.‘Strip,’saidthemedicae.‘Armourinthe–’‘Yeah, we get it,’ snapped Varens. ‘I heard you four times already. I’ll helphim.’ He interposed himself protectively between his friend and the medic.‘We’vebeentogetherforthelasttwoyears,fightingonEspandor.Where’veyoubeen?’‘Idon’thavetoansweryou,’saidonemedicae.‘Here,’saidanotherone.‘Onlyhere.’‘Thenyoudon’tknowwhatwe’vebeenthrough.Givehimhisdue.Ifitweren’tformenlikehim,youandallthiswouldbenothingbutashesandslime.Plaguewarriors, Heretic Astartes, the walking Emperor-damned dead – Bolus and Ihave faced themall,while you’ve beenhaving a fine old time in your rubbersuits.’‘We’resavingliveshere,’saidthefirstmedicae.‘BythegraceoftheEmperor.Weallhaveourrolestoplay.Weareheretohelpyou,butyoubothneedtobeprocessed.Ifhewon’tcooperate,hewon’tmakeit.’VarensgrabbedBolusby theshouldera little toofiercely,makinghimflinch.‘Thisman’ssavedmylifefivetimes.YouhavealotofcatchinguptodoifyouthinkI’lllethimdie.’‘Yourchoice,trooper.’Thewebbercameup.Boluscalmed.Someofwhathadbeensaidmusthavesunkin,becausehewasunclipping his combatwebbing. ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘No,Varens, no.’His headjerkedhard,barelyundercontrol.Hisarmourslitheredtothefloorinamessofstraps.Mechanically,Bolusundressed.Varensdidthesame,watchinghisfriendwarily,butnomoreoutburstscame.

Bolus handed over his grubbywhite uniform.Varens bundled it upwith hisown. Their bodies, grimy and pale, were exposed to the unkindness of theautumnair.ThemedicaefinallyholsteredhiswebberandpassedhisauspexoverBolus.Itburredtoitself,andclunked.Agreenlumenshonefromthetop.‘He’sclean,butkeephimcalm.Thisprocesstakestime.’‘He’llbealright,’saidthekindermedicae.‘Iunderstand,’saidVarens.Hisangerdrainedaway.Hewasonahair trigger.Aggressionhadkepthimalive,abletoreactquickly,effectively.Suchanintensestateofreadinessdidn’tsuitaplacelikethis.Thewholethingfeltsurrealtohim.Howcouldthemedicaeunderstand?ThemedicaewavedhisauspexoverVarens.‘Whathappenedtoyou?’‘Flesh wound. Got it fighting Heretic Astartes,’ he said flatly. ‘Don’t knowhow.’Themedicaewasn’timpressedbyVarens’claim.‘Ifthat’sthecase,youshouldbedead.’‘Areyoucallingmealiar?’saidVarens.‘I’m calling you lucky.’ The auspex made an angry bleat. ‘The wound isinfected.’‘You don’t say,’ saidVarens. ‘If a dozen screening processes hadn’t toldmethat,theburnintheskindoes.’‘The wound looks nastier than it is. It is not serious – the infection can betreated.’The green light shone, and themedicae took the auspex away. ‘Maintent.’‘Emperor,weknow.Wecoulddowithalittleempathyhere.Getusinsideoutofthecold,orwe’llcatchourdeaths.We’remen,notmunitionspallets.’‘You’renotamanuntilyou’vebeencheckedandtriplecleansed,trooper.Untilthen, you’re a vector of infection that endangers thiswholeworld.Now, keepyourfriendundercontrolorwe’llhavetogivehimtheultimatesanction.’‘We’rehereforGuilliman’smercy,’saidVarens.Themedicae laughedbehindhismask. ‘Mercy’s in short supply.Dumpyourkit,andproceedtodecontamination.’Themanwasalreadywavinghisauspexoverthenexttrooper.‘Adiseasevector,isthatright?’calledVarensafterthemedicae.‘I’dcheckouttrooperGideon,then.’Hepointedouttheothermantothemedicae.‘BolusandIhave been fighting the plague lords for so long, he’s developed a nose fordisease.’

VarenshelpedBolusputhisuniformandequipmentonto the rightpiles, thenjoined the lineofshiveringmenheading into the tents.Noneof theauxiliarieswere in a goodway.Without exception, the naked bodies aroundVarens boretracesofpastdiseaseandtrauma.Alotofthemhadpassedthiswaybefore,asshown by the way they were lining up and doing what was required withoutbeingtold,stoicthroughout.Varenswascold,strungoutandexhausted.Onlythediscipline instilled inhimbytheauxiliakepthimfromsnapping,and thatwasclosetowearingout.He still had space for a smilewhenheheardGideon cursing and the auspexbingingangrily.‘Shiplice,’themedicaesaid.‘Externalparasites,nothingserious,gethimintotentthree,triple-plusdecontaminationprotocols.’Varens’turncame.Hepushedhiswaythroughthreesetsofplastekstripdoorsandintothefuggyairofadecontaminationchamber.Chemicalsteamfilledhisnose andmadehis eyeswater.Hiswound stung.Whatever awaitedGideon intentthree,Varenshopeditwaslessfunthanthis.Hedeservedit.‘Fifteen!’cackledBolus,asifsharingaspecialjoke.‘F-f-fifteen!’Varens’briefhumourblewawaylikethesteambillowingfromthepipes.Thecounting thing was new, and he didn’t like it one bit. It was anothermanifestation of Bolus’ shattered mind. Varens hoped a respite from the warwouldhelphis friend’smindheal,buthewasn’tconfident.Hehadseenbattleshockbefore.Theonlycurethatwassuretoworkwasamercybullet.HeneverthoughtBoluswouldfallpreytoit,andthatmadehimangry.Bolushadbeensobrave,sounshakeable.Ifhecouldlosehismind,thenanyonecould.‘Comeon,oldman,’Varenssaid.HetookholdofBolus’armagain.Hisskinwasdampand looseonwastedmuscle, his regimental tattoosdistortedby thesag.‘Timeforabath.’UnderBolus’armpit, therewasabrief squirming,maggotymotion. IfVarenshadseenthat,hewouldhaveknownthatbattleshockwastheleastofwhatailedhisfriend.ThethingturnedandvanishedintothecageofBolus’ribs,undetected.

CHAPTERSIX

THEBATTLEOFRAUKOS

ThehighofficersofGuilliman’scrusadegatheredonthecommanddeckoftheMacragge’sHonour.They clustered around thedais occupiedby theprimarchandhis closest aides, crowding the command throneofShipmasterBrahe thatwassetbeforeit.AstraMilitarum generals rubbed shoulders with the sister superiors of threebattle convents.AdeptusMechanicusDomini stood in clusters of orange, rustand blood-red robes. SpaceMarine lords waited with commissars, inquisitorsand thebaronsofknightly courts.Princepshad comedown from theirTitans’steelskulls,illateaseatbeingsurroundedbysomanypeople.TherewereNavalwing commanders and captains of capital ships. Sisters of Silence stood asidefromeveryoneelse,theirdisquietingauraselicitingshuddersfromthosenearest.The augments of skitarii clade commanders buzzed. DepartmentoMunitorumofficialstalkedinlowvoices.Historitorsrecordedtheoccasiondiscretely.Every branch of the Imperium’s forces and thosewho supplied, directed andsupported them were represented there, whether in person or as one of theghostlyhololithsprojectedbytheservo-skullsswarmingabovethethrong.Through the grandoculus, the plough-blade prowof theMacragge’sHonourpointed in challenge at the Pit of Raukos. A huge, lazily turning interfacebetweenthewarpandrealspacewreathedintheluminousgasesofadyingstar,itwasaplacewherenightmaresmighteasilywalkclothedinflesh.ThePitofRaukoswasananomalysetapartfromthemainstormfrontofthe

GreatRiftwhichdividedtheImperiumintwo.Itwasanisolatedwound,butadeepone.Itpunchedaholethroughspacetimeandranfarintotheheartofthewarp. Itwas an area of bruised voidmillions of kilometres across, glowing asicklypurple.Towardsthemiddle,itscolourationtendedtoputridyellow-white,andattheverycentreavast,darkorb–striatedliketheirisofaneye–rotatedwiththespeedandferocityofapulsar.At theedgeof thisblotonreality languishedastarsystem.Ithadneverbeensettledorgivenanamebymankind,butboretheAdeptusAstradesignationof108/Beta-Kalapus-9.ThesunwasamediumredstardwarfedbythePit.Graviticsheardrewlongplumesofincandescentgasfromthestartowardstheanomaly.IntheyearssincetheGreatRifthadopened,thesunhadshrunkbyatenth.Theplanetsthatorbiteditweregoingdark.Tendrils of glowingmatter twisted out from the fringes of the spinning eye,merging with and bending the surrounding star gas into looping whorls thatreached towards the greater slash of the Cicatrix Maledictum like parasiticwormsmigratingfromtheirhost.Such breaches between dimensions were once terrifying anomalies. In thesedarktimes,theyhadbecomecommonplace.WhereasbeforetherehadbeentheEyeofTerrorandthelesserMaelstrom,nowtheGreatRiftsplitthegalaxysideto side, its depths interfacing directly with the immaterium, and a thousandplaces like thePit ofRaukos pierced the flesh of reality, disgorging unnaturalenergies.The Pit was named after a daemon prince Guilliman had slain. From itschurningdepthscameunnaturalplaguesandfleetsofhalf-madsentientvesselscrewedbychildren’snightmares.Ghostlyarmiesofimpossiblemonstersspilledgibbering into realspace. Things spawned by the collective horrors of allhistory’s thinking beings emerged fromdark corners onworlds for light yearsaroundit.Mostofthesethingsonlyhadabrieffootholdinreality,andthemoreesoteric types dissipated as soon as they were birthed, smeared to glowingcorposantbythelawsofmaterialphysics.Butnature’s irongriphadloosened.The Pit of Raukos was an open gate to the daemonic legions of the greaterpowers. Empowered by the wills of their Dark Gods, and sustained by theunnaturalenergiesoftherift,armiesoffellentitiesemergedfromRaukos.Theterrortheygeneratedfedthemfurther,andsothecycleofhorrorcontinued.GuillimanstaredunflinchinglyintotheuncleancystofthePit.‘Another lost system.’ Tribune Maldovar Colquan of the Adeptus Custodesspokeangrily.Fiveothersofhisorderstoodguardbehindtheprimarch.When

hespoke,anditwasnotoften,itwasasifeveryaffronttotheImperiumhesawcompoundedhisshame.HewaswellawarethatfortenmillenniatheEmperor’sbodyguardhaddonenothing.Allhehadtoofferinresponsewasgall.Guilliman privately agreed with this damning assessment. When he hadreturned to Terra, he had discovered a warrior brotherhood blinded by grief,uninterestedinanythingthathappenedbeyondthewallsoftheImperialPalace.CrisisaftercrisishadbatteredthefoundationsoftheImperium,andtheAdeptusCustodeshadretreatedfurtherfromviewwitheachone.Theyhadfinallycomeoutfrombehindthepalacewalls.Smallgroupsofthemoperatedthegalaxyover,butthependulumhadswungtoofartheotherway.ThegoldenwarriorsofTerrawereindangerofbeingblindedbyrage.‘Itwas not lost, because it never belonged to the Imperium,’ saidGuilliman.‘This target isneverthelessworthy,andweshallclaimitasourown.Seehowtheenemygatheraroundit.Theirtemplenearscompletion.’Ahololithicstrategicdisplayshowedthesystemanditsmonstrousparasiteasaseriesofneutralgraphicstaggedwithdatasignifiers.Itlookedsoblandrenderedthat way, an innocuous nebula. The Chaos fleet around 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2was invisible to the unaided eye, but clear enough to the augurs of theMacragge’sHonour,andbrightdotsoflighttaggedwithdatascreedswarmedathighanchoraroundasinglepoint:theorbitalfaneoftheWordBearers.Theprimarch’svoiceneedednoamplificationtoreachallofhiscommanders.His words carried into the furthest reaches of the command deck. When hespoke,allstoppedtolisten.‘Anorbital temple isunder constructionhere. Itmustbedestroyed.This is astagingpostforourenemies,butitisfornomundaneresupplythattheycometothePitofRaukos.’Hepointeddirectlyat theblackeye in theanomaly. ‘Theycomeheretomakebloodsacrifice,andcallupontheirdiabolicalgodstofavourthemwithaid fromtheir servants.Fromthis rift,daemonswalkand lend theirpowertothetraitors.Suchdoorwaysneedclosing.‘Theabilitytodosoeludesusfornow,buttheywillbeclosed,allofthem.Iswearthisinmyfather’sname.Untilthen,themonstersthatcomefromwithinthemwillbebeatenback,andthethresholdsguardedbythemightiestwarriorsthe Imperiumcanspare.Soweshalldivide themortal servantsofChaos fromtheir unnatural allies. The Indomitus Crusade has swept from one end of thegalaxytotheother,bringingretributiontoourfoes.Iproposeweaddonefurthervictorytoourtally!’Thecrowdcheeredloudly.Boomingtranshumanvoices joinedwithchittering

dataaugmitters.ThePit grewquickly in theoculus as the fleet accelerated towards its target.TheIndomitusCrusadewasvastinsize.Dozensofcapitalshipsledmanysub-fleets. The artificial stars of their engine stacks flared brightly as theymanoeuvredintoattackpositions.Guillimanhadthearmadaarrangedlikeafive-toed claw. The long talons were individual battlegroups, arrayed in lines topound the enemy as they passed. The palm was a wall of ships, with theMacragge’sHonourat itscentre.Theprimarchintendedtotrapthefoeagainstthemobilefortressofthepalmasthefingersoftheclawslowedandclosed,assurelyasaclenchingfist,aroundtherearoftheenemyfleets.AfurtherbattlegroupranoutwardsfromthemainlineofadvancetowardsthePit. Within the knot of vessels at its centre, the Null Ships of the Sisters ofSilenceflewprotectedbythreebattleships.Kilometreslong,thebattleshipswerecathedralsofwar,unusedtoescortduty,butthemovewasjustified:forthefoethey faced, thesemighty vessels were not the battlegroup’s deadliest weapon.TheshipsoftheSisters–large,blackandswift–werethekeytosuccess.The command crew of theMacragge’s Honour were a mixture of standardhuman, Space Marine and Primaris Space Marines. Humans predominated.Though they wore the uniforms of Ultramar, they had been gathered to theIndomitusCrusadefromallacrosstheImperium.TheirdiverseoriginshadbeennobarriertoGuillimanforgingthemintoaneffectiveunit.Abovethevoxpits,theMasterDivulgatusswunghiscommandpulpitaround.Tallbanksoforganpipes,eachoneapowerfulvoxmitter,hidhimfromtheneckdown.Hisheadwasencased in abulkycommunicationsunit.Onlyhismouthwasvisible.‘TheNullShipswillbeinpositioninanhour,mylord.’‘Seconded,’ said the Master Augurum from his own station high up on thesteppedwallsofthecommandbridge,asub-kingdomofscreensandhardwiredservitors.Runic icons blinked on the hololithic tacticarium orb, dotted lines flickeringintobeing,describingtheirtrajectoryandultimateposition.Beforethecrusade,theMacragge’sHonourhadundergoneanextensiverefitinshipyards of the Ring of Iron aroundMars, and the command deck had beenentirely reconfigured fromGuilliman’s day. Archmagos Cawl’s stampwas oneverything.Newmachinesandunheardofconfigurationsofolddevicesreplacedequipmentthathadbeeninusefortensofcenturies.Thetech-priestshadbeenoutraged,butGuillimanhadsilencedthem,andCawlhadhadhisway.TheresultwasworthupsettingtheAdeptusMechanicus’religioussensibilities.

The machinery still had the ugly look of 41st millennium technology, butGuillimanreckonedtherewasatenpercentincreaseintacticalresponsivenessalone.Multiple redundancies and newly integrated systems allowed for bettersurvivability.Dozens of tech-priests fromCawl’s faction laboured to keep thearchmagos’finelybalanceddesignworking,butitdidwork,andexcellentlyso.‘My lords and ladies,’ said Guilliman, ‘today will be a great day for theImperium.IcommendyoutotheprotectionoftheEmperor,thelordofmankind.Nowgo–toyourvesselsandwarmachines!Toyourtransports!Towar!’‘War!War!War!’theyresponded.Themajorityof thecommanders leftquickly.Hololithsblinkedout.Soon thecommanddeckwasemptybutforGuilliman’scorecommandstaffandtheship’sbridgeofficers,thoughthatstillamountedtoalmostfourhundredpeople.About the graphic of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2, the dull red signifiers of enemycraftbegantomove.‘Theenemyresponds,’saidGuilliman.‘Allfleettoengagefullthrust.Wefalluponthemwithoutmercy.’Shipmaster Brahe stood from his throne and leaned upon the array ofviewscreensthatclusteredabouthisstation.‘Macragge’sHonourtofullthrust,’hesaid.‘Allfleettofullthrust.’‘Allfleettofullthrust!’repeatedtheMasterDivulgatustohisoppositenumbersacrossthefleet.Arippleofactivityspreadoutacrossthetieredworkbanksandstationpitsofthedeck.Field-integritytechniciansadjustedtheenergymatricesthat stabilised the ship’s frame, compensating for the coming acceleration.Enginariumtech-priestspassedonminuteadjustmentstotheircounterpartsdeepintheship’senginehalls.Reactoroutputswerecarefullymonitored.‘Reactorready,’reportedametal-facedtech-adept.‘Enginariumready,’saidamaninasmartensign’suniform.A coterie of electro-priests began the hymn, Body Electric. Tech-priestsmutteredtheirprayersovertheirdesks.TheMasterMotivatusgrippedtherailofhispodium.Aroundhiminacirculararray a dozen servitors sat, the calculations required tomove theMacragge’sHonour from its current position into its attack run flickering through theirbutcheredbrains.Cogitatorsbleepedoutrapidbeatsofbinharicasthedatawastransferredtothem.‘Compliance.Enginesoperatingatmaximumefficiency,’theservitorssaidwithonevoice.‘Fullthrustinthree,two,one.Mark,’saidtheMasterMotivatus.

‘Mark.Engaging.’Arumblingsoundedaft,drawingcloserliketheapproachofagreatengine.Atremor passed up the ship, growing stronger. Machines burbled as it passedthroughtheirfabric.Itjoinedwiththeneverendingthrumoftheship’ssystems,becameonewithit,andpassedfromthecrew’snotice.Accelerationwasagentlepushinthechest,atrailingheavinessthatdraggedattheheels.TheMacragge’sHonourbuiltuptoonehundredthofthespeedoflight.Aroundit,thefleet’senginesblinkedintolifeasallthevesselsbegantheiracceleration,holdingformationperfectly.108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2grewrapidly.The first round of projectiles came at them not long after. The smallerdestroyers escorting the larger cruisers and battleships fired anti-munitionsweaponsinresponse.Aseriesofpinprickexplosionsstartedupandsoonbecameaconstantaccompaniment to theadvance.Ahandfulof torpedoesgot through,dangerousfortheirkineticenergymorethanthepayloadstheycarried,buttheyexploded upon the void shields of the ships, hundreds of metres short of thehulls.Theshieldsblinkedandflashedastheyshunteddestructiveenergiesintothewarp.Guilliman watched without concern. Such long-range exchanges were neverdecisive, nor particularly damaging. On the main tacticarium, the fingers ofGuilliman’sclawformationexpanded.Hetappedoutafewordersonadata-slatetoadjustthepositioning,butforthemomentthemostimportantpartofhisplanwasbeingperformedcorrectly.TheNullShipsweremovingbetweenthePitofRaukos and the planet. Their presence would disrupt any daemonic incursionthatmight come through, while Sisters of Silence andGreyKnights AdeptusAstartes were stationed across the fleet, ready to deal with any on-boardmanifestations.Therewouldbenosupernaturalaidfortheenemy.108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2 grew larger and larger. It was a dull, orange ball of aworld with ice caps of frozen water. Miserable patches of green covered itsequatorial regions,but in themain itwasdesert.Another low-gradeworld tooremotetosettle.Theywerecloseenoughnowthattheengineflaresoftheenemywerevisibletothenakedeye.TheChaosshipswerespreadingout,attemptingtointerceptthefingersoftheclawheadon.Guillimanwatchedtheirmanoeuvring.Therewasnoonewarlord incontrol;hecouldsee thatby theway theshipswereoperating.Theymovedinclosegroups,eachwarbandstickingtoitsown.

Chaosresistedauthority.Itwasaweaknesstheprimarchhadexploitedtimeandagain.Four smaller groups struck out on their own, poorly coordinated with eachotherandwiththefifth,largestgroup.Thislastformationmadeupthemajorityof the fleet, and its ships moved in good order, fanning out in a standardinterception pattern towards the leftmost of the two leading Imperialbattlegroups.The challenge was there, in the Word Bearers fleet. They were behind theconstructionofmany temples to theDarkGods.Somethingof thescaleof theorbital fane was rarely undertaken by other traitors. The Word Bearers werefanatical in theirdevotion,raisinggiant templesontheworldstheyconquered,andtheywouldfighttothelasttodefendthem.The leading elements of Guilliman’s fleet started firing as soon as theyapproached towithin amillion kilometres.Broad spreads of torpedoes fannedout in intersecting patterns. Cannons hurled multi-ton anti-ship shells at theenemy. Suchmunitionswould takeminutes to arrive, andmostwould not hittheirtargets,buttheywerenotintendedto.Guillimanwasclosingoffavenuesofmanoeuvre for the traitors with streams of explosives, forcing them into thepositionshewanted.The second finger of his clawwas intercepted by one of the smaller enemybattlegroups. Both were travelling at such speed that only a brief flurry ofbroadsideswasexchangedbeforetheirrespectivevelocitiestorethemawayfromeach other. The discharge of powerful nova cannons obscured the combat. Abrighterlightsuggestedareactordeathhadconsumedavessel.Whentheaugurscleared and the light died away, the Imperial battlegroup was speeding on,leavingoneofitscruiserswallowingafire.Thetraitorfleethadcomeoffworse,being badly mauled. Four grand cruisers made up the core of its force,surroundedbyacrowdoflesserships.Twoofthecruisershadbeenhithard:onelistedoff theflightpathof its fellows,enginesout,whilefiresburnedallalongthesideoftheother,anditwasfallingbehind.Theremainingtwocruiserswerecomingstraightfortheflatwalloftheclaw’spalm.Guilliman’shandstappedouttargetingdataonhisinstruments.‘Wallgroupinggamma – target and annihilate traitor battlegroup,’ he said. The MasterDivulgatusrelayedhisorderstotherelevantships.‘Theyarerash’saidTribuneColquan.‘Theycannotgetbyus.’‘Perhaps,’saidGuilliman.‘Theymaybeattemptingtodisruptourformation.’‘Todamageonebattlegroup?Wehaveseven,andthewalloftheclaw-palm.’

‘Then to distract us, or perhaps there has been a falling out between theirwarlords.Ormaybetheyarerunning.’Guillimantookhiseyesfromhisdisplaysand the tacticarium to spare the Custodes a glance. ‘I make no assumptions.Neithershouldyou.’Ashespoke,hisscaritched,remindinghimofthelasttimehe had been in error, a situation the primarch had sworn privately never torepeat.Colquan’s lipcurled.Hedislikedbeing lecturedon tactics.Guillimandidnotrelent. Though they remained superlative individual warriors, the AdeptusCustodes had rarely served as generals since the old times, and centuries ofisolationismhaddulledwhatcommandabilitiestheyhadoncepossessed.‘Never underestimate the enemy, Colquan. Nine times out of ten, a mixedgroupoftraitorswillbedisorganisedandinternallydivisive,butthetenthtimethey will surprise and destroy you. Their greatest lords can forge the mostantagonisticwarbandsintoadevastatingfightingforce.Theirintentionsherearecounter-envelopment and delay.Their sorcererswill be attempting to summondaemonicallieswhiletheirbattlefleetkeepsusoccupied.’He glanced at his concilia psykana, several Space Marine and PrimarisLibrarians stationed close at hand. The mortal humans looked pained by thenearbySistersofSilence.‘Itisso,’confirmedtheirleader,CodicierDonasMaximoftheAuroraChapter.‘Thereisaweakeningintheveil.Thewarpisunquiet.’‘Thentheyareattemptingtobringinwarp-spawnedaid.Itwillnothelpthem.’Guilliman put from his mind the unspeakable things the sorcerers would bedoing;thecreaturesofthegodswouldonlycometoofferingsofblood,soulsandpain.‘Mylord,’saidtheMasterAugurum.‘Primarytargetwillbewithinrangeintenminutes,nineseconds.’‘He’sfiftysecondsoffinhisestimation,’saidColquan.‘Ifyouprefer,youcantakehisplace,tribune.’Colquanmadeadismissivenoise.The main body of the Chaos fleet was coming into range of the Imperialbattlegroups.Thevarious signifiers for each enemyvessel acquired screedsoftaggeddataastheaugursofthefleetgatheredmoreinformationonthem.Fiveancient battleships formed the core of the chief grouping. Three were of theWord Bearers Traitor Legion, as Guilliman had expected; the remaining twobelongedtotheIronWarriors.AncientbeaconsintheircorruptedhullsbroadcastcodesdatingbacktotheGreatCrusade.Guillimanrecognisedthenamesoftwo

of the ships. The fleets of Chaos often differed to those of the Imperium,incorporatingmanyclassesof shipno longerproduced.Their battleshipswerespear-headed things, sleek and deadly – superior patterns from a moreenlightenedtime.The remaining three subgroups of Chaos vessels were speeding past theoutstretchedfingersoftheclawtogetbehindtheImperialfleetandengagetheirvulnerablerear.OneflotillaborethemarkingsoftheLordsofPain,aonce-loyalChapterwhosefullstrengthhadturnedtoChaosduringtheNoctisAeterna;therest were motley collections of pirate vessels and mixed ships from TraitorLegionsandotherrenegades.The three lesser battlegroups could be ignored, for now. SpaceMarine shipswere line breakers, intended to crash through enemy lines and deliver theirwarriors to the surface before disengaging. They were less effective in voidcombat.The battleshipswere a bigger problem.They had arrayed themselves into anarrowheadthatsteppedupasitwentback.Aformationlikethatcoulddoseriousdamagetothewallasthetwoformationspassedthrougheachother.Asone,theenemyopenedfirewiththeirprowweapons.Lancebeamsslashedacross thevoid, splashing toblindingdisplaysofdisplacementenergieson thevoidshields.AglancingblowofftheMacragge’sHonour’sforwardshieldlitupthe deck with lilac energy discharge. Energy waves from an off-target novacannonshot sent ripplesof sparksover the shieldsof the six shipsnearest theflagship.‘Theyaretargetingourposition,’saidtheMasterAugurum.‘Anyfoolcanseethat,’mutteredColquan.Thetribune’scontemptforbaselinehumanitytroubledGuilliman.‘You have spent your life guarding the Emperor, yet you forget who theEmperorguardsinHisturn,’saidGuilliman.‘Bemoreforgiving.’‘As you wish,’ said Colquan. Traditionally, the Adeptus Custodes had takenordersonlyfromtheirownofficersandtheEmperor.ThatwasuntilGuillimanhadbeendeclaredImperialRegent:theEmperor’slivingvoice.‘Hold course,’ Guilliman ordered. ‘All power to forward void shields.BattlegroupsThreeandFive,breakoffandengageoutflankingenemyelements.TargetallLordsofPainChapterassets.Allfleettofireontargetsofopportunityassubsidiaryenemygroupingspass.Allbatteries load forclose-rangecombat.Prepare prow weapons for forward fire. Charge lance batteries to maximum.Novacannonstodrawfiringsolutionsreadyformyorder.’

VariousstationsreportedtheirunderstandingofGuilliman’sorder.Activityonthecommanddeckintensified.Ontheforwardoculus,theshipsgrewfromfleckstoobjectsthesizeofmodels,then bigger, swelling as the Indomitus Crusade fleet swept in at high speed.Perspectiveinthevoidlies.Whentheshipsseemedcloseenoughtotouch,theycontinuedtogrow.Theirspearprowswentfromscalpelsharptogiant,bluntcliffwallsbristlingwithsensorspikesandweaponscupolas.‘Mylord?’askedBrahequestioningly.‘Noordertofire,’saidGuilliman.A stormof laser and solid-shot fire blasted from the forward batteries of theChaos ships.Guilliman ignored it and swepthisgazeover theenemy, seekingweakpointsno augurs could see.Anotherbarrageof lance strikes sparkedofftheforwardshields.ThemajorityoffirewascomingattheMacragge’sHonour,theChaosbattleshipsadjustingpositiontotrackitsapproach.‘Forwardvoidshieldsfailing!’calledouttheMasterScutum.‘Wehavemultipletargetlocksontheflagship,’reportedtheMasterAugurum.‘My lord?’ said Brahe again. He was remarkably calm, more curious to seewhattheprimarchwoulddothananything.MenlikeBrahewererare.‘Amoment,’saidGuilliman.Hisfingersdancedalongthegelscreen,thegivingmaterial distorting as he touched it. Schematics and augur data flashed up inquicksuccessiononphosphordisplaysandminorhololiths.Guillimanreadeachpage quicker than a man could blink, processing volumes’ worth of data inseconds.There.Avoidshieldflicker,outofsyncopationwithitspulsemodulators.Aweakspot.‘That vessel, theSteel Lord,’ he said decisively. ‘Target these positions.’Hishandsdancedoverhisdisplays,depressingkeysandactivatingholomarks inablur.AnimageoftheSteelLordmaterialiseduponasecondaryhololithinfrontofBrahe’sthrone.Targetingdataforascoreofshipsappearedalmostasquickly.The orders were disseminated via datasquirt across the fleet. A flurry ofaffirmationswerereturnedviatheMasterDivulgatus.‘Allvesselsconfirmtargetsacquired.’‘Thenopenfire,’saidGuilliman.Thereservedfireoftengreatshipsofthelineflaredoutatonce,allaimedattheSteelLord.Battleshipscouldwithstandhoursofpounding.Layeredvoidshieldsprotected

theirhulls,andthehulls themselvesweremetres thick, theirvitalcoreshiddendeepinside.Evengutted,abattleshipmightbesalvagedandfightagain,fortheirframeswereforgedfromadamantium.ButaprimarchwasincommandoftheImperialfleet.Andasamasterknapperknows how to strike a flint just so to cause it to split, so RobouteGuillimanknewhowtoslayastarship.Onetinyweaknesswasexploited,andtheshipwascrackedwidebyoverwhelmingfirepower.The Steel Lord’s void shields were overwhelmed instantly, undone by thefrequencyflickerintheirgenerators.Lancebeamsspreadthemselvesasgoldenpoolsbeforetheshieldsgaveoutwithaguttering,brandyfire.Thousandsoftonsofsolidandexplosiveordnancefollowed.TheSteelLordweatheredtheimpactsforagoodtwentysecondsbeforethesparkingfiresonitshullgatheredintoonegianteructationofflamethatbrokeitsspine.Asecondlater,thereactorblew.Aminiature sun engulfed the ship in a perfect yellow sphere. The oculus of theMacragge’sHonourdimmedinresponse.Theedgesofthereactornovatouchedthe shields of the Steel Lord’s sister ships, bringing them down in storms ofsquirmingpurplelightning.TheImperialfleethadnotslowed,andtheenemyshipswerevastintheiroculi.‘Allships,engagementmanoeuvres!’commandedGuilliman.‘Fireatwill!’Expertly, the formation of the palm broke apart, passing between the enemyvessels.TheMacragge’sHonourpunchedthroughtheboilingcloudleftbehindbytheSteelLord.WreckageflashedtonothingonitsvoidshieldsandthentheImperial flagshipwas through, its guns raking down the sides of the exposedChaosvessels.TheImperialshipsfiredtheirbroadsides.TheChaosshipsfiredback,buttwoof the remaining fourwere shieldless, and they peeled away, venting flamingatmosphere. As the palm wall went through the enemy formation, the threefingers of the claw not engaged with the lesser fleets had turned and werecomingback,firingdirectlyatthevulnerableenginestacksoftheChaosvessels.Atitanicexplosionrockedoneintoanuncontrollablespinasitsstackswentup.Itrolledaway,missingitsstern.Therewere no cheers on the deckof theMacragge’sHonour.Allworked toensurevictory.Celebrationcouldwait.The Chaos formation was disrupted. The fingers of the claw harried theremaining threebattleships and their escorts as thepalm racedon towards theorbital platform under construction at 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2’s highest orbitalanchor.

Thefanewasfarfromfinished,butitsbasicframeworkwasinplace:aneight-pointed star like a compass wheel, the symbol the priests of the Dark Godscalledtheocted.Strangelightsplayedaboutitscentre.Asfireflashedbehindthem,theshipsofthepalmapproachedunopposed.ThelightaboutthehubofthewheelofChaosshonebrighter.‘Ninety degrees to starboard,’ ordered Brahe. ‘Show it our big guns. Targetenemybattlegroupwiththeportsidebatteries.’Theshiprumbledaroundastorpedoesfromthesmallercraftaccompanyingitraced towards the octed. The turn was performed in the face of decelerativeforce,and thevesselmoanedas itwasforcedaround,but itwasdonequickly.Theorbitalmovedoutofviewoftheforwardoculus.Sideviewswerebroughtontothemainhololithtacticarium.‘Openfire!’roaredGuillimanastheshiplinedup.‘Bringitdown!’Banksofmacrocannonsboomedinseriesalongthesideofthebattleship,theirrecoil making the command deck shudder. Energy had to be diverted to theintegrityfieldsthatheldtheshiptogether,sogreatwastheviolenceofthegunscombinedwith that of the turn.Giantmunitions slammed into the incompletetemple-station, pruning it of spear-tipped arms and breaking its hub. Bombsdesigned to kill whole worlds were deployed to ensure its demise. After twovolleys,all that remainedof theoctedwasanareaofspinningorbitaldebrisathousandkilometresacrossandstillexpanding.‘Andsotheysee,nofanetotheirDarkGodswilltheyraisethatIshallnotcastdown!’ said Guilliman. ‘These traitors oppose the will of the Emperor’s lastfaithfulson.Theywilllearntheerroroftheirways.TenthousandyearssomeofthemhavedefiedtheEmperor.Theirlivesendnow!’Therewasnovesselpowerful enough todefy theMacragge’sHonour. Therewere a few remaining Chaos battleships, and under different stars theymighthavebeenamatchforthevenerableflagship,buttheImperialfleetoutnumberedthe traitors and Guilliman wielded his armada expertly. The traitors weredisunited.Thelastbattleshipswerequicklyisolated.Unwillingtoactinconcertat first, then rapidly made unable to do so, the disparate battlegroups of theChaos fleet could do nothing to halt theMacragge’s Honour as it poweredthroughthedebrisfieldofthetemple-stationandtowardstheworldbeyond.AstheImperial fleetswung intoorbit, thestratosphereflashed to thedischargeofground-baseddefencelasers.TheMacragge’sHonourrockedtotheimpactofmultiplehits.‘MasterDivulgatus,sendmywordstothefleet,’saidGuilliman.

‘Mylord,’theMasterDivulgatusreplied.‘The station is destroyed!’ said the primarch. ‘The way is open. All landingshipsmove forward. Begin deployment ofmain ground attack. In the face oftheirfire,putdownyourarmiesandyourlegions.GeneralsoftheImperium,itistimetoscourthisworldclean.’

CHAPTERSEVEN

LASTFLIGHTOFTHEGREYSHIELDS

A furious shaking gripped the Rudense. The wailing of alarms filled the air,accompanied by the dull, edge-of-hearing crackle of void shield generatorsworking to capacity. Then the clamour was done. The insertion craft brokethroughtheenemyline,andtheUnnumberedSonsreadiedthemselvestogotowaronefinaltime.‘Brothers, we are approaching the insertion point,’ voxed Lieutenant Sarkis.‘Dropintwominutes.Beginfinalpreparations.Imperatorvictoriam!’‘Victoriam!’hiswarriorsreplied.OfthemanytensofthousandsofPrimarisSpaceMarinescreatedbyBelisariusCawl, only half were initially formed into new Chapters. The rest had beengatheredintogreatarmies,eachofonegene-line.Theyworetheliveryoftheirfounding primarchs, their badges crossedwith pale grey chevrons, andwithintheir gene-groupings they were then further organised into Chapter-sizedformations.There,agreementwiththeCodexAstartesended.Guillimandeployedhisnewweapons in everyway imaginable.ThePrimarisSpaceMarinessometimesfoughtastheLegionsofoldhad,inhugeformationsof one type, but they also fought in mixed groups of every size, from striketeamsof five up to doubleChapter strength.Theyknew the strengths of theirgene-cousins, and theirpreferences.Brotherhoodcrossed the linesofprimarchand gene-seed. Officially, they were designated the Unnumbered Sons of the

Primarchs,buttheycalledthemselvestheGreyshields.Theywerethenewsonsofoldscience,andtheyhadnofraternitybuttheirown.As the Indomitus Crusade progressed, the Unnumbered Sons had dwindled.Roboute Guilliman took them from their companies and their squads, and heassignedthemtounderstrengthSpaceMarinesChaptersencounteredontheway.Whole companies might be hived off, or only a few units. Sometimes theprimarch took themby the hundred to create newChapterswhere he saw theneed: to guard important worlds, or to scour an area of space, or to performwhateverothertaskhedeemedimportant.Warriorbywarrior,theUnnumberedSons were scattered across the galaxy, taking with them the secrets of theircreation to their new homes. Sons of Guilliman became Aurora Marines orDoomEagles;sonsofDornjoinedtheBlackTemplarsortheImperialFists;sonsof Corax became Raven Guard or Revilers. By the time the fleet reachedRaukos, only twenty thousand of the Unnumbered Sons’ original strengthremainedintheIndomitusCrusade.Foronesuchmixedbrotherhood,thefinalbattleapproached.SergeantJustinianandhisInceptorsquadhungfromroboticdroparms.Therewerethreewarriorsineachunitandsixunitsintheirbay,alongwiththeirleader,LieutenantSarkis.Cordus,scionofthelineofGuilliman,flewwithJustinian,asdidAldredofDorn’sbreed. In the ship’sother twodropbays, thirty-sixmorePrimarisSpaceMarinesawaitedbattle.Theyweregiantscladindroparmour–Inceptorbattleplatereinforcedforsoloatmosphericre-entry–andequippedwithheavyjumppacksforsustainedflight.Forarmament,theycarriedpairedassaultbolters. Like their armour, these gunswere one ofBelisariusCawl’s hereticalmarvels,massivepistolswiththestoppingpowerofheavybolters.In the dark bay, lit only by the winking lights of machines at their work,Justinian’s comrades were outlines edged in green and red. His view wasrestrictedbyamassivejumppack.ThewarriorbeforehimwasSolus,hisfriend,thoughonly theBaalite redofhisplate,blooddark in thedrophold,gavehisidentityaway.Hisbackwashighandroundlikethatofamonstrousbeetle,thebackward-pointingnozzlesapairofsteel-toothedmaws.Soluswassostill,andhissuitsolarge,thatfromtherearheappearedwhollyrobotic.Notraceofthemaninsidecouldexpressitselfthroughthelayeredceramite.‘Exloading mission data. Prepare armour cogitators for cant reception,’ saidSarkis.Justinian’searpiecechimed.‘Activatedropoverlays.Missionactive.’TheoverlayobstructedmoreofJustinian’slimitedview.Pulsedlasersflickeredattheedgeofhiseye-lenses,projectingafalse-worldfaceplatedisplaydirectly

uponhisretinas.Thegiantreticleofadroppelorusblinkedinfrontofhim–twostationery circles contained by cross hairs, all divided by fine rules ofmeasurement.Themissioncountglowedadullorange,alleightdigitsatzero.‘Programme drop coordinates. Beta-7987-3872, Kappa-0031-4822. Confirm,’saidSarkis.TheoverlaytookupthewholeofJustinian’ssight.Thoughitexistedonlyinthewitchworldofthesquad’sminornoosphere,thepelorusseemedtohangsolidlyintheairbeforehim.Usingtheneurallinksconnectinghisnervoussystemtohissuit and its cogitator, he brought the coordinates onto the grid. The display’slarge wheel turned within its twin, shifting through three dimensions as theRudense ploughed its way towards their drop point and his armour trackedJustinian’s position. A faint roar came from the ship’s engines, the vibrationsconducted directly to Justinian’s armour byway of the drop claw. The gentlepushback of oppositional forces grew stronger as the craft accelerated. TheRudensealwayscameinfast.‘Confirmed,’ said Justinian. Indicators on his display blinked green as hehomed in his suit’s auto-senses and cogitator on the drop zone. Paired runesflickered to the same colour in the top left – his squad was also locked on.‘Squadconfirmed.’The other sergeants acknowledged mission readiness as their own suitsprocessedthedropdata.‘Thirtysecondstoplanetarydrop,’saidSarkis.‘Finalweaponscheck.’Justinianwent through theprocedure automatically, barely consciousofwhathis hands were doing. Runic indicators flickered, half obscured by the droppelorusdominatinghisview.Drummagazinesonhisassaultboltersspanaroundonce, ammo feeds clicking. Chimes informed him all waswell. ThemachinespiritofhisInceptorsuitperformedanumberofautomaticadjustments.Hissingatmosphere lines increased his internal suit pressure. The reactor beneath hisjumpengineswhinedintohighoutputmodethenbackagain,andhisjetsgaveasingle hollow huff that jolted him in his harness. In front of him, Solus’ jetsignitedasecondlater,metalteethspinningaroundatrappedvortexofbluefire,thenwentout.A schematic of his armour blinked in the upper right of Justinian’s view,segmentsswitchingfromambertogreen.Hewasonlyhalfwatchingallthis.Hetrustedhisbattleplate’sspirit toreadyitselfoncetheritualactivationhadset iton the appropriate path. The ship shook hard. The engines’ voices changedtimbre.Thepushofaccelerationshiftedaroundhisbodyastheshipcurvedaway

from an unseen threat. Several more jarring shakes followed as the Rudensecameunderfire.‘There isafirestormout there,’saidSarkis. ‘Theenemyaredispleasedtoseeus.’‘Wasthatajoke,Sarkis?’saidBjarni,bornofthelineofRuss.‘Idonotjoke,’repliedthelieutenant.‘Awrycommentthen,’saidBjarni.Thewolf’ssonwashangingfromthedropline next to Justinian. He tapped him on the armwith the butt of his assaultbolter.‘Wishmeluck,brother,’hesaidquietly.Vox-beadsfedhisvoicedirectlyintoJustinian’sears.‘Whydoyouneedluckmorethantherestofus?’Solusinterrupted.‘It’smythirteenthplanetfall,’grumbledBjarni.‘Anill-favourednumber.’‘The primarch’s Legion was the thirteenth! Do you not remember?’ saidJustinian.‘Why would I forget?’ replied Bjarni. ‘But where is the Thirteenth Legionnow?’‘Made into Chapters ten thousand years ago, for the greater good of theImperium,’saidCordus.‘Broken intopieces youmean,’ saidBjarni. ‘I donotwant to bebroken intopieces.’Redlumensflashed.Theairwassuckedoutbypowerfulfans.Thenoiseinthebaywentwithit.‘Doorsopening,doorsopening,doorsopening,’dronedamachinevoice.The narrow bay doors slid back, letting in a corridor of bright sunlightunsoftenedbyatmosphericdiffraction.ResidualshipairfrozeuponthemetalofthePrimarisSpaceMarines’armour,bringingadiamondsheentothebattleplate.The drop armswent into action, pushing them out from the side of the ship,throughahullfivemetresthick,andintothefuryofvoidwar.TheRudensewasasmallshipofaclassdesignedspecificallyfortheIndomitusCrusade. Its Adeptus Astartes complement was set at fifty – not even a fullcompany.Butthewarriorsaboardhadanimportantrole,oneneverseeninthearmies of the Space Marines before the Ultima Founding. Slender as a dart,sevenhundredmetreslongandasfastasitsshapesuggested,theRudensewasheavily armed for its size class, and strengthened to withstand brushes withplanetary atmospheres. Itwas a rapid insertion craft, intended to fight itswaythrough themaelstromofclose-rangeorbitalcombatanddeliver itspayload tothesurfacedirectlyfromtheedgeofaplanet’satmosphere.

Itonlyhadsmallhangarsandnodroppodtubes.TheRudensewassomethingnew,andithadtakentheenemybysurprisemanytimes.Explosions burst around the Rudense, and Justinian’s helm lenses darkenedagainst the dazzle. Lasbeams stabbed from the ship’s side out to infinity. Thewideraysofdefencelasersslammedupfromtheplanetbelow,buttheRudensewasartfulatdeception,anditwasneverwherethelasersfired.A massive explosion ahead sent shivers along the ship. The Space Marinesswung below their drop arms. Flaming debris span past, wreathed in dyingsparksandglitteringices.AnescortofinterdictionfightersacceleratedandfellinalongsidetheRudense,weavingthroughtheturmoilandthenoffahead,gunsblazing. Justinian’s view of the battle was limited by the projecting shieldsshelteringthePrimarisSpaceMarinesfromthedeadlyimpactsofmicroshrapneland direct attack. Behind, the ship’s iron immensity blocked off everything.Somewherebeyondthatgreatmetalcliff,largershipswouldbefighting.For all the fury of the anti-ship fire streaking up from the surface, beneathJustinian’s feet theworld floatedpeacefully by, its ochre surfacehazedby theblueofa thinatmospheremottledwithcloudsand theirshadows.Hehadseenmanyworlds from thisvantagepoint.Hehad thoughthewouldgrow jadedatthe sight eventually, but he never had. Every world was different, and whenviewed from this height, every world – whether hell or paradise – had beenbeautifulinitsownway.‘Thecalmbeforethestorm,brother,’saidSolus,asifreadinghisthoughts.‘These places we fight for,’ said Kalael, his armour the green of the DarkAngels.‘Howsmall theyare.Weholdthattoourselvesasasecrettruth.Fromspace,everyworldisbutafragileglassornamentagainsttheinfiniteblack.’‘Tenseconds.Nineseconds.Eightseconds…’Themachinecounteddown.Justinian kept his eyes on the planet. Flashes of light burst further along itscurve,drawingcloseras theshipraced towards thebattlesite.Groundcombatfrom orbit looked deceptively celebratory, a display of multi-hued explosionsandstormsoflightthatappearedtooartfultobedestructive.Shockwavesburstclouds apart, and he spied Titans lumbering away from their coffin ships.Beneaththesheathofair,thegiantwarmachineswerelikeaquaticinsectsthathadneverlearnthowtoswim,doomedtolaboriouslyplodalongthepondfloor.‘Battleground two hundred and fifty kilometres and closing!’ said Sarkis, hisexcitement revealing itself as a slight rise in his voice. ‘Prepare for drop!Emperorpreserveusinourflightandgrantmighttoourfists!’‘Fourseconds.Mark,’saidthemachinevoice.‘Three,two,one.Drop.Unit10-

5011/32Aaway.’ThedroparmdisengagedfromSarkis’back.Theclawthatheldhimdang lingovertheplanet’sskyopenedsilently.Adisposablethrusterburnedontopofhisdrop pack, shooting him towards the target zone, and the black-clad son ofFerrus Manus fell away. The booster exhausted its fuel supply quickly anddetached.Sarkisfellwithoutaword,plummetingtowardstheworldassurelyasacogitator-guidedmunition.Therewasaflaringburstofjetsashecorrectedhiscourse, and he was gone. Half a second later, the machine intoned Bjarni’sPrimaris number. The wolf’s son fell with a whoop, a grey streak, his squadgoing one, two after him, swift as heartbeats, their impeller jets burning anddetaching.ThenitwasJustinian’sturn.‘Unit13-10889/189Eaway,’saidthemachine,andlethimfall.The claw’s release was gentle as a kiss, the firing of the impeller hard as apunch.Itceasedafterasecond’sburn.Justinianfeltitcomeawayfromhisjumppack,abumpinhisotherwisesmoothflight.Justinian plummeted. The long, slender shape of the Rudense vanishedoverhead,becomingabladeof light in theskysurroundedby thestarburstsoforbitalcombat.Theshipdrewaway, trailingawakeof false lightning throughtheworld’smagnetosphereandchasedbythestabbingbeamsofenemylances.Enemy fighters sped after it, drawing their own lines in the sky. Navalinterceptors approached obliquely. They made marvellous patterns about thecruiser.Justinian fixed the sight in hismemory, and ordered his armour to capture aseries of images at fifty millisecond intervals. Maybe if he survived this, hewouldpaintthewarinspace.Justinianlikedtopaint.The pelorus’ nested reticles shifted slightly, and he looked down.The circlestiltedwithinoneanother,providinghimwithafalsehorizonandaverticalgaugeto sethisdescentby.CordusandAldredwerebrightorange teardropsdriftingacrossthecircles,themembersoftheothersquadsyellowdotsspreadaboveandbelow.A blue line rose up the display towards him. The atmosphere of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2wasthin.Itwouldtakehimtwentyminutestofalltotheground.Forminuteshefellinsilence.Thesurfacewassofarawayheappearedtobemakingnoprogress.Thereisnosharpdelineationbetweenaworld’sairenvelopeandthevoid,butinsteadaregionofincreasingattenuationwhere,atombyatom,airgiveswayto

vacuum. But there does exist a point where the air becomes thick enough tosupport atmospheric flight – the Kármán line – and there, air becomes thickenoughtofeel.Justinianhititwithajolt.Heatfollowedalmostimmediatelyasfriction,imperceptibleonlymomentsbefore,quicklybuiltaroundhisarmour.Aplasma-torchroarfilledhisears.The comingmoments were critical. Gaining a good angle of descent at thisstagewouldensuremissionsuccess–acolourlessstatementthatmeantonlythathewouldnotdiebeforetheenemygotachancetoshootathim.Analarmsoundedinhisear.Cordus’signifierflashed.‘Cordus,correctcoursetwopointsvertical,youaredrifting,’saidJustinian.‘Yes, brother sergeant,’ Cordus responded. His signifier dot and itsaccompanying rune moved across Justinian’s display, and the graphic ceasedblinking.Theothersspreadoutintoawidedispersionpattern.Threetargetsawaitedthedemi-company’s attention: a series of closely bunched bastions, each onebristlingwithordnance.A bright corona of heat streamed around Justinian, most intense about thereinforced ceramite of his boots. It became uncomfortable, but not dangerous.ProvidedtherewasnobreachinhisInceptorbattleplate,hewouldbesafe.Soonafter,hereachedterminalvelocityandstoppedaccelerating.Thecurveofthe world grew quickly, filling his vision with the ground. As the minutespassed,spaceretreatedtotheperipheryofhisvisionandvanished.Whenthelastof the black was gone, he finally felt like he was falling. Individual surfacefeatures resolved themselves, details popping into sharp definition, though allwere flattened by his relative height, so that mountains appeared as paintedflourishesuponaroundcanvas.Belowhim,fightingrageduponaplainborderedbyarangeofhillspiercedbyawidevalley.Acrossthevalleymouthwasagreatwall,andastrongfortressnotfar behind. Two battle lines became visible. Their exchanges of fire werestartlingweavesoflight.AvastphalanxofAstraMilitarumtanks,supportedbyAdeptus Mechanicus cyborg troops and war machines, advanced on the wallfromthedropzone.Thewall looked like a ribbon,but in truth itwas almostonehundredmetrestall, and fortywide. The Titans of the LegioMetalica swelled, their carapaceinsignia taking on form. They were now the size of men, and the warriorsmilling about their feet had become the insects. The scene grew beforeJustinian’seyes,unfoldinglikeafractaltapestry.

Aircraftspedbelow,swiftasavians,duellingwithdraconicdaemonenginesforcontrolofthesky.‘Demi-company split,’ ordered Sarkis. ‘Squads to target designated missionobjectivesinthree,two,one.Firejets.Formationdisperse.’‘Fire jets!’ ordered Justinian. A smaller reticle ignited in the centre of hispelorusandsettledoverhisownsquad’slandingzone:themiddletowerofthewall.Thetallestone.Hisjetsroaredfuriouslyagainstthedragoftheplanet.Justinianslowedonlyalittle,buthiscoursealtered,andhewassenthurtlinglaterallytowardsthetower.They avoided firing their jets until the last second of a drop. When theInceptors had first been deployed, the enemy had mistaken their squads forfallingdebrisorstraymunitions.Inthechaosofbattle,theyhadbeenpaidlittleattentionuntilitwastoolate.Lately,thefoesoftheImperiumhadbecomewisetoInceptordroptactics.Theskyfilledwithastormofflakmomentsaftertheirjetsfinishedburning.Justinian fell through a wash of fire. Shrapnel pinged off his armour. Thethunderofatmospherelessened.Thedemi-company’sattackspreadwidened,thedotsthatdenotedeachwarriorperfectlypositionedinthreeclusters,oneforeachdefencetower.Thetargetwentfromachild’stoytoatoweringedificeinamatterofseconds.‘Fire jets, prolonged burst,’ he ordered. ‘Decelerate to engagement speed.Rousethespiritsofyourweapons.’Heheftedhisownguns,eagertounleashthemupontheenemy.Hisjetsignitedagain,and this time theystayedburning.The fuelgauge inhisdisplay rapidlyfell fromfull toa thirdashebraked.Hewasno longer fallingbut flying,andthatateuphisfuelquickly.Inagracefularc,heandhissquadthunderedtowardstheupperbattlementsofthetower.Thebastionwasludicrouslyembellishedwithscreamingdaemonicfaces, itscrenellations tallandfashionedintounnecessaryspikes,butitwaswellarmoured,andfourquadflakcannonssquattedinheavyturretsateachcorner,bangingoffshotsattheattackingSpaceMarines.HereticAstartes opened fire as the Inceptors approached, and their fire was moreworrisome than the flak cannons. A bolt round spanked off the cowling ofJustinian’sleftjetnozzle,staggeringhisflight.Moreboltscame,thenaflurryofthem.Cordus’ ident signifier blinked to red and fell away from Justinian’s display.Justinian riskedaglanceback.SmokeandexplosionshidCordus’ fate,andhedidnotseehiscomradedie.

Another bolt smacked into his breastplate, cracking the outer casing andfracturingthepowercablingbeneath.Smokeblewfromthecrackandhisjumppack engines coughed.A lurching dropmade his stomach flip. Icons blinked,alarmssquealed.Justinianpreparedtofalltohisdeathwhilehesoughtasolutiontohispowerfailure.Athisurging,thecogitatorinhissuitreroutedpower.Thejets roaredagain,andhesurgedonwithrenewedspeed.Sealant foambubbleduptoplugthebreachinhisarmour.Theenemywouldhavetotryhardertostophimthanthat.Justinian dropped down then burst upward and over the battlements, Aldredbeside him. Half a dozen members of the Iron Warriors lined the parapet.Boltguns flashed, revealing horned helms and faceplates cast with daemonicvisages.Theywereterrifyingfoes,madeAdeptusAstartesbytheEmperorandgranted greater vigour by their Dark Gods. Once, they were the mightiestwarriorsinthegalaxy.Theywerethemightiestnolonger.‘Your death has been too long coming!’ Justinian roared, his voxed shoutblasting from his helm as he descended on pillars of fiery smoke. ‘PrepareyourselvesfortheEmperor’sjudgement!’Hecamedownwithabone-jarringthumphardenoughtocracktheferrocreteofthetower,gunsalreadyblazingfire.Assaultbolterswerepowerfulweapons,butifusedunwiselytheywouldrunthroughtheirammunitionstoresinseconds.Justiniancheckedhisfury.Theresupplypodshadyettoland.Even utilised with care, the assault bolters fired at a terrifying rate. Flamesblazed fromtheweapons’exhaust slots.Explosionssmashed the IronWarriorsfromtheirfeet,hurlingthembackwardswithaforcethatastandardboltercouldnothopetoemulate.Bjarnicameovertheside,howlingjoyously,hiswarriorsfollowinghim.ThencameSergeantRusticus’squad,ofwhichSoluswasapart.ThePrimarisSpaceMarineslookedalmostasdaemonicastheirfoes,withtheirvaricolouredliveriesscorched and smoking from the heat of their descent. Caught between themurderous crossfire of eight Primaris Inceptors, the IronWarriorswere cut topieces.OneofthemcameatJustinianthroughthefirestorm,achainaxeraised.Justinianleaptbackfromhimwithacontrolledburstofhisjets,retargetingoneofhisgunsonthewarriorasheflew.Hecouldnotlettheenemygetclose.TheInceptorload-out’sonlyrealweaknesswasalackofmeleeweaponry.Thegunsheheldinhisgauntlets,however,meant itwasn’tmuchofaweaknessatall.

Justinian’sboltshit the traitor square in thechest.The IronWarrior’santiquearmour burst apart, spraying his ancient innards in a red slick across theramparts,andhischainaxefelltotheground.Itsteethbitontheferrocrete,anditspanmadlybeforethemotorcutoutwithamutedgrowl.‘For theEmperor!ForGuilliman!Formankind!’ Justinian shouted, stampingacross the bastion’s roof. He was taller than the Heretic Astartes. Shock-absorbentcalipersaroundthe lowerpartofhis legsandfeetgrantedhimmoreheight,andhefiredovertheheadsofhisenemyastheydroppeddead.Thelastofthetraitorsfell.Theyhadnotbeencaughtbysurprise;theyhadseenthe Inceptors coming. It did notmatter.None could stand before the PrimarisSpaceMarines,thenewsonsoftheEmperor.SergeantRusticus’warriorswenttotheflakcannons,raisedtheirassaultboltersand riddled the firingmechanisms.Bolts exploded inside the guns, setting offtheir shells. The cannon barrels fell away from popping detonations, clangingfrom the ornate tower sides and falling down to thewall ramparts far below.Soonallfourcannonsweresmokingruins.‘Primaryobjectiveachieved.Anti-airgunsaresilent,’voxedJustinian,hisfeedgoing to Lieutenant Sarkis and the command cadre of his Primaris Chaptersimultaneously.‘Pursuingsecondaryobjective.’WithAldred’sgarishImperialFistsyellowathisside,Justinianstormeddownthe stairs into the lower levels. His guns banged out death to everything heencountered. There were an insignificant number of Traitor Space Marineswithin.Thathadbeenthepatterntheselastfewyears.ThearmiesofChaoswerelegion and everywhere, but itwas arguable that theywere losing their best toGuilliman’s relentless crusading. Most of the tower’s defenders were bornthralls,ordeludedmortals fromconqueredworldswhohad thrown in their lotwithevilforthechanceatafewmoreweeks’life.Theycameathiminhordes,dirtyfacesbrandedandtattooed,twistedintodesperatesnarls.Justiniancutthemdownwithoutmercy.‘Deathtothetraitor,whoinweaknessdeniesthesupremacyoftheEmperor,’hesaidemotionlessly.They died messily, their frail bodies blown to pieces by his assault bolters’mass-reactive shells. More took their place, coming so quickly that Justinianceasedfiringtoconservehisammunitionandcommencedclubbingthemdown.Thetowersoonranwithblood,andhisarmour’scolourswereobscured.Justinian and Aldred fought their way further down the stairwell, passingthrough several levels.Bjarni’s squadwasclosebehind them.At the sixteenth

level theypartedways,Bjarnisingingloudlyasheledhissquadmatestowardthepowercore.JustinianandAldredheadedforthebastion’sfire-controlcentre,whose machine banks and slave minds directed the vast array of artilleryprojectingfromthelowerreachesofthebuilding.Theoccasionalvox-blurtcamethrough to Justinian: status updates, or requests for reports from LieutenantSarkis or from his Unnumbered Sons of Guilliman line commander. Nothinghighertierthanthat.Sarkisandotherslikehimborethatresponsibility.Theirguns spoke lessoften.Thebravestof the thrallsweredead.A fewstillthrewthemselveshopelesslyat thePrimarisSpaceMarines.Mostsankto theirkneesandbeggedforforgiveness.Alldied.‘Thereisnoforgiveness.BettertodietwicethanbetraytheEmperor.Youmadethewrongchoice.’AndJustinian’sassaultbolterswouldbark,orhisfistswouldswing,leavingredruinwheremenhadknelt.Battlewasreplacedbyafragilecalmforatime.ThebuildingevincedlittleofthetouchofChaos,beingfairlymadeofplasteelplatinguponaferrocretecoreofnearindestructiblethickness.Thesheermassofitdulledthethunderofbattleoutsideupon theplains,so that theworstof itwasfeltonlyasgentle tremors,and the rest they did not notice at all.Machines hummed in the fabric of thebuilding.Althoughthedecorationwasbarbarous–thegrisly trophiesnailedtowallsandsetuponspikes toldof the IronWarrior’sbloodierproclivities– thewarpwasabsent.When they reached fire control, that changed.A large roomof three steppedtiers, the tower’s fire-control centrewas similar in design to those in Imperialfortifications.Thetwohadthesameorigin,sothatwastobeexpected,butwhatoccupied the fire-control centre here would never be found in any Imperialfacility.Whereranksoftech-thrallsandservitorsshouldsitguidingtheweaponsofthefortress to the commands of their masters, there was instead a thick organicmess. Tendrils of noisome matter linked wall to wall. This filthy mass grewthickerinthemiddle,somehowcomingtogethertomakealivingthing,thoughat itsedgesitwasnothingmorethanasetofflimsy,foldedmembranes.Atitsthickestpart,pulsingveinsmadethewholethingquiver.Asoftkeeningsoundedfrom somewhere, and an intolerable sense of sufferingpressed at thePrimarisSpaceMarines’minds.‘Emperorpreserveus,’saidJustinian.Exposure to warp-born horror did nothing to lessen his revulsion. Countlesstimeshehadseencreaturesmadeofthepressedfleshofmen,mutantweavings

ofcorruptedgenes,anddaemonstrappedinmachineandmortalform.Nomatterhowoftenhesawthesethings,theyneverfailedtodisgusthim.‘If any puremachine exists here, then I commend your spirits to the god ofMars,’ he said loudly. He meant it sincerely. Though he had no belief in theEmperor-as-Omnissiah,herespectedthemachines’ownbeliefs.He raised his gun and opened fire.Aldred joined him, raising both guns andfilling the rottenmess with explosive rounds. The keening became a scream.Gunfireblewhugeholesintheorganism,openingitsinnardstothesmokingair.Hot yellow liquid slopped from it in amounts the thing could not possiblycontain.The screamgrew so loud itmade thenoise-suppression equipment oftheir helmets thrum.When it abruptly cut out, their aural equipment squealedwith relief. The oppressive nature of the room disappeared along with thecreature’sdeathcry.‘Whatever thatwas, it isdead,’ saidAldred.Fycelinesmokewispedfromhisguns.Heatbloomdiscolouredtheirmuzzles.Amomentlater,thelumensdied,andthefewmachinesintheroomrelyingonmorenaturalformsofpowerflickeredoff.‘Bjarnihasfulfilledhisrole,’saidJustinian.HeswitchedtoadirectvoxlinktoLieutenantSarkis. ‘TowerBeta isneutralised.Flakbatteries aredown.Centralfirecontroldestroyed.’‘Affirmative.Notificationheard,’repliedSarkis.‘Wearedonehere.Rendezvouswiththeothers.Awaitfurtherinstruction.’‘Comeon,’saidJustiniantoAldred.‘Weshallwaitupontheroof.Wecanjumpfreeiftheenemydecidetobringthebuildingdownaroundus.’BythetimetheyrejoinedBjarniandRusticus’squadsontheparapet,droppodswereplummetingdownfromtheskylikefieryrain.Theytoucheddownbehindthewall,untroubledbyflakthankstothePrimarisInceptorsquads.Similarly,thearmyoutsidenowadvancedfreefromtheattentionsofartilleryfire.Bjarni peered down over the parapet, then turned his grey helmet towardsJustinianandRusticus.‘Itisboringuphere.’‘Weareawaitingorders,’saidRusticus.‘Weareawaitingorders,’parrotedBjarnidismissively,mockingRusticus’gravevoice. ‘Well, fine for you. I am notmissing the battle. Are you two honestlygoing to stand here and watch?’ He ignited his jump pack, its throaty roardeafening in such proximity. Heat wash battered Justinian as Bjarni’s squadmatesfollowedsuit.

Rusticuscursed.‘Savage,’hesaid,butmeantitfondly,moreorless.Justinianlaugheddrily.‘I would hurry if I were you,’ voxed Bjarni. His assault bolters made longpealing reports under his voice. ‘I will save you some, but there are not thatmanyleft.’‘Heisright,’saidJustinian.‘Heisnotfollowingprotocol,’saidRusticus.‘Lieutenant Sarkis, this is Sergeant Justinian, notifying immediatereengagement in combat. Tower is clear, we move to aid landing forces.’Justinianactivatedhisjets,slowly–slammingthemintoactionlikeBjarnihaddoneshortenedthelifespanofthejetrotors.‘There,brothersergeant,’hesaidtoRusticus.‘Protocolsatisfied.’Justinianopeneduphisjetthrottle.Aldredfollowedhimovertheparapet.Hisfuel indicatorwasblinkingmadly, the tankclosetoexhaustion.Itaddedto theexhilaration of dropping into combat. The ground rushed up at him so fast incomparison tohis stately freefall fromorbit,hebarelyhad time toprocess thesprintingfiguresandexplosionsbeforehewasinthethickofbattle.Heshuthisjetsofftenmetresabovetheground,lettinghisimpactdampenerstakethejoltoffalling.Helandedinacrouch,stoodwiththegrumblingpurrofhisarmoursoothinghisearsandstrodeintobattle.The fighting was ahead of him, the lee of the tower quiet. No drop pod orgunshipcouldlandclosebyit,andnofoesremainedtopourfromthebastion’sarmouredgates.The sunwason theother sideof building, and the shadow itcast coincided with this minor dominion of calm. As soon as Justinian andAldred were out into the full weak light of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2, the battleseemedtonoticethemandgatherthementhusiasticallytoitself.Drop pods filled the space behind thewall, doors blowing openwith violentshouts andallowingout their cargoesofpower-armouredangels.Severalpodshadbeenhit close to theground, and listed, blazing, hazing the airwith thicktowers of black smoke. More numerous were the shattered wrecks of traitorfightingvehicles.Whathadbeenawide-openkillingspacehadbecomeatightlypackedmazeofbrokenarmour.Withinit,age-oldfoeshuntedoneanother,intentonhatredsbornatthedawnoftheImperium.Loosingofftightlycontrolledshots,Justinianstrodeintothebroilofwar.Thetraitorshadbecomefragmented.Manyweretrappedonthewalltensofmetresabove.There theymade their last stand, assailedbySpaceMarines coming atthem from the towers either side andby thegreater forces arrayedoutside the

walls. Otherswere falling back firing, using their armoured vehicles to covertheirretreatbacktotheirfortress.Theirgreatcastleofsteelloomedintheneardistance,morebrutalandoverdecoratedthanthewalltowers.‘WhereisBjarni?’askedJustinian.‘Wewillneverfindhiminthis,’saidAldred.‘ThenweshallcountthosewekillandshamethewolfbrotherwhenwereturntotheRudense.’‘Rusticus,’ saidAldred,pointing to thesky.Theother squad’s threemembershurtleddownfromabove,disappearingintothecauldronofbattle.‘More rivals for the battle tally, as our Fenrisian friend would have it,’ saidJustinian.‘Youspendtoomuchtimewithhim.Warfareshouldbemoreconsidered.’‘YousoundlikeRusticus.’JustinianandAldredweresomassiveintheirheavydroparmourthattheyhadnochanceofstealth,andsotheypoundedthroughthetangledwrecksrelyingonspeedtoshieldthem.‘Rusticusspeakssense,’saidAldred.‘ButIconcedeBjarni’smannerofwarcanbeentertaining.’Theyroundedthecantedhulkofaheavydroppod, itspaintscorchedtobaremetal and the lower thruster assembly pushed up into the passengercompartmentbyforceofimpact.Themainstanchionswererumpledwithspentforces, and the lower parts of the jammed door buckled like card. A preciseclusteroflasburnshaddrilledtheside.Fireroaredfromthetop,andawhiffofcookingfleshpenetratedJustinian’sbreathingfilters.Themazethinnedouthereandthefieldopenedupagain.Onlyafewwreckedtanks,allblazingferociously,stoodbetweenthemandthefoe.ThereweremoreoftheenemythanJustinianexpected,andwellsupportedwitharmour. ‘Brother!’ Justinian voxed on their closed net. He held up one of hishands, almost encased by the assault bolter’s bulky firing mechanisms. ‘Achancetoaidourcousins.’Close to their position, five enemy Predator battle tanks were rollingbackwards, firingas theywithdrew, their thickerarmourpresented towards themain press of the Imperial forces. Their heavy bolters had pinned a squad ofSpaceMarines from the Silver Skulls Chapter behind a burningwreck, and asquadofHereticAstartesweremovingintoflanktheirposition.‘There.Totheleft,’saidJustinian,hiscogitatorcantingoverhisintendedtargettoAldred.‘Agoodchoice,’saidtheyellow-cladsonofDorn.

Together, the Primaris SpaceMarines jumped, sailing over the heads of theembattledSilverSkulls.Bulletswhinedpast, bolt shells roaring by on the hotblades of rocket motors, and lasbeams cracked the air with miniaturethunderclaps.Whileskyborn,thetwoInceptorsbrieflybecameafavouredtarget.Deathofvariouskindsknockeduponthethickplatingoftheirarmour,butnonecouldgainentrytothesoftmeatwithin.Justinianheededarisingshriekfromhisinbuilttacticarium,swervingoutofthewaytoallowtherocket ithaddetected topassbetweenhimandAldred.Thentheyweredown,andtheirwould-bekillersfoundotherthingstofireat.They landed off to the right of the IronWarriors skulking round through thepilesofwreckedmachines.JustinianandAldredhadnotbeenseenbytheirprey,and they took shelter behind a broken-backed Knight carcass. Blasphemoussigils covered its carapace, and its cockpit was cracked open, revealing anossifiedmeldingofmanandmachinewhereahumanpilotshouldhavesat.‘Theyhavenotseenus,’saidAldred.‘Theywill,’saidJustinian.Hesteppedout,botharmsatfullextension,andopenedfire.The IronWarriors’armourwassufficiently thick that theyweathered the firstflurry of mass-reactive bolts. They therefore had time to register the twoPrimarisSpaceMarinesflankingthem,butseveralfellbeforetheycouldreturnfire.Justinian’sleftassaultbolterclickeddry.Aredwarningsigilshoneangrilynearthe centre of his vision, and he ducked back behind the Knight. The ammoindicatorforhissecondgunflickered.‘Iamdowntosevenrounds,’heinformedAldred.Aldredlaugheddrily.Sevenroundswasahalf-secondburst.‘Ihaveonlyafewmore.’‘Weneedtoreload.’JustinianpulledupthelocationofaPrimarisresupplypodalmosttwohundredmetresaway.‘Ihavealocation.’The Silver Skulls were still under fire from the Predators, but thanks to thePrimaris Inceptors theywere now aware of themore pressing threat.A fiercefirefighthadcommencedbetweentheloyalistSpaceMarinesandtheremainingHereticAstartes.‘Ashamewecannotdomore,’saidAldred.AnexplosionrippeduponeofthePredators,flingingitsburningremainsendoverend.‘Wedonothaveto,’saidJustinian.

ThreeRepulsor grav-tanks fell from the sky like stones, decelerating rapidlyandcoming toagentlehalt a coupleofmetresabove theground, rightby theflanking Iron Warriors. Their pulsing, aggressive grav impellers knocked thetraitorssideways.OneoftheIronWarriorsyankedameltabombfromhissideanddoveunder the tank,seeking toattach thechargeanddestroy thePrimarisarmour.ThetraitorhadevidentlyneverfacedaRepulsorbefore.The tank’spoundinggravengines squashedhimflat, leavinga silver,blurredhuman outline pressed into the ground, leaking blood. The grav-tanks’ anti-infantryweaponsmadeshortworkofhisfellowtraitors,andtheRepulsorsflewonwards,thesandcrushedtoaglassyshinebeneaththem.TheenemyPredatorsredirected their fire, increasing their rate of retreat as they volleyed lascannonshots at the Primaris grav-tanks, but the Repulsors were swift as well asdangerous,andtheychaseddowntheirtraitoroustrackedcousins,blastingthemapartwithpinpointaccuracy.Theyflewovertheirvanquishedfoes,bucklingthewreckswithgraviticbackwash.TheSilverSkullsranafter them,thejewelsontheirpauldronssparking.Aterrificroaringrentthesky,soloudthatitevendrownedoutthepoundingoftheTitans approaching thewall.Hundredsmoredroppodsandgunshipswerecomingdownfromorbit,manyracingofftoattackthefortress.Inseconds,thewidespacebeyondthefieldofwrecksandalready-landeddroppodswasjustascrowded with newly arrived craft. Explosive door bolts blew in miniature,ripplingcannonadesasthepetalsofthedroppodsslammeddown.Five thousandSpaceMarines disgorged from their landing craft as theAstraMilitarum forces reached the foot of the wall on the other side. Stern-facedTitansloomedoverthefortifications,rakingtherampartsfreeoftheenemywithgigantic power fists wreathed with the lightning of a hundred storms. Thecrackling of disruption fields powerful enough to crush a small voidshipharshenedthebattle’ssound.Apartof thewallcamecrashingdownbeneathaTitan’sponderousblow.Asthedebrislanded,theTitanwasalreadyturning,itscarapace-mounted cannon roaring fire at someother target Justinian could notsee.‘Itisover,’saidJustinian.‘Thebattleiswon.’To the howling of LegioMetalica warhorns, the traitors upon thewall weresurroundedanddestroyed.Thefortressfellfivehourslater.

CHAPTEREIGHT

RESPITEONIAX

TheweekswentbyonIaxquietly.AsVarens’woundhealed,hetooktocomingoutonthemedicaefacilitybalconyeveryevening.ThefacilitywassetonariseoverlookingtheHythianwetland.Fromthefootoftheridge,expansivemarshesstretchedasfarasthehorizon.LikeeverythinginUltramar,themarsheswerewellmanagedandthoroughlyexploited,dottedwithaquaculture facilities and helical turbines that chopped at thewind soothinglydespite its tended nature, the area retained a hint of wildness. A healthyecosystemthrivedthereamidtheUltramarianindustries.The hospital was well sited. The brutality of the era had eroded much ofhumanity’s gentler qualities, but the medicae of Ultramar had enough insightremainingtoappreciatethehealingpotentialofcalm,naturalspaces.Thenightdrewin,fragrantwiththedampsmellsoffallingleavesandthelastseasonal growths before winter. Out over the marshes, birds wailed shrilllaments for their summer homes as they wheeled away towards the equator.Meadowsfringedthereedbedsandchildrenranthroughthemwavingswitches,drivingbovidshomeforthenight.Theirshriekswereaspiercingasthebirds’.Thehotbreathofthecattlesnortedoutinminiature,short-livedstormfronts.Peace reigned. It was bizarre to behold. Varens thought never to see peaceagain.Varensleanedontheparapet,lettinghimselfrelax.Hisfearwaslessening.Heno longer expected death to come at anymoment, though hewasn’t sleeping

well.Nightmareshadhimscreaminghimselfawakeinthelatewatches.The balcony sat atop the hospital portico before a recessed entablature, anunusualarrangementthatdidnot,toVarens’eye,quitework.Althoughthesitewas well chosen, the architecture of the hospital did not respect Iax’s gardenbeauty. The architect’s interpretation of Ultramarian aesthetic mores wassomewhatclumsy,and thehard linesof thehospital stoodout jarringlyon thesoft landscape.Themarble’scold luminosityaddedto thechillof theevening,further setting the building apart from the damp, wide landscape of mutedbrownsandgreens.Varensshiveredinhishospitalshift,buthedidn’twanttogobackin,notyet.Thecoldof the tiles throughhis thinslippers remindedhimhewasstill alive,andtheitchytightnessinhiswound,untilrecentlysohotandsore,toldhimhewould soonbewholeagain.Outon thebalcony,he felt likeaman,not likeapatientashedidwhenhewasinthehealinghalls,orworse,likeanumber.Tothe logisticians of the Departmento Munitorum, all men were numbers, asdispassionately expended as bullets.Varens relished those raremomentswhenthewarandtheneedsoftheImperiumretreatedapacefromtheforefrontofhismind,thosetimeswhenhemightsimplybe.Oncehealed,themenhadafewdaysofpeacebeforetheywerereturnedtothewarandbecamenumbersagain.Numbers transferred fromonecolumnon thebalancesheettoanother,fromsicktowell,fromresourcedraintoasset.Fewhadmanymonthsoflifeleftbeyondtheirreturn,fornoonelivedlongintheseawfultimes.UponthefringesofUltramar,monstersstalked.Worstofallwere the Heretic Astartes and their lords, the traitor sons of the EmperorHimself.A mortal man cannot triumph against beings who had lived for millennianourished by hatred. Miraculously, Varens had faced them and lived. Thechanceswerethathisnextencounterwouldseehimdead.Hehadneverknownanyotherreality.Hewasfullyawareofthebrevityofhislife,soVarensenjoyedtheviewandthecoldinawaythatamanfromamorepeacefulagewouldnot.Someonewhoselifewasfullofpettierconcernswouldtake far less from the experience. Had he considered this, Varensmight havetaken comfort in how rich every moment was for him, but he lacked theindividualism ofmen from those impossible years.He took pride inUltramarandwhathefoughtfor.Helookedattheviewandwaspreparedtodieforwhatitrepresented.‘Humanity finds a way to live, even in the face of death,’ he whispered to

himself.‘Whatwasthat,myfriend?’saidagruffvoice.Varens started from the balcony rail. The speaker was a barrel-chestedman,with a thatch of red hair peppered grey sticking up from his shift front. Anunrulybeardcoveredhischin,matchingthebandofhaircirclinghisbaldscalp.‘Didn’thearyoucoming,’saidVarens,‘andthatisasurprise.’Themanhadaheavybuild.‘Don’t be fooledby this.’Theman slappedhis amplebellywithbothhands.‘No one ever hearsme coming – it’s a knack I have.What were you sayingthere?’‘Somethingourpriestsaysalot,’Varenssaid.Thenewcomerlookedathimforelaboration,butVarenswasembarrassedtobecaughtinsopersonalamoment,thoughthesentimentwasanapprovedone,andofferednothingmore.‘IamVarens,’hesaid,‘ofPrandiumII.’ThemangruntedhisdisappointmentatVarens’ reticence,buthewasfriendlyenough.‘Garstandisthename,FourHundredandFifty-FifthCalth.’He extended a beefy hand, its back thick with reddish hair. Varens shook.Garstand’shandwaswarminthecoolevening.‘Liketheview?’Varensasked.Garstandpulledaface.‘Doyounot?’‘Can’t say I care for all this open space,’ said Garstand. ‘I grew up in thearcologies,wayunderground.Aviewlikethisgivesmeagoraphobia.Noroof!’‘Thenwhycomeout?’askedVarens.‘Ineedabreakfromthegroaningofsicklymen,’saidGarstandruefully.Varensnodded.‘It’squietouthere.’‘Tooquiet.’‘It’sbetterthanthewar.’‘Maybeforyou,’saidGarstand.‘Iwanttogetbacktothefighting.Idon’tlikekickingmyheelswhilegoodmenaredying.Itdoesn’tseemrighttobetakingintheviewwhenmylasguncouldbeburninghotinmyhand.Allthislooksprettyenough, but nothing’s right here. Nothing’s been right anywhere since that.’Garstandjerkedthecrownofhisheadskywardswithoutlookingup.‘TheRift?’Varensglancedatthesky.TheGreatRiftwasvisibleathirdofthewayuptheheavensasapurplesmudge.TheRiftwaslightyearsawayfromIax,butitsbalefulinfluencewasfelteverywhereacrossUltramar,andtolookuponit

toolonghurttheeyes.‘Don’tlookatit,boy!’saidGarstand.‘Nooneshouldwillinglylook.’Varensfrowned.‘Itdoesn’tmakeanydifference,’hesaid.‘It’llbetherewhetherwelookatitornot.Wargoesonlikeitalwayshas.We’restillfighting.Theprimarchleadsus.Idon’t see the Rift makes much difference. When I was a boy, my greatgrandfather toldmeabout the timesbefore itopened.Hewasanauxiliary.HeservedalloverthesegmentumwiththeAstraMilitarum.’‘Whenwe still sent regiments out, youmean.We don’t do that anymore, dowe?’ saidGarstand. ‘Toomuch going on here inUltramar for us to spare themen.’Heshuddered.‘Justdon’tlookattheRift.It’sforbidden.’Garstandmadethesignoftheaquilahastilyoverhisheart.‘Everything’s forbidden,’ said Varens. ‘Who’s to see whether I look at it ornot?’ He peered pointedly up and down the balcony, letting the chirring ofinsectstaketheplaceofspeechforamoment.‘It’snotthesanctionofthecommissarsyoushouldbeafraidof.Lookatittoooften,you’llhavenightmares–baddreams.’‘Everyonehasnightmares,’saidVarens.‘Idoeverynight.’‘Notliketheonesyou’llgethereifyoustaytoolong,’saidGarstandnervously.‘I’ve heard things, talk of bad dreams that have whole wards of this placewakingupscreaming.Thingsaren’tright.Theeyeofevilisuponthisplace.’Varens had not wanted company, especially not of this sort. His mood wasspoilt.Hehadnightmaresenoughtocontendwith,withouthearingtalkofmore.‘Goodnight,Garstand,’hesaid.‘Wait!’ saidGarstand.HecaughtVarensby theupperarm. ‘I’ve fought themyou know, theHeretic Astartes. They have some plan – they always do. Thewarplookshere,andhungers.Weshouldnotlookback.Never!’‘Youfoughttheplaguelords?’saidVarens.Garstandnodded.‘Idid!Believeme.AwfulthingsI’veseen.OutnearTartella,beforethatfell…’‘Ifoughtthemtoo.’Some ofGarstand’s previous bonhomie returned. ‘Then you’re amember ofselect group. They do not show themselves often, you know. There’s not somanyofthem.Theypreferthedeadorthosewhosemindstheyhaveturnedtodotheirworkforthem.’‘I have seen that too. The walking dead. But after a time on Espandor, theplague lords came more frequently. Small groups at first, then in greater

numbers.Thelasttimethereweretwentyormore.Ithoughttheywouldkillusall,butwhentheygotintothetrench,they…well,theydisappeared.’GarstandnoddedalongwithVarens’wordsinagreement.Howcouldheknow?Varensfeltastabofannoyanceathim.‘Thesamehappenedtous.Therewereonlysevenofthem.Theyattacked,theyslew,thentheyvanished.’Hiseyeswidened.Inthelumenlightspillingoutfrominside,Varenssawthewhiteshadanunhealthyyellowcast.‘JustlikeonEspandor,’Varenssaiduneasily.‘WerethereanyAdeptusAstartesnearyourunit?SpaceMarines?’‘None.’‘Thesame!’saidGarstand.‘AndImetanotherman,Rusen,withasimilarstory.HewasonEfor.Hesaidtheplaguelordscameathisposition,andtheyfought,andjustbeforetheykilledeveryoneinhisbuilding,theyjustdisappeared.Whydoyouthinktheydidthat?’‘What?’saidVarens.Thinkingaboutitmadehisheadspin.Hewantedtobeleftalone,butGarstandwasoblivioustohisquickeningbreathandshakinglimbs.‘Whydidtheycomeinsuchsmallnumbers.Whydidtheyvanish?Didyoukillany?’‘Several,’saidVarens.‘Ithink.Idon’tknow.’‘There’ssomethingtoit,don’tyouthink?’‘A soldier sees coincidences in everything,’ said Varens. ‘Death makes ussuspicious.’GarstandpointedtotheGreatRift,hisbeardbristling.‘Therearenosuchthingsascoincidences.Doyouwanttomeethim?Ithinkitwouldbeagoodidea.Wecouldcompareourexperiences.There’ssomethinggoingonhere.Howcantheplague lords raise the dead so easily? Sorcery, Varens, sorcery! And it iseverywhere.’Garstandlookedconspiratoriallyabout.‘Upthere,’hesaid,pointingattheGreatRiftwithoutlookingatit.‘AllthroughUltramar,’headded,wavinghishandvaguelyatthesky.‘Andhere.’Heslappedhishandonthebalcony’sbalustrade.‘Rusen’sgotatheory.Darknessonmanyworlds. Things slithering through thewarp. This is nowar of ships andmen,thoughtheymakeitlookthatway.Heknows!Theycan,hesays…Theycangetinyourhead.Thattheycanuseussomehow.’Garstandwentpaleatthethought,hisgazedistantandeyesfurtive.‘Comeandmeethim.’Varens felt light-headed, like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Garstandwasn’tmakinganysense.‘Meetwho?’hesaidquietly.

‘Rusen!’saidGarstand.‘MeetRusen!Perhapstherearemorelikeus,thosewhohavefacedtheplaguelordsandlived.Perhapswecanfindthem.Perhapswecanfigureoutwhat’sgoingon.’Varens wanted nothing to do with the idea. There were plague lordseverywhere.TheDeathGuard, an ancient hatred fromancient days.Theyhadships.Theysailedthevoidandthewarp.Thatwashowitworked.Amemoryovertookhim,ofamonstrousman,corruptwithdiseasethatshouldhave killed himmany times over, his face covered by a rotting respirator, hisarmourleakingpus.Varenshadfoughthim,andothers,othersthathadvanishedintothinair.‘No!’ he said, farmore loudly thanhehad intended.Hedidn’twant to thinkaboutit.Hewantedtoenjoythisbriefpeace.Timewouldcomesoonenoughtofacetheenemyagain.Hehadnodesiretorevisithismemories.AnymoreofthisandhewouldenduplikeBolus.Hecouldnotarticulateanyofthis.Histhroatwouldn’tlethim.‘Goodnight,Garstand,’hemanaged, thewordscomingout farharder thanhehadintended.The friendlinesswent fromGarstand’s face.He letgoofVarens,andsteppedback.‘Suit yourself,’ he said quietly, and there was something absent in his slackface.Forallhisdislikeoftheview,hetuckedhisbeardedchinintohischestandlookedawayfromVarensoutoverthemarsh.Varenshurriedbackinside,suddenlyweak.

CHAPTERNINE

IMPERATORGLORIANA

Whenthedemandsofwarretreated,RobouteGuillimanwasnotidle.Heworkedlikehealwayshad,ceaselesslytoilingforhumanity,evenifnowhestruggledforthespecies’survivalratherthanitsadvancement.RobouteGuilliman’schamberswerebetterstockedthanmostlibraries,andfarbetter ordered. At the heart of the primarch’s palace upon the Macragge’sHonour was his scriptorium.Most of the material originally within had beenremovedtotheLibraryofPtolemyonMacraggeaftertheshiphadcomehome.Guilliman had been quick to replenish it upon his rebirth. Beneath thescriptorium’s soaring dome, at a desk surrounded by circularwalls of shelvesthatstretchedseventymetresup,waswherehespentwhatlittlefreetimehehad.Oldpapermadetheairsmelltart.Moulderingscrollslaynexttodatacrystalsandmagnetic tape.Runic inscriptionsoncrumblingbarklayontopofhololithcylinders containing true-pict tri-D representations of forgotten wars. Gravencoppercubes,wherein languished thoughtscaptured from livingbrains, shareddesk spacewith yellowed cardboard boxes full of images on simple chemicalfilmthatwasbrittlewithtime.Thousands of years of history recorded upon every device employed bymankind surrounded the primarch, and this was but the smallest part of hiscollection.Muchmore he had studied, digested, processed and recorded ontomorepermanentdata-capturesystemstobefiledbackonMacragge.Acenturyonfromhisrebirth,Guillimanhadnotyetgraspedalltheeventsof

thetenmillenniasincehefell.BelisariusCawlhadprovidedtheprimarchwithpainfulbutnecessarymachine-moderatedengrammaticupdates,butCawlwasasecretivecreature,detachedfromthewidergalaxywhilehepursuedhisquesttocreate the Primaris Space Marines. His records were incomplete, sometimeshighlyfragmentary,andallofthemwereshortondetail.Onceagain,Guillimanhadfoundhisowneffortswererequiredtomakeupfortheshortcomingsofothers.Thedisciplineofhistory,likesomuchelsebasedonreason,hadfallenfoulofsuperstition, fanaticism and the High Lords of Terra’s need for iron control.Comparative and corroborative analytical techniques had given way to therecordingofgossip,hearsayandfolklore.Allwasliberallymixedwithworksofcompletefabrication.Imperialinterferenceinredactingchronicles,misguidedlyornot,hadfurtherdestroyedmuchofthepast.Warhaderadicatedthehistoriesofentireworlds.Muchknowledgehadbeenburnedbyzealousinquisitors,ofteninordertosuppressasingleuncomfortabletruth.Ifanything,thestateofman’sknowledge was worse than it was back after the UnificationWars, when theEmperor had unifiedTerra before theGreatCrusade.Much of Terra’s ancienthistory,painstakinglypiecedtogetherbytheremembrancersofGuilliman’sownera,hadbeenlostagain.Knowledgeofthewarp’struenaturehadbeensuppressed,butpatchilyso.Thegreat deception the Emperor had practised had become impossible to sustain,thoughthathadnotstoppedtheInquisitionfromtrying.KnowledgeofdaemonsortheDarkGodswasforbidden.Manyinnocentshadpaidtheultimatepriceforaccidentallylearningthetruth.Even Guilliman, the Imperial Regent himself, faced opposition from theInquisitioninhisquestforknowledge.Toopposetheirpuritanicalredactionism,hehad trainedhisowncorpsofhistoritors.Betweencampaigns,hesoughtoutinquisitiveminds, exactly the sort that had long been frowned upon, rescuingthemfrompenalservitudeand impendingbrainwipe.Thefirsthandfulhehadtutored himself,when time allowed.They in turn taughtmore, andmore still.Eachonewasassessedbytheprimarchpersonally.Thosethatpassedweregiventhe rank of historitor-investigatus. Those that failed to meet his exactingstandardsweregivenlesstaxingroleswithintheneworganisation,aslibrarians,servants and assistants. From his reading,Guilliman had learnt that the brutalmachineryofImperialgovernmentwasunkindtofailures,yetanotherthingthatsaddenedhimabout thepresentage.Theprimarchhadenoughblooduponhisconscience,andamuchfinergraspofhowtogetthemostoutofhissubjects.No

lifewaswasted.Asthecenturysincehisrebirthwoundon,thenumbersofhistoritorsgrewfromfour, to eight, to sixteen, until now the LogosHistoricaVerita numbered fivehundredoperativesanda thousand support staff.Utilising longdeadacademicarts, theyattemptedtheimpossible: theconstructionofareliablehistoryoftheImperium. Against great odds, small cells of the Logos searched out ancientrecords. At their presentation of the primarch’s seal, forbidden vaults wereopenedandemptied,theircontentscopiedanddispatchedtoGuilliman’scrusadewhereveritwas.TheLogos’workwasatorturous,dangerousaffair.Warzonesengulfedhalfthegalaxy,andhishistoritorteamssometimesdisappearedintothemwithouttrace.Often,theywereopposed.StillGuillimanwouldnotbestopped.Everymanneededapastime.Evenaprimarch.Hewas reading a book new to his collection. Ancient leather, friable to thepoint of disintegration, bound a partisan work on the Chronostrife of Terra.Guillimandigestedtheworkwithafrowningcountenance.Flickeringscreedpassedovermultipledata-slatesaroundhisdesk.Dustmotesdancedinthelightoftwosmallhololithseithersideofhim.Toanundiscerningeye, the primarch appeared to be ignoring them, but every iota of data thatpassedover themwasprocessedbyhis superiormindwhilehe read thebook.There was nothing that needed his direct input, but he watched everything,annotating reports and answering the shifting stream of queries with quickscratchesofaquillonanautotabletsetathisrighthand.Themovementsweresosmall,swiftanddeftthattheywereeasilymissed.Hismindhadsuchacapacity,he could organise the actions of a thousand groupsworking towards differentaims,allwhilemostofhisattentionwastakenupbyabookintheimpenetrabledialectofanImperialsect.Hedidnotlikewhatheread.One of thousands of secret conflicts conducted by rival factions in theImperium, theChronostrifewas abitter, ongoing internalwarwithin theOrdoChronos over the Imperium’s dating system.What he readmade him despair.Notevenhisfather’scalendarhadsurvivedthemillenniaintact.During the Great Crusade and the Heresy, the standard dating system hadprovidedsomeideaoftheorderofeventsovertime,butlikeeverythingelsetheEmperor had created, the calendar had become degraded by both dogmaticadherenceandthoughtlessrevisionism.Variousrivaldatingsystemshadevolvedfrom the Imperial Standard, making a true chronicle of the galaxy almost

impossibletoconstruct.Bythefivemainfactionalvariants,GuillimancalculatedthecurrentyeartobeanywherebetweenearlyM41andamillenniumlater,andthatwasleavingoutthenumerouslesser,morehereticalinterpretations.There was much useful information in the book, but it was written in atorturous, overly embroidered style. The author’s viewpoint transcendedfanaticism.‘Whoisnotafanaticinthesebenightedtimes?’hesaidtohimself.Guillimanpushed away the crumbling book, his patience tested by the author’s endlesscallsforthepublicimmolationofhisopponents.‘Emperorsavemefromfaith,’hesaid,androsefromhisseat.HehadbeenhopingtofindasolutiontotheImperium’stortureddatingsystem;he had instead found there was none. Something else, then, that required hispersonal attention. Already his powerful mind was working on a number offixes.Musingonhisideas,hewashedbookmouldfromhisfingersinasilversalverset on its own table, and he checked the endless run of report screeds a finaltime.Therewasnothingthatcouldnotwait.Herequiredamoment’srespite,andhewenttofinditinthearmouredcloisterencirclingthelibrary’sgroundfloor.Outsidetheshelves,thetower’sbasewasaseriesofarches.Ineveryarchwayablastdoorwaitedtoslamdown.Ontheothersideofthearches,alonggalleryofarmourglass looked out in every direction over the Macragge’s Honour. IfGuillimanwalkedaround thecircumferenceofhis library,hecouldseeall theway to the massive prow and its adamantium ram. Either side on the flanks,stubbywingssweptout,coveredinsensorarraysandauguries.Almostdirectlybelowhis spirewere themainhangardecksof thevessel,while to theaft thesun-brightglowoftheenginesreflectedaroundthecloister,althoughtoseethemdirectlyhewouldhavetowalkahundredmetres.Offtostarboard,thePitofRaukosturned.Guillimanhadanotionthewarpwasangeredby the traitor’s defeat, and so the pupil-less eyeofRaukosglared theharder at him. Once upon a time, he would have dismissed such feelings asfancy,anartefactofthewaytheTerranmindprocessedvisualinformation.Nowheknew theywerenot.Thegalaxywas a far strangerplace thaneitherofhisfathershadtaughthim.Atthethoughtofhisfathers,thememoryofthesightshehadwitnessedinthethrone rooma century ago intruded violently into hismind.Against the odds,somethinglingeredontheGoldenThrone.Hislastencounterwithhistruefatherhadbeenaspearoflightandpainwhosepsychicaftershockstroubledhimstill.

TheEmperorhadlostHissubtlety.Guillimanpushedthememoryasidebeforehecouldbegindwellingonit.Suchruminations never ended well. He wished he could speak with one of hisbrothersaboutwhathadtranspiredthereonTerra,buttheywereallgone.Hesighedmorosely.Seekingsolitudehadremindedhimofhowalonehewas.Helethiseyesdriftoverthevoid,emptiedhismindandallowedhissorrowtoslipaway.Debris fieldsoccluded someofRaukos’violentdepths.Sparkling showersofmetal, clouds of frozen gas and shattered hulls drifted blackly across the sun.Work proceeded to salvage wrecked Imperial vessels. Great AdeptusMechanicus Salvator Arks stood off at nexus points between the wreckscalculated formaximumdistance efficiency. Ships flewbetween themand thebrokenvesselsinpreciselyspacedstreams.Scavengerscowscrawledbackandforth across space, their projecting limbs and swarms of attendant dronesworking together with insectile efficiency. The more intact wrecks had manysmall salvage pods anchored to them like limpets, blue flashes sparkling allaroundtheseviablecraftastheyweremadefitforwarptransittoshipyards.The adamantium frames of Imperial shipswere practically indestructible.Aslongasthereactorsdidnotexplode,theywouldsurvivetoberefittedagain,assomehadbeenahundredtimesover.Some changes hadbeenmade to Imperial salvagingpolicieswithin the fleet.Guillimanhadorderedthewrecksofthetraitor’sshipstobeutterlydestroyed.Ithadbeenthehabitof theAdeptusMechanicusandtheNavytorecoverenemyships.Chaosvesselswereof Imperialmake, andwereoftenofolder, superiorpatterns.The primarch stamped hard on the practice.Build new ships, he hadsaid.Leavethepastwhereitis.Thecorruptionofthewarpburieditselfdeeplyintowhateverittouched.TheMartianshadnot beenhappywith that.Theyhad lookedupon theoldermarquesofvesselwithgreedyeyes.Exampleshadbeenmade.TherestofthefleethungagainsttheragingPit,setintoaboxdefencepattern.Thinlinesoflightspassingbetweenthebattleshipsmarkedouttheflightpathsofinter-shiptraffic,asofficersandrepaircrewsshuttledbackandforthbetweenvessels.Everycraftboresomesignofdamage,fromthisorpriorengagements,and over them all flickered plasma torches. They were strong still, evenwounded, andGuilliman took an immense pride in the scale of the IndomitusCrusade.TheNavyhadbeendisunitedwhenhehadreturned,andunderstrength.Guillimanhadturnedtheeffortsofmanysystemstoproducingnewships.

Behind thewallofvesselsnearest to thePitofRaukos, theNullShipsof theSistersofSilencewaited,theirarcaneweaponsreadytoobliterateanyuncannyfoethatdaredentrytothematerialrealm.Hedidnotexpectany.Thefanewasgone.Thesystem’ssoleviableworldbelongedtotheImperiumnow.BeyondRaukoswas the smallest part of theCicatrixMaledictum.TheGreatRiftwas abroadbandof energies stretched across space fromone sideof thegalaxytotheother.ItdividedtheImperiumneatlyintwo,shroudingthedenseyolk of stars at the heart of the galaxy completely. The light was painful toobserve.Thoughitappearedtobeanaturalstellarphenomenon,tolookintoitforanylengthoftimeshowedamanthingsthathewouldrathernotsee.WhatGuillimansawwasatragedy,thelatestplayinawarmillionsofyearsinthe fighting.The last tenmillennia, though an age in the lifetimeofmankind,wasaheartbeatoftime,asinglesummer’scampaign.ThemagnitudeofthewaragainstChaos,theempireslostandthepeoplesdamned,awedtheprimarch.Hehadlearnedthesethingsfromtheaeldari,thoughtheywereunwillingtotellhimthecompletestory.Butheknewfarmorethanhehad,oftheWarinHeaven,andoftheconflictsbetweentheancientraces.Againstthisall-devouringcosmicevilthathadconsumedspeciesafterspeciesandbroughtman’s first stellarempire low,Guilliman’s fatherhadsetHimself.ThescaleofHisself-appointedtaskwasyetanotherthingtheEmperorhadnotdeignedtosharewithHissons.Weconstantlybattlethesinsofthefathers,thoughtGuilliman.Thatisnolesstrueonaneternalscalethanitiswithinthehistoryofasingleworld.Wesufferbecauseofthosethathavegonebefore.Guilliman lookedupon the ruinsof theEmperor’sdream indespondency.Hewouldnevergiveintohisfeelings,andhewouldnevershowthemtoanother,but they were there nonetheless. Even after the Emperor had fallen silentfollowing the Heresy, there had been the promise of something better, thepossibilityofrealisinghisdreamforhim.ButGuillimanhadbeenpursuingthewrongdream.TheImperiumhadbeenthemeanstoanend,nottheendinitself.Hecouldneverhave foreseen this future,wherepainand ignorancewere theuniversallotofordinarycitizens.Superstitionhadovertakenreason.Therewasnohope,onlyblindfaithintheEmperor,trillionsofsoulsunitedinfranticpleasforsalvation,andnowthe lion’sshareof thatdesperateexpectationwashis tobear.Theeyesofallmankindlookedtohim.Hewouldnevercomplain.Butinthese moments when he stopped, when the need for strategy and planningslackened for a second, the despairwas there,waiting for him to give in and

drown.‘Iwillnotgivein.’HespoketothePitofRaukosthroughgrittedteeth.‘Iwillnever,ever,stopuntilthisissetright.Idefyyou,asmyfatherdefiedyou.’Father.Thewordcaughtonhislips.Thehabitoftenthousandyearswashardtobreak.He unclenched his jaw. His hands had formed themselves into tight fistswithout himnoticing.Rage.Good– that kept himon the correct course.Thatwouldseehimthrough.Heuncurledhisfingers,andletoutalong,calmingbreath.Asoft fanfareannounced the intentionofCaptainFelix tospeakwithhim.Acyber cherub clattered in a clumsy search pattern around the scriptorium onmetalwings.Suchthingsweregrotesque,techno-alchemyfarremovedfromthepurer machinery of his day. The madness of Mars had infected everything.Guillimanletitflapaboutpathetically,itsunderpoweredocularsensesgriddingthescriptoriumasitsearchedforhim.The pallid flesh of the cherub’s torso and arms was sore where steel cablesplungedintotheskin.Therestofitwasmechanical,withmetalwingsandlegs.Abarechild’sskullmadeinperfectsilvercappedaneckofwovencopper.Itwove jerkilyunderoneof the arches into the cloister, and thereafter foundhimsoonenough.Itcametoahaltandhovered,wingsnoisilybeating.‘Mylord,Guilliman.’Thething’sskeletaljawwascastshut,andFelix’svoicecrackledoutofabrasstrumpetstitchedintoadeadhand.Thecherub’semeraldeyes flashed at each word. The sensibilities of this age did not appeal toGuilliman.Hatefulartforahatefultime.‘Iamsorrytodisturbyourwork,’continuedFelix,‘butthepriestishere.’‘Heisearly,’saidGuilliman.‘He apologises, my lord – he merely wished to be on time.’ Behind thetinninessimpartedbythecherub’saugmitter,Felix’svoicewasunnaturallydeep:amarkofthePrimaristype.‘Hesaysheishappytowait,mylord,butIthoughtitbesttoinformyou.’‘There are many vices, Felix. Earliness is not one that troubles me,’ saidGuilliman.‘Iwillseehimnow.’Guillimanlookedintotheeyesofthecherub.‘Iamtakingashortrespitefromthetediumofothermen’sramblings.Sendhimin.Iwillbegladofthechangethatconversationwillbring.’‘Evenwithapriest?’ Itwasa rarewrycomment from the seneschal.CaptainFelixwasaseriouscreaturewhonevermadelight,aswastobeexpectedfromamanwhohadspenttenthousandyearsinandoutofstasis.

‘Evenwithapriest,’saidGuilliman.‘Asyouwish,mylord.’Thelightwentfromthecherub’seyes.Itflewoff,motorbuzzing.Theprimarchwatched it go back to its roost with critical eyes. Thewings weremore thanadornment;fromthesoundofit,therewasnotenoughliftinthegravityimpellerto keep it aloft. The machines of this millennium were crude. The engineersamonghisbrotherswouldprobablyhavecaughtthethinginanetandrebuiltthemotor; he was close to doing so himself. Either that, or tossing it out of anairlockintothevoidandreplacingitwithsomethinglessghoulish.He refrained from acting out his thoughts. Consideration, evaluation, action.Thatwashisway.RobouteGuillimanwasnotaslavetoimpulse.Thinkingonthecherubbroughtanotherunwelcomeflashofwhathehadseenbehind the Eternity Gate: the corpse in the ungentle embrace of Mechanicustechnology, part meat, part machine, and the terrible screaming of the soulsyphons…Heshookhisheadtoquashthememory.Hecouldnotfixeverything.Notallatonce. Guilliman deliberately put the grotesque device from his mind andreturnedtohisdesk.Hedidnotsit,butpulledoutanewbookandstoodflickingthroughit.Hewasunwillingtocontinuereadingthechronolog’srantingtoday.Themanwasathousandyearsdead.Hiswordscouldstandanotherday’swait.Three minutes later and he had absorbed half the book’s contents. Nothinginteresting–anothersmallworldofsmalldeedsandsmallmen.The door to the library opened with a soft whoosh of equalising pressure.Voices too low for even Guilliman’s superior hearing to catch bluntedthemselvesonhisbooks.Theprimarchlookedup.Heresolvedtoavoidjudgingthepriestuntilhesawhiminperson,butpreviousexperiencehadcolouredhisperceptionsoftheadeptsdeeply.Wouldthemanstarttowaillikethelastone,orcollapse into religiousecstasy?Thepossibilitieswereas irksomeas theywerelimited.Lorgar,thoughtGuilliman.Hewouldhaveenjoyedcrowingaboutthis.Thesoftslapofsandalsonmarbleechoedaroundthe library.Bythishumblesoundwasthenextmilitant-apostolicprelatetotheprimarchannounced.Itwasfarbetterthantheheraldcherub’ssynthesisedwarbling.FraterMathieuwasaslightman.HiscrossedarmswereburiedinthesleevesoftheplaincreamrobesoftheAcroniteMendicantshewore.Guillimandoubtedhewouldhaverecognisedhishabitwithouttheinformationhehadgatheredonthepriest.Thesub-ordersoftheAdeptusMinistorumweresonumerousevenhehad

nohopeofmemorisingthemall.Mathieu’sthickhairwascroppedtoafloppingquiffthatclungtotheforefrontofhisskull.Therestwasshaveddowntostubble-bluedscalp.Heappearedcalmand healthy. If anything surprised the primarch about Mathieu, it was hisseeming youthfulness.Guilliman had, of course, extensive files on thosewhohadmadehisshortlistfortheroleofmilitant-apostolic,buthisnaturalprejudicesassumed the priesthood to fall into a small number of categories: old, mad,dissolute,fanaticaloradelightfulcombinationofanyofthem.Guilliman made a mental note to adjust his thinking. He was falling intodangerouspatterns.Mathieu was not a bullet-headed rabble rouser, nor a sickly, black-toothedextremist.Norwasheanagedprimate,thickwiththebrocadeofofficeandthedust of inactivity. An air of peaceful placidity radiated from him, and thoughGuilliman had also encountered this before, Mathieu’s was without theaccompanying self-satisfaction that invariably suffused men of faith. Hismovementssuggestedamanusedtofighting.Aredropebeltcinchedhiswaist.Ononesidewasasimplepouchpurse,ontheotherabatteredleatherholsterfora long-barrelledlaspistol.Thegunhadbeentakenfromhim.Felix’sdiligenceamusedGuilliman.Thepriestposednothreattohimwhatsoever.Aservo-skulltrailedbehindMathieuatheadheight,asmodestasitsowner.Alarge‘HV’wasengravedintoitsforehead,butotherwiseitwasunadorned.Themotor cowling, manipulators and the frame for the single sensor were plainplasteel,andtherewasnoplatingofpreciousmetalsuponthebone.Mathieuapproachedconfidently,withoutoutwardsignsofpiousjoyatbeingsoclosetoasonoftheEmperor.Hedidnotquakeorsing,orburstintotears.Hewas not afraid. He smiled instead, with an edge of sly humour Guillimaninstantly liked. Itwasasmile thatacknowledged theuncomfortablenessof thesituation, and the un even power dynamic. It was a smile that said its wearerunderstoodthosethings,andfoundthemamusing.TheprieststoppedbeforeGuillimanonawiderug.Spreadinghisarmswide,hebowedlow.‘MylordRobouteGuilliman,’hesaid.‘Itisanhonourtomeetyou.’Thepriest’slongsleevesbrushingthecarpetsoftly.‘Please, Frater Mathieu, sit.’ Guilliman gestured to a stool built for mortalstucked away under a table. Guilliman had balanced a pile of books on it.Mathieu removed them, and they both sat, Guilliman in his over-sized chair,

Mathieuonhisstoollikeachildatascholumbeforethemaster.‘DoyouknowwhyIhavecalledyouhere?’Mathieunodded.‘Ithinkso.’‘Thensaywhy.’Mathieu pursed his lips, raised one knee and clasped his hands around it. ‘Itsoundslikearrogancewhenvoiced,buttoborrowtheparlanceofyoursons,itistheonlypracticalthatfitsthetheoretical.However,IfearIambeingtested,andamwaryoflookingfoolish.’Guillimanlikedtheman’shonestyandnoddedinopenapproval.‘Nothingwillhappen toyou if youarewrong. I amnot in thehabit of immolatingpeople Idisagreewith.’Awildlyundiplomaticstatement,butcalculated.Ifthepriestwastoservehim,hemustaccedetoGuilliman’sthoughtsandbeliefs.ToomanyintheAdeptusMinistorumreactedbadlyatanyindictmentoftheirpractises.Mathieuignoredthecommentbutpausedforthoughtbeforespeaking.Good,thoughtGuilliman.‘Militant-ApostolicGeesan is dead of old age,’ saidMathieu, ‘shortly beforethe glorious victory at Raukos. You seek a new militant-apostolic for yourcrusade.TheAdeptusMinistorumwouldappointoneitselfifyouallowedit,butyoualwaysrecruityourown,andoftenfromthelowerranksofthepriesthood,thoughnotusuallysolowlyasmine.Togivemethisappointmentasyourholymouthpiece is theonly reason I can thinkof for you to callmehere, unless Ihaveoffendedyoupersonallyinsomewayandyouwishtopunishme.ForgivemeifIhave,butIdonotthinkthatisso.NordoIthinkyouhavecalledmeheretogatherintelligence.’‘Mouthpiece?’saidGuilliman.Mathieunodded. ‘A tool in priestly garb.That iswhat the office ofmilitant-apostolic is. I have heard it said you do not hold the Emperor as a god.Yourequire someone to allay the fears this belief will raise. Therefore, amouthpiece–apriesttoreassurethemassesthatyouarenotaterribleheretic.’Mathieusmiledagain.Guillimanmadeanoiseinhisthroat.‘Ineedfree-willedmentoserveme,notmouthpieces. But that aside, you are correct.’ He plucked up a large sheet ofilluminatedvellum.‘Yourcertificationofoffice.’Mathieu raised an eyebrow. His raised leg thumped to the floor, and hescratchedthebackofhishead.‘That’sit?Noceremony?’‘Nottoday,no,’saidGuilliman.‘Iwillofcourseformallyinvestyousoon,butI

needyoutobeginworknow.’Mathieudidnottakethevellum.‘Thisisagreathonour.’‘Itis,’saidGuilliman.‘Youdonottakethecertification.’‘IamnotsureIamworthy.ImustbecarefulbeforeIaccept.PerhapsIshouldnotaccept.’Guillimanshruggedhismountainousshoulders.‘Youarewisetohesitate.’Heputthesheetaside.‘Youhavequestions.Askthem.Youareentitledto.’‘Iwasafraidquestionswouldbeunwelcome.’‘Imakemymethodsandtemperswellknown.AmIsuchastrangertomyownpeople?’‘You are surrounded by legend, my lord.’ Mathieu looked about the room,craninghisnecktotakeintheshelvescurvingaroundtheroom’sshaft.‘Whatisit,exactly,thatyouaredoinghere,mylord?’Guilliman followed the priest’s gaze around the high stacks. ‘Knowledge ispower, andmyown is lacking. I have a great deal to understand before I canbegintorebuildtheImperium.Tothatend,IamcollectingasmanyhistoriesofasmanyworldsasIcan.IwillusethemtomodelthelasttenmillenniasothatImightstudy it,andfromitmakea truehistory, the likeofwhichhasnotbeenwrittenforthousandsofyears.Bydoingso,Iwillunderstandwhatwentwrongwithmyfather’splans,andbeabletoformulateacorrection.’‘Youspeakplainly.’‘Nothing isgained throughobfuscation,’ saidGuilliman. ‘Time is short.WhywouldIlie?’‘I see.’ Mathieu paused again. ‘I beg your pardon for my impertinence, mylord–’‘You are aware enough to recognise impertinence, yet still you proceed,’interrupted Guilliman testily. ‘Ask me, or do not. There can be no secretsbetweenyouandIifyouaretoservemeeffectively.’‘Myapologies,’thepriestsaidsmoothly.FraterMathieu’speacefulfaceshowedthebarestsignofstrain,atickunderoneeye.Guilliman noticed it. Irritated with himself for putting the man on edge, heleaned back in his chair, adopting a remarkably human posture for one soinhuman.Hefoldedhishandsinhislap.‘Letusstartanew,’Guillimansaid.‘It isIwhoshouldapologise.Amanmayholdadifferentpointofviewtoanother.Itisnoexcuseforillmanners.Once,Iwasmore even-tempered. But now…’Guilliman trailed off, his eyes strayingoverthemoundedremainsoftenmillenniaofhistory.‘Thingsarenotwhatthey

were. I amnotwho Iwas. I am pressed on all sides. I letmy temper get thebetter of me. It is late, and there is so much to do.’ He shook his head andattemptedtosmile.‘Please,priest,yourimpertinence–voiceitopenly.’FraterMathieurelaxed,achangeinpostureimperceptibletoanormalman,butcleartotheprimarch.Theflickerofadecisionbeingmadepassedoverhisface.Again,thepriestconsideredhisnextwordscarefully.‘Thereisanelementofhypocrisytoyouractivities,mylord.Youorderedthedoors to theLibraryofPtolemyonMacraggebarred,pronouncing the timeoflearningdone,buthereyoudevoteyourselftothepursuitofhistory.’Guillimanmadeareasonableface,concedingthepoint.‘Istandbymyactions.One day, those doors will be unbarred.What I did there was symbolic.Whoeveninmyownrealmreadandunderstoodwhatthelibrarycontained?Isealedthedoorsnotagainstthetruth,butagainstthesuperstitionthathastakentruth’splace.’Thoughtherewas,ofcourse,thatonebookthattoldahistoryhewouldrathernoonereadjustnow.HecouldnotaffordtheshadowofthesecondImperiumtohangoverhislatestventures,sothishedidnotmention.‘Alleyesmustbeonthefuture,’Guillimancontinued.‘Oneversionofthepastis in that library,another is in theheadsofmen.Theclosingof thedoorswassymbolic, but powerful. It seals both versions of the future away for now. Iprepare,Mathieu.Whenthiscrisisispassed,perhapssomethingofmyfather’sdreammightberealised,thoughwehavealongwaytoclimb.Ifwearelucky,when I reopen the doors to the Library of Ptolemy, thosewho enter inmightfinallyunderstandwhattheyread.’The primarch sighed. ‘I will be honest with you, so listen. You are privy tomattersIdonotreadilyshare.IseethatintheperiodfollowingtheGreatHeresyWar I was too focused upon the reformation of the Legions, trusting to thecouncilmyfathercreated togovernwisely.Myoptimismwasmisguided.ThisterriblefutureIfindmyselfinismyfaultasmuchasanyoneelse’s.NowIhaveconcludedmyrevisionsof theCodexAstartes, Ihavebegunworkuponanewbook. This book I shall call the Codex Imperialis. In it I shall set down theprinciplesofgoodgovernance longdeniedour species.Compilinganaccuratehistoryisonlythestartoftheprocess.’‘Youdothiswhileconductingthiswar?’saidMathieuindisbelief.‘I have fewof the powers your priesthood ascribes tome,Mathieu, but I dohaveotherabilities.Iwasmadetoaccomplishmanygoalsatonce.’‘TrulytheEmperorwaswiseincreatingonesuchasyou.’Theunwelcometaint

ofawestoleintothepriest’sface.‘Notaswiseasyouthink,’saidGuilliman,unabletokeepthebitternessfromhisvoice. ‘Iwasoneof twenty.Two failed.Half the rest turnedonmy father.TheEmperor isnot infallible,noramI.’Ablasphemyintendedtoprovoke thepriest.Acheaptactic.Mathieuwasthankfullyunmoved.‘Yes,’Mathieusmiledserenely.‘Butinyourholiness,youdidnotturn.’‘Iamnotholy,’ saidGuilliman. ‘Worship theEmperor, ifyoumust,but Iamnotdeservingofyourpraise,norwillIacceptit.’‘I have heard some of your beliefs,’ saidMathieu. ‘When first awoken, youinsisteduponsomethingcalledtheImperialTruth?’Guilliman looked away, irritated, reminded of old lies. He had been rash tovoicehisobjectionstotheEcclesiarchyinthoseearlydaysafterhisawakening.Ithad takenhimtime to recover thefullmeasureofhiswits,andhehadbeenalarmedbywhathefound.HisfeelingsontheImperialTruthremainedconflicted.HehadnotforgiventheEmperorforhidingthetruenatureofthewarpfromthemall.Hedidnotknowifheevercould.Thatonegreatlieunderminedeverythingelsehisfatherhadsaid.IfHehadnotlied,thenhistorymighthavebeenverydifferent.Theoretical, thought Guilliman, slipping into Macraggian dialectic problemsolving.WhatifHewaslyingaboutmorethanthegodsofthewarp?Once, he would never have entertained such thoughts. This living hell hadchallengedeverythinghehadbelieved.‘Amodifiedversionof it,yes,’hesaid.‘Reasonstillhasaplaceamidall thismadness.’‘Some may disagree with that,’ said Mathieu amicably. His eyes glintedshrewdly.‘AsIunderstandit,mylord, this truthdeniesnotonlyyourdivinity,butthatofyourfather.’‘TheEmperordeniedHisowndivinity,’saidGuillimanflatly.Thepriestshrugged.Guillimanhadseenthelookonthepriest’sfacetoomanytimesonotherholymen.Itwasthelookoftheblindlyfaithful.IftheEmperorHimselfstoodup,thoughtGuilliman,camedownoffHisgoldenthroneandproclaimed‘Iamnotagod!’thentheywouldburnHimasaheretic.Mathieuexhibitedfewsignsoffanaticism,buttheprimarchwouldgiveittime.Themoreserenethepriestontheoutside,thedeeperhisfaithwasontheinside,and the deeper the faith, the hotter the righteous fires hemight cast you into.There was a balance of humours Guilliman required. His militant-apostolicneededsomeofthatzeal.

Butbecareful there isnot toomuch fire,Roboute, he chidedhimself,oryouwillbeburntyourself.‘If you do not holdwith the teachings of our glorious church,’ saidMathieu‘thenwhydidyoutreatwithusatall?’‘BecausetheAdeptusMinistorumhaspower,andthoughithasusedthatpowerunwiselyonoccasion,oncethebalancesheetisreckoned,Iseeitisandhasbeena force for good.’Guilliman looked the priest squarely in the eyes.Thepriesttriedandfailedtoreturnhisgaze.‘IneedtheAdeptusMinistorum.Ineedtheirsupport.Theturningofthegalaxydependsontheirapproval,thoughImaywishitwerenotso…’Hepaused.‘IintendtoendtheIndomitusCrusadeanddividethefleet,frater,andIwouldhavetheblessingoftheEcclesiarchy–bothformymen’smorale, and to present a united front to thosewhowould sow divisionwithintheImperium.’‘YoudonotneedtoaskfortheAdeptusMinistorum’sblessing,mylord.Anyof my peers, any cardinal or episcope, would have leapt at the chance toproclaimyourdivinewill.’‘IsupposeIdonotneedtoask,’saidGuilliman,reachingforaslender,leather-boundvolume.‘ButifIdo,thenintimeyouwillseemeforwhatIam,andnotwhat you believeme to be. A god has no need formanners. There are otherfactors.’Guillimanheldoutthebook.‘Let us leave your certification for now, if youwish, but take these notes ofmine. These are the topics I would like the blessing to cover. You claim torepresenttheEmperor’sword.YouarebetterplacedtospeakHiswillandobeymy orders, and resolve neatly any contradictions there might be between thetwain.Adelicatetimeliesahead.Icannotrulebydiktatalone.EveryinstitutiondoesasIask,forIamtheImperialRegent.IamtheEmperor’slivingagent.ButIamno tyrant,andIwillnotbecomeone. Iwillhaveall the Imperiumatmybackwillingly,orwewillfail.IcannotbecomemybrotherHorus.’‘Nobodysaidyouwereausurper,my lord,’said thepriest,and took theslimbook from the primarch’s hands. His fingers shook. In terms of paper andleather,itweighedhardlyanything,buttherewasresponsibilitythereenoughtocrushahordeofsaints.‘Themostdangerousthoughtsgounsaid,’saidGuilliman.‘Manythinkit.’Heturnedbacktohisdatasplaysandhololiths,.Theconversationwasover,butthepriestremained.Amomentlater,Guillimanlookedoverhisshoulder.‘Stillhere,priest?’

‘Ihaveonemorequestion,ifyoumightindulgeme,’saidMathieu.Guillimanpickedup a stylus andbeganmarking a data-slate,where a list ofnew finds for his library glowed greenly. He began ticking off the books hedesiredtoseesoonest.‘YouwanttoknowwhyIchoseyou.Whynotacardinal,ortheEcclesiarchhimself?Itisonlynatural.’The priest nodded. ‘I am the lowliest sort of priest, my lord,’Mathieu said.‘EvenintheMissionaraGalactica,Iambeneathnotice.Myministryiswiththepoor, and the sick. It carries no prestige and not a little disdain. I have nevercraved power or influence. I simply desire to do your father’s work. That isrewardenoughforme.’‘Wellsaid.ThatisexactlywhyIhavechosenyou,andnotsomeprincelydemi-pope.Youcare.You fight alongsidemyarmies, andyou care for themeanestserf.’ Guilliman’s noble face became more solemn. ‘And I have heard yoursermons.’‘Youhave?’saidMathieu.Hewassurprisedandhonoured,butstillhedidnotfalltohiskneesandstartwailing.Guillimanwassatisfiedhehadchosenwell.‘Take the book. My equerry shall present you with my seal and youridentification asmilitant-apostolic. As far as I am concerned, you are he.Weshall treat it as a temporary appointment, if you like. You have one week todecidewhetherornotyouwilltakethepostpermanently.Nevertheless,Iwouldlikeyou todo thisone service forme.Write the sermon for the triumph I amplanning,anddeliverit.’‘Areyoucommandingme?’‘Iamaskingyou.Youdonothavetodoit.’Guillimanlookedsearchinglyatthepriest.Mathieugrippedthebook.‘Good,’ said the primarch. ‘Now go – anything you require will be madeavailabletoyou.’‘Youcoulddeliverthewordsyourself,mylord.’‘Ishallbehonestwithyou,FraterMathieu.’Guillimanrestedhishandonapileoffiles,allinroughbindersmarkedwiththebarred‘I’oftheInquisition.‘Ihavelookedcarefullyatmanypossiblecandidates for thisoffice. IchoseyouasalltheintelligenceIhaveonyourlifesuggestsyouareanhonestman,ferventbutreasonable, kind yet bold.As you said, you help the needy, and you have noambitionotherthantodogood.AsfarasIcantell.Ihavebeenwrongbefore.’‘Ihavemyownwork.’‘AndIhavegreaterforyou,’saidGuilliman.Heloweredhisvoice,andlookedoutthroughthecloisterstothefloatingwrackofvoidcombat.‘IfIsayIamnota

god,Idamnmyselfintheeyesofmyfather’sworshippers.IfIsayIam,Idamnmyself again in the eyes of those who are suspicious of me. Not every manregardsmy return as fortuitous. Some suspect fell powers atwork. I havemydetractors. I require someonewho can handle theAdeptusMinistorumgently.Mostdangerousof all tome is tohave aman in this positionof aworshipfulcharacter. I need someone who can get things done, who will not go intoparoxysmswhenever I speak, and onewhowill questionwhat I say should itneedquestioning.Inshort,Ineedsomeonewhocanseethemanbehindthegod.‘Youcametomefreely.Youhavenotcastyourselfuponyourknees.Youmaybe surprised to learn that you are one of the very few members of yourorganisationthatIhavebeenabletoholdaproperconversationwith.Inthefirstfewminutesofourexchange,youcalledmeahypocrite.Thefundamentalofitis, you are not overawed.You are therefore perfect for the role.Youmay notbelieveinmecompletely.Iseethatasanadvantage.’Thepriesthugged thebookclose tohischest like itwereapreciouschild. ‘Ibelieveinyou,mylord.’‘Because you have faith, priest?’ said Guilliman, and this time he could notmaskhisfeelings.HisscornslidoffFraterMathieulikewater.‘No, my lord. It is because I have met you, and I see you are sincere, ifmisguided.’Hebowedagain.‘Ishalldoasyouaskandwritethesermon,andIshallspeakitswords,andinoneweekIshallgiveyoumyanswerastowhetherIwillaccepttheappointment.’

CHAPTERTEN

NEWSFROMULTRAMAR

Asthefleetunderwentrepairsandresupplyshipsflewinfromacrossthesectorto provision the crusade, so work was begun on the surface of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2.Battlefieldscrapwastakenaway.Thebodiesofthetraitorsburnt.Whenalltraceofthefightingwasgone,thesiteofvictorywaspreparedfortheTriumphofRaukos.Flocksofauto-praisersflewoverthebareearth,singinghymns,whilepriestsinfloating pulpits shouted out blessings to cleanse the ground of uncleaninfluences. Staggered lines of giant machines scraped the ground flat underdozer blades fifty metres wide. Behind them came large tankers with fannedmawsthatsprayedliquidrockcretebehindthem.Followingthetankers,anarmyofmenwith rakes and brushes laboured to spread the rockcrete flat before itcould set.Dozensofartisanswatchedover them, their servo-skulls and slavedcyber beasts measuring the flatness of the foundations for the esplanade in apulsed storm of laser light. As the screed set, servitors followed, laying acomplexmosaicofcolouredstonesbrought fromallover thesector incementdribbledbytheirnozzle-handedfellows.Finallycametrucksfittedwithbrushesandpolishinglimbs.Inthisway,therockyplainwasreplacedbyahugemartialsquarethreemilesacross,decoratedwithagiantmosaic.Theplazaatthevalleymouthwasjustthebeginning.Machineslabouredattheface of the hills.Demolitionwalkers tore down thewall of the IronWarriors.Beforetheyhaddismantledhalfofit,workstartedonahugeprosceniumatthe

site of the wall’s central gate. It framed the valley with huge pillars and apedimentfromwhichthestatuesofImperialheroesgazed.Thenoiseofindustrywas tremendous, echoing across theplains for hundredsofmiles.The activitycontinued up into orbit. Lines of landing freighters came down from the sky,bearingworkersandmaterials.Guillimanwatchedhisplansbeingputintoactionfromtheviewingdeckofabulkyconstructioncrawler.Felixhaddonehis jobwell.Themachinesoutsidewerenot thegreatgeo-planersofold,but theywereadequate to the task.Thecaptain had learnedmuch. Felixwas unaware of his own talent. ThePrimarisSpaceMarinewouldneeditall,soonenough.Guillimanwaswaitingwhilethelatestinalineofnervyarchitectsbobbedandfussed over his plans, preparing them for the primarch’s inspection.A pile ofblueprintsheldinplacewithcarvedstoneweightshadalreadyaccumulatedonthe deactivated chart table. Rather more sober were the military engineersawaiting their turn. Upon their devices, the complexities of the new ChapterFortresstoberaisedovertheIronWarriorsstrongholdwerestored.‘My lord.’Asculptorwitha fixed, terrifiedsmileapproachedGuilliman.Theprimarchturnedfromthelow,angledwindowstoviewahololithofafriezeforthearch.Themanstutteredandmumbledhiswaythroughthepresentation.Histalents indesignweregreat, those in interpersonalcommunication lessso,andGuillimanwasgladwhenCaptainFelixcameintothecrampedroom.TheartistswerealmostasscaredofFelixastheywereofGuilliman,andscatteredbeforehim.Felixcoughed,beckoned,andwhispered into theprimarch’searwhenhebenthishead.Guillimanfrowned,andnodded.‘Gentlemen,thiswillhavetowaituntil later.Iwillseeallyourplanstoday,Ipromise.Please,whileyouwait,CaptainFelixwillarrangesomerefreshmentsforyou.’Felix’s brows drew together in consternation. The crawler’s provisionsamounted to tepid recycled water and emergency biscuit rations. Guillimantrustedhimtoorganisesomething.Ifanyonecouldsourcesuitablevittlesfromnowhere, Felix could. The expression on Felix’s face was almost comical.Guillimanresistedtheurgetoreassurehim.ThePrimariscaptainhadtolearntotrusthisownabilities.‘Thisway,’Felixsaid,herdingtheartistsintothecrawler’ssmallstateroom.‘Ishallseeifwecanfindsomewine.’Theartistsandarchitectsfilteredthroughthedoorwithunsureglancesbehindthem.Whentheywereallthrough,GuillimanaddressedFelix.

‘Thankyou,captain.Ishallnotbelong.’‘Heisoutside,mylord.’Guilliman left the crawler deck. The machine was a civilian constructionpatternintendedfor large-scaleworks.Comforthadnotbeenahighpriority initsdesign.Itwascrampedenoughforastandardhuman,andGuillimanhadtostoop to negotiate its corridors, bending almost double to squeeze his waythroughthedoors.Outsidethesound-screenedcommanddeck,thethunderofthemachine’sinnerworkingsmadeitselfknown.Guilliman’searsbuzzedtothesoundofthumpingpistons.Thecrawlerwasidlingatthatmoment.Thedinitmadewhileitwasinmotionwasalmostastoundinginvolume.Guilliman stopped outside the master’s cabin and knocked on the door. Themaster was made of sterner material than the artists, and looked only mildlysurprisedtoseetheImperialRegentstandingoutsidehisprivatechamber.‘We have not finished, Master Fulpin,’ said Guilliman. ‘I have received avisitor.’‘My command deck is yours as long as you require it,my lord,’ said Fulpinwithasmartbow.‘Iwelcometherest.’Guillimanpeeredpasttheman’sshoulder.Hisroomwascrammedwithpapersanddata-slates.‘Yourideaofrestaccordswithmine,’saidGuilliman.‘Norest.’‘ServicetotheEmperorneverfinishes,mylord,’saidFulpin.‘Thereisalwaysmoretodo.’Guillimannodded.‘Iwillsendwordwhenwearedone.’Heleftthemasterandcontinueddownthecorridor.Thecrewweretakingtheirunscheduledrestmoreinearnestthantheirleader.Loudconversationemanatedfromthecrawler’scommonroomashepassed it, themeninside laughingandplayingmusicalinstruments,ignorantthatthemasteroftheImperiumwasonlyafewmetresfromthem.He followed steps downwards, emerging from a double gate set behind thecrawler’sdozerblade.Hepickedhiswayovermassivehydraulicsystems,andemergedontotheplain.AnUltramarine of the old type stoodwaiting for him, his crested helm heldunderonearm.Hisarmourhadalreadyacquireda layerofdust,but thegreentrimoftheFourthCompanyshonebeneath,andhishonoursweresonumerousthathisrankwaswithoutdoubt.‘CaptainVentris,’saidGuilliman,walkingtostandbesidehim.‘Myapologies

forkeepingyouwaiting.Youhavecomealongwaytoseeme.’Ventristurnedanddroppedtohisknee.‘Mylordprimarch.’Hebowedhishead,andkepthiseyesonthefloor.‘Please,myson,’saidGuilliman,‘youneednotbowbeforeme.’Ventrisremainedkneeling.‘Mylord,forgiveme.Ihavenothadthehonourofmeetingyou.Mycompanytriedtoreturnwhenyouwerereawoken,butbythetimeIreachedMacraggeyouhadleft.’‘Performingyourdutyisnotanerror,captain.Idonotacceptyourapology,forthereisnoneedforone.’‘ItsomehowfeelsimportantthatIshouldhavebeenthere.’‘Youareherenow,’ saidGuilliman.He tooka step towardsVentris,hishandout.‘Please.’Thecaptaindidnotrise.‘Ihavespokenwithmybrothersaboutyou,listenedtoeverything they had to report. Not aword of it does justice to actually beinghere. Ihavewishedwithallmybeing to stand inyourpresence,but Ididnotexpectthis.Iexpectedtofeelsomething.Toseeaprimarchissomethingfromatale,Ithought,butthisisnofiction,andIamconfounded.’‘Youmaystand.’‘But…Butmylord,Icannotstand.’VentrislookedupatGuilliman,hisbattle-wornfacemadeyoungbywonder.‘ThenIcommandyoutostand,’saidGuilliman.Ventris’reactiontouchedandirritatedhimequally. ‘Lookuponmeasa father,not asa lord.Youareofmyline,andasontome.’‘As you command.’ Uriel Ventris stood slowly, his armour’smotive systemsgrowlingloudly,asifthey,too,wereawestruck.Thecaptainsearchedthefaceofhisgene-father.Guillimanlookeddownonhim.Ventrisworelongservicebarsinhisforehead.Hisskinwascoarsenedwithage,andforallhismeekreaction,theprimarchcouldsensethedefianceinhim,therage,thedesiretoserve.The spellbroke.Ventris smileda little sheepishly. ‘Severuswarnedmeaboutthis,’hesaid,shakinghishead.‘Hewarnedme,andIdidnotbelievehim.“Iwillnotlosemyhead,”Itoldhim.IcanseehisfacenowwhenItellhimthatIdid.’Ventrisstoodtallandsaluted.‘Myapologies.CaptainAgemmanwasright.’‘It isnothing,’ saidGuilliman.Heheldouthishand.Ventris reachedout andgrasped it firmly, unhesitant now. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintancefinally.Yourreputationprecedesyou.’‘Notallofitisgood,mylord,’saidVentris.

‘Ifrulesandcustomsremainunbroken,Uriel,thentheybecomemeaningless–either brittle from misuse, or so strong and overwhelming that they becomewalls to the mind, blocking out the truth of what it is they were intended toprotect. I assumeyouhavebeen sent to representLordCalgar at the triumph.Youmustalsohaveamessageformeifyouinterruptmyimportantworkwiththearchitects.’Ventrisdippedhishead inabow. ‘Ihave.Thewar inUltramarhasenteredanew phase. Three large forces have issued forth from the Scourge Stars. TheEndurance,theshipofMortarion,lordoftheDeathGuard,leadsafleettowardsUltramar.’Guilliman was not surprised. ‘It was only a matter of time. With Magnusabroad in the Imperium again, I expectedmore ofmy brothers to leave theirfortressesbehindandventureoutoncemore.’Guillimanlookedaway,thinking.‘HasMortarionactuallybeen seen?Deceptionwasnot favouredbyhimwhenlastwemet,buthehashadlongyearstolearnnewtricks.’‘Hehasbeenseen,mylord.HeappearedinpersonatthesackingofDaedallos.Anastropathicmessagewassentwithpictencoding.Oncethemetaphorswereprocessed,wehadagoodimageofhim.’‘Daedallos?Whatwasthefateofthatworld?’‘High casualties, and large amounts of toxicity. Disease is rife whereMortarion’s dogs go. They poison the earth, though once theymove on, theirinfluence dies somewhat – the pollution they bring is not entirely natural andrequiresthepresenceofthetraitorstoremainvirulent,orsoLordTiguriussays.’Tiguriuswas theUltramarinesChiefLibrarian,Ultramar’smost potent psyker.‘Thatbeingsaid,theybringmundanepestilencewiththemalso.Daedalloswilltakeyearstorecover.’‘Hedidnotdestroytheworld?’‘No,mylord–heattacked,slaughteredtheauxilliathereandwithdrewbeforewecouldrespond.’‘Then he shows himself deliberately,’ said Guilliman. ‘Daedallos has littlestrategicimportance.Heisseekingtodrawyououtandputyouonguard.’‘Hehasdonemorethanthat.Wehavereportsofhispresenceinfourofthecoresystems. Wherever he goes, rebellion follows. Lately, he has changed hisapproach, and gathered a large fleet to himself. He is holding position in theMacragge system itself. His fleet is too large for defence fleets to directlyengage, but too small to attack the Macraggian prime world. Ardium isblockaded,andtwoofitshivesunderattack.Hispresencehasledtoawaveof

unrestacrossallsixplanetsofthehomesystem.Ourpeoplearenotimmunetothe draw of Chaos.We spendmuch of our time putting down death cults, ordealingwithoutbreaksofdisease.Underthecoverofthesedistractions,hesendsin small strike teams to attack crucial infrastructure. I would not say thatMacraggeisundersiege,butitisclosetobeingso.’‘Whatishisgame,Iwonder?’musedGuillimantohimself,hisvoicedwindlingtoawhisper.‘Theseattacks,’hesaidfirmly.‘Theyappearrandom,buttheywillnotbe.’‘MyLordCalgarassumedso.Heisyettodeterminetheirintent.’Guillimanappeareddispleased. ‘Thesearepoor tidings,’ saidGuilliman. ‘ButEspandorisnotyettaken?’‘Espandorstands,’saidVentris.‘TheenemyhasbeengraduallyescalatingtheirattacksonEspandorPrime,butFifthCaptainPhelianhasthwartedthemall,andtheyhavenotbeenabletomakesufficientgainselsewherethatwouldallowthetraitors toconcentrate theirassetsandoverwhelmthesystem.While itssupplylinesareopen,Espandorwillnotfall.’‘Thatisatleastsomething.’‘Mylord,Idonotmeantodampenyourmood,butEspandorcannotholdoutforlong.Allthesystemworldsbesidestheprimeareinthehandsofthefoe,andtheirshipsresupplyfreelythere.’‘Hmm,’ saidGuilliman, oncemore lapsing into thought. ‘Comewithme,’ hesaidabruptly.Theprimarchsetoffalongside thecrawler.Sixteengiantwheelslined the side, twice Guilliman’s height, their hard plastek treads caked withsand.‘Whatisthecompositionoftheotherforces?’‘A smaller fleet of Death Guard ships terrorises the outer regions,’ repliedVentris.‘TheleadvesselappearstobetheTerminusEst.Thisistheshipof–’‘CallasTyphon,FirstCaptainoftheDeathGuard.’‘Thatwasoncehisname,sothelegendsgo.HeisknownasTyphustous.’‘Yes,ofcourse,’saidGuilliman.‘Typhus’ fleet isof lesserconcern,’continuedVentris, ‘thoughhehasalreadytakenthestarfortressofEumenice,andisconcentratinghisattacksagainst theothers.Wecanbethankfulthatwherehegoes,Mortariondoesnot.MostoftheDeath Guard congregate around their traitor primarch. The larger danger isposedbyadaemonichorde.Theyareslippinginandoutofrealspaceatwill,andwe do not know how. Lord Tigurius has undertaken a mission to the outerreachestodeterminethereason.Thedaemonshavereturnedtotheempyreanforthemoment, but thewarp grows turbulent aroundUltramar, and theLibrarius

and our astropaths are certain that they will return. The enemy is planningsomething, my Lord Calgar is sure. Tartella was ravaged recently by thedaemons.Thegovernorsurvived,butreportscasualtyratesofoverninety-eightpercent.ThedaemonleadingthisforcehasbeenidentifiedasKu’gath,theonethatcallsitselfthePlaguefather.Furthersightingshavebeenmadeinthreeothersystems, always fleeting, but verifiable. Furthermore they are close after, orsimultaneously,withthoseofMortarion.’Ventrisstopped,andlookedathisgene-sireearnestly.‘My lord, Mortarion and his daemonic allies are engaged in something illfavoured.Ultramarisinperil.WhenIdeparted,therewereonehundredandsixactivewarfrontsacrosstherealm.Ofcourse,thisnumberchangesallthetime.FourteendayshavepassedinUltramarsinceweleft,atmybestcalculation.Thatislongenoughforthesituationtoalter,andIfearfortheworse.’‘Your report gives me an adequate picture of the challenges faced by LordCalgar,’saidGuilliman.‘Youwereentrustedtodeliverthistomepersonallytopreventtheinformationfallingintoenemyhands,Itakeit?’‘Therehavebeentoomanyinstancesoftheenemyanticipatingourmoves,mylord,’ replied Ventris. ‘We do not know how, but they are intercepting andaccuratelyinterpretingourastropathicsendings.Forthemostdelicatemessages,wehavecometorelyonmessengerships.’‘MortarionwantstoforcemyreturntoUltramar,’saidGuilliman.‘Iwillhavenochoicebuttorespond.’Theycontinued,passingoutoftheshadowofthecommandcrawler,andcametowherethesquareoftriumphbegan.Theplainendedatalowwall.Abovethelevel of the sand, the gleaming plaza began.Amile away, the greatmachinescontinued their work extending it. The weak sunlight of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9madefeebleattemptstopenetratethepallofdustthrownupbytheirremodellingof theworld.Theairwas thinbutbreathable, and through it acold, softwindblew,scatteringsandoverthefreshlypolishedtiles.‘Nothinglasts,’saidGuilliman,watchingthegleamofthestonetesseraedullingunderthefallingdust.‘Oureffortsaretoooftentemporary.’Hewasquietamoment.Ventriswaitedexpectantly.‘Tellme,CaptainVentris,whatistheprogressofthereconsolidationofGreaterUltramar?’‘Thatisanotherstory,’saidthecaptainreluctantly.‘Wearebeingobstructedinourefforts.DisputesastowhatwasinUltramarandwhatwasnotaredelayingplanstoreconstitutetheFiveHundredWorldsasitwasinyourday.Recalcitrant

commanders are exploitingour ignorance.Our historical record is incomplete,my lord.We do not have a definitivemap ofUltramar during your time.TheMappaGuillimanusintheLibraryofPtolemywasdamagedmillenniaago.Thesurvivingcompletemapsshowtherealmatvariousstagesofexpansion,orafteryour division of it, but not at Ultramar’s height.Many of the documents youdrewuptograntsovereigntytolocalplanetarycommandersarelost.Butthingsprogress.We believe three quarters of the ancient realm of Ultramar is backunderthedirectstewardshipofMacragge.’‘Lord Calgar has a list I drew frommemory,’ saidGuilliman. ‘It carriesmyseal, and the full weight of Imperial authority. I have a map inset into thewindowofmyHallofArmaments.Calgarhasacopyofit.Thereisnothingtoargueabout.’‘Someoftheworldsdisputetheproof.Theyaremorethangladtowelcomeourwarriors, but the Imperial commanders in two dozen systems quibble overreaffirmingtheiroathsofloyalty.Inonecase,wehavehadanoutbreakofintra-systemcivilwarover the issue,whereone lordhasdeclaredforyouand threeagainst.Somelieoutright, tellingustheywereneverpartofUltramar.Perhapssomeofthemsincerelybelieveit.Afewarebraverandinsisttheancienttreatiescannot be revoked, even by you, my lord, and are determined to retain theirindependence.’‘Theyarewrong,’saidGuilliman.Ventriswatchedasmallwheeled transport speedacross theplaza towards theconstructionline,throwingupaplumeofsettleddustthatdriftedbackdownasitpassed.‘Theyare…disquietedbythefateofsomeoftheirpeers.’‘Onlythosewhorulepoorlyhaveanythingtofear,’saidGuilliman.‘Itis,naturally,themoreautocraticrulerswhoopposeyourrescindingoftheirindependence.’‘Thentheyonlydelaytheinevitable,’saidGuilliman.‘Theywillfall intolineand ask politely for mercy, or they will be executed.’ He watched a giantearthshapergrindanoutcroppingof rock flat inan instant,belchingouta finesprayofpulverisedstone.Afurnaceonits trailerpuffedsmokeasitbakedtheharvestedmaterial intorockcretepowder.Thestonewouldsoonbereturned totheplaininthisnewformbythefoundationteams.108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2worldwassobarren.HepitiedtheSpaceMarineshewouldstationhere,butplaceslikethePitofRaukosneededguarding.CountlessbaselinehumansandtranshumanssufferedtomaintainthewatchupontheImperium’snew,terrifyingborders.‘IshouldneverhavesettheFiveHundredfree,’hesaidsuddenly.

‘Mylord?’saidVentris.‘I should not have done it,’ repeatedGuilliman, gesturing expressively as hespoke. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was following theEmperor’swishes,lettingmenruletheaffairsofmen.’Hegavearuefulsmile.‘After I implemented the Codex Astartes and split the Legion, I thought itimpossibleforaforceofonethousandbattle-brotherstoeffectivelygovernsuchalargerealmandperformtheirprimarydutyasguardiansoftheImperium.MyLegionwasgone,andIdidnotwanttheChapterthatcontinuedtheirtraditionstobecomeinsular.Theywouldhavebeendistracted,perhapsneverleftUltramar,hadtheyFiveHundredWorldstogovern.’‘Maybe,’saidVentris.‘Perhapswecouldhavemanaged,mylord.Ithinkyourdecisionwaswise.’‘Wasitwise?’saidGuilliman.Heabruptlybeganwalkingagain,turningaroundtherearofthecrawlertowheretheuntouchedplainsbegan.Inthatdirection,therewaslittleevidenceofthebattleorofconstruction.Awayfrom the industry of change, 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2 looked as it probably haddoneformillionsofyears:cold,flatandmostlylifeless.LikeMarsinthetimebefore man. The temperature had dropped a few degrees in the last century.What did thatmean to a place like this?A littlemore frost, a little less light.Withoutintervention,thesunwouldeventuallygooutand108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2wouldfreezecompletely.Therewouldbenoonetocare.‘I am no longer convinced,’ continued Guilliman. ‘One of my sons, a manmuch like you as it happens, once warned me against pride. I thought I hadavoideditsvices,buttherearemanykindsofpride,andithadaparttoplayinmydecision to shrinkUltramar.You see, Iwanted theUltramarines to be outthere, among the stars. I wanted their legacy to continue.’ He stopped again,sweepinghisgazeacross thedesert’s low,mournfulhills. ‘Does thatmakemeselfish,myson?’Ventrisdidnotknowwhattosay.Theprimarchcontinued.‘Therewasamorepracticalconsideration.IdidnotwishtosettheprecedentofChapters of SpaceMarines ruling large portions of the Imperium.What goodwouldithavebeentoremovetheuseofLegionsfrompotentialtyrants,onlytoturnthelegionariesintotyrantsthemselves?ByHisactions,theEmperormadeitclear that governorshipof the Imperiumwas tobeundertakenbymortalmen,not by theAdeptusAstartes. If theUltramarineswere leftmasters of theFiveHundredworlds,itopenedapotentialavenueofcorruption.IwouldnothavetheexistenceofUltramarbe the spur to thecreationof a thousand small empires,

because I could not trust the Adeptus Astartes to replicate what we have athome.Warriorsmakepoorlords.ThelikesoftheEmpireofIronwasthemorelikelyoutcomethanacropofnewUltramars.’The reference to the IronWarriors’ short-livedHeresy-era realmwas lost onVentris,buthekepthissilencewhiletheprimarchcontinuedtospeak.Guillimanlookedtothesky.Pasttheveilsofdust,theatmospherewassothinthat the brightest stars shone in the day and the lights of ships in orbit wereclearlyvisible.‘AndyetIreturntolifeandfindtheentireImperiumaprisonforits people. By avoiding one problem, I created another. If I had leftUltramarintact, more worlds would have been havens from such pain and remainedcentresofreason.Abiggerbeaconburnsbrighter.Ishouldhaveleftitwhole,asanexampleofwhatcanbe.’Theprimarch turned tohis son. ‘Youare somanygenerations removed fromtheoriginal founding.You remain true to the Imperium.Thededicationof theUltramarinesisatestamenttothespiritofUltramarandthewilloftheEmperor.It would have been better had more worlds been in your keeping. You mustunderstandwhyIdidwhatIdid.IwatchedhalfmybrothersfalltoChaos,andbecamedeterminedthatnooneshouldeverholdthepowerofaLegionagain.Ibecame obsessed with the potential misuse of a few hundred thousand SpaceMarines,andindoingsoIforgotaboutthepettyself-interestoflessermen.Thisis I,whose preoccupationwas to hurry theGreatCrusade to an end so that Icould get on with the business of peace!’ He laughed at himself. ‘Perhaps Iwouldhavefailedthere.Theserulerswhodenymysealandmyrighttorevokeourtreaties,theyarenotevil–theyareperhapsnotevenstupid.Theyaresimplylimitedasallmenarelimited.’Guillimanfellsilent,thensmiledsadly.‘Doesitshockyou,myson,tolearnaprimarchcanerr?’Ventris looked uncomfortable. ‘My heart says yes, but that primarchs can bemistakenisanobviousconclusionwhentheargument isreasonedthrough,mylord,’saidVentris. ‘Youradmissiondoesnothing to lessenmyrespect foryou.We of the Ultramarines remain human, despite our transformation. We makemistakes.Asasongrows,helearnsthathisfatherisnotinfallible,whetherheisgloriousorhumble.’‘SometimesIwonderifIamhumanatall,’saidGuillimanthoughtfully.‘Inanymeaningfulsense.’‘Ifyouwerenot,youwouldnotcareforthefateofothermen.’‘Manyofmybrothersdidnot.Maybeitisanaffectation?’

‘Humanityisnotmeasuredonformalone,butbydeeds,mylord,’saidVentris.‘A mortal man may be inhuman towards other men, yet I have seen xenosbehavewithhonourandfairnesswhenweofferthemnothingbuthate.’Guilliman appraised the fourth captain carefully. ‘You impress me, CaptainVentris. I have heard much about your deeds. I did not expect you to be sothoughtful.’‘Yourteachingspersist,mylord,’saidVentrismodestly.‘Westrivetobemorethan warriors, but wise men also who would rule fairly, for the good of thegreatestnumber.’‘Yet the day when my sons shall set aside their weapons seems impossiblenow,’ the primarch replied. ‘That was always my intention. After the GreatCrusade, you were all to become administrators and statesmen!’ He laughedagain.‘Itseemssonaive.Lookatthis.’HegesturedtothebalefullightofthePitsmearedbythedustyair.Anexplosionrumbledoutfromthehillswherethewallshadclosedthevalley.A slope collapsed, leavingablank stone cliff.Before thedetritushad finishedrolling out from the base, servitor excavators were clearing the rubble, andscaffolds being wheeled into position for the artisans who would carve thebedrockintostatues.‘HowareyourPrimarisbrothersfaring?’saidGuilliman,returningtomattersofwar.‘Theyareawonder,my lord, andLordCalgar sendshispersonal thanks thatyouprovided themtoussoquickly.Ultramar is stronger for theirpresence, inbattle and in other ways. Wherever they go, they bring great heart to ourwarriors.Whether they areUltramarines, reinforcements for otherChapters ornewPrimarisfoundings,theyareyoursonsatheart.Someofthemrememberthedayswhenyouwalkedamongus–tohearsomeoftheirstoriesisremarkable.Additionally,theirpresencehashelpedwithseveralcasesofdissensionfromtheplanetary commanders of Greater Ultramar. They speak so eloquently of theancientdays,andoftheunityoftheoldUltramar,thatseveralgovernmentssawthat their opposition to reunification was not to the taste of their peoples.Peacefulmeansdonoteludeusinalldisputedcases.’‘Thisisawar.Allweaponsarevalid,CaptainVentris.Propagandaisone,andwhatIhavedoneisstillpropaganda,evenifitisthetruth.’‘Yourfranknessisacredit.’‘Therehavebeentoomanylies,’saidGuilliman.‘Andthisworkhere,mylord,thisisalsoaweapon?’

‘Atriumphisastatement.IapetheexultationofHorusatUllanormaybe,butsuch displays are important. This crusade is over. It should be disbandedproperly.Wehavenolastingvictory–theImperiumteetersonthebrinkstill–butIwillmaketheIndomitusCrusadeseemlikeone.’Guillimanturnedbacktothe plain being rapidly transformed to gleamingmartial ground. ‘I knowwhyyou have come tome, captain. I cannot return home, not yet. The IndomitusCrusade must be ended in good order, its constituent parts divided andcommandedwell.Icannothastenthroughthisprocess.ThepeopleofthegalaxycannotseemerunninghomethemomentUltramarisindanger.‘SoonIwillasksomuchofthem.Forgenerationstheyhaveoiledthemachinesofwarwiththeirblood.Theyhavewettheharvestgroundwiththeirtears.TheyhavesenttheirchildrentodieintheImperialarmies.ThisisbuttheleastIshallbeforcedtoaskoftheminthecomingcenturies.WhatIhavewonhereisjustthe beginning. To conclude this endless war will require sacrifice fromeveryone–man,womanandchild.Ineedtoshowthemwecanwin,thatIamincontrol.IcannotdothatifIleavenow.’‘WhatofMortarion,mylord?’askedVentris.‘HethreatensUltramaritself.’‘UltramarisnottheImperium,’saidGuillimansoftly.‘Ifitwere,perhapsnoneofthiswouldeverhavehappened.Butithas.Ultramariscrucialtomyplans,butIcannotbeseentofavourmyownhomeovertheworldsofeveryothersector.Fearnot,captain–Iwillreturn.IwilldrivemybrotherawayfromUltramar,andI swear thatwhen I leave to free the rest of the Imperium, the realmwill bebetterorganised,betterfortifiedandbetterabletodealwithwhatevermaycomein thefuture.But that time isnotyet.TellLordCalgar tohold the line. I trusthimtoensureMacraggewillstillbetherewhenIcomehome.’Ventrisbowed.‘Ishallhaveyourresponsesentimmediately–’Guillimanhelduphishand.Hisearpiecewasbuzzing.‘Captain Felix,’ he said, ‘can you not encourage our guests to wait a littlelonger?’‘ItisnotfortheirsakethatIinterruptyou,mylord,’voxedFelix.‘There isapriority request from the palace. Master-Astropath Losenti has received amessagefromArchmagosCawl.’‘Iwillattendimmediately.Makemyapologiestothearchitects.HavetheplansoftheChapterfortresssenttomyscriptorium.Iwillexaminethemtonight.’HeturnedtotheFourthCaptain.‘Forgiveme,Ventris,butImustleave.ItappearsIamindemandtoday.’Roboute Guilliman sent a message to his personal shuttle, commanding the

crew tomake ready for flight, and departed, leaving CaptainVentris alone towatchabattlegroundtransformedintosymbolofImperialmight.

CHAPTERELEVEN

ESPANDORREMEMBERED

Varensdreamed.HewasbackinthetrenchesofEspandor,ashehadbeeneverytimehehadsleptonhisjourneytoIaxontheward-ship,andeverynightsince.Espandor was always so real in these dreams that he thought he was thereagain.Theankle-deepstagnantwaterstankjustasbadasithadatthefront.Thesky was just as dark. The rising and falling drone of flies was just asmonotonous.Thefearwasjustasreal.HeandBoluswereontheReachline.ThebrokencityofKonor’sReachwasbehind themandmiles of shattered treeswere in front of them,mistwrappedtightaboutthemlikeafuneralshroudtrappingmaggotstoacorpse.Deathwaseverywhere.Thiswas theWarof theFlies, theCreepingDoomoffensive.Thewarhadbeengoingonforoveracentury.ThecampaignonEspandorwasbutoneofmanyenemyactionsplaguingUltramar.ToVarens, itwas theonlyonethatmattered.Greasyrainpeltedthem,notacidenoughtoburntheskin,butovertimeenoughtodegradeauniform’sfabricandcausebootstodisintegrate.Feetexposedtothemudrotted.Compromisedbiosealsintheirmasksletindisease.Theenemyhada myriad ways to kill a man. The rain was only one. The mist, laced withinfectionandchemicalpoison,wasanother.ItwasthinenoughtodaythatVarensandBolus risked leaving their respirators and goggles up for awhile. Intenseclaustrophobiaafflictedmanyofthetroopsontheline.Varens twitchedat a ticklingsensationonhisback.Amoment laterhe felt it

again,comingupoverhisshoulderandontohisneck,thenbrushinghisear.Hisskin crawled and he swatted at his head without thinking, mashing a fat flyagainst his helmet. With a grimace, he wiped the mess off onto his filthyuniform,addingpale,pussysmearstothecrustcoveringhisbiogloves.‘Eveninthedamnrainthefliesdon’tletup,’saidBolus.‘Ifthere’sonethingIhateaboutthiswar,it’sthebloodyflies,’headded,wavingmoreofthemawayfromhisface.‘Supposethat’swhytheycallittheWaroftheFlies.’Hegrinned.ThewarriorseithersideofBolusandVarenshad tight faces,whitewith fear.Oneofthemattemptedtosmile;therestofthemremainedglazed.‘Cheerfulbunch,’mutteredBolus.‘Goeasyonthem,actingsergeant,’saidVarens.Anotherflybuzzedtooclosetohisface.Heblewoutatit,disruptingitsdrunken,lazyflight.‘I’llgoeasyonyoubeforeIgoeasyonthem.’‘They’reinforahardride,then,’saidVarens.‘I’dratherfacetheenemythananotherscoldingfromyou.’Theirexchangewasinflatedpurposefullywithbravado,butwhattheyintendedto be wry and sardonic came across as forced, and it had little effect on themoraleofthenewrecruits.Alltheirothersquadmemberswerenew.Casualtieswerehigh.OfVarens’ last squad,onlysixwere left, and they’dbeensplit andincorporatedintofreshunitstostiffentheresolveofthefreshmeat.‘Freshmeatgoesoffquickinthiswar.’That’swhatBolushadsaidaboutthem.Thatdidn’tmaketherookiessmileeither.Thishadhappenedsomanytimes,Varenswasclosetolosingcount.Hedidn’tbothertorepainthisunitmarkingsanymore,notthattheycouldbeseenunderthemudandfilthofEspandor’sbattlefieldsanyway.Herotatedhisshoulder.Theticklereturnedwiththehintofasting.Anotherfly,probably, looking for weaknesses in his double-thickness uniform. The damnthingswerebloodsuckers,allofthem.A civilised cardinal world with broad expanses of wilderness, Espandor hadbeenaplaceofcoolforests.Withhumansettlementrestrictedtothecitiesofthewestern continent and the lesser agri-complexes scattered across its warmerzones,theplanet’swoodsandoceanshadbeenleftinanearpristinestate.Orsothe pre-mission edifications had depicted Espandor before Varens arrived, sixinterminable years ago now. He had only ever known it as a sea of mud, amoribundplaceplaguedbythedeadwhocameshamblingfromthewastelandsofshatteredtreeseverysevenhours,regularasmanufactoriashiftchanges.Several of the larger cities were gone, and trench lines surrounded the

remaining three civitae.Their hinterlandswere seas ofmud, the patchworkofforestsandargicolaelevelledtoprovidefieldsoffire.Theassaultsof thedeadwere therefore severely hampered. The dead were slow, and the UltramarAuxilias’ guns many. The enemy’s diseases were rife, the population was ashadowofwhatithadbeenandtheplanethadceasedtobeaproductivepartofUltramarinanyway,butifEspandorwassick,atleastitwasstillalive.‘StillImperial,stillUltramarian,stillliving.Fightforitwitheverybreathintheprimarch’s name, for that is the will of the Emperor,’ Varens whispered tohimself.Afterthat,hehadnomoretimeforprayer,fortheseventh-hourklaxonblared,andtheenemycamelurchingoutofthemist.‘Here comes today’s batch!’ shouted their lieutenant, his amplified voicedistorted by the voxmitters attached to his comms operator’s pack. ‘Hold theline.Preparetofireonmymark.’‘Respirators on,men.Goggles down.’ saidBolus.He snapped his equipmentinto place over hismouth byway of example. His next wordsweremuffled.‘Makesuretheseal’stightonyourbodysuit.Don’tgettheirfilthonyou.’Varensgotdownoffthefiringsteptohelpapanickingyoungsoldierwhowasfailingtogethisgearsetrightonhisface.‘Yourclip’stwisted,that’sall,’saidVarens.Hetuggedoffonedirtyglove–notwithhisteeth,neverthat–andadjustedthebalaclavaaroundthesoldier’sface,wipingrainfromthetrooper’sfaceanduntwistinghisstrapping.‘Withgoggles and respiratoron, there shouldbenoexposed skin, and so theEmperorprotects,’hesaid,settingtheyouth’smaskinplace,andthenhisown.‘Whisperyourthankstoyourbattlegear,trooper.Itwillkeepyoualive.’The young man nodded too hard. His eyes were wide with fear behind theyellow plastek of his combat goggles. Varens slapped his shoulder plate andmoved on. The mortal warriors of Ultramar were better equipped than mostAstraMilitarum regiments.Without this equipment theywould lose half theirnumbertosicknessaftereveryfight.Varenscheckedhispartofthesquadover,pattingbacksandsteadyingnerves.Whenhewassatisfied,heclimbedoutofthesuckingquagmireofthetrenchandtookuppositiononthefiringstepagain,restinghislasgunonthesoddenwoodoftheparapet.Theticklingstinginhisbackbecameanannoyingitch,buthebarelynoticedit.Thetimehadcometofight.Slowly, the enemy emerged from the fog through the driving rain. Theirsilhouettes were human, their gait anything but: a shambling, jerky walk that

betrayedtheirnaturefromafar.ThedeadofEspandorcametowar.Oneoftherecruitsgasped,thehumanitystrangledoutofhisexhalationbyhisrespirator.Asharplas-crackhadVarensturning;ashocked,boyishfacelookedbackathim.Rainsteamedoffthemuzzleoftherecruit’slasgun.‘Holdfire.’LieutenantAttinus’voicecrackledoverthesquadvox.Bolus rested his hand on the body of the gun. His damp glove hissed as itbrushedthebarrel.Heatradiatedoffthepowerpack.‘Wait,son,youneedtobeprecise.Shootingatthisdistanceisawasteofcharge.Rainandfogdispersesthelight. You don’t want to be swapping out your ammo while those things areclawingatyourface.Everyshotsavedisanothertofirewhenyouneedit.Saveit until the commandcomes.Aim for theheads.Always theheads,’ he added,lookingmeaningfullyupanddowntheline.Thoseoftheyoungsoldierswhohadgraspoftheirwitsnoddedandleanedintotheirgunstocks.Acouplestaredtearfullyout,gazesfixed.TheAuxiliaordinarilyhad excellent training, but the needs of thewarmeant these recruits hadbeenhurriedthrough.Theywereconscripts,andtheyweren’tready.Theshapesof thedeadsolidified.Theyhadbeencivilians,mostly.Their tornand dirty clothes were whole enough to give hints as to their origins in theoverruncities furthereast.Therewerea fewAstraMilitarumuniformsamongthem.Ifapositionfell,itwasn’talwayspossibletobeheadandburnthebodies.‘We’re fighting ourselves,’ a trooper said.Unease rippled down the line in awaveofnervousmovement.Varenscursed theboy inwardlyforspeaking the truth. ‘Quiet there.Gunsup.Takeaim.’Asofttattooofclicksandrattlesundercutthedrummingoftherainashisorderwas obeyed.Other sergeants and veterans gave their own commands, and theparapetgrewaleaflesshedgeoflas-barrelspointingintotheblastedforest.Therewas no bombardment.Toomany times the dead had clawed theirwaybackupfromtheearth, takingthedefendersbysurprise,andshellsfor thebiggunswererunninglow.Espandorwasremote,alwayshadbeen,rightattheedgeof Ultramar. Supply had become increasingly difficult as the Plague Fleetssteppeduptheiractivities.EvenbackinthedaysoftheFiveHundredWorldsithadbeenisolated,thoughwhensomanyotherworldshadbeencutloosefromUltramarthousandsofyearsago,Espandorhadremainedwithinthefold.The dead staggered onwards, slack expressions on their faces. They did notspeak or make any sound. Only the sucking of themud at their feet and the

drummingoftherainaccompaniedtheirmarch.Their fleshwas rent, innards hanging from split stomachs, greeningmusclesexposedinraggedskin.Therewasnowayanorganismlikethatcouldfunction.All themenstationedonEspandorknewthedeadforbeingbornofwarpcraft.The commissars ruthlessly dealt with any found speaking of such things, buttheywerefacingunnaturalmonsters.Sorcery.Itcouldnotbedenied.Varensletoutatensesigh.Hisbreathwassourinhismask.Fromawaydowntheline,oneofthelastregimentalpriestsbellowedprayersintothesilentadvance.Thedeadturnedawayfromthatquadrantasifordered.Varenswishedthereweremoreholymen.CardinalsruledEspandorinthenameoftheAdeptusMinistorum,thoughitwassubordinatetoMacragge,andsothereweremanymenwhoclaimedtobeholyinitscities.Butthepriestsoftheworldrarelycametothefront.TheywerebusybeseechingtheEmperortoturnawaythecloudsoffliesfromthecities,theysaid,andtendingtothemanysick,andoverseeingthedisposalofthedeadbeforetheycouldreawaken.Theyhadtheirhandsfull.Varensthoughtthemcowards.He had been terrified at the sight of plague zombies in the beginning, butVarens’ fear lessenedwitheachexposure.Forall thehorrorof theirbeing, thedead were clumsy. They were only dangerous in large numbers, and theseassaults,thoughunpleasant,wereeasilydealtwith.Once,atheatreofwarlikeEspandorwouldhaveattractedtheattentionsoftheUltramarinesthemselves,buttherewereworsethingsattackingtheirempire,andtheywereneededelsewhere.ThereweresupposedlySpaceMarinesonEspandorsomewhere.Varens’couldn’tsayifthatweretrue.Hehadneverseenthem.Thedeaddrewcloser,lipssmackingwordlesslytogetherinaparodyoflivingspeech.‘Fire!’roaredLieutenantAttinus.Rubylas-lightsstabbedoutfromthetrench.Theaircracked.Rainhissedloudlyintosteam,generatingrank,warmcloudsthatsettledonthelineandthickenedthefog.‘Fire!’orderedthelieutenantagain.Multiple lasbeams riddled the corpse walkers. The dead began their dance,jiggingasbeamsof coherent lightblasteddivots from their ruinedbodies,butstilltheydidnotfall.‘Aimfor theheads!’shoutedBolusat therecruits.Hesnappedoffashotatalurchingshape,piercedalreadywithhalfadozenblackholes.Thoughtheflesh

wascauterised,thewoundsleakedblackfluid.Boluscursedashisshottoreoffthething’sear,andheadjustedhisaim.VarensfelledtheonebehindBolus’mark,trustingtheactingsergeanttomakehisshotnextcount.Hehadaglimpseofafilthyofficer’suniformonthedeadman,apricelesspowerswordscabbardedathisside.‘Men!Theyaredead,but theywilldieanew.Hit themin theheads!’shoutedVarens.Bolus’secondshotwas true, taking theapproachingplaguewalker full in theface. Itsheaddisintegratedand it felldown,chest rattlingas itdied its seconddeath.Thefogdarkeneddirectlyinfrontoftheirline.Scatteredsilhouettesbecameashadowymass.‘Damn it, there’s aknotof themcoming thisway.’Boluspickedup thevox-hornfromthevox-operator’spack.‘ThisisactingSergeantBolus,FourthSquad,SecondPlatoon,requestingfiresupportonmyquadrantimmediately.’Theveteransof theEspandorwar reactedquickly.Aheavybolter dug into aprojecting bunker almost fifty metres away swivelled and banged loudly.Compact,self-propelledmunitionsburnedthroughthemistonstreaksofflamenumerous enough to light up the trench in yellow firelight. The bolts cut thedead to pieces, burying themselves in their flesh and exploding, scatteringgobbetsofrancidcorpsemeatoverVarens’unit.Themenonthelineletoutaprematurecheer.Butthedeadwerenotdonewiththem.Several standing dead remained. A dozen more hauled their broken bodiesacrossthemirewithcrippledlimbs,ignorantofpain.Lasbeamssnappedoutatthem,buttoomanyoftherecruitsfiredwildly,andthingsthatshouldhavediedin themudof thekillzonereachedthe trench line.There, theysimply toppledforwards, landing with bone cracking force in the mud at the bottom of thetrench,orfellontohaplesstroopers.Thosethatdidn’tlanduponatargetfloppedabout, stiff arms and legs twisting as they struggled to right themselves, teethsnappingatthelimbsoftheliving.Mostoftherecruitsrememberedthedrillandmovedoutoftheway,butnotall.‘Quick!Don’tletthembiteyou!Killthem!’orderedVarens.Hedrewhispistolandputashotintotheheadofafoestrugglingwithanewrecruit.‘Onebiteandyou’llbelikethem.Theheads,theheads!Aimfortheheads!’A scream had himwhirling around as another deadman fell directly onto arecruit.Teeth,unnaturallywhite in the ruinof its face, clashedat the soldier’s

neck.Theplaguezombieboretheyoungsoldierdownoffthestep.Thecreaturewas naked but for a helmet still snugly strapped about its chin. Blurredregimentaltattoosmarkeditsupperarms.Varens’firstshotwasdeflectedbythehelmet,thesecondcoreditthrough.Thereanimatedcorpsedied,headdrippingmolten plasteel and rotten brains. Varens was at the youth’s side before thecorpsehadcollapsed,dragginghimfromthemuckandshakingtheshockoutofhim.‘Areyoualright?’The soldier staredmutely back.Varens quickly checked the seals around hismouthandeyesandshovedhimbackagainstthewall.Thelastfewdeadwerebeingpermanentlyputdown,andnomorehadreachedthetrenchline.Outoverthewasteland,otherswerefalling,spearedthroughtheheadbyrubylight.Thefreshsoldiersseemedtohavefinallycaughton.‘Varens!’Boluscalledhimover.‘Wedidn’tloseanyone,’saidVarens.Bolusshookhisheadgrimly.‘It’snotoveryet.Thisissomethingnew.Listen!’Varensstruggled to seeanything through theswirlof rainanddriftingsteam.The fog had thickened through the fight and reduced visibility to a score ofmetres.Adirgecameoutfromthemurk.‘Allisash,allisash,allisash.’Thewordswerewet and thick, carriedonbreath from lungs full of fluid, upthroatscloggedwithphlegm,utteredbyswollenlips.‘Allisash,allisash,allisash,’theydroned.Thewordswere ladenwith loss and sorrow, and the inevitability of the end.They sent a chill downVarens’ spine.Hystericalgiggles andguffawsofmirthinterruptedthechant,asifthechantersperformedsomesacreddutytheycouldnottakeentirelyseriously.Thatmadeitworse.Thenewrecruitswavered.Behind the last few staggering dead stalked huge shapes, bloated giants offearsome silhouette. The grinding of ancient motors sounded out their everystep.Thoughspikesandunholyadornmentshadchangedtheirshapesfromtheirintendedform,therewasnomistakingwhattheywere.‘Guilliman save us,’ said Bolus, his confidence shaken. ‘Heretic Astartes.’Behindhisvisor,hiseyesshonewithfear.‘Keeptheladsinline,’hewhispered.‘Thesearen’tgoingtofallaseasilyasthedead.’Varens’stomachtightened.Henodded,teeteringonthebrinkofutterpanic,buthistrainingtookover,andheandBoluswentintoaction.

‘Allisash,allisash,allisash,’chantedtheenemy.‘Standfirm!’shoutedVarens,retakinghisposition.Helookedmeaningfullyatthesoldierstohisright.Theygrippedtheirgunstighter.Alldowntheline,otherveteransshoutedsimilarencouragementsandthreats,orcursedthenewmenforcowards–whateverittooktokeepthemfrombreaking.Screamedorderstohaltcamefromcloseby,followedbythesinglebangofaboltpistol.Theyallknewwhat thatmeant.Therecruitsstilled.Thecertaintyofdeathfor thosewhofledversustheprobabilityofdeathforthosewhostoodfirmsteadiedthem.Silencefilledthetrenchassurelyaswater.‘Allisash,allisash,allisash.’Thedronepersisted.Aquietvoicegibberedinthemist,itsownerlosttoview.‘Idon’tlikeit,Idon’tlikeit,Idon’tlikeit.’Bolussnatchedthevox-hornup.‘Lieutenant Attinus, please advise actions regarding new foe,’ said Bolus.‘Lieutenant?’HelookedatVarens.‘Notanswering,damnhim.’Oneoftheirownsquadsankdowntohiskneestopray,hislasgunslidingfromthesaturatedtrenchwallandlandingintheslopatthebottomofthetrench.Boluswasonhiminaninstant,dragginghimup.‘Getbackonyourfeet!’hescreamedintheyoungman’sface.‘Ifyouwanttodieonyourknees,I’llshootyoumyselfandsavetheenemythebother.’Asecondlater,heavyweaponsopenedup.Thistimetherewasnoholdingback.Shellsraineddownfromartillerytotherear.Disgustingmudheavedskywards,patteringwetlydownoverthetrenchlines.Man-portableheavyweaponsaddedtheirfurytothestormdescendingonthetraitors.Throughtheblizzardofearth,metalandfire,VarenssawaPlagueMarinebisectedbyalascannonblast.Thatonehadthedecencytodie.Therestwalkedonasifthefallingordnance–theMedusa rockets, theheavybolter shells and the restof the Imperium’smartialrage–wasofnomoreconcerntothemthantherain.Thebarragecreptneartothelipofthetrench,peltingthedefenderswithdebris.A last whistling descent, a final explosion, and the shelling ceased, leavingfycelinesmoketowispintothegreaterbodyofthefog.Theenemywasinrange.‘Givefire,’orderedAttinusoverthevox.‘Fire!’yelledBolus,hisvoiceraw-edgedwithpanic.Ahundred lasgunsblazed, theirbright red light illuminating themudand thevisored faces lining the trench. Itwas avisionof someprimitivenetherworld,rawandbloodywithpunishment.Varenscountednomorethantwentyorsoof

theenemygiants,buttheirboldnessinassaultingthepositionwasjustified.Hewatchedasonewas riddledwith shots thatwouldhaveblownapart anyothertarget. The Plague Marine didn’t even slow, but trudged onwards with hisfellows as if nothing had happened, his armour smoking. All the while theychanted.‘Allisash,allisash.’The nearer the traitors came, themore awful details emerged. Theywere nolongerfittobecalledmen.AdeptusAstartesonce,theyhadsoldthemselvestofellpowers for reasonsno rationalmindcouldcomprehend.Diseasesof everykind afflicted them. Their stomachs were distended, straining the capacity oftheir swollen wargear to contain.Where exposed, their skin was inflamed oroutright necrotic. Their innards dangled freely from corroded gaps in theirarmour.Mucous,urine,faeces,blood–everyhumourofthebodydrippedfromthem,allofitstinkingandtaintedwiththehuesofillness.Parasitescrawledoverthem,wrigglingfreelyintoandoutoftheirnever-healingwounds.Theirdroningspokeofgreatmisery,butonhelmetless faces smiles shone.Therewasa joketheyallknew,andtheywereeagertoshareitwiththerestoftheuniverse.Though the wind blew away from the trenches, and though the Auxilia’srespiratorsweremanufacturedtostrainoutallatmosphericpollutants,thestinkofthefoewasoverpowering,acharnelsmellofrotthatmadeVarensretchintohismask.‘Allisash,allisash.’Nonchalantlyalmost,thetraitorslevelledtheirweapons.Rustingboltgunsandplasma guns whose cracked containment chambers sent out hissing jets ofsuperheatedsteampointedatthelineofexposedheadsatthelipofthetrench.‘Allisash,allisash.’Asone, theyopenedfire.Thegunsbangedas theyejectedtheirmunitions.Asecondlouderbangsoundedasthebolt-shells’jetsignitedandacceleratedthemwellpastthesoundbarrier.Thefinalnoise,theonethathadtheboltgunrightlyfearedasaweapon,wasaflatbangingastheroundsslammedintosoilandflesh,andtheredetonatedwithdeadlyforce.Varens’visorspatteredwithgoreastheheadoftheyouthfulsoldierathissidewasobliterated.He’dbeenwith theunit twodays.Therehadnotbeen time tolearnhisname.‘Keepfiring!Keepfiring!’heshouted,overandover,untilhewashoarse,buttheblareandclatterofbattlewassogreathecouldnothearhisownvoice.Thenthefliescame,despitetherainandthegunfire,andeverythingcollapsed

intoconfusion.Theybuzzedinswarmssothicktheyturnedtheairsolid.Varenslostsightofthemannearesthim.Foralongsecond,hesawnothing,thentheswarmwasawayandoverhim,andVarenslookeddeathintheface.The traitors had made their way to within metres of the trench. Directlyoppositehim,agiantinarmourstainedtheviolentturquoiseofocean-corrodedironturnedhisweaponuponVarens.Hethoughtthenhewouldsurelydie.Thenthe emplacements at either end of their section opened up, raking the traitorswith fire. He watched in amazement as the Plague Marine’s obese frameabsorbed four heavy bolt-rounds, the explosions of their detonations in hismassivebodysendingsquirtsofichoroutoftheholesinhisarmour.Thetraitorshook,butdidnotfall.Heonlysuccumbedtotheimpactofthefifth,andkeeledoverlikearottentreeintothequagmire.AnewwaveoffliesbatteredagainstVarens’helmet,hardasdeath-worldhail,obscuringhisvisionwithswirlingcurtainsofpale,furrybodies.Thentheyweregoneoncemore,andthetraitorswereatthetrench.ThreeHereticAstartesattackedVarens’section, tossingwizenedheadsbeforethem that exploded likegrenades.Achokinggas filled the trench, and severalmenfelltothepoisonswithinasthesmokeatethroughtheirrespirators.‘Allisash,allisash,’thetraitorssang.The Plague Marine nearest Varens stepped onto the edge of the earthwork.Dozensof lasbeamsfoundhim.Hiscorrodedarmour turned the lightaside,orelsethebeamswereabsorbedbyhismonstrouslybloatedbody.Pulsing,rottingorgans hung through gaps in the ancient ceramite. Oil dribbled from thearmour’sailing systems,and the reactorunitonhisbackhitchedandcoughedwiththemaladiesofmachines.The wooden and plasteel facing of the trench gave way under the traitor’simmense weight, and he rode the collapsing wall down, bringing a wave ofsloppymudandbrokenfleshwithhim.HeroseoverVarens.Halfhishelmethadcorrodedaway,exposingrottenteethanda singleyellowedeye.The remainsof thehelm looked like it hadmeltedsomehowinto thewarrior’s flesh,becomingonewith it,but incompletelyso–thebottomstillmovedasaseparateartefact,whereasatthetop,rippled,greenskin melded with the metal into a semi-living mass dotted with suppuratingboils. A grey horn sprouted sideways from the warrior’s temple, the crackedmessatitsrootbleedingyellowplasma.Behind thegiant,othersof itskind foughtwithstolidefficiency,bludgeoning

theirwaythroughthedozensofmortalswhoopposedthem.Therewasshouting,and much weapons fire, and the crack of disruption fields as auxilia officersbroughttheirpowerweaponstobear,butVarenssawonlyalittleofitpastthesteaming,diseasedbulkofthePlagueMarinebearingdownuponhim.ThevisibleportionoftheHereticAstartes’facewasbloatedandpallid,thefaceofamanclosetodeath,butafeveredmirthlituphiseye.Scabbedlipsquiveredwithanavuncularchortle.Heheldupaclubbedhandwhoselittlefingerwasalimptentacle.AgreeningnailpointeddirectlyatVarens.‘Youfirst!’hesaid.ThePlagueMarine raised a bolter flakingwith rust. Such a thing shouldnothavefunctioned,buttheservantsofChaoswerenotboundbynaturallaw.Theheretic roaredwith laughter as the gun slammedout bolt-rounds.Varensthrewhimselfasideasmenwerecutdownallaroundhim.Mass-reactiveshellspiercedfleshanddetonated,tearingmenintoredscrapsthatwerequicklylosttothemud.‘Isaidyoufirst!’Mumblingannoyance,thePlagueMarinestompedforwards,crushing the rib cage of a wounded auxiliary. Red-tinged water filled hisbootprints.Thethingwasmonstrous,ablasphemyagainstmankindandhisproperplaceintheuniverse,and itwasunstoppable.Lasbeamspatteredoff itsarmouredhide.Expanses of exposed, leathery skin hissed as they burned.ThePlagueMarineactedasifnothingwereamiss.‘FatherNurglewaits foryou inhisgarden, littleman,’hesaidasherackedafinalboltintohisgunandlevelleditatVarens.‘Beglad,yougotoabetterplacethanthis.Whenyourjoyhassubsidedatthesightofyournewhome,besuretotellhimOdricusoftheDeathGuard’sfifthseptsentyou.’Fromnowhere,Bolusappeared,duckinginunderthePlagueMarine’sarm.Thetraitormovedtoreact,butitsonlyweakness,orsoitseemed,wasthatitwasasslowasthedeaditshepherded.Boluswasnot.With a move that would have impressed the commandos of the MilitarumTempestus, he jammed his gun up and under theHeretic Astartes’ helm. Thecreature growled as the weapon forced the helm’s metal away from theconjoinedflesh.‘Soyoucanbehurt,’saidBolus.‘Good.’Hepulledthetriggerasthetraitorwrappeditsdiseasedhandaroundhisthroat.Devisedby thehigh sciencesof theEmperor towithstandgreatdamage, andmademoreresilientyetbythemagicsofChaos,thePlagueMarinesofNurgle

werenighonimmunetoharm.Buttheywerenotunkillable.Eventheysufferedfromapoint-blanklasgunshottotheface.The traitor’s head cracked openwith awet squelch. Curls of atomised fleshrosefromitshelmet.Intheruinsofitsthroatcamealast,bubblingbreath,andthenittoppledforwards,knockingBolusbackintothemudandlandingsquarelyontopofhim.Bolus was buried by his dead foe; only his arm protruded from under thetraitor’scrackedbattleplate.Varensthrewhimselfforwardsanddugintothemud.Bolus’handtwitchedandscrabbled.‘Hangon,Bolus!Hangon,myfriend!’AsfastasVarensdugatthemud,tryingtohollowoutaspacesothathecoulddragBolusfree, it filledupwithdirtywater.Vile fluids fromthedeadHereticAstartesseepedintothemess.Boluswasdrowninginthatfilth.Indesperation,Varenshookedhishandsundertheshoulderplatesofthedeadtraitorandheaved.Corrodedceramiteflakedtopiecesinhisgrasp,andthoughtheplateshiftedonitswornjoints,hecouldnotmovethebloatedSpaceMarine.Awettearingpainstabbedbeneathhisshoulder.Hedidnotrememberbeinghit,but that did not matter. He could not exert his full strength. It wouldn’t beenoughifhecould.HemightaswellhavepushedatEspandorandtrytomoveitasshiftthedeadtraitor.Itseemedalong,desperatetime,butperhapsonlysecondspassed.Handsshovedhimaway,makingspaceforotherstojoinhim.Thenewrecruitswerethere,thosethathadsurvived.Twoofthemjammedplasteelbeamstakenfromthetrenchfacingunderthetraitor’sarmour.‘Heave!’theyshouted,usingthebeamsaslevers.‘Heave!’Thebeamsslippedin the filth. Bolus’ movements were lessening. The respirator had limitedrebreathingcapacity.Heonlyhadmomentsleft.‘Digdeeper!’shoutedVarens,scramblingupandgrabbingabeam.‘Findsolidgroundtopushagainst!’Hehelpedshovetheplasteeldownuntilitwouldgonofurther,thenheleaptforthetop,hungoffitandleanedbackwards,ignoringthehotpaininhisback.‘Heave!’ shouted the young soldiers. Teeth gritted, they shifted the giant’sshouldersenoughtoexposeBolus.Twoof theyouthspulled theactingsergeantout the instantbefore thebeamsslippedandthetraitorfellbackintothemud.VarensgrabbedBolus’face.‘Bolus!’heshouted.Hescrapedmudoffhisfriend’svisor.Bolusstaredbackat

himwithwideeyes.Hewassilent,butalive.Therainhammereddownonasuddenquiet.The traitorsweregone;whetherdeadorvanished,Varenscouldnotsee.He had no time for relief.He suddenly felt very cold.A slow pulsing in hisbackremindedhimofhiswound.Bolusstaredupathim,hisexpressionempty.WhenthishadhappenedbackonEspandor,Bolushadbeenunharmedinbodybut something had gone in hismind.They had been through triage and takenaway from the front lineonmedical transportsback toKonor’sReach.At thespaceport began the endless rounds of processing that had resulted in theirevacuationtoIax.Thatwasthen.Now,nightmaredepartedfrommemory.A carrionmovementwithin Bolus’ flesh hadVarens recoil in horror, but hishandswouldnotobeyhimandhecouldnotreleasehisfriend.‘Forty-nine!Forty-nine!’Bolusgiggled.Hismaskfilledwithwrithingmaggotsthatburstfromhisshrivellingeyes.Buthelaughedonandon.‘Allisash!’

Varens awoke screaming into the silence of the medicae ward. Feeble handsshookhim.Varensscreamedagain,andlashedout.‘Ouch!’Thehandswereremoved. ‘Shutup,Varens,we’re trying togetsomesleep,’ groused Mukai, the man who had the cot next to his. He stood overVarenslookinggrumpy.Consciousnesscame,displacingsleepjustasrushingwatersweepsawaysand.The horror remained. Varens clamped his mouth shut to stifle the last of hisscreams.‘I’msorry.Nightmares,’Varensmanagedtosay.Muttersfromthebedsnearbyspokeofalackofsympathy.Varens reached forhiswater,hands shaking.Thebattlehadbeen just likehehaddreamedit,andhedreamediteverynight.Theaftershocksofhisnightmarereceded,leavinghimshaking.Hefumbledforthewaterbyhiscot.Hisshakinghandsknockedtheplastekcupontothefloor.‘ForthesakeoftheEmperor!Keepitdown!’Hammadsen,themanontheotherside,shoutedintohispillow.‘Sorry,’Varenssaid.Hewasawakenow.Heneededadrink,soheslippedoutfromunderthethinblanketandpickeduphiscup.Hisbacktwinged,butitwasagood,healingpain.Rubbingathiswound,hepaddedbetweenthelongrowsofbeds.Thewardwas

awidehall,witheightrowsoflowcots.Themenherewereallinjuredinwaysseriousenoughtowarranttheirevacuation,butnotlikelytobeinvalided.Nearlyallofthemwouldbesentbacktothewar,unlikethemenonsomeoftheotherwards. There were halls in the hospital for whose occupants a hard life ofpovertyawaited,doingwhateverworktheirdisfigurementsallowed.Therichestcouldaffordaugmetics.Theverybravemightbepatchedupandsentbacktothefrontasmorale-boostingexamples.Therestwoulddowhattheycould.‘ForUltramar, for the Imperium, for thegraceof theEmperor,’hewhisperedunderhisbreath.Hemadethesignoftheaquilaobsessivelyoverhischest.Thelightsinthesmallrestareacalmedhimdown.Varenspouredhimselfacupofwaterthattastedofdisinfectants.Hedrainedit,pullingafaceattheaftertasteas he took the cup from his lips. It was better than the water on Espandor,though,andinplentifulsupply.Hehadanothercup,thenstartedtowardsbed,butasuperstitiousuneasehaltedhissteps,andbeforeheknewithewasturningaroundandheadingtowardsthewardwhereBoluswas.A medicae in low-ranking grey was in the chair outside Bolus’ ward, headbowedoveradevotionalpamphlet.Heworeasmall lampoveroneeyethatlitthecheappaperalividyellow,eachsplinterofwoodpulpastrongdetailagainsttheblueblurofnight.Thehandsholdingitwerejustasblotted,andbluntedbyhardwork.‘What do youwant?’ Themedicae looked up, the lamp shining intoVarens’face.Varens held up his hand to shield his eyes. ‘I came to seemy friend,Bolus.He’sinthere.Patient900018/43A?’Hewavedatthescratchedglasspartition.Alarge‘XVI’wasstencilledontoit.‘What do you think you are doing?No visitors,’ said the orderly.He lookedbackathispamphlet.‘Please,’ said Varens. ‘It’s not for him somuch as for me. I… I have thesenightmares.IfIcouldseehe’sallrightthenI’llsleepbetter.IfIsleepbetter,thenI’llgetoutofherequicker,andbebacktothefight.’The orderly sighed and set his pamphlet aside and looked up and down thecorridor.Hewastheonlymanonduty.Unoccupiedchairssatoutsidetheotherwards.‘Alright–justthisonce.Noone’slooking.ButifIseeyouaroundhereagain,I’mreportingyou.Doyouunderstand?’Varensnoddedgratefully.‘Yes.Yes,thankyou.’

The orderly took a heavy ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door.Checkingtheywereunobservedagain,hehelditwideandusheredVarensin.‘Oneminute.Anydisturbance,I’llseeyoushot.’The halls for the psych cases were much smaller than those where thephysically injured rested. During the day they were bedlams, but at nightmercifuldrugsbroughtdreamlesssleep.Machinespumpedsoporificsintoarmschainedtothesidesofsturdybeds.VarenscametoBolusineeriesilence.Varenslookeddown.Insleep,Bolusworeascowlthatmadehimlooklikethehardmanhehadbeen.Hewaspeaceful.Varensletoutasighofrelief.Onthewaybacktothedoor,heheardBolusspeaking.Heshouldnothavebeenableto,notwiththedrugs,buthewas.‘Forty-nine,’hemumbled.‘Forty-nine.’

CHAPTERTWELVE

THECAWLINFERIOR

TherewasaplaceupontheMacragge’sHonourwherenonewereallowedtogobutRobouteGuilliman,andhewentbyinvitationonly.Guilliman’s shuttle landed in his personal hangar. From there, the primarchwentstraighttothedepthsofhisquarters.Locatedinahiddenspacewasagene-locked elevator whose inbuilt weapons were primed to kill any other whoattemptedtoaccessit.Asimpleretinalscanallowedhiminside,butoncehewaswithintheelevator,thesecurityprotocolsGuillimanunderwentwereextensive.Arcane devices on armatures extended from thewalls to test his body,mentalstate and spiritual aura. One by one, the machines croaked or twittered theirapproval,andthelastwithdrewintoitsrecess.Theelevatoractivatedsmoothly,descendingtwohundreddecksinamatterofseconds.Itstoppednowhereelse.Atthebottom,itsreardoorsopenedontoachamberlitbyrubicundfalselight.Hisprimarch’seyesstruggledwith the illumination.Amortalmanwouldhavebeenvirtuallyblind.The chamberwas hot, loudwith the chatter of hiddenmachinery and heavywith a sense of foreboding. Once through the doors on the far side of thechamber, that sensation would grow worse as Guilliman was exposed to thepsychiccircuitryofCawl’sblasphemousdevice.Firsthemustundergoanotherseriesof tests.Again,hepassedeachone,and thechamber’sfardoorsopenedinto a second andmuch larger circular space, lit the same bloody colour. Thedoors were complex, three interleaving sets of metre-thick bonded hexsteel

whosetoothededgesclunkedominouslyastheyunlockedfromeachother.Thechamber’s spherical exterior walls were similarly armoured. Cawl’s machinewouldsurvivethedeathoftheMacragge’sHonouritself.Guillimanreadiedhimselfforthegreaterpsychicpressureandsteppedinside.Hisheadthrobbed.Theairsmeltofozone,sanctifiedoil,curdledmilkandoldblood.At twenty metres across, the interior space of the machine was modest byvoidship standards.A grilled floorwas suspended over a pit full of hummingmachines,dividingtheinteriorspaceintotwo.QuieterthanvirtuallyeverythingGuilliman had seen in this benighted era, themachines neverthelessmade theroom vibrate at a high frequencywith the turning of their parts. Through thefloorgrillecame themajorityof the red light,confusingshadowandhighlightandbreakingdownanyvisualsenseofthespace.‘Lumens!’barkedGuilliman.Themachinery’s highwhine dropping to a grumble. The red crept down thewalls,likefiredying.Themetaloftheroomgroanedinrelief,asifthetouchoftheredlighthadaphysicaleffectuponit.Hard-whitelumenssnappedonabove,banishing the sanguine glow to beneath the flooring and bringing the room’sfeaturesintosharpfocus.Thechamberseemedsmallerinthecleanerlight,anditsfeatureswereclearlyresolved.Asmalldooropeneddirectlyoppositethemaingate.Closedpanelsataman’seyelevellinedthewallsbetweenthetwodoors,tenontheleftandtenontheright.Pipesboundtightlybymetalstapleshunginswagsfromtheceiling.A smallmercy, in Guilliman’s opinion, was that the chamberwas free of thegothicextravagancethatencrustedeverythingelseinthe41stmillennium.Itwaspureofform,ifnotoffunction.TheMachinaOpusglaringdownfromarondelsetintothedomedceilingwasthesoledecoration;evenBelisariusCawlwasnotradicalenoughtoomitthatsymbol.Theroom’sotheraccessslidupwards.It,too,comprisedthreemassivelythickdoors that opened in sequence. On the far side were the quarters of GuidusLosenti.Theyweretotallyblack,forLosentihadnoneedoflightofanykind.‘My lord.’ Losenti appeared in the doorway and came into the room. As hedetached himself from the blackness, pools of it came with him in his eyesockets.Hisbodyappearedoldandfrail,butashedrewneartheprimarch,theinner strength that allowed Losenti to withstand the psychic pressure of themachine became palpable. Therewas great power clinging to his agedmortalframe.

‘IcameasquicklyasIcould,masterastropath,’saidGuilliman.Losentismiled,theskinwrinklingaroundthedarknessinhiseyeswhich,whenonewascloseenough,revealedthemselvestobeshinyblackorbsofjet.Losentipacedaround the ImperialRegent restlessly.Ashewalked,heplacedhis staffwithutmostsurety, theferrule thatcapped theblackwoodneveronceslippingintotheholesofthegrating.‘To speakwithmy lord pleasesme,’ he said. Losenti had the voice ofmuchyoungerman.‘Areyouwell?’‘I amwell.’With one blue-veined, pale hand, Losenti pulled back the greenhoodofhisrobes.Hisscalpwashairless,andhisskullclearlydefinedunderitscoveringofparchment-thinskin.‘Itrustyourdutyremainsonerousbutbearable.’‘I thank you for your concern. I do not enjoy my duty, Lord Militant. Thenature of Cawl’s sendings are exceptionally tedious, and lack the vitality oneexperienceswhenmindstouchacrosstheimmensityofthevoid.Ithinkhemightuseamachine,althoughonceIwouldhavesaidsuchathingwereimpossible.’Losentipaused,waitingforGuillimantoconfirmorrefutethisnotion.‘Perhapshedoes,’saidGuilliman.‘HavingwitnessedwhatIhaveofhisworks,nothingwouldsurpriseme.’Losentiresumedhiswalkaroundtheprimarch,staffclickingunerringlyonthemetal.‘However,Idonotwishtochangeit.Cawl’smissivesaresosimpletheysuffernocorruptionofthelikethathasplaguedastrotelepathysincetheopeningoftheGreatRift.Thereisnointerference,nounwelcomeintrusion.Iamalonehere,andisolatedfrommyownkind,andthatishardtobear.ThetimesImustbewithinthemachinepainmegreatly,butIamfreefrominsanity,andasmuchas we all wish to serve the Imperium above all things, I admit to a certainsentimentalattachmenttomyownlifeandsoul.’‘Ifyouevercraverelease,Losenti,Icanprovideit.’Losentihadaclear,youthful laugh tomatchhisvoice. Itsbrightnessangeredwhateverskulkedinthemachine’sdepths,andthespiritualpressuregrew.‘Mylord,forgiveme.Webothareawareofwhat“release”means.Iassureyou,Iamcontent.Youmaykeepthemercyofyourboltgunforthetimebeing.Now,shallwebegin?’‘Ifyouwould,masterastropath.’Losentiworked alone ashismissiondictated.Hehadbeen selected from thestrongest astropaths Guilliman could find. Among his many gifts, Losenti

requirednotranslatorforhisvisions,butwasabletorecalltheimagesfromhisfuguesandexplainthemhimself.Notaparticularlyunusualskillinanastropath,butacrucialonetotherunningofamachinethatsecrecydemandedhaveasoleoperator,andwhenfoundinconjunctionwithhisfortitude,rareindeed.‘Bythewillof theOmnissiah,’hesaidinhiscrystalvoice.‘Engageinitiationsequence.’A crunching sounded from within the curved walls. A harsh machine voiceboomedout.‘Provideidentity.’‘AstropathPrimeUltraGuidusLosenti.’‘Identconfirmed.Secondaryunlocknecessary.’‘PrimarchRobouteGuilliman,’spoketheprimarch.‘LordMilitantoftheHighLordsoftheImperiumofMan,andImperialRegent.’‘Secondaryunlockidentconfirmed.Standbyforgenescan.Genescan.’Aflatbandofgreenlightfannedoutfromthewall.Itwashedupanddowntheprimarchandtheastropath.‘Genescanconfirmed.Identconfirmed.Coderequired.’A noise damper projected a cone of null-sound around Guilliman. He heardnothing; even the vibrations of the machines under his feet were robbed ofauditory expression. From Guilliman’s position, Losenti’s lips movedwordlessly.Guillimanlookedaway.Hecouldlipread.Cawlknewthat.Thefirstandonlytimehehadidlylethisgazerestontheastropath’sfacewhilehespokehiscode,Guillimanbeentemporarilyblindedbyalasstrobe.HecouldnotfaultCawl’sdedicationtosecurity.Thoughhisattentiontodetailbordered on pathological, for ten thousand years Cawl’s procedures had keptRobouteGuilliman’ssecretsforhim.Hehadnogroundsforcriticism.Thenull-soundconesnappedoff.Guillimanspokeouthisowncode,astringofnonsensicalwordsthatchangeddependingonthedate.‘Codes accepted,’ said the voice. ‘Commencing main series activationsequence.’Thetwentysmalldoorsinthewallsopeneddownwards.Behindeachwasalitarmourglass tank containing a severed human head bathed in clear yellownutrientfluids.Metalneatlycappedeachneck.Fromtheseissuedsmallbundlesoftidycablesandpipesthatcurleddownwardsundertheheads,thenupintothemachinesabovethem.‘Activationcoderequired,’saidthevoice.This time, there was no null-sound cone. The code sent astropathically to

Losenti byCawl to turn on his abominablemachinewas different every time,andtherewasnoneedtorobtheprimarchofhishearing.Cawlmadeavirtueofeconomyinallthingshedid.‘Charnibel crow, white crow, white crow, white crow, charnibel crow, blackcrow,’saidLosenti.‘Codeaccepted.Codeaccepted.Codeaccepted,’said themachine. ‘Standbyfor communion. Cawl Inferior awakening rite underway. Stand by forcommunion.’Machineshiddenbehindthepanellingsurgedintolife.Thechugofthedevicesbelowthemgrewmoremuted,cedingspacetothewakingvoicesoftheothers.Thin lines in the metal walls, invisible before, glowed with sluggish, goldenenergies.Circuitry engraved into the tanks’ glass glimmered similarly, and thefaces of the heads twitched. Guilliman was absorbed by the jerking of theirmuscles.Theweightpressingontohispsychegrew.Losenti grimaced at the primarch. ‘I ask your leave to depart, primarch,’ hesaid.‘Theawakenedmachine’spresenceisuncomfortableforme.’‘Yes,yes,ofcourse,’saidGuilliman.He torehiseyesawayfromtheseveredheads.‘Please.Youdonotneedtoaskmypermission.Wehavedonethismanytimes.IknowhowmuchtheCawlInferiorpainsyouwhenactive.’Losenti gave a slight, grateful bow, tugged up his hood and walked backtowardshisperpetuallydarkquarters.‘Losenti!’ called Guilliman on a whim, raising his voice over the smooththumpingofthemachine.Losentipausedatthethresholdofhisdoor.‘Whatdoyoudodownhere,whenyouarenotneeded,whenyouarealone?’Losenti turned his head. His wrinkled face was bathed in the warm light ofCawl’sdevice.‘Iwritepoetry,’hesaid.‘AndIdreamofbettertimes.’Thedoorsslidshutbehindhim,leavingGuillimanaloneinthechamberoftheCawlInferior.GuillimanlackedthepsychicpotentialthatHisfatherhadgrantedtoseveralofhisbrothers,buthewasachildoftheEmperor’smaking,andhewassensitivetopsychic energies ofwhich a true non-psykerwould be ignorant. Some hiddenpartoftheworldchanged.Energyranmorefreelyaroundthechannelsengravedintothewalls,extendingitsweboutwardsfromtheheadsuntilthewholeroomwasatraceryofgoldenlambency.Theyellowlightoutshonetheruddylightofthemachinehallunderthefloorandthebrightlumensoverhead.Astheenergynetworkexpanded, ithituponhiddensigns in thefabricof theroom.Wardingrunes in the secret techno-arcana tongue of Magos Psykana blazed brightly,

along with others of obvious alien origin. Cawl was a magpie magos, takingwhat he needed no matter its ancestry. His free thinking made Guillimanprofoundly uneasy, but a labour ten thousand years long, delivered perfectly,attested to the archmagos’ efficacy. He had been instrumental in restoringGuilliman to life in this terrible age. And, most amazingly, in creating thePrimarisSpaceMarines,CawlhadimprovedupontheEmperor’sowndesigns.Ihavenochoicebuttotrusthim,thoughtGuilliman.That’stheonlypracticalIneedconsiderhere.Asthelightgrew,theconstant,hollowpaininGuilliman’schestintensified,asifthetwowereinextricablylinked.Hegrittedhisteethasthegnawinginhisgutoutdid the pressure in his head. The muscle twitches in the tanks became afrenzy of gurning. The heads jerked and jiggled, mouths gaping in silent,drownedscreams.Bubblesstreamedoverclayflesh,agitatingthesurfaceofthefluids thatnourished them.Eyelidsflutteredovereyes thatappeared, just forasecond, tocontainsomeshredofnative intelligence,andthey lookedoutfromtheirwateryprisonswithabsolutehorror.PressurebuiltatthebackofGuilliman’sminduntilhiseyesthrobbed.Theairsmelledofhotsteel,andhissalivatookonametallicflavour.Theemptinesshissoulcontainedexpandedbeyondthephysicalconfinesofhisbody.Therewas adefinitepop,notgeneratedby themachineshewas certain, andsuddenlyallwasstill.Thethumpingofthehiddendeviceslevelledouttoaquietwhir. The faces ceased their pained contortions. Their eyes went blank andclosed.Thebubblingceased.Guilliman waited. The pains the machine brought did not decrease, butfamiliaritymadethembearable.Therewasaclunk,ahiss,thentheeyesopenedagain, and a fresh machine voice spoke: the emotionless coppery burr ofArchmagosBelisariusCawl.‘GreetingsLordPrimarch,LordCommander,LordImperialRegent.TheLordGuillimanoftheHighTwelve.’Themouthsoftheheadsgapedclumsily,silentlyparrotingthemachinevoice’swords.‘Thatlasttitlehasnomeaning,’saidGuilliman.‘For a millennium, your name was an honorific for weaker men. By theconventionsofthosetimes,youaretheLordGuilliman,’saidtheCawlInferior.Guilliman had no ideawhether themachinewasmocking him orworking itswaydownsomedead-endlogicalpath.‘Redundantrepetition.Yourresumptionoftheoriginaltitleisillogical.ThepositionofLordMilitantwasbannedinthe

wakeofthegreatWaroftheBeast.’Guilliman knew little of that conflict or of the infamous Beheading thatfollowed. The near destruction of the Imperium had passed Cawl by. Thearchmagoshadbeendeepinhisstudiesof theEmperor’sfragmentaryresearchnotes, and therefore his records of it were maddeningly brief. Most of thehistoriesappertainingtoithadbeendeliberatelydestroyed.‘Your recreation of the position lacks wisdom. The position of LordCommanderissimilarintitletothatofLordCommanderMilitantoftheAstraMilitarum. It has a fifty per centmatchwith that of Lord Commander of theSegmentumSolar. Inefficiency can arise by duplication of titles. Confusion isinevitable. I prefer ImperialRegent.Noother can lay claim to thewordingofthishonour.’‘Iammorethanatitle,’saidGuilliman.‘Everytimewespeak,Cawl,youbringthisup.’‘I am not Cawl. I simulate Cawl. Familiar complaints act as social bondsbetweenmembers of the human species. I seek to emulate this interaction tomake you comfortable with my aberrant existence. This preamble is to easetensionandre-establishbondsbetweenBelisariusCawlandRobouteGuilliman.’‘Youmakepoorconversation,machine.Deliveryourreport.’Cawlhadlivedtenthousandyears.Suchagreatspanoftimewouldwearoutall but the greatest of souls. The changes he had wrought upon his body tosupport his mind through it had stripped most of his humanity away. Hisemotions had become ghosts in the greatmechanismhismind now inhabited,andhere,mediatedthroughtheCawlInferior,theyshouldhavebeenpracticallyabsent.ButGuillimancouldnevershakethefeelingofintensesuperiorityhiddeninCawl’semotionlesspronouncements,norignorethetouchofsardonichumourthatrevealeditselffromtimetotime,eveninthissoullessfacsimile.‘It is not the report of the Cawl Inferior. It is Archmagos Belisarius Cawl’sreport.’‘Itiseasytoforget,’saidGuilliman,‘thatyouareamechanism,andthatsuchlarge amounts of information can be conveyed by such simple encodedmessages.’‘Theinformationdoesnotcomefromthemessage.Theinformationisinnatetomy construction. The code unlocks the appropriate response. My creatorsuppliedmemultiple likely scenarios that he, inhisgreatwisdomandgenius,mathematically extrapolated. The messages I receive merely modify theseprognostications to fit theactualityofcurrentcircumstances.Myprogramming

ispre-loaded.Theselinkedbrainsandthelogicenginesinthegreaterportionofthis chambercontainall eventualities relevant to the tasksundertakenbyLordRoboute Guilliman and Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. All probable futures arewithinme.’Guillimanlookedaroundattheheads.Theyweretooindividualtohavecomefromvat-bornslaves,andtherewasnosignofthepenalcodingtattooswornbyservitorsdrawnfromcriminalstock.HedidnotwanttoknowwhereCawlhadsourcedhisgrislycollection.‘I am impressed, as always, Cawl Inferior,’ he said. This was also aconversationtheyhadhadmanytimesbefore.Themachine’s voice changed, becoming hectoring. ‘Thenmymaster repeatshisrequestthatyouinstallhimasFabricatorGeneralofMars.Youreplacedfiveof the High Twelve upon assumption of the regency of the Imperium, andhundredsofthelesserhighlords.Youhavedonethisseveraltimessince.Whatisonemore?’‘For the hundredth time, I will not do this. The Imperium does not exert somuchcontroloverMarsthatImayappointmyownFabricatorGeneral,andtheywould never accept you even if I could.The tenets of your creed forbid suchartificialconsciousnessesasthis.Yourexperiments–’‘Archmagos Belisarius Cawl’s experiments, not my experiments,’ said themachinepedantically.‘Verywell,’ concededGuilliman. ‘Cawl’s experiments havemade himmanyenemies.’‘The detail is open to interpretation,’ said the machine. ‘Take this unit, forexample. I amnoabominable intelligenceasyourattitude impliesyoubelievemetobe.Myresponsesarenotspontaneouslygenerated,butpredetermined.Theservitorsthatmakeupmybeingaresanctionedforuse.Theyarenotmachines,andwhattheygenerate–me,theCawlInferior–isnotauniquecreationbutalimitedexpressionofArchmagosBelisariusCawl’smind.Bythesemeans,Iamfreeofthewickednessofforbiddensentience.‘Archmagos Belisarius Cawl is a genius. Consider this unit further. Thehexidecimalencodingthatheprojectstothisunitisimmunetodecryption,foritisincomplete.Myresponsesareinherenttothisunit’scogitators.Anastropathicmessagecanbeintercepted,nomatterhowmanylocksareputuponit.Anythingthatusestheelectromagneticspectrumisworse.Notonlycanitdegrade,orbecaptured,orbe lost,but the journeyofamessage fromwhereCawl isnow towhereyouarewouldtakethreethousandTerranyears.Expediencyistheenemy

of dogma. You have asked him to be expeditious. He alone has been able tounlock,understandandimproveupontheworkoftheEmperor.Healoneisthemasterofahundredfieldsoftechnology.Healoneisunafraidofinnovation.HeisthebestcandidatetoruleMars.Ipresenthispetitiontoyou.GiveArchmagosBelisariusCawlMars,andhewillhandyouthegalaxy.’Guillimanhadofcourseconsidereddoingexactlythis,buthedidnotlietotheCawlInferior.TheresultcouldbeoutrightcivilwarintheAdeptusMechanicus’sub-empireofforgeworlds.‘Your colleagueswoulddisagreewithyour evaluation,’he said. ‘It cannotbedone.’‘Ihavenocolleagues.’‘Hiscolleaguesthen.’‘Hiscolleaguesarelimited.Theirbeliefshavebecomeafaiththattheydarenotchallenge.TheAdeptusMechanicusisfarmoretrammelledinitsthinkingthantheMechanicumofyourtimewas,myLordGuilliman,andthearchmagoswasaradical in thosedistantcenturies.Youwouldnothavecome tohim ifhewerenot.Alreadyyouhaveaskedhimtoperformmanyforbiddenduties.Youareasculpableasheinanycrimethatmayormaynothavetakenplace.’‘IamnoadherentoftheMachine-God’screed,’saidGuilliman.‘You have asked the archmagos to interfere with technologies expresslyforbiddenbyyourowncreator,theEmperorofMankind.’The machine waited expectantly, far too lifelike for a supposedly lifelessmachine.Guilliman did not believe itwas free ofwill. There had been inGuilliman’syouthadevicecalledtheThracianAutomaton.Fashionedinthesemblanceofaman,themachinehadplayedatregicidewithanywhowouldchallengeit,andwoneverygame.Questionscouldbeputtoitonmattersofscienceandhistory,and theanswers itgavewereunerringlyaccurate.Konor,Guilliman’sadoptivefather, had taken the boy primarch to see this marvel. Guilliman had seenthroughit immediately,andchallengeditscreator.Themanhadinsistedthat itworked from the old sciences, showing the consul and his adopted soncomplicatedworkingswithinthefigure,butGuillimanwouldnotbeconvinced,andhehadleaptforwardsandtornloosethemannequin.Inside thestool itsatuponwasaveryreal,ifrathershort,man.Themanhadprovedtobeamarvellouspolymath,ifacheat,andhehadspentmanyyearsservingGuilliman’sfosterfather.TheThracianAutomatonhadbeenapowerfullesson.Itwasprobablethatthe

Cawl Inferior was an inverse of that device: a real machine intelligencemasquerading as a pretence. Guilliman was no technologist of the ability hisbrothersPerturabo,VulkanorFerrusManushadbeen,buthedoubted that thearchmagoswastellinghimthecompletetruthabouthowthemachineryworked.Itwas clearly partly psychic in nature, a blend of various xenos and Imperialtechnologies,whichmadeithereticalbythetenetsoftheAdeptusMechanicusinseveralregards,whetheritcouldthinkornot.‘Thefinalanswerisno,asitiseverytime,’saidGuilliman.Themachineclickeddeepinitscyberneticinnards,filingtheresponseforlaterbroadcasttoCawl.‘GivemeCawl’sreport,’commandedGuilliman.‘TheConclaveAcquisitorius proceeds through the galaxy. Cawl has recentlyfinishedwaroperationsonCadmusPhosp.Unfortunately,thepylonsdiscoveredtherearetoodegradedtobereactivated,andsohemustbeginhisquestanew.’‘Sohecannotyetreproducethetechnology.’‘Regrettably,notyet.Notonthescalenecessaryforyourends,mylord.’Theslackmouths of the heads continued their jerky aping of themachine’s voice.‘ArchmagosCawlhasformulatedanumberofsmallerexperimentaldevicesthatprojecta similareffect to thexenosoriginals,albeit toa lesserdegree.HehasprovidedseveraltosealthePitofRaukos.Theywillarrivesoon.’‘Iamawareofthis.Thatiswhywearehere.ThatiswhythebattleforRaukoswasfought.’‘Forgiveme,my lord, I can say only whatmy cogitators select as themostappropriateresponseaccordingtoCawl’scode,’saidthemachine.Wasthisalie,oragenuineartefactofhowthemachineworked?Cawlobfuscatedeverything.‘Willthedeviceswork?’‘Theywillbestaplesinawound.Cawldoesnotyetunderstandhowthepylonsfunction completely, but the actions of the test devices here will further hisresearch. Eventually, he will be able to replicate the technology, and he shallbring the Rift under control, parsec by parsec, until the Great Rift is at lastsealed.Thisheswears,mylord.Heshalldedicatetheremainderofhislifetoit.’Guilliman scratched his face thoughtfully. His chin was stubbly. He hadneglectedhispersonalgroomingtheselastfewdays.‘Encouragingwords.’‘Iaminstructedtoofferacautionarynote,mylord,’repliedthemachine.‘Theculmination of this research is a longway off. Nevertheless, nowArchmagosBelisariusCawlhasfulfilledhisoaths toyouanddeliveredthePrimarisSpaceMarines as commanded, hehasmore available cogitationpower to put to this

task.Theprincipleofthepylonsissound.Thetechnologyisproven.WithwhatlittleremainedofthepylonnetworkaroundCadia,hecameclosetosealingtheEyeofTerror.Hewillnotgiveupnow.‘Thedevicesthatareenrouteto108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2areuntested.Theymaybeunstable.Theymayworkforawhilebeforefailing.Theymaynotworkatall.They are inferior to the technologies of the necrons in every way. Ourunderstandingofmetaphysicalscienceishopelesscomparedtotheirs.’TheCawlInferiorutteredtheblasphemyaseasilyasitmightbidgoodday.Theideathatalientechnologywasinanywaysuperiortothatofhumanitywasanathematothemachinecult.‘Withouttesting,ArchmagosBelisariusCawlcannotbesureoftheefficacyoftheirdesign.Withtime,andshouldtheConclaveAcquisitoriusbesuccessfulinitsquesttofindanintactplanetarypylonnetwork,hewillbeabletorefinethedesign.’‘If these designs do work, surely we can make use of them now,’ saidGuilliman.‘AssumingCawl’spylonsarefunctional,howlongwill itbebeforewecan establish stable corridors to the ImperiumNihilus?That is amatter ofpressingconcern.’‘Decades,at least,’saidthemachine.‘Possiblycenturies.This trialwillbetterinform Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, and he will better inform you, my LordGuilliman. But Belisarius Cawl will triumph. The ancient races held theanswers:theOldOnes,thenecrons,theaeldari.Soonweshallholdallthepiecesto the puzzle that they held only in part.We shall fit them together.We shallsucceed where they failed, and overcome the monsters spawned by our ownminds.’Again, there was a flash of emotion in the Cawl Inferior’s words, that ofdeterminationandanger.Thetechnologiesthatsustainedithummed.‘Traffickingwithxenos.Theusageofforbiddentechnology.YourpeersintheCultMechanicuswillnottakekindlytothis.’‘Ipredicttheirresponsewillbenothingshortoffurious,mylordregent.TheyhateBelisariusCawl.Envymotivatesthemiftheyknewtheextenttowhichhisknowledgeoutreachestheirs,somewouldmovetodestroyhimandhiscreations.Itrustyouwillsheltermeshouldthetimecome.’Guilliman laughed. He did not laugh often now, and when he did it wassorrowful.‘TheCawlInferior,youbetrayyourdisguise.Youwishforprotectionasalivingbeingwould.’‘I require it. I do not desire or not desire it. My continued existence isnecessary.IfCawldies,thesumtotalofhisknowledgeexistswithinme.Thatis

why Imust live. If he dies, youwill at least haveme. Archmagos BelisariusCawlcanprotecthimself.Icannot.’‘ArchmagosCawlisthelastbeingIknowwhoneedsprotectionfromanybody,’agreed Guilliman. ‘And you are safe here in the bowels of the Macragge’sHonour.Now,thePrimarisSpaceMarines.Wehaveacenturyofdata.Howaretheyperforming?’‘ArchmagosBelisariusCawl repeats that allgene-linescontinue tooperateatpeak efficiency. Tested gene-seed reveals a mutational deviancy of less than0.001%pergeneration.AllAdeptusAstartesChaptersonceagainhaveaccesstothefullsuiteofadditionalorgans,replacingthosezygoteslostthroughimpropertreatmentorevolutionaryvariance,withtheadditionofthethreenewimplants.AllChapterswhohaveadoptedthePrimarisparadigmhaveadaptedtothenewcreationprocesseswithminimalwastageofrecruitsormistakesinimplantation.As can be expected, those new Primaris-strain Chapters founded by you, mylord,havethelowesterrorrate.Thenewequipmentfunctionswell.Requestsforresupplywiththenewtypeofbattle-brotherandtheirassociatedweaponryhaveincreased, suggesting a ninety-four per cent acceptance rate among theChapters.’‘Whatofthosegene-lineswithmoredeeplyingrainedflaws?’askedGuilliman.‘The Blood Angels and the Space Wolves?’ Cawl’s research, and his ownreading, had uncovered dangerous faults that the sons of both gene-lines inquestionhaddonetheirbesttohide.‘My standard response remains unchanged. Archmagos Belisarius Cawlunderstandsyourreservations.Thecorrectedflawsinthenewgene-stocksshownosignsofregressiontopreviousunstablestates,whetherinsuccessorChapterscomposed entirely of the new Primaris Space Marine type, or in alreadyestablished Chapters. Elimination entirely of the more idiosyncratic traits ofsome gene-lines is, however, not to be recommended. They form part of theEmperor’soriginalvision,andare,inanycase,crucialtotheirproperfunction.IwillrestateArchmagosBelisariusCawl’spositiononthismatter.Theimprovedgene-seed of Ninth and Sixth Legion stock is operating within acceptableparameters.‘Furthermore, he has continued experimental implantation andmonitoring ofthethus-farunusedgene-seedinexperimentaltestsubjects.ThatoftheSecond,Third, Fourth, Eighth, Eleventh, Twelfth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth,SeventeenthandTwentiethLegionsallshownosignofdegradationorincidenceofunwelcometendencieswithintherecipients.Alliswell,mylord,Archmagos

BelisariusCawlreassuresyou.HeissosatisfiedthatIaminstructedtorepeathisrequestthatthosegene-linesbeputintofullproductionandbeallowedtoservetheImperiumastheEmperorintended.’‘No,’saidGuillimanfirmly.‘Icannotallowit.’‘Mylord, thecharacteristicsofyourbrothersare toovaluable todiscard.TheEmperor’soriginal schemaofwarriorsbred to specificpurposes is sound, andshouldbeexploited.Underthecurrentcircumstances,weareoperatingwithhalfourweapons unavailable to us.The plan is unbalanced. Putting the remainingeleven augmented Primaris gene-lines into productionwould allow far greatertactical and strategic flexibility of Space Marine forces, particularly whenworkinginconcert.’‘Isayagain,no.Donotprogressanyfurtherwiththisresearch.’‘The warriors were not at fault. The science is not at fault. Their primarchswere.Chapters fromyourgene-linehavealsofallen in thepastmillennia, lordregent,andwedonotcensorthem.’‘Isaidno!’saidGuillimanforcefully.Therewasasilencefullofhumsandclicks.‘As you command, my lord,’ said the machine eventually. ‘ArchmagosBelisariusCawlwillcomply.’Can I truly believe that? thought Guilliman. All magi of the AdeptusMechanicushungeredforknowledge.Whentheyhadit,theycouldrarelyrefrainfromusingit.Onthisparticularmatter,hedidnottrustCawlonewhit.Guilliman’smannerbetrayednothingofhisthoughts.‘Isthereanythingelse?’heasked.‘That concludes the selection of responses engendered by today’s codereception.’ said theCawl Inferior. ‘I shallpreparemyself forencodingofyourorderstoArchmagosBelisariusCawl,’Things clacked and turned somewhere, awaitingGuilliman’swords. Anothersimplecodewouldbeprojected toasecondghoulishmindaboardCawl’sArkship.InthesamewaythatCawl’smessagehadbeendeliveredtoGuilliman,pre-setresponseswouldactivatewithinthisotherunitinresponsetothecode.OrsoCawlinsisted.‘Herearemyorders.’GuillimanhadnotimenoranyneedforthepreambletheCawl Inferior had subjected him to. ‘The enemy fleet at Raukos has beencrushed.TheIndomitusCrusadeisover.IwillshortlyreturntoMacraggetofacemy brotherMortarion,who has come forth from his lair.You are to continueyourefforts tounravel thesecretsof thepylons.Wewillpersevereinthiswar,

but ultimate survival ofmankind can only be assured by undoing the damageAbaddonhasinflictedonthefabricofreality.Concentrateonthisaboveallelse.’‘Thatisall?’‘Thatisall.’‘Ishalldeliverthecodingtoactivatethoseelementsofthemessage.’‘Thenexttimewespeak,IshallprovideatimeandcoordinatesforArchmagosCawlandItomeet,bylithocastifnotfacetoface.Ithasbeentwelveyearssinceourlastdirectconsultation.’Themachinewassilent.Theflappingmouthsoftheheadshungstill.‘TheCawlInferior?’saidGuilliman.Amachinecoughedunder thefloor.Theredlightshonebrighter,tintingthegoldenlightofthemindcircuitsorange.‘Thatmaynotbepossible,mylord.’‘Whereexactlyareyou,Cawl?Whatareyoudoing?’Theservitorwassilent.Cogitatordatawheelschatteredbehindthewallsofthechamber.Theredlightglowedbrighter.Thegoldfaded.‘Thisunitdoesnotpossessthatinformation.’Guilliman stared at the servitors. Dead eyes in dead heads stared back,oblivioustohissuspicions.Couldtheyseehim?Couldthethinglie?‘Ihavenomoreinformationtoimpart,’saidtheCawlInferior.‘Goodday,myLordGuilliman.’Themachineshutoff.Theglimmeringlightinthechannelsdied.Withonelastspastic jerk, theheadswent slack in their tanks.Thedoors slid shutovereacharmourglass compartment. Suddenly, the painful pressure of themachine wasreducedbacktoitsmerelyuncomfortablebackgroundlevel.Guillimanbreathedhardthroughhisteeth.Theseconsultationsmadehimtense.Forallhisusefulnessandhisdesiretosavemankind,GuillimancouldforeseeatimewhenBelisariusCawlbecameaproblem.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

THETRIUMPHATRAUKOS

Upon themartial square of 108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2, thewhole of the IndomitusCrusadewasarrayedinfull.TheyfacedtheAugustVictorium,thevastedifice,framedbygiganticstatues,carvedintotheremodelledhillssolelyforthisday.A single cannon boomed. The bell on the highest tower began to toll onehundredandtwelvetimes:oneforeachyearoftheIndomitusCrusade.At this signal, a bizarre flock burst from the pillared upper gallery of theAugust Victorium. Servo-skulls, cyber-angels, elder prelates on grav-poweredsermonisers and vat-grown gene-constructs flew out over the square. Theyemerged ina fogof incense, thebanners theycarried stirring the scentedmistintocurlingvortices.Adozendifferenthymns,sungallatonceandwithvaryingdegrees of loveliness, competedwith shouted exhortations toworship.As thisaerial flock dispersed to soar over the martial square, down the steps of theAugustVictoriumfloated,walked,crawled,rodeandsangpriestsofeverykind,accompaniedbyalltheirattendantdevices.Therewerehundredsofthem,fromthe richest to the poorest, from moderate cardinals to firebrand preachers.Between them, auto-preachers crabbed sideways on clanking legs, themouldering brains of themartyrswithin roaring out religious epithets throughprimitive augmitters. Behind the priests, unruly hordes of flagellants beat atthemselves.EverysectoftheAdeptusMinistorumwithanypretensiontopowerhad members present at the Triumph of Raukos. They followed RobouteGuilliman like flies followedcattle, andnomatter howoftenhe swatted them

away,theyalwayscameback.Thestreamofholymenwentonforanhour,asifthecarvedrangeofhillswerefulltoburstingwiththem.Theyfilledtheavenuesbetweenthewarriorsstandingtoattention,thoughtheysetnofootonthecarpetrunningdowntheverycentreaisle.Nonedareddothat,forthatwasGuilliman’salonetotread.Theysangandmumbledandprayed.Adozenbishopsandall theiraidesandservitorsandwhisperingconfidantesstalkedafterthepriestlyhordeinpompousparade,eachvyingwiththeothers indisplaysofopulenceorcontrarypoverty.Finally, therecameaveritablewagontrainofsacredarksbearing thebonesofdeadsaintsandfallenheroesoftheIndomitusCrusade,thesealsoaccompaniedbyimmensethrongsofthefaithful.In their pageantry, in their sheer number and bombast, the priests almostovershadowedthearrivaloftheprimarch.Almost,butnotquite.FraterMathieuwastheonlypriestlookingdownuponthearrival.Hewasstoodupon on awide prominence over the steps, carved from the flesh of the landearlier thatweek.Therewere twentycardinalsup there, too,somewhereat theback in the crowd, but they affected a lack of interest in the lower orders ofclergy. They were closer to the Emperor; they had no need to watch thedevotionaldisplayoftheirinferiors.Inform,thepromontoryoftheAugustVictoriumwas,Mathieusupposed,asortofbalcony,withabalustradeanddoorsthatledtotheroomswithinthehill,andthe long colonnade above it whence the cyber-angels came. It had all theappurtenancesofabalcony,butitwassoimmensethattheworddiditnojustice.It ran for almost a kilometre, and was crammedwith officials of every kind.Therewerefewwarriorsuponit.Allbut themightiest leadersstoodwith theirsoldiers upon the square, many upon raised platforms or standing within thecupolas of enormous command vehicles so that their importance wasunderstood.Well,thoughtFraterMathieu,perhapsnotsofewwarriors.Hehadcounted themas theyarrived,before the crowdsgot too thick.Therewere thirty-sixChapterMasters, a furthereighteenSpaceMarine lords, all theupper leadershipof the remainingChaptersof theUnnumberedSonsand theirlarger supra-Chapter groupings, sixAdeptusCustodes, three canonessesof theAdepta Sororitas, five generals, various warlords and others of similar rank,Captain Felix, Captain Sicarius, all twenty of Guilliman’s Victrix Guard, theCommissar General, the Admirals Primus, Secundus and Tertius, several rear

admirals, dozens of commodores, more dozens of shipmasters – includingBrahe–andscoresofothermenandwomenofwar.Butnumberswererelative.The warriors were two hundred amid a sea of thousands of other Imperialservants.Navigators,psykers,astropaths,tech-magi,bureaucrats,HighLordsortheir representatives – although a few hundred of the lesser lords of theSenatorumImperialishadcome inperson,hoping foradvancement,only threeof the High Twelve had dared make the dangerous journey – planetarycommandersandotherpotentates.Notso longago, thoughtMathieu, thisgatheringwouldhave represented theveryapexofImperialpower.Notanymore–notwhenaprimarchwalkedamongthemandledthem.AsonoftheEmperorhadreturned.Everyoneelsewasatbestanassistant,atworstanimpediment,totheeffortsoftheImperialRegent,maytheEmperorforeverblesshim.FaithsuffusedMathieu from thecrownofhishead to thesolesofhis feet. Itheldhimuprightlikeascaffold.Withoutfaith,hethoughthemightcollapse,abonelessman, overwhelmed by the glory of the Imperium ranged before him.Suchcolourstherewere,andsomanygreatenginesofwar.Somuchfaith!Hecouldnot imaginehimselfwithout faith. Itgavehimstrength,and itgavehimpurpose.WhenhewaswithRobouteGuilliman,thatfaithburnedinhimsohot that his skeleton seemed afire likemolten iron.Miraculously, the heat didhimno harmbut instead filled himwith powerful energies.When he felt likethat,hewouldgladlyhaveshotdowntheentirechatteringmassofbureaucratsflockingonthebalconyifitwouldhaveallowedtheEmperor’ssonafreerhand.Hehid these feeling from the primarch, of course.His role in theEmperor’splanmeanthehadto.Therewasnoshameinthat.ReasonwasFraterMathieu’sgift.Hewasnostrangertointrospection.Heknewhimselfbetterthanmostmendid.Inthescholummissionaris,hehadquestionedhis faith, and it had nearly ended his life. When his teachers saw that hequestioneditbecausehemarvelledatit,andnotbecausehedoubtedit,hewasletbe,thoughstilldiscouragedfromprobingtoodeeply.Hehadcontinuedtodoso,ofcourse,because toFraterMathieu theone thingbetter thanfaithwas itsaffirmation.Inthelibrary,hehadlearntlessonsthattheFraterisdidnotintendtoteach.Hekepthisthinkingtohimself,butthroughhisyouthfulexplorationshecametothephilosophythatshapedhisbeliefs.TheEmperor had a plan for him. Itwas obvious.Guilliman had chosen him

becauseofthatplan.Hehadtestedhisfaithandfounditsound.Hecouldnotfaultit.TheEmperorwas real.Hewas a god.Hewas a force for good in a galaxy of horrors, andMathieu had pledged himself fully to His service. Faith was real; faith waspower.Long after he had reached this conclusion, he had seen the miracles of theEmperor with his own eyes. The first time, in that glorious moment, he hadwept.Buthecouldfaulthishope.Therewasnorationalexplanationforhope.TheEmperorwaspowerful,buttheenemywasmorepowerfulstill.Thegalaxywasbesetlikeatnoothertime.ForeverymiracleFraterMathieuhadwitnessed,hehadseententhousandsorrows.How, he wondered in the dark watches of the night, could the Emperor savethem?Yetstillhisfaithkepthishopealive.Nothingcouldextinguishit.Notreason,norexperience.Itwasirrational.Heshouldhavebeenwailingoutthecryoftheend times,buthedidnot.Providedhedidhispart, hehada sincerebelief allwouldbewell.Ishopefoolish?heaskedhimself.HelookedupontheserriedranksofImperialmight,andhethoughtperhapsitwasnot.Heprayedhecouldbringthemercyofhopetotheprimarchalso.Afanfarebrayed,brassyandshortintheMacraggianway.Thehordeofpriestsfell as silent as the assembled soldiery. Roboute Guilliman emerged from thecarvedfaceofthehillintostillness.Heascendedstepsuptoapulpitfashionedin theformofagiantcrouchingaquila– thedouble-headedeagle thatwas thebadgeoftheImperium–andsurveyedthearmybeforehim.The primarch was imperious, commanding, his face an ideal of nobility.Mathieusmiledinthedepthsofhishood.FromGuilliman’sexpression,noonecouldguesshowmuchtheparadeofpriestsirritatedtheprimarch,buthetooknopainstohidethatfromMathieu,sothepriesthadbeengenuinelysurprisedwhentheprimarchhadacceptedMathieu’sideafortheProcessionofFaith.Thepriestwasshrewdandafinejudgeofcharacter.Already,hehadformedanopinionofRobouteGuillimanasamanwhowasguidedbyprincipleaboveallelse; but one of those principles was pragmatism, and that often trumped theothers.IftheprimarchiswillingtogrithisteethandallowtheEcclesiarchytotrumpethisdivinity,thoughtMathieu,hewillchangehisopinioneventually.

Mathieuwasacomplex,patientcreature.HedidnotcarewhatGuillimandid,norhowhedidit.Thefaithfulpartofhimselfdeemedwhatevertheprimarchdidtoberight,evenwhilethereasoningpartofhimpickedaparthismotivations.Itdidn’tmattertoMathieuwhytheprimarchdidwhathedidnow;whatmatteredwaswherewhathedid ledhimtoeventually.Thepriestknew,absolutely, thatonedayRobouteGuillimanwouldseethelightandaccepthisowndivinity.There,faithagain.Hesmiledatthethought.Mathieutensed,suddenlyalert.Guillimanwasabouttospeak.Ascoreofsilveredskullsbuzzedabout theprimarch, recordinghis imageforposterity. From what Guilliman had told him, these recordings weremeaningless, ashistorycouldbe rewrittenas easilyas thenotes for a sermon.The primarch looked at the flying skulls, and his regardmade them retreat indismay.Thesonof theEmperordidnotseehisownpower.ToGuilliman, theskullsweremorbidmementos,machines nestled in the hollowed-out heads oftheworthy. ToMathieu, theyweremore. Clinging to themortal remains, thespiritsofthefaithfulremained,servingtheEmperorbeyonddeath.Theyfelttheprimarch’sscorn–thatiswhytheyveeredfromhim.Whycouldhenotseethat?Itisnotmyroletoconvincethesonofgodthatheisthesonofgod,Mathieuscoldedhimself. It ismy role to servehim,and toguidehim throughhis owneffortstothetruth.Icannottellhim.Hemustsee.Heresolvedtoshrivehimself,byconfessionorbywhip,forhispresumption.Still,hecouldnotextinguishhishope,norhisambition.If I am theone toopenhis eyes…he thought. If it ismewho convinces himopenly…That was enough. He squeezed the button hidden in the flesh of his palm.Sparkingpainburstwithinhisgroinandbehindhiseyes.Hegrittedhisteethandswayed,closetocollapse.Buttheimplantedelectroflailwasnotenoughtobreakhisimmodestambitions.Hewouldhavetopunishhimselfharderlater.Onlyinagonywasthereatonement.The aftertones of the last toll of the bell hummed across the gathering.Guillimanaddressedthecrowd.‘The Indomitus Crusade has lasted one hundred and twelve years.’ A lesserleader might shout, or posture; Guilliman spoke clearly and calmly, and hiswords carried the power of a thousandguns out across themartial field. ‘Youlooktome,andsay“See!HeisthesonoftheMasterofMankind!Hehascometosaveus!HehasbroughtlowthelordsofChaos.Hehascrossedthestarswhenallshipsfounderinthestormsofthewarp!”’Guillimanpausedforeffect.

Mathieusawhistricks;hewasnostrangertoaddressingcrowds.Knowingtheartmadeitnolesseffective.‘I say toyou, Ididnotdo this. It isnot Iwhohas liberatedhundredsof starsystems.ItisnotIwhohasprovidedreinforcementtodozensofourChapters,orrelieved beleaguered armies that they might fight again. It is not I who hasdriven back the dark. I am but oneman, and yes, I say I am a man, thoughprimarchImaybe.Formysoulishuman,andmyheart,andmyblood.‘TheintentofmyfatherwasthatIbethebestthatmankindhastooffer.Iamnot.’Heswepthisgazeacrossthecrowd.‘Youare.Itisyou,thehumanityofalltheworldsandorganisationsofthisgreatImperium,whohavedonethesethings.Youare themusclesofwar– its sinews, itsheartand its spleen.Withoutyou,what would I have accomplished? I say to you, I would have accomplishednothing!Yes, nothing!You, all of you,must holdyourheadshighwithpride.Withoutyourefforts,theImperiumwouldhavesurelyfallen!’He shouted now, and it rolled out across the square.Banners snapped in theplanet’sdustywind.Itwaseerilyquiet.Therewerethousandsuponthousandsofhumansandtranshumansarrayedonthemartialsquare.TheranksaloneofthePrimaris Unnumbered Sons filled a quarter of the space. They were arrangedinto Chapters, but their armour, coloured in the liveries of their primarchs,formedhugeblocksthatbroughttomindtheLegionsofold.There were twenty thousand Primaris Space Marines here, the rosters said,along with forty thousand Adeptus Astartes of the older type, twenty millionmen and women under arms, and the cybernetic battle congregations of thepriesthoodofMars.Warconstructsof increasingsize lined thedistantbackofthesquare,fromthewarrobotsoftheLegioCyberneticauptothesky-occludingbulkoftheTitans.Howcouldtheynotwin?‘TheIndomitusCrusade isasuccess,’continuedGuilliman. ‘Ideclare its taskcomplete. By our blood and sacrifice,we have bought the Imperium valuabletimetoretrench.Butweareneededelsewhere.We,whohavefoughttogetherforone hundred and twelve years, must part ways.’ He paused again. ‘TheIndomitusCrusadeisover.ThisTriumphofRaukosmarksitsgreatvictories.’Stillnoonespoke,butatensionroseoffthecrowd.‘Youare all tobe reassigned.Shortly after this triumph, I shall giveoutneworders.Ourforceswilldisperse,andshallbringruintotheenemywherevertheymightbe found!Though I sendyouaway fromme, Ido sobecauseyouhavewonmy respect.Youhaveperformed impossible featsof arms.Whereveryougo,thewarriorsofmankindwillseethehonourbadgesofthiscrusadeuponyour

battlegear,but theywillnotknowhope, theywillnot feelprotected– instead,theyshallriseupwithcertaintyintheirheartsandgunsintheirhands,andwithamightyroartheyshallcastbacktheenemyintotheformlesswarpforalltime!Youhavedonethis.Youwilldothis.Istandbeforeyouhumbledbythesightofyou,themenandwomenwhoaretheheroesoftheImperium!’Guilliman held aloft the massive Hand of Dominion, its robotic fingersclenchedinvictorysalute.Thesquareeruptedintoarhythmicchant.‘Guilliman!Guilliman!Guilliman!’It was deafening, and more. Frater Mathieu felt the crowd’s exultation as awash of power. The ecstasy he felt from their victorious criesmade his faithshineasbrightasastar.Wherebeforehenearlycollapsed fromapplicationofhiselectroflail,nowheswoonedinreligiousecstasy.ThePitofRaukosseemedtodiminthesky,andtheblasted,lonelydesertsof108/Beta-Kalapus-9.2feltalittlecleaner.‘Mysons!Mybrothersandsisters!’Guillimancalled,halting thechant. ‘Inamoment,ournewmilitant-apostolicwillblessyouall,anddeliverthewordsoftheEmperor,my father!’Another cheer, so loud it shook theground.Mathieulookedat theprimarch sidelong;hehadyet to sayyes to theappointment.Hewas going to, of course. Now he had no choice. He admired the primarch’sforcefulwill.Theycouldnotfailwithhimastheirlord.‘Ihavenewsformywarrior-brothers.TheUnnumberedSonshavefoughtwitha strength that would shame the Legions of the Great Crusade. The time hascomeforyou tobe rewardedforyourefforts.Newassignmentswillbegiven.NewChapters formed.Someofyouwillgo to join theprogenyofyourgene-sires,whowillwelcomeyouasbrothers,andprovideyouwithplacesofhonourbothonthebattlefieldandatthefeastingtable.Buttothoseofyouwhoaremysonsdirectly,whobearmygeneticheritageandthecoloursoftheUltramarines,I have one last thing to say –whenwe are done here,we have a newwar tofight.MybrotherMortarionbringspestilencetoourhomeofUltramar.Iwillnotallowittofall.’Theprimarchpaused.Slowly,heonceagainlookedacrossthefield.‘WemarchforMacragge.’

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

PLAGUEBRINGER

Varenswassleeping,andhisdreamswerestrange.Hewatchedhimselffromoutside,as issometimesthewayindreams, likeheweretwoseparatepeople–theactorandtheobserver.Theobserversawhimselfhidingbythehospitalentrance,spyingonthesentries,theirconversationpuffedout into the cold night air as clouds of steam like smoke signals. The activeVarenswaitedforonetoleavehispostandgoinsidetowarmhishands.Asthesoldier passed, Varens clubbed him down with a stone urn. Then this Varensstalked the gravelled forecourt of the hospital, a stolen lasgun in his hands,fulminatingagainstthewaythesoldiershadtreatedhim,asifthepatientswerelessthantheywerebecausetheyhadbeeninjured.Hehatedthat.Theywereallsoldiers.Theywereallowedrespect!ThesecondVarenssimplywatched.ThefirstVarensraisedhislasgun.Theremainingsentry’seyesbecameshockedroundzeroesintheshadowofhishelmet.‘Don’tshoot!’hesaid.Varenssqueezedthetriggerandblastedaneatroundholeinthesentry’schestthatsmokedashesteppedoverthecorpse.Hedroppedthegun.Thisactofviolencehalfwokehim.Heshouldhavebeenwarm,buthisfeetwerefreezingandfeltwet.Achillwindmadehimcolderstill.Hetriedtogobacktosleep.Therewasasharppaininhiswound.

Howcouldthisbe?hethoughtinhisdream.Iamreadytogobacktothewar.Iamfitenoughtodie.Anotherstabofpainmadehimgaspandwakeslightly.Hetriedtogobacktosleep, but there was an irritating rattling noise growing all around him. Itsoundedlikereeds,reedsinthewind.Varens’eyessnappedopen.Hewastotallydisoriented.Palestrandswavedattheheightofhisnose,fillingthe world as far as he could see and dividing it into hissing paleness anddarkness above. It took him a moment to see the strands as reeds, and thedarknessastheskywherecloudsspedoverstarsundertheurgingofthewind.Hisfeetwerecoldbecausehewasstoodintheshallowwaterattheedgeofthemarsh.Theyweregoingnumb.Hisskinbumpedunderhishospitalgown.Hishandswerewettoo,andhisface.Hewoulddieouthereifhedidnotgetback.Ittookhimamomenttogethisbearingsandlocatethehospital.Itlookedsmall,themarbleablueblurinthedark.Hehadcomealongway,wellpasttheedgesofthemeadowsandintothemarshitself.His dream came back to him: the dead soldiers.Orwas this the dream, andwhatherememberedinthedreamthetruememory?Itcouldn’tbepossible.Hecouldnothurtanothersoldier.He suddenly felt dizzy. He reached his hand to his forehead. There wassomethingslimyonhishand,andhewipeditonhisgown.Hisforeheadwashot.Hehadafever.Heshouldgetback;therewassomethingverywrongwithhim.Heturnedtofacethehospital.Hislimbswereshivering,andhismusclesached.Definitelyafever.‘I’vecaughtmydamneddeathouthere,’hemuttered.Hesloshedthroughthemud,makingforthefirmergroundofthemeadows.Hehadnearlymadeitwhenafamiliarvoicecalledoutinthemarsh.‘Bolus?’hecalledback.Hestrainedhisears.Thelastoftheyear’sinsectschirrupedinthechillynight.Heheardnothingelse,andhedismissedthevoiceasadelusion.‘One!One!One!’‘Bolus?’ Varens said again, more loudly. He could see nothing through thereeds, which grew tall where the marsh turned into meadow. Cursing, hestruggled his way onto firmer ground and looked back. Iax’s solitary moonappearedfrombehindascuddingcloud,lightingeverythingsilverandblack.‘One!’Bolus’voicewasthinasadistantscream.‘One!’Varens turnedbackto lookat thehospital. Ifhewentbacknowforhelphe’d

loseBolusforsure,andwhentheyfoundhim,theymightshoothim.Hescannedthemarshes,lookingforhisfriend.Finally,hecaughtsightofhim,a white ghost leaping high to negotiate the mud and water, his night-gownsleeveshangingoverhishandsandflapping.Behindhim,Bolushadleftapathofbrokenreeds.Thetrailmeandereddramatically,butheappearedtobeheadingtowardsathicketoflow,willowytreesclusteringonahumpattheedgeofthemarsh’sfirstmere.‘Damnhim!’ saidVarens. Ignoring thechills andhot shivers thatgrippedhislimbs,heplungedbackintothemarshinpursuitofhisfriend.HesoonreachedBolus’trail.Itwassoconvolutedthathedecidednottofollowit,insteadchasingdownthesoundofhisfriend’svoice.Hekepthiseyesonthelowislandanditstreeswhenhecould,andsureenoughitappearedthatBoluswas indeedheading towards this point.WheneverVarenswas forced to divertarounddeeperwaterandlosthearingofBolus’eerieshoutsof‘One!One!One!’,hewouldheadtowardstheislandandpickthemupagain.Hours seemed to pass before his feet found the harder ground of the island.Shivering with cold and sickness, he slogged his way up the rise. There wasaboutthreemetresofelevationinit,butthehillockfeltasbigasamountain.Hedoubtedhehadthestrengthtoreturntothehospital.Thishadbeenamistake.Heshouldhavegoneback.‘Bolus!’hehissedloudly,unwillingtoshout,eventhoughtheywerealongwayfrom thehospital.Hepushedhisway through springybranches anddown theovergrown far slope.Themarsh’s first stretch of openwaterwas on the otherside,makingthehillockalmostanisle.‘One!One!One!’saidBolus.Therehewas,squattingatthelake’sedge,staringathisreflectionintheblackwaterofthemere.Thoughhewassickandcold,Varensfeltasurgeofrelief.‘Bolus!’hesaidangrily.‘Whatareyoudoingouthere?’Boluslookedupfromthewater.Helookedterrible,withdarkringsunderhiseyesandhisstubblecakedwithscurf.‘Two,two,’saidBolussadly,pointingatVarens.‘Youhadreachedforty-ninelasttimeIsawyou.’Varens’attemptatlevitycameoutheavyaslead.Heputhishandonhisfriend’sshoulder.Ashedid,thewoundonhisbacktwinged,andhegrimaced.‘Comeon,wehavetogetback.I’mnotwell.’BolusshookhisheadandcrabbedawayfromVarens.

‘Comeon!’Varenssaid.There was a crack of wood behind them. A man, also in a hospital gown,staggeredoutofthereeds.Hewascoveredinscratches,andhiseyeswereblank.‘Three!Three!Three!’saidBolus,jabbingaclawedhandattheother.‘Oh, that isperfect, justsimplyperfect,’saidVarens. ‘Hey,hey,you!Soldier!Stop!’Themanstaredblanklyat thewater.Hewalked to its edgeand, after staringintoitforafewseconds,fellforwardsfacefirst.‘Damnit!’saidVarens.Hewasfrightened.Theman’sactionsremindedhimofthewaythedeadhadfallenintotheirtrenchesonEspandor.Hehesitated,fearingthechillmightkillhim,buthissenseofdutygotthebetterofself-preservation,andheflounderedintothelake.Bythen,themanhadfloatedoutseveralmetres.Swimming even that short distance in the freezing black water drained thestrengthfromVarens.‘Four!Four!Four!Four!’shoutedBolus.‘Five!Five!Five!Five!Five!’Twomoresoldiers,onemanandawoman,cameoutof the thicket.Themanplungedintothewater.Thewomanstoppedamoment,herslackfaceclearing.‘WhereamI?’shesaid,thenfaintedintothelake.‘Emperor!’saidVarens.Hedraggedtheunresponsivefirstmanbacktoshore,andhauledthewomanoutontotheisland.Theothermanfoughthim,andsankoutofsightintothepeatydepths.‘Bolus!Bolus!Helpme!’‘One, two, three, four, five!’ cackledBolus, touching his fingers like a childlearningtocount.Swearingprofusely, thecoldwaterdrippingoffhim,Varenskneltby the firstman,rolledhimontohisfrontandbeganpumpingonhisarms.Astreamofdirtywaterwelledfromtheman’smouth.Whenitslowedtoatrickle,Varensrolledhimoverontohisbackandpressedhislipstotheman’s,breathingforhim.Afterthreebreathshepulledbackandpumpedtheman’schest.‘Six!Six!Six!Six!Six!Six!’saidBolus.Asixthpersoncameoutthethicket.Hemoaned,thencollapsedandwentintoaseizure.By now, Varens was terrified. This was toomuch like what he had seen onEspandor.But therewere nowalkingdeadhere, no traitors, andnoneof theirterrible allies; the ones the officers insisted were xenos, but that rumoursuggested were something else entirely. He pumped at the first man’s chest,distractedbythelatestarrival.Somethingtickledhishand,andwhenhelooked

backheyelledinhorror,andstumbledbackwards.Sicklycolouredinsectswerecrawlingfromtheman’smouthandnose,pouringinwrigglingmassesontothesoil.‘Bolus?’hesaid,hisvoicequiet.Bubbles erupted out in the mere where the other man had gone down. Thewater boiled, and fish and other aquatic creatures bobbed to the surface dead,alreadysquirmingwiththelifeofcarrionorganisms.‘Itcan’tbe…Nothere.No,nothere!’criedVarens.Hisownfleshcrawled.Thewoundinhisbackhurtmorethanithadwhenhe’dreceivedit.Hedidn’trememberhowhegotthewound,butherememberedtheflyhehadswattedthatlastdayinthefield.Itseemedhorriblysignificant.Hisheadpounded,andtherewasaroaringinhisears.‘Seven!Seven!Seven!Seven!Seven!Seven!Seven!’shoutedBolus.Hestood,andpointedwithashakinghandupthegentleslope.Garstand,themanVarenshadmetonthehospitalbalconyweeksago,cameoutof the trees,hisbearddishevelledandhisgown filthy.Varenscouldn’t seehisface.‘Garstand?’hesaid.‘What’sgoingon?WhatamIdoinghere?Varens?IwasfollowingRusen.Hetold me to come. He said it was important!’ Unlike all the others, Garstandseemed to be in full possession of his faculties, but when he lifted his facetowardsVarens,Varensscreamed.‘Isitimportant,whatwe’redoingouthere?Iamcold.Ishouldgetbacktobed.’Garstand’s eyes had gone. Fat leeches hung down his face, their pulsingforeparts buried in his eye sockets. A crop of boils deformed his forehead,swellingevenasVarenswatched.‘Whycan’tIsee?’saidGarstand.‘Iitchallover.HaveIbeenbittenagain?’‘Throne preserve me!’ said Varens. The pain in his back was becomingmaddening.He jammedhisarmbehindhisback toscratchat it.His fingertipsbrushedsomethinghard:therewasalumpthere,swollen,closetobursting.‘One, two, three,’ said Bolus, counting everyone in turn with graveconcentration.‘Four,five,six.’HepointedatVarens.‘Seven.’Hepattedhischest.‘Seven.Seven.Seven,’hechanted,andashedidso,hepulledoutastolenlas-scalpel and thumbed it on. He held it so close to his eyes that his eyebrowscurledintheheat.

‘No!’shoutedVarens.‘Seven,’ saidBolus, andcutopenhis stomach.His innards feltout:diseased,putridandcrawlingwithmaggots.‘Seven,’hesaid,anddied.Foul gas belched from the bed of the mere. More dead fish bobbed to thesurface. Garstand was screaming, clawing at his face. Varens felt somethingmovingunderhisskin.Hetoreoffhisgown,onlytofindthefleshofhischestwrithing.Terriblepainlancedthroughhim,andthewoundinhisbacktoreopen.‘Seven!’avoiceboomedacrossthemarsh,andaphlegmylaughfollowed.Oddlightshonefromthemarsh,thenIaxchangedforever.Reality torewith a sound like the edgesof a half-healedwoundparting.Thesky ripped apart like flimsy projection screen. Either side of the tear, realityremained,butbetween theyellowingedgesof the rifta realmofmadnesswasrevealed: a huge garden in the middle of steamy day, riotous in its decay,stretchingoutofsightintomustardfogs.ShythingswithmoistskinpeepedfromtheovergrownfoliageatVarensandlickedtheirlips.Thereappearedtobeaskinofenergyoverthistear,butitwasfullofholesthatweregettingwiderasVarenswatched.Rottengasesbegantodriftthrough,andthen flies roseup from thesicklyplants.Theyboiled through theholes in fat-bodied multitudes, battering at Varens just like on Espandor. Then they weregone,awayoverthemarshesinbuzzingshrouds.Varens looked to his side at the unconsciouswoman.Hemoaned atwhat hesaw.Hereyesrantojellyintheirsockets.Hertonguewentblackandfellfromjawsdisarticulated from her softening skull. Her necrotic flesh sloughed off bonesthat,nowrevealed,shonepink-whiteforonlyaninstantbeforeaccelerateddecayturnedthemslimygrey,andtheexposedcapillariesthatfedthemdeadblack.Heclenchedhiseyestightly.Hisfaceturnedfromtherift.Noonewholookedinto something like that could survive. The movements under his skin grewwilder.Hehadtostophishandsfromrippingathisownfleshtosetthethingsinsidehimfreeandbringhimselfrelief,forheknewitwouldkillhim.‘Don’tlookatit!Don’tlookatit!’hesaid,buthecouldn’thelpit.HelookedupintothegardenofthePlagueGodNurgle.Amomentofcalmfell.Thundercrackedinthesuddenlyswelteringair.Aripescent of putrefaction infiltrated everything. A ripple passed over the marsh –taintingwhatever it touched, alive or not – and the grasses blackened in zig-zagging strips. Stones crumbled. The trees contorted into horrific new shapesandgrewso large that theycollapsedunder theirownweight intomushyruin.

Waterturnedthick.‘Seven!’bellowedthedaemonicvoice.Ahot,corrosivewindblasted from the rift.Hugeshapes rode it, approachingfromthehorizonofthatinfernallandscape.Varenswaswrackedwith sudden, burning pain. Lesions opened on his skin,allowing the vermin breeding inside him to fall softly to the earth. His bellydistended. His fingers twisted; his back hunched. His eyes moistened andbecamesoftaspart-cookedeggs.Hischeeksmeltedlikewaxinafire,reforminghis features.His skull felt like itwas trying toburst itself in two.Reliefcamesuddenly,whenarotting,stubbyhornemergedslowlythroughhisforeheadandtwistedupwards.Thepaingotworse,butitdidn’tbotherhimanylonger.Hegiggledatit.ThethingthathadbeenVarensopenedasingleeyeonablightedworld.Withwarp-bornsight,heperceivedaviscousnetofbefouledspiritualpowerlinkinghimandthesixdeadsoldiers,stretchingfromtheirmaggotyheartsoutintothestars.QuestingtendrilsextendedthemselvesfurtheroverIaxashewatched.Allof the seven chosen were marked by Nurgle in their own way: by obvioustrauma,minor scratch or unnoticedwound.Varens’ ownmark had been a flybite, dismissed in amoment!Howbountiful his new lordwas.The thingwaspleasedatthehonour,andthelastofVarensdiedunderitspleasure.‘One, two, three. Four, five, six, seven.’ The plaguebearer counted theapproachingshapescoastingthroughthehellishsky,andawaiteditsmasters.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

GREYSHIELD

Captain Felix had considered taking off his armour before hewent to see hiserstwhile comrades. He disliked the distance the unmarked ultima on hisshoulderpadputbetweenhimandtheothers. In theend,however,hekepthisbattleplateon.HewasanUltramarinenow.Heshouldnotdishonourthat,evenifhedidnotyetfeelfullypartoftheChapter.HiscobaltbluewasthesameshadeastheolderUltramarinesinthefleet,buthewasbigger thanhisnewbrothers, stronger, andmorecapable.ThedifferencesextendedfromtheIrradialWhorlsthatmarkedhishandstotheextraorgansdeepwithin his brain. Physically,Felixwas closer to the primarchs than anyof thegenerationsofSpaceMarineswhohadfoughtanddiedfortheImperiumbeforehim.Hisbattleplatefurthersethimapart.Aggressorpowerarmourwasmoresophisticatedthananycomparableratingofbattleplate in the Ultramarines armoury. A heavy gorget projected from thebreastplate, guarding his vulnerable neck. Cowling covered his helmet. Thereactorwaslargertosupportthemorepowerfulsub-systems,itsbuilt-inpowerfield and the armour’s sophisticated cogitator and sensorium suite. AlthoughslightlylessresistanttofirethanTerminatorplate,theheavyarmourwornbytheUltramarines’ existing veterans was the only thing that approachedAggressorarmour’s capabilities, and Felixwas farmore nimble thanwarriors in tacticaldreadnoughtarmour.

Felix was glad there were hundreds of other Primaris Ultramarines in thecrusade.HecouldimaginehowstrangeitmustbeforthoseoftheUnnumberedSonswhohadbeenassignedtoexistingChaptersindribsanddrabs.Being the primarch’s equerrywas an honour heavywithmany burdens.Andthey shall know no fear! TheEmperor’s commandment toHis SpaceMarinesechoeddownthemillenniatothepresentday,andgenerally,aSpaceMarinewasafraid of nothing. However, being fearless did not stop Captain Felix fromworrying.The crux of it was that Felix had already been admitted formally into theUltramarines, though he had no company of his own to command officially.Guilliman’s earlier equerries had gone on to do great deeds as captains andmasters ofmanyChapters, but only after leavingGuilliman’s personal serviceandreceivingordersofassignment.ThatpathwasnotopentoFelix.Hisswiftinductiontotheprimarch’sownChapterhadbeen…odd.TherewereanumberofreasonswhyGuillimanhadchosenPrimariswarriorsasequerriesovermoreexperiencedSpaceMarines.The first, Felix surmised, was that the primarch wanted to show that thePrimarisrepresentedthenewSpaceMarineparadigm.Thesecond–andthiswasno theoretical, as the primarch had told him so –was that thePrimaris SpaceMarines lacked political experience. Guilliman placed great import on non-combatskills.Tohim,statesmanshipwasasimportantaswarcraft.Archmagos Cawl’s prolonged hypno-indoctrination had given the PrimarisSpaceMarines none of that, so the primarch appointedmany of their numberintoimportantbutnon-crucialrolesasaidestovariousadepta,orasassistantstoestablishedSpaceMarine officers, and that included those he took as his ownequerry. Guilliman changed the holders of these offices frequently to helpdisseminatetheexperiencethatthePrimarisSpaceMarinesgainedinhisdirectservice.Hetookononlythosewhoshowedexceptionalpromise,andafterwardstheyweregivenpermanentpositionsofgraveresponsibility.Felixwashonouredtohavebeensochosen,andhestrovedailytoliveuptotheprimarch’sfaithinhim.Thirdly, Felix reasoned, the primarchwanted to observe his newwarriors atclosehand.ThePrimarisSpaceMarineshadbeencreatedatGuilliman’sbehest,but they were creatures made by Cawl. If he were Roboute Guilliman, Felixwouldnothavetrustedthearchmagoseither.NoneofthiswaswhatworriedFelix.Itwaslogical,rationalandcompletelyinline with the primarch’s preference for long-term planning. But there was a

fourthreasoninFelix’shypothesising,anditwasthislastonethattroubledhim.FelixhadbeenbornonLaphisnotlongaftertheendoftheGreatHeresyWar.Herememberedhischildhoodbetterthananyofhispeersappearedto,andthatmeantherecalledtheImperiumashadbeenlongago,whentherewasstillhope.HerememberedoldUltramar,theImperialTruthandtherekindlingofoptimismasthethreatofHorusreceded.HehadbeenthirteenyearsoldandreadytojointheLegionasaneophytewhenCawl’srepresentativeshadcomecalling,bearingthe highest seals of all, and Felix had had one future taken away and thisnightmare substituted in its stead. But he had kept all of his past, throughmillenniaofstasis.Hehadforgottennothing.ThepastwaswhatGuillimanwantedfromhim.Theprimarchoften spokeof those times.Felix struggled to seeGuillimanaswistful – hewas toomatter-of-fact a being for that – but itwas plain that heharbourednostalgic tendencies.The fourth theoreticalworriedFelixbecause itsuggestedthattheprimarchwasperhapslonely.Ifhewere,thenhewasalltoohuman.Seeing Guilliman as a man perturbed Felix. The Imperium needed someoneabovehumanitytoleadthem,notamanwithaman’sfaults.InFelix’stheorising,GuillimanhadmadeFelixanUltramarineearlierthanhehadwith any of his other equerries because Felix remembered. It could havebeenthatFelixwasintendedtoperformimportantdutieswithintheUltramarinesatsomelaterdate,buttheywerethemostgloriousofChapters,andthatlineofreasoningskirteddangerouslyclosetoarrogance.Felixwasahumbleman.Thelonelydemigod.ThethoughtmadeFelix’sspineshiver.His somewhat maudlin thoughts passed as the lighter he was aboardapproached the Rudense’s small port hangar. The ship passed through theatmospheric fieldand intoa spacebusywith servitors.Felixwas seizedbyanimpatiencetodisembarkbeforethelighterhadevensettledintoitslandinggear.Felix could recite the Rudense’s specifications without thinking. He knewexactly how to use it in battle; it was a ship to fire the heart of any whoappreciated the art of voidwar.But its utility andgrace couldnot explain thedeepsignificance itheldforhim.Felix loved theRudensebecause ithadbeenhishome.BeforeGuillimanhadcalleduponFelix,theRudensehadbeenhistocommand,andthemenaboarditwereasclosetofamilyashewouldeverknow.Assoonasthelighter’slandinglumenschangedtogreen,Felixwasoutofthedoorandheading into theship towards thebarracks.ThoughGuillimanprizedFelixforhismemoriesofthetimesbefore,theoneshehadoftheRudensewere

most precious.He had not been back toLaphis. If hewere honest, he had nodesire to. He had heard it had become a shrine world and its wide prairiesencrustedwithcathedraandtemplestotheEmperor,whothepeopleofthistimeworshippedasagod.The thoughtofseeinghishomesochangedbyaforeignideologysaddenedhim.Perhaps he was like the primarch: homesick for something that no longerexisted.Everyone needed something stable in their lives, some shared purpose andorigin.Let theprimarch turn to him.Felixwould turn to his brothers.Hehadthat,forafewmoreweeksatleast.Thefamiliarsightsandsmellsoftheshipmellowedhissadnessintoasweetermelancholy.Ashethought,helethisfeetleadhimfromtheportsidehangaruptowards the spinal way. When he emerged into its avenue, his spirits liftedfurther.Everypartof the shipwas familiar tohim: thecompanionwayswhichclung to thesidesof thecorridor; theregularly repeatedstampof theMachinaOpuson thebulkheads; themassiveblast doorhousings; theway the starlightslanted in through the spinal way’s high armourglass windows. The ship wassmall enough that the footingsof its dorsal fortressesprojected into the spinalwayas largeplasteelcubes, their lower levels joined togetherbycatwalksandsealedammunitiontubes.Afigureshrunkenbyperspectivewasmovingacrossthenetworkupthere,likeanarachnidinitsweb.Small was a relative term regarding Imperial voidcraft. The spinal way wasfifteenmetreswide,andalmostthreetimesastall.ComparedtotheMacragge’sHonour,theRudensewasaminnow,butitwasstilllargeenoughtogetlostin.Felixlaughedathimself.WhowashetofretoverGuilliman’syearningforthepast,whenhewasbecomingoverlysentimentalhimself?Whyelsewouldhebethere, on his way to deliver orders that could have been sent by a simpledatasquirt?What was he doing? Did he crave his brothers’ approval? Did hewishtoimpressthem,toremindthemhewasstillpartoftheirfraternity?Didhefearthathewasnot?Hewasno longeraGreyshield,ofcourse.Notanymore.Hemissed that;hemissedthem.Theotherswouldmissittoo,nowitwasover.Thespinalwayendedabruptly,narrowingtoasteepfunnel.Thefunnelfurthersplitintothreeseparatecorridorsandtwoflightsofstairsthatledintothemazeof holds, stores and generatoria that sat forward of the enginarium and thethrummingreactor-heartoftheship.TheleftmostcorridorledhimtowardstheSpaceMarines’accommodation.The

Primaris armourieswere thatway, aswere their training rooms and the smallapothecarion, sited amidships, safely away from the hull. The equipmentrequiredforademi-companyoccupiedalotofroom.HepassedagaragewherefiveRepulsorgrav-tankswaitedinsilence,bolteddowntotheflooraroundthegapingshaftofavehicleelevator.Heroundedacornerandheardvoices.Therewerewarriorsintherefectorum,though not all of them were there. He quickened his pace. His augmentedhearing identified the gruff laughter of Bjarni Arvisson, and there were threeothersinthereatleast.HeheardJustinianParrisspeak,andBjarnilaughagain.ThencamethequietvoiceofKalael,gene-kinof theLion.Asheneared, theirwordsbecamemoredistinctandheeavesdroppedon theirconversation.Thereweresoundsindicatingperhapssixmoreofhisbrothers,theirlowconversationmuffledbythehardmetallicsoundsofweaponsbeingtakenapartandcleaned.Hewasalmostsixtymetresfromtherefectorum.Asheapproached,aPrimarisSpace Marine in a day robe emerged from a side room, carrying a dentedvambraceandatoolroll.Hiseyesroseinsurprise.‘Brother-captain!’hesaid.‘Solus,’ said Felix. He halted before his old comrade, and the two of themclaspedarms.Felixreachedupanddisengagedhishelm,lifteditoverhisheadandtuckeditintothecrookofhiselbow.Laphis was further out fromMacragge’s star than the capital world, but theskieswerethin,andthesunburnedeasily.Felix’sskinwaslightbrown,hishairblack.ItwaslongforaSpaceMarine,itsfringesweptoverlightgreyeyesthatconveyedanimpressionofutmostseriousness.Soluswas ofSanguinius’ line andwas as pale andbeautiful as his gene-lordhad reputedlybeen.Hiseyeswereacolourlessblue.Though theUnnumberedSonsworearmourcolouredthesameastheFirstFoundingChapterstheywerekinwith,theirdayrobesweregrey.Solus,however,haddyedhisredwhenFelixhadbeenaboard,inhonourofSanguinius.‘Towhatdoweowethispleasure?’askedSolus.‘Thepleasureismine,mybrother,’saidFelix.Solusgavehimaquizzicallook.Hislipsparted,showingsharpeyeteeth.‘Youseemdistracted.’Felixsmiled.‘Itisgoodtoseeyou.’‘Thatmeansyouhavebadnews,’saidSolus.‘Icanseeit,brother.’‘AmIreallythattransparent?’‘IdonotneedtobeoftheLibrariustoreadyourface,Felix.Youarenotaman

whodissembleswell.’FelixreachedoutandgraspedSolus’shoulder.‘Thenewsisbothgoodandbad,myfriend.Goodandbad.Come,Iwillshareitwithallofyou.Youdeservetohearitfromme–itistheleastIcando.’There was a horrendous crash, and a roar of laughter went up from therefectorum,mostofitBjarni’sferalbellow.‘DoIhavetosaythathalfofthemareinthere?’saidSolus.‘Ihearthem,thoughBjarniArvissonmakesthenoiseoftenmen.Itisgood.Iwanttospeakwiththemall.’‘ThenIshallfetchtheothers.Iwillspreadtheword,captain.’‘IsLieutenantSarkisonboard?’askedFelix.‘Heisinthearmorium.’‘Tinkeringwithhisbattleplateagain?’‘Whatelse?’saidSolus.‘Ishallfetchhimfirst.’Solushurriedaway.Felixstalkeddownthecorridor.Therefectorumdoorwasclosed but not latched, and he pushed it open stealthily.He looked inside, hismind flooded with memories. Twenty SpaceMarines were dotted around thelong tables filling the room.Noneof themnoticedhimstood there.Oil clothswerespreadoutbeforethem,thecomponentsofweaponslaidoutforcleaning,and they were engrossed in their work. The place smelled of men, gun oil,lappingpowderandyesterday’snutrientgruel.Regulationssaidtheyshouldnotundertake suchwork in the eating area, but they gathered there because therewas nowhere else of size besides the training ground to congregate. Thearmoriumwasout of thequestion.Thatwas small, andLieutenantSarkis’ petprojects had overtaken the space even in Felix’s time. It had got worse sinceSarkishadtakencommand.Though theUnnumberedSonswere formed into temporaryChapters of theirownkind,Guillimanhaddecreedthattheyspendtimefightinginmixedsquadsinorderthatthedifferinggene-lineswouldlearneachother’sstrengths,andhowtobestwork together.Asmoreof theUnnumberedSonshadbeenassigned totheirpermanenthomesandtheirnumbersinthecrusadedecreased,eachrotationhadbeen longer, andFelix’sdemi-companyhadbeen fighting together for thebetterpartofadecade.MostofthePrimarisSpaceMarinespresentwereofRobouteGuilliman’sline.Fivewere not. Bjarni’s gene-seed obviously came from Leman Russ, and hisskinwas covered in fadedFenrisian tribal tattoos.Then therewasAldred andUrstan,whowerekintoDorn,LeiJianofChogoris,andKalael.All,however,

werePrimarisSpaceMarines,andthatboundthemtogetherwhentheirdifferingheritagesmighthavesetthemapart.After a century of war, the Primaris Space Marines still seemed new. TheImperium was used to technological stagnancy. The Primaris warriors wereshocking: a blasphemy against the holy works of the Emperor-Omnissiah tosome, a sure sign of the deity’swork in theworld to others. Itwas probable,Felixthought,thatonlytheprimarch’spresencehadpreventedtheadventofthePrimaris Space Marines sparking yet another war between the Imperium’sbrawlingfactions.The less theologically inclined caredonly about thePrimarisSpaceMarines’effectiveness in combat.Theywerebigger and stronger than theolder typeofSpaceMarine, and equippedwith potent newweapons. Therewere other lessobviousdifferencesbetween the two typesaswell,but though theunseenwasmore essential to the salvation of the Imperium, when one witnessed thePrimaris Space Marines in battle, these deeper differences seemed of lesserimportance.MostofthenoiseintheroomcamefromBjarni.ItwasalwaysBjarni.Hewastakingaimwithalightthrowingaxeatastackofemptynutrientcans.Thewallbehind was scarred by repeated impacts. Kalael was half a metre away,sharpeningtheteethofhischainsword,unconcernedbythetargetpracticetakingplacesoclosetohisface.The others Felix knewwell, but none sowell as Justinian Parriswho, alongwithSolus,washisclosestfriend.‘Iwillsplit thethirdonefromtheleft,secondrow,’saidBjarni,weighinghisaxeinhishand.‘Whatwillyouwager?’saidawarriorofthelineofGuillimannamedCiceron.‘Doesitmatter?Inevermiss!’braggedBjarni.‘Younearlyhitmeonce,’saidKalael.‘Thatwasamiss.’‘It was not. I intended to give you a fright, brooding angel,’ said Bjarniwolfishly.Hishairwasgreyandshavedintoatallmohawk.Hisbeardretainedsome red, but he appeared older than hewas.His nosewas crooked from anancient break. Not all the scars that criss-crossed his body had been won inservice;severalheattributedtotheattentionsofFenris’notoriouswildlifeduringhischildhood.‘Youcannotbragwithoutbetting,Bjarni,’saidJustinian.‘Comeon,putdownabet.’Justinianwas typicallyMacraggian in appearance, thoughhe hailed from the

hiveworldofArdiumratherthanthecapitalworlditself.Hewastallandblonde,with aristocratic features that could have seemed cold had he not smiled sogenerously.‘Ihaveonlymyrationofdeliciousnutrientgrueltooffer,’saidBjarni.‘Sowhocares?’‘Itistheformofthething,’saidFelix,speakingupandsteppingovertheraisedlintelofthedoor.‘Honourdemandsaboastcarryawager.’‘Felix!’shoutedBjarni.Ahugegrinsplithisbeard.Hehurledtheaxewithoutlooking.Itslammedintohisdesignatedtarget,cuttingittwoandsendingtherestofthestackbouncingoffthesteeltablesaroundtheroom.Kalaelscowledunderhishoodasheflickedcansoffhiswork.Themenrose fromtheir tablesandgreeted thecaptain.Bjarnigot there first,flinginghisarmsaroundFelixinabearhug.‘Tellmeyouhavecomebacktoleadus,captain,’saidtheFenrisian.‘Justonemoretime,eh?’HeslammedFelixontheshoulderpadwithhishugefist.‘IfonlyIcould.IwishIhadbeenwithyouduringthedroponRaukos.’‘My brother,’ said Justinian, taking Felix’s armoured hand in his own andgraspingithard.‘Ithasbeentoolong.’‘Ifyouarenottofightwithus,whyareyouhere,Felix?’askedBjarni.FelixmovedintotheroomasotherPrimarisSpaceMarinesfilteredin,broughttherebySolus’tidings.Theyfilledupthelongbenches.Workwasclearedaway.Sarkiscamethrough,givinghisoldcommanderanod.TheMedusansatdownby Justinian, his face neutral. Sarkis would not approve of Felix sharing hisnews.Whenmost of the companywas assembled, Felix called for quiet. He felt astranger inhisUltramarinesarmour,particularlywhenthemajorityof thoseheaddressed wore the plain grey hooded robes of the Unnumbered Sons.Whentheyfought, theydidso inapageantofdifferingcolours, thesymbolsof theirprimarchs proud on their shoulders. Only a small number, designating theirformationandcompany,andthegreychevronover their insigniadifferentiatedthem from SpaceMarines already sworn to a particular Chapter. Out of theirarmour,thegenedifferenceswerealmostasobviousasthecoloursoftheirplate.Buttheywerebrothers,inbattleandoutofit.Therewere forty Primaris SpaceMarines in the roomby the timeFelixwasreadytospeak.NearlyallofFelix’soldcomradeswerethere.Heknewthemallso well. There were also several faces he did not know, transferred in as thedwindling groups of theUnnumbered Sonsweremerged. Farmore numerous

werethefacesmissing,allthewarriorshehadknownandlaughedwithsincehisawakeningacenturyago.Hiseideticmemorywouldneverallowhimtoforgetthedead.There had been many mistakes. The Primaris Space Marines had excellenttraining but no real combat experience when the Indomitus Crusade began.Manyhadfallenintheearlydays.Heimaginedhesawthefacesofthoseearliestcomrades, smiling or grim according to their character, between the livingwarriorsintheroom.‘CaptainFelix?’promptedSarkis.Felixbrokeoutofhismemories.Thefacesofthedeadfaded.‘Ihavedecidedtobringyouyournewordersmyself,mybrothers,’hesaid.‘Thecrusadeisover.Ourbrotherhoodisatanend.Iwishedtosayfarewelltoyouall.WhenwereachMacragge,wewilllikelyneverseeeachotheragain.’Hepaused,unsureofhowtogoon.‘Iaskedtheprimarch’spermissiontotellyoupersonally.HesaidthatImay.SoIhaveyournewassignmentshere.’Heopenedapouchonhisrightthighanddrewoutsheafofparchments.‘Finally!’roaredBjarni.Hegrinned.‘Nooffence,brothers.’‘Idonotrejoice,’saidJustinianquietly.‘Brother,’ saidCiceron, ‘wehaveknown thiswasgoing tohappen fora longtime.Itwasinevitable.Timeschange.Weareneededelsewheresothatthefightbackmightbegin.’Felix nodded. ‘The Greyshields have served their purpose. The last fewformationsoftheUnnumberedSonswillbebrokenup,wherevertheyare.AllofusaretobeassignedtootherChapters.’‘I havenothingbut the greatest respect for our lord, but he lacks flexibility,’saidKalaeldourly.‘HeonlycreatedourformationtogetaroundhisbanonthefoundingofanewLegion.Itiscleartomehecannolongercontinuetodefyhisownedicts.’‘Brother,yougotoofar,’snarledBjarni.‘Idonotcriticisehim,’saidKalaelemphatically.Hehadanarrowface,witharesting expression that radiated suspicion. He was always prying behind theseemingof things, looking for the secret truths beneath. ‘What I am saying isthat RobouteGuilliman is a general with a penchant for imposing rules, whothenhastobreakthemwhenhefindshimselftrappedbyhisownregulations.Heis a great hero, but as he is at pains to remind us all, he is no god and isimperfect. That is all I am saying.’ He tapped his ear. ‘Listen to my words,brotherBjarni,ordoesthegrowlingofbeastsdrownoutreason?’

Bjarniignoredtheslight,androckedhishead.‘HeisnoRuss,thatissure.Russhadnocareforrules.’‘Youshouldnottalkthatwayabouttheprimarch,’saidFelix.‘Heisnotmyprimarch,’saidKalael.‘He is the primarch,’ said Felix. Kalael had always antagonised him. UnlikeBjarni,hecouldnotoverlookthesonoftheLion’sattitude.‘Youwillshowhimrespect.’‘JustbecauseyoudonotlikewhatIsaydoesnotmakeituntrue.Isituntrue,Felix?Youshouldknow.’Felix had no rejoinder to that. ‘Legion or not, the Greyshields shall fighttogethernomore.’Justinianlookedathishands.‘Weallknewthisdaywouldcome,butIcannotbelieveit.’‘Is itnot true thatournumbershavedwindledas thefighthasgoneon?’saidKalael. ‘Mostofushavenewbrotherhoods.Thoseofusremainingin thefleetare,inthemain,ofGuilliman’sline.Thegene-linesoftheotherprimarchsareintheminority.ThereareenoughPrimarisAdeptusAstartestoreplenishtheUltra-marinestentimesover.’Kalaelpickedupachainswordtoothandscrutiniseditcarefully. ‘Perhaps he does notwish to disband his power base, butmoves toopenly proclaim a new Legion. Ten new Chapters of his own gene-line – Iwonderwheretheymightpossiblybestationed?’‘TheUltramarineswillremainastheyhavebeensincetheSecondFounding,’Felix said firmly. ‘One thousand battle-brothers. There are already numerousChaptersderivedfromhisgene-line.Manyof thePrimarisSpaceMarineswillbedispatchedtothose.Theyallneedrebuilding.’‘That’s allwell for you and yours,’ saidBjarni, slapping his hands against atable. ‘Roboute Guillimanwas the architect of the CodexAstartes.My gene-fatherwasagainst it.So faras Iknow, theVlkaFenrykastillare.MostofmybrothershavegonehometoFenris,butIhavenot.Whatfateawaitsme?’‘You’reanoversight,youbarbarian,’saidKalaelwithaslysmile.‘We shall duel, Brother Kalael, and then we will see who is the oversight!’barkedBjarnijoyfully.Ithadalwaysbeenthus.Kalaelbatedthewolfconstantly;Bjarnipretendednottonotice.Eitherwouldgladlydiefortheother.Felixwasbaffledwhytheydidnotkilleachother.Felix’sfacesetasgravelyasamemorialstone.Bjarni’sfacefroze.‘Brother?’‘I…’HeheldoutascriptofparchmentwithBjarni’snameandnumberuponit.

Thiswashard,butaleadercouldnotshyawayfromthemostdifficultoftasks.‘Iamsorry,Bjarni.IknowhowmuchreturningtoFenrismeanttoyou.’Bjarni’sskinhadgonewhite.Hisfadedtattoosstoodoutclearlyonhischeekbonesashereachedfortheorderscripwithshakinghands.‘Veryfewofyouwillbegoingtoyourhomeworlds,’saidFelix.‘Iamsorry.IrememberhowweallspokeofservingwiththefoundingChapters.’‘Itiseasyforyoutosay,’saidBjarni.‘WhobytheicejotunaretheWolfspear?’‘They are a newChapter, brother,’ said Felix. ‘The remainder of the sons ofRussaretoremainhere,atRaukos.YouaretoguardthePit.’Bjarnistaredattheorderpaper.‘Therewillbemanybattleshere,’saidFelix.‘Youwillbeagreathero.’Theotherswerecomingforwardandtakingtheirpapers,discussingtheirnewbrotherhoodsinhushedtones.‘MostofyouareboundforthePrimogenitorChapters,’saidFelix.‘DoyounotseehowimportantthoseoftheUnnumberedSonswhoremainedwiththefleetare?You,mybrothers,aretheverybest!Donottaketheseordersasarebuke,but as the opposite. The Imperial Regent thinks far ahead. His aim with youGreyshieldswhoremainwastocreateawarriorcorpswho,whendivided,wouldfostergoodrelationsbetween thevariousgene-linesof theAdeptusAstartes. Ihavecometoknowtheprimarchwell.HebelievesthatthedivisionsbetweentheLegions of his brothers contributed to Horus’ betrayal and dog the Imperiumstill.ThearchtraitorwasabletodividetheLegionsandtheirprimarchsbyusingtheirmistrustasalevertoseparateonefromtheother.Theyfoughttogether,butrarely understood one another. We have fought together, and we have bledtogether.’‘Aye,andwehavediedtogether!’shoutedBjarni.‘Andthisismypayment.’‘Manybattles,rememberthat,’saidKalael.‘Newsagas.Newtalestobetold.’HearingthisfromhisfriendcalmedBjarnisomewhat.‘We should be glad nomatter our destination. Awarrior’s function is to diewell,inagoodcause,’saidAldred.‘True,’saidFelix.‘Andourcauseisthefinestofall.Wehavelivedandtrainedtogether.Wearecloserthananymixedbrotherhoodthathaseverbeen.Wehaveknown the glory of combat and the tedium of waiting side by side.We havebecome friends, despite our differences. Each of us is part of a unit ofmanybrothersofmanykindreds,andwewilltakethefriendshipswehaveforgedwithus to our new Chapters. We will be the sinew that binds the bones of theImperiumtogether, transcendingoldboundaries.’Felix turned to theFenrisian.

‘Our bonds can never be sundered. You, Bjarni, are born of Fenris and areenhancedwiththeessenceofthePrimarchLemanRuss,differentandstrangetomyownheritage,butyouwillalwaysbemybrother,nomatterwhatcoloursyouwearorwhatnametheChapteryoubelongtobears.’‘Thisistroubling,BrotherFelix,’Bjarnisaidthoughtfully.Hewasquicktorageandquicktolaugh,butBjarnihadadeepersidethathehidmostofthetime.‘Iyearned to return toFenris and fight alongside theRout.Can I ever truly callmyselfasonofRussifIdonot?’ThelastofthePrimarisSpaceMarineswerefilteringintotheroom,exchangingquick whispers to update the newcomers. Felix handed the remainder of thescripstoSarkis,whohandedthemout.‘There are many Primaris Space Marines wearing the livery of the VlkaFenryka, brother,’ said Felix. ‘You will be welcomed by them, even if Russ’warrior-sonsoftheolderbreedremainaloof.Andyouwillalwaysbewelcomedbyme.’‘Howwillthelordsoficetakeit,though?WillIbeforeverlostwithoutahome,brotherless,unabletoreturntoFenris?’‘Youhave too large a personality to ever bewithout friends,’ saidAldred. ‘Iwillfightanywarriorwhosaysotherwise.’Bjarniandheslappedhandstogetherandgrippedthemtightly.‘Andyouwillneverbewithoutbrothers,either,’ saidJustinian,getting tohisfeet.‘Notwhileoneofusstilllives.’Justinianhad lookedat his ownorderswithperfect equanimity.Hehadbeenassigned to the Novamarines stationed in Ultramar – still the realm of theprimarch,but theNovamarineswerenot theUltramarines.Felix tried toguessJustinian’s thoughts,buthecouldnot.Whenhechose, themanwasa fortress,hisfeelingshiddenbehindfairwalls.‘Thesearesadtidings,’saidJustinian,‘buttheyholdthekernelofthefutureinthem.Wehaveournewbrotherstomeetandfightwith.Thereisopportunityforgloryforus,always,whereverwegoandnomattertheliverywewear.IthankCaptainFelixforlettingusknow.IamsuretheLordCommanderwascurioustoknowwhyhewishedtodothis.ItisasignofhowmuchFelixcaresforus,tobeartheprimarch’sscrutiny.’Hegesturedatthedispensingmachineattherearoftheroom.‘Iwishforsomethingbettertotoastyouwith,mybrother,butallwehaveisnutrientgruel.’‘Noale,’saidBjarnisadly.‘Nowine,’addedKalael.

‘We have each other,’ said Justinian, ‘for a fewweeksmore. That is all thatmatters. We shall fight all the harder for knowing our brothers wage warelsewhere.Thisisnottheend,butthebeginning.’Felixnodded.Thiswas the responsehewashoping for.Heshouldhavekepthimselfaboveallthis,buttheprimarchhadprovedremarkablyamenabletohisrequest, and he needed to say goodbye properly. For all his words, in alllikelihoodhewouldnotseeanyofthemagain.‘ToCaptainFelix!’saidJustinian.‘Toourdearfriendandbrother,Decimus!’‘Felix!Felix!Felix!’theothersshouted,bangingtheirfistsonthetables.Theyspokeawhileofoldtimes,andgraduallythecompanydispersedbacktotheirduties.Felixtarriedtoolong.Realisinghewaslatetoattendtheprimarch,hemadehisfarewells.LieutenantSarkiscaughtFelix’sarminhisaugmetichandbeforeheleft.‘Areyousurethatwaswise,Decimus,performingsucharole?Shouldyouhavenotleftittome?’‘IamsorrythatIdeniedyoutheopportunity.’Sarkis’ skinwaswrinkled around hismany augmetics. They crinkled furtheraroundametal-toothedsmile.‘Ohno,Iamgladyoudid.YoudidafarbetterjobofmollifyingBjarnithanIwouldhavedone.HadIgiventhatnews,Iwouldbefightinghimrightnow.’‘Youexaggerate.’‘Notbymuch.YouhaveamorehumantouchthanI.’Felixglancedatthebaremetalfingersgraspinghisarmour.‘Doestheprimarchreallyknowyouhavedonethis?’askedSarkis.‘Hedidnotseemoverlyconcerned.’Sarkis staredhardatFelix throughaneyecrafted from livingdiamond. ‘Youarebold,topresumetheprimarch’sthoughts.’‘Wehavebecomeclose.’‘ThenIprayitdoesnotbringyoutrouble.’‘Icanhidenothingfromhim,’repliedFelix,‘buttherearesomethingsIcannotkeepfrommybrothers.’‘There are some things that should be kept,’ said Sarkis. ‘Remember yourposition,Felix. Iwouldprefer it if, a century fromnow,when I call upon theUltramarinesitisyouIdealwith,andnotsomewarriorIdonotknowwhohasyourplaceowingtoyourneedlessemotionalattachments.’Theylockedeyesforalongmoment.SpokenlikeaMedusan,thoughtFelix,butleftthesewordsunsaid.‘Ithankyou

foryourconcern,lieutenant,’hesaidinstead.Sarkisstaredathimamomentlonger,releasedhimanddeparted.AsSarkis’bionicgriplefthisarm,FelixknewforcertainthathewouldneverbereturningtotheRudense.Thatpartofhislifewasnowoverforgood.‘Fightwell,mybrothers!’hecalledtothoseremaining,holdinghisfistaloftinsalute.‘IshallseeyouagainwhenvictoryinUltramarisours!’

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

KU’GATH’SCAVALCADE

In parody of the great voidships of the Imperium, giant plague arks camefloating through thestrangeskyof theGardenofNurgle.Thereweresevenofthemalltold,Nurgle’ssacrednumber,sailingserenelytowardstheriftasstatelyaspleasurebarquesuponaperfectsea.They had been living things. Perhaps they lived still, held to a hideousexistencebythewillofthePlagueGod,fortheysangwithawfulsorrow,thoughtheirtailsandflukeshunglimplyandtheirbodiesweredecomposedasacorpsetoolonginthewater.Theirskinhungingreatswagsfrommuscleswrithingwithfranticlife;thethickfatsunderneathhaddecayedintofur-likeexpansesplayinghost to amultiplicityofparasites.Ribs the sizeofdocking spars frameddark,stinkinginteriors.Openwoundsdrippedviscidmatter,andslurryfallsofrottenblood and excrement fell from orifices widened by the relentless feeding ofcarrion.Encirclingthesemeatshipswereshiftingblackveils:fliesbythebillion,fat-bodiedandvoracious.Rot had made these craft barely recognisable, but they were the rancidcarcasses of void whales dragged into the Realm of Chaos during the NoctisAeterna,hollowedoutbydiseaseandinfestedbysupernaturalverminuntiltheyweresuitabletocarrythelegionsofNurgleintothematerialrealm.Thefirstcametotheriftsomewayaheadof theothers.Thebonybeakof itsexposed jawbones pushed at the quivering meniscus separating the materialworld from the realm of souls. An oil-scum iridescence rippled out from the

contact,stretchingatfirstwithoutgiving.ButNurglewouldnotbedenied,andthe bone pierced the barrier with an audible wet tearing. This last barrierpenetrated, the carcass-ship heaved out like a rotting stillbirth,mobbed by itsescortofflies.Whatevermagicheld italoft inNurgle’skingdomdidnotworkuponIaxyet,and the plague ark fell as soon as it was through. Bloated bellymet shallowwater, sending up a flat wave of mud. It slithered forwards, carried bymomentum over the fringes of themarsh and onto the greenmeadows of thegardenworld.Awayfromtheempyrean,themeatship’srottingaccelerated.Thegreeningskinofitsflankssplit,spillingamidawaveofnoisomefluidsahostofdaemonsintoUltramar.Themostnumerousweretheflies,shinyblackwiththetripleringofNurgle’sblessing blood red upon their backs.The great numberwho escorted the craftwere increasedbymore issuing from thewhale’s insides in droningblizzards,bringingwith themastinkofrottingflesh.Uponleaving theirhost’spresence,theyroseupintoIax’squietnightair,floodingskywardsinunendingswarmssothatthemoonwasblottedoutandthepromiseofdaybroken.Fromthere,theyset out to spread to the four corners of the world, bearing their cargoes ofdisease.Giggling nurglings vied with the flies in number. The vicious imps of thePlagueGod poured in tittering avalanches from the flanks of the voidwhale.Upontheground,theypluckedatthemudanddrewoutthesmallerlifeformsofIax,thosecreaturesthatworkbeneathman’snoticebutwhicharenecessarytoaworld’s survival. With nimble figures, the nurglings twisted these terrestrialbeastsintoagentsofdecayandsetthemfreewithcoosofencouragementtodoNurgle’swork.From inside the void whale, gangplanks of rotten wood poked through thecurtainsof fleshand landedwithwetcrackson thedyingground.Down thesebridgeswalkedplaguebearers,lesserdaemonsofNurgle,thetallymenwhoweredamnedforalleternitytoenumeratewhatevercaughttheirgod’sattention.One-hornedanddoleful, theycamemumblingtheir litaniesofdiseasesgiftedto themortal universe by their generous father, or else counting the flies, or thenurglings,or theplaguesthatwereturningthebladesof thedyinggrassblack.Forthem,theimpossibletaskofkeepingorderinNurgle’sunrulyhordeswasaneternal torment. Their heralds led them in sonorous war-tallying, encouragingthemintobattlewithdronesofmaddeningrepetitiveness.The plaguebearers kicked and squelched theirway through the nurgling tide,

arrangingthemselvesintomutteringcohorts.Standardswereliftedupandshrillmusic played, and theybegan their advance. In a great parade, sevenhundredandseventy-sevenstrong,thedaemonsmarched,moreofthemspillingfromthecarcassshipontothecleanearthofIaxlikemaggotsfromacorpse’sbelly,dullbellsknelling,brokenpipeswheezing,all thewhilecountingandcountingandcountingtheirwartallies.The cavalcade was in high spirits; even the miserable plaguebearers had alightnessintheirshufflingastheydescendedovertheragged-edgedwoundsoftheirlandingcraft.Dilapidatedcartswereheavedoutanddownontothepristinegrasslands, rattling with their contents, their brightly coloured sides smirchedwitheverymanneroffilth.Thesecondshippassedthroughthegap.Likethefirst,itlostitsabilitytoflyassoonas itwas freeof the strangenon-physicsof the empyrean, and it slippedfromtheairwithobesegrandeurtoskidacrossthepoisonedswamp.Itcametorest by the first.Hundreds of daemons perished under the bulk of this secondcarcass ship, but once its sides split, it replenished the horde with thousandsmore.The soilwas rapidly turned to a stinkingquagmire by the admixture ofputrescentliquidsandthetreadofsoftdaemonfeet.The third meatship came down with the elegance of a decrepit palacecollapsing,followedbythefourth,andthenthefifth.Whenthesixthshipcamedown,themarshwasfullofdaemons,andthelandborderingitalreadyturningintoadiseasedquagmire.Itwasthenthatthefirstofthedaemoniclordsemerged,thosewhowouldleadNurgle’seffortsuponthemortalworldofIax.Adaemonicheraldemergedinthevastdomeofadeadvoidwhale’seyesocketandstooduponthestinkinglip.Itwasadaemon,butitmightoncehavebeenaman.Itlackedthesourcountenanceoftheplaguebearersandtheirsingleeyes.Ithad two,andmirthglinted in themsobrightly that the layersof rheumcakingthelidscouldnothideit.Theheraldclearedits throatwithsomeconsiderableeffort,scowled,andthenwavedbehindit.Aplaguebearercarryingarustinghornshuffledtoitssideandblew into the mouthpiece. Its effort was a wheezing raspberry, but from thegapingfunnelamightyblastsounded,andtenthousanddiseasedfacesturnedtothewhale-ship’semptyeye.Pleasedtohavethehorde’sattention,theheraldpuffedoutitsdistendedbelly,strainingfilthysilksacrossitsbodyandaddingtotheirstainswithleakagefromitssores. Itpusheddown thegoitreat itsneckso that itmightspeak,giggling

merrilyandshoutingoutasloudlyasthehorn.‘Septicus,Septicus!SeventhLordoftheSeventhManse!’wailed theherald.Greening bells clonked dully in response. The daemons shrugged and turnedaway to continue their muttering, droning, buzzing egress from the Realm ofChaos.‘Septicus comes! Lord of the Seven Hosts! Keeper of the Seven Codes ofLife!Untwister of skeins, straightener ofmortal coils! Septicus theMighty!Septicus Seven of the Many Plagues! He comes, he comes, he comes!’bellowedtheherald.In the whale’s cheek, a flap of skin was cast aside as dramatically as thecurtainsinalyceum,andtherecameforthatitanofpestilence:agreatuncleanone, huge and jiggly in its ampleness of flesh, beneficent in disease and allmorbidities.Hesmiledandwavedandhallooedathisservants,fullofbonhomie,eventhoughhisgutshunginsicklygreyropesfromtheraggedskinofhisopenbelly.Theydangled so low that the infected nails of his great feet snagged inthemashewalkedandtorethemintoshreds,whenceleakedblackhumoursandsquirmingworms.Hisarmswerelonganddisproportionatetohisfatframe.Thesevenfingersoneachofhishandsweretippedwithpoisonoustalons.Onhisbackhungalong,filthy sword, dull of blade but envenomedwith diseases tomoulder the soul.Septicus’baldrickoffailingleatherwaslostamidhisfoldsofskin,andheworenootherclothesorharnessesother thanhisweaponand itsgear,butunderhisleftarmhecradledtheglisteningstomachsacofsomeunfortunatecreature,itstopcriss-crossedwiththick,distendedveinsthatpulsedstill.Pipesofhollowedantlershadbeensetintothegut,andtheyclackedtogetherasheshoulderedhiswayoutpastthecurtainofskin.Hestoppedatthebrinkandleapttotheground,trustingtothebodiesofhislesserkintocushionhisfall.Hecackledmadlyashedropped,landingwithasplatteringimpactthatsprayeddaemonic foetor everywhere, then rose up from themud of Iax with a broadyellowgrin.Asheadjusted them,hispipes slippedaround in thecrookofhisarm,lettingoutanungodlywail.Themusicwasofthemostdreadfulkindandpained the spiritsofhisdaemonichost.Theycringed from the racket, and thegreatuncleanonelaugheduproariouslyatthereactionofhisservants.‘Septicusisarrived!’heannounced.‘Ihavecometoguideyou,mylittleones.The otherswill be here soon, so I shall play you amerry song, children ofPapaNurgle,tospeedyoufromyourvesselsandonyourway!Treadwithjoy,forwedogreatworkhere–greatwork!’Andhesetthelongmouthpiecetohis

blistered lips, filled his rancid lungs and began to pump at the stomach pipeswithonebentelbow.Hisrottenfingersdancedwithmarvellousdexterityuponthesoundingholesof the instrument,andhesmiledashemadehismusic,butwhat came forth was as jolly as a dirge, and so redolent of fever pain andtoothachesitagonisedallwhoheardit.The last plague ark touched down. It rolled onto its side as it landed and itsjaws floppedopenonmushysinew.Grumblingat thepoornessof the landing,the seventh and final legion came out, their cymbals and bells merging withSepticus’ jig.Otherdaemonsjoinedinwithhis tune,andsoonhisplayingwasswollenbyanaccompanimentofpiercingflutesplayedbysevenhundredlesserpipers.SuchadisplaywasasighttopleaseNurgle’ssoreeyes,andararethingitwas.Thecreaturesmusteringupon thegardenworldwereamonghisverybest:hismost revolting, his most contagious, his finest warriors and his most skilledaccountants of ailment. They were the Plague Guard, and they were thevanguardof thegreat invasionofIax.AmoredreadlegioncouldnotbefoundanywhereinNurgle’sGardenorbeyond.Cohorts of daemons marched out to the sound of Septicus’ pipes:plaguebearers, beasts of Nurgle, rot flies, maggoths and drooling daemons ofeverydegree.Nurglingscontinuedtotumblelikerainfromtheholesandporesandorificesofthestinkingwhale-ships,floodingthelandlongaftertheirlargerkinhadgrumbledtheirwayfree.TherewereothergreaterdaemonstherebesidesLordSepticus.Theyweretheleadersofthisfilthyhost,fragmentsofNurglehimself,eachgivenwilloftheirowntogooutanddomischief.Therewerebutsevenof themin total,oneforeach of the plague legions arriving, for theywere rare even in theGarden ofNurgle.Onebyone,theyforcedtheirwayoutfromtheplaguearks.Thewhale-shipswerealreadydissolvingintoputridliquefaction,theirfluidspoisoningtheworld,andthegreaterdaemonssteppedontoIaxslickedinthesejuices,smilingwidely.TheywerethelordsofthePlagueGuard.TherewasBubondubontheSmiler,jolliestofall,wholaughedandjokedashecaperedpastSepticus, receivinga friendlywink in return.ThenPestusThroonemerged, chewing his way through the stomach wall of his whale-ship. Hegobbled down slick strips of rottenmeat as he joined the stream of daemons,belching loudly. He looked too fat tomove, but hewasmighty, verymighty.Afterall,itwasThroonwhohadbroughtlowtheancientempireoftheDravians

so successfully that no mortal history now remembered them, anaccomplishmentheregaledhisfellowswithoften.Afterhimcame theGangrel,whowas talland thinas theotherswere rotundandsquat.Heknuckle-walkedonstiltedarms,dragginguseless legs throughatrailofhisownfilth.ThencameSquatumous, thePestifexMaximus,and thenthe one called onlyFamine,who in keepingwithNurgle’s boundless sense ofhumourwas fatter than all savePestus. SepticusSeven, their lieutenant,madesix.Theirgeneralhadyettoemerge.Septicus took themouthpiece of his pipes from his lips and cupped a puffyhand to hismouth. ‘Oh,Ku’gath!Oh,Plaguefather!Thehost of sickness isassembled!We are waiting! Come lead us, might putrefactor. Bring us theblessingsofyourfilth!’Septicusbegantotaphisfootandshout‘Ku’gath!Ku’gath!Ku’gath!’tothebeat. He waved his free hand, conducting the others, until the place ofmanifestationresoundedtothechantsofallthedaemons,callingupontheirlordwithfoetidbreath.‘Ku’gath!Ku’gath!’ thedaemonschanted.Septicusplayedhispipes,and theorchestrathathadgatheredbyhissidejoinedin.Bubondubonlaughedloudly.‘Ku’gath!Come!’ gasped theGangrel.Everywordwas that being’s last.Helivedperpetuallyonthecuspofdeath.An angry roar was their answer. An impact squelched from within the firstwhale-ship, then another, and a rusty broadsword the length of a battle tankcarveddownthroughitsrancidhide.Anarmemergedholdingthesword,thenaheadcrownedwitha spreadofhorns, andoutcameKu’gath thePlaguefather:lordofdisease,andmostfavouredsonofGrandfatherNurgle.‘Enough!Enough!’hebellowedashiswoodenpalanquinforceditswayfreeofthewhale-ship.Stackedhighuponitweremildew-spottedcanvasparcels,tiedupwith fraying rope.Within thedampboxes, alembics, thuribles, burners andtubesofmatterclinked,forKu’gathcarriedhislaboratorywithhimwhereverhewent.Hordesofnurglingsborehimup,but theirmirthannoyedKu’gath,whowasbynatureadespondentbeing.‘Nomoremusic!Nomorelaughter!’Heleanedviolentlytotheleft,causingthenurglingsonthatsidetoburst,buttherewerealwaysmoreofthemtocarryhismassivebody.Thepalanquinshiftedinthedirectionheflunghisweight.Itssodden banners swaying heavily behindKu’gath’s horned head, the palanquinturnedandmovedforwards.

‘Shutup!Bequiet!This isno laughingmatter!’heboomed.Hisshoutwaspowerfulasapandemic,andreachedasfar.‘GrandfatherNurgle’sbusinessisaseriousbusiness!’Septicus smiled more broadly and played more merrily, and the horde ofdaemonsswayedfromfoottofootintheslowdanceofdecay.Ku’gathrolledhiseyessoviolentlythatonefelloutfromhisskull.Hewasstillpushing it back into place when his palanquin drew level with Septicus. Heslapped the mouthpiece of the pipes from his lieutenant’s hand. The pipesmoanedmournfully.‘Nomoremusic,’grumbledKu’gath.‘Whymusttherealwaysbemusic?’‘OldFatherNurgledemands joy!’ saidSepticus,grinninghisyellowgrinathisking.‘Seewhatbountiesarehereforustocorrupt!Lookatallthishatefulorganisation.Weshallploughitunderthesoilandnourishitwiththedecayofthismortal realm.We shall raisehighagarden ripewith endless fecundity!Entropybeckons!Growthwithoutlimit!Decaywithoutreason!’Ku’gath harrumphed. Septicus’ pipes were momentarily silenced, but hisorchestraplayedshrillyon,pipingouthistuneonthefemursofdeadmen.Thewholearmywassinging,abuzzing,wheezing,droninglamentthatwasentirelytheoppositeofjoyful.‘Nevermind,’grumbledKu’gath.Septicus retrieved his mouthpiece, and raised his scabrous eyebrows in arequestforpermission.Ku’gathsnorted,anactionthatsentstreamersofmucousblastingfromhisnose.Tiltinghisbloatedheadironically,Septicusplayedanew.Ku’gath belched and urged his nurglings on.He bullied hisway through hisPlagueGuarduntilhereachedtheedgeofthemeadowswherethegroundroseup from the swamp towards a low hill. Reaching a mound, he brought hispalanquin to a halt by lifting himself up and violently sitting, stunning hisnurglings into immobility. A gleaming white building, hatefully clean, stoodluminous not far away. It smelled of cleansing unguents and disinfectants.Ku’gathtookadisliketoitimmediately.‘Medicine,’hehissed.‘Balms.Cleanliness!Oh,oh,oh,itwillnotdo!’ThatplacewasthedeathofNurgle’sgifts.Athoughttookholdinhisrottingbrain,andhisdolefulfacealmostmanagedasmile.Thehospitalwasaperfectplacetobeginhistask.Heliftedhisarmandgestured.‘To the place of healing!’ he commanded. ‘Make it filthy! Make it stink!

MakeitfitforNurgle’swork!’Theshuffling,singinghordeofdaemonsimmediatelychangedcourse,headingtowardsthehospitalonthehill.Swarmsofplaguedronesswungaroundintheskyandbuzzedthroughtheshiftingveilsofsmallerrotfliestowardsit.Urgingtheir wingedmounts on, the plaguebearers riding the giant flies outpaced thedaemons on foot. At their approach, gunshots cracked, cutting through thephlegmydirgeofthehost.Ku’gath pulled a face of contempt. They could not stop the Plague Guard!Turning around in his throne, he bellowed: ‘Pox-bearers, bring out thecauldron!’Seventimessevenplaguebearersbrokeofffromtheirmarchandwalkedtothedrooling corpse mouth of the lead ship. The dead void whale convulsed,vomitingupslimy,rottingropesoftwistedhair.Seeing what Ku’gath had ordered, Septicus waddled to take command, hispipeshonkingandsquallingunderhisarm.SquatumousandBubondubonwentwithhim.Thelatteruncoiledafilthywhip.‘Gettheropes–pullthemhard!’commandedSepticuswhileKu’gathlookedon. ‘Heave, my pretties! Heave, my little dollops of unctuous gore, mydecayingones,myflakingfleshlings,mydiseaseddarlings,heave!’To the beat of Septicus’ exhortations and the hooting of his pipe, theplaguebearers pulled. With gnarled hands and paws made soft by fungalinfestation,with limbswizenedand leprous,with fingersknottedwitharthritisand lessened in number by gangrene, they dragged upon the ropes,mumblingtheircountofsicknessesallthewhile.‘Heave!’bellowedSquatumous.Bubonduboncrackedhiswhip,and thedirtyglasssetintoitslengthchoppedfliesfromtheairbythegross.The plaguebearers slipped in the foul mud; some fell and were trampled.Strands in the rope broke and unwound violently, flinging out acidic juicesbefore the cores of the ropes gave way and pitched whole lines of pullingdaemons into the filth. But enough daemons stood and enough ropes held.Flakingrustandgrindingbone,agigantic ironcauldroncamejudderingoutofthevoidwhale’sdepths.Itclackedonthejawbones,dislodgingthegreatfeedingfansofthedeadbeast’smouth.Upontheedgeofthebeak,thecauldronbecamelodged,andnoamountofpullingwouldsetitfree.Theflieshadblottedoutthestars.Greenishcloudsrushedacrossthenewdark,andastinkingdrizzlebegantofall.‘Heave!’yelledSquatumous.

‘Pull,youlaggards!’shoutedBubondubon.Septicus’playingtookonasee-sawrhythm,wellsuitedtohaulage.‘You, the Flyblown! You, the Rashgirdled, aid your brothers!’ roaredBubondubon,hiswhipsnappingovertheheadsoftheshamblingdaemons.Morecohorts broke from the legion.Palsied hands draggedup ropes from themud,andtheylenttheirstrengthtotheirfellows.Thunderrumbled.‘Heave!’yelledSquatumous.Bubondubonappliedthelash,cuttingplaguebearersdown.Therainintensifiedastheyheaved,raindropspoundingontorottingbacks.Theypulledandpulled,Septicus’brayingmusicurgingthemon,untiltherewasacrackofrottingbonelouder than a tree giving out in a storm. The cauldron shifted. The daemonsstumbledatthesuddenreleaseoftension,butnonefell.‘Takeuptheslack!Heave!’bellowedSquatumousandBubondubontogether.A last effort dislodged the cauldron from the whale’s mouth. It rolled downontothemudwithdeceptiveslowness,squashingflatscoresofthedaemonswhohadpulleditfree,andcametorest.Itsredrustysidesturnedbrownastherainsoakedthem.Itwasfat-belliedandhigh-lipped,withthreestoutpegsforlegs.Itwasunremarkableinform,similartocookingpotsfromanynumberofworldsand ages, except for its massive size and the three-ringed device of Nurglerepeatedthreetimesarounditswidestpart.Already lords of the Plague Guard were moving to the cauldron’s side,commandingthedaemonlegionstosetitupright.Moredaemonsdraggedasledofbonefromasecondwhaleandplaceditalongside.Ku’gathstaredat thecauldronwhileitwashauledupontothesledandmadefast,rememberinghisownbirthwithinitsrustedinterior.ThiswasNurgle’sownpot.Ku’gathhadoncebeenanurglinglikethemultitudeswhoborehim,untilhehadfalleninanddrunkupNurgle’smostpromisingdisease.Sothestorywent,andsoitwastrue.The shame of depriving his father of his prizemalady doggedKu’gath still.Nurgle had been delighted with his new son, and showered Ku’gath withpaternalaffection,butKu’gathdidnotfeelworthyofit.ThePlaguefather looked skywards,hisdiseasedearspickingup the soundofapproaching aircraft.Themortalswere reactingquickly, but itwould not helpthem. He yawned as bombs fell and blazing mushrooms sprouted from hisadvancing horde.Themortals usedweapons of fire, but the horde’s fleshwassodden,andvitalwithChaosmagic.Thepromethiumgelssenttocleansethemgutteredoutswiftly.

ThegreaterdaemonsofthePlagueGuardchortledloudlyasanattackcraftfellhurtling from the sky, blue firewreathing its jets, its air intakes cloggedwithinsects.Itplungedintothemarsh,itsengine’showlcomingtoagurglingstopasitsankbeneaththewater’ssurface.‘Gangrel!Famine!’Ku’gathbellowed.‘Fetchoutthemortalsorcerers.BringmetheCultofRenewalandtheCultofBlessedProtrusion.BegintheritualtosummontheremainderoftheBubonicusInfectus!’Ku’gath scowled as his minions rushed to do his bidding. From one of thewhale-ships,thefinalmembersofhisvanguardmarched:humanworshippersoftheGreatFather.Itwasgoodtheydidhiswork,thoughtherewerefewerinthecults than therehadbeen.TheGardenofNurglewasnotkind tomortals, andmanywouldhavebeenkilledbytheirjourneyinthemeatships.Hesighed.Suchwasthecircleoflife.TheirbodieswerenowfoodforNurgle’sblessedvermin.Ku’gathdidnotsmile.Heneverdid.Therecouldbenojoyinhislife,notuntilhehadprovenhimselfworthyofPapaNurgle’slove.Butheallowedhimselfatentative hope as his eyes lighted again on the hospital, and then on the greatcauldronbeingdraggedthatway.Perhaps,hereonIax,hewouldredeemhimself.

PARTTHREE

THESPEAROFESPANDOR

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

DEATHINILLYRIA

TheThandianPasswasburning.FromthetopofaFirstCompanyLandRaider,MarneusCalgar appraised the situation at theMuseo Illyricuswith a sense ofwearyirritation.Therewererebelswithinthemuseum.Theyhadadevicetheysaidwouldkillthousands,thoughtheysaidalltheywishedwastotalkpeacefully.Calgarwouldnotdealwithmenwhowould threatendeathwhilespeakingofpeace.Smokehazedtheair.Woodyshrubsburnedonbothsteepslopeseithersideoftheroad, thewindshapingthefires intou-shapedlinesofflamethatadvancedon theUltramarines’ position.The smokescreen curled across the road inbluesheets,washingovertheplascreteroadblockplacedacrossthecarriagewaysomefifteenmetresinfrontoftheLandRaiderandthelineofthreeRhinosahundredmetresbehind.MembersoftheUltramarAuxiliacrouchedbehindthebarrier,gunsready.Theroadblockwas at the extreme end of the effective range of a lascannon – thefumesfromthefirestherebelshadsetwouldnothelp,asthebeamfocuswoulddiffusemoreeasilyinthesmoke.Therebelshadmadepoortacticalchoices,buttheydidhavea lascannon,stolen fromthemilitiabarracks in Illyriconaweekago.The audacious theft hadprobably spurred thegroup into this rash action;successoftenbredfolly.Calgarwouldnothidefromthem.Hewishedthemtofeelhiscontempt.They

calledthemselves‘concernedcitizens’.Theveryphrasesickenedhim.Thefoolsin themuseum rose up against their protectors at the urging of creatures theycouldnotcomprehend.WhatMarneusCalgarcouldnotunderstandwaswhysomanywouldbetraytherealm, wittingly or otherwise. Ultramar was under attack – the CicatrixMaledictumspreaditswarpingfireacrosstheskyeverynight,andstoriesofthebloodshed and woe of other worlds spilled freely from the lips of weepingrefugees.But in theheartof thenation, traitorsstillcreptoutof thedark.Thisbandwasbutthelatest.Heshouldnothavetogetinvolvedinthis.The smoke partly hid the Museo Illyricus situated at the brow of the pass.Detailswereobscured,buttheoverallshapewasdiscernibletotheunaidedeye:themassivedrumofthemainbuilding,withathree-steppedroofandbalconiesinterposedbetweenthe layers.Therewasanattached towerbuiltover thepassitself,almostequal ingirthtothemainbuildingandslightlytaller.Afour-laneroadpassedunderthissymbolicgatehouseonthewaytoIllyria.Averylongtimeago,thispasswasthesiteofgenuinewarfare.Therebelsapedhistorycrudely,occupyingamuseummeanttocommemorateMacragge’sunity.Weak tactics,weak propaganda. Calgar had come personally to send a strongresponse.Theroadwasclosed, thedense traffic thatused itabsent.Therebelsheld themuseum.Amateurish,young,poorlyledrebels.Buttheyweretherenonetheless.‘Adesperate,pointless tactic,’saidMarneusCalgarof thesmoke. Itobscurednothing.Hisbioniceyesawthroughitaseasilyifitwerenotthere.Thewallsofthemuseumwerenogreaterobstacletohisaugmeticsight.False-colourthermalsilhouettes flashed every time he passed his eye over the position of aninsurgent.Theyskulkedbehindthewallsnexttowindows,stolenweaponsheldready to fire. They hid themselves in the balconies between the overlappingroofs.Alltheobviousplaces.Heshookhisheadindisbelief.‘Julio,’hevoxed.‘Ihaveseenenough.Itistimetoputanendtothis.’HesteppeddownoffthefrontoftheLandRaiderandjumpedtotheground.Iftherebelshadanymarksmenworthyof thename, theycouldfeasiblyhavehithimthere.Havingseenwhathehad,Calgarjudgedhimselfperfectlysafe.He landed as surely as a man a hundred years younger, unimpeded by hisbattleplateorby themassiveGauntletsofUltramar that formedpartof it, andwalked around the back of the tank. The engine muttered low, trembling the

spacearoundthevehicle’srearwithheatandnoise,andaddingblueexhausttothe thinsmoke.By theengineblock,SergeantJulioof theFourthSquad,FirstCompanystoodwithCalgar’shonourguardandtheChapterAncient,ahulkingPrimarisSpaceMarineby thenameofAndronNey.Neyhadbeenamong thefirst of thePrimaris recruits sent to theUltramarines decades ago, andhe hadserved with distinction. Back then, the new influx of warriors had calledthemselves theThreeHundred.Theywerenew,differentandapart.Now, theywerejustanothervaluedelementoftheUltramarinesChapter.Thewarriorsstood toattentionandsalutedCalgarwith theirhandsover theirhearts.‘Thenyouwillnotspeakwiththem,mylord?’askedJulio.‘Iwillnotspeakwiththem,’saidCalgar.‘Howmanydoyoucount,mylord?’askedJulio.HeworehisTerminatorplate,andtherestofhissquadwaitedbackwiththeRhinos.Calgarhadselectedthemtoclearthemuseum.Itwasridiculousoverkillforthesituation,butstatementshadtobemade.‘One hundred and thirty-two. Therewill bemore.Youwill have no trouble.There could be a thousand.Look at their disposition,’ saidCalgar. ‘Can thesementrulybesonsofMacragge?’‘They will have had little training, my lord,’ said Julio. ‘Levels of dissentwithintheauxiliaarepracticallyzero,andmostareshippedoutassoonastheyaretrained.Themenwithinaretheunsuitable.Theweak.Thefailures.’‘TheagentsofChaoseverappeal to theweak,’ saidCalgar. ‘Onlyweakmenwouldthreatenthelivesoftheirownfamilieswithdevicesofmassdestructioninordertosecurepeacefulnegotiation.Youaremyreplytotheirrequest,Julio.Theirdemandsareridiculous.Therecanbenoincreaseinrations.Therecanbenoslowingof recruitment.Theprivationsof thepeopleofMacraggearedonewiththeaimofstoppingtheenemytheyunwittinglyinvitewithin.’‘TheringleaderisamasteroftheJuventia,’saidNey.‘Hehasawholetroopoftheminthere.Hehaspoisonedtheiryoungears.’Neyspokelikeamanwhohadnever been a child. He was dispassionate, rational to a fault, even for anUltramarine.‘This isnot their fault. I look forward tomakinganexampleof their leader,’saidJulio.‘It disappointsme that our countrymen should put on such a poor showing,’said Calgar. ‘Nomatter their age andwhether they are opposed to us or not.Whenthisisover,callthelocalJuventiatroopmasterstothecapital.’

‘Theywillallbescreenedthoroughly,mylord,’saidNey.‘Forbetrayal,yes,’ saidCalgar. ‘But Iwant themall re-educatedor replaced.This uprising is shamefully executed. The Juventia syllabus needs revision.Moredrill, lesshistory.TheJuventiaarethelastlineofdefenceforMacragge,and the firstplacewego to for recruits.Howcould theystopanorkwith thisdebacle?Theyaresupposedtobeyoungwarriors.’‘Mylord,’saidNey.Calgartappedhisgauntletfingersagainsthisleg.‘Whenyouleadtheassault,Julio,donotkill theboys,’headded.‘Mostwillbebeforetheageofmajority.Bringasmanyinaliveasyoucan.Wewillmakeexamplesoftheleadersandtheadults,andall the restof theappallingdregsunhappyenoughwith their lot inlife to listen to thewhispers of obvious enemy agents, but the youthmust besparedandgiventhechancetoredeemthemselves.Iftheliesofthegreatenemyseem more appealing than reality of life in Ultramar, and we are seen to bemerciless, then we will encourage more to flock to the same foolish cause.Activists,indeed.Locatethedevice.Purgetheleaders.’‘Asyouwish,mylord,’saidJulio.‘VigilatorOptimareCalleduusoftheVigilOpertii assuresme they can handle this threatwithout our help.He insists onspeakingwithyou.’‘Heisherestill?’saidCalgarirritably.‘Hehasbeenwaitingtoseeyouforoveranhour,’saidJulio.‘Ididsayhewasinsistent.’‘IthoughtifIhadhimwaitanhour,hemighttakethehint.Heissupposedtobeoverseeingtheotherincidentsitesandtrackingdownthemastermindsofthis.They will be acting to Mortarion’s orders, we can be sure of that. This is aprotestmovementonthesurface–rot lurksbeneath.Verywell.Calleduuswillregretremaininghere.Sendhimtome.’Julioinclinedhisheadslightlywithinthecowlingofhisarmouredsuit.‘Sendthevigilatoroptimaretous,’hevoxed.‘LordMacraggewillspeakwithhim.’It took seconds for the vigilator optimare to come up from the rear of theposition.Hishurriedwalkrevealedhisdesiretospeak.Calleduuswasdressedreadyforactioninpale-creamcombatfatiguesandbluecarapace, the same uniform the Ultramar Auxilia wore, though without theirmarkings.Aheavyrespiratorhungbyonefasteningfromthesideofhishelmet.Calleduushaltedandsalutedsmartly.‘Vigilator optimare,’ saidCalgar. ‘Youhaveperformedyour rolewell for thefiveyearsyouhaveheldthisoffice,untiltoday.Todayyoumuststandaside.The

Ultramarineswillhandlethis.’‘Mylord,withallduerespect,thesuppressionoflocalunrestistheroleoftheVigilOpertii,’saidCalleduus.‘Wearereadytobringthesituationtoanend.Donottroubleyourselfwiththeresolutionofthisevent.Itisaminormatter,belowyourattention.’Calgarlookedupthepass.‘Fromacertainpointofview,Calleduus,youareright.Ardiumisbesiegedandour fleet fights daily battles with Mortarion’s voidcraft in this system. Theenemy has penetrated to the heart of Ultramar. Every day I lose more SpaceMarinestotheenemyinthecapitalsystemalone.Butthis…’Hepointedatthemuseum. ‘This is not beneath my notice. There are fifteen current incidentsacrossMacragge,all involvingthisgroup.TheenemyissoclearlyinvolvedinagitatingthemthatIamdumbfoundedtherebelscannotseeit themselves.Thepurpose of your organisation is to prevent these incidents before they happen,nottocontainthemafterwards.Youreagernesstoresolvethisstand-offsuggeststome that youwant to distract from yourmistakes, or seekmy approval forsuppressingit.Iassureyou,myapprovalwillnotbeforthcoming.’‘Mylord,wecannotcatcheverydissident.Thisyearwehavefoiled–’Calgar’sarmourwhinedasheshiftedhisposition.Themovementwasenoughtosilencethevigilatoroptimare.‘Thisyear,youhavefoiledtwenty-sixactionsagainstthestate,andmissedfifteentoday.Youmustadmityourerror.Illyriaistoopotentasymbol. Iamtiredofpropaganda likening thecutthroatsofold totheseso-calledfreedoms.Worsestill,theirlegacyiscoupledwiththeliesoftheenemy.Firstcomethedemandsforgreaterfreedom,thenoutrightheresy.Itwillnotbelongbeforetheenemy’sreligiontakesroot,andallthatoffersismiserableslavery.TheirleaderslieandpaytheirrespectstotheChapterwhilecondemningthecivilianadministrationascorruptandcallingmetoaddresstheirconcerns.‘Iwillnothaveit.Theveryfinestofmywarriorsshallremovethemfromthisplace. Let the whole of Ultramar see what the Ultramarines think of theirdemands.Therealmwillseethatmyeyesareeverywhere,andthatnoone–nomatter their age or their station – is belowmy attention.Nothing, vigilator, isbelowmyattention. In fact, Iamdispleased thatyou think it isso.DoImakemyselfclear?’‘Yes,mylorddefender,’saidthevigilatoroptimarereluctantly.‘Theotherincidents?’‘ArebeinghandledbytheVigilOpertii,lorddefender.’‘Andtheagentsbehindallthis?’

‘Wearechasingseveralimportantleads,lorddefender.’LordDefenderofGreaterUltramar.RobouteGuillimanhadgivenCalgar thattitleinrecompensefortakingtheroleofMasterofUltramarfromhim.ThetitlemadelittledifferencetotheactualitiesofCalgar’srule.TheChapterMasterhadpresided over Ultramar for centuries before Roboute Guilliman awoke. Apartfrom the brief period before Guilliman had set out on his Terran Crusade,Calgar’s reignhadbeenunbroken.Hiswordwasabsolute.Calleduuswitheredunderit.‘Then this particular incident here will be dealt with by the Ultramarinespersonally,andpublicly,’continuedCalgar.‘AndIwilldemonstratethatmercyremainswith the armouryof theChapter.Chaos turnsour children against us.Whatkindofsocietyareweifwepunishyouthfulfolly–seriousthoughitis–with death,when all they believe they are doing is gettingmore food for thehungry?Therewillbesomemoreguiltythanothersinthatplace.Iwillseethemseparated,andjudgedaccordingtotherelativeseverityoftheirerror.’Thevigilator’sfacewentstony.‘Thedissidentswillseethisasavictory.Yousayyouwillnot speakwith them,andyou shouldnot.Butwhoever isbehindthiswantsyoutobeprovokedintoaction,mylord.Theywantyoureyesawayfromthewar.IftheydecidethattheselittleactionscandivertasinglememberoftheChapter,theywilldoitagain.’‘Then theyhavesucceeded,but itwillgain themnothing,’ saidCalgar. ‘Iamsendingmy ownmessage. The lords ofMacragge will not allow any dissentuponthecapitalworldorinanyotherplace.’‘Mylorddefender,mercywillbeseenasweakness.’‘Mercy is a strength, because it is harder to forgive than it is to slay,’ saidCalgar.‘Theyarechildrenledbydemagogues.Theywillbetreatedassuch.’Heturnedtohissergeant. ‘Julio,retakethemuseum.Saveasmanyof theboysasyoucan.Trynot todestroy theartefacts– theyarepriceless,andan importantreminderthatthemythofIllyrianindependenceisindeedamyth.’‘Yes,mylord.SquadJulio!’thesergeantvoxed.‘Wehearandobey,’ hiswarriors replied.Armour growling, theymarched upfrom the lineofRhinosblocking the road furtherdown, trudging slowly, theirhugeshapesassolidasthebouldersofthepass’crags.Uponreachingtheirleader,theTerminatorsfellintoformation.JuliodrewhispowerswordandsalutedCalgar.‘WemarchforMacragge.’‘This is overkill,’ said Calleduus. ‘An aerial insertion from Valkyries wouldhavebeensufficient.’

‘Youhave spoken–nowbe silent,Calleduus,’ saidCalgar. ‘Wewill advanceintothefullnessoftheirfireandwewillnotfall.TheywillseetheUltramarinescannotbeharmedbysuchasthey.Terrorismispointless.’Theauxiliabytheroadblockdrewbackthecentralwheeledsectionofrockcretewith long iron hooks, allowing the giant warriors through. When the lastclumpedby, theyhurriedlyreplaced thesegmentandhunkereddownbehind itonceagain.When theUltramarineswere a hundredmetres from themuseum, the rebelsopenedfire.Amixtureoflasgunbeamsandsolidbulletsperturbedthesmoke.Manyshotswentwide,eitherfromincompetenceorfromfear–talkofkillinganangelofdeathwasthesortofbravadothatvanishedwhenbattlecame.Thoseshots that hit sparked off the thick battleplate.Calleduusmay have been rightabout thewasteof usingTerminators for thisminor activity, but had theVigilOpertii undertaken the task, several of them would now be dead. The secretpolice’s incompetence in allowing this to happenwas irksome, but theywerestillmoreusetoCalgaralive.Thelascannonfiredonceandmissed.TherewasalongdelaybeforethesecondshotclippedtheshoulderofJulio’sleadwarrior.Theforceoftheimpactthrewhimoffbalancea little,buthe shruggedoff the strikeand lumberedback intoformation,hispauldrondrippingmoltenmetal.A good lascannon team could focus and fire four shots a minute. Calgar’sdispleasure at the local Juventia leaders grew. Where was their weaponsdiscipline?Julio’s squad plodded on in the unstoppable manner of Terminators. Theyreachedtheglassfrontageofthemuseum.OneofJulio’sveteranssmashedtheglasswithhispowerfistandwalkedthroughintothebuilding.Bulletssparkedoff his armour as he disappeared inside.The sound of shattering glass tinkleddownthepassastherestofthesquadforcedtheirwayin.Moregunfireblastedat thesquad.Agrenadewentoff in themiddleof their formation.Theystrodethrough the explosion and the bulletswithout hindrance, and the rest of themvanishedfromsight.Theshootingstopped.Therewasshouting,bothofyoungmenandthatoftheUltramarinesloudlyamplifiedviavoxmitter.Shootingbrokeoutanew.Nowthehardbangingofbolterswasintermingledwiththepatheticpoppingofstubbersandautoguns.Therewerescreams,moreshouting,andthenafinalstutterofboltexplosions.Similarexchangeswererepeatedastheunitwentroomtoroom.Therebelsput

upnocoherentdefence.Theywereeasilyovercome.Halfanhourlater,alineofyoungrebelscameoutofthemuseum’sentrance,handsontheirheads.Theywereruddy-skinned,flushedwiththeexcitementofcombat,butwitheyesdowncastat their loss. Ifonly theywereawareofwhattheir leaderswouldhave takenfromthem, thoughtCalgar.Hewondered if thedeeper lies had set in yet, and how far these boys had been tempted. Thepromises of Chaos were false. There was no immortality, no freedom fromsuffering,noeasyroadtopower.Theiryouth,theirhealth,theirvitality–allofitwould have been stolen away, replaced with a life-in-death, where the onlyblessingwas an inuring to pain. It beganwith a sincere desire to do good; itendedwithdamnation.Hehadseenittoomanytimes.A single Terminator came out behind the boys. Calgar was appalled at howyoung theywere.Nonewereolder than twenty,and theyoungest looked tobeeleven standard years. They were herded down the road and made to kneeltwentymetresfromtheroadblock.Theauxiliastoodtoleavetheirpostandaidtheirmasters,butoneofthewarriorsheldupahand.‘Stayback!’hesaid,hisarmourtransforminghisvoicetoaterrificshout.‘Itisnotsafe.Wehavethedevice.Itisbiologicalinnatureandunstable.’Theauxilia lookedtoCalgar.TheLordDefenderofGreaterUltramarnoddedhishead,andtheyremainedonguard.A few moments later, Julio and his remaining Terminators came out of thebuilding.Theyescortednineteenmorerebels,theseonesadult,andledthemtoaspaceawayfromtheothers.Calgar’svox-beadchimed.Heacceptedthechannel.‘Mylord,’voxedJulio. ‘Thedevice isacryo-cask,halfaman inheight. It isleaking.Nooneshouldapproachanynearer.Mysensoriumisregisteringhighlevels of biological contaminants in themuseumemanating from the cask.Myguessisalltheseboysareinfected.Keepthemortalsbackuntilwehavesecuredthearea.’Calgar cursed under his breath. Even sloppy little insurgencies like this oneseemed to have access to biological weapons. It enraged him that any of thepeopleofUltramarcouldfallpreytothemanipulationsofMortarion.Hetriedtoblametheprivationsofthewar,buthecouldblameonlyhimself.HeturnedhisangeronCalleduus. ‘Thebuilding iscontaminated.Doyouseewhy I did not want you to go within? Your men would have been exposed.Fortunately, my warriors are completely protected. Can we say the same for

yours?’Calleduusstoodramrodstraight,hiseyesforward.‘Irestatemyobjections,mylord–theUltramarinesshouldnotbeinvolvingthemselvesinpoliceactions.’Calgar turnedaside.Calleduusstuck tohisconvictions.Hewasanableman,Calgarremindedhimself.Onemistakedidnotmakesomeoneafailure.‘This terrorism is part of the war that shakes the realm,’ said Calgar. ‘TheUltramarines will be seen in every theatre, no matter how small. Next time,makesure thesituationdoesnotprogressso far,andwewillnothave tohaveanotherconversationlikethis.Youaredismissed,vigilatoroptimare.’The vigilator optimare bowed and walked away without a word, his cheeksburningwithCalgar’srebuke.‘Ney,relaytheseorders,’commandedCalgar.‘Mylord,’respondedtheAncient.‘Summonmedicae teamsandcleansingunits.Decontaminate thesemisguidedyoung men, and have them transferred to the Massalis penal station forassessment and re-education where possible. Every effort is to be made topreserve them.Send those that testwell to thepenalbattalions.Thosewhodonot recant are to be publiclymindwiped andgivenover to the tech-adepts forservitors.’Calgarthoughtamoment.Helookedupatthecliffseithersideofthepass,andvisualised the sparsely populated glens that nestled between the mountainsthereabouts.Therewerenotmanypeopleinthearea,butthereweresome.Allittook was one infected human to kill half a civitas. The Emperor alone knewwhatwasinthatflask.‘Evacuate the population for ten kilometres around this point.Have them alltested. Seal off the district. Station auxilia on all the major roads and placeperditionbeaconsaroundtheboundaries.SecondthreeLandSpeedersfromtheChapterreservetoassistVigilOpertiiforcesinpatrollingthearea.Nooneistoenter this part of the mountains until it is safe.’ He looked at the Terminatorsquad. ‘Julio, guard these children. Once they are dealt with and you arecleansed,callinaThunderhawk.Youareneededinthefleet.’‘Mylord,’voxedJulio.‘What about the road?’ saidNey. ‘The unitarchs of Illyricon andTestuae areanxiousthatitisreopened.’‘Theyshallhavetowait,’saidCalgar.Heseethedinsidethatagroupoffailuresandjuventescouldsodisruptthecapitalplanet.HeremindedhimselfthatIllyriawasbutoneprovinceononeplanet,andthatthishighway,thoughthemainlink

betweenMagnaMacraggeCivitasandIllyricon,onlyoneroute.‘Theriskistoohigh.Weshallreclaimthisregionwhenthetimeisright.Untilwehavepeace,itwillhavetowait.’CalgarglancedintoMacragge’sflatgreyskies,imaginingtheembattledfleetsinthevoidandtheongoingsiegeofArdium.‘Anditmayhavetowaitsometime.’There was a commotion at the rear line where the three Rhinos waited. ATechmarine, his helmet bulky with specialised surveillance and commsequipment,camerunning.‘Mylord,mylord!’heshouted.Hecametostopandgotdownononeknee.‘Ihavewordfromthecapital.Theprimarchhassentanastropathicmessage.’‘Yes?’saidCalgar.Heexperiencedacuriousmixofdreadandelation.Hehadadmittedtohimselflongagothatcedingallcontroltotheprimarchwashard.Hedidnotlookforwardtodoingsoagain.‘He is at the outer reaches of the system.He ismaking all speed toArdiumwhereheintendstobreakthesiege.’Uponhearingthisnews,thewarriorsofUltramar,bothhumanandtranshuman,letoutajoyouscheer.‘Callmea transport,’ saidCalgar. ‘Imust return.Wemustmakeready toaidhim!’‘Mylord,themessageisexplicit–youaretoremainheretoguardMacragge.LordGuillimanwishestopreventopportunisticattacksonthecapitalworld.’‘Doeshehaveenoughmen?CaptainVentris informedusmonthsago thatheintendedtobreakupthecrusade.’‘CaptainVentrisiswithhim,andCaptainSicarius,’saidtheTechmarine.‘Theprimarchdoesnotneedyouraid,mylord.HecomeswithfifteenthousandSpaceMarinesandthreesectorbattlefleets.’Againthewarriorscheered.‘Mortarion will be surely driven from the system. With our lord Guillimanhome,wecantakethefighttotheenemy!’shoutedCalgar.HeraisedoneofthemightyGauntletsofUltramar.‘AllhailGuilliman,MasterofUltramar!’Histriumphantsmilehidthehollownesshefeltinside.The primarch returned to find his realm still wrackedwith war. Objectively,CalgarhadperformednobetterthanCalleduus.Helethishanddrop,andbadetheLandRaider’sdoorsbeopenedtohim.Ashewasclambering inside,Juliovoxedhim.‘WhatshallIdowiththeolderprisoners,mylord?Mercyordeath?’CalgarpausedinthesidehatchoftheLandRaider,hishandsgrippingthelipof

thehullunnecessarilyhard.‘Death,’hesaid.Calgar boarded the tank to panicked shouts cut short by the bangs of bolt-rounds annihilating flesh. The sound followed him all the way to the mainhighway,wherefastertransportwaited.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,MarneusCalgarfeltlikeafailure.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

ARDIUM

Adistinctchangetotheengine’spitchoccurredastheypassedintoenemy-heldterritory,and thesmooth flight turnedchoppy.TheOverlord’sairframerattled.Itsenginesyowled,strugglingtoprocessairwhoseconsistencywasunnaturallyinconstant. A sense of wrongness upset all minds aboard the transport,thickeningwitheverykilometretheyflewcloser.‘Weapproach theheartofdarkness,’saidDonasMaxim.Crystal tracks inhispsychic hood glowed as they encountered the increased warp activity. Blueluminescencemingledwiththetransportbay’sdarkredcombatlights,paintinghishelmwithneonhighlights.Hewasasuncannyasthebeastshewastrainedtodestroy.‘Ithinkwecanallsenseit,’saidCaptainFelix,lookingaroundathiswarriors.TheyhadbeguntofidgetinthewaypeculiartoSpaceMarines,lookingtotheirbrothersandcheckingtheirequipmentoverandoveragain.‘Notsostronglyas I,’said theCodicier.Hiswordswerehard,ashellagainstthepain. ‘Thewarp taint is farmorepowerful thanwepredicted.Wemustbecareful.’Maximwasthesoleearly-patternSpaceMarineinsidetheOverlord’stwinnedhulls.EveryotherwasofthePrimarisgeneration.Maxim’shoodandthebadgesonhisornatebluearmourmadehimbulkierthanhisownbrothers,buteveryoneofthePrimarisSpaceMarineswastallerthanhim,andmorepowerfullybuilt.AccompanyingMaximwasasingleotherpsychicSpaceMarine:Gerrundium,

aPrimarisLexicanium.Thepairof themgaveoffacalmingpower,asenseofpurposeandconfidencethatinfusedthealreadyunshakeableFelixwitharesolveassolidasaneutronstar,despite thewarp taintemanatingsopowerfullyfromtheirtarget.Incontrast,themalevolencearoundthemseemedstronger.Owingtothepositionofhisrestraintcage,Felixwasathwarttheborderwherethemalignand the benign actions of the warp mingled, discomfiting his mind. On theenemy’ssidewasadarkpotency.Uponhisskinbeneathhisarmour,itfeltlikepainfulstaticelectricity,acrawlingoftheflesh.Itwasacall,anurgingtoactionhewouldrathernottake,thekindthatafflictstheinsanedeepintothenightanddemandssomethingofviolencebedone–adarkvitality,aturning-inofagencysothatitbecameimpotentself-destruction.‘I can feel it well enough. It pains me,’ said Felix. He wondered at thesensation, logging it for later consideration. He had not felt anything like itbefore.‘Thisisthepowerthatcallsthedeadfromlife?’Gerrundiumnodded.‘Diseasealonecannotbringbackthefallen,norturnthosewholiveintowalkingcorpses.’Hesoundedflatandpassionless,hisowncopingmechanismagainstthecorruptiontheyneared.‘Thatisaphysicalimpossibility,as ourApothecaries and the primarch’smagi attest. Sorcery is the root of thedisease.Withoutthewarp,therewouldbenoconsequencetoinfection.’‘The plague lord delights in the affectation of diseasewhere disease alone isinsufficientforhisgoals,’saidMaxim.‘Liesareasgreatapartoftheirarmouryas contradiction. They are the basis of the actions of the enemy. Nurglerepresentsthedualityoflifeindeathanddeathinlife.Aswithallthingsofthewarp,itisuncleanandatrapfortheunwary.’‘Youincludeyourownabilities.’TheCodiciergrunted.Hishelmetturnedwithinhisprotectiveaegishelm.‘Ourgiftsbringgreatpower,buttheyspringfromthesamepoisonedwellasdiseasesthatrot thesoul.Todrinkfromitandremainpureis thegreatestchallengeweface.’‘Wefeelthisstronglybecausethereisawickedpoweratwork.It isfromthePalaceSpirethatthecorruptionemanates,’addedGerrundium,‘butwewillnotknowitstruenatureforcertainuntilwewitnessitourselves.’The Overlord shook. Its armour was massively thick, and its enginesprodigiously powerful. The new craft made Thunderhawks look like toys. Aswithsomuchtheprimarchhadcommissioned,theOverlordhearkenedbacktoolder designs of insertion craft, improved by the boundless creativity ofBelisarius Cawl. But its technological power could not shelter its occupants

completely from threats eithermundaneor arcane.Themovement of the craftchanged; no longer was it affected solely by atmospheric anomalies. Anexplosion sounded close by, its violencemuffled by theOverlord’s thick hull.Thecraftslidsidewaysbeforelevellingout.Smallervibrations,rapidlypulsed,chaseditupwards.‘Captain,thereisunexpectedlyheavyfirecomingfromthePalaceSpire’smidranges,’voxedthepilot.‘Wecannotlandatthetargetpoint.’‘Getusascloseasyoucan,’respondedFelix.‘There is a skypark cluster four hundred metres horizontal, two levels downfromthetargetpointandinthenextspire.’Thepilotwentsilentamomentasheconsultedacartograph.‘TheSighingSpire.’Thepilotexloadedtheposition.Felix’scartographautomaticallyengaged.Theyheaded for a cluster of spire palaces at the very pinnacle of one ofArdium’sgreathivecities,theirneedlepointsprickingatthebellyofthevoid.Felixsawthem as wireframe representations. Ugly, semi-organic growths movedsluggishlyoverthetop,apsychicoverlayprovidedbytheprimarch’sConcilliaPsykana. The shiftingweb gatheredmost densely on a cankerousmass in theupperreachesofthetallesttower,oncethehomeofthehivelord.Thetargetpointwasclosebytheneedle’sdarkheart.Gunbatteriesblinkedredaroundthesite.Thepilot’salternativeflashedup,adomedgardenextendingonan elegant lever from the adjacent spire’s side. Further thanFelixwould havelikedfromthetargetpoint,buttheonlypracticaloptioninthecircumstances.‘Takeusin,’saidFelix.Thecraftrespondedimmediately,bankingsidewaysanddown.Thethunderofanti-aircraftfire intensified,becomingaconstantrumble.Felixlookedoverhiswarriorsagain.Therewerefortyoftheminthecraft,andafurthereightyintwoaccompanyingOverlords.TheshipsweresimilartotheCorvusBlackstarsusedby the Inquisition and the Deathwatch. Like the Blackstars, the Overlordspossessedtwintransportbayswiththeirownassaultdoors,buttheywerebiggerand even more blessed with advanced technologies. Anti-munitions cannonsaddedarollingburrtothenoisefromoutside,slinginghypervelocitysteelballsatincomingshellsandmissiles.Thoseenemyroundsthatgotthroughexplodedonshimmeringenergyshields,whosehiccuppingbuzzastheyrechargedjoinedthefuriouschorusoftheembattledship’ssystems.ThePrimarisSpaceMarinesaboard theshipswereallUltramarines.At least,they were now – six weeks ago they had been the Unnumbered Sons ofGuilliman.Theyweredestined to reinforce the foundingChapter,and thepale

grey chevrons partially obscuring their ultimas had been reverently removed.They had temporary squad markings, and had adopted a light blue for theircompanycolour.This would be their first battle as Ultramarines, led by Felix, an eleventhcaptain where there should only be ten. They had not even met the ChapterMaster.Indeed,MarneusCalgarwasignorantoftheirassignmenttohisChapter,andoftheircurrentmission.FelixponderedhowCalgarmight feelabout theprimarch’sunilateralalteringoftheCodexAstartes.Thecaptaincouldnothelpbutfeelthat,inhisdriveforvictory and efficiency, Guilliman had been careless with the feelings of hisexistingsons. Increasingly,Guilliman looked to thePrimarisSpaceMarinesashisfirstsolution.HemadenoattempttohidethefactthatthedaysoftheolderSpaceMarineswerenumbered.Felix’stheorisingtookhismindawayfromthecomingfight.Herefocusedhisattentiononthebattle.Aclockracedtowardszerouponhishelmdisplay.‘Standbyforattack!’heordered.‘Braceforimpact,’saidthepilot,hisvoicevoxedintoeveryhelmetonboard.Theshipjinkedviolentlyfromsidetoside,acceleratingasitdidso.Everyoneof its little voices rose in protest, blending into a raucous machine howl.Explosionsboomedfromallquarters.Felixbroughtupanexternalvidfeed.Agrainy imageofaarmourglassdome,fullofdarkshapes,grewrapidlyinfrontofhiseyes.The ship opened firewith itswing-mounted desolator lascannons.The three-barrelled weapons rotated at blurring speed as they fired, their rapid torquehelping offset atmospheric lensing, not that beam dispersion was much of aproblemat this range.Banksofmeltacannonsmounted in theOverlord’s noseopenedfireafewsecondslater.Moltenholesappearedinthearmourglass,andtheOverlordburst throughtheweakeneddome,sendingmoltenmineralsandshardsofmetalscatteringinwardintothegardens.‘Ready!Now!’yelledFelix.‘WemarchforMacragge!’roaredthePrimarisSpaceMarines.Thegunshipthumpeddownhard,throwingFelixforwardinhisrestraints.Theship rocked back on its landing hydraulics. As it recoiled from the impact,Felix’s harness disengaged and shot back into its housing in the ceiling.Simultaneously, the assault doors blew down with crushing force, flatteningwhatever was on the other side and admitting a sickly yellow light into the

transportbay.FirstoutwerethePrimarisAggressors.Theyworebattleplateofasimilartypeto Felix’s, but more massively armoured: the Gravis class. Before they hadexited the troop bay, missiles shot from their shoulder-mounted racks, theirexhaustfillingthecraft’stroopcompartments.There were two squads of Aggressors, one for each door. Two squads ofHellblasters followed, the containment chambers on their plasma incineratorsglowingbrightas theycycledup tofire.Felixand the twoLibrariansemergednext, alongwith the temporary company’s Apothecary. After them came foursquadsofIntercessors,whofannedout,boltriflesup.Ardiumwas a hiveworld, a designation synonymouswithovercrowding andhumanmisery,butthiswasUltramar,andthehiveworldsinthestar-realmoftheUltramarineswerekinderthanmost.Thoughlifewashardandshortthere,someprovisionwasmadeforthewell-beingoftheircitizens.Ardiumhadaplethoraofdomesprojectingfromitshives,especiallyontheupperlevels,wherelarge-scalebio-habitatsrecreatedthoselostfrommostofthesurface.Theplanetwasfamedforthem,givingthehivestheretheappearanceofgargantuantrees.A forest surrounded Felix’s ship, but it was not the healthy place it wassupposedtobe.Yellowfogracedoutthroughtheholeinthedome,suckedawayby thedifferential in air density.Flagsof it streamed frombetweenblackenedbranches festooned with slime. At such rare heights, Macragge’s sun shonewithout the impediment of clouds, but though Nurgle’s work had not yetpoisonedthesky,thestrengthofthesunlightwasstymiedsoonafterenteringtheholemadebytheOverlord,itsbeamsbecomingsplitanddivided,lostamidthevapourspoisoningthehive’sinneratmosphere.Windsblewbrisklytowardsthebreach, the fog’s twists forming screaming faces as it was sucked out intoArdium’suppertroposphere.The park’s paths were overrun with rotting profusions of sickly vegetation.Trees had swollen into twisted giants, their shapes corrupted into menacingsilhouettes in the murk. People had been overcome by the swift growth andincorporated into their seeping trunks, the change happening so swiftly that itappearedtheyhadnotimetoflee.Theirlimbsweretrappedinwoodenprisons,and their bodies hardened by lignacious intrusion. Only their eyes,moist andwideinskinlikebark,hadmovement,andtheywerewildandfullofmadness.From behind these rotting bowers, the enemy – bloated Heretic Astartes infilth-brown armour, their plate cracked and dribbling polluted fluids – fired attheemergingPrimarisSpaceMarines.

FelixtookupstationbehindabrokenstatueofanancientUltramarineherointhedome’scentre.Boltfirecrackedoffitschippedbody.Amatofslipperyvinescarpetedthepavingandseatsaround,blendingwhathadbeenanopen,circularareaintothediseasedjungleofthepark.‘Allsquads,advance.Securethelandingzone,’heordered.TheOverlordopenedfirewiththeheavybolterturretsfixedonitslowerwingsurfaces.Theythunderedoutfire,thepassageoftheboltsthemselvesenoughtosawdownswathesofdiseasedplantlife.Theyexplodedwithinwoodmadesoftby overgrowth and rot, spraying sodden pulp everywhere.The dome judderedwiththeexplosions,andFelixlookeddubiouslyattheground,halfexpectingittoshearandfail.Outside the algae-speckled armourglass dome, another Overlord roared past,thebackwashofitsquintupleenginesshakingtheentirepark.Thefabricofthedomewas as corrupted as the plantswithin it; itsmetalswere rusted, and thearmourglass, a substance that could persist for millennia in the most hostileenvironments,waspittedwithincipientcorrosion.‘Wearegoingtohavetogetoutofthisdeathtrapimmediately,’Felixvoxedtohissergeantsandofficers.‘Theparkisclosetocollapse.’Hiswarriorsvoxedbacktheirunderstanding.‘OverlordsAdriaticusandScionofUltramar,findsomewhereelsetoland.Thisstructureisunsound.OverlordJove,takeoff–wecannotrisklosingyou.Standbytoextractuponmyorder.’‘Affirmative,’repliedtheOverlordpilot.Lascannonsspittingfirestill,theship’swing-tip engines screeched, pivoted downwards and forced it up and backthroughtheholeithadcreatedinthedome.Theparkshook,showeringthestriketeamwithflakesofrustandstringy,blackleaves.Felixdidarapidscanofthedome.ThereweretwentyorsoDeathGuardinthepark. Bolt-rounds were being traded back and forth between them and thePrimarisIntercessors,whileroaringplasmastreamsburstfromtheHellblasters’guns, to be answered in kind by the Death Guard’s own special weaponstroopers.TheAggressorsstompedforwards,theirGravis-patternarmourprotectingthemin the teeth of the Death Guard’s fire. They returned fire as they advanced,rockets shrieking from their backs on needles of white heat. The loadingmechanismsintheweaponsclunkedrepetitivelyastheyreplenishedtheirracksfrom theAggressors’ internal ammostores.Plumesof firebillowed from theirflame gauntlets, drenching everything with burning promethium. The diffuse

air’s oxygen content was low and the wood was wet, but the tenacity of thepromethium firewas such that soon tranches of the corruptedwoodlandweresmouldering, helped by the blast-furnace roar of escaping atmosphere, andgreasysmokejoinedtheyellowfoginitshurriedexitthroughthedomebreach.TherewasasquadofsevenPlagueMarinesholdingtheexittothepark.Theyshelteredbehindablacktreethathadfallenoverthepath.Moreplants,slipperywithdecay,coatedtheblockpaving.Movementinthewoodseithersideofthemain path had Felix bring up his visual filters, his false-colour heat senserevealing more of the enemy attempting to encircle them. One of the PlagueMarines was blasted backwards by the combined fire of an entire Intercessorsquad.Heremaineduprightashewaspummelled,hisgutshangingindrippingloops from a new rent in his rotten plate. A Hellblaster spotted the traitor’ssurvival,and,withaquicklyaimedstreamofplasma,puthimdownforgood.‘HellblastersquadsAlphaandBeta–takeoutdesignatedenemysquadsontheflanks,’ said Felix, exloading the targeting data to his warriors. ‘Intercessorsquads,prepare tocharge.Aggressorsquads,burnout theenemyblockingouregress.’Awaytotheright,aballofbrilliantbluelightningburstamidthetrees,shakingthe failing dome with psychic thunder. Codicier Maxim held up his hand,rotating his fingers, and the thunderball turnedwith them.As he clenched hisfist,theballlightningcollapsedwithasecondpealofthunder,takingwithitallmatter that had occupied the space, leaving a perfectly spherical hole in thediseasedforest.‘They are falling back,’ voxed Hellicus, one of his Intercessor sergeants.Unbidden,Felix’scogitatorprojected thewarrior’snameandvitalsignsacrosshishelmdisplay,highlightinghis locationon the cartographprojected intohiseyes,alongwithstatusupdatesonhisarmourintegrityandammunitioncount.Acombat-effectiveness estimate blinked a steady green at one hundred per centcapability.‘Wefollow,’saidFelix.‘Now!’Heranoutfromaroundthestatueanddrewhispowersword.The PlagueMarines fired as they fell back squad by squad.Their lumberingmovements acquired a certain crispness as they withdrew, an echo of martialtraining similar to his own, and Felix had a glimpse of thewarriors they hadoncebeen–notsoverydifferenttohimself.He blinked, and the semblance was gone. The Death Guard were twisted,diseased,farbeyondhuman,deservingonlyofdeath.Hispowerswordcrackled,

echoinghisownhungertostrikethemdown.Throughrottenstandsofdyingtreesthebattleraged,theUltramarinesfightinginto the teethof theDeathGuard’swithdrawal, thewooddisintegrating into avile slop when hit. The Primaris Space Marines were slowed by the terrain,whilethePlagueMarinesdidnotseemtobe,meltingbackintothemistwhichflowed like an endless river fromdeeperwithin the spire.The entrance to theskyparkwasahead,itsornamentalbrickworkchokedwithevil-lookingcreepersand streaked with green tracks of moisture. Beneath the arch, dense mats ofpulsatingmushroomsgrew, their stalks sowoody that they jammed the park’sblast doors open, preventing them from closing. The last enemy squad wasdepartingthedome,chasedoutbyburninglinesofplasmaandswiftbolts.Theypausedamoment,takingshelterbehindthecolumnssupportingthearchwayinordertogiveoutonelastvolleywhiletheirfellowsvanishedintothemurkoftheSighingSpire.Felixsawhischance.‘Charge!’heroared,andleaptthroughthemulchygrowthsofthepark,runningatfulltilttowardsthefoe.Boltsburstagainsthisenergyfieldandwhinedfromhispauldrons.Thebolts’massdetectors,damagedbythecontact,setoffinmid-air,sothatheranthrougha maelstrom of fire and shrapnel. So many explosions so close to his headcausedhisdisplaystojumpandhisauditorysuppressorstoburrangrily.ThePlagueMarineswereunbelievablyresilient.Onewasaburningtorch,hisbody fat liquefying in the fire and fuelling the fire, but he stood firm,blazingawaywithhisgun.Notoneofthemhadweatheredthisfightunscathed,butstilltheyfoughtonwithcrateredfleshandsunderedarmour.TheplasmastreamsoftheHellblastersquads’incineratorsweretheonlysurewaytoslaythesetwistedSpaceMarines.Thepowerofasunventedasaglaringpikeofsuperheatedgas,theplasmashotsmeltedthroughancientceramiteandburnedthePlagueMarinesfrominsideout.A couple of the last Death Guard fell back, and they were subject to theconcentratedfirepowerofFelix’shalfcompanyastheyturnedtoleave.Thoughtheenemywerequickerthantheylooked,theywerenotquickenough.Felix charged with no thought for support. Tactical consideration was lostbeneathawaveofhatredforthesebeings,whohaddamnedtheirownspeciesinexchange for false immortality and crumbs of power. He connected with thetrailingmemberofthesquadastheywerepullingback.Afewmoreboltscamehisway,andthenthePlagueMarinessurgedintoengagehimhandtohandashecaught their stragglers. Suddenly, he was surrounded by things worthy of

nightmares:awarriorwiththefaceofatoad,andanotherwithhisjawmissingandalong,scabroustonguewhippingbackandforthfromthehole.Theirfleshwas riddledwithmaggotburrows, and their armour corroded through to showleprousskinandopensores.TheDeathGuard shouldnothavebeencapableof life, but they foughtwell,theirbodiessupportedbythepowerofChaos,theirskillshonedbytenmillenniaofwar.AhatredtomirrorFelix’sownflickeredintheyellowedeyespeeringathimthroughcrackedeye-lenses.RustedknivesjabbedatFelix,theirdulledgesblisteringthepaintofhisarmourwhere they scratched.Alarmshowled at the pain inflicted upon themachine’sspirit.Bolterswerethrowndownandboltpistolsdrawn.Felixwasnotdestinedtodiethere.HewasaPrimarisSpaceMarine;hewasacaptain.HewasarmedandarmouredwiththefinestwargearintheImperium.Apotentmixofloyaltyandfurysuffusedhim,asefficaciousastheadrenalelixirspumped into his body by his implants and his battleplate. Twin heartshammering,Felixmetedoutdeathto thedeathless.Hispowerswordspatwithdropletsofcookingbloodashecleavedawaylimbsfromflabbybodies,andheriddledwith bolts torsos that decayedwith the vigour of the gravewhile stillalive.‘ForUltramar!For theprimarch!For theEmperor!’he roaredasheslew,hisvoice blasted at full volume from his voxmitter. He became one with themoment,everypieceofhisenhancedmind,bodyandwargearworkingperfectlytogethertoturnhimintoakillingmachine.Hecutandparriedwithmarvellousefficiency, so skilfully that even the prowess of these deadly veteranswas nosafeguard against his fury. Roboute Guilliman might talk of the AdeptusAstartes’potentialforpeacetimeactivity,butwarwaswhattheyweremadefor,weaponswerewhattheywere.TheEmperor’sintentionforFelixwasclearertohimthaneverbefore,andhedidnotcare.Ifitwerehisdestinytobeaweapon,sobeit.Hewouldspillblooduntilhecouldfightnomore.Adimawarenessofothersfightingbyhissideimpingeduponhisbattlelust;astaff toppedwith a horned skull smote the last of theDeathGuard, and thentherewerenomorefoes.‘Doyoufeelit?’askedCodicierMaxim.‘Doyoufeelthepowerinthisplace?’Felixpantedhard,staringatMaximwithblankeyes.Atumbleofmeaninglessdatarolleddownhisretinaldisplays.TheAuroraChapterpsykerplacedtheheadofhis staff against the centreofFelix’s chest.Along its length, the crystallinematrixglowed.Felix’smindcleared.

‘Donotfallpreytothepowerofthewarp,’saidMaxim.‘Thewarpisatworkhere,sothinthebarrierbetweenthisplaceandtheempyreanhasbecome.’‘Ihavenothingbuthatredforthesethings,’saidFelix,gesturingwithhispowergauntletatthefallenPlagueMarines.‘IhavefoughtagainstChaosmanytimes.’Evenashesaidthewords,hequestionedhisaggressivetone.‘Then you are verymuch in danger. Its effects can be unpredictable.Do notexpectyourseducertowearthesameformasyourenemy.Itwilluseyourmindagainstyouinanywayitcan,andonlywhenithasyousnaredwill thepowerthatwishes to rule thisplacemake itsplay to temptyou into itsownperversetwistingofreality.Morelifetokillyourenemies,morefleshtowithstandpain,soyoumightkillagain,andagain,forever.Youareawarrior,sotheDarkGodswilluseyourbelligerence,yourloyaltyandyourhonouragainstyou,nomatterwhichofthemyouareunfortunateenoughtocross.’Maximraisedhisstaffandlet itsbasethumpintothemessofmutantplantsathisfeet.Athis touch, theyshrivelled back, revealing the filthy paving underneath. ‘You of the UltimaFoundingaremightywarriors,butyoustillhavemuchtolearn.Acenturyofwarispoorpreparationforthefoeswemustface.’Standing tall again, Felix swallowed.With a trembling thumb he upped theoutputofhissword’sdisruptorfieldtoburnoffthelastofthetraitor’sbaked-ongore.‘Thenourintelligenceiscorrect,’hesaid.‘Thisistherightplace.’Maxim nodded curtly. ‘The strength of the device is astounding. We mustdestroyit.Now.’Felixshookoffhisbattlefugue.Hehadneverslippedsofarfromhimself.Hewasonthevergeofapology,butMaximspokefirst.‘Be careful,’ he said, and strodeon.Where theCodicierwalked, the stinkingmistshrankback.Felix looked down the hallway linking the skypark to themain body of thespire.Ittoohadatransparentroof,butitwassofouledwithslimehemightaswellhavebeenlookingdownatunnel.Hiswargear’sinbuiltshort-rangeauspexprobedahead,seekingfoesinthegloom,butfoundnone.HevoxedApothecaryUndine.‘Howmanycasualties?’‘Twelve injured, three seriously. The others can fight on.Nodead,’ came theefficientresponse.Felix switched to company-wide vox-cast. ‘Form up,’ he ordered his strikeforce.‘Weproceedtomissionsitealpha.’

TheyadvancedatpaceintotheSighingSpire,eagertoleavebehindthecreakingskyparkandenterthepalace.Similarderelictionawaitedtheminside.Thewindcontinued to howl upwards, the spire acting like a giant chimney, and the fogthinned away.TheSighingSpire hadbeen amasterful displayof architecturalgrandeur, somemight say arrogance.The spire imprisonedover threehundredmetresofsky.Thewallswereanextravaganceofarchesallpiledoneatoptheother, their openings glazed with armourglass, armourglass and other moreexotic translucent substances. Within the panes were artful light sculptures,windows that –when struck at a particular angle on a particular day –wouldprojectanimagewiththephantomveracityofahololith.Nonewouldeverworkagain.Mostwerebrokenorbuckled,castingfragmentsof their embedded imagery in ghastly fashion. Fragments of faces emergedwithoutwarningfromthedark,andthePrimarisSpaceMarines,battle-hardenedandheroic though theywere, firedmore than a few shots at theseunexpectedphantasms.‘Spreadout,’saidFelix.‘Thislevel,levelabove,levelbelow.’Everycommandhegavewasshortandtothepoint.Verbalcommunicationwasinefficient.Ifhisorderswere sufficientlycomplex,he supplementedhisvoicewith swift-pulseddata exloads. The company noosphere was alive with back-and-forth data-canting, giving Felix a tactical overview superior to those available to SpaceMarinesnotoftheUltimaFounding.Walkways bounded the drop every thirty metres. Four die-straight bridges,heavywiththethickgothicdecorationcommontothe41stmillennium,crossedoverthevoidatthefirst,fourth,seventhanduppermostlevel.Abovethehighestbridgewasahollowneedle,sixsided,itswallspiercedbyshapedlouvreswhich,in cleaner times,made the high air currents ofArdium into heavenlymusics.Theyhadbeenjoinedbyraggedholesrottedrightthroughthefabricofthehive,andthesongstheynowlowedwereaspiteousasthecallsofdiseasedanimals.Thecyberneticconstructs that tended themhungdeadand tattered fromwingsnailedtothewalls.Thewholehivetoposcillatedinthescreamingwindsoftheuppertroposphere.Suchplacesweredesigned toswaywith thecurrentsofairat thataltitudeandwithanytectonicupheavalatthehiverootfar,farbelow,buttherewasapainedlurching to thespire’smovement,andstrongergustswereaccompaniedby thescreamsofdyingmachinesandthegrindingoftorturedmetal.Thefloorswereoutoftrue,slopingfurtherwitheachpowerfulwind-bornjudder.Felixwatchedcarefullythroughtheborrowedpict-feedsofhelmlensesashis

menrantocoverdoorstotheturretsontheoutsideofthespire.Theydeployedexpertly at the top and base of the access ramps that wound up between thespreadfloors,everyangleoffirecoveredwithplasmaincineratorandboltrifles.Felix sometimeswished for the tactical flexibilityofferedbyolder-styleSpaceMarine squads, desirous of the heavy weapons capability they offered. Butsingle-armament squads streamlined tactical choice and increased battleresponsiveness, and the plasma incinerators of the Hellblasters were a goodmedium-weightcompromise.‘No sign of the enemy, my captain,’ voxed Sergeant Tevian, of the thirdIntercessorsquad.ThemiddlebridgewastheirwayintothePalaceSpire,wheretheirintelligenceplacedthedeviceoftheenemy.Anarchgreaterthanalltheothersspreadoverthebridgeend,formingoneendofatunnelleadingoutoftheSighingSpire.Astatementofpower,itsgrandiosityhadbecomedeeplyironic.Itsspanhungwiththeshredsoffailingphantomartworks,anditbeckonedascoldlyasareptilianmaw.Felix glanced at theCodicier and the taller Lexicanium.Reading his actionsaccurately,Gerrundiumspoke.‘Itisthatway,captain.Closebythefeastinghallofthehivegovernor.Ifwearetoprevail,wemustgothrough.’Felix attempted contactwith the other two subgroups of his strike company,andwasrewardedwithanearfulofsawingstaticlikethebuzzingofswarmsofflies.Hecutouthisstrategicvox,taskinghisbattleplate’scogitatortoreactivateittheminutethelieutenantsleadingtheothersmadecontact.‘Over thebridge,’heordered. ‘SquadsTevianandHellicuscover.HellblasterSquadFlavianbehindAggressors.Moveout.’Felixwentclosetothefront.Hewouldgladlyfightattheheadofhisarmy,butCodexdoctrineruledplacingone’sofficersattheveryforefrontofanadvanceassub-optimal, likely to lead to the rapid elimination of the command cadre.Hejoined Flavian. TheAggressor squadmade an unbreachable shield in front ofthem.Empty spaceyawnedon theother sideof thebridge’s lowparapets.Sunlightfilteredthroughcorrosionandthebrokenlightsculptures,revealingtheextentofthespire’saccelerateddecay.ThevarietyofChaoswasmanifold.Evenwithinthelimitedpurviewofeachofthefellentitiesthatcalledthemselvesgods,therewasstaggeringvariety.Wheretheskyparkhadbeenariotoflifedecayingintheaftermathofabundantgrowth,

the spire interior was bare of any living thing; instead, its corruption wasevidenced inpatternsofoxidisation spreadingover thewalls.Violentoranges,deep greens and vibrant marine turquoises – metal, it seemed, could die ascolourfullyasflesh.‘Brother-captain,wehavecontactsmovingonourposition.’AtthemomentHellicusvoxedFelix,hesawthesignifiershimself.‘Lightaircraft,comingupfrombelow.Forwardparty,increasespeed.Therestofyou,coverouradvance,’orderedFelix.TheAggressorsbrokeintoajogthatshookthebridge.TheIntercessorsquadslowered their bolt rifles from fully-aimed positions and cradled them at theirhips, switching from single shot to short-burstmode. The greater ammunitionexpenditurewasworthwhile, for itmaintained fire efficiencywhenmoving atspeedwhenshotscouldnotbeperfectlyaimed.AspreciseasanyMechanicusmachine,theforwardpartymadetheotherside,turned,andtookuppositionaroundtheguardwallsofthespireramps.Enginesscreechedinthespireshaft,jarringwiththehideouswindmusic–jetturbines,grindinghard forwantof lubricant.Felix riskeda lookbelow.Sevenheavythree-engineddroneswererisingrapidlyuptheshaft.‘Ware!’ called out Codicier Maxim. ‘These are daemon engines! I can tastetheirsouls.’‘Destroythem,’saidFelix.Bolts and plasma crossed the shaft, skewering the lead drone frommultipledirections.Itsarmourcrackedmoistly,likechitinratherthanplasteel.Anengineblewout,anditwhirleddowntodestruction.‘Morecominginfromabove!’voxedSergeantBrutianofthesecondHellblastersquad.Thedeadspire’sacousticdesignmadeitasoundingchamberwhereeverynoisewas amplified massively. Bolts exploded like heavy mortar rounds. Airsuperheatedbyplasmastreamsexplodedwiththeforceoftropicalstorms.The lowerdroneswere in apoor firingposition.At their angleof attack, thePrimaris SpaceMarineswerewell sheltered by the ramp andwalkwaywalls.Gouts of sticky, yellow plague liquids splashed against the building’s fabric,eatingintothemetalandcausingfleshyboilstosproutandbloodtoflowaroundtheimpactsitesinviolationofallnaturallaw.For the descending daemon engines, however, the converse was true. Thespraysofinfectedmattertheypumpedfromtheircannonscameoverthetopofthewalls,washingovertheSpaceMarines.Thepaintbubbledontheirarmour,

andwarriorsfellwithpainedcriesasthevilematerialatethroughtheirsoftsealsandintothefleshbeneath.ThetwoLibrariansworkedtogether,nullifyinghexesandbanishingthetrappeddaemonsbackintothewarp.Threeofthedronesfellthisway,andanothertwototheconcentratedfireofthePrimarisSpaceMarines,beforethestrikeforce’sattentionwasdivertedelsewhere.‘Captain, Ihavemultiplecontactscomingfrombelowon theramps,’shoutedHellicusagainstthecrackandboomofbattle.‘Somekindofinfantry.Therearethousandsofthem.’Felix retasked his suit’s auto-senses to take a sounding even as he fired hisgauntlet bolter, riddling a bloat-drone hovering up before him with explosiverounds.Hisattackknockeditbackthroughtheair.Crateredmetal-fleshweepingthinliquids,itdroppedoutofsight.Felix’sauto-sensesindicatedhisscanwasdone.Herotatedhiscartograph.Thewalkwaysweresocrowdedwithenemycontactsthattheywereasolidred.‘Morecomingfrombehind,’voxedFlavian.Felixlookedthroughthearchleadingintothenextspire.Movementregisteredfirstuponhisauto-senses,thenuponhisvision.ThenobledeadofArdiumweremarchingtowar.Theyshambledforwards,clad inruinedfinery.Theywerepropelledby limbsthat should not, could not possiblywork. Their faceswere twisted into rictusgrins,butintheireyeswashopelessdespair.‘Plaguewalkers,’hespat.‘Worse,’ saidMaxim. ‘By theEmperor’s light, their souls are trappedwithintheircarcasses.Thepain…’‘We shall put them out of theirmisery.’ Felix had to shout tomake himselfheard. ‘Aggressors, turn about. Immolation protocols. Burn them back. Allsquads,consolidateonourposition.Weshallfightourwaythrough.’A drone exploded with a boom behind him, showering metal gummed withstickymeatacrossthewalkways.Somethinginsidegaveoutaninhumanscreamasitdied–halfofpain,halfofrelease.TheAggressorswaded into the dead. The plague zombies’ feeble hands andmakeshiftweaponswerenouseagainsttheinviolableGravisplate.Theybitatthe Space Marines’ limbs, shattering their rotten teeth on ceramite. TheAggressorsrespondedwithaboilingwashofchemicalfire.Thedeadstillfoughtastheyburned.Four drones remained. Gerrundium speared one with crackling lightning,

searing the daemon from its shell. Another took hits from both Hellblastersquads,andwasconsumedinanactinicballofenergy.Intercessors gained the bridge. The dead coming from belowwere slow, butthereweresomanythatFelix’ssmallgroupcouldnotprevailagainstthem.‘Firinglines!Triplerows,’hesaid.‘WemustclearawaythroughtothePalaceSpire!’Three squads, all missing a member or two now, lined up. The first threwthemselvesprone,thesecondkneltbehindthem,thethirdstood.‘Aggressors,back!’Felixordered.‘Intercessors,preparetofire.Setweaponstofullautomaticfire.Releasethesewretchesfromtheirtorment,andcarveourwayoutofhere.’TheAggressorssteppedasidewithponderouselegance.Thebarrier removed,theburningdeadsurgedforwards,whiteteethshininginblackeningflesh.‘Fire!’bellowedFelix.Twelve bolt rifles opened up, sending out awall ofmass-reactive shells thatgougedadeepandimmediatepassageintothecrowd.Felixjoinedhismenandfiredwiththem.Thedeadfellintoathickcarpetoftwitchinglimbs,manystillonfire.‘Hellblasters,fire!’Felixordered.Asidefromthesquadformingtherearguard,alloftheSpaceMarineswereonthesamelevelnow,firingintothecrowdofdead.Walkingcorpsesexploded,orflash-burstintosteamwhenhitbyplasma.‘Advance!’bellowedFelix.Hisboltstormgauntlet roaring,he ledhismenagainst thedamned.Hisbootscrushedcorpsesflat,threateningtomirehimintrapsofbrokenribs.Hebroughthis power sword into play, using it like amachete to hack down the foe. Heneedednoneofhisconsiderableskilltokillthem.HundredsfelltoFelixandhismen.Nomatter howmany they slew, the dead came on in seemingly endlesstide.Metrebymetre,theyforcedawaythrough.Felixraisedhisswordtostrikeataskull-facedwarrior,andhaltedhisblowjustintime.TheskullwasthehelmofaPrimarisReiver.‘Ceasefire!’hecommanded.Thelastlineofthedeadfelldown,theirsoulsreleased.Sparkingpowerbladeswereyankedbackoutofchests.‘Sergeant Lyceus, well met,’ said Felix. ‘Do you have vox? Ours is notfunctioningbeyondourimmediateproximity.’

The Reivers’ leader reloaded his bolt pistol. ‘The enemy are jamming ourcommunicationsacrossthebattlezone.LieutenantAstiumorderedustoseekyouout.Weheardyourgunfire.WefoughtourwayfromthePalaceSpire.’TheReiver squadwas armedwith oversized combat knives glimmeringwithdisruption fields, and heavy bolt pistols. Their helmswere death’s heads, andtheirleftpauldronsenlargedtoprovidebetterprotectioninmelee.Theirarmourwaseerilysilent,adaptedforstealthwork.Reiverswereaninfiltrationandclose-combatspecialisation.‘DoyouhavethelocationofLieutenantTobiasalso?’‘Thisway,brother-captain,’saidSergeantLyceus.‘Theyaretogether,andunderattackclosetothemissiontarget.Thedeviceiswithinthechapeloffthefeastinghall.’‘TheenemydespisethenotionoftheEmperorasgod,’saidMaxim.‘ThereispowertobecourtedbydefilingHisholyplaces.’‘TheEmperor isnotdivine,sosaysourcreed,’saidFelix,whohadheardthesentimentexpressedforcefullyfromthelipsofGuillimanhimself.‘Itdoesnotmatterwhetherheisornot–itistheactthatbringsthepower,notthetruthofit.Theplaguezombiescannotbe“true”.Theyareanimpossibility.Yettheyexist,’saidMaxim.‘ThatisthepowerofChaos.’‘Speaking of which, there are thousandsmore dead coming behind us,’ saidFelix.‘Wemusthurry,identifythetarget,assessitsthreatlevelanddestroyit.’

ThePalaceSpirewaswiderthanthefirst.WhereastheSighingSpirehadbeenadeclarationofart,arichman’sshowpiece,thesecondspirecontainedthepalaceproper.Withinthewallswasamazeofstaircasesandlandings.Elevatorshaftsplummeteddowntensofthousandsofstoreystothedepthsofthehive,theircarsnowheretobeseen.Withinthisouterlayerofroomsandpassageways,themainbody of the palace was a series of giant halls, designed expressly with thedisplayofpowerinmind.TheUltramarinesruledArdiumdirectly,andsotherewasnoplanetarycommander,buttheofficeofthegovernorwassacrosanct,andtherewereasmanydepictionsofvarioushistoricholdersof the title and theirheraldicbadgesastherewereoftheUltramarines.StatuesofUltramarinesnativetoArdiumlinedlonghallways.Justinianwasofthatworld, Felix recalled, but the creation of the Primaris SpaceMarines hadbeen a secret. No monument had been raised to him. Soaring vaulted roofsglitteredwithmosaicsofpreciousmetals,depictingthedeedsofancientheroes.In thesilenceof thedesertedpalace, theglitteringof theeyesof thefigures in

themosaicsgavethemasinisterfalselife.Evenso,decaywaslessprevalentinthePalaceSpire than in theSighingSpire, as if the statuesand thedevotionalimagesinthepalaceresisteditsprogress.Onlyechoesheldcourtthere,andthehootingwind.Therewerebloodstainsaswell, old and black, and combat damage to the spire itself, but therewere nocorpses.AllthedeadwalkedintheserviceofNurgle.The rumble of battle broke through the funerealwind, andFelix’s dwindlingforcepickedupitspace.HehadlostsevenSpaceMarines.Adozenmorewerewounded.HisApothecary’sgrimsilencetoldhimthatthegene-seedofthedeadhadbeentoopollutedtosalvage.‘Thisway,’saidSergeantLyceus.He led the strike force through a series of service corridors, plain andunadornedwaysnever seenby the lordswho inhabited thepalace.Lyceus ledthemupwards.Thesoundofrocketfirerusheddownthestair,andtheyemergedontoawidemezzanineoverlooking thepalace’svast feastinghall.AgroupofDeathGuardheavyweapons trooperswere firingwith impunitydown into thecombat ragingon themain floor.Lyceusheldupa finger tohisgrinningskullmouth. He and his men stole forwards, attacking the Heretic Astartes frombehind.Twodied,guttedbypowerbladesbeforetheycouldreact.Felixhadhismenshootdownthemosttroublesome,apurple-facedchampionwithaclubbedclawforafist.Theenemydealtwith,Felix’sforcetooktheirplace.In the audience chamber, battle raged. Felix assessed the situation quickly.LieutenantAstium’sforceswereheavilydepleted;Tobias’squadslookedtohavearrived later. The Death Guard fought ferociously, their peculiar specialistschoking the air with poison fog and plague spores. Thankfully, the PrimarisSpaceMarines’MarkXarmourkeptthiscargoofdiseaseatbay,buttheswirlingmistsmadeamockeryoftheirtargetingsystems.‘Agoodposition,’saidFelix.‘Purposefullychosen,’saidLyceum.‘Iwillrejointheothers.Wearemoreusedowntherethanweareuphere.’Felix nodded, and bid him good fortune, then ordered his warriors to creepforwards,readytofiredownattheenemy.Athiscommand, theyunleasheda torrentofdeathuponthefoe,slaughteringmanywheretheystood.Severaltookdozensofhitsbeforetheyfell,butfalltheydid.Forcedtodividetheirownfirebetweenthetwogroupsinthefeastinghallandthenewcomersuponthebalcony,theDeathGuardwerehardpressed.

‘Brothers!Victoryiswithus,’calledFelix,amplifyinghisvoxsignaltobreakthroughtheenemy’sjamming.AstiumandTobiashailedhimwithgrimjoy.TheDeathGuardwerecaughtinacrossfire,andthetidebegantoturn.ButtheforcesofNurglewerenotbestedyet.Abelltolled,perturbingthepoisongases.Unbelievably, theclangingbell shook thePrimarisSpaceMarines.Bolt rifleswavered and dipped. Warriors looked to their brothers questioningly. Felixrecoiledasifstruck.Thebell’snotewasapoisonallitsown.Therewerepromisesthereamongthetolling.Embracemymisery,itsresonancesang, sinking into the meat of Felix’s brain, and enjoy an end to all futuremiseries.Throughthemeleebelow,agrosslyobeseplaguelordadvanced,abronzebellhanging from a crook of black horn suspended over his powerpack. The bellswungslowly,and itsclapperstruck themetal.Anotherdolefulpeal rolledoutoverthebattle, invigoratingtheDeathGuard.TheeffectontheSpaceMarineswasdebilitating.Hisshotsgoingwidefromahandsuddenlyweak,Felixreeledbackfromthemezzanine’s edge. Black thoughts filled his head, taking him away from thebattle. He was tormented with visions of his own death, his mighty Primarisbodyundonebydiseaseandage, reduced toa tremblingague-smittenshadow.The world fell away, and he found himself wracked with sickness in a greyplace.Hisarmourwascorrodedandnon-functional,adeadweightonhisswiftlyweakening frame, and hisweaponswere breaking in his hands, scorching hisnostrilwiththeharshchemicalreactionsofoxidisingfycelineandfailingenergycells.Therewasaflickerofheatinthereactoruponhisback,butittoowasfading.Hetriedtostand,buthecouldnot.Hewasdying,dyingfromoldageandneglect,andtherewouldbenoheroestoresurrecthimastheyhadGuilliman.Thebalefulhowlofthewarpawaited.Thebelltolledagain.Thereisreleasefromthissuffering,thebellsang.Thereisjoyinpain.Pledgeyourself to Father Nurgle and never fear mortality again. Become eternal,becomeavectoroflife.Jointheneverendingdanceandbemerry.AlightpenetratedthedismalworldthatFelixinhabited.Heliftedhisheadfromthegroundonhis age-weakenedneck and saw theglowing figureofCodicierMaximstridingthroughthegrey,hisbluearmouraspureassapphire,thegreen

shoulderpadofhisAuroraChapterinsigniaasbrightasvirginforestleaves.‘Standfirm!Paynoheed!Itisbutapoisonofthewarp!’bellowedMaxim.Hisvoicestrainedashespoke.Thecrystalrodsandtracksofhisaegishoodglowedwithfiercecounter-wychfire.Thebelltolledagain.Maxim’simageflickered.HeapproachedFelix.‘Captain!Youmustfinishtheherald,orweshallfail.’Felixraisedashakinghand,thelastfragmentsofrustyarmourfallingfromhisfingers.Maximgraspedhimarm,andsuddenlyhewasarmoured,youngandfullof thepowerof theEmperor.Thegreyworldcrumbledas ifmadeofdust.Hewasinthefeastinghallagain.‘Go,now!’saidMaxim.‘Ishallshieldyou.’Thebellrang.Felixtookthepsychicimpactwithagrunt.WhilethePrimarisSpaceMarineswerereelingfromthebell’sdolorouseffects,the Death Guard renewed their attack, regrouping while reinforcements madetheirwayinfromsomeofitsmanyentrances.Hehadtoactnow.Holdingalofthispowersword,heleaptovertheedgeofthebalustrade,landingin themiddle of his foes. He recoveredwell and barged past a Traitor SpaceMarine, desperate to slay the bell-toller before Maxim’s power gave out.Warriorscameathimbuthesmotethemdown,crushingthechestofonewithablow fromhis gauntlet, eviscerating a secondwith a reverse cut of his powersword.Heart, heart, head – the mantra for combat against other Adeptus Astartes,doublyimportantwhenfightingtheresilientDeathGuard.Despite their toughness, Felix cut them down economically, guarding hismovementsagainstexcessiveflourishesthatmayexposehim.Abriefburstfromhisboltstormgauntletmashed theheadofabloatedgiantwhosearmour jointssported fringes of tentacles. The traitor fell to his knees, his additional limbsspasmingandfallinglimp.Thebellringerwasametreaway.Felixwastallerthanthetraitor,butwithfarlessmass; the bellringerwas a swollen horror, bloatedwith unnatural diseaseandfellpower.Hiscrackedarmourstrainedtocontainhisbulk.Diseasedhornssproutedfromhisback,thebellhangerbutoneofthem,andtheywerepartofhisbody.Afilthytabardhungfromhisarmour,yellowedbysmokepouringfromacenserathiswaist.FelixleaptontothecorpseofthetentacledSpaceMarine,usingthebackpackasaspringboardtolaunchhimselfathisfoe.Thebellringerloosedashotfromhisplasmapistol,andaglobularsunhowledpastthecaptain’sear.Felixletflywith

hisboltstormgauntlet,theshotsringingthebell,thenbroughthispowerswordupandbackforamightydownwardscut.Theblade’spowerededgesankdeepintothetraitor’sthickarmour,bringingforthawashofblackbloodandaringinggrunt,morebellchimethanvoice.Thetraitorstaggered,hismotionsettingthegreatbellonhisbackintoanotherswing.SoundwavespummelledFelix,piercingthepsychicprotectionofMaxim.His auditorydampersburst.The scentof friedelectronics filledhismask, andhisearsbled.Asecond,smallerbellhungfromthetraitor’shand.Heswungitlikeaweaponat Felix’s head. Felix recovered quickly, his Primaris physique, aided by theCodicier’spsychicmight,purgingthegreatbell’seffectsfromhismind,andheswung his power sword, cleaving the bellringer’s hand from his body. Blood,thick and slow as tar, congealed at the stump. Felix levelled his sword, andrammeditashardashecouldatthetraitor’schest.Asparkingfurrowsplitthearmouras thepointscrapedacross theroundedchest-plate,setting the traitor’stabardaflame.Itbitnearthebellringer’sarmpit,andpenetratedthemetaltotherotten meat beneath. Felix put all his weight onto the sword, and pushed itthroughhis enemy.Metal squealedonmetal.Thedisruption field crackedandbanged.Stinkingsmokewispedfromthewound.The traitor roared,andflailedonceagainwithhissmallerbell.Felix releasedhisswordandpunchedhardwithhisgauntlet,cavinginthetraitor’shelmet.Asthebellringer fell,Felixyankedhissword freeandswung,cutting through thebell’ssupportinghorn.Itfellwithamutedclank,andwassilent.Instantly,theeffectofthebellvanished.ThePrimarisSpaceMarinesrecoveredtheir wits and attacked with renewed vigour. Death Guard fell by the dozen,thoughthecosttotheUltramarineswashigh.‘Onward!’shoutedFelix.‘Onward!Tothechapel!’Bladeandfistswinging,Felixbattledhiswaytowardthechapel’shighdoors.Seeingtheirleadersofaroutaheadofthem,thePrimarisSpaceMarinesletoutawar shout and pressed on, bludgeoning their foes with rifle butt and combatbladewhentherangebecametooclosetoeffectivelyfire.Cuttingtheheadfromapower-fist-wieldingplaguechampion,Felixmadethechapel doors first. He raised his sword and shouted, ‘For Guilliman! ForUltramar!FortheEmperor!’Thebattlewasdonesoonafter.

FelixsetarearguardbeforegoingintothechapelwithMaximandGerrundium.

Thedeadweremovingstill.Theirprogresswasslow,buttheywerecomingoninexorably.Havingpositionedhismen,Felixreturnedtothefeastinghallandthedoorwaythat led into the chapel.Maxim solemnly pushed open the door, and togethertheywereconfrontedbythedaemonicmechanismofMortarion.Allfittingshadbeenstrippedfromthechapel, leavingitabarechamberwithchippedwalls wheremosaics had been torn free andmurals smashed. Plastercrunchedunderfoot.Plinths empty of statues held strange alembics. They bubbled furiously,emitting cool smoke that smelled of sickness. They were arrayed at preciseintervals,seveninall,surroundingahugethingmadeofbrass,wickednessandglass.Itslowerpartwasanimmensehalfglobe,fullofswirlingblackparticlesthat,oncloser inspection,proved tobeevil-tempered flies.The smokesof thealembics were conveyed to this chamber by tubes of moist leather, thoughwhetherthiswastofeedortokillthefliescouldnotbediscerned.Towering proudly from the seethingmass of bottled flies rose a complicatedmechanism of verdigrised bronze and brass. Seven cracked white dials weremountedontheupperparts,theirfacesdividedintosevenportions.As technology, the machine’s exterior appeared elegant but primitive,somethingfromabackwardworldofsteamandclockwork.Inthecentrewasanetworkoffluidcircuitryofmoresophisticatedalienmanufacture,thoughwhatthatheld insidewas themostesotericandprimitiveofall.Thexenoscircuitryencasedaglowingshardofwhat looked likestone. Ithadnodeliberateshape,appearingnatural,oratleastcreatedusingpoorlyrefinedgrowingprocesses,butthecurveofit–thebladedendandtheknottedpartsspaceddownitslength–suggested a monster’s finger hacked from a cruel talon. Spiral wires wereplugged in to crudely drilled holes in several places. Crowning it all wascomplicatednetworkofgearsthatdrovethreebrassorbsaroundandaround,likeanorrerydepictingasystemofafewplanets.The combination of sciences was bizarre. Suchwas themix of technologiesemployed in the machine’s creation, from the most advanced secrets to thelowesttechbase,thatwereitnotfortheachinggreenglowcomingfromit,andthe sense of palpable evil that accompanied this fell light, it could have beentakenforsomedramatist’sstageprop.Clockwork tick-tockedwith fussyefficiency.The flies’buzzingset theSpaceMarines’ teeth on edge, but worse was the hum coming from the rotatingspheres.

‘Itisaclock,amonstroustimepiece,’saidMaxim.‘Awarpthing.’‘Canyoudiscernhowitworks?’askedFelix.‘In some profane manner, time itself is sickened by this device,’ saidGerrundium.‘Canyoufeelit,mybrother?’MaximaskedGerrundium.‘Howitreachesoutfromhere,castingashadeovertheplanet?’‘Iseeitasastain,manyarmedandominous,thatembracesalltoitsdarkness,’repliedGerrundium.‘Suchevil,’saidMaxim.‘Andit isnotconfinedonlytothisroom,oreventoArdium alone. Its influence spreads throughout the sector, linkingworlds in adarkwebofdiabolicalcause.’Maxim’shandtracedthroughtheair,pointingoutsomething invisible to Felix. ‘It is this that destabilises the star-realm ofUltramar,allowingtheleakageofthewarpthroughspaceandtime,returningthedeadtounlivinglifeandtemptingthefaithfulfromtherighteouspath.’‘Howcanamachinedosuchthings?’askedFelix.‘It isnotamachine,’ saidMaxim. ‘Not inour sense. It looks likeamachine.There is xenos deviltry here besides the machinations of Chaos. Aeldari,perhaps. Those parts are tormented…’He paused. ‘Like they are a piece of adevice made to function contrary to its intended purpose. But it is mostlywarpcraft.ThisdevicewascertainlycraftedbyMortarion,thefallenprimarch.Ithasthehallmarksofhiswork.’‘ThenLordGuilliman’sinformationwascorrect,’saidFelix.‘Isitsafeformywarriorstoentertheroom?’‘Safeenough.Thedevicehasaperfidiouspurpose thataffects themindsandsoulsofmortalmen.Ourwarriorsshouldbeimmune,solongastheyfocusanddonotlosethemselvesasyoualmostdid,captain.’‘ThenIwillcalltheminandhavethisthingdemolished,’saidFelix.‘Wehaveseen enough.The dead are at the doors of the Palace Spire. Iwill call in ourtransports,assoonasthismachineisinfragments,andwewillleave.’

CHAPTERNINETEEN

THEMYCOTAPROFUNDIS

Thelong-deadbuildersoftheEndurancewouldnolongerrecognisetheinteriorofthebattle-barge.Tenthousandyearshadpassedsinceitskeelhadbeenlaid.Buttime,evenofsolongaspan,wasnotresponsibleforitstransformation.Thick, poisonous vapour swirled through its corridors, growing thicker thehigheruptheship’sdecksonewent.Attheveryheightsofitsrottencommandspires, the gas displaced the air, andwould kill amortalman in seconds.Thecowed tribes whomade up the ship’smortal contingent were confined to thelowerdecks,where theair approachedbreathableand the fogwasconfined toceilingsofthehighesthalls,snakedandcoiledamongthecorrodedducts.Evenso they lived terrible, shortened lives, their lungs rotting from themoment oftheirfirstbreath.TothedaemonprimarchMortarion,theairwasinvigorating.Hestrodethroughitscomfortingbillows.Hisrobesentitintoastormofcomplicatedcurlswherethree-lobedsigilsandgrinningskullsmightbeseen,thoughonlyforamoment.Inthehighlevelshewalked, themistwasliquidthickandhidthesidesofthecorridors.Glintingdropletsmadeuptheclouds,condensingonmetalandflesh,andmoisturebeadedtheprimarch’sclothes.OtherpartsoftheEndurancewereswelteringasequatorialswamps,buttheheightswerechillasmountaintops,andhere daemonkin, immune to the effects of the toxic air, took the place ofwretched humans as crew. The air aside, the machinery of the vessel in theheights required a certain touch. No mortal effort could ensure its smooth

running.Coiled, organic tubing took the place of metal pipes. Taut nerves replacedwiring.Rotting brainmatter stood in place of circuitry nexuses, and daemonstrapped in warded pots did the work of cogitators. A thick plaque of pulsingfleshcoveredoverthewallsandmadethefloorsoftunderfoot.Whereithadnotbeen subsumed, the steel and iron of ancient Imperial work was flaked withcorrosion. Blackened plastek peeled from wiring. Everywhere was a state ofdecay.ThefleshypartsoftheEnduranceteemedwithdiseasethatbrokeitdownanddigesteditasquicklyasitgrew.Greatpatchesofitwereblackwithputrescence.Crops of livid cysts throbbed on thewalls, trickling oilwhere they had burst.Therewereroomswherethefleshhaddied.Theremaggotsfellasrain,andfliescloggedtheworkings.Wholedeckshadbeenovertakenbyfoetidjungles.Otherswere thickwith slimewhere unnatural ecosystems had succumbed to virulentplagues, for the interior of the Endurance was a small part of GrandfatherNurgle’sGarden,dugupand transplanted into the fertilegroundof themortalworld.Itwasavitaldecay.Theshipstillfunctioned.Itstillmovedthroughspaceasithadbeenmadeto.ItquiveredasitsancientenginestackspusheditvigorouslyfreeoftheMacraggeSystem.Mortarion’spersonaldomaindifferedinformtothechaoticmachine-lifeoftherestofhisship.Hecametoadoorcoveredwiththrobbing,vein-likeivy.Apassofhiscadaveroushand,and thedooropenedforhim,sending thechokingfogintoaswirlingdance.Onthefarsidewasnothingbutcold,baremetal.The ancientmagiwhohadbuilt theEndurancewould have recognised thesehalls.Theywererusty,pockmarkedbyacidburnsfromthecorrosivemists,buttheylackedthefleshyvitalityofotherpartsoftheship.Mortarion emerged into a spire whose floors had been cored out to make asingle, towering space.When completed, the alteration had sported decorativegargoyles,andfantasticallydetailedrailingshadedgedthewalkwaysformedbytheedgesoftheremovedfloors.Thatwaslongago.Thestatueswerenownubsofiron,therailingsdissolvedtopaper-thinfretting.Thefogwasatitsthickestatthe tower’s peak,where it formed clouds thick enough to rain.A light, acidicdrizzlefellfromonhigh.Puddlesofitsatinconcavitiesithaddissolvedinthefloor.Mortarionstoodatthebaseofthetower.Withitsinteriorstructureremoved,the

true scale of an Imperial battleship was revealed. This single tower was ahundredmetresacross,andthreehundredhigh.Heraisedhishandsandtiltedhisfaceupwards.Hisyelloweyesclosed,andhelettherainfalluponhisface.Itraningreasytrailsaroundthebreathingmaskembeddedintohisflesh.With a gurgle of pleasure, Mortarion shook out his double wings. Theyresembled those of a giant fly, veined and diaphanous. After a couple ofexperimental twitches, Mortarion set them into blurring motion, and he rosesmoothlyfromtheground.His wings made a noise as loud as a hundred chainswords revving, but hemovedserenely,hislongrobestrailingafterhim,drippingwiththeliquidstheyhadaccumulatedonhiswalkthroughtheship.He rose to the tower’s top where a pier extended from one wall. It was socorrodedbythefogthatitshookashelandeduponit.Hefoldedhiswingsawaybackintohisrobe.Ashewalkedthepier,itswayedandsquealed,lettingoutashowerofrust,butitborehimsurely,andhearrivedatthedooratthefarend.Anotherpassofhishandssentthedoorgratingintothewall.Hewentthroughontoasetofwroughtironstairsthatcurvedupinsidetheskinofthespire.Therewereholesinthehulltherethroughwhichshonethesteadyburnofstars.Butthemistwasunaffected; the airwasunaffected;Mortarionwasunaffected.Wheredecompressionwindsshould rush, therewasdankstillness.TheEndurancenolongerobeyedthestricturesofreality.Afinaldooropenedintothelastchamberremaininginthetower.Ithadbeeninages past the spire’s viewing dome. Now it was Mortarion’s horarium, hisretreat,hissanctuary.AhomeawayfromhomewhenhewasforcedtoleavethecomfortinglandscapesofthePlaguePlanetbehind.HehadneverthoughttoleavetheEyeofTerror.Itamusedhimthathehad.Itwasgoodtobeabroadagain.The armourglass dome still covered the top of the tower, though the petal-shapedpanesthatmadeitupwerebrokeninseveralplaces,andonewasmissingentirely. This did not affect the poisonous atmosphere, nor the temperature.Rather than the killing cold of space, the dome retained the chill of highmountains:unpleasant,butnotdeadly.If one looked past the reality-defying properties of the horarium, there werefour itemsofnote in thechamber.The firstwas itsvast arrayofclocks.Theyhung fromeverypartof thewallsbelow theglassof thedome.Theystood intocking ranks upon the floor. Small carriage clocks and giant gilded edificesunderglassdomesoccupieddozensoftables.Theirtickingresoundedloudly.A

newchimewentoffeverysecond,fortheclocksranasynchronously,markingastheydid the timeofmany layers of reality.Every fewminutes, the ringingofmany bells would coincide, and sound as a single deafening round ofmismatchedpeals.Thelargestoftheclockswastheseconditem.Occupyingthecentralportionofthe room,and twice theheightof thedaemonprimarch, ithad three facesandstoodonthreelegsworkedwiththetripartitesymbolofNurgle.Thelegsdidnotobviouslyrepresentthoseofanykindofbeast,fantasticalorotherwise,butweremade so that it crouchedover the floor, giving the impression itwas about tostrike.Itsfaceswereametreacross,andeachhadsevenhoursandthreehandswithpointersmadeintheshapeofflies.Thetimewasapproachingtheclock’smidnight.Amassivescytheonachainservedasapendulum.Itswishedacrossthespacebeneaththeclock.Realitysighedasthebladecutintotheverystuffofcreation,andeverytick-tockwasthedeathofsomethingfine.Thethirditemwascontainedwithinthegreatclock.Atopthetimepiecewasahugebelljar,coveredalloverwitharcanesymbols.Thelowerhalfextendedintothespacebetweenthetriplefaces.Theupperhalfmadealesserdomebelowthegreater. There was something inside: a prisoner. Its presence explained whymetaltubeswereattachedtoglassvalvesinthejar.Theyallowedcertainpoisonstobeintroduced,thoughnottokill.Thejarwasadeviceoftorment.The thing inside the jarwasno longeralive,but it could suffer.Streamersofcorposant moved behind the glass. As Mortarion entered the room, theycoalesced, becoming amonstrous alien face.Even indeath, the soul’s psychicpotencywasgreatenoughtostopamortalman’sheartbysightalone,andthenraise up his corpse to serve the creature, but toMortarion the killing scorn itbroadcastwasabalm.‘Goodday,father,’hesaid.Theprimarch’svoicewasghostly.Adeep,sighingwhisper.For a thousand years,Mortarion had pursued the soul of his adoptive fatherthrough thewarpwithpacksofbayingbeasts.Over the landscapesof insanityand through the kingdoms of dreams, the pursuit had gone on.Mortarion hadturnedhisfaceentirelyfromthemortalrealminthoseyears,sobentwasheonhavinghisfinalvengeanceuponthexenoscreaturethathadadoptedhim,usedhimandhadbeenslainbytheEmperorwhenMortarionhadfailedtokillhim.Imprisoninghisalienfather’ssoulhadbroughtMortarionamodicumofpeacetheEmperorhaddeniedhim.Thehuntwaslongago,andthenoveltyoftheprisonerhadwornoff.Thelord

of death paid no heed to his foster father’s glowering andwent to the clock’spendulum. He caught the scythe by the handle at the apex of its swing, andunhooked it from the chain. Without the scythe, the clock continued to tick,defyingthelogicofrealmechanisms.Mortarion weighed the scythe in his hand. ‘Silence,’ he said, naming theweapon. He ran his hand along the head. His dry hands rasped on the steel.Unlikemost other things aboard theEndurance, the scythewas freeof decay,andsharpasadyingwoman’scurse.Thefourthandfinalthingofnoteintheroomwasnotvisibletomortalsight.Ithadtobesummoned.Mortarionstoodunderthecentreoftheclock,extendedhisrightarmandopenedhishand.Heclosedhiseyesamoment.‘I calluponyou, loyal servantsof theGreatFather.Communewithme, inthenameofthesevenfoldpath.’The vapours in the room thickened about the spot directly below the clock’scentre.Mortarionsteppedback.HerestedhishandatopSilence’shead,hisrobesstirringinthestinkingwind,andwaited.Thefogwhirledfasterandfasteruntilitformedasmallvortexofblacklight.Thevortexthickened,takingontheshapeofatallfungus.Thefleshofitwasetherealtobeginwith,butgrewmoresolidwith every passingmoment. Once solid, the fungus grew unnaturally fast, itsroundedtipquestingupwardtowardsthebaseoftheclock.Fromthebottomofhis prison,Mortarion’s father watched it approach, recoiling as it wormed itswaywithintheclockandbumpedthebaseoftheglass,smearingitwithpoison.Blackmyceliumspreadacross the floor from the fungus’bulbousvolva.Theythreadedthemselvesacrossthefloor,swiftasserpentsandgossamerfine,risingup and engulfing the clocks of the room in a stringy, slimymat.Where theyencounteredMortarion, they engulfed him to hiswaist. The daemon primarchclosed his eyes, shuddering at their touch in a combination of ecstasy andabhorrence.Mortarionhadneverlosthisdisgustofwarpcraft.Thewinddropped.Thefunguscap,apaleandnarrowthingclaspedclosetothestalk,pulsedhorribly.Awet,mustysmellsuffusedthefog.Atonce,theclockswentofftogether,ripplingthevapourswithaviolentcarillon,andthentheyallstopped.‘Mortarion,’saidavoice.Thedaemonprimarchopenedhiseyes.Theywereshot throughwith the rootsystemsof the fungus, thewhitesveinedwithblack threads thatextended intotheyellowofhisirises.

Beneath theclockwasan imageofKu’gath: thePlaguefather,GreatUncleanOneand favouredofNurgle. Itwaveredas if seen througha jetof forgeheat.There were similarities with an Imperial hololith, but they were entirelysuperficial.Theheadlookedrealbehinditscurtainofheat,severedasifithadbeencarvedfromthebody,sothattheveinsandwaysoftheorganismcouldbeseenaroundtheedges,asifinananatomicalcrosssection.‘Plaguefather,’ said Mortarion. He bowed his cadaverous head. Ku’gathrespectfullyreturnedthegesture.Theraggedskinandexposedfatsofhischinscreasedunderhisjaw.‘Whereisthethird?Whereisyourwaywardson?’saidthegreaterdaemon.‘Iamhere,summonedbytheMycotaProfundisasisourbargain,’saidasurlyvoice.A second imagematerialised, this one of helmeted PlagueMarine, onehorn jutting from the brow of his malformed Cataphractii Terminator plate.Layers of diseased flesh, fat and bone, part merged with the being’s armour,werevisible,againas ifcutaway.Osseous tubes rosebehindhishead,andaninfernalbuzzingaccompaniedhiswordsthatthreatenedtodrownthemout.For all the racket of Typhus’manifestation, his contemptwas clearwhen hespoke.‘Gene-father,’hesaid.‘Myson,’ saidMortarion.His tonewas coolly indifferent,whereas his son’swasprovocative.‘Wearegatheredthen,thethreechampions,followersoftheseventhpath,mastersoflifeanddeath.’‘Not yet masters,’ said Ku’gath with a sorrowful shake of his great hornedhead.‘Unworthyacolytes.’‘Thetimeofyourredemptionisathand,’saidMortarion.‘Thesevenfoldwayopens.Thesevencampaignsof this invasionbearfruitreadytorot.RobouteGuillimanhasreturnedtoUltramar.’Ku’gathgaveaslylookofdelight,almostasmile.Typhuslaughed.‘Youarefoolish,mylordfather, ifyouthinkthiswillendwell,’saidthefirstcaptain.‘Weshouldhavefinishedhisrealmwhilehewasabsent.’‘Typhus,Typhus,’ saidMortarion. ‘So longyouhave lived,andso little youhavelearnt.Whatuseisthedestructionofakingdomwithoutthedeathoftheking?’‘A kingwithout a kingdom is no king, but a vagabond.His sufferingwouldhave been pleasant meat to savour,’ said Typhus. ‘You court disaster inconfrontinghim.Thisemploymentof theHandofDarkness isconvolutedandfoolhardy.Simplicitywas thewatchwordofourLegion– thedirectattack, the

weathering of pain, not this deviousness. This was not the plan of the GreatFather.’‘It is my plan!’ saidMortarion, his gloomy voice rising stridently. ‘And itssuccesswill honour theGreatFather.He entrusts uswith ourwill and ourinitiative.Iwillusemine.Hewillbepleased.’‘If you succeed,’ said Typhus. He looked around the horarium disdainfully.‘You are blinded by the past as always, my lord. You look to Barbarus andremake it wherever you go. Embrace change fully. Embrace Chaos. Abandontheseschemes.LetusdrownUltramarindiseaseandmoveon.’Mortarion flung up his arms and spread his wings. ‘I have, and this is myreward!Iamremadeinterribleimage.Iambecomedeath!’‘Youdonotbelieve.Nottruly,’saidTyphus.‘Youhavepaidnothingforyourpower.ThefalseEmperormadeyou,gene-father.Nurgletookyouasaprize–you are a trophy, my lord. You would never have found your way toenlightenmentwithoutme.Withoutme,youwouldhavenothing.Youwouldbedead,yoursouldispersedintothewarp.IfoughtmywayintotheGreatFather’sattention.Ibecamehisheraldbywillandbythedintofmyownefforts.Whathaveyoudonetowinhisfavour?’‘Curbyourinsolence,’saidMortarion.‘Orwhat,mylord?IhaveNurgle’sfavour.Youwouldnotdaretomoveagainstme.Youthinkthatyouareincontrol,thatyournewbeingisseparatefromthewarpandyourstodowithasyouwill.Itisnot.ItisNurgle’s.Youmustsubmittohimfully,orGrandfatherwillhavehardlessonsforyou.Thisplanofyours,toleadyourbrotheronNurgle’sdance,itisill-conceived.Ifwemuststrike,strikenow.We should gather our fleets and cripple his forces while they gather atMacragge.Donotallowhimtheluxuryoftimetoconsultwithhiswarriors,orconsolidatehisposition.’‘Donotpresumeto tellmewhat todo,’ saidMortarion. ‘Youwillworkwithus.’‘IwilldoasIplease,’saidTyphus.‘Ifonlyyouwouldabandonthelastofyourbeingtothelordoflife,youwouldsee.Youhavenopoweroverme.Youdonottrulyunderstand.Ifyoudid,thenyouandImightbereconciled.’‘Do you level the same criticism against Ku’gath, first captain?’ saidMortarionicily.‘Youdarespeaktohiminthatway?’‘Heisasflawedasyou,inhisownway,’saidTyphus.‘Maudlinwhereyouarenostalgic.’Ku’gath nodded dolefully. ‘You are right! I am unworthy. So unworthy. I

cannothelpit.’‘AllKu’gath cares for is setting right the losshis birth caused,’ saidTyphus.‘HeatleastdesirestohonourNurglethroughhisefforts,andsocanbeforgiven.You seek to honour yourself. You do your ownwork with this fool’s errand.Givehimadaytoomany,andRobouteGuillimanwilldefeatyou,andweshallloseallhopeofbringingUltramarwithinthewallsofNurgle’smanse.’‘Youwillobeyme.Youwillfollowourplan,’saidMortarion.‘IrequireyourvectoriumatEspandor,whenthetimecomes.’Typhussnorted. ‘Youcannotcommandmeasyouoncedid. I amhigh in thefavourofthePlagueGod–equal toyouinhiseyes, ifnothigher.Whowasitwho delivered him the Death Guard? It was I, not you. You still do notunderstandthetruenatureofChaos.Ido.Iamfollowingourplanasoriginallyformulated. The blessing of theGreat Fatherwas on that strategy, not on thisquest for vengeance. You deceivedme,Mortarion. You intended to playwithyourbrotherallalong.ThiswilldispleasethePlagueGod.Iwillcontinueasweoriginallyagreed.Iwillhavenopartinthisfolly.’‘IfyouwillnotcometoEspandor,youwillbeatParmenio.Thenumbersdonot lie, my son. It is calculable. Great Nurgle will command it is so. It ispreordained.’‘Maybethereishopeforyou,’saidTyphus.‘Moreandmoreyoudabblewiththe warp’s true power. Perhaps one day you will master it, and leave yourbitterness against yourBarbaran father behind you.But you arewrong if youbelieve that Iwill fight at your side.Youhaveno real foresight. Iwill not bethere to help you, no matter what your numerology says. And now I go. Bewarned,littlefather–IhavetheearoftheGreatFatherhimself.’Typhus’imageblurredandvanished.Thepartof themyceliummatsupportinghiswarpghosttwitchedanddecayedintoputridslime.Mortarionstaredlongandhardatthespacewherehiswaywardsonhadbeen.‘Andyou,Ku’gath,’saidMortarion.‘Areyouagainstmealso?’‘Istandwithyou,favouredsonoftheGreatFather,’saidKu’gath. ‘Youseethe chance for revenge, I for redemption. Togetherwemay serve ourselves,andthewillofPapaNurgle.’In the main, daemons were beyond the comprehension of men. Many werebizarrethings,theirmotivesinexplicableeventoMortarion,whowasnowmoredaemonthanhumanhimself.Ku’gathwasdifferent.Hisprofoundregretmadehimrelatable.Themiseryhewallowedinwassomethingmankindknewonlytoowell,andMortarionknew

miserybestofall.‘Yourplanisworking,’saidthedaemon.‘Thedeadwalkacrosstheworldswefoul.ThepeonsofUltramarhavehad theireyesopened to their slaveryandshaketheirfistsattheirbluemasters.Weshallcombineforceswhenthetimeis right. We shall prevail. I need but a littlemore time to perfect my newconcoction.Everystrainofthegalaxy’sfinestdiseasescontributetheiressencetoitscreation.Therehasneverbeenanythinglikeit.’Hisvoicecameclosetoenthusiasm. ‘Itwillbeasdevastatingasyoudesire,andmore so– the finestplague, enough to slayademigod!Delay theprimarch.Keephim from Iax.Rothisempire,andwhenheisfullofdespair,weshallstrike,andweshallkillhim.’Ku’gathwithdrew from the communion.More of themyceliummat fell intodecay.Mortarion pulled himself free of the clinging tendrils, and with a wetrustle it shrank in on itself, shrivelling up to nothing. His eyes cleared. Thefungalspikeintheroom’scentrecollapsedintoamoulderingheapthatrapidlydeliquescedintostinkingwater.Mortarion walked across the slippery floor and hung Silence again upon itschain.Heheldthescythe’sheadinonehandandpetteditbeforedrawingitbackacrosstheroom.‘Soon, Silence, we will reap the greatest prize of all – the death of mybrother!’Hesetitswinging.Thegreatclockrestarted.Theirkingtickingagain,sodidalltheothers.‘Whatdoyouthinkofthat,father?’saidthelordofdeath.Thesoulintheflaskscreamedathimandracedarounditsconfinement.Themachinesconstrainingitbuzzedwiththeadditionalstrain.‘Shhh,’saidMortarion.‘Youwillneedyourstrength.Ihaveneglectedyoufortoolong.Ihavenewstimuliforyoutoenjoy,newpainsandsoul-fevers.Suchtimeswewillhave,youandI,whenthehatefulImperiumisoverthrown.Aneternity to explore the rotting of the spirit. The galaxy will be free ofstagnation, and there will be a riot of life in its place. The Emperor offersdeathinlife.Nurgleofferstheconstantrenewaloflifeindeath!Somanyofthe Emperor’s loyal subjects will join with us when they see how theirsuffering may be banished by embracing pain. Typhus says I do notunderstand,father.ButIdo,Iunderstandfarbetterthanhim.WithGuillimangone, the Imperium will be doomed. All glory to the generosity of FatherNurgle!Ithasbeenforetold,andIshallmakeitso.’Mortarionwenttostandbyabankofvalvesandwheelshiddenbehindanarray

ofclocks.Theactivatedworkingsconnectedtothetubesthatranintotheglassprison.Helethishandhoveroverthem,tormentingthespiritofhisxenosfatherwith anticipation of the soul-rotting poisons he might unleash. Under hisbreathingmask,what remained ofMortarion’smouth smiled.He let his handdrop.Leavingthewheelsuntouched,hedepartedthehorarium.ThethirdpartofMortarion’splanwasinmotion.HewouldleaveGuillimantohis victory at Ardium. On other worlds, in other places, Mortarion wouldweakenhim,poisoninghismind,bodyandsoul, justashepoisonedthemind,bodyandsoulofGuilliman’srealm.AndthenMortarionwoulddestroyhisbrother.

CHAPTERTWENTY

THECOUNCILOFHERA

TheFortressofHerahadchangedgreatlysinceGuilliman’stime.Thewallshadgrownoutwards,swallowingpartsofMagnaMacraggeCivitasbelowitandtheHera’sCrownmountainsbehind it.To thewest, ithad spreadas far asHera’sFalls. Their foaming rush had exchanged natural beauty for architecturalelegance.Whereoncewaterhad thundereddownasteepnaturalgorge,nowitwas constrained in a vertical channel of marbled stone. Slippery rocks werereplacedwithtallstatues,theirregularplungepoolbyasquarelakeedgedwithgreened bronze. The cliffs had been carved back. Statues stood in their stead,andshrinesinstackedclusters.The city was different, too. Flat land was at a premium on mountainousMacragge.Likeadisplacednation,whatMagnaMacraggeCivitashadlosttotheFortress ofHera’s encroachment it had taken from its neighbour.The seafrontwasover akilometre furtherout than it hadbeen ten thousandyears ago, andbeyonditsedgethePharamisOceanwasclusteredwithfloatinghabitats.Both fortress and city had lost much of what Guilliman remembered to thevagariesofwar.Ultramarhadbeen invadedmany timeswhileheslept,andasthe capitalworldMacragge had been targeted over and again. Tyranids, orks,andtheminionsofChaoshadalllefttheirmark.Thegrandtriumphalarchesofthe Great Crusade had gone, blasted down in one war or another, and lessermonumentshadtakentheirplace.Historyhadagreatinertia,andthelayoutofthestreetshadresistedchange,buteveryattackhadsweptawayanotherpartof

the past in piecemeal destruction. Pale shadows inmarble had supplanted oldglories.Therewereelements thathadsurvived.TheLibraryofPtolemywasone,andthe Temple of Correction another. Other landmarks had been rebuilt severaltimes.OneremainingfeaturewasthePlazaofAttendance,avastspacelikeaninvertedzigguratstampedintotheFortressofHera’srampartplateau.Thewallshadadvancedfromtheplaza,leavingitsomewayfromtheedgewherebeforeithadstoodatthebrinkofman-madecliffs.Thesidenearestthecity,onceopen,wasnowwalledwithafacelessarmoury.Thehallsattheeasternend,wherefora brief period the primarch Sanguinius had sat as Emperor, were long agodemolished.But the plaza remained, and it was upon this familiar ground that RobouteGuillimanelectedtoland.Itwasawindynight,andwet.EveryUltramarineonMacraggewasupontheterraces of the plaza, as were hundreds of dignitaries from many of thesegmentum’sworlds.Thehumansshiveredinvicioussquallingguststhatliftedceremonialrobesandexposedbodiestothecold.TheSpaceMarineswerestillas statues, their armour running with rain. Banners waved damply. Emblemsweresecrets in thedark.Fromthecity,celebratoryfireworksstruggledupintothedownpourandsearchbeamsshone,lightingupthenightinagloriousdisplayof colours and turning thebeating rain into falling jewels.Snatchesofmartialmusiccamewaveringthroughthestorm.Alleyeswereonthesky.Lightning flashed, lighting the clouds from within. Thunder rumbled. Morelightning burst, striking the tallest spires of the fortress.Underground engineswhinedastheyabsorbedtheunlooked-forpower,thehumansglancingnervouslyupwardsatgatheringrodsglowingwithheat.Throughthewind,theroarofalandingcyclemadeitselfknown,fadinginandoutofMacragge’sthunder.Suddenly, the primarch’s craft was there, emerging from the driving rain, aThunderhawk gunship chased with gold and heavily decorated with paintedbattle scenes.Floodlights snappedonbeneath it, and the shipcamedown inapoolofitsownradianceatthecentreofthePlazaofAttendance.A clarion blew sonorously. Cyber cherubs bearing silver instruments andbanners flewoutof access tunnels,werebuffetedby thewind, then recoveredand flewover theThunderhawk,where they struggled to stay inplaceas theyproclaimedthearrivaloftheprimarch.

‘LordGuilliman,LordGuilliman,MasterofUltramar,LordHighCommanderoftheImperium,sonoftheEmperor,ImperialRegent,LordGuilliman.’The door slammed down, and out strodeRobouteGuilliman.With himwerefiveAdeptusCustodes, two high-ranking Sisters of Silence, ten of theVictrixGuard, Captain Sicarus, Captain Ventris and, lost in the shadow of so manymightywarriors, sixofhismost importantcivilianaides,a tallPrimarisSpaceMarinefollowingbehindthem.Ahumanpriestinsimplerobescameoutlast.Hewas aman so slight, hemight have slipped between the cracks of the plaza’swornpavement.Theprimarchcametoahaltandaddressedhispeople.‘Ihavereturned,’hesaid.Onlythat.MarneusCalgarwalkeddownasoddencarpet tomeethismaster.TheemptypresenceoftheSilentSisterhooddraggedathissoul,butheignoredit.Behindhim marched Space Marines carrying the banners of all ten Ultramarinecompanies,AndronNeyattheirheadproudlybearingtheChapterstandard.Guillimanhalted.Calgarkneltandbowedhishead.‘Mylord,’hesaid,speakingloudlyovertherisingwind.‘Werejoicetoseeyouhomeagain.’‘Rise,lorddefender,’saidGuilliman.Calgar raised his face. Hewore no helmet. Rain streamed off grey hair andaround his bionic eye.He got to his feet, and he andGuilliman clasped theirhuge gauntlets together. Guilliman looked upon the Chapter Master with thegenuineaffectionofafatherforhisson.‘Wecanonlyapologisefortheweather,’saidCalgar.‘And I can only apologise for the lateness of the hour,’ said Guilliman. ‘Idesired tospeakwithyouallasquicklyas Icould.’He lookedupwards. ‘Fearnot the storm. This is a cleansing rain, and all Macragge’s moods are to betreasured.’HereturnedhisgazetoCalgar’sface.‘Ultramarisunderthreat,andthereismuchwemustdo.Ibelieveyouknowmostofmyfollowershere.Theseothers are Sister-Commander Bellas and Sister-Commander Aphone of theSistersofSilence.’Thetwowomenbowed,theirproudtopknotsstragglingintherain,streaksofwaterrunningovertheirshavedscalps.‘AndTribuneMaldovarColquanoftheHeiratokoileadsthisdelegationfromtheAdeptusCustodes.’Calgarbowed.‘ItisanhonourtostandbeforesomeonewhopersonallyservestheEmperor.’‘I serve whether I am away from the Imperial Palace or within it,’ said thetribune,aretorttoaninsultthathadnotbeendelivered.Hisvoicewasunfriendly

throughhisvoxmitter.‘This isCaptainDecimusFelix,my equerry.’The primarch indicated the tallPrimarisSpaceMarine.HeworethebadgesofanUltramarinescaptain,thoughhe had no company colours on his pauldron rims. Calgar would have beenshockedifaChapterMasterhadaddedanextraofficertotheChapterlikethis,indirect contraventionof theCodexAstartes,butGuillimanwas theprimarchandcoulddoashepleased.Guilliman proceeded to introduce his retinue of human aides and potentates,finally indicating the priest. ‘And this is Militant-Apostolic Mathieu. He isnewly appointed to the role. The incumbent died not long ago,’ explainedGuilliman.‘ChapterMaster,’saidthepriest.Heblinkedrainfromthecornersofhiseyesandsmiled.‘TheblessingsoftheEmperorbeuponyou.’‘Militant-apostolic,’saidCalgar.ItwascurioustoCalgarthatGuillimanshouldallowhimselftobeaccompaniedby a priest. The primarch had kept his first militant-apostolic as distant fromhimself as he could. As much as he disapproved of it, the primarch hadcomprehendedthepowerof theAdeptusMinistorumsoonafterheawoke,andthe office of militant-apostolic was a recognition of their influence, but theprimarch’s acceptance had gone no further than that. He had mistrusted theEcclesiarchyfromthebeginning.SoMilitant-ApostolicMathieu’spresencewasasurprise.MaybetheprimarchhadcometoaccepttheImperium’spriestsalittlemorewhilehehadbeencrusading.Acenturywasalongtime.‘Isthehallprepared?’askedGuilliman.‘It is, my lord.We await your council.We have refreshments, if youwouldprefertoeatfirst?’‘Letusbeabout themeeting.Feastingmustwait. I cannotafford tobeawayfromthefleetlong.’More engines screamed in the storm. All around the plaza, Thunderhawksdescended,andoutcameallofGuilliman’slordsofwar.‘Theothersarehere,’saidtheprimarch.‘Weareready.Letusbegin.’

TheStrategiaUltimawasinsufficientlysizedtoholdallthedelegates,andsotheedificationhadbeenarrangedintheHallofMaxellus,namedforthetwenty-firstChapterMasteroftheUltramarines.Thecold,dampsmelloftheoutdoorscamesteamingofftheassembledhostofpoliticiansandwarriors.Hugeheatingcoilshangingfromarchesdidtheirbesttowarmthecompany,butsucceededmainly

inraisinganinteriorfogthatranwetonthestonework.AtallstatueofMaxellusattheendofthehalllookedonsternly,ifbenignly.Hehadbeenrenownedforhis wisdom. Emperor alone knew what he would have made of Guilliman’sreturn,andthechangesthathadbefallentheImperiumsincehisday.MaxellushadlivedinatimeroughlyhalfwaybetweenGuilliman’sdeathandrebirth.Boththe32ndand41stmillenniawouldbeunrecognisabletohim.Guillimanwasaffordedtheplaceofhonour.AmassivebronzechairhadbeentakenfromthemuseumvaultsdeepundertheFortressofHeraandbroughtforthforhisuse.ThoughCalgarhadseentheprimarchinstasisandwasthusawareofhowphysicallylargehewas,theprimarch’sartefactshadalwaysseemedbiggersomehowthanthebeingtheyweremadefor,asifsizedforatitanfromagreaterage. They were sacred relics all, revered by successive generations ofUltramarines.TheUltramarinesdidnotpraytotheirprimarch,norveneratehiminanovertlyreligiousway.TheydidnotbelieveeithertheEmperororHissondivine,butanauraofholinessclungtohiseffectsnonetheless,andithadbeenthehabitofmanyChapterMasterstomeditateinthemuseumvaults,lookingforinspirationfromthethingsthathadknownthetouchoftheirgene-sire.To the primarch, the thronewas just another piece of furniture, a possessionreclaimed,asUltramarwas.Heuseditunthinkingly.Evennowhewasback,hiscasual attitude toward these ancient relics, although they were his, offendedsomethinginCalgar.Itwasaridiculousnotion.PresentinthehallweretheupperechelonsoftheImperialcommandstructurewithin Ultramar, which comprised the Ultramarines’ upper leadership, theChapterMastersoftheHowlingGriffins,theNovamarinesandtheGenesisandAuroraChapters, aswell as the first captainof theSonsofOrar and the thirdcaptainoftheMortifactors.TheInquisitionwerethere,aswereother,evenmoresecretive organisations.By lithocast, theChapterMasters of the Silver EaglesandtheLibatorswerealsoinattendance.Newshadcomethat theWhiteScarswereen route in force.Elementsof twenty-fourotherChapterswereeitherontheirwayorpresentinUltramar.Thesesmallerforceswereofvariedstrengths,ranging from a single squad to a company in size, and they had elected eightfurthercaptainsfromamongtheirtotalnumbertospeakforthematthecouncil.Ultramar’sKnightlyHouseswerealsowellrepresented,aswereitsforgeworlds,NavyandAstraMilitarumforces.GuillimanhadbroughtnumerousgroupswithhimfromtheIndomitusCrusade,includingtheheadsofvariousPrimarisChaptersfoundedatRaukos,aswellas

allhisothermilitaryleaders,whoallhadtheirownspokesmenandadvisers.MaldovarColquansatatGuilliman’slefthand,Calgarathisright.Themilitaryleadersoccupiedthefirstthreetiersofseatsaroundthecounciltable;therewereseveralhundredalltold,asvariedagatheringbutnotquiteasgrandastherehadbeen at the Triumph ofRaukos. In the remainder of the seatswere diplomatsspeaking for the governments of dozens ofworlds fromUltramar andGreaterUltramar.Ahuman-sizedtable,longenoughtorunthelengthofthegathering,hadbeenset up down themiddle. Itwas largely symbolic, for therewere far toomanybodies in the room for anyone to make use of it. Guilliman had expresslyorderedthatnohololithsorotherdata-projectiondevicesbepresent.Instead,thetablewasheapedwithancienttomesandmaps,symbolsofobligationassumedlongdefunctbymanyofthedignitariespresent.Calgar thoughtGuillimanwished tobe freeofdistraction.Lesscharitably,hethought his gene-father wanted to ensure that he was the sole source ofknowledgeintheroom.Ever sincehehad returned fromdeath,RobouteGuillimanhadbeenexertinghisauthorityinawaythatCalgarhadnevertrulyconsideredbefore.AsChapterMaster of the Ultramarines, Calgar was no stranger to power, and had onoccasion had need for the application of coercion and subterfuge to ensuresmooth runningof the realm.But itwasnothis realmanymore,andhe feltamodicumofdisappointmentthatRobouteGuillimanhadtousesuchtricks,thattheprimarchseemedso…autocratic.Ofcourse,Calgarwasanautocrattoo,aminoremperorinallbutname.Thatheaccepted,thoughitwasaburdentohavetobeso.Hehadhopedforbetterfromtheprimarch.AlthoughinhisgeniusRobouteGuillimanexcelledateverythingCalgar could imagine, in otherways hewas aworld away from the idealisedfigureCalgarhadimaginedallhislife.Autocracywasthenaturalorderofhumansociety.Therewasaleader,andtherest followed. So it had always been. The Imperium was predicated on thepreservation of this natural hierarchy. The disappointment, then, stemmed notfromthefactthatGuillimanwascapableofsuchbehaviour,andindeedseemedcompletelyateasewithit,butthatitwasnecessaryheshouldhavetoexerthisrighttohispower.Calgar had run the theoreticals and practicals of the primarch’s awakeningthroughhisheadmanytimesbeforeGuillimanhadcomebacktothemforreal.Itwasindulgent,wishfulthinking–daydreaming,even.Butwhodidnotwishfora

saviour in timesofneed?MarneusCalgar,whowas looked toasa saviourbybillions of people, had needed his own idols to put faith in. When he hadformulated his own versions ofGuilliman’smiraculous return, as hewas sureevery Ultramarines Chapter Master since the first had also done, he had notconceivedof events playingout as they actuallyhad.Hehadnot foreseen theresistancetotheprimarch’srule.Hehadnaivelyexpectedaprimarchtobeableto overcome the sheer inertia of Imperial government by dint of his presence.The primarch would return, and all men would fall into line, and obey himunquestioningly.Theywouldmarchtogether toconquerthegalaxy,puttingtheoldenemytotheswordanddrivingoutthexenos.Ithadnotworkedsosimply.Therewasdissension,differentinterpretationsoftheprimarch’sedicts–sometimeswilful–andtherewasdisbeliefandsuspicion.Guilliman’s rebirthhadcausedgreat rejoicingamong thepopulace,but lesssoamong those leaderswho risked losing their influence to his rule. Calgar hadrelied a great deal on the civilian leaders of Ultramar and beyond. RobouteGuillimanshouldnotneedto.Calgar had more faith than ever in his primarch. To see him living andbreathing among them brought a sense of wonder he had never thought toexperienceasaSpaceMarine.Ithad,tosomeextent,reinvigoratedthesenseofhisownhumanity.But the actionsof somepeople in the faceof theprimarch’s returnmeanthehad less faith than ever in his fellow man. Humanity’s short-sightedness andselfishnessdisgustedhim.Guillimanstood,banishingCalgar’strainofthought.‘Mylords,mygenerals,mycountrymen,’said theprimarch.‘FellowImperialcitizens, fellowwarriors ofmanyworlds, I bid youwelcome to this conclavetoday,attheheartofUltramar.’Guilliman’svoicerangstrongandclearoffthestoneofthehall.Toeverymanandwomanpresent in the assembly, itwas as if he spoke to thempersonally.Guilliman commanded attention like no other could. His words invited nodisagreement. He was forceful and strong, while appearing the epitome ofreason.MarneusCalgarwasamongthemostpowerfulmeninalltheImperium,andyetawe entered him as he imagined a time when eighteen of these beings hadtravelled thestars.Being ina roomwithmore thanonemusthavestruckmendumb.‘I have summoned you here to discuss the cleansing of Ultramar of my

brother’sforces,’theprimarchsaid.‘TheIndomitusCrusadeisdone.Asofnow,a portion of the fleets that constituted it have returned here for a time. I havecome to your aid. When I depart, this realm will be better defended, betterorganisedandmoreresilientthanithasbeenformanygenerations.’Calgarfelttheremarksweredirectedathim.‘I am saddened that those worlds attacked or overrun within our sphere ofinfluenceremainwithouthelpwhilethewargrindsonhere,seeminglywithoutresolution,’ Guilliman continued. He gave the assembly a grave stare. Eachperson there felt their failings exposed by his regard, and nonemore so thanMarneus Calgar. Failure was a new sensation to him, but he was becomingintimate with it. Under the gaze of the primarch he realised that his failuresstretched far into back time. The realisation robbed the glory from all hissuccesses.‘InthedaysoftheGreatCrusade,theworldsandrealmsassociatedwitheachLegionprovidedasolidbasefortheiroperations,andalinktothegreaterwholeoftheImperium.Mostwereparagonstobeaspiredtobyotherworlds,modelsofgood governance and a promise of the peace that would come to compliantworlds.Ultramarwastheverybest.Itwasrightlylaudedthelengthandbreadthofthegalaxyforitsfairness–ajustplace,whereeverycitizencouldlivefreeofharm.’Guilliman got up from his chair and unrolled a starmap upon the table. Hesmootheditgentlywithhisarmouredhands,andstaredatitamoment.‘I have read many histories. I recognise and am grateful that Ultramar hascontinuedintheroleIintendedsincethetimeofmydeath.Iamproudwithallthatyouhavedonetomaintainthetraditionsof justicethisrealmrepresents inanoftencruelgalaxy.Iamthankfulforthepreservationofthefreedomsenjoyedbyitspeople.Circumscribedbythegrimstateofaffairswefindourselvesinasthese admirable characteristics may be, Ultramar still remains an example toeveryothersystemintheImperium.’He tookadeepbreath,andrestedhis fistsupon thechart.Calgar lookedpastthearmouredhands.Thelegendonthemapread‘Ultramar’,butitwasnottherealmasherecognisedit.ItlookedtoincludealltheoriginalsystemsoftheFiveHundredWorlds,andmorebesides.Theterritorywasdividedintofive,distinct,colouredblocks.‘However,’saidtheprimarch,andatouchofsteelenteredhisvoice,‘Ishouldhave done better. By reducing Ultramar to a size that could be protectedeffectively by one Chapter while the Ultramarines fulfilled their many

obligationselsewhere,IreducedUltramar’seffectivenessasanexampleandasabastion.’Helookedup,asincerelookonhisface.‘Iwasmistaken.’Silence greeted these words. To most of the people in the room, he waseffectivelyagod,andgodsdidnotmakemistakes.‘Furthermore, my command a century ago that all treaties of independencewere to be immediately rescinded and the ancient Five Hundred Worldsreincorporated into this realm has not been fully enacted. The efforts toreconstituteGreaterUltramar–thatis,theancientFiveHundredWorlds–havenot proceeded aswell as I would have liked. I am angrywith those Imperialcommanders who will not submit to Ultramar’s rule. I am disappointed withthosecommandersthatpaylipservicetomycommandyetcontinuetoputtheirown interests above thoseofgreaterhumanity.Ultramarappears tobecomingbackintoitsoriginalform,butitisasham.’Severalrepresentativesofcertainworldslookedveryuncomfortable.Guillimanpointed an armoured finger at the star chart. ‘This is my vision for GreaterUltramar.Itwillbeputintoeffectimmediately.AsIcannotrelyonthegoodwillof local government to do my bidding, I am of today reinstating the ancientofficesof the tetrarchy.Fournoblemembersof theAdeptusAstartes,whom Ihave chosen as much for their acumen as statesmen as for their abilities aswarriors,willbeinstalledassectorcommanderstooverseethereorganisationofthisrealmalonglinesthatIandIaloneshalldecree.Theywillbeprovidedwithall authority to pursue my aims as they see fit, whether diplomatically ormilitarily.’Heletthethreathangontheair.‘Theywillfurthermorebeentrustedwiththedefenceofthesesectors,andwhenpeacecomes,withtheirrebuildingandfurtherdevelopment.’Thepeoplewaitedtheirprimarch’swordastowhowouldruleoverthem.Hegavethemaphisfullattention.‘Under my rule, the tetrarchs governed from the worlds of Iax, Occluda,SaramanthandKonor.Saramanthwasdevastatedsometimeago,Iunderstand,whileIaxhasdiminishedinrelativeimportancetothesystemsarounditandiscurrently occupied by the enemy. The seats of the tetrarchs were establishedearly in Ultramar’s expansion, and Iax and Konor are both proximate to thecapitalworld. In recognitionof these changes in circumstance, Iwill establishthenewtetrarchyuponthefollowingworlds.‘Konorwillacceptatetrarchasitslordagain.DespiteitsnearnesstoMacragge,thesituationatEspandordemonstratesthatadedicateddefensivestrategymustbeformulatedtoguardthenorthernreachesagainstfurtherincursionsfromthe

Scourge Stars, and, eventually, to push out and cleanse those systems of thePlagueGod’sfollowers.Tothisrole,IappointSeverusAgemman,FirstCaptainoftheUltramarinesandRegentofUltramar.’Agemmanstoodandknelt.‘Mylord,’hesaid,‘youdomegreathonour.’‘You will retain your rank and position within the Chapter, tetrarch, thoughyournewdutieswill beonerous,’ said theprimarch. ‘Rise,TetrarchofKonor,andtakeyourplaceamongthehighestoflords.’Agemmanreturnedtohisseat,hisbearingradiatingnewdetermination.‘Theotherworldsthatwillbearthisresponsibilityareasfollows.Andermungshall be the base of the second tetrarch, with responsibility over the southernreach.Tothisrole,IappointSecondCaptainPortanoftheGenesisChapter.’Portanstood,hisredarmourdarkinthehall.Hehelduphishandsinconfusion.‘Mylord,whathaveIdonetodeservethishonour?DoyounotwishtoappointyourownUltramarinestothesepositions?Iamoverwhelmed.’‘I have studied Chapter records of serving SpaceMarines among all of mysons, not only those of theUltramarines,’ saidGuilliman. ‘I have selectedmytetrarchsaccordingtotheirability,nomattertheirorigin.Icalluponthosewhoaresuitablefortherole,withoutfavourtomyownChapteroverothers.Youwhohavebeenchosenareworthyinmyestimation.Donotforget,thatalthoughyouwearredandcarryanotherChapter’sname,youtoobearmygene-code.Thatisall that matters to me. Your efforts in rebuilding the Diamat Cluster fourcenturiesagosuggestyouhaveallthequalitiesthepositionrequires.’‘Mylord,thankyou,’saidPortan.‘Youwillalsoretainyourtitleascaptain,thoughIrecommendChapterMasterEorloidpromoteanother tocaptainyourcompany.Thestricturesof theCodexshallbewaivedinthisinstance.’‘Asyoucommand,soshallitbe,’saidtheGenesisChapterMaster.‘Protos in the west will take the third tetrarch. To this role, I have assignedCaptain Balthus of the Doom Eagles. I have confirmation that he has beenreleasedbyhisChapterandismakinghiswaytoMacragge.’Guillimanpressedhis fingerat theedgeof themap.There,hisnewUltramarbowed out in a long, curving tail towards the Eastern Fringe, taking inmanyplanetsthathadnotknownMacragge’sruleforlongages.‘That leaves the eastern marches. This area, under the Sotharan League,remainedpoliticallyunifieduntilrecently,butsincethefallofSothaitselftothetyranids the League has been without proper guidance, and I hear troublingreports regarding its efficiency. This will change. Vespastor, three light years

fromSotha, is designated the new seat of authority there, and its tetrarchwillruleovertheSotharanLeagueandtheeasternshieldworldsbesides.’Guillimanlookedbehindhimathisequerry.‘CaptainFelix,PrimarisUltramarine,willtakecommand.’Felix, who was standing to the right of the primarch’s throne, lookedthunderstruck.‘Mylord,Iamnotqualified!’blurtedtheequerry.‘You are qualified because I say you are qualified,’ saidGuillimanmatter offactly. ‘I have been testing you ever since your records were brought to myattention.WhydoyouthinkIinductedyoufullyintotheUltramarinesfrommyUnnumbered Sons? I saw your potential a long time ago, Felix. I have beentraining you for this role. You have not disappointed me. I need a Primaristetrarch.AlltheSpaceMarinesintheeasternquadrantofUltramarwillbeofthePrimaris type, andmany others throughoutUltramar also. I cannot afford anydissensionbetweenthetwogenerationsofSpaceMarines.’Guilliman surveyed the room, looking between the differing sorts of SpaceMarine.‘Youmayprotestthatthiswillneverhappen,’hecontinued.‘ArchmagosCawlcanassuremethatyouaremadetobeloyal.Youoftheoldertypemayciteyourrecords of sacrifice and devotion, but I know the souls ofmen. I have heardprotestations of loyalty before, andwitnessed unintended slights burn them toash.Wherethereisdifference,thereisspaceforenvy,andenvyleadstoconflict.Iwillhavenoneofit.ThreeofthefourtetrarchswillbeSpaceMarinesoftheexisting type.Youwill accept this offer, Felix – the booksmust be balanced.Eighty-sixworldswillbeyours.Someofthemarelost,andyouwillrequireallthe arts I have taught you to recover them. It shall fall to you, as Tetrarch ofVespastor, to govern them all for the good of their peoples, and to be aspokesman for the Primaris Space Marines upon the Council of GreaterUltramar.Allofyoutetrarchshavesimilarburdens.’‘Mylord!’Felixfelltohisknees,hisarmourbangingloudlyonthestone.‘You, Lord Marneus Calgar,’ said Guilliman, looking to the UltramarinesChapterMaster,‘willcontinuetorulethecentralworlds,withtheexceptionofthoseinthesystemsofKonor,VeridiaandEspandor,whichshallfallundertheremitofthefirsttetrarch.Inthisway,Ultramarwillbedividedintofiveparts.’Guilliman’s support of him was sincere enough, but Calgar saw a scoldingbehindit.Atthatmoment,theemissaryfromOccludaspokeup.Hewasangered,bothby

his planet being passed over for the tetrarchy and because it should bereincorporatedinthefirstplace.‘Mylord,whatdoyoumean,thatmanyofthewarriorswillbePrimarisSpaceMarines?’heasked.Aglancefromtheprimarchhadhimhurriedlysittingdown.‘MyconcernsthatasingleChaptercouldnotprotecttheFiveHundredworldsremain valid,’ said Guilliman. ‘I have therefore decided to station eight newChaptersofSpaceMarines–createdrecentlyatRaukos–withintheboundsofGreaterUltramar.AlongwiththeUltramarines,andtheScythesoftheEmperor,whose territories fall within the fourth tetra, there will be henceforth ten fullChapterstodefendthisrealm.’Thisprovokedanoisyreaction.Guillimanignoredit,andcarriedon.‘Workwill be immediatelyundertaken to rebuild theScythesof theEmperorwith Primaris Space Marines. They will have responsibility for protection ofwhat iscurrently theSotharanLeague.Here,atCallimachus,weshallbasetheAvengingSonsChapter,andatHowsbridgethePraetorsofUltramarshallhavetheirhome–’Themurmuringbrokeoutintoaudibleprotests.‘YouwouldhaveyourownLegion?’saidafemalediplomat.‘Mylord,whatisyourintention?’‘YousayIhaveaLegion,’saidGuilliman,his tonedangerously low, ‘whenImyselfexpresslyforbidtheirformationoruse?’Thewomanhadachoice toeither sitdownor topress forward.Bravely, shechosethelatter.‘YourninedivisionsoftheUnnumberedSonsweresaidtobeaLegion.’‘Theywere not,’ saidGuilliman. ‘We dealwith semantics. TheUnnumberedSonswereorganised intoChapters, as are thenewdefenders ofUltramar.’Heswepthissteelygazeacrossthecrowdagain.‘Listentome.Myintentionistosaveyour lives,and theImperium.Putasideyourselfishconcerns.Negate thedisappointmentIhavefeltincommonhumanitysinceawakening.Showmethatmyhopesforourspecieswerenotunfounded.Impressmewithyourwisdom.’‘WhatabouttheImperialgovernors?’saidanotherdiplomat.‘Whatwillhappentothoseofworldswhotaketetrarchs?’‘Some of them are loyal,’ added another. ‘They willingly rejoined the FiveHundredWorlds,andnowyouwillremovethemandreplacethemwithAdeptusAstartes?’Chatterfromamongthehumancontingentintheroomswelledinvolume.The

SpaceMarinesremainedsilent.‘Mylord,’saidHerodian,thesonoftheHierarchofCallimachus.‘Thegalaxyhaschangedsinceyourtime.TheworldsofSpaceMarineChaptersareoftenoflowworthtotheAdeptusTerra.Theirtithegradesaresettonull.Deathworldsandthe like, theyarerecruitinggroundsonly.Callimachus isawell-developedplanet.Howsbridge,thoughlesserinimportanceandpopulation,isnobackwatereither.’Guillimanwasnotswayedbytheyoungman’spractisedtone.‘Iamchangingthings,’ he said, and his eyes became cold and hard as cometary ice. ‘TheChaptersstationedthroughoutUltramarwillbetaskedprimarilywiththerealm’sdefence. Callimachus and Howsbridge will be governed by their ChapterMasters, as will all other worlds where Chapters will be stationed. Do notmistakeme.TherewillbeaneedforciviliangovernorsjustasthereishereonMacragge. The existing planetary governors will be given the opportunity toretire after a period of ten years. During the handover period, they will becommanded to work with their successors to handle the transition. Oncecompleted, theirheirsshallbeoffered theopportunity toserveUltramaras theadministratorsofthoseworlds.Theywillrulestill.’‘Theywillnotbecommanders!’saidHerodian.‘WehaveservedtheImperiumfaithfullyforthreethousandyears.Isthistobeourreward?Myfather’stitlewasbestowedbytheEmperorhimself.’‘The title,’ said Guilliman, ‘was bestowed by the High Lords of Terra, whowere speaking on behalf of the Emperor. I am not speaking on behalf of theEmperor–IamspeakingwithHisfullandabsoluteauthority.UnliketheHighLords,IhaverecentlyconversedwithHim.ThisisanofferIadviseyounottorefuse,Herodian.’Many representatives began shouting then, their questions flying at theprimarch.Theirownpowerthreatened,theyseemedtolosealittleoftheirfearofhim.Poweriscorrosive,thoughtCalgar.Iterodesrespect.Iterodescommonsense.The delegates’ reaction strengthened his conviction that what Guilliman wasdoingwasright.‘Mypeople!’ theprimarchsaid.Hestoodupright.‘Mycaptains,mysons,myloyalcitizens,youdonotunderstand.Thesechangeswillbenefitusall,andintime will aid the Imperium. I intend to make Ultramar a model of what theImperiumcanbe.Lookbeyondyourownborders–youwillseeourempireiscrumbling! I will shore up the walls and make it great again. With the Five

HundredWorlds secure,we shall become a beacon of reason and hope. Fromhere,thereconquestofthegalaxycanbegin.’‘You do not intend to remain then?’ said Alvaro, Chapter Master of theHowlingGriffins.‘No,my son, not forever,’ saidGuilliman.He turned his face uponMarneusCalgar.Calgarstruggledtoholdeyecontact.‘Thetaskofpresidingoverallthetetrarchs I leave to you,MasterCalgar.You remainLordDefender ofGreaterUltramar.Youaretherulerhere,asyoualwayswere.Donotjudgeyourselfbymystandards.Iamaprimarch,youarenot. Imust lendyoutheweightofmyauthorityandthewarriorstokeepUltramarsafe.TheImperiumneedsUltramar,butitalsoneedsme.Icannotremainhere,butIwillleaveyouinapositionofgreaterstrengthwhenIleave.Wehavelostmanywarriorshere,andthreeoftherealm’ssixstarforts.Iwillletmyattentionlingeralittleonourhome,untilIamsatisfied.’Another subtle rebuke cloaked in kind words. Calgar bowed his head.Guilliman should not need to do this. Calgar should havemanaged the realmhimself;havingtheprimarchintervenewashumiliating.‘Asyoucommand,mylord,’saidCalgar.‘Andnow,tothewar,’saidGuilliman.‘MybrotherretreatedfromMacraggeatthefirstsignofmyships.ThesiegeofArdiumisalmostover.Iwillreturntheretoconcludeitsreliefwhenwearedonehere.Afterthesituationisstabilisedinthehomesystem,wewillcountertheactionsofthethreeenemieswhodaretoinvadeourrealm.Wemustattackoneveryfront,evenifitmeansdefeatwithincertaintheatres.Mortarion’sforcesmustbepreventedfrommovingtoreinforcethemselves.Theymustallbeoccupied.’‘Cutthemoffandcutthemintopieces,’saidQuentusCarmagon,ThirdCaptainoftheKnightsCerulean.‘Onlyyoucoulddothis,mylord.’‘Mypreferenceistouniteandlead,’saidGuillimangrimly.‘ButwhereIturnfrompeacetowar,Ishalldivideandconquer.’Hetappedthemap.‘Ishallrunmybrotherdown,andIshallkillhimforalltheevilhehasdone.IfIcouldslayhimahundredtimes,Iwould.Nosufferingistoogreatforhiscrimes,thefirstandgreatestofwhichwashistreachery.’‘Where first, my lord?’ asked Bardan Dovaro, Chapter Master of theNovamarines.‘Where first indeed.’Guilliman crooked a giant finger. The gates of the hallopened,andahololithemitterfloatingonasuspensorfieldwaspushedinbyapairofChapterserfs.AquartetofSistersofSilencebearingtallspearsescorted

it, each forming the corner of a hollow square around it. The machine wasguidedtoagentlestopnotfarfromthetable.‘Beforewe came here, I had Tetrarch Felix lead an expedition to the PalaceSpireofHiveCreostosonArdium,’saidGuilliman.‘Ineededtoknowhowmybrotheriseffectingthisplagueofthedead,andhowhisdaemonicalliesareableto cage themselves in false flesh so easily in the heart of our kingdom.’ Hepaused.‘TherearecertainwritingsthatrefertoanartefactknownastheHandofDarkness.Ibelievedthisdevicetobethecause.’‘Weknowofit,’saidCalgar.‘ItwastakenbyAbaddoncenturiesago,andusedbyhimintheGothicWar.SomelearnedmensayitallowedhimtosubverttheBlackstoneFortressesintheGothicSector.Thereislittleelseinourrecords.’‘Itisanancientdevice,fromaeonsbeforethefirstageofhumanityinthestars,’saidGuilliman.‘Hewhopossessesitcandirecttheenergiesofthewarpeasily,andonamassive scale.’Hepausedagain. ‘Ithascome tomyknowledge thatMortarionhasit–agiftfromtheDespoiler.’‘Fromwhichsourcedoyouknowthis?’askedCalgar.‘TheYnnarioftheaeldari.Theydidnotclaimthedeviceastheirs,butIsuspectit was crafted by their forebears. They have an interest in knowing itswhereabouts.’A murmur passed through the crowd. The aeldari had been instrumental inreturning Roboute Guilliman to life, but they were xenos, and could not betrusted.‘Peace,mypeople.Idonottaketheirwordatfacevalue.ItwasoneofmanythingstheirenvoysrevealedtomeduringmyjourneytoTerra.Theyinsistedthatthe dead walked at Abaddon’s command across the galaxy because of somesubversionofthisdevicebyMortarion.WhentidingsofthisnewplagueoftheunlivingafflictingUltramarreachedmeuponmycrusade,itgaveweighttotheirargument.Therebellionswehavebeensufferingaddedtomyconviction.Theyareamadness,andwhatismadnessbutamaladyofthemind?Observe.Sisters,activatethehololith.’One of the Sisters of Silence turned the device on. It thrummed powerfully.Loop projectors glowed as the emitter set up a limited-composition stream-projectionconethatglowedsilverandwhite.‘TheSisters standguardaround this thing to shieldyou from itspower,’ saidGuilliman.‘Evenanimageofithasthepotentialtocorrupt.’CombatfeedtakenbyFelix’shelmlensestookshapeonthehololith,displayingthestrangeclockfromthePalaceSpirechapel.

‘Nowsee,’saidGuilliman.Atapassofhishand,afurtherlayerwasaddedtothe image, a web of globular strands that overlaid one another and pulsedmenacingly.Theyweresuchadarkgreenthattheywerealmostblack.‘ThatdoesnotlooklikehowIimaginedtheHandofDarkness,’saidCalgar.‘Isaythatisnotit.’‘You are correct, LordCalgar,’ saidGuilliman.Hewas distracted, somewhatdistant, in his troubled state he unknowingly spoke down to the Lord ofMacragge. ‘It is not the Hand of Darkness itself, but a device created byMortarion using the hand’s power and knowledge he has prised from itsworkings. This network you see here is psychic in nature. It spreads all overArdium and beyond, reaching fromworld toworldwhere similar devices arelocated, aiding the armies of the Plague God. Codicier Maxim, please.’GuillimangesturedtotheChapterAurorapsyker.MaximrosefromhispositionamongtheassembledSpaceMarineleaders.Hehad come to themeeting bareheaded. Beneath the deep blue of his armouredcowlwas an oldmanwho had seen enough evil to last several lifetimes.Hissnowyhair played host to cables burrowed into his scalp. Power shone in thewhitesofhiseyes.Theywerecagedbywrinkledskin,toppedbyabrowcaughtinthecollapseofafrownthatwouldneverlift.‘I have felt this… uncleanness too closely,’ said Maxim. ‘The touch of itpollutesmymind still. Thismachine dirtied the psychosphere ofArdium likesepsisinblood.Mortarionhascreatedapsychicweaponthathasourpeopleturnagainsttheirrulersinthefaceofallsense,andthedeadturnagainsttheliving.Anet of corruption has been hung about Ultramar by the fallen primarch.Mortariondrawsitevertighter.Hesickenstherealminthesamewayheinfectsasinglemanwithhisphages.’‘LordTiguriushadsensedsomethingofthis,’saidCalgar.‘Wehadnoideaofthescaleofit.’‘Youdidnot,’saidGuillimanneutrally.‘Mortarion’sLegionwasfamedforitscommitmenttobluntassaultandanobsessionwithstayingpowerinthefaceofoverwhelmingenemyfire.Theywerecrudestrategiesbornofpride,andcostly.Buthe iscapableofsubtlety,andwhenhechooses thequietgamehe isathismostdangerous.’‘Itwouldexplainwhyhismovementshaveappearedsorandom,’saidCaptainTorkosoftheHowlingGriffins.‘Ifhewereplantingthesedevices…’‘Quite,’ saidGuilliman. ‘Myonce-brothermade these things.He is installingthemhimself.Heneverdidtrustothers.Considerhowyourdefenceshavefailed

in the areas Mortarion has been seen. The capabilities the devices grant himconcernme.Ifhecandrawsodirectlyupontheempyrean insomanylocales,otheroptionsmightbeopentohiminadditiontothecreationofundeadhordesand the poisoning of minds. The Cicatrix Maledictum’s influence should beweakhereinUltramar,butIfinditisnot.Mortarionisthecause.Theaidofhisdiseased master is always close to his hand. What is occurring on Iax, forexample, gives me great cause for worry. The daemons were brought there,somehow,throughthiswarpnetworkderivedfromtheHandofDarkness.’‘ThenweshouldgotoIax,’saidCalgar.‘Not yet.The creatures therewill be toopowerful to overcome.First, I shallleadImperialforcestoEspandor.Itwastherethatthewarbegan.Itistherethatweshallbeginthefinishingofit.’The hololith shut off. A collective sigh of relief whispered from the mortalmembersofthequorum.‘Espandor lies closest to the Scourge Stars,’ continued Guilliman. ‘It is acorridor for war materiel, a conduit through the warp. Through that system,Mortarion’s armies come, riding fast upon the empyrean tides of this filthwesawuponArdium.’Guillimanleanedbackfromthetable,hiseyesglintingwiththeprospectofrevengeagainsthisbrother.‘Byretakingthesystem,wewillcutoffMortarion’s ability to resupply his fleets. Ifwe can locate thesemachinesupon Espandor and disable them, the torrent of power sickening the soul ofUltramarcanbeclosedoff.Hisdaemonlegionswillstruggletoremainmanifest.Thedeadwillnotrisesoeasily.‘Oncehismortalforcesareisolatedfromoneanother,andwecanbesuretheywillnotbereinforcedbyuncannymeans, thenwemightbegintheirpiecemealdestruction. From what Captain Ventris told me at Raukos, the warriors ofEspandor Prime still hold out, but their days are numbered. I say now is themoment to lend them the full strength of our armies and retake the systemcompletely.InamethisendeavourtheSpearofEspandor.Letitbenoted.’Therewasnodiscussion,nosemblanceofinvitingdebate.TheImperialRegentstatedhis intention,and itwasaccepted.TheSpaceMarines in thehallwouldfollowwithoutquestion.Guilliman looked down at themap again. ‘I swear it shall be so, for all thepeopleofUltramar,andtheImperium.’

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

ESPANDORIATERTIO

EspandoriaTertio’s spireswere tantalisingvertical lines on thehorizon.Threeweeks of fighting had pushed the Imperial advance closer to the city, throughminefield,defencelineandtrenchnetwork.Thecitywasalmostwon,andwithittheeasternpartofthemaincontinent.Allthatlaybetweentheprimarch’sforcesandvictorywasthefinaldefenceline,moatedbyaseaofmudthatwasformerlythe RiverOderia. The river’s flowwas blocked inmany places, causing it tobackupanditswaterstoseepintotheearth.Theresultwasanexpanseofmuckwheresolidandliquidwereindivisible.WithinEspandoriaTertiowas the last, and themostpowerful,ofMortarion’swarpenginesonEspandor.Voidshieldsanddefencebatteriesmadeanaerialassaultimpossible.ThebattleforEspandoriaTertiowouldbewonthewaywarshadbeenwonsinceonemanhadhitanotherwitharockonthedustyplainsofoldAfrik.‘Forward!Forward!Forward!’Felixscreamedasloudhisaslungswouldallow.His battleplate amplified the cry tenfold, feedback pushing it to the edge ofincomprehensibility.Awaveofblue,green,gold,red,blackandwhitearmouredSpaceMarinesroseupandfollowedtheTetrarchofVespastorinahowlingline,chargingheadlongatthePlagueMarinepositionasiftheriverwerenottheretostopthem.DozensofPrimarisSpaceMarinesintheliveryoftheUltramarineswerearoundFelix,manyofwhomhadfoughtwithhimatArdium,includingSergeantHellicusand

SergeantTevian.TherestweregrizzledveteransfromthefirstUltimaFoundingreinforcements sent to Ultramar. Among them stomped Malcades, the firstPrimarisSpaceMarinetofallinUltramar,nowboundintothemassiveshellofaRedemptor Dreadnought. It was a towering thing, heavier by far than theprecedingpatterns.Together,thePrimarisSpaceMarinesboundedforwards,outpacingtheiroldercounterpartsanddefyingthecrateredmudscapetoclosewiththeirenemy.FlightsofdozensofLandSpeedersofmanyChaptershowledoverhead.TheirgraviticimpellersforcedsteepVsofliquidearthtosprayskywards,interleavinginpatternsofbriefbeauty.Felixfelt thepushof theirenginesas theyspedon,andfilthrainedonhimaftertheyhadpassed.HeavyboltersthunkedandbarkedfromtheLandSpeeders’topsides.Astheydrewclosertotheenemy,thesewerejoined by the whining scream of assault cannon rotary barrels, and thewhooshingroarofmeltagunsandrockets.Abunkeron the far sideof themud sea exploded in a cloudofgreen-tingedflame.SmallarmsfireroseuptomeettheLandSpeedersandchasedthemaway,breaking their formation apart.They jinked at incredible speed to avoid beingdowned, but a fewwere hit.Directly in front of Felix, one suffered a violentexplosionthattookitsleftengineaway.Smokingdebriscurledfromitsrear,andit tookasteepdive.Oneof the twocrew leapt tosafety; theotherwentdownwith his craft. It tore into the sodden earth with a dull crump, sending up acolumnofblacksmoke.‘Forward!’screamedFelixagain.Heandhisleadphalanxhittheriver’sedge.Thefilthhewaswadingthroughrapidlyroseuptohisarmpits.‘Forward!’ThemotivesystemsofhisAggressorarmourpushedhimonagainstthesuckofmud. His part of the advancewas driving into the worst of it, and the goingbecamehard.ItseemedEspandoritselfwishedtokeephimcaptiveandpreventhisvictory.‘Forward!’hecriedagain.Hisvoicebecameagrowlmatchingtheprotestsofhisarmourashestruggledagainst the drag of themud.Hewent over the edge of the river bank proper,hiddenbyneartwometresdepthofliquidsoil,andthemudsuddenlydeepenedtohisneck.Felixhalfswamforwards.Adeadmanbobbedtothesurfacewithasuckingbelch,hisrottingheadlollingonhisneck.Thereweremanydeadthere,decaying into the mud sea, their flesh becoming part of it. All were mortalhumansoldiery.Thediseasestheenemyspreadhitbaselinehumanshard.Felixfoundhimselfstrugglingthroughareefofbones;liquefiedfleshclungto

his armour.He sealedhisbreathinggrille against the stenchandkepthis eyesforward. Espandoria Tertio had been occupied by the enemy for months.Liberatingitwouldrepaythesedeadsoulsfortheirsacrificeinprotectingit.Keepyoureyesforward.Lookatwhatistocome,hetoldhimself.Thepast isdead,thepresentnearlyso.Onlyinthefutureistherelife.Theunknownawaitedthem.Orbitalpict-captureofEspandoriaTertiohadbeenimpossiblethroughthethickcloudsoffliesthatmaskedthecityinallweathers.Othermechanicalauguriesmetwiththesamelackofsuccess.Psychicprobingyieldedonlymaddeningvisionsforthosepsykersbraveenoughtotry.NotevenLordTiguriusorCodicierMaximhadhadanysuccess.Mortarion’sclockwouldhavetobefoundonfoot.MorethanafewseniorSpaceMarineshadopinedthatthepopulationwaslongdead,andthatthecityshouldbelevelledfromthevoid.Guillimanhadmetwiththemall,andtoldthemtheywerewrong.Hehadcommandedagroundassaulttocleartheenemyaway.Hehadgivenaspeechcondemninganymanwhowouldlevel an Imperial city while its citizens might be alive. Privately, he hadconfessedtoFelixthattheotherscouldwellberight.Butthecitymustbetaken,fortheymustbeassuredthatMortarion’swarpclockwasdestroyed.Felix was not sure which factor was the most important to the primarch.Mortarioncouldwithdrawhisdeviceanywayifthebattlewentagainsthim.Hewas part daemon, so they said, and no longer bound by the universal laws.Guillimanhadpulledmedicae teams fromacross the sector to treat anyof thecity’s population who might have survived. The truth was there was little tochoose between either as justifications for the battle. Theywereworthy aims.Guilliman wished to fulfil both. That was what anyone would have expectedfromtheprimarch.At that moment, Guilliman awaited in orbit aboard theMacragge’sHonour,directing the operation and trusting to his ground troops to locateMortarion’sdeviceandbroadcastateleportlocustohim.What intriguedFelixwashow theprimarchexplainedhisactions.Whicheverhesaidwasmostimportanttohimdependedonwhohewasspeakingto.Inthisway,theprimarchdirectedtheenergiesofhisfollowersaccordingtotheirownprejudices without actually lying to them. There were almost certainly otherfactorshekepttohimself.ThisleveloflayeredcommunicationastoundedFelix.Thoughheunderstooditwellenough,hefelthewasseeingsomethingthathadbeen in front of his nose for years. Guilliman often spoke of the AdeptusAstartes’ capacity for peaceful aswell asmartial endeavour. Felix thought he

overestimated their capabilities.Grapplingwith the concepts of administrationmade him feel apish inmind, as if his brainwere not trulymade for it, eventhoughtheprimarchassuredhimhewastalentedinthatdirection.Maybeitwasamatterof training.Hehadspent thousandsofyearspreparingforwar,andonlyfivepractisingstatesmanship. If theprimarchsaidso, then itmust be true.Even so,Felixhad somuch to learn.Hewasbewilderedby thefacilitywithwhich the primarch got people to dowhat he needed them to doalmostwithout effort. Ifhecouldemulateonlya tenthofwhatGuillimandid,thenhecouldcounthimselfworthyofbeingatetrarch.Felix dearlywanted to be the one to find the fallen primarch’smachine, andhelp deliver it to the Avenging Son. Destroying the Ardium clock had beenchild’splaycomparedtotrackingthisonedown.Stoppingitsinfernalworkingswouldbeanachievementhecouldunderstand.Thenhemightfeelworthyofthehonourbestoweduponhim.Theassaultwasfaltering.AllacrossthefronttheSpaceMarineswereslowing,caughtbythestickyembraceoftheground.TheyhadbeguntheirrunfromtheImperialtrenchlinegleaming,alltheircoloursbrightandclean.Nowtheywerecaked in filth, a uniform grey-brown. Themudwas an unspeakable slurry, asmuchcorpsefleshassoilandwater. Itcameup toFelix’sbreathinggrille.Hisarmoursealeditselfagainstthemess.Achimewarnedhimthathisthermalventswereclosed,drawinghisattentiontoapairofbarsamongaminiaturiseddisplayof many indicators. The relevant measure magnified itself, blinking urgently.Slowly but surely, the temperature rose. His reactor pack became noticeablywarm.Allhisindicatorsforthebattleplate’sfibre-bundlestressingwerecreepingoutoftheirgreensegmentsintoamber.Whenthechargewasmiredintheriver,theDeathGuardopenedfireupontheSpaceMarines. They had no choice but to endure it. Guilliman had sent theSpaceMarines forwardsbecausemortalmencouldnotbreach theseaofmud.Nowtheymusttrusttotheirarmour.The battle cries andwar hymns of the assembled brothers became grunts ofeffort.Bolt-roundsslapped into the thickmorass.Onlywhen thebolts reacheddeepintothemuddidtheirmassfusestrip.Themorassbluntedtheirpower,andthemutedshockwavesoftheirexplosionsquiveredthemud.HugeshellslobbedbytheDeathGuard’ssiegetanksfell,theirwateryexplosionswellingupbubblesanddecayedbodypartsfromtheriverbed.Across abattlefront almost tenkilometres longand in the faceofheavy fire,fiveandahalfthousandSpaceMarinesstruggledon.

InanswertothefiringoftheDeathGuard,asuppressivebombardmentsetupfrombehind Imperial lines.Whirlwind rockets shrieked, heaving up domes ofsoilfromthePlagueMarines’trenchline.Theenemy’sfirecutouttemporarilyfrom one quarter or another, but the trench systems snaked back far towardsEspandoriaTertio,andtheenemywerequickinbringinguptheirreserves.Thegroundwasasuckingsea.Theskywasamessyexchangeofheavyfire.Warriors died, obliterated by direct hits.ASpaceMarine, his livery obscured,sank below the surface and came bursting out again a score of metres away.Felix’s footingbecameunsure as currents tuggedathis legs.The flow rapidlybecameirresistibleanddraggedtheassaultoutofline.Felix’shigh-leveltacticaldatascreedsshowedhisformationbecominghopelesslydispersed.‘Presson!’hesaid.‘Convergeonmypositionwhenyoucan!’Tohis left,Malcades forged through thecurrentsunimpeded.Hewassingledout by the Death Guard, and a blaze of anti-tank fire came his way. Shellsdeflected from his sloping glacis and lascannons burned molten holes in hisarmour,buthecouldnotbestopped.There was no logic to the river flow; it looped back and tugged hard inunnatural eddies, spinning men about and dragging them under. The SpaceMarines pressed on against the river’s hindrance, foot by torturous foot, theirsquadsminglingandseparating,butalwaysgoingforwards.Felix approached the shore.Mounded banks of earth fronted the river. Filth-encrusted helmets stuck up from behind the enemy’s firing positions, manybearingsinglespikes.Aplasmastreamscorchedthemudtenmetrestohisright,bringingupawallofsteam.AsecondshotdecapitatedthePrimarisIntercessorsloggingalongnearestFelix:BrotherCleus,amemberoftheSecondCompanyof the Ultramarines. His colours were obscured. Drab brown briefly becomearterialred,andhesankfromsightintothefilth,hisgene-seedlost.Felixraisedhisfoot,putitdownandfeltnothingbeneath.Helosthisfootingandfellwithslowinevitability.Themudclosedcompletelyoverhiseye-lenses.Itpressedagainsthimincoldembrace.Notevenduringhismanyimmersionsinstasis had Felix felt such all-consuming claustrophobia. Muted explosionsthrobbed the liquidearth.Anearbydetonationsenthimstaggering to theside;thestabilisationnozzlesonhisbackpackwereclosed, the internalgyrosofhisboots confused by the delayed action of his fall. He stumbled, drifted. Heatalarmsscreamedinhisears.Hispositionmovedacrosshiscartograph,untilwithamuffledmetallic impact he connectedwith the leg of themightyMalcades.Thecollisionarrestedhisprogress,andhe foundsolidgroundbeneathhis feet

again. Hewas still submerged in the filth, andwas forced to rely on his suittelemetrysohedidnotgetturnedaboutandlost.UsingMalcadesasamarker,heheadedfortheshore.Theriverbedroseunderhim.Hefeltthegrindofashinglebanklostinthemudbeneathhisboots.Heforcedhiswayout,hisbackpackemergingfirst,thenhishead, then the domes of his pauldrons.He strode forwards the last tenmetrestowards the trench line, the way becoming easier with every step, though heneeded tousehis auto-senses to seewhile gritty filth ran fromhis eye-lenses.Theenemyhomedinonhimquickly,andletfire.Dozensofboltsspedathim.Most exploded on the protective energy field generated by his iron halo.Aggressor armour had been designed with boltguns in mind and the thickbattleplateprotectedhimfromtheworstof thebolts thatgot through.Hisheatventsopened,squirtingmud.Airroaredfromthem,andthetemperaturegaugesshrankbacktotheirnormalsize.Otherwarningstooktheirplaceashisenergyfieldandsuitwerebattered.‘Forward!’ he roared again.Awailingmachine bellow announcedMalcades’emergencefromthemud.TheDreadnoughtcameoutoftheriverstreamingfilthfromeveryplaneofitsarmour,itsrotarycannonalreadyspinninguptofire.Withoutwaitingtoseeifanyotherswerenearhim,Felixrushedattheenemyline.Boltscrashedagainsthisenergyshield.Ninestrides–thatwasthedistance.Inthesecondthatittookhimtocovertheground,heactivatedtheenergyfieldsaroundhispowerswordandboltstormgauntlet.Theycrackledspectacularly,thedisruptersinstantlybakingthemudandsendingitcascadingfromhisweaponsasbeadsofdirtyglass.‘ForUltramar!’heroared.Selectingatarget,helevelledthegunbuiltintothebackofhisboltstormgauntletandopenedfire.Hedrovetheenemybackfromthelipofthetrenchwithhisattack,bolt-roundsblastingdivotsofsoilfromthelipandwhiningoffthecorrodedpauldronsoftheenemy.Othergunsjoinedhis,inonesandtwosandtheninhundreds.‘ForGuilliman!ForUltramar!FortheEmperor!’theSpaceMarinesroared.Freeof the tainted river, they ran into the fray.Thousandsofguns replied totheirbattlecry, fellingdozensof theminafirestormofexplodingbolt-rounds.TheflowerofUltramarwereriddledwithshotandblastedapart.Thefirstrankfell,thenthesecond,butMalcadesstrodeamongthewarriorsofmanyChaptersand opened fire.His great cannon blasted through the trench lips, hurling theDeathGuardintorottenchunks.TheSpaceMarinessurgedforwardsunderthecoverofhisfire,leapingoverthetrenchlineandintothefoewiththedullcrash

ofpowerarmourslammingintopowerarmour.Assoonasthefirstlinesofloyalistswereintothetrenches,theDeathGuard’sfiredisciplinewas interrupted,allowinghundredsmoreSpaceMarines topourintothesiegeworksunharmed.Their dispositionwas in chaos. Felix’s ad hoc companywas scattered acrosstwo hundred metres of earthworks. There was not a complete squad in thatsection. Without their brethren to work alongside or their sergeants to guidethem, the SpaceMarine attack became a war of duellists, individual warriorspickingtheirtargetsonawhim.Therewas no time to regather his forces, so Felix fought alone. He crasheddown onto a pair of hulking PlagueMarines andwas swallowed in the fierceclouds of flies that surrounded them. The insects rattled off his armour,obscuringhisvision,buthesawenoughoftheenemy’svileness.Theywerenotsotallashim,beingof theoldergene-stock,but ineveryotherwaytheyweremore massive. Monstrous things, bloated beyond the capacity of the humanorganism to sustain, somehow they remained alive. Their bodies bore manyothermarksofChaos in the formofhideousmutations.Onehada slobberinginsect’s head in place of a human face; the other, tentacles for fingers. Felixdrovethefly-facedtraitorfromthewallwithavolleyofbolt-rounds.Usingthemomentumofhisfall,hepunchedtheabominationintheface.Felix’sgauntletedfist flared.The traitor’smutatedhead exploded into scraps thatwere snatchedmid-flightbyitsattendantinsects.Thecorpsefelldowntotwitchinthemud.Itscompanionwashardier,fullyarmoured,thoughhisplatewasrottedthroughinplaces,andpuncturedwiththethicktubesofphage-harvestersthroughwhichtheubiquitous fliescrawled likebees inahive.The traitorbroughthisplasmagun up to fire, the charging chamber blazing bright green as his writhing,vermicularfingerswrappedthemselvesarounditstrigger.Felixlaunchedhimselfforwards, the superior systems of his Aggressor armour making himpreternaturallynimble.Heslammedintothehulkingtraitor,barelyrockinghim,butgotincloseenoughtopunchdownandshatterthecontainmentchamberofthe gun. Plasmagases burst outwards.The resulting explosion sent thembothreelingbackwards.‘Oneof theEmperor’s pretty new sons!’ the traitor gurgled.Thewordswereonly just comprehensible. He cast down his broken weapon and pulled out afilthy knife. ‘Oh, what rewards would be mine if I could turn you to theprimordialtruth!’Felix attacked immediately, swinging his power sword down in a thrumming

arc.Hepivotedashedidso,puttingallhisconsiderableweightandthepowerofhisarmourintotheattack.The Plague Marine laughed. The heretic’s size belied his speed, and hedeflectedFelix’sswordwithhisblade.TheshocktoFelix’sarmwasimmense.Theweaponwassmall,acombatknifeofatypecarriedbySpaceMarinessincethedaytheEmperorfirstset themlooseonthegalaxy.Itwascorroded,rustedright through near the hilt. It should have shattered. The power of the impactalone should have sent the Plague Marine staggering back. That was Felix’sintention: to come in close, to unbalance and finish the traitor. Somehow, hisenemyremainedupright,hisweaponwhole.Uncleanpowerwasintheknifeanditswielder.Felix’spowerswordwasflungback,afreshnickinitsblade.Fromthismar,a traceryof rustandblacknessspideredacross themetal.ThePlagueMarinestoodfirmasoldrock.‘I have been fighting the long war for ten thousand years and more, littlesoldier,’saidthePlagueMarine.‘Itwilltakemorethanarecklessblowlikethattofellme.’The traitor struck. Felix raised his gauntlet, pumping shots into the PlagueMarine’s torso. Several of the bolts penetrated the crumbling battleplate andexploded in the traitor’s swollen chest, but thoughhe coughedandgurgledhedidnotfall.The PlagueMarine slammed into Felix, and both of them fell backwards.Arusty hand closed about the tetrarch’s throat. The plague knife descended, thedarkpowerinfusedinittinglingFelix’sskinasitpiercedtheenergyfieldofhisironhaloandrushedathisface.Withhisforearm,Felixsmashedthebladeaside,anddrovethequillionofhispowerswordthroughthePlagueMarine’slefteye-lens.The traitor rearedback.Felix followedupwithablowfromhis fist.Thedisruptionfieldshatteredthetraitor’schest-plate,andFelix’shandpuncheddeepintohischest.Stinkingmatterspatteredalloverhim.Thetraitorhungdeadonhisgauntlet,butFelixletfirewiththebuilt-inboltertobesure,blastingoutthetraitor’sbackandcausinghissmokingpowerunit toexplodewithacrackleofgreenelectricity.Forasecond,Felix’seyesandauto-senseswereblindedbytheinsectsastheyattackedhim,seeminglyraisedtoafurybythePlagueMarines’deaths,buttheyfelltwitchingshortlyafter,suddenlyexpiringenmasse.Heavybolterfirebangedoutbehindhim,veryclose.Felixspunaround,readytofightagain,onlytoseeamud-cakedsquadofsixGenesisChapterCenturionscoveringhisback.Theirgunsceasedfire.FourPlagueMarineswereslippingto

the ground, multiple holes in their bodies weeping fluid of unhealthy hue. Ameltagunfellintothethickmuckinthetrenchfromthehandsoftheleadtraitor.ThesergeantoftheCenturionsquadsalutedFelix,raisinghismassivepoweredfistandtheunderslungheavyweapontohisforehead.‘Youhavemythanks,’saidFelix.‘Ifyouhadnotintervened,mylifewouldbeover.’‘Weareallbrothersunderourcolours, lordtetrarch’saidthesergeant.‘Everyoneofusisasonoftheprimarch.Iwouldbravethejawsofthewarptosecureyourlife,mylord.Inyouroffice,thegreatdaysarebornagain.Westandunitedagainsttheoldenemy.’Felixquicklyscannedthescene.ImperialSpaceMarineswerecomingovertheedgeof the trenchallalongits length.TheLandSpeedershadcompletedtheirmission furtherbehindenemy linesandhad turnedback tostrafe the trenches.Hisviewwasrestricted;Felixcouldseenofurtherthanthenearestbunker.Forthe first time since he had reached the trench, he paid attention to his tacticaldisplaysandcalledupacartograph.Tacticaldatawasbeingbroadcastwithoutinterference to thebattlegroup.Felix scanned anoverlayof the trench system.SmallknotsofPlagueMarineswereholdingoutnearby.‘Whereisyourcaptain?’askedFelix.‘We cannot reach him,’ said the sergeant. ‘We became separated from ourcompany in theadvance.Tracking their locatorbeacons in thisenvironment isprovinghard.’‘Exloadyouridentitiestome.’Thesergeantdidso.‘YouareoftheFifthCompany?’‘Yes,mylord.’Felixpulledup the locationof theGenesisChaptersergeant’scomrades fromthewelteroftacticaldatafloodinghishelm.Hisownsquadshademergedsomedistance away. Therewas a knot of enemies closer, and on the other side theGenesisChapter’sFifthCompany.‘Ihave them,’he said. ‘Yourbrothersare thatway.’Hepointed. ‘Though theenemyarenearer.Perhapsyouwouldjoinmeintheirslaughterbeforeyourejoinyourbrothers,forthegloryofGreaterUltramar,andtheImperiumofMan?’Theydidnothesitate.‘Wewillcomewithyou,andaidyou.Ourbrotherscanwait, tetrarch.WeallmarchforMacragge.’‘As do I.’Malcades’ giant frame emerged from the other side of the trench

works.Heshiftedtoretainhisbalanceonthesoftground.Felixsurveyedthecoreofhislittlearmy.OtherSpaceMarinesweremovinginhis direction, their progress impeded by the condition of the earth. He wasrelievedtoseetheywereofhiscommand.‘Onwards,’hesaid.‘ForUltramar.’

Thebattledraggedoninto theafternoon.Felixandhisgrowinggroupassailedthe bunker nearby, slaughtering the Death Guard within, who were quicklyovercome by the Centurions’ heavy weapons and Malcades’ powerfularmaments.Theenemy’sresistancewasdogged,butdoomed.LittlemorethanfourPlagueMarinecompaniesandauxiliarycultistsmannedthetrenches.Thefightingwashard,butitcouldhavebeensomuchharder.Felixexpecteddaemons,ordaemonengines, but none came. For all the Plague Marines’ hardiness, they weremassivelyoutnumberedandquicklybested.TheforceGuillimanappliedwassoutterlyoverwhelmingthattheystoodnochance.Theprice,however,washigh.Thunderhawksandunarmed lighterscameandwent over the battlefield, taking the dead and their precious gene-seed away.ManySpaceMarineshadfallen.Felixwonderedifanyoftheirprogenoidglandsof those who had died in the mud could be salvaged without the risk ofcontamination.AssoonasthelastPlagueMarineinthetrencheswaskilled,humancleansingteamsmoved into thecomplexandbeganpurificationbyfire.Priests followedwhen there were transports available, and by late afternoon were chantingprayersoverthetrenches.Fighting continued within the city. With the trench network’s firepoints andweapons batteries out of action, Imperial aircraft flew over the river inincreasing numbers, depositing troops from all arms of the Imperium’s forcescloseintothecitylimits.Gunfiresooncrackledupfromthecathedraltowersofthe centre, and Felix pushed on to join it. He bade farewell to the GenesisChapter,buthissmallbandofwarriorsgreweverlarger.Mostofhisowntroopshadmadethecrossingaliveandfoundhimas thedayworeon.Ashereachedtheedgeofthetrenches,hejoinedwithasecondlargegroupofUltramarinesandlostwarriorsfromotherChapters.Theyhadnocaptainwiththem,anddeferredtoFelix’scommand.Beyond the double lines, the earth was less torn up. Espandor’s abundantvegetationhadbeenreducedbythepoisonsoftheenemytoafewhardyspecies

scattered on plains of cracked earth, none of them healthy-looking. Brightlycoloured pools of water filled the scattering of shell craters. Clouds of fliesgathered in noisy conclave over these noxiouswatering holes, and a chemicaltangfouledtheair,carriedbyathinmisthangingovertheblightedearth,butitwasalreadylifting.ThecloudsoffliessimplyseemedtovanishwhentheDeathGuard were bested, and as more Plague Marines fell, fewer flies were inevidence.Thedaycleared.The sunappearedwanlybehind the thinning, toxicclouds.Thefurthertheenemyweredrivenback,themorethevisibilityimproved.Theshatteredremainsoftreesemergedfromthedepartingvapours.SoonFelixcouldsee all the way to the main highway where Astra Militarum Chimera tanks,cakedinmudfromtheiramphibiouscrossingof theriver,cut theirwayacrossthewasteland,headingwithallspeedtoEspandoriaTertio.OtherSpaceMarineswerelandingahead,deployedfromtheirgunshipsbythescore.Felixurgedhismenon,eagertore-engagetheenemybeforetheywerealldead.After twenty minutes of marching, they were three quarters of the way toEspandoria Tertio’s compact centre. The group reached a mound of shatteredrockcreteon the edgeof a ruinedhabitationdistrictwith clear viewsout backovertheriver.‘Waithere,’hecommandedhisfollowers.Heinvitedthegroup’slieutenantandsergeantstoaccompanyhim,andtogethertheysetoffupthehill.At the summit, they surveyed the landscape. The roads out of the city werewhole,andattractingagrowingamountoftraffic.Ontheothersideoftheseaofmud,teamsofAstraMilitarumcombatengineershadworkedwithtech-adeptstoraiseacausewayonthesiteoftheOderia’sprincipalbridge,linkingtheseveredhalves of the main highway back together. It had recently opened, and battletankswerecomingovertheriverinalongcolumn.Fromtheirvantagepoint,thecourseof theOderiawasapparentasadarkerpatch in theseaofmud.Heavyearth-movingmachineswereatworkinthedistance,clawingatthegroundwithbuckets and shovel hands to clear the obstructions that had blocked it. Feliximagined that revolting mess suddenly slipping free from the poisoned land,rushingonwardsandtaintingthesea.‘Wholesomenessreturns,’saidMacullusFides,oneofthesergeants.Hepointedatthesky.Themudonhisarmourwasdryingintherisingbreeze,flakingofftorevealhiscobalt-blueliverybeneath.FelixfollowedFides’finger.Asolitarybirdwingeditswayoveraruinedexurb.Itpumpeditswingsfortenbeats,poweringitselfforwards,thendroppedalittle

beforerepeatingtheexercise.‘This world will be healed,’ said Felix. ‘The primarch will make it so.’ Hebelievedthatwholeheartedly.Thegrouplefttheriseandpressedon.Shortlyafterwards,theygainedthemainhighwaythatfedfromtheoutlyingdistrictsintothecityproper.ThecolumnsofImperialarmourrannosetotail.Felixhadhismenformintotwofilesandtheybroke into a rapid jog, outpacing the gridlocked tanks, Malcades’ massiveclawedfeetmakingthegroundshake.SoonthecentreofEspandoriaTertiowasbeforethem.

Espandor was a cardinal world, and therefore its cities were crammed withchurches and temples. Felix had still not accepted the way the Emperor wasworshippedinthisera.Ittroubledhim,thoughtherewasnodenyingthebeautyofthebuildingsraisedinHisname.ThetraitorsdisagreedfarmorestronglywiththeworshipoftheEmperorthanFelixdid.All thefinearchitecturemadetohonourHimhadbeenbrought low,andsomostofEspandoriaTertiolayinruins.Felix had his orders to make directly for the central cathedral. He led hiscompany down the main street, rebuffing calls for aid and avoidingentanglementinthelocalisedbattlestakingplacealloverthecity.Bombardmentdamage from the invasion was evident everywhere in the collapsed buildingsandbrokenroads,buttherewasastateofadvanceddecayvisiblethatwaralonecouldnotexplain.Plascreterottedonitsreinforcementspars.Evil-lookingvinescoatedbuildingswhosewallsweredangerouslytiltedonsinkingfoundations.Therewerebodieseverywhere;Felixandhiswarriorspassedstacksofblackenedcorpses.Itlookedlikewhoeverhadbeengatheringthedeadhadgivenupsometimeago,fortherewereagreatmanymoreindividualsinthestreets,allbearingsignsofsickness.A deadened atmosphere stifled the avenues. Bursts of isolated gunfire echoeddownemptystreets.Aircraftandgrav-craftracedoverhead.Servo-skullprobesbobbedinandoutofbuildings.Together,thenoisesofmachinesandthemarchoffeetastanksandSpaceMarinescameintothecityfromthewestshouldhavebeenloudandsharp.Butthecitysoundscapewasdull,brittlealmost.Therewasafeelingofsomethingmalevolentwatchingthem.Severaltimestheystartedatthe sensation of unseen presences. Some of the Space Marines were all forsearchingthebuildings,butFelixdisallowedit.‘We are not to be sidetracked.We make for the CathedralMagnifica at the

centreofthecityasfastaspossible,’hetoldhismen.‘Wemustgoswiftly.Beonyourguardforambush.Donotengageinanyothercircumstance.’FelixsoondiscoveredthattherewereciviliansinEspandoriaTertio.Amid the filthy ruins of their homes, people survived. Theywere emaciatedwhere they weren’t bloated by disease. There was not a healthy soul amongthem,buttheylived,andtheycheeredamidtheircoughsatthewarriorswhohadsavedthem.Alreadymedicae teamspressedwell into thecentreofEspandoriaTertio’sprimecivitas,insomecasesrangingaheadofthebattleforceandputtingtheir lives indanger.Fightingwasdyingdown,and increasingly thesoundsofgunfirerecededfurtherintotheeast,changingfromthoseofbattletothesingleshotreportsoftheEmperor’sMercy.Gaunt facespeered fromwindows.Thecivilianswere starvedandbrutalised.Buttherewasdefianceinthem.Mankind’s spirit inspired Felix. These people had no special gifts, noenhancements, nothing, and yet they had survived. These ordinary men andwomenhadsufferedtheworstthegalaxyhadtothrowatthem.Ithumbledhimthathewouldspendhislifeinservicetothisspecies.Theypassedthroughvariousdistricts.Thetemplequarterwasthelargestofall,andsurroundedthecentreinathickwardfourblocksindepth.Largeswathesoftheareahadbeen razed, and therewasnot anuntouchedbuilding.The streetswerehalfblockedbythebrokenchunksofstoneeffigiesandthedentedremainsofmetalstatuescastdownfromtheirplinths.As they advanced, Felix’s Scouts and Reivers reported that the temples hadbeendefiledwithcorruptedbloodandfetishes.Alwaystheseweremadeofthevilest substances: mounds of filth and body parts, or bloody bones and thediseased innardsof the innocentdead.Felixcouldnotabide to let these thingsremain, though time was tight. He did not regard the Emperor as divine, buttheseatrocitieswereanaffronttoHismajesty,andsoFelixdivertedsomeofthemen accompanying him toward the destruction of such profanities.Wherevertheyencounteredthemarksofthetraitors,theSpaceMarinesbrokethem.Felixhad meltagunners or Hellblaster squads obliterate blasphemous symbols, andwhentheyweredonehesetthebuildingsthathadhousedthemalightwithhisflamers.Materials in thecitywerewet throughand resistedburning,butFelixorderedhiswarriorstopersist,andtheyleftatrailofflamingruinsbehindthemastheycontinuedinwardstowardthecentrum.TheCathedraMagnificahadbeenonehundredandfiftymetrestall.Oneofthebuilding’stwintowershadcollapsed.Theotherstood,andthoughitssteeplewas

fullofholesanditsroofhadfallenin,itstilldominatedthecentreThecitywaseerilysilent.Thesensationofbeingwatchedgrew.Thedeadeningof sound was most pronounced around its central square. As the damagedheights of the cathedral loomed ever taller over its attendant churches andgovernmental buildings, the silence grew deeper, the watchfulness moreunsettlingAstheyapproachedthesquare,Felixreorderedhisforce,commandingthemtocircle the cathedral in mutually supportive fire groups. Together with aHellblaster squad and a supporting unit of Intercessors, he and Malcadesadvancedacrosstheopenspace,theotherssearchingbuildingsorcoveringtheircommanderwiththeirweapons.Thestateofrotthathadholdofthecitywasmostpronouncedinthecathedral.Wherethetowerhadcollapsed,therewasafanofrubblethatstretchedhalfwayacross the square. Rotten timbers pointed skywards like black teeth from thebroken roof.Diseased plants hung from the crumbling facades. The clouds offlies that devilled the planet had a last stronghold there, and they rose up indroning multitudes from the building, reacting aggressively to the SpaceMarine’sappearance,obliteratingthemselvesonpowerarmourintheirdesperateneedtobite.Thewarriors picked theirway over the rubble.Amix of religious buildings,departmento offices and commercial premises delineated the square. Themajority were reduced to shells. Signs of deliberate destruction wereeverywhere.MostbuildingshadcarriedtheImperial‘I’ortheaquila.Alltheseemblemshadbeen torn freeorchiselledaway, thegougingsdaubedoverwithunholysymbolsinbloodorfilth.The square was impressively sized, but cluttered with the debris of war itlooked small and sad.Mouldering bodies impaled on stakesweremounted ingroupsofthreeandseven,shrinkingthescaleofthespacewiththeunwelcomeintimaciesoftorment.Ranksofsaintsstoodinnichesonthecathedral’sdoublefrontage.Allofthemwereheadlessandtheirhandshackedoff.Beneaththeruinedgalleryofstatuesthere were three gates, their wood slimy with decay and their metal fittingscorroded.Felixslowed.Hehelduphishand.TheSpaceMarinesreadiedtheirweapons.Asecondlater,arocketstreakeddownfromtheintacttower,blastingaSpaceMarinetopieces.APrimarisIntercessorraisedhisboltrifleandfired.Hisaimwas true, and the broken meat remains of a mortal tumbled from on high,

landingwithabloodysplashonthepaving.‘Ware!’shoutedFelix.The Space Marines immediately dispersed, finding cover and bringing theirweaponstoreadiness.The three gates swungwide.Fromwithin the desecrated cathedral stormed ascreamingmobofmortalhumans.Theywereasdiseasedandpatheticas theirfellow citizens, but their faces were suffused with a hysterical joy and theycaperedfeeblyastheyranattheSpaceMarines.Theyhadfewweapons,lootedlasgunsmostly.Thefewthatcouldshootstraightmusthavebeendisappointedthattheirshotsdidnotpenetratepowerarmour.TheSpaceMarinesreturnedfire.Tensecondsoffullyautomaticbolterfirewasallittooktosweeptheareaclear.Felix surveyed the resultant carnage. The humans had been blown apart intoscrapsofmeatandcloth.Hefeltnoemotionattheirend.Theyhadmadetheirchoice.Hesethisvoxchanneltocentralcommand.‘ThisisTetrarchDecimusFelix,’hevoxed.‘InformtheprimarchtheCathedralSquareisclear.Weshallholdasordered.’Felixarrayedhismenaroundthecathedralperimeter.Theywaited.Thecloudsbegantosplitfurther,allowingthesuntoshinethroughinitsfullness.Thedaygrewmuggy,andthethicksmellofputrefactiongrewworse.Guillimanarrivedhalfanhourlater,escortedbyhisVictrixGuard,theAdeptusCustodes and ten Sisters of Silence. Codicier Maxim and LexicaniumGerrundiumwereamongahostofSpaceMarinepsykers that followed, ledbyChiefLibrarianTiguriusoftheUltramarines,summonedbackfromthesouthernmarches to Espandor. In Guilliman’s shadow, they seemed small as pagesdressedwhimsicallyasadultwarriorstohonouravisitingfeudallord.‘Tetrarch,’ said Guilliman. He dipped his helmet at his one-time equerry.Without slowing, he andhis entouragewalkeddirectly through themain gate.‘Nooneistoenter.’ApairofSisterskicked the remainsof thedead traitorsaway,andclosed thedoorbehindtheparty.Felixwatchedthegateamoment.Thefeelingofamalevolentbeastwatchinghimwassogreathehadtheurgetorun.Hewishedhehadgonewithin,tobeathislord’ssideoncemore.Toprotecthim,asridiculousasthatseemed.RobouteGuillimanneedednoprotectionfromanything.Felixturnedhisback,facingoutintothecity.‘Keepwatchwhiletheprimarchisinside,’orderedFelix.

‘Gladly,tetrarch,’saidMacullusFides,‘thoughIdonotfearforhim.Thereisnothingbutghostsandwhispersherenow.’

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

THEOLOGICA

Guilliman walked under a carved stone motif proclaiming the divinity of hiscreator and into a space constructed entirely around that belief. The cathedralenclosedahugevolumetofittheenormousnessofthefaiththepeoplehadintheEmperor. The stonework was encrusted with decoration and statuary; it wasalmostfrenziedinitsdevotion,apleainstonetobenoticedandsaved.Butlikethetruthitpurportedtoencompass,thespacewithinthewallswasempty.If only they knew, thought Guilliman. He looked upwards through the rooftowards the clearing sky. Beams dangled from rotting ligaments of iron. Thefloorwasslipperywithmulchytimberandfallentiles.Thestatueswerebroken,thewindowssmashedandanythingthatborewitnesstotheEmperor’sdivinityhadbeendamaged.Theseweretheleastoftheharmsdone to the building. The desecration of the cathedral wasmore fundamentalthan the mere destruction of art, for the warping effects of Chaos had beenforceddeeplyintoitsfabric.Anunwholesomefoetorfilledthecathedralwalltowall. It had similarities to the scent of decay found in the lower reaches of aforest–aloamy,deepsmell,thoughthishadlittleofrenewaltoit.Thepromiseofnewlifeitofferedupwasalie.The entourageofAdeptusCustodes,Sisters ofSilence and theVictrixGuardfanned out,weapons ready. The Librarians remained at his side.Hard soundsclattered through the ruin.Therewere twomajor transeptsat eitherendof thelongknave.Athirdminortranseptcrossedthemiddleofthechurch.Likemany

holy buildings, the cathedral’s planwhen viewed from abovemade the singlebarred‘I’oftheImperium.Guilliman surveyed it all disapprovingly.Worship of his creator had becomethebedrockoftheImperium.ItwasasperniciousastheeffortsofChaos,initsway.Hedidnotunderstand it,butashe lookedaroundthiscathedral,one likemany hundreds he had seen all across the Imperium, he doubted his ownconvictionsregardingtheEmperor’sdivinity.Theoretical,hethought.TheEmperorisagodanddeniedHisowndivinitytoprotecthumanity.Practical,Heisagod.Or, he continued to himself, Theoretical, the Emperor was not a god, butbecameone.Practical,Heisagod.He dismissed the idea angrily. These theoreticals had trooped through histhoughtssomanytimesbeforehehadgrownwearyofthem,buthismindwouldnotstopgeneratingcounter-argumentstohisbeliefs.Theoretical, theEmperorwasalwaysagod,butwasunawareof it.Practical,Heisagod.No,hethought.Theoretical,theEmperorbecameagodtoprotecthumanity.Practical,Heisagod.Heisnotagod,hethought.Theoretical, Guilliman thought savagely now, turning his anger against histraitorousmind.TheEmperorwasneveragod,deniedHewasagodandhasbeen wrongly elevated by men who see power and mistake it for divinity.Practical,theEmperorisnotagod.‘He is not a god,’ said Guilliman out loud. He could not countenance thethought.Abeingthatcoldandcallouswasnotworthyofworship.Why,then,didthequestiondoghimso?‘Mylord?’askedMaxim.‘Areyouwell?’‘Itisnothing,’saidGuilliman,comingtohissenses.Helookedtowardstheendof the cathedralwhere darkness held its secrets close. ‘I do not see anything,thoughtheatmospheresuggestsallisnotwell.WhereisMortarion’sdevice?’‘Thedevice ishere. Itwillbeat thehighaltar,’ saidTigurius,pointing to theuncertaingloomfillingthecathedral’sexedra.‘Ithidesitselffromusinacloakofboundshadow.’‘Thereissomethingthere,’saidMaxim.‘Icanfeelit.’Guilliman looked down the cathedral’s long aisle. A kilometre of polishedmarble floor heaped with broken roof tiles were between his party and the

exedrahousingthealtar.HisarmouredfistflickedaquicksignaltotheSistersofSilenceinbattlemark,theirsimplifiedcombatlanguage.Theybowedandmovedquicklyuptheaisle.Truetotheirname,theymadenosoundastheyadvanced,theirarmoursilentandtheirfeetnoiselessonthewreckageofthechurch.Theirsilverplatevanishedintothegloomholdingthefartransepttoransom.‘Letthemgoaheadfirst,’saidGuilliman.‘Ifthereisillusionhere,theiruniquegiftswilltearitaway.’Theywaitedawhile.Thedarknessdidnot lift,untilapulsedvoxclickcameintotheprimarch’shelm.Theshadowsremainedthick,hidingtheirsecrets,theSistersshroudednowalso.‘Theyhavefoundit,’saidGuilliman.‘Come.’Guilliman’s progress up the aislewas far less stealthy than the Sisters’. Theshatteringofrooftilesunderhisfeetechoedloudlyaroundtheruinedcathedral.Twenty Librarians of half a dozen Chapters marched in solemn ranks behindhim.TheyjoinedtheSistersatthefootofthestepsleadinguptothealtar.Theyweremetresaway,buttheycouldnotseeit.‘Itishere!’gaspedaLibrarian.Thehardemotionalpressureofpsychicpowergathering strength pushed at the hind parts of the primarch’s brain as theLibrarians of theAdeptusAstartes prepared their gifts in response to the hatetheyfeltlurkinginthecathedral.Behold,signedSister-CommanderBellas.Theweaponoftheenemy.ShewentupasinglemarblestepawayfromGuilliman,closertothealtar.Witha sound like the collective death sighs of a dozen old women, the cloak ofdarknessblurredandfellaside.Atopthesteps,beforethegrandaltar,wasamonstrousdevice,almostastallasthe cathedral ceiling.A three-legged timepieceof brass andglass and fiendishintention.Throughout itselongatedframe,hollowglobesheldbubbling liquidsof no understandable purpose. Three columns of madly spinning clockworkrotatedaboutanaxis that, ifcarefullyobserved,wasnotrooted in thematerialrealm. At the top, three clock faces ran backwards. Each one had its ownpendulum,andtheyswungbackandforthinacomplicateddanceoutsideoftheturning columns, barely missing their neighbours at the apex of their travel.Theirweightswerecrescentaxeheadsmadeofsteelsharpasconventwhispers.Theairscreamedfaintlyastheyswung.Within the open framework of the clock, dark energies moved sinuously,wrappingthemselvesaroundcracklingcylindersandclockworkthatwouldhave

seemed commonplace in any other setting. At the very centre, enmeshed inmoving gears and impure psychic power, was a triangular menhir, roughlytwelvemetreshigh,composedofagreenishmineralsimilartoolivine.Itstoodimpossibly inverted, balanced on its point, themass of it held up by nomorethan a centimetre’s thickness of stone. It throbbed with the intensity of amigraine, a sluggish heartbeat of despair that sank into the soul. Set on red-rusted iron poles around the clock were three cast-bronze representations ofNurgle’stri-lobedsigil.Theyvibratedwithinnerpower,ashimmeringheathazecomingoffthem.Where the cathedral had seemed silent, now it resounded to a rapid tripletickingandthegroaningofgears,asiftheclock,oncenoticed,couldnothideitscorruptingvoiceandwasrevealedintotality.This is an abomination, signed Sister-Commander Bellas. The servants ofChaosalwayschoosetoinsultourholylordwheretheycan.Guillimanhadmadeitapriority tore-establishtheSistersofSilence.HehadgatheredupthebrokenremnantsoftheirorderafterarrivingbackonTerra.Asthe influence of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica had waxed and waned, theirmilitary arm had become less prominent over time. There had beencomparativelymanySistersofSilenceduringtheGreatCrusadeandtheHeresy.ThoughnumerousenoughtoplayaroleintheWaroftheBeastathousandyearsafter theHeresy,by the41stmillennium theyhaddwindled towardextinction.Those remaining were occupied aboard the Black Ships, hunting psykers andperforming the crucial role of damping the abilities of the cargo.ThemilitantordersoftheEmperor’sdayhadbeendisbanded,diminishedorlosttowar.Thelast surviving few were scattered around the Imperium, most reduced to ahandfulofmembers.Theyfoughton,hereandthere,buttheirglorydayswereamythatbest.Theywereunrememberedbythepeopletheyhaddiedtoprotect.After thousandsofyearsofobscurity,whenGuilliman returned theSistersofSilencehadcomebackwillinglyintothelight,notbecauseofwhohewas,butbecauseofwhathewas.Tothem,hewasalivingsaint.IthadshockedGuilliman,thattheSistersofSilenceworshippedhisfatherassomanyothermisguidedsoulsdid.Notforthefirsttime,hethoughtofhisbrotherLorgar.The clock loomedover thebroken altar like amurderer overhis victim.Thegreatslabofexoticstonethathadmadethealtarhadbeenclovenintwain,andthewallsbehinditweredeeplycarvedintowiththethree-ringedsymbolofthePlagueGod.Arcanesigilsgleamedwithreflectedwitchlightbetweenthem.

AwoodenstatueoftheEmperorholdingoutHisarmsinblessinghungabovethealtarstill,butitshead,feetandhandshadbeenhackedoff,andthewoodwascharredalldownoneside.Tothestatue’srightandleftthereweresmallalcoves,each containing representations of the loyal primarchs. For some reason theseeffigies were untouched.Most looked nothing like their subjects; Guilliman’swaslaughablyidealistic.WiththeSistersstandingbyGuillimanhewasprotectedfromthegreaterpartof the clock’s power, but still the sense of evil emanating from it curdled hisstomach andmade his hands tinglewith an urge to violence. It pushed at hismind,voicelesswhisperstellinghimtotearoffhisarmourandabasehimselfinthesqualorofthecity’sruin.WereitnotfortheSistersformingacirclearoundit,hewouldhave found itdifficult toapproach.Hepushedbackwithhisownformidablewill,refusingtobecowed.‘Thisiswhatmybrotherusestodefiletheearth,’hesaidwithcoldanger.‘HewhowasmostvocalatNikaeaagainsttheLibrarium.’ItisthelastonEspandor,signedtheSister-Commander.Suchidolsweakenthepowerofyourfather.NowwehavestruckdowntheoneinKonor’sReach,andthat inthecityofRodosia, this is thesoleremaininglinktotheScourgeStars.Always,thethingsofthePlagueGodcomeinthreesorsevens.Ifwedestroythis,themaladythatafflictsthisworldwillbeweakened.Thedaemonswillhavelittlepowerlefttoremain.‘Mortarionisnothere,’saidGuilliman.‘No,mylord,’saidTigurius.‘Ifhewere,wewouldsensehim.’‘ThenitistimeformetobeawayfromEspandor.’Guilliman had dearly wished to face his brother. The chances of meetingMortarionuponEspandorhadbeenslender,even though thedaemonprimarchhadexpendedagreatdealofeffortininvestingthecardinalworld.Heremindedhimselfhecouldnotbeimpatient.Thiswasbutthefirststep.Hewouldfindhisbrother,andhewouldkillhim.Patienceusedtocomeeasiertohim.‘Thismachinewillnotsuccumbtodemolition,astheoneonArdiumdid,’saidMaxim.‘Thereisahatefulpresencehere.Wemustcageitwithourmindsbeforetheclockcanbedestroyed.’‘Arrayyourwarriors,Tigurius,’saidGuilliman.Hishandgraspedthehiltofhissword.‘Ishallputanendtothispersonally,withtheEmperor’sownblade.’‘GuardiansoftheEmperor,totheImperialRegent,’orderedColquan.The Adeptus Custodes jogged from every part of the cathedral to form uparound the primarch. The circle of Sisters of Silence turned inwards and they

raisedtheirexecutionergreatblades.As Guilliman prepared himself to approach the cursed artefact, shouts camefromthefarendofthechurch.Thedooropenedacrack.‘What is happening?’ the primarch called.His powerful voice echoed clearlydownthelengthofthecathedral.‘Thetetrarchsaysyourpriestishere,mylord,’oneoftheVictrixGuardvoxed.‘HeinsistsIlethimenter.’‘Allowhim,’saidGuilliman.Hesteppedawayfromtheclockandreleasedhisswordhandle.‘Itis,afterall,hischurch,’hesaidtohimself.Militant-ApostolicMathieucameintothecathedralwiththesameairofplacidserenityhe exhibited at all times, thoughhewas caked in filth and a long cutmarked his face under his left eye. Only when he drew closer did Guillimannotice the lines of anger on his face at the sight of the clock. Guillimanwassurprisedtoseeheworenoprotectivegarb.‘Youarenotsafehere,militant-apostolic,’theprimarchsaid.‘Diseaselingers,andthepowerofthewarpisstrong.’‘Youarenotafraid,mylord.’Mathieuplacedhishandonhisheartandbowedhishead.Hisplain,undecoratedservo-skullbuzzedaroundhishead insolemnorbit.‘WhyshouldIbe?’Guillimanlookedathimcritically.‘Iamaprimarch,Mathieu.Youarenot.’‘WearebothprotectedbytheEmperor.Myfaithshieldsme.’‘Likeitprotectedthesepeoplehere?’saidGuilliman.Hegesturedataheapofgreeningbonespinnedunderthefallenroof.Mathieusmiled. ‘Yourfathercannotbeeverywhere,mylord,andthefaithofsomeisstrongerthanothers.Forthemoment,yourfatherprotectsme.’‘Whetherthatistrueornot,’saidGuilliman.‘Iwouldpreferitifyouworeanenvironment suit. See, the Sisters and my Space Marines keep their helmssealed–evenMaldovarColquanandhisAdeptusCustodeswouldnotriskbeinginherewithout thecorrect filtrationequipment.Theyareamong theclosestofallmentotheEmperor,andmadewithgreatart.Iftheyarecautious,soshouldyoube.’Veryfewmenwouldignoreasuggestionlikethatfromtheprimarch,butFraterMathieushookhishead.‘I will be well. I have been fighting all day, and I am untouched. I amprotected.’ He walked around the exedra. He drew dangerously close to thecursed clock. He made the sign of the aquila, but showed no sign of beingaffectedbythemalevolenceradiatingpalpablyfromit.

Guilliman scrutinised the priest carefully, waiting for signs of madness ordisease.WhenMathieudidnot speak for some time,Guilliman’shand shiftedwithintheHandofDominion.Hewasclosetosendingthementalcommandviahisbattleplate’snerve shunts thatwouldbring it sparking into life.He relaxedwhenMathieukneltinthefilthofthefloorandbowedhishead.Thereheprayedsilently.TheSistersofSilencedippedtheirhelms,asifincommunionwithhim.GuillimansharedaglancewithColquan.TheCustodiangaveasmallshrugthatsenthisornatearmourintoarippleofgold.His prayer done,Mathieu stood and genuflected towards the ruined woodeneffigyofhisgod,thenheturnedtotheEmperor’slastloyalson.‘Where do they find such hate?’ he asked. ‘What couldmake themwant tobecomelikethis?Theyhavemadethemselvesmonsters.’Thequestionbroughtahardexpression toGuilliman’s face. ‘Hatred is in theheartsofallmen,’theprimarchsaid.‘Itisinmyheart.IhatetheDeathGuardfor abandoning reasonand forwhat theyhavebecome. I hatemybrothers fortheirbetrayal.ButIdonotblamethem.Mosthatespringsfromfear,orshame,ordespair.The traitorsdespair, I am sure.Theymust feel shameatwhat theyhavedestroyed,andsotheybecomemoreextremeintheirhatred.’‘Youspeakmercifullyoftheheretics,’saidMathieusoftly.‘Theyshallfindnomercyfromme.Theyarewhattheyare.Butwemustnotforget thatmostof themwerenoblewarriors, andwere leddown thispathbyothers.Wordsfromabeloved leadercan twistaman’sheart. Itwas, Ibelieve,the Emperor’s fault. IfHe had not lied…’Guilliman’s voice trailed away.Hefrowned.He questioned himself if thatwere really true.Maybe nothing couldhavestoppedwhathadhappened.Thenherememberedthethroneroom,andthelight,andthatvast,inhumansoultouchinghis.‘DidHe really lie?’ askedMathieu into the silence.Hewasbarelybreathing,caughtupinrevelationofhisgod’swords.‘Yes.YesHedid.Heknewthetruenatureofthewarp,butkeptittohimself.Ideduce He wanted to keep my brothers and I from temptation, but insteadignorance leftusvulnerable to it.Horuswasagoodmanbeforehe turned.Hewasproudandarrogant,thatisforsure,buthebelievedinourfather’sdreamofthe Imperium,and the lovebetween themwas so strong.’Guilliman lookedatMathieusolemnly.Hehadoncebelievedthat,hetrulyhad.Nowheliedjustlikehisfatherhad.‘ChaosfoundawaytouseHorus’loveandpervertit.Myfathermadeamiscalculation,anditcostusalldearly.’Mathieuletoutthebreathhewasholding.‘Imarvelthatyouwalkedalongside

theholyEmperorHimself,mylord.ItisglorioustohearyouspeakofHim.’‘I did,’ said Guilliman sadly. ‘I wish it could be so again.’ He had his ownreasonsfordesiringthat.Hekeptthemtohimself.Mathieusearchedfortherightthingtosay.‘Godsarenotbeholdentothesamelawsasmortalmenare,mylord.Hisreasonsforlyingarebeyondourken,evenyours.’GuillimanpulledafaceatMathieu.‘Mathieu,youwillnotconvincemethatHeisagod.HetoldmethisHimself,many times. I spoke with Him like I speak with you now. The Emperor isremarkable,thepinnacleofhumanity’sevolutionarypath,andHehaspowerthatyouandIcannotcomprehend.ButHewasnotandisnotagod.Hewasaman.Anexceptionalman,butamannonetheless.Asaman,Hemademistakes.Asaman,Hehadhisflaws.’‘You areHis son,my lord,’ saidMathieu. ‘You have said that you are not aman.’‘Iamnotanormalman,’said theprimarch, ‘but Iamstillhuman, forall themanygiftstheEmperorgaveme,andsoistheEmperor.’Mathieupacedaround thedarknessof theexedra,his sandalsplashing in theshallowpuddlesonthemarbleashelookedupattheloftyclock.‘Ifyourfatherhasthepowerofagod,doesthatnotmakeHimone,whetherHebelievedHimselftobesoornot?’hesaid.‘TheEmperorprotectsus.ItisevidentintheactionsofHisholysaints,whoarethewilloftheEmperormademanifest,and theLegionof theDamned,whoappearatbattle’s forlornhope,and in theEmperor’sTarot,whosereadingsguideordinarymendaytoday.’Guillimanthoughtbackagaintohismeetingwithhisfather.Hedidnotliketorevisitthememory;itwasasifthememoryforceditselfonhimratherthanheactivelysoughttorecallit.Thethinginthecradleoftheancientmachines,fedbyloathsometechnology.Andthenthegoldenlight,andthenthepain…Guilliman’slipspressedthin.Thedisplayhadbeenaformofcontrol.Thepainhadbeenaformofcontrol.Hewastiredofbeingused.‘Heisnotagod,’hesaid.‘Heistome.Heistotrillions.Whywillyounotacceptthetruth?’‘Tome,Hewasafather.’Adistant,uncaring,heartless,manipulativefather,hethought.‘Andalord.IhavediedforHimonce,andwouldagain.ThatdoesnotgiveHimdivinity.’Coldness. That was the defining sensation of his meeting with the Emperor.Infinite,terriblecoldness.

Hehadapproachedthemeetingwithdread,fearingwhathewouldfind.Wouldhisfatherbedead?WouldHebeinsane?Wouldtheyevenbeabletotalk?WhenhehadbeenadmittedtothethroneroomandapproachedtheGoldenThrone,hehaddonesoashehadapproachedhisfosterfatherKonor’sfuneral,willingitallto be right, drowning in certain grief. Between the time of the Emperor’sascensiontothethroneandGuilliman’sowndeath,theEmperorhadspokentono one. How could anything have persisted for ten thousand years, he hadthought. There was the wizened corpse surrounded by banks of groaningmachinery,HissworduponHisknee.Sorrowsuffusedeverything.ThesacrificerequiredtokeeptheEmperoralivesickenedtheprimarch.IfHewerealive.Heappeareddead.Guillimanhadexpectednothing.ButHespoke.With words of light and fire, the Emperor had conferred with His returnedprimarch,thelastofHisfinestcreations.Acreation.Notason.ThelivingEmperorhadbeenanartfulbeing,asskilledathidingHisthoughtsas He was at reading those of others. What remained of Him was powerfulbeyondcomprehension,butitlackedthesubtletyHehadhadwhilstHewalkedamongmen.Speakingwith theEmperor hadbeen like conversingwith a star.TheEmperor’swordsburnedhim.Whathurtmostdeeplywaswhatwentunsaid.The Emperor greeted Guilliman not as a father receives a son, but as acraftsmenwhorediscoversafavouritetoolthathethoughtlost.Hebehavedlikeaprisonerlockedinanironcagewhoispassedarasp.Guillimanhadnoillusions.Hewasnotthemanwhobroughttherasp;hewastherasp.While theEmperorhadwalkedabroad,HehadcloakedHismanipulations inlove.HehadletHisprimarchscallHimfather;HehadletthemcallthemselvesHis sons.Hehad rarely spoken thosewordsHimself,Guillimannow realised,andwhenHehadHehaddonesowithoutsincerity.BuffetedbythefullmightoftheEmperor’swillunclothedinflesh,acloakhadbeenrippedfromGuilliman’seyes.TheEmperorhadallowedthemtoloveHim,andtobelieveHelovedtheminreturn.Hehadnot.Hisprimarchswereweapons,thatwasall.ThoughHispowerwas immense,perhapsgreater than it hadbeenbeforeHeascended, theEmperor’shumanitywasallbutgone.Hecouldno longermaskHis thoughts with a human face. The Emperor’s light was blinding, all

encompassing,butfinally–finally–Guillimanhadseenitasawhole.Thebeinghehadthoughtofasafathercouldhidenothingfromhim.The Emperor did not love His sons. They were things. Guilliman, all hisbrothers,werenothingbutameanstoanend.Mathieusmiled.‘Mylord,Heisfathertousallnow.DidyourfathernotspeakwithyouofHisdivinitywhenyoureceivedyourrevelation?’Theprimarch’sscowlwascalculatedtorevealenoughofhisangertoshutthepriestup,andnomore.‘Myothermilitant-apostolicslearnedveryquicklynottoask me what occurred in the throne room when I returned to Terra,’ saidGuillimanwarningly.‘Takethisasyourlesson.Now,enoughofthistheologicaldebate.Itistimetoremovesomeoftheenemy’sadvantageuponEspandor.’Guillimansmoothlydrewhisfather’ssword.Mathieugasped.HehadseentheSwordoftheEmperordrawnonseveraloccasions.Everytime,heborewitnesstoamiracle.Onleavingthescabbard,thebladeburstintoflame.Guillimandidnotbegrudgethepriesthisawe.Therewasgreatwarpcraftintheweapon.When thebladewas removed from theEmperor’switheredknee andpresentedtoGuillimanbytheCaptain-GeneraloftheAdeptusCustodes, ithadsomehow fit his primarch’s stature.Guilliman frowned.He tried to rememberhow tall the Emperor was, but His living image refused to be caught andexamined.Insomememories,HewasastallasGuilliman;inothers,nobiggerthanamortalman.‘I can feel His presence!’ said Mathieu. With wide eyes he stared into theflickeringshadowsmadebythefireasifhecouldseetheEmperorlookingbackathim.‘Heisallaroundus,rightnow.IcanfeelHispower!’Guillimanlookedattheblade’sflickeringedge.Whenheheldit,hetoofelttheEmperorcloseby.TherehadbeenplacesinthepastthatretainedanechooftheEmperor’s power long after He had visited. This sword had been his father’sown,thebladethathadslainHorusandendedthestrifeoftheHeresy,orsoallhadthoughtatthetime.He hefted theweapon thoughtfully. The firelight danced in his eyes. How itburnedwasaquestionofthewarp,notofscience,forallthemachinetrappingsonthebladeandinthehilt.Hisfatherhadbeengiftedinboth,moresothananyotherman.The sword resistedGuilliman’s attempts to learn its nature, andhewouldnotreleaseittoanyotheragencyforstudy.Forthesearts,Magnushadbeencensured.Theretaliationforawarningsentingood faith had created another terrible foe. Another miscalculation on hisfather’spart–onlyahumancouldmakesomanyerrors.

Heisnotagod.Countertothat,nomanexcelledinsomuch.Ifamanhasallthepowersofagod,ishenotagod?Guillimanaskedhimself.ThatiswhatMathieubelieves.Theoretical,thereisthepossibilityheiscorrect.Iamnotimmunetomistake.Heraisedtheswordaloft.Itswarm,yellowfirelightbeattheshadowsback.Thescentof incense filtered into the room.TheLibrariansheldup theirhandsandmutteredfocusingprayers, the lightof theirpowershiningfromtheireyesandgatheringintheirhands.TheSisterstookastepclosertotheclock,suppressingitsmalevolentpower.‘Youarenotwelcome,’Guillimansaid,andhedidnotknowifhewassayingittothestoneortohisfather’sfaintghostthatseemedtohaunttheroom.‘Begonetothewarp.’Withthosesimplewordsheswung.Whateveritsnature,theSwordoftheEmperorwasanathematoChaos.Itsplitonelegof theclockaseasilyas if ithadbeenbutter.Themachinelurched, itsticking falling out of time and its pendulums clashing together. Clockworkgroundupontheunholystoneinthecentreofthedeviceasittooktheweightoftheunbalancedmechanism.Sparkssprayedfromtherock,butthedevicedidnotfall, onlypulsed faster andglowedbrighter.Guilliman strode to the secondofthreelegs,drewbackhisweaponandstruckagain.Thesecondlegwascutneatlythrough.Theclocklurchedagain.Allitsweightpressedsidewaysontotheobelisk.Itheldforamoment,thenwiththescreamingofmetaluponstone,theclockcollapsed,takingthemenhirdownwithit.The great stone cracked, and its light dimmed. The clock groaned as gearsclashed.Themechanismlocked,anditwasstill.The primarch gestured to the broken device, ‘Remove this,’ he ordered theSistersofSilence.‘Makesureallthepiecesaregathered.’Theymovedforwards.Afusionlancewasbroughtup,andlascutters,andtheybegan to dismember the remains. Guilliman watched them begin work, thenturnedhisback.Mathieulookedathiminadoration.‘Iadviseyoutoleave,militant-apostolic,’saidtheprimarch.‘Thisplaceisnotsafeforyou.Youhavebeenherelongenough.’Mathieu’s face changed from rapture.He frowned. ‘My lord, I…’he blinkedandpointed.‘LordRegent!’gaspedTigurius.‘Somethingiscoming!’GuillimanlookedbackattheclockintimetoseethefirstSisterdie.Astabbing

blade shot from the workings she was cutting into, running her through andlifting her threemetres into the air on a pillar of brass thatmoved and coiledorganically,reformingitselfintosomethingdeadly.‘Daemon!’screamedMaxim.Apulseofenergyboomedoutfromthewreckedclock,andafoulwindblewinalldirections.ThecarvingoftheEmperoronthewallrattledandbangedagainstthevandalisedstonework,cameloosefromitsfittingsandcrasheddowntothefloor. The Librarians roared with effort, their aegis hoods blazing with psy-amplification.‘We cannot hold it closed – a rift is forming!’ one shouted. He fell back,staggering, whips of psychic feedback cracking out and lashing the cathedralpillars.TheCustodes bowed into thewind, their boots scraping on the floor as theywere forcedbackwards by the unnatural gale.Guillimanplanted theSwordoftheEmperorinthegroundandkneltbehindit.Flamesstreamedfromitsedgesaroundhim,formingagoldenshield.Acrackofthunderpresagedtheopeningofatearinrealspace,andaheaving,gelatinous presence poured through, splashing into the broken clock. Longstreamsof itwrapped themselves around theworkings, its touch turning themgreenanddullwithdecayevenas itbound them together, remaking themandpullingthemintoatall,detestableshape.Ablack,oily skin formedover theclockworkandbrokenstone.Thedaemonroseup,gatheringthestuffoftheclockandthemenhirintoitself,andtakingonhumanoid form. Organs of whirring cogs sank into its chest. Ropey musclemovedunder the shiningblack skin.Where themetal and stone showed in itsform, theywerecorroded:brassandbronzebecominggreen, fused lumps,andtherockpitting,thoughitglowedbrighterandbrighter.Forearmsgrewandgrew, the fingersbecoming long,backward-facingspikes,likethewingsofabat.Ashortpowerfulrearpairoflegsburstfromthebackofthe mass. Huge shoulders grew in seconds, unnatural bones cracking as theygrewatpace.Withalurchingflop,theclock-daemonlurchedforwards.Forahead,ithadtheeyelessskullofanequidleftlongintheforest,greenandgrey,thehoneycombofitsdeadmarrowshowingwheretheouterlayerhadfailed.Itwalkedhunchedoverontheknucklesofitselongatedfingers,thoughithadnowingmembranesto join them. Indeed, it appeared half finished overall. As it moved its oilysurface dulled, becoming leathery, rotting skin. A choking miasma of decay

filledthecathedral.Thewinddied.‘Back,daemon!’shoutedGuilliman.Heraisedhissword.‘IamQaramarof theLostSecond,’ saida rasping,hideousvoice thatcamefrom nowhere and everywhere. ‘LastWatcher of the LastMoment. Fifth inNurgle’sfavour.Icannotbekilled.Ihaveseentheendoftime.Iwillbetherewhenthefinalatomicmotionofthishatefulrealmdecaysintoblessedentropy,and Chaos will be born anew. I am sent here to be your executioner,anathema’sget.’‘It’satrap!’yelledTigurius.Heraisedhishand,andblazedoutaforkofwarplightning.‘Takeitdown!’yelledColquan.Allatonce, theprimarch’spartyattacked.Boltshammered into thedaemon’sunnaturalbody.Psychicpowerwashedatit.Thedaemonmarchedforwards,itsspiritstillknittingmatterintoitsfalsebody.The temperature plummeted as it sucked the energy from reality around it.Bulletsdisappearedlikepebblesdroppingintowater,sendingoutripplesintheairandnothingmore.Thethingtosseditshead.Astinkingmanethatlookedlikeragsofseaweedflickedoutarounditsbareskull,andthelightningandfireoftheLibrarians was turned aside, blasting into the cathedral. It stomped forwards,growing larger as itmoved.Now its skinwas full of holes, and ribs gleamedbeneath; amoment later, itwas smooth and supple, untouched by time.As itstalkedforwards,likeadragonfromancientlegend,itagedanddied,agedanddied,overandover,thoughitsmismatchedskullremainedthesamethroughoutandthestinkremained,whetheritsstatewasflushwithyouthorripewithrot.Qaramarsnickered.‘Youcannotharmme.Iamtheendoftime.Iamthelastmomentofdecay.’It bent its long head low to the ground and drew in a breath that sucked thewarriors of the Imperium towards its razor-toothedmaw.Then it blewout, sohardtheywerebowledover,andaegishoodsexplodedaroundtheheadsofafewof the lesserLibrarians.Theydied, consumedby their ownpower, their soulsburningupashotwhitestab-firesblazedfromtheireyesockets.MucousblastedfromQaramar’smouth,amistfilledwithgobbetsofdiseasedoffal,maggotsandallmanneroffoulness.Whereithitarmour,metalrotted,andwhereitmelteditswaythroughtoflesh,warriorsfell.Whereithitstone,itslidandgathered,takingon the shapes of diseased, pot-bellied mortals. All around the cathedral,plaguebearersroseup,alreadycountingtheirinfernalcountbeforetheyhadfully

manifested.Qaramarroseontoitsmuscularhindlimbs,andspreaditsmembranelesswingswide.‘Fearme,forIamtherot-drake,thefoulcatcher,themasteroflastmoments.Iamthedeathoftime!’itsaid.‘AndIammighty.’Qaramarattacked.Thecathedralbecameabattlefieldwheremenandwomenstruggledtosurvive.The fog given off by the daemon corroded breathing apparatus, poured downthroatsandattackedlungs.Theenhancedwarriorsof theAdeptusAstartesandthe Adeptus Custodes struggled on, their mighty bodies fighting against thepoison,buteventheirmulti-lungswerenoguaranteeofsurvival.SeveraloftheVictrixGuard,thecreamofUltramar,felltoQaramar’spestilence.The Sisters of Silence attacked it, blades swinging. Their soulless aurasperturbed the existence of the daemon, but it swatted them back, or snappedthemupinitsmassivehorse’smaw,sheeringthemintwobetweenscissorteeth.TheCustodianschargedin,swingingtheirguardianspears,buttheyweresweptasidebyaswipeofthecreature’swing-limbs,andoneoftheirmightycompanydiedbeforeGuillimanorderedthemtodisengage.‘Enough!Thisbeastisbeyondyou.Fallback,Icommandyou!Iwillfightit!’Hisswordflaringwithfire,Guillimansteppedcloser.Qaramarswungitsheavyheadaroundtofacetheprimarch.‘You will die. Your bodyguard will die. All things die before Qaramar theLast,theLifeless,theNever-Living!’Itboundedforwards,thebonesofitsuselesswingsclackedagainstoneanother.ItknockedtheAdeptusCustodesaside,crushingoneunderneathamassivehindclaw.The power of the enemy was immense. Its very presence scrabbled atGuilliman’ssoul,threateningtoshredtheedgesandtearpiecesaway.Itroaredoutatorrentoffilthattheprimarch;heraisedhissword,anditsbileevaporatedontheblade’sfires.‘Ihaveslainmanylikeyou,’saidGuilliman.‘Therearenonelikeme,’saidQaramar.‘Therearenonelikemeeither.’Qaramar swung its finger bones like swords, slashing down hard at theprimarch. Guilliman parried one hand, dodging the other. The Sword of theEmperorblazedwhitehotasitconnectedwiththedaemon’sskin.Butthoughthesword’stouchalonewasdeathtomostdaemons,itwasnotenoughtoharmthe

Last Watcher. Guilliman was forced back by the dragon-thing’s onslaught.Custodians leapt to his side, their weapons swinging in perfect synchronicitywith one another. They cut itmany times, but thewounds closed asQaramaragedandgrewyounginconstantcycle,andtheCustodianswerealwayssweptaway by vicious sweeps of the thing’s wings, leaving Guilliman to battle italone.AsQaramar fought, thewing fingers trailed shadow that coalesced intoraggedskin.Alividgrowthoffleshcreptupfromthebaseofitsequid’sskull,claddingitinraw,pulsingmuscle.‘Witheverydeath,Igrowstronger,’itsaid.‘WitheverysoulIgrowgreater.Attheendoftime,Iholdallthedeadinme,andsononearemightierthanI.’‘Thisisnottheendoftime,’saidGuilliman.Andhestruck.The Sword of the Emperor swung true, flames rushing from its edge like abanner.Qaramarwhippedbackitsmaterialisingwingtooslowly.Withcrackleofpower, the sword cleaved off the tip of Qaramar’s littlest elongated finger.Qaramarscreechedsoloudlypartofthecathedralwalltumbleddown,crushingSpaceMarines and daemons alike. The severed digit tip skidded up against apillar,andboiledawaytonothing.Beneathhishelmet,Guillimansmiledwithsavagetriumph.‘ThisistheSwordoftheEmperor,thegreatfoeofChaos.Ithaslaidlowthousandsofyourkind.Youshallbebutanadditiontothetally.’Roaringhorribly,Qaramarstruckdown.Guillimanparriedone-handed.Thoughshakenbytheimpact,herecoveredquickly,raisingtheHandofDominionandrakingthesideofthecreaturewithboltfire.Rottenskinblewoutinshowersofgore,andwhenQaramarcycledbacktohisyouthfulstate,thewoundsremained.‘Impossible!’ithissed.‘I am the light of the Imperium. The Imperial Regent. I was made by theEmperor,andHewatchesovermenow.Ishallbeyourdownfall,daemon,notyoumine.’Guilliman swung his sword round overhead, the fires roaring into a perfectcircle.Hestruckagain,cuttingdeepintotheforearmofthedaemon.Bloodandbrokenclockworkraineddownfromtheinjury,andQaramarroaredinanger.‘To theprimarch!Letusaidhim!’shoutedColquan,dragginghimselfoff thefloor, snatching up his dropped spear and eviscerating a plaguebearer with apoint-blankshotfromthebuilt-inboltgun.‘Icannotbekilled!Iamdeath!’criedthedaemon.‘Therearemanythatclaimthatname,’saidGuilliman.‘Ihavekilledthemall.’Guillimanpressedhisattack,batteringatthedaemonwithaseriesoflightning

blowsthat filled thespacearoundhimwithsheetsof fire.Hecarvedawaythetipsof threemorewingfingers,andwhenthecreaturerecoiled,hesliceddeepintoitsrightshoulder.Itscreamedloudenoughtointerrupttheendlesscountingofthelesserdaemons.Withabellowalmostasterrifyingasthedaemon’s,Guillimanhititsshoulderagain,shearingoff thewholeof itsrightwing.Thelimbthrashedaboutonthefloor as it dissipated back into the warp, and the daemon backed away. Itattempteditsscreamagain,butaslamofpsychicforcefromtheSpaceMarineLibrariansstoleitsvoiceandsentitwhimperingbackwards.‘Icannotbekilled!’itrepeated.‘Iamdeath!’Brassgearsanddiseasedorgansranfromitsrotteninnardsontothefloor.‘Then begone!’ shouted Tigurius. Together, he and the other psychic SpaceMarines bent their will, tearing open the rift the daemon had poured itselfthrough.Purplishlightspilledacrosstheruinedcathedral.Rottingfacesgatheredthere,eagertojointheirdaemoniclord,butthepoweroftheSpaceMarinesheldthemback,preventingtheiringress,andtheyhowledwithoutrage.Qaramarskitteredback, lurching towards the rift.Bolt-roundshammered intoitsside.SistersandCustodiansranatitanddrovetheirweaponsintoitsflesh,allwhile Guilliman struck and struck again. The daemon was forced to defenditself,nolongerabletoattack,itsremainingwingbattedasidebytheSwordoftheEmperorwitheveryswipe.Thenitstopped,anditlaughed.‘You… cannot… kill…me!’ it roared, and it reared up. A pulse of powerupended the attackingwarriors, sending them clattering down the steps of thealtar.Dark light flared around it, and its body knitted itswounds, growing itswing anew. It beat both wings, now whole and webbed with patterned flesh.Gusts of poisonous airwaftedback, and thedaemon roseupover thebattlinghost.Spittingballsofsearingmatter,itattackedagain.‘LordGuilliman!’yelledMaxim.‘Forceitback!Senditintothewarp!’GuillimanwatchedQaramarswoopdownthecathedralaisle, itswingsalmostbrushing the sides. Its long head, now raw and bloody, its sockets filledwithrollingyelloweyes,snappedatthewarriorsofmankind.Thedoorsopened,andTetrarchFelixcamein,hisPrimarisSpaceMarinesbatteringatthedaemonwitha torrent of plasma and bolt fire.But the daemon laughed, and dove at them,scatteringthemandslayingthree.‘I will end it,’ said the primarch. He cast about himself. He spied a set ofcrumblingstairswithinthecathedralthatendedinabrokengallery.Theyshook

asherantothetop,stonepatteringontheground.Hehaltedattheedgeofthemissingfloor.Thedaemonfoldeditswings,spunaroundandturned,noseovertail.Itpasseddowntheaisleagain,backtowardsthesiteofthebrokenclockandtheprimarch.‘Youshallperish,littleemperor,’saidQaramar,‘andtheImperiumwithyou.’‘Ithinknot,’saidGuilliman.Roboute Guilliman waited for Qaramar to come screaming at him, then heleapt.Heclearedsixmetresfromastandingstart,armsandlegswheelingashefelltowardsthedaemon’sback.QaramarturneditsflayedskullaroundtosnapattheImperialRegent.Onlyat the lastseconddidGuillimangrasp theSwordoftheEmperorinbothhandsanddriveitdownthroughthebeast’sback,piercingitsmechanicalheart.Qaramar screamed, itswings thrashing.Guilliman leaned back on his sword,making the daemon rear uphigher in the air. Power built in the sword, and itglowed incandescently, until light burned in every rent and orifice of thedaemon’sbody.‘Now,mylord,leap!’shoutedTigurius.Guillimankickedbackoff thedaemon, jumpingsidewaysas it crashed,bodyaflameallover,throughthetearinspaceandtime.‘Closetherift!’orderedTigurius.A shock wave boomed through the cathedral, blasting out its remainingwindows and bringing down another portion of its weakened walls. Theremaininglesserwarp-bornwaveredlikemiragesanddisappeared,theirdroningcountfadingmomentslater.Theshoutsofmenreplacedthesoundsofthebattleas thewoundedwere given succour, andmorewarriors came rushing into thecathedral.‘It isdone,’saidtheprimarch.‘EspandorisfreeofMortarion’switchcraft. Itscleansingmaybegin.’Guilliman put up and sheathed the sword. The fires went out, plunging thecathedralbackintodarkness,butacertainsanctityremained.BytheEmperor’sownblade,GuillimanhaddrivenbackthebalefulinfluenceofChaos.Hecouldnotdenytheeffect.Hecouldnothavedefeatedanenemylikethatwithouttheweapon.Godlike,hethought.Mathieusanktohisknees.‘Praisebe!’hewhispered.Tearsrandownhisface.‘Youarestillalive?’saidGuillimanwithmildsurprise.‘The Emperor protects. The Emperor protects!’Mathieu said, partway into a

religious fugue. ‘As you fought and others died, I was unharmed! Praise be,praisebe!TheEmperorhastouchedthisplace.’Guilliman shrugged. Combat over, he was weary. The emptiness inside himseemeddeeperforhisencounterwiththedaemon.Hisheartslaboured,andhisscaritched.‘Heremainspotent,evennow.’‘IcanfeelHisloveforhumanity,’saidMathieu.‘Icanfeelitallaroundme!’He hesitated in his rapture. ‘Tell me, oh lord regent, truthfully – does theEmperorloveus,mylord?DonotsayIamwrong!’The Emperor loves no one man, thought Guilliman. He cannot affordaffection – that is the honest practical for the impossible task that faces theMasterofMankind.HedidnotloveHissons,Hedoesnotlovemen,butHedoeslovemankind.IfindithardtoforgiveHim.DidHissolutionhavetobebuiltonlies?Liesuponlies?Mathieu’s question pushed Guilliman deeper into melancholy. More thananything,heyearned to speakwithhis foster fatherKonoronemore time.Hehadbeenanoblesoul,onewhocouldbetrusted.Atruefather.Had you not died before the Emperor arrived in Ultramar, would I haveabandonedyouasquicklyasmybrothersabandonedtheiradoptivefamilies?heaskedhimself.Heknewtheanswertothat,anditshamedhim.Nooneisimmunetotheeffectsof such power, he told himself, but that did not make the truth any morepalatable.Heunderstood.Heknewwhathis fatherwanted toachieve, andwhy.Facingthings like Qaramar brought it home to him time and again. Knowing whatopposedmankindmadehimseetheutilityoflies.CouldGuillimanhonestlysayhe loved all the men who called himself his sons? He barely knew them,especially now – Cawl’s blasphemous hordes in particular. They, too, were ameans to an end. He and his ‘father’ had that in common. The mantle ofrulershipwasweighty,andmouldedthemanthatboreit.Ineverwantedtobeatyrant,thoughttheprimarch.Perhapsmyfatherdidnotwishtobesoeither.Historyhasrolesforusthatcannotbedenied.Wearebutpiecesontheboardofeternity.‘My lord,’ saidMathieu into theprimarch’s silence. ‘Please tellme, does theEmperorloveus?’Wearesomuchmorelikeyouthanyoueverintended,thoughtGuilliman.Yougavetoomuchofyourselftous.Withoutrealising,inyourarrogance,youmadeyourselfafatherintruth.Weareyoursons,ineveryway.Didyouseethat?

‘Mylord?’saidMathieu‘TheEmperorlovesusall,’liedRobouteGuilliman.Helookedoverthebrokenstatue and the few remains of the clock. ‘Now leaveme be,Mathieu. Imustconsultwiththetribuneandthetetrarch.’Guilliman left Mathieu kneeling in the dust, and went to the gates of thecathedralwhereTribuneColquan,TetrarchFelixandtherestgathered.Uponthestepsoutside,heunlockedhishelmet,revealinghisfacetoEspandoriaTertio’smuggy day.He breathed air free of taint other than that of honest decay. ThePlagueGod’sinfluencehadreceded.Heclosedhiseyes,andletthesundrythesweatonhisskin.‘Itisdone,’saidGuilliman.‘WeleaveEspandortonight.’‘Whatareourplans,mylord?’askedColquan.‘The Genesis Chapter, the Aurora Chapter, the Knights Cerulean, theMortifactorsandsundryotherelementsaretoremainheretopurgethedaemonicinfestationinthefarwest,andslaytheremainderoftheDeathGuard.Therestofourarmywillwithdrawandredeploy.Mortarionisnothere.Hiswebofevilisdisrupted.Theforcesleftareadelayingtactic,nothingmore.Thereisnomorereasonformetoremain.’‘Wheredoyouthinkhemightbe?’askedColquanneutrally.‘Parmenio,’ saidGuillimanwithout pause.All his carefulwinnowing of datahadsuggestedeitherEspandororParmenioasMortarion’sbaseofoperations.IfMortarionwasnotonEspandor,hewouldbeontheother.‘HeisonParmenio.’‘Youaresure?’askedFelix.‘Iamsure.Itishardtoreckonouractionshereavictory,butwehavetakenthefirststepstoassuringwewillwin.LetMortarionfeelatease,andthinkIcannotfindhim,nordislodgehimfromUltramar.He isabout tobedisabusedof thismisapprehension.’Guillimansmiledgrimly.‘OnParmenio,Iwillmakehimseethetruth.’Withthosewords,theprimarchpassedfromthecathedralandintotheruinsofEspandoriaTertioalone,hissoulladenwithsorrow.

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

GuyHaleyistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelPharos,thePrimarchsnovelPerturabo:TheHammerofOlympiaandtheWarhammer40,000novelsDante,Baneblade,Shadowsword,ValedorandDeathofIntegrity.HehasalsowrittenThroneworldandTheBeheadingforTheBeastArisesseries.HisenthusiasmforallthingsgreenskinhasalsoledhimtopentheeponymousWarhammernovelSkarsnik,aswellastheEndTimesnovelTheRiseoftheHornedRat.HehasalsowrittenstoriessetintheAgeofSigmar,includedinWarStorm,GhalMarazandCallofArchaon.Helives

inYorkshirewithhiswifeandson.

AnextractfromTheEyeofMedusa.

‘Withthislink,Ibindyoutomyclan.’‘Tomyclan.’Echoesofgearsandmetal.Kardan Stronos barely heard the words of the litany. They had becomeinseparable from the shriekofboneplanesand laser scalpels.Every tinybonevibrated to its own share of the agony, and only his fundamental genetichardeningkepthimconsciousoftheprocessatall.‘Is there pain?’The voice of the tech-priest,ArtisanAdeptSabeqRawl,wasperfectly level. Stronos was equally fastidious in answering, the question asmuchacomponentoftheritualasthepain.‘Painisoftheflesh.Fromthisdayonward,Iamiron.’ThewordstheyspokewereReket,thedialectofthemortalGarrsakiclansmenandtheritualtongueoftheirironoverlords.Itwasalanguageoffewwordsandconstraining syntax, colourless and harsh, enforcing the terse, inexpressivespeechofitswielders.ThedifferencesbetweenitandotherMedusanformsweresufficienttomakeitsusageunderthepresentcircumstancesachallenge.Aswastheintent.‘Thefleshcannotspeakwiththeclarityofmachinetomachine,’saidSabeq.‘Itcommunicates its needs through the code-language of pain.’ Stronos felt theceramite outer casing of his upper backplate adeptly unscrewed and detached,servomuscular bundles shrinking from their first taste of theAlloyed’smeagreatmosphere.‘Whatabout…’Thencamethesharpjabofaspinalprobebetweenthemechanismsandintothemarrow.‘Now?’Stronos’gaspperishedmidwayuphisthroat,andheswallowedhiscrywithaneffort.‘Barely.’‘Good.’ Impossible to be certain, but the priest sounded impressed. ‘Thesensation you are feeling now is your spine passing instruction to your paincentres that the graft has been integrated successfully. Congratulations, LordStronos–youareoftheclan.’

‘Oftheclan.’Therewas a chitteringwhir as hook limbs passed over the backof his neck,anointingthenewimplantwithoils,machiningthemintotheglosswithanarrayofrotablescrubbers.Stronoswinced,theareastillraw,andfixedhisgazefirmlyforward.Thecellwassmall,irongrey,theminimumnecessaryforthephysicalexistenceofatranshumanbeing.Elevationtotherankofsergeantbroughttheprivilegeofsingle quarters, an archaic custom for his needs were few, but tradition wastradition,andthesinglecotwastheoneonwhichhesat.Theoccasionalspasmof his muscles, and the artisan’s insect-quick shifts in position, broughtsympathetic creaks and groans from its frame. The current placement of hishands,laidoneatoptheotheroveranironboundincunabuluminhislap,playedalargepartinhisoutwardstoicism.Notthehandssomuchasthebookitself,hisironcore,allhisbody’sweaknessespouring into itswornbindingandcreasedparchment.‘With this link,’ said Sabeq,withdrawing his implements, then gimballing incloseenoughtoStronos’necktophysicallyblowonthepolishedsurface,aritualbenedictiontofortune.‘Ibindyoutomyclan.’‘Tomyclan.’Unconsciously, Stronos dialled through his bionic eye’s spectral bands, themusclesofhischeekclenchingandreleasingtoaningrainedrhythm,matchingtheacuityofhisorganiceye to theaugmeticasheflickedfromwavelength towavelength. Iron Father Verrox had laughed it off as a tick, one that oftenmanifestedunderduressorinthebuilduptoadeployment,buttoStronositwastheverydefinitionofphysicaldeficiency.Thatitarosefromadesiretoexpungehis body’s weaknesses did not repudiate it. Realising what he was doing, hestopped, the final transition from red to infrared leaving his flesh eye behind,staringintoapallofexcavatedboneasthreeheatwraithsmaterialisedfromthecorners of the cell. Theywere hulking, black, visible only by the dim yellowcoronathatoutlinedtheirarmouredframes,patchesoffierywhitearoundpowerpacksandpartiallydisengagedarmourseals.Theyborewitness.Oneamongsttheirnumbersteppedforward.HisnamewasJalenghaal.Stronosdid not know him except by name and honour roll. He stopped half a metrebeforeStronos’ cot, and there triggered themanual releaseof a sectionalplatefrom his power armour’s girdle band. For any Iron Hands battle-brother of acertain age, the removal of armour that they had long ago ceased to consider

distinctfromtheirownincreasinglyaugmetisedframeswasalabourofhours,ifnotdays,onethatdemandeduseofaforgeanda teamofservitors.Jalenghaaland his brothers would have devoted many days prior to Stronos’ arrival inpreparation for this ritual. Sabeq’s dendrites flicked expertly around Stronos’front,swifterthaneithereyecouldtrack,tostriphimofthecorrespondingpiece.‘With this link,’ Jalenghaal intoned, flat andwithout cadence ashepresentedthe slab of black armour. Corpuscular attachments and tentacled bio-circuitryprobed the air for the ligand sitesof aSpaceMarine’sblack carapace. ‘I bindyou to my clan.’ The emphatic use of ‘my’ sounded an uneven note in theotherwisemonotonepurroftheIronHandsbrother’swords.It was instantly forgotten as the armour plate slotted into Stronos’ preparedharnessperfectly,hisarmour’ssystemssnarlingattheinfluxofforeigndata.Hegasped, overwhelmed, as command protocols, tactical runes, andmuch,muchmore exloaded from theother IronHandsbrother and splayed acrossStronos’bioniceye.Theyhoveredinview,likedrippingsteel,andintheblinkofaneyeStronosknewBrotherJalenghaal.‘By your iron, am I bound,’ Stronos managed to utter, and remembered toblink-clicktheritualconfirmationtoJalenghaal’shelmdisplay.In silence, the Iron Hand stepped back, and the second presented himself.<Lurrgol,> his armour told him. Then the third. <Burr.> Both came bearingpartsofthemselves,andfurtherbindingsfrombattle-brothers,teninall,unableto attend.Toeachnewaddition, his armour’s spirit respondedwith snarls andwhines,andStronosfelthismindwhirlwiththeinfluxofinformation,fragmentsofthoughtandemotionthatfellonhiscorticesonlytomeltawaylikeflakesofsnow.Thegivencomponentswerenotofferedat random.Each incorporatedadata-tethertwinnedtothegiver’ssystemcore.Whenitwascompleted,Stronosheardtheterritorialgrowlthatemanatedfromhisarmour’sintelligencecore,asurlywelcometoaquorumoften.HehadstudiedthecustomsofClanGarrsakinpreparationforhistransferandswiftelevation,hisfascinationgenuine,butthepoweroftheirbondingtookhisbreathaway.Itwasasthoughtheindividualidentitiesoftenbattle-brothershadbeensubsumedintoagestaltbeing, itsmindnoospheric, itsviewfromaplaneaboveitsconstituentsum.Thisbeinghadaname.ClaveStronos.‘Itisdone.’Jalenghaalstoodtallagainstthewall,anautopsyinmonochromeofdullblackceramiteandsleekplasteelbionic.Forallhismachinedetachment,hisimpatiencewasasaudibleasthepowerhumofhissystems.

‘Almost,’saidSabeq.‘Ineedonlyaddrankinsigniaandidentwafersthat theOmnissiahmightknowit.’‘TheAlloyedapproachesThennos’orbit,’saidJalenghaal.‘Brothersmuster.’‘AfacttowhichIamcogent.’‘Thengivemeatimeframe,adept.’Arippleofmechadendrites,ashrug.‘Thearmour’sspiritdemandsitsdue,andyoursmustrecogniseclan-brotherandcommander.’ItwasinthenatureoftheIronHandstochallengetheirsuperiors,forinsuchchallenges were weaknesses exposed, but at that Jalenghaal fell silent. ThebondsofclanwentdeeperthanChapter,deepereventhanthesharedgene-linktotheprimarch.Intimeslikethese,itwastheonebondofbrotherhoodthatremainedstrongerthaniron.Withtheritualessentiallyover,Stronosallowedhismusclestorelax;hishandspartedfromthebookinhislap.TheCanticleofTravelswastheonlysurvivingtextdescribingFerrusThennos’early life on Medusa. This volume, written and annotated by the paramountVoiceofMarssometimeintheearlycenturiesofM33,wastheoldestversionofthe collected stories still in existence. The forgotten adept’s anonymous opus,bringingtheOmnissiah’senlightenmenttotheoldlegends,wasthecornerstoneof doctrinal thought fromMedusa to Mars, and anywhere else that two IronHandscollided.ThiscopyhadseenmoreactionthanmostImperialGuardsmen,andwasbetterread.Thepagesweredog-eared,thelasscorchacrossthelowerspine earnedonFuriosMinorwhenhehad still borne thebookwithhim intobattle.Ithadbeenagiftfromafriend,andStronoshadfewenoughofthose.He closed his flesh eye andmassaged his foreheadwith the knuckles of hisgauntletuntilthedizzinessreceded.‘IronCaptainDraevarkhasapprisedmeofthesituationonThennos.Theshipsofmyformerclanareuplink-capable.’The stereotype of the thuggishwarrior of Vurgaanwas as old as that of therobotic butcher of Clan Garrsak; Stronos found the cultural idiosyncrasiesfascinating,but theallusion to thecaricatureraisedadeath-rattlechucklefromLurrgol.StronosglanceduptoaddressthewhippingtendrilsofArtisanRawl.‘Perhapswe might dispense with the abjuration of rejection and the ancillary rites ofinscriptionuntilaftertheinitialdeployment.’‘Your forgechain showsme that youhaveundergone the ritemore thanonce

before. I see you have learned from the experience.’ Rawl bowed hismechitinoushead-section.‘Verywell.Themachine-spiritwouldwelcomealatearrivaltoyourfirstbattleevenlessthanitwouldarushedblessing.Oh,forthepurityofawarrior’scalling.’‘Ironisnotdugpurefromtheground,’growledJalenghaal.‘Itismadepure.’LurrgolandBurrnoddedinagreement.TheartisanhookedabloodiedextensoroverStronos’shoulderandgesturedfortheservitor,hiddeninsomnolencebehindthefogofcountersepticandbone.Atthe artisan’s unspoken override, the lobotomised bio-construct started towardsthe cot. Its necrotised room temperature biology had hidden it from Stronos’infravisionuntilthen.Aneatsquareofbloodvesselsandbonehadbeendugoutofitsbrow.Thefleshtherehadborneabinharicident-brandcontainingStronos’clan, clave, and personal authentications. All now former. It too wouldeventuallyrequirere-baptismthattheOmnissiahmightknowit.Theservitorpresentedtheadeptatrayofimplements,whichheselectedfrom,replacing drill bits and nozzle heads as he dutifully blessed the currentlynamelessservitor.ThenhereturnedhisattentionstoStronos’armour,hyper-finelaser sculptors erasing rank and squad insignia and replacing them with newones. Stronos felt the artisan’s sculpting tools hover uncertainly over hisbattleplate’smoreglaringimperfections.Scratch marks in Juuket, the barbaric dialect of Clan Vurgaan, recorded themanyworldsonwhichhehadfought.Stringsofspentshellsandpowercasingsrecalledparticularlyimpressivekills,thetrophieshangingfromhisarmourlikethreadedbeads.Henoddedreluctantly.Whenonejoinedaclan,onejoinedabsolutely.Lurrgol appeared amused by Stronos’ hesitation. ‘Kardaanus and Vand lookforwardtofightingunderyou,brother-sergeant.’Stronoshadnevermettheclave’stwoheavy-weaponspecialists,butsomehowhe found he knew themwell. They had a shared appreciation of firepower. ‘Ilookforwardtofightingalongsidethemaswell.Withallofmyclan.’Heglancedat Jalenghaal’s brooding form as, with a serried click, Artisan Rawl’s laserssnappedbackintofoldingsheaths.Itisdone,’saidtheartisan.‘MaytheOmnissiahwatchoverthisinstrumentofholywar.MaytheMotiveForcemoveit.MaytheMachineGodseeitunmakethe impure works of the heretic, the abomination and the alien.’ He made acomplexconcatenationofgestures.‘AveOmnissiah,’thefourIronHandslegionariesrumbledinunison.

Stronos rose. The cot creaked with the removal of his immense weight. Heriskedaturnoftheneck.Stiff,butthepainwasbearable.‘Howdoesitfeel?’saidBurr.‘Weak.’Stronos grunted as he pushed the softseals of arm and neck joints to run hisfingersdowntheforgechain.Theaugmeticvertebraesymbolisedacceptanceintohisnewclan.ThefirstthateverynewScoutreceivedwastheplainsteelofClanDorrvok. Next down his chain was the opalxanthine of the Clan Vurgaan,followednowbytheacid-etchedgoldrosariumofClanGarrsak.Hefeltafrissonofconnectiontohisprior,lesserselves,anunbrokenchainthatranback,throughhisinitiation,tohislong-discardedhumanity.‘Withthislinkwebindyoutoourclan,’Jalenghaalintoned.Therewasasinglecenturycog-studbolted intohishelm.HeclaspedStronos’wrist in agrip thatwasstrongerthansuperhumanandharderthanplasteel.Stronosreturneditwithequalstiffness.‘Youarefullyconnected?’askedBurr.Through the constant feed of inload/exload from individual to clave to clan,Stronosfoundthathecouldseetheident-runesofeverybattle-brotheraboardthecruiser,theAlloyed.Recognisedbytheinterlinkmanifoldasasergeant,hewasabletopinpointtheirapproximatelocation,determinetheircombatstatus,listeninonprivatevoxloops,andevenseethroughabrother’seyesbysiphoninginputfromhisvisualfeeds.Itfelt…godlike.‘Iam.’‘Whatisthecalculusofbattle?’Stronos quickly read the runes. ‘Full-scale deployment.An examplemust bemade.’

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