Impasse
Illumination
The wolf and the moon
THEY ALL ROSE as the Warmaster entered the room. It was a large chamber in the Extranus compound where the Imperials met for their regular briefings. Large shield-glass windows overlooked the tumbling terraces of the forested city and the glittering ocean beyond.
Horus waited silently while six officers and servitors from the Master of Vox's company finished their routine sweep for spyware, and only spoke once they had activated the portable obscurement device in the corner of the room. The distant melodies of the aria were immediately blanked out.
Two weeks without solid agreement.’ Horus said, 'nor even a mutually acceptable scheme of how to continue. They regard us with a mixture of curiosity and caution, and hold us at arm's length. Any commentary?'
'We've exhausted all possibilities, lord.’ Maloghurst said, 'to the extent that I fear we are wasting our time. They will admit to nothing but a willingness to open and pursue ambassadorial links, with a view to trade
and some cultural exchange. They will not be led on the subject of alliance.’
'Or compliance.’ Abaddon remarked quietly.
'An attempt to enforce our will here.’ said Horus, 'would only confirm their worst opinions of us. We cannot force them into compliance.’
'We can.’ Abaddon said.
Then I'm saying we shouldn't.’ Horus replied.
'Since when have we worried about hurting people's feelings, lord?' Abaddon asked. Whatever our differences, these are humans. It is their duty and their destiny to join with us and stand with us, for the primary glory of Terra. If they will not...'
He let the words hang. Horus frowned. 'Someone else?'
- 'It seems certain that the interex has no wish to join us in our work.’ said Raldoron. They will not commit to a war, nor do they share our goals and ideals. They are content with pursuing their own destiny.’
Sanguineus said nothing. He allowed his Chapter Master to weigh in with the opinion of the Blood Angels, but kept his own considerable influence for Horus's ears alone.
'Maybe they fear we will try to conquer them.’ Loken said.
'Maybe they're right.’ said Abaddon. They are deviant in their ways. Too deviant for us to embrace them without forcing change.’
*We will not have war here.’ Horus said. We cannot afford it. We cannot afford to open up a conflict on this front. Not at this time. Not on the vast scale subduing the interex would demand. If they even need subduing.’
'Ezekyle has a valid point.’ said Erebus quietly. The interex, for good reasons, I'm sure, have built a society that is too greatly at variance to the model of human culture that the Emperor has proclaimed. Unless they
show a willingness to adapt, they must by necessity be regarded as enemies to our cause.’
'Perhaps the Emperor's model is too stringent.’ the Warmaster said flady.
There was a pause. Several of those present glanced at each other in quiet unease.
'Oh, come on!' Sanguinius exclaimed, breaking the silence. 'I see those looks. Are you honestly nursing concerns that our Warmaster is contemplating defiance of the Emperor? His father?' He laughed aloud at the very notion, and forced a few smiles to surface.
Abaddon was not smiling. The Emperor, beloved of all.’ he began, 'enfranchised us to do his bidding and make known space safe for human habitation. His edicts are unequivocal. We must suffer not the alien, nor the uncontrolled psyker, safeguard against the darkness of the warp, and unify the dislocated pockets of mankind. That is our charge. Anything else is sacrilege against his wishes.’
And one of his wishes.’ said Horus, 'was that I should be Warmaster, his sole regent, and strive to make his dreams reality. The crusade was born out of the Age of Strife, Ezekyle. Born out of war. Our ruthless approach of conquest and cleansing was formulated in a time when every alien form we met was hostile, every fragment of humanity that was not with us was profoundly opposed to us. War was the only answer. There was no room for subtlety, but two centuries have passed, and different problems face us. The bulk of war is over. That is why the Emperor returned to Terra and left us to finish the work. Ezekyle, the people of the interex are clearly not monsters, nor resolute foes. I believe that if the Emperor were with us today, he would immediately embrace the need for adaptation. He would not want us to wantonly destroy that which there is no good reason
to destroy. It is precisely to make such choices that he has placed his trust in me.'
He looked round at them all. 'He trusts me to make the decisions he would make. He trusts me to make no mistakes. I must be allowed the freedom to interpret policy on his behalf. I will not be forced into violence simply to satisfy some slavish expectation.’
A CHILL EVENING had covered the tiers of the city, and under layers of foliage stirred by the ocean's breath, the walkways and pavements were lit with frosty white lamps.
Loken's duty for that part of the night was as perimeter bodyguard. The commander was dining with Jephta Naud and other worthies at the general commander's palatial house. Horas had confided to the Mournival that he hoped to use the occasion to informally press Naud for some more substantial commitments, including the possibility that the interex might, at least in principle for now, recognise the Emperor as the true human authority. Such a suggestion had not yet been risked in formal talks, for the iterators had predicted it would be rejected out of hand. The Warmaster wanted to test the general commander's feelings on the subject in an atmosphere where any offence could be smoothed over as conjecture. Loken didn't much like the idea, but trusted his commander to couch it delicately. It was an uneasy time, well into the third week of their increasingly fruitless visit. Two days earlier, Pri-march Sanguinius had finally taken his leave and returned to Imperial territory with the Blood Angels contingents.
Horns clearly hated to see him go, but it was a prudent move, and one Sanguinius had chosen to make simply to buy his brother more time with the interex. Sanguinius was returning to deal direcdy with some of
the matters most urgently requiring the Warmaster's attention, and thus mollify the many voices pleading for his immediate re-call.
Naud's house was a conspicuously vast structure near the centre of the city. Six storeys high, it overhung one of the grander civic tiers and was formed from a great black-iron frame infilled with mosaics of varnished wood and coloured glass. The interex did not welcome armed foreigners abroad in their city, but a small detail of bodyguards was permitted for so august a personage as the Warmaster. Most of the substantial Imperial contingent was sequestered in the Extranus compound for the night. Torgaddon, and ten hand-picked men from his company, were inside the dining hall, acting as close guard, while Loken, with ten men of his own, roamed the environs of the house.
Loken had chosen Tenth Company's Sixth Squad, Walkure Tactical Squad, to stand duty with him. Through its veteran leader, Brother-sergeant Kairus, he'd spread the men out around the entry areas of the hall, and formulated a simple period of patrol.
The house was quiet, the city too. There was the sound of the soft ocean breeze, the hissing of the overgrowth, the splash and bell-tinkle of ornamental fountains, and the background murmur of the aria. Loken strolled from chamber to chamber, from shadow to light. Most of the house's public spaces were lit from sources within the walls, so they played matrices of shade and colour across the interior, cast by the inset wall panels of rich wood and coloured gem-glass. Occasionally, he encountered one of Walkure on a patrol loop, and exchanged a nod and a few quiet words. Less frequendy, he saw scurrying servants running courses to and from the closed dining hall, or crossed the path of Naud's own sentries, mosdy armoured gleves, who said nothing, but saluted to acknowledge him.
Naud's house was a treasure trove of art, some of it mystifyingly alien to Loken's comprehension. The art was elegantly displayed in lit alcoves and on free-standing plinths with their own shimmering field protection. He understood some of it. Portraits and busts, paintings and light sculptures, pictures of interex nobles and their families, studies of animals or wildflowers, mountain scenes, elaborate and ingenious models of unnamed worlds opened in mechanical cross-section like the layers of an onion.
In one lower hallway in the eastern wing of the house, Loken came upon an artwork that especially arrested him. It was a book, an old book, large, rumpled, illuminated, and held within its own box field. The lurid woodcut illuminations caught his eye first, the images of devils and spectres, angels and cherubs. Then he saw it was written in the old text of Terra, the language and form that had survived from prehistory to The Chronicles of Ursh that lay, still unfinished, in his arming chamber. He peered at it. A wave of his hand across the field's static charge turned the pages. He turned them right back to the front and read the tide page in its bold woodblock.
A Marvelous Historie of Eevil; Being a warninge to Man Kind on the Abuses ofSorcerie and the Seduction of the Daemon.
That has taken your eye, has it?'
Loken rose and turned. A royal officer of the interex stood nearby, watching him. Loken knew the man, one of Naud's subordinate commanders, by the name of Mithras Tull. What he didn't know was how Tull had managed to come up on him wifhout Loken noticing.
'It is a curious thing, commander.’ he said.
Tull nodded and smiled. A gleve, his weighted spear was leant against a pillar behind him, and he had removed his visor to reveal his pleasant, honest face. A likeness.’ he said.
A what?'
'Forgive me, that is the word we have come to use to refer to things that are old enough to display our common heritage. A likeness. That book means as much to you as it does to us, I'm sure.'
'It is curious, certainly.’ Loken admitted. He unclasped his helm and removed it, out of politeness. 'Is there a problem, commander?'
Tull made a dismissive gesture. 'No, not at all. My duties are akin to yours tonight, captain. Security. I'm in charge of the house patrols.’
Loken nodded. He gestured back at the ancient book on display. 'So tell me about this piece. If you've the time?'
'It's a quiet night.’ Tull smiled again. He came forward, and brushed the field with his metal-sleeved fingers to flip the pages. 'My lord Jephta adores this book. It was composed during the early years of our history, before the interex was properly founded, during our outwards expansion from Terra. Very few copies remain. A treatise against the practice of sorcery.’
'Naud adores it?' Loken asked.
'As a... what was your word again? A curiosity?' There was something strange about Tull's voice, and Loken finally realised what it was. This was die first conversation he'd had with a representative of die interex without meturge players producing the aria in the background. 'It's such a woe-begotten, dark age piece.’ Tull continued. 'So doomy and apocalyptic. Imagine, captain... men of Terra, voyaging out into the stars, equipped with great and wonderful technologies, and fearing the dark so much they have to compose treatises on daemons.’
'Daemons?'
'Indeed. This warns against witches, gross practices, familiars, and the arts by which a man might transform into a daemon and prey upon his own kind.’
Some became daemons and turned upon their own.
'So... you regard it as a joke? An odd throwback to unenlightened days?'
Tull shrugged. 'Not a joke, captain. Just an old-fashioned, alarmist approach. The interex is a mature society. We understand the threat of Kaos well enough, and set it in its place.'
'Chaos?'
Tull frowned. 'Yes, captain. Kaos. You say the word like you've never heard it before.’
'I know the word. You say it like it has a specific connotation.’
'Well, of course it has.’ Tull said. 'No star-faring race in the cosmos can operate without understanding the nature of Kaos. We thank the eldar for teaching us the rudiments of it, but we would have recognised it soon enough without their help. Surely, one can't use the Immaterium for any length of time without coming to terms with Kaos as a...' his voice trailed off. 'Great and holy heavens! You don't know, do you?'
'Don't know what?' Loken snapped.
Tull began to laugh, but it wasn't mocking. 'All this time, we've been pussy-footing around you and your great Warmaster, fearing the worst.
Loken took a step forward. 'Commander.’ he said, 'I will own up to ignorance and embrace illumination, but I will not be laughed at.’
'Forgive me.’
Tell me why I should. Illuminate me.’ Tull stopped laughing and stared into Loken's face. His blue eyes were terribly cold and hard. 'Kaos is the damnation of all mankind, Loken. Kaos will outlive us and dance on our ashes. All we can do, all we can strive for, is to recognise its menace and keep it at bay, for as long as we persist.’ 'Not enough.’ said Loken.
Tull shook his head sadly. We were so wrong.’ he said.
'About what?'
'About you. About the Imperium. I must go to Naud at once and explain this to him. If only the substance of this had come out earlier...'
'Explain it to me first. Now. Here.’
Tull gazed at Loken for a long, silent moment, as if judging his options. Finally, he shrugged and said, 'Kaos is a primal force of the cosmos. It resides within the Immaterium... what you call the warp. It is a source of the most malevolent and complete corruption and evil. It is the greatest enemy of mankind - both interex and Imperial, I mean - because it destroys from within, like a canker. It is insidious. It is not like a hostile alien form to be defeated or expunged. It spreads like a disease. It is at the root of all sorcery and magic. It is...'
He hesitated and looked at Loken with a pained expression. 'It is the reason we have kept you at arm's length. You have to understand that when we first made contact, we were exhilarated, overjoyed. At last. At last! Contact with our lost kin, contact with Terra, after so many generations. It was a dream we had all cherished, but we knew we had to be careful. In the ages since we last had contact with Terra, things might have changed. An age of strife and damnation had passed. There was no guarantee that the men, who looked like men, and claimed to come from Terra in the name of a new Ter-ran Emperor, might not be agents of Kaos in seemly guise. There was no guarantee that while the men of the interex remained pure, the men of Terra might have become polluted and transformed by the ways of Kaos.’
"We are not-'
'Let me finish, Loken. Kaos, when it manifests, is brutal, rapacious, warlike. It is a force of unquenchable destruction. So the eldar have taught us, and the kine-brach, and so the pure men of the interex have stood to
check Kaos wherever it rears its warlike visage. Tell me, captain, how warlike do you appear? Vast and bulky, bred for battle, driven to destroy, led by a man you happily title Warmaster? War master? What manner of rank is that? Not Emperor, not commander, not general, but Warmaster. The bluntness of the term reeks of Kaos. We want to embrace you, yearn to embrace you, to join with you, to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, but we fear you, Loken. You resemble the enemy we have been raised from birth to anticipate. The all-conquering, unrelenting daemon of Kaos-war. The bloody-handed god of annihilation.'
'That is not us,' said Loken, aghast.
Tull nodded eagerly. 'I know it. I see it now. Truly. We have made a mistake in our delays. There is no taint in you. There is only the most surprising innocence.'
Til try not to be offended.'
Tull laughed and clasped his hands around Loken's right fist. 'No need, no need. We can show you the dangers to watch for. We can be brothers and-'
He paused suddenly, and took his hands away.
'What is it?' Loken asked.
Tull was listening to his comm-relay. His face darkened. 'Understood.’ he said to his collar mic. 'Action at once.’
He looked back at Loken. 'Security lock-down, captain. Would... I'm sorry, this seems very blunt after what we've just been saying... but would you surrender your weapons to me?'
'My weapons?'
Yes, captain.’
'I'm sorry, commander. I can't do that. Not while my commander is in the building.’
Tull cleared his throat and carefully fitted his visor plate to his armour. He reached out and carefully took hold of his spear. 'Captain Loken.’ he said, his voice
now gusting from his audio relays, 'I demand you turn your weapons over to me at this time.’
Loken took a step back. 'For what reason?'
'I don't have to give a reason, dammit! I'm officer of the watch, on interex territory. Hand over your weapons!'
Loken clamped his own helm in place. The visor screens were alarmingly blank. He checked sub-vox and security channels, trying to reach Kairus, Torgaddon or any of the bodyguard detail. His suit systems were being comprehensively blocked.
'Are you damping me?' he asked.
'City systems are damping you. Hand me your sidearm, Loken.’
'I'm afraid I can't. My priority is to safeguard my commander.’
Tull shook his armoured head. 'Oh, you're clever. Very clever. You almost had me there. You almost had me believing you were innocent.’
Tull, I don't know what's going on.’
'Naturally you don't.’
'Commander Tull, we had reached an understanding, man to man. Why are you doing this?'
'Seduction. You almost had me. It was very good, but you got the timing off. You showed your hand too soon.’
'Hand? What hand?'
'Don't pretend. The Hall of Devices is burning. You've made your move. Now the interex replies.’
Tull.’ Loken warned, placing his hand firmly on the pommel of his blade. 'Don't make me fight you.’
With a snarl of disappointed rage, Tull swung his spear at Loken.
The interex officer moved with astounding speed. Even with his hand on his blade, Loken had no time to draw it. He managed to snatch up his plated arms to
fend off the blow, and die two that followed it. The lightweight armour of the interex soldiery seemed to facilitate the most dazzling motion and dexterity, perhaps even augmenting the user's natural abilities, lull's attack was fluent and professional, slicing in blows with die long spear blade designed to force Loken back and down into submission. The microfine edge of the blade hacked several deep gouges into Loken's plating.
Tull! Stop!'
'Surrender to me now!'
Loken had no wish to fight, and scarcely any clue as to what had turned Tull so suddenly and completely, but he had no intention of surrendering. The Warmas-ter was on site, exposed. As far as Loken knew, all Imperial agents in the area had been deprived of vox and sensor links. There was no cue to the Warmaster's party, or to the Extranns compound, and certainly none to the fleet. He knew his priority was simple. He was a weapon, an instrument, and he had one simply defined purpose: protect the life of the Warmaster. All other issues were entirely secondary and moot.
Loken focussed. He felt the power in his limbs, in the suddenly warming, suddenly active flex of the polymer muscles in his suit's inner skin. He felt the throb of the power unit against the small of his back as it obeyed his instincts and yielded full power. He'd been swatting away the spear blows, allowing Tull to disfigure his plate.
No more.
He swung out, met the next blow, and smashed the blade aside with the ball of his fist. Tull travelled with the recoil expertly, spinning and using the momentum to drive a thrust directly at Loken's chest. It never landed. Loken caught the spear at the base of the blade with his left hand, moving as quickly and dazzlingly as the interex officer, and stopped it dead. Before Tull
could pull free, Loken punched with his right fist against the flat of the blade and broke the entire blade-tip off the spear. It spun away, end over end.
Tull rallied, and rotated the broken weapon to drive the weighted base-end at Loken like a long club. Loken guarded off two heavy blows from the ball-end with the edges of his gaundets. Tull twisted his grip, and the spear suddenly became charged with dancing blue sparks of electrical charge. He slammed the crackling ball at Loken again and there was a loud bang. The discharging force of the spear was so powerful that Loken was thrown bodily across the chamber. He landed on the polished floor and slid a few metres, dying webs of charge flickering across his chest plate. He tasted blood in his mouth, and felt the brief, quickly-occluded pain of serious bruising to his torso.
Loken scissored his back and legs, and sprang up on to his feet as Tull closed in. Now he brought his sword out. In the multi-coloured light, the white-steel blade of his combat sword shone like a spike of ice in his fist.
He offered Tull no opportunity to renew the bout as aggressor. Loken launched forward at the charging man and swung hammer blows with his sword. Tull recoiled, forced to use the remains of the spear as a parrying tool, the Imperial blade biting chips out of its haft.
Tull leapt back, and drew his own sword over his shoulder from the scabbard over his back. He clutched the long, silver sword - a good ten fingers longer than Loken's utilitarian blade - in his right hand, and the spear.’club in his left. When he came in again, he was swinging blows with both.
Loken's Astartes-born senses predicted and matched all of me strikes. His blade flicked left and right, spinning the club back and parrying the sword with two loud chimes of metal. He forced his way into Tull's bodyline guard and pressed his sword aside long
enough to shoulder-barge the royal officer in the chest. Tull staggered back. Loken gave him no respite. He swung again and tore the club out of lull's left hand. It bounced across the floor, sparking and firing.
Then they dosed, blade on blade, The exchange was furious. Loken had no doubts about his own ability: he'd been tested too many times of late, and not found wanting. But Tull was evidently a master swordsman and, more significantly, had learned his art via some entirely different school of bladesmanship. There was no common language in their fight, no shared basis of technique. Every blow and parry and ripostes each one essayed was inexplicable and foreign to the other. Every millisecond of the exchange was a potentially lethal learning curve.
It was almost enjoyable. Fascinating. Inventive. Illuminating. Loken believed Lucius would have enjoyed such a match, so many new techniques to delight at.
But it was wasting time. Loken parried Tull's next quicksilver slice, captured his right wrist firmly in his left hand, and struck off Tull's sword-arm at the elbow with a neat and deliberate chop.
Tull rocked backwards, blood venting from his stump. Loken tossed the sword and severed limb aside. He grabbed Tull by the face and was about to perform the mercy stroke, the quick, down-up decapitation, then thought better of it. He smashed Tull in the side of the head with his sword instead, using the flat.
Tull went flying. His body cartwheeled clumsily across the floor and came to rest against the foot of one of the display plinths. Blood leaked out of it in a wide pool.
This is Loken, Loken, Loken!' Loken yelled in this link. Nothing but dead patterns and static. Switching his blade to his left hand, he drew his bolter and ran forward. He'd gone three steps when the two sagittars
bounded into the chamber. They saw him, and their bows were already drawn to fire.
Loken put a bolt round into the wall behind them and made them flinch.
'Drop the bows!' he ordered via his helmet speakers. The bolter in his hand told them not to argue. They threw aside the bows and shafts with a clatter. Loken nodded his head at Tull, his gun still covering them both. 'I've no wish to see him die.’ he said. 'Bind his arm quickly before he bleeds out.’
They wavered and then ran to Tull's side. When they looked up again, Loken had gone.
HE RAN DOWN a hallway into an adjoining colonnade, hearing what was certainly bolter firing in the distance. Another sagittar appeared ahead, and fired what seemed like a laser bolt at him. The shot went wide past his left shoulder. Loken aimed his bolter and put the warrior on his back, hard.
No room for compassion now.
Two more interex soldiers came into view, another sagittar and a gleve. Loken, still running, shot them both before they could react. The force of his bolts, both torso-shots, threw the soldiers back against the wall, where they slithered to the ground. Abaddon had been wrong. The armour of the interex warriors was masterful, not weak. His rounds hadn't penetrated the chest plates of either of the men, but the sheer, concussive force of the impacts had taken them out of the fight, probably pulping their innards.
He heard footsteps and turned. It was Kairus and one of his men, Oltrentz. Both had weapons drawn.
'What the hell's happening, captain?' Kairus yelled.
'With me!' Loken demanded. ^Vhere's the rest of the detail?'
'I have no idea.’ Kairus complained. The vox is dead!'
'We're being damped.’ Oltrentz added.
'Priority is the Warmaster,' Loken assured them. 'Follow me and-'
More flashes, like laser fire. Projectiles, moving so fast they were just lines of light, zipped down the colonnade, faster than Loken could track. Oltrentz dropped onto his knees with a heavy clang, transfixed by two flightless arrows that had cut clean through his Mark IV plate.
Clean through. Loken could still remember Torgad-don's amusement and Aximand's assurance... They're probably ceremonial.
Oltrentz fell onto his face. He was dead, and there was no time, and no apothecary, to make his death fruitful.
Further shafts flashed by. Loken felt an impact. Kairus staggered as a sagittar's dart punched entirely through his torso and embedded itself in the wall behind him.
'Kairus!'
'Keep on, captain!' Kairus drawled, in pain. 'Too clean a shot. I'll heal!'
Kairus rose and opened up with his storm bolter, firing on auto. He hosed the colonnade ahead of them, and Loken saw three sagittars crumble and explode under the thunderous pummel of the weapon. Now their armour broke. Under six of seven consecutive explosive penetrators, now their armour broke.
How we have underestimated them, Loken thought. He moved on, with Kairus limping behind him. Already Kairus had stopped bleeding. His genhanced body had self-healed the entry and exit wounds, and whatever the sagittar dart had skewered between those two points was undoubtedly being compensated for by the built-in redundancies of the Astartes's anatomy.
Together, they kicked their way into the main dining hall. The room was chaotic. Torgaddon and the rest of his detail were covering the Warmaster as they led him
towards the south exit. There was no sign of Naud, but interex soldiers were firing at Torgaddon's group from a doorway on the far side of the chamber. Bolter fire lit up the air. Several bodies, including that of a Luna Wolf, lay twisted amongst the overturned chairs and banquet tables. Loken and Kairus trained their fire on the far doorway.
Tarik!'
'Good to see you, Garvi!'
What the hell is this?'
'A mistake.’ Horus roared, his voice cracking with despair. This is wrong! Wrong!'
Brilliant shafts of light stung into the wall alongside them. Sagittar darts sliced through the smoky air. One of Torgaddon's men buckled and fell, a dart speared through his helm.
'Mistake or not, we have to get clear. Now!' Loken yelled.
'Zakes! Cyclos! Regold!' Torgaddon yelled, firing. 'Close with Captain Loken and see us out!'
'With me!' Loken shouted.
'No!' bellowed the Warmaster. 'Not like this! We can't-'
'Go!' Loken screamed at his commander.
The fight to extricate themselves from Naud's house lasted ten furious minutes. Loken and Kairus led the rearguard with the brothers Torgaddon had appointed to them, while Torgaddon himself ferried the Warmaster out through the basement loading docks onto the street. Twice, Horus insisted on going back in, not wanting to leave anyone, especially not Loken, behind. Somehow, using words Torgaddon never shared with Loken, Torgaddon persuaded him otherwise.
By the time they had come out into the street, the remainder of Loken's outer guard had formed up with them, adding to the armour wall around the Warmaster, all except Jaeldon, whose fate they never learned.
The rearguard was a savage action. Backing metre by metre through the exit hall and the loading dock, Loken's group came under immense fire, most of it dart-shot from sagittars, but also some energised beams from heavy weapons. Bells and sirens were ringing everywhere. Zakes fell in the loading dock, his head shorn away by a blue-white beam of destruction that scorched the walls. Cyclos, his body a pincushion of darts, dropped at the doors of the exit hall. Prone, bleeding furiously, he tried to fire again, but two more shafts impaled his skull and nailed him to the door. Kairus took another dart through the left thigh as he gave Loken cover. Regold was felled by an arrow that pierced his right eyeslit, and got up in time to be finished by another through the neck.
Firing behind him, Loken dragged Kairus out through the dock area onto the street.
They were out into the city evening, the dark canopy hissing in the breeze over their heads. Lamps twinkled. In the distance, a ruddy glow backlit the clouds, spilling up from a building in the lower depths of the tiered city. Sirens wailed around mem.
'I'm all right,' Kairus said, though it was clear he was having trouble standing. 'Close, that one, captain.'
He reached up and plucked out a sagittar shaft that had stuck through Loken's right shoulder plate. In the colonnade, the impact he'd felt. 'Not close enough, brother.’ Loken said. 'Come on, if you're coming!' Torgaddon yelled, approaching them and spraying bolter fire back down the dock. This is a mess,' Loken said.
'As if I hadn't noticed!' Torgaddon spat. He uncoupled a charge pack from his belt and hurled it down the
dockway. The blast sent smoke and debris tumbling out at them.
4Ve have to get the Warmaster to safety.’ Torgaddon said. To the Extranus.'
Loken nodded. %Ve have to-'
'No.’ said a voice.
They looked round. Horns stood beside them. His face was sidelit by the burning dock. His wide-set eyes were fierce. He had dressed for dinner that night, not for war. He was wearing a robe and a wolf-pelt. It was clear from his manner that he itched for armour plate and a good sword.
'With respect, sir.’ Torgaddon said. We are drawn bodyguard. You are our responsibility.’
'No.’ Horus said again. 'Protect me by all means, but I will not go quietly. Some terrible mistake has been made tonight. All we have worked for is overthrown.’
'And so, we must get you out alive.’ Torgaddon said.
Tarik's right, lord.’ Loken added. This is not a situation that-'
'Enough, enough, my son.’ Horus said. He looked up at the sighing black branches above them. 'What has gone so wrong? Naud took such great and sudden offence. He said we had transgressed.’
'I spoke with a man.’ Loken said. 'Just when things turned sour. He was telling me of Chaos.’
'What?'
'Of Chaos, and how it is our greatest common foe. He feared it was in us. He said that is why they had been so careful with us, because they feared we had brought Chaos with us. Lord, what did he mean?'
Horus looked at Loken. 'He meant Jubal. He meant the Whisperheads. He meant the warp. Have you brought the warp here, Garviel Loken?'
'No, sir.’
Then the fault is within them. The great, great fault that the Emperor himself, beloved by all, told me to watch for, foremost of all things. Oh gods, I wished this
place to be free of it. To be clean. To be cousins we could hug to our chests. Now we know the truth.’
Loken shook his head. 'Sir, no. I don't think that's what was meant. I think these people despise Chaos... the warp... as much as we do. I think they only fear it in us, and tonight, something has proved that fear right.' 'Like what?' Torgaddon snapped. Tull said the Hall of Devices was on fire.' Horns nodded. This is what they accused us of. Robbery. Deceit. Murder. Apparently someone raided the Hall of Devices tonight and slew the curator. Weapons were stolen.'
What weapons, sir?' Loken asked. Horns shook his head. 'Naud didn't say. He was too busy accusing me over the dinner table. That's where we should go now.'
Torgaddon laughed derisively. 'Not at all. We have to get you to safety, sir. That is our priority.'
The Warmaster looked at Loken. 'Do you think this also?' "Yes, lord.'
Then I am troubled that I will have to countermand you both. I respect your efforts to safeguard me. Your strenuous loyalty is noted. Now take me to the Hall of Devices.'
THE HALL WAS on fire. Bursting fields exploded through the lower depths of the placer and cascaded flames up into the higher galleries. A meturge player, blackened by smoke, limped out to greet them.
'Have you not sinned enough?' he asked, venomously.
4Vhat is it you think we have done?' Horus asked.
'Petty murder. Asherot is dead. The hall is burning. You could have asked to know of our weapons. You had no need to kill to win them.'
Horus shook his head. 'We have done nothing.'
The meturge player laughed, then fell.
'Help him,' Horus said.
Scads of ash were falling on them, drizzling from a choking black sky. The blaze had spread to the oversweep-ing forest, and the street was flame lit. There was a rank smell of burning vegetation. On lower street tiers, hundreds of figures gathered, looking up at the fire. A great panic, a horror was spreading through Xenobia Principis.
They feared us from the start,' the Warmaster said. 'Suspected us. Now this. They will believe they were right to do so.'
'Enemy warriors are gathering on the approach steps.’ Kairus called out.
'Enemy?' Horus laughed. When did they become the enemy? They are men like us.’ He glared up at the night sky, threw back his head and screamed a curse at the stars. Then his voice fell to a whisper. Loken was close enough to hear his words.
"Why have you tasked me with this, father? Why have you forsaken me? Why? It is too hard. It is too much. Why did you leave me to do this on my own?'
Interex formations were approaching. Loken heard hooves clattering on the flagstones, and saw the shapes of mounted sagittars bobbing black against the fires. Darts, like bright tears, began to drizzle through the night. They struck the ground and the walls nearby.
'My lord, no more delays.’ Torgaddon urged. Gleves were massing too, their moving spears black stalks against the orange glow. Sparks flew up like lost prayers into the sky.
'Hold!' Horus bellowed at the advancing soldiers. 'In the name of the Emperor of Mankind! I demand to speak to Naud. Fetch him now!'
The only reply was another flurry of shafts. The Luna Wolf beside Torgaddon fell dead, and another staggered
back, wounded. An arrow had embedded itself in the Warmaster's left arm. Without wincing, he dragged it out, and watched his blood spatter the flagstones at his feet. He walked to the fallen Astartes, bent down, and gathered up the man's bolter and sword.
Their mistake,' he said to Loken and Torgaddon. Their damn mistake. Not ours. If they're going to fear us, let us give them good reason.' He raised the sword in
his fist. 'For the Emperor!' he yelled in Cthonic. 'Illuminate
them!'
'Lupercal! Lupercal!' answered the handful of warriors around him.
They met the charging sagittars head on, bolter fire strobing the narrow street. Robot steeds shattered and tumbled, men falling from them, arms spread wide. Horns was already moving to meet them, ripping his sword into steel flanks and armoured chests. His first blow knocked a man-horse clear into the air, hooves kicking, crashing it back over onto the ranks behind it. 'Lupercal!' Loken yelled, coming to the Warmaster's right side, and swinging his sword double-handed. Torgaddon covered the left, striking down a trio of gleves, then using a lance taken from one of them to smite the pack that followed. Interex soldiers, some screaming, were forced back down the steps, or toppled over the stone railing of the street to plunge onto the tier
beneath.
Of all the battles Loken had fought at his commander's side, that was the fiercest, the saddest, the most vicious. Teeth bared in the firelight, swinging his blade at the foe on all sides, Horus seemed more noble than Loken had ever known. He would remember that moment, years later, when fate had played its cruel trick and sense had turned upside down. He would remember Horus, Warmaster, in that narrow firelit street,
defining the honour and unyielding courage of the Imperium of Man.
There should have been frescoes painted, poems written, symphonies composed, all to celebrate that instant when Horus made his most absolute statement of devotion to the Throne.
And to his father.
There would be none. The hateful future swallowed up such possibilities, swallowed the memories too, until the very fact of that nobility became impossible to believe.
The enemy warriors, and they were enemy warriors now, choked the street, driving the Warmaster and his few remaining bodyguards into a tight ring. A last stand. It was oddly as he had imagined it, that night in the garden, making his oath. Some great, last stand against an unknown foe, fighting at Horus's side.
He was covered in blood, his suit gouged and dented in a hundred places. He did not falter. Through the smoke above, Loken glimpsed a moon, a small moon glowing in the corner of the alien sky.
Appropriately, it was reflected in the glimmering mirror of ocean out in the bay.
'Lupercal!' screamed Loken.