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CONTENTS

CoverBacklistTitlePageProloguePartOne-TheTruthOfMasksChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreeChapterFourPartTwo-TheFallChapterFiveChapterSixChapterSevenChapterEightPartThree-TheMaskAndTheSwordChapterNineChapterTenChapterElevenChapterTwelveChapterThirteenChapterFourteenEpilogueAbouttheAuthorAnExtractfrom‘GreyKnightsSonsofTitan’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.

PROLOGUETHEHOLLOWWARRIOR

Theswordwaslaughing.ThesoundinGarranCrowe’smindwasugly.Itwasagratinglaughter,rustedwithhate,ajagged,jangling,snarlingraspofbloodandmetal.Thelaughterwasanticipatory,anditgrewinferocityasCroweclimbedthehillofblackiron.Soon.TheBlackBladeofAntwyr’swhisperslitheredabout the laughter.Theeagerness hissed with dark promise. Sssssssssssooooon. The shape of painawaits beyond the crest. You will seek my strength. I am that pain’sdestruction.Nemesiscomes.Whoshallitbe?Yourenemyorus?Letitbeus,Garran.Letitbeusssssssss.Crowedidnotanswer.Thewordsplaced theirbrandonhispsyche,and thenthereweremore toburnhimagain.Thenmore.Hefoughtonwhile theswordranted,ashehaddoneforyears,andyears,andyears.Andyears.Fightingwithclawsscratchingforpurchaseonhissoul.The fiendsofSlaaneshcaperedabouthim.Thehoovesof theirhind legsandtheclawsoftheirforelimbsscrabbledanddancedonthesurfaceoftheblastedhill.Notdaysago,thishadbeenadistrictofLabos,thehiveprimusofSandavaIII.Butthemanufactoriaandhabblocksandchapelsoftoilandworshiphadallbeendestroyed,meltedtoslag,millionsofinhabitantscrushedoutofexistence.Darkness had come to the forgeworld.The abominationsof theDarkPrincehadspreadacrosstheplanetwiththespeedofaflashflood.ThePrognosticarsofTitanhadforeseentheincursion.Theyhadwarnedoftheintensityofthethreat.

The depth of its corruption had been cause enough to send the Purifiers, buttherewasalsothefactthatthiswastheSandavaSystem.‘Thereisdarkmeaninginthisattack,’CrowehadsaidtoKaldorDraigo.‘There is,’ the Supreme Grand Master had agreed. ‘Go. Learn what thisportends.UncoverthegoaloftheRuinousPowers.Burnittoash.’ThestrikecruiserSacrumFinemhadmadeallhastetotheSandavaSystem.Butthe Grey Knights had arrived too late. Sandava III was infested. One hive,isolatedonitsislandintheviscous,toxicoceanofthesouthernhemisphere,wasstilluntouched.Forthatreason,Exterminatushadnotbeeninvoked.Therewasanother reason, though.Crowehadvowed to save thisworld.TheutterdestructionofaSandavaSystemplanetwouldbetooclosetoadefeat,eveniftheincursionitselfwereended.ThesystemhadpersonalmeaningforCrowe.Hehadbeenherebefore.Therehadbeen thewaronSandava II, themistakesmadethere,thedestiniesthathadbeendetermined.Somuchhadbeenlost.Now,all thesedecades later,another incursion,another invasionby theforcesof theDarkPrince.Therewerealreadytoomanyechoesofthepastinthismission.Thehillwascold,hardaswinter,darkasancientnightbeneath thewrithing,warp-taintedsky.Itwasariotoftwisted,slumpingwreckage.Therewasnothingleftof themanufactoriabutmisshapen forms softened intoabstraction.Thingslike grasping limbs thrust from the ground as though the world itself werepleadingformercy.Somerosefiftyfeetormorebeforetheyfellbacktomergewiththeironmassagain.ThehillbarredCrowe’spathtowardswhatremainedofthecentralspireofLabos.Therehewouldfindtheheartofthisplague.Thatwasclearfromthecurrentsofthewarp.‘Whatisittoseethroughyoureyes?’BrotherDrakehadonceasked.‘Itistoseetheriverofthewarpflowoverthestonesofthematerium,’Crowehad answered. The warp was always before his sight, a crystalline rush,sometimessluggish,sometimesturbulent,neverstill.Thecurrentsthatstreamedoverthishillhadtheirsourceinsomegreatforceinthedistance.Fromthatcentre,theripplesoftaintwashedacrossLabos,andthenallofSandavaIII.Andat thecrestof thehill, therewas turbulence.Thewarpwascaught inavortex.Somethingwaited forCroweup there.Something thatmadetheswordlaugh.Thefiendsgibbered.Theyhowled.Their long, reptilian jawssnappedas theysang.Themusicofdamnationenvelopedthehillofslag.Whistlingtrillshoveredon the edge of resolving into melodies. The beats of a deep bass hummingtauntedwiththepossibilityofrhythm.Themusictorturedthemindwiththelie

of fulfilment. It calledCrowe to join in the song, to surrenderhisvoice to theabandoned riot. The air was redolent with the musk of daemons. It was ascloyingasthesong,aluretopleasuresbeyonddreams.ThemuskcameinthroughCrowe’srebreather,andhesensedonlypoison.Hesaw through the song. He rejected its temptations and smashed its deadlyharmonies with the blows of his blade, eviscerating the singers, rendingdaemonicbodieswithaviolencethatfounditspuritythroughdirectbrutality.Hemarchedonwards,upthehill,closerandclosertothenexusofthewarpcurrents.He could not destroy the host one daemon at a time.Hewould carve out theheartoftheincursion.Everyabominationthatthrewitselfinhispath,hestruckdown.Theotherswouldhavetheirreckoningwhenthepowertearingopenthemateriumwasnomore.Thehorde sangon.Thenight resoundedwith the voices of the hellish choir.Thedanceof theabominationsatadistancefromCrowewasgleeful,as if themindlesshorrorstooweremockinghim,aseagerastheBladewasforhimtoseewhatwaited.Thefiendsthatclosedwithhimshowedlessjoy.Theirsnarlswerefullofrage.Theysmashedathimwithflailingclaws,theirfrenzydesperate.Hisveryexistencecausedthempain.Themassofdaemonsseemedtowanthimtoreachthesummit–thereweremoreofthembehindhimnowthaninfront–buthad they been able to destroy him, they would have done so before he tookanotherstep.Hetookanotherstep.Thenanother.HethrusttheBladeofAntwyrthroughthethoraxofthefiendbeforehim.Thedaemonshrieked.Itshugeclawsbatteredhishelmet. The blows rang through his skull. He twisted the black sword. Thedaemon lost control of its limbs. Its stinger tail thrashed. Ichor jetted overCrowe’sartificerarmour.Hehaddespatchedsomanydaemons,hewascoatedinamuckylayeroftheirunholyblood.HepulledAntwyrfree.Thedaemoncollapsed,twitching.Hemarchedoverthebody, its form already beginning to melt away from the material world. Helunged forwards andup, swinging theBladewith both hands, anddecapitatedanotherfiendbeforeitcouldstrikeback.Crowe was more than halfway to the peak of the hill now. The daemonscavorted. They attacked him inmobs. He cut through their warp flesh, nevertakinga single stepback.Behindhim,he left awakeofdisintegratingbodies,andthegatheringofanevengreaterhorde.Hewaswadingthroughanoceanofabominations.Hehaddestroyedscoresonhisclimb.Daemonsrushedhimonlytobecutdown,buthisslaughtermadeno

difference.Thedaemonswerepouringthroughthewoundsinthematerium.Heknewtherewouldbenovictoryuntilthesourceoftheinfectionwascauterised.Heacceptedthetruthsofthisbattle.Yethewasweary.Iwillrenewyou,saidtheBlade.Takethepower.Turnyourfoestoash.TheseaofdaemonswasnothingtothedepthsandbreadthofAntwyr’smalice.Thedecadesofeternalvigilance,unbrokenbyasinglemomentofsurcease,wereaweightuponCrowe’sshoulders,hislimbs,hissoul.Ineednotbeaburden,saidAntwyr.Letmebeyourboon.Hewouldnotanswerthesword.Therewasnothingtobegainedinspeakingtotheevil,andeverything to lose. Itwoulduseeveryword,every reaction,eveneverypauseagainsthim,learningmoreandmoreofwhohewasasitsoughttobreakthroughhisdefences.TheBlade’sassaultswerealreadystrongenough.Itswords echoed through Crowe’s being. Hollow. He felt hollow, as if, over theyearsofhisdarkduty,hehadturnedallhisinnerselfintospiritualarmour,andnowtherewasnothingelseleft.Thetopofthehillwasclose.Eachstepforwardswasalittleharder,justaswitheverybreathhefelttheweightoftheyearsandtheclawsoftheBlade’svoicealittle more. His burden until death, and death was forbidden. He had nosuccessor.Hewasaloneinhistaskashewasaloneonthishill.Hehadbecomeseparatedfromhissquadhoursagowhenawaveofdaemonshadcomebetweenthem,ascrabbling,stinging,clawingmasshecouldnotbreakthrough.TheotherPurifiers were out of vox-range. The torment of the air and sky limitedcommunications to line of sight at best, and he had no sight of his brothers.There was only the hill, the dark dance of the Ruinous legions and theconvulsionsofthenight.Drivenbyaphraseofthedaemonicsong,achanceharmonyfromthechoir,atriooffiendschargedCroweasone.Theirvoiceswereunitedinecstasyastheyattacked. Their clawed forelegs stretched wide to embrace him. Just as theyclosed, they dropped low as if bowing. Their tails whipped over their heads,stingerslashingdowntopiercehisarmourandfloodhisveinswiththepoisonofdelirious excess. He swept his wrist-mounted storm bolter before him. Asustained burst of thrice-blessed mass-reactive shells shattered the creatures’chimericalforms.Thebodiesexploded.Arainofchitinousarticulations,chunksof flesh, hooves and spinning stingers fell onto the hillside. The song of thehorde stuttered. It rose to a wail.When it fell, a sinuous note of anticipationsounded.Crowewasonlyafewstepsfromthetopofthehill.Thepathbefore

himwasclear.Themassoffiendsrippled,theirmovementasensuousshudder.ThedaemonsscrabbledforwardstoCrowe’sleftandright.Thehugethrongbehindhimrosehigher,but theattackspausedandnofiendtriedtoblockhisway.Thesummitwasnothisgoal.Hisroutetothecentreoftheimmaterialstormtookhimoverthehill,and thatwasall.But thedaemonshummedandswayed,waitingforamonstrousending,oraworsebeginning.AndAntwyrexulted.Now!criedtheBlade.Nowitwillbeaccomplished.Croweclimbedthefinalyardstothesummit.Thepeakoftheslagheaphadslumpedintoahollowbowl,likethecalderaofanextinctvolcano.Itwashalfamilewide.Theslopesof thebowlweresteepand long.Crowefelthehadarrivedat the topofanamphitheatre,and indeed,therewasaspectaclehere.Itwasadisplaypreparedforanaudienceofone,andonlyone.Crowe’seyeswidened.Theblowlanded.Itstruckhome,deepintohiscore.Hisarmourwasnoprotection.Hestaggered.Do you see? the Blade shouted.Do you see? Do you see? Its laughter wasdeafening.Thehootingof the fiends rose to thepulsingsky. Itwasahymnofriotousdelight.Thousands of iron crucifixes lined the slope of the bowl, going all the waydowntoitscentre.White-hotspikespiercedthebodiesoftheirvictims,holdingthemintorment,hammeredthrougharms,legsandtorsos.Themortalshadbeendecapitated.Theycouldnotbealive,yet theystrainedagainst thespikes, theirbodies arching and twisting in an unending, transcendent agonyindistinguishable from a pleasure beyond language. The pain was a dance,entwinedwiththesongofthefiends,thetwofusingtobecomeaterribleworkofartconstructedbyawillthathadmeltedacityandreshapeditscitizensintothisveryspecificform.Themillionskilled, themountainofslagand thespasmingmassatrocitieswereasingleattackaimedatasingletarget.In the Sanctum Sanctorum of Titan, the secrets of the warp were held,contained and, under rigorous controls, studied, the better to counter themachinations of theRuinousPowers.ThereCrowehad read some claims thatthegreatestthreatofChaoswasthedestructionofmeaning.Heknewthistobefalse.Thegreaterthreatwasinthecreationofthemostmonstrousofmeanings.Therewasmeaninginwhathebeheldnow.Meaningthatcuthim.MeaningthatopenedwoundshisLarraman’sOrgancouldnotstaunch.

Therewasmeaninginthecrucifixions.Therewasmeaninginthedecapitations.And there was meaning in the arrangements of the sculptures of pain. Thecrucifixes formed rings and spirals, straight lines and curves. There werepatternshere,patternsthatseizedCrowe’sgazeandtookitonalooping,jagged,agonisingjourney.Hiseyesdartedfrombodytobody,movementtomovement,dancetodance,roundandround,downoneslope,uptheotherside,thenbackagaininawhirlingdiagonal,until,atthelast,heperceivedthegranddesigninall itsmadness.Thecrucifixions formeda singlevast rune. Its languagecouldnotbespoken.Itssignificancecouldnotbedenied.The runewoundedCrowe by virtue of its familiarity. The symmetries of themissionachievedtheirculmination.Hehadseenthissacrificebefore.Justonce,longago,intheSandavaSystem.Once before was enough. This single repetition was a trap, decades in themaking,and it snappedclosedaroundhissoul.Antwyrroared in triumph.Yousee!Yousee!Yousee!Crowesaw.Andheremembered.

CHAPTERONERENEWAL

In thedeepestvaultsof theCitadelonTitan,purityheldwatchoverdarkness.Herewasaconcentrationofnightsoterrible,iffreeditwoulddevourthestars.Andtherewerestillgreaterdepths,astillgreaternight,heldatbaynotbyanyphysicalbarrier,butbytheholymightofthewarriorswhowalkedthehalls.TheChambersofPuritycontainedtheworstcorruption.Theirpuritywasembodiedintheirperfectguardians.FrozenevilsurroundedPurifierGarranCrowe.It lurkedin thenichesworkedintothewallsofthecircular,vaultedchambers.TheKnightoftheFlamemovedpast the niches at a deliberate pace, closely observing the stasis caskets theyheld. Doing so was an act of remembrance, acknowledging the price in livespaidby thebrotherhoodsof theGreyKnights to recover theobjects inside thecaskets.Itwasalsoanactofduty.ThecontentsoftheChambersofPuritywerenevertobetakenforgranted.Stasistechnologywasnotenoughtolocktheharmaway. Eternal vigilancewas the true prison. The Purifierswere farmore thanguardians.Theywerethefirst,truestandmostdirectdefence,thewallbetweentheartefactsoftheRuinousPowersandtheImperium.Crowe’sexaminationofeachrelicwascareful,profoundandimbuedwithreverencefortheEmperor.ItwasbythegraceofHisgiftsthatthegravedutyofthePurifierswaspossible.The casketswere fashioned of blessed adamantiumand pure, tempered gold.Their surfaces weremarkedwith dense, overlapping layers of warding runes.Therunesranoverthesculpturalrepresentationsoftherelicsinside.Thestasisfields shimmered and torchlight flickered, castingwavering shadows over the

engravings – for Crowe, the movement was a simulacrum of the forcesimprisoned,areminderofwhatlurkedwithin,andmustbeheld.Crowewalked past rows of unholy books. Somewerewritten inGothic, thebetter to lurehumanreaders.Manymorewere inxenos tongues.A fewof thebooks were recent creations, monstrous blasphemies inspired by dark gods,writtenby losthereticsor,worse,bydeludedfaithfulwhoknewnotwhat theydid, even when the moment of their execution arrived. Most of the tomes,though,were ancient beyondmeasure.Their originswereunknown.Theyhadbindingsoffleshandpagesofvelluminkedinblood.CrowepausedbeforetheprisonoftheGrimoireofFateDevoured.Itspagesresembledivoryscales.Eachwascomposedofhundredsofslicesofhumanteeth.Crowehadlookeduponthepages when he had captured the book on a moon of Uscana Secundus. Theinhumanruneswereincomprehensible,buthehadfeltthesickeningpressureoftheir meaning. No mortal could be exposed to them without succumbing toviolent corruption on the instant. The very matter of that moon had beenpoisoned.WhenCrowelookedupfromthebook,hehadseencrimsonimagesoftherunesslidingdowntheairofthevault.Hehadstaredatthebloodywritinguntil he was sure it was no illusion, the runes settling and running along thefloor,theirshapescuttingthroughrock.Fivebrothershaddied in the struggle to capture andneutralise theGrimoire.The mining concessions of the moon had been put to the torch. A hundredthousandcitizensof the Imperiumhaddied.Crowedidnotviewsuchapurgelightly,butnordidhequestionitsnecessity.Aslongasthebookwasimprisoned,everydeathonthatmoonhadbeenforagreatpurpose.Croweexaminedthestasisfieldandthesealonthecasket.Hewatchedtheflowof the warp. It was untroubled. The Grimoire was inert as stone. Crowemurmured apsalmof anathemaandaprayerof thanks.Thenhemovedon toanswerasummons. In thekingdomofpurityandruin,hewasheading for thedarkestsanctuary.Crowemade hisway through the chambers, his journey a ritual. He noddedsolemnly to his brother Purifiers as he walked. They moved with the samedeliberatepace.Abrotherwhopassed through thesesacredspacesofcapturedhorrorwasoath-boundtobeactiveinthemaintainingoftheeternallocks.Crowe left the primary chambers behind. He followed a long corridor thatslopeddownevenfurtherbeneaththesurfaceofTitan.Hewasheadingfortheprisonoftheworstrelic.Therewerenobrothersstandingwatchontheroute.It

was too dangerous even for Purifiers to remain in proximity to this evil. Theprisonhadonlyonelivingguard.Runescoveredthewalls,ceilingandmarblefloorofthepassageway.Silverandgold glowedwith the strength of the wards they formed. Daemonkind wouldburn tonothingbefore thesesigns.Andstill thisbarrierwasapoorattempt tocontain the relic.Therewasonlyoneway tohold theBlackBladeofAntwyr,andthatwayhadthenameofaman.GarranCrowehadcometospeakwithCastellanMerratGavallan.Who is this who comes?Ah. I know you, Purifier.Do you knowme? Youthink you do. I think you do not. Will you prove me wrong? Come then.Chooseadestinyofpower.The voice reached down the hall for Crowe. It made no sound. It spoke inCrowe’s mind, scratching at the edges of his soul. Yet it seemed to travel aphysicaldistanceandcrawlalongthewallsandceiling.Itcrouchedinthevault,anarachnidpresence,readytoleapuponhim.Crowe had heard the voice before. It worked its way into his consciousnesswheneverhewas in thepresenceofCastellanGavallan. Itsattackfeltstrongertoday,though.Moredirected.Yourcominghasapurpose,saidtheBladeofAntwyr.Fulfilit!ThebrotherhoodchampionofthePurifierswasseatedathisdeskwhenCrowereachedthedoorofhischamber.Thecircularspacewasameditationcellandanarchive.Thedeskinthecentrewasamassiveslabofgranite.Itwasanaltarinshape if not in function, though it hadbeenblessed andprayedover, andwassanctified everydaywith holy oils. It needed to be a sacredobject in its ownrighttowithstandtheuncleanknowledgethatwouldlieonitssurface.Gavallansat with the entrance to his right. He faced a shrine to the Emperor. Incenselamps burned on either side of the silver-and-iron winged skull. Above theshrine,wreathedbythecoilsofincense,theBladeofAntwyrwasfastenedtothewall. The black swordwas sheathed. Chains crossed and re-crossed the relic.Somehow,theBladeseemedtobestrainingagainstitsbonds.Therestofthewallspacearoundthechamberwascomposedofrowsofniches,reaching fifty feet to the shallow dome of the ceiling. Inside the nicheswerereamsofvellum.Gavallanhadmoresheetsstackedonthedesk.Hewaswriting,andhadalmostfilledanotherpagewhenCrowearrived.Helookedup,hisstyluspausing.Strike!AntwyrscreamedinCrowe’shead.Freemeandthegalaxyisyours!Croweglancedatthesword,thenbackatGavallan.Thecastellanwaswatching

himcarefully.‘TheBladeiscallingtoyou,’Gavallansaid.Crowenodded. ‘It is.’WhenhedidnotdoasAntwyrcommanded, theBladebegancursinghim.Crowepushedthestreamofblasphemiestothebackofhismind.HefocusedhisattentiononGavallan.He had rarely spoken to the champion. When not in battle, Gavallan wassequestered in this chamber, and all others were forbidden to venture herewithoutspecificorders.ItwasrarerstillforCrowetoseeGavallanwithouthisarmour.Thecastellanwasrobedinvestmentsofsolemngrey.ThewarriorbeforeCrowewasengagedincombatofaspiritualnature.Andhewasexhausted.When hadCrowe last seenGavallan’s face?Hewasn’t sure.Years, perhaps.Thestrainofhisdutyhadbeenevident inGavallan’s features then,butnowaprofound shadowhad fallen over him.Hewas pale as tallow and therewas ayellow tint around his eyes and lips. His skin was too tight, pulled into thehollowsofhisbaldskullby thestrainofendlesswatchfulness.Gavallan’swarneverceased.TheBladeneverrested,soneithercouldhe.ButtheBladedidnotneedrest.‘Shutthedoor,’Gavallansaid.Crowe did. The heavy door scraped against the flagstones. It closed with aboomingclang.Gavallangesturedtothemanuscriptbeforehim.Crowewalkedtothedeskandexaminedthevellumsheets.Whathesawwasafrothinglitanyof curses. There were promises of pain, blood and retribution. There werefantasies of a universe on fire. There were names – hundreds of names – ofplanets and systems, a catalogue that covered pages in Gavallan’s precise,flowinghandwriting.Theentriesendedinapronouncementofdoom.TherewasaburstofinvectivedirectedatGavallan,andthenthenamesbeganagain.‘Doyouknowwhatthisis?’Gavallanasked.‘ThewordsoftheBlade,’saidCrowe.‘Yes.Itismytasktorecordeverythingitsays.’Heswepthisarmtotakeinthenichesofthechamber.‘Thisarchiveisdevotedsolelytothatend.PerhapsonedayAntwyrwillerr,andrevealaweakness.Ithasnotbeenmyprivilegetoseethatday.Norwasitforthecastellanswhocamebeforeme.’Hetiltedhisheadback,gazingat theuppermostrows.‘Centuries,BrotherGarran.Wehavebeentranscribing this foulness for centuries.What you see here is my handiwork.Entirevaultsarefilledwiththeseobscenities.’‘These names,’ Crowe said, running his eye over the list. He picked one at

random.‘DoesSandavahaveanysignificance?’‘Not to the history of the Blade, insofar as we know it. But there are threemillenniaunaccounted forbetween itsdisappearanceduring theOcclusiadanditscaptureonTethys.Theremaybemeaningthere.Theremaynot.’Gavallan’stonewasbothfrustratedandresigned.‘Isetdownthewords,’hesaid,givingtheweightofunwaveringcommitmenttohiswords.‘ThePrognosticarsparsethem.Weworkinhope.’Crowewasstilllookingatthenames.‘Itwouldbestrangeiftheseworldswerechosenentirelyatrandom.Thehatreddirectedatthemisprecise.’‘Doyouseeapattern?’Gavallanasked.‘Notatfirstglance,no.’Gavallanstood.‘Willyousit,brother?Examinethemmoreclosely.Iwouldbegladofyourthoughts.’Crowetookhisplaceatthedesk.Hebegantomakehiswaythroughthescoresofnames,stoppingateachonetoeithersituatetheworldinhismind,ornoteitdown to seekouton star-charts later.Every sooftenhe raisedhishead to seeGavallan standing before the black sword, his fists clenched.Antwyr’s cursesscrapedawayinthebackofCrowe’smind.Heignoredthem.Helosttrackoftime.Whenhehadfinishedgoingthroughthelists,hesaid,‘Iseenothreadshere.SandavaandDiernaareinthesamesubsector,butthatisasclose as I can see to any sort of connection.’He looked up.Gavallan had hisback to the sword nowandwaswatchinghim.Therewas renewed fire in thecastellan’seyes.‘Howlongdoyouthinkyou’vebeenhere?’Gavallanasked.‘I’mnotsure,’saidCrowe.‘The night has passed. Dawn has come.’ Gavallan’s smile was one of grimtriumph.At first Crowe did not see the significance of the passage of time. Then helooked at the sword on the wall. He still heard its frustrated snarling. Theimplications of his prolonged stay in the castellan’s presence registered. ‘TheBlade…’hesaid.‘Yes,’saidGavallan.‘Nootherbrotherhasbornebeinginsuchcloseproximityto it for so long.Certainly notwithout having to devote all of his energies tocombatingitswill.’Crowestood.‘Ihavenotyetaskedwhyyouwishedtoseeme,’hesaid.‘Andnowyoudon’thaveto,’saidGavallan.Perhaps not. But as Crowe perceived his fate taking shape, he knew the

questions needed to be voiced. It was the form of inquiring and receiving ananswerthatwasnecessary,likethecallandresponseofritual.‘Myinterpretationofthesetextswassuperfluous,then,’hesaid.‘Itwasmyabilitytoexaminetheminthischamberthatmattered.’‘Toadegree,thatistrue,’saidGavallan.‘Yourinsightiswelcome,butIdidnotexpectyoutosucceedwherenoonehas.’Antwyr’svoicewassuddenlyloudinCrowe’shead.Youhavebeendeceived!Willyouletyourselfbeusedinthisway?Destroyhim.Seizethefates.Carvethegalaxyintotheimageofyourdesire.Atthesamemoment,Gavallanwinced.‘TheBladerages,’saidCrowe.‘Itdoesalways.’Gavallanbegantopaceslowlybackandforthbeforetherelic.‘The sword is my burden,’ he said. ‘It is mine alone, but it will, in time, beanother’s.Andthenitwillbehisalone.’Unspokenbutimpliedwastheinevitabilityofthecastellan’sdeath.Crowesawgreater significance in Gavallan’s exhaustion. His duty was draining him. Itwoulddosountiltherewasnothingleft.CrowewonderedhowclosetotheendGavallanwas.‘YouthinkIamfittobeyoursuccessor?’heasked.Gavallannodded.‘Thisisnotmyconclusionalone.ItisalsothatoftheGrandMasters.Theselectionofacastellanisoneofenormousmoment.Itisnotdonequickly.Yourcandidacyhasbeenaprocessofyears,BrotherGarran.’Learning he had been under scrutiny without being conscious of it did notdisturbCrowe.‘Iamhonouredtobeworthyofsuchnotice,’hesaid.‘Itwasinevitable.Ihaveseentheabominationsoftheimmateriumburnatyourapproach.Yourpresencealoneisadangertothem.’‘Iwouldwishnothingless.Noneofuswould.’‘Thatistrue.Butthereisagulfbetweenwishandreality.’Gavallanpausedinhispacing.Helookedattheswordasiftherewere,indeed,thingshewouldwishtobedifferent,evenasheacceptedtheirpainfulreality.‘Donotunderestimatewhatyouare,’hewenton.‘Thepurityofyourfaithisagreatweapon.’Crowe bowed his head. Praise made him uneasy, but he would not insultGavallanbyrejectingit.Thatwouldbeostentatiousfalsemodesty.Hedespisedsuchdisplays.‘IfIamchosenforthisduty,’hesaid,‘thenIwillenterintoitwiththanksthatImayservetheEmperorinthisway.’Yes, said the sword. Bow and scrape. Cringe before this slave. Earn hisconfidence.Thenstrikewhenhisbackisturned.

‘Thisisadarkhonour,’Gavallansaid.‘Atmydeath,youwillinheritadutythatwilldestroyyou.’‘AndIwillfulfilituntilthatdestruction.SoIdeclare,’Crowesaid,lookingattheshrine.‘Inthenameof theEmperor,beforeHimandHissaints,Isweartoupholdthisburden.’AsCrowefinishedspeaking,Antwyrlashedhismindwithashriekofrage.Thechamber resoundedwith a harsh, rattling clang.Crowe andGavallan stared atthesword.Itwasmotionless.Ofcourseitwas.Butintheechoesofmetalagainststone,Crowethoughtheperceivedthevanishingtracesofmovement.WheretheBladeofAntwyrhungonthewall,thewarpboiled.Thecursesof theswordwentonandonandon,ahowlingblastofpromisedvengeance,andthescrape,scrape,scrapeofclawsscrabblingtopierceCrowe’swill.Iwillnotbeyourprisoner!Antwyrsnarled.Iamyourfuture.Iamthefateyouwouldembrace.

ThecaptainoftheEnvoyofDisciplinewaswaiting in the landingbay togreetCardinalBeatusRannochashedisembarkedfromtheshuttle.ThejourneyfromthesurfaceofSandavaIIhadbeenaroughone.Itwastheseasonofstormsintheagriworld’snorthernhemisphere.In thenormalcourseofevents,Rannochappreciatedthestorms.Theykeptthelandfertile,andSandavaII’sfoodexportswereeasilyonthesamescaleasSandavaIII’sindustrialoutput.Thestormswerealso spiritually valuable. Even the most unimaginative members of thecongregationcouldseethemassymbolsoftheEmperor’swrath,especiallyonceRannoch’s sermons pointed their thoughts in that direction. The storms weregood,necessaryandholy.But they had taken the shuttle in their teeth andworried it. Formuch of theascent, Rannoch had been convinced he was experiencing his final moments.Betweenhisterrorandhisnausea,hehadfoundthespaceforregret.Thiswouldbeapoordeath,anembarrassmenttohislegacy.Hewasnowarrior,buthewasacrusader.Hisend,whenitcame,shouldbeintheactiveserviceoftheImperialCreed,notpanickedandsickintransit.Theshuttlehadsurvived,though,andsohadhe.Hisecclesiarchalrobeshidtheunsteadinessofhislegswhenhedescendedthestepsfromthepassengerhold.‘Cardinal.’CaptainYaxinthCraggbowedandtookaknee.‘Youblessmyshipwithyourpresence.’‘Pleaserise,captain,’Rannochsaid,pleased.Heheldouthishand,andCragg

kissedhisringofofficebeforestanding.Shewastall,thoughnotastallasRannoch.HeknewnooneonSandavaIIwhowashis equal inheight.Craggwasalmost at eye-levelwithhis chin, and thatwas rare enough.The captainwas a veteran trader, her decades of experienceweathering her face despite juvenat treatments. Her hair, a silvery grey, wasbraided and put up in a bun beneath her cap.Therewas, in theway she heldherself, an air of pragmatic piety. Rannoch approved. His first impression ofCraggmatchedthereputationof theEnvoyofDiscipline.Shewas,he thought,someonewhowouldunderstandwhatheneeded.Craggledthewayoutoftheloadingbay.Thecorridorbeyondwasbroad,high-vaultedandhungwithrichtapestries.TheydepictedthespreadoftheEmperor’slight across the galaxy.The xenos and the heretic fell before the onslaught oftruth.Faith,intheformoffierybeams,burnedtheunclean.Theapostateshelduptheirhandsformercy.Theirfaceswerestretchedbywidehowlsofdespair,because they knew therewould be no forgiveness.The forces of theEmperormarched behind the beams of truth. Ecclesiarchs, soldiers of the AstraMilitarum,theAdeptusAstartes,eventhehumblestofserfs–togethertheyweretheunstoppableadvanceoftheImperium.CraggsetaleisurelypacesoRannochcouldexaminethetapestries.‘Thesearemagnificent,’hesaid.‘Theyareinexquisitecondition.Aretheyreproductions?’‘Someare,’saidCragg.‘Othersarenot.Canyoutellthedifference?’‘I can’t,’ Rannoch admitted. ‘How did you acquire originals in such finecondition?’‘Theyaremyinheritance.Theyhavebeeninmyfamilyforcenturies.’‘Ashasthistrade?’‘Andthisvessel.Exactly.’Rannochwasmore andmore impressed.He looked closely at the tapestries,pausingatthesignsofwearintheweave.HepointedtoarepresentationofSaintCelestineleadingthepeopleintobattleagainstavaguelyformeddarkness.Theedgesof the tapestrywere faded.Therewasamusty,agedsmell. ‘This isn’tareproduction,surely?’‘It is,’ said Cragg. ‘An old one, though.One of the first of this series to bemade.Aboutsevenhundredyearsago,Ibelieve.’‘Thenitmusthaveacquiredavalueofitsown.’Craggshrugged. ‘It isstillnotanoriginal.Butyes, ithasavalue.Aspiritualone.’Shegazedatthesaint’sraptfeatures.‘Thefunctionofallthesetapestriesistoinspireandtoinstruct.Iftheydothat,thequestionofauthenticityisnotvery

important.’Rannoch nodded. ‘I agree with you completely. Captain, your arrival in oursystem is fortunate indeed.’ Cragg understood what was at stake in herprofession.Thatmuchwasclear.Shewascommittedtoherpurpose.Excellent.There were too many opportunities for fraud in her trade. Too many corruptadventurers.Rannochhaddealtwithhisshare.Hehadseentotheexecutionofmorethanafew.But he had heard nothing but glowing reports concerning the Envoy ofDiscipline.Andeverythinghesawconfirmedthosereports.TheEnvoywasamissionaryship.Onceafreighter,ithadbeenrepurposedbytheCraggfamilyinthe40thmillennium.Itsoriginalshapewasrecognisable,butithadbeenmuchalteredoverthecenturies.Thehull’sstatuaryhadmultiplied,manyof thefigurescolossi,captured inmarble in theactofstridingforwards,pointing the way to judgement. The vessel’s journey was perpetual, spanninggenerations. Its mission was to bolster faith wherever it arrived, by whatevermeans necessary. Sometimes it transported wandering confessors, deliveringfirebrand zealotry to where it was most needed. Most frequently, though, itfannedthefiresofbeliefwithitscargoofrelicsandreligiousart.Itengagedinthetradeofsacredobjectscarefully,piouslyandwithallduereverence.Someofitstreasureswerefortemporarydisplayonly.TheEnvoy’screwwouldbringtherelicsplanetside for the faithful towitness.Billionsofpilgrimswouldpour infromallcornersofaworldtogazeuponthebonesofsaintsandtheshieldsofmartyrs.Thevisitationwouldlastforafewweeksatmost,addingurgencytothepilgrimages. Then theEnvoy of Discipline would depart. It might return in ayear.Itmightreturninahundred.Cragg took Rannoch up through the decks to the central hold of the ship.Rannochgasped in joywhenheset foot in thespace. Itwashuge. Ithad longagoceasedtoresembleafreighter’shold.Itwasagiganticreliquarythesizeofacathedral’snave.Thelightwasrich,warmandsubdued,thoughnotsodarkthatitconcealedtheenormousceilingfrescooftheGoldenThroneradiatingitslightacrossthegalaxy.Ahundred-strongchoirstoodontiersattheforwardendofthehold.Thesolemnhymnofthesingerssoundedacrossthespace.Rannochmoveddown theaislesbetweengildeddisplaycasesof jewelled fingers, jawbonesoncushionsofvioletsilk,hymnalsofbronze,thesceptresofgreatecclesiarchsandaspergillafashionedfromsacredfemurs.Craggsmiled.‘I’mgladtoseeyouarepleased,cardinal.’‘Pleased?’Rannochcroaked.‘Thatisapoorword.Captain,nodescriptioncan

dojusticetoyourworkhere.’‘ThenI’mhopefulwecanassistyou.’‘SoamI.’‘Wasthereanythingspecificyouhadinmind?’‘I’m not sure,’ Rannoch said. ‘My concern is not apostasy. There are noinstancesofheresyonSandavaII.’Hespokewithperfectconfidence.Hewouldknowifsuchevilwereabroadonhisworld.Hewasvigilant.Thechurch’sgriponthecitizenrywassecure.Thatwasnotsufficient,however.‘Ifeelthepeopletaketheirfaithforgranted,’hesaid.‘Theyneedarenewalofcommitment.Theyneedtobeenflamed.’‘I see,’ saidCragg. ‘I hope youwill not be offended, cardinal, if I say yoursituationisnotunusual.Itis,infact,whatwespecialiseinaddressing.’‘Iamnotoffended.Iamdelighted.’‘Good. In these cases, my normal recommendation is, as I’m sure you’veguessed,adisplayofrelicsinthecapitalcity.’‘Agreed.’‘Thenwouldyoucaretoselecttherelics?’Hewould.Butashewalkedupanddowntheaisles,passinghundredsofcases,his initialwonderfaded.Hisspirits lowered.Disappointmentset in.Therewasnothingwrongwiththerelics,yettheywerenotexceptional.Maybethereweretoo many. Maybe he was hoping for something so sublime, yet so vaguelydefined,thatnoactualobjectcouldmeetthatexpectation.Rannochwantedtobetransported. He wanted to tremble in awe. He wanted to experience the all-consumingfirehewouldthenseeignitedinhiscongregation.Nothinghesawachievedthoseheights.Hefeltrespect.Hefeltreverence.Hewasnotoverpowered.Norelicwastoomuchforhissenses.Craggsensedtheshiftinhismood.‘Ifearourofferingsaredisappointingyou.’‘It isn’t that,’Rannochsaid. ‘It’shard forme todefinewhat I amseeking. Itmustbe transcendent. Itmust…’Hegropedfor thewords. ‘Itmustexceed thelimits of what we imagine. That is when we feel the divine touch of theEmperor’swill.’Hesighed,frustratedbytheinabilityofmerewordstoexpresssomethingbeyondtheirboundaries.‘DoyouunderstandwhatI’mtryingtosay?’Cragghadbeguntolookuneasyashewasspeaking.‘Ithinkso,’shesaid.Hereyesflickeredinvoluntarilytoherleft.Rannochcaughtthemovement.Heturnedhishead.Therewasanemptycaseafewyardsdowntheaisle.Rannochapproachedit.‘Whatwasinhere?’heasked.‘Afunerarymask,’Craggsaid.

‘Whereisit?Wasitsold?’‘No,’shesaid.‘Itisnotanobjectthatwilleverbesold.’‘Thenwhereisit?’Rannochinsisted.‘Wehaveremovedittoastoragevaultforthetimebeing.’‘Whatdoes“forthetimebeing”mean?’‘Untilwe can bemore certain of its provenance,wewill not display it. It issomethingofamystery,andsohasnoplaceamongconfirmedrelics.WethoughtitwasfromthetombofSaintEstheria.’‘Wasn’tthatdestroyed?’‘It was. The planetoid on which she was buried was shattered by an orkincursion three centuries ago. We believed some fragments of the tomb hadsurvived.’‘Younolongerthinktherelicisfromhertomb?’‘It may be. It may also be the funerary mask of Saint Praxtor. The generaldescriptioninbothcasesmatches.’‘SaintPraxtor’stombhasneverbeenlocated,’Rannochsaid.‘That is so.Themask corresponds to surviving records of his burial. That isall.’The ambiguity was frustrating. It was also fascinating. Two possible originsfromtwovanishedtombs.Therehadtobemeaninginthatcoincidence.‘Iwouldliketoseethismask,’saidRannoch.‘Icanvouchfornothingaboutit,’Craggsaid.ThereservationsoundedmechanicaltoRannoch.Craggblinked,asifshehadmeant tospeakmore firmly thanshehad.Rannochpuzzledover the response,thendecidedhewasseeingaclevermerchantpretendtoobjecttosomethingshehadintendedtoshowhimallalong.‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I want to see it, all the same.’Whether Cragg wastryingtomanipulatehimornotfeltirrelevant.Theconvictionwasstealingoverhimthatfatewasatwork.Itwasimportantthatheseethismask.‘Verywell.’Craggturnedright,towardstheship’sbow.Rannochfollowed.Theypassedthechoir, enteredanarrowpassageway that ranoff the reliquaryand took it for afew hundred yards.At an intersection, Craggwent down a staircase. She andRannochdescendedmanylevelsuntilthestairsendedatamassiveirondoor.AtanodfromCragg, twoguardspulled thedooropenfor them.Inside thevault,crates and chests were stacked high on steel shelves. The space was purelyfunctional.Rannochfrownedwhenhesawit.

‘Youdisapprove,’saidCragg.‘WhereistheinvocationofthesacredIsawbefore?’‘I believe itmust be earned.’Cragg gestured at the containers. ‘Many of theitems stored here are reproductions.They are treatedwith respect, but not thereverenceduetoanicon.Iwillhavenofalseworshiponmyvessel.’Rannochbowedhishead,concedingthepoint.‘Asforobjectslikethemask,’Craggwenton,‘thesameprincipleapplies.Untilwe can definitively establish its identity, and therefore its sanctity, it remainshere.Thisvaultisunadorned,cardinal,butithasbeenconsecrated.’‘Iamsatisfied,captain.Pleaseproceed.’Shebroughthimtoachestattheendofthefirstaisleofshelves.Itwassittingona largework table, flankedbydata-slates and stacksof scrolls and leather-boundvolumes.‘Youhavebeenhardatwork,Isee,’saidRannoch.‘Yes,theresearchisprovingextensive,andverycontradictory.Wearenowiserthanbeforewebegan.’Shestartedunlatchingthechest.Itwasnotlocked,butadozenbronzeclampshelditclosed.‘Where did you find it?’ Rannoch asked. ‘Wouldn’t that provide someguidance?’Cragg shook her head. ‘We recovered it from the wreckage of the SteadfastApostle.Oursistershipwentmissingthirtyyearsago.WefoundwhatwasleftofheronaplanetoidintheApsorusSystem.’‘Whatcouldshehavebeendoingthere?’Rannochsaid.Therewerenocoloniesin Apsorus. There were no planets there at all, not since the hive world ofApsorus IV had been subjected to Exterminatus four centuries ago. Thatcivilisation’sfallhadprovidedmaterialforwarningsermonsacrossthesubsectorever since. Rannoch had made frequent use of it himself. That’s three, hethought.Threeinstancesofabsentworlds.Theconnectionshewasdrawingwerespurious,heknew.Ifthemaskwasfromonetomb,itcouldnotbefromanother.Evenso,hesawstillgreatermeaninginthegrowingcoincidences.‘I don’t know,’ saidCragg. ‘TheApostle seems to have come to grief in thedebrisfield,thoughwhyshewasthereatall,Ican’tguess.’Sheraisedthelidofthechest.‘Atanyrate,thisiswhatwefound.’Sheliftedastandfromtheinteriorand placed it on the table. She stepped back to give Rannoch the space toexaminethemountedrelic.Themask stared at Rannoch with empty eyes. Hemet the cold gaze, and abuzzing began in his extremities, working its way towards his heart, leaving

numbnessinitswake.Themaskwasgold,thoughitmusthavehadaframeworkofsomethingmorerigid,fortherelicseemedstrongaswellasbeautiful.Jewelswereinlaidaroundtheeyesandmouth,andinsharplinesalongthecontoursofthecheekbones.Theypickedupthelightfromthevault’slume-strips,refractingit into a dazzling spectrum.Rannoch beheld a play of gold and a shimmer ofeverycolouratonce.Thefacewasbothsereneanddemanding.Itsforeheadwasengravedwithalmostmicroscopicrunes,lineuponlineofthemrunningacrossthemask’ssurfacelikewrinklesofageandexperience,yettheyenhancedratherthanmarred the beauty of the face.Themaskheld the cardinal rapt.His eyesflicked from detail to detail. Each element of it was perfect. Together, theyforgedsomething thatwentbeyondperfection.Rannochfeltas ifheshouldbewincing.The beauty before himwas painful.But his eyes remainedwide, hisgazecaughtinaperpetualdancefromindividualfeature,towhole,andbacktofeature.Hecouldspendhislifetryingtolearnallthedifferentconfigurationsoftheartefactbeforehim,andtherewouldalwaysbemore.‘This…’hewhispered.Heclearedhisthroat.Hecouldnotlookaway.‘Thisisastonishing,’hesaid.‘Itisapowerfulwork,’saidCragg.‘Iwillresteasyoncewehavedetermineditsorigin.’Ifshereallywasuncomfortable,sheconveyedheremotiontoosoftlyonceagain,almostasifitwerebeingsuppressed.Rannochadmired themerchant’s craft abstractly.Hecould thinkof little elsethanthemask.‘Tocontemplate thiswonder is to feel thegazeofdivinity,’Rannochsaid. ‘Itcouldonlycomefromthe tombofaverygreatsaint.’Ashespoke,asliverofdoubtstabbedathim.Notconcerningtheholinessoftherelic,buttheideathatthiswas a funerarymask.Rannoch experienced the solemnity that came fromstandingbeforeahumblingforce.Buttherewastoomuchenergyinthenetworkoflinesonthatface.Theplayoflightuponthejewelswastoogreat,tooalivetosequesterinthedarknessofatomb.Thepowerofthisartwouldoverwhelmanygrave.Itwasmeanttobeseen.Itwasmeanttohavelivingeyeslookingoutfrombehindit,callingthefaithfultoanengulfingecstasyofdeath.Hefelt theabilitytolookatthemaskwithanythinglikerationalityslipawayfromhim.Hetensedforamoment,andthenaweswampedhisconcern.‘Iagree,’Craggsaid.‘Thepersonageforwhomthemaskwasfashionedmusthavebeenextraordinary.Butuntilweknowwhichsaint,Imustkeepithere.Itistheresponsiblethingtodo.’‘True,’ Rannoch said. Reluctantly. He was even more reluctant to let Cragg

replace the mask in its chest. He stared at the relic until the lid closed. Itsremovalfromhissightfeltlikeatheft.No,worsethanthat.Itwasabereavementandawound.Rannoch’s limbs were heavy as he walked with Cragg out of the vault. Hismindraced.Hehadfoundwhathehadbeenseeking.Themaskhadmorepowerthanalltheotherrelicsontheshipcombined.IthadtogodowntoSandavaII.He imagined the incendiary effect the mask would have on the faith of thecitizenry,andtheheavinessfledfromhisbody.Hisexcitementwasverylikeanurgetodance.HedidnotaskCraggtoarrangeforthemasktobedisplayed,orifshewouldsell it. He knew what her answer would be. Just as he knew with absolutecertaintyhemustbringtoSandavaIIthegiftthatwouldcreateafaithoffire.There would be a way tomake this happen. Surely that was the will of theEmperor.WhyelsewouldfatehaveshownRannochsucharelic?The image of gold and jewelled light shone in his mind’s eye. Already thememory was a torment. The thing itself called to him. He vowed he wouldanswer.

CHAPTERTWOTHESHADOWSCOMMAND

TheSilverPinnaclepiercedthedarknessinallitsforms.Itrosefromthecentreof the Citadel on Titan, a gleaming knife stabbing through the deep orangegloomofthenitrogenatmosphere.Itsbrilliancewasaimedatthegreaterdarkofthevoid,andtheforcewithinitswallspenetratedthemostprofounddarknessofall. The Silver Pinnacle was the light of wisdom. It was the sword offoreknowledge.ItwastheredoubtofthePrognosticars.Reflection. Refraction. Distortion. Amplification. Madness. These were theways of the warp, the nature of the immaterium’s corruption of the real. Tocounterthewarpmeantunderstandingit.Readingit.Becomingintimatewithitscurrentsofinsanityandthevorticesofdreamswhileremaininguntouchedbythelures of its sins. And so the Grey Knights turned to the dreadful power ofmirrors.The Auguirium was the Chamber of Reflection. Its walls and ceiling weremirrored.Theirconcavityconcentratedallimagesinthehuge,perfectlypolishedmirrorofthefloor,turningitintoapoolofinfinitedepth.ThePrognosticarssataround its circumference. Their focus was an even more powerful form ofconcentration.Itwastheonethatgavethemirrorstheirpower.Itopenedthewayto the coils of the immaterium. They spiralled on the great mirror, twistingthemselvesintoshapeswithoutreason,butheavywithomens.ThePrognosticarsobservedwhat their focuswrought, and theypeeledaway themadness to findthemeaning.

Theydidnotseektocontrolthewarp.Thatimpulsewasthebetrayerofheroesandthedoomofsouls.Itcouldnotevenbetrulynavigated.Itcouldbetraversedwithcaution, andatgreat risk.So toocouldportionsof it be read.Withgreatcaution.Atgreatrisk.Themindthatcontemplatedthewarpdidsoasanomad,always moving, adapting, aware of the eternal storm and the lethality oftranscendence and contingency.Thewarp couldnot be seized. It couldnot besurveyed.Butwhenthemindtravelledthewarp,withtherespectduetoanoceaninfury,warnings could be found in the particular clash ofwaves, in the runic turn ofeddies, and in the howling reflections of the spirit. Time in the warp was asillusoryandtreacherousasspace.Theconfigurationsofmadness,interpretedattherightmoment,couldbetheripplesofthefuture.ThePrognosticarswhosawthat future could sound the alarm.With diligence, predatory powers could bestopped,oratleastthepresentmightnotbedestroyed.In the Auguirium, the Prognosticars watched and meditated, meditated andprayed,prayedandwatched.Theseaofnightmaresconvulsedbeforethem.Thescreamsoftherealbrokeagainsteachother,fallingintonothingness.Andthen,a vortex became a knot, a contusion of corruption. It gathered coherence. Itmovedtostrike.ThePrognosticarsdidnotmove,but theirmindsracedwithoneaccordtotheknot.Somethingwascoming.Itdidnotyetexist,butitwascoming,andthehourofitsrealityonrushing.ThePrognosticarsdirectedtheirfocustothegrowingnexus.AndsotheGreyKnightswenttowaragainstathingthatdidnot,asyet,exist.Butitwascoming,gatheringnightmaresinitswake.

Rannochcouldn’tsleep.Hedidn’tthinkhewouldeversleepagain.Aslongasthemaskwasnotbeforehiseyes,thegolden,acid-etchedmemoryimagewouldeatathispeace,remindhimofhisfailureandtwisthimwiththephantomagonyofabsence.Ifhebeheldthemask,howcouldsleepreturnthen?Therewouldbethe unending fire ofworship.Hewould be transported forever by awe.Eitherway,therewouldbenorestforhim.Ifthiswastobehisfate,itwouldbebettertoembracehisobsessionthandenyit–bettertobebathedinthelightofasaintthansavagedbythethoughtofdutyunfulfilled.HewaslyinginastateroomsituatedmidwayupthesuperstructureoftheEnvoyofDiscipline. A glassteel window looked out over the length of the ship. Its

frame was flanked by two of the immense statues. Their heads, hooded andbowedinprayertoraisedhands,werelevelwiththewindow.TheirmonumentalpietyinvitedRannochtocontemplatetheinfinitevistasoftheEmperor’sgalaxy,togivethanksandtofindrestwithintheirprotection.Heglaredatthestatues’profiles,resentingtheircalmofstone.Didtheynotseehispain?Weretheymockinghim?The bedwas huge. Hewas lost in it. He thrashed, strangling himself in thecovers.Hefoughtfree,thenlayback,gasping.Cragg had invited him to stay through a night cycle, thenmake his decisionregarding the relics in themorning. He had accepted even though he alreadyknewwhathewouldsay.NoneoftherelicsCraggwaswillingtodisplaywereadequate. Only one would answer the needs of Sandava II. Rannoch stayedbecause the thought of quitting the ship and losing the mask forever wasunbearable.He had eatenwithCragg and her officers. The feast in his honour had beenlavish.Hehadbarelytastedit.Hehadwasheddownacoupleofmouthfulswithgulpsofamasec,consciousofdoingagraveinjusticetothevintage,butunableto care. Then he had stared at his plate, just managing to take part in theconversation.Hecouldn’trememberwhathadbeendiscussed.Hechosenowtoregardhisabstinenceasafast.Hismindandhissoulwerecaughtinatempest.Perhapsthedenialofthebodywouldhelpseehimsafelytoport.Rannochprayedforguidance.Hetriedtofindevenasinglemomentofcalm,but the turmoil refused to lethimgo.Thegolden face staredathim, accusinghimofcowardiceandneglect.Itsperfectionwasmarredbytheflawsofmemory,andheweptathissacrilege.He stumbled from the bed and collapsed in front of the window. ‘Father ofMankind,’hecriedtothevoid,‘whatwouldyouhavemedo?’Therewasnoanswer.Hehadneverbeensoalone.Illuminationburstuponhimoneheartbeatlater.Despairbecameexultation.Hissolitudewas his answer.He had come to theEnvoy ofDiscipline without hisretinue. He had never travelled without attendants before. He had surprisedhimselfwith his decision almost asmuch as hismajor domo.At the time, hecouldnotexplainhisimpulse.Nowheunderstood.Now,hesawtheworkingsofdestiny,andhesobbedhispraiseoftheGod-Emperor.Hewas alone, and thiswas a blessing. If his retinue hadbeenhere, servantswouldhavebeenknockingathisdooratthefirstsoundofdistress.Hewouldnothavebeenabletotakestepbeyondthethresholdofthestateroomwithoutbeing

askedwhathedesired.Hereandnow, though,hecouldact.HecoulddowhattheEmperordemanded,andnotbeseen.Asmallinnervoice,easilyignored,wonderedwhytheEmperor’sworkshouldrequiresecrecyofhimhere,onthismissionaryvessel.Hewasnotaninquisitor,afterall.Rannochsilencedthevoicewiththesimplethoughtofthemask.Besides,holysecretswerethemortaroffaith.Hedressedwithouthurry.Therewasnothingfurtiveorshamefulinthemissionbeforehim.Hedonnedhisvestments,thoughnotthechainsofoffice.Heleftoffanything thatwouldmakeanoiseashewalked.Hehesitatedabout takinghissceptre. Itwas iron, and seven feet high.Toppedwith amassive skull, itwasheavy.Hewasusedtomarkinghisstepswithit,theclangofmetalonstonebothacalltoworshipandaknellofcondemnation.Walkingwithitstipraisedwouldbeanadditionalstrain.Hedeliberatedafewmomentslonger, thentookupthesceptre.Whathewasabout todowasdivinelyordained.Hisactionswouldbeceremonial.Heshouldcarrythesignofhisofficebeforehim.He opened the state room door. The corridor beyond was empty. The lumetorches lining the walls seemed dimmer than earlier. The shadows poolingbetween them were deeper. They were waiting for him. The ship felt silent.Rannochknewtherewerehundredsofcrewmembersworkingtheirshifts.Yethe sensed theEnvoyofDiscipline open tohim.Thequest, the emptyhall, theshadows,Rannoch’saccidental foresight innotbringingaretinue– thesewereallomens.Everywherehelooked,Rannochsawthefatesaligningtoguidehimonhispath.Hewonderedhowithadtakenhimsolongtoseewhathemustdo.Rannochmoved down the hall. His steps were light, soundless. The sceptreweighednothing.Instead,itpulledhimalongthroughtheship,asifittoowerebeingsummonedbythemask.Rannochdescended the levelsof thesuperstructure.He flewdownanddownthestairs,hisrobesflappinglikewings.Hesuppressedalaughofdelight,andhesmiled, giddy with the joy of his mission. He encountered no one on thestaircases,andinafewminuteshehadreachedthevault’sdeck.Heracedalongthewide,archedcorridortowardsthemidsectionofthehull.Hewasnotwindedfrom his run down the stairs. His energy was limitless. He could sprintindefinitelyifthemaskwasattheendofhisjourney.Everythingwaspossible,becausehewastheinstrumentoftheEmperor’swill.Hewasnotactingonhisowndesire.Hewasobeyingdestiny.

The shadowswere thick along this corridor too.WhenRannochmoved intothem,awayfromthelumetorches,theyembracedhimandconcealedhim.Theysurroundedhimwiththeveryfabricofmystery.Hewasconsumedwithwonder.Herejoicedthathislifeshouldhavebeenblessedtoreachthispass.A crewman appeared at an intersection a hundred yards farther on. Themanturnedintothehall,headinginthecardinal’sdirection.Rannochfeltnoanxiety.Hehadspenthislifeinthechurch.Hehadbeenonbattlefields,thoughnotfordecades,andeventhenhehadbeenattherearofthelines.Hehadneverbeeninvolvedinanyactionhimself.ButIknowwhattodo,hethought,andalmostgiggled.Forabriefmomenthewonderedwhyhehadthoughtofbattle.Hewasnotatwar.Therewerenoenemieshere.Attheveryworst,Craggandhercrewweresimplyalittletoocautiousintheirfaith.No,hewasnotatwar.Yethereactedtotheapproachingcrewmanasifhewereafoe.Rannoch evaded. There was an alcove two steps back. The shadows withinwere profound.He could barely see the shrine it held. The cardinalwithdrewintothealcove.Therewasjustenoughroomforhimbetweentheshrineandthewall. Hismovements were graceful. He flowed. His journey through the shipwas a dance. Every step was choreographed. Nothing was separate. All themoments,fromleavinghisbedtothejoyousconclusionstillawaitinghim,wereanindivisiblewhole.Nothingastrivialasonemanchoosingthewrongcorridoratthewrongmomentcouldbreakthatwhole.Rannoch smiled in the shadows.His vestmentswere stillmore darkness.Noonecouldpossiblyseehim.HewasconcealedbythepoweroftheEmperor.Yetwhyshouldhehide?Whywashedancingwith the shadows?WhydidhenotjustorderCraggtoturnthemaskovertohiscare?Becausethiswasthewisdomof the Emperor. Because Craggwould be blind enough to resist. Perhaps shewishedtokeepthemasktoherself.Ifso,hewasatwarafterall.Thecrewmightbemisguidedenoughtoconstitutearealenemy.Most of all, Rannoch became onewith the shadows because he could. Theywerehisallies.Theywerehisgift.Theycalledtohim,andheanswered.Theywerepropellinghimtowardsthemask,andwhowashetodenythem?Thecrewmanwalkedpast.Youcannotseeme,Rannochthought.Themandidnotevenglanceatthealcove.Rannoch shook with silent laughter. He felt sorry for the crewman. He had

playedapart,smallthoughitwas,inthesacreddance,andwouldneverknow.Rannochwaiteduntilthemanhadturnedoffintoanotherpassageway.Thenheleftthealcove.Down the rest of the corridor now, flying past torches, doorways, hallintersections,tapestriesandmoreshrines.Thedetailsoftheshipblurred,becameinsubstantial,andthatwasright, thatwastrue.Therewasonlyoneobjectwithweightonthisvessel.ThemaskwasmorerealthantheEnvoyofDiscipline. Ithad power. Its perfection alone made its presence stronger than anythingRannochhadeverbeheld.Even now, when he had not yet reached the mask, its image was becomingmoresharplydefined inhismemory.Hisgrowingproximitywasreversing theworkoftime,rollingbackthesecondssinceCragghadshutthelidofthechest.Rannochstoppedrunning.Hestoodbeforethedoorofthevault.Heplacedhishandonthebrasshandle.Wouldthedoorbelocked?Ofcourseitwouldnot.Nottohim.Hepulled,and thedooropened.Thehingeswhined.Thedoorscrapedagainsttheflagstonesofthedeck.Thesoundswereloudintheemptycorridor.Rannochwasunconcerned.Noonewouldhear.Thatwasimpermissible.He entered the vault andmade straight for the chest.He slowed down as heapproached it. The solemnity of the moment impressed itself upon him. Hetappedthefloorwithhissceptreoncemore.Hebecameaprocessionofone.Inhishead,heheardthehymnsofrejoicing,sungbychoirsmillionsstrong.Theywere thevoicesof renewedfaith thatwouldsoonbeshaking thefirmamentofSandavaII.Heleanedhissceptreagainstthetableandplacedbothhandsonthechest.Wasthemetalwarm to the touch?Couldhe feel thegazeof themaskpiercing thefinalbarrierbetweenthem?Hebelievedhedid.Rannochmurmuredhisthanks.Heopenedtheclasps,hisheartpoundingharderandharderwitheachrelease.Heraisedthelid.Hehadnotturnedonthelume-stripsofthevault.Theweaklightcamefromthepassageway.Eveninthegloom,themaskwasresplendent.Itsgoldblazed,andthejewelsflowedintooneanother,joinedbythecomplexityoftheirrefractions.He stared into the eye sockets. Seen through them, the darkness of the chestceased to be a mundane space. Instead, it was the limitless depths of sacredmysteries.Rannochliftedthemaskfreeofitsstand.Hedaredtolethishandsprofanetherelic.Hecuppedtheedgesoftheface.Hestaredattheperfection,itsbeautysofar beyond his memory, it was like seeing the mask for the first time. The

sublimestabbedhisheartwithagonised,ecstaticwoe.Themomentwasthemostpreciousoneofhislife.Anditwascutshort.‘Youreminence?’saidavoicebehindhim.Rannochturned,stillholdingthemask.Thecrewmanhehadseenearlierstoodintheentrancetothevault.So,thecardinalthought.Hehasalargerparttoplayafterall.‘Yourpardon,youreminence,’themansaid,‘but…’‘What isyourname?’Rannoch interrupted. Itwas right thathe shouldknow.Nothingofthisgreatdayshouldbeforgotten.‘Vance,youreminence.KylerVance.’‘Pleaseapproach,Vance,’Rannochsaid.‘Youmaybeofsomeassistance.’Heletgoofthemaskwithhisrighthand,butclutcheditallthemorefirmlywithhisleft.Vancewalkeddowntheaisle.Hisfeatureswereinshadow,butRannochcouldreadconfusionintheuncertaintyofhisgait.Hedrewnear,andRannochcouldseehisfrown.‘I’m sorry for intruding,’ Vance said. ‘I mean no disrespect, but I hope youunderstandmyduties…’‘Ofcourse,ofcourse.’Rannochwavedoffhisapologies.‘Iwillnevercondemnaman fordoinghisduty.’Heobserved thewayVancewas lookingat his lefthand.Theman’sfrownwasdeepening.Helookedveryunhappyaboutwhatheclearly felt he would have to do next. Vance was torn between hisresponsibilities and the impossibility of confronting a cardinal of theAdeptusMinistorum.Rannochtookpityonhim.HeresolvedVance’sdilemma.Grace.Everythingwasgrace.Themaskwasgracemadeofgold.Rannochwasinastateofgrace.Hismovementswereyetanotherformofgrace.Withhisrighthand,hemadeagestureofblessing. In thesamemotion,heseizedhissceptreandslammeditsskulldownonVance’shead.Theman’sforeheadcrackedopenlike an eggshell. Blood splashed up into Rannoch’s face. Vance fell. His legstwitched, his boots rattling against the floor. Then he was still. Dark bloodpooledacrosstheflagstones,glisteningfaintlyinthegloom.Rannochwatcheditspread.Soonitsurroundedthecorpse.Itflowedabouthisfeetandbeneaththetable.Itlappedagainsttheshelves.Rannochlookeddownathisrobes.Theywerespattered.Flecksofmatterclungto the silk. He blinked at the fragments of Vance’s death, fascinated. He hadcommandedexecutions,buthehadneverkilledwithhisownhandbefore.He

crouchedtoexaminethebodymoreclosely.Adistantpartofhismindwonderedwhatheshoulddo.Hecouldnotleavethecorpsehere.Hecouldnotwandertheshipwithaman’sbloodonhisperson.Hecockedhishead,entrancedbyVance’scrushedskull,seeinginittheshapeof revelations, of great secrets spilling into the light.Withoutmeaning to, hedroppedhislefthand.Themasktouchedtheblood.Rannochgasped.Hejerkedhishandup,horrifiedthathehadmarredtherelic’sperfection. Only he hadn’t. The blood flowed into the lines and runes of themask,andthecrimsonmadethegoldandthejewelsshineevenmorebrightly.Thecontoursofthesacredfacestoodout,sharpasburningplasma.Withtearsofawestreakinghischeeks,Rannochloweredthemaskintothebloodagain.Themiraclebegan.Thebloodceasedpooling.Itrushedtothemask,pulledinbyagiganticthirst.Theedgesofthebodystartedtofoam.Vancelostdefinition.Hesankinto thefloor,spreadingout,becomingsoft, thenaslurry, thenliquid.Bloodandfleshandbonemixedandran,becomingatideofredandwhiteandpinkandblack.Rannochcouldseethecoloursclearlybecauselightblazedfromthemask;hewassittingatthecentreofadazzlingaurora.Goldinterwovewitheveryshadeof the spectrum.Thedisplaywasart. Itwasa tapestry, agloriousextensionofthemask’sbeing.ItenvelopedRannoch.Ittransportedhimbeyondsensation,beyondsenseitself.Hedroppedthemask.Hismouthwasopen,andhewouldhavescreamedinecstasy,butevenascreamwastoolittleathing;eventhatprimalexpressionwasoverwhelmed.Time vanished in the storm of light and blood. Eternity touched Rannoch’ssoul.Itopeneduptohim,andtookhimin.And theneverything stopped.Eternity castRannochout.Themundane lieoftimeresumed.Thelightdimmedandvanished.ThesobthatshookRannochwasso huge, it felt like hewas expelling a boulder from his chest. He fell to hisknees.Hewasonthevergeofwailingindespairwhenhiseyesdroppedtothemask.Itlayonthefloor,imperturbable,perfectandstill.Rannochsnatcheditupagain and stared at the beauty, calming himselfwith the physical fragment oftranscendence.Thefloorwasdry.Therewasnoblood.Therewasnotraceofthecorpse.Eventhestainsonhisvestmentsweregone.Rannochpickeduphissceptreandrosetohisfeet.Helookedatthemaskonemore time, then concealed it in his robes. He closed the chest, latched it andwalked to the exit. By the time he reached the corridor, his legswere steadyagain.

Hegrabbedthedoor,andwasabouttocloseitwhenawhispermadehimpause.He looked in the vault. Itwas shadowed andverydim.The source of its truelightwaswithhimnow.Theshadowswerestirring.Thewhisperwasareptilianhiss. It grew louder. Soon therewere sounds of tearing and of bubbling acid.Rannochstareddowntheaisle.WhereVancehadlain,theshadowswerecomingtogether. They twisted. The air frayed. There were movements that sought toform limbs, colours that threatened to become claws. The realwas dissolvingbeforeRannoch’seyes.He could not contain this sight within the belief of sanctity. The death anddissolutionofVancewasframedbybeautyanddestiny.Thiswasdifferent.Thiswas a new excess, one that threatened to crack his cherished constructions ofbelief.Icereachedfromtheshadows.Itseepedintohisveins.Hepulledthemaskout.Helookedatitagain.Couldhehavebeensoterriblywrong?No,herealised.Perfectbeautygazedbackathim.Itfilledhisspiritandhismind.Itleftnoroomforthoughtsofwhatmightbehappeninginthevault.The world beyond the gold became trivial. Events lost meaning. They wereignorable,empty,insignificant.Withouttakinghiseyesfromtherelic,hepushedthedoorclosed.Helookeduponlywhenheheardthehollowboom.Thevaultwas sealed. There was nothing happening inside. There was nothing there todisturbhisunderstandingofthemask.Hereturnedtherelictohisrobesandheadedbacktohisstateroom.Inafewhours,hewouldtakehisleaveofCraggandtheEnvoyofDiscipline.HewouldreturntoSandavaII,bearingsuchagift.Suchagift.

‘Thethreat,’saidBrotherTrevas,‘istotheDiernaSystem.’Dierna.Gavallan’stranscriptionflashedbeforeCrowe’sinnereye.Hearingthename so soon after reading it was an ill omen. He would consider that later,though.Hefocusedontheimmediateconcerns.‘Whatisthetimeline?’heaskedthePrognosticar.‘Imminent,’Trevasanswered.‘Ifithasnotalreadytranspired.’TheywereinabriefingroomjustoutsidetheChambersofPurity.Thissectorof the Citadel was a bridge between the rest of the brotherhoods and thePurifiers.Here the guardians of the chambers couldmeetwith the otherGreyKnightswhileremainingnearathandtotheirduties.Theroomwasasmallone.Itheldalongstonetable.Thewallswereadornedwiththebannersofreclaimedworlds.CrowewashereastheseniorbrotheramongthePurifiers.Hespokefor

thecastellan,sparingTrevastheneedtobeexposedtothetoxicpresenceoftheBladeofAntwyr.‘Imminent,’ Crowe repeated. It was not unusual for Prognosticars to foreseeincursionsyearsbeforetheyhappened.Ifacrisispointhadalreadybeenreached,thatwascauseforgreatconcern.Trevas nodded, his face grave. ‘There was a sudden confluence in theimmaterium.Evennow,wecannotfindthethreadsleadingtoit.Thetracesarebrokenandfragmentary,iftheyarepresentatall.’‘Andthethreatissevere?’‘Itis.ThereisastormofconsequencesradiatingfromDierna.Wecannotparsethem.Theyaretoomany,toovariedandtoooverlapping.Ifwehopeeventoseethe nature of thewider danger, the threatmust be stoppednow,whilewe canlocaliseit.’Crowe thought through the implications of what Trevas was describing. ‘Athreatofthissortcanhardlyhavearisenthroughchance,’hesaid.‘TheRuinousPowersrevel intheirschemes.Howcantheirplanninghaveleftnosigninthewarp?’‘This ispreciselywhat troublesus,’ saidTrevas. ‘Thebestwecan theorise isthatatraphasbeentriggered.’‘Inwhatsense?’‘Somethingwaspreparedandthenhaslaininwait.Ifevenitscreatorsdidnotknowwhenitwouldstrike,therewouldbenotraceoftheplan.’‘Sowearedealingwiththeconsequencesofchanceafterall.’‘Perhaps.Severeones.Ifthisisatrap,itisapotentone.’‘Itwould have to be,’Crowemused. ‘Nothing trivialwould be concealed socarefully.’‘Ourcouncilagrees.’‘AsdoesSupremeGrandMasterDraigo?’Trevasnodded.‘ThatiswhyheiscallinguponthePurifiers.Thethreatisgreat,highlyconcentratedandmobile.’‘Mobile?Aship?’‘We believe so. It is imperative it be stopped before it reaches the DiernaSystem.’Crowe agreed. Therewas little time, but there was also an opportunity. Thesituationpresented two stark alternatives – a decapitatingblowor a spreadinginfection.Andtheinfectionwouldleadtoworse.IfthePrognosticarscouldnotread the consequences of failure, if theywere toomanifold and terrible, then

theywouldextendfarbeyondthecorruptionofasinglesystem.Diernaheldonlyone inhabited planet: Dierna Primus, a hive world and one of little inherentstrategicsignificance.Onewayoranother,Dierna’sfallwouldbejustthestart.SoDiernamustnotfall.Andhemustspeakwiththecastellanaboutthename.

‘Dierna,’Gavallanrepeatedashortwhilelater.‘Yes,’saidCrowe.Gavallan looked at his desk, at the reams of his work there. At the endlessrecordof thedaemonsword’swords. ‘Oneof the twonamesyouhappened toreadaloud.’‘Thiscannotbechance,’saidCrowe.‘I agree.Though learn from thedoubtwemust still face.There are somanysystemsnamedinthatlist,itisalmostinevitablethatsomeofthemshouldcomeunderattackeventually.’True,Crowethought.ButIonlyspoketwonames,notahundred.The swordwasmuttering. Its voicewas not aggressive as it had beenwhenCrowehad lastbeen in this chamber. Itwas agrating lure instead.Thewordshovered at the very edge of intelligibility.They pulled atCrowe’s attention, ahookatthebackofhismind,callingonhimtoturnhisattentiontotheBlade,toseek tounderstand itswordsandso take themonboard.Croweheld thevoiceback.Hedidnotgiveintotheseductionofmystery.Butwhenhepausedbeforespeakingagain,theswordlaughedinthedarkness.Thesoundthatwasnosoundwasalow,snickeringgrowl.Itwasnomorepronouncedthanthemuttering.Itwasbarelyheard,barelyfeltandallthemoreinsidious.Gavallan’s eyes twitched in hatred.He kept his face averted from theBlade,refusingtograntitthesatisfactionofagreaterreaction.‘Itknows,’saidCrowe.‘Itknowanditplans,’Gavallansaid.‘IsitpossibletheBladehascreatedthisthreat?’Gavallanshookhishead.‘Idonotbelievethatispossible.Ifweapproachthismissionwiththatassumption,ourerrorcouldwellleaveusvulnerabletothetrueadversary.Andthatmistakeispreciselywhattheswordseekstocreate.Thatiswhatitcansetinmotion.’Antwyr laughed again. Crowe looked past Gavallan’s shoulder, facing thesworddirectly.Ifthiswastobehisburden,thenletitknowhewaspreparedforit.Let it facehim too, andknow its futureguardianwouldhold it as securely

imprisonedasthepresentone.‘Bewareofoutrightdefiance,’Gavallansaid.Croweshiftedhisgazetomeetthehollow,exhaustedeyesofthecastellan.‘Defiance can lead to engagement,’ Gavallan went on. ‘Once you begin todiscoursewith theBlade,youexposeyourself to itscloserscrutiny. Itwillusewhatitfinds.’‘Iunderstand,’saidCrowe.‘Iwillheedyourwords.’WithonemoreglanceatAntwyr,heturnedbacktoGavallan’stranscription.‘Iftheswordhasnotcausedtheincursion,andchancedidnotgovernmypronouncingofthosenames,thenIsee twopossibilities.Another force entirely has extended its influence this farfromDierna.’‘Adaemonicone?’‘Notnecessarily.’‘A dark omen or a divine warning. A stark choice, Brother Garran, and adifficultone,’Gavallansaid,butdidnotdisagree.‘Andtheotherpossibility?’‘Theswordhasforeseentheseevents,andplanstousethemtoitsadvantage.’‘Thesepossibilitiesarenotmutuallyexclusive,’saidGavallan.‘No,’Croweconceded.‘Theyarenot.’Theswordmutteredandlaughed,mutteredandlaughed,rejoicinginitssecrets,daringtheunwarytopiercethem.

ThecastellanandtwosquadsofPurifierspreparedforwar.Almostaquarterofthe brothers who guarded the Chambers of Purity were bound for the DiernaSystem. This was the determination of Kaldor Draigo. The intensity and theurgencyofthethreatwarrantedthedeploymentofthemostincorruptibleoftheincorruptible.CrowewasgladoftheSupremeGrandMaster’scommand.HeandGavallanwouldhavepetitionedhimtoorderthisaction.Thegatheringthreadswerethatominous.Theywerealsotoovague.AsthesquadsmetintheChapelofFlame’sUnction,Crowe thought of howmuch they did not know about the threat, and of howdangerous that ignorance was. He wondered how high a cost would be paidbeforethetruenatureofthefoebecameclear.MerratGavallanstoodapartfromthetwosquads.Headvancedtothecentreofthetranseptcrossingandkneltbeforethealtar.TheBlackBladeofAntwyrwaschainedtothebackofhispowerpack.Ahundredyardsseparatedhimfromhisbrothers,butthecursesoftheswordreachedthemall.Andthiswasasitshouldbe.Thepresenceoftheevilinsoholyaplacewasa

spurtothePurifiers,areminderofthenecessityanddangeroftheirtask.Theyfollowed the example of their brotherhood champion. They knelt in the vastspaceofthenave.Therewerenopewshere,onlyanexpanseofstone.TheGreyKnightsplantedthetipsoftheirNemesisforceweaponsagainstthefloor.Theybowed theirheadsagainst thehiltsof swordsand the shaftsofhalberds.Theyprayed.‘Thou,Emperor,artgreatandpowerfulaboveall,’Gavallanintoned.‘Grantusthystrengthaswedefendyourcauseagainstthefaceoftheenemy,’saidthePurifiers.‘OEmperor,thouartthetowerofdefenceofmankind.’‘Weshallbeyourholyviolencevisitedupontheenemy.’‘Fatherofmankind,’saidGavallan,‘byandthroughyourwill,wefightforyouandglorifyyou.’‘OEmperor,’vowedtheothers,‘weshallnotsuffertheabominationtolive.’Theywouldnot,Crowevowed.Theywouldburntheuncleanthingsfromthematerium.Gavallanstood.Fromfontstotheleftandrightofthealtar,heanointedhimselfwithholyoil,pressinghisgauntletedfingerstohisforehead,hischest-plateandhisblade.ThoughhecarriedAntwyreverywherewithhim,alwaysthewarden,alwaystheguard,hedidnotuseitinbattle.HewieldedaNemesissword,onethatblazedwithabluelightaspureastheBlackBladewascorrupt.SoclosetoAntwyr,though,theholyfireoftheNemesisswordseemedtoCrowetostrain,asifpushingbackdarknessattheedgeofitsreach.The castellan stood before the altar a few moments more, surrounded by acloudofincense.Thenhemovedontowardstherearofthechapel,thescrollsofhisoathsofmomentswayingashewalked.CroweandSendraxadvancedtothealtar.TheyrepeatedGavallan’sritual,thenwaited for their squads to do the same. Doran, Ruluf, Harsath and KlandonmarchedwithSendrax.Crowewatched thewarriors of his squad, his brothersfromahundredcampaigns, andhewonderedhowmuch longerhewould leadthemashedidnow.HowmuchlongerbeforehewouldleadallthePurifiers,andatthesametimehavetoisolatehimselffortheirsake.Gavallan’sstatewashisfuture,hisworldoutsideofcombatcircumscribedtohiscellintheChambersofPurity, lesthispresenceharmtheotherGreyKnights.Thefellowshipheknewnowwithhisbrotherswouldcometoanend.Heknew themand their strengths like the fingersofhis righthand.Togetherthey formed the mailed fist of the Emperor. There was Destrian, the most

methodicalincombat.Hisfacewasamassofoverlappingburnscarsearnedinan exploding manufactorum on Anbeten IV. There was Gorvenal, sombre offeatureandintenselypious.Caracwasroughhewnandfiery.HistempermadehimthebalanceforDestrian’scoolness.AndfinallyDrake.CrowehadfoughtinmorebattleswithhimthanhehadwithSendrax.MostofDrake’sfacehadbeenreconstructed.Therewassomuchmetalthathisfeatureshadtakenonacastoffrozennobility.The ceremony complete, the Purifiers followed Gavallan to where the irongatesopenedoutofthechapel,leadingtothegrav-liftsthatwouldtakethemtothe heights of the Citadel and the waiting Stormraven, Purgation’s Sword.PilotedbyBerinonof theFirstBrotherhood, thegunshipwould carry them toorbit,tothestrikecruiserSacrumFinem,anditwouldtakethemtotheDiernaSystem.Itwouldtakethemtowar.TheGreyKnightsmarchedinreverentialsilence.TheymarchedwiththeBladeofAntwyrwhisperingtotheirsouls.

CHAPTERTHREEINAUGURATIONOFTHEREVELS

Herfatherwaswaitingforheroutsidethethroneroom.GeneralVendruhnGlasblinkedinsurprise.LordGovernorOttoGlasstoodseveralyardsfromthecloseddoors,besidetheglassteelwindowoverlookingthewideplazabeforethepalace.Hewas alone except forWaclav, the head of his personal guard, whowaitedbesidethedoors.VendruhnjoinedLordOtto,glancingcuriouslyinthedirectionofthethroneroom.‘Hehasn’tarrivedyet?’sheasked.‘Ohyes,’saidOtto.‘Thecardinalisinthere.’More and more confusing. Rannoch alone in the throne room. The LordGovernoroutside.Thiswasadeviationfromprotocolsobizarreitcouldn’tevenbecalledabreach.Thenormalpracticewasn’teveninsight.Thereweren’tevenanyattendantswaitingtoopenthedoors.Thehallwasempty.‘What’s going on?’When she had received her father’s request to attend themeeting, she had expected a fairly unexceptional summit. The cardinal hadreturned from themissionary shipwith a sacred object.Coordinationwith theSandavaIIMilitiawouldbenecessaryinviewofthemasscelebrationstocome.‘I’mnotcertainanythingisgoingon,’Ottosaid.‘Maybenotcertain,butyouthinksomethingis.’The Lord Governor grimaced. In his floor-length greatcoat, a deep blueembroideredwith thegoldemblemsof theofficeand the family’sheraldry,hewastheembodimentofrighteousrule.Hisbearingfusedauthorityandhumility.OttowasconsciousthathisgovernorshipwasagiftoftheEmperor’swill,and

hadmeaningonlytothedegreeitenforcedthatwill.Thatveryhumilitywasthesourceofhisauthority.HisruleintheEmperor’snamewasimplacable.Today,though,thesetofhisjawwasuncertain.Hiseyes,lookingoutfrombeneaththelocks of a silver ceremonialwig,were narrowwith doubt.His posturewas asrigidasever,buthewasshowinghisage.Vendruhnhadneverseenthatbefore.Thiswasthefirsttimeshehadseenhimhesitate.‘Ineedyourthoughtsonthecardinal’sstateofmind,’Glassaid.‘Why?Hassomethinghappenedtodisturbhim?’‘Quitetheopposite.Heisjoyful.’‘Andthismakesyouuneasy.’‘The tenor of his joy does. There is an edge to it. I find it…’ He stopped,thinkingthroughhissentence.‘Ifinditexcessive,’hesaid.Hepointeddownattheplaza.‘Didthisfeelrighttoyouasyouarrived?’The plaza was filled with a crowd waiting for an official announcement.VendruhnhadseenthepeopleasherVendettagunshiphadflownoverthecapitalcity of Egeta, bringing her in to the palace’s landing pad. She had paid littleattention to the gathering. She looked more closely now. The afternoon sunshoneontensofthousandsofupturnedfaces.Therewasrestlessmovement,asiftheexpectationofnewswasanelectriccurrentrunningfrombodytobody.YetVendruhn could see no one conversing. No one turned away from the throneroom’s balcony. The anticipatory tension reached through the window andprickledthebackofVendruhn’sneck.Excess,shethought.‘Isee,’shesaid.Herfather’suneasewascatching.Glasnodded.‘Thenletushaveourconversationwiththecardinal.’Hewalkedto thedoorsandpulled themopen.The throne roomwashuge,unclutteredbyfurnitureexceptfortheseatofpoweritself.Itwasdesignedtoreceivehundredsand felt cavernouswith only three people present. The throne, constructed ofgoldandtheivoryofthetuskedherbivoresofSandavaII’sarcticregions,satona three-level dais in the centre of the room. The wall hangings depicted theunificationoftheworldundertheGlasfamily,andtheLordGovernors’fidelitytotheImperialcreed.‘General Glas!’ Rannoch exclaimed when he saw her. Lord Otto offered noexplanationforhavinglefthimalone,andRannochaskedfornone.Thecardinalstrodeforwardsfromtheglassteeldoorsopeningontothebalcony.Eventhoughhis frame was concealed by his vestments, he seemed thinner than whenVendruhn had last seen him.His gait had an insectile angularity.And had healwaysstooped?Heseemed tocurveforwards inorder to lookdownather. ‘I

amdelightedyouhavecometoo,’hesaid.‘Wehavemuchtoplanandmoretocelebrate.’Hetookherhandwithbothofhis.Hisskinfelttoowarmandsmooth.‘I’msurewedo,cardinal,’Vendruhnsaid.‘Yourtripwassuccessful,then.’‘Indeed it was. Indeed it was. Beyond all my hopes. General, Sandava willglorifytheEmperor’snameasneverbefore.Thestarswillringwithourshoutsofpraise.’‘I’m glad to hear it.’ She was. Rannoch’s fervour for the Emperor wasreassuring.Perhapshewasonlyfeverishinhisexcitement.‘Youhavebroughtarelictous,youweretellingme,’Ottosaid.Hehadtakenapositionafewpacestotheside,betweenRannochandthethrone.Heseemedtowantdistancebetweenhimselfandthecardinal.‘Ihave.’Rannoch’svoicebrokeinwonder.‘Itisamarvel.Ihaveneverseenthelikebefore.’‘Youhavemeverycurious,’Vendruhnsaid.‘Whatisit?’‘Iwillshowyou,’saidRannoch.Fromwithinhisrobeshepulledoutamask.‘Behold,’hesaid.Vendruhntookastepback.Thebeautyofthemaskwaspainful.Itjabbedathertemple.Herrighteyetwitched.Excess,shethought,andlookedaway.Otto was rooted to the spot. He stared at the mask, his face a conflictingmixtureofreverenceandfear.Rannochheldtherelichigh.Foramoment,Vendruhnthoughthewasgoingtoplaceitoverhisface.HelookedattheLordGovernorandather.Aripplepassedoverhisexpression.Thenhereturnedthemasktoitsplaceofconcealment,hissmileasfirmlyfixedasever.Vendruhn found the space to wonder why the mask was not in a reliquary.Rannochwascarryingitloose,asifitwerehispersonalproperty.Hehadlookedatitwithveneration,butheclutcheditwithferociouspossessiveness.‘Thatisarelicwithpowerfulpresence,’Vendruhnsaid,breakingasilencethathad stretched long enough to be uncomfortable. Otto was no help. He wasstunned.Aweandanxietyracedoverhisface.Hestill lookedatRannochwithconcern, but he also seemed smaller, as if shrunken by the mask’s goldenmajesty.‘Wheredoesitcomefrom?’Vendruhnasked.‘ItisthefunerarymaskofSaintEstheria,’Rannochansweredquickly.HegazedbackandforthbetweengeneralandGovernor.‘Itismyintentiontoannounceitsarrivalonourworldfromthisbalcony.Thepeoplemustknow.Youwillagree,then,thatwehavemanypreparationstomake,andlittletimeinwhichtomakethem.’

Ottowassilent.Vendruhnsaid,‘Iagree.’Shethoughtaboutthecrowdoutside.Shewonderedifthepeoplewerealreadyenrapturedbyanobjecttheyhadyettosee.Whentheybeheld it, what then? Rannoch was right. The militia had to instigate crowdcontrolmeasures.And,Vendruhnthoughtuneasily,shewouldneedtobereadytocurbRannoch’sexcesses. She took in the cardinal’s delighted smile. He seemed only partlypresent in the throne room.Vendruhn considered the idea of trying to ban thecelebrationsaltogether.Reluctantly, shedismissed it.Shewouldbe trespassingonRannoch’sauthority,andshehadnoclear justification topitherselfagainstthecardinal.Shehadonlyherunease.

TheauspexarrayoftheSacrumFinemfoundtheshipmidwaybetweenDiernaPrimusandthesystem’sMandevillepoint.Itwasheadingforthehiveworldatlittlemorethanarapiddrift.‘Hasthevesselbeenidentified?’Croweasked.‘Yes,lord,’ShipmasterGurasaid.‘TheEnvoyofDiscipline.Amissionaryship.’Gurahadbeenat thecommandof theSacrumFinem fordecades.Sheandhercrew,sanctionedbytheOrdoHereticusforservicetotheGreyKnightsandfornootherduty,wereveteransofdozensofcampaigns.Mindwipedaftereachone,theyrememberednoneof them.Theywereconsciousonlyof thesolemnityoftheirpurpose.‘TheRuinousPowersdelightintheirtargets,’saidLevasSendrax.Crowe nodded. He and the other Knight of the Flame were in the bridge’sstrategium.Theyhadactingcommand.Gavallanwassequesteredinacellatthepeakof the strikecruiser’s superstructure.Hewas invoxcommunicationwiththe squads, buthispresenceon thebridgewouldhavebeendangerous for thecrew.Thoughthesworddidnotspeakasclearlytothenon-psykers,itstillmadeitselfheard.Themortals’exposurehadtobekepttoaminimum.‘ShallwehailtheEnvoy,lord?’Guraasked.‘Noneed,’Crowesaid.Hewatchedtheimagegrowlargerintheoculus.‘Yes,lord.’Shesoundedrelieved.There was no doubt this was the target. TheEnvoy ofDiscipline was underpower,butminimally.Itwasnotbroadcastinganyrequestsforaid.Itwasadarkmass,closinginonDiernaPrimuslikeapredatorfromthetomb.Therewerenoobvioussignsofdamage.ButastheSacrumFinemdrewnear,theship’snaturebecameapparent.

Corruptionhadspreadover theexteriorof thehull.The linesof the freighterwereunnaturally smooth, itsplating seamless. In thedistant lightofDierna, itglistened likeoily flesh.Aslow,heavymovement, like thegradualheaveofalung, passed down the ship’s length. It endedwith a sensuous shudder. Spirestumbledfromthevessel,sheddingdust.Crowefocusedonthesuperstructure.‘Magnificationontheprincipalstatuary,’heordered.The image shifted. The colossal guards became visible. One had both armsoutstretched, fending off some unseen horror. Its face was contorted, its eyeswidewithunspeakable emotion.Theotherwas clawing at its eyes. Its fingerswerefrozeninthemomentofself-mutilation.Thestonefleshofitscheekshunginhuge,immobileflaps.‘Thedaemonicmocksus,’saidSendrax.‘Letitwhileitcan,’Croweanswered.‘Itrevealsitsnature.’‘Aye,’Sendraxnodded.‘Theabominationsleavetheirsignature.’‘Noskullsorbrass,’saidCrowe.‘Nolesionsofplague.Butlookattheeyes.’Hepointedtothestatuewiththeexposedface.‘Thereismorethanterrorthere.’‘There is desire.’ Crowe spat the words. It enraged him to look upon thedesecrationofsacredart.Butknowingtheenemywouldbeatacticaladvantage.‘TheDarkPrince,’hesaid.‘Andsotheinitiativeisours,’Sendraxsaid.‘Theydonotexpectus,ordonotknowus,toannouncethemselvessoboldly.’‘Perhaps,’saidCrowe.‘Youdisagree?’‘MuchwashiddenfromthePrognosticars.Thisconcernsme.’‘Thenletuspurgethatconcernwithflame,’saidSendrax.

TheCathedralofMartyrdomEmbracedwasattheotherendofEgetatotheLordGovernor’spalace.Leaningagainst theparapetof thecathedral’shighestspire,Rannochcouldjustmakeoutthetowersofthepalace.Thetwomonumentswerebuilton the summitsof lowhills,with theentiretyof thecity’s administrativeand hab sectors between them. Egeta’s population was a mere ten million.OutsideitswallsweretheendlessplainsofSandavaII’sprimarylandmass,theirbounty tilled by millions of serfs on horizon-spanning collective farms. Theharvest days would soon be here, and after them the burning of the stubble.Therewouldbe fireandsmoke in thedistance then.Atnight,Rannochwould

seetheflickeringorangeofanoceanofflameextendingtoinfinity.Aglorioussight.Asightthatfounditsspiritualforminthegoalhehadsetforhimself.ThefiresoffaithwouldblanketSandavaII.NothingwouldstandinthewayofRannochaccomplishingthissacredtask.Nothingandnoone.HehadobservedVendruhn’sreactioninthethroneroom.Herfatherwasslowto understand too, but Rannoch thought the Lord Governor had received aninstructivereligiousshockwhenhehadseenthemask.Indeed,therelicseemedto have grown stronger since Rannoch had first set eyes on it. Its impact onviewerswasmorepronouncedandimmediate.Ithadnot,though,hadthesameeffectonVendruhn.Shehadturnedherfacefromit.Rannochcouldnotimagineaclearersignofincipientheresy.Vendruhncouldnotevenbringherselftogazeonsacredness.Andnowsheproposedtoguarditagainst the unruliness of the people? Rannoch had agreed to all her securitymeasuresonlybecauseheknewitwas thepeoplewhowoulddefendthemaskagainst her. Let the general deploy her troops. Theywould see the truth, andknowhowtheyshouldact.But somemight not,Rannoch thought. Theremight be others likeVendruhn,otherswhohadfallenfromtheEmperor’slight.Theywouldtrytoworkagainsttheglorythemaskwouldspread.Rannoch looked down the height of the spire to the streets and squares ofEgeta,hundredsofyardsbelow.Theywerefilled.Avastcurrentofcitizensrantowardsthecathedral.Thenewshehadannouncedafewhoursearlierhadracedacrossthecity.Thepeoplewerecomingtoworship.ThefaithofSandavaIIwasalreadyaflame,andthewitnessingofthemaskhadnotyetbegun.Rannochshouldhavefeltjoy.Thiswaswhathewanted.Thiswaswhathehadforeseen.Andyet…Heeyedthemilitiaformationsinpositionalongthemainavenues,controllingmajor intersections, arriving by Chimera to the cathedral’s parvis. His chesttightened.Histhroatbecameparched.Angerburiedelation.Suspicionandworrybloomed.Heknewtowatchthesoldiers.Bytheiruniforms,hewouldknowonepossiblesourceofthreat,howeversmallthenumberofapostatesmightbe.But what of the people? What of the hundreds of thousands soon to flowthrough the nave? Howmany of themwould be there under false pretences?Very few, certainly.But a fewmattered.Even one couldmatter.He could not

watchthemall.Unlesshecouldseeintotheirsouls,hecouldnottrustany.Down inside the cathedral,waiting on the central altar,mounted on a jewel-encrustedbronze stand,was a reliquary.Rannoch’soriginal intenthadbeen toplacethemaskthere.Itwouldbeprotectedbythereliquary’sstasisfield,anditwouldbeonhighandilluminatedforalltosee.Itwouldbesafeenough.Safeenoughisnotgoodenough.Nostasisfieldwasimpregnable.Thereliquarywasnotindestructible.Hecouldnotplacehisfaithinitanymorethanhecouldbecertainofeverypersonwhoenteredthecathedral.He felt the reassuringweight of themask in the folds of his vestments. Thethoughtofitsabsencewasintolerable.Hecould trustnooneabsolutely.Hecouldonlyrelyonhimself. Itwas,afterall,tohimthewilloftheEmperorhadentrustedtherelic.The solutionwas clear.Rannoch started to laugh.He shook his head at howblindhehadbeen. ‘I’msorry,’hewhispered to themask,vowing todobetter.Thenhelaughedagain,becausewiththesolutionhisjoyhadreturned.Ifhecouldonlytrusthimself,thenhewouldkeepthemask.Hewouldbethemeansbywhichthepeoplebehelditsglory.Hewouldwearthemask.Hewouldwearit,andhewouldpreach.Itwouldbeasifthemaskitselfwerespeakingtothecongregation.Rannochshiveredashethoughtoftheinspirationthatwouldtakehimwhenhedaredtobecomeonewiththeholy.Whenhewouldlookthroughtheeyesofthemask.Worries of safety and risk evaporated. He knew he would be a guardianinfinitely surer than a simple stasis field.He had proven that on theEnvoy ofDiscipline. He would know what to do, no matter what challenge arose. Hewouldknowwhattodo,andhewouldhavethepowertodoit.Hepulled themask into the light.Heheld itbeforehim. Itdazzledhimwithgoldsandreds,blessedbythesettingsun.Rannochstaredatthefaceforalongtime. It had newmeaning for him. Those featureswere going to be his. Thiswouldbehisface.Hisfingerstrembledasheturnedthemaskaround.Forthefirsttime,helookedat its interior.His eyes ran over the contours thatwouldmeet his own.Therewerenojewelshere.Theinsideofthemaskwasperfectinitssimplicity.Itwasgoldenflesh.Hebrought themask towardshis face.Theeyeholesgrew larger.Theworld

appearedthroughthem.Already, itseemedbrighter, richer.Aviolet luminositysuffusedtheevening.Rannochtookhislastunfetteredbreath.Thenhedonnedthemask.

The two boarding torpedoes cut through the hull of theEnvoy of Discipline.PerhapswhatCrowehad seenwas true, and thehull hadbreathed.But itwasstillmetal,anditshriekedasthedrill-headsrippeditapart.Thetorpedoesstruckwithinyardsofeachother.Gavallanhadorderedaunifiedstrike.Theystabbedthroughthefreighter’ssuperstructureatthelevelofthebridge.The hatches slammed open. Eleven Purifiers burst into the corridor of thetaintedship.Theatmospherewasthick.Ithadbecomeamiasmaofheadyscentsand pheromones. Crowe snorted in disgust. The air crackled. As he marchedbehindGavallan, the clingingmist recoiled from thepresenceof thePurifiers.Croweperceivedtheuglinessinthewarp’scurrent.Theimmateriumhadsettledintocracksinthereal.Itfestered,dissolvingthematerium’scoherence.Butashewalked,thecurrentflowedagain.Hisangerburnedtheturbidityaway.Thefilththathadcomewiththewarpflinchedawayfromhim.Thecorridorwasawideone.TherewasroomforthePurifierstoadvancetwoabreast.Gavallanhadthelead.Hewasseveralpacesaheadofthesquads.Anycloser,and theeffectof theBladeofAntwyrwouldhavebeen toostrong.ThePurifiers would have to devote too much spiritual energy to warding off itsattacks.Sendrax and Crowe’s other battle-brothers all wore power armour. OnlyGavallan andCrowewore the stronger artificer armour.Crowehad earnedhisplate through featsofbattle, but heunderstoodnow that the judgementwhichhadfoundhimworthyofthissacredarmourwasthesamethathadchosenhimasthefutureWardenoftheBlade.Thedarkhonourhadbeenpreparedforhimformanyyears.Perhapsdecades.Sowhyhasthecastellanspokentoyouofitnow?heaskedhimself.Whynow?Becauseheisdying.Gavallan’s stridewas strong.He showed no outward signs ofweakness.Buteach time Crowe had seen him on the journey to Dierna, he had noted thedeepeninggreyinGavallan’sface,andtheeyesrecedingfurtherandfurtherintotheskull.TheBladehadconsumedhim.Gavallanneeded toknowCrowewasreadyforhistask,becausethecastellancouldforeseehisend.Youwillnotguardme,Antwyrsnarled.Youwillbemine.TheswordhadbeendirectingmoreandmoreofitsattentionCrowe’sway.Its

attacks were more pointed, more ferocious. It saw what was coming too. ItsworkonGavallanwasnearlydone.ItsoughttogroomCrowe.Itwouldfail.Thecorridorwasadornedwithtapestries.Theyhadallbeentransformed.Thetraceof theiroriginal subjectswas there, just enough for the full extentof theblasphemy wrought to be seen. Ceremonies had become orgies. Scenes oftriumphwerenowcelebrationsofatrocity,theirheroesconvulsedindeformity,limbselongated,serpentineinelegance,writhingsensuallyinblood.Theweaveofthetapestrieshadchanged,too.Itpulsedlikewormsandflesh.Thetapestriesbillowedinanabsentwind.Ahead,thedoorstothebridgewereopen.‘Theenemymustknowwe’rehere,’saidDrake.‘Wherearethey?’‘Theyruninterrorbeforeourapproach,’Caracsaid.‘Whereisourbattle?’ThePurifierspokehalfinjest,thoughCroweheardhisimpatiencetobeinthefight.Theemptinessofthehallwasodd.‘Havepatience,brothers,’Crowesaid.Youespecially,Carac,hethought.‘Thefoewillcome.’Butwhy not here? The shipwas heavily corrupted. Crowe had expected thecorridorstobeinfested.Andwhywouldthedaemonsleaveaclearaccesstothebridge?The Purifiers passed through the doorway. Beyond it, atrocity waited. Therewere still functioningwork stations on the bridge.The space had not been sotaintedthatitcouldnolongerfunctionatall,andtheEnvoyofDisciplinecouldbeguidedtowardsatarget.Butwhatremainedwassurroundedbymadness.Thewalls and vaulted ceilingwere painted in blood and viscera. Enormous runescoveredtheoriginalartwork.Theywereangular,twistedthingsthatclawedthemindandstrokedthesensestoraw,hideousarousal.Atthefrontofthebridgeroseamoundofwreckage.Onitssummitandaroundits periphery were metal crosses. Crew and servitors had been crucified anddecapitated.Theirlifeless,deathlessbodiestwistedinanendlessfugueofpain.Gavallan stopped before themound. ‘The doorswere open,’ he said, ‘sowewouldseethis.Theenemyisproudofitswork.Itdesireswitnesses.’Hisvoicegroundoutofhishelm’sgrillewithstonyanger.‘Well,wehavewitnessed.Purgethisobscenityfromoursight.’Ruluf from Sendrax’s squad and Destrian stepped forwards with theirincinerators.Blessedpromethiumandsacredoilsignitedinastreamofblazingwhite purity. Deliverance washed over the twitching bodies. The crucifixionsbecameapyre.

Croweturnedfromthefire,watchingtheflowofthewarp,scanningforasignofattack.Thecurrentswereaccelerating,clashingwithgreaterviolence.‘Yousensesomething,brother?’Gavallanasked.‘Yes.Theturbulenceofthewarpisincreasing.’‘Where?’Sendraxasked.‘Atbothexits,’saidCrowe.TheGreyKnightshadenteredfromthestarboardside.Theportdoorwaywaswideopentoo.‘Theythinktotrapus,’saidDrake.Thesquadstookuppositionsinthecentreofthebridge,facingthedoorways,readynottodefend,buttotaketheoffensiveandcharge.‘Whatareyourorders,castellan?’Sendraxasked.BeforeGavallananswered,Crowesaid, ‘This isapoor trap.Our foewasnotreadyforus.’‘Whatdoyoumean?’Gavallanasked.‘Theturbulenceof thewarpisonlyreachinganintensityforetellinganattacknow.’Hewavedahandatthepyre.‘Thatdisplaycouldhavewaitedforcenturiesforeyestoseeit.Itrequiredverylittleenergy.Tocomeatus,theenemyhashadtogatheritsstrength.Yettheentirestructureoftheshiphasbeencorrupted.’‘Whatdoyouconclude?’‘That the initial spreadof the taintconsumedagreatdealofenergy.There issomethingmissing.Thetruepowerbehindthiscorruptionisnolongerhere.Wewillbefightingitspotenttraces.’Gavallannodded.‘Thenwemustlearnwhereithasgone.’‘Navigationrecordswouldproveuseful,’saidSendrax.Doran glanced at the tainted work stations and said, ‘We will not find thatinformationhere.’‘Wewillmakeforthecaptain’squarters,’saidGavallan.The currents darkened in Crowe’s sight. A stormwas coming. ‘Prepare!’ hecalled.AndtheBladelashedintohismind.Thinkwhatyouwilldowhenyouwieldme.Endthehuskthatguardsme.Bringthestarstoheel.The sword laughed. It laughedwith a terrible triumph, as if delighted by theprogress of a game only it understood. The laughter was a psychic blow, arazor’sslashacrossthesoul.Crowestoodagainstit,feltthestrikesnapagainstthestoneofhisresolve.Buthesawthetensionvibratethroughhisbrothers.HesawGavallanshifthisstanceasiftosteadyhimself.Hesawthatmarkofpain.And as the sword laughed, the taint on the Envoy of Discipline found its

strength. From port and starboard came the thunder of hooves and thehammering of claws. The daemons had arrived, howling with pleasure. Thedoorwaysfilledwitharushofmonstrosities.Andstilltheswordlaughed.

FromtheroofhatchofhercommandChimera,Vendruhnwatchedthepilgrimagebecome a celebration, and the celebration move towards something else,somethinglargerandwilder.‘Hauk,’ she voxed the captain stationed inside the Cathedral of MartyrdomEmbraced,‘howarethingsgoing?’Therewasnoanswer.‘Hauk,’shecalledagain.‘Giveusyourevaluation.’Shewaitedafewseconds,eyeingtheflowofthecrowd.TheSandavaIIMilitiahadsetupacorridordownwhichtochannelthearrivingfaithful.Itledfromtheprincipal avenues of Egeta, directly to the northern door of the west-facingcathedral.TroopsandChimerasdivided theparvis,keeping thefloworganisedand funnelled into the door. What Vendruhn envisaged was the orderlyprocession of people entering the cathedral, walking past the relic, capturingtheirbriefglimpseofit,thenfilingbackout.Theproblemwas,thepeoplewhoemergedfromthechurchwereslowtoleave.Theymilledabout,gazinglonginglyatthedoorwayasiftheymighttrytopushtheirwaybackin.Thecrowdgrewlargerbythesecond.Itssongsofpraisehadbeenaconfusedmixatfirst,butnowwereblendingintoone.Vendruhndidnotrecognise the hymn, which surprised her. She thought she knew all the greatreligioussongsofherworld.Thisonewasmoreecstaticthananyshehadheardbefore, itschorusapproachinganululating frenzy.Shecouldnotmakeout thewords.Thatmadeher uneasy.She felt as though shewere on the shore of anoceanofmouths,andthesongwasthepoundingofachanting,inhumansurf.Up and down the militia lines, Vendruhn’s soldiers shifted uncomfortably,staredatthesingingcrowdandadjustedtheirgripsontheirweapons.Likeher,theywerenotfeelinginspiredtojoinin.IfthiswaswhatRannochandhisrelicwere inspiring, it did not feel like the faith Vendruhn knew. Where was thediscipline? Where was the self-abasement? Where were the promises ofjudgementontheheretic?Wherewereanywordssheknew?Shehadtoquellanimpulsetoorderthemilitiatoopenfire.Sherecognisedthedesire came from her personal revulsion. She would be acting for her own

satisfaction, rather than the dictates of duty. But she could not pretend thecelebrationwasunrollingasitshould.‘Hauk!’shesaidagain,barkingthename.Thistimetherewasananswer.‘General,’Hauksaid.Hesoundedfrayed.‘I’msorry…I...Whatdid…’Hespokeasifformingwordswasanintolerableeffort,andsomethingelsehadafirmholdonhisattention.‘Captain,’shesaid,‘youwilltellmewhatisgoingoninthere.’A pause. Then, ‘General… I don’t know how… The cardinal is wearing themask…’What?Vendruhnthought.‘Heispreaching…Oh,general,ifyoucouldsee…’Hebrokedowninsobs.‘Hauk,’Vendruhnsaid.‘Youwilltakecommandof–’Thecaptain’svoxtransmissioncutoffsuddenly,interruptingher.Sheswitchedto an open channel. ‘To any troops stationed in the cathedral, this is GeneralGlas.Respondimmediately.’Noonedid.Vendruhn looked at thepeople streamingout of thenorthdoor again.As thesonggrewlouder,thepeopleemergedwithlessreluctance.Theyrantojointhechoir. They added their voices, and the music swirled upwards, a coilingexultationwrapping around the cathedral’s spires. Every person singing knewthe words, if indeed those syllables were words. Vendruhn still could notunderstand any of it. The greater the energy of the congregation became, themore she felt revoltedby the sound.Apulse of hatredbeat at thebaseof herskull.She had deployed some infantry squads to aid in the dispersal of the crowd.Theywerebeingoverwhelmedbythenumbers.Somepeoplewereleaving,buttheybroughtthesongwiththem,anditwasspreadingbeyondtheparvis.‘Endaccesstothecathedral,’Vendruhnvoxed.‘Sealthedoorsandblockthem.Noonegoesinside.’Shethoughtforamoment,thenorderedthesoldersontheavenuetostopthepilgrimage.‘How should we meet resistance?’ Captain Lehnert voxed, his way ofremindinghisgeneraloftheinevitable.Vendruhnhesitated.Shewaspoisedontheedgeofanirrevocabledecision.ShewasoneorderawayfromenteringintoopenconflictwiththeEcclesiarchy.Sheknew inher soul thatRannoch’s celebrationhad turned into somethingdeeplywrong,butshedidnotyethaveundeniableproof.Wasthereanychanceshewasmistaken?

The song ratcheted up in intensity. The pilgrims ran from the south doors,screamingtheirmadpraise.At thenorthdoor, thepeoplewerepushing forwards, trying to forcepast thesoldiersblockingtheirway.‘Usedeadly force,’Vendruhn toldLehnert.She repeatedherorder for all thecompaniestohear.‘Ifthereisresistance,openfire.’She was unsurprised by how easily the order came. She felt something likesatisfaction.RannochhaddisturbedthegoodorderofSandavaII,andshewasreadytopunishthosewhofollowedhim.The flowof thecrowd into theparvis slowed,butdidnot stop.Thenumberskeptgrowing.Thepeoplewhoweredeniedentrytothecathedralceasedtopushashard.Theywerestartingtoreactwithuneasetothesongoftheothers.Thoserushing outsidewere evenmore frenzied. Theywere tearing at their hair andclothesastheysang.‘Blocktheexit!’Vendruhnvoxed.‘Letnooneout!’Shewoulddealwiththosetrapped inside later. Right now, she had to stop the stream and isolate theelementsofthecrowd.Atthebackofhermind,thethoughttookshapethatshemighthavetoburnthecathedral.‘Gunner,’ she shouted down the hatch of theChimera, ‘aim our turret at thesouthdoor.’Theywere less than a hundred feet from the target. Shepreparedherselftoorderaslaughter.But then itwas too late. Itwasall too late.Thepeoplewerenot tearing theirhairanylonger.Theyweretearingtheirfaces.Tearingthemwithjoy.Andstilltheyweresinging.

CHAPTERFOURSYMMETRIESOFFLAME

The daemonic horde was an ecstasy of limbs and claws. Fiends of Slaaneshchargedwithanimalisticabandon,flailingattheGreyKnightswithhoovesandteethandtalons,theirhootingsongamadinvitationtoobscenity.Betweenthemthe daemonettes danced. They darted their long limbs between the fiends,pincers snapping at gorgets, the razored edges seeking to cut through exposedseams.Othersusedwhipsthatcouldslicethroughplasteel.Theirlashingscoredarmour, eachhit cutting a little deeper into adamantiumand layersof ablativeceramite. In the firstmomentof thebattle, the abominationsattackedwith thepromiseofsensationbeyondname.Theyofferedtheenforcedjoysofbloodandpain.Theywouldnotberefused.Theycouldnotconceiveofrefusal.ButastheyclosedwiththePurifiers,thepaintheyencounteredwastheirown.Anexplosionofstormbolter firepunched through thehorde,blowinggapingholesintorsos,shatteringlimbsandexplodingskulls.Daemonsfelltothedeck,theirruinedbodiesthrashingastheylostform.Theonesthatmadeitthroughthehailofsanctifiedshellsranintoadifferentsortoffire.TherewastheflameofDestrian and Ruluf’s incinerators, jetting outwards on both sides of the GreyKnights phalanx, burning flesh thatwas not flesh, filling the air of the bridgewiththestenchofmadnessturnedtoash.Andtherewasanotherfire,agreaterone.Itdidnotcomefromweapons,norindeedfromanymaterialdevice.Itcamefromweaponisedsouls.Itwasthefireofpurityitself.Crowefeltthecollectivespiritual strength of his brothers. The squads lit up the psychic space of thebridge.The fire in his heart burnedwith an evengreater fury, andhemet the

daemons’assaultwithhisanger.Heslicedablowthroughawarp-spawnedwhip,andadaemonetteandfiendrecoiledfromthegreatsweepofhisblade,shriekingastheyburnedevenbeforetheswordcuttheminhalf.A ripple of pain and surprise knocked the daemons back. Then they surgedforwardsoncemore,theirsongsnowfilledwithrage,butstillshapedbythelureof extremity. They would bring sensation to the Purifiers. They would forcethemtoknowthefurthestlimitsofwhatthefleshcouldexperience.TheGreyKnightsmovedforwardsdownthecentreofthebridge,aswordbladeslicingthroughthedaemonicmob.Gavallanledthewaytowardstherear,wherestepsrosetothecaptain’spulpit.HeslashedbackandforthbeforehimwithhisNemesisblade,firingburstswithhisstormbolteratthesametime.Hecreatedascythe of flashing blue light and exploding shells. The daemons fell, and thenarrowstairsonthestarboardsideofthepulpitwerecleared.ThePurifiersracedtotheupperlevelofthebridge.Behindthepulpitandthecommandthrone,thewalls curved inwards, narrowing the chamber. A doorway at the rear openedontoapassagewayrunningtowardsthestern.The daemons leapt upwards, a cataract of white and pink and mottled bluerushing against gravity. In seconds, they surrounded the Grey Knights oncemore, a monstrous, howling crush. The stench of excess was overwhelming.Crowerespondedwithgreaterfury,hackinglimbsapart,scorchingthetaintfromtheairwithbolterfire.Gavallanwasonlyafewpacesahead,butthedaemonsclusteredaroundhimwithferociousintent.Theyweretryingtoisolatehimfromthe rest of the phalanx. They reached for the chains holding Antwyr toGavallan’sback.Whipslashedatthelinks.TheBlackBlade’s laughterhadgivenway to rageagain.Astreamofunholycurses reached into Crowe’smind.Antwyr sought to fray the thoughts of theGreyKnights.Thiswillbeyourburden,Crowetoldhimself.Thiswillbewhatyouwillguardyourbrothersagainst.ThegreatestwarriorofthePurifiersmustfightalone.At thismoment, thechampionof thebrotherhoodwasdoing just that.Buthedid not need to.He had servedwell, and as his strength began to fail,Crowewouldbeathisside.Inthisrarejunctureoftime,thechampionhadanheir,andsocouldhaveabrothertolendhimsupport.‘Castellan!’Crowecalledover thevox. ‘Iamyour rightarm.’Hecutanotherfiendinhalfandlungedforwards.Hewasafewpacesaheadoftherestofhissquad.Thatwasenoughforthedaemonstoforcetheirwayintothegap.Crowe’s

brothers read the purpose of his actions. They formed up tighter and hit thedaemons with more concentrated fire. Gavallan was now only a yard ahead.Crowelungedagain,burningwithfaithandtheneedtostandwiththeWarden.Thedaemonsburned in their turn.Theyshriekedashehurledhimself throughthem,theirhidesandlimbsflashingwhiteathisapproach.HewasaKnightoftheFlame,andtheabominationsfelttheblowofhissacredwrath.Gavallanwasnowhalfwaytotheexit,andCrowe’spathtohissidewasclear.The castellan’s helmetedhead turnedback to look at him, and in that gesture,Crowesawboththanksandexhaustion.Crowetookanotherstep.Hisheavybootsranghardagainstthedeck.Thenthemetalstoppedringing.Hefelthisbootssink,andhelookeddown.Thedeckhadgivenway in a circle two yardswide. The edges of the holewere linedwithcurvedteethaslongasCrowe’shand.Thedaemonicmouthgnashedinhunger.Crowe dropped down, down into the monster’s howling maw. Instead of atongue, there was a spinning shaft of bone. Its length was a whirl of blades.Teeth lined thewallsof the throat.AsCrowefell, thebladesand teethbit intohimonbothsides.Itwasaslashing,battering,grindingassault,andthemouthhowledandhowledandhowled,thenoisedeafeninghimtoallothersounds.Forseveralseconds,hewasawareofnothingbutthesensationofbeingdevouredbyboneandsteel,andofahungerscreamingforhisbloodandthetasteofhispain.Curved,ivoryspikessnappedagainsthim.Somecutdeepintohisarmourbeforetheyshattered.Hewasbleeding.Theteethandbladeswereslicingthroughthejointsofhisarmour.Hehadbeenfallingforlessthantwoseconds.Crowefoughtthroughthepummellingconfusionoftheblows.Hebroughthishandstogetheronthehiltofhissword.Heswungtowardsthespinningblades.The sword smashed through the whirling butchery and sank its edge into thebony spine. Ichorous marrow spewed over Crowe. The howls turned intogarglingshrieksofagony,agiantofmythchokingonadagger.Crowedroppedafewmorefeet,draggingthewoundopen,cuttingdeeperandlonger.Inthepainheinflictedonthebeast,hefoundhiscentre,andthoughteethandbladesstillflailedathim,hewasontheoffensivenow.Hehauleddownandat an angle with his sword. It was anchored far into the bone, and gave himleverage. He kicked forwards, into the slashing blades. They chopped atceramite, but the ceramite was stronger in the end, and it was reinforced byblessings and the incandescence of purity. The savaging bone disintegrated.Crowedughisfeetagainsttheturningshaft.Thediscsofthebladesgroundand

bitandbroke.Hearrestedhis fall, shovinghissworddeeper,andfiredaburstwithhisstormbolter.The shaft snapped in two. The scream of the beast tore the air into crystalshards.Ichorfloodeditsmaw.Thespinningstopped,andthebonystructureofthebladesbegan tocrumble.Thewallsof the throatclosed in.Themovementwasconvulsive, involuntary,yet theconstricting teethsought toseverCrowe’slimbsandcrushhischest.Heyankedhissword free, strainingagainst thewallsof fleshy,porousmetal.Hehadbeenfalling.Nowhecouldbarelymove.Butthedaemonicbodycouldnot stay in contact with him. Themonster kept twitching, its agonised throesbecoming more and more pronounced. His very presence was destroying thefleshofthishorror.Therewasnohungerinitshowlanylonger.Therewaspainand incomprehension that sensation could be turned against it, and there wasfailing,falling,dyinganger.Croweclimbed.Hekickedandstampedonboneandmetal.Hesawedbackandforth with the sword. He rose slowly, fighting for every inch against thecrushing, collapsingmass.Themonster’s crywas still so loud itwas theonlythinghecouldhear.Thevoxwasadistant,sporadiccrackle.Hecouldmakeoutno voices. He had been in the jaws of the beast for less than a minute, butsecondscouldbeeternalinbattle,andhehadnowayofknowingthestateofthestruggle.Helookedup.Therewerefaintglimmersabovehim.Asuggestionofthemawopening and closing, a hint of the space beyond and the flash of gunfire. Hestruggledharder,feelingthepressureoftheentirehullreadytofallagainsthimthemomentthedaemonicthroatpassedfromitsexistenceinthematerium.Hesawedandkickedandfiredupwardsthroughthegnashingteeth.Metalandboneandivoryshardsrattledagainsthishelm.Heclimbed,theraggedopeningabovenowclosingforsecondsatatime,eachwinceofpaingrowinglonger.But the fire of puritywas toomuch for the daemon. Even as the horror lostcoherence,itsfadinginstinctsrejectedthecauseofitspain.Thecollapsebeneathaccelerated, its spine shattering into splinters. Ichor rose aroundCrowe’s legs,thenhischest,asifthedaemonmightdrownhimyet.It failed.Crowe erupted from the jaws.Scorched, disintegratingdaemonfleshfilled the space of the bridge with oily fumes. A group of daemonettes hadclustered around the jaws, and they wrapped their whips around Crowe themomentheemerged.Crowe turned sharply, letting thecoilsdraw tighter foramoment,beforesweepinghisNemesisbladeinawidearcandfiringhisstorm

bolter. The daemonettes found themselves bound to him by their whips. Hisshellshitthematpoint-blankrangeashisbladeslicedthroughtheirtorsos.Theirwailsjoinedthemonster’sbeforebeingoverwhelmedbytheblastsofhisstormbolter.Thentheabominationsfell.The opening in the deck slumped in on itself. The bridge shuddered as theanimatingforcedeparted.Thefleshwasgone.Onlymetalwreckageremained.In themoment of relative quiet, as he tore away the tangling whips, Croweunderstood the implicationsofwhathadhappened.Thedaemonetteshadbeenwaitingforhim.Theabominationshadwantedtoensurehewasdestroyed.Theyhadnotbeenwillingtocountonthepitofbladesandteethtobehisdoom.TheRuinous Powers were paying close attention to him. They saw him as aparticularthreat.Hewouldprayonthislater.Croweturnedtowardstheexit.Inthetimehehadbeencaughtinthemaw,thebattlehadmovedintothecorridorbeyond.Atthefarend,holyandunholylightclashed. Impacts shook the walls. He could hear his brothers on the vox.Gavallanwasshoutinghisname.‘Iamhere,castellan,’Crowereplied.‘Iamgladofit,’Gavallansaid.Hesoundedhard-pressed.Crowepoundedoutofthebridge,roaring.Heheldhisswordaloftwithhislefthand.With his right, he unleashed a long burst of shells into the back of thedaemonichorde.‘IamthehammeroftheEmperor!’heraged.‘IamtheedgeofHissword!’Hewasthestorm.The daemons attacking Sendrax’s squad turned in confusion.Crowewas butonewarrior,yetinthishall,thedaemonsnowfoundthemselvescaughtinavice.TheyhadthoughttokilltheGreyKnightsbytrappingthembetweenthecrushoftheirforces.Instead,Croweattackedtheirrearflanklikeabatteringram.Theshellshitthedaemons.ThenCrowedid.Hedrovethroughamaelstromofexploding flesh and thrashing limbs. The daemons were too crowded. Theycouldnotreorienttheirattackquicklyoreasily,andthestormofmass-reactivedeathhadsmashedawedgethroughthebodiesbeforeCrowe.Theabominations’revels turned into a frantic scramble of collisions. Then Crowe was in theirmidst,stillfiring,slashingbodiesapartwithquick,furioussweepsofhissword.Back and forth, back and forth, an arc of purifying energy scorching andseveringallittouched.Thesongsofthedaemonettesandthemindlesswhistlingofthefiendsbecameacacophonyofconfuseddistress.

‘Ourbrotherhascutoffthedaemons’retreat,’Sendraxvoxed.Hehadenteredthe spirit ofCrowe’s actions.TheGreyKnightswerenowon theoffensive. Itwasthedaemonsthathadfallenintoatrap.‘Letushonourhisforesight.Leavenonestandingbetweenus!’Hooves and jaws and pincers andwhips struck Crowe from all sides. Everymonsterthatattackedhimfellinthenextmoment.Soonhehadtostopusinghisstormbolter.Thewallofdaemonswasthinningbeforehim.Ifhekeptshooting,hisshellswouldstarthittinghisbrotherPurifiers.Hewasknee-deepinsundereddaemonflesh.Thescreamsoftheabominationswentfromdistresstodespair.Theyattackedhimandburned,attackedhimandbled.Theyfailedandfailedandfailed,andasCroweclosed,stepbystep,withSendrax’s squad, they knew their defeat had come. The glories of excess hadbroken against the implacability of purity. The flame that shrivelled theabominationsfounditssourceinCrowe’ssupremecold.Therewasnothingthedaemonscoulddo.Theyknewit,andmournedastheymettheirdoom.Croweraisedhisswordoverhisheadwithbothhands.Hebroughtitdownwithasnarl.Hebisectedafiendfromskulltopelvis.Thetwohalvesofthebodyfellawayfromeachother,andbeyondthemstoodSendrax.HehadmadehiswaytotherearofhissquadtomeetwithhisbrotherKnightoftheFlame.Therewerenomoredaemonsinthispartofthecorridor.Crowe nodded his greeting. Sendrax clapped him on the pauldron. ‘Let usfinishthis,then,’hesaid.‘Agreed,’ saidCrowe.He ran forwards again, to the last of the fighting.Thefinal concentration of daemons had split in two. The largest number werethrowingthemselvesathissquad.Thefoughtwithaviciousnessthatwasalmostsacrificial. They were doing everything they could to hold the Purifiers backwhile thesmallergroupofdaemons tried tobringdownGavallan.The terriblemusicofSlaaneshwasloudasthedaemonsfoughtthesquad.Itwaslouderstillaround Gavallan. It was a frenzied answer to the Black Blade. The sword’scurses grew in Crowe’smind as he closedwith the struggle. Therewas littlesensetothelitanyofrage.Itwasinsteadasonginitsownright,arhythmoffurythatroseandfellandtwinedaroundthecallsof thedaemons.Croweheardnopromiseorexplicitsummons.Antwyrwasluringthedaemonsthroughitsbeing,andnothingelse.It doesnot seek to fall into theirpossession,Crowe thought. Itwill use theirpresencetoengineeritsescape.Nothingmore.

Hewaslearning,herealised.Hewaslearningtoreadthestratagemsofthefoulrelic.Thatwashowhewouldkeephisguardstrong.HecouldnotrelyonchainsandphysicalstrengthtoholdtheBladeprisoner.Rulufranwithhim.‘Iwillaidyourpassage,KnightoftheFlame,’hesaid.Astheycameupbehindthesquad,Rulufaimedhis incineratorhighandlaunchedan arcing stream of fire over the heads of the Grey Knights and onto thedaemons. Destrian followed his example. The abominations turned into awrithingblaze.Theydidnotletuptheirattack,buttheirblowswerecrazedandblind.‘Letmepass,’Croweordered.Hisbrothersparted leftand right, stillpouringshellsintothefoe.CrowechargedbetweenthePurifiers.HehadsaidhewouldbeGavallan’srightarm.Hehadnotyetfulfilledhisvow.He plunged into fire,meeting itwith the flame of his soul. Thewarp jerkedaroundhim, like an animal stabbed through theheart.Thedaemons criedout.Theytriedtostophim.Heburstthroughtheirbodies,shroudedbyared-flamedconflagration, riversof ichorbakingontohisarmour.Heleft theburningmassbehindforhisbrotherstofinishoff.HerushedacrossthefinalgapbetweenhimandGavallan’sattackers.Antwyrscreamedatthecosmos.Gavallan’sbreathonthevoxwasheavyandragged.Crowe hit the abominations from the right. He was an extension of thecastellan’sblows.Hewashischampion’sweapon.Hesmashedadaemonettetoone side hard enough to shatter the creature’s pincers. Hemade amurderousdiagonalslashwithhissword,andanotherfiendcollapsed,itsspinebroken,itsfleshruinedandleftpoolingonthedeck.Gavallan responded by slicing right with his own blade. He brought downanotherdaemonette.Thecastellan’sbreathsoundedanexplosivehah!Itwasanexclamation of triumph and exhaustion. He was a warrior finding a burst ofenergyatthepointofcollapse.Heslashedandshotthedaemonswithrenewedfervour.Crowematchedhimblowforblow.‘I am the hammer,’ saidCrowe, once again reciting thewar-cry of theGreyKnightsashehackedafiend’sjawintwo.‘IamtherighthandoftheEmperor,’Gavallananswered,hisvoicehoarse,butgrowingstronger.‘TheinstrumentofHiswill,’saidCrowe.‘ThegauntletaboutHisfist.’‘ThetipofHisspear.’

‘TheedgeofHissword!’Astheyfinishedthewar-cry,theyfinishedthedaemons.Theflagstonesofthehallwere awashwith a thick sludge. The daemonic bodiesmergedwith eachotherastheylostform.Thestenchofdissipatingmonstrositieswasfoul.Croweranhiseyesoverthewallsofthecorridor.Theflowoftheimmateriumquiveredandstreaked.Theshipwasastaintedasever–theEnvoyofDisciplinecould not be redeemed – but the energy behind the corruption hadweakened.Thevesselwaslessofatrapnow.Itwasmorelikearottingcorpse.‘Isthereanotherattackgathering?’Gavallanasked.‘I don’t think so,’ saidCrowe.The immaterial riverwas not growing violentagain. The atmosphere seemed lessened, drained. It confirmed his earlierimpression. ‘The source of the tainthas left the ship,’ he said. The daemonicassaulthadbeentheworkofaresidue.Thetruevoicewasgone.‘Thenwemustpursueit,learnitsnatureanddestroyit,’saidGavallan.Hehadbeenleaningonhissword.Hestraightenednowandmarchedonwards.Crowewasstruckbyaparallelhewishedhecoulddismiss.Gavallan,liketheforce aboard the ship, had lost something essential. His strength was beingdrained,anditcouldnotbereplaced.Thecastellanwasbecomingashell.They found the captain’s quarters a hundred feet further down the hall. Thedoorwasopen.Inside,thechamberwasaruin.Thewreckageofadesk,chairs,shelvesandcabinetslitteredthefloor.Thetatteredshredsoftapestrieshungonthewalls like flaps of skin.A large shrine had been overturned and smashed.Chunks of stone were scattered before the rubble of marble like a spray ofpetrifiedblood.Anunnameablethingcrouchedamidthedebris.Theragsofauniformclungtoits limbs. They were the only sign that the daemon had burst from a humanframe.Themonsterwas twice theheightofamortal. Itsmany limbswere thedirty grey of neglected tombstones. They ended in half-formed pincers andclaws. One turned into a spur of bone four feet long. Its head was a sunkenhorroroffleshyhornssurroundingamisshapenskull.Ithadfallentoitsknees,butwhen it saw thePurifiers, it tried to rise. It failed, and scrabbled forwardsinstead.Itsjointsmadebrittleclicks.Itsjawopenedinfrustratedhate.Ahissingwindemergedfromitsthroat,foetid,alastbreathheldinforfartoolong.Gavallanshotthedaemon.Stormboltershellsexplodedthroughitschest.Thethinggapedat theholeinitsmidsection.Crowecouldseethroughthebodytothewallbeyond.Thedaemonwhined,longandhigh,thepipingofasplinteredflute.Twolong

notes formed the beginning of an unholy song. They faded to silence beforetherewas a third. The daemon collapsed in on itself, a crumpling husk. Soontherewasnothingleftbutdryfragmentsresemblingacarpetofinsectbodies.‘A poor foe,’ said Carac, sounding disappointed, still burning to send moredaemonkindtooblivion.‘Ithadbeenweakened,’Crowe replied. ‘And itwas incomplete.Didyounotrecognise the form?’ The creature had been an approximation of a greaterdaemonoftheDarkPrince.‘I did,’ saidCarac. ‘Itmust have put toomuch of itself into its foul art.’Hemadeasweepinggesture,takingintheentiretyofthealteredship.Croweshookhishead.‘No.Thiswasaremnant,constructedfromtheenergiesleftbehindwhenthesourcedeparted.Wehavebeenfightingtheechooftherealfoe.’Gavallan pointed to the wreckage. ‘The Emperor grant we find evidence ofwhere the threat has gone, then.’Hewithdrew from the chamber, takingwithhimthedangerous,whisperingbladechainedtohisback.Heheadedbackdownthehallinthedirectionofthebridge.ThesnarlsofAntwyrfadedasthecastellanputsomedistancebetweenhimselfandthesquads.‘You’reright,brother,’Caracsaid.‘Mythoughtswereclouded.’‘That is to be expected,’ said Crowe. He turned to the remains of the desk.Sheetsofvellumandcrackeddata-slateslaymixedwiththedebris.Hesawfaintripplesofthewarpovertheparchment.Fatelurkedheresomewhere,containedinthemostmundaneobjects.Thesearchbegan.Beneatharelativelyintactslabofwoodfromthesurfaceofthedesk,Crowefoundadata-slatethatstillfunctioned.Hescrolledthroughitscontents.ItwasaninventoryoftheEnvoy’srelics.Croweranhiseyedownthecolumnsofnamesanddescriptions.Hesawnothinganomalousuntilhereachedthe entry for a funerary mask. Its presumed origin had been revised andquestioned.More interesting was the red icon that had been appended to theentryinthelastfewdays.‘Arelicofunknownoriginwentmissingrecently,’Crowesaid.‘Thatistoosuggestivetobeacoincidence,’saidSendrax.‘Agreed.’A fewminutes later,Doran found the captain’s log.Manyof the pagesweretorn,butthemostrecententrieswerestillpresent.Heheldthebookinhisrightarm,abionicprosthetic.Thelogwasdwarfedbyhismetalhand.‘ThelastportofcallbeforeDiernawasSandavaII,’Doranannounced.

Sandava,Crowe thought.Theothernamehehad readaloud fromGavallan’stranscriptions.HejoinedSendrax’ssquadbrotherandlookedattherecord.‘Notlong before the mask was listed as missing,’ he said. He voxed Gavallan.‘Castellan,’hesaid,‘wehavepickedupthescentofourquarry.’Thecertaintyhefeltwasmatchedbyhisuneaseatthesenseofanindefinabletrapclosing.‘Where?’Gavallanasked.‘SandavaII.’‘Ah,’saidGavallan.Hedidnotsoundsurprised.Hesoundedresigned.The trailwas tooeasy to find,Crowe thought.Wehave stoppednothing.TheGreyKnightswerebeingluredonwards.Yettherewasnochoicebuttofollowthispath.

CHAPTERFIVETHECOLDMIRACLE

There were monsters on the road ahead. They gambolled towards the leadChimera, their song of sensuous pain bouncing off the hab façades. Morecreatures raced alongside the retreating armoured column. Still more werecoming up behind, spilling from side streets, leaping from windows anddoorways,agrowingfloodofgrotesqueries,thingsthatVendruhndarednotlookat forany longer than it took toaimtheheavybolter.Shefired in longbursts,alwaysrotating,neverlettinghergazerest.Shesawthestreetinablurofunholyfleshandfire.Shewouldnotstare.Shesensed thedangerofparalysing terror,andshesensedtheevengraverriskoffascination.Shewouldnotbelured.Shewouldnotfall.Shewasstillholdingatbaythewordthatdefinedthesemonsters.Shewasnotreadytotakeontheimplicationsofdaemon.Therewerealmostadozenvehiclesinthecolumn,broughttogetherfromfallenunitsacrossthecathedraldistrict.Thetransportshadleftbehindanyinfantrynotalready on board. There had been no choice. The horrorswere toomany, toofast, too strong. In the first fewminutes of the frenzy, when the worshipperspouring from the cathedral had revealed themselves to bemaddened heretics,Vendruhnhadthoughtperhapsshecouldregaincontrolofthesituation.Butthenthe transformations had begun.A plague of abominations had torn themilitiaformations apart. There had been no chance to regroup. Perhaps, if the troopscould have retaliated in strength, they might have resisted, but chaos hadengulfedthedistrict.Theentiresectorhadtobeabandoned.Thebestshecould

hopefornowwastosalvagesomethingfromtheretreat.TheRybasrivercutEgetainhalffromnorthtosouth.Vendruhnhadorderedallthebridgesdemolished.Hercolumnwasrushingforthelastone.Makeitacross,shethought.Lessthanamile.Makeitacrossandwe’llfightback.‘General…’Thevoiceonthevoxwashardtorecognise.ItwascrackingwithstrainsVendruhnwasforcingherselfnottoimagine.‘Siedler?’shesaid.Thatcouldn’tbethecolonel.‘General,I’msorry…’TheChimera swerved toavoidoneof the thingswithhoovesandhorns.ThesuddenjerkalmostthrewVendruhnfromtheturrethatch.Theleftcornerofthehull sideswiped the beast, crushing one of its legs. It seized theChimera andbegan to climb on top. Vendruhn recovered her balance and spun the heavybolter to face the abomination. She held the trigger down until the shells hadturnedthethingintoamistofichor.‘Danek!’sheyelled.‘Drivestraight!Runthemdown!Don’tlookatthem!’She couldn’t hear Danek’s answer, but the engine roared louder and theChimeraleaptahead,asifthemachineitselfweredesperatetoreachthebridge.‘Siedler,’Vendruhnsaid,‘whereareyou?’Thecolonelhadbeenchargedwithcontrollingthepilgrimmovementsinthenorthernsector.‘Haveyoublownthebridge?’‘It’s gone,’ Siedler said. ‘We had to destroy it before we crossed it. We’retrapped.’Gunfirerattledinthebackground.‘Wecan’tbreakthrough.We…’Hervoice cracked.When she spoke again, she wasn’t speaking as a colonel, butVendruhn’sfriend,desperateandbreakingbeforethehorrorthatconfrontedher.‘Vendruhn,’shesaid,‘whatarethey?’‘Ourenemy,Hansa.’Vendruhnstaredtoolongatoneofthelithecreaturesasitdanced towards the column. The sinuosity of itsmovements reached into hersoul. She gunned themonster down, looking away before shewas done. Thethingwasdangerousevenindefeat.Itsmereexistencewasathreat.‘Justanotherenemy,’shelied.‘No,’saidSiedler.‘They’remorethanthat.’Sheletoutalong,tearinghowl.Vendruhn winced. She had fought alongside Siedler her entire military life.Theyhadsavedeachother’slivesmorethanonce.VendruhntrustedSiedlerlikeshetrustednootherofficer.ShebelievedinherasshebelievedinthenecessityoftheGlasdynasty’sruleofSandavaII.Siedlerwasarock.ShewasunwaveringinherdevotiontotheEmperor.Butshehowled,andVendruhnheardtheterminalagonyofhersoul.Thewail

did not stop. It seemed itwould rip the vox apart.Vendruhn shouted too, andfiredacontinuousburstfromflanktofronttoflank.Shecouldhaveclosedthatvox-channel. She did not. She bore witness with her comrade as long as shecould.ThegunfireonSiedler’sendceased.Thescreamwenton.Itchanged.Itbecamebothrougherandmoremusical.Ittransformedintoasinging,mockinglaughter.Itwasnolongerhuman,thoughitknewhumans.Itknewtheirhungersandtheirweaknessesintimately.Vendruhnkilledthefeed.Siedlerhad fallen.Shehadgivenway to theunholy.Vendruhnhadseenhowthemonstersmanifestedthemselves.Theyburstoutof,ortransformed,humans.ThatwasthefatethathadtakenSiedler.Ifshecanfall,anyofuscan.No.No.Iwillnot.Evenifeveryoneelsesuccumbs,Iwillnot.ThetruthofherresolutiongaveVendruhnstrength.Itgaveherfire.Itgaveherhate.Asshetrainedtheheavybolterontheenemy,shefoundthatshecouldlookatthemonstersnow.Theyterrifiedher,buttheycouldnottouchherspirit.Therewastriumphinthemidstoffearassheblastedthedaemons.Sheletherselfthinkthewordnow.Shewasstrongenoughinherangertofaceit.Therewasnoothernamefor these things.Theywerenoxenos.Theycamefrombeyondtheveilofthereal.Theirexistencemadealieofwhatherfaithhadtaught,andtheliehadburst,ravening,fromthecathedral.TheEmperorprotects,shethought.Doctrinewaswrong,butherbeliefintheFatherofMankindwasunshaken.Hewashershieldandherwrath.Shewouldkill forHim.Theabominationswerenot invincible. She was cutting them down. With enough power, she coulddestroythemall.Andsoshewould.Shewouldsaveherworld,costbedamned.Shewouldfightwithoutlimits.Theprospectgaveherpleasure,andsheshoutedwithrenewedfaithasshehammeredtheroadaheadwithshells.TheChimera’smulti-laserfiredtoo,andthebarrageatlastclearedthewayofdaemons.Onlyfiftyyardsremainedbeforethespanof theCardinalGanderingXIbridge.Danekpushedtheengineharder.TheChimerashotforwards.Vendruhnlookedback.Theentirecolumnwaspickingupspeed.Butsowastheflood of horror.More and more and more daemons filled the avenue. Heavybolters and lascannons could not keep them at bay. The tide was coming toswallowthetransports.

Thebridgewasnarrow.ItwasbarelywideenoughforasingleChimera.TherelayVendruhn’shopeofescape,ofaregrouping,andofacounter-offensive.Thecommandvehiclesweptupontothebridge.ItrumbledovertheRybas.ThemainturretcouldnolongerfirewithouthittinganotherChimera.Vendruhnstillhadsometargetsfortheheavybolter,andshehitthemhard,buyinghertroopsabit more time and space. One vehicle after another reached the bridge. Theabominations engulfed the rear transports. No amount of gunfire could keepthemoff.They clamberedonto roofs.They rippedoff hatches and sidedoors.Vendruhn could not see what happened to the soldiers inside. The screams,though,reachedher,eventhisfaraway.Thewavemovedforwards.ItclaimedanotherChimera.Vendruhnwouldnotbeabletosavethewholecolumn.‘Barratz,’shevoxed,‘areyouready?’‘Yes,general,’thesergeantsaid.‘Verywell.Standby.’Shewatchedtherear,unabletohelp,un abletoact.Shestopped firing. There were no daemons in her range. There was nothing shecoulddoexceptchoosethemomenttogivetheorder.HerChimerareachedtheothersideofthefivehundred-footspan.Danekpulledit off to the side, next to the embankmentwall. Vendruhn climbed out of thehatchtostandontheroof,grabbingasmuchheightasshecould.Barratzranup,detonator in hand. Vendruhn gave the grey-haired sergeant a curt nod. ‘Whathave you heard about this side of the river?’ she askedwithout looking awayfrom theprogressof thearmouredcolumn.The secondand thirdvehicleshadreachedthewesternbank.‘Theconflict isstillcontainedtotheeasternsectorofEgeta,general,’Barratzsaid.‘Good,’saidVendruhn.Good?shethought.Wehavelosthalf thecity.Howisthatgood?Wearestillfighting.Thefoulnesshasnotwon.Thatiswhatisgood.Twomorevehiclesmade it across thebridge.Thegreaterpartof thecolumnwas through.But thewaveofunholyfleshandclawswassurgingforwards. Itwasathirdofthewayover.Vendruhnhesitatedafewmoreseconds,weighingthemomentofsacrifice.Wasthere time for onemoreChimera to reach safety?Howmany good and loyaltroopswouldshekillwithherchoice?Shewatchedtheflowofmonstrosities.Thesongsofthedaemonsdrewcloser.A madness of sensuous excess was coming for the administrative sector of

Egeta.Herfleshprickled,herbodyanticipatingthearrivalof infernalvistasofsensation.Thechoicewasclear.‘Doitnow,’shesaid.Barratz depressed the detonator. A series of explosions rocked the bridge’ssupports.Fireballseruptedinthecentreoftheroadway.Theentirestructurerosefromthewater,hurlingdaemonsandvehiclesintotheair.Theneverythingfell,disintegratinginamaelstromofflameandsmokeandawhitecurtainofwater.Theboomsoftheexplosionsandthecrackingthunderofshatteredstonerolledacrosstheriver.The sound had not faded when Vendruhn spoke into the vox. ‘All artilleryunits,’shesaid,‘commencefire.’Wehaveretreatedonlytopunish,shethought.The barragewas enormous. Every long-range cannon andmortar still in themilitia’s control targeted the eastern embankment of theRybas.The night skyshriekedwith the descent of shells. A strip of the city a hundred yardswide,runningformilestothenorthandsouth,becameafirestorm.Vendruhnfeltthebeat of terrible hammers shake the ground even on this side of the river. Theeasterncontoursofhercityvanishedbehindabarrierofdark,billowingredandcloudsofblacksmoke.Avolcanoopeneditsmawbeneaththeembankmentandunleasheditsmoltenrage.Scorched earth. This was Vendruhn’s second sacrifice. She mourned thesoldiersshehadkilledonthebridge.Theyhadfoughtwell,donetheirdutyandobeyedherordersfaithfully.Theyhadstillbeenfollowingherattheveryinstantoftheirdeaths.Shemournedthem,yes,butshewasgladofwhatshehaddonefor them. She had rewarded them, sending them to the Emperor’s side, theirsoulsuntainted.Vendruhn did not mourn the tens of thousands of civilians crushed andincinerated by the bombardment. She had no doubt that many had not yetsuccumbedtopossession.Thedaemonshadbeenarrivingfromtheepicentreoftheheresy,thecathedral.Theyhadonlyjustbeenreachingtheriversidesectors.Thecivilianswouldbeexpiringinterroroftheabominationsandtheshells.Letthemburn.Theywerenotfightingtodefendtheircityortheirsouls.Thosewhohad not reached the cathedral before the pilgrimage had turned into madnesswould have retreated to cower in their homes. They were not worthy ofsalvation,eitherbodilyorspiritual.Vendruhnbroughtthempunishmentinstead.She would leave nothing standing along the eastern embankment. Let theenemytrytocrossthebarrieroftheshelling.Nothingwouldpass.Shewouldlaywastetothecityuntilshecouldmustertheforceofarmstotakeitback.

Shewatched theconflagrationofher judgement. Insteadofdefeat, she tastedgrimjoy.

‘The Envoy of Discipline is no more,’ Crowe said to Gavallan. The SacrumFinem had fired torpedoes into it until the engines had ruptured and a plasmaexplosionhadtakentheship.Forafewseconds,theDiernaSystemhadgainedasecondsun.Gavallan nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Youdid not comehere simply to tellmethat,though,didyou?’‘No,’Crowe admitted.He couldhaveused thevox for that.Hehad come toGavallan’squarters to talkofothermatters.Thechamberwascutoff fromtherest of the shipby a tall spiral staircase and a series of doors strengthenedbyhexagrammic wards. The space was small and dark. There was no glassteelwindow onto the void here. It was more like the cell of a prisoner than thequartersofabrotherhoodchampion.Itwas,though,conducivetomeditationandprayer.Thistooismyfuture,Crowethought.‘I would like to discuss the Black Blade’s role in our journey,’ he said. HelookedatAntwyr,chainedtothewallmuchasithadbeenintheChambersofPurity.‘Isee,’saidGavallan.Hewasseatedonastoolinthecentreofthechamber.Hehad removed his helmet, andCrowewas struck by howmuchmore grey andlinedhisfeatureshadbecomeevensincethestartofthemission.Thesword,hethought, was working on Gavallan in ways he could not sense. ‘You aredisturbedbythecoincidenceofthenames,’Gavallanwenton.‘Dierna andSandavawere the twonames I read aloud fromyour transcript,’said Crowe. ‘Now we journey from one to the other. Brother castellan, thatcannotbeacoincidence.’‘Iagree,’saidGavallan.‘What,then,doyouconclude?’‘I’mnotsure.ButIdisliketheauraofinevitabilitythathasdescendedonourmission.Idonotknowwhatroletheswordhasplayedintheseevents.Thefactthatithasplayedonemakesmeveryuneasy.’Antwyr’samusedsnarlraspedinhishead.Thisisbutataste,saidthesword.Thinkwhatmightbeaccomplished.Thinkwhatwe shall do.Yourdestiny iswritten. All you can do is delay it. Why commit yourself to pointlessresistance?Whywasteexistenceonfutility?‘YoucannotassumetheBladehashadaparttoplayintheseevents,’Gavallan

cautioned.‘Itispowerful,butitiscontained.’‘Ididnotmeantosuggestitwasn’t,’Crowesaid.Gavallanshookhisheadtoshowhewasnotoffended.‘Yourconcernisavalidone.Theissueisthis:thereistoomuchabouttheBladewesimplydonotknow.Hasit,insomefashion,contrivedtobringthissituationabout?Idon’tthinkso,butIcan’tknowthatithasnot.Hasit,perhaps,foreseenwhatiscomingtopass?Perhaps.Orarethenamesacoincidenceafterall,andtheswordseekstotroubleusbymakingusbelieve it isanactororprecognitive?Therewere, remember,manynamesonthatlist.Perhapstheprecognitioncamefromyou.’Gavallan raisedhis hands in a gesture so close to despair it disturbedCrowemorethananyofthecastellan’swords.HewonderedhowmanytimesoverthedecadesGavallanhadbeentormentedbythesequestions.‘Ihopeyouwilllearnmorewhentheburdenpassestoyou,’Gavallansaid.‘IhopeyouwillseefurtherandmoredeeplythanIhave.IhopeyouwillfindtheanswersIhavenot.’Therearenoanswers,theswordwhispered.Thereisonlyobedience.‘Asforourpresentcircumstances,’saidGavallan,‘ourchoicesarelimited.’‘Thattroublesmetoo.’‘Andme.’Gavallanshrugged.‘Yethereweare.Soweshallproceedwithoureyesopen,awarethatwemaybeheadingintoatrap.Whichisnomorethanwemustalwaysdo.’Crowenodded,thentookhisleave.Ashedescendedthestairs,hewrestledwithhis frustration. Gavallan was right. The Grey Knights must pursue the threatwhoseabsencehadstillbeensopotentontheEnvoyofDiscipline.Theyhadtofollow the evidence to Sandava II. But Gavallan seemed prey to a kind offatalism.ThatworriedCrowe at least asmuch as the sense thePurifierswerebeingforcedtofollowthestepsofanunholydance.Crowereachedthebottomofthestaircase.Ontheothersideofthelastofthewardeddoors,Sendraxwaswaitingforhim.‘Ithoughtyoumightbehere,’hesaid.‘I wanted his thoughts on the state of the mission,’ Crowe answered,deliberatelyvague.Sendraxlaughed.ItwasanunusualsoundinthehallsoftheSacrumFinem.ItwasevenmoreunusualintheChambersofPurity.ItwasnotusualcomingfromSendrax, though.Crowehadneverbeensurewhethertoenvyordisapproveofhissenseofhumour.‘Your visit was more important than that,’ Sendrax said. He turned serious.

‘YouhavebeenchosenastheWarden,haven’tyou?’‘Whatmakesyousaythat?’Theevasionwasridiculous.YetCrowedidnotfeelcomfortableadmitting to that truthyet.Doing so felt likeadeath sentence forGavallan.‘Youaretheobviouscandidate,brother.AndIcanthinkoffewotherreasonsfor one of our number to subject himself repeatedly to the proximity of thatsword.’‘True,’saidCrowe.Hewouldnotlie.‘Itisinevitable,then?’Sendraxasked.Crowefrowned,unsurewhattheotherKnightoftheFlamemeant.‘Ifitistobemyfate,sobeit,’hesaid.‘Weallmustserveaswearecalledupontodo.’‘Yes,wemust.’‘What,then?’Sendrax shook his head. ‘Forgive me, brother. It is the thought of yoursequestrationthatpainsme.’‘It will be necessary.’ Crowe headed down the hall in the direction of thearmingcells.Sendraxfellintostepbesidehim.‘Ofcourse,’hesaid.‘Ofcourse.’Then,afteraminute,‘Isnecessityallthereis,then?’‘Whatdoyoumean?’‘Iseverythingpreordained?Isitallwritten?’ThequestionwasuncomfortablyclosetoCrowe’sconcernsaboutthemission.‘Ihavefaiththatitisnot,’hesaid.‘ThatistheessenceofthePrognosticars,isitnot?Withtheiraid,wechangethewriting.’Sendraxgruntedand fell silent.Crowe recognisedhismood.Sendraxdidnotsuffer opposition well. This made him a ferocious warrior. At times, though,Crowe thought it also made him unwilling to accept unpalatable realities asquickly ashe should.Crowebelieved therewas adifferencebetween refusingdefeatandnotrecognisingnecessity.Sometimestherewasnothingelse.CrowewouldbethenextWardenoftheBlade.Thatwasanecessitythatcouldnotbealtered.ThearmingcellssoundedwiththemurmurofprayersandthequietactivityofserfsassistingthePurifiersmakereadyforthecomingbattle.Armourwasbeingrestoredtogleamingpurity.Prayerscrollswereaffixedoncemore.Therewerenew oaths of moment to be recorded. There were weapons and shells to beblessedanew.Crowe and Sendrax parted company at the entrance to the cells. The hall

branched leftand right.Crowewent left to joinhis squad.Hewalkedpast thecells,noddingasolemngreetingtohisbrothers.Drakewaskneelingbeforeashrine,butrosewhenhesawCrowe.‘Aneraiscomingtoaclose,isn’tit?’hesaid.Crowe stopped. He did not have to ask what Drake meant. If Sendrax haddeducedwhatwascoming,Drakewouldhaveknownevenlonger.‘Itwillend,’Crowesaid.‘Ithasnotendedyet.’‘Ihopenot,’saidDrake.‘Longmayourchampionbevictorious.’‘Longmayhebe,’Crowesaid.ThenhestoppedandsharedanuncomfortablelookwithDrake.Theyhadbothbeenseizedby thesame thought.Was it theirplace to wish a longer sentence for Gavallan in the purgatory of hisguardianship?Crowethoughtaboutthecanyonsbeingetchedintothecastellan’sface. They were the reflections of the deeper ones cut into his soul. ‘As theEmperorwills,’Crowesaid.‘AstheEmperorwills,’Drakeechoed.Crowemovedontohiscell.Hehadmanyofhisownpreparationstomake.TheSacrumFinemwasstormingthroughthewarptowardsSandava.Hehadtobereadyforwhatevertruthsmightawait.

Forthreedays,thebombardmentheldbackthedaemons.Forthreedays,thefearinthewestofEgetaroseasrumoursspread.Butforthreedays,Vendruhnlivedwiththehopeofasuccessfulcounter-attack.Becauseforthreedays,noonesawpastthebarrierofexplosions.Theintensityofthebarragetriggeredafirestorm.It swept far beyond the targeted strip. Smoke blanketed the city, makingreconnaissanceflightsimpossible.The fire died down at the endof the third day.Awindblew from the north,clearingtheworstofthesmoke.Atdawn,VendruhntookofffromthepalaceinherValkyrie.Theoverflightwasbrief.Shesawallsheneededtoknowalmostrightaway.Thegroundinthevicinityofthecathedralcrawled–itundulated–withcaperingabominations.Theirnumberwasbeyondestimation.Theyhadnotbeen diminished by the shelling or the fire. Vendruhn had delayed theirencroachmentonthewesternsectorofthecity.Thatwasall.Andaftershehadreturnedtothepalace,andorderedafurtherintensificationofthe bombardment, as the sun rose on a day of haze and anticipation, the truesiegebegan.Thedaemonsmovedinaconcertedmassthroughthebarragezone.The shells destroyed them by the score, then by the hundreds. When theirmovement was spotted, Vendruhn rushed to lead from the front. On the

embankment,lookingthroughmagnoculars,shesawthedaemons,silhouettedbytheblasts,monstrousfigurestornapartandsmashedtonothing.Forafewseconds,shewasalmostabletobelievetheabominationswerefallingvictimtoafolly,andthattheirattempttocrossthewalloffirewouldgiveherthevictory.Thenshesawthatshewaswrong.Thedaemonsweredestroyed,butnot obliterated. They fell, they lost form, and the liquefying remains flowedtogether.Theshellsstruckthedaemonsfasterthanthesludgecouldvanishfromthematerium.Thecrateredstreetsfilledwithathick,viscousmassofwhiteandpinkandputrescentblue. It flowed towards theRybas. Itwashedover theeastembankment’sparapet.Itdroppedtowardsthewaterslowly,likemoltencandlewax.The daemonic foam touched the water. The taint spread over the river inmoments.Vendruhnhissedasshewatchedoily,nauseatingcolours raceacrossthewater, and to thenorth and south.The river looked like skin stretched tootightlyover a human ribcage.The skin tore.The river heaved like awoundedbeast. The surface broke up into soft rubble. Thewater had turned into gelidflesh.TheleveloftheRybasdroppedasit threwoutchunksofitself,andtheybegantoevaporate.TheRybasbecametherottingcorpseofagiant.Therivervanished.Soontherewasonlytheriverbed,piledhighwithhillsofvanishingskin.Whentheriverhadbeencorruptedaway, thedaemonssurgedforwards.Theydrove through the shelling in evengreater numbers.Therewasnoway to killthemall,andsothebreachbegan.Horrorsemergedfromthesmokeandfire.Theyspilledovertheembankment,astampedeofmonstrousforms.Theyracedacrosstheriverbed.TheirsongcameonbeforethemandtheairVendruhnbreathedturnedthickwithluxuriousscents.Inseconds,thesituationofthewarchanged.Thedaemonswereadvancingonafrontmileslong.VendruhnhadbuiltupherforcesonthissideoftheRybas.Shehaddeepcolumnsofinfantryandarmour.Butall thosecolumnswereabouttobesurroundedbythetidesweepingoverthedeadriver.Hermilitiawasabouttodrown.‘Allcompaniesfallback,’sheordered.ShebangedherfistagainstthehatchasDanekstartedtheengineandturnedtheChimeraaround.‘Ournewpositionsareinsidethepalacesector’swalls.Wewillholdthere.’Thecircumferenceofthosefortificationswaslessthanthreemiles.Shehadthestrengthtoprotectthat.Sherefusedtobelieveotherwise.‘Artillery,’shevoxed,‘reducetherange.AllgunsconcentrateontheRybasriverbed.Atmycommand,walktheshellingback.We

willdestroythefoeasitadvances.’The companies of the Sandava II Militia retreated, and the streets of Egetafilledwithexhaustfumesandthethunderofpoundingshells.Fromthewindowsof hab blocks came the wails of the populace as they saw their protectorsabandonthem.Vendruhnheardtheirdespair.Shegrimacedincontempt.Ifthesepeoplewouldnotfight,iftheyexpectedtohideandletothersdothedyingforSandavaII,thenwhatwascomingwouldbeafittingjudgement.Sheswivelledtheheavyboltertofacetherear.Shewouldbeamongstthelasttoentertheinnerwallofthepalacedistrict.Shewouldbeamongthefirsttofireupontheenemy.The infantrykept pacewith the armour.This time,Vendruhnwouldpreservemore of her troops. She vowed this retreat would not be a second rout. Themilitia formed a solidwall across theObeissanceBoulevard. It was themainartery runningwest towards thepalacesector.Thiswouldbeher siteofbitter,contestedretreat.Shewouldmaketheabominationspayforeveryyardoftheiradvance.The curtain of blasts marched in from the east. The riverbed exploded.Daemonsclamberedoverthewesternembankment’sparapet,defyingtheshells.Theylopedalongtheboulevard,givingchasetothemilitia.Vendruhnpulledthetrigger, sending a streamof shells over the heads of the running troops. Theysmashedintoapairofdaemonswhoresembledpatchworkinsects,blowingthemapart.Oneofthedancingfemalehorrorsburstthroughthecloudofmistedflesh,armswideandeagertoembraceitsvictimswithpincers.Itsweptdownuponthelast of the troops. It crushed the heads of two men with quick snaps of itspincers.Itwrappeditsarmsaroundathirdandliftedhimhigh.Hisscreamswerehorrifyinglyambiguous.Vendruhnblastedhimandthedaemonfromexistence,endinghisbloodytranscendenceandsavinghissoul.Theboulevardturnedsharply.Thehabblockshidtheenemyadvancefromherview. Vendruhn could still hear it, though. Over the booming of the artillerybarrage, over the growls of the engines, over the rapidmarch, over the sharpdischarges of lasrifles, she could hear the piercing,whistling rise and fall andtwist of the daemonsong. It clawed at her spirit. It sought to lure her, but itencounteredonlyherangerinstead.Vendruhn raised her eyes to the sky. ‘Will you not aid us?’ she cried to theEmperor.Thensheyelleduntilherthroatwasraw.Hercrycontainedherrage,her frustration and her grief atwhatwas to come. Itwas also her prayer, herwordlessappeal to theFatherofMankindandher shoutof loyaltyuntodeath.

Anditwasherdespairingpleaforamiracle.Shefellsilentasshesawthemiraclearrive.Ittooktheformofastreakofsilverygrey.Itdescendedthroughthehaze,thesun glinting off its hull.At first, itwas a dagger thrust in the sky. It droppedlowersofastitwaslikeameteorroaringtoearth.Itsangleofdescentflattenedout, and it flew overhead less than twenty feet above the rooftops. It was agunshipof theAdeptusAstartes.AStormraven,Vendruhn thought.Thecolourwasstrangetoher.ShehadencounteredveryfewoftheAdeptusAstartesinherlifetime, but she had seenmany representations of them. The iconography oftheirheroismwasaconstantthroughouttheImperium.Inallthetapestriesandmuralsandfriezesandmosaicsshehadheldovertheyears,Vendruhnhadneverseenthissilver-greyrepresented.Thegunshipslowedasitpassedfromhersight.Justafteritvanished,flyinginthedirectionoftheriver,therecamethesoundofitsguns.Thedrummingwasdeepandresonant,themusicofviolentsalvation.‘Danek,’Vendruhnvoxed,‘holdourposition.’TheChimeraslowedtoahalt.Therestofthecolumnkeptmoving.Vendruhnmadesureitdid.‘All units,’ she ordered, ‘continueonyour path.Secure the innerwall. Iwilljoinyoushortly.’Butnotjustyet.Shehadtosee.Shehadtoknow.There had been no communications from the SpaceMarines.Nowarning oftheirarrival.Justaswordblowfromthesky.Whowerethey?‘Takeusback,Danek,’Vendruhnsaid.TheChimerareversedagain.Itheadedbackdowntheboulevard.Asitreachedthebend, it seemed toVendruhn that thecriesof thecivilianshad lessened. Itwas hard to tell in the maelstrom of roaring sound coming from the Rybas.Vendruhn did see faces at the windows now. The people of Egeta had beensummoned by a mixture of wonder and terror to bear witness. Though hercontemptfortheircowardicewasundiminished,whentheChimeraroundedthecornerandshecouldseeasfarastheembankmentagain,Vendruhnsharedintheawe.TheStormravenwasmakingstrafingrunsovertheriverbed,turningthegroundbelow it intoan infernowith twin-linkedheavyboltersandassaultcannons. Itstruckwiththeforceofaflyingartillerybarrage.Missilesstreakedfromwing-mountedhardpoints.Theirconcussiveblastswerehuge.Theshatteredbodiesofdaemonsflewoverawidearea,andwiththeprecisionofthoseexplosions,theongoingartillerybarrageappearedtobemakingmoreofadifference.Thetide

ofabominationswasnolongeradvancingalongtheboulevard.Thegunshiphaddroppeditstroopsattheheadofthethoroughfare.Thereweretwofive-mansquadsofAdeptusAstartesandacommander.TheSpaceMarines’powerarmourwas the samesilver-greyas thehullof the ship.Amereelevenwarriors, yet in Vendruhn’s eyes it was the daemons who were suddenlyoutnumbered.TheabominationsconvergedontheSpaceMarinesasiftheywerebeingpulled in by the gravitational grip of a blackhole.Vendruhn sensed thenarrowingofthehugefrontthathaddrivenherforcesintoretreat.Thedaemonswerecompelled todestroyagreatenemy,and thatenemywasripping themtoshreds.Vendruhngapedattheflashandpoundofwrist-mountedstormbolters.These warriors could not be human beings. They were walking tanks. Theirswordsandhalberdsandhammersdevastatedunholyfleshwitheveryblow.Theweaponsblazedwith a light that searedVendruhn’svisionwith itspurity.TheleaderoftheAdeptusAstartesboreacrimsonbannerthatroseabovehispowerpack.Chained to thepackwasanothersword.Therewasnothingsacredaboutthisweapon.Thebladewasathingofnight,anditdrewhergazeeventhoughher soul tried to turn away. It confused her and disturbed her, even from adistanceofseveralhundredyards.Buttheswordwastheimprisonedanomaly.AstheSpaceMarinesfoughtwithboth crusader fury and immaculate precision, Vendruhn’s overwhelmingimpressionwasofterriblesanctityandunforgivingnobility.Sheknew,withoutbeingtold,thatwitnessingthesebeingswasaprivilege,arareopportunity,andonethatwouldcomewithagreatcost.Shestared,stunnedintosilencewiththerestoftheChimera’screw.Forabriefmoment, the SpaceMarine fighting at the right hand of the leader turned hisheadandlookeduptheboulevard.Vendruhnfelthisgazebehindthevisorofhishelmet.Shefeltthejudgement.ShefeltthefullpoweroftheiceattheheartofthemiraclethathadcometoSandavaII.

CHAPTERSIXCATHEDRALRISE

The throne room of the Lord Governor’s palace was on a war footing. Thegrandeurofitswallhanginghadfadedintothebackground.Thelargereceptionspace had been given over to tacticarium tables. Otto Glas was in militaryuniform,butitwasaceremonialgarb,andtherewasamarkedcontrastbetweenitandtheuniformwornbyhisdaughter.Thegeneralwasaveteran,andcarriedherself with the determined stride of someone bearing a familiar weight ofresponsibility. Lord Otto had the posture of a man conscious of the dignityrequiredofhispositioninacrises.HeandVendruhnwerecarvedfromthesamestone. Their faces were weathered, lined by age and care despite juvenattreatments.Thesculptofherbrowandjawwasharsher,moreunforgivingthanhis. Otto was the face of Sandava II standing firm against the threat of theRuinous Powers. Vendruhn was the fist that would bring retribution to theheretics. They were both, Crowe thought, perfectly suited to their positions.Theywere exemplars of duty.Unlike the corrupted cardinal, ensconced in thecathedral,theydidtheImperiumproud.Crowesawtheirheroismandacknowledgedtohimselfthattheirdeathswouldberegrettable.Theyweremostlikelyunavoidable,though.TheentirepopulationofEgetaalreadypossessedtoomuchforbiddenknowledge.Thatdoomedthemallevenmorethoroughlythanthedaemonicincursionitself.Earlier,aboardtheStormravenPurgation’sSword,Destrianhadlookeddownatthe swarms of daemons and said, ‘This city is past salvation. Orbitalbombardmentwouldbeamercy.’

‘Youwoulddepriveusofabattle?’Caracasked.‘Idonotliketodisappointyou,brother.Butthiscourseofactionseemstomeinevitable.’‘Wemustfindtherelicandburntherootofthisinfection,’CrowehadremindedDestrian. ‘Too much can disappear in a bombardment, including that whichwouldusethedestructionasacoverforflight.’HeunderstoodDestrian’sreasoning,though.Therewasanaspectoffutilitytothegroundwar.Therewaslittlethatcouldbedone,intheend,forthepeopleofEgeta.ThatwasnotCrowe’sconcern.Evenso,hesawtheloyaltyandbraveryinthishall.Hewouldseemoreinthestreets,hewassure.Hecouldnotofferthesepeoplesalvation.Hewouldgrantthemremembranceinstead.The Purifiers’ initial attack had been enough to slow the advance of thedaemons.Theyhad blunted the invasion, and at length forced the daemons toregroup. The abominations had pulled back across the riverbed. The militia’sartillery appeared to be holding them in the east again for the moment. Therespite would not last long, but it had been enough for the inner wall of thepalacedistricttobereinforcedbymanygunsandthousandsofinfantry,andforsomeplanningtotakeplace.‘Theywill come again,’ Vendruhn said. She, the LordGovernor, Crowe andSendraxsurroundedthecentraltacticariumtable.Thehololithicdisplayshowedanoverviewoftheentirecity.‘Yes, they will,’ Gavallan said. He stood at the far end of the throne room,dozens of yards from the others. If themortals wondered about his isolation,theydidnotaskaboutit.‘Thequestioniswhethertheycanbeheldatthewall.’‘They can,’ Otto said, with all the determination of a man who believed hecouldwill reality to do his bidding.He had the look, too, of amanwho hadgazed upon something that had overwhelmed him, and was now eager, in itsabsence,toprovehimselfstillstrong.Vendruhnwas slower to answer. ‘With halfmy complement of troops…’ shesaid,weighing the variables. ‘And our combined assault drawing the enemy’sattention…’Shebowedherhead.‘Yes,lord,’shesaidtoGavallan.‘Thewallwillbeheldforaslongasnecessary.’CrowelookedatVendruhnwithsomethingalmostlikepity.Shedidnotrealisethattheassaultwasnotthedistraction.Thepalacedistrictwas.Itwasthebait,splitting the daemon force to give the Purifiers the chance to breach thecathedral.‘I could be even more certain of our position if you were commanding the

defence,’OttosaidtoVendruhn,slippingfromtheconfidenceofhisofficeandintotheconcernsofahumanbeing.‘No,’ said Vendruhn. ‘I won’t wait for those things to come to us. I’ve hadenoughofretreats.IwillmarchwiththeGreyKnights.’Crowe caught her slight hesitation before the last two words. She waswonderingaboutthisChaptershehadneverheardofbefore.Shehadquestions.Shewouldnotgetanswers. Itwasenoughofaprivilegeforher toknowwhatforcehadcometoherworld.Shewouldnotenjoythatprivilegeforlong.Butifitgavehermorestrengthforthestruggleahead,thenwellenough.‘Our overflights of the cathedral sector show large numbers of heretics stillpresent,’Gavallansaid.‘Theyaretheconduitsthroughwhichtheabominationsenterthematerium,buttheyarealsoacorruptedarmyintheirownright.ItwillbetheresponsibilityofGeneralGlas’forcestodestroythem.’‘Gladly,’saidVendruhn.‘Couldtherestillbeuntaintedcitizenseastoftheriver?’Ottoasked.‘Theremaybe,’Crowesaid.Thepointwasmoot.‘Theyareallfallen,’Vendruhnhissedthroughaclenchedjaw.‘Iftheywerenot,theywouldbefighting.Theywillbeexterminatedwiththeothers.’Crowe’seyesnarrowed.HedidnotpreciselydisagreewithwhatVendruhnhadsaid. Itwas her tone that drewhis attention.Therewas the iron of increasingfanaticism there, and that, too, was as it should be. There was no place foranything less on the battlefield. But beneath the fury and the faith, Crowethought he detected eagerness. Vendruhn seemed to enjoy the prospect of theslaughtertocome.‘Lord,’Otto said toGavallan, ‘forgiveme, but the sword you carry on yourback...Iwaswondering…Icanseethatitisarelicofgreatantiquity.Willitbeusefulagainstthemask?’Do you see? the blade whispered to Crowe.Even the mortal can see whatmustbedone.Unchainme.Useme.Ourvictorywillbeswiftandbloody.Ourreignwillbeeternal.‘Youwillnotspeakoftheswordagain!’Gavallan’svoiceboomedwithangeracross the throne room. ‘Youwill not look at it.Youwill not thinkof it. It isnevertobeused.’Otto leaned back against the tacticarium table as if pushed physically by thecastellan’swords.‘Yourpardon,lord,I…’CrowesteppedtowardstheLordGovernor.Hisshadowpassedoverthemortal.Ottolookedup,shaken.‘Donotmaketheerrorofthinkingyouunderstandwhat

ishappeningonyourworld,orwhatmustbedonetocombatit,’Crowesaid.‘No,lord,’saidOtto.‘Theexistenceof thedaemonicrealmhasbeenrevealed toyou.Thatyouarestillsaneistoyourcredit,butitalsosuggestsyoudonotfullycomprehendwhatyou now face.’ A glance at Vendruhn’s eyes suggested she had amuchmorevisceralunderstandingofwhathadcometoSandavaII. ‘Donotoverstepyourauthority.’‘No,lord,’saidOtto.Crowe turned from him before he could finish. He pointed down at thetacticariumtable,tracingapathdownthemajoravenuesbetweenthepalaceandthecathedral.‘Highgroundhereandaroundthecathedral,’hesaid.‘Theroutesaredirectbetweenthem.’‘Symmetry,’saidGavallan.Crowenodded.‘Thecitydividedintwo.Thecentresofcommandatoppositeends.’‘Thosethingshavealeader?’Ottoasked.‘Yourcardinal,’Sendraxsaid.‘Orwhathehasbecome.’Crowewas still thinking about the symmetry.Was he right to see it asmoredeeplysymbolic?Andifso,ofwhat?Theswordlaughed,arazorslicingthroughtendons.Hecouldnotdivinethesymbol.Itfeltlikesheerexcess.Asuperfluousgesturebyapowerwithnogreaterpurpose.Adisplayofart,perhaps.Adarkpower’sperverseamusement.‘We strike now,’ said Gavallan. ‘General, you will advance directly for theriver.Ceasetheartillerybombardmentasyoureachit.Wewill landbeforethecathedralatthesametime.Thatwilldividethefocusoftheenemy.’‘Andifthedaemonscrossbeforewedo?’Vendruhnasked.‘Thenwewill landearlier.The strategy isunchanged.Your spear thrust.Ourgladiustotheheart.’Vendruhn still looked uneasy. ‘Will that end the threat? Your pardon for thetroubleinmysoul,lord.IhavevisionsofSandavaII’sfalltothesepowers.’‘SandavaIIwillnotbetakenbycorruption,’Crowetoldher.‘ThisIvow.’

The daemons met Vendruhn’s advance just to the west of the corpse of theRybas.Asbefore,theychargedinasufficientmasstogetthroughtheshelling.They were not an overwhelming tide this time, though. They were aconcentratedmass.

Notasmany,Vendruhnthoughtasthemilitiaopenedfire.They’reholdingbackareserve.Theyarebracing for the threatof theGreyKnights.The castellan’sstrategywasalreadyworkingbeforetheoperationhadtrulybegun.Humansfilledouttheranksoftheunholylegion.Theywereragged,wretched,raving things. Most had been civilians. Some wore the tatters of militiauniforms, and they made Vendruhn’s lips curl in even greater rage. All wereshriekingandsinging.Theyhadtorntheirflesh,markingitwithbleedingsigils.Theyborecrudeweaponsfashionedfromscavengedmetal.Manyhaddriventhebladesthroughtheirownpalms.Theyrejoicedintheecstasyoftheirpain.Theyclamouredtowelcomemoreconvertstotheembraceofdeliriousagony.As the armour and infantry unleashed las and stubber fire on the enemy,Vendruhn looked on the corrupted humans with glad hatred. They were notthreats to her soul. Theywere base,weak and contemptible. She did not fearthem.Sherejoicedintheireasydestruction.Shecouldfocusonthemwithoutdanger.‘Defenders of Sandava II,’ she voxed to the troops, ‘see our fallen brethren!Lookuponthemwithallthepowerofyouranger.Knowthatyouhavealreadyvanquished our enemy, because you are not of their number. Find strength inseeingthemandannihilateallbeforeus!’SheswepttheChimera’sheavybolterbackandforthinatightarc,cuttingintotheclusteredfoe.Shestaredatthehumans.Attheedgesofhervisionshesawdaemonsbroughtdownbythemassedfirepowerofthecolumn.Andshesawthefallencitizensexplode.She saw theirhereticalpaingiveway toviolentdeath,theirbodiesturnedtoshardsandspray.When the column hit the mass of the enemy, Vendruhn was shouting withgratitude.

With Berinon piloting, the Purgation’s Sword hit the parvis with stormstrikemissiles. The massive concussive blasts cleared swathes of the square ofdaemonsandhereticslongenoughforthegunshiptoland.Thesquadsleaptoutofthesidedoor,andtheStormraventookoffagain.Before them reared themass of theCathedral ofMartyrdomEmbraced. Thelinesofthefaçadeandthetowerswereperfectlyvertical.Its immensitysoaredtowards the sky.Thenorth tower’s spire rosehigher than the south’s, and thisasymmetry created a sense of movement, as if the cathedral were striving toreach ever higher. Its huge rosewindowwas dim, its designs invisible in thegloom,litonlybyadullbutgraduallyintensifying,throbbingviolet.

Crowe kept pace with Gavallan as he marched through the mass ofabominations.TherestofhissquadandSendrax’steamkeptbackafewpaces,blastingdaemonsthattriedtogetbetweenthePurifiers.Theywerefiftyyardsfromthecathedraldoors.Thewhistlingofthefiendsandthesongsof thedaemonetteswereanululatinghymnthatseemedtoclimbthefaçade and twine about the towers, claiming the defiled sanctuary for theRuinous Powers. Clusters of heretics ran amongst the daemons, heedless ofanythingexceptthecompulsiontoattacktheGreyKnights.Theyweretrampledby the hooves of fiends. Daemonettes decapitated them with contemptuouspincer snaps if they got in theway. Theywailed their frightful joy until theydied. If they reached the Purifiers, their blows were meaningless. They werevermin,but theytoohadtobedestroyed,becausedaemonsstillburstfromtheformsofthemostfanatical.CroweandGavallanscythedtheirwayforwardswithbolterandsword.Behindthem, their battle-brothers destroyed the abominations that attacked from theflanks. Ruluf and Destrian kept up a steady stream of flame with theirincinerators.ThePurifierswereanuntouchablebladestabbingtowardstheheartoftheinfection.Inthemidstofthegunfireandunholysong,theBlackBladeofAntwyrsnarleditswayintoCrowe’smind.Thisisopportunity.Thisischaos.Seizethehiltandstrike,strike,strike,strike,strike.Heignoredtheblade.Itsblandishmentsdidnot affect the precision of his blows. It shrieked at him, cursing himwith thevenomofitsfrustration.‘Isitcallingtoyou?’Gavallanasked.HedrovehisNemesisbladethroughthetorso of a fiend, sliced upwards, cutting the daemon in half, then brought thesworddownagain,cuttingofftheclutchingarmsofadaemonette.‘Itis,’saidCrowe.Hevaporisedtheheadofafiendwithboltershells.‘Doesitspeaktousbothatonce?’‘Itspeakstoallwhocanhear,itscalldifferentforeach.Thatisonefacetofitsthreat.Howdoyoufare?’Gavallan’svoicewasstillmoredrained.Itbeliedtheenergy of his attacks. The castellan fought as he ever had, but the toll wasgrowing.‘Iamstrong,’Crowesaid.‘Lettheswordraveasitwill.’‘Good.’Gavallanhackedanotherdaemonettedownwithagrunt.‘Exposurehasnotdiminishedyou.’Beforethem,thedaemonsgatheredinamassedwall.‘Dotheybelievetheycanstopus?’Sendraxvoxed.

‘Iftheydo,theyaremistaken,’Crowesaid.‘Theyarepresentingthemselvesforexecution.’Thewallbecameabatteringram.Thedaemonscharged.Itwasanassaultthatwould overturn tanks and reduce regiments of mortals to howling madness.Crowe looked upon the surging horror and felt only holy rage. This waseverything he stood against. The destruction of this unclean mass was thepurpose forwhichhehadbeenforged.Hewas thearmofpurification,andhewouldnotpermittheabominationtotainttheworldsoftheImperium.Hiswrathgrew.He raisedhis arms andgathered the flowof thewarp inhiswill.Hiswrathignitedit.Besidehim,Gavallanwasdoingthesame.Theyactedin concert, twowarriors strikingwith perfect unity.Theywere thewill of theEmperor,andHewouldnotsufferthedaemontoexist.Theyunleashedtherage.Awallofblueflameburstfromtheirhands.Itroaredoverthedaemons.Itwaspurgationitself.Itincineratedtheunholyflesh.Itwasafirestormofsanctity.Itsilencedthesongofthedaemons.Itdraggedscreamsfromtheirthroats,andthenit silenced those too.Thesmoke-filled, lateafternoongloomon thehillof thecathedrallitupwithacoldandterribleblaze.Initswake,therewasonlyash.Forafewseconds,nothingstoodbetweentheGreyKnightsandtheCathedralofMartyrdomEmbraced.Thenthedaemonsontheparvis,andintheadjoiningstreets,andall thecorruptedmortals rushed to fill thegap.Onlynowtheydidnot attack. They ran and galloped and sprang towards the entrance. The dooropenedandthedaemonspouredinside.‘Aretheyretreating?’Drakeasked.‘No,’ said Crowe. He saw the immaterium’s currents in flood, a violentturbulence streaming with the daemons into the cathedral. ‘They are beingsummoned.’

The thing wearing Rannoch’s skin paced back and forth as it examined thecardinal’smemories.Itslonglegscarrieditoverthefallenaltarinasinglestride.Its four armsdrew shapes in the airwith languid, graceful gestures, conjuringfates,drawingin theenergies ithadplannedtousefromthemomentRannochhaddonnedthemask.Fromoutsidethewallsofthecathedral,thedaemonheardthearrivaloftheenemy’sship.Themomentithadexpectedwasdrawingnear.Itsmiled with anticipation. In the flesh of its belly, a mouth that had beenRannoch’s moved its lips and chattered its teeth in mindless praise and joy.

Stretchedoverthedistortionsofboneandskin,theremnantsofRannoch’sselfexperiencedpainsocomplete,soperfect,ithungeredafteritlikepleasure.Thecardinal’s illusions had vanished with his identity, but the desire that hadpropelledhim to his damnation still lingered, exulting in a pain thatwas bothpunishmentandreward.Rannoch’smindwasgone,devouredbythedaemon.Ithadconsumedhim,andnow it looked through its spoils, searching. Its moment had come. It alreadyknew pleasure from the thought ofwhat it was about to inflict on those colddeniersofsensation,butitdidnotunderestimatethefoe.Itanticipatedmorethanthehumans’deaths.Therewereotherpleasuresitsought,pleasuresithopedthetraces of Rannoch would unlock. And so it leafed through the cardinal’smemories,searching,searching.Itfoundwhatitwanteddeepinside,buriedbeneathlayersofthemundane.Thememorywassmall,easilyoverlookedbecause thehumanhadalmost forgottenit.Rannochhadneverhadcause topayattention to thisknowledgeand itwashiddenbyadministrative trivia.But thedaemonfound thememory,and itwasmorethanithadhopedfor.Outside,battlewasraging.Thegreyenemiesweredestroying themessengersofsensation.They thought theywereachievingavictory. Itwas time toprovethemwrong.Timetoshowthemtrueglory.The daemon’s gestures became more rapid. The powers gathered in thecathedralmorequickly,andwithgreater intensity.Darkpotentialsank into thewalls, the floor, the pillars, the vaults. The potential built up, verging uponreality.Outside,therewasasuddenburningroar.Thedaemonsnarled.Itmovedtowardstherearofthecathedral,headingforthecrypt.Itformedagreatconjuringwiththemovementofitsarms.Thepotentialithadbroughtintobeingfusedwiththestoneofthecathedral,butitneededtofeedbeforeitcouldbecometrulyreal.Thedaemoncrookedafinger,andthedoorsatthefrontopened.Calledtothedanceandtothesacrifice,thelesserservantsoftheDarkPrincechargedinside.Thecursedscionsofthecorpse-godwouldnotbefarbehind.Theywouldthinktheir chance had come to enter the cathedral. Perhaps it had, the daemonthought.Thoughnotastheyimagined.Itlaughedasitdescendedthestairstothecrypt.Thesoundwasmusical.Itwasthesoundoffliesinawoundandtonguessettorazors.Anditwasasignal.Theceremonywascomplete.Therewerenofurthergesturestomake.Thepotential

becamereality.ThewallsoftheCathedralofMartyrdomEmbracedshookwiththestrengthofthefirstgreatbreath.

The retreat of the abominations was as sudden as it was unmotivated.Vendruhn’sstrikeforcewascausingdamage,butsowere thedaemonsand theheretics.Thenthedaemonsweregone.Theydisappearedinthedirectionofthecathedral.Thiswasnoretreat.Thiswasanassault.Theabominationssunderedthe air with their monstrous song. Vendruhn felt a premonition of disaster.Somethingdarkwasonthevergeofbeingfulfilled.Shecouldnotpursue.Thedaemonsweretoofast.TheChimerasatfullthrottlemightbeabletocatchup,ploughingthroughandoverthemassofheretics,butthatwouldmeanleavingtheinfantrybehind.Shewouldnotdivideherstrengthtorushintoapossibletrap.The daemons abandoned their human slaves. The heretics were running, butmuch slower. Vendruhn looked at the wretched apostates. She felt loathing,hatredandcontempt inequalmeasure. In thedementedhymnsof theheretics,sheheardelementsshehadnotdetectedbefore.Thesongswerenotasalienasshe had thought during the initial moments of the crisis. They containedfragmentsof familiar chants, all themoredebased forbeing recognisable.DidthesecreaturesstillbelievetheywereservingtheGod-Emperor?No,Vendruhndecided.Theyweren’tthinkingatall.‘Killtheheretics!’sheshouted.‘Burnthemall!’Her command was unnecessary. The militia was gunning down the runningmob.Butherhatredneededitsfullexpression.ThesecreatureshadturnedfromtheEmperor’slight.Thecrimewasunimaginabletoher,yettheywereallguiltyof it. They threatened the order her family had guaranteed on Sandava II forcenturies.Andtheytaintedthehonouroftheworld.Shewouldbuildapyreoftheirbones.‘Artillery,’shevoxedthecommandcentreat thepalace.Shegavecoordinatesfor a barrage a thousand yards ahead, where the hab blocks rose higher justbefore the cathedral’s hill. Her armour and infantry kept up their fire,slaughteringtheheretics,crushingbodiesbeneaththeChimeras’tracks.Gunsboomedinthedistantwest.Theskywhistled.Itscreamed.Thestreetandhab blocks exploded. The shells kept descending. Critically weakened towersfelltowardseachother.Ahillofrubbleblockedthewayforwards.Chokingdustrushedbackdowntheavenue.Thehereticsbunchedupandcollided.Theywere

confused.Theydidnotknowwhere to run.Some shrieked.Somesang.Manyturnedbacktoattackthemilitia.Theyalldied.Vendruhn’sChimeraadvancedintoadeepeninglakeofblood,andsherejoiced.‘General,’Gentner,thecommunicationsofficer,calledfrombelow.‘Whatisit?’‘I’m receiving distress transmissions from a location in the shelling zone.Someone has access to a vox-unit there. They proclaim their loyalty to theEmperor.’‘Theymayproclaimit,buttheydonotshowit.Iftheyareshelteringinthosestructures, they are hiding from their duty to fight the heretic. The shellingcontinues.Wewillsealthisareaandkillevery thinginit.’Iftheycouldnotreachthecathedral,nothingwould.Thewayforwardswaspunishment.Shewouldrazethecityifnecessary.Andshewouldnotturnfromtheconsequencesofhercommands.Shewouldembracethem.‘Gentner,’shesaid,‘aretheystilltransmitting?’‘Yes,general.’‘Putthemonmyfeed.’Amoment later, her ear bead crackledwith panicked, pleading voices. Theybegged. They sobbed. They prayed to the God-Emperor. Vendruhn fired theheavybolteratthehereticsandherlipspulledbackindisgustatthevoicesinherear.Then theyscreamed,disappearing into static.Another tower fell,blockingan even wider swathe of routes to the cathedral, and it took its terrifiedinhabitantsdownwithit.Vendruhn’ssnarlbecameasmile.ThebetrayersoftheEmperorandSandavaIIweremeetingtheirjudgement.Thesentencecameatherhands.AsthissectorofEgeta fell to smoke and flame and blood, she felt pleasure, and she was notashamed.Thenshesawmovementabovethesmoke.Impossiblemovement.

Theyhad to fight theirway forwards again.Thegap leading to thedoors hadfilled in seconds.ButnowCrowewas shootingandhacking throughdaemonsthathadturnedtheirbacksonhim.Thesituationwasuniqueinhisexperience.The summons was so strong, the daemons did not turn as he destroyed theirforms.Theytrampledthehereticsrunningwiththem.Themortalsscreamedtheurgencyoftheir task.Manydiedonthethresholdofthecathedral.Manymorepassedthroughthedoors.Humanbloodanddissolvingdaemonfleshspreadout

fromthedoorwayacrosstheflagstonesoftheparvis.Thewarpturbulencegrewworse.Crowesawvorticescatchuprealityandbegintotwistit.‘Faster!’Gavallanshouted infrustration.HecouldsensewhatCrowedid.Allpsykerscouldnow.Thebuild-upwashuge.Amassiveeventwascoming.Insidethecathedral,thesourceofmadnesswasperformingaritual.Stopit.Disrupttheflow.Faster.Crowereachedfortheflamesofpurityoncemore.Thestrainwashuge,sosoonafter another burst. He acted alone this time. Gavallan was drained. Crowestretchedhisleftarmforwards.Cleaningwarpfireburnedovercorruptedwarpformsandcontusionsofwarpenergy. It crematedabominations.Thepathwasclearagain.Crowelungedforthedoorway,astepaheadofGavallan.Healreadyknewhewastoolateashebegantocrossthethreshold.Thearchsproutedfangsofstone.Theentrancebecameamouth.Crowethrewhimself back, hacking his arms free of the gnashing teeth. The doorway bithereticsinhalf.Theirheadsfelltotheground,gapinginecstasy.The stonework about the entrance rippled. Awave like the shudder of fleshspreadacrossthefaçade.‘Back!’Gavallanordered.Croweretreatedwiththeothers.Thetransformationshookthecathedral.Crowesawthestormintheimmaterium’scurrentsreachitsapotheosis.Heunderstoodwhatwashappening,andhecursedthedepthofthePurifiers’failure.The ground trembled with such force that the remaining heretics fell. Theparviscracked.Crevassesopened,wideenoughtoswallowaman.Croweleaptoveragap thatsnakedbetweenhimandhisbattle-brothers.At thebaseof thecathedral,thecrevassesgrewintocanyons.The towers swayed. With cracking booms, their spires hooked into claws.Flyingbuttressesheavedinandoutlikearibcage.Thenthecentralmassrearedup.Itliftedthetowersfreeoftheground,reachinghigherandhigherwiththem,andnowtheytrulywerearms.TheCathedralofMartyrdomEmbracedbegantowalk.

CHAPTERSEVENMARTYRDOMEMBRACED

TheLordGovernor’spalacewasafortress.Withinitsinnerwallwasthekeep:crouched, squat and solid as a fist.From its centre, though, a single tower, itswallsablinding ivoryandgold, soaredhundredsof feetup.TheGlasdynastywasunyieldinginitsdemandfororder.Butfromdisciplinerosemagnificence.Thiswasthelessonembodiedbythepalace.Thewindowsbehindthethronelookedeast,acrosstheexpanseofEgetatothecathedral.Thecityhadgrownandspreadaroundthesetwopeaks,andfromspireto spire, Sandava II’s most powerful representatives of the AdeptusAdministratum and the Adeptus Ministorum could gaze at each other’s highseatsinthecity,thoughtheMinistorumpalaceitselfwashalfaworldaway.NootherstructuresinEgetareachedashighasthespiresofthepalaceandcathedralhills.EverydayofhisreignasImperialCommander,OttoGlashadfoundthetimetostand before the glassteelwindow and look towards the cardinal’s perch. Theviewwasadualcelebrationofresponsibilityandglory.Hestoodtherenow,aseveningfellonhiscity.Thelasteveningheexpectedtosee,becauseEgeta,too,was falling.Hestaredatapanoramaofsmokeandfire.Thepalacegunswerethundering again, wreaking ever more devastation on the eastern sector. Hecouldbarelymakeoutthecathedral’stowersthroughthedriftingash.ItwaseasytobelievetherewasnothingleftbeyondtheRybas.Hewinced.‘LordOtto?’ saidWaclav.Heand the restof thepersonalguardmaintainedarespectfuldistanceastheywatchedtheentrance.

Hemusthavegruntedwithoutknowingit.‘Nothing,’hesaid.‘I’mallright.’HechastisedhimselfforthinkingEgeta’sendhadcome.HeshouldhavemorefaithinVendruhn, and in theAdeptusAstartes.ButEgetawasburning, and reportswerecominginofVendruhnemployingscorchedearthtactics.Ottotrustedhertodowhatwasnecessary,butifthiswasnecessary,wouldtherebeanythingtosave?AndifEgetafell,howlongbeforetherestofSandavaIIdidaswell?AsfortheGreyKnights,hehadnolackoffaithintheirfightingstrengthandintheir determination to destroy the unholy monsters that had come to Otto’sworld. But he feared them. Their sanctity was cold as the void, and withoutmercy.Hebelievedtheyhadcometokill thedaemons,nottosaveSandavaII.Otto had thus far seen the abominations only from a distance, throughmagnoculars. Looking at the Grey Knights hadmade him feel a very similarterror.Itcamefromthesenseofgazinguponforbiddenmysteries.Therewouldbeapricetopayforwhathehadseen.Andtherewastheswordthecommandercarried.Ottohadbeenunabletoputitfromhismind.Hewaswrongtohaveaskedaboutit.HewaswrongtoquestionabeingsuchasGavallan.Andyetthesightoftheblackbladehadpulledathim.Heknew,instinctively,thatthesimplefactofseeingtheGreyKnightsmeanthislifewasdrawingtoaclose.Theirmysterywasthatprofound.Buttheswordwassomethingdeeperandfarolder.Hedidnotunderstandwhatitwas,butithadtobearelicofenormousimportance.Whyelsetransportitintocombat?Butwhyinchains?Whynotuseit?Power.AfterGavallan had commandedOtto to speak nomore of the sword,afterthestrategising,whentheGreyKnightshadbeenleavingthethroneroom,thewordhadcometoOttointheformofanabsoluteconviction.Theswordwasa thingof incalculablestrength.Evennow,with therelicmilesaway, itsblackedge cut through his consciousness. The sword was before his mind’s eye, alooming promise. Itwas power. A single glance was all it took to sense theembodiedvastness.HecouldnotfathomwhytheGreyKnightswouldnotputittouse.Arewethatunworthy?Ottothought.Isthesalvationofourpeoplesopitifulanendeavourthatthegreatestmeanstovictorywillbesetaside?Hecouldnotletthingsbeso.HewouldspeaktoGavallanagain.Otto,atleast,woulddoallinhispowertosavehiscity.Inthedeepeninggloom,theflamesburnedbrighter.Theeastflashedwithshellbursts. The smoke billowed in thick clouds. The rising coilsmade it seem asthoughthetowersofthecathedralweremoving.

OttorealisedhewaswrongwhenheheardWaclavgasp.‘Emperorsaveus,’theofficerpleaded.The towersweremoving.They rose into the air,wielded by the body of thecathedral,whichhadreareduplikeagargantuanscarab.Thenthemonsterbegantomoveforwards.Ottostared,notblinking,notbreathing,notunderstanding.Hewasinanumbstate surpassinghorror.Thesightof thecathedral’smarchwas too impossible.He could not process it beyond the most superficial of levels. A thing wasmoving that must be stopped. His mind shielded itself from any deeperimplications.Heconsciouslyheldthematbay.Ifhefacedthem,theterrorwoulddestroyhim.Alreadyhefelthisabilitytofunctionslippingaway.‘LordGovernor?’Waclavsaid.Hewasaskingfororders.Hewasdesperatefororders.Heneededtheillusionthatsomeoneknewwhattodo.‘The guns,’ Otto said. His tongue was sluggish and dry. His body was athousandmilesawayandslowtorespondtohiscommands.‘Turnthegunsonit,’hecroaked.‘Atonce.’Waclav’sgratitudewastragic.Hespokeasifhebelievedtheactionwouldmakeadifference.Ottoknewitwouldnot.Nothingin thefieldwouldbringdownthecathedral.HisfaithintheGreyKnightscrumbled.Theywereinsectsbeforethecolossus.Onlyapowerequaltotheonethatcreatedsuchevilwonderscouldfightit.Power.Theimageoftheswordburnedwithblackfireinhissoul.Itbroughthimpain.TheswordwasSandava II’ssalvation.Yet itwasout there, in the fireand theruin,abouttovanishinthedestructionoftheGreyKnights.Ottoleanedagainstthewindow,handssplayed.Hemouthedsilentprayersandweptashishopewastrampledbeneaththewalkingstone.

Thecathedralcamedownitshillwiththesoundofafallingmountain.Itwasawaveof rock, rearingand falling, rearingand falling. It slammed into thehabblocks,crushingtheirwallstopowder.AcascadeoftowersfellonthestreetsofEgeta.Thegroundshookwithperpetualtremors.Smokeanddustturnedtheairintoathick,lung-scrapingmass.Vendruhncoughedandspat.Shewipedthegritfromhereyesandtriedtoseeforwards.Hercolumnwasrunningblind.She forced herself to focus on what needed to be done and nothing else.Terribleawetriedtobreakher.Ifsheletgoofhermentaldiscipline,shewouldgaze,paralysed,atthecathedraluntilitcrushedher.Astheleviathanbatteredthe

citydown,itturnedtheeveningintoaheavingnight.Thearmourdrovethroughdarkness thick and turbulent as an ocean in storm. Illumination came frommuzzle flare andbursting shells.Therewere flashesofgreater lightwhen firegouted from damaged buildings, but all was smothered into greater darknesswhenthestructuresfell.Vendruhn’ssenseofthecity’sgeographyfellapart.Thestreetswereblockedbyrubble. Gaps opened where complexes had been. Danek turned the Chimeradownwhateverpathhecouldfind.Vendruhnhadgivenhimasingleorder:flankthecathedral.Shetrustedhimtofindwhatroutehecouldthroughthevortexofthismadwar.Theinfantrykeptpacewiththearmouredtransports,buthertroopsweredyingbeneaththerainofdebris.Largerchunksofrubble,columnsandwallsweighingtonnes,weretakingtheirtollonthevehicles,too.Shekepttheshrinkingcolumnmoving.Therewas no retreat from the cathedral.Theywould destroy it, or itwouldcomeforthemall.Sosheheldtotheadvance,strikingdeeperintochaos,lookingforthechancesheknewtheywouldnotfind.Daemons cavorted along the edges of the column. They darted in and out,slashingattheraggedformations,pickingofffoot-soldiers,sometimesattackinginagrouptoripopenthehatchesanddoorsofChimerascaughtuponridgesofdebrisorimpaledbyfallingcolumns.Theywerefewerthanbeforeandcouldnotlaunchaconcertedassault,butVendruhndidnot seeavictory in their smallernumbers.Theothershadgoneelsewhere.Theyhad run,and thecathedralhadcometolife.Thevictorywastheirs.Theadvantagewastheirs.Hopelessness howled atVendruhn from every facet of the dark. She shoutedbackatit.Shewouldfightuntilshedied.Aslongassheburnedwithwrath,shecouldnotdespair.Bitbybit,thecolumndrewlevelwiththecathedral’snorthflank.Vendruhnhadno illusions about bringing down the monster with lascannons, but a frontalchargewouldbesuicide.SheheldthevaguehopeofprovidingadistractionandsoaidingtheGreyKnights.Anythingtokeepinthestruggle.AnythingforthehonouroftheGlasfamilyandSandavaII.Thecathedralwasablackmass,ahill thatmovedand lungedandmauled itswaythroughthesmoke.Artilleryshellsfromtheweststruckthebatteringlimbsofthetowersandthespineoftheroof.Theyblewholesinthemasonry,butthebeastinitstransformationwasmoreresilienttothebarragethanitshouldhavebeen.Thestoneworkhadsomeoftheflexibilityofhide.Itwasdenser,strongerthanbefore.Theimpactofshellsonlyenragedit.Theonesthatmissedaddedto

theinfernoofEgeta.Rage.Yes,andmorethanthat.Hunger.Desire.Afuriousecstasy.Thecathedralroared.Every doorwaywas amaw, behind everymawa throat.The cathedralwas its own choir. Its voices united in a song of excess, hate and war. TheterriblemusicvibratedinVendruhn’schest.Itwassohuge,itthreatenedtoshakeherbonestodust.Andtherewastheeye.Thatwastheoneconstantsourceoflight.Themonsterwasdarknessindarkness,exceptfortheeye.Thecathedral’srosewindowhadbeenamasterpieceofstainedglassteelfiftyfeetwide.Ithadbeenamosaicofredandvioletandgold,hundredsoflens-shapedpanesformingthegreatcircle.Vendruhnhadknownitasaworkofsublimeart,asymbolicexpressionof theGod-Emperor’seternalvigilance.Nowitwasauniformdullpurple,a sombre,blinkingcancerinthegloom.Thelightseemedflat,yetwhenVendruhnlookedattheeye,itwashardtotearhergazeaway.Itradiatedamesmerisinghunger.Ittwitched from side to side, seeking fulfilment itwouldnever find.And so thecathedral’shungerfeditsrage.Danek made a hard right, narrowly missing a wall that suddenly toppledforwards. The engine strained. The tracks spun in gravel, then caught and theChimera lurchedahead.Thevehiclesbehindtore throughthefallingrockcrete.Onewasburied.Moresoldiersdied.OthersrancrouchedontherightsideoftheChimerasandfoundsomeshelterasdebrisbouncedofftheroofs.Somewhereinthedark,clustersofhereticsshriekedtheircrimsonjoy,drawinglas-fire.Ahead,thepathopenedup.Nearthebaseofthehill,thecathedralhadlevelledentireblocksaroundit.Thecolumnangledintowardsthenorthsideathirdofthewaydownfromtheheadofthebeast.Itrearedupagain.Vendruhnthoughtthe eye was focused on a point on the ground below. She glanced in thatdirection.Shesawablurofmovementandaflashofbluelightthatwasblessedinitspurity.TheGreyKnightswerethere.ThecathedraldroppeddownwithaboomthatalmostknockedVendruhnfromtheroofhatch.Ithowleditspolyphonichunger.Thenitstartedtoriseagain.Itliftedthesouthtowerbackinpreparationforablow.‘Fireonthewindows!’Vendruhnordered.The arched targets no longer resembled stained glassteel. They were scales,faintly iridescent in the reflected light of explosions.Vendruhn had no idea iftheywereweakspots,buttheywerepointstoaimat,ameanstokeepthetroops’mindsonapurpose.Lascannons,heavybolters, lasgunsandrocketstorethroughthedarkandinto

thecathedral’sstonehide.Arippleofoverlappingblastscutacrossthewall.Thenotesofthecathedral’ssongchanged.‘Wehurtyou!’Vendruhnshouted,determinedtobelieveit.‘Wehurtyou!’But the south towercamedownwithoutdeflection. It struck thegroundwithmeteoricforce.Andthenorthtower…The north tower swung out over themilitia.Vendruhn saw itmove, saw thesuddenintention.Shehadplentyoftimetorealisewhatwascoming.Buttherewasnotimetoescapetheirdoom.Thetowerwastoobig.Therewastoomuchdistancetocover.Thecolumnwascaughtinthelimb’simmenseshadow.Thetowerseemedtopausebeforeitsdescent.Perhapsthatwasanillusion.Thescaleofmovementwassogreat,itdestroyedperspective.‘Move down its flanks!’Vendruhn screamed into the vox. ‘Stick close to itswall!’Danekhadalreadystartedtherun.Theracewasdesperate,thechancetiny.Butmaybe,Vendruhn thought,maybe theycouldget tooclose for thecathedral toreachthemwithitsmountainousarms.The shadow, huge and deeper than night, grew larger. A wind blew straightdown.Vendruhn’shairstirredinthebreathofdisaster.Intheend,DanekbroughttheChimeratotheveryedgeoftheshadow.Inthelast,long-but-too-shortsecond,Vendruhnhadarushofhope.Thentheskyfell.It smashed the ground. It smashed theworld.The rockcrete surface exploded.Vendruhn flew through a hurricane of stone and metal. Reality fell apart,shatteredbyendless thunder.Vendruhn tumbledendlessly,wasbatteredby thestonesofherfailure,andthenfell intodark, intodarker, intodarkest,andthenintonothing.

Youcanstopthis! theswordyelled.Withmeyoucanstopthis!Withmeyouwilltriumph!Withmeyouwillrule!Antwyr’s shriekscut intoCrowe’smind.Theywere louder than the stormofthecathedral’smarch.TheyweretheBlade’smostfearsomeassaultyet.Crowehadtowillhiswaypastthehowlseverysecondjusttoseetheworldandnotbeswallowedbythepsychicgale.ThePurifierswereonthedefensive.Thecathedralhadsmashedatowerdownat them in the first seconds of its life. They saw what it intended in time toevade.Theconcussionwasstunning,andasthesouthtowerroseagain,thenorthonecamedown,lengthwise.ThePurifierswerealreadymovingtothesouthand

west,andthesecondblowmissedthembyseconds.Theyhadbeendodgingtheblowseversince.Thecathedralwassingle-mindedinitshuge,steady,brutalrage.Itsattackswereavolcanicdrumbeatallthewaydown the hill. The squads raced along the avenues, turning left and right atrandom.Thecityfellaboutthem.Theycouldnotregaintheinitiative.BerinonflewthePurgation’sSwordaroundthefrontofthecolossus,firingatthetowersand the eye. The cathedral ignored the Stormraven, though several times italmost smashed the gunship by chance with a descending tower. Shellscontinuedtofall,puttingtheStormravenatmorerisk,forcingBerinonintoriskyevasivemanoeuvres.Thecathedralroaredattheartillerystrikes.Ashellhitjustahead of the Purifiers. It engulfed them in flame, but they leaned into thedestructionandkeptgoing.Andallthetimetheswordraged,itspsychicattackasstabbingandacuteasthecathedral’sflailingwasblunt.‘Itwilldestroythecitytoreachus,’Sendraxvoxedastheyreachedthebottomofthehill.‘Wemustbeathreat,’saidCrowe.‘How?’‘We’llknowwhenwedestroyit.’Andwewill,hethought.Ifthemonsterhuntsus,itfearsus.The hab block behind them fell. Ahead was an area devastated by earlierartillerybarrages.Thesquadswereintheopen.Thecathedralburstthroughtheruined façades, a giant predator shouldering aside fragile reeds. It lungedforwardswitha riseandfall.Theground jumpedfromthe impact tremor.Thesouthtowerlifted.TheinfernaleyelookeddownontheGreyKnights.Themonstertelegraphedtheangleofitsblowinthewayitraisedthearm.Thecathedral’smovements were unstoppable, but theywere vast and slow, like acapital shipmanoeuvring invoidwar.ThePurifiers could anticipate the strikeandmovefromitspath.Theyheadedtotheleft,furthersouth,towardstheedgeoftheopenspace.You.Will.Stop!TheBlackBlade’spsychicroarofcommandblastedthroughCrowe’sthoughtsasiftheBellofLostSoulshadrungabovehishead.Hedidnotfalter.Heheardgruntsofeffortonthevox.Theswordwasattackinghisbrotherswiththesamepoison.AndGavallanstaggered.Heslowed.Croweturned,andsawthatGavallanhesitatedinhisnextstep.

Tooslow.Tooslow.Gavallanstaggeredasecondtime.Hisarmssagged.Hefell toaknee.Onthevox, his breath hissed with fatigue and pain. He had fought the sword for acenturyandmore.Theirwarhadbeenwithoutsurcease.AllAntwyrneededwasasinglemistake,amomentwheretheendlessemotionofpsychicwavesagainsttherockoffaithatlastproducedacrack.Onecrack.Onemistake.Onemomentwhereexhaustionreigned.Thecastellanfellforwards.Crowe ran the few steps back to Gavallan. ‘Keep going!’ he shouted to theothers.Thedistancewaslessthantenfeet.HeandGavallanhadlostalloftwoseconds.Butthetowerwascomingdown.CrowegraspedGavallan’sarm.Hepulled thecastellanup.HegaveGavallanhisshoulder.Thetwoofthemmovedforwardsagain.Tooslow.Tooslow.Crowelookedup,alreadyknowingwhathewouldsee.Thetowerwascoming,amountainofnightplummetingtowardshimandGavallan.Therewasnotime.Therewasnochance.Raggedfoundations,thestoneclawsofmadness,screameddown.Thewindofdescenthowled.Itwasthesoundofignobledefeat.Crowerefusedit.Therewasnotimetoescapetheblow.CrowesupportedGavallan,holdingthecastellantall in thisultimatemoment.Heraisedhissword,pointingitssearingpurityatthecomingdarkness.Croweroaredbackattheterminalwindandthecrushingnightwithallthewrathoffaith.Hewouldnotsurrender.Hewouldnotaccept the blow. The daemon-transformed Cathedral ofMartyrdom EmbracedbelievedithadhimandGavallan.Letitlearntoitscostthatitwaswrong.ItwasputtingitselfwithinCrowe’srange.Itwasnotdestroyinghim.Hewastheoneattacking.Andsoheroared.Hegavevoicetohisrage.Hegavelighttohisfaith.Inthemomentbeforethetowerhit,theblueflameburstfromtheswordandhisarms,hissoulunleashingaholocaust.Thefireblastedupwards,spreadingwider.Lightagainstdark,fireagainststone,theholyagainstthecorrupted.Thetowerhit.The mass of a world fell on Crowe. The impact cratered the ground, itsconcussionturningstonetodust.Crowefelttheblow,buthisattacktoreintoit.The cathedral’s formwasmore than just stone.Fire andNemesis blade foundtransformedhide,andholywrathstruck the truthof themonster. Itcut into its

daemonicessence.Fleshpartedandburnedasfastasitcamedown.AfloodofichorenvelopedCroweandGavallan.TheweightboredownonCrowe.Theshockofthesuddenforcehammeredhisbody,andhisphysicalexistenceflickeredattheedgeofannihilation.Thenthemasspulledaway.Thetowerroseagain.Ichorcontinuedtofallinacataractfromthecentreofthetower.Fromthewound.Thecathedral’slegionofthroatscriedoutinpainandanger.Wecankillit,Crowethought.Crowe and Gavallan were still standing. Gavallan’s breathing was laboured.Butasthetowerretreated,hestraightened,findinghisstrengthagain.Alakeofdaemonicbloodsurroundedthem,poolingaroundsmashedrubble.Tothenorth,theothertowerhadstruckadifferenttarget.Thegloomwaslitbytheexplosionsofvehicles.Sporadiclas-firestreakedinfutilityatthebeast.Themilitia, or what was left of it, was out there. Vendruhn and her troops haddistractedthecathedral.Forthefirsttime,ithadattackedsomethingotherthanthe Grey Knights. It might have destroyed the militia, but their sacrifice hadbrokentherhythmofitsattacks.ItgavethePurifiersthesecondstheyneeded.Youhavedoomedyourself,Crowethought.Therewastimenowtoact.Gavallan said nothing. Antwyr was shrieking in anger. Crowe did not thinkGavallan had the strength to give commands.Crowe shoved the curses of thesword to the back of hismind.He ran at the cathedral, heading for the southflank.‘Itbleeds,brothers,’hecalledonthevox.‘Letuspresstheattack!’Sendraxwasalreadyleadingtheothersbacktojoinhim.Thecathedralissuedaboominghowloffrustration.Itslammedthesouthtowerdown again. It was too late. The Purifiers hadmoved past the façade, out ofrange of the violet eye. They reached the flank. Crowe leapt at one of thebuttress legs. He slashed its stone flesh with his sword as the limb left theground.Rockyhideparted.Crowegrabbedtheedgeofthewound.Thelegrose,takinghimupwith it.Heused themomentum to propel himself upwards andslash again.He seized the newwound and pulled himself higher.Below him,Gavallanclimbedtoo.‘Welldone,KnightoftheFlame,’thecastellanrasped.‘Youhavethemeasureofourfoe.’Not yet, Crowe thought. But the momentum of the battle had changed. Thecathedralwasonthedefensive,evenifitdidnotyetknowthiswasso.SendraxfollowedCrowe’sexampleandslashedintothenextlegdown.Itwasa

column,muchthinner,butstilllargeenoughfortheKnightoftheFlameandhissquad to climb.The Purifiersmoved up the flank of themonster. They timedtheirmovementstotheriseandfallofthelimbs,usingtheheavingofthebeast’slungesagainstit.Theirascentwasrapid.Ichorpouredfromthewounds,soakingthe limbs in fluid darkness.Crowe passed scales that had beenwindows.Thecathedral’smawschangedtheirchorustohootsofalarmasCrowereachedtheslopingroof.Themonsterknewsomethingwasawry.Itfelt thelashofblades,butitcouldnotreachthetinyenemies.Thecathedral flailed its towers in frustration. It bellowedand shriekedat thesame time. It plunged forwards.As theGreyKnights gathered on the roof, itcrossed the dead Rybas. Furious, it began to smash at the western sector’sbuildings. AnAdministratum complex exploded under its blows, lesser spirescollapsinginrockcretesplinters.Crowemovedtowardsthewestendofthecathedral.Hetimedhisstepsasbesthecouldwiththeheavingmovementsofthebeast’smarch.Windscreamedovertheroof.‘Whatdoyouintend?’Sendraxasked.‘Theeye,’saidCrowe.‘It’sasclosetoavitalpointasIcansee.Iwouldpierceit, and burn what lies beyond.’ He paused and looked at Gavallan. All thePurifiersdid.Theywaitedforthebrotherhoodchampiontospeak.Tolead.‘Agreed,’Gavallansaid.The wait before he spoke was brief. It would have been unnoticeable in amortal,butinaherolikeGavallan,itfelteternal.Hisfatiguefilledthemomentofthathesitation.EverythingtheswordhadtakenfromhimwascleartoCrowe,andhegrieved.Hewonderedwhattheothersthought.Thenhesawwarytensionintheirstances.Theywerefightingtheswordtoo.Theywouldhavelittleenergylefttonoticethefadingstrengthofthecastellan.‘Makefortheeye,’Gavallansaid.Heranforwards,hisstridegainingcertaintyafterafewsteps.Crowefollowedjustbehind,determinedtoletGavallanregainhispride.The Grey Knights moved along the spine of the roof. It tilted to the near-verticalasthemonsterlurchedonwards.Witheachrise,Croweslashedthehidewithhisbladeandheldtheridgeofthewoundtokeepfromslidingofftheroof.Thesmoke-filledskyabovewas tornby theblazingorangestreaksofartilleryshells.Threehitthecathedralinquicksuccession,oneagainstthesouthtower,theothertwolandingontheroof.ThenearestwasontheslopetoCrowe’sleft,lessthantenyardsfromhisposition.Hesawthefountainofichorjetupwardsin

thewakeoftheblast.Thewoundbubbledandfrothed.Thestonehidearoundittwitched.The injurywas superficial, though.Thecathedral ignored it, and theholebegantoscaboverwithrock.Crowepointedatthedamageashepoundedalongthespine.‘Anywoundinthehideismeaningless.Weneedtostrikedeeper.’‘Assumingtheeyeisvulnerable,’saidDrake.‘Itisaneye,soitwillbevulnerable,’Crowesaid.Helookedatthemovementsof the warp over the cathedral. All was vortices and turbulence. Their chaosgrewstrongertheclosertothefronttheGreyKnightscame.Atthefaredgeoftheroof,betweenthe towers, thewarpbecameafuriousstorm.Thedensityofthemaelstromwastremendous.Hewasheadingforthenexusoftheenergythatpoweredthisunholycreation.‘Berinonhasbeenfiringattheeyetonoeffect,’Sendraxpointedout.‘I know,’ said Crowe. ‘Our attack must be a spiritual one.’ He raised hisNemesisbladeinagestureofpromisedvictory.‘Wehavehurtitonce.Wehaveitsmeasure.Weknewitfearedus.Nowweknowwhy.’Gavallan said nothing.He forged on in grim silence.Thoughhe set a strongpace,Crowesensedhisfadingenergy.HefelttheassaultsofAntwyrinhisownmindasapsychicartillerybarrage,foreverinthebackground,butwiththeever-presentchanceofasuddendirecthit.Gavallanwascaught in thecentreof theblasts.Hehadreachedthepointwheremerelyadvancingwasamiracleofheroicstrength.Theyreachedtheedgeoftheroof.Gavallanstoodtall,hisbannersnappingintheburningwindofthenight.Hewasasindomitableasthefigureheadofaship,andequallyunbending.Hestoodandwaited,consumedbyhisstruggle,anddidnomore.Croweunderstoodtherolethathadfallentohim.Hemustbetheonetofindthepathofattack.HisthoughtswerecapableofdoingmorethanresistingAntwyr’sattack.Noteyourdestiny,Crowethought.Prepareforwhatmightcome,andfightittotheend.Helookeddownthebuckingfaçade.Therewerethirtyfeetofstonebeforethetop of the eye.The orbwas recessed.Therewas no angle of attack from thisposition.‘Wemustgetcloser,’Crowesaid.Thewarpturbulencewasatitsmostintensedirectlybefore theeye.Thewarpand themateriumwere in flux there,blending into each other as they fought. The impossible condition of thecathedral’slifeemergedfromnightmareandintorealityfromonemomenttothenext,anendlessrenewalofhorror.

Sendrax crouched besideCrowe.They held tight to gargoyles perched at theedgeoftheroof.‘Weclimbagain,then,’hesaid.Hesoundedangryatthepooroption. The rearing of the cathedral was much more violent here. The beastmightbeabletoshakeitstormentorsfree.‘No,’Crowesaid.‘Watch.’Hepointeddownwhenthecathedralroseagain.Asithittheapexofitslunge,thefaçadeofthemonsterwasraisedtothesky.Theslopedowntotheeyewasnomorethanthirtydegrees.Therewasapauseofafewsecondsbeforethecathedraldroppedforwardsanditsfacebecameverticalagain.‘Youwantustoslidedown,’Sendraxsaidwithadmiringdisbelief.‘When the face is raised,’Crowe said, ‘wemight be able to get down to therecessintime.’‘Madness,’saidSendrax.‘Ourwayforwards.’Sendrax grunted with bitter amusement. He looked up at Gavallan.‘Castellan…’hebegan.‘Weleapatthenextchance,’Gavallancuthimoff.Thedistortionsofhishelmetgrilledidnothidetheclenchedpaininhisvoice.‘Sobeit,’saidSendrax,andhesoundedalmosteager.HehadpointedouttherecklessnessofCrowe’sidea,andnowheembracedit.Itwasanactofrebellionagainstthestricturesthefatesthoughttheycouldimpose.Hewaseagertospitethem.Thecathedralfellagain.ThepathofdestructionthroughthewesternsectorofEgetagrewwiderandlonger.Inthedistance,atopthecity’sotherhill,thewallsof the Governor’s palace flashed with cannon fire. The palace’s spire was acrystalbeacon.Itwasgrowingeasiertosee.Itwasthemarkerofthecity’sfall,Crowe thought. Perhaps Egeta was already lost. He was fighting against adaemonicforce,notforthesurvivalofthedoomed.Evenso,thedestructionofthattowerwouldbeadefeatofakind.Hewouldbringthismonsterdownbeforeitclimbedthehill.Itwastimethedaemonicmarchcametoanend.Thecathedralrose.TheGreyKnightsleaptfromtheedgeoftheroof.Crowewasfirst.Hejumpedthemomentbeforethemonster’slungebegan.HejabbedhisNemesisbladeintothebeast’shide.Themuscleofstoneparted.Hepulled a longwoundopen in the cathedral’s face, the frictionof severed fleshslowinghisfall.Themonsterrearedagain.Theslopeofthefaçadedecreasedandthecathedral’s

face turned upwards. Crowe was sliding now, bouncing against the uneven,transformed masonry. Then the stone ended, and he was plummeting downacross theeye.Thesurfacewasafoulparadox.Itwashotandcoldatonce.Itwasa soft jelly,yet it rejected thepointofhis sword likeadamantium. Itwassolid,yetCrowefeltalegionofgraspingstormsclutchathisarmour.Thebeastdroppeddownagain,completingitslungeforwards.Theangleofthefaçadesteepenedoncemore.Crowefellfaster.Withoutthedragofhissword,hequicklyreacheddangerousspeeds.Ifhehittheledgewithtoomuchmomentum,hemightbounceoffitandfallahundredfeettotheflamingruinsbelow.Theledgerushedup.Crowestabbeddownwithhisblade.Hisbootsstrucktheledgewithaviolentjarandhejerkedforwards.Hebegantofallagain.Thebladewentdeepintothehide.Ityankedhimtoahalt.Thefleshbegantopart,buthegrabbedtheledgewithhisotherhandandhauledhimselfup.Hisbattle-brothersused their blades to arrest their descents too. Crowe reached out to grabGavallan.Hepulledhishandbackwhenhesawthecastellanhadafirmgripontherecess.HewouldnothumiliateGavallanbypresumingweakness.Gavallandrewhimselfup.HestoodinthecentreofthePurifiersastheystoodatthebottomoftheeye.Heseemedtogrowinstaturebeforethedaemonicgaze.Antwyrsnarledandprophesieddefeat,butthestrengthoftheGreyKnightswasgreaterthanthepsychicwoundsitcouldinflict.Asone,theyraisedtheirbladesandaimed theirstormboltersat thecentreof theeye.Gavallanspoke,andhisthunderingvoiceroseinitsrighteousnessabovethedinofwar.‘You bear the stolen form of sanctuary!’ Gavallan shouted. There was noweakness in him now. He was the brotherhood champion, the greatest of thePurifiers, and he fought with the force of perfect sanctity. ‘You have defiledsacredground!Forthis,youhavecalledthegreatandholywrathoftheEmperoruponyourbeing.Wearethewrath.Wearethehand.Wearetheblade.Begonefrom His sight, wretched and unclean thing. Fall before the judgement ofpurification!’Asone,thePurifierspassedsentence.Theyfiredtheirstormboltersatthesamemomenttheyunleashedthescouringflame of purity. Shells and psychic fire became a single collective blast,magnifiedbyunityintoapowernotaintedbeingcouldwithstand.Blessedshellspunchedinto thesurfaceof theeye.Theflamefollowed,anditannihilatedthematter of corruption. The eye burst and burned.A hundredmouths screamed.Thedaemonicsongofthecathedralceased,becomingahowlofoutragedpain,thenmaddened pain and finally the pain of a dying animal. The howl spread

acrossEgeta,echoedbydaemonsandhereticsasthecataclysmoflossfelluponthem.The eye burned and burned, consumed by the holy inferno. Itsmatter pulledbackintotherecessitinhabited.TheGreyKnightskeptuptheirbolterfire,andthecleansingflamestillpouredfromtheirhands.Thepurgestruckdeeperanddeeper into thecathedral.Thedrainwasenormous.Crowefelthowephemeralhis life was, how thin his existence in the currents of the vast forces of thecosmos.But hewas also the conduit of great power, and hewielded it in thenameof theFather ofMankind.Hewould give himself to incineration if thatwaswhatwasaskedofhim.Hewasthewillingsacrifice.Hissubmissiontodutygavehimpower.Freeofdoubtandtemptation,hewasthe perfect vessel. Where he sensed his brothers’ psychic strength nearingexhaustion,hegaveofhimself.Thewallofflamedidnotfalter.Burningandburningandburning.Thecathedralrearedup.Thetowersreachedfor thesky,mindlesslypleading.Therewasnoanswerfromitsdarkgod.Perhapsthedaemoniccreaturehadbeenabandoned.Perhaps itwas not heard.Perhaps its god coulddonothing for itscreature.The fireburned,and then itendedallatonce.The lightwentout.Where theeye had been, therewas a deep, circular abyss. Smoke poured from the blindvoid.Themawsfellsilent.Thecathedralfrozeattheextremityofitslunge.Itsanimatingforcevanished.Hidebecamesimplestoneoncemore,stoneheldinapositionitcouldnotphysicallysustain.ThecrackingrumbleofarockslidewarnedtheGreyKnightswhatwascoming.‘Theabominationfalls!’Crowecalledinwarningandtriumph.‘Anduswithit!’Sendraxanswered,eagertorideoutthemonster’sdeath.The cathedral slumped forwards.The centre of the roof snapped in half.Thetowers, outstretched, collapsed like a petrified sky on the streets of Egeta.Buttresses crumbled as the front half of the cathedral slammed down. Theimpact broke the bones of its supports. The vacant ruin of the rose windowjerked downwards, stopped, then began its last fall as the façade broke apartfromthebaseupwards.Crowesawastrangegracein thefirstsecondsof thecollapse.HerejoicedtowitnessthetriumphofthePurifiers.Thenhewasfallingthroughadyingmountain.Heknewthefallwouldnotkillhim.Therewastoomuchdutyleftunfinished.

Vendruhnwoketotherumbleofthecathedral’sdestruction.Shedraggedherselfupright against the overturned, crushed wreckage of her Chimera. She wipedblood from her eyes and looked to the west. She saw the monster fall fromsupplication to ruin.Dropping shells lit the skyas they smashed into its stonecorpse.‘General?’She turned her head. Themovement sent shooting pains down her neck andspine from thebaseofher skull.Herbody felt likeamassof contusions.Shecould move, though. She was bleeding from a gash in her forehead, andsomethingwasstabbingintoherleftside,butshethoughtshecouldwalk.SergeantBarratz ranup toher. ‘General,’he repeated, ‘wecouldn’t findyou.Wefeared…’‘I’mallright,sergeant,’shesaid.Herearswereringing.Shecouldbarelyhearherself. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. Too long, if thecathedralhadmadeitacrosstheriver.Shedidn’task.Insteadshesaid,‘Howdowestand?’‘Welosthalfthearmour,’Barratztoldher.‘Andatleastathirdoftheinfantry.’Bad,shethought.Wearestillinthefight,though.Shetookinhersurroundingsmoreclearly.Beingthrownclearofthehatchhadsavedherlife.Hercrewhadnotbeenasfortunate.Shegrimaced,acknowledgingtheir loss to herself, then moved on. There was no time for the luxury ofmourning.Aroundlowrubbleheaps,soldierswerefiringintothedarkness.TheremainingChimerasweremanoeuvringintoformationinthemostopenarea.‘Enemymovement?’VendruhnaskedBarratz.‘Some.Notagreatdeal.Still lesssincethe…’Hetrailedoffasheglancedinthedirectionofthecathedral.‘Sinceitbegantowalk.Evenlessnow.’Vendruhndistrustedthegoodnews.Thehereticsanddaemonshadvanishedinlarge numbers shortly before the cathedral had risen. Therewas a connection.Thatmuchwasobvious.Butwherehadtheygone?‘Dowehaveaworkingvox?’sheasked.‘Yes,general.’‘Anywordfromthepalace’‘Theyarenotunderattackyet.Themainthreatisnowdown.’‘Sothey’resoundingoptimistic.’‘Theyare.’ShepointedtothenearestChimera.‘Thatisthenewcommandvehicle.Iwantavox-officerandtheunitinit.Wemakefortheparvis.’

‘General?’‘Iwanttoseewheretheenemyhasgone.’Sheneededmoreinformationbeforedecidinghernextmove.Thecathedralhadfallen,sotheGreyKnightshadthatsectoroftheconflictinhand.Ifthesituationatthepalacewascalm,therewasperhapsachancetolearnhowbesttopresstheadvantage.Andwheredidtheyallgo?The journey up the hill was direct, following the straight-line path of themonster’smarchofdevastation.Themilitia’sprogresswasslowedbycollapsedbuildings,manystillburning.Attackswereminimal.Theredidnotappeartobeanydaemonsleftinthedestroyedeasternsector.Therewereonlyheretics,andjustscatteredgroupsofthose.Wherearethey?The column, bleeding, badly wounded but still proud, reached the parvis.Vendruhncalledahaltat theedgeof thefoundations.Sheclimbeddownfromthevehicleandapproachedthehugecrater.In the days that followed, shewould reflectwith a stab of pain that she hadalreadyknownwhatshewasgoingtosee.Thepitwasdeep.Theremnantsofthecathedral’ssupportcolumnsstoodinitlike broken teeth. Staircases spiralled in from nowhere, descending to rubble-strewnhalls.Thousandsofburnedbodieslayintheruins.Theyweremutilatedin ways that went beyond being crushed. There were hints of patterns in thedispositions of the corpses. The arrangements hurt Vendruhn’s mind, and sheinstinctivelyavertedhergazebeforethemeaningsbecameclear.‘Get back,’ she ordered the militia. ‘No one approaches this pit without myauthorisation.’Being careful not to let the patterns seize her attention, she looked along thewallsofthepit.Shewishedshedidnotknowwhatshewaslookingfor.Butoldmemoriesofevenolderrumourshadsurfaced.Shehadnochoicebuttolistentothem.Shewalkedalongtheedge.Atthewesternendofthepit,shefoundwhatshehadfeared.Tunnelsranfromwhathadbeenthecrypt,tojudgefromthesmashedsarcophagi.Theyheadedwest,underground.The stories, forgotten since childhood, were true. There was a subterraneanpath,unusedformanycenturies,linkingthecathedraltothepalace.TheringinginVendruhn’searsgrewworse.Shefeltasuddenpressureasifshewere becoming deaf. Then she realised she was responding to silence. Theartillerygunsatthepalacehadgonequiet.

SheranbacktotheChimera,shoutingforthevox.Itwastoolate.Thepalace,too,hadfallensilent.

Thecathedralfell.Ottohadwatcheditsapproach,feltthebeatofeveryponderouslurchasablowtohisheart,tohishope,tohisfaith.Hecouldnotunderstandhowsuchathingcould be. Its existence contradicted all the teachings he knew of the Imperialcreed.Ifthisshouldbe,whatwastrue?Thecathedralhadcrossedtheriver.Ithadclosedinonthepalace’shill.Ithadignoredtheartillery.Hisordershadresultedinthedestructionofhiscitytonopurpose.Andthentheblueflamehadcome.Highinthefaçadeofthecathedral,purityhad flared into life.Andwhen the light faded, themonster fell.The cathedralcollapsed,losingallrecognisableform.Itendedasahugemassofrubble.Itlostallterrifyingmeaning.TheImperialcreeddeclaredthatthisobscenitycouldnotbe, and so the lightning of truth brought it low. The Emperor forbade theexistenceofthemonster,andthemonsterdied.Otto’sfaithreasserteditself.Hefoughtbacktearsofgratitude.Hedidnothavethetimetoindulgeintheluxuryofweeping.Hehadawartoconduct.Waclavsaid,‘Whatareyourordersfortheguns,LordGovernor?’Therewas no point in bombarding the corpse. ‘What reports dowe have ofotherenemyactivity?’Ottoasked.‘AfewisolatedincidentsonthissideoftheRybas.Webelievemorehavebeenseenon theeast side,but contactwithGeneralGlas’ forceshasbeendifficult.Theyhavesufferedheavylosses.’‘Is…’Healmostsaidmydaughter.Hecaughthimself,andrespectedherofficeandhis.‘IsGeneralGlasstillliving?’‘Wehavenodefiniteword.’Ottonodded.‘Assoonasyoudo,Iwanttoknow.’‘Understood.’‘Asfortheguns…’Hethoughtforamoment.‘Resumeinterdictionfireaimedattheeastembankment.Wewillstymieanyattemptsbytheenemytomakethecrossing.’Itwas thesametactic thathadrunitscoursebefore,buthechosetobelievethefoehadbeensufficientlyweakenedtomakeiteffectiveoncemore.‘Asyouwill,’Waclav said.Hisusual calmwas returning tohim.He seemedonce again like aman sure of his ability to discharge his responsibilities andprotecthisLordGovernor.

Thebackgroundboomingofthegunsstopped.Ottofrowned.‘Igavenoorder…’hebegan.Thenheheardgunfireandscreamscomingdownthecorridorsoutsidethethroneroomdoors.Thesoundsofbattle,andunholysongs.And therewasavoiceheknew. ItwasRannoch’s.Only itwas too loud,andstrangelymultiplied,asthoughachoirofRannochsapproached.‘Otto!’theRannochvoicecalledandmocked.‘Otto!Otto,Otto,Otto!Wehavebusinesstogether!Wearecalledupontodance!Willyoujoinme?Willyounot?Willyou,won’tyou,willyou,won’tyou,willyou,willyou,willyousee?’Asthe voice drew nearer, it became less and less human. It was something thatsoundedlikeRannochonlyforitsownamusement.Waclav paled. He turnedwith his squad to face the doors. They raised theirlasrifles.Ottopulledhislaspistolfromitsholster.Hehadnotpulledthetriggerinhalfacentury.Hedreadedthefutilityofdoingsonow.Thedoorscrashedopen.Abominationsburstintothethroneroom.Beastswithhorns and hooves smashed aside the tacticarium tables. They impaled Otto’shonourguardwithscorpion tails.Lithehorrors that suggested the female formdistortedbytalonsandpincersstalkedforwardsoneithersideofthethingthatlaughed with Rannoch’s voice. They pounced on more of the guards. Thedaemonsset towork,andOttoshudderedat thescreamsofbloodand joy thatcame from the troops.Waclavmoaned as a daemon lashed him to the groundwithawhip.Theairwasfilledwithanoverpoweringscent.Ottofelthiskneesweakenwithterrifieddesire.TheRannoch-thingwas theworst of all. Itwas the tallest of thedaemons. Itbentdowntopassthroughthedoorway,andwhenitstraightened,itsteppedoveritsminionsasiftheywerebeneathnotice.Itwasthin,thoughitsmisshapenbodyrippledwithcordedmuscle.Ithadfourarms.Twoendedinclawedhands.Thethird, on the left,was a hugepincer.The fourthwas a bone spur as long as aspear,andedgedlikeasabre.Therighthandkeptopeningandclosing,graspingat air as if possessed by hunger. The torso of the daemon had mouths. Theysnappedtheirteethandlaughed,andalltheirvoiceswereRannoch’s.Themouthover thebelly, in thecurveof its lipsand the lopsidedsuperiorityof its smile,horrified Otto with its familiarity. That mouth, he was sure, truly was thecardinal’s.Thedaemon’shead,atopitselongatedneck,wasnarrow,andeveninitsmonstrositypossessedanelegantsilhouettethatsuggestedartistryandpain.Aserpentinetonguelickedout,tastingtheairwithdelight.Wherethedaemonwalked,desirefollowedandgatheredarounditslimbsina

mist.The daemonwore themask. Otto could not tell if the jewelled relic was anornamentornowpartofthedaemon’sflesh.Thesublimeartefactstillcalledhiseye,luredhissensesandbrokehimwithnauseatedawe.‘Otto,’ said the daemon in the sonorous, sensuous, musical, Rannoch-not-Rannochvoice.‘Otto!Otto!Otto!’ themouthsechoed indifferent timbres,butwith the sameintonation,andonevoice–thevoicewhichissuedfromthemouththatlookedsofamiliar–trulywasRannoch’s,hiswordsquiveringinthefusionofpleasureandpain.‘Lookuponthewonderscometoyourworld,’saidthedaemon,spreadingitsarms.‘Wonders!Wonders!Wonders!’criedthemouths.‘Rannoch…’Ottowhispered.Before the enormity of the cardinal’s crime, hecoulddonomorethanpleadtoamanwhonolongerexisted.Somethingclunkedonthefloorbesidehim.Hishand,coldyetpricklingwithanticipatedsensation,haddroppedhispistol.‘Yourcardinalwasausefulfool,’thedaemonsaid.(‘Fool!Fool!Fool!’)‘Buthehasservedhispurpose.Sohashisname.’(‘Name!Name!Name!’)‘Hereisanewname.Oneyoushallworship.’And all the mouths cried, ‘Mnay’salath! Mnay’salath! Mnay’salath!’ Theyshriekedthenameinaperfectionofagony.‘And you,’ said Mnay’salath. (‘Otto! Otto! Otto!’) ‘You have a purpose tofulfil.’ It strode towardsOttoandpickedhimupwith its lefthand.Thepincersnappedandclickedbesidehisear.Mnay’salathlookedatitsrighthand,whichopenedandclosed,openedandclosed.‘Iamlacking,’ithissed.(‘Seize!Seize!Seize!’)ItcarriedOttotothewindow.Itheldhimuptolookattheworksoftheburningcityandtheillusionofhope.‘Myprizeisoutthere,’Mnay’salathsaid.Itsvoicedroppedlower,turningintoaninsinuatingwhisper.‘Youwillhelpmeclaimit,won’tyou?’Ottovowedtohimselfhewouldnot.HewoulddiebeforehebetrayedEgeta.Atthe same time,he sensed therewasnothinghecoulddeny thishorror.Aclawscraped against the back of his neck, drawing blood, drawing shivers, thepiercing jab suggestive of obscene secrets. The daemon knew Otto. It knewthingsabouthimhecouldnotimaginebeingtrue.Iwilldefyyou,Ottothought.Hiswillseemedsobrittleandtiny.Iwilldefyyou.Mnay’salathlaughed,anditsmouthslaughed,asifitheardhispatheticdefiance

andwaspleased.ItliftedOttoevenhigher.Itspincersmashedtheglassteelwithasingleblow.Thewindblewinsidethetower,mixingsmokeandashwiththedaemonicmusk.Mnay’salathstretchedout itsarms to thecity. ItdangledOttooverthehugedroptotheroofofthekeep.Mnay’salath shouted. Otto screamed at the sound, but he could not hearhimself. The daemon’s voice was everything, a roar that reached across theentirecity.Itwastheblastof immense,all-powerfuldesire.Itwasacommandgivenpowerbyfinalhunger.‘Bringmethesword!’‘Antwyr!Antwyr!Antwyr!’shriekedthemouthsinhystericalneed.‘Bringmethesword!’

CHAPTEREIGHTCHAMPION

CrowekickedawaythelastoftherubbleblockinghispathjustasthedaemonicshoutresoundedacrossEgeta.‘Bringmethesword!’Heclamberedout of thewreckageof the cathedral.Drake andGorvenal hadfoundtheirwayoutfirst.Theymovedtoassisthim.Croweshookhishead.Hewasdrainedfromtheenergyhehadusedtokillthebeast.Hefeltthateffectfarmore than the physical damage he had sustained in the fall, and from thebatteringmetedoutbythemassiveblocksofbrokenstonework.Hedidnotneedhelp,though.HewaslesssureaboutGavallan.Thecastellanhadlandednearhiminthecollapse.Crowehadledthewayout,clearingthepath.Theyhadspokenlittle.NowCroweturnedbacktothecrudetunnelhehadcreated.GavallanemergedjustasSendraxcrawledfromtherubbleafewyardsaway.‘Bringmethesword!’Therewasamusicalquality to the shout, as if itwere theblastofanunholyfanfare.Antwyrrespondedwitharenewedsavageryofcurses.Gavallantensed,butdidnotstaggerthistime.Hestraightenedandlookedinthedirectionofthepalace.As the rest of the Purifiers fought theirway clear of the ruins,Gavallan said,‘Brothers,ourwayforwardisclear.’‘TheBlackBladeisunhappywiththatchoice,’saidCrowe.

‘Good.’Gavallansoundedstrongerthanhehad.Crowewassurprised,butgrateful.‘What are your orders, brother castellan?’ Sendrax asked. ‘Are we going tohonourthedaemon’srequest?’‘We are,’ said Gavallan. ‘Its summons gives us a target.’ His helm turnedbrieflytothecathedral.‘Weknowwhatweseekisnotinthere.’‘Anaerialapproach?’Crowesuggested.‘Yes,’saidGavallan.Hepaused,lookingupatthespire.‘KnightoftheFlame,’hesaidtoCrowe,‘whatcanyousee?’‘Littlefromthisdistance,buttheflowoftheimmateriumgrowsmoreturbulentinthedirectionofthetower.’Gavallannodded,satisfied.The Grey Knights headed east from the cathedral ruins. The streets in theimmediate vicinity were too blocked by debris for Berinon to land thePurgation’sSword.Theyneededamoreopenareatoboard.Therewasmovementintheopeningsofthemanufactorumtheypassed.Itwasoneofthefewinthecity.Almostallofthesystem’sindustrialproductionwason Sandava III. The complex had become a refuge for civilians fleeing thedestructionoftheAdministratumbuildings.Theygatheredatthedoorwaysandwindows.TheylookedattheGreyKnightswithdesperation,andnolongerwithawe.Theirfaceswerepale,pinchedbythenight.‘Beready,’Crowevoxedthesquads.‘Bringmethesword!’Thepeopleattacked.Theyranintothestreetsfromthemanufactorumandthefacinghabblocks.Theywere amobwithout senseor thought.Theyonlyhadfear. They feared the daemonic shout, and they saw the sword on Gavallan’sback.Daysofwarandhorrorhadbrokenthem.Theyrantowardsdamnationasthoughitweretheirlastchanceforsalvation.‘Aretheymad?’saidCarac.‘Theyaremaddened,’Croweanswered.Heunderstoodthatonlyterrorbeyondtheir ability to process would push civilians to charge at Space Marines. Heunderstood,buthejudgedall thesame.Themortals’weaknessrobbedthemofanyclaimtomercy.Intheirfear,theyhadembracedheresy.ThePurifiersdidnotwasteammunitiononthemob.Crowewasloatheventosullyhisbladewiththebloodofsopatheticafoe.Thesquadswadedthroughthehowling crowd. Fists and makeshift clubs beat against their armour with noeffect.Themortalsweretryingtostopapowerthatwouldnotbeturned.Inthe

eyesoftheciviliansclosesttohim,Crowesawanewterrortakehold,sparkedbyaweastheyclosedin.Butthepowerofthedaemoniccommandpushedthemon and they clawed,weeping, at his flanks.Hebroke limbswith every stride.ThePurifiersmarchedovertheunfaithfulwhofellintheirpath.Crowetooknopleasure in thedeaths.He feltno regret, either.Therewere reasonswhy thesepeoplehadabandonedtheirfaith,buttherewerenoexcuses.TheBlackBladepulledthemobinlikeapsychiclodestone.Theheretics,mereanimalsnow,stillknewataleveldeeperthaninstinctthatthiswastheprizetheterribleandmusicalvoicedemanded.‘Bringmethesword!’Theheretics tried topush theirwaybetween theGreyKnights.They tried toisolateGavallan.Crowemarchedhalf a stepbehind thecastellan.He smashedthehereticsaside.Yourchanceisnow,Antwyrhissedathissoul.Iaminyourreach.Lookhoweasilyyoucangraspme.Willyouhavetheseverminclaimmeinyourstead?Embraceyourfate.Withme, thisplaguevanishes.Withme,allbarriersfall.Freeme.Itwillbesoeasy.Soeasy...Crowe ignored the sword.Aheretic ran in from the left and scrabbled at thebackofGavallan’spowerpack.Crowehurledthehereticaway,butashedid,thechainsholdingAntwyrrattled.Croweeyedthem.Theylookedassecureastheyalwayshad.TheBlackBladehadnotshifted.Soeasy,saidthesword.Soeasy.‘Brothercastellan,’hesaid.‘Iheardittoo,’saidGavallan.Afewhundredyardspastthemanufactorum,thestreetwidenedandwasclearof debris.Berinon landed theStormraven.Thedownwardblast of the enginesfilledthestreetwithagale’sfury,andthemobhowledindistress.Attheedgesof the crowd, and further up the street, thematerium cried out in a tearing offleshandsanity.Mortalformssplit,stretched,twisted.Daemonsrejoicedattheirviolentbirthintoreality.ThepeopleofEgetafledthemultiplyingabominations.They rushed theGreyKnightswith renewed desperation. They tried to climbintothePurgation’sSword.‘Do they think they can bring it down or that they can escape?’ Drakewondered.‘Idoubttheyknow,’saidCrowe.‘Whattheydoordonotknowisirrelevantnow,’Destriansaidflatly.Heturnedhis incinerator on the mob before the gunship. He performed the execution

withoutanger,andinthecoldlightofnecessity.Thehereticscollapsed,writhing,beneath the wash of flame. So would burn everything tainted by Ruin. ThePurifiers boarded the Stormraven through the side door. Crowe stood in theopening as Berinon lifted off. He watched the street devolve into a riot ofdaemonic transformation and slaughter. The Sword rose higher. Other streetswere burning. Chaos was spreading over the western sector of Egeta.EverywhereCrowe looked,he sawcavortingabominations.Thedestructionofthecathedralhaddonenothingtostoptheincursion.Thegreatdaemonicvoicehadtriggeredanewoffensive,ripplingoutfromthestreettheGreyKnightshadleftbehind.SendraxjoinedCrowe.‘Idislikeleavingthefoetodoasitpleases,’hesaid.‘The critical battle is not down there,’ said Crowe. Egeta might fall. All ofSandavaIImightfall.Victorydidnotlieinthesalvationofasinglecityorwork.Itlayinthedestructionoftheforcebehindtheincursion.Itmightbenecessarytodestroythediseasedbodytostoptheplague.‘Agreed,’Sendraxsaid.‘Still,ourhandisbeingforcedyetagain.’Crowenodded. ‘Maybeso,’hesaid.Hepointed to thepalace tower. ‘Butourenemy is there.’As they closed in on the spire, the density of thewarp flowsgrewclearer.Therampartsofthekeepwereburning.Therewasheavyfightingunderway there.But that toowasadistraction.The throne roomwas thekey.Stillpointing,Crowesaid,‘Thatiswherewewillendthefoe’sgame.’‘ThedaemoncallsfortheBlade,’Gavallansaidbehindthem.Crowe turned. The castellan stood in the centre of the troop compartment,defyingtheexhaustioninhisvoicewithhisproudstance.‘Verywell,’Gavallansaid.‘Wewillputthedaemontothesword.’

Thelaughterwaseverywhere.Itskitteredoutofthedark.Itwhippedaroundtheflamesofburningbuildings.ItfollowedtheremnantsoftheSandavaIIMilitiaasitmadeitsrunfromtheeasternsector.Itexplodedoverheadasthearmourandthe ragged infantry crossed theRybas riverbed. Itwaswaiting for them in thewestofthecity.‘Bringmethesword!’criedthevoiceofcommand,thechoirofasinglewill,andthelaughterfellfromitsechoes.VendruhnhadcommandeeredtheheavybolteronthenewChimera.Shefiredintotheblacknessthathaddescendeduponthestreetswiththecomingofnight.Powerwasfailingalloverthesector.Shehadleftthedevastatedeasttofindthewar taking thewest. She saw fewdaemons.They flashed by the edges of the

phalanx.Theirformsflickeredintosightbythelightofflames.Theysnatchedatinfantrystragglers,butmostoftheirpreywasfurtherout,runningandscreamingin the streets.Vendruhnheard their songs and theirwhistling, though, and thelaughterwasinthefoulmusic.Itwaseverywhere.Itwasaimedather.She knew this because she felt its lethal stab in her soul. The laughtertriumphed over the fall of the Glas dynasty. It revelled in the end of glory.Centuries of reign faithful to the Emperor. Centuries of peace through iron.SandavaIIwasexemplary,amodeltobeheldupacrossthesubsector,anditwastheGlasfamilywhohadmadeitso.Andnowthelaughter.Intheairorinhermind,itwasreal.SandavaIIwaslost.There was nothing to save. The people were wretched cowards, unworthy ofGlasrule,unworthyofprotection,unworthyoflife.SoVendruhnfiredintothedark. It did not matter what she gunned down. Everything that moved wascondemned in her eyes. She fired at the laughter. When, in the waveringfragmentsoflight,shesawsomethingfall,beithumanordaemon,sheansweredthelaughterwithherown.Herlaughwasaweaponasfierceashershells.Whatshehadgivenherlife toprotectinghadbeenrevealedasdeservingonlydeath.Executing that sentence was a release, a grim joy. There might have beenperversityinherpleasureiftherehadbeenanythinglessthanjusticeineachkill.Theperversitylayinstillfighting.Shestoppedfiringforamoment,herbreathwheezingthroughherharshlaugh,andsheheardsomeonecallingtoher.ItwasMorenz.Theinfantrytrooperhadchargeofthevox-unitforherplatoon.Itstillworked,andBarratzhadassignedhertoVendruhn’sChimeratohandlethepatchworkcommunicationsnet.‘Whatisit?’Vendruhnasked,angryattheinterruption.‘CommunicationfromtheAdeptusAstartes.’Morenzsoundedalarmedtohavespokentofiguressodivine.VendruhndroppedthroughthehatchintotheChimera’stroophold.AlongwithMorenz, the transport had taken on wounded soldiers, men and women whocouldnolongerrun,butwerestillabletofight.VendruhntookthehandsetfromMorenz.‘ThisisGeneralGlas,’shesaid.TheGreyKnightdidnotbothertoidentifyhimself.Whenhespoke,Vendruhnrecognisedthedeep,coldraspoftheonecalledCrowe.‘Whatisyourposition?’heasked.‘Aboutamileeastofthepalacesector,’saidVendruhn.‘Wearemakinggood

time.Wewillbeinpositiontoattackinminutes.’‘Theenemystrongholdisthethroneroom,’Crowetoldher.‘Secondary forcesmayseek todetainyouatground level.Donotpermit this.Make for thespireimmediately.’‘Atanycost?’‘Ifyoudonot,yourcostwillbetotal.’Hesnappedoffthevox-channel.Vendruhnstaredatthehandset.TheGreyKnight’speremptorinesswouldhaveenragedherhaditcomefromamortal.ShefeltnoangeratCrowe.Shemightaswellcondemnamountainforbeinginflexible.‘Understood,’shesaidtothesilenthandset.ShegaveitbacktoMorenz.‘Neworders,’shesaid.‘Wemakefor thethroneroom.Nopausewillbetolerated.Ifyoustoptofight,youwillbeabandoned.’‘Yes, general,’Morenz said. She sounded taken aback, but she turned to herequipmentandbegantheprocessofrelayingtheordertotherestofthecolumn.Vendruhndidnotwaittohearhercommandtransmitted.Sheclimbedbackuptoherheavybolter.Shefiredwithrenewedfury.ShehadremainedcalmbeforeMorenz.Nowshesetherhate free.Shekilledanythingshesawmovebeyondtheedgesofthecolumn.Hertroopsfollowedherexample,andtheirfirecutintothe dark. Themilitia left awake of blood as it stormed throughEgeta. Thereweremoreandmoreciviliansinthestreetsasthepalacedrewnearer.Vendruhngunnedthemdown,herlipspulledbackinarictusofexcitedwrath.Unworthy,unworthy,unworthy,shethought.Shedidnotknowifherfatherwasalive.WhatsheknewwasthatthecentreoftheGlasregimehadbeentaken.Shewouldreclaimit,orburneverything.It occurred to her that she might reclaim the throne, then burn everything.NothingcouldberedeemedonSandavaII.Nothingwasworthsaving.The palace sector’s main gate appeared at the end of the boulevard. Troopswere fightingon thebattlements, struggling against daemons thatmocked andtoyedwiththem.Inthewrithinglightofmuzzleflashesandleapingflame,themonstroussilhouettescapered.Theabominationswereamusingthemselveswiththeirprey.Thegatewasopen.Mobsofcitizensblockedthespacebetweenthewalls.Thepeopleinthestreetssoughtthefalserefugeinside.Thosewithinthewallstriedto flee the fighting and the ravening horrors. The streams collided in thegateway.Thepeoplefoughtandscreamedandtoreeachothertopieces.‘Clear our path!’ Vendruhn ordered. She aimed the bolter forwards. TheChimera’s multi-laser turret blasted the mob. Behind Vendruhn, two other

transportsmovedtoeithersideandburnedthecivilianswiththeirlas-bursts.Thegatewayturnedintothethresholdtoasmoulderingcharnelhouse.TheChimerasroaredover thecorpsesand thecrawling survivors.Vendruhn felt the jerkandgrindoftrackscrushingbone.Sheheardcracksandscreams.Sheshoutedatthenight,and thesoundofdyingwretchespleasedherwell.Shesaw thedoors tothekeepopenbeforeher,onlyafewhundredyardsaway,andsheyelled,givingvoicetoanemotionthatwasneitherragenortriumph,nordefiancenorhate,butsomethingshedarednotname.The night answeredwith the laughter, the endless laughter, the laughter thatalreadystrodetheworldinvictory.‘Bring me the sword!’ the monstrous voice called once more. There wassatisfactioninitspervertedmusicalitynow.Anexpectationoffulfilment.Above,thegunshipoftheGreyKnightsclosedinonthetopofthespire.

‘Doyousee?’The daemon’s voicewas suddenly quiet, intimate, a seductivewhisper at theback of Otto’s neck, hissing the last word, sssssssseeeeee, turning it into aserpentofwindthatstirredhishair.Hebreathedinamixtureofheadyblossomsandrichputrescence.Mnay’salathsweptitspincerbeforeit,takinginallthemovementsofthenight.‘Behold,’ itgloated.‘Asbelow,asabove,asIsay.Icommandandit isdone.Myprizecomestome.’Its empty hand opened and closed, claws clicking against each other. Ottosquirmedinthedaemon’sgrip.Helookedwherehewascommanded.Hehadnochoice.Mnay’salathhadthereinsofhismindandhisbody.Hewouldobey,andobey gladly, whatever he was told, even though another part of him wouldscreamwithallthepassionofadyingsoul.Vendruhn’sforceshadreturned.Thearmouredcolumnsmasheditswayintothepalacegrounds.Thesquarebeforethekeeplitupwithasuddenincreaseinlas-fire.Intheair,somethingwasflyingdirectlyatthethroneroomwindow.Ithadthe build and armament of a tank, and it cut through the night on wrathfulengines.InthefinalsecondsoftheStormraven’sapproach,Ottoexperiencedanoverwhelmingvertigo.Itseemedthegunshipmightslamstraightintothethroneroom.Ottowouldhavewelcomedthesuddenoblivion.Itwouldhavefreedhimfromthetormentoffearandhopeandrageanddesire.The Grey Knights were here, but the daemon welcomed their arrival. Theycarrieditsprize.Bringmethesword, ithadcommanded,andtheyhadobeyed.

Below,Otto’sdaughterwas fightingherway to theheartof thecurse thathadtakenSandavaII.Thedaemonwaspleasedbyherarrivalaswell.Ottosawallthis in the fewmoments it took for the Stormraven to slow and turn its rightflanktothewindow.Ottocriedout.Hecriedforsalvationandforvengeance.Hecried for the pain of Sandava II. He cried a warning too, a wordless one, apointless one, and in his agony he saw just how futile it was. Nothing couldchangewhatwasabouttohappen.TherewasnopathopentotheGreyKnightsexcept to attack, exactly as the daemon commanded.Otto’s only hopewas intheirvictory.The sidedoor of thegunshipwasopen.Mnay’salathmade a casual, gracefulleapthatcarrieditandOttohalfwayacrossthethroneroom.Itbowed,sweepingitsfreearmsinagestureofwelcometotheSpaceMarines.Itsvassaldaemonssnarledandtrilled,celebratingitspleasure.Gavallan stood in the centre of the Stormraven’s opening. The leader of theGreyKnightswasnotwieldingtherelicsword.Ottodespaired.Theswordwastheonlywayofdefeatingtheevil.Hehadknownthisfromthemomenthehadfirstseenit.Gavallanhadbroughtithere,butwouldnotuseit.He would not use the thing the daemon wanted against it. The trap wascomplete.TheGreyKnights leapt,stormboltersblazing.Theremainderof theglassteelwindowexploded.Sodidthedaemonsclosesttoit.Theshellsstruckthemwiththe force of sanctity, for that was what landed in the throne room. The GreyKnights did not seem to notice when their shells blasted through theabominationsandintothebodiesoftheirhumancaptives.TheseSpaceMarinesweretheterriblemightoftheholyEmperor.Astheylaunchedtheirattack,Ottowasalmostasafraidofthemashewasofthedaemons.Theyweretheideaofthe sacred given form in silver-grey, and the sacred was fearsome, a thingdivorcedfrommercy.Ottowasatthecentreofawarbetweenforcesthatsurpassedallunderstanding,andhecriedoutagainfromthedepthsofhisperfectterror.

ThePurifiers landed in close formation in the throne room.They arrived as asingle entity, alreadydestroying abominationsbefore theyhad taken their firststep.ThetwosquadsmadeawedgewithGavallanatitstip.CroweandSendraxled its wings to his right and left. They cleansed the near space of the lesserhorrorsandtookthemeasureofthefoe.

Thegreaterdaemonregardedthemthroughtheeyesofthemask.Itgrinned.ItheldtheLordGovernoraloftwithonehand.‘Givemethesword,’itsnarled.Themonsterwas one of the high creatures of theDark Prince.AKeeper ofSecrets.Crowehadwitnessedsuchathinglaywastetoanentirebattlefield.Hehad read much about these daemons in the forbidden texts preserved in theChambersofPurity.Theyweredangerousonlevelsfarbeyondthephysical.Gavallan raised his sword, pointing it at the daemon’s chest. ‘We shall bringyou judgement!’he roared.At the samemomenthegunneddowna fiend thatlungedathimoverthetacticariumtables.Mnay’salath!Antwyrshouted.Pretender!WretchofSlaanesh! Iwill cleaveyouwhereyoustand!The sword’s anger seemed directed entirely at theKeeper of Secrets. Crowedistrustedtheperception.TheragestillcutintohismindwithasmuchforceasanyofAntwyr’sblandishments.TheBlade’shatredforthedaemonwasgenuine.Itwasalsoaploy,atruthfusedtoalie.TheLordGovernorandhishonourguardweretheplaythingsofthedaemons.Fiendsanddaemonettescoiledaroundthesoldiers.Mostoftheguardswerestillalive. Theywere dying by degrees, tortured by sense experiences that had noname.Theyscreamedforreleaseandbeggedformore.Therewere sporadic soundsofcombat fromelsewhere in the tower,butonlymoredaemons,notmortals,enteredthebrokendoorway.Theabominationshadfullcontrolofthethroneroom.Mnay’salathdrewitselfuptoitsfull,impossibleheightanddangledOttobefore it.Thedaemonwasamusedin itsarrogancetolettheGreyKnightsstrikefirst.Or so it seemed. Crowe perceived the tension in the warp gather aroundMnay’salath.Thedaemonwasbuildingitsattack.ThePurifiersunleashed amaelstromofbolter fire.TherewasnoquestionofsavingOtto’slife.Evenifhesurvivedthisbattle,hisplanetwasinfested.Attheveryleast,Egetaandeverysoulwithinwouldhavetobereducedtoasmokingcrater.Mnay’salath hadmore interest in keeping the LordGovernor alive. It hurledOttohigh,sendinghimflyingacrossthechamberasitdancedawaytotheright.Itsmovementswereasfastasthought.Ottostruckthefarwallandlandedinamoaningheap.Mnay’salathdodgedoutofthewayofthestormbolters.Crowepivotedhard,deliberatelyovershootingthemark.Thedaemonranintohisshells.They punched into its right shoulder. Daemon flesh and ichor sprayed on thewallbehind.Mnay’salathabsorbedthehitsandspun,noslower,eachmovement

nolessagestureofsublimegrace.Itsnarled,though.Itsarrogancewasinjured.Thelesserdaemonsabandonedtheirvictims.TheyrushedthePurifiers.Stormbolters and incinerators broke theirwave.The atmosphere of the throne roomwas redolent with decaying perfumes. Now it also stank of burning,disintegratingwarpflesh.Mnay’salath was isolated from the mob of fiends and daemonettes. CaracbroughtuptherearofCrowe’swingofthewedge.HewasclosesttotheKeeperof Secrets.Mnay’salath had its eyes on Gavallan. Carac took his chance andmadearecklesslungeatthedaemon.Crowecaughtthemomentinthecornerofhiseyeasplit-secondtoolate.Theopportunitytostrikewasclear.Caracwasrighttoseizeit.Hewaswrongnottoconsiderithadcometoosooninthefight.Thesquadshadnotpressedthedaemonhardenoughforittomakeamistakeonthisscale.CaraccameatMnay’salathfromtheside.HeswunghisNemesisforcehalberdupbeneaththedaemon’sleftarm.Forafractionofasecond,theblowseemedtostrikethrough.Thenithadn’t.Ablink,andthedaemonhadside-steppedfurthertotheleft.Themovementwascasual,unforcedandcontemptuous.Mnay’salathlookeddownatCaracandlauncheditsattack.Allthemawsontheabomination’sbodyshrieked.Thescreamcamefromthebreadthanddepthofthewarp’sinsanity.Itslashedthesoulwiththedespairofamillionmurderedworlds. Itwas all the grief of time turned into a drawn-out,rise-and-fallchoraleofpain.Thesoundofthescreamfilledthethroneroomandspilledintothenight.But thecryhadafocustoo.Itsgreateststrengthlayinastraight linefromthedaemon.Mnay’salathshriekedatCarac.ThescreamtoreintotheGreyKnightlikeadaggerandparalysedhim.ASpaceMarinedidnotfear,buthadnoimmunitytogriefandhopelessness.The edge of the scream sliced into Crowe’s emotional core. It was a call todespair as powerful as the Black Blade’s curses. It tore open every doubt,howeverburied, and turned it intopsychic shrapnel.Thisdrewblood, and thebloodrose,seekingtodrownhiminanoverwhelmingsenseofunworthiness.Herefusedtheattack.Itdeclaredhimunworthy,butcouldnotchangehisduty.‘Youwillnotturnmefrommypurpose!’heshoutedandturnedhisstormbolterbackonthedaemon.Mnay’salath leapt over the trajectory of the shells and came down on theimmobilisedCarac. It smashed thePurifier to theground. It jabbed its razoredpincer against the chest-plate of his Aegis power armour. The blows were arapid-firehammering,theimpactsmergingtogetherintoasplinteringgrind.The

pincerbrokethroughthearmour.Itpiercedthecarapace.Bloodspurtedfromthewound.Crowe’s bolter fire hit the daemon. Shells shattered flesh. Others explodedagainstchitinousarmour.Mnay’salathignoredthewounds.Itdrewstrengthandjoyfromthepainitinflicted.GavallanthrewhimselfattheKeeperofSecrets.HestruckthepincerwiththeedgeofhisNemesis force sword. Ichor jetted into theair.Thedaemon turnedand grabbed atGavallanwith its other arms.The castellan parried the clawedlimbs. He took a step back. The daemon followed, leaving Carac. Destrianpulledhisfallenbattle-brotherclear.Crowewaded in toassistGavallan.Thedaemon’sbonespurblockedhis firstattack,and thenMnay’salath sang.Thestreamofabominations racing into thethrone roomhadnot stopped, andnowall thedaemons in the chamber closedwiththeGreyKnightsinasudden,determinedrush.Thereweretoomany,andtheyweretooheedlessoftheirdestruction,toholdthematbay.Thosethatfellweremomentaryshieldsforthosebehind.FiendsanddaemonettesfelluponthePurifiers in a storm of claws andwhips. A lash grabbed Crowe’s sword-arm,arrestinghisblow.Asecondand third joined it.Hisarmwasheld, theunholybonds pulling in three directions at once. He snarled and jerked to the right,usinghisfullmass.Heyankedthedaemonettesintohim.Thewhipswentslack.Heslashedhisbladeacross the three fiends, severingarmsandnecks.Hewasfree again, but the skirmish had cost him seconds. The struggle betweenGavallan andMnay’salath hadmoved a few yards away. The lesser daemonsswarmedaroundCrowe.Hechoppedthemdownandblastedthemapart.Hewasknee-deep in ruined foulness. The bodies turned to sludge before theyevaporated,and themorassslowedhimdown.Hisbrotherswerecaught in thesametrap.AllthewhileMnay’salathdrewGavallanfartherandfartheraway,isolatingthecastellan.Gavallanfoughttheimmenseabominationwithholyfury.Everyblowwas fuelled by supreme skill and righteousness. The greatest hero of theBrotherhoodofPurifiersstoodtall,unbowedandunstoppableagainstafoeovertwicehissizeandwieldingtheterriblegiftsofexcess.Mnay’salathshriekedagain,and thescreamwasechoedandamplifiedby thedaemonettes. The scream was everywhere. It rose and rose, gathering suchstrength that itsmessage tookon theshapeofanabsolute truth.Thewhistlingsongofthefiendschoppedandtwistedanytrainofthoughtthattriedtocounterthedespairinthescream.Therewasnoshelterfromit.ItsmashedintoCrowe

with theweightof theworld.Hestaggered.Mourningstrangledhim. Its limbswereveilsandgossamer,subtleandinnumerable.Hecouldnotcutthroughthemall.Inthecentreofthethroneroom,unreadable,Gavallanbecamethefocusofhisbrothers’despair.Hewas the legend fightinghis last.Themagnificenceofhisbattlewasthefoundationalimageofgrief.Hefoughtonandon,andthescreamwentonandon,growingevermorepiercingwiththeperfectionofhisstruggle.Thedaemonscreamed,but thedancingmovementsof its legsandclaws tookonanew,mockingaspect.Mnay’salath’sblowswerethesameaslaughter.Iamtoyingwithyou,itannouncedthroughitsdance.IhavetoyedwithyousincetheEnvoyofDiscipline.Beholdthepainthatisyourreward.ForIwillhavemyprize.Iwillhavethesword.

Thetower’sgrav-liftswereruined.Theirwrought-irondoorshungopen.Smokepouredoutoftheshafts,soVendruhnledthechargeupthestairs.Theclimbwasalongone,butshemadefasterprogressthanshehadexpected.Thestairswereaspiral, fifteen feet wide, going up the inside of the tower’s outer wall. OnVendruhn’s right, the inner wall was smooth rockcrete, hung with dynastictapestries, interruptedby archeddoorways leading to each level.The curveofthewallsmeantVendruhncouldseebarelytwentyfeetahead.Inherangersheabandoned caution for speed, andwas rewarded by a rapid climb through thebloodofapostates.Shecouldhear thesongsof thedaemonscomingdownthestaircasefromonhigh,butitwasneveranynearer.Itwasretreatingfasterthanshecouldadvance.There were human enemies here, though. Civilians and palace functionarieswhohadsoughtrefugewhenthedangerfromtheeasthadbeguntomakeitswayacross theRybas.Thesepeoplehadfallen, their faithnomatchfor their terror,and they had becomemaddened apostles of the source of the fear.Many hadscavenged weapons from the bodies of militia killed when the daemons hadburst from the underground tunnels. The wretches were many, but untrained.TheyhurledthemselvesatVendruhnandhertroops,screamingandshootinginpanic.Killingthemwaseasy.Itwasbrutallysatisfying.Theblastsofherplasmapistolleftbehindthestinkofburnedflesh.Hersoldiersformedawallacrossthestaircase. They fired their lasrifleswith anger the equal of the heretics’ panic.Theirprecisionwasmuchgreater.

Vendruhnwas at the head of amachine of righteous fury. Itmarched up thetower, annihilating the fallen. Vendruhn conserved her shots. She used hersword, running it into the howling faces of the heretics. She cut bellies wideopen and sliced throats with such force she almost decapitated her foes in asingleblow.Shewasdrenched inblood. It feltgoodagainstherskin. It tastedgood,warm and saltywith retribution. She tookmore than satisfaction in thekills.Shetookpleasure.Shewishedshecoulddestroythesepatheticbeingswithevenmore violence. They deservedworse. Therewas no excess of cruelty toequaltheirtreachery.Buteverydismembermentandeveryincineratedfacewasasteptowardsadreamoffulfilment.Sherevelledinthebloodyjoy.Itwastheexperienceofjustice.At the head of a phalanx several hundred strong, she reached the top of thespire.Thestaircaseendedinagreatvestibule.Itwasavastspaceforapplicantsto gather and be humbled, while they waited, by views of Egeta from thesurroundingwindows.Aheadwasthewallthatseparatedthevestibulefromthethrone room. The doorway gaped. A last rush of daemons was passing thethreshold.Thevestibulewaslitteredwiththebodiesofmassacredhonourguard.Vendruhn looked once at the faces of the dead, then turned away. Theirexpressions were frozen in horrified ecstasy. She stared straight ahead andshoutedassheran,firing,intothechamberbeyond.Madnessgreetedher.Herchargefaltered.Theroomwasfilledwithdaemons.Therewasnowheresafetolook.Thesightandsongoftheabominationsblastedher senses. Soldiers behind her moaned, overcome by the riot of terriblemeaning.ScoresofdaemonsgrappledwiththeGreyKnights.Inthecentreoftheroom,Castellan Gavallan clashed with a thing somehow more monstrous than thecathedral.Itwasbeautifulandghastly,cruelandseductive.Itwasashapecarvedfrom nightmare and desire. It slashed at Gavallan with pincer and claws.DaemonandGreyKnight landedblows thatwouldhaveshatteredstone. Ichorrandowntheivory-whiteofthedaemon’sskin.Ajagged,crimsonbonespurofalimb smashedGavallan’s left flank. His armourwas broken on that side, andstainedwithcoagulatingblood.Thedaemonheldonearmup,itsclawsgraspingat the air as if it sought to clutch hold of a dream. The duellists circled oneanother, each strike unleashing lightning blasts of eldritch energy, shaking thethrone room with the thunder of an entire war. The struggle was a clash offorbiddenmyths.Thesewerebeingswhichhad sprung fromhopesand terrorsthatcouldneverbeacknowledged.Theirrealitysunderedthesoul.

ToVendruhn’sright,herfathercrouchedbyawall.Heclawedatthefloor.‘Usethesword!’hescreamed.‘Usethesword!Usethesword!’Thesamehystericalwordsagainandagain,repeatedwithmachinicinsistence.Allthisshesawinthefirstsecondsofherarrival.Herangerkepthersane,butthehorrorslowedherdecision.Shedidnotknowwheretoattackfirst.Andtherewas another voice shouting. Its sourcewas in the room. Its soundwas in hermind.Itwastheragingcounterparttoherfather’scries.Usemeusemeusemeusemeusemeusemeuseme!Shehesitated.Themenandwomenwithherhesitated.Themadnesswas toogreat.Thenthemadnesscameforthem.Thenewlyarriveddaemonsleaptatthemilitia.AndthegiantlookedatVendruhn.ItspunawayfromGavallan.Itcoveredthedistancetowhereshestoodintwostrides.Inthefirst,itbellowed,‘Welcome!’Inthesecond,itsmouthsscreamed.Allthedaemonsscreamed.The pain in her soul was so great that she felt nothing when the toweringabominationseizedher.

Thedaemon’sscreamwasbeyondanyOttohadheardbefore.Itdevouredhim,reducinghimtonothing.Itshatteredhisperceptions.It turnedtheworldintoarainofjaggedglass.TheGreyKnightsandthedaemonsbecameshardsofsenseimpressions,allsmashedandtumblingintotheabyssofthepain,pain,pain.Oneimageremainedwhole.Itwashisagonyperfected.Mnay’salath,godlike,themasterofthedance,holdingVendruhninitsclaws.Thegreateviltakingthelasttruething.Usemeusemeusemeusemeusemeuseme!Cutting through the storming pain, through the rain of falling glass, came acrystallinedarkness, the shoutof command the equalof thedaemons’ scream.Thecommandwaswelcomeinitsclarity.Initspower.Initshope.There had been the lie of hope before the scream.An illusion of silver-grey.Giantsofmetalandarrogance.Allpartofthebroken-glassrealitynow.Allpartoftheworldlostinthenightbeforethescream,beforethepain.Usemeusemeusemeusemeusemeuseme!Thecommandwastheonethingoutsidethepain.Theonethingthatwassure.Theoneandonlyhope.Heknewwheretogo.Thecommandwassostrong,itwouldguidehimthrough

thepainandglass.Usemeusemeusemeusemeusemeuseme!Heobeyed.Hecrawledforwards.Soonhecouldstand.Soonhecouldrun.

TheKeeperofSecretssnatchedupthemilitiageneral. It turneditsheadin thedirectionof theLordGovernoras theworstof thescreams ripped through thethroneroom.ThepainexplodedfromthedepthsofCrowe’spsyche.Anovaofsearingbladescuthimfromtheinsideout.Itsoughttoblindhimtoeverythingbutthepain.Itfailed.The Grey Knights still fought. Their calling and their souls were one. ThePurifiersroaredthroughthepainofthedaemon’sscreamandcutthefoedown.CrowesawthetriumphinMnay’salath’slook.Heunderstoodthedaemonhadorchestratedthismoment.Ithadconductedeverystepofthedance.Themomentwasthesummitofitsart,itsmasterpiece.Butthedaemonwasarrogant.Ittrustedinthepowerofthescreamtoholditsenemiesdownlongenoughforittocompleteitsgreatwork,andsoitshifteditsattentionawayfromtheGreyKnights.Itbelieveditcouldnolongerbestopped.Itwaswrong.‘Youarebanished!’CroweroaredatMnay’salath.Hereachedforthewhorlsoftheimmateriumsurroundingthedaemon.Athisshout,hisbattle-brothersjoinedhim.Together,thesquadsattackedthelinksbetweenthewarpandthemateriumexploitedbythedaemon.Theybegantoseverthethreadsofitsbeing.Theotherdaemonsredoubledtheirattacks.Crowefeltclawssinkthroughtheseamsofhisarmour.Hesprayedboltershellsbeforehim,destroyingandmaiming.Hisbodyfoughton instinct, swordblowsanddefenceautomaticwhilehispain-wrackedmindturned its fullpsychicmightonMnay’salath.Hisvisionof thewarpwasclearest.TheotherPurifiersfollowedhislead.Theystruckhard.The fleshof thedaemon’s torso rippled. Itbegan to rise inflamesofskin.Crowe could not hearAntwyr.He did not notice the silence then.Hewouldrememberitlater,tohisshame,whenhismindreturnedagainandagaintotheEgetathroneroom.Mnay’salathsnarledinanger.Itturnedback,butdidnotfaceCrowe.InsteaditroundedonGavallan.The castellan had not yet joined in the collective ritual of banishment. Hefought free of the cluster of daemonettes that had rushed at him when

Mnay’salathabandonedtheduel.Heraisedhisswordwithbothhands.‘Iamthewill,thespearandthesword!’hebellowed.Animbusofwarpfireencircledhim.Itcrackledwiththerageofthesacred.‘Iamthehammerandthefist!’hecried.Gavallan’s strengthwas suddenly everywhere. Crowe felt the ferocity of thechampion’s spirit imbue his limbs and his mind. The pain diminished. ThepsychicassaultsoftheotherPurifiersintensified.Thecastellansupportedthemall.At the edge of Crowe’s awareness, he realised what Gavallan was doing tohimself.Hewas dividing his psychic strength among his brothers.He did nothave the energy to spare, yet hewas sacrificing himself. Blinding silver lightleapt fromGavallan and flowed into the Purifiers. It fed the banishment. TheedgesofMnay’salath’sformbegantoblurasthePurifierscutthedaemonawayfrom the real. Gavallan advanced through slashing foes towards where theKeeperofSecretsstood,suddenlyatbay.Crowe moved forwards too. The world of the material war recededdangerously.HeputmoreandmoreofhisbeingintotheassaultontheKeeperofSecrets. A blistering, coruscating storm exploded from his body and blastedagainstMnay’salath.Oneof thedaemon’s leftarmsbegantoflicker, its realityuncertain.The attackwasworking.But the blowsof the lesser daemonswerelanding against Crowe more frequently. His advance was slow, and so wasGavallan’s. The champion was beset on all sides by the abominated foe. Heswunghisbladeinwide,sweepingslashesthroughthebodiesofthehorrors.HeclosedonMnay’salathwith themajestyofholywar.Powerflashedabouthim,travelling down his limbs and blade. It jumped to his brothers, feeding theirstrength.Thedaemonschargedathim,andheturnedthemaway.Mnay’salath’s snarl became a roar of rage. Its flesh sloughed off its form.Smoke rose frommyriadwounds. Itsmouths screamed again, but now in thedaemon’s pain. And still it heldVendruhn. It lashed out at Gavallan over theheads of its vassals. The castellan blocked the pincer. He lunged forwardsthrough the grasping daemonettes and plunged his sword into Mnay’salath’sabdomen.With the might given him by Gavallan, Crowe took the collective force ofbanishment and channelled it down the champion’s blade into the core of thedaemon.Mnay’salathshrieked.Itsangercrackedtheceiling.Dustandchunksofstonefell on the combatants. Eldritch lightning and fire burst from the wound. Itengulfedthedaemonanditsprey.Vendruhnwasscreaminginsomethingworse

thanpainasshewascoveredbyflamesofunformedmadness.Faceshowledinthefire,thenvanished;coloursappearedanddied,bleedingthroughtheflames.The light of purity and the light of corruption battled. A vortex of energysurrounded the Keeper of Secrets and Gavallan. It flashed brilliance anddarkness.Itthunderedwithrageholyandunholy.Thelesserdaemonsshriekedwith theirmaster.TheGreyKnightsstruckwith thepowerofasingleburningsoul.OttocameupbehindGavallan.Thedaemonswerebefore thecastellanandathisflanks,holdingthefocushismaterialselfcouldstillspare.Hewasconsumedbyhisstruggleagainstthethingsofthewarp.Therewerenohumanstofight,sohewasnotwatchingforOtto.Atthecentreofthemaelstromofbanishment,CrowesawOttoreachupfortheswordonGavallan’sback.Hecommandedhisbodytoshoutawarning.Thewarningcame.Gavallanbegantoturn.Thechainssnapped.The Black Blade of Antwyr leapt from Gavallan’s back into Otto’s hands.Crowe abandoned the banishment. The collective blaze wavered. The vortexgrewdarker, thewhirlingfiretakingonaviolethue.Crowesnappedbackintothefullawarenessofhisbody.SodidtheotherPurifiers.Withaclapofthunderthatresonatedinthesoul,thevortexflaredwithsearingdarkness,thenvanished.Afractionofasecondhadpassedfromtheperceptionofdangertothereaction.Gavallanhadbarelybeguntoturn.Afractionofasecondtoolong.Ottolookeduponhisprize.Hisfacelitwithtriumph.Hesmiledwiththereliefofthewellandtrulyfooled.Thenhechanged.Themetamorphosiswas swift. It occurredwith the intake of a single breath.ThemightoftheswordsweptoverOtto.Itswallowedhisuniformandmergeditwith his body. It took away his features and his hair. He became a physicalshadow,nothingbutasilhouette,ashapetowieldtheBlade.The shape that had been Otto brought the sword back. Gavallan finishedturning. The Purifiers opened fire. The shadow absorbed the bolter shells andswungtheswordwithperfectaccuracy.Antwyrslicedthroughtheseambetweengorget and helmet. The blow was the embodiment of decades of hate. It cuthalfwaythroughGavallan’sneck.Crowewaslessthanastepaway.HecaughtGavallanwithonearmashefell.Thelegend’sbloodfountainedinto

the air. It fell upon the vengeful blade and upon the Knight of the Flame.Gavallanmadenosound.‘Mine!’ Mnay’salath screamed. ‘Give me the sword!’ It dropped Vendruhn.Shehadbeenthelure,andwasofnointerestanylonger.ThegraspingrighthandreachedfortheBlade.Antwyrflashed.Mnay’salath’stalon-likefingersfelltothefloor.‘Notyours!’the shape cried. Its voice bore some resemblance to Otto’s, but its ferocitybelonged to Antwyr. The serrated shout resounded in the throne room and inCrowe’smind.‘Allismine!Thepathofbloodismine!’Thedaemon,itsbodysmouldering,itscontoursragged,snatchedattheshadow.Daemonettesandfiendsrushedat it.ThePurifiersblastedall theabominationswith shells and incinerator flame. Crowe stood over the fallen Gavallan. Hislimbs were heavy. His soul was exhausted from the abandoned banishmentritual.Heattackedtheshadowwiththedesperateenergyofwrathfulgrief.Theflame of purification shot from his outstretched arm. Storm bolter shells andpsychic firehit theshapeat thesame time. It snarledand jumped themomentCrowe’sfurystruck.Theshadow’sleapcarrieditoverCrowe’sheadandawayfromthedaemons.Itlandedbeforethesmashedwindow.Itpausedthere,athingthathoveredinlimbobetweenhumananddaemonicform.WhathadbeenGlaswas gone, but the shape ofAntwyr had yet to take its place.With a voice ofmockery and graves it said, ‘You rejected your destiny, Garran Crowe. Nowyour fate isonlyash.’Then it threw itselfoutof thewindow, adarkness thatdroppedintothewiderdarknessofthenight.Mnay’salathhowled.ItstumbledforwardsthroughtheconcentratedfireofthePurifiers. It spread its damaged arms and drew them together, as if pulling acurtainclosed.Atideofdarknesscameinfromthecornersofthethroneroom.Itfell acrossCrowe’s eyes. TheKeeper of Secrets vanished from his sight. Theotherdaemonsabandonedthefightandrushedintothewarp-bornvoid.‘Itistherebeforeus!’Croweshouted,trainingthelastflameshecouldmanageonavaguenessinthedark.Heandhisbattle-brotherspursuedthedaemon.Theyfoughttocleartheirmindsofthesuffocatingshadow.Theystrucktrue.The Keeper of Secrets screamed in pain and anger at its lost prize. But itworkeditswillwiththecloudofshiftingblackness.Agreatwindblewthroughthe throne room, and the darkness shrouding Mnay’salath passed out of thewindowsandintotheair.Inflightorinpursuit,inanothermomentitwasgone.The shadows lifted. The lumoglobes of the throne room brightened over thecarnage.

Croweleanedoverthecastellanandremovedhishelmet.Gavallan’stormentedeyes lockedon tohis.Gavallan’smouthwasopen,buthecouldneither speaknorbreathe.Bloodfrothedfromthecrevasseinhisthroat.‘YouhaveearnedyourplaceattheEmperor’sside,’Crowetoldhim.Butuntiltheydimmed,Gavallan’seyesglitteredwiththeicylightofshame.

CHAPTERNINETHEENDOFTHEDANCE

There was no sound of mourning on the night’s wind. It blew through theshatteredwindow, carrying the echoes of terror and the smell of burning pastCrowe. But there was no mourning. The city roiled in its fall. It rotted. Thefaithfulandtheapostateclashed.AndtherewasnothingbeyondthethroneroomtoshowthatoneofthegreatheroesoftheImperiumwasnomore.Crowehadruntothewindowinpursuitofthedaemons.Hewasnotsurehowlonghehadbeenstanding there,staring into thecrimson-tainteddark. Itcouldnothavebeenmanyseconds,hethought.Enough,though,tofacetherealityofdefeat.Enoughtoimposeacoldrationalityonhimself,sothedecisionshemustnowmakewouldbe thecorrectones.Andenough forhim toseeall thenightandbeyondthesmoketotheiceofthestars,andtoknowthatGavallan’sdeathhadnotbeenmarked.No Grey Knight’s death would be known by the wider universe. His onlypossiblememorialwouldbe in theDeadFields.Evenso,at the lossof suchawarrior as Gavallan, the earth should have cried out. The stars should havedimmedingrief.Instead,thenightwenton.TheterrorandthekillinginEgetacontinuedwithoutpauseornotice.SomethingsmashedbehindCrowe.Heturned.Sendraxhadpunchedthethrone,reducingittosplinters.‘Every step,’Sendrax snarled. ‘Everystep.Wehavebeen ledperfectly.Whatneed have we of Prognosticars? We would save time by asking the Ruinous

Powersthemselveswhattheywouldhaveusdo.Weseemdestinedtoactastheywish.’The other Purifiers had gathered around Gavallan’s body. They stood in acircle,asilenthonourguard,waitingfortheKnightsoftheFlametocommand.Nearthedoorway,Vendruhnstoodhunched,shaking,herfistsclenched.Herhairhadbeenburned to stubble by the psychic fire.Thebackof her neck andherhandswereblackened.Soresoozed.Buttheworstofherinjuries,Croweknew,werespiritual.Howseverethosewoundswerehecouldnottell.VendruhnhadherbacktotheGreyKnights.Shefacedhersurvivingtroops,thefew that therewere.Themortalshad retreated from the throne room.They, atleast, showed some awareness that a death unlike others had occurred. Theyweresilentoutoffearandrespect.ButVendruhn’ssilencewasdifferent,Crowethought.Hergriefandangerweresostrong,theychokedhervoice.Sendrax was still raging. ‘What steps have they arranged for us next?’ heshouted.‘Areweamusingthemastheywouldwish?’‘Brother,’Crowesaid.Sendrax stared at him. He marched over, kicking through wreckage anddissolving remains. His helm inches from Crowe’s, he said, ‘Do you haveinsight,brother?Moreoftheinsightthathasservedussowellthusfar?’Crowe said nothing. He did not point out that Sendrax was condemningGavallan’s leadership.TheotherKnightof theFlamewould realise that inhisown time. Crowe had no desire to refute Sendrax’s accusations. They held atruth. It was a massive, painful truth. He acknowledged it, but he must notsurrendertoit.Itwantedtobehissoletruth.Ifheletit,itwouldcrushhimwithshameanddespair.Sohesaidnothing.Heheldthetruthatbaysothathemightcounteritwithadifferentone,atruthbuiltofvictoryandredemption.LetSendraxrage.Lethimgive voice to the nature of the defeat. Sendrax was proud. He resented theinflexibilityoffate.Andstormashemightnow,itwasnothisdutytoleadthemission.ThatfelltoCrowe.‘Flames!’saidSendrax. ‘TheRuinousPowerswouldhaveusdanceupon thisstage? Then let us burn it!’ He faced the window. ‘Abomination!’ he yelled.‘Antwyr,doyouhear?ThefireofExterminatuscomesforyou!’Vendruhn straightened at his words. She twitched. She turned around for amoment,hereyesaglitteringdarkness.Thensheledhersoldiersawayfromthedoorway,backtowardsthetowerstaircase.

‘Brother,’Crowesaidagain.‘Whatisit?’Sendraxsnapped.‘We cannot invoke Exterminatus. The Black Blade will not perish, even ifSandavaIIdoes.’Sendrax scowled. He did not contradict Crowe. Good, Crowe thought. Heunderstands. For all his grief and anger, he understands. The Blade wasindestructible. That was why it had to be imprisoned. The annihilation ofSandavaIIwouldonlyputitbeyondreach.‘Thenwhat?’Sendraxsaid.‘Youareright,brother.Wehavebeenledonthisdance.Nowitends.’‘Howcanyoubesure?’Hewaslistening,atleast.‘BecauseAntwyrhasaccomplisheditspurpose.Ithasescapedus.Itwillseeknowtoensurewedonotrecaptureit.Soweforceittoreacttoourmoves.Theinitiativeisours.’Sendraxgrunted.Thesound thatemergedfromhishelmgrillewasaburstofelectronicdistortion.Itcouldhavebeenangerorbitterhumour.‘Afinespeech,Garran,’hesaid.‘Doyoudoubtit?’‘WoulditmatterifIdid?’Crowedidnotanswer.‘Letitbeso.’ThestormofSendrax’sangerhadpassed.‘Tellmehowwewilltake the sword back.’He looked at their silent brothers, and the stillness theysurrounded.‘Tellmehowwewillavengeourcastellan.’

There were nomore daemons within the inner wall whenVendruhn emergedfromthekeep.CaptainLehnertwaswaitingforher.Hisuniformwas tornandsoakedwithhisblood.Alongclawgashranfromhisrighttemple,downthesideofhisfaceandhisneck.Hisweatheredfeatureswerenolongerthoseofajadedveteran.Hehad seen toomanynewhorrors this night.Warwas fresh forhimagain, in theworstpossibleway.Even so,his salutewascrisp. ‘Thepalace isheld,general,’hesaid,asifthevictoryhadmeaning.Fromtheothersideofthewall,Vendruhnheardthewoundsofthecitytearingitselfapart.‘Where is Colonel Droste?’ Vendruhn asked. He had been commanding thecompanieschargedwithholdingthepalacedistrict.‘Dead,general.’‘Andtheenemy?’Shecouldbelievethemilitiahadcontainedthedaemons.She

couldnotimaginetheabominationshadbeendestroyed.‘Gone,’ Lehnert said.He gestured in the direction of thewall. ‘When that…thatthing…’Helookedupatthetower’scrownasifexpectingthenightmaretohearhimandreturn.‘Iunderstand,’Vendruhnsaid.NoneedforLehnerttofinish.Thegreatdaemonhad taken its legionswith it.Mnay’salath and all its furieswere pursuing thethingthathadbeenherfather.Butifthiswasso,whatthenofthetumultsheheardbeyondthewall?Itwasthecry of aworthless, faithless population turning on itself in panic, obeying thecommands of abominations that had lost interest in it, still tearing down allVendruhn’sfamilyhadbuiltinthenameoftheEmperor.Allherfatherhadstoodfor.Allhehaddefended.The grief cut through her again, savage and ragged as a blow from achainsword. The only defence against it was anger. A hatred bright asincandescentiron,nevertobequenchedexceptinanoceanofapostateblood.Exterminatus, theGreyKnighthadsaid.Thewordresonated inhersoul.Thesyllableswereadiretoll.Exterminatus.Itwasashoutandawhisperandahiss.Allwerefinality.ItwastheonlytruethingleftforSandavaII.Exterminatus.Shespoke theword inherhead, over andover, as if through repetition the refrainwouldbecomereality.TheonecalledCrowewaswrong to forbid itsuse.Buthehad,soshewouldhavetocreatethepyreforherworldherself.‘ColonelLehnert,’shesaid,andsawthewoundedmantakeawarrior’sprideinhis sudden promotion. ‘Gather our forces. Prepare them tomarch beyond thewall. IfEgetahas chosen to fall from theEmperor’s light, then it deservesnomercy.Weshallshowitnone.’Shewouldburnthecity.Shewouldservejusticeonitscitizenry.Shewouldseeeverylastsoulinthecapitalputtothesword.Shealreadyknewthatwouldnotbeenough.Sheknewthegriefand thehatewould still be there. But the action was necessary. She would worry aboutanothersteponlyafterthistaskwascomplete.Thenewcolonellefttocarryoutherorders.Vendruhnwalkedacrossthegreatsquaretowardsthewall.Theflagstoneswereslickwithblood.Bodieshadturnedthe area into a mire of flesh. She passed civilians burned by las anddisembowelled by sword, and soldiers of themilitia twisted at strange angles,their broken faces contorted by pleasures beyond nightmare. There were nolonger any remains of the abominations, but the traces of their acts were

everywhere.Vendruhn’s pulse beat the rhythm of her hate louder and louder. Her visionshrank to thewall ahead of her. In the grey periphery, she now saw only thetwistedabstractionofatrocity.She reached the wall. She mounted the staircase next to the gate. On theramparts,shestoodatthecrenellations.Shewatchedthecityburn.Shewatchedthemobstearintoeachother.Bringmethesword,thedaemonhadcommanded,and they still searched and killed and ruined. If she left the people to theirdevices,theywoulddestroythemselvesandthecityontheirown.Buttherewouldbenopunishmentinthat.She lost track of time. She was mesmerised by the sight of the people shewouldexecute,envelopedbythegraspofherhate.Exterminatus,shethought.Exterminatus.Exterminatus.Atlengthsomeonecalledhername.Vendruhnturned.Lehnertstoodattheheadofthestairs.‘Doyouwishtoaddressthetroops?’heasked.Vendruhn supposed she should. Morale was low. The militia had not beenvictorious. It had been spared annihilation by circumstance. Survival was bychance,losseswerehugeandtheworldhadfallentohorrorsofmyth.Yes,sheshouldspeaktohersoldiers.Sheshouldinspirethemtonewefforts.All she had to offer was her hate. Let them share in it, then. If they werefaithful,theyalreadydid.‘Yes,’shesaidtoLehnertasshemovedawayfromthecrenellationstojoinhim.‘Yes,Iwillspeaktothem.’‘No,’saidavoice,harsh,metallic,majestic.‘Youwillsaynothing.’Lehnertwhirled.Hegaspedandstumbledbackfromthestairs.Amomentlater,thearmouredformofGarranCroweappeared.Hemarchedupthefinalsteps.HeloomedoverVendruhnandhercolonel.‘I don’t understand,’ said Vendruhn. Though she had seen the Grey Knightsbroughtlow,defeatedbythemonsterthathadpossessedherfather,shewasstillawed by Crowe. His presence was much more than his height and theimpregnabilityofhisarmour.Itwasmorethanthepowershehadwitnessedhimunleashagainst thedaemons. Itwasallof this,andanauraof icy,unyielding,terrifyingsanctity.How,shewondered,coulduncleanthingsexist inproximitytothisbeing?Perhapstheycouldnot.She felt her own existence become gossamer-thin before Crowe. She lived

because he allowed it. If his judgement turned against her, therewould be norecourse.Norshouldtherebe.‘YouproposetodestroyEgeta,’Crowesaid.‘Yes.’Shedidnotquestionhowheknew.‘No.Amoreimportantdutyliesbeforeyou.Iwillspeak.Youwillhear.Allofyou.’With that, Crowe turned his back onVendruhn. He stood at the edge of thewall, looking down at what remained in Egeta of the Sandava IIMilitia. Hewaited, motionless, a colossus as immovable as the wall. Vendruhn steppedforwardstostandtohisright.Lehnerttookupapositionafewyardsfurtheron.Crowewasdoingheracourtesy,Vendruhnrealised.Hewasallowinghertosavefacebefore the companies.Hewasnot visiblyunderminingher authority.Sheknewsheshouldbegrateful.Whatshefeltwasresentmentatthecountermandedslaughter.In thegreatsquare, themilitiahadgathered incolumns.Theformationsweremuchsmallerthantheyhadbeenbefore.TheChimeraswerefewer,andtheonespresentwerealldamaged,scarredbymassiverentsleftbyclawsintheirflanksand roofs. This was a much reduced army. Still strong enough, Vendruhnthought,toturnthecitytoash.Crowespoke.‘WarriorsofSandavaII,’hesaid,‘hearme.’Hishelm’svoxcasteramplifiedhisvoice.Itrangacrossthesquare,authorityitself.‘Youhavefought,andfoughtwell.Buttherecanbenorestforyouyet.Theenemystillwalksuponyourworld.Youhavewitnessedthisenemy.Willyoupermitsofoulathingtoexist?’ Where another speaker might have paused for an answer, letting theassembledmen andwomen join in the energy of the speech, Crowe gave thesoldierstheirresponse.‘No,’hesaid.‘Youwillnot.‘Hearme.‘Theenemyisnotdefeated,yettheenemyhasfled.Thatisanactoffear.Thefoe is a great abomination. The foe is a defilement upon the face of theImperium.Thefoeisstrong,andyetitflees.MybrothersandIwillpursue.Sowillyou.Todosoismorethanduty.It is theholycallingofeverysoul in theImperiumtodestroywhatsoeverisunclean.‘Hearme!’Crowe drew his force sword. He held it aloft. It blazed, a symbol ofcoruscating, deadly purity in the darkness of the night. The light surroundedCrowe.Vendruhntrembled.Ittookallherstrengthofwillnottostepaway.The

holywas as fearsome as the unholy.Crowe’s statewas far beyond themortalhuman. Sacred terror overwhelmed her, cutting through the rage, if only forthesebriefmoments.‘I am the edge of the Emperor’s sword!’ the GreyKnight roared. His wordswereas clapsof thunderover the square. ‘Iwill strike thedaemondown, andyouwillstrikewithme.Hearmeandanswer!’AthousandmortalvoicesgaveCrowehisanswer,strivingtomatchhisthunderwiththeirown.ThethundersweptoverVendruhn.Ithumbledher,butshefeltnopride.Shefeltinsteadthefrustrationofvengeancedelayed.Andinthemidstofherawe,doubtgnawedatherfaith.Toomanyofitsfoundationshadalreadybeenshattered.Crowe turned away from the square. ‘What is the state of the militia’sreserves?’heasked.Vendruhnrealisedshehadnoidea.Shehadnotthoughtbeyondherlineofsightsince the battle in the throne room. She had not taken stock of her forces’strength.Lehnert spoke up, sparing her the need to admit her ignorance. ‘The baseoutsideEgetaisuntouched,’hesaid.‘Thetroopsthereawaitdeployment,lord.’‘Youraerialtransportcapacities?’‘Valkyries.Someheavylifters.Enoughforthetroopsinthisregion.’‘Good,’saidCrowe.ToVendruhnhesaid,‘Bereadyforamassairlift.’Shenodded.‘Towhere?’‘Wewillknowsoonenough.’‘Themostrapiddeploymentwouldbebyorbitaltransport,’Lehnertputin.‘No,’ said Crowe. ‘Nothing leaves the atmosphere of Sandava II. Not anylonger.’

Mnay’salath raged, and theworld cried out.As the legions stormed over landandocean,wrathshapedbyfrustratedarttwistedtheairandtorturedthestonesoftheearth.Mnay’salathinscribeditsfuryinitspassage.ThefieldsofSandavaII exploded with an obscene excess of life. Crops transformed into muscularcoils of flesh that swallowed the agri-serfs in amonstrous embrace.The rainsbecame scentedoils, drivinghuman andbeast to frenzieddeaths.A swatheofmadness, of moaning rivers and gasping, heaving landscapes markedMnay’salath’sjourney.Eventheoceanwasdefiledwiththefleshyscarofdesireasthedaemonflew,heldaloftbyconjuredwarpenergy,towardsthewesterntipofSandavaII’ssoutherncontinent.

Overthehundredsofmilesofemptyocean,thedaemonbroughtitsrageundercontrol. All the meticulous steps of its dance had been for nothing. It hadunderestimatedAntwyr.Theswordhaddupedit.Ithadexpendedtoomuchofitselfonthecathedral.IthadnotleftitselfenoughstrengthtocapturetheescapingBlade.ButAntwyrwasstillonthisworld.Ithadnotescapedyet.Mnay’salathcouldfeelitspresence.Thefusionofdaemonandswordhadnotbeenbroken.Antwyrwasheldinthematerium.Itwastimetobeginanewdance.AndsoMnay’salathfollowedthememoriesitfoundintheruinsofCardinalRannoch.ItdescendedonthecityofBeroea,andtheEcclesiarchalPalace.Beroea,theholycityofSandavaII,perchedonthejaggedendofapeninsularclawreachingwestwardsintotheocean.Ametro polisofshrines,surroundedonthreesidesbyhighcliffs,theeternalwindpoundingthewavesagainsttherockwiththeboomingofagiant’sheartandtherelentlessinsistenceofatollingbell.Beroea,whereeveryshrinehousedarelic,ahordeaccumulatedbythediligentworkofcenturiesofecclesiarchsdevotedtotheprideoftheirdiocese.Beroea,whichRannoch’sexcessivepridehadnowdoomed.In the highest towers of the palace, Mnay’salath crouched. It gathered itsstrength.Inthecitybelow,itsvassalsrampaged.TheyslaughteredthecitizenryofBeroea.They filled thestreetswithbloodand revelry.Theirnumbersgrew,and at theirmaster’s command they herded the terrified faithful together. Thenew dance required a great gathering. A great unison. When the dance wasaccomplished,itwouldexpungethedefeatinEgetafrommemory.Intheheights,inthewinds,inthesuccessionofnights,Mnay’salathmoveditsarms, weaving, conjuring, dancing. It did not knowwhere on Sandava II theswordwas.Otherswouldbesearchingforittoo.Letthemfindit.Letthembringithere,fortheywouldbedrivenbytheirpallidservicetothecorpse-godtodoso.Andwhentheycame,Mnay’salathwouldpresentthemwithitsgreatestworkyet.Thesacrificesgrewinnumber,feedingtheartofannihilation.

Sometimes Otto looked out at the world. His selfhood would coalesce intosomethingmoresubstantialthanvapour,andhewouldknowwhathehadbeen.He would scream at what he had become, but his transforming body did notobeyhim.Hewouldlookoutthrougheyesthatnolongerbelongedtohim.Hewouldtakestockofwherehewas,andthinkhowbesttogetwherehemustgo.

Andwhenhewascertainofhispath,hewouldfeelhimselfgrowfaintagain.Hewould become an evanescence of pain, flickering in and out of a form ofconsciousness,trappedinthenightmareunleashedbyhisdecisioninthethroneroom.Itpleasedtheswordtomakehimseetheconsequences.Thetatteredragsof his soul screamed. The sword laughed.Andmade him do its bidding. Thesword controlled the body and plundered Otto’s knowledge of Sandava II tomakeitsescapefromthisworld.Butnotintothewarp.AntwyrwasheldwithinthematerialityoftheBlade.Thatfinalescapewasnotwithinreach.The bodywas still a solid shadow, human in form but featureless. The eyesthroughwhichOttosawwerenotreallythere.Thebodysawandheard,buttherewere only vague depressions where eye sockets would have been, andirregularitieson the sidesof thehead to suggestears.The thing raced throughthe burning streets of Egeta. It moved with the grace and speed of darknessleapingfromflametoflame.Whereitflew,whereitwasseen,theinhabitantsofthecityobeyedawillgreaterstillthanMnay’salath’s.Theynolongersearchedfor the Blade. They killed each other in a perfection of violence. The chaosspread wide and Antwyr fed on the fury. It moved faster. On the wings ofviolenceandtheobedienceofthemob,itleftEgetabehind.Ittookadaytospeedoverhundredsofmilesnorthwest,anditwasnightagainwhentheBlackBladeanditsslavereachedDikaia.Thecitywasamajorhubforthe northern continent’s agri-shipping. Millions of tonnes of the harvest ofSandava II arrived inDikaia every day to be shipped off-world to satisfy theinexhaustiblehungeroftheImperium.Theshadow-thing flowedpastendlessmaglev freight trains. It shot fromonerusting iron pillar to the next, darkness moving through gloom. It did notengenderstrifehere.Itdidnotwishtomakeitspresenceknown.Itfollowedthetrack to the spaceport andarrived just as twoorbital lifters rose fromseparatelaunchpads.Theywerebulky,clumsy,brutishcraft,suitabletotheirpurposeofbringingSandavangraintofreighterswaitingatlowanchor.TheywerealsosuitabletoAntwyr’spurpose.Otto’sawarenesssharpenedagainas theswordapproached themomentof itscompletevictory.Itwasabouttofinaliseitsescape.Youhavewroughtthis,theswordtoldOtto.Youaretheauthorofthefirestocome.Otto’sspirithowledagain.Theshadowbodyhadnomouth,onlytheshapeofone.But itcouldhaveshriekedtoshatter theskyif theBladehadsowilledit.Antwyrdidnotwillit,andOtto’shorrorwassilent.

A third lifter was being readied for launch. Its four engines were rumbling,preparatorytotheeffortsofheavingthehull,morewarehousethanship,intothenight.Thecargobaydoorswerestillopen.Theshadowclimbedamaglevpillar,thenranalongtheedgeofthetracktowardsthelifter.Atrainrumbledpastintheotherdirection,itshuge,cylindricalcarsrockingbackandforth.The sky lit up. A burst of orange daylight spread over Dikaia. The shadowlookedup.Beforethelightfaded,therewasanotherflash.Thenanother.Theskyboiled,as if thestarsweretooclose,suddenlyragingjustbeyondSandavaII’satmosphere.The fireballs expanded, thendimmed,burningplasmadissipating.Intheirwakecamethestreaksofviolentre-entry.Wreckagerainedtowardsthesurface,disintegratingasitcame.Ottorejoiced.TheshipsinorbitoverSandavaIIwerebeingdestroyed.Therewouldbenowayofftheplanet.The body shrieked now. It gave voice to Antwyr’s rage. At themoment theswordhadreachedthethresholdtothegalaxy,thedoorhadslammedshut.Theshadowroared,andthetrackturnedmolten.TheswordtoreintoOtto’smemories.HistriumphdisappearedbeneathpainasAntwyrransackedhismind.Nowhewishedtodissolveagain.Hewishedforafinal oblivion. Antwyr denied him that solace. It held him present, aware,consciousasitsearched.Itfoundwhatitwantedalmostatonce,butthemomentforOttowaseternal.TheswordstolehisknowledgeofthecitiesofSandava.ItfoundthepopulationofDikaia. Itweighed thehub against all theother centreswithin reach.Egetawas the governmental centre of the world, but Dikaia was the locus ofcommerce. Millions more lived here than in Egeta. The sword’s anger wasmutedbyapredatorysatisfaction.ItrefusedOttohiswish.Itrippedhimapart,andthedissolutionwasagony,butwith each stab his consciousness becamemore andmore pronounced.Antwyrwouldnotfreehim.Thebodybegantochangeagain,takingonfeatures,whileOttowailedintheterriblesilenceofhisprison.Hebeggedtoweep,toweepforhis failure, for his people, for his world. As the scope of the sword’s powerappearedbeforehim,hebeggedtoweepfortheImperium.Buttheswordgrantedonlypain,anditslaughterwasthevoiceofaholocaust.

CHAPTERTENANTWYRASCENDING

TheBlackBladecametoacitywhoselifewasshapedbyagreatshadow.ThefieldsofSandavaIIcametoanendintheapproachtoDikaia.Therewasnoroomforasingletree,muchlessfarmland,amidthewebofroadsandtracksthatconvergedatthecity.Forhundredsofsquaremilesaroundthecity’swalls,thelandwaspavedbyrockcreteandsteel.InthecentreofDikaiarosethesourceof its shadow.The citynestled around thebaseof theVigilance tower.Risingthousandsoffeetabovetheplains,thetowerwasalonepeak,anarrow,vertical,striatedupthrustofigneousrock.Itwasvisibleforever,acolumnstandingguardovertheflatexpanseoftheprairies.Everyday,withtherisingandthesettingofthe sun, its shadow would stretch across the breadth of the city and sweeparound it, the hand of a monstrous sundial telling the hours. The tower wasvigilanceinstone,anditwasacalltovigilance,asummonstothepopulationtothinkuponthelossoflightandthedangersofdarkness.TheextendinggraspofVigilancetowerwasthecalltoholdfasttotheEmperor’slight,andmarkwellthecomingofjudgement.Sowentthesermonsfromeverypulpitinthecity.Sowentthehymns.Sowentthenatureofevensongriteswhentheshadowbecamenight, and so too the solemn celebration ofmatins, when the counting of thehoursbegananew.The possessed body of Otto Glas began its long walk with the coming ofmorning.As one shadow retreated, another, fouler one followed it. TheBlackBlade disdained to hide its slave now. The thing of darkness announced itspresencejustinsidetheeastgate.Itappearedinthewidesquarebeforethegate,

where the road transports arrivedbeforeheadingdown theavenues that led tothemultitudeofwarehouseandmanufactoriadistricts.Asthematinsserviceswerestillunderway,andthefirstwaveofrailandroadshipmentswerearriving,thebeingstoodinthecentreofthesquare.Thedirectrays of the sun did nothing to banish the shadowstuff of its form. It was acreatureofpurevoid,afragmentofthenightintheshapeofaman,absorbingalllightandreflectingnothing.Transportdriversandwarehouseserfsstoppedintheirtracks.Theystaredatthefigure in theirmidst.Aswouldeveryother inhabitantofDikaia thatday, theyexperiencedasingle,blindingmomentofterrorinrecognitionofthedangertotheirsouls.ThentheshapeheldtheBlackBladeofAntwyraloft,andtheirbattlewaslost.TheirwillwasAntwyr’s.Theshadowcreaturebegantowalk,andtheyfollowed.Inthefirstminuteofthegreatmarch,morethanahundredcitizensofDikaia gathered to follow in the sword’s wake. Before the shadow left thesquare,therewereathousand.Pastthesquare,thesword’screaturemoveddownagreatperimeterboulevardcurvingtothesouthandwest.Thethingdidnotspeak.Therewasnoneed.Thesword’swillstretchedwiderandwider.EverysoulthatgazedupontheBladefellwithinthegravitywellofitsinfluence.Themoreslavesitcaptured,thestrongeritspullbecame.Withinthefirstmileofthemarch,Antwyr’spowerextendedbeyondsight.Bytheendofthefirsthour,ahundredthousandpeoplefilledthestreets.Theirstepswere synchronised. They had become the physical manifestation of a singleconsciousness.Insome,themostpiousandstubbornofthecitizenry,theflickersof their original selves writhed. They knew they were lost. Like Otto, theysufferedfortheirfall.Otto’spainwasyetofadifferentorder.Theswordpushedhis awareness to the fore. Itmade him see the full scope of his damnation. Itmadehimunderstandwhathewasbecoming.Willyounotrejoice?ittaunted.Doyounotseethepowerthatliesbeforeyou?Doyounothungertoseeworldsburn?No?Iwillteachyoutorevelinthefire.Iwillteachyoutoembraceyourtranscendence.Thebody’smetamorphosiscontinued.TheswordhadbegunbystealingalltracesofOtto’sphysicalidentity.Hisbodyhad become the empty symbol of a man. As the sun rose, and the sword’sharvest continued, the crowds growing and growing and growing, the bodydeveloped features once again. It grew taller. Its limbs thickened. It becamemoresolid,pureshadowgivingwaytoamonstrouspresence.Therewastexture

now. It existed in a nether zone between flesh and armoured plating. Spikesbegantopushoutwardsfromthelimbsandchestanddarkhornsgrewfromthebrow. Otto felt the thing that was both him and no longer his become amassivenessofmanyblades.Themarchbecameahuge, sweeping spiral goingdeeper anddeeper into thecity.Pastwarehouses,pasthabblocks, in themanufactoriasectors.Dikaiawasthe most industrial city on the agri world. On either side of upheld Antwyr,narrow, sharp spires reached for the hard steel of the daytime sky. ThearchitectureofDikaiawasinthemouldof theVigilancetower.Thecitywasadense cluster of rockcrete-and-iron claws.They dragged at the air, smoke andburning gases trailing from the peaks like dark, lividwounds. The populationpoured down into the streets in answer to the sword’s call. Some could notdescendfastenoughandhurled themselves fromwindows, fallinghundredsoffeettoendasbrokenofferingstoAntwyr’ssupremacy.TheBlade’sgripcoveredtheentireeasternhalfofDikaia,fromwalltocentre.Millionswalkedtoitscommand.There was resistance. It was brief. Pitiable. The huge shape of Otto’s bodystrodepasttheChapelofMilitantBlood.Thedoorsopened.TheArchdeaconofDikaia randown the steps, brandishinghis iron staff.The sight of thewingedskullwasanotherbrandonOtto’ssoul.TheArchdeaconraisedthestaffhigh.Hebegantoshout.Hisanathemadidnotmakeitpastthefirstsyllable.Thepeopleoverwhelmedhim.Theyattackedquicklyandinsilence.Theytrampledhimtodeath.ThesynchronyoftheirkicksandstompinghorrifiedOtto.ItwasanothermeasureoftheBlackBlade’sabsolutecontrol.Hedidnotwanttosee.Hewouldhave looked away. But the sword kept the body’s new eyes on the scene. Itlaughedatthedeath.ItlaughedatOtto’sagony.Itlaughedasitdelightedinthesweepofitspower.Onandonthemarchwent,throughthecityandthroughtheday,untilatlast,withthecomingofeveningandthetriumphofallshadows,themonsterholdingAntwyrreachedthecentreofDikaiaandthebaseoftheVigilancetower.Hereitbegantoclimb.Itascendedrapidly.Thespikesbristlingonitsbodyweresolongandsharpnow,itusedtheonessproutingfromitsfiststopunchhandholdsintherock.While it climbed, thepeoplegatheredstill.DikaiawasAntwyr’sdomainnow.Nocornerofthecitywasoutsideitsgrasp.Themonsterclimbed.Ottonotedthegunemplacementsmountedatintervalsinthe cliff-face. He sensed the sword’s calculations too. He was rocked by itslaughter yet again. TheBlackBladewas pleased. Itwas eager for thewar to

come.Youhadnomemoryofthese?itsaidtoOtto.Youareapoorofficer.Yourtrueglorycomesnow.YoucalledyourselfLordGovernor.Letmeshowyouwhatyougovern.NotI!Otto tried toformthe thought.He tried toanswer thesword.Hecouldnot.Were thesenotstillhishands,however transformed?Was thisnotstillhisbody?Didnotalltheseactionsflowfromhisfirstcrimeinthethroneroom?Hereachedthesummitandturnedaround.ItseemedthatnighthadsprungfromtheVigilance tower tocoverDikaia,bringingallwithin thegraspof theBlackBlade. Down below, beneath the vertical height of stone, in the streets, onrooftops, in windows, ten million people stood to silent attention, waiting,incapableofanyactthatwentagainstthewillofthesword.Theywereserfsandadministrators,preachersandnobles,merchantsandarbites,farmersandsoldiersofthemilitia.TheywerethefullmosaicofDikaia’spopulace,andtheywereasingle, unified force. No mortal army had ever been capable of the perfectlycoordinatedactionthatdefinedthistenmillionsouls.NomortalarmysincetheBlackBladeofAntwyrhadlastbeenfreetodrownthegalaxyinblood.Yourtrueglory,theswordsaidagain.Otto’sbodyraiseditsarms.Theswordpointedtotheheavens,hungryfortheirdeath.Thelefthandmadeagesture,acommandgiventotheperfectarmy.Theroaroffealtyshookthetower.Tenmillionpeopleobeyedatonce,andtheverystarstrembled.TheBlackBladeofAntwyrexulted.Yourtrueglory,itsaid,ismine.

Crowewatched thePurgation’s Sword return to the militia base. The solemnvoyage to theSacrumFinemwas complete, then.Gavallan’sbodywas aboardthe strike cruiser, ready for its final journey to theDeadFields ofTitan.Thatmuch had been accomplished. Good. Crowe gave thanks that it had beenpossibletoattendtothisbeforethenextphaseofthewar.Hewasgrateful,too,that Gavallan would be returned intact to Titan. There were toomany emptysuitsofburialarmour in theDeadFields.Somanybrotherswhosebodieshadbeenutterly destroyedwhen they fell in service to theEmperor.Gavallan hadearnedhisrest.Hewouldhaveitnow,inproperform.IfthethoughtsdidnotgiveCroweameasureofpeace,theydidhelphimacceptwhathadhappened.Therewouldbemuchmoreinhisfuturehewouldhavetoaccept.Unlesshefailedinhismission,andthathecouldnotaccept.

TheStormravencamedownonthebase’slandingpad.Thefurnacewindofitsengines’down-draughtwashedover thewideexpanseof rockcrete,whichwascrowded with Valkyries and heavy transports, all ready for deployment whenCrowegavetheword.Hehadnotdonesoyet.Heneededatargetfirst.He waited beside the command bunker for Sendrax and his squad. Theymarched back from the gunship in silence, their formation still ceremonial.Crowehad sentSendrax to theSacrumwithGavallanwhile he and his squadmadereadyforthenewmobilisation.CrowehadhopedtheKnightoftheFlamewouldfindsomecalmnessofthespirit.Hisgrimcountenanceasheapproachedwas not promising. The rest of the squad entered the bunker, leaving the twoseniorPurifiersalone.‘Itisdone,then,’Crowesaid.Sendrax gave him a curt nod. ‘Gura says all orbiting vessels have beendowned.’‘Good.’Anecessarysacrifice,of thesortnever takenlightly,butnotunusual.The war was making the presence of the Grey Knights and the existence ofdaemonsknownmoreandmorewidelyacrossSandavaII.Theharddutiesweretobecarriedoutwithnohesitationor regret, andwitha fullunderstandingoftheirweight.HerewasthetruthCroweandSendraxbothknew,andwouldnotrevealtothesoldierswaitingtofightattheirsides:SandavaIIwassubjecttowhatamountedtoaslowExterminatus.Theshipsweredestroyed.Thousandshaddiedinorbit.Nowthefirstphaseofthe planetside purge was about to begin. Crowe could have ordered thecommencement sooner.Buthe felt that this, too, shouldbeaccomplishedwithSendraxpresent.‘Well?’saidSendrax.‘Haveyoulocatedourquarry?’‘Notyet.Itwon’tbelongnow,brother.TheswordcannotleaveSandavaII.Itisbeinghuntedbythedaemonsaswellasbyus.Itwillbeforcedtoreact.Alittlepatiencemore.’‘Patience,’ Sendrax repeated. He pronounced the word as a curse. ‘I freelyacknowledge patience has never beenmy strength.But, brother, you have toomuch.Itlookslikeresignation.’Sendrax was wrong. Crowe wanted to tell him so. He believed in militantpatience. Itwas the patience thatwaited for the bestmoment to attack.Moreimportantly,itwasthepatiencethatenduredtheunendurable,temperingthesoulonananvilthatcouldbemistakenformartyrdom,butwassomethingfarmore

aggressiveandunforgiving.Crowewouldendureuntilthelastenemyhadfallen.Sendrax’s impatience was a weakness. It left him vulnerable to error. Torecklessness.Tothecloudedjudgementofanger.CrowesaidnothingofthistoSendrax.Toinsistfurtheroncalmwouldservenopurpose.Sendraxwouldnotlisten.Instead,Crowesaid,‘Comewithme.’Heledthewayfromthebunker,downthebareavenuebetweenthebarracks.Soldiersstaredatthemastheypassed.Thebuildingsweredarkprefabrockcrete.Thedouble-headedImperialeagleroseinirononeachroof,acalltovigilancetoevery man and woman inside. The base was austere, yet not without a coldgrandeur in the scale of its vehicle hangars. Thewallsweremassive, built towithstanddirectcannonfire.Thesettingsuntingedtheeagle’spinionswithred.Sanctified violence resided here, ready to be unleashed in the direction of thefoe.Crowe could tell at a glancewhich troops had been inEgeta andwhich hadbeen held back here. The reserves were fresh, eager to be in combat. Theveteransofthecurrentwarhadhauntedlooks.Theyhadalreadyseentoomuchfor their spiritual health. They went through their drills with a grimness ofpurpose.Theyknewwhattheywouldbefighting.Theywereterrified.Andtheywerestillreadytofight.‘Thestocksarebeingkeptbusy,’Sendraxsaidastheypassedaparadeground.There were three figures in the iron pillories. They had been there since themorning.‘Yes,theyare,’saidCrowe.Therewassomethingherehewouldhavetothinkaboutlater.HetookSendraxtothewallfacingeast,towardsEgeta.TheyfoundVendruhnon the ramparts. She was staring at the wounded city, tenmiles away.WhenCrowespokehername,shespokewithoutturningaround.‘Hasthetimecome?’‘Forwhat?’‘ForEgeta’spunishment.’Crowehadtoldhernothingofwhatwascoming.Perhapsshespokefromhope,not knowledge. Either way, she was correct, and there was no point inconcealment.‘Yes,’Crowesaid,‘itistime.’Heopenedupavox-channeltotheSacrumFinem.Gura’svoiceansweredimmediately.‘Yes,LordCrowe,’shesaid.‘Youmaybegin,’Crowetoldher.TherehadbeenanordertoeventssincetheretreatfromEgeta.CrowehadnocontroloverwhentheBlackBladewouldmakeamoveandsorevealitself.He

didhavecontrolovertheactionstakenatthebaseandaboardthestrikecruiser,though.Therewerestepstobetaken,mourningtobeobserved,retributiontobeexacted.Thelinesbetweentheseactionsblurred.SoCrowehadasolemnritualperformed.FirstGavallanhadbeenescortedtotheplacehewouldrestuntilhisarrival at theDead Fields.Now itwas time to destroy the faithless andmarkGavallan’sdeathwithagreatpyrebuiltfromthecitythathadkilledhim.Crowe voxed the squads. ‘Brothers,’ he said, ‘look to the east. BeholdGavallan’swrath.’The late evening skywas streakedwith the fireoforbitalbombardment.Thelinesofholyangerdescendedonthecity.TheSacrumFinemhadthepowertoreduceSandavaII toacinder.What itsentnowwasthesmallestportionof itswrath.Thatwas enough. Ship-to-surface rockets raced ahead of cannon shellstwentyfeet long.HighexplosivesandordnancewhosedevastatingforcewasaproductofsheermassfellonEgeta.Theclawsofdestructioncamelower,andloweryet.Thentouchedthecity.Thepurgebeganwithlight.Searingflasheswentoffinsuchquicksuccessionthat the skyline disappeared. They were succeeded by the fireballs. Huge,blazing orange, they swallowed the towers. The architecture of Egeta becamedisintegrating silhouettes as centuries-old edifices flew apart. High spirescollapsedonthemselves.Theconflagrationgrewandgrewandgrew,andinthemidstofexpandingspheresof flame,newflasheseruptedasmore rocketsandshellshit.Finallythesoundcame,thethunderofblastuponblast,shakingthegroundandthewallsofthebase.CroweandSendraxstoodfast.Vendruhnclutchedtheedgeoftheparapet.Hermouthwasopen.Atfirst,Crowethoughtshewaswailingingriefoverherfallencity.Thenhesawhewaswrong.Hereyeswerewidewithanger. She was drinking in everymoment of the annihilation. She caught hisgaze and shouted. He could not hear her, but he could read her lips: Let thehereticsburn.The bombardment continued. The immense booming was without surcease.TheflamesofEgetarosetotheskyasifhungryforstillmoreshells,stillmorerockets. Soon there was nothing but the fire. The silhouettes of the buildingsvanished completely. In the city-wide firestorm, Crowe knew, roads weremelting.Metalwasevaporating.All thathadonce stood tallwasbeing laid towaste. The people caught in that onslaught burned, were crushed, vanishedbeneathflowsofmolteniron,andwereblastedoutofexistencebythesunburstsoftheshells.

At last, the bombardment ended. The explosions ceased. The firestorm stillburned, and would for days to come. But the thunder was over. The nightseemedalmostsilentaftertheoverlappingconcussionshadfaded.Almostsilent.ThequietwaspuncturedbyVendruhn’sbitterlaughter.

ThenightwasspentinprayertotheGod-Emperor,andinthepsychicsearchforHisfoes.Thetwosquadsgatheredin thecommandbunker.Theykneeledwiththeirswordsbefore them,theirhandsclaspedonthehilts.Theysought toreadthe turbulenceof thewarpoverSandava II.But the storms in the immateriumwere toogreat.Therewas somuchdisruption,andsomuchcorruption, that itwas difficult to determine with precision whereMnay’salath and Antwyr hadgone.TherewerestormsoverbothofSandavaII’s landmasses,but theyweretooviolentandtoolargetofindacentre.Moreinformationwasneeded.It came in themorning,whenoneof themilitia’svox-operators stoodbeforeCrowe,tremblinginawe.HernamewasMorenz.‘Wehavelosttwomorecities,’shesaid.‘Towhat?’Croweasked.‘We are not sure.Beroeawas the first.Wedid pick up somedistress signalsfromthere.Wehavereportsofmonsters.’Thedaemonswerethere,Crowethought.Sotheswordmustbeelsewhere.‘Andtheothercity?’‘Dikaia,lord.Wedonotknowwhathashappenedthere.Ithasgonesilent.Weonlynoticedaftertherehadbeennovoxtrafficforseveralhours.’‘You’vetriedtocontactthemilitiathere?’‘Yes,lord,’Morenzsaid.‘Therehasbeennoanswer.’A sudden, absolute silence. That was suggestive. It would accord with theunleashed will of Antwyr. Crowe thanked Morenz. A few minutes later, heannounced tohisbrothers thatDikaiawas their target.Thenhe toldVendruhn,andtheentirebasebegantomobiliseforwar.DrakedrewCroweasideas thePurifierswalkedacross the launchpad to theStormraven.‘Themomentofyourfateisathand,’hesaid.‘Soitwouldappear.’CrowenotedwithsatisfactionthatDraketookitascertainthattheywouldrecapturetheBlackBlade.‘Ithasbeenanhonourtofightbyyourside,brother.’Crowenodded.‘Thehonourhasbeenmine.’Thiswouldbethelast timetheywouldmarchtobattleascomrades.WhenCrowetookthesword,hewouldbemadeseparatefromhisbattle-brothersforever.Theprocesshadalreadystarted.

HehadspentmostofthiscampaignatGavallan’srighthand,inaproximitytoAntwyrtoodangerousforanyotherGreyKnight.VictorytodaywouldtransformCrowe into something other, a solitary warrior almost as dangerous to hisfellowsashewastoadaemon.‘Iwouldwishyouwellinyourburden,’Drakesaid.‘Mythanks.Iwillshoulderitwithgratitude.’‘Which is why it must be yours.’ Drake’s head moved infinitesimally inSendrax’sdirection.Crowesaidnothingatfirst.Heunderstood.Sendraxdidnothavepatience.Hedidnothaveresignation.Hewouldalwaysresistthedictatesoffate.Thesetraitsmadehima furiouswarrior, buthewouldhavebeen ill-suited tobeAntwyr’sguardian. ‘Our duties to the Emperor are apportioned to us according to ourpowers,’Crowesaidatlast.Thewordswerenotaplatitude.Hebelievedwhathesaid. Those who failed in those duties were guilty of the worst sort offaithlessness.AndthatwouldneverbetrueofSendrax.‘Wellsaid,’Drakemurmured.‘Imeannoslighttoanybrother,’heemphasised.‘Understood.’‘Thenletusfightwelltogetheronefinaltime,’Drakesaid.‘Agreed.’Theyclaspedforearms, thenmounted therampto the troopholdofthePurgation’sSword.

TheStormravenoutpacedtheairtransportsofthemilitia.ItateupthegroundtoDikaia.ItwasmiddaywhenCrowesawthecity,andwhattheBlackBladehadwrought. Outside the walls of Dikaia, a million mortals stood ready to repelinvaders.‘I see firearms,’ said Destrian as the gunship made a pass over the army.‘Proportionatelyfew.Somethousandsperhaps.‘Themilitiahasfallen,’saidGorvenal.‘Apoortestamenttotheirfaith.’Destrian grunted. ‘Many tens of thousands of improvised weapons,’ hecontinued.CrowecouldalmostseetheotherPurifier’smethodicalcalculationsatwork,weighingthebestapproachestodealwiththetaintbelow.‘Theyaremotionless,’Sendraxsaid.‘Possessed,’saidCrowe.‘TheBladehastheminitsthrall.’Thecityseemedtobefrozen,waitingforasinglewilltohurlitintowar.Risingabovethecity, theVigilance towerrumbled.Itspeakwasshroudedinshadow.Therewastheonlymovement.Thedarkpulsedandwhirledandtwisted.The tower gave welcome to the Grey Knights. It welcomed them to the

vengeanceoftheirformerprisoner.

CHAPTERELEVENERUPTION

Berinon took the gunship high. He flew directly at the peak of the Vigilancetower. In the troop compartment, Crowe watched the tableau of Dikaia drawcloser.‘Idonottrusttheirstillness,’Berinonvoxed.‘Adisplayforourbenefit,’saidCrowe.‘Iwouldhavecalleditatrap.’‘Itisnotatrapwhenbothfoesknowwhatmusthappen.Theswordtauntsus.Testitshubris,brother.’CroweindulgedinthehopethatAntwyrdesiredtoexactitsvengeancedirectly.Howdoyouwishtotasteourblood?Crowethought.Doyouwishtostrikeusdownyourself?No,cametheanswer.Theperimeter of the city exploded at a stroke.Berinon cursed.He threw theStormraven into a hard right bank.The fire of everywall-gun and long-rangecannonon the tower reached for thePurgation’sSword. Thousands of lasgunsopenedupatthesametime.Whatwouldhavebeenmerenuisancefirebecamedeadly as all beams converged with inhuman precision on a single point.Weapons never designed for anti-air struckwith the accuracy of sniper rifles.Earthshakershellsscreamedpastthehull.Lascannonfirestrucktheportengine.Thearmourglassoftheviewingblockscracked.Theworldwasblindingflashes.The Stormraven shuddered. Warning klaxons shrieked. The scream of theenginesvibratedthebulkheads.Berinonpushedtheshipharderyet,histurnsosharpitdidviolencetotheintegrityofthehull.Croweandtheothersjoinedthe

pilotinaprayerofforgivenesstothemachine-spirit.Somethinghugesideswipedtheundercarriage.ThePurgation’sSword lurchedintheair,thendropped,itsenginesscreamingasitcompletedtheturn.Berinonaimedthenosedown.Heusedgravitytoturnthediveintoafurioussprinttotheground.The firestormof las and ordnance overshot them, thenwas corrected.Berinonslammedthecontrolsright,rightagain,thenleft,jerkingawayfromthefusillade.At thisheight, thePurgation’sSwordwas ineasy rangeof the smallarms.Thehull rattledandhissed from thehits.Loweryet, faster,andBerinonlevelledoffjustfifteenfeetfromtheground.ThePurgation’sSword roared over the possessed army.Crowe saw a blur ofexpressionlessfacesandexpertlywieldedguns.Thereweremorelashitsagainstthe hull.Massive explosions chased the fleeingStormraven.Berinon launchedtwo Stormstrike missiles to the rear. They killed hundreds in seconds. Theslaughter made no difference to the ocean of enemies. The guns pursued theSword until it passed beyond the reach of most of the defences. Even then,Berinonkept the flight jaggedand random to throwoff theaimof thebiggestcannons. The Vigilance tower continued to boom, belching fire, thebombardmentunceasingnowthatithadbegun.Crowesaid,‘Wecannotapproachthesword’spositionbyair.’‘We were almost hit by mortar and anti-fortification ordnance,’ Carac said,outraged.‘Howisthatpossible?’‘ThisisthepoweroftheBlackBlade,’Crowetoldhim,‘andwhyitsthreatissosevere. Its possession of its victims is total. Every set of eyes in that armybelongstothesword.Itisasinglewillwithmillionsofbodilymanifestations.InDikaia,itiseffectivelyeverywhereatonce.’HehadstudiedthewritingsontheBlackBlade.Hehad learned fromGavallan.Heknewwhat ithaddone in thepast.Hehadunderstoodwhatitmightdoagain.No, he thought he had understood. Now he had experienced the sword’spowers.Nowhesawwhatitcoulddo.HeimaginedAntwyr’scontrolspreadingacrossSandavaII,thentoSandavaIII,thenfromonesystemtoanother.Antwyrbecomingomniscientandomnipresentacrossthegalaxy.Becomingagod.‘Agroundassaultwillnotfareanybetterthananaerialone,’Sendraxsaid.‘Itmight,ifwealterthebattlefield,’saidCrowe.‘Ifwetakeawaythesword’sadvantage.’‘Alterthebattlefieldinwhatway?’Sendraxasked.‘Thetransformationwouldhavetoberadical.’

‘Yes,’saidCrowe.Sendraxgruntedinsurprise.‘Anorbitalbombardment?’‘Yes.’‘Therisks…’‘Areconsiderable.Irealisethat.ButtheswordisonthepeakoftheVigilancetower.That target is large enough forShipmasterGura to avoid.’ If the sworddisappearedinthedevastation,theattemptwouldbefornothing.Forthefirst timesinceGavallan’sdeath,Sendraxsmiled.Theexpressionwasgrim,butthetraceofironhumourwasthere.‘Youwouldhaveusmarchintoourownbombardmenttoconductagroundwar.’‘Iwould.’Thesmilegrewa littlebroader. ‘Ichastisedyou foryourpatienceyesterday,’Sendraxsaid.‘Soyoudid,’saidCrowe.Militantpatience,hethought.Iwaitedforourenemytorevealhimself.NowIstrike.Idonotmakethischoicelightly,brother.Iknowwhat we risk if we do this. I know what we risk if we do not. I accept theconsequencesofthisdecision.‘I shall walk in the valley of fire,’ said Gorvenal, intoning the twenty-thirdmartialprayer.Crowejoinedhim.‘Thepillarsofflameshallbeatmysideandinmysteps.’NowallthePurifierstookuptheprayer.‘Theearthshallfallandthefirmamentshall crack, formy soul is strongwith theEmperor’swrath.My foe’s domainendsinblood.Thefireismine.Thechasmsoftheeartharemine.Thecometsoftheskyaremine.ForallthatismineisnaughtbutthewilloftheEmperor.AndIshallwalkinthevalleyoffirewithfellpurposeandwar-boundheart.’

‘Donotapproachthecity,’saidCrowe.Vendruhnstaredat thevox-unit.Shecouldnotaccept theorder shehadbeengiven.Morenz stoodon theother sideof theChimera’s tacticarium table.Shelookedanxioustobeelsewhere,outofearshotofthisconversation.‘We have disembarked,’ Vendruhn told Crowe. The last of the armour hadrolleddowntheheavylifterrampsafewminutesbefore.SheoncemorehadaChimerasuitable forcommand.Shehad rebaptised itbefore leaving theEgetabases,overtheobjectionsofthecompany’sMechanicusadept.Vendruhnhadnoregard for the offence shemight cause to the vehicle’smachine-spirit. It wasnow the Legacy of Glas. She was going to fight the thing that had been herfather.Shehadnoillusionsaboutwhat,ifanything,wouldremainofSandavaII

inamonth,oraweek,orevenafewdaysfromnow.Butinthattime,shewouldhitbackattheobscenitythathadtaintedherworld,andshewouldstrikeforherfamily’shonour.ThenameofGlaswouldshedblood in terrible righteousness,evenifthebloodwereherfather’s.Shewouldnotbeheldbackfromthefight.‘Anorbitalbombardmentisabouttocommence,’Crowesaid.‘Donotbewithinitsrange.’Vendruhntriedtomakesenseofthis.‘Forgiveme, lord,butIhadunderstoodyouwereheadingintothecity.’‘Weare,’Crowesaid,andendedthetransmission.Vendruhngazedintonothingforalongmoment.‘General?’Morenzsaid.Vendruhn didn’t answer. Her anger at being told to sit out the war held hermotionless.‘General,’Morenztriedagain.‘WearestillmovingtowardsDikaia.Shouldn’twe–’‘Maintaincourse,’Vendruhnsnapped.Shedroppedthehandsetandscrambledupthroughtheroofhatch.Shelookedwest.The walls of Dikaia were just coming into view. The guns of the Vigilancetowerwerestillfiring.TheyweretargetingtheGreyKnightsgunship,anditwasflyingonapathtothesouthofthemilitia.Thusfar,Vendruhn’scompanieshadbeen spared an artillery barrage. They could get closer. They could get closeenoughtohitthearmythatwaitedoutsidethecity.ButnowtheGreyKnightsplannedtoannihilateDikaia.Shedidn’tunderstand.Whymountanassaultthatwouldneverhappen?Whylaysiegetoaruin?Dikaia was standing. She was within sight of her retribution. She did notunderstandCrowe’scommand,andsosheignoredit.‘General!’Morenzcalledfrombelow.‘We.Do.Not.Halt!’Vendruhnroared.Thewrathdescendedfromtheskiesoncemore.Vendruhnsawthedevastationcome,butwhereshehadwelcomedtheexterminationofEgeta,hereshefelthervengeancecheated,andsheshoutedatthedreadrainasifherwillcouldarrestit.The explosions began. Again Vendruhn beheld the terrible light. Again sheheardthehuge,cumulativethunder.Againtheworldshookwiththebeatofanimpossiblyvastwar-drum.Theeartheruptedanderuptedanderupted.Awallofflaming columns lunged for the sky.Even from this distance,Vendruhn couldfeeltheheatagainstherface.

She felt no less awe before the sight than she had during the obliteration ofEgeta.But therewasfrustrationnowtoo.Shesawwhatshewished todo.Shesawthepowertopunishabsolutely,onascalecommensuratewithherrage.Butit was not her power. It was not her action. Her arm did not wield thattremendousdeath.The Purgation’s Sword flew past the militia. It headed directly towards thefirestorm.Itdroppeddown,preparingtoland.Theyaregoingin,Vendruhnthought.Crowehadmeantexactlywhathesaid.TheGreyKnightsweregoingtomarchintotheteethoftheirownbombardment.Vendruhn’simaginationburnedwiththevisionofwhatwouldhappennext.Thebattleintheflames.Thecuttingdownoftheirfoesinthemidstoftheendoftheworld.Therewerenowordstocapturethenatureofthatkindofwar.Itwastheveryessenceofthesublimetosurpasslanguage.Itwasalsoitsessencetocommandirresistibledesire.Shewouldmakethatwarhers.Vendruhn dropped down the hatch. She seized the handset and climbed upagain. ‘Forwards!’ she shouted into the vox. She stared at the toweringexplosions as she spoke. She gathered the power on display for her own.Thecolumnofinfantryandarmourwasstilladvancing,buttherewasahesitationinthe face of the bombardment, an uncertainty of action. She could sense it.LegacyofGlas’enginewassubdued,assubduedasifOwrun,herdriver,wereholdingback,unwillingtocommittheChimeratoitsdestiny.Shelookedback.Asshehadsuspected,theinfantry’smarchwasslow.Shewassureofthat.‘Forwards,bytheThrone!’shecalledagain.‘March,youprideofSandavaII!Will you let others fight your war? Will you shirk reclaiming your honour?Glorydrumsbeforeus!Marchwithme!Chargeintotheenemy!Thefireisourvictoryandourrevenge.Itdoesnotcomeforus!March,damnyou,march!’She switched the channel toOwrun’s frequency. ‘What are youwaiting for?Theroadisclearbeforeus.Itispavedandflat.Maximumspeed,orIwillshootyounow.’Owrun believed her. He obeyed. Legacy of Glas leapt forwards over thebreakingground.The rockcretepavementbuckedandsplit.Themaglev tracksrangandgroanedfromthebeatsofthebombardment.Ahead,theStormravenliftedoff.Ithadunloadeditswarriors.Itflewbackandforthneartheedgeofthebombardmentzone,strafingthegroundwithitsheavyboltersandassaultcannons.Vendruhnwassoclosenow.Theexplosionsshookherbones.Thestormoffire

and smoke and dust obscured the city. Only the Vigilance tower was visibleabove the devastation. Shadows contorted at its peak, lashing out in violentspirals. Thick tendrils, clouds thick as flesh but jagged and fast as lightning,struck down into the flames. The cannons flashed still, but they were silent,overwhelmedby the immensity of the blasts hurled atDikaia by the vessel inorbit.Closer,closer.Vendruhn’schestvibratedpainfully,andsmokestunghereyes.Shetastedbloodinhermouth.Shehadbittenhertongue.Herskinbakedfromthe heat. The pain enthralled her. Itwas a foretaste ofwhat shewas about toinflict.Almost there. The world shaking and cracking open from the monstrousconcussions.Theboom,boom,boomshatteringcoherence,scatteringthought.‘Forwards!’shecriedagain.Thatthoughtwasclear.Thatthoughtwasstrong.The enemy did not appear untilLegacy ofGlas plunged into themaelstrom.Billowing smoke embraced themilitia.Vendruhnwas inside thunder. She hadarrivedinanotherworldoffinaldissolution.Shecouldseenomorethanadozenyards ahead, and thenonly in snatches as the smokeeddied.Darkness flashedwith flame. The landscape was overlapping craters and pulverised ruins. TheChimera rode over smashed slabs and shredded, carbonised bodies. Owrunsteereditfromcratertocraterasifshellswouldnotlandwheredestructionhadalreadyoccurred.And through the fire, over the bodies, came the foe. They did not heed thebombardment.A shell landed twenty feet off theChimera’s right flank, and ahundredpeopledied in a second.Therewerenocries.Theattackerson eithersideoftheexplosiondidnotflinch.Theychargedinperfectsilence.InEgeta, the apostates hadbeenhysterical, chanting, screaming things.Theyhadgabbledprayersandcurses.Theyhadbeenterrifiedandecstatic.These people were different. Their silence gave way to shrieks when theyclosedwiththemilitia,buttheyscreamedallatonce,asiftheimpulsetohowlcamefromsomewhereelse.Thisenemywasasingle, inseparablemass.Therewereno individuals,anddeathmeantnothingexceptabriefgap in the tideoffoes.Manywere unarmed, yet they all fought with skill. Theywere fast andweremore nimble than any of the heretics in Egeta.Vendruhn gathered theseimpressions in splinters. No more was possible in the inferno. She saw theenemy, and she trained the heavy bolter on the wretches. Its mass-reactiveammunitionhitthematcloserange.Therewerenodaemonshere,onlyheretics,humans guilty of falling away from the Emperor’s light. Her slaughter was

enormous.Mightyshellsexplodedweakbagsoffleshandblood.Inthemidstofhowlingfire,rainfellonVendruhn,awarmrain,asplashing,copper-tastingrain.Herinfantryweredyingonallsides,overwhelmedbythepossessedorcaughtinthebombardment.TheChimerabehindLegacyofGlasvanished.Thecrackofthe explosionmadeVendruhn’s ears bleed. The blastwave slammed her backand forth. Fire washed over her as theGlas pulled away. Pain raked moltenclawsdownherface.Herhairsmouldered.Vendruhnlaughed.Sheheld the triggerdown, swept theweapon left and right, andshe laughed.Shehadnoideawhereshewas.Shehadlostallsenseofdirectionsecondsafterentering the storm. She was deep in the realm of excess. The war, thedestruction, the eruption of all reality – all of it glorious, magnificent,overwhelmingexcess.Thebloodonherface,theburstingbodies,thevortexofunendingviolencethatshewasnowpartof,allofit,allofit,allofit.Excess.She did not think of honour. She did not think of righteousness. She did notthinkof justice,orvengeanceor even thepossibilityofvictory.Thismoment,thisever-buildingparoxysmwastheendinitself.Excess.Therewasnomeaningto the universe except excess. There was no universe any more, only thisvolcaniccelebrationofchaos.Vendruhnlostherselfinthebutcheryandthedevastation,andsherejoiced.

Thecrowdwasburning.ThousandsranatthePurifiersfromtheflamingstreets.On the right, a hab tower collapsed, crushing the attackers, burying theboulevardbeneathamountainofrubbleforever.Forever, until a solid shell, an artificed meteor launched from the SacrumFinem, struck moments later, and then everything to the right was dust andflame.Ontheleft,theburningpeoplekeptcoming.Theconcussionoffallingbuildingandshell impactflattenedmanyofthem,buthundredsstillremained,andtheydidnotslow.Theywerestillonfire.CroweswunghisNemesisblade inwidearcs,chopping theattackers inhalf.He advanced through themas though theywereweedsof flesh.Theywere inagony.Their faceswere twistedwithsilentscreams.Theyfelt thefire.But thewillthatcontrolledthemdidnotcare.Itdidnotevenletthemscream.Itthrewthemforwards,pushingthetenmillionofDikaiaattheGreyKnights.‘Theyfightwell,’Drakevoxed.Itwasimpossibletocommunicateinanyother

fashion,evenincloseproximity,inthehurricaneofthebombardment.‘Theydo,’Crowesaid.Thepeopleattackedwith toomuchskill forcivilians.Someworemilitiauniforms.Mostdidnot.‘Wearenotfightingthemortalstheywere,’hesaid.‘WearefightingtheBlackBlade.’Heswung theswordagain,killingfourof thepossessedhereticsatonce.Hisstrengthandthesword’spowerfieldcutthroughmuscleandbonelikeair.Twomorethralls leaptoverhisblow.Theylandedonhisshouldersandtriedtopryhishelmet loose.Heshookthemoffandstompedtheirheadsopen.Hemovedon.‘Bewary,’hewarnedhisbrothers.‘Donotunderestimatethem.’Sendraxlaughed.‘Bewary?’hesaid.‘Here?’Hespoke,andtheworlderuptedagain.High-explosiveshellsdetonatedaheadandoneitherside.Fireobliteratedeverything.Thegroundheaved.Thefiredieddown and the colossal, blackened shape that had been a sprawling, hundred-storey hab complex toppled downwards. Itwas toowide to evade.Crowe ranforwards.Thiswasthewarhehadcreated.Hewouldfaceithead-on.Sendraxwaslaughingagain.‘Areyoudependingondestinytopreserveus,orareyoustilloffendedIinsultedyourpatience?’‘Neither,’saidCrowe.TheEmperorprotects,hethought.The skybecame sloping rockcrete, raining slabs andmetal.Fire engulfed thebaseofthestructure.Ahugeburstofflamebillowedoutofanentrance.Crowemadethatinferno.Theroarofthecollapsinghabblockwaseverywhere.Crowedidnotlookup.Theywouldreachthebaseortheywouldnot.Crowe ran into the fire. Itbellowed inawidecorridor extending through thecomplex. The Purifiers pounded through a tunnel of flame. Warning runesflashedredonCrowe’slenses.Hesawonlyfire.Itblastedathimwiththefuryof a gale.He ran, and the rumble of the hab’s destruction reached its climax.Everythingshook.Every thingcrashed.AgiantsoughttocrushthePurifiersinitsgrasp, but the corridor held its shape.The fire vented itswrathonCrowe.Hefaced it.He ran through it.Youwill not stopme, he thought. I have a greaterenemytofight.ThecorridortooktheGreyKnightstotheothersideofthefallencomplex.Thehall ended at the sourceof the fire – a crater filledwithburningpromethium.Thefuelpouredinfromtheright,comingfromamanufactorumthathadbeentorn in half. Ruptured pipes ten feet wide hung from multiple levels of thestructure. They were the outflows of incinerating cataracts. The heat wasintolerable. Crowe was already pushing the limits of his armour’s thermal

shielding. He turned left, wading through the edge of the crater until he wasfinallyoutofthefire.Thehereticswerewaiting.AntwyrknewwheretheGreyKnightswereateverystep.All it tookwasforonesetofeyes,evenfromadistance, tosurvive longenoughtoseethePurifiersentertheflames.Antwyrwasusingitsomnisciencewell.Thehereticsrushedforwards,usingtheirweighttopushtheGreyKnightsbackinto the lake of promethium. They attacked as amass, but an intelligent one,each heretic angling to amplify the force of those ahead. They hit with thestrengthofaseismicwave.Crowe leaned forwardsandbracedhimself.He lungedaheadwithhis sword.He fired his storm bolter at the samemoment. At his sides, the shells of hisbrothersslammedintothehereticstoo.ThePurifierscutawedgeintothethrong.Theycharged into theoceanofbodies.Theheretics couldnot throw theGreyKnights back, so they tried to entangle them instead. They threw themselvesdown.Theycrawledovereachother,crushing thebodiesbeneath, slowing theGrey Knights down while clawing and hacking at them with improvisedweapons. The possessed militia stood back and trained their lasrifles on thePurifiers.‘Theyseektodestroyuswithtrivialities,’Caracsnarled.‘Give them an opening and theywill,’ Crowe told him. The accuracy of themilitiawasinhuman.Thelas-beamsdidnomorethanscorehisarmour,buttheshotswereaimedconsistentlyathishelm,dazzlinghimeachtimetheystruck.‘We must move faster,’ Crowe called. ‘Climb their mounds. Take out theshooters.’Hedidashesaid,slashingthehereticsbeforetheycouldgrabathimand storming up the hill of bodies. He turned his storm bolter on themilitia,splattering them against the ruins of the buildings surrounding the crater.DestrianandRuluftorchedswathesofhereticswithincinerators.Theydirectedtheirfiretothewest,fightingtoclearthewayforwardstotheVigilancetower.Thetower’speakroseabovetheconflagrationofthecity,itscannonsblazing,itssummitafuryofshadow.Thebombardmentsentmoreandmoredustintotheair,andthesmokefurtherdarkenedtheday.Intheburning,flaming,thunderinggloom,theVigilancetowerhadbecomeadarksilhouette,blackastheswordthatreignedatitstop.Vigilanceindeed,Crowethought.VisibleeverywhereinDikaia,evenaDikaiaturnedintoapyre,theTowersawallofthecity.Wherevertherewereeyes,thesword could see. The bombardment was killing millions. Enough to stymie

Antwyr’sdefence,butnotenoughtoblindityet.Themilitia fell, shreddedbybolter fire.Thesoldiers’nuisanceshotsstopped.Crowelopedoverthehillsofbodies,usinghismomentumtoovercomeinertia.He slammed throughheretics, choppingoff limbsandheads, refusing to slow.ThePurifiersmovedevenfaster.Theypulledawayfromthecrater,headingforanother wide avenue. The base of the Vigilance tower was only half a mileahead.A premonition made Crowe look back.What happened next could not havebeen destiny. Surely it was mere chance, the inevitable result of defied oddstakingtheirrevenge.Sometimesthechanceresultwasinevitable,andtherewasnocontradiction.It could not havebeenpreordained.Futility could not be a foretold end.TheEmperorwouldnotallowit.Evenso,Crowelookedback,alreadysensingwhathewouldsee.AninfluxofthepossessedfromtherearcaughtupwithBrotherDoran.Theystumbledthroughthefire,becominghumantorches.Theyburnedsoferociouslythat even their daemonicmaster could not retain full control over theirmotorfunctions. They fell clumsily onto Doran. He fought them off and put themdown.Hecrushedskullswithhisbionicarm.Buttheysurroundedhimwiththeirfire.He took awrong step and sank into a gap betweenpiles of corpses.Thebodiessliddownontohim.Hisswordcut throughthemandheclimbedto thetopagain.Thedelaywasamatterofseconds.Itkepthimcloseenoughtothecentreoftheshellimpact.Thehighexplosivecamedownbesidethecrater.Crowe’sauto-lensessnappedshuttersdown,shieldinghimfromtheflareofimpact.Theyopenedagainashewas knockedbackby the blast. It sentSendrax and the others flying.But notDoran.Hehadvanished.Sendrax regained his feet. Standing in the midst of hundreds of corpses, helookedbetweenthenewcraterandCrowe.Ihearyourjudgement,Crowethought.Heheard,butherejectedit.Theseweretheconsequencesofhisdecisiontoprosecutethewarinthisway.Heacceptedthem.HewouldmournthelossofDoranlater.Therewasnotimenow.Andhisdecisionwasthecorrectone.IthadbroughtthePurifiersthisclosetotheVigilancetower.Crowe plunged down the avenue runningwest. Therewas a clear run to thebase of the tower. The road was filled with the possessed, but buildings hadfallenoneither sideand therewasnowayof funnelling largecrowds into the

zone as reinforcements. TheBlackBladewas trying.Heretics scrambled overtheburningwreckagelikeinsectsonacorpse.ThePurifiershitthecrowdwithblade and bolter and fire, thinning the enemy before them. They slammedthroughthebodies,metalploughingthroughflesh.CrowerefusedDoran’sfate.The swordwould notwin through the trivial act of slowing theGreyKnightsdown.Heknewtherewasnologictohisdetermination.Itwaschance,notspeed,thathadkilledDoran–Crowecould justaseasily rush into thenextshell–but inmomentumtherewasprogress,andthushefeltthebombardmentwasanally.Hehad caused this to happen. He had taken themost drastic steps to ensure thesuccessofthemission,andthefulfilmentofhisdutypasseddowntohimfromGavallan.Hemustbe theWardenof theBlade,andhewouldcrack theplanetwithhishandsifthatwaswhattheEmperorrequiredofhim.Fate.Destiny.No, Sendraxwaswrong.Crowedid not rely on destiny to seehimtohisgoal.Destinywasnotapredeterminedevent.Itwasaresponsibility.Itwasacalling.Itcouldbefailed.Hewouldnotfail.Andinanswer tohisdetermination, theskyhurleditselfdownonDikaia.Onallsides,thecityexploded.Croweranthroughtheblasts.Shockwavesbuffetedhim. Pieces of shrapnel the size ofLandRaiders flew across the avenue. Fireconsumedhis sight.The thunderof the explosionswas the roar ofSandava IIitself. The rockcrete of the road melted. Crowe’s boots stuck in the moltensludge.Hepulledhimselffreeandchargedoverthebodiesoftheenemy.Theysankintotheroad,burning,theirfacesbetrayingnosignoftheagonyinflicteduponthem.Thesword’scontrolovertheirbeingswassocomplete,itwouldnotletthemscream.Dikaiarockedandhowled.ItsurroundedCrowewiththecataclysmofitsdeath.Except in front. One shell landed near the base of the tower, and a horde ofhereticsvanishedintheexplosion.Thecraterwasfreeofrubble.‘Igive thanks to theEmperor,’Croweprayed. ‘Hishandscattersmyenemiesbeforeme.Hiswrathistheflameoftheirannihilation.’‘IamHissword,’Drakesaid.‘Hedirectsmyblow,’saidGorvenal.Crowemovedthroughthefuryofasun.Therewastheroadahead,thestraightpaththroughthewrithingenemytotheVigilancetower.Andtherewasthetoweritself, thegreat solid,blackmass, the singleunchangingpoint in thevortexofthebombardment.Allelsewasshattered,allelsewashurtlingruin.Allelsewas

astormoftotalincineration.Butthepathwasthere.Crowe’sstepsweresure.Thiswasthenatureofdestiny.Itwastheclearroad,thepaththatmustbefollowed,eveniftheendwasneverreached.Whatistheend?IsitthedestructionoftheBlackBlade?No. Even if the impossible was finally accomplished, and Antwyr wasdestroyed forever, that would not be the end. Crowe’s destiny would stretchahead to the task appointed by the completion of the last.Hewouldwalk thepathuntilhisendcame.Thatwaswheredestinywouldtakehim.Heacceptedhistaskwithfullheart.The Purifiers ran through the crater. Ten yards beyond it, they reached theVigilance Tower. Behind them, the possessed mortals continued their pursuit.The bombardment had thinned their numbers still further. There were a fewhundredatmost,andtheyweredyingallthetime,sinkingintotheroad,crushedbyfallingwreckage.CrowelookedupattheverticalfaceoftheVigilancetower.Aregularseriesofhandholds marked the trail of the daemon’s climb. Crowe thought about theBlack Blade’s omniscience, and in the diminished horde rushing at the GreyKnightsthroughtheinfernoofthebombardment,hesawopportunity.‘Wemustkill themall,’he toldhisbrothers. ‘Every lastone.Weneeda fewmomentswheretherearenoeyesonus.’They formed a half-circle with their backs to the tower and welcomed thehereticstotheirdeaths.‘Whatareyouplanning?’Sendraxasked.‘ToclimbthetoweroutofthesightoftheBlade.’‘Alone?’‘Iwillhavetobe.’Andfromthismomentforward,heknewhewouldbealonefortherestofhisexistence.‘WeneedtokeepAntwyr’sattentionfocusedontherestofyou.Ifitbelievesthethreatiselsewhere,wewillretaintheinitiative.’‘Iunderstand,brother.’ItwasclearSendraxdid,ineverysense.‘Thankyou,brother.’Crowestabbedahereticthroughtheneck.Hisbladecameouttheothersideandpiercedanother’seye.‘Youwillbegintofightalonesosoon?’Drakeasked.‘Soitmustbe.’Destiny.Notchance.Thiswashisappointedtask,leadingtohisappointedburden.Theworldburnedandfell.Theavenuemelted.Thehereticsattackedanddied,attacked and died. The skill of the Blade, channelled through the possessed,

meant nothing as their numbers diminished. The full ocean of that army’sstrength might have overwhelmed the Grey Knights, but this small tributarycoulddonothingbutdie.Thisisyourmistake,Antwyr,Crowethought.Youareabouttoblindyourself.Ifyouheldyourslavesback,youwouldpreventwhatIamabouttodo.Butinyourfolly,youwillblindyourself.Thelastofthehereticsfell.Thestreetraged.Therewasnothingbutflame.Inthemidstoftheeruption,theGreyKnightswerealone.‘Fightwell,brothers,’Crowesaid.Iftheymetagain,theywouldseehimwithdifferenteyes.Hewouldhavehisburden,andhewouldbedangeroustothem.‘Go,’saidSendrax.‘Avengeourchampion.’Croweseizedthefirstofthehandholds.Hebegantheascent,totakeaprisonerandtomakeaprisonerofhimself.

CHAPTERTWELVEDESTINY

Croweascendedabovethefire.Theworldbelowscreamedandroared.Itsagonytrembled up the height of theVigilance tower.He seemed to be climbing thespine of an animal caught in its death throes. The tremors tried to throw himdown.Cracksopenedupalong the igneouscolumnsof the tower.Dust fellonhim. Small rocks bounced off his armour. He held fast, but his progress wasslow.Anagepassed,andthesummitwithitsroilingdarknessseemednocloser.Whenheglanceddown,though,thegroundwasnowhundredsoffeetaway.Hewas leaving the chaos of Dikaia’s destruction behind, and moving steadilytowardstheheartofadeepermadness.Hismotionswere steady.Hedid not rush.He thought about eachmovementbeforehetookit.Hehadreachedthepointwheretherecouldbenomistakes.Ifhe fell, thatwouldbe the end tohismission.Thatwouldbe themost ignoblebetrayalofhisdestiny.Hewouldnotfall.Thestepsoftheclimbweremonotonous,mechanistic.Heforcedhimselftobeconsciousofeverymomentoftheclimb.Heapproachedthetaskashewouldaprayer.Intruth,itwasaformofprayer.Itwasatest,onehemustpasstoprovehimselfworthyof thedestinyrevealedtohimbyGavallan,andsetbeforehimbytheEmperor.TheVigilancetowerwasthephysicalembodimentofhislife’sjourneytothispoint.Hewasmovingtowardsthesummitofhisexistencetothisday.Therewaitedhishonourandhiscurse.Theywereoneandthesame.Theywerehisdestiny,buthemustfightharderthanheeverhadbeforetoembracehis

fate.He was higher than the flames now. He had risen past several cannonemplacements,hisprogressslowingasheavoidedthem.Thegunsfiredwiththesamerelentlessrhythmasheclimbed.HewonderediftheywerestillshootingatthePurgation’sSword.Berinonwasflyingstrafingruns,butonlyattheedgesofthe city. There was no reason to risk the destruction of the gunship in thebombardment.Butiftheshipwasthetarget,thenCrowegavethanks.Therewassomething else to draw the sword’s attention away from the silver-grey speckmovingup theVigilance tower.You can be everywhere inDikaia, he thought.Butfirstyoumustthinktodoso.He had not heard from the other Purifiers for somewhile.He did not try tocontact them.Hehadfaith in them,and thatwasenough.Hisconcernwas thesummitofthetower,notthegroundbelow.Hecouldnotthinkabouttheeffectofanyordershemightgive.AllthatmatteredwastherecaptureoftheBlackBlade.Everysacrificewaspermissible.Hecuttwomoregroovesintothestone.Hepausedbeforeheclimbed,lookingup at the peakoncemore.The shadow stormwas as ferocious as ever, as thesmoke-obscureddaydrewtoacloseandnightfell.Aslashingtendrilofthedarkstreakeddown the faceof theVigilance tower less than fiftyyardsaway fromCrowe’sposition.Hefrozeuntilitwithdrew.Hestudiedthevortexabovehimafewminuteslonger.Wasitsmallerthanithadbeenatthestartofthebattle?Hethoughtso.IthadreachedfartherduringtheirattempttoreachthesummitintheStormraven.Crowepondered this.Therewasaweaknesshere, something tobeexploited.Theswordwasnotomnipotent.Somethinghadeatenawayatitsstrength.Whatdidwedotoyou?Crowethought.Wehavebeendestroyingyourarmy.ThetenmillionpeopleofDikaiahadbeendecimated.Notasingletowerwasstanding in the city now. Every sector had been pounded into rubble, and theattackcontinued.Witheveryshellthatlanded,theBladelostmoreslaves.Wearehurtingyoualready.Hehadbeenunable tohailShipmasterGura sinceentering thebombardmentzone.Nowhighabovethedevastation,hetriedagainashemovedupwardsoncemore.Onthethirdattempt,Guraanswered.Thevox-linkwasplaguedbystatic,butitwoulddo.‘LordCrowe,’shesaid.‘Doyouwishmetoceasethebombardment?’‘No. I want you to increase its intensity. Destroy everything except the

Vigilancetower.Levelthecitycompletely,thenbombitagain.Donotstopuntilyouhavereceivedtheordertodoso.’‘Understood.’Shepausedforamoment.‘LordCrowe,theauspexarraypickedup a largemovement from the east of Dikaia, heading into the bombardmentzone.’‘GeneralGlashasledthemilitiaintothecity?’‘Itwouldseemso.’Vendruhn’s act was something that went beyond the merely foolish. It wasmoreimportantthanthat.Itchangednothing,though.Inthelongrun,Vendruhnandhertroopsweredoomednomattertheoutcomeofthewar.‘Isee,’hesaidtoGura.‘Myorderstands.ObliterateDikaia.’‘Soordered.’Crowe’s pathwas clear. The need for the bombardmentwas clear. But therewas amatter here that was not. Vendruhn’s behaviourmade him uneasy. Herloyalty to theEmperorwas beyond reproach.Her anger at the corruption thathad come toSandava IIwas immense.Her strugglewas certain to end in herdeathbefore long, regardlessofher tacticaldecisions.But the sense that therewas something important here would not leave him. Crowe approved ofVendruhn’s fanaticism, but not her recklessness. Now she had chosen to hurlherselfandhertroopsintotheteethofanorbitalbombardment,onethatCrowehadcommandedbepushedtothelimit,leavingnothinginDikaiaalive.Hesawapatternhere.Itwasnotanaccident.Itwasnotfoolishness.Itwasapath.HesawinVendruhn’sactionsadistortedmirrorofhisown.Morethanapath,then,hethought.Destiny.Theimplicationswereobscure.Hecouldnotreadthem,buthedidnotliketheirdirection.Theconsequenceswerealsooutofhishands.Heturnedhisattentionfromtheshadowsbelowandresumedhisclimbtotheshadowsabove.

Thesublimityofexcesswasunending.Vendruhnrevelledinthedisorientation.Shewasatthecentreofthejudgement.Theexplosionswereanextensionofherrage.Wherever she looked,wherever she fired, the enemydied.North, south,east,west –where she turned her eyes, fury erupted. She looked everywhere.Shespun in the turret, firingacross threehundredandsixtydegrees,and therewasfireeverywhere.Perhapsshewasinsidethecitywalls...Onlytherewerenomorewalls.Hugemassesofrockcretefellnearher.Gargantuanmassestoppled.Shedidnotknowwhat theyhadbeen.Shedidnotcare.All thatmatteredwas

theenactmentofjudgement,judgementwithoutlimit,judgementthatsurpassedallunderstanding.Judgementwasexcess,andshewasonewithit.TherecouldbenothingproportionalinthepunishmentofDikaia.ToturnfromtheEmperorwasacrimebeyondproportion.Excessmustbemetwithexcess.Faithandthemiraculousexistedintherealmoftheexcessive.AndthatwaswhereVendruhnwas,killingtheapostate,lostinthecelebrationoftotalpunishment.LegacyofGlaskepttonofixedpath.Whereaspaceopenedthroughtheruinsand the blasts, there Owrun directed the Chimera. The rest of the militiafollowedasitcould.Vehiclesandinfantrydied.Thelossesregisteredattheedgeof Vendruhn’s awareness. The slaughter of the Dikaians remained central. Somanydiedateverysecond,theyfaroutweighedhercasualties.Now and then enemy vehicles appeared. There were few, andmost of themwere destroyed before they came near. One appeared now, surging through afountainofflame.Itsmulti-laserturretblastedtherightflankoftheGlas.Owrunturned intoacrater,dropping theChimeraoutof thearcof theothervehicle’sguns.Vendruhnheardscreamscomingfrominsidethehull.Thesidelasgunnershadbeenhit.TheGlas’steeringseemedsluggish.Butitsmulti-laserwasreadyasOwrunturnedandbroughtthetransportroaringbackupfromthecrater.Thenallwas light– terribleflaminglight–andtheduelended.Shellsraineddownwithanew intensity.Therewasnowhere to turn.Vendruhn’s illusionofjudgementdisintegrated.Everythingwasdestruction.Everythingwasflame.TheattackingChimeratookadirecthit.Vendruhnsawnothingbutsearingred.Shewasflying,jerkingbackandforth.Shethoughtshehadbeenthrownfreeofthehatch.Shehadnot.LegacyofGlaswasliftedintotheairandspunaroundbytheexplosion. It came back down in the new crater. Vendruhn fell into the hold.Smokefilledthespace.Burnedbodieslaybesideruinedlasguns.Morenzleanedagainstthetacticariumtable,clutchingashatteredarm.‘General,’saidthevox-operator,‘wemustleave.’No,Vendruhnthought.No.The Chimera jerked violently. Outside, godswere howling their wrath at allthingsmortal.‘Whilewestillcan,’Morenzpleaded.Vendruhn was dizzy. She realised she had struck her head in her fall. Sherubbedhertemple.Shelookedupatthehatch.Askyofflamestaredback.Reason sank cold fingers into her veins. She had thought herself part of the

tapestryofexcess,butshewasnot.Astormhadcomethatdidnotcareforherorhervengeance.‘Yes,’shesaid.Herthroatwasraw.‘Orderaretreat.’Didtheordermatter?DidOwrunknowwheretheywere?Vendruhncouldnotthinkwhatdirectionwouldtakethemoutofthebombardment.ButtheChimeralurched into motion again. Owrun knew where he wanted to go. That wouldhavetobeenough.Fire licked through the hatch. Thunder on top of thunder on top of thunderroareditsmonstrousvictory.Vendruhnclimbedupagain.Shegrabbedthehatchto close it, but hesitated, frozenbywhat she sawoutside.Themaelstromwastotal.Therewasnodistinguishingbetweenenemyandmilitia.Thiswastrueexcess.Itwasalsobetrayal.Where are you? she begged the Emperor. Why do you not protect yourservants?Whyhaveyouabandonedus?Theonlyanswerwasadragon’sroarofannihilation.

TheshadowstormragedaboveCrowe.Itbillowedtowardsthesky,thenwhirledbackdowntothesummitwiththeforceofmadness.Ithadcontinuedtoshrinkas he climbed. The ramping up of the bombardment was having an effect.Antwyr’s army was blasted to ash, and the Blade’s power diminished as itsslaves fell. Itwas feeling itsweakness,Crowewassure.Thestorm’s furywasgrowingasitfaded.DesperationscreamedfromthepeakoftheVigilancetower.Afewfeetfromtheendofhisascent,CroweheardfromSendraxforthefirsttimeinhours.‘Youhavekeptusbusy,brother,’saidtheKnightoftheFlame.‘SayratherthatIsentyoureinforcements.’‘Verytrue.Theenemyisreducedtoclusters.’‘Theyarestillfollowingyou?’‘Theyare.Isplitupoursquadstofurthertheconfusion.ItmaybethatAntwyrbelievesyoudead.’Perhaps.CrowehadnotheardtheBladeinhisheadsinceitsescape.Hewouldhave expected to experience its taunts during the attack, but there had beennothing.Hewonderedwhy.Perhapsinitsneedtoescape,Antwyrsoughteveryformofdistancefromitscaptors,evenapsychicone.Perhapsithadbeenmoredesperatefromthestart.Itsfirsttasteoffreedommusthaveseemedpassingandfragilewhen ithad lostanymeansofgettingoff-world. ‘Itwill learnIamnot

deadsoonenough,’hetoldSendrax.‘BrotherDrakeisright.Youdonotneedtofightalonesosoon.’‘Imust.Theswordstilllooksdownandattacksyou.Holditsattentionalittlelonger.’‘Verywell.’Sendraxsaidnothingafterthat,buthedidnotsignoff.‘What would you ask?’ said Crowe. He paused now.Hewas just below thepeak.Whenhemovedagain,hewouldbeonthesummit,andwithintheshadow.‘Doyounottrustus,brother?’Sendraxasked.‘YouknowIdo.’‘Butyouwouldkeepusatadistancefromthesword.’‘Yes,’Crowesaid.‘Iwould.Youknowthepowerithaswhenitiscaptive.Youhavefeltitseektoinfluenceyou.’‘Ihave,’Sendraxadmitted.‘Howmuchstrongerisitnow?Thisismytask.Iwillnotsubjectmybrotherstoafatefromwhichitismydutytoshieldthem.’‘Isitwritten?Isitdestined?AndwhatifthisshouldbeourchancetodestroytheBlade?Wewillhavelost thatopportunitybecauseyoublindlysubmittedtoGavallan’sdictate.Hemademistakes,Garran.Andnowheisdead.’‘Weallsharedinhiserrors.Idonotwanttocompoundthem.Doyouseethemeanstodestroythesword,nowwhenitismorepowerfulthanithaseverbeensinceitscapture?Ifso,tellme,becauseIdonot.’‘NordoI,’Sendraxsaidafteramoment.‘Thenourcourseofactionisclear.Ifightalone,brother.’AndsoIwilluntilmydeath,whetherthatismomentsawayorattheendtime.‘Sobeit.’CrowewouldnotdishonourSendraxbythinkingthathesoundedrelieved.Heknew the Purifier wouldmarch into the foulest keeps of the Ruinous Powerswithouthesitation.ButlikeallGreyKnights,Sendraxknewthevalueofasoul.TheBladeofAntwyrhadbeenthemostsinisterartefactonTitan.Itwastherelicthatwoulddestroyitsguardian,theweaponthatheldmortaldangerevenfortheGrey Knights, and the prisoner that must always be held. Sendrax honouredCrowebyofferingtojoinhim.ButitwaswellCrowedidnotaccept,andtheybothknewit.ThesummitoftheVigilancetowerwasflatandfeatureless,asthoughthebladeofacolossushadshearedoffahigherpeak.Crowegrasped itsedgeand liftedhimselfupintotheshadows.Nighthadfallen,butthecitywaslitbythefuryofthebombardment.Insidethe

sword’sstorm,thedarkwastotal.WhirlingcloudsbuffetedCrowe.Theytriedtopick him up and throw him from the tower. They howled and shrieked. Theyscreamed.Butnot inhisears.Themurderouscacophonywas inhishead.Theshadowswere thewill ofAntwyrmademanifest. Thiswas not thewhisperedinsinuationsorshoutedcommands.ThiswasnotmalevolencedirectedatCrowe.Thiswas the pure darkness of awill so powerful it tore itsway intomaterialexistence.Thecloudsslammedagainsthim.Theycoiledandconstricted.Theywerechainsonemoment,alashthenext.Theywerephysicalandmentalattacks,demandinghisobedience,butwithoutdirectionorpurpose,inchoate,asiftheywerebuttheradiationofthetrueevil.Crowecouldseenothinginthedarkness.Therewerebriefmomentswhenthecloudsliftedandhecaughtglimpsesofthesurfaceofthetower,buthesawonlya fewfeet ineachdirection.Hecouldsenseaconsistenceandagravity to thestorm,though.Ithadaneye.Hewalkedtowardsit,hisstridessteadyandcarefulontheroughsurfacebeneathhisfeet.Heswordwasdrawn.Theholylightofitsbladeshonebrighterashemovedclosertothecentreofthevortex.Thedarkwillshrieked,graspingathim,eagertohaulhimtoitssource.Crowegavethedarkwhatitwished.Hegaveittoomuch.HemarchedinthefaithoftheEmperor.Hemarchedinanabhorrenceofallthatwasdaemonic.HemarchedasaKnightoftheFlameoftheGreyKnights.Hispresenceburnedthedark.Thecurrentreversed.Thedarknessbegantotear.Crowecouldseethegroundagain.Hewalkedfaster.Theshadowssmouldered.The lightwascomingfromhim.Wheretheshadowstouchedhim,theyignited.Theyrecoiled,writhingandflaking.Screamsofragebecamescreamsofpain.The Blade could not be destroyed, but Antwyr, in the form it had adopted,couldbeinjured.ThedaemonicdarkshrivelledbeforeCrowe’sadvance.The annihilation of Dikaia resounded on all sides of the tower. The SacrumFinem pounded thecity andall its citizens todust andglass.Thearmyof thepossesseddwindledfurther.Theshadowsreceded,drawingintotheircentre.ThoughCrowewasstillinshadow,hewasnolongerblind.Thedensenothinghe had entered upon reaching the summit was now a dense fog, rolling andswirling, concealing and revealing, butCrowecould seewherehewalked.Hebrokeintoarun.Theeyeofthestormwasclose.Antwyrattacked first.Therewasa sudden rushof shadows toCrowe’s right.Heturnedandstartedtoraisehissword.ThemonsterthathadbeenOttoleaptat

him, the Black Blade raised high. The form was still growing and changing,becomingamanifestationofAntwyrasthedaemonworkedtofreeitselfatlastfromthesword.Itwasacreatureofspikesandarmour,tallerandbroaderthanCrowe.Itwasfastertoo.ItwaswieldedbytheBlade,anditmovedwithallthespeedandaccuracyofitslethalwill.Crowehadcometotaketheswordbysurprise.Antwyrattackedfirst.Yetashetriedtoblockitsswingandknewhewastooslow,Crowetastedthefirsthintoftriumph.TheBlackBlade slammed against hisNemesis sword, knocking it aside andchopping intoCrowe’s rightpauldron.Antwyrcutdeep. Itdrewblood.Crowedropped in thedirectionof theblow,pulling the sword fromhis shoulder, androlled away. He came to his feet, blade ready. He launched himself at thedaemon,stormbolterfiringasheswunghissword.Asheattacked,hethought,Youaredesperate.Therewastoomuchrageinthatblow.Youcouldhavedonebetter.Youfearme.Hisboltshellstoreintothearmouredsurfaceofthedaemon.Chunksofplatesand spikes flew into the air.Themonster ignored thehits. It swung theBladewith such force it countered Crowe’s blow and cut into his arm. He steppedback. Itwhirled around andbrought the sword in sidewayswith both arms. Itwould have cut a marble column in two. Crowe leapt backwards. The tip ofAntwyrcutintohischest-plate,slicingthroughapurityseal.Sloppy,hethought.Antwyrwastryingtokillhimwithasingle,massivestrike.Youare desperate.Younever thought Iwouldget this close.Mypresence is asurprise.Youfeelyouareindanger.Iamnottheoneonthedefensive.Antwyr pressed the attack. Each swing was huge and fast. It forced Crowebackwards.When he parried, he felt the shock travel up his arm as if he hadstruckamountain.Heaimedafewblowsofhisown,buthedidnotexpectthemto land. His defence was his careful assault. He studied the Black Blade’sstrategy.Hewatchedforamistake.Hewatchedforthetrueopportunity.Militantpatience.Thedaemonroared.Thereweretwosoulsinitsvoice.CroweheardtherageofAntwyr,andheheardtheagonyofOttoGlas.Inthatdaemonicshape,thetraceoftheLordGovernorremained,anditsuffered.AntwyrcamedownonCrowewithanoverheadslash.Thisblowwastoofast,toostrong. Itwasastrike tocleavegranite.Heblockedit.HisNemesisswordexploded.Sacredenergyburstintothenight,cracklingballlightningthatblindedas it fought its last against the daemon.Crowe fired his bolter into the blaze,

while his sanctified wrath gathered in his right hand. Antwyr stumbled backfrom the sacred light. The bolt shells did not injure it, but the impact of thevolleyknocked itbackanother step. It snarledas it charged towardshimoncemore,theswordoverheadagain.Now,confidentitwasabouttodeliverthedeathstroke,AntwyrspoketoCrowe.‘Iwillburnstarswithoutyou,GarranCrowe.’‘Youwillburnindeed,’Crowesaid.Heunleashedthecleansingflameintothefaceofthemonster.Thefireengulfeditshornedhead.Thedualvoicebellowedagain,onlynowbothsoulswereinpain.ThemonsterletgooftheBladewithonehandandlashedoutblindly.ItstruckCrowe,knockinghimtothesideanddown.Hejumpedupagainandputafewmore steps between himself and the daemon. It recovered and charged himagain.Hewasready.Hehadseenthemistake.Forafractionofasecond,asthefireofpurityhadburnedawaythedaemonflesh,thebodyhadleanedintotheflames.Ithadsoughtthescouring.Themovementwasbrief.Itwasalmostimperceptible.Crowe had seen the tormented soul ofOttoGlas reach for salvation. For thatinfinitesimal moment, the sword’s control had slipped, and the damned LordGovernorhadexertedsomeinfluenceonthebody.Thecloudsofshadowbrokeapart.TheBlackBladegathereditsstrength.ThearmouredfacelookedatCrowe.Furymixedwithtwodesperationsinitseyes.Itattacked,swiftasthoughtandpowerfulasaDreadnought.Crowehaditsmeasure.Hestoodhisground.Militantpatience.Strikenow.Hedrewupon the fullbreadthofhis faith, andwithbothhandsextended,hespoke thewords of banishment.Hedid not seek to expel the being inside thesword.NoforceknowntotheGreyKnightscoulddothat.HesoughtinsteadtobanishitfromthebodyofOttoGlas.HedidnotbreakAntwyr’sholdontheLordGovernor,butheweakenedit.HeweakeneditenoughforOttotomakeaheroicgraspatredemption.AsitreachedCrowe,themonsterjerked.EnergyleakedfromitsblowasitthrustthepointoftheBladeatCrowe’schest.Ottofoughttoarresttheattack.Hefailed,butwhathedidwasenough.Crowebracedhimself,acceptingthesacrificehemustmake.Letmytaskbeginhere,hethought.Antwyr’spointslammedintohischest-plate.Itpiercedthearmourandstabbed

through his black carapace. It sank deep into his flesh and broke through hisribcage.Bonesplintered.Bloodjettedontothearmsofthedaemon.ThetipstoppedjustshortofCrowe’sheart.Otto’svictory.Crowe’swoundwashistrap.Ihaveyou,hethought.HegraspedtheBladewithboth hands. He turned and yanked with all his strength. He held on throughmightandwillandbloodsacrifice.Thehiltpulledfreeofthemonster’shands.The lastof theshadowcloudsvanished.Crowegruntedandpulled theswordfromhischest.Hereverseditandgraspedthehilt.No!Antwyrscreamed.Releaseme,releaseme,releaseme.Thiswillnotbe!The daemon dropped to its knees. Toomuch of Antwyrwas still within thesword. With the connection severed, the manifestation began to disintegrate.Spikescrumbledaway,armoursloughedoff.Nonononononono!theBladehowled.Themonster appeared to shrink from the inside. Its form became brittle andcracked. It fell in on itself, then flaked into ash, which whirled away on thewind.Whatremainedwasthesizeandsilhouetteofamortal.Itwasathingofshatteredandsuppuratinggrey.Itwasabodythathadbeenburnedtodeath,butstillsomehowmoved.His lungsgurglingwithblood,Crowemoved to the thing.Heheld theswordfast. Itswill raged inhismind.Hesensedapotential thatwould leapfromhisfistifherelaxedhisvigilance.ThewreckageofOttoGlas lookedupatCrowe.Eyes thathadgazedbeyondagonypleadedforrelease.Ottoraisedhandswhosefingerswereleprousstubs.Hemovedhislips,buttheyturnedtopowder,leavingbehindgrey,rottingteeth.Ottocouldnotspeak.Hewaseloquentinhisdesperation.‘You have betrayed the Emperor,’ Crowe told him. ‘You struck down hischampion.’ He gestured with his left hand, encompassing the martyrdom ofDikaia.‘Theseareyourworks.’Otto remainedmotionless. He did not shake his head in denial. He held hisarms as they were. His lidless eyes gazed at Crowe. Theymade no claim tomercy.Theyaskedonlyforholydestruction.Crowenodded.‘Thereisnoredemption,’hesaid.‘Butthereisanend.’Forthefirsttime,GarranCroweswungtheBlackBladeofAntwyr,andseveredthecrumblingskullofLordGovernorOttoGlasfromitsbody.Thentherewasonlyash,vanishingonawindthatseemedtocryout.Ash,andthedawnoftheharddestiny.

CHAPTERTHIRTEENBEROEA

Anarmadaoftheairrumbledacrosstheoceantowardsthesoutherncontinent.ValkyriesandheavylifterstransportedallthatremainedofSandavaII’smilitia.The remnant, regrouped at the base outside Egeta, was a muster of fivecompaniesofinfantryandarmour.Enoughtodefendacityagainstahumanfoe.Enough to raze that same foe’s city to the ground. The aircraft flew in tightsquadrons, the olive green of their hulls a dark, roaring shadow in the squall-tossedair.Aheadofthetransports,asingle,silver-greycraftcarriedmorepowerthanalltheotherscombined.ThePurgation’sSwordledthecrusadetoBeroea.Imadeyouapromiseonce,saidthesword.Youturnedawayfromme.Imakethe promise again. Youwieldme now.Wieldme as you should.Wewill laywastetoBeroea.Thegalaxywillfallbeforeus.Held by his grav-harness, Crowe sat at the rear of the Stormraven’s troopcompartment, as far from his battle-brothers as was possible in the crampedconditions.TheBlackBladeofAntwyrwas sheathed at his side.Hekept onehandonthepommelofthehilt,aremindertotheswordthatitwashisprisoner,andanactofconsciousguardianshipforhimself.In truth, he thought, I am the sword’s prisoner too. He considered the factdispassionately, without rancour or regret. Iron acceptance was the twin ofmilitantpatience.Ittoowasacriticalpartofhistask.Hisduty.Hisdestiny.The sword hadmoved on from its raging cries at themoment of its capture.TherehadbeenafewothermomentswhenithadscreamedinCrowe’smind,butfornowitwascontenttowhisperandscrape.Theeatingathismindwasmore

insidiousthanithadbeenwhenGavallanheldthesword.Croweunderstoodnowwhat the champion had been going through at the same time he had beenresistingAntwyr’sassaults.Theswordreachedmuchdeeper.Eachwordcutintothecitadelhehaderectedaroundtheverycoreofhissoul,andthedepthsofhismind. He knew the nature of his enemy far better now, and it knew him. Ittapped and prodded and scratched and clawed at him. He was besieged. Hewouldbe forever.Sohe reinforcedhis rampartsas the swordchippedawayatthem, standing firm guard for the sake of his brothers, even as the necessaryisolationaroundhimgrew.Youwillsuccumb.YousawwhatIwroughtatDikaia.YouwillseewhatwaitsatBeroea.Youwillhaveneedofme.Youwillseethetruth.Crowehadknownthatisolationwouldbehisnewexistence.HehadseenitinGavallan.Hewasprepared.Heacceptedit.Evenso,theexperienceofitsbirthwas painful. It began themoment he took hold of theBlackBlade.He felt itproperlyforthefirsttimewhenthePurifiershadreturnedtotheEgetabase.Afterthebattle.Beforethenext.Andanotherbattle,hislonewar,hisunendingwar,alreadyunderway.‘YoustandagainstExterminatusforthisworld,then,’Sendraxhadsaid.‘Evennowtheswordiscaptiveoncemore.’‘Yes,’ said Crowe. ‘It was a relic that began this war. Ourmission will endwhenwehaverecoveredit.’‘Recoveryratherthandestruction.’‘Perhapsboth.Wecannotbesureofthelatterwithouttheformer.Whatistrueof theBlackBlademay be true of themask. Toomuch has gonewrong, andtherehavebeentoomanydarkpatterns to ignorethepossibility.Wemust takethemask.ThenwecanconsiderthefateofSandavaII.’Sendraxnodded,acquiescingtotheneedforthemission.Bothsquadsstoodonthefarsideofthebase’sbriefingroomfromCrowe.Theydidnotapproachthetacticariumtableunlesshemovedawayfromit.Hedidsoagainnow,shuttingoff thehololithicdisplayofBeroea.Hisbrothersremainedwhere theywere.Theywere keeping their distance fromhim.He could sensetheirdiscomfort.Awallhadcomedownbetweenhimandallothersouls.Theyareungrateful,saidthesword.Youledthemtovictory.Nowtheyseektofleeyourpresence.Hewould remove himself to an unused corner of the base until preparationswereconcluded,Crowedecided.Except incombat,hewouldbea liability.Hewoulddothiswithoutannouncingit.Hewouldsparehimselfthesightofrelief

inhisbrothers’eyes.‘Thenweknowwhatweareabout,’Crowesaid.Heheadedfortheexitofthecommand bunker, but paused there for a moment. ‘Brother Drake, will youspeakwithme?’Drakejoinedhim.Heconcealedtheeffortittookhimtodoso,butCrowesawtheminuteincreaseintensionaroundhisjaw.Therewerebarracksatthenorthwestofthebasethatnolongerhousedmilitia.ThecasualtiesatDikaiahademptiedit.Crowewalkedtowardsit.‘IwouldlikeyoutospeakwithGeneralGlas,’CrowesaidtoDrake.‘Onaparticularsubject?’‘Moreofasounding.I’minterestedinyourimpressionofthestateofhersoul.’‘Youthinkshemightbecorrupted?’‘I’m not sure. Her faith has been strong. But her decision tomarch into thebombardmentzoneistroubling.’‘Wouldwebebetterleavinghertroopshere.Ifsheisapotentialthreat…’‘I don’t think she is. I have seen no signs of corruption in her subordinates.Haveyou?’‘No,’ said Drake. ‘Given what they have witnessed, they seem strong ofpurposeandmorallyresolutebymortalstandards.’‘Iagree.Unlessweseesignsofimminentdanger,thenIseenoreasontoleavea potentially useful asset behind.’ The conditions inBeroeawere unknown. Ithadbeenmorethanaday,though,sincethecityhadfallen.Longenoughforthedaemonicinfestationtotakefirmhold.Crowedoubtedthemilitiawouldsurvivethere long. Still, Vendruhn’s troops might serve as a diversion. ‘There issomething more,’ he continued. ‘Whatever strands are being woven togetherhere,GeneralGlas is to be part of the pattern.To leave her herewould be toignorethatfact.’‘HavingherinBeroeamayhastenitscompletion.Thepatternshavebeendarkones,brother.’‘Theyhave.Soseewhatyoumakeofher.’AnothertaskCrowecouldnolongerundertakehimself.Hewasadanger toeveryone.Theswordwoulddistortanyinteractionhewouldhave.Andthedistortionwouldnotbeinhisperception,butinthepersonhewasnear.‘Iwill,’Drakesaid.

Andhehad.Hisreportwasuneasy,butinconclusive.ItwasnotenoughtoremoveVendruhn

andher troops from the coming struggle.And so themilitia flew to the southwiththePurgation’sSword,whereCrowesat,consciousofthedamagethehoursdid to his brothers, so close to the dread burden he carried, so close to itswhispersanditsthreats.Berinon’svoicecameoverthetroopcompartment’svox-speaker.‘Landonthehorizon,’hesaid.‘WeapproachBeroea,brothers.’Crowe looked out of the viewing block. The city’s peninsula was a narrowshape on the horizon, a darkness breaking the grey sweep of the water. Hewatched thecity takeondefinitionas theydrewnearer.First itwasasmudge.Soonitwasadarksilhouette.Henotedthetoweredbulgeatitscentre.Crowe frowned. The location corresponded to the Ecclesiarchal Palace. Thehololithshehadconsultedatthebase,however,hadnotsuggestedastructureofthisheight.

‘Therewasnotenoughpunishment,’shehadtoldDrake.‘Itwascutshort.’Seatedinthenavigator’sseatoftheValkyrie,minutesawayfromfirstsightofBeroea,Vendruhnrehearsedtheconversationagain.Shehadspokenhertruthtoone of the Emperor’s unforgiving angels. She had not been cowed. TheGreyKnight had found her on the exercise grounds. She was overseeing thediscipliningofatrooperwhohadmiscountedhissquad’sstoresofammunition.The man, stripped to the waist, was held in one of the metal pillories. TheflogginghadbegunjustbeforeDrake’sarrival.TheGreyKnighthadaskedherhowsheviewedthesiegeofDikaia,andshehadtoldhim.‘Cut short?’ Drake said. ‘The city was destroyed. Its population wasexterminated.Howisthatcutshort?’‘Our punishment. The one we mete out. The Emperor’s loyal subjects onSandavaII.Withrespect, lord,youdonotknowourworld.Doyoucareaboutjustice here?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘I…We were punishing theapostates.Wewere not able to complete our task.’ She had not destroyed themonsterthathadbeenherfather.Shehadnotrestoredthehonourofhername.She looked away from the flogging for amoment to giveDrake a hard stare.‘Lord,Ihopeyoudonotmeantoprosecutethewarwithoutus.’‘Youknow the enemywe expect to encounter.Youhave seen daemons now.YousawwhattheydidinEgeta.TheyhavehadtimetoconsolidatetheirholdonBeroea.Therewillbemanymorethanwhatyoutriedtofightbefore.’‘Oddsanddutyhavenothingtodowitheachother,’shesaid.Sheturnedbackto the disciplining. The cat-o’-nine-tails rose and fell. Blood sprayed in the

afternoonlight.Chunksoffleshfelltotheground.Theredoftheblood,thepalepinkofthetrooper’sskinandtherapid,sinuousmovementofthewhipformedawholethatcaughthereye.Ifjustoneelementhadbeenabsent,theeffectwouldhavebeenlost.‘DoyouservetheEmperororyourvengeance?’Drakeasked.‘Myvengeance ismy service to the Emperor,’ she said. ‘What answer otherthanviolencecantherebetotheabominationsthathaveinvadedSandavaII?’‘None,’Drakeagreed.‘Thereistemptation,though,general.Haveacarenottosuccumbtoit.’‘The only temptation the abominations can offer me is their destruction,’Vendruhnsaid.‘Idoubttheywillobligeme.’Drakesaidhethoughtshewasright.Heleftherafewminuteslater,beforethefloggingwasfinished.Therecanneverbeenoughpunishmentfortheabomination,Vendruhnthoughtnow.Shewoulddestroy thedaemonsbyanymeansnecessary.She rubbed theburned tissueon the sideofher faceabsentlyas shemadehervows.Shewasstill troubled that theEmperorhadnotprotected themilitia inDikaia.ShehadbeendoingHiswork.Shehadbeenkillingtheheretic.WhyhadHeabandonedher?Thewordbetrayalhoveredattheedgeofherthoughts.Shepusheditaway.Sheknewbetterthantoarticulateit,eveninsilence.Dikaiadidn’tmatteranymore.WhatmatteredwasBeroea.Whatmatteredwaspunishment.Shethoughtagainofthesightofsprayedbloodinsunlight,ofpalefleshandblurredmovement.Herlipstwitchedintothebeginningsofasmile.Punishment. She would outdo the daemons in savagery. She would surpasstheminexcess,andtheywouldlearntheycouldsuffertoo.Beroeacame intoview.Vendruhnblinked, thenrubbedhereyes.Sheworriedfatiguewasaffectinghervision.Shelookedagain.Thesighthadnotchanged.Ithad been months since she had last been to the city. She had no reason tomistrusthermemory,though.Thetowersofthecityshouldnotbeclusteredlikethat.Thereshouldnotbeahillatitscentre.A fewminutes later, she sawhermistake.Themassivehulk in themiddleofBeroeawasnotahill.

ThePurgation’sSwordcircledBeroea,spirallinginclosertothemonstrosityattheheartofthecity.‘BytheThrone,’saidSendrax.‘ThisisworsethanIimagined.’

‘Weshouldhave imagined this,’Crowesaid. ‘Wedidnot learn the lessonsofEgetawellenough.’ThehololithsthePurifiershadstudiedatthemilitiabasewereuseless.Beroeahadbeenmorethantransformed.Ithadbeenrecreatedentirely.Itwasstillacity,and it retained the character of worship through its temples and shrines. Butthere were no longer habitations. Structures that might have been hab blocksbefore the coming of Mnay’salath were now enormous sculptures of bone,hundreds of feet high, their façades twisted into arboreal convolutions andpositionsoffrozen,organicpain.Crowereleasedhisgrav-harness.Hecrossedthetroopcompartmentandthrewbackthesidedoor.Hewantedtoknowall.ThewindblewthesongofBeroeaintothegunship.Itwassungbyachoirofmillionsuponmillionsofvoices.Very fewof themwerehuman.Their throatswerehollowsofbone.Theirlipswerethecorrosionofmetal.Thewindwasthecryofthecity,andthecrywasashriekinghymn.ThestructuresofBeroeacreatedthesong,andtheyshapedtheworship.Theybent towards thecentreof thecity.Theybowedat such steepangles that theyshould have fallen – but thatwould have been contrary to the art ofBeroea’snew incarnation. Here, the aesthetic was pre-eminent. Reality fell before it.Morality fellbefore it.Reason,possibility,hope, faith, thoughtand the releasefrompainallfellbeforeit.Andtheaestheticfounditsfullmanifestationanditspurposeinwhat loomedinthecentreof thecity, thethingtowhichallshrinesandcathedralsandtombsbowed.The immense construct had been the Ecclesiarchal Palace. It was here thatmonstrous divinity resided. The palace had become an explosion of spires.Towerswerebuiltupontowers.Peaksledtomorepeaks,theirheightssproutingandgrowingthinner.Theuppermostspireswereneedlesfiftyfeethighandsharpenough todrawblood from thewind.The towerswereof iron.Theyemergedfromthehugemassthathadappearedtobeahillfromadistance.Itwasflesh.Itheaved and trembled. It wasmottled green and grey and white. It was thick,scaled, its substance stronger than granite, yet there was no mistaking it forstone.The towersappeared tohavebeendriven into it likenails.Bloodoozedfrom theirbases.Thepained tremors that shuddered through the fleshwereasheavyasearthquakes.Thetowersswayed,butnonefell.Aroundthecircumferenceofthepalace,extendinginaspiralacrosstheentirebreadthofthecity,wastheatrocitythathadmadetheartpossible.Willyoufight thatwithoutmyaid?Antwyrwhispered.Lookat theseworks.

Aretheynotsublime?Theyarebeyondyourconception.Theyarebeyondyourstrength.Willyoutakearmsagainstsogreataculmination?Notwithoutme,Purifier.Notwithoutme.Crowe’s hand tightened on the Blade’s pommel. Hewas not tempted. Therewasenoughdamnationalreadybelowhim.Crucifixionsformedvastcirclesofsacrifice.Therewerehundredsofthousandsofthem.Perhapsmillions.Headlessbodieswrithed, theiragonywasunending.Bloodpouredfromthestumpsoftheirnecks,flowingdownthestrugglingformsto cover the stony roads. Avenues had become red canals, carrying the bloodtowardsthedaemonpalace.‘Thisdoesnotlookliketheworkofaweakenedopponent,’saidDrake.‘DidweaccomplishnothinginEgeta?’Sendraxdemanded.DidGavallan die for nothing? Crowe thought.That is what you are asking,brother,isn’tit?HehadnoanswerforSendrax,excepttosay,‘Wewillcompleteour taskhere.’Hepointed to the arrogantmajestyof thepalace. ‘Thedaemonreveals its presence,’ he said. ‘It will be in that monument to its pride.’ Hestepped away from the open door and voxedBerinon. ‘Take us to the crown,brother,’hesaid.Atthesummitofthefleshhill,onetowerwaspre-eminent.Itwashigherthanalltheothers.Itscircumferencewasgreater,itsironaglisteningblack.Itscrownwas wider yet, and it was surrounded by an illumination of stained-glasswindows.Theyshonewithpulsinglightsofredandorangeandpurple.‘Acknowledged,’saidBerinon.HeangledthePurgation’sSwordin.TheStormraven had not crossed the innermost ring of crucifixionswhen thepalacestirredmoreviolently.Theskinwenttaut.Itexpandedasthoughitwerevastlungstakingageologicbreath.Thepalacerose.

VendruhnsawBeroea turn intoamonster.Thecreaturewashundredsof timeslargerthanthecathedralinEgeta.Thepalaceclimbedhigherandhigherintotheair.Ittiltedonitsside.Threelegs,eachhundredsoffeetwide,formedfromthebuildingsclosesttotheground.Towerstwistedaroundeachotherandburrowedinto the flesh. The bloody creations, part architecture, part butchered animal,grewuntilthelegswereamilehigh.Immensewavestraversedthefleshofthebody.Towerssankandroseuntiltheyprojectedfrombeneaththemoundaswellasaboveit.Thepalacetiltedbackdownuntilthehighesttowerwasverticalwithrespecttothegroundagain.Thewallsthickenedwithmoregreyrollsofscaled

flesh.Vendruhnthoughttheywerebeginningtolooklikeshoulders.‘General,’voxedBahnen,thepilotoftheValkyrie.Themanwaspleadingforacommandsohewouldnotgomad.‘Takeuscloser,’Vendruhnsaid.‘General…’‘Wegoin.’Hervoicesurprisedher.Itwasstrong.Shehadn’tthoughtshecouldspeakatall.Buthereshesawthefinalbattle-linesbeingdrawn.Hereshesawthelastchanceforretributionagainstthebeingthathadruinedherworldandherhonour. She switched to the company vox. ‘Look for landing sites on the...’Whatcouldshecallit?Shemustcallitbywhatitwas.‘Thepalace,’shesaid.‘Itistheenemy.Seeklevelgroundintheupperregions.’She could feel the horror inside the cockpit. ‘Now,’ she said before Bahnencouldprotest,andheobeyed.The palace drew closer. Something flashed in the sun above it. The GreyKnightsgunshipwascirclingthemonster.Itwasbarelyvisiblenexttoitsmass,asparkoflight,nothingmore.Thepalacetookitsfirststeps,andVendruhnwasfilledwithsurpassingawe.Thedustofpulverisedshrinesrosefromthebottomofthepalace’slegs.Shewastoohightoseemovementinthestreetsbelow.Thescale of the walking palace was beyond grasping. She thought she had seenexcessinEgeta.ShethoughtshehadbeenatitscentreinDikaia.Shehadbeenwrong.Thiswasexcess.This thingofarchitectureand life, this thingofuncountablespires and monstrosities of flesh, of movement where none should be, ofmovementwithoutmeaningorpurpose.Everythingonthepalacewasinmotion.Thetowersturnedlikepistons.Somerevolvedaroundeachother.Somemovedupanddownintheflesh,drawingriversofdarkbloodthatfelltothegroundinatorrential rain. The palace was a refutation of reality, a collision of theimpossibleandtheirrationalandthepurposeless.Anditwasallinthenameofaterrible, transcendent, soul-destroying beauty. The undulating, shreddingmovementscreatedthecomplexrhythmsofasymphony.Excessandabsoluteartwereoneandthesame,andVendruhnbeheldamasterpiece.Itcouldnotbedestroyedbythelikesofher.Nowthatitexisted,theuniversecouldneverdestroythechangeithadwroughtonreality.Butshemustdestroyit.Shemustfindherangerastranscendentasthisform,andindestructioncreateanevengreater,evenmoreexcessive,beauty.As the armada closed in, the palace grew arms. They sprouted from theshoulders.Towersandfleshwhirledtogether,acycloneoftissueandiron.The

growth was too fast for something so large, yet it was in perfect time to thevisualmusicofthemonstrosity.Thearmsweretentacles,almostaslongasthecolossuswastall.Itlashedout.Bahnen dropped the Valkyrie as soon as the formation began. Its enginesscreamedas it enteredanear-verticaldive, and the titanic limbbarelymissed.The arm smashed two of the heavy lifters that came behind, the impactdisintegrating them. The explosions of the huge aircraft were small blossomsagainstthesnakingmass.Thethree-leggedmonsterturnedonitsaxisandstruckoutwithitsleftarm.Thetentacle caught three more lifters. Half of Vendruhn’s forces fell to earth inchunksofflame.Thepalace’smovementsweretoofast.Theairburnedwiththespeedofitsarms.Yetthemajestyofimmensityremained.Toofast,toohuge,toomad,thepalace-thingembodiedallthattransgressedtheboundsofreasonforthebenefitofmurderousart.‘Pullback!’Vendruhnshouted.‘Pullback!’Thecommandwasunnecessary,yetitwasnecessarytocommand.BahnenpulledtheValkyrieoutofitsdivemidwaydown the height of the palace’s legs. She scanned the ground. As the palacewalked,itleftbehindempty,uneven,woundedground.‘There,’Vendruhnsaid,pointing.‘Welandthere.’Atthisheight,shecouldseewhatmovedinthestreetsofthetransformedcity.Daemonscavorted,celebratingthegod-monstertheirsacrificeshadcreated.TheywereanenemyVendruhncoulddestroy.

Gunfireeruptedfromthespiresofthepalace.Someofthecannonswerestillofhumanconstruction,remnantsoftheoriginalformofthestructure.Hundredsofotherswerenew,forgedinthemaligngeniusoftheimmaterium.Fusionsofironand bone, they fired blasts of warp energy. Berinon banked the Purgation’sSwordandwovebetweenthefireashesoughttoreachthepeakofthemonster.Crowestoodattheopendoor,bracinghisstanceandholdingthebulkheadwithhisfreehand.Theenemyfirebecamemoreintensewitheverysecond,asifthemonsterwerestillwaking, theactofwarcallingmoreandmoreof its furiousbeingintoexistence.Itsmassivetentaclessmashedthemilitiaarmadafromthesky.Vend ruhn’smanoeuvrehadbeenamistake,buther force’spresencedrewthebeast’sattentionawayfromthegunshipandboughttheGreyKnightsmoresecondstoact.‘Wewon’t beable to landon the tower,’Berinon said. ‘Themovement of theabominationistooviolent.’

Crowehadrealisedthesamething.Witheveryponderousyetgracefulstep,thegreattoweratthepalace’speakswayedlikeareedinthewind.‘Seeifyoucangetusclosetoitsbase,brother,’Crowetoldhim.‘Thereismoremovementintheflesh,’saidDrake.They were lines upon lines of ripples. They grew sharper. Blood suddenlyslickedeverysurfacebetweenthetowers.Thenspinning,grindingteethemergedfrom the flesh. A thousand mouths, ten thousand – they chewed through thesurface of the palace’s flesh and gnashed hungrily for more to devour. Theirwhirling jawsseemedsmall incomparison to the towers.But the teeth,Crowesaw,wereeachlarger thanaman.Theywouldreduceanythingthatcamenearthem topulp inmoments.Theywereeverywhere.The fleshof thepalacehadbecomeamonsterofinfinitehungerandinfinitedevouring.Therewasnowheretoland.Thedaemoniccannonfirebecameevenheavier.Itdrovethegunshipback.Theclusterofweaponscirclingtheprimarytowerunleashedabarragesomassiveitbecame awall of destructive energy, a single shockwave of howling colours.Berinon turned thePurgation’sSword awayand raced for theground, evadingthelargestconcentrationofguns.Theedgeofthewavetouchedthehullandthegunshipgroaned.Infernallightningcrackledalongitslength.Itreacheditsclawsinto the troop compartment. The sanctified adamantium bubbled, but the shipheldfirm,andtheenergydissipatedwithashriek.‘Therewillbenolandingonthistitan,’saidSendrax.‘No,but there are still towers.Those are structures.’Therewas structure andshapetothemonster’sbeing,Crowesaw.Ifitceasedtobeapalace,theartofitshorrorwouldbecompromised.Forittobeadistortion,thethingthatithadoncebeen must still be present. ‘There is an interior,’ said Crowe. ‘There areentrances.’He looked down. ‘Brothers,’ he said, ‘will you joinme in anotherclimb?’The Stormraven jerked violently, evading a ball of energy ten feet wide. Itscreamedpastthehullwiththesoundofachoirofhungrysouls.‘BrotherBerinon,’Crowevoxedthepilot,‘takeustotheground.’The Purgation’s Sword streaked downwards. Below the main bulk of thepalace,therewerefewerguns.Eventhelegshadcannons,though,andBerinonhauledthegunshipthroughoneviolentturnafteranotherashedodgedtheirfire.Hebrought theStormraven towithin ten feetof the rooftops.The shrines andchapelsbelowwereasdeformedasthepalace.Theyreachedupwardsinpainfultwistsofmetalandstone.Theirdoorwaysweremawsfrozeninmid-howl.Their

screamswerenotsilent.ThesoundsofterribleecstasymoanedacrossthelowerreachesofBeroea.Berinonaimedthegunshipattheleadingleg.Ithadjustcomedown,poundingacrater intotheground,reducingtheshrinesbeneathit todust.Nowtheotherlegswouldmovewhile it remainedmotionless.TheGreyKnights had severalsecondstoclosewithamotionlesstarget.‘Standby,’saidBerinon.TheotherPurifiersstoodnow,takinguppositionsbehindCroweatthedoor.How will you fight this without me? the sword whispered. You take yourbrothersonlytodefeatanddeath.In the streets, daemonettes and fiends leapt up, their claws grasping for thegunship.Berinonunleashed a streamof fire from the hull’s twin-linkedheavybolters,cuttingthroughdaemonflesh,blastingaparttheblasphemousstructures,clearingthepathtowardstheleg.The palace took another step. A massive shadow of a limb passed over theSword. The leg came downwith a boom that echoed through the city.At thesamemoment,thegunshipdrewlevelwithitstarget.Berinonfiredtheretro-jetson full and slewed theStormraven around topresent its starboard flank to theleg.Thecraft’sflightbecameahover.Itcamedownoveranopenspaceofruinsflattenedbytheimpactofthelimb’sdescent.Crowe leapt from the doorwaywhile the gunshipwas still ten feet from theground. Sendrax and the others followed. He did not look back. Already, thethirdlegwasbeginningtomove.Theopportunityhesoughtwouldlastforonlya few seconds more. There was a large, vaulted doorway a few feet off theground.Itwascantedatalmostforty-fivedegrees.Croweranforit.Behindhim,heheard thegunship takeoffagain. Its turretpounded the ruins,holdingbackthehordeofdaemons.The third leg thundereddown.AllofBeroeashook.Crowewas less than tenfeetfromthedoor.Thegroundaroundhimtrembled.Dustflew.Thelegshook,preparingtorise.Crowe leapt through the door. He landed on a slanted wall of cartilage andmuscle.Heplungedonwardsintothemoistdarknessofthecorridor.Hedidnotstopuntilhefelttheupwardmovementoftheleg.Heturned,then,andsawthatbothsquadshadmadeitthroughthedoorwayintime.‘Brother,youhavethesworddrawn,’saidDrake.‘Ido.’‘Youintendtouseit?’Gorvenalwashorrified.

‘NotasAntwyrwouldwish.’Crowe faced the interior of palace and marched on, defying the dark andviolenceofmotion.Hewashere,aminutefigurecometocausethedeathofagiant.

CHAPTERFOURTEENTHEMASKEDBALL

GravitypresseddownonCroweas the leg rose.Hepushedbackas it tried toknock himdown.Hemoved forwards, into a towering shaft. The flesh of thecorridorgavewaytomassiveiron.Spikesjuttedinfromthewalls,amirrorofthe towers on the bulk of the palace. Thick, viscous ichor dripped from thejoints.Therivetswereweepingeyes.Andteethwereeverywhere,pushingfromthesurfaceofcolumnsandramps,grindingatCrowe’sbootsandgauntletsasheclimbed.Gravity suddenly reversed.Themovementof the shaftwas a suddendiagonaldownwardplunge.Crowegrabbedaspike,crushingeyesandteeth.Heheld on as the leg finished itsmovement. It came to a jarring stop. The hugeblowoftheimpactalmostknockedhimloose.Hisgripwouldhavebeenmoresecurewithbothhands,butheheld theBladeofAntwyr inhis right fist.ThelessonofGavallan’sfallwaspresentinhismind.Hewouldnothavetheswordonhisback.‘Thelastsummityouscaleddidnotmoveasmuch,Ithink,’Sendraxcalled.Crowestormeduptwisted,mutteringstairs. ‘Thenweshoulduse thesecondsbefore thenext stepwisely,’hesaid.Andwewilluseyourartagainstyou, hepromisedMnay’salath.Thedaemonhadnot transformed the interioroutof allrecognition: Crowe was not trying to haul himself up veins. The interiorfollowedthesameaestheticprincipleastheexterior.Itachieveditsobscenitybykeeping the original formperceptible. Though the shaft criedmadness, itwasbuiltofhallsandstairs,andsothePurifiersclimbed.The legroseandfell.Thehugemovementshook theGreyKnightsas if they

wereclimbing through the launchofaStormravenand theplummetofadroppod.Faithkeptthemstrong.Dutygavethemdirection.Theshaftascendedforahundredfeet.Themouthsinironscreamedinfrustrationatthebeingstheycouldnotdevour.ThentheangleoftheascentchangedastheGreyKnightspassedtheleg’sarticulation.Thespacewidened,becomingvast.Croweenteredarealmofintersectingstaircasesandchambers.Thehallspiledintoandthrougheachother.Floorsandwallsandceilingswereatperpendicularsanddiagonals.Therewerestaircases of iron and staircases that seemed to be of grey stone, but wereactuallyundulating flesh.Flightsextended intomid-air,endedatwalls,circledback on themselves, and crossed so many others they formed a webbing oflunaticpathways.From every room, down every staircase, hooting and singing as the spacerockedandshiftedandroseanddropped,thedaemonscame.Andallthefangedmouths on every surface, in their tens of thousands, spoke with the voice ofMnay’salath.‘Youarewelcometomyart.‘Youarewelcometotheball.‘Youarewelcometoyourend.‘Iwilltakethesword!’Thelastwordechoedandre-echoed,hissedandwhisperedandsnarledbythetensofthousands,hungryandeagerandvengeful.‘Sword,sword,sword,sword!’

Thetentaclestookoutanothermilitialifterbeforeitcouldland.Theblowwasabackwards lash. Hundreds of troops died in the insult of a monster’safterthought.Thelesserdaemonsswarmedtoattackasthemilitiadisembarked.TheywereuponVendruhn’sforcesbeforetheChimerashadrumbleddowntheembarkationramps.Inthescoured,opengroundofthepalace’swake,Vendruhnhad just enoughwarning to establish a rough infantry perimeter.Most of hersoldierswereveteransofthesiegeofEgeta.Theyhadnotlosttheirterroroftheabominations, but they had fought them before and survived, so they had thespiritualstrengthtofightthemagainnow.Theylaiddownabarrageoflas-firethatslowedthewaveofdaemons.TheywerethesamemonstersVendruhnhadseen before, the patchwork animals and female grotesques. There were otherhorrorstoo.Bipedal,reptilian,hideouslylissomintheirmovements,tonguesaslongastheirneckslickingouttotastetheairandthefear,theywereriddenbythefemaledaemons.Theywerethecavalryofobscenity.

Hit by enough las, they dropped and burned, but more and more came.Vendruhnwasnotevenconvincedthemilitiahadtrulyslowedthecharge.Theairwas filledwith daemonsong that lured and tempted and taunted.Dark joyslitheredaroundthelandingsite.Thethoughtcame,asshestoodbehindthelineanddirected thearrivingChimeras intoreinforcingpositions, that thedaemonsweretoyingwiththemilitia.Toyingwithher.Mockingherdeterminationandhervengeance.Herangerenflamedherdesiretoloseherselfintheslaughterofherenemy.Butthe attack forced her to remain in the realm of reason. She could not attackbeforehertroopshaddisembarked.Sheroaredhercommandsasifthroughforceofwill shecouldmove thearmouroff the liftersherself.She firedherplasmapistolat thedaemons thatdancednear.Shemovedher troops intoasnarrowaformation as she could, concentrating their fire as much as possible, cuttingenoughofawedgeintotheswarmofabominationsthatitsplitintwo.Thehalvesnowarcedawayfromthemilitiaandreturnedinasweepingmotion,attacking from two sides, forcing her to divide the fire. But the bulk of theChimeraswere on the ground now, and she used theirmulti-lasers and heavybolters.Thewavesof daemons slowed again.Though the air roiledwith theirmusk, and the day shimmered as though it were about to transform, the lasttraces of reality crumbling in the void of unreason, the abominations did notlaunchalong-rangeattack.Theysweptcloserandcloser,amalevolentpromise.Iwillmakeapromise too,Vendruhn thoughtas sheclimbedonto the roofofLegacyofGlas.Iswearyouwillcometofearme.Iamreadyforyounow.Asiftheyhadbeenwaitingforthatmoment,thedaemonssangatriumphantlyeagerfanfare.Thewavessplitagain.Throughtheshriekinghordes,oneachside,came the monstrous engines of the cavalry. Each was towed by four of thehellishsteeds.Theotheronesweremounted.Themiddletwoweregovernedbyathirdfemalecreaturewhoreignedonanelevatedplatformofjaggedbone.Thebeastspulled twoparallel axles,whoseentire lengthswere covered in rotatingdiscsofcurvedteeth.Thevehiclestorethegroundopenastheyclosedin.Thewoundstotheearthweretheforeshadowingofthejoysawaitingtheflesh.Theearlierchargeshadbeensimpletaunts.Thebeastscharged,andtheenginesracedacrossthegroundtowardsthemilitiawithblindingspeed.Totheleftandright,thefieldwassuddenlyfullofgrindingmonstrosities.VorticesofspinningclawsclosedinonVendruhn.

Goup,Crowethought.Allelseisconfusionwroughtbythedaemon.Ignoretheart.Goup.Thedaemonettesdanceddownthestairstowardshim.Withlashandclaw,theyswungandleaptoverandaroundthearchitecturalcollisionsofthespace.Theyseemedtoemergefromthecornersofwalls,revealingdeadendstobestillmorepassages.TheysangMnay’salath’spraisesandcroonedtheallurementofrefinedagony.Theyweretheheraldsofthedarkartist,andtheycametoforcetheGreyKnightstojoininthedance.‘Sword,sword,sword!’themouthschanted.‘Onme,brothers!’Croweshouted.The Purifiers closed the formation. As they did, Antwyr screamed. It filledCrowe’s mind with its curses. The claws of its rage slashed into hisconsciousness.‘FatherofMankind,’Gorvenalmutteredoverthevox,‘grantmethestrengthtobanish that voice.’ It was not the voice of the daemon Gorvenal struggledagainst, Crowe understood. It was the voice of Antwyr. The tight formationneededtofightthedaemonettesmagnifiedthedangertheswordpresentedtotheother Purifiers.Gorvenal’s prayer continued, a holy refrain that reinforced theresistanceofallhisbattle-brothers.TherewasnosensetotheBlackBlade’showling.Itwasnottryingtocorrupthim.Itwastryingtoblindhim.Crowesawthroughthetactic,andheusedthatknowledge to see through the red storm of the sword’s shouts.He ran up thestairsat thedaemons.Hefiredaheadwithhisstormbolter,andhebroughthisright arm back, raising the sword. The first two abominations collapsed, theirmaterial forms smashed by the blessed shells. Another dropped down from asidewayschamberabove.Croweswungthesword…Themomentstretching,becomingeternalinitssignificance.TheactnottheexecutionoftheBlade’sdefeatedslave.Anactofwar.TheBladeusedincombatforthefirsttimebyaGreyKnight.The Blade wielded, and the Blade denied. Its terrible power held back. TheBladeusedasabladeandnothingelse.Anewkindofprisonforthedaemonwithin.…andcutthemonsterinhalf.Antwyr’s raging became a long, drawn-out howl of despairing outrage. Itunderstoodthesignificanceofwhathadjusthappened.No!itshrieked.Whathaveyoudone?Whatareyoudoing?

Crowe did not answer. He would never answer the Blade. He would notdialoguewithitandsowalkintoitsweb.Buthehadananswerforhimself.IamtheWardenoftheBlade,hethought.Itismyprisoner.Icannotdestroyit,butIwillcontainit,andIcanpunishit.Itwillseekmysuffering,butitwillsuffertoo.TheBladewillstrikefortheEmperor,andneverforitself.Ashemadethisvow,heconsecrateditwithanotherblow,destroyinganotherdaemonette.Thecreaturesof theDarkPrincedescended inaswarm.ThePurifierswereadense fist of righteousness, and they hurled them back with sustained burstsfromtheirstormbolters,thejettingofsacredpromethiumflameandtheslashesofNemesisswords.‘BrotherGarran,’Drakesaid.‘TheBladeisguarded,’Crowetoldhim.‘Witheveryblowitfeelsitsprison.’‘Wehearitsanger.’‘Itistheangerofthecondemned.’Crowemovedupwards.Alwaysupwards.Hetradedonestaircaseforanother,keeping to narrow ascents where the daemonettes could not attack in largenumbersatonce.Thesquadsburnedthedaemonsawayandadvanced.Upwards. Always upwards. Through the violence of change as theEcclesiarchal Palace walked, through the increasingly angry songs of thedaemonettes,andthroughthecovetouscriesof‘Sword,sword,sword!’fromthemouths.AtlasttheGreyKnightsenteredthebulkofthepalace.Themovementoftheinterior became less violent. Now it was a slow sway from side to side, amountain bending to thewind.Herewas the glory of the building, and it hadundergone the same transformation and distortion. The confused space of themonster’sleghereachievedatranscendentscale.Itwasnotchambersbutgreathalls that were brought together in a tumbling kaleidoscope of madness.Immense chandeliers hung upwards and sideways.Marble floors as bright asmirrorsreflectedthelightfromeachsideandabove.Hugewindowsofstainedglass revealed their wonders at every angle. Their colours and their shapesrepresentednothing,buttheyarticulatedtheeleganceofhorrorandofmadness.Theyblazedwithinfernalillumination.Theflightsofstairsseemedtobeasthinas silk as they intertwined or floated into imperceptibility. Perspective wastortured.Floorsappeared to floatunattached toanywalls.Everydirectionwasup,andnonewere. In themalevolentgenerosityof thespace,all the litheandvenomouscreaturesof theDarkPrincehad themeans toattack.And theydid.

With claw and pincer and tail and horn. With song and scent and torturousdesire.

Theinfantryandtheheavyweaponsmanagedtobringdowntwoofthechargingengines. The rest were too fast. The harnessed beasts leapt high when theyreached themilitia’s lines.Theabominationsat the reins laughed in the flight,thesoundmusicalandhorrifyingatonce.ThebeastscamedowninfrontoftheChimerasandrushedforwards.Theclawedaxlesrodeovertheinfantry,flayingthetroopstoshreds.Theteethhooked into bodies, gutted them, tangled them, then brought their trappedvictimsbackaroundtobegroundagainsttheearth.Aharvestofbloodexplodedin the lines. Vendruhn fired the heavy bolter of Legacy of Glas in the samedirectionasthemulti-laser.Thecombinedblastssmashedthroughtheplatformofoneengineandbroketheaxlesintwo.Theyspunoff,outofcontrol,rippingapart still more of her soldiers. The abomination on the platform sailedgracefullythroughtheairandlandedontheroofofSpearofEgeta.Thedaemonstruck the Chimera with its lash, splitting armour. The daemon whipped theEgetaagain,severalmoretimesineye-blinksuccession,carvingtheroofopen.Itreachedinwithitsclaws,singingtoitsprey.Thescreamsofthecrewinsideturnedintomoansbeforetherewassilence.Aroundobject,spinningwetly,smackedagainstthehatchoftheGlas,blindingVendruhnwith a spray of blood. Shewiped the gore from her eyes. SergeantBarratz’sheadstaredbackather,eyeswidewithfinal,forbiddenknowledge.‘Forwards!’ Vendruhn shouted into the vox. ‘All units fire forwards andadvance!’Shewouldgrind theenemybeneathher tracksas thedaemonsweredoing toher infantry.Someof those trooperswerestill inherpath.Therewasnothingtobedone.Theycouldnotbesaved.Advanceandretaliate–thatwastheonlymeaningshehadleft.But as theChimeras lunged ahead, crushinghumananddaemonalike, boltershells releasing a driving rain of blood and ichor,Vendruhn saw that shewaswrong.Astherainfellonher,drenchingher,drivingintohernoseandmouth,sheunderstoodthatadvanceandretaliatewasnotthemeaning.Itwasthepathtomeaning.Themeaningwasintheslaughteritself,inthesurplusofdeath.Intheexcessofwar.Shehadfounditagain.Onlyherewastherefulfilment.Herangerandherskillwere united in the expression of battle. In the blood and the fire, in thetranscendenceofviolence,therewasjoy.Therewaspleasure.Thoughtsofpride

and legacy fell away. What mattered was the battle. What mattered was theslaughter.Everythingelsewastheroadtothisend.LegacyofGlas ploughed through dying infantry and capering daemons. Theabominationsclutchedatitshull,andshehammeredthemwiththeheavybolter.There had been no time to repair the damage the Chimera had sustained atDikaia, but there were still usable gun slits in its battered sides. Scarred andburned,theGlasroaredtoitsfinalwar,eagerasitsgeneral.Las-blastsfromallsidesheldtheworstofthedaemoniclegionsatbaylongenoughfortheChimerato leave the ruinedwasteland behind, and reach a narrow avenue between themonstrousshrines.Vendruhn glanced back. The rest of her armour was following, as were theinfantry, though theywere quickly vanishing. The daemonic engines cut backandforth,grindingsoldierstonothing.Thereweresomanyarcsofred.Somanyindividuals turned into abstractions. The sight arrested Vendruhn’s gaze for asecond,andshesawtheartinthetransformation.Everyhopeandfearandloveand personal hatred rendered down to a single crimson brushstroke in the air.Theabsolutesubtractionspoketoher.Itwasanotherwonderofwar.AnothergracenoteinthedancethathadtakenSandavaIIinitsswirl.LegacyofGlasraceddowntheavenue.OnVendruhn’sright,wherethegroundrose in thedirectionof theouterwallsofBeroea, a lineofheadless, crucifiedbodies twisted against the bone nails that held them to their crosses. Theirmovements too were part of the dance. They writhed in synchrony with oneanother.Theyweretheprisonersandthefuelofthissongofatrocity.Daemons jumped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping pace with the armouredconvoy.At the rear, engines howled,metal tore and aChimera exploded.ThedaemonsateintowhatwasleftofVendruhn’sforces,oneswarmingattackatatime.She ignored the inevitabilityofdefeat.Theprospecthadnomeaning forher. She fired and fired and fired, feeling the kick of the heavy bolter up herarms,thejudderingthrobofshellsleavingthegun.Shetookinthesightoftheirimpacts, of daemonflesh erupting and shredded. She fell into the dance ofexcess.Shehadnoplannow.Therewasnostrategytoemploy.Therewasonlythequesttofindeternityinthejoyofmassacre.

The Grey Knights plunged into the vortex of the great daemonic ball. Theycharged across a great hall’s ceiling, blasted apart a chandelier and thedaemonettes crouchedwithin it.Crowemade for a spiralling flightof stairs atone corner of the chamber. The flight bounced back and forth between three

moretiltedspaces.Itsfurthestenddisappearedintheblindinglightofastained-glasswindow a hundred feet across. Amob of fiends barrelled towards themacrosstheceiling.Theirhoovesshatteredmarble.ThedaemonsrantoblockthePurifiers’ way. Storm bolters and incinerator fire cut them down. A fewclamberedup thewide staircase andmade ready to leapon theGreyKnights.Croweputonaburstofspeed,sprintingaheadofhisbrothers,takingthestepsthree at a time. He rammed the Black Blade through three fiends in quicksuccession, piercing theirmidsections and severing their spinal columns.Thenheranupwards.Exceptperhapshewasgoingdown.Thepullinhislegssuggestedhewas.Hehad to pay conscious attention to avoid losing his balance and fallingup thisstaircase.Perspective shifted again, and then again as the stair passed throughtheotherhalls.GravitypulledCroweoneway,thentheother.Directionsbecamenonsensical,buthekeptmovingalongthestaircase.Hemadeithisconstant,onestepandthenanother,headingtowardsagoalnomatterthemadnessofthehalls.Atideofdaemonettesracedalongthestairsfrombothends.Moreleaptfromthewallabove,orappearedfromtheothersideoftheflight,pincersandwhipssnappingout tocatch theGreyKnights’ legs.Croweswung theBlade tomeetthe daemons. He severed pincers, transpierced thoraxes. He shouldered theshudderingmonstersaside,hurlingthemfromthesteps.Somefelldown.Someup.Someshotawayinastraight linefromhimandsmashedagainstaverticalceilinghundredsoffeetaway.The feel of the sword inCrowe’s handswas strange.His lostNemesis bladehadbeenhisfaithfulweaponfordecades.Ithadbeenswift.Itspowerfieldhadcutthroughenemyarmourandfleshwithaprecisionthatbespokeitssacredness.Antwyr was heavier. It was balanced for the hard blow, the brutaldisembowelment and the decapitation.And every strikeCrowemadewith theswordcameagainstthebackgroundoftheweapon’scurses.Itwishedhimdefeatand death. Every swing became a victory, a statement of imprisonment and afurtherpunishmentoftheBlackBlade.Theweightmadetheswordformidable.Therewasnodoubtingitsedge,either,but the weight gave its blows a brutal efficiency. Twice already, Crowe hadstruckadaemonwithanoverheadslash.Eachhitwassopowerful,hehadcutthedaemoninhalfandchoppedadeepgougeintotheripplingstone-fleshofthestairs.Eachblowwasalsoanothertest.Swearfealtytome,theBladedemanded.Iamyourdestiny.Youwillgive in. Iwill takeyoursoulapartatombyatomuntil

youdo.Bowdownnowat theheightof your strength.Youwillbeaburnedoffering tome.Be thatnow.Whenhe ignored it, thesword’scurses resumed,andtheendlessscratchingatthestonekeepofhissoul,theclawslookingforthepurchaseandthecrack,theflawthatwouldbreakhimopen.The Blade found nothing, and time and again he drove it through daemonicbodies.Hestruck,andheheldback the force thatbegged tobeunleashed.Hestruck, and he prevented himself from using a weapon so powerful it wouldmake short work of any foe, no matter how strong. He struck, and provedhimselfworthyofhistask.Thestaircaseendedatalandingwhereeverysurfacewasstainedglass.Crowedidnotknowifhemarchedonwallorceilingorfloor.Therewasnodirectionhere,onlyasavageconfusionofcoloursandmorestaircases.Thedaemonsweregatheredinforce.HundredsfellonthePurifiers.Crowekepttheformationinatightcircle.ThePurifiersadvancedslowly.Nobattle-brotherlefttheformation,evenforasecond.Theygave thedaemonsnochance togetbetween them,nochancetoisolateoneoftheGreyKnights.Theymovedasanindissolubleunit.Where theymarched, they left a scouredwake. The unclean things could notsurvivecontactwiththem.‘Whereisourascent?’Sendraxasked.‘Thereisnoupordowninthisaccursedplace.’‘Theascentistowardsourfoe,’Croweanswered.Hekeptmoving.‘Youknowtheway?’‘Isenseit.Wearemovingtowardsthedensercorruption,brothers.’‘Wearemovinginspirals,’saidDrake.‘Do not trust that perception,’Crowe told him.He had the same impression,andknewhehadtodismissit.Astheycutandburnedthroughthedaemons,hefeltasif theirprogresswerenomorethanfacinginadifferentdirectioninthehallofstainedglass.‘ItisMnay’salath’sdesiretohaveusbelieveweareturningcirclesinitsdance.Itiswrong.’He knew the perception was wrong because he could see the vortex of thecorruption.Thewarpwasinstorminsidethepalace,buttherewerestillcurrents.Thegravitationalpullofthewillcontrollingthepalacewasunmistakable.Andthefurtherdownthispathhemoved,themoreferociousthedaemonicresistancebecame.LashesandpincersandhornsandstingersassaultedtheGreyKnights.The songsofdesire andmusksof sensationwrappedaround them.The scentswere thick enough to be seen. Their strands clung to the Black Blade as itwhistledthroughtheair.Thesongswerebecomingdesperate,furious.Gradually,

theyofferedlessdesireandexpressedfrustration.Thepresencethatlurkedinthepalacewantedthesword,butithadnotexpectedthePurifierstocomethisfar.The flow of the warp twisted around and around before him, cyclonic,revelatory.Stepbystep,killbykill,disintegratingdaemonfleshbubblinginalakeofichoraround their boots. The daemons howling,massing and charging, hurled backagainandagain.AntwyrstabbingitswillagainstCrowe’swall,andforcedtocutdown the foes of the Emperor from within its prison. And in all this, as themaelstromofabominationsgrewmoreintense,thelightandflameofpurityalsogrewstronger.Thedaemonsshriekedwithpainas theyapproachedCrowe.Hefeltthelightinhischest,andhegreeteditwithhumilityandgratitude.‘Brother…’Drakesaid,andtrailedoff.Sendraxsaid,‘YouaretheEmperor’sflame!’Crowewincedattheaweintheirvoices.Hedidnotseewhatwashappeningashis due. It was not his achievement. It was the blessing of the Emperor. Herefusedallother interpretation.But itwas light, itwasfire, itwasdeath to themonstersofthewarp.Hefollowedthevortexofthewarp,andtheflameburnedmore fiercely. The light pointed the way through the smouldering, agoniseddaemons.Crowetookthepath.Isthisdestiny?Ifitis,earnthistoo.They were still in the immense hall of glass. The jagged colours attackedreality.Theyattackedreason.Theredofflesh’smonstrosity,theblueofasoul’sice,thevioletofart’storture,thegreenofmurder’sgrace–theywerecorruptionandmalevolence,andtheydestroyedallsenseofspace.ButCrowe’slightgrewbrighter,andhisfirescarredthecolours,andthoughhehadnotmountedanotherflight of stairs, he realised that he and his battle-brothers were climbing. Hecouldnotsaytherewasaslopetothefloor.Theirjourneythroughthespacewasnothingsosimple.AndperhapsDrakewasright.Perhapstheyweremovinginspirals.Butifso,theyweremovinginwards,workingtheirwaybackuptowardsthe origin of the dance. The daemons sang, but Crowe broke their chorus.Mnay’salathhadwoventheeventsofSandavaII’smartyrdomintoitsdarkball,buttheGreyKnightshadcometobringanendtothecacophony.Deeper and deeper, through colours and glass and daemon, closer and closertowardsthepresenceatthepalace’sheart.Atlast,Crowegazedupwards,andhecouldseethetrueshapeofthespiral.Theterriblewindowswoundupandupandup,anightmaregiventhebeautyofform,

andCroweknewtheystoodinthebaseoftheprimarytower.‘Wearehere,brothers!’heshouted,ashisboltershellsenteredthegapingjawsofafiendandblewapartthebackofitsskull.‘Ourfoehidesatthesummit.’‘No,’saidthemonstrousvoice.Itresonatedagainstthewindows.Thecolourstwistedintomouthsandwhisperedtheecho.‘No,no,no,no.’‘Ihavewaitedlongenoughformyprize.’‘Prize,prize,prize,prize.’‘Theswordismine!’‘Mine,mine,mine,mine.’Theroaringcryofmonstrousdesiredescended theentireheightof the tower,andwithitcamethedark,angularshapeofthegreatdaemon,plungingdownforits vengeance and its joy. Mnay’salath landed before the Grey Knights. Themouthsofthepalacescreamedtheirchorusofpainandecstasy,andallthatwasrealbegantoshatter.

In a trance of ecstasy,Vendruhn saw the blood she spilled. She felt the ichorsquirmdownherface.Shefelttheheatofthefires.Explosionsdrewnearerandnearertoher,andtheyseemedlikeapromise.Theydidnotmeananythingelse.Even when the Chimera skewed violently, she did not concern herself withanything beyond the immediate destruction of those foes in the sights of theheavybolter.Therewas a noise at the edge of her hearing, insistent, irritating, demandingattentionshewouldnotgrant.Itscrapedandscraped,untilatlastsherecognisedit as her name being screamed, and it wasMorenz who was screaming. Therealisation forced itself upon her at the same moment that Legacy of Glascollidedwiththewallofashrineandstopped.Theheavybolterwhirred,emptyofammunition.Vendruhn blinked, her breath heavy, growling. The shrinewas a tall, twistedwaveofmetal,ashapethatwasanabstractedscreamofgeometry.Behindher,thecrucifixionsbledandsuffered.Toherleft,shesawatrailofburningshells.Thearmouredcolumnhadmade it this far in itspointlessadvance throughthecityofdaemonsandsacrifice.ThehullofherChimerawas tornopenonbothflanks. The sounds from the interior were human moans and the crooningpleasureofabominations.Aheadofher,oneoftheflayingdaemonengineswaited.Thesteedspawedattheground.Their tongues flicked inherdirection, anticipating the tasteofherpain.ThedaemonontheplatformlookeddownatVendruhn.Itcockeditshead.

Itshiveredintheexpectationofjoy.Itsattendantswaitedforitssignal.A shadow killed the sun. Vendruhn looked up. The Ecclesiarchal Palacetoweredaboveher.Ittookastep.Theearththunderedandshook.Vendruhnwasalone.Sheturnedaround,takinginreality.Shelookedpast thecrucifixions,past theflayingengine.Daemonseverywhere,asfarasshecouldsee,revellinginthefallofBeroea,singingthepraiseofthemasterworkoftheirruler.Thethundercameagain,anotherstep–theimmensethree-beatrhythmthathadtakenSandavaII,andwouldsoonspreadfarbeyond.Vendruhn saw her futility, her doom, the utter ruin of everything she haddevotedher life to.Shefeltdespair,andshefelt rage.But thosepassionswerenowmere channels. It was through them that she could reach transcendence.Theyweretheroadtothepalaceofexcess.Noviolencewouldeverbeenoughtotakerevengeonthebeingsthathaddestroyedherworld.Nothingwouldeverbeenoughtosatethedesirethatconsumedher.Andthatwastheonlyrealtruththatwasleft.SheclimbedontotheroofoftheChimera.Shepulledherplasmapistolfromitsholster.Thedaemonssanginwelcomeeagerness.Shedefied themwitha roar, andbegan the final journeywith thepullof thetrigger.

ThePurifiersattackedMnay’salathasone.Inanunspokenaccord,theyspreadina semicircle around the Keeper of Secrets. They struck with the weapons ofsanctity.Holyfirewashedoverthedaemon,thewarpusedagainstthewarp,andthey ran in with holyNemesis weapons. The flames burnedMnay’salath, butthough it snarled in pain, the jaws of its elongated head were parted in theabhorrent imitationof a smile.Thedaemondancedbackwardson its toweringlimbs.IntwogracefulboundsitwasoutoftheimmediatereachofthePurifiers.Its four armsmade a gesture like an embrace, and its legions rushed in frombehindtheGreyKnights,graspingandclawing,seekingtobearthemdownandholdthemfortheslaughter.Crowehitbackwithhisleftarm,firingaburstfromhisstormbolterandblastingawaythefiendsthattriedtotramplehim.Thentwodaemonettesseizedhisoutstretchedarmwiththeirpincers.Threeotherstookhisright.Theyshriekedinpain,burningastheycameintocontactwithhim.Theyheldfastandpulledbackhard,arrestinghismovement.‘Bringmethesword!’Mnay’salathcommanded.

Unleashme, Antwyr urged Crowe.Now is the time.What price your deadfaithifMnay’salathclaimsmeinstead?Drakespunquicklywithhisstormbolter,sprayingtheshellswide,forcingthedaemonsbackbeforetheycouldseizehim.Heturnedthemomentumofhisspininto a second charge atMnay’salath. TheKeeper of Secrets lunged at him asquicklyasithadretreatedbefore.Itsclawedhandsreachedforhim.Heslashedatthemwithhissword.TheNemesisbladecutthroughthebone-whitearmourof the daemon. Mnay’salath laughed. Its attack had been a feint. The pincerarms, a beat behind the other two, closed around Drake’s arms. The daemonsqueezed and yanked. There was a splintering of ceramite and bone. Drake’ssword-armcameawayfromhisbody.Rulufmanagedtotwistaroundandturnhisincineratorontheinfernallegion.He turned his immediate area into a firestorm.Hewaded into the flames andkept up the stream of promethium, then turned the fire towhereHarsath andCaracwerestrugglingagainstatangledthrongoffiends.TheconflagrationfreedSendraxandDestrian,andtheyranintogether.DestrianlaunchedhisflameoverSendrax’s shoulder, giving him cover by aiming the burning fuel atMnay’salath’sface.ThedaemondroppedDrake.Crowehurledhimselfforwards.Heshoutedanathemaatthedaemonsthatheldhim.Hecalledupon themightof theEmperor tobanish themfromtheworld,evenhereintheheartofthedomainclaimedandshapedbytheRuinousPowers.Thedaemonetteshowled.Theirpincersdisintegratedandhewasfree.SendraxclosedwiththeKeeperofSecrets.HearcedhisrunatthelastmomentandcameinatanangleasthedaemonsnatchedatDestrian.Itwasanotherfeint.Destriandodged,butMnay’salathhadalreadymovedawayandlauncheditstrueattack. Sendrax swung at air. His storm bolter shells found their target.Mnay’salathignoredthedamage.Itslashedthespacebeforeitwithitsleftarm,asthoughitwerewieldingawhip,andawhipappeared,ahissing,whickeringlashofsorcery. IthitSendrax fullon. Itcoiledaroundhim,eating throughhispower armour, striking himwith blasts ofwarp energy, then hurling him fiftyfeet through the air.Thewhip recoiled andhitDestrian.Theblowpiercedhisreservoirtank.Theincineratorexploded,wrappinghiminflame.Onemore time thewhipcurledandstruck,catchingRulufaround thegorget.The whip crackled with a last burst of dark power before it vanished. Rulufstumbled,hisaimgoingwide.Fiends rushedhimfromtheside,knockinghimdown,andthenthewavecoveredhimtoo.Crowecharged,andheknewMnay’salathexpectedhim.Heknewthedaemon

hadchoreographedthismoment,whentheWardenoftheBladewouldbealoneinthefight,andrushingtowardstheKeeperofSecretswiththeprize.Thiswastheculminationofthegreatdance.Guidemyhand,FatherofMankind,Croweprayed.GrantthatImayturnthisabomination’scertaintyintoitsweakness.Mnay’salathwhirled tomeet him, as Crowe had known. He drew the Bladeback,preparingthestrikehewouldnotbeallowedtoland.Doyourworst,andIwillovercomeit,becauseImust.‘Youwilldanceforme,’ thedaemonsnarled. Itspokeaword.Thewordwasformedby all itsmouths.Syllables overlapped. It couldnever be spokenby asinglevoice.Itwasawordthathadachordprogression.Itforgedarhythm.ThewordreachedintoCrowe’sbeing.Itgraspedholdofhiscoreandshotitstendrilsthroughhislimbsanddownhisspine.Foramomenthewasparalysed.Thenhebegan to shudder and spasm. His bones jerked against each other. Painhammeredhim.Thespasmsgrewworse.Hisbodywastryingtotearitselfapart.Thedaemonhisseditspleasure.Itstalkedovertohim.‘Myprize,’itsaid.Freeme!Antwyrcried.Freemenoworallislost!Crowefocusedonhisrighthand.Heacceptedthepainoftherestofthisbody.Let his skull shatter against itself; hewould not loosen his grip on theBlackBlade.Thiswashismostsacredtask.Onlydeathwouldendit,andhewasnotdeadyet.Sohisgripmustremainclosed.Anditdid.FatherofMankind,Iwillnotfailyourtrust.Mnay’salathreachedforhim. Itshead leaned inclose, itseyesblazingwithamockingyellowfire.Theeyesthatstilllookedoutattheworldthroughthemask.Crowe turned to his psychic fire. The flames that burned the daemons, thatturnedawaythedepredationsofthewarp,weretheflamesoffaith,adamantineinitsinflexibility.Iacceptmydestiny.Iacceptthepainitbrings.Butthispainisnotdestined.ItistheworkofthewretchwhowoulddestroythepathIhavebeentaskedtowalk.Mnay’salath regarded him. It savoured the perfection of the moment it hadcreated,anartistwellpleasedwithitswork.Militantpatience.Yourcertaintyisyourweakness.‘Nowgivemethesword,’thedaemongloated.AndCrowedid.Hisarmobeyedthewillofhisfaith.Hedrovethepointofthe

swordagainstthemask.Relicstruckrelic.TheBladewasimmortal.Themaskshattered.Mnay’salath screamed. Themouths of the tower screamed. Every daemon inthe stained-glass space howled in anguish. The Keeper of Secrets staggeredawayfromCrowe.Itclutcheditsforeheadasifitcouldholdthemasktogether.It failed. Fragments of the mask fell like ash. Eldritch light pulsed and died,pulsedanddied.The shapeof thedaemon rippledandwavered. ItsmonstrousdancelostitsgripanddrainedawayfromCrowe.Thetowertrembled.Thehallrocked like a ship in a storm, and the palace stumbled.Mnay’salath screamedagain,thecoherenceofitspowerunravelling.Crowe launched himself at the abomination.He seized a pincerwith his lefthandandpulledhimselfup.Levelwith thedaemon’sface,hedrovetheswordthroughitshandsandintoitsforehead.Foramoment,Antwyr’ssnarlsfadedinhismind.Theswordwashisprisoner,but itshate for thedaemon thathadsought toenslave itwasgreat.TheBladesankdeepintotheabomination’sskull.Mnay’salath’s scream cut short. The shrieks of the tower becamemaddened.Thedaemonfelltoitsknees.Crowedroppedtothefloorandyankedtheswordfree.Mnay’salath’s formwavered again, like a distorting reflection. It lost itsholdonthematerium...andexploded.The blast of uncontrolled warp energy threw Crowe backwards. The entirepalace trembled. Lightning seethed and lashed out against the heights of thetower. The stained glass shattered, raining down in disintegrating shards. ThelesserdaemonsshriekedinechoofMnay’salath.Enslavedtotheirmaster’ssong,they had to answer to its final verse, and their chorus was their end. Thelightning lanced from daemon to daemon, enveloping them all, tearing themapart. The palace lurched. Perspectives realigned. Thematerium flooded overthedyingmonster.Thetower’sformheldstrongforthemoment,butbeyondit,the impossible halls began to collapse in on each other.Crowe felt the palacelean,andleansomemore.Thefloortilted.The palacewas the pinnacle of the daemon’s art, surpassing thework of thecathedral.Andnowthegreatestfallbegan.

ThedaemonsmockedVendruhnassheranintotheirmidst.Shefiredtheplasmapistol as quickly as she could pull the trigger.Theweapon becamehot in her

hand.Shewaspastcaringaboutthechanceofanexplosiveoverheat.Astingertale whipped past her face, and she shot the daemon until it was a melting,indistinguishable mass. She did not seek shelter or try to escape. There wasnothing for her now except finding the ecstasy of the kill one last time. Theleaping, frolicking abominations were a blur that surrounded her with theirlaughterandtheirsong.They taunted her. They danced forwards and invited her violence. Some shedestroyed.Theirwailsonlyaddedspice to thepleasureof theothers.Shewastheir toy. The lastmortal in Beroea, a final amusement to be savoured at themomentofvictory.Shedidnotcare.Sheranatthem,raging,firing,andbroughtthemdown.Andin their destruction she found the pleasure. The pistol approached critical, itsheat burned through her gloves, and that too was part of the sensation. Shewoulddestroyeverythingtoprolongtheecstasy.Thedaemons’joyendedsuddenly.Theyhowled.Theywailedindespair.Theirheadsrockedback,andtheyignoredVendruhn.Shepausedinherfrenzyandlookedup.TheEcclesiarchal Palace rocked forwards. Its step faltered. It slammed a legdown,andthelegcrumbled.Vendruhnstaredattheslowcollapseandfallofthelimb.Theeventsweresohuge,theytookanagetounfold.Therewassomuchtimeforhertoseewhatwashappening,forunderstandingtopiercethehazeoffuriousdesire.Buttherewasnotimeforescape.Timeonlytobearwitnessanddie.No,shethought.The shadowof the palacewas as big as aworld. It grewbigger.The spikedtowers began to fallway from themainbody.Theyplummeted to the groundlikeimmensejavelins.Andjustbehindthemcamethegreatcorpseofthepalace,anendlessmassivenessthatcriedoutwithavoiceofiron.Vendruhnscreamedherdenialastheskyfelluponher.

Croweleanedforwards,keepinghisfeetas thefloorslantedthirtydegrees.HegrabbedDrake as the fallenGreyKnight slid past him.Drakewas conscious,andhisstumpwasclotting,buthehadlostalotofblood.Hismovementsweresluggish.Crowehauledhimup,anddraggedhimtowardstheotherPurifiersasthey fought their way to their feet. The sludge of vanishing daemons slowedtheirmovements.‘Wellfought,brothers!’Sendraxcalled.

‘Wewillfightagain,’Croweyelled.‘Wearethehammer,andourdutyhasnotfinished.’ Crowe felt something huge snap in the heart of the palace, and thefloorlevelledominously.Therewereonlymomentsnow.Heheldupthesword.‘ThismissionisnotcompleteuntilwedepartSandavaII!’Destiny.Ithadtobeearned.Ithadtobefoughtfor.Andnowthefightbeganagain.Therewasnoescapingthecollapse.Therewerenostairstoclimb.Therewasnodestinationtoreach.Therewasonlythestruggle,therefusaltoendwiththepalace.Crowefelthimselfgrowlighter.Thehugemasswasplungingnow.Thestainedglass of the walls and floor dissolved, flowing tomix with the bodies of thedaemons.Thesludgeturnedintoarisingtide.Theinteriorofthepalacelostallform.Molten,itflowedinonitself.ThetideclutchedCrowe’sfeet.Itrosepasthis knees. He forced himself forwards through the thickening entropy,supportingDrake,bringing thePurifiers together,brothers refusingoblivionasone.Thenwallsandceilingandfloorslostallcoherenceatonce.AmassivewaveoffluidarchitectureslammeddownontheGreyKnights,andthesurfacebeneaththembecameasea.CrowelosthisgriponDrake.Hefell,tumblingthroughthesubstanceofMnay’salath’sfadingdream.Vanishingformsbatteredhim.Hesawthe echoes of glass and staircases, of chandeliers and pillars, of arches and ofdomes.Thesavagecoloursstreakedthroughtheseaoflostforms,meldingwitheachother,smearingmadness.Jaggedmassesstruckhim.Foramomenthewascaughtbetween thecollisionof twomonolithic slabs,and thenpassed throughthemas they toomelted.Andhewas falling, falling– everythingwas falling.Thepalacefelltowardsthegroundandtheartitembodiedfelltonothingness.Crowefell,buthissouldidnot.Heheldfast,totheBlade,tohisbeing,tohisduty,todestiny.Theforceofthepalace’simpactagainsttheearthslammedthroughtheseaofdisintegration.Theshockwasvisible,asuddenwave,anditwasablowlikeaDreadnought’spowerfistagainstCrowe’sspine.Consciousnessflickeredinthestormofpain.Hehelditastightlyashedidthesword.Hehadadirectionnow.The collapse of the palace had ended, and the sludge had a surface. Crowerighted himself and struck upwards. Themolten warpstuff dragged at him. Itwouldnotlethimgo.Itwouldsmotheranddrownhiminitsfinalmurderousactbeforeitvanished.Theweightofhisarmourpulledhimdown,buthefought.Hedragged his way forwards and up through swirling, grasping insanity. Thecoloursfaded,turningtomuck.Thesludgeretractedintoitself,becomingdenser

asitshrank.Ittriedtocrushhim.Hepushedon,cuttingthroughthemuckwiththe sword, refusing all ends except the one that awaited when all duty wascomplete.Andthatwouldneverbe.Hefought,andhebrokethroughthesurface.Hedroppeddownagainatonce,then rose again, and so struggled toovercome themassofhis armour and thedrag of the quagmire. He surfaced and sank, over and over, and the sludgecontracted,monstrousdreamsanddesiresshrivellingtonothing.Thenhisbootstouchedground,andhehauledhimselftotheedgeofthemuck.He saw his battle-brothers dragging themselves out, and he gave thanks. Helooked forDrake, and spotted a still hump in themucka fewyards away.Hemadehiswayover andpulled thePurifier into the fading lightof theday.Hestaggeredon,andatlastleftthesickeningmorassbehind.ThePurifiersgatheredat theedgeof thepalace’s swamp.Theygathered,butCrowe saw how the others instinctively, perhaps unconsciously, moved awayfromhim.Hewalkedseveralyardson,puttingmoredistancebetweenhimselfandhisbrothers,drawingthepoisonofAntwyrwithhim.Forhundredsofyardsineverydirection,everyshrinehadbeenflattenedbythepalace’scollapse.Themonsterhaddestroyedeverythingbeneathit,andnowthelastofitsbeingdrainedawayovertheruins.Nodaemonsattacked.Toomuchoftheir essence had been slaved toMnay’salath’smasterwork, and they too hadbeendestroyedbytheKeeperofSecrets’end.Beyondthesiteoftheimpact,thecrucifixionsstretchedtothehorizon,buttheywerestill.Thevictimswerefinallydead.Theyhadbeenreleasedfromthedance.‘The militia has not fared well,’ Gorvenal said. He pointed to the smashedliftersandtheruinedChimeras.Therewerenobodiesvisible.Crowecontemplatedthescene.Hethoughtaboutthepatternhehadseenbeingwoven aroundVendruhn. Themilitia had served a brief purpose, drawing thepalace’s attack away from theStormraven.That seemedvery little.Therewassomethingunsatisfyingaboutthedeaththathadcometothegeneral.Perhapshehad ended the pattern’s formation by destroyingMnay’salath’s material form.Perhaps. That solution did not convince. Yet her end had clearly come. ‘TheEmperorgrantthempeace,’hesaid.The silence of the dead city was broken by the growl of the Purgation’sSword’sengines.Berinonbroughtthegunshipdownoveralevelfieldofrubblefiftyfeetaway.Sendraxsaid,‘Thislandisdead,butthereisnopeacehere.’‘Agreed,’saidCrowe,andtheotherKnightoftheFlamenodded.

It was time to return to the Sacrum Finem. It was time, too, for the finalmartyrdomofSandavaII.Timetokilltheplanet,andthememoriesitheld.

EPILOGUETHEHOLLOWWAR

Butthememoriescouldnotbekilled.Decadeslater,CastellanCrowestaredatthe crucifixions, and felt the circle close. On Sandava II, he had seen hisexhaustedmentorfall.OnSandavaIII,hehadcomebearinghisownburdenofexhaustion.Andthiswaswaitingforhim.Theendless,dancing,writhingdeathfavouredbyMnay’salath.Thedaemon’spleasure thatwas the fuelof itsgreatworks.The daemon’smachinations had brought Gavallan low. It would be a fittingrevengeifnowitdestroyedCroweandsofinallyclaimedtheprizeithadsoughtsomanydecadesago.Antwyrgloated.Antwyr laughed.Yousee, yousee, yousssssseeeeeee!All isaccomplished.Thisisthetruemomentofyourdestiny.Thisistheendofthepath.Willyouturnfromitnow?Ithinknot.Youhavefollowedittoolong.Theclawsofitswill jabbedwithgreaterinsistencethaneverathissoul,convincedtheyhadatlastfoundtheirpurchase.HecouldnotdismisstheBlade’swords.Vertigoassailedhim.Itwasborneofapast whose meaning was suddenly revealed. A pattern had been woven onSandavaII,andhehadfallenintoit,beentrappedbyiteversince,hisapparentvictory thenaperverse lie.The symmetrywas toogreat.Thedarkechoeshadcome for him, now, when he had been scraped empty by the years, and thetimingwas too perfect to be anything other than planned.Gavallan’s fall andnowhis,inthesamesystem,atthehandsofthesameweaverofart.Ontheouterslopesofthebowl,thedaemonslaughed.Lilting,monstroussongs

coiledthroughtheburningnightofSandavaIII.Theyslitheredaroundthebowl,shapingthemovementsofthecrucifiedbodies’dance.Youhavefailed,castellan,theswordwhispered.Ifhehad,CrowehadfailedinfarworseafashionthanGavallan.Therewasnosuccessor.Hewasalone.TheBladewouldbelost.Antwyr snickered. The sword’s eagerness for the endgame was a turbulentconstrictionaroundCrowe’sthoughts.Idonotacceptthis,Crowethought.Thiswillnotbemydestiny.Myoathswillnotbreakonthisworld.IwillnotfailtheEmperor.Thiswillnotbetheend.IamtheWarden,andmytaskissacred.He straightened as hemade the vow.He clutched the hilt of the sword, andpreparedforbattleagain,notinhopelessness,butindetermination.Ashedid,helookedatthebowlandhisgazesharpened.Hesawpastthesymmetry.Hesawthedifferences.On Sandava II the crucifixions had formed a spiral with the EcclesiarchalPalaceatthecentre.Thedesignherewasmorecomplex,andtherewasnothingat the centre.The daemonic rune formed by the sacrifices bespoke a differentintent,adifferentusetowhatCrowehadseenbefore.‘Thesymmetryisincomplete,’hesaid.Itmightbe that thedifferencesweremeaningless.Yet thecrucifixionsaboardtheEnvoyofDisciplinehadalsobeenarrangedinacircularfashion.Therehadbeenagreaterconsistencytotheatrocitythen.Thiswasnew.Crowechosetoseemeaning in the difference. He and Gavallan had missed signs and misreadsignificanceontheEnvoyandonSandavaII.Hewouldteartheheartfromthedarkmeaningonthisday.Hedescendedtheslope.Thedaemonsdidnotfollow.Theydancedalongthelipof thebowl.Theirpleasure tauntedhim.He stared straight ahead, to theothersideofthebowl.Itwasraisedhigherthanthesidehehadentered.Hecouldnotseebeyond it.Hesawmeaning in thebarrier too. Itwasaveil.Behind itwasfurtherrevelation.ThespireofHiveLaboswasstillhiddenfromhim.Hemovedthroughtheruneandobservedtheflowofthewarp.Itracedaroundthelinesdrawnbythecrucifixions,pickingupspeedandpower.Itappearedtoflow out of the bowl in two directions, to the rest of Sandava III, and backtowards the spire. At the centre, he swung the sword with both hands andtoppled an iron cross with a single blow.Hemoved swiftly from sacrifice tosacrifice, chopping them down. He severed the arms and legs of the torsos,settingthemfree.Hedestroyedthecoreoftheruneandpaused.

The daemons’ celebration did not diminish. The currents of the flow wereunchanged.Thebodieshehaddismemberedwerestillcaughtinthedance.Thelimbstwitched.Thetorsosconvulsed.Thecreationoftherunehadalreadydoneitsdamage.Thelinkbetweenitandthesourcewastoostrong.Destructionherewouldservenopurpose.Croweclimbedthefarslope.Atthetop,helookeddowntowardsthevestigesofLabos.Thehivehadbeendevastated.Vastareashadbeenreducedtocratersboilingwithmagmaandblood.Thelandscapecrawledwithdaemonsjoinedinthegreatdance.Thehivehadbeenamonstrousagglomerationofmanufactoria.Most were gone. The burning, bleeding shells of some remained. In a pathleading across the plain from the base of the hill towards the spire, though,dozensofmanufactoriastillstood,transformed.Thespiretoo,wasinthegripofdaemonicpossession.Thepathofthesurvivingstructuresreplicatedtheruneofthecrucifixions.Andthemanufactoriatoowerecaughtinthedance.Theirwallstwistedbackandforth.Immensechimneyswhippedlikesnakes.Thespire,shornofall the tumoursofhabblocks,wasanarrow, tormentedspear. It too flexed,serpentine. Its peak had split into snapping jaws. A hollow wail of hungerboomedfromwithin.Youaresummoned,theswordsaid.Yourstrengthisgone,andyouwillfall.Crowebelievedinthesummons.HebelievedinnothingelseAntwyrsaid.Ashestrodedownthehilltomeetwithhisenemy,hethoughthedetectedareturnof anger in the Black Blade’s tone. It was no longer gleeful. It sensed hisdetermination.Itborewitnesstohisownsummons.Asummonstostrengthfromwithin,andfromhisfaithintheEmperor’spowerwithout.He tried again to reach his battle-brothers. ‘Sendrax,’ he called. ‘Drake.’ Hecycledthroughthechannels.Nothing.Thistestwashisalone,then.Sobeit.He reached the bottom of the hill, and moved between the writhingmanufactoria.Andhere,hethought,wasanotherdifference,anotherflawinthesymmetry.Thestructuresstrained.Theyscreamed.Thedance tormented them.But they remained in place.Theydidnotwalk theplain like theCathedral ofMartyrdomEmbracedortheEcclesiarchalPalace.‘Your repetition is false!’Crowe shouted tohis enemy. ‘Your symmetries areempty!’Thepatternwasweaker.Itwasanecho,notanamplification.As if in reaction to the truth he brought, the daemons and themanufactoriaattacked in anger. Outflows of molten ore flooded onto the plain. Daemonsdisappearedbeneaththeincandescentflow.Othersoutranit.Daemonettesleaptfrombuildingtobuilding,stayingabovetheburningmetaluntiltheypouncedon

Crowe.Thesuddenrageoftheenemyrenewedhisstrengthevenfurther.Hehaddismayed thedaemonsand thesword.Hehadnotsurrendered.NowhewouldcutthroughtheirdanceanddestroythedefilerofSandavaIII.Ruins lay everywhere between the manufactoria, and he used them to gainheightwherehecould.Hetorethedaemonsapartwithsuchforceandspeed,itseemed theywere thedefendersbeingambushedbya lonewarrior.Abovehispowerpack,hisbanner flapped in thehotwindof thefloodofore. Itborehiscoatofarms–aswordimprisonedbycoilingbarbedwire.Asherantowardsthespire, vaulting from one sinking ruin to another, trampling fiends into the orebeneathhimandcharging through the infernal flood itself, heheard theBladeshriekinhismind,andhe tooknewpride in thesymbolofhishonourandhisburden. His iron halo’s energy field flashed at blows and when it came intocontactwith theore.Hehurled fraggrenades aheadof him, theblasts rippingopenapassage through thedaemons.Stormbolter shellsput theabominationsdown,creatingcausewaysofdaemonfleshoverthemoltenground.HethrusttheBlade upwards, impaling a fiend that jumped from the snarling bay door of amanufactorum. Ichor streamed down his arm, steaming. The daemon’sweightpulledhisarmdown,andtheagonisedabominationslidofftheswordandintothedestroyinglightoftheflood.There were safer paths to the left and right, sloping up or so choked withwreckagethat theydammeduptheore.Croweignoredthem.Theywouldtakehimdownthelongpathbetweenthemanufactoria.Theywouldmakehimtracethelinesoftherune.Hewouldnotreinforcethesorcerybyre-enactingitsform.Hestormedstraightahead,cutting through thepattern, slicing itopen,defyingeveryintentionof theRuinousPowers.Heattackedwithhisownmeaning,hisownsignificance.He imbuedeveryboltershell fired,everyblowof theswordandeverystepforwardswithhistruth.Warwasaclashofsymbols,andhisweremighty.Thegroundbegan toriseagain in theapproach to thespire.He left thefloodbehind.Daemonettesleadinghellflayerenginesrusheduponeithersideofhim.Theydrewcloser.Thespinningteethoftheiraxleswerecoveredinthefleshandgore of previous victims.The daemonettes called to each other and snarled athim.Hethrewakrakgrenadetohisrightandfiredhisstormboltertotheleft.The sanctified explosive melted through the centre of the axle. The shellsvaporised theheadof the leading seekersofSlaanesh.Theengine to the rightsnappedagainst itself.Theseekerson the right fell, and themomentumof theengine rolled the savage teeth over them. Engines, riders and steeds were

entangledinwhirlingself-destruction.Thedemented,inhumanshrieksfollowedCrowethroughthegreatarchwayofthehowlingspire.Butthedaemonsdidnotcrossthethreshold.Hefoundhimselfinavast,domedhall.Thewallswerefiftyfeethigh.Thoughtheexterior twisted, and the spire snapped forprey itwouldneverdevour, theinterior was more stable. Here, stone was stone, though it was soaked in theblood of mortals nailed to the walls. Like the crucified, they too weredecapitated and twisted eternally in the dance of pain. They hung in verticallines.Inbetweenwerehugetableaus.Theywerepaintedinbloodandstretchedflesh.Theypulsedwithunholylight.TheydepictedthemartyrdomofSandavaII.Aroundthehall,Crowewasconfrontedwithgiganticimagesoftheeventsoftheplanet’sfall.Crowesawtheclashofworshippersandmilitia,andthemarchofthecathedral.HesawGavallanstruckdownbyOttoGlas.Hesawtheburningof Dikaia. He saw the exultation of the Ecclesiarchal Palace. And theExterminatus.Ineverycase,theperspectiveofthesceneswasmortal.EventheExterminatus,whencyclonictorpedoeshadturnedtheworldintoadebriscloud,wasportrayedasseenfromthesurface.Therewassomethingfamiliaraboutthepoint of view of all the paintings but the last, and even it had the impossibleauthenticityofmemory.Thedaemonwaitedinthecentreofthehall.Itdidnotattack.Itseemedtobewaiting for Crowe to see and understand the infernal art. ‘You made a vowonce,’thedaemonsaid.‘AsdidI.’Crowecircled theabominationwarily,waiting for its attack, for themovehewouldcounterandturnagainstthedaemon.Theliesofthesymmetrywerenowexposed.ThiswasnotMnay’salath.Yetsomehowtherewasanelementoftruthtotherepetition.TherewasalinktoSandavaII.Eventhedaemon’sappearanceannouncedthis.ItwastwiceCrowe’sheightandbroad-shouldered.IthadlessofthemonstrousgraceoftheDarkPrince’screatures,thoughithadtheirperversebeauty.ItappearedtobeconstructedofthestainedglassthathadreignedattheheartoftheEcclesiarchalPalace’spower.Thethousandsofcolouredshardswerealso mirrors, each reflecting a facet of the paintings, as if the daemon wereconstructedfromshattered,reconstructed,obsessivememory.Thedaemon’sbuildandstanceclickedintoplace.Theyweremartial.Details of the paintings took on pointed meaning. Telling elements of theperspective. There was a heavy bolter turret just visible at the bottom of thetableau of the street battle. The death of Gavallan was seen from a highperspective, as if thewitnesswere being held in the air. The death ofDikaia

shownfrominsidethestormoftheorbitalbombardment.‘VendruhnGlas,’Crowesaid.Thepatternstretchingoverthedecadeswasonlypartlyhis,then.Itwasalsohers.Herjourneyhadnotended,ashehadthought,beneaththeruinsofthepalace.ThewhimoftheRuinousPowershadraisedhertodaemonhood.Thiswastheendpointofherfanaticism.Shewasanartefactofvengeance.At the sound of the name, the daemon hissed in anger. ‘Varangallax!’ itshouted, thenamesmashing itsold identity toshards. ‘Youvowed tosaveoneworldofSandava,’Varangallaxsaid.‘Ihavevowedtodestroyanother.’‘WesavedSandavaII,’Crowesaid,stillcircling, thinkingabout thenatureofhisenemy.Somuchrepetition,somuchechoing,solittlethatwasnew,onlytheoldpatternsrepeated.Therepetitionswerepowerful.Memorieswere.Theyhadbeenalmoststrongenoughtoensnarehim.Hestudiedthismonsterofreflectionandbitterness,andheexperiencedanimportantdoubt.ThoughVarangallaxwasatthecentreofthedance,hedoubtedthisdaemonwastheauthorofthistrap.Hesuspected it toowasensnared. ‘Wesaved the soulofSandava II,’Crowesaid.‘We gave the world the peace of oblivion, freed of the corruption you nowembody.’‘Didyou?’Varangallaxsnarled. ‘Didyou?’Blooderuptedfromthepaintingsandwashedacross the floorof thehall.Ahiss, a shakingofglassand light, ashifting of the reflections, memories reassembled and reconsidered, and thedaemon calmed. ‘No matter. There is no salvation. There is onlytranscendence.’Apause,andtheaircrackledwiththecomingattack.‘Onlytranscendence,’thedaemonrepeated.‘AndIwillhaveit!’Varangallaxshrieked,andextendeditsarms.Ithurleda stormof stainedglassagainstCrowe.Thousandsof jaggedshardsstruckeverysecond.Theyoverwhelmedtheenergyfieldofhisironhalo.Theycut deep into his armour. They sliced through his black carapace. The hailpierced his flesh and poisoned his blood. He was assailed by the poundingfragments of a world’s agony. And among the memories were the echoes ofMnay’salath’s attacks. The daemonic scream, the lash and the dance thatshatteredbonestabbedintoCrowe.Thefragmentssoughttofragmenthim.Theysoughttoreducehimtoashatteredmirrorofagony.Theysoughttorenderhimhollow.Heforcedhisright legforwards.Hecompletedastepagainst thehowlof thelethalwind.Hetookanother.

Iamwholeofpurpose.IamtheinstrumentofHiswill,andthatisindivisible.Anotherstep.Another.Fasternow.HisidentityhadvalueonlyasitservedtheEmperor.Transcendencewasnottheecstasyofwar.Itwasinthemostperfectservice.Hisflameburned.Theperfidyoftheimmateriumburnedbeforeit.Hechargedthroughthehurricaneofwarpglassandclosedwiththedaemon.Varangallax howled in rage. The glass erupted from its entire form. Thedaemonsmasheditsgladius-sizedclawsintoCrowe’sflanksatthesamemomentthatherantheBlackBladethroughitstorso.The daemon’s body was brittle. The Blade burst out of its back. Its clawsplunged through the rents inCrowe’s armour and punched into his reinforcedribs.In the centre of the tableaus, another took form. The wind of glass raged.CroweandVarangallaxweremotionless.DaemonandGreyKnightreachedintothe other’s very being. Varangallax’s convulsive desire for the perfection ofslaughterburnedthroughhisveins.Itsoughthisanger,hisfrenzy.Militantpatience.Heansweredwiththeirondeterminationoffaith.Thefaithofcold,implacablefire.Thefireheunleashedinthecentreofthedaemon.Unslakeabledesirefoughtwithimmovablefaith.Desireburnedcreationinthequest for the eternally absent. Faith exulted in the service to an eternal core.CrowehadtheunalterablerealityoftheEmperor.Varangallaxhadonlyneed.The daemonwas hollow.Crowewas not. The truth burst upon himwith theforce of revelation. TheBlackBlade eroded him, it sought to turn him into ashell,butitcouldnotemptyhimofhisfaith.AslongastheEmperorwasonHisthrone, therewas the strengthCroweneeded.His faithwasa sourceofpowerandguidanceasunendingastheAstronomican.Crowesawtheillusionofthesymmetries.ThelieswovenaroundSandavaIIIfell apart.The pattern had sought tomake himdespair, and its failurewas itsdestruction.Thepasthadcometoclaimhim.ThepastheldVarangallaxprisoner,trappingthedaemoninacycleofdiminished,falserepetition.CrowehadenteredintohisdestinyonSandavaII.Hispathwasnotacircle,anditwasnotendingonSandavaIII.Heunderstoodthelessonofthepastandthepresent. Gavallan had found his successor, and so foreseen the end of hisjourney.TherewasnoonetotakeupCrowe’sburden,andsohefoundhisnewstrength.Crowebled.The sympatheticvibrationsof thedaemonicdance splinteredhis

bones.Hisheartsbegantobeatoutofsynchwitheachother.TheBlackBladeofAntwyrpouncedonhisagony.Calluponme.Letmestrike.Letthisbeanendtopretence,anendtofalsesymmetry.Ishallbeyourtruefreedom.Crowedid not look for freedom.He looked for the perpetuity of service.Heheldswordanddaemonprisonerintheironofpurity.Varangallax’s frenzygrew. It had no purchase on him. Its perfectionwas nothere. The daemon screamed in frustration. It could do nomore than rend hisbodyapart.Soitwould.Theclawsofglasstightenedintofists,draggingthroughmuscle.Crowe’sbloodpouredintorrentstothefloor.Thedaemontookhisblood.Hegaveithisfire.Hecalleduponthefullforceofthecleansing flame. It entwinedwith theunchanging factofhisburning faith.Thetwoflamesexplodedinsidethedaemon.Theyeruptedthroughabsence.ThethingthemortalVendruhnhadlost,thathadcurdledintofanaticismforitsownsake,and then into thevoidofdesire,consumedtheemptinessof themonster.VarangallaxreleasedCrowe.Thedaemonstaggeredback,yankingitselffreeofCrowe’s hands and the sword. But the psychic fire could not now beextinguished.Itdevouredthenothingness,burningmoreandmorefiercely.Thedaemon took onemore step, then froze, limbs rigid, jaw agape. The storm ofglassbecameawhirlwind,turningbackonitshost.Crowe’ssacredfirescouredVarangallax with memories of what had been lost, burning it with the verywounds it had thought to inflict on Crowe. The fire bellowed from its jaws,reachingforthedomefiftyfeetabove.Crowe swung the sword and shattered the flanks of the daemon. The flamesburst from the broken glass. He struck again and again, smashing the hollowthing.Atlasttherewasonlyafireballofwhite,searingflameandthescreamofunutterabledesire.Thenthescreamburnedtoo,andtheflamesfaded.Crowe took a long breath. Things rattled in his chest, but the worst of hisbleeding had stopped. For severalmoments his breathingwas the only sound.Thedancehadended.Thetowerwasstill.Heturnedtoface theentrance.Themanufactoria were mundane ruins. Their volition had evaporated. Soundreturnedas,outside,thedaemonsshrieked.Theircelebrationwasatanend.Thesourceofthepowerthatheldthemtothemateriumwasgone.Hisvox-beadcrackled to life. ‘Castellan.’ThevoicewasSendrax’s. ‘Areyoureceiving?’‘Iam,’Crowesaid.‘Whatisyourposition?’‘TheLabosspire.Thesourceoftheincursionisnomore.’

‘Holdfast,brothercastellan.WehaveStormravensheadingtoyourlocation.’‘Iamgladtohearit.’Crowe walked towards the spire’s archway. His boots crunched on the last,faded tracesofwarpglass.Hepaused, thinkingashegatheredhisstrengthforthefinalexterminationofthedaemonsonSandavaIII.Victory on the world was assured, yet he felt no real triumph. There was agreaterlabourthatheknewwasincomplete.Hefeltacontained,simmeringrageatamanipulationthathadstretchedoverdecadesandbroughtdevastationtotwoworlds. There had been patterns in conflict. Antwyr had tried to use themachinations of other powers to its advantage. It had failed, though in theprocess it had rendered the full picture even more opaque. What Croweperceived with clarity was that he would be mistaken to believe the web ofeventsbegunonSandavaIIhadfinallybeentornasunderandburned.Therewasanotherartistatwork.Agreaterone.Therehadtobe.ThedaemonicVendruhnhadbeenused.Shewaspartofthepattern,notitsoriginator.TheBlackBladescrapedoncemoreatthewallofhissoul.Itsaidnothingforthe moment, preferring to press its will against the wall, always and foreverseekingthecracksitmightpryapart.Letittry.Hisbannerstillflew,pronouncingthetruth.Hewasnotthesword’svictim. It was his prisoner. He was the Warden, and his vigilance wasunwavering.Theexhaustionhadnotlefthim.Theerosionwasreal.HehadnotreversedthetollofthedecadessinceSandavaII.Therehad,though,beenachange.Hehadstepped to theedgeofanabyss.Perhaps, tohis shame, theabysswasdespair.ThesymmetriesofSandavaIIIhadalmostpushedhimover.Theyhadseemedtoomuchlikeaformofinevitabledestiny.Notonethatwasearnedthroughfaithanddevotion toduty,butadoom,amalignaccumulationofevents thatwouldnotbeavoided,nomatterhowhardhefoughtagainstthem.Hehadthoughthewascaught,forcedtorepeatGavallan’sfailure.Buthehadsmashedthelie.Hispathwasclearoncemore.Hewouldseekoutthegreaterartist.Hewoulddestroyit,andallitsworks.Withashout,withhisfireburninghighinhissoul,hechargedoutofthetower,roaringhischallengetotheabominationshewouldexterminatetoendthiswar,andhiswarningtotheonehewouldfindinthenext.Iacceptthistask.

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

DavidAnnandaleistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelTheDamnationofPythosandthePrimarchsnovelRobouteGuilliman:LordofUltramar.HehasalsowrittentheYarrickseries,severalstoriesinvolvingtheGrey

Knights,andTheLastWall,TheHuntforVulkanandWatchersinDeathforTheBeastArises.ForSpaceMarineBattleshehaswrittenTheDeathofAntagonisandOverfiend.Heisaprolificwriterofshortfiction,includingthenovellaMephiston:LordofDeathandnumerousshortstoriessetinTheHorusHeresy,Warhammer40,000andAgeofSigmaruniverses.DavidlecturesataCanadianuniversity,onsubjectsrangingfromEnglish

literaturetohorrorfilmsandvideogames.

AnextractfromGreyKnightsSonsofTitan.

CHAPTERONE

VOYAGERS

KlasBrauner saw the contrails first.He and his crewhad justmoved anotherstoneoutofthewayoftheplough.Hearchedhisback,workingoutthekinks,feelingeverydecadeashotcoalonhisspine.Helookedupintothehotsteelofthe summer sky, and saw them: hundreds of streaks as the ships tore downthrough the atmosphere.Within seconds, the spreading cloud of the contrailsdimmedthesun.TheshadowfelloverBrauner’sland,andeveryoneatworkinthefieldsstoppedtostareatwhatwascoming.WarwasrainingdownonSquire’sRest.Braunertracedthedirectionofthestreaks.Therewouldbenolandingsonhisfarm,noronElnaStumar’s.Butthenearestwouldn’tbemanykilometresaway.And the rain of ships kept falling. These numbers would make distancemeaningless.‘Get everyone to the house,’ he told his foreman, Stellan Dietrick. ‘Shuttersdown.Distributetheweapons.Waitformethere.’‘Yes,colonel.’Colonel.Hehadn’tbeenonefortwentyyears.Dietrickhadn’tbeenasergeantfor just as long.Theyhad fought their lastofficial campaignwith their fellowCadiansonVhun.Theyhadsurvived to retirementandearned their rewardonSquire’sRest.Braunernolongerheldmilitaryrankoverhisemployees.Theoldhabitsdiedhard,though.Andthewarskeptfollowingthem.Intheselastyears,therehadn’tbeenasinglemonthwithoutatleastoneskirmish.Todaywasdifferent, though.Today, he thought, their rankswouldbeneededagain.HeranovertothebatteredTauros.Hedrovetheutilityvehicleacrosshisfieldstowards the Stumar farm, bouncing over the stones and ruts of the tired land.

Squire’sRestwasheldouttoactivetroopsasapromiseofparadise.Perhapsithadbeenso,afewmillenniaback,butitsArcadianglorieshadpassed.Theagriworldwas still productive, but reluctantly so. Its fertilitywas being squeezedfromitthroughoverworkandthedamagecausedbytheorkraids.Tenyearsofraids. Growing more aggressive, eroding the accomplishments of a world ofveterans.Bastards.He drove for twentyminutes, jouncing straight through both farms, jouncingthoughcropsofstrugglingmaize,untilhereachedthebluffatthewesternedgeof Stumar’s property. He’d guessed right. He saw her, a hard silhouette,watchingthestreaksof the invasion.Hepulledupafewmetresbackfromthecliffedge.She nodded once as he approached, but didn’t look away from the contrails.‘Colonel,’shesaid.‘Colonel,’hereplied.Hestoodbesideher.‘Whatdoyouthink?’‘Thisisn’taraid.’‘Not this time,’heagreed.Thecontrailsnowcovered the sky.Theorkswerecoming to take the planet. ‘They want it all. Any word from Ascra?’ Theregional capital was over five hundred kilometres away. The population ofSquire’sRestwasnotmuchmore than tenmillion, sufficientlyspreadout thattheindividualhomesteadswerelargelyautonomous.Buttheplanet’sagriculturalproduction needed to be shipped, and so there were spaceports andadministrative centres. TheAdministratum gnomes atAscra had been of littlehelp during the raids. Brauner did not expect military aid now. But he didwonderiftherewasnewsabouttherestoftheSanctusReach.Stumargrimaced.‘Ididavoxscanafewminutesago.Ascraisjustsendingoutwarningsabouttheobvious.’‘Anyoff-worldtransmissions?’‘NothingfromMalaghaiMorca.’Sothetradingposthadfallen.‘AndGhulJensen?’‘Alotofscreaming.’Thehiveworldreactingasexpected.‘They’rehittingeverywherethen.’‘Seemslikeit.’Theywatchedinsilenceforafewminutes.Inthedistance,thefirstboomsoflandingechoed.‘So,’Braunersaid.‘So,’Stumarreplied.

‘Ineverwasmuchofafarmer.’‘Knowanyonewhois?’They looked at each other then.Herewe are, Brauner thought, two old wardogswhoshouldknowbetter thantobehappyabout this.Theystillhadsomeiron in them. It hurt to stand straight, but he could do it. Stumar did too, anddidn’tletonif thearthritiswasgnawingatherbackjustasmuchasitdidhis.Shehad itworsewithherhands, though,bothof themhooked intopermanentclaws.Whitehaironbothveterans,almostasmanyscarsaswrinkles.Theirskinwasleathersotoughitwasalmostwood.‘So,’Braunersaidagain.‘So.’‘Howarewegoingtofightthem?’Stumarkickedastoneoffthetopofthebluff.‘Likewealwaysdo.’‘Lasandpissitis,then.’‘Greenskinswon’tknowwhathitthem.’Theygrinnedat eachother, butBrauner felt somethingclutch inhis chest. Itwasn’t thecomingofwar thatbotheredhim. Itwasn’t the thoughtofdying. ItwastheknowledgethatStumarwasgoingtodietoo.Theywereallgoingtodie.Theorkswouldmakesureofit.

‘We’re ten minutes from the Sanctus Reach Mandeville point, jus ticar,’HadriannaFuriasaidasshewalkedintotheChamberofMilitantQuiet.JusticarStyerlookedupfromthehololithofSquire’sRest thatdominatedtheprojection table in the centre of the room. ‘Thank you, inquisitor.’ The GreyKnight did not resent the arrival of an unannounced presence into the room,intrusive though itwas.Thespacewasmeditativeand tactical, a sanctuary forprayerandwar.SituatedonelevelabovethebridgeoftheTyndaris,itprovidedavalued retreat for Styer while giving him rapid access to the strike cruiser’snerve centrewhen necessary. It was circular. The adornment of its domewassimple. The ribs were carved into the representation of spears, in alternatingorientation.Betweenthemwasthedarknessofobsidian.Whenhegazedupward,Styerfoundhecouldemptyhismindof theextraneousandconcentrateon theabsolutenecessityof themoment.Whatwasevenmorecrucial:hecouldbeardownontheproblemthatfacedhimandstripitofitsinessentials,unearthingthetruecoreofthechallenge.Onthewallsbeneaththedomewereshelvesholdingtextsthatweredevotional,military,andarcane.Asalibrarium,theChamberof

MilitantQuiethadasmallcollection,butitwasapowerfulone.Furialookedattheprojectionoftheworld.‘Anyluck?’‘No.’StyerhadbeengoingovereverythingintheTyndaris’sdatabanksaboutthe planet during the strike cruiser’s journey to Sanctus Reach. ‘Nothing,’ hesaid.‘Theworldisinnocuous.’‘Itisinthepathofamassiveorkforce.’‘Anditsinhabitantshavemysympathy.’‘Dothey?’Furiaasked.Wasshetestinghim?Styerwondered.Forwhat?Necessarysignsofhumanity,orextraneousones?Orwasherpurposelesswelldefined,aquestionofprobinghim from different angles, looking for the weakness that would explain hisscepticism about the mission? He shrugged off the questions. They weren’tusefulones.‘Yes,’hetoldher.‘Iamnotunmovedbytheirplight.ButIwillnotwastetimeorenergymourningwhatasinglesquadcannotprevent.NordoIfindanyrecords,’hewavedhishandatthedata-slatesfannedacrosshissideofthetable,‘thatpointtotheworkoftheRuinousPowers.Whatpurchasewouldtheyfind in a population composed of retired Imperial Guard who have beenrewardedforloyaltyandservice?IfthefallofSquire’sRestisaconcernfortheInquisition,IwouldthinkitfallswithinthepurviewoftheOrdoXenos,nottheOrdoMalleus.’‘Nevertheless, those are the coordinates theprognosticatorsgaveus.Amajordaemonicincursionisimminent.’Styergrunted.‘You doubt the prognostication?’ Furia sounded surprised. She shouldn’t. Hehadn’t made his reservations a secret. But this was the first time they haddiscussedthematterdirectly.‘Aboutitsaccuracy,yes.’‘Thatisahighlyunorthodoxattitude,justicar.’‘Andasoundone.Ihavenowishtosufferfurtherpointlesslosses.’The lastmission had savaged his squad. The prognosticators had forecast anincursionintheAngriffSystem.SituatedintheFinialsector,Angriffwascloseenough to the Eye of Terror for warp dis tortions to be expected. Still, allinformationhadpointedtoAngriffPrimus’smoonasthesiteoftheattack.Theplanetwas amiserable forgeworld, but itwas in themoon’smining colonieswhere the Ordo Malleus and the Ecclesiarchy had already been combating agrowing cult whose conception of the Emperor was a dangerously extremedeviationfromtheorthodoxyof theImperialCreed.TheTyndarishadarrived,

preparationshadbeenmade,andthecult’scentresofactivityassaulted.ButthedaemonshadappearedonAngriffPrimusitself.Styer’ssquadhadhadtoflyintobattlewithnotimetoformulateaproperstrategy.Theyhadmanagedtocontaintheinfectiontoasinglemanufactorum.Intheend,theyhaddestroyedtheplantandeverysoul,possessedorinnocent,inside.Twobattle-brothershadbeen lost.Erec andMorholt, their centuries of battledeedsbroughttoanendbytheabominationsthatshouldneverhavebeengiventhechance toenter thematerium.Styerdidn’tknowwhenhissquadwouldbebacktofullstrength.Heboreanewsetofscars:hugeclawslashes,twosetsofthreeparallelgougesthatrandowneithersideofhisfacefromhistemplestohischin.Theraisedfleshofthewounds’ridgesremindedhimofhowbadlytheyhadbeen blindsided. If the prognosticators had sought deliberately to mislead hissquad, he thought, they could not have done better.He kept thesemusings tohimself.HewouldneveraccuseanotherGreyKnightof treasonorcorruption.Thosewereimpossibilities.Butwhathesawonthetablebeforehimmadehimquestiontheaccuracyoftheprognosticatorsevenmore.HewassurprisedthatFuriadidn’tsharehismistrust.ShehadbeenonAngriffPrimustoo.Shehadfought,andshehadbeenwounded.Badly.Mostoftheleftsideofherbodywasaugmetic.Armandlegwerebionic.Anyonewhosawherinprofilesawoneoftwodifferentpeople.Ontheright,therewasthefleshofamid-careerinquisitor.Juvenattreatmentspreservedsomethingthatcouldnotbesaidtobeyouth–hereyewastoohardforthat–butwastheprimeofstrength.Theleftsideofherfacewasabronzemask,justassternandremorselessastheflesh, the red lens of her eye a piercing judgement, but the time and theexpression were frozen. The right side of Furia was capable of expressingkindness.Itcouldlaugh.Theleftwasfrozeninunendingpurpose.‘OurlossesonAngriffPrimuswerenotinvain,’shesaid.‘True,’Styerreplied.‘Butneitherweretheynecessary.Ifwehadbeenlookingin the rightplace fromthestart, theywouldnothavehappened.’HestabbedafingeratthehololithofSquire’sRest.‘Andthisisthewrongplace.Again.’‘Thecoordinateswerespecific.Oneofthemoons,perhaps?’‘Doubtful.They’rejustfragments.Nothinglargerthanamountain.Nominingoperationsonanyofthem.They’redeadrock.’‘Then there is something that we’re missing. Just as there must have beensomething we missed on Angriff Primus. We were in error, not theprognostication.’‘Ifwegointobattlesecond-guessingourstrategy,wedeservedefeat.’

‘Thenwewillmakecertainwearenotinerror,’Furiasaid,andturnedtogo.‘Ithinkweshouldbeonthebridge,JusticarStyer.’Hegruntedandextinguishedthehololith.Hewasdissatisfiedwithhissessioninthechamber.Hehadcometonoresolution.Heleftwithasmanydoubtsashehadentered.ButFuriawasright.TheGreyKnightswereabouttoarriveontheirfieldofbattle.Timetoleadthecharge.AsheandFuriasteppedoutsidethechamber,hesawVohnumwaitingforhim.‘I’lljoinyouinamoment,inquisitor,’hesaid.FuriaglancedatVohnum,noddedtoStyer,andwalkedon.‘Youwantedtoseeme,brother?’Styersaid.‘I waswonderingwhether you had found greater clarity with regards to ourmission,brother-justicar.’Styerdidn’tcarefortheambiguityofVohnum’sphrasing.Itcouldbereadasahelpfulexpressionofconcern.Itcouldalsobeaveiledcriticism.VohnummightbeimplyingthatitwasStyerwholackedclarity,notthemission.‘No,’hesaid.‘Ihavenot.’Hewaited foramoment, thensaid, ‘Why?Doyousee something Idon’t?’VohnumwasthemostseniorofthewarriorswhoservedwithStyer.Itwashewhocommandedtheothercombatsquadwhentheysplittheirforceintotwoonthe battlefield. They had fought side by side for over a century, and they haddone sowell.ButAngriffPrimushaddrivenawedgebetween them.Vohnumdidn’tdoubttheprognosticators.Hisfaithineveryaspectofthemwasabsolute.Ifsomethingwentwrong,theblamefellwiththedecisionsmadeincombat.Fol-lowing that logic, Styer knew that his battle-brother was looking at hisleadershipcritically.‘Itisnotformetoengageinexegesis,’Vohnumbegan.‘Whynot?Aninterpretationthatwouldmakesenseofthecontradictionsbeforeuswouldbehelpful.’‘I see nothing to interpret. The prognosticators have foreseen a daemonicincursionatthesecoordinates.Sowehavecometodefeatit.’‘Indeedwehave.’Vohnumgrimaced in frustration. ‘Forgiveme, brother-justicar, but that is nottheimpressionyouaregiving.’‘Meaningwhat?’‘Youhavenotmadeasecretofyourquestionsabouttheprognostication.’‘And?’

‘Ibelievedoingsoisdetrimentaltothespiritualhealthofoursquad.’Styerbristled,buthemadehimselfcalmdownbeforeanswering.Honestdebatewas part of the mortar of trust between battle-brothers. But not whendisagreement crossed over into dissension. ‘After Angriff Primus, I havequestions.Thecurrentsituationmakesthemevenmoreurgent.Iwillnotconcealmydoubtsfromtherestofyou.’‘Iexpressedmyselfbadly,’Vohnumsaid. ‘It isnotyourhonesty that troublesme.Itisthequestionsthemselves.’‘Areyouquestioningmyleadership?’‘Iseekreassuranceaboutthesoundnessofyourjudgement.’‘Thenbeassured,’Styersaid,andtheairfilledwithice.‘Anyques tionIaskisforthebenefitofoursquad,andforthefulfilmentofourdutyandouroaths.’HeleanedintowardsVohnum.‘Havenodoubtof that.’HewasnotreassuringtheotherGreyKnight.Hewasgivinghimadirectorder.

‘Thelandingsarestillongoing,inquisitor,’LowellMontgelassaid.MaliaOrbiana stifled theworst of her impatience. ‘I can see that verywell,shipmaster.’TheprimaryoculusoftheScouringLightdisplayedthelongrainoforklandings.‘Thebulkoftheorkfleetismovingonthough,isitnot?’‘Itis,’Montgelasadmitted.Shelookeddownathimfromwhereshesatinthecommandthrone.Theseatwas an isolated one, rising from the end of a platform that projected into thespaceof thebridge likeaspur fromthe rearwall.Orbiana’spositionwas fourmetres above the deck.Shehad a clear viewof the oculus andof the activitybelow her. She was present before her crew, but far beyond their level. Thearchitectureofthebridgewassymbolic,andsymbolscouldhaveadirectimpact,shapingtheperceptionofpoweranditscurrents.‘Thegreenskinscraveviolencelikeadrug,’Orbianacontinued. ‘This is anagriworld. It isn’tworthmuchoftheirattention.’Shegesturedattheoculus.‘Clearly,theyknowthis.Howmanyshipsatanchordoyousee?’‘None,’Montgelassaidafteraminute.‘Precisely.Theorkswhoseeksporthereare landing.Theirkinwon’t toleratewaitingaroundwithoutabattlecomingtheirway.We’llhavethenearspaceofSquire’sResttoourselves.Don’tcon cernyourselfundulyaboutthegreenskins.HowclosearewetothecoordinatesIgaveyou?’‘We’re nearly there.’Montgelaswas standing at a pulpit in the centre of thebridge,afewmetresforwardofOrbiana.Whenshewasabsent,thestationgave

him the authority he needed. When she was in the throne, Montgelas’ssubordination to her will was reinforced. He was the shipmaster, but theScouringLightwashers.Everysoulaboardserved thewillof theagentof theOrdoXenos.‘Auspex,’Montgelassaidtothewomansittingatthestationtohisimmediateleft.‘Pleaseshowusthetarget.’MargaFurthtappedsomekeys,andrunesappearedontheoculus,highlightingthegoalofOrbiana’sjourney.Itwasveryclosetoaclusteroforklandingsites.‘Thatcouldbebetter,’Orbianamuttered.‘Whatdoweknowofthevicinity?’‘Farmland,’ said Furth. ‘Sparsely inhabited. The specific destination is notimmediatelyadjacenttocultivatedareas.’Orbiananodded.‘Sotheorkswillhavelittlereasontoventurethere.’‘Theywillifwe’rethere,’Montgelassaid.‘Thenwe’ll be discreet.’ Shementally ran through the risks.Montgelas wasright,ofcourse. If theorksdecidedher landingpartywas interesting, then themission would come to a quick end. She decided that the danger was amanageableone. ‘Get the shuttle ready,’ she saidandstoodup.Shewanted tomakeherpreparationsforlanding,keepherselfbusy.Shedidn’twanttolistentothesmall,gratingvoiceinthebackofhermind,theonewhoseaccusationsmadeherchestpinch.She didn’t want to listen, but as she walked along the platform and off thebridge,sheheardwhatitsaidanyway.Itcomplainedthatshehadonlypretendedtoweighheroptions,andthatshehaddecidedonhercourseofactionbeforeshehadevenknownhowclosethegreenskinswouldbetothetarget.Thatwastrue.Ofcourseshehad.ShehaddecidedmonthsbeforearrivinginSanctusReach.Thefulltruth?Therewasnodecisiontobemade.Shecommandedthevoicetobesilent.The Scouring Light was Orbiana’s personal vessel. A modified Viper-classsloop – itwas not a combat ship, though it had slit the throat ofmany xenosthreats.Itwasfast,stealthy,itsdarkplatingalmostaseffectiveatconcealmentasthatof theBlackShips. Itwas a shadow that slipped into enemy territory andbroughttheEmperor’sLightintheformofpurifyingdeath.Orbiana made her way down from the superstructure and headed forward.Midwaytobow,sheturnedoffthemaincorridor.Shetookmaintenancetunnels,dropping threemore levels andweaving throughmultiple intersections beforeshe arrived outside a closed vault door. ‘Is he here?’ she asked the guardstationedbeforeit.‘No,inquisitor,’oneanswered.‘Hesaidhewasgoingtorest.’

‘Hashebeengonelong?’‘Aboutanhour.’Shenoddedherthanks.Shewalkedonanotherhundredmetres,andthentookastaircase up a level. She stopped before another door. This one was asnondescriptastheonebelowwasmassive.Theybothprotectedobjectsofgreatvalue.Sherappedonceonthedoor.Afterafewsecondsitopened.Themanwhoadmittedhertothesmallsleepingquarterswastwiceherageandaheadshorter.Heseemedevensmallerthankstohisroundedposture.Hishairwas lank and grey and his chin sprouted rough, greasy-lookingwhiskers. Hisrobesboremulti-colouredchemicalstains,andtherewerepinprickburnsinthesleeves.Hisfacewassallow,itsfleshhangingloose.Helookedexhausted.‘I’msorrytodisturbyoursleep,’OrbianasaidtoErtuoAndoval.‘Not at all, inquisitor,’ the sage answered. ‘Youknowhowmuch I value ourexchanges.’‘Areyoumakingprogress?’He shrugged, embarrassed and modest. ‘Some, I think. Always forwards,inquisitor,alwaysforwards.Ihave,Ibelieve,stumbledontowhatmightbesomevery promising variants, but of course we can’t knowwith any certainty.Weneedmorematerial–’‘You’llgetit.Plentyofit.’‘Andtheother…?’‘That’swhatI’vecometotellyou.We’vearrived.’‘WillIbecomingdownwithyou?’‘I’mafraidnot.’Andovallookedcrestfallen.‘Butwhatwe’relookingforissospecific…’‘Iknowverywellwhatwerequire.Areyouquestioningmyskills?’Andovalshookhisheadquicklyand tookastepaway,headbowed. ‘Iwouldneverthinktodothat.’‘Good.Andthisisforyourownsafety.Theorksareherebeforeus.Youaretoovaluabletorisktakingyouthere.’‘Iwillcontinuemyresearchwhileyouaregone,then,inquisitor.’‘No,’shesnapped.Sheusedhertoneasawhip.Andovalrecoiledasifstruck.Good.‘Youwilldonosuchthing.YouwillneverdothatworkwhenIamnotonboard.AmIclear?’‘Yes,inquisitor.’‘AmIclear?’‘Yes,inquisitor,’Andovalrepeated,hunchinglowerasifhemightkneel.

‘Good.Weare close,’ she saidmoregently. ‘I have stronghopes thatwe areonlyafewcyclesawayfromtheanswer.Suchanaccomplishmentisworthabitmorepatience,isn’tit?’Andovalnodded.‘Itis.’Shegavehimalongstare,thensaid,‘Thankyou,Ertuo,’andleft.Asshewalkedaway,shefacedtheideaofAndovaldisobeyinghercommand.She knew that he would not. He was loyal. He held the authority of theInquisition in great awe, as he should. He knew the dangers. He would notdisobey.But he had proposed a course of action that should never have crossed hismind. So Orbiana made herself confront the possibility of Andoval’sdisobedience.Whenshedid,shefeltmorethanapinchinherchest.Shefeltterror.

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