*No, Astartes,' replied Praal. *I have fulfilled my duty and brought you here, to this cauldron of fates. My work is done! All that remains is to blood myself in the name of Father Isstvan.'

Lucius danced away as Praal attacked once more with the razor-sharp feints of a master warrior, but the swordsman had faced better opponents than this and prevailed. The song of death rippled behind his eyes and he could see every move Praal made before he made it, the song speaking to him on a level he didn't understand, but instinctively knew was power beyond anything he had touched before.

He launched a flurry of blows at Praal, driving him back with each attack and no matter how skilfully Praal parried his strikes, each one came that little bit closer to wounding him.

The flicker of fear he saw in Praal's eyes filled him with brutal triumph. The shrieking, musical spear blared one last atonal scream before it finally shattered under the energized edge of Lucius's sword.

The swordsman pivoted smoothly on his heel and drove his blade, two-handed, into Praal's golden chest, the sword burning through his armour, ribs and internal organs.

Praal dropped to his knees, still alive, his mouth working dumbly as blood sprayed from the ma.s.sive wound. Lucius twisted the blade, relishing the cracks as Praal's ribs snapped.

He put a foot on Praal's body and pulled the sword clear, standing triumphant over the body of his fallen enemy.

Around him, the Emperor's Children slew the remaining palace guards, but with Praal dead, the song in his blood diminished and his interest in the fight faded. Lucius turned to the throne itself, already aching for the music to surge through his body once again.

The throne's back was to him and he couldn't see who was seated there. A control panel worked furiously before it, like a monstrously complicated clockwork keyboard.

Lucius stepped around the throne and looked into the gla.s.sy eyes of a servitor.

Its head was mounted on a skinny body of metal armatures, the complex innards stripped out and replaced with bra.s.s clockwork. Chattering metal lines reached from the chest cavity to read the music printed in the books mounted around the throne and the servitor's hands, elaborate, twenty-fingered constructions of metal and wire, flickered over the control panel.

Without Praal, the music was out of tune and time, its syncopated rhythms falling apart. Lucius knew that this was a poor subst.i.tute for what had fuelled his battle with Praal.

Suddenly angry beyond words, Lucius brought his blade down in a glittering arc, shattering the control panel in a shower of orange sparks. The hideous music transformed into a howling death shriek, shaking the stone petals of the palace with its terrible deafening wail before fading like a forgotten dream.

The music of creation ended and all across Isstvan the voices of the G.o.ds were silenced.

A VOLLEY OF gunfire caught Loken's attention as he desperately fought the dozens of guards who stabbed at him with their gleaming halberds. Behind him, Torgaddon brought the speartip up into a firing line, and bolter fire battered against the black iron of Death's mausoleum. The Warsinger was broken like a dying bird against the statue of Father Isstvan.

The Warsinger fell, her final scream tailing off as her shattered form cracked against the ornate carvings of Death's mausoleum.

*She's down!' said Torgaddon's voice over the vox, sounding surprised at the ease with which she had been killed.

*Who have we lost?' asked Loken, as. the enemy soldiers fell back at the Warsinger's death, suspecting that there was more to this withdrawal than simply her death. Something fundamental had changed on Isstvan, but he didn't yet know what.

*Most of Squad Chaggrat,' replied Torgaddon, *and plenty of others. We won't know until we get out of here, but there's something else...'

*What?' asked Loken.

*Lachost says we've lost contact with orbit,' said Torgaddon. *There's no signal. It's as if the Vengeful Spirit isn't even up there.'

*That's impossible,' said Loken, looking around for the familiar sight of Sergeant Lachost.

He saw him at the edge of the charnel pit and marched over to him. Torgaddon and Vipus followed him and Torgaddon said, *Impossible or not, it's what he tells me.'

*What about the rest of the strike force?' asked Loken, crouching beside Lachost. *What about the palace?'

*We're having more luck with them,' replied Lachost. *I managed to get through to Captain Ehrlen of the World Eaters. It sounds like they're outside the palace. It's an absolute ma.s.sacre over there, thousands of civilians dead.'

*In the name of Terra!' said Loken, imagining the World Eaters' predilection for ma.s.sacre and the rivers of blood that would be flowing through the streets of the Choral City. *Have they managed to contact anyone in orbit?'

*They've got their hands full, captain,' replied Lachost. *Even if they've managed to raise the Conqueror, they're in no position to relay anything from us. I could barely get anything out of Ehrlen other than that he was killing them with his bare hands.'

*And the palace?'

*Nothing, I can't get through to Captain Lucius of the Emperor's Children. The palace has been playing h.e.l.l with communications ever since they went in. There was some kind of music, but nothing else.'

*Then try the Death Guard. They've got the Dies Irae with them, we can use it to relay for us,'

*I'll try, sir, but it's not looking hopeful.'

*This was supposed to be over by now,' spat Loken. *The Choral City isn't just going to collapse with their leaders dead. Maybe the World Eaters have the right idea. We're going to have to kill them all. We need the second wave down here now and if we can't even speak to the Warmaster this is going to be a very long campaign.'

*I'll keep trying,' said Lachost. *We need to link up with the rest of the strike force,' said Loken. *We're cut off here. We need to make for the palace and find the World Eaters or the Emperor's Children. We're not doing any good sitting here. All we're doing is giving the Isstvanians a chance to surround us.'

*There're a lot of soldiers between us and the rest of the strike force,' Torgaddon pointed out.

*Then we advance in force. We won't take this city by waiting to be attacked.'

*Agreed. I saw the main gates along the western walls. We can get into the city proper there, but it'll be a tough slog,'

*Good,' said Loken.

*IT'S A TRAP,' said Mersadie. *It has to be.'

*You're probably right,' agreed Sindermann.

*Of course I'm right,' said Mersadie. *Maloghurst tried to have Euphrati killed. His pet monster, Maggard, almost killed you too, remember?'

*I remember very well,' said Sindermann, *but think of the opportunity. There will be thousands there and they couldn't possibly try anything with that many people around. They probably won't even notice we're there.'

Mersadie looked down her nose at Sindermann, unable to believe that the old iterator was being so dense. Had he not spoken to hundreds of people only hours before of the Warmaster's perfidy? And now he wanted to gather in a room with him?

They had been woken from their slumbers by one of the engineering crew who pressed a rolled leaflet into Sindermann's shaking hand. Sharing a worried glance with Mersadie, Sindermann had read it. It was a decree from the Warmaster authorizing all remembrancers to gather in the Vengeful Spirit's main audience chamber to bear witness to the final triumph on Isstvan III. It spoke of the gulf that had, much to the Warmaster's great sorrow, opened between the Astartes and the remembrancers. With this one, grand gesture, the Warmaster hoped to allay any fears that such a gulf had been engineered deliberately.

*He must think we are stupid,' said Mersadie. *Does he really think we would fall for this?'

*Maloghurst is a very cunning man,' said Sindermann, rolling up the leaflet and placing it on the bed. *You'd hardly take him for a warrior any more. He's trying to flush the three of us out, hoping that no remembrancer could resist such an offer. If I were a less moral man I might admire him.'

*All the more reason not to fall into his trap!' exclaimed Mersadie.

*Ah, but what if it's genuine, my dear?' asked Sindermann. *Imagine what we'd see on the surface of Isstvan III!'

*Kyril, this is a big ship and we can hide out for a long time. When Loken comes back he can protect us.'

*Like he protected Ignace?'

*That's not fair, Kyril,' said Mersadie. *Loken can help us get off the ship once we leave the Isstvan system.'

*No,' said a voice behind Mersadie and they both turned to see Euphrati Keeler. She was awake again, and her voice was stronger than Mersadie had heard it for a long time. She looked healthier than she had been since the terror in the archive. To see her standing, walking and talking after so long was still a novelty for Mersadie and she smiled to see her friend once again.

*We go,' she said.

*Euphrati?' said Mersadie. *Do you really...'

*Yes, Mersadie,' she said. *I mean it. And yes, I am sure.'

*It's a trap.'

*I don't need a vision from the Emperor to see that,' laughed Euphrati, and Mersadie thought there was something a little sinister and forced to it.

*But they'll kill us.'

Euphrati smiled. *Yes they will. If we stay here, they'll hunt us down eventually. We have faithful among the crew, but we have enemies, too. I will not have the Church of the Emperor die like that. This will not end in shadows and murder.'

*Now, Miss Keeler,' said Sindermann with a forced lightness of tone. *You're starting to sound like me.'

*Maybe they will find us eventually, Euphrati,' said Mersadie, *but there's no reason to make it easy for them. Why let the Warmaster have his way when we can live a little longer?'

*Because you have to see,' said Euphrati. *You have to see it. This fate, this treachery, it's too great for any of us to understand without witnessing it. Have faith that I am right about this, my friends.'

*It's not a question of faith now, is it?' said Sindermann. *It's a-'

*It is time for us to stop thinking like remembrancers,' said Euphrati, and Mersadie saw a light in her eyes that seemed to grow brighter with every word she spoke. *The Imperial Truth is dying. We have watched it wither ever since Sixty-Three Nineteen. You either die with it or you follow the Emperor. This galaxy is too simple for us to hide in its complexity any more and the Emperor cannot work His will through those who do not know if they even believe at all.'

*I will follow you,' said Sindermann, and Mersadie found herself nodding in agreement.

ELEVEN.

Warning Death of a World The Last Cthonian SAUL TARVITZ'S FIRST sight of the Choral City was the magnificent stone orchid of the Precentor's Palace. He stepped from the battered Thunderhawk onto the roof of one of the palace wings, the spectacular dome soaring above him. Smoke coiled in the air from the battles within the palace and the terrible sound of screaming came from the square to the north, along with the powerful stench of freshly-spilled blood.

Tarvitz took it in at a glance, the thought hitting him hard that at any moment it would all be gone. He saw Astartes moving along the roof towards him, Emperor's Children, and his heart leapt to see Nasicae Squad with Lucius at its head, his sword smoking from the battle.

*Tarvitz!' called Lucius, and Tarvitz thought he detected even more of a swagger to the swordsman's stride. *I thought you'd never make it! Jealous of the kills?'

*Lucius, what's the situation?' asked Tarvitz.

*The palace is ours and Praal is dead, killed by my own hand! No doubt you can smell the World Eaters; they're just not at home unless everything stinks of blood. The rest of the city's cut off. We can't raise anyone.'

Lucius indicated the city's far west, where the towering form of the Dies Irae blazed fire upon the hapless Isstvanians out of sight below. *Though it looks like the Death Guard will soon run out of things to kill.'

*We have to contact the rest of the strike force, now,' said Tarvitz, *the Sons of Horus and the Death Guard. Get a squad on it. Get someone up to higher ground.'

*Why?' asked Lucius. *Saul, what's happening?'

*We're going to be hit. Something big. A virus strike.'

*The Isstvanians?'

*No,' said Tarvitz sadly. *We are betrayed by our own.' Lucius hesitated. *The Warmaster? Saul, what are you-'

*We've been sent down here to die, Lucius. Fulgrim chose those who were not part of their grand plan.'

*Saul, that's insane!' cried Lucius. *Why would our primarch do such a thing?'

*I do not know, but he would not have done this without the Warmaster's command,' said Tarvitz. *This is but the first stage in some larger plan. I do not know its purpose, but we have to try and stop it.'

Lucius shook his head, his features twisted in petulant bitterness. *No. The primarch wouldn't send me to die, not after all the battles I fought for him. Look at what I've become. I was one of Fulgrim's chosen! I've never faltered, never questioned! I would have followed Fulgrim into h.e.l.l!'

*But I wouldn't, Lucius,' said Tarvitz, *and you are my friend. I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this. We have to get the warning out and then find shelter. I'll take word to the World Eaters, you raise the Sons of Horus and Death Guard. Don't go into the details, just tell them that there is a virus strike inbound and to find whatever shelter they can.'

Tarvitz looked at the rea.s.suring solidity of the Precentor's Palace and said, *There must be catacombs or deep places beneath the palace. If we can reach them we may survive this. This city is going to die, Lucius, but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I am going to die with it.'

*I'll get a vox-officer up here,' said Lucius, a steel anger in his voice.

*Good. We don't have much time, Lucius, the bombs will be launched any moment.'

*This is rebellion,' said Lucius.

*Yes,' said Tarvitz, *it is.'

Beneath his ritualistic scars, Lucius was still the perfect soldier he had always been, a talisman whose confidence could infect the men around him, and Tarvitz knew he could rely on him. The swordsman nodded and said, *Go, and find Captain Ehrlen. I'll raise the other Legions and get our warriors into cover. I will speak with you again.'

*Until then,' said Tarvitz.

Lucius turned to Nasicae, barked an order, and ran back towards the palace dome. Tarvitz followed, looking down on the northern plaza and glimpsing the seething battle there, hearing the screams and the sound of chainblades.

He looked up at the late morning sky. Clouds were gathering.

Any moment, falling virus bombs would bore through those clouds.

The bombs would fall all over Isstvan III and billions of people would die.

AMONG THE TRENCHES and bunkers that sprawled to the west of the Choral City, men and Astartes died in storms of mud and fire. The Dies Irae shuddered with the weight of fire it laid down. Moderati Ca.s.sar felt it all, as though the immense, multi-barrelled Vulcan bolter were in his own hand. The t.i.tan had suffered many wounds, its legs scarred by missile detonations and furrows scored in its mighty torso by bunker-mounted cannons.

Ca.s.sar felt them all, but a mult.i.tude of wounds could not slow down the Dies Irae or turn it from its course. Destruction was its purpose and death was the punishment it brought down on the heads of the Emperor's enemies.

Ca.s.sar's heart swelled. He had never felt so close to his Emperor, at one with the G.o.d-Machine, a fragment of the Emperor's own strength instilled in the Dies Irae.

*Aruken, pull to starboard!' ordered Princeps Turnet from the command chair. *Avoid those bunkers or they'll foul the port leg.'