Jonah took another drink from his flask as his expression turned sour thinking of t.i.tus and his d.a.m.ned sermons. t.i.tus said he felt the light of the Emperor within him, but Jonah didn't feel much of anything any more.

As much as he wanted to believe in what t.i.tus was preaching, he just couldn't let go of the sceptical core at the centre of his being. To believe in things that weren't there, that couldn't be seen or felt? t.i.tus called it faith, but Jonah was a man who needed to believe in what was real, what could be touched and experienced.

Princeps Turnet would discharge him from the crew of the Dies Irae if he knew he had attended prayer meetings back on Davin, and the thought of spending the rest of the Crusade as a menial, denied forever the thrill of commanding the finest war machine ever to come from the forges of Mars sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Every few days, t.i.tus would ask him to come to another prayer meeting and the times he said yes, they would furtively make their way to some forsaken part of the ship to listen to pa.s.sages read from the Lect.i.tio Divinitatus. Each time he would sweat the journey back for fear of discovery and the court martial that would no doubt follow.

Jonah had been a career t.i.tan crewman since the day he had first set foot aboard his inaugural posting, a Warhound t.i.tan called the Venator, and he knew that if it came down to a choice, he would choose the Dies Irae over the Lect.i.tio Divinitatus every time.

But still, the thought that t.i.tus might be right continued to nag at him.

He leaned back against the t.i.tan's leg, sliding down until he was sitting on his haunches with his knees drawn up to his chest.

*Faith,' he whispered, *you can't earn it and you can't buy it. Where then do I find it?'

*Well,' said a voice behind and above him, *you can start by putting that flask away and coming with me.'

Jonah looked up and saw t.i.tus Ca.s.sar, resplendent as always in his parade-ready uniform, standing in the arched entrance to the t.i.tan's leg bastions.

*t.i.tus,' said Jonah, hurriedly stuffing the hip flask back into his jacket. *What's up?'

*We have to go,' said t.i.tus urgently. *The saint is in danger.'

MAGGARD STALKED ALONG the shadowed companionways of the Vengeful Spirit at a brisk pace, marching at double time with the vigour of a man on his way to a welcome rendezvous. His hulking form had been steadily growing over the last few months, as though he were afflicted with some hideous form of rapid gigantism.

But the procedures the Warmaster's apothecaries were performing on his frame were anything but hideous. His body was changing, growing and transforming beyond anything the crude surgeries of House Carpinus had ever managed. Already he could feel the new organs within him reshaping his flesh and bone into something greater than he could ever have imagined, and this was just the beginning. His Kirlian blade was unsheathed, shimmering with a strange glow in the dim light of the corridor. He wore fresh white robes, his enlarging physique already too ma.s.sive for his armour. Legion artificers stood ready to reshape it once his flesh had settled into its new form, and he missed its rea.s.suring solidity enclosing him.

Like him, his armour would be born anew, forged into something worthy of the Warmaster and his chosen warriors. Maggard knew he was not yet ready for such inclusion, but he had already carved himself a niche within the Sons of Horus. He walked where the Astartes could not, acted where they could not be seen to act and spilled blood where they needed to be seen as peacemakers.

It required a special kind of man to do such work, efficiently and conscience-free, and Maggard was perfectly suited to his new role. He had killed hundreds of people at the behest of House Carpinus and many more than that before he had been captured by them, but these had been poor, messy killings compared to the death he now carried.

He remembered the sense of magnificent beginnings when Maloghurst had tasked him with the death of Ignace Karkasy.

Maggard had jammed the barrel of his pistol beneath the poet's quivering jaw and blown his brains out over the roof of his cramped room before letting the generously fleshed body crash to the floor in a flurry of b.l.o.o.d.y papers.

Why Maloghurst had required Karkasy's death did not concern Maggard. The equerry spoke with the voice of Horus and Maggard had pledged his undying loyalty to the Warmaster on the battlefield of Davin when he had offered him his sword.

Later, whether in reward or as part of his ongoing designs, the Warmaster had killed his former mistress, Petronella Vivar, and for that, Maggard was forever in his debt.

Whatever the Warmaster desired, Maggard would move heaven or h.e.l.l to see it done.

Now he had been ordered to do something wondrous.

Now he was going to kill a saint.

SINDERMANN BEAT HIS middle finger against his chin in a nervous tattoo as he tried to look as if he belonged in this part of the ship. Deck crew in orange jumpsuits and ordnance officers in yellow jackets threaded past him as he awaited his accomplices in this endeavor. He clutched the chit the guard had given him tightly, as though it were some kind of talisman that would protect him if someone challenged him.

*Come on, come on,' he whispered. *Where are you?'

It had been a risk contacting t.i.tus Ca.s.sar, but he had no one else to turn to. Mersadie did not believe in the Lect.i.tio Divinitatus, and in truth he wasn't sure he did yet, but he knew that whatever or whoever had sent him the vision of Euphrati Keeler had meant him to act upon it. Likewise, Garviel Loken was out of the question, for it was certain that his movements would not escape notice.

*Iterator,' hissed a voice from beside him and Sindermann almost cried aloud in surprise. t.i.tus Ca.s.sar stood beside him, an earnest expression creasing his slender face. Another man stood behind him, similarly uniformed in the dark blue of a t.i.tan crewman. *t.i.tus,' breathed Sindermann in relief. *I wasn't sure you'd be able to come.'

*We won't have long before Princeps Turnet notices we are not at our posts, but your communication said the saint was in danger.'

*She is,' confirmed Sindermann, *grave danger,'

*How do you know?' asked the second man. Ca.s.sar's brow twisted in annoyance. *I'm sorry, Kyril, this is Jonah Aruken, my fellow Moderati on the Dies Irae. He is one of us.'

*I just know,' said Sindermann. *I saw... I don't know... a vision of her lying on her bed and I just knew that someone intended her harm.'

*A vision,' breathed Ca.s.sar. *Truly you are one of the chosen of the Emperor.'

*No, no,' hissed Sindermann. *I'm really not. Now come on, we don't have time for this, we have to go now.'

*Where?' asked Jonah Aruken. *The medicae deck,' said Sindermann, holding up his chit. *We have to get to the medicae deck.'

THE SURFACE OF the shimmering globe above Horus resolved into continents and oceans, overlaid with the traceries of geophysical features: plains, forests, seas, mountain ranges and cities.

Horus held up his arms, as if supporting the globe from below like some t.i.tan from the ancient myths of old Earth.

*This is Isstvan III,' he repeated, *a world brought into compliance thirteen years ago by the 27th expeditionary force of our brother Corax.'

*And he wasn't up to the job?' snorted Angron.

Horus shot Angron a dangerous look. *There was some resistance, yes, but the last elements of the aggressive faction were destroyed by the Raven Guard at the Redarth Valley.'

The battle site flared red on the globe, nestled among a mountain range on one of Isstvan III's northern continents. *The remembrancer order was not yet foisted upon us by the Council of Terra, but a substantial civilian contingent was left behind to begin integration with the Imperial Truth.'

*Are we to a.s.sume that the Truth didn't take?' asked Eidolon.

*Mortarion?' prompted Horus, gesturing to his brother primarch.

*Four months ago the Death Guard received a distress signal from Isstvan III,' said Mortarion. *It was weak and old. We only received it because one of our supply ships joining the fleet at Arcturan dropped out of the warp for repairs. Given the age of the signal and the time it took for it to be relayed to my command, it is likely that it was sent at least two years ago.'

*What did it say?' asked Angron.

In reply, the holographic image of the globe unfolded into a large flat pane, like a pict-screen hovering in the air, black, with just a hint of shadowy movement. A shape moved on the screen and Loken realized it was a face a a woman's face, orange-lit by a candle flame that provided the only light. She appeared to be in a small, stone walled chamber. Even over the poor quality of the signal, Loken could tell that the woman was terrified, her eyes wide and her breathing rapid and shallow. She gleamed with sweat.

*The insignia on her collar,' said Torgaddon, *is from the 27th Expedition.'

The woman adjusted the device she was using to record the image and sound flooded into the Lupercal's Court: crackling flames, distant yelling and gunfire.

*It's revolution,' said the woman, her voice warped by static. *Open revolt. These people, they have... rejected... they've rejected it all. We tried to integrate them, we thought the Warsingers were just some primitive... superst.i.tion, but it was much more, it was real. Praal has gone mad and the Warsingers are with him.'

The woman suddenly looked around at something off-screen.

*No!' she screamed desperately and opened fire with a weapon previously held out of view. Violent muzzle flashes lit her and something indescribable flailed against the far wall as she emptied her weapon into it. *They're closer. They know we're here and... I think I'm the last one.'

The woman turned back to the screen. *It's madness, complete madness down here. Please, I don't think I'm going to get through this. Send someone, anyone, just... make this stop-'

A hideous, atonal keening sound blared from the pict screen. The woman grabbed her head, her screams drowned by the inhuman sound. The last frames jerked and fragmented, freeze framing through a series of gruesome images: blood in the woman's frenzied eye, a swirling ma.s.s of flesh and shattered bone, and a mouth locked open, blood on teeth.

Then blackness.

*There have been no further communications from Isstvan III,' concluded Mortarion, filling the silence that followed. *The planet's astropaths have either been compromised or they are dead.'

*The name "Praal" refers to Vardus Praal,' said Horus, *the governor left behind to command Isstvan III in the name of the Imperium, ensure compliance and manage the dismantling of the traditional religious structures that defined the planet's autochthonous society. If he is complicit in the rebellion on Isstvan III, as this recording suggests, then he is one of our objectives.'

Loken felt a shiver travel down his spine at the thought of once again facing a population whose Imperial official had turned traitor. He glanced over at Torgaddon and saw that the similarities with the Davin campaign were not lost on his comrade.

The holo swelled and returned to the image of Isstvan III. *The cultural and religious capital of Isstvan is here,' said Horus as the image zoomed in on one of the northern cities, which commanded a large hinterland at the foot of a colossal range of mountains.

*The Choral City. This is the source of the distress signal and the seat of Praal's command, a building known as the Precentor's Palace. Multiple speartips will seize a number of strategic objectives, and with the city in our hands, Isstvan will be ours. The first a.s.sault will be a combined force made up of Astartes from all Legions with backup from the t.i.tans of the Mechanic.u.m and the Imperial Army. The rest of the planet will then be subjugated by whichever Imperial Army reinforcements can reach us with the warp in its current state.'

*Why not just bombard them?' asked Eidolon. The sudden silence that followed his question was deafening.

Loken waited for the Warmaster to reprimand Eidolon for daring to question one of his decisions, but Horus only nodded indulgently. *Because these people are vermin, and when you stamp out vermin from afar, some invariably survive. If we are to cut out the problem, we must get our hands dirty and destroy them in one fell swoop. It may not be as elegant as the Emperor's Children would wish, but elegance is not a priority for me, only swift victory.'

*Of course,' said Eidolon, shaking his head. *To think that these fools should be so blind to the realities of the galaxy.'

*Have no fear, lord commander,' said Abaddon, descending to stand beside the Warmaster, *they will be illuminated as to the error of their ways.'

Loken risked a sidelong glance at the first captain, surprised at the respect he heard in his voice. All the previous dealings between the Sons of Horus and Eidolon had led him to believe that Abaddon held the arrogant lord commander in contempt.

What had changed?

*Mortarion,' continued Horus. *Your objective will be to engage the main force of the Choral City's army. If they are anything like they were when the Raven Guard fought them, they will be professional soldiers and will not break easily, even when confronted with Astartes.'

The holo zoomed in to show a map of the Choral City, a handsome conurbation with many and varied buildings that ranged from exquisite mansions and basilica to ma.s.sive sprawls of housing and tangles of industrial complexes. Artfully formed boulevards and thoroughfares threaded a multi-levelled city of millions, most of whom appeared to be housed in sprawling residential districts, workshops and factories.

The western edge of the city was highlighted, focusing on the scar-like web of defensive trenches and bunkers along the city's outskirts. The opposite side of the Choral City b.u.t.ted up against the sheer cliffs of a mountain range a the natural defences efficiently shielding the city from a conventional land attack.

Unfortunately for the Choral City, the Warmaster clearly wasn't planning a conventional land attack. *It appears that a sizeable armed force is manning these defences,' said Horus. *It looks as if they have excellent fortifications and artillery. Many of these defences were added after compliance to protect the seat of Imperial governance on Isstvan, which means they're ours, and they will be strong. It will be ugly work engaging and destroying this force, and there is still much about the Choral City's military we do not know.'

*I welcome this challenge, Warmaster,' said Mortarion. *This is my Legion's natural battlefield.'

Another location lurched into focus, a spectacular conglomeration of arches and spires, with dozens of labyrinth-like wings and additions surrounding a magnificent central dome faced in polished stone The city's crowning glory, the structure looked like a jewelled brooch set into the twisted ma.s.s of the Choral City.

*The Precentor's Palace,' said Eidolon appreciatively.

*And your Legion will take it,' said Horus, *along with the World Eaters.'

Again, Loken caught Eidolon's glance at Angron, the lord commander unable to conceal the distaste he felt at the thought of fighting alongside such a barbaric Legion. If Angron was aware of Eidolon's scornful glance he gave no sign of it.

*The palace is one of Praal's most likely locations,' said Horus. *Therefore, the palace is one of our most important objectives. The palace must be taken, the Choral City's leadership destroyed, and Praal killed. He is a traitor, so I do not expect or wish him to be taken alive.'

Finally, the holo zoomed in on a curious ma.s.s of stonework some way east of the Precentor's Palace. To Loken's untutored eye, it looked like a collection of church spires or temples, sacred buildings heaped one on top of one another over the centuries.

*This is the Sirenhold and my Sons of Horus will lead the attack on it,' said Horus. *Choral City's revolt appears to be religious in nature and the Sirenhold was the spiritual heart of the city. According to Corax's reports, this was the seat of the old pagan religion that was supposed to have been dismantled. It is presumed that it still exists and that the leadership of that religion will be found here. This is another likely location for Vardus Praal, so again I do not require prisoners, only destruction.' For the first time, Loken saw the battlefield he would soon be fighting on. The Sirenhold looked like difficult ground to take: ma.s.sive, complicated structures creating a confusing multi-levelled warren with plenty of places to hide. Dangerous ground.

That was why the Warmaster had sent his own Legion to take it. He knew they could do it.

The holo zoomed out again to a view of the planet itself.

*Preliminary operations will involve the destruction of the monitoring stations on the seventh planet of Isstvan Extremis,' said Horus. *When the rebels are blind the invasion of Isstvan III will commence. The units chosen to lead the first wave will deploy by drop-pod and gunship, with a second wave ready in reserve. I trust you all understand what is required of your Legions.'

*I only have one question, Warmaster,' said Angron.

*Speak,' said Horus.

*Why do we plan this attack with such precision when a single, ma.s.sive strike will do the job just as well?'

*You object to my plans, Angron?' Horus asked carefully.

*Of course I object,' spat Angron. *We have four Legions, t.i.tans and starships at our disposal, and this is just one city. We should hit it with everything we have and slaughter them in the streets. Then we will see how many on this planet have the stomach to rebel. But no, you would have us kill them one by one and pick off their leaders as if we are here to preserve this world. Rebellion is in the people, Horus. Kill the people and the rebellion ends.'

*Lord Angron,' said Eidolon reasonably, *you speak out of turn-'

*Hold your tongue in the presence of your betters,' snarled Angron. *I know what you Emperor's Children think of us, but you mistake our directness for stupidity. Speak to me again without my consent and I will kill you.'

*Angron!'

Horus's voice cut through the building tension and the primarch of the World Eaters turned his murderous attention away from Eidolon.

*You place little value on the lives of your World Eaters,' said Horus, *and you believe in the way of war you have made your own, but that does not place you beyond my authority. I am the Warmaster, the commander of everyone and everything that falls under the aegis of the Great Crusade. Your Legion will deploy according to the orders I have given you. Is that clear?'

Angron nodded curtly as Horus turned to Eidolon. *Lord Commander Eidolon, you are not among equals here, and your presence in this war council is dependent upon my good graces, which will be rapidly worn thin should you conduct yourself as if Fulgrim was here to nursemaid you.'

Eidolon rapidly recovered his composure. *Of course, my Warmaster, I meant no disrespect. I shall ensure that my Legion is prepared for the a.s.sault on Isstvan Extremis and the capture of the Precentor's Palace.'

Horus switched his gaze to Angron, who grunted in a.s.sent.

*The World Eaters will be ready, Warmaster,' said Kharn.

*Then this conclave is at an end,' said Horus. *Return to your Legions and make ready for war.'

The delegations filed out, Kharn speaking quietly with Angron and Eidolon adopting a swagger as if to compensate for his dressing down. Loken thought he saw a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt in Mortarion's eyes as he left with Garro and his Terminators in tow.

Horus turned to Abaddon and said, *Have a stormbird prepared to convey me to the Conqueror. Angron must be illuminated as to the proper conduct of this endeavor.'

Horus turned and made his way from the Lupercal's court with Abaddon and Aximand following behind him without so much as a backwards glance at Loken and Torgaddon.

*That was educational,' said Torgaddon when they were alone.

Loken smiled wearily. *I could feel you willing Angron to strike Eidolon.'

Torgaddon laughed, remembering when he and Eidolon had almost come to blows when they had first met on the surface of Murder.