Fortress of Hera, The Crown Mountains, Ahzov

Searchlights swung across the falling frigate. Glowing tattoos coated the crumpled superstructure and smoke poured from flaming gashes. Missiles left spiralling trails in the night sky before penetrating the buckling armour-plating and detonating inside the frigate's hull.

"What better to warm the body than swift retribution!" The Chief Librarian thudded on to the terrace. "Our armour is indomitable, our fury righteous."

"Stealing the words from the Lord Macragge's tongue, Chief Librarian?" A white flash lit up the mountains. Yvraine twisted her head away and closed her eyes.

"Hah-hah!" The Chief Librarian spat snow. "A courtier to dogma is our CM, and a swift judge of your kind also."

"I take it our enemy's core just hummed its final melody."

"That frigate was neither the first nor the last. In space or in atmosphere, we are unmatched."

"Very—very impressive, Chief Librarian." Yvraine cupped her numb chin. Beside her, the Veilwalker clamped her hands inside her armpits. "I would rather we not disregard our host any longer. Could we—?"

A broad beam shot through the clouds and bored in to the Strike Cruiser's hull, slicing it in two. Adamantium fragments blasted outwards and the two severed sections followed the wrecked frigate in a slow dive in to the valley. Snow coverings flew from rooftops and domes. Glass windows shattered. Flaming debris arced upwards and rained down upon the fortress.

"No…"

"Down from the roof." Yvraine pulled at the Veilwalker's shoulder. Thin streaks cut through the sky. Fire enveloped the noses of falling drop pods. Hera's anti-aircraft batteries boomed. Bright tracer criss-crossed. "Down from the roof!"

The stairs flying beneath Yvraine's feet vibrated. The walls of the winding passage shook. "Apologies, Archmagos. Let us adjourn." Yvraine vaulted over the edge of a landing. Her soles slapped against stone. "Tidings dire beset this fortress. The hourglass drains."

"Indeed, I saw the giant's coming." A tiny drone in the shape of a human skull flitted past Yvraine's ear and inside one of the many compartments hidden in the Archmagos's shell. "Now. Away, away!"

"Worse. Uninvited guests are soon to be across our threshold." The Archmagos's body twisted. Yvraine lurched back from his tail-segment before it could slam in to her.

"The Temple!"

Artificial flames writhed inside sealed braziers. Ultramarine banners hung from a vaulted ceiling, long enough for their edges to touch the carpeted floor. A distant thudding crept through the empty halls. Yvraine's skin prickled.

"I sense them too."

Boots thumped on carpet. The Visarch flung his arm across Yvraine. Ultramarines belted from a side passage and hastened along behind a colonnade. The last in the squad stumbled and flicked his bolter at the Ynnari. "Wait, stop!"

"Spies! Saboteurs!"

"Throw up your hands!" The Ultramarines swung their bolters at the party.

"As you were!" The Chief Librarian lifted his staff and stepped between the Ultramarines and the Ynnari. "As you were, battle-brothers."

"Stand aside, Chief Librarian." Red eye-lenses fixed on Yvraine. Thick forefingers curled around triggers.

"These are guests of Archmagos Cawl. Their presence is sanctioned by the Chapter Master himself. I am his representative." The Chief Librarian held up his open gauntlet. "Raise your bolters, battle-brothers."

An Ultramarine in a crimson helm edged towards the Chief Librarian. He kept his bolter raised. "Chief Librarian, step away from the xenos."

"Sergeant…" Blasts shook the fortress. Dust fell from the ceiling. Bolters rumbled in the distance.

The Ultramarine sergeant jabbed two fingers at the noise. His battle-brothers lowered their bolters and followed their squad leader away from the Ynnari.

"Tell us we are close, Archmagos." Yvraine tugged at her sleeve's cuff. The Veilwalker's fingers pried and twisted at her topmost button.

"Close enough." The Archmagos hefted his halberd in his arms and took off along the hall. "If you fall behind, I will not wait."

"Gunned down by Ultramarines…" The Veilwalker jogged beside Yvraine in the Archmagos's wake. "Ne'er a more ignominious fate."

"They would have dropped dead before their malformed brains could send the message to their trigger-fingers. Firearms do not give a being power, Veilwalker."

"Numbers do. So does hate."

"Hate? That vessel does more harm to itself than good. A hate-filled being is a stupid being."

ENOUGH! Quarrelsome as two spoiled maidens, you are. Should sealed chamber and free hours be spared for the two of you to settle your differences?

Heed the Visarch's wisdom, Lady Xenos. That goes for the both of you. The Chief Librarian's thick soles pounded past the Ynnari and alongside the Archmagos. "May I lead, Archmagos? The battle-brothers standing sentinel are sure to possess twitching trigger fingers at this fraught hour."

Snow poured through window frames. Multi-coloured glass fragments littered the sodden carpet. Broken pots lay in pieces. "Did the architect retire every night and dream of endless stairs?" Yvraine leapt up steps, each one wider than a normal stride. "I hope it gave him nightmares."

"I lost count at forty-three-hundred," gasped the Veilwalker.

Ahead of them, the Chief Librarian's staff clacked with every footfall. "Then why don't you ask him yourself?"

"The Primarch built this place?"

"From the very deepest foundations and upwards."

"A being of Learning, was he?"

"A builder, not a destroyer. That temperament, sadly, brought many of his brothers to ruin. These stairs were for us, not for you. There was a time when—"

Shells hammered the Chief Librarian's shoulder pauldron. Gyrojets whizzed through the windows and bored in to the far wall and detonated. Bits of plaster and insulation spat at the Ynnari.

"FLEE! FLEE!" Lightning flew from the Chief Librarian's open palm.

Yvraine hunched over and bolted past the Archmagos. Wind numbed Yvraine's cheek and ear. The Veilwalker's and the Visarch's feet crackled upon the glass. Shells struck the Archmagos's body and pinged off. Drones zipped from his shell and a white beam gushed from the shaft of his halberd.

Yvraine, stop! Yvraine fell against a marble column in a hall away from the gunfire and wrenched the top button on her surcoat free. Warmth throttled her neck.

"Laari? Sylandri?"

"Are you wounded, Lady Shades?" The Veilwalker and the Visarch ran up behind Yvraine.

"I direct question to you, not the other way around."

The Veilwalker bent over and gripped her knees. "I cannot feel anything."

"Check then check again! You do not feel the shot that kills you."

My mistress is quite correct, Veilwalker. The Visarch kneeled and re-threaded a strap on his boot. Excitement numbs, but only for so long.

"Should we wait for the Archmagos? He would not tarry for us."

An explosion carried through the halls behind the Ynnari. Lights flickered on and off. Come. I shall lead from here on. The Visarch set off at a trot.

"Laari, you do not know where the temple is!"

Can you not feel it? The Visarch spun and trotted backwards. The temple holds a being of immense psychic potency. I do.

"With caution please!"

"The temple guardians will not—"

"—Yes-yes, precisely, Veilwalker." Yvraine hurried after the Visarch across a frescoed floor. AdMech and their abominations manned banks of consoles and holomaps dominating the chamber's centre, all oblivious to the distant gunfire. Clicks and chitters fired back and forth between them.

Alas, one language I could never master. Yvraine swung around a shuffling techpriest. Moisture-coated pipes hung from the thing's mouth. Why do that to one's body?

Fetishists for the cool touch of metal on flesh. Their next stage of evolution.

I can think of a human word pertaining to such beliefs, and they are utterly full of it.

"Ha!" The Veilwalker's hand flew to her mask. I did not think their influence would rub off so soon.

And whose influence would that be, Harlequin?

Shining marble steps stretched away from the Ynnari. Wind seeped through slits in the walls where the glass had blown inwards. "Laari, curb your pace!" Well ahead of Yvraine and the Veilwalker, the Visarch took the steps three at a time. The staircase shuddered.

"Are they shelling the fortress?"

"Orbital strikes."

"While their own assault it?" The Veilwalker tripped and fell against the steps.

"You think Chaos Undivided value their warriors' lives?" Yvraine dragged the Veilwalker up by the arm. "Laari, stop!"

The Visarch bounded around a corner and came out in to a bare hallway with rows of columns near both walls. "Lady Prophet, I see the—"

Marble exploded from columns. Bright bolts whipped along the hallway. Statues toppled over and shattered. The Visarch, his back to a column, slid down the smooth stone. His head lolled on his shoulder.

"VISARCH! LAARI, ARE YOU HURT?" Gyrojets cracked past Yvraine.

"Wait, wait for the Archmagos." The Veilwalker gripped Yvraine's shoulder. "Do not go down here. Not so close to salvation."

"THEIR SALVATION!" Yvraine thrust a finger at the floor. "NOT OURS!"

Pottery shards sprayed the hall. Splinters spun past Yvraine and the Veilwalker, both huddling behind a pillar. "Gods, do they think we are Chaos Astartes?" The Veilwalker buried her face in the crook of her arm.

"No, Archmagos, stay back!" Black marks and dents covered the Archmagos's shell. Wispy smoke arose from his robes.

"Who dares…?" The Archmagos gripped his halberd in both hands and scurried out in to the smoke-filled hallway. "WHO DAAARES!"

The bolter-fire dropped away. The Chief Librarian rushed up the stairs, turned on to the landing and fell in beside Yvraine and the Veilwalker. Black burns darkened his armour.

"I apologise, Lady Xenos. My lapse in vigilance—"

Yvraine launched herself across the hallway and skidded on to her knees next to the Visarch. "Laari?" A pulse beat against Yvraine's thumb. "Sylandri, help me check for bleeds." Yvraine undid the Visarch's surcoat and dug the two layers beneath out from the waist of his breeches and ran her hands around his torso.

"Fools! Can't you tell they weren't Traitor Guard?" The Archmagos brandished his halberd. "Well? Speak!"

"Honour Guard, stand down!" The Chief Librarian advanced in to the smoke after the Archmagos. "The Chief Librarian approaches with Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl and guests of the Chapter Master himself."

"Should I undo his breeches?" The Veilwalker's hands hovered over the Visarch's groin.

"I would know the names of the battle-brothers who keep their weapons raised." The Chief Librarian's staff hit the floor. "And why they break discipline."

"Be professional, Veilwalker." Yvraine swept the Visarch's back and felt along his arms. "He would do exactly the same, were I in his place."

"Comforting, having muscle on-hand to shield you from gunfire."

"I pity your ignorance, Veilwalker. So much you have to learn about him."

"I am open. Decry me not for ignorance, for I shall heed the lessons learned on this endeavour."

"Lady Prophet, come forth and be recognised!"

"How do you wish to…?"

"Link hands and lift him in a sitting position. Ready?" The Ynnari heaved the Visarch up and bore him through the smoke. Ultramarines in white sashes and golden wings on their helms manned a double-tiered barricade. Bolters sat on tripods, their muzzles pointing out of narrow embrasures. Barbed wire sealed off a flight of stairs leading up to an eighty-foot-high door resplendent with gold engravings. In the centre, a giant Ultima glyph, and above it a double-headed eagle.

"Saboteurs!" A cloaked Ultramarine aimed a plasma pistol at the Ynnari. Ribs on the body glowed blue.

"Emissaries!" Yvraine's body trembled. Her knees buckled and she and the Veilwalker crumpled under the Visarch's weight.

"Release my acolytes!" The Archmagos shook his halberd. A line of crimson-robed faced a wall inside the barricades, their hands leaning against the stone and their hands clasped behind their back. Repulsor-sledges bearing container had been shunted in to a corner. "Property of the Adeptus Mechanicus!"

"I require authorisation from the Chapter Master himself first—"

"I represent the CM, Honoured Captain." The Chief Librarian, his staff back in his hands, slipped in between the Honoured Captain and the Archmagos. "Busy with commanding the defence is he. I am here in his place to oversee the co-operation between our battle-brothers, the Adeptus Mechanicus, and the Ynnari."

"The enemy assails the fortress walls, Honoured Captain—"

"The enemy spits in our eye." The Honoured Captain's muzzle turned on Yvraine. "Now they kneel in submission, as all xenos should."

"Come." The Chief Librarian laid his arm on the Honoured Captain's shoulder pauldron. "Come, Honoured Captain. A word or two."

"Watch them, battle-brothers." The Ultramarines manoeuvred through a gap in the wire and climbed halfway up the stairs. The Honoured Captain removed his helmet and leaned his head close to Chief Librarian.

"How fares your man?" The Archmagos's segments creaked and he bent over the Ynnari.

"Unconscious, Archmagos." The smell of unwashed flesh seeped from inside the Archmagos's hood. Yvraine's nose wrinkled as she tucked the Visarch's shirts in. "Our plates are hardy."

"And mass considerable," whispered the Veilwalker.

"And bodies harder."

"Archmagos!" The Chief Librarian lifted his fist.

"Excuse me, Lady Xenos."

Honour Guard peeled the wire back. The Archmagos waddled through the gap and mounted the steps. When he awakens, Veilwalker, I am sure the Visarch's spirits would be uplifted were he privy to your thoughts on his mass.

Be professional, Yvraine. The Veilwalker drew the hem of her mask up her neck and scratched.

You are correct, Veilwalker. I spoke in error.

I am? The Veilwalker's head tilted.

My words were unbecoming of the Prophet. Ynnead would not approve of pettiness.

Apology accepted, Lady Prophet. I am… curious.

Curious away, Veilwalker.

When last did Ynnead cross your threshold?

Yvraine ran her thumb along her jawline and up her chin. It comes in periods of slumber. You wonder why I sleep so much.

I do.

Only when that Ranger transgressed on my affairs did the Yncarne make public showing. That I do not understand.

Well?

Well…?

Well, what does the Ranger have that you do not?

Hmph. I would not soil this conversation further.

Perhaps compassion?

Compassion wholly misdirected.

Ahh-hah, you have never experienced the strife of motherhood and the terror of rearing twins.

If you think I am going to admit this bastard of an excuse for a Ranger—

Steel chained clanked. Gears ground against each other. The Ultima glyph split down the middle and the doors groaned open. "Lady Xenos, if you please."

Thank Ynnead. Bear our friend aloft please, Veilwalker. Yvraine and the Veilwalker hoisted the Visarch between them and struggled up the steps.

"The resting place of our Primarch lies inside these doors, Lady Xenos," said the Chief Librarian.

"We shall respect your Primarch's resting place, Chief Librarian. This I… I solemnly swear."

"Then enter."

Marble pillars held the stained-glass dome of a sepulchre, two-hundred feet high, aloft. Grey statues of Astartes stood on plinths around the sepulchre's edge brandishing swords, mauls, and power axes. Ultramarines and horned beasts clashed in friezes. Water ran in curving channels cut in the tiled floor. In the very centre of the five-hundred-foot-wide chamber, the water ran in to a stone cut-out of a mailed fist gripping the Ultima glyph.

"I wish you could see this in daylight, Lady Xenos." The Chief Librarian walked alongside the Archmagos behind the hover-sledges. "The armaglass funnels the dawn light in such a way that it illuminates the Primarch's tomb and only the tomb."

"Stop. Stop." Yvraine and the Veilwalker crumpled beneath the Visarch. "Umph."

"Burdon to bear, xenos?" Two Honour Guard assigned to watch the Ynnari halted behind the them. "We should have aimed for the head."

"Will you permit me custody of your bodyguard, Lady Prophet?" Clawed appendages unfolded from the Archmagos's midriff. "Though crude they appear, gentle these hands will be."

"You ask his leave, not mine, Archmagos."

"I will respect your bodyguard, Lady Prophet."

"Visarch, Archmagos."

Burning incense sweetened the air. Murmurs spilled from hidden orifices. Is this how humans revere their deity?

Ardent prayer is observed thrice daily, Lady Prophet, said the Chief Librarian. At the rebirth of the sun, the zenith, and in the waning light, we revere our Primarch, the God-Emperor, those who have died, and those who will die.

You revere your Primarch before the Emperor?

After the Great Calamity, and the interment of the God-Emperor upon the Golden Throne, our Primarch assumed command of mankind's armies. Our small realm of five-hundred worlds endured in the dark days that followed under his hand, not the Emperor's. He is our Lord Commander, our Captain General, our battle-brother.

An Ultramarine shielded by a stasis field sat upon an adamantium throne at the far end of the chamber. Two flights of steps led up to the raised dais supporting the enthroned being. Dents and punctures covered the Primarch's tarnished armour. "Ten-thousand years…" The Chief Librarian laid his palm on the stasis field. Ripples ran across the surface.

"Ten millennia, nine months, two days, Chief Librarian." The Archmagos's claws placed the Visarch on the floor.

"And on the third day…" The shimmering dome around the Primarch faded. "Stand up, be proud to call yourselves human. Though cast adrift in the heaving ocean, our happy few take to heart the lessons forced upon us in this troubling age of uncertainty and grab the horns of the beasts dwelling in the howling dark outside our walls."

"He said that to you?"

"Written as he spoke. I had not the privilege of hearing his voice."

He could be sleeping, said the Veilwalker.

Yvraine bit her thumbnail. "Would he want it?"

"Want…?"

"Life. If his time was the thirty-first millennium, why disturb his slumber?"

The Chief Librarian banged the butt of his staff against the tiles. "You doubt your cause?"

Let us not ponder the ethics here, Lady Prophet. The Veilwalker linked her arm through Yvraine's and guided her down from the dais. Quick to anger these proud warriors are. Do not sow doubt in their minds.

Open containers surrounded the Archmagos and his followers. Abominations, under the orders of the crimson-robed, hauled AdMech machinery out. The Primarch's armour remained untouched. "My auto-reliquary is proceeding through its initial construction, Lady Xenos," said the Archmagos. "Your presence is not required at this stage."

"We observe, Archmagos. Inform us when you need us." Yvraine broke from the Veilwalker's hold. In a touchy mood, Veilwalker? That is the Prophet's prerogative, not the Harlequin's.

The Veilwalker got down on her knees and sat the Visarch against the base of the Primarch's dais. Please let us not overstep our boundaries, Lady Prophet. One wrong move and that Inquisitor brings her hammer down on us.

Were she in possession of a hammer, I might give pause for thought. Are you staying here?

Why? Where do you stray?

I am surprised you can sit still with all this excitement. Yvraine wandered around the far side of the dais and hopped over a channel. Water ran down recesses in the walls. Armaglass rattled in frames. A grey-haired human in an equally grey robe stood upon a thin scaffold tucked away behind pillars. Blissfully ignorant or just apathetic? The human dabbed a thin wooden shaft with bristles on a palette and leaned close to a painting.

"What are you doing all alone up there?"

"Painting the tomb of the Primarch," the human said, his nose nearly touching the paint.

"Late is the hour. Do lumps drive you from your bed, human? Even the enemy cannot drag you away it seems."

"I paint the Primarchs with halos over their heads, so we – the insignificant – don't have to see the truth of what they were."

"What were they?"

"Their lives were demands. Demands for the weak to better themselves. To give where to take would satisfy more. In their hubris, they overestimated the weak's dependence on the old way; the way of the savage. The Primarchs expected too much from them."

"You blame the commoner for their downfall?"

"Man is a mass of lust that absorbs and excretes and is driven by a need for healthy action destructive to him and those around. I don't paint man. I paint comfortable lies."

"Comfortable lies?"

"Empires are built on lies and held aloft by the ignorance of the proletariat. They pray to those with the halos over their heads because in their minds, they are the ideal followers, the devout pilgrims martyring themselves for the cause, and what is nobler than martyrdom?"

"Would you venture out one day? Canvas the truth?"

"Had I the courage, young lady, I might venture out there and bring the true Primarchs to the commoner." The painter tapped the end of the brush on his chin. "Not yet though. Man clings to his ideal figures, and he will fight to keep it so. Who am I to question their legacy?"

Yvraine, the Visarch has come to.

Cables ran around the dais and up in to the Primarch's throne. The crimson-robed paraded around the sledge bearing the armour waving standards and chanting. Thick, pungent wisps writhed from burning pots hanging from chains.

Lady Prophet! The Visarch lunged at Yvraine. The Veilwalker caught him by the shoulders.

As you were! Yvraine held up her hand. As you were, Visarch. We are witness to AdMech ceremony. Please observe respect.

Coughs arose in the Visarch's throat. "Mmm-hmm…" He pressed his hand to his chest.

"The plate took the concussive force, Visarch," said the Veilwalker. "Leave be."

Did they throw a thunder-hammer at me? The Visarch rubbed the tender spot.

Stay down, Laari, I command thee.

Abominations ferried equipment up to the throne. Mechadendrite dove inside compartments and soldered wires together. Sparks spat from plasma-cutters. The Archmagos's own appendages passed individual pieces of the auto-reliquary up to his acolytes. A far-off booming turned Yvraine's and the Veilwalker's heads to the temple doors.

Yvraine, it draws closer. The Visarch pushed himself away from the dais. Trapped.

Stay down, Visarch. Ultramarines guard the temple. They will let nothing past.

The Visarch twisted and craned his neck. Is the Primarch here?

Atop this dais he sleeps. Our friends in crimson make preparations.

And how do we influence?

It all stands on the Archmagos. We observe for now.

"No, you are not going to be able to disassemble it that way." The Chief Librarian jabbed his staff at the crimson-robed gathered around the Primarch with their tools. "Start at the wrists then work up. The chestplate comes off last. Golden Throne, Archmagos, they do not make it easy!"

"Lend berth to my acolytes, Chief Librarian. Learned is their mechadendrite in all marks and classes of Ultramarine armour."

"Yes, but not the Primarch's. I warn you this is not Praetor Pattern. If you desecrate the Lord Commander's armour…"

"Desecration be damned! And what does it matter, Chief Librarian? My acolytes are fully equipped to armour the Primarch in this replacement suit. If you wished to voice objection, you should have done so before admitting us to holy ground. If that is all, we have an operation to perform. Thank you very much, Chief Librarian."

Laid bare like a babe fresh from its mother's womb. The Chief Librarian clomped down from the dais. No greater shame seeing our Primarch devoid of his badges of office.

You knew this would happen, Chief Librarian.

Apprehension, Yvraine. You would suffer too were we on the cusp of summoning Ynnead, said the Veilwalker.

I feel like the AdMech piss on our Lord Commander's tomb. Pardon me for the oath.

Swearing on holy ground, Chief Librarian? Yvraine cocked an eyebrow. Surely that can only be the Chief Librarian's prerogative.

Sarcasm from a xenos? Hmph-hmph! The Chief Librarian waggled a finger. You may take a lesson away after all.

I fully intend to regress to my former, enlightened self, Chief Librarian, and free of the curtailment your masters impose.

Curtailment? Now really…

From the God-Emperor down to the lowest, filthiest abomination, mark of ownership is burned or tattooed on to flesh. And you call the Imperium paradise.

Disciples of Him, one and all. Proud are we to serve—

As acolytes—slaves! The Ynnari are a free people. Our knees bend to no Seer Council, no junta, no dictator of any kind.

And look where 'free' drove you! Nomads wandering deep space. Your time has been and gone.

I could say similar to your so-called Lord Commander.

The Chief Librarian's eyes whitened and the tip of his staff glowed. Barriers arose and met the sharp prongs Yvraine loosed upon his mind. Hardy for a human.

"And how does the Lord Commander himself settle his differences?" The Veilwalker flitted between Yvraine and the Chief Librarian. "Does he fall to the fist or is he a flayer of minds—well?"

The light in the Chief Librarian's eyes cooled. His gauntlet loosed around his staff. "He fell only once. Traitored by a brother."

"Thank you. We did not know."

"Of course, you did not know! That knowledge is held under lock and key, the latter in my custody." The Chief Librarian thumped his chestplate. "Martyrdom; no nobler cause!"

"If we could stop falling on our swords for the moment, I do believe the Archmagos hankers for our attention," said the Veilwalker.

"Hankers?"

"Please, Lady Xenos and company, a moment." The Archmagos waved his halberd from the dais. The battered remains of the ten-millennia-old armour had been arranged on the floor, leaving the Primarch in a torn bodysuit. Abominations waited with the first pieces of the Artificer armour in hand.

"How goes it, Archmagos?"

"Swimmingly."

"…Translate?" Yvraine's head twisted between the Veilwalker and the Chief Librarian.

"Be content, Lady Xenos," said the Chief Librarian. "Our allies in red adhere to their command line."

"I did not… I have not the faintest notion of your words." Yvraine pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Progress occurs," the Veilwalker muttered.

"I… I assume our hand comes in to play now, Archmagos."

"Mmm. I would have you perform an act our allies in blue may not necessarily agree with."

"Archmagos…"

"Chief Librarian, for a successful outcome to this exercise, the Lady Yvraine must first cast the Primarch's spirit beyond the veil; as you Eldar would refer to it as."

"Oh, Gods…" The Veilwalker smoothed creases in her hood. "You were serious about the sword."

"What is this veil you speak of?" The Chief Librarian's face became sour. "Xenos trickery?"

"Lady Yvraine." The Archmagos's head bowed. "I must ask you to kill him." Spindly arms brought Kha-vir from a compartment and extended down to Yvraine.

"If flesh touches metal, you will be cast from this holy place, Lady Xenos," said the Chief Librarian. "Your first and last warning."

"Lady Prophet?"

"I do not know, Veilwalker." Yvraine ran her forefinger inside her open collar.

"It granted the Ranger life anew."

"Only after the possession. Kha-vir exorcises, it does not grant life anew; that is Ynnead's prerogative."

"Ranger?" The Archmagos's head twitched. "I recall one specimen not three months ago wandering in to my laboratory—err—err—in most peculiar company I might add. This was—"

"On the eve of Cadia's demise, Archmagos?"

"Ahh, and most pleasing to the old ocular too." The Archmagos twisted the implant embedded in his eye-socket. "They danced splendidly, she and the soldier—"

"The enemy." The Chief Librarian's eyes whitened. "The enemy!"

The armaglass ceiling caved inwards. A flaming drop pod rocketed through, scattering burning fragments in its wake.

"LAARI!" Yvraine caught the Visarch's wrists and hauled him on to the dais. The Chief Librarian's staff struck the floor. Glass shards cascaded upon a bubble encasing the dais's occupants. Water burst from ruptured channels. Marble pillars crashed to the temple floor, flinging clouds of dust over the dais. The Ynnari huddled together. The crimson-robed clustered the throne, welding and soldering the pieces of the auto-reliquary without concern.

"Veilwalker?" Yvraine's fingers dug in to flesh. "Are you hurt?"

"Chief Librarian…?" The Veilwalker lifted her head from the floor.

"Fear not, Lady Xenos." A beacon shone on the tip of the Chief Librarian's staff. "The beacon of the holy repels the unclean—"

Gyrojets hit the shield and detonated. "Oh, their shells are exception!" Yvraine plucked Kha-vir from the Archmagos's claws.

"BATTLE-BROTHERS, PROTECT YOUR PRIMARCH!"

"How long, Archmagos?" Grenades cracked. Distorted voices howled. Dust swirled around the shield. "Archmagos!"

Blue lightning spat between forked arms curling around the Primarch's throne. Seals broke and the crimson-robed removed the Primarch's old boots. "Best not worry for the technicalities, Lady Yvraine." The Archmagos's upper segment had to bend nearly double to fit inside the shield. "When I say, you will do your duty to the God-Emperor!"

"Duty to the—?"

"Haw-haw-haw! You are not the first xenos to catch the colour in her cheeks. Quite the rosy tinge."

Be calm. The Visarch shuffled in front of Yvraine. Watch for movement.

I am calm.

Your heartrate.

Shrapnel pinged against the shield. The Ynnari flinched. The Archmagos's many fingers clattered upon a wired keypad held up by one of his acolytes. The auto-reliquary's arms closed around the Primarch's body. Needles pierced the chalk skin. A whump-whump-whump arose.

"Archmagos…?" Yvraine stood up and gripped Kha-vir in both hands. "The sand runs short."

"Standby."

"Archmagos…" The shield faltered. Glass clinked on the floor. Yvraine dashed sharp fragments from her hair and widened her stance.

"Standby."

The Light on the Chief Librarian's staff died. "Stand your ground, warriors. Not one traitor mounts this dais."

Heat gushed over Yvraine's shoulders and tickled the tips of her ears. Bright blue light from the auto-reliquary seared her eyes. Dust stuck to her skin. Gyrojets hissed around. After each impact came a short, sharp bang.

"There. There!" A shadow tottered through the thick dust. Bright orange rings circled black burns. An Honour Guard swung a bloody combat knife, broken at the hilt, in a lazy arc. The outer layers of his armour were gone. A cloven helmet had melted in to his head. Wisps rose from where Liquid plasteel had burned through hair and skin and laid bone bare. At the foot of the steps, the Honour guard collapsed. He flung his arm out and touched the marble.

"Archmagos…" A crack appeared in the frescoed ceiling away from the destroyed armaglass. Stones spilled from the jagged fingers spreading across the ceiling and disintegrated on the tiles.

"Gods, no…"

"Archmagos…"

"THE SWORD!"

"Wait, no, NO!" The Chief Librarian dove at Yvraine. Yvraine threw herself at the throne and plunged Kha-vir in to the miniature sun. Her feet left the floor and she flew backwards. Light exploded from the dais. Yvraine smacked in to the Visarch. Both rolled down the steps and hit the Honour Guard's body.

Dust stung Yvraine's eyes. A being descended the dais's steps. Clenched in its fist was the bronzed hilt of Kha-vir. Knees bent and the being leaped over Yvraine and thundered in to the dust. Bolters hammered. Garbled screeches ripped from vox grills. Plasma crackled. Marble shattered. Yvraine shivered and her hand pattered at the dirt-encrusted tiles. Stone from a column burst outwards and pelted Yvraine. Tiny fragments flew up her nose and clung to her lips. A hand found her wrist. Yvraine twisted her arm and clamped her hand around the other's wrist.

A dented helmet rolled in to Yvraine's elbow. Blood leaked from the broken eye lenses and stained the black and gold paint. A hulking shadow shambled through the dust. Blood coated a curved blade from point to hilt. Shredded rags hung loosely from a muscled torso. Weeping cuts criss-crossed the skin. Kha-vir clanged on the tiles. The being sat down on the lowest step and pressed his fingers on the gash in his belly. Shining fingers came away from the wound. The being leaned back until his head rested on the steps.

Yvraine rolled on to her side and coughed up brown phlegm. "Arch—Archmagos!"

"Throne of—" The Chief Librarian, lying on the dais, sat up and cracked a shoulder. "Did it work?"

"Archmagos, I need you!" Yvraine fell upon the Primarch and put an ear to his chest. "He is fading."

"The armour." The Chief Librarian dragged a fallen crimson-robed upright. "Techpriests, save your Primarch!"

"Archmagos, wake up." Yvraine charged up to the dais. Broken pieces of the auto-reliquary lay on tangled cables and snapped arms. The Archmagos's upper segment drooped. Grey, viscous liquid dribbled down his breastplate. "Wake up!"

Yvraine, are you hurt? I cannot rouse the Veilwalker.

Disregard, Laari. Archmagos, I apologise in advance for the border I am to breach. Barbed prongs pierced the Archmagos's mental barriers and peeled them aside and dove deep in to his consciousness.

"ARGH!" The Archmagos reared his head. Grey liquid spattered Yvraine. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her arm over her mouth. "Kelbor-Hal!"

"Archmagos!" Yvraine pummelled the plate covering the Archmagos's belly. "Save the Primarch! SAVE HIM!"

Binaric chitters blared from the Archmagos. The Techpriests and abominations scrambled over to the upended sledge and pried the Artificer sections free from the inserts. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Yvraine hovered around the Techpriests. Clicking directed the abominations to lift the Primarch up by his arms. "No, leave him where he lies."

Let them perform their task, Yvraine. The Veilwalker needs you. The Visarch kneeled next to the Veilwalker's body.

How is she? Yvraine dropped from the dais. Pulse?

Steady pulse. No bleeds.

Let me. Yvraine undid her surcoat and balled it beneath the Veilwalker's head. She pulled the hood down and lifted the thin mask away. Watch the smoke.

Plates thudded on to magnetic strips. Mechadendrite melded the inner skin to the outer layers. An abomination plugged a power cord in to the backpack power unit. Steam poured from vents.

Yvraine, the dust settles.

Yvraine scooped up Kha-vir and shook blood from the blade. "Vilith-zhar…"

Amongst the fallen pillars and stone chunks, horned Astartes in black lay. Spikes and bent nails adorned their broken suits. Scraps of chainmail hung from their waists. Eight-pointed stars were emblazed on their shoulder pauldrons. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Yvraine's eyes flew between the dozen Astartes. Impossible.

Does the impossible still surprise you?

Laari, this is… Yvraine planted Kha-vir in the floor and leaned on the hilt.

Hope?

Yvraine eyed the Techpriests fitting the gauntlets over the Primarch's hands. His eyes remained closed. Colourless lips were clamped together. Thinning blond hair was plastered to his head. A helmet with a golden aquila on the brow sat to one side. That remains to be seen.

A boom came from the far end of the temple. Yvraine whipped around. "Chief Librarian?"

"I do not know."

"Tremendous use you are—Visarch, with me!" Yvraine scooted through the rubble.

Yvraine, where are you going? The Visarch belted after her.

"Find the bolters."

Which ones?

"The Honour Guard bolters!" Yvraine kicked away a bolter with sharpened bone hammered in to the body. "Secure ammunition too."

A putrid stench clung to the black Astartes. Rusted implants covered rotting skin and smooth bone mounting scalps protruded from shaved heads. The other of the two Honour Guard lay with his bolter in the dirt beside him. Blood leaked from a red hole in the brow of his helmet. Yvraine lifted the chunky weapon and squinted down the rail. Blast it. No sights. Her foot struck an empty magazine. The Honour Guard bore no other magazines on his person. Where do they keep their ammunition?

Any joy?

I have the weapon. Ammunition is spent. Yvraine wound through the fallen pillars. They were not expecting engagement so far from the city.

They are an honour guard. Perhaps their purpose is only ceremonial. The Visarch jumped down from the base of a pillar. These were all I could find. He passed Yvraine a full magazine and slotted a dual-clamped magazine in to his bolter. Human hair hung in braids from the clamp.

"Laari, anything they touch can taint."

It is this or my bare fists.

"Use your mind, Visarch! Its potency far outweighs any kinetic firearm."

Then why the effort to find these? The Visarch cocked the bolter and set the safety.

Find defilade with clear eyes on the door and a quick way to retreat. Yvraine vaulted over a pillar and skidded down a short slope. They must have a battering ram out there. Have they drowned the entire fortress in numbers?

Ensconced behind a fallen pillar, Yvraine peeped through a crack between the marble and the floor wide enough to shoot through. With each thud, more and more dust trickled from the cracked ceiling. Water flowed freely over the floor, mixing with the muck and darkening to brown. Yvraine slapped the bolter magazine in her palm and blew on the stacked shells. Laari, are you in position?

In position. Ready to throw away my life for a human.

Sarcasm, from you of all, Laari? Yvraine loaded the bolter and set the safety.

You should hear yourself.

Oh, I hear that smirk on your face from all the way over here. The ram crashed against the doors. A section buckled and rivets popped free. Yvraine hunched close to the stockless bolter. A crack widened. Ridged cylinders slipped through and smoke hissed from the bodies. Hold your fire, Laari. Only shoot at what you can hit.

Grey smoke built up around the doors. Boots drummed on tiles. Stones crumbled around Yvraine. Warmth spread across her back. I see nothing.

Nothing. More smoke grenades rolled inside the temple and the cloud spread. Yvraine's forefinger curled around the trigger.

I see blue!

Blue?

Ultramarines stormed from the smoke. Yvraine's finger left the trigger. Her brow touched the cold metal. Thank Ynnead.

What is your word, Lady Prophet?

Stand down, Laari. Yvraine laid the bolter on its side and wormed backwards. I am coming to you.

Prone behind a fallen pillar, the Visarch leaned on his elbows. His unloaded bolter lay beside him.

On your feet, Visarch. Let us retire.

The Primarch remained on his back at the foot of the dais. The Chief Librarian leaned on his staff with head hung. "History will remember this day. At the turn of the forty-second millennium, our salvation slipped away from our fingertips."

"Archmagos, explanation."

"I guarantee, Artificer Mark Thirteen provides life support for the occupant. It should sustain him." The Archmagos clung to his halberd. "Your blade—"

"Saved our lives! A dozen of the enemy lie out there, and that is because of him." Yvraine sat down by the Veilwalker. "You can explain to the Ultramarines, Archmagos."

"Ultram—?" The Chief Librarian launched an orb from his staff at the ceiling. It burst in to a shining Ultima glyph. "Battle-brothers, to me!"

"And now…" Yvraine placed her hands on her head and linked her fingers. "A helping of humble."

The Visarch sat and put his hands on his head. I do not like prostrating myself.

We are not antagonising them.

You yourself advised not showing fear.

For all they know, we had a hand in murdering their Primarch and defiling their shrine.

"Hail, battle-brothers!" The Chief Librarian brandished his staff at the nearest Ultramarine squad splashing through the brown puddles. "Well past the hour strikes the long hand."

"Chief Librarian Tigurius…"

"Is that the Primarch…?"

"Heresy!" The squad leader levelled his bolter. "Xenos saboteurs!"

"HOLD!" The Chief Librarian blundered in front of the Ynnari and threw his arms out. Safeties clicked. Ultramarine clambered on to pillars and raised their weapons. Squads surrounded the dais. "Where is your commanding officer?"

"Will the Lord Macragge suffice?" A white-haired Ultramarine stamped through the filthy water. Brown stained the hem of a pure white cloak dragging behind the Lord Macragge. "Stand aside, Chief Librarian." The Lord Macragge pointed a bolter fitted to his gauntlet at the Chief Librarian. "The Emperor's justice will be administered to these saboteurs."

"Please, my lord. I will explain in full the nature of this exercise, just—"

"I order you – Chief Librarian – TO STAND ASIDE!"

"Under my protection are these xenos," said the Archmagos. "It was I who offered the hand of truce."

"Under whose authority?" Spittle launched from between the Lord Macragge's teeth.

"The Lord Commander's orders. Even ten millennia later, I stand by them."

"Apothecary." The Lord Macragge jabbed fingers at the Primarch.

Mechadendrite unfolded from the power unit of a bare-headed Astartes with a prime helix on his shoulder and purity seals attached to his chest. "No pulse, my lord." The Apothecary shook his head. "I do not recognise this armour grade."

"Leave it," said the Lord Macragge. "I want heavy lifting gear brought up here and the Primarch re-interned."

"My lord, the xenos—"

"You know, I have reconsidered, Chief Librarian." The Lord Macragge thrust his head at the Chief Librarian. Deep scars stretched and twisted. "Shall we let the Inquisition handle the Emperor's justice?"

High heels strutted through the Astartes' ranks. A wide-brimmed hat lifted. Inquisitor Greyfax smirked and plucked her crossbow hybrid from her hip. "As acting Ordo Xenos representative on Macragge, I do sentence thee to immediate liquidation." The Inquisitor aimed her crossbow at the Chief Librarian's face. "Many, many years of devout service you still have to give, Ultramarine. Would you squander your career? Your honour?" The Chief Librarian stepped aside. "…Good." The Inquisitor squatted and balanced her crossbow across her knees. "Prophet. Self-anointed, or did your flock of slant-ears prop you up on that high pedestal?"

"We brought your Primarch back from beyond the veil, Inquisitor. You should be in awe."

"Not my Primarch, xenos." Fat lips stretched. "Nor yours. Look upon your failure—look!" The Inquisitor wrenched Yvraine's head around. "Desecration of the Primarch's tomb. High heresy. Were it in my power, I would strip, shave, brand, and throw you to the dogs."

"Boring me to death in the meantime?"

"You, your brute, your companion lying there; all your friends, associates, your family. I will hunt them all down and see their violated corpses mutilated, beheaded, and scattered. T'will give me no greater pleasure than to obliterate your inbred horde of cultists."

The Visarch lurched to his feet. A balled fist backhanded him and knocked him on his back. Blood crystals glittered on the Inquisitor's steel gauntlet. She straddled the Visarch, hauled him up by the collar, and drove her mailed fist in to his nose. The Visarch's head snapped back. Blood crystals flecked Yvraine's cheek. Ultramarines snorted. A few laughed. Blow after blow broke skin and fractured bone. Eyelids gummed shut. Red teeth caved inwards. The Inquisitor left the Visarch on the floor and plunged her heel through his hand. Bloody saliva shot from the Visarch's mouth. The Inquisitor twisted her ankle, working her heel around, and showed her teeth to Yvraine.

"We are hardy." Yvraine met the Inquisitor's organic eye.

"Yet how easily your knee bends." The Inquisitor ripped her heel from the Visarch's hand and picked up her crossbow. "Bent." A broad muzzle pointed between Yvraine's eyes. "And broken."

In the corner of Yvraine's eye, the Apothecary flinched. A gauntlet gripped the Apothecary's forearm and an Astartes pulled itself upright. The Inquisitor stumbled backwards. Her crossbow slammed in to the tiles. Heads turned. The Lord Macragge's bionic eye dilated.

A single Ultramarine within the sea of blue fell to one knee. Joints creaked. Knees grated in the dirt and Ultramarines bowed heads. The Apothecary and the Inquisitor dropped to the floor; the former's nose touched muck. The Lord Macragge alone remained on his feet. "Apothecary." The Apothecary's arms trembled. His fingers clawed at the dirt. "Apothecary! Provide diagnosis of the Pr—the Lord Commander."

The Apothecary unclamped a tool equipped with a drill and a chainblade and slid it over his gauntlet. "Prithee, my—my lord commander. I—I require you hold still." The Apothecary shone a medical light in the Primarch's eye.

"Diagnosis, Apothecary?" The Lord Macragge's gauntlet squeezed the grip of a sheathed power sword. "Answer me!"

The Apothecary lowered the tool. "Retinal scans match, Chapter Master. Tissue samples are necessary for further verification."

"Lord Commander?" The Lord Macragge waved the Apothecary aside. His eight-foot bulk squared up to the ten-foot-tall Primarch. "Do you understand my words? Can you understand me?"

The Primarch's thick fingers clawed at his neck. His mouth opened and a dry rasp surfaced.

"Lord Commander, I am Chapter Master Mar—"

"Apologies, Chapter Master, I must insist a full check-up be implemented for the Lord Commander before any debrief," said the Apothecary.

"Insist?" The Lord Macragge's eye narrowed.

"On medical grounds, my lord."

"Do it."

"My Lord Commander—?" The Apothecary sprung at the Primarch and caught him before he could fall.

"Ultramarines, assist the Lord Commander." The Lord Macragge glowered down at the Inquisitor. "Get out."

The brim of the Inquisitor's hat tilted up. "Lord Commander, these xenos—"

"You spilled blood in our holy place. I will allow you to flee once; just once." The Inquisitor reached for her crossbow. The Lord Commander brought his boot down and crushed the weapon. Hissing, the Inquisitor flounced in to the Ultramarine ranks. Her hat bobbed away.

"Kha-vir!" The Apothecary and accompanying Ultramarines escorted the Lord Commander across the temple floor. He carried the dripping Kha-vir away with him.

"Do not think you are any safer in Ultramarine custody, xenos." The Lord Macragge loomed over Yvraine. "I would the rather those rabid dogs not desecrate our holy place as you have."

"Please, Lord Macragge—"

"Beg. Beg for your life."

"LORD MACRAGGE!" The Archmagos's clawed feet thumped on the tiles beneath the dais. "May I respectfully emphasise; the power of judgement falls on your shoulders no longer. Responsibility for these xenos rests now in the Lord Commander's camp. Administering the Emperor's justice here and now usurps the Lord Commander's authority."

"It does, my lord," said the Chief Librarian. "We answer to the Lord Commander now."

"He felt the Emperor's justice." The Lord Macragge nudged the Visarch's foot. "Pity the Ordo Hereticus' rabid dog observed mercy."

"We performed our duty, my lord."

"We are sorry for the temple's desecration," said Yvraine.

"Prophet, is it?" The Lord Macragge balanced on his haunches and produced a flat, circular holo-communicator. "Prophet of what?"

"Rabid beast." The Archmagos lowered his posture. Coiled appendages and mechadendrite slithered beneath the Visarch's body and lifted him off the floor. "Mindless brute." Arms took the Veilwalker and picked her up. "I feel I must apologise for the Inquisitor's shameful conduct."

"Shut up, Archmagos! Captain, I demand an update." A blue, transparent figure came in to focus.

"My Lord Macragge." An Ultramarine officer bowed.

"Show me the xenos."

"At once, my lord." The Ultramarine swung his own communicator around. "As confirmed, my lord, fifty-nine xenos saboteurs accounted for."

Rangers sat on a landing platform in driving rain with their hands bound behind their backs and bags over their heads. Ultramarine bolters covered them.

"Captured on a drilling platform, Prophet So-called. Their arrival coincided with yours. Captain, their faces."

"Yes, my lord." The Ultramarine strode to the end of the front row. His fingers closed around a sodden bag and whisked it off.

"What was their mission?" The Lord Macragge's bionic eye glinted. "What was their mission?"

"Lord Macragge, I am taking my guests to the Apothecarion," said the Archmagos.

"Move one step and all AdMech are hereby declared enemy troops. Captain, execute."

The Ultramarine rammed his fist in to the base of the Ranger's neck. The Ranger toppled forwards and the Ultramarine moved to the next Ranger and pulled the bag free.

"What was their mission?" The Lord Macragge nodded at the Ultramarine.

"My lord." Bone gave way to the Ultramarine's closed fist. A boot flung the Ranger on her face.

"Fifty-seven more tries, Prophet So-called." The Lord Macragge aimed a finger at the Visarch, then to the Veilwalker. "Then it will be him and her."

"We do not kneel."

"No. You fall." The Lord Macragge gave a curt nod to the Ultramarine poised behind the next Ranger. Bone crunched and the Ranger fell forwards. "I see your indifference. Is there really value in these beings' lives, or were they flung here on a whim?" The Ultramarine drew back his arm behind the fourth Ranger.

"STOOPP!" A Ranger three rows back stood up. "Your business, Lord Macragge, is now also mine."

"Him. Take him."

The bag left the shaven head of First Captain Yirryl. Bloodshot eyes blazed at Yvraine. "On a whim, Lady Prophet? The Lord Macragge gave summary far better than you ever could."

"Speak your name, xenos," growled the Lord Macragge.

"First Captain Solene Yirryl. These are my Rangers. Much as you can and will command your Ultramarines to die for you, I can ask likewise of my Rangers, but I will not see them slaughtered on a whim, impotent. Our mission was to—"

"Let me—let me answer, First Captain." Yvraine got up. "At my order, specialist troops were to infiltrate the oceanic platform and the sheltered facility beneath under the ruse of providing security for your planet's high council in event of enemy intrusion. If… my retinue and I were taken hostage on arrival, the hammer would have fallen upon your rulers. I acted on bad knowledge. Fault is mine."

The Lord Macragge's grey eye passed between Yvraine and First Captain Yirryl. "Death to the heretic, the unclean, and the xenos. I have stood by this philosophy all my life. At my command, the sword would fall upon you all, and it would give me no small pleasure to utter it. But I am in a fight. Your trial and executions shall be postponed until the Lord Commander himself is briefed and ready to swing the sword. Pray he grants you a swift demise. I shall not."

Thank Ynnead. Yvraine swallowed and glanced at the Visarch. Laari.

"Bag her. Bind her hands."

Binders clicked around Yvraine's wrists. An Ultramarine dragged a cloth sack over Yvraine's eyes and tightened the drawstring. Hands shoved Yvraine away from the Archmagos and out of the temple.

Ultramarine Outpost, The Crown Mountains, 72-km north of Magna Macragge Civitas

Two months later…

Snowflakes drifted past round-arched windows. The sharp ends of styli scratched across yellow parchment. Bony fingers peeled brown edges apart and turned pages. Unbroken parchment whirred from the gaping mouth of a crimson-robed.

"…And I obeyed the First Captain's order." A Ranger stripped of his Cameleoline sat on a rickety wooden chair in the middle of a room filled with silent humans crowding benches. "No further lives were lost after the commons room shooting."

Three wizened humans, grey-robed, grey-haired, and bristling with bionic implants sat at a long table. Behind them, fingers tapped away at keypads attached to cogitators. "You may retire, Ranger Vedrana."

In the far corner of the highest row sat the hooded Yvraine. Hard wood pressed in to her back and numbed her backside. None of the humans in the court had paid her a second glance upon entering the chamber and taking their seats.

Over the previous two days, each of the surviving fifty-six Rangers had stood before the court and given their accounts of the platform incursion and their involvement, or lack of, in the incidents that had occurred. A name flitted between tongues; Ranger Numerial. Ranger Numerial did it. Ranger Numerial gave the order. I saw Ranger Numerial do it.

Yvraine sat up and watched Izuru Numerial pad down the gap between the benches and take the lonely seat. There she raised her pale chin and drew her shoulders back. Clenched hands rested on her knees.

"You are Ranger Izuru Numerial?"

"I am."

"You served under First Captain Solene Yirryl during the incursion of Platform NX One Eight?"

"I did."

"Ranger Numerial, was your landing on Platform NX One Eight opposed in any way?"

"A human searchlight fell upon my team and I after our team leader dismounted our insertion craft badly and injured himself—"

"We are aware. What action did you take when the searchlight fell upon you?"

"I made my decision – a decision I am trained to make in less time it takes for you to blink, human."

"Which was?"

"I discharged my weapon once at the searchlight, nullifying it. The human operator made to run. I made sure he could not carry a warning to his colleagues. That decision, again, I made in a split-second, as I am trained to do."

"You know that Ultramar Union members are not permitted to bear deadly weapons, either concealed or open-carry. Why did you shoot an unarmed civilian?"

"Unarmed or not, the human carried a message we could ill afford to let reach others. I saw an enemy combatant acting aggressively. I interfered."

Tubes fed fresh ink to the styli and the scratching resumed. More parchment whirred from the mouth of the crimson-robed. A few human heads leaned together.

"We have one account from a Ranger serving on your team that your aggressive application of force on another Union member – one of five you took prisoner – resulted in his death. What say you to this?"

"Unarmed or not, any of the humans would have carried a message we could ill afford to let reach others."

"Did you or did you not strike the Union member with enough force to kill?"

"I reacted as I would have against an armed combatant. I am trained to eliminate enemy personnel. I am not trained to pull my punches."

"A simple answer, Ranger, yes or no."

"It was the weakness of the human's resolve, no failure of mine. You despise the malingerers, the infirm, and the frail also. You eat the weak. Why weep for them?"

"And what of the other four's resolve? Did you consider that before you opened fire in a deliberate and precise manner?"

"What are you accusing me of, human?"

The human scowled down at the sheafs of parchment in front of him. "The departure of your team left you alone with four prisoners – all alive. You were the last to see them alive. Did you or did you not open fire on them?"

"This is war, human."

"All four were found dead with wounds that only a xenos laspistol leaves. You were carrying a sidearm as well as a longarm during the incursion. These unprovoked killings could only have been carried out by a being trained to eliminate enemy personnel and cold-blooded enough to look them in the eye beforehand."

"We are all trained to eliminate enemy personnel, human."

"Answer the question!"

"I opened fire after two humans attacked me and the other two made an escape attempt."

"You responded to two unarmed men by shooting them dead?"

"Numbers are a strong force multiplier in close-quarters battle. I acted in self-defence."

"Were you acting in self-defence when you and four other Rangers infected with your xenos bloodlust rounded up twenty-one Union and nineteen Ultramar Auxilia – wounded in some cases – in the platform's commons room and opened fire?" Murmuring buzzed through the court. The hands gripping the styli blurred. Ink blotches landed on the parchment. Yvraine wrung her hands in her lap and leaned forwards.

"The enemy lays siege to your walls while we participate in legal sham. There was never any doubt in your verdict, was there? No reason for us to even offer defence."

"We ask the questions, xenos! You will sit still and provide testimony as you have sworn to do. At your order, the Rangers in your firing line opened fire on your prisoners without provocation; yes or no?"

"Why would we have opened fire without provocation?"

The human slammed the palm of his hand on the tabletop and shot to his feet. The human at his elbow seized his arm and pulled him back in to his seat.

"So, you opened fire when provoked? Not before." The human straightened the tall collar digging in to rolls of fat. "Well?"

"Three prisoners made a move to escape. I gave clear warning to keep their hands up and to stand still. My warning was not heeded even after I gave it a second time."

"And these three…? Was it excuse enough to implement summary execution of each and every one?"

"I made my decision in a split-second as I am trained to do. You would not understand. You have never been faced with those decisions, or had direct power over life and death."

"Was it always your intent to slaughter every human you encountered, or did your experiences on the platform make you wish to slaughter every human you encountered?"

"My experiences on Cadia made me wish to slaughter every human I came across. My experiences after awakening from eternal slumber and the treatment at the hands of my own kin gave birth to the evil inside me." Izuru looked up at Yvraine. "It is not my fault that I am a bad-blooded bastard of a race reviled by all, yet it is my worst crime that I am. Of that, I plead guilty."

"An uninvited guest. Guards, remove the xenos! You are not here because of race or blood, Ranger Numerial, you are here accused of first-degree murder and sabotage, among others."

Yvraine climbed past the seated humans down to a pair of armed Ultramarines awaiting her on the court floor. Both fell in at her elbows and marched her over to the chamber's doors. Yvraine paused and looked over her shoulder at Izuru, alone with the humans.

"Outside, xenos. You are not permitted audience." An Ultramarine flicked his bolter.

"We have enough evidence here to brand you a war criminal, Ranger Numerial. You can plead guilty now and hasten the process, or we may drag this out even longer."

Yvraine pivoted and walked the last few paces out of the chamber backwards. The doors swung inwards and sealed. The Ultramarines took position on either side of the doors beneath stone statues. Yvraine hung her head and shoved her palm against her nose. Oh, Laari, I may have made a terrible mistake.

Boots thudded on soft carpets. Shells clinked together. "Lady Xenos, the Lord Commander does demand your presence. Come with us."

The Lord Commander is here? Four Ultramarines, taller than the guards outside the court, surrounded Yvraine. All bore golden wings on their helmets and fresh purity seals. "What business would the Lord Commander have with a xenos?"

"Come with us." The two pairs moved in front of and behind Yvraine.

Bright sunlight shone through curving armaglass. A hulking, bloated body in bulging plate and crimson robes stood at the shoulder of an Ultramarine holding his helmet in the crook of his arm. Two scabbards hung from the Ultramarine's waist. One of Yvraine's escorts swung at her and held up a hand. The two Ultramarines behind Yvraine remained in place while the pair in front entered the observation lounge. The bareheaded Ultramarine nodded and beckoned to Yvraine. Her escorts passed her and left the lounge. Yvraine approached the Ultramarine and took to one knee.

"You are no subject of mine. Why bend your knee?" A deep, gravelly voice said. The Ultramarine turned away from the armaglass. The glare from the noonday sun left his face shadowed.

"If I may take a moment to speak, Lord Commander…" The Archmagos moved backwards and lumbered in an awkward circle.

"Speak your mind."

"This is the catalyst of the ritual. A being to whom you owe your life, Lord Commander."

"And what do they call you, Lady Xenos?"

"Prophet of Ynnead. Chosen of the God of the Dead. Daughter of Shades. Bearer of the Cronesword Kha-vir."

"I did not ask your deeds." The Lord Commander curled two fingers. "Rise."

Yvraine straightened her back. Two grey eyes bored in to hers. Deep lines cut across a tall brow. Colour filled the Lord Commander's cheeks; a far cry from the chalk-faced being on the throne. "Archmagos." The Lord Commander's eyes remained on Yvraine. "Give us the room."

"Yes, Lord Commander." The Archmagos reached for his halberd. "Might I convey tidings to the lady?"

"Be brief."

"Your companions are in good health, I assure. The Visarch is well on the way to recovery. Good afternoon, Lady Prophet." The Archmagos pottered away.

"A knack for chatter, has our Archmagos."

"Indeed." Yvraine swallowed on a dry throat. "How goes the—?"

"I would take the air. Accompany me, Lady Xenos."

"Of—of course, Lord Commander."

Biting air slipped through the crack beneath the rising blast door. Fog rolled from Yvraine's lips. She squinted at the whiteness and twisted her head away.

"Lady Xenos?" The Lord Commander brought out a rolled-up package from beneath his arm and unfurled a fur-lined, hooded cloak.

"Your chivalric gesture is appreciated, Lord Commander, but I am not your woman."

"My seneschal wore it."

"Seneschal?"

"I knew her better as Mother. She was my world." The Lord Commander spread the cloak. "Parents, offspring, wives, and husbands are our world. There is no other world."

Ultramar's sun shone in a deep blue sky. White peaks arose from the clouds. Snow crunched beneath Yvraine's feet. Hers followed the wide prints left by the Lord Commander's boots. Black rock rose on Yvraine's right, and an untouched snowdrift blocked her view of the sheer drop on her left. "Not the world you were expecting was it, Lord Commander?"

"I remember these mountains. All else is alien." The Lord Commander led Yvraine up the steep path, on to the mountaintop. "My father spoke of spending his latter days at a quiet retreat in these mountains. No committees, no malcontent nobles, no bureaucracy."

"You have my sympathies, Lord Commander. Is your father buried here?"

"Not here. He should have been buried under clear skies, where the sun shone."

"I had neither."

"Parents?"

"An orphan."

"The same for most of my brothers."

"Were you close?"

"We did not have the luxury of kinship then. Nor do I now, alone in this damnation of our own making." The Lord Commander ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Much knowledge passed between us – the Archmagos and I. Not the same being I commissioned ten millennia ago, but his essence remains. You have also returned from the darkness, haven't you?"

"My passing coincided with the awakening, in part, of the Whispering God. T'was coincidence it chose me."

"On your awakening, did anybody ask after your wellbeing? Whether you were in any distress?"

"No."

"Nor I. There is no kinship. No escaping the plinths they place us on." The Lord Commander's brows edged inwards. His shoulders rose and he touched his eyelids. "When they first recounted to me the plight of the Imperium, I wept."

"We too are frail shadows of past glories. Ten-thousand years have not been kind to us."

"But it was not that the enemy hounds our bastions with peerless tenacity, it was the failings of the common folk."

"How do you mean, Lord Commander?"

"In our absence, they placed my brothers and I on plinths and prostrated themselves before us. How does one declare the common folk's worship unlawful after ten millennia?"

"Man prays to the beings with the halos over their heads because they, in his eyes, are the ideal figures who made the ultimate sacrifice. He would rather keep his comfortable lie than see the failings of the true Primarch. He will fight to keep it so."

"Is mankind ready for the true Primarch?" The Lord Commander crushed snow in his hand and flicked his wrist. "Would the mob bow to the man instead of the angel on the plinth?"

"Tell them what they want to hear. That you have been sent to them by the Emperor in this late hour."

"Lie? It was your sorcery and mechanical genius that bore me from the throne—"

"—Would the ignorance of the flock accept such a revelation? I lie and deceive my people every day to protect them. I have come to accept the vileness of playing such a role, but it must be played. Again, my sympathies, Lord Commander, but the path only darkens from here."

The Lord Commander's eyes fixed on the horizon. "And the path to Holy Terra shall be beset with evil. Devils tearing at my walls and devouring me from within." The Lord Commander whisked Kha-vir from its sheath.

Yvraine kneeled in the snow and closed her eyes. "My only request is for my kin's fair treatment."

"I did not grant permission to kneel."

Yvraine opened her eyes. The Lord Commander bent his knee and offered Yvraine Kha-vir.

"I… I cannot." Yvraine swiped snow from her knees.

"What more can I grant thee, giver of life?"

"Were my flesh to touch wraithbone, you would need disarm me."

"I command thee, Lady Prophet. Wear your sword."

Yvraine picked up Kha-vir and passed her palm across the flat. "As I left you."

"Free from the taint of the unclean. On that, you have my word." The Lord Commander unbuckled the belt holding the scabbard. "I ask once more, and only once. What more can I grant thee?"

Yvraine laid Kha-vir in the snow and fastened the belt and tied the long end off. "The show trial in session…"

"I know of it. An absurd exercise in wartime and a fine example of the shortcomings of bureaucracy."

"Since we are in agreement on that matter, I would ask you acquit the one they accuse of war crimes."

"I cannot – will not – pervert the course of justice, Lady Prophet."

"You are the Lord Commander! Your word is law."

"And bound am I by those very laws written by my father."

"You must acquit this being. I have done her great wrong in the past. She, I and you are all Reborn, and she is far worse off because of it."

"Are you part of her defence?"

"We were not permitted to present a defence. The court took statements from the Rangers and the humans. I believe their minds were made up before the sessions even began. The one they accused of war crimes, she called it legal sham. I am inclined to agree. It is farce carried out to protect the geriatric tyrants clinging on to their few scraps of power, power they know you can and will take away in a moment. They will fight to keep it so." Yvraine unsheathed Kha-vir and offered it to the Lord Commander on her knees. "I humbly beg you. Show mercy to these Rangers. Show mercy to her." Yvraine lifted her head. "The Ynnari Fleet is at your disposal. I…" Kha-vir sliced Yvraine's palm. "I swear this." She held out her bleeding hand. "Let us bind human and Ynnari cause together."

The Lord Commander reached down and closed his massive hand around Yvraine's and squeezed. "Then let us bring them the true Primarch."