Chapter Thirty-four

Something splashed on her face and she coughed, then winced in near-agony. It hurt. Everywhere. She ached all over, deep down in her bones. Another splash of liquid. Her eyelids felt stuck together, but she forced them open.

A face swam into focus. Janey, puffy-eyed and tearful and for the first time in years looking like an ordinary girl, like her little girl. She managed a smile, reached up with a still-gauntleted hand to touch her daughter's cheek.

"Hey."

Janey sniffed back more tears. There was a glow to her right and she started to turn her head; her daughter stopped her. "Don't. Astrid's looking out over the knoll. She has her Navigator eye open." Another sniff. "I thought,... I thought..."

She reached up and pulled her beloved child into an embrace, a hug that they'd both needed for about five years, felt soft skin against her cheeks and the warm salt of tears on her lips. "I'm here. I'm here. It's alright. My darling, mummy's not leaving you. Not ever."

They clung together wordlessly, each taking desperate and overdue reassurance from the other. Slowly the glow on their right faded and Astrid's voice came back to their mutual consciousness.

"He's gone. You should have told me."

She turned to look at the Navigator, puzzled. "Told you what?"

"You're both latents. Empaths, I think, not true psykers." A wan smile. "You can't perceive the warp, or call on the Emperor's wrath or strike down your enemies or anything like that. But you're both sensitive to powerful psychic emanations."

"We are?" She didn't need to pretend astonishment. "That explains... but why didn't Lord Mephiston say something? He must have known."

Sedreth's deep voice spoke from behind her. "Perhaps he was instructed otherwise. Sara, I must apologise. I was unaware that any such presence had remained here, or that it might affect you."

She struggled to sit up, grimacing against the pain. "Not your fault, Morgan. You couldn't have known." She managed a wry smile. "Although just once it would be nice not to feel the death of a Primarch. It was him, wasn't it?"

Astrid nodded, somehow serene. "Lord Manus? Yes. His essence, his rage, was bound here. It is gone now."

Kat was white. "Bound?"

"To the very rock, by the blade he made. Unable to return to his Father, unable to hear his sons' calls and prayers, unable to do aught but remember his pain and betrayal."

"I should be dead." Sedreth's voice. "I was here. I fought here. I should be dead."

The Navigator smiled, slowly, cold and calm. "You have a task. We have a task. Time enough to die when we are done." She reached down and offered Janey a hand up, then helped Sara to stand. Her smile became more real, genuine amusement. "When I agreed to sign on as part of your crew, captain, I did not expect this. It just goes to show that one should always read one's contract."

Kat gave a helpless snort of laughter.

The group were quiet as they sat together round the dining table. Sara passed out full plates, steaming with Janey's latest culinary creation. She and Janey tended to do most of the catering, though occasionally one of the others would – if Janey would let them into the kitchen. Tonight they were having fish, a delicacy from one of the agri-worlds in the Damocles Gulf region of the Ultima Segmentum, baked with herbs and spices.

Taking her seat, she bowed her head for Kat to say Grace. It had become a small ritual, that a different person would offer thanks to the Emperor at each evening meal. Not a prayer per se, it was more an acknowledgement of the great debt all of mankind owed Him.

"By Your Grace, lord Emperor, we walk the Stars. By Your Sacrifice, we are sustained. In Your Name, we give thanks. Amen."

"Amen," went round the table, and she picked up her utensils. It was a remarkably delicate taste, seasoned with flavours that Janey didn't normally use.

"It's good, Janey. We should have it again sometime."

Janey smiled. "Thanks, mummy. We have enough for several experiments. I might try it in a chowder next time."

They were all trying to act very normally, but despite an excellent meal – Janey had produced a rather excellent combination of citrus and chocolate as dessert – the tension was still there. As they sat around the table with their usual warming cups – a delicate cinnamon rue tonight – it was Kat who asked the question.

"What happened today?"

Astrid opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and looked at her instead. Sara hesitated then spoke quietly. "I think that some part of the spirit of the Primarch Ferrus Manus was bound to the surface where he died. At first all I felt was rage and pain. Then, well, I took a very dangerous chance. I unshielded my mind; you know how Morgan has tried to teach us all how to keep hold of ourselves at all times? I let that go. Took off my psi-shield. I just tried to think of nothing except the Emperor and duty."

"It could have been disastrous, Sara. That could have been something much worse, maybe even a daemon, bound here to trap the unwary."

She nodded. "I know, Morgan. But I saw Kat fall to her knees, and I could tell that Janey and Astrid were unable to even move. You looked like you were being attacked; Sanguinius' Pinion was shining like a star. It was my responsibility. And I'd been through something similar before, I could sense a similarity to the last time. So what else could I do?"

"What do you remember?"

"It's hard for me to remember details, but, pain. A blur of purple and gemstones. Blood. Rage and betrayal and love all at the same time. I think I – or the memory that held me – was swinging a flaming sword. I was on a battlefield and I could hear the battle-cries of astartes all around me, the thunder of weapons and the scream of engines. But most of all I saw golden eyes filled with fury and pride and madness. Then it was, like I was ripping myself apart, filled by a cascade of pure almost sentient energy. And it was, uhm, irate at the insignia I wore and puzzled at the same time. Suddenly it stopped and I came to with Janey crying."

"It stopped suddenly?" Astrid was very intense.

She nodded. "Why?"

"Sedreth, you grasped the blade, did you not? Forced yourself against the powers attacking you to pull it from the ground?"

"Yes."

"That was the binding. The sword. Have you inspected it yet?"

He shook his head. "I wrapped it and placed it in the Hall."

Janey suddenly looked aghast. "Is he trapped in it?"

"I don't think so," answered the Navigator. "But I don't know enough to tell and I'm not warp-sensitive in that way. Only a Librarian or a Sanctioned Psyker would be able to tell for certain, I think."

Sara shook her head. "I could tell. I would recognise that presence."

Kat looked at her. "Maybe. Incidentally, what did you mean, last time? Have you been possessed before now?" Her expression was worried, as well it might have been.

Sara smiled briefly. "On Baal. I felt the presence of the Angel Sanguinius."

"Truly?"

She nodded. "The Blood Angels were certain."

Both Kat and Astrid seemed to relax from a tension neither had openly understood. Sedreth still looked grim.

"It is risky, Sara."

"I know. But someone has to. And you can put me down at need. If you were possessed by a vengeful Primarch, all of us together couldn't even slow you down. My physiology isn't so powerful that I would be invincible. And I won't wear armour; you all will."

Janey looked mutinous. "I won't hurt you, mummy. Anyway, I should do it. I'm smaller than you; any spirit would have less to work with."

Astrid answered before she could. "No, Janey. You are a much stronger latent than your mother. Any potential psychic powers a trapped spirit could unleash would be a hundred times worse from you. And I doubt any of us would fail to hesitate when facing you. Sara is a bit less lovable. No offence, captain."

She grinned wryly. "None taken. Everyone finished their drinks? Let's be about it then."

It was huge, now she saw it up close for the first time. Even Sedreth would need two hands to properly wield the fabled blade. Standing in front of the altar, she examined it closely.

The weapon had a swept hilt formed as a ferocious flaming bird – obviously a phoenix – with the head being one quillon, facing down the blade towards an enemy, the body forming the knuckle bow, the wings the second quillon and diagonal guard, and the talons the ricasso. The craftsmanship was incredible; it appeared the phoenix was ready to fly, flaming, from the great bronze and leather hilt and attack the nearest foe. The bird was formed from a bronze-coloured alloy and chased with what recent trading experience let her recognise as different alloys of gold and platinum and cobalt, each feather and lick of flame picked out in exquisite detail.

A masterly, incredible example of the sword-smith's art, the blade itself was double-edged and pale gold in colour, carefully crafted with a double fuller on each side, each inlaid at the forte a deep, anodised cobalt blue which gradually lightened to the pallor of the blade's natural alloy at the foible. The fullers commenced a handspan from the hilt and tapered to needle-sharp points some fifteen or so centimetres from the sword-point but kept constant depth all their length. The blade's edge held a faint pattern which she recognised as being similar to the machine-produced crystalline matrix of her own powersword. Except this had supposedly been made by hand and eye alone, which was beyond astounding; no mortal could match that sort of precision, surely?

Hesitantly, she glanced at the others, took a deep breath and reached for Fireblade. It came to her hand as if born there, as long as she was tall, but balanced enough that she could, she reckoned, use it two-handed herself. It was much lighter than she had expected, just a fraction heavier than her own blade. A concealed stud lay under her index finger; she resisted the temptation. Instead she raised the sword carefully, looking along its edge.

"Morgan?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"Is it just me, or is that a blood stain on the edge? Did you cut yourself on it?" She held the weapon out and indicated. All four of the others looked at it.

"It's certainly something," said Kat. "Not just a mark either."

Sedreth took off his helmet and leaned close, sniffing suspiciously. "It is definitely blood. But none of mine. I will not hazard a supposition as to whose blood."

"It can't still be viable, after all this time?" asked Astrid nervously.

A wintry smile from the big marine. "It may be. I can smell it."

"The medical servitor should able to remove and store it safely."

"Indeed."

"You don't feel anything handling the sword?" asked Janey anxiously.

"No. It's comfortable to wield, even at that size, but there's no psychic pressure or anything."

Janey looked relieved.

Four days later they left the Isstvan system. It would be centuries before anyone landed on the third planet again, to stare at the huge monument and its long lists of names, and wonder.