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Authors: Ben Counter
Tags: Science-Fiction
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his gaze to Angron, who grunted in assent.
‘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 amusement 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.
‘If only we could join the Warmaster on the Conqueror !’ said Torgaddon. ‘Now that would be something worth seeing. Horus illuminating Angron. What would they talk about?’
‘What indeed?’ agreed Loken. There was so much Loken didn’t know, but as he pondered his unhappy ignorance, he remembered the last thing Kyril Sindermann had shouted to him as he was led away by Maloghurst’s soldiers.
‘Tarik, we have a battle to prepare for, so I want you to get everyone ready. It’s going to be a hard fight on Isstvan III.’
‘I know,’ said Torgaddon. ‘The Sirenhold. What a bloody shambles. This is what happens when you give people a god to believe in.’
‘Get Vipus up to speed as well. If we’re attacking the Sirenhold, I want Locasta with us.’
‘Of course,’ nodded Torgaddon. ‘Sometimes I think you and Nero are the only people I can trust any more. What are you going to be doing?’
‘I have some reading to catch up on,’ said Loken.
FOUR
Sacrifice
A single moment
Keep her safe
W HEREVER E REBUS WALKED , shadows followed in his wake. Flickering whisperers were his constant companions, invisible creatures that lurked just beyond sight and ghosted in his shadow. The whisperers flitted from Erebus and gathered in the shadowed corners of the chamber, a stone-walled lodge built in the image of the temple room of the Delphos where Akshub had cut his throat.
Deep in the heart of the Vengeful Spirit , the lodge temple was low, close and hot, lit by a crackling fire that burned in a pit in the middle of the room. Flames threw leaping shapes across the walls. ‘My Warmaster,’ said Erebus. ‘We are prepared.’ ‘Good,’ replied the Warmaster. ‘It has cost us a great deal to reach this point, Erebus. For all our sakes it had better be worth it, but mostly for yours.’
‘It will be, Warmaster,’ assured Erebus, paying no heed to the threat. ‘Our allies are keen to finally speak to you directly.’
Erebus stooped to stare into the fire, the flames reflecting from his shaven, tattooed head and in his armour, recently painted in the deep scarlet colours now adopted by the Word Bearers Legion. As confident as he sounded, he allowed himself a moment of pause. Dealing with creatures from the warp was never straightforward, and should he fail to meet the Warmaster’s expectations then his life would be forfeit.
The Warmaster’s presence filled the lodge, armoured as he was in a magnificent suit of obsidian Terminator armour gifted to him by the Fabricator General himself. Sent from Mars to cement the alliance between Horus and the Mechanicum of Mars, the armour echoed the colours of the elite Justaerin, but it far surpassed them in ornamentation and power. The amber eye upon the breastplate stared from the armour’s torso and shoulder plates, and on one hand Horus sported a monstrous gauntlet with deadly blades for fingers.
Erebus lifted a
‘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 amusement 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.
‘If only we could join the Warmaster on the Conqueror !’ said Torgaddon. ‘Now that would be something worth seeing. Horus illuminating Angron. What would they talk about?’
‘What indeed?’ agreed Loken. There was so much Loken didn’t know, but as he pondered his unhappy ignorance, he remembered the last thing Kyril Sindermann had shouted to him as he was led away by Maloghurst’s soldiers.
‘Tarik, we have a battle to prepare for, so I want you to get everyone ready. It’s going to be a hard fight on Isstvan III.’
‘I know,’ said Torgaddon. ‘The Sirenhold. What a bloody shambles. This is what happens when you give people a god to believe in.’
‘Get Vipus up to speed as well. If we’re attacking the Sirenhold, I want Locasta with us.’
‘Of course,’ nodded Torgaddon. ‘Sometimes I think you and Nero are the only people I can trust any more. What are you going to be doing?’
‘I have some reading to catch up on,’ said Loken.
FOUR
Sacrifice
A single moment
Keep her safe
W HEREVER E REBUS WALKED , shadows followed in his wake. Flickering whisperers were his constant companions, invisible creatures that lurked just beyond sight and ghosted in his shadow. The whisperers flitted from Erebus and gathered in the shadowed corners of the chamber, a stone-walled lodge built in the image of the temple room of the Delphos where Akshub had cut his throat.
Deep in the heart of the Vengeful Spirit , the lodge temple was low, close and hot, lit by a crackling fire that burned in a pit in the middle of the room. Flames threw leaping shapes across the walls. ‘My Warmaster,’ said Erebus. ‘We are prepared.’ ‘Good,’ replied the Warmaster. ‘It has cost us a great deal to reach this point, Erebus. For all our sakes it had better be worth it, but mostly for yours.’
‘It will be, Warmaster,’ assured Erebus, paying no heed to the threat. ‘Our allies are keen to finally speak to you directly.’
Erebus stooped to stare into the fire, the flames reflecting from his shaven, tattooed head and in his armour, recently painted in the deep scarlet colours now adopted by the Word Bearers Legion. As confident as he sounded, he allowed himself a moment of pause. Dealing with creatures from the warp was never straightforward, and should he fail to meet the Warmaster’s expectations then his life would be forfeit.
The Warmaster’s presence filled the lodge, armoured as he was in a magnificent suit of obsidian Terminator armour gifted to him by the Fabricator General himself. Sent from Mars to cement the alliance between Horus and the Mechanicum of Mars, the armour echoed the colours of the elite Justaerin, but it far surpassed them in ornamentation and power. The amber eye upon the breastplate stared from the armour’s torso and shoulder plates, and on one hand Horus sported a monstrous gauntlet with deadly blades for fingers.
Erebus lifted a
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