'Do your best, Mai.’ Horus said. 'Delay that woman at least. Give me breathing space.’

'I'll get to it.’ Maloghurst said. He rose and limped from the chamber.

Horus turned to the assembled circle and sighed. 'So...' he said. The Lion calls for me. Alpharius too.’

'And other brothers and numerous expeditions.’ Sanguinis remarked.

'And it seems my wisest option is to return to Terra and confront the Council on the issue of taxation.’

Sanguinius sniggered.

'I was not wrought to do that.’ Horus said.

Then we should consider the interex, lord.’ said Erebus.

EREBUS, OF THE Word Bearers Legion, the XVII, had joined them a fortnight earlier as part of the contingent brought by Varvaras. In his stone-grey Mark IV plate, inscribed with bas-relief legacies of his deeds, Erebus was a sombre, serious figure. His rank in the XVII was first chaplain, roughly equivalent to that of Abaddon or Eidolon. He was a senior commander of that Legion, close to Kor Phaeron and the primarch, Lorgar, himself. His quiet manner and soft, composed voice commanded instant respect from all who met him, but the Luna Wolves had embraced him anyway. The Wolves had historically enjoyed a relationship with the Bearers as close as the one they had formed with the Emperor's Children. It was no coincidence that Horus counted Lorgar amongst his most intimate brothers, alongside Fulgrim and Sanguinius.

Erebus, who time had fashioned as much into a statesman as a warrior, both of which duties he performed with superlative skill, had come to find the Warmaster at the behest of his Legion. Evidently, he had a favour to crave, a request to make. One did not send Erebus except to broker terms.

However, on his arrival, Erebus had understood immediately the pressure laid at Horas's door, the countless voices screaming for attention. He had shelved his reason for coming, wishing to add nothing to the Warmaster's already immense burden, and had instead acted as a solid counsel and advisor with no agenda of his own.

For this, the Mournival had admired him greatly, and welcomed him, like Raldorus, into the circle. Abaddon and Aximand had served alongside Erebus in numerous theatres. Torgaddon knew him of old. All three spoke in nothing but the highest terms of First Chaplain Erebus.

Loken had needed little convincing. From the outset, Erebus had made a particular effort to establish good terms with Loken. Erebus's record and heritage were such that he seemed to Loken to cany die weight of a primarch with him. He was, after all, Lorgar's chosen mouthpiece.

Erebus had dined with them, counselled with them, sat easy after hours and drunk with them, and, on occasions, had entered the practice cages and sparred with them. In one afternoon, he had bested Torgaddon and Aximand in quick bouts, then tallied long with Saul Tarvitz before dumping him on the mat. Tarvitz and his comrade Lucius had been brought along at Torgaddon's invitation.

Loken had wanted to test his hand against Erebus, but Lucius had insisted he was next. The Mournival had grown to like Tarvitz, their impression of him favourably influenced by Torgaddon's good opinions, but Lucius remained a separate entity, too much like Lord Eidolon for them to warm to him. He always appeared plaintive and demanding, like a spoilt child. 'You go, then.’ Loken had waved, 'if it matters so much.’ It was clear that Lucius strained to restore the honour of his Legion, an honour lost, as he saw it, the moment Erebus had dropped Tarvitz with a skillful slam of his sword.

Drawing his blade, Lucius had entered the practice cage facing Erebus. The iron hemispheres closed around them. Lucius took up a straddled stance, his broadsword held high and close. Erebus kept his own blade extended low. They circled. Both Astartes were stripped to die waist, the musculature of their upper bodies rippling. This was play, but a wrong move could maim. Or kill.

The bout lasted sixteen minutes. That in itself would have made it one of the longest sparring sessions any of diem had ever known. What made it more remarkable was die fact that in that time, mere was no pause, no hesitation, no cessation. Erebus and Lucius flew at one another, and rang blows off one another's blades at a rate of three or four a second. It was relentless, extraordinary, a dizzying blur of dancing bodies and gleaming swords that rang on and on like a dream.

Abaddon, Tarvitz, Torgaddon, Loken and Aximand closed around the cage in fascination, beginning to clap and yell in thorough approval of the amazing skill on display.

'He'll kill him!' Tarvitz gasped. 'At tiiat speed, unprotected. He'll kill him!'

'Who will?' asked Loken.

'I don't know, Garvi. Either one!' Tarvitz exclaimed.

Too much, too much!' Aximand laughed.

'Loken fights the winner.’ Torgaddon cried.

'I don't think so!' Loken rejoined. 'I've seen winner and loser!'

Still they duelled on. Erebus's style was defensive, low, repeating and changing each parry like a mechanism. Lucius's style was full of attack, furious, brilliant, dextrous. The play of them was hard to follow.

'If you think I'm taking on eimer of them after this.’ Loken began.

'What? Can't you do it?' Torgaddon mocked.

'No.'

'You go in next.’ chuckled Abaddon, clapping his hands. We'll give you a bolter to even it up.'

'How very humorous, Ezekyle.’

At the fifty-ninth second of the sixteenth minute, according to the practice cage chron, Lucius scored his winning blow. He hooked his broadsword under Ere-bus's guard and wrenched the Word Bearer's blade out of his grip. Erebus fell back against the bars of the practice cage, and found Lucius's blade edge at his throat.

'Whoa! Whoa now, Lucius!' Aximand cried, triggering the cage open.

'Sony.’ said Lucius, not sorry at all. He withdrew his broadsword and saluted Erebus, sweat beading his bare shoulders

A good match. Thank you, sir.'

'My thanks to you,' Erebus smiled, breathing hard. He bent to pick up his blade. 'Your skill with a sword is second to none, Captain Lucius.’

'Out you come, Erebus.’ Torgaddon called. 'It's Garvi's turn.’

'Oh no.’ Loken said.

You're the best of us with a blade.’ Little Horus insisted. 'Show him how the Luna Wolves do it.’

'Skill with a blade isn't everything.’ Loken protested.

'Just get in there and stop shaming us.’ Aximand hissed. He looked over at Lucius, who was wiping his torso down with a cloth. 'You ready for another, Lucius?'

'Bring it on.’

'He's mad.’ Loken whispered.

'Legion honour.’ Abaddon muttered back, pushing Loken forward.

That's right.’ crowed Lucius. Anyway you want me. Show me how a Luna Wolf fights, Loken. Show me how you win.’

'It's not just about the blade.’ Loken said.

'However you want it.’ Lucius snorted.

Erebus stood up from the corner of the platform and tossed his blade to Loken. 'It sounds like it's your turn, Garviel.’ he said.

Loken caught the sword, and tested it through the air, back and forth. He stepped up into the cage and nodded. The hemispheres of bars closed around him and Lucius.

Lucius spat and shook out his shoulders. He turned his sword and began to dance around Loken.

'I'm no swordsman.’ Loken said.

Then this will be over quickly.’

'If we spar, it won't be just about the blade.’

'Whatever, whatever.’ Lucius called, jumping back and forth. 'Just get on and fight me.’

Loken sighed. 'I've been watching you, of course, the attacking strokes. I can read you.’

'You wish.’

'I can read you. Come for me.’

Lucius lunged at Loken. Loken side-stepped, blade down, and punched Lucius in the face. Lucius fell on his back, hard.

Loken dropped Erebus's sword onto the mat. 'I think I made my point. That's how a Luna Wolf fights. Understand your foe and do whatever is necessary to bring him down. Sorry, Lucius.’