Her words were seductively delivered, but cut like hot knives into his heart. 'I don't understand, who revoked my invitation?'

Coraline checked her list with an exasperated sigh. 'It says here that Captain Kaesoron revoked it under the advisement of Mistress Kynska. That's all I can tell you. Now, if you'll excuse me.'

The beautiful iterator went on her way, and Ostian was left stunned and speechless by the magnitude of Bequa Kynska's malice. He looked up from the deck in time to see her ascend the boarding ramp of a Stormbird and blow him a mocking kiss from her palm.

'That bitch!' he snapped, clenching his fists. 'I can't believe this.'

Serena placed her hand on his arm and said, 'This is ridiculous, my dear, but if you cannot go, then I shan't either. Seeing Laeran will mean nothing if you are not there beside me.'

Ostian shook his head. 'No, you go. I won't have that blue haired freak spoil this for both of us.'

'But I wanted to show you the ocean.'

'There will be other oceans,' said Ostian, struggling to keep his bitter disappointment in check. 'Now go, please.'

Serena nodded slowly and reached up to touch his cheek. On impulse, Ostian took her hand and leaned forward to kiss her, his lips brushing her powdered cheek. She smiled and said, 'I'll tell you all about it in nauseating detail when I get back, I promise.'

Ostian had watched her board the Thunderhawk before being escorted back to his studio by a pair of grim faced Army soldiers.

There, he began to attack the marble in his anger.

The tiled walls and ceiling of the medical bay were bare and gleaming, their surfaces kept spotlessly clean by the menials and thralls of Apothecary Fabius. Staring at them day and night, Solomon felt that he was losing his mind just lying here while his bones healed, unable to look at anything but their utter whiteness. He couldn't remember exactly how long it had been since his Stormbird had gone into the ocean during the final attack of the Laer atoll, but it felt like a lifetime. He remembered only pain and darkness where, to keep himself alive, he had shut down the majority of his bodily functions until the rescue craft had pulled his shattered body from the wreckage.

By the time he had regained consciousness in the Pride of the Emperor's apothecarion, Laeran had long since been won, but the cost of that victory had been damnably high. Apothecaries and medical thralls bustled up and down the deck, attending to their charges with due diligence, and fighting to ensure that as many as possible returned to full service as quickly as possible.

Apothecary Fabius had personally tended to him, and he was grateful for the attention, knowing that he was amongst the Legion's best and most gifted chirurgeons. Row upon row of cot beds was filled with nearly fifty wounded Astartes warriors, and Solomon had never thought to see so many of his battle-brothers laid low.

No one would tell him how many of his brother Astartes filled the other medical decks.

The sight made him melancholy. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible, but his strength had not yet returned, and his entire body ached abominably.

'Apothecary Fabius tells me that you will be back in the training cages before you know it,' said Julius, guessing his thoughts. 'It's just a few bones after all.'

Julius Kaesoron had been sitting next to him on a steel stool since Solomon had woken this morning, his armour gleaming and polished, the scars of war repaired by the Legion's artificers. Fresh honours were secured to his shoulder guards by gobbets of red wax, his deeds of valour recorded on long strips of creamy vellum.

'Just a few bones, he says!' replied Solomon. 'The crash broke all my ribs, both my legs and arms, and fractured my skull. The Apothecaries say it's a miracle that I'm able to walk at all, and my armour was down to its last few minutes of air when the search and rescue birds finally found me.'

'You were never in any real danger,' said Julius as Solomon painfully propped himself up in the bed. 'What was it you said? That the gods of battle wouldn't let you die on a piss-poor excuse for a planet like Laeran? Well they didn't, did they?'

'No,' groused Solomon, 'I suppose not, but they didn't let me fight in the final battle either. I missed all the fun, while you got all the glory by the Phoenician's side.'

He saw a shadow pass over Julius's face and said, 'What is it?'

Julius shrugged. 'I'm not sure. I'm just… I'm just not sure you'd have wanted to be at the primarch's side at the end. It was… unnatural in that temple.'

'Unnatural? What does that mean?'

Julius looked around, as though checking for any who might be listening, and said, 'It's hard to describe, Sol, but it felt… it felt as though the temple itself was alive, or something in it was alive. It sounds stupid, I know.'

'The temple was alive? You're right, that does sound stupid. How can a temple be alive? It's just a building.'

'I have no idea,' admitted Julius, 'but that's what it felt like. I don't know how else to describe it. It was horrible, but at the same time it was magnificent: the colours, the noise and the smells. Even though I hated it at the time, I keep thinking back to it with longing. Every one of my senses was stimulated and I felt… energised by the experience.'

'Sounds like I should try it,' said Solomon. 'I could do with being energised.'

'I even went back with the remembrancers,' laughed Julius, though Solomon could hear the confusion in it. 'They thought it was such a great honour that I accompanied them, but it was not for them, it was for me. I had to see it again, and I don't know why.'

'What does Marius make of all this?'

'He never saw it,' said Julius. The Third never made it inside the temple. By the time they fought their way through, the battle was already over. He went straight back to the Pride of the Emperor. '

Solomon closed his eyes, knowing the anguish Marius must have felt upon reaching the field of battle and discovering that victory was already won. He had already heard that the Third had failed to reach the battlefield in accordance with the primarch's meticulous plan, and knew that his friend must be suffering unbearable torments at the thought that he had failed in his duty.

'How is Marius?' he asked at last. 'Have you spoken to him?'

'Not much, no,' said Julius. 'He's been keeping himself confined to the armament decks, working his company day and night so they will not fail again. He and his warriors were shamed, but Fulgrim forgave them.'

'Forgave him?' asked Solomon, suddenly angry. 'From what I hear, the southern spur was the most heavily defended part of the atoll, and too many of his assault force were shot down on the way in for him to have had any hope of reaching Fulgrim in time.'

Julius nodded. 'You know that and I know that, but try telling Marius. As far as he is concerned the Third failed in their duty, and must fight twice as hard to regain their honour.'

'He must know that there was no way he could have reached the primarch in time.'

'Maybe, but you know Marius,' pointed out Julius. 'He thinks they should have found a way to overcome impossible odds.'

'Speak to him, Julius,' said Solomon. 'I mean it, you know how he can get.'

'I'll speak to him later on,' said Julius, rising from the stool. 'He and I are part of the delegation that is to meet Ferrus Manus when he comes aboard the Pride of the Emperor! '

'Ferrus Manus?' exclaimed Solomon, sitting bolt upright and wincing in pain as his wounds pulled tight. 'He's coming here?'

Julius pressed a hand on his shoulder and said, 'We are due to rendezvous with the 52nd Expedition within six hours, and the Primarch of the Iron Hands is coming aboard. Fulgrim and Vespasian want some of the most senior captains to be part of the delegation.'