‘I have been watching you, Vulkan. You are a fascinating subject.’

No. This was another facet to his game. As my eyes adjusted, I picked out my brother’s form, hunched and squatting like a bat at the edge of the gantry. Curze rested his chin upon his fist, his eyes unblinking as they regarded me.

It was the first time I had seen him since waking to this nightmare.

‘You joined with Horus.’

‘What gave me away? Was it the murdering of your Legion?’

‘My Legion…’ My voice wavered. I had no knowledge of what had become of my sons.

‘Destroyed, Vulkan. They’re all dead. You have no Legion.’

I wanted to kill him. I imagined making the impossible leap and wrapping my hands around Curze’s throat, squeezing until all life had left his eyes. As my fists clenched of their own volition, as my jaw locked tight, I saw the smile on my brother’s face and knew then the lie in his words.

‘No. No, they’re not. They live.’

Curze gave an amused snort.

‘Yes. They are still alive. At least, I think they are. Much diminished, though. And without you to guide them… Well, I fear for them, Vulkan. These are trying times. Our fealty has been besmirched. Our father lied to us. He lied to you. Cleave to His side or cleave open His side, those are the only roads for us now. Which one do you think the Salamanders will choose, brother? After all, you are such a pragmatic race. Honour or survival.’ Curze sucked his teeth. He was mocking me. ‘Difficult.’

‘What have you done?’

‘You sound anguished, brother.’

My teeth clenched, as the image of cradling Nemetor in my arms returned.

‘ What have you done?’

The Night Haunter leaned forwards, and the light from the lume-strips above struck the lineaments of his face, describing them in white.

‘We killed you,’ he grinned, eyes mad with glee as he remembered the slaughter. ‘Cut you down like swine. I swear, the surprise on your face was priceless.’

‘We were brothers. We arebrothers, still. Horus has gone mad.’ I shook my head, the anger bleeding away like the ice melting off my body. ‘Why?’

‘Because we were sold a false dream, by a false god. We were lied to and–’ Curze’s faked solemnity collapsed into sarcastic laughter. ‘I’m sorry, brother. I tried to maintain the facade as long as I could. I don’t care about any of that, I really don’t. You know, there is a cancer in some men. I’ve seen it. Rapists, murderers, thieves – Nostramo was overrun with them. Even when you try to stamp it out, like a disease it returns. If you’d seen what I’ve seen…’

For a moment, my brother’s gaze went to a distant place as if he were remembering, before his attention came back to me.

‘Some men are just evil, Vulkan. There is no why, it just is.Gluttony, sloth, lust, I am intimately acquainted with the sins of man. Which one do you think we were guilty of? Pride? Wrath? Was it greed that drove our father’s urge to reconquer the galaxy in his name and call it liberation? Terra just wasn’t enough.’

‘I see your sin, Curze. It’s envy.’

‘No, it isn’t. It’s the burden of knowing the future and being rendered powerless to do anything about it. I am cursed, brother. And so I must sin.’

‘And this is your justification for throwing the galaxy into turmoil? You follow a madman.’

Curze snarled, ‘I follow no one! And it was not so long ago, Horus was your brother. Are you so quick to turn your back on him? Did father make you more loyal than he or I? Are you his noble scion, Vulkan?’

I had seen Horus before he rebelled. After the Crusade had begun and we were thrown across the galaxy, twice I had met with him. I loved Horus, I looked up to him. I had planned to show my loyalty in the form of a gift, a weapon to befit his status as Warmaster. After I learned of his heroism at Ullanor, I forged a hammer. It was my finest work, craft I have not surpassed since. But I never gave it to him. Our second meeting did not go well. I sensed something of what Curze had mentioned, the ‘evil’ in some men that cannot be explained, that cannot be reasoned with or excised. Even though I could not answer then why I had withheld this boon, I did so because of the disquiet he stirred in me. I had not thought on it until that moment, and the revelation of it chilled me.

‘You betrayed us,’ I said to Curze. ‘Ferrus is dead.’ Although I could not help glance at his decaying corpse, grinning at me from the shadows.

Curze gave a wry smile. ‘Is he?’ Tapping the side of his head, he added, ‘Not in your broken mind, I think. Who is it you think you’re talking to in the darkness?’

So, he waswatching me. And listening. All the time. I wondered what he hoped to learn.

‘You are a traitor,’ I told him. ‘Roboute will not stand by and allow this.’

‘Always Guilliman, isn’t it? What is so lordly about that war-accountant? At least Russ or Jonson have passion. Roboute fights battles with an abacus.’

‘He is rival enough to defeat Horus. His Legion will–’

‘Roboute is gone! That officious little snipe is done. Don’t cling to him for rescue. Dorn won’t help you either. He’s too busy being the Emperor’s groundskeeper, hiding behind the palace walls. The Wolf is too busy cutting off heads as our father’s executioner, while the Lion holds on to his secrets, and has no special fondness for you. Who else will come? Not Ferrus, certainly. Nor Corax either. Even as we speak, I suspect he flees for Deliverance. Sanguinius?’ Curze laughed cruelly. ‘The angel is more cursed than I. The Khan? He does not wish to be found. So who is left? No one, Vulkan. None of them will come. You are simply not that important. You are alone.’

‘I’m not the one who fears isolation, Konrad.’

Curze didn’t bite. He had waited for this meeting between us, planned every word and barb. He sighed.

‘It doesn’t matter why, Vulkan. All that matters is the here and now, what happens next.’

‘And what does happen next?’ I felt no fear or trepidation, only pity for him.

‘You lasted longer than I expected, I will grant you that,’ Curze said. ‘I greatly underestimated you.’

I tried to hide my ignorance behind a mask of defiance. Curze liked to talk. He was no proselytiser like Lorgar, nor was he prone to giving speeches like Horus, but he knew how to use words and liked how the right ones induced fear and uncertainty. Of all my brothers, Curze knew the mind and how to turn it upon its owner. To him, psychology was a ready blade as damaging as any knife or gun.

I said, ‘I am still your prisoner.’

‘Yes, and in that you also surpassed all my expectations.’

Again, I had no idea of his meaning but kept the fact of that hidden. I felt his blade, probing for weakness, searching for a chink in my mental armour. He could break my body, kill me if he wished to. But for some reason, he had kept me alive. I just didn’t know why.

Curze smiled, the shape of his upturned mouth reminiscent of a hooked dagger.

‘Eleven dead, six of those were mortals.’ A slight shake of the head betrayed his sense of admiration at the gruesome deed. ‘The way you swatted that wench…’ Curze whistled then bared his teeth in the light. Their points shone like arrowheads. Curze’s unguarded pleasure revolted me. ‘She broke like a reed, Vulkan. A reed.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘And here was I thinking Corax’s claims of your strength merely boasts. Because… you arestrong, aren’t you brother? You must be to do what you did.’

‘Murder a woman? What strength does that require?’ I scowled. ‘Slaying the weak and helpless is something only you laud, you coward.’

‘Bloody-minded determination? The single-minded purpose needed to escape from an impossible prison? I’d call that strength.’

‘It’s not your prison, though. Is it?’ I said.

Curze nodded. ‘Very astute of you. You craftsmen do know how to recognise each other’s work, don’t you? It amazes me how you do it, how you can tell one rivet from another.’