As soon as the Raven Guard’s ships were far enough from the planet below to be safe from ground-based fire, they engaged their reflex shields. An innovation from the planet of Kiavahr, orbited by the home-moon of the Raven Guard, the reflex shield was a modified version of the void shields that protected most Imperial warships and installations.

A void shield worked by using the power of the warp itself to displace incoming projectiles and high-energy attacks. The reflex shield changed the modulation of the warpcores that powered the void shields, calibrating them to a much higher tolerance and turning them inwards, so that matter and energy generated by the ship was redirected instead; all forms of radiation emitted by the Raven Guard’s ships could be displaced, rendering them undetectable to scanning equipment.

The advantages of the reflex shield technology fitted well with Corax’s ethos of war, allowing Raven Guard ships to approach their targets unseen, striking swiftly and decisively before withdrawing. The low energy requirement meant that such stealth could be maintained almost indefinitely. There was, however, a serious downside to their use. By employing its void shield generators for the reflex shields, a Raven Guard vessel had no defence against physical attack and it took time to power the generators from one state to the other, leaving a ship vulnerable for several minutes with neither its cloaking field nor its energy defence fully operational, hence the swift exit from orbit.

To the augurs and scanning arrays of the Traitor bases and ships throughout the Isstvan system, the three Raven Guard ships seemed to melt away into the stars. To the naked eye they would have appeared to shimmer for a while, as the reflex shields engaged and shifted away the light reflecting from the ships’ surfaces, until eventually all such energy was being dampened and the vessels were rendered invisible.

One other problem with the reflex shield, one that Corax had unsuccessfully laboured to overcome for many years, was the low energy threshold for which it could compensate. Reactors could only be run at half power without generating too much energy to be displaced, in turn reducing top speed and blinkering the ship’s sensor capabilities. So it was that slowly, half-blind, the Avengerslipped away from Isstvan V, tracing an arc around the world until it came to its chosen heading.

The ship did not make directly for Isstvan IV, it being a doctrine of the Legion to always approach a target by an indirect route, but instead took a circuitous, zigzagging path, using a timing and distance formula devised by Corax to maximise the damping effect of the reflex shields, enough to throw off any pursuer or sensor that might somehow detect them. Corax did not believe in taking chances when it came to moving freely and unseen.

It would be several days before the Avengerwould bring Isstvan IV within range of its reduced sensor screen, and Corax took the time to review the organisation of the remnants of his Legion.

Including Branne’s companies, he had a little fewer than four thousand legionaries of varying ranks and specialisations. The majority he had formed into the ‘Talons’ – tactical companies under Agapito’s command. The survivors of the various assault platoons, along with several Dreadnought-incarcerated veterans, had been banded together into the ‘Falcons’, led by Aloni Tev. Lastly, the handful of bike squads, land speeders and aircraft crews still remaining were put together under the command of Captain Solaro An, and were given the designation ‘Hawks’.

Two days out from Isstvan V, Corax called a council of his four commanders and explained the reorganisation and reassignments that would be made once the Legion was gathered again at Deliverance.

The five of them met in Branne’s chambers, given over to the use of the primarch since his arrival on the ship. The main room was plainly decorated, the plasteel walls painted a muted blue, broken only by an armour and weapons rack on which the commander’s artisan-crafted wargear would normally hang; it was empty at the moment as every legionary in the force was permanently geared for battle, so that they even slept in their armour with a bolter in their hands.

The floor was carved with a relief of the Raven’s Guard’s device – a heraldic bird with wings and claws outstretched, surrounded by a coiled chain. Upon the symbol was a table of burnished bronze-like metal, inscribed also with the insignia of the Legion, circular in shape and with vox-thieves and display stations for a dozen attendees. The screens were dull slabs of lifeless grey at the moment, their keypads and emitters dormant while silent running protocols were in effect; every watt of energy saved might prove the difference between escape and detection.

Corax stood facing the double doors that led back to the strategium, leaning forwards with his fists resting on the table. Agapito and Aloni sat to his right, Branne and Solaro to his left. As brothers, Branne and Agapito were alike, with square jaws, heavy brows and flat cheeks. Both were from the slave-prison of Deliverance and even the augmentations and manipulations that had turned them into legionaries had not completely eradicated the somewhat sallow and pitted cast to their skin. Agapito was marked out by his fresh scar, but it was the anxious flicker that occasionally crept into his gaze that bore greater testament to the harsh experience he had suffered during the dropsite massacre.

Solaro was the youngest and had been only a child when Corax had freed Deliverance from the tyrannical grip of the Kiavahran overlords. He was pale, like the primarch, with a sharp nose and thin lips, and had an air of constant movement about him. Even as he listened to his primarch, his gauntleted fingers fidgeted on the edge of the table, tapping and scratching.

Aloni was the eldest of the four, and of entirely different complexion. Born amongst the Asiatica dustfields on Terra, his skin was darker than the others, and there was a narrowness and slant to his eyes not found in children of Lycaeus. His head was shaved bald, with many gilded service studs riveted into his scalp.

‘And what is to be my purpose, Lord Corax?’ asked Branne when he realised that he had not been assigned a command.

‘You will be my Commander of Recruits,’ Corax informed him.

‘Recruits?’ Branne did not hide his disappointment. ‘But for a quirk of chance, I would have been with you on Isstvan and Aloni or Agapito would have drawn the lot to stay with the garrison at Deliverance. I would prefer a combat command, my lord.’

‘And you have it,’ replied the primarch, leaning closer to place a hand on Branne’s shoulder guard. ‘Horus and his traitorous allies will not allow us the luxury of keeping our recruits long from the fighting.’

‘With respect, lord, I am not of a disposition to be leading Scout squads,’ said Branne.

It pained him to argue with his primarch, and he feared that perhaps pride fuelled his words, but even in the couple of days since the rescue, Branne had noticed a difference growing between those who had been on Isstvan V and those who had not. The Legion once had been bound by common experience, now it seemed that the massacre and escape was a stronger bond than the Legion, one not shared by Branne and his warriors. He wanted to prove himself worthy amongst his peers, and the thought of being left on Deliverance again to marshal recruits soured his mood.

‘Perhaps I could be the captain of your guard,’ Branne continued. ‘Since Arendi was killed at the dropsite you have yet to name a successor.’

There were chuckles from the other commanders, sharing some joke that Branne did not understand. It irked him to feel so detached from his comrades.

‘I dispensed with the pretence of an honour guard,’ said Corax, not unkindly. The primarch straightened and fixed Branne with his dark, penetrating stare and the commander expected a rebuke for his stubbornness. Instead, Corax smiled slightly.