She ran.

Another tremor rippled through the gantry, stronger this time, perhaps only a few levels down. Clanking footfalls followed, resonating behind her, and Persephia realised the figure was now pursuing directly. She heard the hard chankof metal slamming against metal and ducked behind a servitor. A second later there was an almighty boom and the menial exploded in a shower of bone and machine-parts.

Persephia picked up the pace. Her ears were still ringing. Death was behind her. It wore a face of iron and she couldn’t outrun it.

A hard engine growl assaulted her ears, as the sheer size of the Iron Warrior engulfed her.

The engine growl became a wet churn and then a scream as Persephia let out her death cry. She spat a torrent of blood over her clothes and then her slayer before her eyes became glassy and still.

Enemies Among Us

I

HEKA’TAN WAS LISTENING to more of the iterator’s diatribes against the Imperium and the Emperor, watching Arcadese slowly losing his cool. His mood was agitated too, but for a different reason.

‘She’s been gone too long.’

Arcadese half-turned as he heard the Salamander begin to move. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To find her.’

‘What?’ he hissed, only half hearing the iterator’s continued verbal assaults. ‘I need you to speak of Isstvan V. As a witness, your testimony is crucial.’

‘I have to find her, Arcadese.’

The Ultramarine’s face creased with confusion. ‘Why?’ He grimaced. Arcadese’s injuries had not fully healed; they would never fully heal. His bionics gave him motion but at a cost in pain. No human could bear it. For a Legionary such as the Ultramarine it left him debilitated. Even had he awoken from his sus-an membrane coma in time for the muster to Calth, Arcadese would not have gone. He was no longer a front-line trooper. Denial raged in his words and his manner but his eyes couldn’t hide it. Heka’tan saw it as easily as he did his own failings.

‘We were charged with her protection, brother. We swore an oath, both of us, in case you don’t remember. An oath of moment. I’m assuming that still means something to you.’

Arcadese straightened suddenly and for a moment Heka’tan thought he might strike him. Then he relaxed, bionics cycling down to a low hum from their agitated squeal.

‘I’m not sure what anything means, any more,’ he conceded in a low voice, not referring to his honour parchments. ‘I remember,’ he added, louder, ‘but this is our duty too.’

‘I just want to know she is safe.’

Arcadese sighed, resigned. ‘Do what you must, but when Bastion swears for Horus and we are ejected unceremoniously from its atmosphere, do not lay the blame squarely on my shoulders, brother.’ The Ultramarine’s face and demeanour changed abruptly. ‘What’s wrong with your hand?’

It was shaking, so slightly Heka’tan hadn’t realised.

‘Nerve tremor,’ he lied, ‘probably from the crash. Soon as I find the artificer, I’ll return.’

There was no time for a reply. All eyes were on Arcadese again as he took his turn to try and sway the clave. ‘I need battle, not debate,’ he muttered, totally unaware that he was about to get his wish.

II

A BLIGHTED PLAIN of ruined cities and virus-scoured landmarks scrolled before the clave-nobles in grainy panoramic. The recording had sound as well as image but was eerily quiet.

‘What do you hear?’ Arcadese asked, leaving a long pause to emphasise his point. ‘It is the sound of death. It is Isstvan III, where Horus Lupercal committed genocide and set in motion a galactic war. An entire planet destroyed by viral weaponry. Fratricide amongst the Legiones Astartes themselves, conducted on a massive scale. Only by the efforts of Captain Garro of the Death Guard, escaping on the frigate Eisenstein, is anyone alive to tell of this atrocity. No fair warning, no order to stand down. Just death.’

Arcadese signalled for the image to be shut off. He pressed his palms together. ‘These are the deeds of a dictator, one who has turned from the Emperor’s light and embraced darkness.’

The Ultramarine scowled. ‘Isstvan III was a ploy to draw out those still loyal to the Emperor and cull them in one blow. Ally with Horus, and you join forces with a madman.’

Vorkellen spoke up quickly. ‘Isstvan III was a planet in open revolt. Its lord commander was a psyker-mutant called Vardus Praal that had declared against the Imperium. It was on the orders of the Council of Terra itself that the Sons of Horus and their brother Legions were sent there.’

‘What is your point, iterator?’ asked the head high-noble.

‘That Horus was ordered to the Isstvan system by the agents of the Emperor’s will and yet it is claimed this was somehow part of the Warmaster’s plan to rid himself of internecine traitors? He was sent there,’ his gaze went to the Ultramarine, ‘ Sent. There. By Terra.’

Arcadese clenched his fists. ‘He slew billions, bombarded the surface and then unleashed his mad dog upon those warriors still loyal to the Emperor.’

‘A world in the thrall of a dangerous defector from Imperial Law, a psyker-mutant no less – a creature with the ability to affect the minds of men,’ the iterator continued. ‘We were not at Isstvan III – your fighting days were done at Ullanor, were they not?’

Arcadese didn’t answer. His teeth were clenched and he glowered.

Vorkellen went on. ‘I have testimony that a vein of disaffection ran through the Imperial forces, and that the Emperor sought to rein in the Warmaster’s pre-eminence. Certainly, his cult of personality was growing ever since the Emperor abandoned the Great Crusade. Can gods be jealous?’

‘This is idiotic,’ Arcadese pleaded to the clave. ‘These are facile notions designed to muddy the truth – that Horus committed genocide and staged a pre-emptive strike against warriors in his Legion and the Legions of his traitorous brothers that were still loyal to the Emperor.’

‘Horus only acted when forced,’ Vorkellen replied, ‘when he realised factions within his own ranks, warriors sworn loyal to him, were gathering against him, he did the only thing he could. He stopped them.’

‘And in so doing, slew thousands,’ replied Arcadese, ‘scribes, poets, imagists and iterators from the Remembrancer Order into the bargain. He is a monster.’

III

THE WORD WAS hard to use.

Monster.

Horus was still a father figure of sorts to this Legionary, Vorkellen saw it described in the anguish on the Ultramarine’s face.

He is still struggling to understand, he thought. The Emperor was a fool to send warriors such as these. They are broken soldiers, gratefully forgotten by their Legions. He has doubts, and if he has doubts… well…

‘It was your beloved master who put these men and women in danger. Sent to document the Great Crusade, to cement forever in living memory the deeds of the Emperor and his primarchs. Their deaths were a tragedy, but war, a war brought about by an absent father who failed to attend to his sons, has many casualties. It hardly makes the Warmaster a monster.’

As the Ultramarine’s face screwed up into a snarl, Vorkellen allowed himself a tiny smile. Go on then, now is the time – seal my victory.

‘What has been promised you, eh, Vorkellen is it?’ The Ultramarine couldn’t keep the venomous sneer from his lips.

‘I am merely a humble servant, here to see that my master is fairly represented.’

‘Do you honour a pact with some fell power, a concubine perhaps?’

Vorkellen’s eyes were icy. ‘You would like to crush me, wouldn’t you?’

Arcadese nodded slowly, drawing an objection from the clave that Vorkellen waved down.

‘The Emperor sends warriors when he really needs ambassadors, those who won’t embarrassthemselves in unfamiliar surroundings where a bolter and blade is of no import.’