They do not see the falsehood of such a belief. His hand lies upon all of us, and every one of us owes him our devotion. In the depths of the warp, the Emperor's mighty soul does battle with the dark things that would break through and consume us all. On Terra, he creates wonders that will bring peace, enlightenment and the fruition of all our dreams to the galaxy. The Emperor guides us, teaches us, and exhorts us to become more than we are, but most of all, the Emperor protects,’

The Emperor protects,’ said the congregation in unison.

The faith of the Lectitio Divinitatus, the Divine Word of the Emperor, is not an easy path to follow. Where the Imperial Truth is comforting in its rigorous rejection of the unseen and the unknown, the Divine Word requires the strength to believe in that which we cannot see. The longer we look upon this dark galaxy and live through the fires of its conquest, the more we realise that the Emperor's divinity is the only truth that can exist. We do not seek out the Divine Word; instead, we hear it, and are compelled to follow it. Faith is not a flag of allegiance or a theory for debate; it is something deep within us, complete and inevitable. The Lectitio Divinitatus is the expression of that faith, and only by acknowledging the Divine Word can we

understand the path the Emperor has laid before mankind.'

Fine words, thought Sindermann: fine words, poorly delivered, but heartfelt. He could see that they had touched something deep inside those who heard it. An orator of skill could sway entire worlds with such words and force of belief.

Before Cassar could continue, Sindermann heard sudden shouts coming from the maze of corridors that led into the chamber. He turned as a panicked woman hurled the door behind him open with a dull clang of metal. In her wake, Sindermann could hear the hard bangs of bolter rounds.

The congregation started in confusion, looking to Cassar for an explanation, but the man was as nonplussed as they were.

'They've found you,’ yelled Sindermann, realising what was happening.

'Everyone, get out,' shouted Cassar. 'Scatter!'

Sindermann pushed his way through the panicking crowd to the front of the chamber and towards Cassar. Some members of the congregation were producing guns, and from their martial bearing, Sindermann guessed they were Imperial Army troopers. Some were clearly ship's crewmen, and Sindermann knew enough of religion to know that they would defend their faith with violence if they had to.

'Come on, iterator. It's time we got out of here,’ said Cassar, dragging the venerable iterator towards one of the many access corridors that radiated from the chamber.

Seeing the worry on his face, Cassar said, 'Don't worry, Kyril, the Emperor protects,’

'I certainly hope so,’ replied Sindermann breathlessly.

Shots echoed from the ceiling and bright muzzle flashes strobed from the walls. Sindermann threw a glance over his shoulder and saw the bulky, armoured form of Astartes entering the chamber. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of being the enemy of such warriors.

Sindermann hurriedly followed Cassar into the access corridor and through a set of blast doors, their path twisting through the depths of the ship. The Vengeful Spirit was an immense vessel and he had no idea of the layout of this area, its walls grim and industrial compared to the magnificence of the upper decks.

'Do you know where you are going?' wheezed Sindermann, his breath coming in hot, agonised spikes and his ancient limbs already tiring from exertion he was scarcely used to.

'Engineering,’ said Cassar. 'It's like a maze down there and we have friends in the engine crew. Damn, why can't they just let us be?'

'Because they are scared of you,’ said Sindermann, 'just like I was,’

'AND YOU ARE certain of this?' asked Horus, Pri-march of the Sons of Horus Legion and Warmaster of the Imperium, his voice echoing around the cavernous strategium of the Vengeful Spirit.

'As certain as I can be,’ said Ing Mae Sing, the 63rd Expedition's Mistress of Astropaths. Her face was lined and drawn and her blind eyes were sunken within ravaged eye sockets. The demands of sending hundreds of telepathic communications across the galaxy weighed heavily on her skeletal frame. Astropathic acolytes gathered about her, robed in the same ghostly white as she and wordlessly whispering muttered doggerel of the ghastly images in their heads.

'How long do we have?' asked Horus.

As with all things connected with the warp, it is difficult to be precise,’ replied Ing Mae Sing.

'Mistress Sing,’ said Horus coldly, 'precision is exactly what I need from you, now more than ever. The direction of the Crusade will change dramatically at this news, and if you are wrong it will change for the worse,’

'My lord, I cannot give you an exact answer, but I believe that within days the gathering warp storms will obscure the Astronomican from us,’ replied Ing Mae Sing, ignoring the Warmaster's implicit threat. Though she could not see them, she could feel the hostile presence of the Jus-taerin warriors, the Sons of Horus First Company Terminators, lurking in the shadows of the strate-gium. 'Within days we shall hardly see it. Our minds can barely reach across the void and the Navigators claim that they will soon be unable to guide us true. The galaxy will be a place of night and darkness,’

Horus pounded a hand into his fist. 'Do you understand what you say? Nothing more dangerous could happen to the Crusade,’

'I merely state what I see, Warmaster,’

'If you are wrong.

The threat was not idle - no threat the Warmaster uttered ever was. There had been a time when the Warmaster's anger would never have led to such an overt threat, but the violence in Horus's tone suggested that such a time had long passed.

'If we are wrong, we suffer. It has never been any different,’

And my brother primarchs? What news from them?' asked Horus.

'We have been unable to confirm contact with the blessed Sanguinius,’ replied Ing Mae Sing, 'and Leman Russ has sent no word of his campaign against the Thousand Sons,’

Horus laughed, a harsh Cthonic bark, and said, That doesn't surprise me. The Wolf has his head and he'll not easily be distracted from teaching Magnus a lesson. And the others?'

Vulkan and Dorn are returning to Terra. The other primarchs are pursuing their current campaigns,’

That is good at least,’ said Horus, brow furrowing in thought, 'and what of the Fabricator General?'

'Forgive me, Warmaster, but we have received nothing from Mars. We shall endeavour to make contact by mechanical means, but this will take many months,’

'You have failed in this, Sing. Co-ordination with Mars is essential.'

Ing Mae Sing had telepathically broadcast a multitude of encoded messages between the Vengeful Spirit and Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal of the Mechanicum in the last few weeks. Although their substance was unknown to her, the emotions contained in them were all too clear. Whatever the Warmaster was planning, the Mechanicum was a key part of it.

Horus spoke again, distracting her from her thoughts. The other primarchs, have they received their orders?'

They have, my lord,' said Ing Mae Sing, unable to keep the unease from her voice.

The reply from Lord Guilliman of the Ultramarines was clean and strong. They are approaching the muster at Calth and report all forces are ready to depart.'

'And Lorgar?' asked Horus.

Ing Mae Sing paused, as if unsure how to phrase her next words.

'His message had residual symbols of... pride and obedience; very strong, almost fanatical. He acknowledges your attack order and is making good speed to Calth,’

Ing Mae Sing prided herself on her immense self-control, as befitted one whose emotions had to be kept in check lest they be changed by the influence of the warp, but even she could not keep some emotion from surfacing.