‘That is well for we talk of ancient and sacred things. If what you say is true.’
‘Insofar as it is possible to be certain, I believe it to be true,’ said Drake. ‘We found the Fist of Russ.’
The Great Wolf looked at him with what might have been contempt. ‘Insofar as it is possible to be certain?’
‘Nothing in this galaxy is certain, save for the Emperor’s Grace,’ said Drake. ‘The Fist has been lost for millennia, stolen by xenos raiders from the Temple of the Storm Wolves on Pelius, sought for thousands of years by the faithful.’
‘And now you just happened to find it?’ said Grimfang. The irony dripped from his fangs. ‘A thing that seers have claimed was no longer to be found in this universe, that all thought lost forever.’
‘We had it in our grasp,’ said Macharius.
‘You had it in your grasp,’ Grimfang said. ‘That implies you lost it.’
‘Our ship made a false jump – we were attacked by the xenos eldar. When we drove them off, the Fist was gone. They have it.’
A frown crossed Grimfang’s brow. ‘If this truly was a relic of the time of Russ it must be reclaimed.’
‘It was ancient and it bore the runes of your order. I can see that just from looking at your armour,’ said Drake. He touched his data-slate. A hololithic image of the object hovered in the air. The Space Wolves looked at it. I could sense the intensity of their scrutiny.
‘It is of the ancient times,’ said the Dreadnought. Its voice was flat, inhuman. It was the sort of voice you would have expected a Titan to have if they could speak. The accents on the words were subtly wrong, as if the speaker had first learned the use of language in a time so ancient that the words were spoken differently. ‘I remember that model. It was fashioned at the time when the primarchs walked among men.’
‘It could be faked,’ said the Great Wolf. ‘There are many such false relics.’
‘Nonetheless,’ said the Dreadnought. ‘If there is even the slightest chance it belonged to the Founder it cannot be allowed to fester in the hands of the eldar.’
Grimfang made a gesture that indicated that so much was obvious.
‘Speak on, in the Allfather’s name! How did you find this Fist when so many others have failed?’
‘The trail was long and dark. We first heard rumours on Celene nearly ten years ago. They told of a lost ship and a mad crew emerging from the warp in a place called Demetrius. I found a codex that described the Fist as a lost artefact of the heroic age of man. We tracked it and we found it.’
‘I have heard such tales before,’ said Grimfang. ‘They have never turned out to be true.’
‘You have seen what we had. You must decide for yourself the course of action you will take,’ said Macharius.
‘If it is a relic it cannot be left in xenos hands,’ said the Dreadnought.
‘It will be found again,’ said Grimfang, coming swiftly to a decision. ‘We shall find it.’
‘I wish to help,’ said Macharius.
‘Help? Us?’ said Grimfang. He sounded as though he wanted to laugh.
‘There is a fleet of xenos, an indeterminate number holding the system. Even a company of Space Wolves cannot be entirely confident of overcoming them,’ said Macharius.
‘If it takes more than a company, I have more,’ said Grimfang.
‘Time is of the essence,’ said Macharius. ‘The world is isolated by warp storms. The eldar come and go as they will, by what means we do not know. Who knows how long they will be there. I have a ship ready now and I have an army. I have a Navigator who can make the jump. And I have a debt of honour that needs to be repaid.’
I think the mention of the debt of honour swayed them more than the military reasons. It was something they understood. Their whole way of life was built on it.
‘Very well,’ said Grimfang. ‘You may accompany us.’
It should have sounded colossally arrogant; he was allowing an Imperial general to accompany his small force, but it did not. It sounded right.
‘Anyway, this tale was merely a goat staked out to get our attention. You have other reasons for wishing us here.’ He looked directly at Macharius. The Lord High Commander looked back at him.
‘The Imperium has been shattered by schism and heresy. It is time to put an end to it and reunite the realms of men under the Emperor’s banner.’
‘And you are the one to do that, are you, little man?’
‘I am the one who has been chosen to perform the task.’
‘Others have tried.’
‘I have succeeded,’ said Macharius. He was not boasting. He was making a statement. ‘Everywhere I have fought, I have ended the strife of man against man, world against world, system against system. I have ended the wars of faith and I will add new worlds to the Imperium. I have done this without your aid. I can continue to do it without your aid.’
Grimfang sniffed. He was clearly not used to being talked to in this way. There was suddenly a dangerous tension in his manner. His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he were considering springing on the Lord High Commander. ‘And yet we are here, speaking.’
Macharius looked back calmly. ‘This will be the greatest war of the newborn millennium. The Adeptus Astartes are already gathered like eagles at the edges of the struggle. They intervene as they like, where they like, when they like. They are a law unto themselves.’
‘As they have always been, as they should be,’ said Grimfang.
‘Indeed,’ said Macharius. ‘But there are times when greater coordination between our forces might prove useful. There are times when an understanding between us would be helpful. Informally, of course.’
‘We do not need to understand you,’ said Grimfang.
‘I think you do. I think there will come a time when powerful people may come to you, and the other Adeptus Astartes, carrying tales of me. I wanted you to see me for yourself, to judge me for yourself. I want you to know that I am sincere in what I do, that I wish nothing more than to rebuild the Imperium into what it should be. I want there to be no misunderstanding between us.’
Grimfang looked at him. His nose wrinkled. He sniffed the air. His eyes narrowed. I wondered if Macharius had overstepped the mark.
‘There are those who have made fortunes from the chaos. There are those who hold power because of it,’ Macharius said. ‘They do not wish to see an end to the ages of schism.’
An odd smile twisted Grimfang’s mouth. Those monstrous fangs became visible. ‘You think we might be numbered among those, do you?’
Macharius shook his head, but for a moment I wondered if he really did think that. Was it possible he saw the Space Marines even as potential disruptions in his master plan? ‘No,’ Macharius said. ‘I do not. As I have said, I want you to understand what it is I do, and why I am doing it.’
‘I think you achieved that goal,’ said Grimfang. He sounded as though, in spite of himself, he were impressed by what he saw when he looked upon Macharius.
‘There has been an age of chaos,’ said Macharius. ‘It must be seen to be ended.’
Grimfang nodded. His head was tilted to one side in contemplation. ‘And it will be,’ said Grimfang. ‘I will send a company of Wolves to watch over you. Logan Grimnar will act as a liaison. He is young and needs seasoning.’
He rose and moved to the door. The meeting was quite clearly over.
Chapter Fifteen
Helicon Blight’s vessel, The Pride of Terra, was an enormous ship, a city floating in space it seemed when I saw it, a world unto itself in many ways. In orbit over Emperor’s Glory, it docked with a number of shuttles which carried elements of Macharius’s elite Lion Guard.