Loken and Torgaddon rounded the corner of a tall, walnut-framed cabinet, seeing a scarred Astartes warrior peering intently at an immense battle-glaive that had been wrested from the hands of a xenos praetorian by the Warmaster himself.
'Welcome to the Vengeful Spirit,' said Loken.
The World Eater looked up from the weapon and turned to face them. His face was deeply bronzed, long and noble, contrasting with the bone white and blue of his Legion's colours.
'Greetings,’ he said, bringing his forearm across his armoured chest in a martial salute.
'Kharn, Eighth Assault Company of the World Eaters,’
'Loken of the Tenth,’ replied Loken. Torgaddon of the Second,’ nodded Torgaddon. 'Impressive, this,’ said Kharn, looking around him.
Thank you,’ said Loken. The Warmaster always believed we should remember our enemies. If we forget them, we shall never learn,’
He pointed at the weapon Kharn had been admiring. %fe have the preserved corpse of the creaВture that carried this weapon somewhere around here. It's the size of a tank,’
'Angron has his share of trophies too,’ said Kharn, 'but only from foes that deserve to be remembered.'
'Should we not remember them all?'
'No,' said Kharn firmly. There is nothing to gain from knowing your enemy. The only thing that matters is that they are to be destroyed. Everything else is just a distraction.'
'Spoken like a true World Eater,’ said Torgaddon.
Kharn looked up from the weapon with an amused sneer. 'You seek to provoke me, Captain Torgaddon, but I already know what other Legions think of the World Eaters,’
'We were on Aureus,’ said Loken. 'You are butchВers,’
Kharn smiled. 'Hah! Honesty is rare these days, Captain Loken. Yes, we are and we are proud because we are good at it. My primarch is not ashamed of what he does best, so neither am I,’
'I trust you're here for the conclave?' asked Loken, wishing to change the subject.
Yes. I serve as my primarch's equerry,’
Torgaddon raised an eyebrow. Tough job,’
'Sometimes,’ admitted Kharn. 'Angron cares little for diplomacy,’
'The Warmaster believes it is important,’
'So I see, but all Legions do things differently,’ laughed Kharn, clapping Loken on his shoulder guard. As one honest man to another, your own Legion has as many detractors as admirers. Too damn superior, the lot of you,’
The Warmaster has high standards,’ said Loken.
'So does Angron, I assure you,’ said Kharn, and Loken was surprised to hear a note of weariness in Kharn's voice. The Emperor knew that sometimes the best course of action is to let the World Eaters do what we do best. The Warmaster knows it too; otherВwise we would not be here. It may be distasteful to you, captain, but if it were not for warriors like mine, the Great Crusade would have foundered long ago,’ There we must agree to disagree,’ said Loken. 'I could not do what you do,’
Kharn shook his head. You're a warrior of the Astartes, captain. If you had to kill every living thing in a city to ensure victory, you would do it. We must always be prepared to go further than our enemy. All the Legions know it; the World Eaters just preach it openly,’ 'Let us hope it never comes to that,’ 'Do not pin too much on that hope. I hear tell that Isstvan III will be difficult to break,’ 'What do you know of it?' asked Torgaddon. Kharn shrugged. 'Nothing specific, just rumours really; something religious, they say, witches and warlocks, skies turning red and monsters from the warp, all the usual hyperbole. Not that the Sons of Horus would believe such things,’
The galaxy is a complicated place,' replied Loken carefully. 'We don't know the half of what goes on in it,’
'I'm beginning to wonder myself,’ agreed Kharn. 'It's changing,’ continued Loken, 'the galaxy, and the Crusade with it,’
'Yes,’ said Kharn with relish. 'It is,’
Loken was about to ask Kharn what he meant when the doors to the Lupercal's Court swung open.
'Evidently the Warmaster's conclave will begin soon,’ said Kharn, bowing before them both. 'It is time for me to rejoin my primarch,’
'And we must join the Warmaster,’ said Loken. 'Perhaps we will see you on Isstvan III?'
'Perhaps,’ nodded Kharn, walking off between the spoils of a hundred wars. 'If there's anything left of Isstvan HI when the World Eaters finish with it,’
THREE
Horus enthroned
The saint is in danger
Isstvan III
Lupercal's Court was a new addition to the VengeВful Spirit. Previously the Warmaster had held briefings and planning sessions on the strategium, but it had been decided that he needed somewhere grander to hold court. Designed by Peeter Egon Momus, it had been artfully constructed to place the Warmaster in a setting more suited to his posiВtion as the leader of the Great Crusade and present him as the first among equals to his fellow comВmanders.
Vast banners hung from the sides of the room, most belonging to the Legion's battle companies, though there were a few that Loken didn't recogВnise. He saw one with a throne of skulls set against a tower of brass rising from a blood-red sea and another with an eight-pointed black star shining in
a white sky. The meaning of such obscure symbols confounded Loken, but he assumed that they repВresented the warrior lodge that had become integral to the Legion.
Greater than all the majesty designed by the architect designate, was the Primarch of the Sons of Horns himself, enthroned before them on a great basalt throne. Abaddon and Aximand stood to one side. Both warriors were armoured, Abaddon in the glossy black of the Justaerin, Aximand in his pale green plate.
The two officers glared at Loken and Torgaddon –the enmity that had grown between them during the Auretian campaign too great to hide any more. As he met Abaddon's flinty gaze, Loken felt great sadness as the realised that the glorious ideal of the Mournival was finally and irrevocably dead. None of them spoke as Loken and Torgaddon took their places on the other side of the Warmaster.
Loken had stood with these warriors and sworn an oath by the light of a reflected moon on a planet the inhabitants called Terra, to counsel the War-master and preserve the soul of the Legion.
That felt like a very long time ago.
'Loken, Torgaddon,’ said Horus, and even after all that had happened, Loken felt honoured to be so addressed. 'Your role here is simply to observe and remind our Legion brothers of the solidity of our cause. Do you understand?'
Yes, my Warmaster,’ said Torgaddon.
'Loken?' asked the Warmaster.
Loken nodded and took his allotted position. Yes, Warmaster,’
\\e felt the Warmaster's penetrating eyes boring into him, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on the arches that led into the Lupercal's Court as the doors beneath one of them slid open. The tramp of feet sounded and a blood-red angel of death emerged from the shadows.
Loken had seen the primarch of the World Eaters before, but was still awed by his monstrous, physiВcal presence. Angron was huge, easily as tall as the Warmaster, but also massively broad, with wide hulking shoulders like some enormous beast of burden. His face was scarred and violent, his eyes buried deep in folds of angry red scar tissue. Ugly cortical implants jutted from his scalp, connected to the collar of his armour by ribbed cables. The primarch's armour was ancient and bronze, like that of a feral world god, with heavy metal plates over mail and twin chainaxes strapped to his back. Loken had heard that Angron had once been a slave before the Emperor had found him, and that his masters had forced the implants on him to turn him into a psychotic killer for their fighting pits. Looking at Angron, Loken could well believe it. Angron's equerry, Kharn, flanked the terrifying primarch, his expression neutral where his master's was thunder.