I felt a little thrill of delight at his phrasing. In the past tense; he already assumed that Calas and his ships were no longer here. It was then that my confidence became overconfidence, for my mouth ran away from my brain a little.

  ‘I would be happy to send you our scan records of their fleet – they were in quite some poor repair, Sar Corswain,’ I offered enthusiastically, cursing myself even as the last syllables left my lips. I tried to counter my own direction of travel immediately. ‘Though I would not wish to delay you here any longer than necessary.’

  ‘Delay?’ exclaimed Corswain. ‘No, Sar Luther, we can make use of a little time here, if your lighters are ready to move supplies to the outer system for us.’

  In the uttering of those words my apprehension became grave misgiving: for every minute Corswain’s fleet remained in the system, the greater the likelihood that the Death Guard would be discovered. Even so, there was nothing more I could say without raising suspicion.

  ‘Of course,’ I told the seneschal. ‘Ships are already on their way.’

  ‘Good,’ said Corswain. I thought he was going to cut the link but he did not. After a few seconds he continued. ‘It has been a long time, Sar Luther. You would be most welcome to join me aboard the Wrath’s Descent. We have a great deal to discuss.’

  I was just formulating a polite decline to the offer when Corswain’s expression hardened and he leaned closer to the lens of his vidcaster.

  ‘For instance, Sar Luther, I am very eager to hear why it is that you are at Zaramund and not still on Caliban as commanded,’ he said sternly.

  I felt like I had been slapped, his tone not accusing, but certainly one used to address a subordinate. I thought him an over-promoted Paladin, but I was mistaken. I understood then that Corswain had grown well into his rank, and truly I was no longer second in the eyes of the Legion.

  The Death Guard were of no use, dormant and defenceless, so I had to continue the performance as long as possible.

  ‘My pleasure, Sar Corswain,’ I replied.

  To comply with the necessity of meeting Corswain in person I moved the Faithful Servant out to his fleet with the victualling flotilla. Astelan and Lord Cypher were both repetitive in their attempts to discuss the manoeuvre with me, but I gave them no time for audience. I was in no mood to entertain their distracting politics. There was another there that I could not rightly refuse, however.

  Typhon had insisted on being aboard during the subterfuge, having despatched Vioss back to the Terminus Est. I alone knew of his presence, for he was hidden in my quarters. I was in no doubt that should anything go awry, the First Captain of the Death Guard would ensure I suffered ill consequences before any other, and he had made it clear that he had particular pacts with powers of which we were mutually aware to see his will enacted even after death.

  It felt ignominious to once again be second player, treated like an inferior by warriors that should have held me as their equal but did not simply because I was not as surgically altered as them. Their physical superiority automatically created within their minds a certainty of moral and intellectual superiority that was undeserved. It was this inequality that had in part driven me to even the balance with the aid of the warp.

  ‘Heed my warning, Luther,’ Calas told me when I relayed to him my need to meet Corswain in person. ‘Whether from this realm or the next, I will avenge myself against any who has broken oaths to be my brother. I am becoming something far greater than what you see, and you too can harness that power.’

  I had some inkling of what he meant from my studies and practices, hesitant though they had been. The warp was energy unlimited, if one could tap into it the correct way. I had focused on minor sorceries, small tricks of the mind to distract or persuade, as well as honing my summoning. Yet I had glimpsed the magnitude of the power that was there to grasp if one was willing to risk all.

  ‘Your threats are redundant,’ I told him. ‘If Corswain suspects anything then my life is already forfeit, and any admittance to my collusion would end with similarly bad consequences. I am already fearful of his mood regarding my departure from Caliban and can only hope that pragmatism and immediate necessity erase any desire for further censure.’

  ‘There are worse fates than death,’ he told me grimly. ‘And after death too…’

  I absorbed this in silence. Calas said nothing, but appeared in deep thought, or perhaps listening to some voice to which I was deaf. After a few seconds, the First Captain’s mood lightened.

  ‘You think that the powers I speak of are distant, but they are not, Luther,’ Calas assured me. ‘They wait for you, eager to have you as their champion. One act of dedication, a true acknowledgement of your allegiance, will set free your ­nascent potency.’

  He presented me with a dagger, sized for a legionary but not too big for my grasp. The handle was rusted metal, the blade shimmering like an oil slick, not quite present. I did not take it at first, until he stepped forward and pressed it into my palm. My gloved fingers closed around the handle and it felt cold in my grasp.

  ‘This blade can slay anything,’ the Death Guard said solemnly. ‘It is a lifebane, deadly against even a warrior of the Legiones Astartes. Perhaps even a primarch. Alone with Corswain, one thrust and you will signal the powers of the warp of your undying devotion. The act will not go unprotected nor unrewarded. There are greater things than starships in the void of space. As all eyes draw towards Terra, let them alight on you for a brief moment and the future of Caliban will be assured.’

  I took the proffered sheath for the blade, which seemed plain enough, and strapped it to my belt. Looking at the dagger one more time, holding back my revulsion, I considered his words. Slipping the knife into its home, I nodded my acquiescence.

  ‘We stand upon the brink of greatness,’ Calas declared, lifting a fist to his chest. ‘Know that Horus is only the key to unlocking the gates of immortality, he need not be your master. The powers we serve would have us each do as we desire, freed from slavery not indentured to another false lord.’

  I found his words reassuring, and we spoke for the remaining time before the rendezvous on the nature of those powers and my own observations around them. He was forthcoming at times, oddly reticent at others, but in the hours we passed on the journey to the Wrath’s Descent I renewed both our friendship and my dedication to our shared cause.

  I left Astelan in command of the ship, trusting him just a little more than the Lord Cypher. Neither was really in any position to betray me, for the same reasons I could not turn traitor on Calas. All of us were guilty of a conspiracy against the Lion, the Emperor and the Legion, and all would be found equally guilty in the eyes of the seneschal.

  I was escorted to Corswain’s quarters, not so much under suspicion but certainly treated as a wayward cousin who might wander again. I still had my sword and pistol with me, and the lifebane, so they did not consider me a physical threat. However, my welcome from the seneschal was equally stiff.

  ‘I do not know the details of why you were sent to Caliban from Sarosh,’ he began, without even a greeting. ‘I do know that when you were returned there after the campaign in this system, the Lion was most explicit in his compulsion against you.’

  He offered no seat or drink, though there were both in his quarters. Seeing him in full regalia was an imposing sight, with the pelt of a Calibanite beast across one shoulder, his plate much marked in battle, his skin scarred like chipped stone rather than flesh. There was an energy about him that was very potent, and reminded me much of the Lion when he was keeping his frustration in check.

  On a screen behind him was a display I recognised immediately as the Zaramund System. It was a live-feed from the strategium. A subpanel showed the dispositions of my battle-barge and the resupply lighters and I assumed the ever-increasing detail on the main screen was accumulating surveyor data from the fleet.

  How long until one of the Dark Angels vessels detected something amiss: either a Death Guard ship floating in the void or one of my transports hidden among the many civilian vessels in and around the main shipyard?

  I was about to begin my answer, which I had prepared and rehearsed with myself several times, when he continued, a note of anger entering his voice.

  ‘More importantly, I would know why you denied me the ships and warriors I needed,’ he growled. He turned and pointed to the system schematic on the wall. ‘I see among your fleet the Spear of Truth but have had no word from Belath. Where are my damn reinforcements, Luther?’

  I felt the coldness of the lifebane at my hip, but knew I could not yet strike. Even with his back to me, Corswain would sense my attack before it landed, and I would be dead within moments. I recalled that he was one of the Legion’s greatest bladesmen, and I was long out of practice.

  I had not expected to be confronted quite so forcefully, but I did not allow doubt to enter my thoughts. I replied smoothly, as though my interrogation was entirely natural and deserved, but of little concern. I knew that this was a difficult moment, one which at best might see me stripped of my command and my ships, and at worst would end with my death. If I was to retain both lifeblood and resources, I had to spin a tale better than any other before.

  ‘The warp is a dangerous place, and journeys across it are uncertain,’ I said, which was of no novelty to Corswain as I could see from his deepening frown reflected on the screen. ‘Though Belath came to me with the ships, it was after a voyage fraught with terrible encounters and setbacks as only a veteran of Caliban can imagine. A quest of the most legendary kind.’

  As I spoke my natural animation returned but I was careful not to over-elaborate, lest I be caught out in the lie later. Always bear as close to the truth as possible, changing the least to make events fit your own narrative.

  ‘We welcomed news of the continuing war and set about preparing the embarkation of your reinforcements. Before the ships set out we were in a terrible quandary.’ I dredged my memory for pertinent details to sprinkle through the fabrication. ‘Belath had departed from Argeus but we had no reliable information of your movements afterwards. It seemed unwise to send out the transports fully laden with warriors but with no certain destination. They were as likely to run into foe as friend, more likely it seemed. We needed to find some way to gain a bearing on your whereabouts. Astropaths are no good in this storm, so we thought perhaps we needed genuine sightings. An armada does not pass through a system without remark.’

  I left the explanation open, an invitation for Corswain to speak. If he asked further questions I was in a rough tangle, but if he accepted what I had said, I foresaw easier riding ahead.

  ‘You came to Zaramund to look for me?’ he said, both asking a question and accepting my account as he turned back to me. I was still in the depths of the woods but now I could see several paths out.

  ‘It seemed a logical place to start, given its proximity to both Argeus and Caliban,’ I said evenly, meeting his gaze for a few seconds. ‘When the Death Guard arrived I feared we had made a terrible misjudgement, putting ourselves directly into harm’s way. Yet your imminent arrival no doubt spared us the worst of their attentions.’

  Corswain replied only with a grunt and returned to his study of the system scans. I wondered if there was something there that already betrayed me and he was simply luring me into a self-confession.

  I took a couple of paces closer, nonchalant, and still not yet close enough to attack with confidence. I trusted that his armour would be no barrier to the insubstantial lifebane, but needed to be absolutely certain he could not dodge the blow. The moment I thought he disbelieved me, I would have to make my move, for there would be no time if he regarded me as a threat.

  ‘I cannot see the transports,’ Corswain said quietly. ‘Do I need to travel to Caliban to fetch my legionaries?’

  ‘They are not here,’ I answered, eluding the question as best I could. I advanced another couple of strides, my hand moving to the hilt of the lifebane. Its weight dragged at me, making me acutely aware of its presence. Now I was sure I could strike the deadly blow. Beyond the Space Marine’s bulk the screen continued to fill with runes and notations, as data flooded through the systems of the Wrath’s Descent. I knew vaguely where the Death Guard were hiding, spread out to avoid detection, and the joint surveyor boundary was creeping ever closer.

  I realised that it was a matter of hours if not minutes before they would be discovered. The plan would fail.

  ‘I can see that they are not here,’ said the seneschal.

  He started to turn.

  Now was my moment. The blade in my hand, driving towards his midriff under the arm. Seal the pact and embrace the powers of the warp.

  Yet instead I lifted my hand from the hilt and crossed my arms. I would not plunge into that bargain on such terms, cornered and afraid. If I had wanted to wage war on the Dark Angels I would have sided with Calas and attacked without need for infernal assistance.

  My wits and my words had always served me well, and to them I turned rather than rely on the vagaries of the warp.

  ‘You can see that our facilities are ready to provide refit before you continue to Terra,’ I said amiably, stepping past the giant warrior. I made a few adjustments, concentrating the view on the docks around Zaramund itself, and lifted a finger to indicate open dock spars on the screen. ‘Had I known you were coming we could have cleared more space.’

  ‘What refit?’ Corswain looked at the screen and then back to me, searching for an answer.

  ‘I assumed you would be continuing after the traitors,’ I said, feigning confusion. ‘Horus has gathered his forces for the last attack. The transports will be coming from Caliban, of course, now we are sure Zaramund is safe. It might take some time, with the storms, and there are enemy flotillas everywhere.’

  Corswain’s eyes narrowed and I wondered if he sensed my misdirection. It was time to seal my fate, one way or the other, and I drew on everything I had learned about the seneschal. Loyal and obedient, but his greatest desire would be to reunite with his primarch.

  ‘I would be sure the Lion makes all speed for the defence of the Throneworld, if not there already,’ I continued. ‘I know I have been out of favour for a long while, but I was his gain-brother, nobody knows him better than I do. He would not shun an opportunity to confront Horus directly.’

  I could see Corswain’s gaze slide back to the screen, his expression calculating, lips moving a little in thought. I resisted the temptation to speak further. Sometimes you need to let your opponent think their way into the position you desire rather than forcing the issue. It was as if I could track the internal debate with each flick of his gaze and clench of his jaw, first one way and then the other.

  ‘We do not have time for refit, the enemy could be at Terra already,’ he said eventually.

  When you have your opponent where you want, give them no room to escape but also be certain they will not change their mind.

  ‘I cannot say how soon the reinforcements will arrive,’ I said, spreading my hands in apology. ‘The moment they do, I will lead them to Terra myself.’

  I tried not to tense. Had I gone too far? Would the reminder of the reinforcements persuade him to stay longer?’

  No. He would sooner lose a limb than be delayed any longer than necessary, now that I had laid before him the dual prospect of reuniting with the Lion and confronting Horus’ attack. Even so, I needed insurance that he would not surprise me again. A thought occurred to me as I watched the flickering runes on the display panel.

  ‘One of my Librarians has something of a talent for reading the warp,’ I said. ‘Vassago. It was he that foresaw your arrival and forecast Typhon’s departure for Terra.’

  ‘Typhon?’ Corswain said sharply, focusing on me. I realised my misstep and tried to stay calm. As I’ve said before, it takes a very cool nerve to lie to a Space Marine. One’s biology has a tendency towards betrayal. I was again aware of the icy touch of the lifebane at my waist. Riskier than before, but it was there if I needed it. Just as I tried to make no indication of guilt, I was acutely aware of making no movement that might appear hostile. Corswain would react before thought, as would any Space Marine.

  ‘Our readings picked up a vessel that I recognised as the Terminus Est,’ I explained languidly, forcing a smile. ‘I regarded her captain as an ally in happier times, in this same star system.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Corswain. He scrutinised me for several seconds. The lifebane’s chill touch throbbed against my skin. ‘You fought beside Typhon here.’

  ‘Vassago,’ I repeated. ‘He may be of help tracking the enemy to Terra. At least, another warp seer would not be a burden, I hope. And of course, take such warriors from my ship as I can spare, to bolster your own strength.’

  ‘Whatever assistance you can give,’ said Corswain, but he was already distracted, his thoughts moving away from Zaramund to a far more important confrontation. I could see he was now eager for me to be gone, the lure of glory at Terra and the call to action thrumming along his warrior nerves.

  ‘I will send what forces I can spare,’ I assured him. He grunted his assent and turned to the screen, presenting his broad back for a final time.

  ‘I will have you escorted back to your gunship,’ he said.

  In a few seconds the doors would open and there would be no chance to use the lifebane. I had engineered a fragile solution, but still the promise of Calas lingered in my thoughts. A sign of my devotion. The unleashing of my potential. The favour of dark gods. There was a life beyond this moment to consider.

  All I desired could be mine with a single stroke of a blade.

  I turned and walked to the door, bidding Corswain farewell.

  ‘What became of the lifebane?’ demanded Nahariel. ‘And what has this to do with Alldric?’

  Luther had relaxed during his telling, having moved to his knees like a supplicant. He looked up, as if seeing the Supreme Grand Master for the first time, so lost had he been in his recollection.

 

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