Nothing happened and Sindermann heard a cry of astonishment from Jonah Aruken, who had
likewise flinched at the thunderous noise of laggard's gun. He lowered his arms and his mouth fell open in amazement at the sight before him.
Maggard still stood there, his muscled arm still holding his wide barrelled pistol aimed squarely at them.
A frozen bloom of light expanded at an infinites-imally slow pace from the muzzle and Sindermann could see a pair of bullets held immobile in the air before them, only the glint of light on metal as they spiralled giving any sign that they were moving at all.
As he watched, the pointed nub of a brass bullet began to emerge from the barrel of Maggard's gun and Sindermann turned in bewilderment to Jonah Aruken.
The Titan crewman was as shocked as he was, his arms hanging limply at his side.
AVhat the hell is going on?' breathed Aruken.
'I d-don't know,’ stammered Sindermann, unable to tear his gaze from the frozen tableau standing in front of them. 'Maybe we're already dead,’
'No, iterator,’ said Cassar from behind them, 'it's a miracle,’
Sindermann turned, feeling as if his entire body was numb, only his heart hammering fit to break his chest. Titus Cassar stood at the end of the corridor, the saint held tightly to his chest. Where before Euphrati had lain supine, her eyes were now wide in terror, her n ght hand extended and the silver eagle that had been burned into her flesh glowing with a soft, inner light.
'Euphrati!' cried Sindermann, but no sooner had he given voice to her name than her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her hand dropped to her side He risked a glance back at Maggard, but the assassin was still frozen by whatever power had saved their lives.
Sindermann took a deep breath and made his way on unsteady legs to the end of the corridor. Euphrati lay with her head against Cassar's chest, as unmoving as she had been for the last year and he wanted to weep to see her so reduced.
He reached up and ran a hand through Euphrates hair, her skin hot to the touch.
'She saved us,’ said Cassar, his voice awed and humbled by what he had seen.
'I think you might be right, my dear boy,' said SinВdermann. 'I think you might be right.'
Jonah Aruken joined him, alternating between casting fearful looks at Maggard and Euphrati. He kept his pistol trained on Maggard and said, 'What do we do about him?'
Sindermann looked back at the monstrous assasВsin and said, 'Leave him. I will not have his death on the saint's hands. What kind of beginning would it be for the Lectitio Divinitatus if the saint's first act is to kill. If we are to found a new church in the name of the Emperor it will be one of forgiveВness, not bloodshed,’
'Are you sure?' asked Aruken. 'He will come after her again,’
'Then we will keep her safe from him,’ said CasВsar. 'The Lectitio Divinitatus has friends aboard the
Vengeful Spirit and we can hide her until she recovВers. Iterator, do you agree?'
Yes, that's what to do,’ nodded Sindermann, 'hide her. Keep her safe,’
FIVE
Dark Millennium
Warsinger
Loken had not set foot on the strategium for some time, the construction of the Lupercal's Court renВdering it largely without function. In any case, an unspoken order had filtered down from the lodge members that Torgaddon and Loken were no longer to stand alongside the Warmaster and act as the Legion's conscience.
The isolated strategium platform was suspended above the industrious hubbub of the vessel's bridge, and Loken leaned over the rail to watch the senior crew of the Vengeful Spirit going about the business of destroying Isstvan Extremis.
Warriors of the Death Guard and Emperor's ChilВdren were already in the theatre of war and the enemies of the Warmaster would even now be dying. The thought of not being there to share the
danger galled Loken and he wished he could be on that barren rock with his battle-brothers, especially since Torgaddon had told him that Saul Tarvitz was down there.
The last time the Sons of Horus and the Emperor's Children had met was during the war against the Technocracy and bonds of brotherhood had been reВestablished between the Legions, formally by the primarchs, and informally by their warriors.
He missed the times he had stood in the presence of his fellow warriors when the talk had been of campaigns past and yet to come. The shared camaВraderie of brotherhood was a comfort that was only realised once it was stripped away
He smiled wryly to himself, whispering, 'I even miss your tales of "better days", Iacton.'
Loken turned away from the bridge below and unfolded the piece of paper he had discovered inside the dust jacket of the Chronicles of Ursh.
Once again he read the words hurriedly written in Kyril Sindermann's distinctive spidery scrawl on the ragged page of a notebook.
Even the Warmaster may not deserve your trust. Look for the temple. It will he somewhere that was once the essence of the Crusade.
Remembering Sindermann's words as he had been forced from the training halls by Maloghurst, Loken had sought out the book from the burnt out stacks of Archive Chamber Three. Much of the archive was still in ruins from the fire that had
gutted the chamber and put Euphrati Keeler in a coma. Servitors and menials had attempted to save as many books as they could, and even though Loken was no reader, he was saddened by the loss of such a valuable repository of knowledge.
He had located The Chronicles ofUrsh with the barest minimum of effort, as if the book had been specifiВcally placed for him to find. Opening the cover, he realised that it had indeed been left there for him, as Sindermann's note slipped from its pages.
Loken wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, and the idea of a temple aboard the Vengeful Spirit seemed laughable, but Sindermann had been deadly serious when he had implored Loken to seek out the book and his note.
It will be somewhere that was once the essence of the Crusade.
He looked up from the note and cast his eyes around the strategium: the raised platform where the Warmaster had delivered his briefings, the niches around the edge where Sons of Horus stood as an honour guard and the vaulted dome of dark steel. Banners hung along the curved wall, indisВtinct in the gloom, company banners of the Sons of Horus. He hammered his fist against his breastplate as he faced the banner of the Tenth.
If anywhere was once the essence of the Crusade it was the strategium.
The strategium was empty, and it was an emptiВness that spoke more of its neglect and its
obsolescence than simply the absence of people It had been abandoned and the ideals once hamВmered out here had been abandoned too, replaced with something else, something dark.
Loken stood in the centre of the strategium and felt an ache in his chest that was nothing to do with any physical sensation. It took him a moment to realise that there was something out of place here, something present that shouldn't be: a smell that he didn't recognise, faint but definitely hanging in the air.
At last he recognised the smell as incense, cloying, and carrying the familiar scent of hot, dry winds that brought sour fragrances of bitter blossoms. His genhanced senses could pick out the subtle aromas mixed into the incense, its scent stronger as he made his way through the strategium hoping to pinpoint its source. Where had he smelt this before?
He followed the bitter smell to the standard of the Seventh, Targhost's company. Had the lodge master flown the banner in some ritual ceremony of the warrior lodge?
No, the scent was too strong for it to be simply clinging to fabric. This was the aroma of burning incense. Loken pulled the banner of the Seventh away from the wall, and he was not surprised to find that, instead of the brushed steel of the strateВgium wall, there was the darkness of an opening cut into one of the many access passages that threaded the Vengeful Spirit.