For an instant, Qruze saw a flash of titanic rage in the primarch's gaze, and felt his blood run cold. That's it, you old fool, he told himself, that was a word too far. He's going to kill us both for our boldness.
Then Dorn gestured to Sigismund and his Astartes lowered their guns. 'Speak/ he told Garro. 'Tell me it all.'
Garro fought down the giddiness and pain. Dorn was so fast, even in that tonnage of armour, he was lightning. Had he intended real harm against him, Garro knew that he would never have seen it coming. With care, he swallowed and took a painful breath. 'After the bombing, I knew that I had no other choice but to do as Saul Tarvitz and I had discussed, and take a warning to Terra. With Grulgor dead, I ordered my men to secure the Eisenstein. In the interim, Captain Qruze had come aboard with the civilians.'
The remembrancers and the iterator/ said the primarch. They had been aboard Horus's flagship.'
'Aye, lord/ added the Luna Wolf. 'My battle-brother, Garviel Loken, entrusted their safety to me. The girl Keeler, she…' He paused, marshalling his thoughts. 'She suggested that Captain Garro could help us.'
'Loken,' said Sigismund. 'My lord, I know him. We met aboard the Vengeful Spirit!
Dorn glanced aside. 'What was your measure of him, first captain?'
'A Cthonian, and all that entails, with a strong spirit if a little naive. He seemed trustworthy, a man of principles.'
The primarch absorbed this. 'Continue, Garro.'
Nathaniel ignored the tension in his jaw and relayed the details of the signal sent to Typhon and the Eisenstein's pursuit by the Terminus Est, then the catastrophic voyage through the warp. There was a moment when one of Sigismund's men made a derisive noise under his breath as Garro described the freakish revivification of Grulgor's dead men, but Dorn silenced that with a hard look.
'There are stranger powers that lurk within the immaterium than we may know/ the warlord said darkly, 'but what you say tests reason even with that qualification. These things you speak of come dangerously close to primitive ideals of sorcery and magic'
The Death Guard nodded. 'I do not deny it, Lord Dorn, but you asked me to give you the truth as I saw it, and this is what I saw. Something in the warp brought Grulgor back to life, it animated his contaminated flesh through the very disease that had claimed him. Do not ask me for an explanation, sir, as I have none.'
'This is what you come to me with?' The primarch's slow anger filled the room like smoke, heavy and
dark. 'A convoluted story of treachery and conspiracy among the Emperor's sons, a collection of ill-informed opinions and rash actions made with base emotion and not cold clarity?' He advanced slowly on Garro, and it took all of Nathaniel's courage not to back away. 'If I were to have my brothers in this room right now, Mortarion, Fulgrim, Angron, Horns… what would they say of your tale? Do you think that you would even be able to draw a breath before you were struck down for such an outright fiction?'
'I know it is difficult to accept-'
'Difficult?' Dorn raised his voice for the first time and the room shook with it. 'Difficult is a winding labyrinth, or a complex skein of navigational formulae! This is against our very creed and character as the Emperor's chosen warriors!' He glared at Garro, eyes aflame. 'I do not know what to make of you, Garro! You carry yourself like an honest man, but if you are not a traitor and a deceiver then you can only be possessed by insanity!' He stabbed a finger at Qruze. 'Should I make a concession for some contagious senility perhaps? Did the warp addle your minds and create this hallucination between you?'
Garro heard the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Everything was going wrong, falling apart around him. In his rush to find a rescuer for the Eisen-stein and a way to get the message out, it had never occurred to him that he would not be believed. He looked away.
'Look at me when I speak to you, Death Guard!' snapped the primarch. 'These lies you bring into my personal chambers, they sicken and disgust me. That you would dare to say such things about a hero of such matchless character as my brother, Horus, it vexes me beyond my capacity for description!' He
placed a massive finger on the sternum of Garro's armour. 'How cheap you must hold your integrity to give it up so easily! I weep for Mortarion if a man of such low honour as you could rise to command a company of the XIV Legion.' Dorn's hand closed into a massive brass fist. 'Know this – the only reason I do not tear you limb from limb for your defamation is that I know my brothers will reserve that pleasure for themselves!'
Garro felt the decking turn to mud beneath his boots and his chest caught in an invisible vice, returning to him the same sickening sensations that he had felt in the corridor outside the navis sanctorum and in the grip of the xenos war beast. As he had there, he reached for and found the strength of will that had carried him this far.
My faith.
'Are you blind?' he whispered.
Dorn was thunder incarnate. What did you say to me?'
'I asked if you were blind, lord, because I fear you must be.' The words came from nowhere, even as some part of Garro marvelled at the mad daring of what he was saying. 'Only one struck by such a terrible ailment could be as you are. Yours is the blindness that only a brother might have: that of a keen judgement clouded by admiration and respect, clouded by your love for your kinsman, the Warmaster.'
It was not often that Rogal Dorn's stern mask cracked, but it did so now. The fury of a god made flesh erupted upon his aspect and the primarch drew his powerful chainsword in a flashing golden arc of roaring death. 'I rescind my former statement/ he bellowed, 'get to your knees and accept your death, while you still have the chance to die like an Astartes!'
'Lord Dorn, no!' It was a woman's voice and it came from across the room, but it carried with it a wave of such emotion that every man in the sanctorum, even the primarch himself, hesitated.
Qruze turned and saw the girl Keeler running across the blue marble tiles, her boots clacking against them. Behind her were Sindermann, Mersadie Oliton and a pair of Imperial Fists with their guns at the ready. Iacton felt the echo of Euphrati's voice resonate through him and he remembered the strange warmth he had felt from her hands upon his chest, aboard the Vengeful Spirit as things had turned to hell.
'What is this intrusion?' snarled Dorn, his humming blade still hanging at the end of his swing towards Garro's throat.
'They demanded entry/ said the one of the guards. 'She… The woman, she…'
'She can be very persuasive at times/ noted Qruze.
Fearlessly, Euphrati stepped forward to face the primarch. 'Rogal Dorn, Hero of the Gold, Stone Man. You stand upon a turning point in the history of the Imperium, of the galaxy itself. If you strike Nathaniel Garro down for daring to give you his candour, then you truly are as blind as he says.'
'Who are you?' demanded the figure in gold.
'I am Euphrati Keeler, formerly an imagist and remembrancer of the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet. Now I am only a vessel… a vessel for the Emperor's will.'
'Your name means nothing to me/ Dorn retorted. 'Now stand aside or die with him.'
He heard Oliton whimper and bury her face in Sin-dermann's shoulder. Qruze expected to see fear bloom on Keeler's face, but instead there was sadness and compassion. 'Rogal Dorn/ she said, holding out
a hand to him, 'do not be afraid. You are more than the stone and steel face that you show the stars. You can be open. You must not fear the truth.'
'I am the Imperial Fist/ he shouted, and the words hit like hammers, 'I am fear incarnate!'