'We go,’ she said.

'Euphrati?' said Mersadie. 'Do you really...'

Yes, Mersadie,’ she said. 'I mean it. And yes, I am sure,’

'It's a trap,’

'I don't need a vision from the Emperor to see that,’ laughed Euphrati, and Mersadie thought there was something a little sinister and forced to it.

'But they'll kill us.'

Euphrati smiled. 'Yes they will. If we stay here, they'll hunt us down eventually. We have faithful among the crew, but we have enemies, too. I will not have the Church of the Emperor die like that. This will not end in shadows and murder.'

'Now, Miss Keeler,’ said Sindermann with a forced lightness of tone. 'You're starting to sound like me.'

'Maybe they will find us eventually, Euphrati,' said Mersadie, 'but there's no reason to make it easy for them. Why let the Warmaster have his way when we can live a little longer?'

'Because you have to see,’ said Euphrati. You have to see it. This fate, this treachery, it's too great for any of us to understand without witnessing it. Have faith that I am right about this, my friends.'

'It's not a question of faith now, is it?' said Sindermann. 'It's a-'

'It is time for us to stop thinking like remembrancers,’ said Euphrati, and Mersadie saw a light in her eyes that seemed to grow brighter with every word she spoke. 'The Imperial Truth is dying. We have watched it wither ever since Sixty-Three Nineteen. You either die with it or you follow the Emperor. This galaxy is too simple for us to hide in its complexity any more and the Emperor cannot work His will through those who do not know if they even believe at all,’

1 will follow you,’ said Sindermann, and Mersadie found herself nodding in agreement.

ELEVEN

Warning

Death of a World

The Last Cthonian

SAULTARVITZ'S FIRST sight of the Choral City was the magnificent stone orchid of the Precentor's Palace. He stepped from the battered Thunderhawk onto the roof of one of the palace wings, the spectacular dome soaring above him. Smoke coiled in the air from the battles within the palace and the terrible sound of screaming came from the square to the north, along with the powerful stench of freshly-spilled blood.

Tarvitz took it in at a glance, the thought hitting him hard that at any moment it would all be gone. He saw Astartes moving along the roof towards him, Emperor's Children, and his heart leapt to see Nasicae Squad with Lucius at its head, his sword smoking from the battle.

Tarvitz!' called Lucius, and Tarvitz thought he detected even more of a swagger to die swordsman's stride. 'I thought you'd never make it! Jealous of the kills?'

'Lucius, what's the situation?' asked Tarvitz.

'The palace is ours and Praal is dead, killed by rny own hand! No doubt you can smell the World Eaters; they're just not at home unless everything stinks of blood. The rest of the city's cut off. We can't raise anyone.'

Lucius indicated the city's far west, where the towering form of the Dies lrae blazed fire upon the hapless Isstvanians out of sight below. 'Though it looks like the Death Guard will soon run out of things to kill.'

We have to contact the rest of the strike force, now,’ said Tarvitz, 'the Sons of Horus and the Death Guard. Get a squad on it. Get someone up to higher

ground,’

Why?' asked Lucius. 'Saul, what's happening?'

We're going to be hit. Something big. A vims strike,’

'The Isstvanians?'

'No,’ said Tarvitz sadly. We are betrayed by our

own,’ Lucius hesitated. The Warmaster? Saul, what are

you-'

We've been sent down here to die, Lucius. Fulgrim chose those who were not part of their grand plan,’

'Saul, that's insane!' cried Lucius. Why would our primarch do such a thing?'

'I do not know, but he would not have done this without the Warmaster's command,’ said Tarvitz. This is but the first stage in some larger plan. I do not know its purpose, but we have to try and stop

it-Lucius shook his head, his features twisted in petulant bitterness. 'No. The primarch wouldn't send me to die, not after all the battles I fought for him. Look at what I've become. I was one of Ful-grim's chosen! I've never faltered, never questioned! I would have followed Fulgrim into hell!'

'But I wouldn't, Lucius,’ said Tarvitz, 'and you are my friend. I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this. We have to get the warning out and then find shelter. I'll take word to the World Eaters, you raise the Sons of Horus and Death Guard. Don't go into the details, just tell them that there is a virus strike inbound and to find whatever shelter they can,’

Tarvitz looked at the reassuring solidity of the Precentor's Palace and said, 'There must be catacombs or deep places beneath the palace. If we can reach them we may survive this. This city is going to die, Lucius, but I'll be damned if I am going to die with it,’

Til get a vox-officer up here,’ said Lucius, a steel anger in his voice.

'Good. We don't have much time, Lucius, the bombs will be launched any moment,’

This is rebellion,’ said Lucius.

'Ves,’ said Tarvitz, 'it is,’

Beneath his ritualistic scars, Lucius was still the perfect soldier he had always been, a talisman whose confidence could infect the men around him, and Tarvitz knew he could rely on him. The swordsman nodded and said, 'Go, find Captain Ehrlen. I'll raise the other Legions and get our warriors into cover. I will speak with you again.'

'Until then,’ said Tarvitz.

Lucius turned to Nasicae, barked an order, and ran back towards the palace dome. Tarvitz followed, looking down on the northern plaza and glimpsing the seething battle there, hearing the screams and the sound of chainblades.

He looked up at the late morning sky. Clouds were gathering.

Any moment, falling virus bombs would bore through those clouds.

The bombs would fall all over Isstvan III and billions of people would die.

AMONG THE TRENCHES and bunkers that sprawled to the west of the Choral City, men and Astartes died in storms of mud and fire. The Dies Irae shuddered with the weight of fire it laid down. Moderati Cas-sar felt it all, as though the immense, multi-barrelled Vulcan bolter were in his own hand. The Titan had suffered many wounds, its legs scarred by missile detonations and furrows scored in its mighty torso by bunker-mounted cannons.

Cassar felt them all, but a multitude of wounds could not slow down the Dies Irae or turn it from its

course. Destruction was its purpose and death was the punishment it brought down on the heads of the Emperor's enemies.

Cassar's heart swelled. He had never felt so close to his Emperor, at one with the God-Machine, a fragment of the Emperor's own strength instilled in the Dies Irae.

Aruken, pull to starboard!' ordered Princeps Tur-net from the command chair. Avoid those bunkers or they'll foul the port leg.'

The Dies Irae swung to the side, its immense foot taking the roofs from a tangle of bunkers and shattering artillery emplacements as it crashed forwards. A scrum of Isstvanian soldiers scrambled from the ruins, setting up heavy weapons to pour fire into the Titan as it towered over them.

The Isstvanians were well-drilled and well-armed, and though the majority of their weapons weren't the equal of a lasgun, trenches were a great leveller and a man with a rifle was a man with a rifle when the gunfire started.

The Death Guard slaughtered thousands of them as they bludgeoned their way through the trenches, but the Isstvanians were more numerous and they hadn't run. Instead they had fallen back trench by trench, rolling away from the relentless advance of the Death Guard.

The Isstvanians, with their drab green-grey helmets and mud-spattered flak-suits, were hard to pick out against the mud and rabble with the naked eye, but the sensors on the Dies Irae