'Whose are they?'

'Can't tell yet,’

Cassar sat back in the cockpit seat and let the filaments of the Titan's command systems come to the fore of his mind once again. He engaged the Titan's targeting systems and his vision plunged into the target reticule, zooming in on the formation of gunships disappearing among the crumbling, fire-blackened ruins of the Choral City. He saw bone-white colours trimmed with blue and the symbol of fanged jaws closing over a planet.

'World Eaters,’ he said out loud. They're the World Eaters. It must be the second wave,’

There is no second wave,’ said Turnet, as if to himself. Aruken, get the vox-mast up and connect me to the Vengeful Spirit.' 'Fleet command?' asked Aruken. 'No,’ said Turnet, 'the Warmaster,’

IACTON QRUZE LED them through the corridors of the Vengeful Spirit, past the Training Halls, past the Lupercal's Court and down through twisting passageways none of them had traversed before, even

when they had been hiding from Maggard and Mal-oghurst.

Sindermann's heart beat a rapid tattoo on his ribs, and he felt a curious mix of elation and sorrow fill him as he realised what Qruze had saved them from. There could be little doubt as to what must have happened to those remembrancers in the Audience Chamber and the thought of so many wonderful creative people sacrificed to serve the interests of those with no understanding of art or the creative process galled him and saddened him in equal measure.

He glanced at Euphrati Keeler, who appeared to have become stronger since their escape from death. Her hair was golden and her eyes bright, and though her skin was still pallid, it only served to highlight the power within her.

Mersadie Oliton, by contrast, was visibly weakening.

'They will come after us soon,’ said Keeler, 'if they

are not already,’

'Can we escape?' Mersadie asked, hoarsely.

Qruze only shrugged. 'We will or we won't,’

'Then this is it?' asked Sindermann.

Keeler shot him an amused glance. 'No, you should know better than that, Kyril. It is never "it", not for a believer. There's always more, something to look forward to when it's all over,’

They passed a number of observation domes that looked out into the cold void of space, the sight only serving to remind Sindermann of just how

tiny they were in the context of the galaxy. Even the faintest speck of light that he could see was actually a star, perhaps surrounded by its own worlds, its own people and entire civilisations.

'How is it that we find ourselves at the centre of such momentous events and yet we never saw them coming?' he whispered.

After a while, Sindermann began to recognise his surroundings, seeing familiar signs scraped into bulkheads, and insignia he recognised, telling him that they were approaching the embarkation decks. Qruze led the way unerringly, his stride sure and confident, a far cry from the wretched sycophant he had heard described.

The blast doors to the embarkation deck were closed, the tattered remnants of the votive papers and offerings made to the Warmaster when his sons took him to the Delphos still fixed to the surrounding structure.

'In here,’ said Qruze. 'If we're lucky, there will be a gunship we can take,’

And go where?' demanded Mersadie. 'Where can we go that the Warmaster won't find us?'

Keeler reached out and placed her hand on Mer-sadie's arm. 'Don't worry. We have more friends than you know, Sadie. The Emperor will show me the way,’

The doors rumbled open and Qruze marched confidently onto the embarkation deck. Sindermann smiled in relief when the warrior said, 'There. Thunderhawk Nine Delta,’

But the smile fell from his face as he saw the gold-armoured form of Maggard standing before the machine.

SAUL TARVITZ WATCHED the look of utter disbelief on Captain Ehrlen's face as he took in the scale of the destruction wrought by the firestorm. Nothing remained of the Choral City as they had known it. Every scrap of living tissue was gone, burned to atoms by the flames that roared and howled in the wake of the virus attack.

Every building was black, burned and collapsed so that Isstvan HI resembled a vision of hell, its tumbled buildings still ablaze as the last combustible materials burned away. Tall plumes of fire poured skyward in defiance of gravity, fuel lines and refineries that would continue to burn until their reserves were exhausted. The stench of scorched metal and meat was pungent and the vista before them was unrecognisable as that which they had fought across only minutes before.

'Why?' was all Ehrlen could ask.

'I don't know,’ said Tarvitz, wishing he had more to tell the World Eater.

This wasn't the Isstvanians, was it?' asked Ehrlen.

Tarvitz wanted to lie, but he knew that the World Eater would see through him instantly.

'No,’ he said. 'It wasn't.'

*We are betrayed?'

Tarvitz nodded.

'Why?' repeated Ehrlen.

'I have no answers for you, brother, but if they hoped to kill us all in one fell swoop, then they have failed,’

'And the World Eaters will make them pay for that failure,’ swore Ehrlen, as a new sound rose over the crackle of burning buildings and tumbling masonry.

Tarvitz heard it too and looked up in time to see a flock of World Eaters' gunships streaking towards their position from the outskirts of the city. Gunfire came down in a burning spray, punching through the ruins around them, boring holes in the black marble of the ground.

'Hold!' shouted Ehrlen.

Heavy fire thudded down among the World Eaters as the gunships roared overhead. Tarvitz crouched at a smashed window opening beside Ehrlen, hearing one of the World Eaters grunt in pain as a shell found its mark.

The gunships passed and soared up into the sky, looping around above the shattered palace before angling down for another run.

'Heavy weapons! Get some fire up there!' yelled Ehrlen.

Gunfire stuttered up from the gaps in partially collapsed roofs, chattering heavy bolters and the occasional ruby flare of a lascannon blast. Tarvitz ducked back from the window as return fire thundered down, stitching lines of explosions through the World Eaters. More of them fell, blown off their feet or blasted apart.

One World Eater slumped down beside Tarvitz, the back of his head a pulsing red mass.

The gunships banked, spraying fire down at their position.

Tarvitz could see the World Eaters zeroing in on them as they flew back towards their position. Return fire lanced upwards and one gunship fell, its engine spewing flames, to smash to pieces against a burning ruin.

Tarvitz could see dozens of gunships, surely the whole of the World Eaters' arsenal.

The lead Thunderhawk dropped through the ruins, hovering a few metres above the ground with its assault ramp down and bolter fire sparking around the opening.

Ehrlen turned towards Tarvitz.

'This isn't your fight,’ he yelled over the gunfire. 'Get out of here!'

'Emperor's Children never run!' replied Tarvitz, drawing his sword.

'They do from this!'

No Space Marine could have survived the storm of fire that blazed away at the interior of the gun-ship, but it was no ordinary Space Marine that was borne within it.

With a roar like a hunting animal, Angron leapt from the gunship and landed with a terrible crash in the midst of the ruined city.

He was a monster of legend, huge and terrible. The primarch's hideous face was twisted in hatred, his huge chainaxes battered and stained with

decades of bloodshed. As the mighty primarch landed, World Eaters dropped from the other gunships.

Thousands of World Eaters loyal to the Warmas-ter followed their primarch into the Choral City, accompanied by the war cries that echoed Angron's own bestial howl as he charged into his former brethren.