Below him, the river of molten rock beckoned and thrust Vulkan back to his potentially fatal present.

How could he fail? What would his people think of him if this pallid outsider beat him?

Vulkan clung to the drake hide by its long tail. As it drifted in the hot vapours emanating from the lava trench he knew he had to sacrifice his pride for the sake of his life. He was about to loosen his grip when he heard a cry from across the craggy mountain summit.

“Vulkan!”

Peering through a thickening belt of smoke, Vulkan saw the hazy outline of the stranger in the distance. The Outlander was bounding over the rocks towards him. Over his shoulder was the largest drake hide Vulkan had ever seen. He blinked back the stinging sensation in his eyes, trying to be sure it wasn’t just a mirage caused by exhaustion and the sulphurous air.

The hide in Vulkan’s defiant grasp was huge, but this… this was massive. It easily eclipsed that of the Nocturnean and suddenly Vulkan’s pride felt all the cheaper because of it.

Moving swiftly, the Outlander hoisted the immense pelt from his back and cast it into a vast lava pool that stood between him and the rocky outcrop where Vulkan was clinging on. Bridging the bubbling morass with the hide, the Outlander leapt across and landed on the other side. Rushing to the edge of the precipice, he thrust his hand down and seized Vulkan’s wrist.

“Hold on…”

In a feat of incredible strength, the stranger lifted Vulkan to safety, drake hide and all.

Exhausted, they lay upon the barren rock for a time before the Outlander rose and helped Vulkan to his feet.

In the distance, the lava pool had claimed the Outlander’s mighty prize.

“We can’t go back that way,” he said, with no hint of remorse.

Vulkan clapped the Outlander’s shoulder, feeling some of his strength returning.

“You saved my life.”

“If you hadn’t clung on as long as you did I might not have been afforded the opportunity to do so.”

Vulkan looked to the lava pool where the last remnants of the drake hide were gradually being consumed.

“You could have returned to the town as champion.”

“At a cost of my opponent’s life? What kind of hollow victory would that have been?”

Swollen flakes of ash were clouding the air and the breeze brought with it the stench of burning. It promised fire to come.

“The mountain is not yet done,” Vulkan said. “It may erupt again. We should go back to Hesiod.”

The Outlander nodded and the two of them began the long climb back down the mountain.

CELEBRATION GREETED VULKAN upon his return. The entire township, together with the chieftains and emissaries of the other six settlements of Nocturne, had gathered to witness the conclusion of the tournament.

N’bel was amongst the first to see his son back safely. Though he was not quite the hulk of a man he used to be, the black-smiter embraced Vulkan fiercely.

“You did it, boy. I knew you would.” He turned, his arm sweeping across the buoyant crowd behind him. “All of Nocturne hails you.”

The shouts of his name echoed loudly in Vulkan’s ears. Tribal kings came forwards to greet him and bask in his reflected glory. Bellows of affirmation and fealty rang out alongside the vigorous applause of the throng. Only the Outlander was still and quiet, his gaze on Vulkan. But there was no judgement, no quarrel in his eyes. He just watched.

Ban’ek, the tribal king of Themis, came to the front of the crowd and bowed approvingly at the tournament champion.

“A worthy trophy,” he said, gesturing to the drake scale hide still slung over Vulkan’s shoulder. “You will look noble indeed with it as your mantle.” Vulkan had almost forgotten it was there. “No,” he uttered simply. Ban’ek was nonplussed. “I don’t understand.” Vulkan shook his head. “All of this, your adulation and acclaim, it is underserved.” He took the hide from off his shoulder and presented it to the Outlander.

N’bel reached out to his son to stop him, but was waved away. “Vulkan, what are you doing?”

“To sacrifice pride for the sake of a life, that is true nobility.” He met the Outlander’s gaze and strangely found approval in his fathomless eyes. “This honour belongs to you, stranger.”

“Humility and self-sacrifice go well together, Vulkan,” he replied. “You are everything I hoped you would become.” It was not the response Vulkan had expected, not at all. His face creased in confusion. “Who are you?”

“WHY ARE you looking at me like that?”

Verace was sitting across from Vulkan, his face half swallowed by the shadows of the command tent.

Inside in the gloom, the primarch’s eyes were burning coals. It gave him an intensity most humans found difficult to look upon; most humans apart from the remembrancer in front of him.

“You don’t have a scratch on you.”

“Is that unusual?”

“For someone in a war zone, yes.”

“You are unscathed.”

Vulkan laughed in mild amusement and looked away. “I am different.”

“How?”

He turned to face the insouciant human, his humour deteriorating with his rising annoyance.

“I am…”

“Alone?”

Vulkan’s brow furrowed as if he was contemplating a problem to which he couldn’t see the solution. He was about to answer when he decided upon a different tack.

“You should fear me, human, or at the least be intimidated.”

Vulkan came forwards and clenched his fist just a hand’s width from the remembrancer’s face. “I could crush you for your insolence.”

Verace appeared unmoved by the apparent threat.

“And will you?”

The angry grimace of Vulkan’s face faded and he backed away to seethe. When he spoke again, his voice was thick and husky. “No.”

A strange silence fell between them, with neither man nor primarch breaking the deadlock. In the end, Vulkan said, “Tell me again what the obelisk looks like.”

The searching look on Verace’s face disappeared and he smiled before his eyes narrowed, remembering. “It is not an obeliskas such, but more like an arch as if it were part of a gate.” He described it in the air with his hands. “See? Do you see, Vulkan?”

“Yes.” His voice was not as self-assured as he’d intended. “What of the defenders? How would you gauge their strength?”

“I’m not a warrior, so any tactical appraisal I could provide would likely be of small use.”

“Try anyway.”

“I am curious as to why I am explaining this to you in person and not one of your captains.”

Vulkan growled, “Because they do not possess my patience. Now, the aliens’ strength…”

Verace bowed his head curtly to apologise. “Very well. The eldar are concentrated in number around the arch. Many more than were protecting the node. I saw… witchestoo and more of the reptilian beasts. The quadrupedal ones were the first to hunt us down. Rookeries fill the upper canopy, several times in excess of those I’d seen previously. There are larger beasts as well, though I had little time to study them what with all the running.”

“More comprehensive than I would’ve given you credit for,” Vulkan conceded. He shook his head.

“I confound you, don’t I,” said Verace.

“You escape a massacre unharmed and speak of your ordeal as if it were nothing. You address a primarch like you are speaking to a colleague in your order. Yes, your actions are unusual. There are bodies everywhere, not just soldiers but some of the natives too.” In the aftermath of the battle, Army scouts had discovered even more dead tribespeople who’d been caught in the vicious crossfire. The sight of the slain girl-child privately disturbed Vulkan still, and he’d ordered all of the native dead to be treated with the same care and respect as the Legion’s own.