‘I want you off my ship,’ Guilliman said. He advanced, emptying the Arbitrator’s magazine into the monster, driving the deathless thing back, reclaiming reality inside the splinter. He measured every step, calculating his position with respect to the outer hull. The sounds of battle behind him grew quieter and more distant.

The splinter was long, many times longer than any boarding ­torpedo. Guilliman had thought of it as a dart striking the battleship. He was wrong. It was a worm that had worked its way into the body of the Samothrace. He moved deeper and deeper into the dark maw, until he reached a point where the splinter extended beyond the outer hull. He forced the Unburdened back even further, then trained the Arbitrator’s fire on the floor of the splinter. The shells blew huge rents in the material. Guilliman arced the shells from the deck to the walls, carving out a circular fissure in the shard. No longer battered by the combi-bolter, Toc Derenoth moved forwards. The Unburdened was slow at first, so much of its mass lying shredded on the deck. But darkness fed it, embraced it, and gave it rebirth. Bones re-formed. The chest sealed. The shattered jaw was whole again. The monster charged, shaking the deck. The splinter began to come apart. Toc Derenoth was a few paces away when Guilliman finished sawing through the shard. He blasted away the last of the splinter’s integrity. Metal snapped and tore. The void appeared through the gap. The fierce wind of escaping atmosphere blasted through the narrow tunnel. Guilliman stood strong against it, but Toc Derenoth stumbled.

The rear portion of the splinter fell away, carrying the Unburdened with it. The monster clung to edges of the gap, already too distant to leap. It stared at Guilliman with its white eyes. Its crocodilian jaws opened and closed, opened and closed, snapping in frustration as its prison took the Unburdened further and further into emptiness.

Guilliman turned away and marched into the wind. He was almost halfway down the length of the splinter when he realised he had misread Toc Derenoth’s reaction. The Unburdened had not been raging. It had been laughing.

Understanding came too late. He had relaxed his guard. The shadows ahead and behind parted.

Guilliman saw the dull blades in their hands, and cursed the depths of his foolishness.

Four

Four

The Lure of Revelation

‘We have been hailed,’ Stenius said when the Lion returned to the bridge, ‘by a frigate of the Tenth Legion.’

The Lion gazed at the ship visible in the oculus. ‘You’ve its identity?’

‘We have. It’s the Sthenelus. A vessel of the Eighty-fifth Clan-Company.’