Guilliman’s bolt shell struck. The Apostle grunted in pain. Guilliman dropped below the flames and spun, thrusting with Incandor. The blade shattered the right poleyn of the other Word Bearer’s armour and punched into his knee. The traitor stumbled and threw himself back. The defensive move, trained into instinct, spoiled his opportunity for a suicidal second attack with the athame.

Guilliman tore the gladius free of the Word Bearer’s leg and rose with his back to the wall of the splinter. The Apostle, hit in the right pauldron and sent into a spin, recovered a few yards away. His arm hung limp, and he held the athame in his left hand now.

The Word Bearers hung back, a few paces on either side of Guilliman. He held them at bay, his attention switching back and forth between them. They were still fast enough that if he shot one, he would leave himself open to a suicidal attack by the other. ‘Do you know us?’ the Apostle asked.

The markings on their armour were familiar. So was the distorted face of the Apostle. ‘Quor Vondor and Phael Rabor,’ Guilliman said.

‘Good,’ said Quor Vondor. ‘You should know the authors of your fall.’

Guilliman sniffed in contempt. ‘You are authors of nothing,’ he said. ‘You are messengers at best.’

Phael Rabor growled, but Quor Vondor looked past Guilliman to where the ragged end of the splinter marked where the Unburdened had vanished, and he smiled. ‘We are undivided,’ he said. ‘Chaos acts through us.’

‘Then it fails through you,’ said Guilliman. ‘Now let’s be done. Hurry up and die.’

‘He doesn’t realise he’s already lost,’ Quor Vondor said to Phael Rabor. The captain didn’t reply, as if unconvinced. But then he charged with a speed and confidence that belied his wounded leg. He held the athame before him. Quor Vondor attacked at the same time. He hurled the athame at Guilliman’s face.

Guilliman read how they would move before they did. His counter was so fast, it was as if he had attacked first. He crouched, and Quor Vondor’s athame passed over his head. It buried itself in the wall. Guilliman fired a sustained burst into Phael Rabor’s chest and head. The rapid concussion of shells blew his armour open like an eggshell. Still clinging to the athame, Phael Rabor took three more steps. He was dead after two.

Guilliman whirled on Quor Vondor. Eldritch lightning crackled around the Word Bearer’s hands and head. Guilliman flung Incandor. It thudded into the centre of Quor Vondor’s forehead. The Apostle went rigid. His lightning lashed out with his death spasm. It struck with flashing violet light. A bolt hit Guilliman in the chest. He bore it. He stood, immovable, until Quor Vondor’s throes ended.