‘No, it still stands, but Horus has failed, according to our assessment – failed, and never even taken the field in person.’

Sanguinius gave a small shiver. The feathers of his furled wings shook.

‘No,’ he said. ‘He is coming. I know. This ends with him here, on this ground.’

Malcador’s eyes lingered on the Angel for a long moment.

Dorn stepped forwards and collapsed the projection with a hand.

‘This has yet to end. Move now and we may just as likely seal defeat as seize victory.’ He looked at the magos-emissary, his features unreadable. ‘The Phalanx remains. And we wait.’

‘For what?’ asked the Khan.

‘To see if our traitor brother has truly failed,’ said Dorn. ‘Or if we have.’

Freighter ship Antius, Jovian Gulf

Mersadie heard the shouting before she reached the cargo bays. Even through plasteel, the noise echoed down the corridor. She paused as she saw the hazard-striped door. Beside her Mori looked up. The girl was still clutching her brother’s hand. He had not stirred. The deck had lurched beneath her feet as they reached this level.

Rudderless, Nilus had said, but what else had the assault done?

Mersadie took a step towards the door. Something crashed into the other side.

‘I don’t think that we should be here,’ said Mori, taking a step back. ‘I don’t want to be here.’

Mersadie turned and lowered Noon into the girl’s arms.

‘It’s all right. It will be all right. Just keep hold of your brother and make sure he is safe.’

‘My father,’ said the girl, ‘we should find my father.’

‘Nilus has gone to the bridge to look for him,’ said Mersadie.

‘Who…’ began the girl, but another wave of impacts rang against the door into the cargo space. Mersadie took out Aksinya’s pistol. It was surprisingly light, but she was not sure how its mechanisms worked.

Her mother had tried to teach her pistol shooting in the pinnacle-born fashion of her ancestors. Mersadie had not liked it. Like most other things her family valued, it had been a source of anger and disappointment.

Mersadie worked the cocking mechanism and checked the safety. There was still blood on the rapier-style grip, she noticed.

Aksinya’s dead eyes… The shadow… The red-black blink as the shadow tore towards her…

‘We are here for you…’

She could not move. Blood had seeped into the carved bone-and-silver design behind the trigger: a half-horse half-man, rearing and drawing a bow to shoot, a centaur… a sagittar. She wrenched her head up, and the past flooded into her eyes.

The practice hall on the Vengeful Spirit looked back at her, unfolding out of memory in a waking fever-dream.

A dozen soldiers marched in. She recognised uniforms of the Imperial Army, but saw that their badges of unit and rank had been removed. And amongst them the icy, golden-eyed features of Petronella Vivar’s bodyguard. She recalled that his name was Maggard.