'What other choice was there?' said Russ. 'Fight with me or be killed by me. This is how the Russ came to rule half of Fenris. After Alaxxes, I vowed never to be the blind executioner again. I am no dumb axe swung in another's fist. I will fight Horus.' He slapped his palm against his breast. 'But I will challenge him because I will it, not because my father says so. My brothers wished for me to remain on Terra. I have made my choice. You must make yours. I will not order you to fight him. If you would rather stay here and see what the war brings, then so be it. If you would rather return to Terra to stand with Dorn, Jaghatai and Sanguinius in the Allfather's defence, I will not stop you. Perhaps your lives may be better used there. I am no gothi. I cannot see the future.' He smiled sadly. 'But I will ask you to follow me, into the heart of the traitors' armies. Today, Ogvai Ogvai Helmschrot, I am not commanding you, but asking you to follow me into Hel. You said you would. Would you still?'

Helmschrot bared his fangs. 'There is no other answer to give. I say yes!'

'And I!' called another.

'I will also follow you.'

So they spoke affirmatively. Not one said otherwise. Russ' grim face was suffused with pride. They howled and swore wild oaths, working themselves up into a frenzy.

'Enough!' Russ said.

The howls ceased immediately. The hall fell silent.

'Then to the business of red slaughter. Thanks to Malcador's Knights Errant, we know where Horus is.'

A cartolith snapped on, bathing the dim hall in spectral light.

'The rune marks placed within the Vengeful Spirit by Bror Tyrfingr mark out its vulnerable areas for destruction, and will aid our warriors in finding their way through its halls, but they had an additional purpose l commanded Bror keep from the rest of Malcador's agents. Within each inscription was a rune of power, given to him by Kva. These markings allow us to track my brother's ship through the Underverse. At present it is here,' said Leman Russ. He thrust his spear into the hololithic map, holding the spears tip unwavering beneath a bright star, appearing to support it on the point.

Closer inspection revealed it to be a system of common type, not one but three stars: a main sequence primary, with a binary of red dwarf secondaries orbiting far out. It was a system of immense bounds, but only modest importance. It was nowhere, but close to places that mattered, the kind of system where a warlord might bide his time before launching a major attack.

'At this place, called Trisolian,' said Russ, 'we shall bring the Warmaster to heel.'

Eighteen

Eighteen

Lupercal's Bargain