Leman Russ and his Varagyr cut their way into the Vengeful Spirit with all the subtlety of an industrial auger applied to heart surgery. Rounds of howling never ceased, rippling across the dispersed battlefront, almost dying away before being taken up by another pack. The Vlka fell on the inhabitants of the ship without mercy, even as the Hrafnkel and the others pounded at the Vengeful Spirit from outside. Explosions rocked the vessel from within as packs chased down the breadcrumb trails of the Knights Errant's rune marks and locator beacons, tearing out crucial subsystems and setting supplies ablaze No other Legion could unleash such fury. And yet, to Bjorn, the Vlka's efforts did not seem enough to slay the giant flagship, large parts of the ship were already deserted, many halls designed for mortal use were airless or stale, dusty possessions scattered around the floor. Old blood stained the decking, suggesting that the occupants had been slaughtered, but in many of those places there was no sign of external breaching. Whatever atrocity had taken place within the hull had been perpetrated by the Sons of Horus themselves.

'Bad memories cling to this place,' said Grimnr to Bjorn. Bjorn had been warned by men who wished to be his ally that Grimnr I spoke out against him to the Lord of Winter and War. Not that Bjorn I cared. He agreed with Grimnr's supposed position, so he was surprised that the warrior spoke with him at all. It was a sign of the I apprehension that gripped the Legion. The Vengeful Spirit felt wrong.

'A lot of bad things have happened here,' the huscarl said, then I jogged ahead.

Combat came fitfully to Leman Russ' war band. The sounds of fighting diminished the further they pressed on. The thralls they encountered, they slaughtered. Occasional ambushes stabbed at them from the darkness of the ship's labyrinth. They faced Word Bearers and Alpha Legionnaires in small groups, who came at them, killed and were killed, before vanishing back into the deeps. For all that the Vengeful Spirit and the Hrafnkel had started out as siblings, they had diverged, and the differences had amplified since the betrayal by means that transcended the physical. To Bjorn it felt that the futharc runes pinned the ship's form in place, and that without them the Rout would find itself lost in a shifting maze of service corridors and shafts that doubled back upon themselves.