'I have nine warriors remaining only. You are efficient killers,' he said emotionlessly. 'I will add our numbers to your own. We shall fight with you.'

'What about these?' asked Enrir, gesturing at the thralls. 'They would be useful.'

'These units lack the capacity for self-determination. They operate only under direct control of a magos,' Diort said. 'They are blessed to be so commanded, but the link has been cut. They will remain like this until issued further orders to act.'

'Let's move on before someone unfriendly reactivates them,' said Enrir.

Himmlik coughed. 'Not me, brothers. My spine's smashed. I'm not going anywhere.'

'Ah, you're not going to let a little scratch like that stop you, are you, Himmlik?' said Enrir. 'At least Flokr and Gren have the reasonable excuse of being dead for being so lazy.'

Himmlik laughed. It turned into a cough and pants of pain. 'Don't make me laugh, you bastard. I'm staying. I'm sorry. I wish I was going with you.' He pulled off his helm. His face was pale and beaded with sweat. 'I'm not dying with this pot on my head. I'll breathe free air and look into Morkai's eyes without lenses in the way. Don't tell me to put it back on, Bror.' Himmlik picked up his bolter from the floor and raised it over his head. Dark blood pumped from his wound. 'I can still shoot. If anyone comes this way, they'll have me to welcome them to Bel's halls.'

'Can we find our way back to the embarkation deck?' said Ragner. He was a superlative hunter. A question like that from him showed how lost they were.

'We can but try, brother,' said Bror. He looked at Himmlik. 'Until next winter.'

'Aye,' said Himmlik through blood-smeared lips. 'Until next winter.'

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Four

The Wolf And The Warmaster

Russ and Horus fought with the might of cosmic force unleashed. In their contest the roar of avalanches was contained, the rising of seas, the eruption of volcanoes and the birth pangs of stars.

The brothers had sparred in the past, before Horus' fall and betrayal. Those bouts had no relation whatsoever to the fight they fought in the corrupted hall aboard the Vengeful Spirit. It was not simply a matter of the situation's gravity, that they were trying to kill each other now where before they had fought in friendship. It was a question of power. Raw energy blazed around the Warmaster. Every strike of his maul thundered with otherworldly magics, his eyes shone with daemonic light Horus had been an excellent warrior before his downfall, though not so accomplished as Leman Russ. That had changed.

Loken was right, Russ thought - he could not possibly beat whatever this thing was.