'Morkai's breath!' cursed Bjorn. 'The Legion is dying.' Helpless, he punched the wall of the ship, leaving a bright silver dent in the cream paint.

'Can you fly a Stormbird?' asked the gunner.

'No,' admitted Bjorn.

'Then you can let me do my job, One-Handed, without distraction,' muttered the blademaker. 'We are almost there. We are almost back at the Hrafnkel.'

'That will do nothing for us,' Bjorn said. He pointed at a tiny screen showing the stem view. 'The Vengeful Spirit is pursuing!'

Horus' massive battleship was coming about. Fires burned all along the sides and spine, visible markers of the havoc the VI had wrought within, but though it had been sorely hurt by the bite of the Wolves, it was still battle capable. Ventral thrusters burning hard, it rose up and turned to starboard, bringing its bladed prow into line with the Hrafnkel's escape vector. Its ram filled the small screen. Lance turrets trained their weapons on the fleeing Vlka Fenryka's flagship. A dozen of the largest were inoperable after the raid, but too many of them remained active.

Lance fire and short-ranged particle beams stabbed from the guns. An alarm peeped as they streaked past barely a hundred metres from the Stormbird.

'They're going to destroy the flagship before we have chance to board,' said Bjorn.

His eyes scanned the void battle. No other ship could threaten the Vengeful Spirit. There was none to help them, and all the Vi's ships were fleeing in disarray powering hard for a safe jump point. 'It's going to catch us,' said Bjorn.

And then, the Vengeful Spirit abruptly turned away. A spear of fire stabbed outwards from its side. Lights flickered all over the ship as power was disrupted by the explosion.

'A final gift from wolf to wolf,' said the blademaker. 'That looks like one of the magazines.'

The Vengeful Spirit fell astern, its immense bulk quickly shrinking into the night as it wallowed helplessly.

Bjorn was so focused on the aft view that their sudden arrival aboard the Hrafnkel came as a surprise. The ship's massive hull streaked past the starboard picter, and suddenly the Stormbird was landing, engines blasting on full reverse, claws banging hard into the deck.

Every door and ramp on the ship opened. Masked kaerls and Space Marines rushed aboard, struggling to get their fallen king aboard a casualty bier.

Bjorn followed the gaggle of grim-faced men out of the Stormbird. Gunships were coming in hard into the embarkation deck. The similarities between the Hrafnkel and the Vengeful Spirit were all the more striking now Bjorn had visited both in so short a space of time, but the feeling of the Hrafnkel was completely unalike the Vengeful Spirit, a sense of soul that went beyond superficial differences.