The Horus Heresy: Vengeful Spirit

‘What do you mean?’ asked Fulgrim.

‘I mean that some of the oldest Dwellers came from Molech, and they remember the Emperor’s first appearance on their world.’

‘First?’ said Fulgrim.

Mortarion gripped Silence tightly. ‘He had been there before? When?’

‘If I’m interpreting the dreams of the dead right, then our father first set foot on Molech many centuries, or even millennia before the wars of Unity. He came in a starship that never returned to Earth, a starship I believe now forms the heart of the Dawn Citadel.’

‘The Dawn Citadel… I remember that,’ said Fulgrim. ‘Yes, there was an ugly, cannibalised structure of ship parts at the end of a mountain valley! The Lion built one of his sombre castles around it did he not?’

‘He did indeed,’ said Horus. ‘The Emperor needed a starship to reach Molech, but didn’t need it to get back. Whatever He found there made Him into a god, or as near as makes no difference.’

‘And you think whatever that was is still there?’ said Fulgrim with heady anticipation. ‘Even after all this time?’

‘Why else leave the planet so heavily defended?’ said Mortarion. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

Horus nodded. ‘Through Arthis Varfell, I learned a great deal of Molech’s early years, together with what the four of us did there. Some of it I even remembered.’

‘The Emperor erased your memories of Molech?’ said Abaddon, forgetting himself for a moment.

‘Ezekyle!’ hissed Aximand.

Abaddon’s outrage eclipsed his decorum, his choler roused as he sought to vent his anger. Beyond him, the stars were out, casting a glittering light over Tyjun. Stablights from patrolling aircraft swept the city. Some close, some far away, but none came near the skeletal structure of the dome.

‘No, not erased,’ said Horus, overlooking his First Captain’s outburst. ‘Something so drastic would quickly result in a form of cognitive dissonance that would draw attention to its very existence. This was more a… manipulation, the lessening of some memories and the strengthening others to overshadow the gaps.’

‘But to alter the memories of three entire Legions,’ breathed Fulgrim. ‘The power that would require…’

‘So, it’s to Molech then?’ said Mortarion.

‘Yes, brothers,’ said Horus, spreading his arms. ‘We are to follow in the footsteps of a god and become gods ourselves.’

‘Our Legions stand ready,’ said Fulgrim, febrile anticipation making his body shimmer with corposant.

‘No, brother, I require only Mortarion’s Legion for this war-making,’ said Horus.

‘Then why summon me at all?’ snapped Fulgrim. ‘Why insult my warriors by excluding them from your designs?’

‘Because it’s not your Legion I need, it’s you,’ said Horus, spearing to the heart of Fulgrim’s vanity. ‘My Phoenician brother, I need you most of all.’

Aximand’s ocular filters dimmed as a stablight swept through the buckled struts of the dome. Stark shadows bowed and twisted.

Everyone looked up.

The dark outline of an aircraft rose up beyond the dome, its engines bellowing with downdraft. A blizzard of broken glass took to the air. Glittering reflections dazzled like snow.

‘Who the hell’s flying so close?’ said Abaddon, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare. More noise, fresh stablights from the other side of the dome.

Another two aircraft.

Fire Raptors. Horde killers that had made their name at Ullanor. Coated in non-reflective black. Hovering, circling the dome. Icons on their glacis shone proudly after months of being obscured.

Silver gauntlets on a black field.

‘It’s Meduson!’ shouted Aximand. ‘It’s Shadrak bloody Meduson!’

Three centreline Avenger cannons roared in unison. Braying quad guns on waist turrets followed an instant later.

And the Dome of Revivification vanished in a sheeting inferno of orange flame.

3

The game was called hnefatafl, and Loken found himself in the presence of a Titan he’d never expected to see again, much less be sat opposite. He’d met primarchs before, had even talked to some of them without making a fool of himself, but the Wolf King was another entity altogether. Primal force bound to immortal form, elemental fury woven around a frame of invincible meat and bone.

And yet, of all the post-human demigods he had met, Russ gave the impression of being the most human.

Until ten hours ago, Loken been ensconced within a lunar biodome on the edge of the Mare Tranquillitatis. Since returning from the mission to Caliban, he’d spent most of his time tending to the gardens within the dome, seeking a peace that remained forever out of reach.

Iacton Qruze had brought Malcador’s summons, together with his bare, steeldust grey armour, but his fellow Knight Errant had not joined him on the Stormbird to Terra, claiming he had heavy duty elsewhere. The Half-heard had changed markedly since their time together aboard the Vengeful Spirit, becoming a sadder, but wiser man. Loken was not sure if that was a good thing or not.