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Stepping over ribbed pipes and cables that made his footing uneven； Kol Badar came upon a
closed room； its walls thick with a tangle of pipes and insulated wiring。 His combi…bolter tracked
around the enclosed space； registering no threats； but he saw that there was no exit from the room
bar a heavy blast…door on the far side。
Cursing； he moved swiftly towards the blast…door； but it was sealed shut。 It had been welded
fast； and deep gouges in its thick surface attested to its strength。 Clearly； the xenos creatures had
attempted to gain access through the door； but even their deadly claws； which had torn through
power armour and even the vaunted suits of Terminator armour with contemptible ease seemed
incapable of penetrating this thick bulkhead。
A chainfist would make short work of the bulkhead； but of his Anointed warriors； only Elimkhar
was equipped with one of the weapons； and he was bringing up the rear。
Set around； the Coryphaus saw that the bulk of the warriors
had already entered the room。 Only two of Khalaxis’s 17th coterie still stood； and he cursed again。
“You have led us into a dead end； First Acolyte；” barked Kol Badar。
“She is there；” said Marduk； staring resolutely towards the sealed bulkhead door。
Only Elimkhar was still moving down the long corridor； walking steadily backwards； his combibolter
firing almost constantly。 The corridor was filling with the xenos dead； but still more of the
creatures were surging forwards； throwing themselves uncaring into the deadly fire。
“Brother Elimkhar； keep moving； we need your chain…fist；” ordered Kol Badar； urging the
Anointed warrior to hurry。 “Brother Akkar； be ready to clear the corridor。”
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Brother Akkar nodded his acknowledgement of the order； and stepped towards the corridor； the
heavy barrels of his reaper autocannon extending forwards beneath his arm。
Abruptly； Brother Elimkhar’s weapon jammed； and he stared down at the suddenly silent；
overheated bolter。
“Move！” roared Kol Badar； but the strength and speed of the xenos creatures was staggering；
and the Anointed disappeared as a wave of enemies smashed over him； claws stabbing and rending。
He was dead in an instant； and Kol Badar swore again。
The reaper autocannnon of the Anointed warrior brother； Akkar； roared into life； the flame of the
mighty weapon’s muzzle flash lighting up the dark room as if it were daylight。 Hundreds of shell
casings poured from the heavy weapon as it unleashed its full power； and a constant stream of high
calibre rounds ripped up the length of the corridor； shredding everything that they struck。
Scores of the aliens were ripped apart as the shells tore through them； the high…pitched screams
of the dying aliens all but lost beneath the roaring of the autocannon’s twin barrels。
“We must go back；” shouted Kol Badar over the roar of the heavy weapon。 “There is no way
through here。”
“She is in there； I know it；” said Marduk hotly。 “There is no going back。”
“How do you propose to get through that？” snapped Kol Badar； gesturing with one of his
powered talons towards the bulkhead。
Marduk stared at the door for a moment。
“Darioq…Grendh’al；” he ordered。 “Open it。”
“As you wish； Marduk； First Acolyte of the Word Bearers Legion of Astartes； genetic
descendant of the glorified Primarch Lorgar；” said the hulking figure of the magos； stepping
forwards； his four mechanical servo arms unfolding from his back。
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CHAPTER TWELVE
Solon Marcabus trudged through the blinding snowstorm； leaning into the relentless winds that
threatened to knock him to the ground with every gust。 He stumbled as he stepped into a small drift；
sinking up to his knees。 It took all his effort to haul himself out； and he lay on his back for a
moment； catching his breath。
His eyelids flickered and closed as his breathing steadied。 It would be so easy just to drift away；
to give in to exhaustion。 He knew that to fall asleep out here unprotected was to die； but he almost
didn’t care anymore。 He would just close his eyes for a few minutes。
It had been almost a full day since they had left the dead husk of the crawler behind。 It had not
been an easy decision to try to make the starport on foot； for their chance of success was minimal；
but it was better than waiting for what the boy called ghosts return。 He was jolted from his microsleep
as he felt a hand on his shoulder； shaking him； and he looked up at the boy； Dios； who was
kneeling over him。 Through the circular goggles set into the boy’s oversized exposure suit hood； he
saw the concern in Dios’s eyes。
The boy’s face was an unhealthy blue； and his eyes gleamed feverishly。 Solon was impressed
with the boy’s stamina； and he realised that if he succumbed to the lure of sleep； he would not only
be condemning himself to death； out here； lost in the wilderness of swirling snow； the boy would not
last a day。
Nodding to the boy； Solon pushed himself painfully to his feet and continued to trudge on。 Dios
followed in his wake； walking through the furrow that Solon’s feet made； one hand holding onto
Solon’s belt。
The boy’s determination was driving Solon on； and he drew strength from Dios’s indefatigable
will to live。 He gritted his teeth and cursed his momentary weakness。 He knew that if the boy had
not been with him； he would not have woken。 He would have died out here but for the strength of a
boy no more than ten years of age。 Perhaps his body would have been buried beneath the snow；
entombed within the ice of Perdus Skylla。 Perhaps in a thousand years； erosion and wind may have
exposed his preserved corpse； and someone would have wondered what had become of him。 Why
had this man been wandering the wastes； they might have asked。
Pushing such morbid thoughts from his mind； Solon concentrated on keeping moving； each
painful step a challenge； but also a minor victory。 Just keep moving； he told himself； and he repeated
the phrase under his breath； like a mantra； just keep moving。 One step at a time。
Solon had no idea how long he had been walking when he realised that there was no longer a
small hand grasping his belt。 He turned around as quickly as the bulky exposure suit allowed him。
Dios was no longer walking in his footsteps。 The boy was nowhere in sight。
Cursing himself； Solon turned around in every direction； eyes straining to pierce the whitewash
of billowing snow and fog all around him； desperately trying to sight the boy。 He saw nothing。
Throwing his fatigue off； Solon began to backtrack； following the path he had cleared through
the snow。 It was not hard to follow； though the falling snow was already beginning to fill in his
footsteps。 In an hour； they would be gone。
He hurried back along his path； jogging heavily through the snow； stumbling several times； but
pushing himself back to his feet； his fear for the boy’s safety allowing him to plumb reserves of
strength that he didn’t know he had。
He had failed the boy； just as he had failed his son。
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Despair lent him strength； and he pushed on； slogging through the mire of snow and ice；
desperately squinting through the blinding blizzard。
At last； he saw a small； dark shape slumped in the snow； and he broke into a run as he drew
towards it。 It was covered in a light dusting of snow； and Solon prayed that he was not too late。
“You can’t be dead；” said Solon desperately； and drawing near； he dropped to his knees before
the figure of the boy。 Rolling Dios over onto his front； he looked down into eyes that were half open
and unfocused。 Dark circles surrounded the boy’s eyes； and his flesh was a sickly blue colour。
“No； no； no； no； no；” said Solon； feeling panicked and desperate。
He quickly erected his survival tent； pulling it loose from his thigh…pocket and unravelling it
before turning it into the wind； which expanded it like a balloon。 He dragged Dios’s lifeless body
into the cramped interior and ran a finger down the tent…flap； sealing it； before ripping loose the
seals of the boy’s hood； pulling it down away from his face。
Tearing his own suit away from his upper body； Solon pressed his fingers to the boy’s throat。
There was a pulse there； though it was weak and irregular； and he groaned in relief。 Solon pulled off
the insulating inner gloves from Dios’s hands； and pulled off his own gloves with his teeth。
Ignoring the throbbing pain as feeling began to return to his fingers； Solon began rubbing
warmth into Dios’s hands。 Blood was not circulating properly and the boy’s fingertips were icy to
the touch。
For an hour； Solon rubbed life back into the boy’s hands and feet； until colour had returned to
the digits； and his breathing had become steady。 The temperature in the tent had risen sharply from
their body…heat； and condensation had formed on its translucent walls。
Solon had set up his water distiller； and the trickle of purified water was now constant。 He had
filled both his water flasks； and the taste of the cold； fresh water on his tongue was like divine
nectar。 He had dribbled water into Dios’s mouth； and had felt his spirits soar as the boy swallowed
greedily。
At last； the boy had woken； and smiled weakly at Solon。 Finally satisfied that the boy was out of
immediate danger； Solo