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The vast tide of the Triumph moved slowly by behind me。 Other figures had detached themselves from the procession and stood
nearby； paying silent homage to the admiral。
'Eisenhorn？'
I looked round； the voice breaking my reverie。 An elderly but powerful navy officer stood before me； splendidly austere in his white
dress jacket。
'Madorthene；' I said； recognising him at once。
We shook hands。 It had been a few years since I'd seen Olm Madorthene … Lord Procurator Madorthene； as he was now。 We'd first met
at Gudrun during the Necroteuch affair when he had been a mid…ranking officer in the Battlefleet Disciplinary Detachment； the navy's
military police。 Now he ran that detachment。 He'd been a useful and reliable ally over the years。
'Quite an event；' he said； with a reserved smile。 Outside； the horns of the immense Titans blared again and the noise from the crowd
swelled。
'I find myself sufficiently humbled；' I said。 'The Warmaster must be loving it。'
He nodded。 'Uplifting； good for public morale。'
I agreed； but in truth my heart was not in it。 It wasn't just the overwhelming cacophony of it； or my deep…seated reluctance to be here
at all。 Since Ravenor and I had stepped out to take our place in the Triumph； I had nursed a sense of foreboding that was growing with
each passing minute。 Was that what had made me pause here； under the great arch？
'There's a look on your face；' said Madorthene。 'This isn't really your thing； is it？'
'I suppose not。'
'What is it； old friend？'
I paused。 Something…
I strode back to the south arch of the Spatian Gate and looked back down the huge river of the Triumph。 Madorthene was with me。
The Warmaster's retinue was just then beginning to pass under the Gate。 Cymbals and horns clashed and blared。 The noise of the
crowd boomed in like a tidal wave surging down。
There were petals in the air。 I remember that clearly。 A blizzard of loose petals gusting up from the flowers the crowd was strewing。
A formation of twelve Lightnings was swooping in low from the south； coming down the length of the Triumph parade； following the
Avenue of the Victor Bellum。 Coming towards the Gate。 They were in line abreast； the tips of their forward…swept wings almost
touching。 A display of perfect formation flying from the Battlefleet's best pilots。 Sunlight glinted on their canopies and on the raked
double…vanes of their tailplanes。
The sense of foreboding I had felt now became oppressively real。 It was like heavy clouds had passed in front of the sun。
'Olm； I—'
'Emperor's mercy！ He's in trouble； look！' Madorthene cried。
The fighters were half a kilometre from the Gate； moving at a high cruising speed。 The left hand wingman suddenly wobbled；
bucked…
…and veered。
The flier directly inside of him pulled hard to avoid a collision； and his starboard wing clipped the wingtip of the next Lightning in
line。 There was a bright puff of impact debris。
One by one； like pearls coming off a necklace； each aircraft was knocked out of the formation。 The once…sleek line broke in utter
disarray Madorthene hurled me to the ground as the jets shrieked overhead； rattling the world with their afterburners。
The two that I had seen strike each other were spinning in the air； somersaulting like discarded toys； splintering trails of metal scrap
behind them。 In the confusion； it seemed to me as if several others had also accidentally collided。
One Lightning； over ten tonnes of almost supersonic metal； cartwheeled down and went into the crowd on the west side of the
Avenue。 It bounced at least once； showering human debris into the air。 At its final impact； it became a massive fireball that belched up
a blazing mushroom cloud a hundred metres into the air。 Shock and berserk panic filled the crowd。 The stench of flame and heat and
promethium washed over me。
There was a flash and the ground shook as a second stricken Lightning spiralled in under the shadow the Gate。 Then； almost
simultaneously； a third and louder blast came as a third aircraft； sent lurching out of control； sheared off a wing on the top corner of
the Spatian Gate itself； right above us； and began tumbling down； end over end。
In the face of this calamitous accident； the soldiers in the Triumph were scattering in all directions。 I dragged Madorthene back in
under the arch as shattered chunks of the stricken aircraft avalanched down。
A catastrophe。 A terrible； terrible catastrophe。
And it was just beginning。
SIX
DOOM COMES TO THRACIAN。
CHAOS UNSLIPPED。
HEADSHOT。
EVEN AT THAT stage； gripped by horror and outrage； I knew that a great hollow part of me deep in my soul could not； would not
believe that this had simply been a tragic accident。
There were fire and explosions all around； mass panic； screaming。
And another sound。 An extraordinary low moaning； a swelling； surging susurration that I realised was the sound two billion people
make when they are panicking and in fear for their lives。
The crowds had spilled over onto the Avenue； quite beyond the measure of the arbites to contain them； fleeing both the dreadful crash
sites and the fires； and also the imagined risk that to stand still somehow invited more Imperial warcraft to fall upon their heads。
The crowd moved as one； a fluid thing； like water。 There was no decision making process； no ringleader。 Mass instinct simply
compelled the people who swamped the vast street； in awful； trampling tides； overwhelming the ranks of the Triumph； much of which
was already breaking up in shocked dismay。 There was no sound of music any more； no cheering； no drums or sirens。 Just a braying
insanity； a world turned on its head。
I saw people die in their hundreds； trampled underfoot or crushed in the sheer press of bodies。 In some cases； the dead were so
squeezed by their neighbours； they were carried along for many metres before being freed to slither to the ground。
I saw troopers from the retinues； and arbites； firing into the crowd in terror before they were run down。 Barricades collapsed。
Standards swayed and toppled。 Walkways over the drain canals alongside the Avenue cracked and fell in； spilling hundreds down into
the rockcrete trenches。
I'd lost sight of Madorthene in the pandemonium。 I tried to push out from the arch into the sunlight； but fleeing bodies slammed into
me。 The entire approach to the Spatian Gate was a mass of twisted wreckage and fire from the impact high above。 Several dozen
guardsmen lay twisted and dead amid the wreckage； killed by falling metal and stone； their dress uniforms dusted white with
powdered aethercite or scorched by fire。
Through the sea of screaming humanity； I could see several of the massive aurochotheres stampeding out of control； rearing up；
shaking their riders from their backs； trampling into the multitude。 Lifeless bodies were tossed high into the air by their swishing tails。
I managed to slide along the outer edge of the gate until I could look north； towards the distant Monument of the Ecclesiarch。 Right
along the wide Avenue； the scene was repeated。 The procession of the Triumph was overrun by the sheer numbers of the terrified
public。
There was fire too； great plumes of it； rising from the crowd spaces on either side of the road in three places and on the Avenue of the
Victor Bellum itself； about seven hundred metres beyond the Gate。 It also seemed to me that fire also rose from other open areas
beyond the next spire； off the roadway into the artisans' quarter。 By my estimation； at least five more of the stricken Lightnings had
fallen from the sky； ripping into the mass of the citizenry teeming in panic on the Avenue。
Soot and ash fogged the air。 Distantly； above the milling nightmare of bodies； I could see the vast shapes of the Titans； turning on their
metal hips； hesitant； as if utterly confused。
I doubt I saw the other Lightnings before anyone else。 But I was transfixed。 They were all I could see。 There were four more of them；
presumably the only survivors of the disastrous flyby。 They had turned； and were sweeping back down the Avenue。 Their formation
was nothing like as precise or pretty as it had been just before the accident。
But they were much lower。 And much faster。
And I knew what that meant； for I had seen it before。
An attack run。
Emperor spare me； my heart almost stopped as I saw the insane intention taking shape before me。
I screamed out something； but it was futile。 One voice against two billion。
Streams of tracer rounds spat from the heavy cannons under their noses。 Wing…mounted lascannons sparkled soundlessly。
Two went low over the crowd； slaughtering thousands。 The other two followed the Avenue itself； raking the Great Triumph。
The destruction was extraordinary； as if invisible； white…hot ploughs had been set into the sea of bodies； slicing long； straight；
explosive furrows out of the Imperial citizenry below。 Or as if some fast…moving； burrowing force was scattering them from below。
Stippled lines of explosions sawed through the populace； casting up both human and mechanical wreckage。 There was an actual fog of
liquefied tissue in the air。 I saw tanks struck on the highway； detonating in the mob。 Hundreds of Guarsdmen and Space Marines in the
rained cavalcade opened fire into the air； chasing the p