Part 5 (1/2)

*If those are the circ.u.mstances, I will follow you,' said Polux, *but I caution you that until we knowa'

*You are familiar, I'm sure, *said Guilliman, *with the Ultramarines' concepts of theoretical and practical?'

*Yes, lord.'

*Everything is theoretical, Alexis. The rest of the Imperium, the security of Terra, the survival of my father. Macragge is the only practical. It's the only thing we know we have, and at such a time of extremity, it's the only foundation I know we can depend on.'

Alexis Polux looked as though he had much more to say on the subject. He held Guilliman's gaze, and nodded.

*Practical solutions are what matter now,' he said. *Fix me and I will fight at your command. I will fight, at the very least, to learn more of what is practical.'

*Thank you, Alexis,' said Guilliman. *I welcome whatever expertise you and your brothers can offer in the matter of improved fortification and defence. The Imperial Fists have long been renowned fora'

He stopped. He had become aware of the quiet, steady sc.r.a.pe of a whetstone against a blade.

Nearby, another Iron Hands officer waited with his men and a formation of White Scars for their opportunity to greet the primarch. Guilliman clapped Polux rea.s.suringly on his sound shoulder and moved towards them. They seemed to be the origin of the sc.r.a.ping sound.

*Eeron Kleve of the Iron Hands,' said Kleve, bowing. He and his men were shrouded from head to foot in black cloaks. Now they had returned to reals.p.a.ce, their mourning had begun.

*I am Gantulga,' said the White Scars leader, with more of a snap of the head than a bow. He had a sword, drawn and gleaming, in his left hand.

*Welcome both,' said Guilliman, clasping Kleve's hands. *Accept my offer of shelter from the storm. I hear you were several s.h.i.+ps together, Kleve?'

*A White Scars strike force and my own barge, lord,' answered Kleve. *Most of us made it through the turmoil in formation. Two vessels were lost.'

*You come to me with blade drawn?' Guilliman asked the White Scar.

*Yes, but with my other hand open,' said Gantulga, offering it to Guilliman. *We did not know what was in your light, Lord of Ultramar, so I kept one palm empty and a sword in the other.'

*What do you think of the light now?' Guilliman asked.

*I like it well enough,' said Gantulga. *It is not the trap I feared. But I marked your words to the Imperial Fist. The actions of Horus...'

He said the name like a snake-hiss, as if it burned his mouth and he wanted to spit it out.

*The actions of Horus are treachery, Lord of Ultramara'

*Heresy, I would say,' said Guilliman. *It was treachery at first. To turn against brothers, to kill for personal advancement and power. But we have seen them, seen how their minds and bodies have been corrupted. Their very belief systems have been warped. This is no longer Horus's treachery. It is his heresy.'

Gantulga nodded. *Heresy comes in many forms,' he said. *It can be blatant, like the one which now tears down the stars, but it can be subtle too, accidental. To make example, the building of a new Imperium when the old one is not yet p.r.o.nounced dead.'

Guilliman's smile was as bright and sharp as the White Scar's blade.

*I am not building my own Imperium, Gantulga. I am preserving what's left of the original.'

With his free hand, the White Scar stroked his long moustaches thoughtfully.

*Then I would make sure of your purpose, Lord of Ultramar,' he said. He sheathed his sword.

*With that blade drawn,' said Guilliman, *I thought you Scars were preparing impatiently for war.'

They could still hear the sc.r.a.ping of the whetstone. It was coming from behind their group.

*No, lord,' said Kleve. *That would be the Wolves.'

The men with Kleve and Gantulga stood aside, and the pack of s.p.a.ce Wolves was revealed. They crouched rather than bowed or knelt, hunched and huddled in their armour and pelts upon the black and white paving. One was sharpening his war-axe with long, steady strokes of the honing flat. All of them had removed their helms, but they still wore their tight leatherwork hoods and masks, fright-masks curled in perpetual snarls, worked with figures and spirals. Their eyes shone yellow *Fenrys Hjolda,' said Guilliman. *You are far from home.'

Their leader rose out of his squat, unwrapping the fur cloak he had gathered around his forearms, and allowing it to fall loose.

*Not your home, Jarl Guilliman,' he said.

*Let me know you,' said Guilliman.

*Faffnr Bludbroder,' said the Wolf, *and my pack.'

*Ten of you. A squad.'

*A pack. In fealty to Sesc Company, of the Rout, of the Vlka Fenryka.'

Guilliman glanced at the warrior sharpening the axe. Apart from Faffnr, none of the Wolves had risen or shown any deference.

*That axe looks sharp enough to me, brother,' said Guilliman.

*No axe can ever be too sharp,' the man replied without looking up.

*Bo Soren,' Faffnr growled. *Ask forgiveness for your tongue.'

The Wolf looked up at Guilliman. He bared his teeth.

*I recognise my failing and will be sure to correct it,' he said.

Faffnr looked at Guilliman. *Bo Soren can be insolent,' he said, unapologetically.

*Bo Soren is a s.p.a.ce Wolf,' said Guilliman.

*You make a good point, jarl,' said Faffnr.

*Of all today's visitors, you intrigue me most.'

*Are we not welcome to your hall, Jarl Guilliman?' asked another of the men.

*Hush your noise, Herek,' said Faffnr.

Biter Herek let out a low, bubbling growl.

*You are all welcome to my hall, Faffnr Bludbroder. What intrigues me is that everyone else sought a safe haven. From the flight data of your vessel, I see that Macragge was your intended destination.'

*It was.'

*We rode out the storm to get here,' said Biter Herek.