phantom until our swords had struck。 Now he was frozen； glaring between the crossed blades at me。
The renegade's armour was ragged and filthy； and ornate with warp…signs。 His inquisitorial rosette was displayed； incongruously； on
his right shoulder guard。 It revolted me to see it worn amongst such corruption。
His ancient face was a misshapen； pustular horror。 Rudimentary antlers bulged from his brow。 His skin was dark like granite。
Wheezing augmetic cables and implants bulged at his throat and under the dirty head…cloth he wore。 His eyes were shining balls of
blood。
In honesty； he was a disappointing little monster compared to the notion of him that had built up in my mind。 But there was no
denying his inhuman strength and speed。
Eisenhorn； he said。 It was psychic。 His twisted mouth didn't open。
Barbarisater felt him move before I did。 It lurched in my hands。 In the time it takes to draw a breath； we had exchanged a flurry of
twenty or more blows。 The talon…edged blade of Kharnager rang dully off the Carthaen steel。 Barbarisater's pentagrammatic runes
flashed and flared with discharging energy。 Kharnager groaned softly。
Heretic！ Slave of Chaos！ his raw； broken mind…voice railed in my brain。
You speak of yourself！ I returned。 Our blades continued to ring off one another； hunting for a gap； mutually denied。
Why would you try to end my work here if you were not a minion of the warp？
Your work？ This thing？
We broke； and then came in again； blades striking so fast the noise became one long ringing tone。 I barely made an ulsar in time to
stop one of his rapid down…stabs。 He blocked my response of a tahn wyla； and the uru arav that I followed it with。
This is just the test； the prototype。 Once the trials with it are conducted； then my work will flower！
You carve up a mountain… for a prototype？ A prototype of what？
The pylons of Cadia pacify the warp； he spat。 By amplifying them using extreme…level psykers； they could be made into a weapon。 A
weapon to destroy the warp！ A weapon to collapse the Eye of Terror in upon itself！
He was raving； insane。 What patches of truth or sane notions might lurk in his words； I had no idea。 There was no way to distinguish
them from his lunatic fancy。 All I knew was that a pylon； psychically super…charged； might do all manner of things； but its side…effects
would be catastrophic。 It could lay waste to the continent； the planet。
I think； and here lay the true horror of it； I think Quixos knew that。 I think he considered that to be an acceptable price to pay； just as
he had considered the atrocity on Thracian a necessary cost to obtain a psyker of such peerless quality as Esarhaddon。 What other
abominations had he caused in acquiring the others？
As Grumman had said； just before his death； this simply had to be stopped。
I looked at his face。
This was where radicalism led。 This was the true face of one who had reached the place and crossed the line。 This was the obscene
reality behind Pontius Glaw's jaunty glorifications of Chaos。
We rained blows at each other； drawing sparks and little curls of vapour from the blade edges。 I tried a low swing； but he leapt over it；
and alternated a series of scissoring blows that drove me backwards across the dusty ground。 I thought my feet would slip。 He was a
whirlwind。
I saw my moment。 Barbarisater saw it too。 A slight underswing on his blade return that opened a gap for a sar aht uht； a slice to the
heart； just for a microsecond。
I thrust in； putting all my will into the blade。 Somehow； dazzlingly； he still managed to turn Kharnager and block me。
Barbarisater struck the daemonsword and broke in half。
And it was the ultimate failure of the ancient Carthaen blade that gave me victory。 If it had stayed intact； the block would have stopped
it and the fight would have continued。
Breaking around Quixos's sword…edge； the truncated half of Barbarisater in my hand continued on； with all my mustered force behind
it； until the broken end plunged through his cloak； his body armour； his augmetic implants and ran him through the torso。
The ewl caer。
It took almost equal force to break the suction of his flesh around the blade and rip it out。
Quixos staggered backwards； polluted blood spurting from the wound； his augmetics shorting out and exploding。
Then he fell to the dusty floor of the undervault； and became dust himself； until there was nothing left but rotting augmetic devices
and empty armour twisted under his lank cape。
Heretic！ his mind screeched out as he died。
Coming from him； the word felt like a compliment。
SITE A WAS dismantled and destroyed by the taskforce； and the faux pylon smashed by sustained orbital fire。 Quixos's psykers； and his
surviving servants； were imprisoned； and then turned over to the Black Ships of the Inquisition； six of which arrived a few days later；
once we had published news of our achievement。 Most of the captives were deemed too dangerous or too tainted to keep； even under
the closest guard； and were executed。 Esarhaddon was one of those。
Many precious texts and artifacts were recovered from Site A； and many more that were diabolic and abominable。 He had
accumulated a vast resource of esoteric material； and there was supposed to be a great deal more at his fastness on distant Maginor。 A
further purge would reveal the truth of that。
As the report has it； no trace was ever found of the Malus Codicium； the foul grimoire on which his power had ultimately been based。
BY THE TIME I had returned to Gudrun with my followers and allies； the carta issued against me had been abolished。 None of Osma's
allegations could stand up in the face of the evidence gathered at Farness； or the many statements collected by the Inquisition；
statements pleading my innocence made by such individuals as Lord Procurator Madorthene； Inquisitor General Neve； Interrogator
Inshabel and； God…Emperor help him； Titus Endor。
I was never offered any sort of official apology； not by Grandmaster Orsini； or by Bezier； and certainly not by Osma。 His career didn't
suffer one bit。 Twenty years later； he was elected Master of the Ordo Malleus Helican after Bezier's sudden； unexpected death。
Grumman's remains； and the remains of his Kasrkin； were buried in one of the lonely field…grave plots on Cadia； to be remembered as
long as the Law of Decipherability allowed。 Ricci had a library named after him on his home world of Hesperus。 Voke was buried
with full honours at the Thorian Sacristy adjoining the Great Cathedral of the Ministorum on Thracian Primaris。 A small brass plaque
commemorating the achievements of his long and dedicated career remains on the sacristy wall to this day。
He and I had never been friends； but I own that in the years after he was gone； I missed his caustic manner from time to time。
EPILOGUE
WINTER； 345。M41。
THE VOICE WAS like the sound of some eternal glacier … slow； old； cold； heavy。
It asked simply； 'Why？'
'Because I can。'
The silence lasted for a long time。 The thousand candle flames flickered and rippled the carefully inscribed stone walls with echoes of
their moving glow。
'Why？ Why… have you done this… this wretched thing to me？'
'Because I have power over you where once you had power over me。 You used me。 You orchestrated my life。 You moved me like a
regicide piece to the place where I best served your desires。 Now； that is reversed。'
It thrashed against its chains and shackles； but it was still too weak from the ordeals of the snaring； the entrapment。
'Damn you…' it whispered； falling limp。
'Understand me。 I said I would never help a thing like you； but you tricked me into doing so and almost got away with it。 That's why I
have done this。 That's why I have expended the considerable time and effort involved in raising you； snaring you and binding you。
This is a lesson。 I will never； ever allow my actions or my life to benefit the Archenemy。 You said that from the outset； you knew I
was the one who would free you from Quixos's service。 It's a shame for you that you failed to see what I might do to you instead。'
'Damn you！' the voice was louder。
'There will be a time； Cherubael； daemon…thing； when you will wish with all your putrid soul to be Quixos's plaything again。'
Cherubael threw itself at me as far as it could before the chains went taut and snapped it back。 Its scream of rage and malice shook the
cell and blew every last one of the candles out。
I sealed the vacuum hatch； engaged the warp dampers and the void shield； and turned the thirteen locks one by one。
From far away in the house； Jarat was ringing the bell for dinner。 I was bone…weary from my exertions； but food and wine and good
company would refresh me。
I CLIMBED THE screwstair from the deep basement stronghold； code…locked the door and wandered to my study。 Outside； the snows
had come early to Gudran。 Light flakes were blowing in through the twilight； across the woods and paddocks； and settling across the
lawns of my estate。
In the study； I returned the items I had been carrying to their places。 I put the bottles of chrism back on the shelf； and the ritual athame；
mirror and lamens in the casket。 The Imperial amulet went back on its velvet pad in the locking draw； and I slid the tube…scrolls back
into their cat