The Horus Heresy. The Flight Of The Elsenstein

Garro returned Hakur's nod and drew Temeter aside. 'I hadn't expected to see you until after the assembly on the Terminus Est. That's why I was here.' He patted the sword's pommel. 'I didn't want to step aboard Typhon's warship without this.'

Temeter flkked a questioning glance at the house-carl, then smiled slightly. 'Aye, that's not a vessel to be unprotected aboard, is it? So, then, I take it you haven't heard the news?'

Garro gave his old comrade a sideways look. What news, Ullis? Come on, don't play to the drama of it, speak.'

Temeter lowered his voice. 'The esteemed master of the First Great Company, Captain Calas Typhon, has stepped down from command of the jorgall assault. Someone else is going to lead us.'

'Who?' Garro insisted. Typhon wouldn't stand down for any Astartes. His pride would never allow it.'

'You're not wrong/ continued Temeter, 'he wouldn't stand down for any Astartes.'

The sudden realisation hit Garro like a wash of ice. 'Then, you mean...'

'The primarch is here, Nathaniel. Mortarion himself has decided to take part in this engagement. He's brought the timetable forward.'

'The primarch?' The words slipped out of Kaleb's mouth in a whisper, trepidation and awe in every syllable.

Temeter gave him a look, as if he were noticing Garro's helot for the first time. 'Indeed, little man. He walks the decks of Endurance as I speak.'

Kaleb dropped to his knees and made the sign of the aquila, his hands visibly trembling.

In spite of himself, his master's throat went dry. Until Temeter's a

Temeter smiled broadly. He was enjoying the normally stoic Garro's moment of discomfort with mild glee. 'Right now, old friend. I'm here to summon you to the conclave.' He leaned in closer, his words hushed and conspiratorial. 'And I should warn you, the primarch's brought some interesting company with him.'

THE ASSEMBLY HALL was an unremarkable space. It was nothing more than a void in the Endurances forward

hull, rectangular in aspect, open at the far end to the stars through two oval panes of armoured glass holding out the killing vacuum. There were louvred shutters half-closed across the windows, casting patterns of dim white light in bars where the glow from a nearby nebula reached the vessel.

The ceiling was an arch, formed from the primary spars of the warship's iron ribcage where they met and meshed in steel riveted plate. There were no chairs or places where one might rest. There was no use for them. This was not a hall in which lengthy debate and plots would be hatched, but a place where blunt orders would be given, directives made and battle plans drawn in swift order. The only adornments were a few combat ba

The room was littered with shadows. Alcoves formed from the spaces between the girder ribs went deep and ink-black. Illumination fell in pools, tuned to the same yellow-white of high sun on Barbarus. In the centre of the chamber, a hololithic tank turned on a lazy axis, a ghostly cube of blue drifting there. Mechanicum adepts ticked and skittered around the disc-shaped projector device below it, moving in orbits around each other, but never straying more than a hand's length away. Perhaps, Garro mused, they were afraid to venture out among the assembled warriors.

The batde-captain cast around, taking in the faces of ranking naval officers and designated representatives from all of the starships in the flotilla. Endurance's commander, a whipcord woman with a severe face, caught his eye and gave him a respectful nod. Garro returned the greeting and moved past her. At his shoulder, Temeter whispered. Where's Gralgor?'

'There/ Garro indicated with the jut of his chin, 'with Typhon.'

'Ah/ Temeter said sagely, 'I should not be surprised/

The captains of the Death Guard's First and Second Companies were in close consultation, the murmur of their words pitched low enough so that even the acute senses of another Astartes were not enough to divine their meaning. Garro saw that Grulgor had noticed their arrival, and, as was his usual ma

'He's never going to be a friend to you, is he?' ventured Temeter, who saw it too. 'Not even for a moment.'

Garro gave the slightest of shrugs. 'It's not something I dwell on. We don't rise to our ranks because of how well-liked we are. This is a crusade we are wi

Temeter sniffed. 'Speak for yourself. I am extremely popular.'

'I have no doubt you believe that.'

Typhon and Grulgor abruptly disengaged and turned to meet their cohorts as they came closer. The First Captain of the Death Guard, master of the prime company and right hand of the primarch, was a formidable sight in his iron-hued Terminator armour. A dark tail of hair spilled over his shoulders and the man's bearded face was framed by the heavy square hood of the wargear. His helmet nestled in the crook of his arm, a single horn protruding from the brow. Whatever emotions dwelt inside him were well masked, but not so well that the lines of a

'Temeter. Garro.' Typhon gave both men a level, measuring stare, his voice a low growl.

At once the easy air that Temeter had brought with him was gone, evaporating beneath the first captain's piercing gaze. Garro could only wonder at the anger behind those dark eyes, still smarting at the slight of being usurped from leading the jorgall attack at the eleventh hour.

'Grulgor and I were discussing the changes in the engagement plan/ Typhon continued.

'Changes?' repeated Temeter. 'I was not aware-'

'You are being made aware/ said Grulgor, with a hint of a sneer. Despite having been born on a world on the opposite side of the galaxy, Ignatius Grulgor shared a similar bearing and physicality with Garro, even down to the hairless head and a collection of trophy scars; but where Garro was stoic and metered, Grulgor was forever on the edge of arrogance, snarling instead of speaking, judgemental instead of considering. 'The Fourth Company is to be re-tasked, to conduct boarding operations among the bottle world's picket force/

Temeter bowed, hiding the irritation that Garro was sure his comrade felt at being denied a share of the mission's greater glories. 'As the primarch wills.' He looked up and met Grulgor's gaze. 'Thank you for preparing me, captain/

'Commander', Grulgor spat out the word. 'You will address me by my rank, Captain Temeter.'

Temeter frowned. 'My error, commander, of course. The traditions sometimes slip my mind when my thoughts are otherwise occupied/

Garro watched Grulgor's jaw harden. Like all of the Legiones Astartes, they had quirks and customs that were unique to them. The Death Guard differed from many of their brother Legions in the ma

had it that the XIV would never number more than seven great companies, although those divisions held far more men than those of other Astartes cohorts like the Space Wolves or the Blood Angels; and while many Legions had the tradition of giving the honorific of'first captain' to the commander of the prime company, the Death Guard also held two more privileged titles, to be bestowed upon the leaders of the Second and Seventh Companies respectively. Thus, although they held no actual seniority over one another, Grulgor could carry the rank of 'commander' if he so wished, just as Garro was known as 'battle-captain'. It was Garro's understanding that his particular honorific dated back to the Wars of Unification, to a moment when the mark of distinction had been handed to a XIV officer by the Emperor himself. He was proud to bear it all these centuries later.