The Anointed split； two moving to join the 13th in the rear； the other two standing with Kol
Badar at the entrance to the north tunnel。
“Burias；” hissed Marduk as he dropped in alongside Sabtec； watching the rear。 He couldn’t see
anything moving in the distance； but； respectful of the speed of the enemy； he judged that that did
not mean much。
“Yes； my lord？” came the silken response on the vox…net。
“Guard Darioq…Grendh’al。”
Burias was slow to respond； and Marduk read the resistance to his orders in the silence。
“Protect him； icon bearer；” snapped Marduk。 “He dies； and you die。”
Burias crouched atop the wreckage of one of the train’s carriages； sniffing the air。 He sensed
something nearby； but could not locate its whereabouts。
Movement out of the corner of his eye attracted his attention； and he snapped his head towards
it； emitting a low growl。 Even with his daemon…enhanced witch…sight； he could see nothing。
“Burias；” said Marduk； and the icon bearer hissed in frustration。
“Fine；” he replied； giving the area where he had sensed movement a final glare。
As he dropped down from the carriage to the cracked plascrete platform below； a whip…thin
figure crawled forward across the top of the carriage behind him； its form vague as if it dragged the
surrounding darkness around it like a shroud。
The icon bearer flicked a glance over his shoulder； and the shape melted into the shadows。 In an
instant； it was once more invisible； and Burias turned away； jogging towards Magos Darioq。
The stink of Chaos was strong around the magos； who was standing immobile behind the twisted
wreckage of what may once have been an Imperial vehicle； oblivious to the preparations going on
around him。
“Move there；” snapped Burias； giving the magos a shove。 Darioq…Grendh’al walked
mechanically forward； each slow step accompanied by the hiss and wheeze of servos。
“Here they come again；” said Kol Badar in his warning growl。
“Kill them； in Lorgar’s name！” roared Marduk。
“Contact from the east；” said Sabtec； his voice calm and measured。
Marduk glanced around the twisted metal he was taking cover behind； and saw a number of lithe
figures darting from cover to cover； heading towards them up the tunnel。 Even with his advanced
vision and the supplementary enhancements provided by his helmet； they were difficult to focus on；
for they moved so quickly。
The First Acolyte narrowed his eyes； as he focused on one of the xenos humanoids。 For a
moment； it was clearly visible as it crouched； the long fingers of one hand splayed out on the floor。
Its slim body was encased in a form…fitting suit of reflective black armour that moulded to its
movements： a far cry from the heavy； inflexible plate worn by the Word Bearers。 Barbed ridges rose
along its forearms and shoulders； and its head was completely encased within a sleek； backwards
sweeping helmet。 It carried a long； slim weapon of alien design； and elegantly curving blades
protruded from the barrel and hand…grip。
Then the alien was moving once again； its movements sharp and precise as it darted into cover。
Its speed was almost unnatural； one moment it was perfectly still； utterly balanced and focused； the
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next it was gone。 There was a grace and fluidity to its movements that no human； however
enhanced； could ever hope to match。
“Eldar；” spat Marduk。
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Solon sat alone in the mess room。 His tray vibrated slightly on the metal table from the
reverberations of the crawler’s engines； and the mugs hanging against the wall rattled。 He still wore
his bulky exposure suit； though he had slipped free of its upper half； which hung down behind him。
He pushed away his half…eaten meal of bland synth…paste gruel as the door to the mess room was
pushed open。
The foreman primaris tapped one of the nicotine sticks from his packet； and lit it with a deft flick
of his butane lighter。 He nodded to Cholos through the haze of blue…grey smoke as he sat down
opposite。
The boy that they had found in the abandoned crawler unit moved forward from behind the door；
his wide eyes wandering around the room。
“You gonna eat that？” asked Cholos； gesturing to the half…eaten meal。
Solon pushed the tray towards the orderly in response； blowing out another cloud of smoke。
Cholos coughed once and cleared his throat。
“Come on； kid。 Get some food into you；” said Cholos； patting his hand on the seat of the vacant
chair encouragingly。 The boy moved forward warily； and his eyes locked on the food。
Solon stared at the boy； still seeing his son’s dead face。 The boy wore an exposure suit that was
much too large for him； its hood drawn back away from his head。 The sleeves hung well past his
hands； and the cuffs of its legs were bunched up around his ankles。 As he shuffled forward； trying
not to trip； he would have made a comical sight were he not so clearly malnourished。
He’d spoken not a word since they had brought him aboard； except to say his name when
questioned： Dios。 The boy’s words when they had found him still haunted Solon。
“They were taken；” the boy had said。 There were some corpses aboard the crawler； but the vast
majority of the people that had been onboard had apparently disappeared into thin air。
“By who？” Solon had asked。
“Ghosts；” the boy had replied； and the words had made Solon’s skin crawl。
“There is no such thing as ghosts；” the Interdiction sergeant； Folches； had said； though there had
been little conviction in his voice； and Solon wondered whether he had been trying to convince the
boy； or himself。
Solon had to agree with Folches； though。 He didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits； but something
had taken all those people。 Fifteen hundred people do not just disappear。
Since bringing the boy onboard； the child had shadowed every step of Solon’s second； Cholos。
Solon was just glad that the boy had not latched onto him。 For his part； Cholos seemed to be
enjoying the attention； and had even suggested making the boy the crawler crew’s mascot。
“That’s the way；” said Cholos as the boy tucked into Solon’s discarded food with gusto。
“Hungry； aren’t you？”
“Find a woman amongst the refugees that has lost her son；” said Solon。 “Give the boy to her。”
“Oh； I don’t mind lookin’ after him；” said Cholos。
“We don’t need a pet kid underfoot； Cholos；” said Solon。 “Foist him off on one of the refugees。
There are plenty of women down below who would take him。”
Cholos glared at Solon for a moment。
“Don’t listen to him； boy；” said Cholos。 “He’s nothing but a mean old man。”
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The boy； for his part； seemed oblivious to the conversation； focused on the meal before him。
With a last lick of the standard issue spoon in his hands； he finished off the meal； smacking his lips
loudly。
“Cholos；” began Solon； but his words were interrupted as the room shook violently。 The crawler
came to a shuddering halt； and warning lights began to flash。 The wail of sirens blared from the
hallway； and Solon was instantly up and moving。
“What the hell？” asked Cholos； knocking his chair over as he stood。
A second impact rocked the crawler； and mugs fell from their hooks to clatter on the floor。 Solon
clutched at the door…frame to steady himself。
“Ghosts；” murmured the boy； his eyes wide and fearful。
“Go； go； go！” shouted Folches as the crawler bay doors slid open。
The sergeant dropped to the ice and landed in a crouch； his laslock rifle humming as its charge
powered up。
The storm had； if anything； become fiercer； and punishing winds lashed against the soldiers of
the Skyllan Interdiction as they peered into the whitewash of billowing snow。
“Can’t see a damn thing；” muttered one of Folches’s men； the sound crackling through on the
sergeant’s micro…bead in his left ear。
“The crawler was hit from the north…east；” said Folches。 “Move out； dispersal formation。”
“How can we engage what we can’t damn well see？” asked another of his team； his voice
strained。 Fear； Folches realised。 He rounded on the man； and grabbed him by the shoulder； pulling
him close。
“You done？” barked Folches into the man’s face； and the soldier nodded curtly。 With a shove；
Folches pushed him away； and gestured for two of his men to move around the front of the crawler；
and for the other two to proceed around its rear。
His men nodded their responses； and the sergeant began moving towards the rear of the hulking
behemoth； loping along the length of the crawler with his body low and the butt of his laslock
pressed into his shoulder。 Behind him； the two soldiers loped through the snow and ice。 The other
two men； moving in the opposite direction； disappeared instantly into the storm。
Reaching the rear of the ice…crawler； Folches gestured for his men to halt； and risked a glance
around the back of the immense vehicle。 Smoke was billowing from the engine stacks； and hot oil
was spilling out onto the ice。 Steam rose from where the oil was pooling。
Crouched low； he signalled for his men to take cover。
One of the soldiers； Leon； dropped to his stomach and began crawling elbow over elbow through
one of the deep depressions created by the crawler’s track units； easing himself into position and
sighting his long…barrelled lasgun out towards the north…east。 The other ducked beneath the
undercarriage of the craed forward to take up a position looking out to the northeast。
Folches leant around the corner of the crawler； peering through the sight of his weapon。 The
scope rendered the landscape in shades of green； and though it lit up the darkness as if it were day；
the fury of the storm was such that he could see no more than twenty metres ahead。
There was nothing to see； just a swirling blanket of snow and ice。
“Julius； you seeing anything out there？” he said into his micro…bead。
“Negative； sir；” came the response。
“Hold position；” he said。
The wind howled around Folches； and he remained motionless； waiting。 Minutes dragged by；
and the biting cold began to seep through his limbs。
He lifted his head away from his gun sight； and stared out into the blanketing white gale。 A
shadow of movement ghosted behind the veil of swirling ice。
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He dropped his eye to his sight once more； straining to pick up the movement。 He saw nothing；
and swore under his breath。
“You see that； Leon？” he hissed into his micro…bead。
“Didn’t see anything； sir；” said the soldier。
“Damn it。 There’s something out there。 Julius； anything？”
There was no response from the other soldiers of his squad； just the relentless roaring of the
wind。
“Julius； Marcab； come in；” said Folches； but again just silence answered him。
“Hell；” he swore。
The sergeant felt movement behind him； and he swung around； his heart thumping； bringing his
laslock to bear on… nothing。
He was jumping at shadows； and he cursed himself。 He forced his racing heart to slow； breathing
in slowly。
“Calm yourself； man；” he said to himself as he resumed his position。 He’d give anything for a
blast of his stim…inhaler around about now； but he had left the black market narcotics back onboard
the crawler。
Trying to push the cravings away； Folches took a deep breath； and tried to contact his other
soldiers once more。
“Marcab。 Julius。 Come in；” he whispered hoarsely into