Sennesdiar yanked the tiny； lambent cylinder from its socket and closed the panel。 Moments
later； the diodes on Xephous’ face glimmered to life again。
Sennesdiar told him。 He raised the intelligence core in front of the adept’s face。
The first thing the adept did was to pull his cowl up over his head。
Armadron nodded once。
said Sennesdiar。
Without further discussion； he crushed Ipharod’s intelligence core between his metal thumb and
forefinger。 The cylinder crumpled easily。 Its dim glow went out。 Then Sennesdiar threw the ruined
core over his shoulder with a very deliberate and precise motion。
It hit something soft before it struck the ground。
It hit Jarryl Katz。
“You may come forward now； Cadian；” said Sennesdiar in Low Gothic。 “We have known of
your presence for quite some time。”
Katz shook his head。 The game was up。 He should have known better than to get too close。 They
were tech…priests； so of course their senses were augmented beyond his own。 Had they smelled him？
Or heard him？ Had they sensed his body heat？
Resigned； he stepped towards them； sweat beading on his head despite the cool； dry air。 “What is
your name？” asked the largest of the three。
“Schweitzer；” said Katz defiantly。
“A falsehood；” said the magos。 The slightest fluctuation in your heartbeat gives your deceit
away。 “Speak the truth。”
Katz couldn’t help but be impressed。 “You can detect that？”
“From this distance； yes；” replied Sennesdiar。 “That and much more。 No matter who you are；
you could not have followed us without our knowledge。 Still； it is remarkable that you moved so
quickly and quietly in this darkness。 You are augmented； yes？”
160
The magos took a sudden pace forward； and Katz found himself looking up into a face more
dead than alive。 It was expressionless； unreadable； and he knew he had to get away。 Whatever
humanity might have once existed beneath that pallid mask of ancient skin was long gone。 Despite
whatever vestiges of organic matter remained； it was a machine that stared back at him through
black lenses — a cold； calculating； ruthlessly efficient machine。
“The expedition force will be moving out shortly；” said Katz； working to keep his voice level。
“If you’re finished here； we should all be getting back。 We don’t want to get left behind； now； do
we？”
Katz wondered if the tech…priests were reading his heartbeat now。 It was galloping。
The magos said nothing more。 Katz had just decided to turn away when something metallic
whipped towards him from the bottom edge of his vision。 Bright； flaring agony gripped him。 His
lungs felt filled with liquid fire。 He looked down and saw that one of the magos’ writhing
mechadendrites had punched straight through the fabric of his tunic and into the muscles of his
upper abdomen。 Hot blood began to pour out over his tunic and trousers。
He grunted in pain。 He tried to speak； but there was no breath behind the words。 He couldn’t
draw any。 His lungs wouldn’t work。 He fumbled weakly； uselessly； for the knife at his belt。
“You will not suffer long； Cadian；” said the magos。 “Your death is inconvenient； but we cannot
allow you to report what you have seen。 There is already enough mistrust between the expedition
commanders and the Machine Cult。 The relationship must not be destabilised further at this critical
time。”
Katz felt a savagely painful tug inside him。 The end of the blood…covered mechadendrite
withdrew from his body； taking his heart with it。 Blood pattered like rain on the ground。 For the
briefest instant； Katz saw the wet heart held up in front of him； gripped by the sharp manipulators at
the steel tentacle’s tip。
Then true darkness closed over him； a darkness his augmented eyes couldn’t possibly pierce。
He didn’t feel anything when his body hit the floor。
The three tech…priests returned to the light and noise of the Cadian vehicles just as the preparations
to move out were drawing to an end。 The wounded had been stitched and bandaged and gathered
into trucks。 Those who were beyond medical help were given the painless death of lethal injection。
In a brief； hurried ceremony； their souls were commended to the Emperor’s side by a hard…faced
confessor from the 88th。 The supplies freed up by their deaths would help the rest of the force last
that little bit longer。 Vehicles were refuelled and rearmed。 Troops were fed and watered； and the
whole expedition force awaited only the command of General deViers to leave the ruins of Dar Laq
behind them and head back to the surface； to the open air and the daylight。
For the most part； the troops were eager to put this unholy place behind them。
Only Gerard Bergen prayed for a delay。 His ever…faithful adjutant had not returned from his
mission。 When Bergen saw the three tech…priests walking towards their Chimera； he charged over to
them。
“Where have you been？” he demanded。
Magos Sennesdiar turned to face him。
“Recovering samples of metal；” he said； lifting a piece he had taken from one of the derelict
towers。 “I’m certain that a proper study of it will be of great benefit to the Imperium。”
Bergen squinted up into the shadows under the magos’ hood。
“You haven’t seen my adjutant？” he asked。 “I sent him personally to bring you back。 The
general will be issuing the order to move out any minute now。”
The magos bowed。 “I am grateful that you thought of us。 You are a man of fine character； major
general。 Alas； we did not see your adjutant。 We encountered no living soul during our explorations。
161
Dar Laq is a dead place。 There is much to study here。 The Mechanicus may visit again once this
planet is returned to Imperial control； but； for now； we must prepare for our egress。 Excuse us。”
Bergen watched the trio of cloaked figures move off。
Had Katz simply got lost？ No。 That couldn’t be it。 Bergen had tried raising him on the vox； but
there was no response。 Damn it all； he thought； there’s no way deViers will delay leading us out of
here for a single missing man。 If I know the old bastard half as well as I think I do； he wouldn’t even
wait for Major Gruber。
Bergen turned and marched back to Pride of Caedus； determined to plead with the general
anyway。 The Chimera’s engine was idling noisily； like those of the vehicles around her。
Sure enough； the general told Bergen he could not； and would not； order everyone to stand down
because of one missing man。 Had it been Bergen out there； deViers insisted； it would have been
another matter entirely； but a mere lieutenant？
DeViers gave the order to move out。 Drivers began revving their engines； filling the air with
blue clouds of exhaust。 Then； one by one； they began to move off through the eerie； lifeless streets；
their headlights chasing off the shadows as they headed towards the tunnel on the far side of the
cavern。
Bergen stood in his cupola the entire time； eyes facing out into the darkness on the north side；
heart pounding in his chest； almost sick with emotion。 It was far worse than grief。 It felt like
betrayal。
“I’m sorry； Jarryl；” he muttered beneath his rebreather。 “I’m so sorry； my friend。”
162
CHAPTER TWENTY…NINE
It was two hours after dawn when the remnants of General deViers’ expedition force emerged from
the cool darkness of the tunnel into the baking heat of the Golgothan morning。 They were halfway
up the east face of a mountainside； but the landscape beyond was largely shielded from view。 Sharp
fingers of rock thrust upwards on every side； forcing the Cadians to follow a single treacherous path；
the only route wide and shallow enough to accommodate sixty…tonners like the Leman Russ tanks。
The clouds were low overhead； a churning mix of orange； red and brown。 Gusting winds pulled
curtains of dust across the slopes。 By midday； however； the winds dropped to a hot breeze。 Tall
rocks and ridges still confounded the view。 Privately； some of the Cadians almost regretted leaving
Dar Laq。 Alien or not； the temperature had been more to their liking。 The air there hadn’t seared
their lungs。
The mountain trail took them down onto more manageable ground； and additional vehicles
moved up from the rear to support the vanguard。 The column began moving in a meandering line
along a series of low rocky gullies。 Sandstone hills rose on all sides； but it wasn’t long before the
Cadians noticed something amiss。 The sky beyond the next rise was darker than it was elsewhere；
stained with copious amounts of smoke。
General deViers ordered scouts to investigate further； and small groups of Sentinels lurched off；
careful to keep low so that they presented no silhouettes above the hill…line。 Minutes later； the scout
leader called back to recommend that the general halt the column and come in person to the forward
observation point。 He had found the source of the smoke。
Bergen lay on his belly with his magnoculars pressed to his eyes； scanning the scene before him；
uncaring of the fact that his uniform was filthy with red dust。 A dozen officers on either side of him
lay in similar positions； muttering and cursing at the focus of their attention。
Beyond the rise； the land was broad and open； gently curving upwards on either side。 The
Cadians were looking down into a huge crater； a volcanic caldera ten kilometres across。 The volcano
was long dead； but at its centre sat the source of the dark smoke。
“Millions of them；” said Killian； lying on Bergen’s right。 “There must be millions of them。”
“A hundred thousand at the most；” said Rennkamp。
“Either way；” said Killian； “we’re still heavily outnumbered。”
Bergen couldn’t really decide what he was looking at。 Either it was the ork equivalent of a town；
or it was simply the biggest collection of scrap metal he had ever seen。 Finally； he decided it was
both； and in equal parts。 Heaps of rusting armour plate and twisted girders rose a hundred metres
into the air； the most prominent feature of the scene before him。 Here and there； ruined vehicles
poked their noses out； some recognisable as the crumpled remnants of Chimera APCs and Leman
Russ tanks； others not so familiar。
Wreckage from the Golgothan War； thought Bergen。 For thirty…eight years they’ve scavenged
the old battlefields and brought it all back here。 Was this the place where Thraka constructed his war
machines for the assault on Armageddon？ Was The Fortress of Arrogance brought here？
He hardly dared to hope that it was still here today。 The old certainty that deViers would never
find his prize was still strong。 Peering hard through the lenses of his magnoculars； he struggled to
find anything even approximating the profile of the famous Baneblade。
No； nothing came close。
163
Perhaps they took it off…world； he thought。 Here we are desperately searching for her on
Golgotha so that we might repair her and ship her to Armageddon； and the blasted orks have
probably moved her there already！
He zoomed in on a pair of massive cylindrical structures at the southern edge of the