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Ammunition　was　running　low；　and　the　Word　Bearers　moved　amongst　their　deceased　kin；
stripping　them　of　weapons；　grenades　and　clips。　Sabtec　knelt　alongside　each　of　the　fallen　warriors；
speaking　the　oath　of　the　departed　over　each　in　turn。　With　his　combat　knife；　he　carved　an　eightpointed
star　into　the　forehead　of　each　warrior；　solemnly　intoning　the　ritualised　words；　and　daubed
their　eyelids　with　blood。
Kneeling　over　the　corpse　of　Namar…sin；　Sabtec　removed　his　helmet；　and　placed　it　on　the　floor
alongside　his　fallen　brother。　Then；　he　reverently　lifted　one　of　the　champion’s　hands　up；　and　stripped
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it　of　its　gauntlet。　Cradling　the　warrior’s　meaty　fist　in　one　hand；　he　reached　again　for　his　knife；　and
began　to　saw　through　the　champion’s　fingers；　using　the　serrated　edge　of　his　blade。
After　hacking　through　each　of　the　digits　in　turn；　he　tossed　a　severed　finger　to　each　of　the
members　of　Namar…sin’s　coterie。　He　kept　one　for　himself；　for　Namar…sin　had　been　his　battle…brother
since　the　Great　Crusade；　and　he　had　respected　the　warrior　greatly；　and　valued　his　comradeship。
He　began　to　strip　his　battle…brother’s　body；　removing　his　shoulder　plates　and　placing　them
carefully　at　his　side；　before　moving　onto　his　gorget　and　outer　chest　plates；　removing　each　piece
carefully　and　reverently。　The　other　members　of　his　squad　stood　by　solemnly。
He　pulled　the　breastplate　away　with　a　sucking　sound；　taking　with　it　the　outer　layer　of　skin　that
had　long　fused　with　the　armour。
The　flesh　of　Namar…sin’s　broad　torso　was　heavily　muscled；　and　the　tissue　of　that　muscle
glistened　wetly。　With　a　deft　movement；　Sabtec　sliced　a　deep　cut　from　the　breastbone　to　the　navel。
Inserting　his　hand　into　the　cut；　he　searched　around　in　the　chest　cavity；　groping　behind　the　thick；
fused　ribcage。　Grasping　Namar…sin’s　motionless　primary　heart；　he　pulled　it　free；　cutting　it　loose　with
his　knife。
Sabtec　stood　and　lifted　the　heart　up　in　his　bloody　hands。
“Namar…sin　was　a　mighty　warrior　and　devoted　brother　of　the　true　word；”　said　Sabtec。　“We
mourn　his　passing；　yet　rejoice；　for　his　soul　has　become　as　one　with　Chaos。　In　honour　of　his　service
in　the　name　of　Lorgar；　we　eat　of　his　flesh；　that　he　may　live　on　with　us　as　we　continue　the　Long　War
without　him；　and　that　we　may　carry　his　strength　with　us；　always。”
Lifting　the　heart　to　his　mouth；　Sabtec　took　a　bite；　ripping　the　flesh　away　with　his　teeth。　Blood
covered　his　chin；　and　he　chewed　the　lump　of　flesh　briefly　before　swallowing　it。　Then　he　stepped　in
front　of　the　first　of　the　three　remaining　warriors　that　had　belonged　to　Namar…sin’s　coterie；　offering
the　heart。
Marduk　stared　through　the　thirty…centimetre　thick　porthole　into　the　inky　blackness　beyond　as　the　lift
continued　to　power　its　way　down　into　the　Stygian　depths　of　the　ocean。　Little　could　be　seen　apart
from　occasional　bubbles　of　expanding　gas；　and　the　visage　of　his　skull　helmet　was　reflected　back　at
him；　distorted　in　the　curved　therma…glass。
“There　is　no　going　back　now；　we　have　not　the　time。　I　feel　the　threads　of　fate　weaving　together。
The　time　of　the　completion　of　this…　necessary　task；　draws　close；”　said　Marduk　with　a　hint　of
impatience　and　irritation。　“Sabtec　and　Namar…sin　are　veterans。　They　can　look　after　themselves。”
The　lift　strained　and　creaked　alarmingly　as　the　building　pressure　of　the　water　outside　pressed　in。
The　thick　metal　plates　of　the　hull；　supported　by　countless　brackets　and　thick　bolted　girders；　flexed
inwards；　groaning　like　a　beast　in　torment。
The　lift　had　descended　at　a　steady　rate；　down　the　shaft　carved　from　solid　ice。　The　rate　of　descent
slowed　as　they　reached　the　lower　crust　of　the　ice　and　plunged　into　the　sea；　before　increasing　in
speed　once　more　as　they　sank　further　into　the　icy　depths。　They　were　some　four　thousand　metres
below　the　surface；　nearing　halfway　to　the　ocean　floor。
Burias　was　pacing　back　and　forth　like　a　caged　animal；　glaring　hatefully　at　the　bulging　hull　as　if
daring　it　to　give　way。
“Be　calm；　icon　bearer；”　snapped　Marduk；　turning　away　from　the　porthole。　“Your　restlessness　is
distracting。”
Marduk　could　feel　Burias’s　impatience　like　a　living　thing；　intruding　on　his　spirit。
“What　is　the　matter　with　you？”　asked　Marduk　in　irritation。
“I　am　envious；”　said　Burias；　pausing　in　his　pacing　for　a　moment；　flashing　Marduk　a　dark　glance。
“I　had　wished　to　fight　the　eldar　again。　I　wish　to　test　my　speed　against　them。”
“You　sound　like　a　spoilt　child；”　spat　Marduk。　“Recite　the　Lacrimosa。　Begin　at　verse　eighty…nine。
It　will　calm　your　nerves。”
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Burias　glowered　at　Marduk。
“Eighty…nine？”　he　said；　furrowing　his　brow。
“‘And　when　the　accused　are　confounded　and　confined　to　flames　of　woe；　rejoice　and　call　upon
Me；　your　saviour；’”　he　quoted。
“The　Lacrimosa　has　always　been　a　favourite　of　yours；　hasn’t　it；　brother？”　asked　Burias。
Marduk　smiled。　Alone　amongst　all　the　warriors　of　the　Host；　he　tolerated　Burias　referring　to　him
as　brother；　in　honour　of　the　blood…oaths　that　the　pair　had　sworn　aeons　past；　when　they　were　both
idealistic　young　pups；　freshly　blooded　in　battle。　Nevertheless；　Marduk　allowed　the　icon　bearer　the
honour　only　when　they　were　alone；　or　out　of　earshot　of　the　other　warrior　brothers　of　the　Host；　for
such　familiarity　was　unfavourable；　especially　now　that　he　was　certain　that　his　ambitions　of
becoming　Dark　Apostle　were　fated　to　be；　at　last；　fulfilled。
A　Dark　Apostle　must　be　aloof　from　his　flock；　a　symbol　of　the　undying　faith　of　the　holy　word。　He
had　learnt　that　from　Jarulek；　and　it　was；　his　arrogant　master　had　taught　him；　part　of　the　reason　why
the　role　of　the　Coryphaus　was　important。　The　Dark　Apostle　must　be　more　than　a　warrior；　he　must　be
an　inspiration；　a　saint；　the　holiest　of　disciples。　He　must　be　raised　above　the　warriors　of　the　Host；　for
the　gods　spoke　through　him。　A　Dark　Apostle　had　no　brothers　except　others　of　his　rank；　for　it　was
deemed　that　familial　relations　within　the　Host　humanised　him　too　much；　weakening　the　awe　he　was
held　in　by　his　warriors。　Such　a　thing　led　to　a　weakening　of　the　strength　of　the　Host；　and　a　lessening
of　the　faith。
“A　Dark　Apostle；”　Jarulek　had　lectured　him　condescendingly；　“must　be　above　reproach；　above
question。　He　cannot　have　close　ties　with　the　warriors　of　his　flock。　Your　Coryphaus　is　your　closest
confidant；　and　your　will　is　enacted　through　him。　He　is　the　bridge　that　spans　the　gap　between　the
Dark　Apostle　and　the　Host。”
Marduk　pushed　the　distracting；　errant　thoughts　back；　his　mood　darkening。
“The　Lacrimosa　brings　me　great　calm；”　said　Marduk。　“It　at　once　soothes　my　soul　and　rekindles
my　hatred。”
“I　shall　do　as　you　suggest；　brother；”　said　Burias。　“So　long　as　Sabtec　leaves　a　few　for　me；　I　guess
I　can　wait。”
Another　loud　groan　shuddered　the　lift；　and　Burias　scowled。
Kol　Badar　stamped　towards　them；　and　the　cordial　companionship　between　Marduk　and　Burias
evaporated。　At　once；　they　were　no　longer　long…time　friends　and　blood　brothers；　now　they　were　once
again　First　Acolyte　and　icon　bearer。
“This　lift　is　a　relic；”　remarked　Kol　Badar。　“If　a　fault　in　the　hull　appears；　we　will　all　be　crushed　to
death。　This　is　a　foolish　endeavour；　an　unnecessary　risk。”
“Are　you　going　senile　in　your　dotage　Coryphaus？”　snapped　Marduk。　Burias　sniggered。　“You　are
repeating　yourself。　Your　protestations　have　been　heard　before；　and　duly　noted。　I　don’t　care　what　you
think。　I　am　your　leader　now；　and　you　will　do　as　I　wish。”
The　Coryphaus’s　brow　creased　in　anger。
“If　a　fault　appears；　then　we　are　dead；”　Marduk　said；　more　calmly。　“Such　would　be　the　will　of　the
gods；　but　I　do　not　believe　it　will　be　so。”
“How　can　you　be　so　sure？”　asked　Kol　Badar。
“Have　faith；　Coryphaus；”　said　Marduk。　“Each　of　us　is　in　our　allotted　place；　as　per　the　will　of　the
gods。　If　it　is　our　time　to　die；　then　so　be　it；　but　I　do　not　think　that　it　is。　The　gods　have　much　more　in
store　for　me；　of　that　I　am　certain。”
“And　for　me？”　asked　Burias。
Marduk　shrugged。
“You　speak　as　if　all　our　actions　are　already　predetermined；”　growled　Kol　Badar。
“Are　you　so　sure　they　are　not？”　countered　Marduk。　“I　have　seen　things　in　dream　visions　that
have　come　to　pass。　Many　amongst　the　Host　have。　Does　such　a　thing　not　suggest　that　every　decision
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that　we　think　we　make