effort had been made by the loyalists to reclaim the building； to reconstruct the altar and to scrub the
disgusting Chaos sigils from the walls — but still； he couldn’t help but feel that the spirit of the
God…Emperor had withdrawn from here and that no amount of restitution could induce its return。
At one end of the chapel； two ornate pillars had been shattered； bringing about a partial collapse
of the vaulted ceiling。 A little daylight spilled in through a broken window frame； and glinted off
fragments of coloured glass amid the rubble。 Wall hangings had been torn down and burnt。
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There were more figures here； thirty or forty of them； their blue worker’s smocks beginning to
look like a kind of uniform。 They were scrubbing the floors or trying to piece together the remnants
of broken treasures； or just kneeling at the altar in silent prayer。 All of them started to react to the
arrival of four strangers； to clamber to their feet； to stare in both awe and hope。
They began to close in around the Ice Warriors。
And that was when Blonsky realised what was happening： when he saw the figures’ odd；
shambling gaits and glimpsed a tuft of grey fur protruding from a blue sleeve。 And he drew his
lasgun； and spun around and shot the red…headed woman through the head as she was helping
Gavotski up from the ladder。 She fell； a look of wounded surprise on her face； and Blonsky turned to
deal with Tollenberg。
He had been beaten to it。 Their fair…haired young guide was lying at Pozhar’s feet； his hands
clutched to his throat； blood welling between his fingers。
“I warned you；” Pozhar snarled。 “I told you what I’d do to you。” And as Tollenberg died； his
smock slipped from his left shoulder； and Blonsky saw a bright green mole on his skin； proof that he
had been right。
By now； Grayle was reaching for his weapon too。 Gavotski scrambled to his feet； looking as
surprised as the woman had been； and Blonsky spelled it out to him：
“It’s an ambush； sergeant。 They’re mutants； all of them。 They’re stinking mutants！”
This was getting to be a habit； thought Steele： facing his own death； making peace with it； only to be
given a very rude awakening。
This time； even the mechanical parts of his brain had shut down。 His memories ended with the
battle； with the chainsword that had shredded his armoured greatcoat； and the flesh beneath it。
Bleeding from the chest； Steele had fallen onto his face； and blacked out。 The Chaos Space Marine
could have； should have； finished him off there and then。 He didn’t know why he hadn’t。
He couldn’t feel his legs。 He was surrounded by Traitor Guardsmen。 They were pressed up
against him； holding his arms； half…carrying him so that his feet dragged along the street behind him。
His greatcoat hung open； no more than a few ragged strips of plasfibre now。 His chest and his
stomach were stiff with synth…skin。
“He’s awake！” a voice grunted； somewhere near his ear。
“Yeah？ Then why are we still carrying him？” He felt the muzzle of a lasgun in his back； and the
second voice snarled； “Get walking； Emperor…lover！”
Steele’s response to this was short and succinct； but it effectively conveyed his thoughts on the
question of taking orders from a heretic。
The heretic in question made to lash out with his gun butt； but one of his fellows stayed his
hand。
“You can’t risk it；” he said。 “He’s already damaged goods。 You could break his skull； spill his
brains out onto the street； and what would he say then？”
Steele smiled tightly to himself。 The traitors had confirmed what he had already guessed； that
their leader in Iota Hive wanted him alive。 Most likely； Mangellan intended to question him about
his comrades： their numbers； their plans and their current whereabouts。 Not that it would do him any
good。
They had taken Steele’s weapons； his field rucksack； even his fur hat。 They had turned out his
pockets。 They thought he was helpless。 They were wrong。
Steele’s greatest weapons were inside him。 His mechanical shoulder was still in working order；
and his bionic eye had almost completed its repair cycle。 He could see with it now； albeit through a
faint blur。 He could call up its HUD； which told him that the eye would be fully functional in just
fifty…eight minutes’ time。
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In the meantime； the traitors were doing him a favour。 A prisoner he may have been； for now —
but they were taking him just where he wanted to go。
They were taking him to the Ice Palace… to Confessor Wollkenden。
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Time to Destruction of Cressida： 14。33。04
They were sitting ducks。
Gavotski cursed himself for having trusted the redheaded woman when she had called to him
and Blonsky out in the street。 He had followed his instincts about her； not stopping to interrogate her
further despite his comrade’s misgivings。 But then the Traitor Guard had been so close on their
heels； and his instincts had never steered him wrong before。
His instincts were telling him something now。
The chapel was filled with the retorts of lasguns。 They echoed from the vaulted ceiling to return
to their wielders’ ears with deafening force。 But the only guns being fired belonged to the Ice
Warriors。 The mutants were not fighting back； few of them were even armed。 They were cowering；
whimpering behind stone columns and the remains of splintered pews； behind the altar itself。
“Cease fire！” yelled Gavotski over the clamour。 “I said cease fire； that’s an order！”
Grayle was the first to obey； although he turned to his sergeant with a puzzled frown。 Pozhar
looked like he was a second away from mutiny； while Blonsky…
Blonsky didn’t exactly aim his gun at Gavotski — he held it at a downward angle； pointed at the
floor between them — but the muscles in his arms were tensed； ready； as his black eyes searched
and probed。
“With respect； sergeant；” he said； “may I ask the reason for that order？”
“Look at them！” said Gavotski。 “Does this look like an ambush to you？ No one has attacked us。
They’ve done nothing but defend themselves。”
“They are mutants；” spat Blonsky。 “Their existence is offence enough！”
Gavotski returned his glare evenly。 He wasn’t about to be intimidated。 “Ordinarily； yes；” he said；
“but these are extraordinary circumstances。 I don’t think our guides lied to us。 These… these
‘people’ have information we can use。 They have ways into the Ice Palace and knowledge of
Mangellan’s capabilities。”
“In the circumstances； sergeant；” said Blonsky； “I think it is my duty to ask if you’re protecting
these abominations because of some misguided sympathy with them？ Can you swear that you are
still loyal to the God…Emperor？”
Gavotski hit him with the butt of his lasgun。 He hit him so hard and so fast that； even though
Blonsky had been watching for such a move； he was taken by surprise and floored。
“When you can prove an accusation like that；” growled Gavotski； standing over him； “then I
expect you to shoot me dead。 Until then； you will keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you。 Is that
understood； trooper？”
“They were praying；” said Pozhar in a small voice。 “They were praying to the Emperor。” The
resentment had drained from him； and he looked confused； even afraid。 Gavotski hadn’t expected
that。 He had expected Pozhar to disapprove of his decision as vociferously as Blonsky had。
And the mutants — the human…looking mutants — were picking themselves up； re…emerging
from their hiding places； and closing in around the Ice Warriors； emboldened by their inaction。
Gavotski brought up his gun； and focused it on the nearest of them。
“That’s far enough！” he snapped； and the mutant came to a halt； raised its hands。
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“We understand your… suspicions； blame you for being… repulsed。” The voice was a
lumbering baritone； and it came from behind Gavotski。 He turned； and felt his throat tightening。 The
speaker stepped out of the shadows： a shambling monster with grey fur； its fingers twisted into
claws； its eyes a burning red； its brow unnaturally pronounced。 “We repulse ourselves；” it said； “but
none of us… chose this。 Didn’t want to be this way。 Chaos； so… so strong… in the water； the air…
It has taken a hold of… our bodies。” He swallowed painfully。
Gavotski remembered what Tollenberg had said。
“But you’re fighting it； fighting to keep your minds pure。”
“If you are so loyal；” grumbled Blonsky； massaging his jaw as he climbed to his feet； “then you
know your duty。 The Emperor’s edict on impurities is clear。 There is only one way you can be
purged。”
“And we know we must… die；” the mutant said； “but want it to be for a… purpose。 We want
to… want to strike against the heretics。 They did this to us。 They did this to our… world； to
Cressida。” It was having trouble breathing； and it broke off its speech as it groaned and wheezed；
sucking air into its lungs。
“You knew we were coming！” Grayle realised。 “You sent out spies； into the mountains and the
forest。 I saw one of them。 You’ve been watching us！”
“Just… sorry；” said the mutant； “we could not approach sooner… before the sniper on the lake；
before you lost your… comrade at the landing site… before the Traitor Guardsmen… Had to choose
our moment carefully； as you will… as you will appreciate。 So hard； these days； to know who can
be… trusted。”
Gavotski followed the mutant’s sorrowful gaze； down to the floor； to the body of the Ice
Warriors’ erstwhile guides； and to the others — six of them — cut down before he had called for his
ceasefire。
“We can’t save your world；” he said quietly。 “That’s not what we’re here for。 But with your
help； we can save one man。 An important man。”
“Then we will give… what help we can；” the mutant promised。 “We will fight in the
Emperor’s… service； and pray that； when we reach the afterlife； He will… look upon our tainted
souls with… with understanding。”
The Ice Palace was as huge as Grayle had described。 It rose up high above Steele — higher than he
could see； held as he was。
He was starting to get his strength back； though he was concealing this fact from his captors；
letting them half…carry him； letting them think him still weak。
The traitors bustled him down a stone staircase； fligh