The Grand Race

Aato Väyrynen walked through the doorway and unfurled his arms with a theatrical flourish.

“...And here is our command deck, the beating heart of the ship.”

Ezharion Kulas looked around admiringly at the well-lit and shining command centre, the room having a natural flow to it that Ezharion imagined made rapid movements in a crisis less chaotic. Ezharion made some mental notes as he glanced behind him and saw the wonder of Kilvek Feldas and his entourage of veterans and smiled to himself.

“I know, I know. It’s not spikey enough”. Aato japed as Ezharion turned to face him. Ezharion laughed a low chuckle as he put his arm around Aato’s shoulders.

“Now that you mention it, it could do with a few more spikes. Too many monitors, too few spikes.”

Aato joined his brother in laughing and led him to the command throne. The throne was sleek and crafted to fit Aato’s unique figure. Ezharion crouched down and examined the intricacies of the circuitry and the inputs built into the arms. Aato wondered if he would press any of the buttons just to see what they did. It was hard to tell how much of Ezharion’s barbarian appearance was a show and how much was genuine, much like his other brother Hectarion. Aato hoped that Ezharion would prove more intellectually stimulating than he had found the Lord of Mycenae.

Ezharion straightened up and concluded his analysis of the command throne.

“Well brother, your boasts were certainly well-founded, your Gloriana is magnificent. I only wish I had seen it before I spoke with Fabricator-General Hal about the *Whisperwind*. Hopefully I can see it in action against a worthy foe.”

Aato raised his hand with a wry smile.

“The tour’s not over yet, Ezharion. There’s one stop left, perhaps the most important room on the *Lightning Bound*. Follow me.”

…

The two brothers arrived at a truly gigantic room, around the size of the Gloriana’s hangar but empty of all vehicles. The room was surrounded by huge stands of seats, Ezharion calculating in less than a second that the whole legion may well be able to in the arena. The centre of the room was empty, the floor covered in a hard, rough surface, and a few Sky Reavers were there relaxing and racing. They all stopped as they saw Aato and Ezharion enter and stood to attention. Aato waved his hand and the Reavers relaxed.

“This is the Grand Hevosareena, the greatest racetrack in perhaps the entire Imperium. The truest test of an individual’s endurance and physical prowess. This is the spiritual heart of the Lightning Bound. Without it, the ship is a mere vessel rather than a home.”

Aato smiled with pride as he stood overlooking the track.

“I hear our sons and the mortals take bets on which of us is the fastest in a race. They think they do it out of earshot, but I am guessing you have heard it too.”

Aato made a gesture of looking surprised, but his grin was mischievous.

“Well, since we are here, it would be a great shame not to put it to the test, don’t you think?”

“Only if you are willing to lose in front of your sons on your home field.” Ezharion retorted.

Aato beckoned over the Sky Reavers who were watching the two Primarchs.

“Arttu, spread the word. A Hevoskurssi is being held.”

…

The seats of the Grand Hevosareena began to fill rapidly as Reavers of both stripes filed in and mingled. The energy grew as more arrived and both sides placed bets and wagered various trophies and tokens. Aato and Ezharion stood at one end of the stadium, the two beings stretching and warming up despite their superhuman physiology. Finally, Aato judged that the seats were full enough, and he raised his hand. A wave of silence rippled out as the various conversations ended. A sole Sky Reaver walked forward, the lithe form marking him out as Aato’s equerry Otto Saari, and halting by the start line. Aato sunk into a low crouch, his armour moving without a sound as it readied himself. Ezharion joined him, deactivating his thrusters but powering up his power pack. Aato turned his head to his brother.

“If I win, I get your thrusters, right?”

“Only if I get that unique jet pack of yours if I win.”

Otto raised a volkite serpenta and began counting down. *3. 2. 1*. The serpenta lit up as the Primarchs burst forward.