Chapter 4.2 Flight of the Night Haunter
It was several hours before his planned departure. Sanguinius tapped away in the Mournival conference room aboard the Red Tear, issuing last minute directives to various fleet commands so that they could continue during his unnotified absence. Askaellon could fill in for any unexpected events. The Commander of the Sanguinary Guard had been instructed on how to issue orders and mimic the Warmaster's code signature for any commands so no one would notice the missing Primarch. Raldoron was able to command the Ninth and ensure their compliances were continued to the high standard expected of his Legion. All was in hand.
A chime was echoed on the room, answered by Sanguinius after a few moments of completing another series of orders.
"My Lord," called Raldoron from the bridge of the Red Tear, "We have a sighting of the Eighth Legion. It appears to be their entire fleet. They just emerged here in the Davin system from high warp at the outer edges."
"Konrad?" asked Sanguinius, partly to himself, "Where has he been hiding all this time?"
"The Nightfall acknowledged our hails, and a transport reported to be carrying the Primarch is on its way to the Red Tear," continued Raldoron, "The rest of the Eighth fleet is on slow approach towards us."
"Clear a berth for my brother at once," replied Sanguinius, "Direct him here upon his arrival and give my apologies that I cannot meet him in person immediately."
"As you command, my Lord."
Sanguinius settled back into his work, ensuring all would be in order after his departure. He kept awareness of his surroundings, ready to put his work aside as soon as Konrad Curze entered the room. His brother would receive his undivided attention when he appeared, but the work needed to continue. Minutes went by. Then near an hour. His brother did not arrive.
The Great Angel stood, stretched his quad of upper limbs in relief, then hit his vox link to the bridge.
"First Captain, has the Primarch arrived yet?"
"Yes sir, his ship docked near half an hour ago. I have been hailing the bay but have had no response. Probably an issue with the vox wiring. I sent a squad down to investigate. They should report back shortly."
Sanguinius waited patiently, hearing nothing but the soft clank of the ship's hull adjust to various fluctuations of temperature and the hiss of liquids and electronics performing their vital duties within the walls. He was glad Konrad was here. It hurt him deeply to think that his brother had been out there, likely suffering alone in the void. He had resolved himself to do whatever was in his power to aid the Night Haunter and ease his pain. After all, he was one of the few who could understand him.
"My Lord!" exclaimed Raldoron over the vox, "Squad Kaneth reports… they report… the bay is a blood bath Sire! All the battle brothers… the mechanicum adepts… everyone in the bay has been butchered!"
"My brother!" yelled Sanguinius, suddenly jolting up from his seat and terror for his brother clasping at his throat, "Konrad! Is he alive?!"
"Oh I am quite well, brother," hissed Curze, emerging from a shadowy corner of the room. Taken aback, Sanguinius took a step away from the figure of his erstwhile missing brother. He saw red droplets of blood splatted across the floor, Konrad's claws drenched in the fluids that once inhabited the bodies of the bay crew. A sick grin crossed Curze's twisted visage, "As well as I can be… given the circumstances…"
"Brother…" whispered Sanguinius, "Why?..."
"Why? WHY?!" spat Curze, "Because 'You Killed My Son'! That's why!"
"Brother, I swear, I have not killed ANY of your sons," pleaded Sanguinius, "Brother, you are not well. Please. Let me help you."
"There is nothing wrong with me!" shrieked the Night Haunter, "It is the universe that is broken! You should not be Warmaster! Horus should be Warmaster!"
"Then you know it too!" exclaimed Sanguinius, trying to establish commonalty to pacify his brother, "You know Horus need not have died!"
"HE DIDN'T DIE!" screamed Curze, smashing a chair against the wall, "IT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE! FATE WAS BROKEN! THEY INTERFERED WITH FATE! AND NOW YOU! YOU WILL BE THE CAUSE OF IT ALL!"
"The cause of what, Konrad?!" asked Sanguinius urgently, "The cause of what?!"
"EVERYTHING!" yelled the Night Haunter, his twisted rage suddenly calming as he lowered his tone, "But. Not if I kill you. I can stop this all. Right here. Right now. Fate is broken. But the Warmaster is the key. If the Warmaster matters to fate I cannot kill you. But if you don't, if like Horus you are destined for nothing… I can kill you. And I WILL!"
Curze lunged at Sanguinius, his talons extended, the blood of the Great Angel's sons still wet on their tips. Sanguinius staggered back, the blades lightly scraping against his refined golden armour, leaving a gash like a wild feline's claws in his chest plate. The Great Angel grasped the Spear of Telesto that lay propped up against the wall behind him, blocking a second and a third strike with the shaft. The Night Haunter made several more strikes before withdrawing to find a new angle of attack.
"Konrad, please! Stop!" begged Sanguinius, "We can work this out, there is no need for violence!"
"Brother, you of all of us had the visions," growled Curze, "You should have seen what I saw. You should have FELT what I FELT! You should have SUFFERED AS I SUFFER!"
"My visions were never as precise as yours, Konrad!" pleaded Sanguinius, "Mine were never as intense! I didn't see Horus' death before it happened! My visions do aid me in many ways but yours are physically destructive to you! Please! Let us return to Terra! Together! I will see you get the help you need!"
"Oh I see more than just Horus' death, brother!" spat Curze, "I don't just see what will be anymore, I see what COULD have been, what MIGHT be. I can see what we were SUPPOSED to be. I was SUPPOSED to stand with Horus. You were SUPPOSED to turn against him! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO KILL YOU!"
"No…" whispered Sanguinius, "I don't believe it. I would never have fought Horus! He would never have… we would never have hurt each other!"
"STOP LYING!" screamed the Night Haunter, "YOU KNOW ITS TRUE! And I see more. I see what came after. And even now you echo what was meant to be. Your sons are RED no longer! You now have a Legion of Black! Your sons… They keep the Company of Death! They pretend to have the blackest rage! BUT IT SHALL NEVER BE!"
Curze launched into another volley of attacks, his claws slashing over and over whilst he continued to scream.
"LEGION… OF… BLACK! COMPANY… OF… DEATH! LEGION… OF… BLACK! COMPANY… OF… DEATH!"
Sanguinius struggled with the effort to deflect every blow. He was the better fighter, few would have said otherwise, but his ability to see microseconds in the future to foresee his enemy's strikes wasn't working. Curze's own foresight cancelled out the Great Angel's natural ability, and he struck at Sanguinius like a wild beast in a frenzy. There was no art in his attacks, no finesse, no skill, just brutal unyielding malice.
Aware he was being backed into a corner, Sanguinius switched tactics and pressed the attack. He let himself be open for just a moment to get into a perfect striking position. He saw it coming, he knew it would happen. But he had to led Konrad strike him to begin his counter attack. But it was the only way to get into position.
A flash of metal, and the talons slashed across Sanguinius' beautiful face. A pair of crimson lines marred the perfect visage of the Great Angel, stretching from his lower right just above the mouth, to the upper left narrowly missing his eye. Curze gave a smirk of pleasure, but Sanguinius' ruse paid off. In the end, a beast could never best one whose skill and mastery of combat was on the level of the Great Angel, no matter how ferociously they fought.
Sanguinius roared as he brought the spear around to stab up and around into the Night Haunter's left breast. Pushing with all his strength, and flapping his wings to generate additional force Sanguinius pushed the spear in deep, dragging the body of Curze across the room to be impaled upon the far wall. The Night Haunter snarled and snapped, his claws flailing uselessly trying to reach the Great Angel, but Sanguinius kept his distance at the end of the spear, his eyes burning with rage.
"YOU CANNOT KILL ME CURZE," boomed Sanguinius, "I DO NOT CARE WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN, WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE SEEN. BUT YOU WILL NOT STOP ME LEARNING THE TRUTH."
"I HAVE ALREADY SEEN THE TRUTH!" wailed Curze, "YOU WILL TURN AGAINST THE MASTER OF MANKIND! YOU WILL BE THE DOOM OF THE IMPERIUM! IF I CANNOT STOP YOU, NO ONE CAN!"
"I WILL HARM NO MAN WHO DOES NOT RAISE A SWORD AGAINST ME!" yelled Sanguinius, "I AM NOT A MONSTER! I WILL BRING NO HARM TO THE IMPERIUM, NO MATTER WHAT I LEARN!"
"THE BEST…" said Curze, his voice weakening and beginning to pant with the effort of suppressing the pain, "The best paths to hell, brother, are paved with good intentions. Do you think I set out to be monster I am today? Do you think I wished for a Legion of crooks and murderers?"
"I am not like you, Konrad," said Sanguinius, forcefully, "I will not resort to petty violence to resolve my problems. I will not stand for cruelty under my watch. I will continue to enforce justice and righteousness, and show compassion no matter who my enemy is."
"No, you are not like me, brother. You have the potential to be far, far worse. You'll see. The future is… is… is… crystalizing brother," said Curze with a wince of pain, "My visions, they are slowly stabilizing into a known future again. Almost every vision I see… I see you, brother. I see you, on Terra, standing next to the ruins of a golden throne, a burned corpse sat atop it. I see worlds, entire systems, laid to waste by your command. I see… I see Fenris… There Are No Wolves on Fenris, but soon there will be no life at all. And it will be because of you."
"No," murmured Sanguinius, "That will not be so. I would never sanction the death of a brother's home world. I would never order the destruction of entire systems for my own vanity. If fate can be changed, as with the death of Horus, it can be changed again. I promise you Curze, I will not let this future you see come to pass, no matter what truths I learn."
"I hope so brother," said Curze, smiling weakly and running a finger down in the air, drawing a line from the corner of Sanguinius' eye down his cheek, "I see the sadness and grief you hold. I would be glad to be wrong, for all our sakes, but your grief will consume the galaxy. Your grief will consume Terra."
"No," said Sanguinius more forcefully.
"As it may be," replied Curze, "If I am wrong, brother, and you do escape this fate, I will stand beside you once more. If you can overcome this destiny, I promise I shall no longer hunt you or your sons, and I shall bow to your command as Warmaster. But if you should fail, and if you should fall from that path…"
The Night Haunter waved a hand across the direction of Sanguinius' scars, still fresh and dripping with blood.
"If you should fall, I will ensure that my next strike digs all the way through the bone. No matter what Fate tells me my future is."
An explosion rocked the Red Tear and Sanguinius lost his grip on the Spear of Telesto. Staggering back to the main desk, Sanguinius keyed the vox to the bridge. Looking back at Curze, Sanguinius saw only his spear, dropped to the deck, with a trail of blood vanishing out of a side door.
"Raldoron, report," said Sanguinius urgently.
"It's the Night Lords, Sire," replied Raldoron, "The Eighth Legion has opened fire at maximum range. We've lost 3 escort ships, but all vessels are raising shields and preparing to return fire."
"Defend yourselves, but do not pursue," ordered Sanguinius, "And make sure my brother's bay is clear of all personnel. Give the general order, if you see him do not engage him unless he strikes at you or others. If he makes it to his transport he is to be allowed to leave without issue. I suspect the Eighth are only causing a distraction to allow his escape. If they depart after his transport returns to the Nightfall, let them go. Do not pursue. Focus on minimizing losses and protecting damaged units."
"As you command, Sire."
Sanguinius pulled up the bridge sensor feed and watch it play out before him. Hundreds of vessels, some Ninth Legion, some Eighth, exchanging fire at long range. Missiles, lances, kinetics, all smashing into shields and hulls across a wide front. A small icon emerged from the larger symbol representing the Red Tear, barrelling away from the fleet back towards the Nightfall. Sanguinius smashed his gauntlet on the desk, making the display flicker for a moment.
"Throne damn you Curze," muttered Sanguinius, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger, "Why did you not come to me sooner. Why did you not come to the funeral on Terra. We could have helped you. I could have helped you. With Magnus… and Malcador, or even our Father, we could have helped you. But now its…"
The last words went unspoken. It was too late. Sanguinius had his course set for Prospero and the truths that lay there. He couldn't pretend he hadn't witnessed what he had witnessed. He couldn't pretend his life hadn't been saved. He couldn't pretend his heart ached to know why Horus had been allowed to die.
Sanguinius ran a hand across his new scars, where the blood had begun to clot to form a pair of bloody red scabs across his face.
"If we meet again Curze, and you try anything like this again, I will kill you my brother. I promise you that."