Chapter 3.6 The Darkest Day
The events on Davin were one disaster after another. First, the remnants of the Governor's forces attacked the Legions relentlessly, reanimating after wounds that normally would have felled a man. These beasts, heralding the name Nurg-leth, slew several of the Astartes before new strategies were developed to effectively fight them.
Then the Warmaster got separated from the Mournivals, and even his own Sanguinary Guard, finding himself alone as he advanced on the Governor's position. It was clear that somehow the former Governor was commanding these monsters through some esoteric means, and Sanguinius knew the fastest way to end the attacks was to cut the head off.
Then when the Primarch encountered Eugen Temba, the creature that wore the Governor's skin took advantage of the Primarch's better nature, and managed to inflict a mortal wound during a form of combat the Great Angel had never encountered before. The weapon Eugen Temba possessed almost had a life of its own, allowing the former baseline human to keep up with the Primarch in a way that should not have been possible. The ferocity of the attacks caught Sanguinius by surprise, and whilst he was an excellent warrior Sanguinius was wielding the Spear of Telesto, which made blocking the attacks far more difficult as somehow the blade allowed Eugen Temba to attack inside the reach of the spear.
Whilst the Great Angel did manage to incinerate Eugen Temba with the Spear of Telesto's burning fury, the wound that pierced the chest of the Warmaster refused to heal. When the Mournivals found the Great Angel, he was unconscious, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. The combat apothecaries stated that moving the Great Angel would be almost impossible due to the loss of blood and the state of hypoxia induced by some form of agent in the wound. They stated he would die before reaching either of the Command Ships, the Red Tear or the Vengeful Spirit. He was beyond any art they possessed to save him, merely able to stabilize him for a short time.
The weapon found with Eugen Temba was one very reminiscent of those used by the Interex, however few paid it too much mind, given the death of Horus many years before. The nature of such weapons could now be considered to be a rare but expected hazard, so few thought to connect any of the Legion's warriors with the appearance of such a blade. No one considered that one of the Astartes had brought the weapon to Davin after failing to destroy it with the other devices of the Interex.
With the Primarch's life fading, the Mournivals desperately sought a solution. One was provided, in the form of Erebus. The Chaplain asked for trust, gaining it instantly from Abaddon and Askaellon, one who refused to lose ANOTHER Primarch to such weaponry, and the other being absolutely loyal to his master. Aximand was unsure, but followed Abaddon's lead, both trusting in their Lodge brother's promises of saving the Warmaster. Nassir Amit completely distrusted Erebus, but knew there was no other optional available, along with Raldoron who in desperation concurred.
Of the 8 members of the Mournivals, several stood with Erebus, and the possibility of reviving the Primarch with the sorceries of the local Lodge. But 3 stood against, the High Warden, Sejanus and Tarik.
"This is Blasphemy," rumbled High Warden Dahka Berus, "I will not permit you to desecrate the Warmaster in such a fashion. To even suggest such a thing is heresy of the highest order against the Emperor's will. I am most disappointed in you Erebus. The Edicts were clear, and even if this is not conducted by Astartes it is still a form of psychic witchery that is forbidden by the Emperor's divine teachings. I will not permit you to touch the Primarch, or commit his mortal remains to be defiled in such a manner."
"Stand in our way, and I will cut you down," growled Askaellon, drawing his blade, "None shall stop me saving the Warmaster. Not even you, High Warden. I will kill you if you attempt to block my path."
"Wait a moment," said Sejanus protesting, "Are we really going to shed blood over the Warmaster's body? Are we going to surrender to superstition and religious madness?"
"Sejanus, throne love you, you are one of the best of our Legion," said Abaddon, "But stand in our way and I will put a bolter round in you."
"Ezekyle, this is madness!" yelled Tarik, running and interposing himself between Abaddon and Sejanus, "Have we taken leave of our senses?!"
"I will not have another Father die on us," murmured Abaddon, "I would see all of us here dead before I would permit that again. Stand in our way, and we shall move forward, over you or through you if we must, but we will move forward."
"This doesn't seem right," said Raldoron with some discomfort, "The Primarch would never agree to something as abominable as sorcery. There has to be another way."
"THERE ISN'T TIME" yelled Askaellon, readying his blade in a combat stance, "NOW, stand aside. All of you. This is your last warning."
"I will not let you do this thing," said the High Warden, drawing his pistol and grasping firm his symbol of office.
Askaellon let out a guttural cry and charged at the High Warden, his blade clashing against the High Warden's high block. Pulling a hand away from the hilt of his blade, Askaellon smacked the bolt pistol out of Dahka's other hand, sending it skittering to the ground. Sejanus lunged forward, pulling Askaellon back, with Nassir Amit grabbing the Sanguinary Guard's other arm.
"LET GO OF ME!" roared Askaellon, struggling to free himself from the 2 Astartes grappling him. Sejanus and Amit strained with the effort to try and keep the Sanguinary Guard restrained. The High Warden swiftly walked over to his fallen pistol, retrieving the weapon and pointing it at Askaellon.
"For crimes against the Edicts, and the laws of the Imperium," said Dahka Berus calmy, "I sentence you to death in the name of the Emperor."
"Hold on now," said Raldoron, grabbing the High Warden's arm and point it away from Askaellon, "Everyone here needs to calm down. We are not going to start shooting each other."
"He must be subdued, or he must die," growled the High Warden, "There shall be no sorcery within this Legion."
"Speak for yourself," said Abaddon advancing to pass the High Warden to where the Primarch lay surrounded by apothecaries, "Little Horus, with me. We are saving the Warmaster whether the Ninth likes it or not."
Aximand nodded, falling into line with Abaddon. The High Warden pulled away from Raldoron, pointing his pistol at Abaddon, grim determination on his face.
"Stand down, First Captain."
"Try it. I dare you," said Abaddon, advancing face to face with the High Warden. Dahka did not waver, his pistol aimed squarely at Abaddon's forehead. Abaddon gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, preparing for a strike.
"Stand down, Berus!" yelled Raldoron, "You will not fire on the First Captain of the Sixteenth Legion!"
"I cannot let him pass, Raldoron!" called the High Warden, "If anyone here takes another step towards the Primarch I will end his service to their Legion permanently."
Raldoron ran towards Dahka Berus and tackled the High Warden to the ground. Taking advantage of the situation, Abaddon pushed passed and made a dash towards the Primarch, Little Horus in tow. Struggling on the ground, the High Warden pulled the trigger and the loud repeated bang of several bold rounds echoed all around, followed by a deadly silence.
First all turned to look at Dahka and Raldoron, sprawled on the floor, both breathing heavily with the super human exertion of their actions. Then, Little Horus Aximand collapsed to the floor, and as all attention turned to him, all saw his head a bloody mess of flesh and brain matter. Abaddon turned to look at his fallen comrade and let out a furious roar of anguish. It was a guttural cry, that only the pain of loss could summon.
"YOU BASTARD!" screamed Abaddon, charging toward the High Warden, his blade held high with murderous intent written across his features, "I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Ezekyle, NO!" yelled Tarik, desperately trying to intercept the First Captain.
Four more shots. Smoke drifted from the barrel of the bolt pistol held by the High Warden. The first caught Abaddon in the upper right torso, the second grazing his right arm, taking a chunk of flesh out just below the elbow. This didn't seem to stop the First Captain, it only seemed to make him angrier, the Astartes running on pure adrenaline and whatever combat stims the First Captain had left in his system.
The third shot came from Askaellon. In the disruption following the death of Aximand, Askaellon had managed to free himself from Amit and Sejanus. He had managed to grab Sejanus' bolt pistol and put a round in the leg of its owner. This crippled Sejanus, giving Askaellon free reign to adjust his position. Placing himself at just the right angle, he fired at the prone High Warden, the bolt passing through the neck of the Astartes, ensuring that he would never rise again.
Either Abaddon did not notice this however, or he did not care. So enraged by bloodlust, the First Captain laid into the body of the High Warden, slashing at his face and torso over and over again, until Tarik finally pulled the First Captain off and crumbled into a heap. Blood continued to pour from Abaddon's wounds, and he lost the strength to grip his blade, the sword clattering to the ground beside him.
"WE NEED AN APOTHECARY OVER HERE!" yelled Torgaddon, desperately applying pressure to the First Captain's injuries to staunch the bleeding.
Askaellon turned to Raldoron, who was rising to stand, and Nassir Amit, who was attempting to aid the injured Sejanus. The Sanguinary Guard cast the pistol of Sejanus aside, and fixed his brothers with a glare.
"If you love the Warmaster, our Primarch, our FATHER as much as you claim, you will come with me now and ensure his survival. I will brook no further delay. You stand with me, or you get out of my way. There is no other path forward."
Nassir looked up at Askaellon, and shook his head, turning his attention back to Sejanus and his wounded leg.
"Do what you want, Askaellon," said Amit, "I won't stop you, but I won't help you either."
"You MUST stop them!" whispered Sejanus to Amit, "You know that this is wrong!"
"Look how far that got you and the High Warden," muttered Nassir, "I don't trust that Erebus bastard but I think there's been enough brotherly blood shed today, don't you? You're not convincing Askaellon and Abaddon. This isn't a fight you can win."
"Erebus!" called Abaddon, spitting up blood in thick chunks, "You better… *cough*… you better be bloody right about this. If you are wrong about this, I'll rip your spin out myself, no matter how many pieces I'm in!"
"Easy Ezekyle," soothed Tarik, "I've lost one brother today, I don't want to lose another."
"Fear not, First Captain," crowed Erebus, joining Askaellon and Raldoron as they moved toward the Primarch's resting place, "I give you my solemn vow that the Warmaster will rise again, far stronger and greater than ever before."
"I don't give… *cough* two shits about that," choaked Abaddon, "Just bring him back alive. No excuses… any of you."
The apothecaries swarmed around the Mournivals like ants, extracting gene-seed from the High Warden and Aximand, attending to Sejanus' leg, and desperately trying to stablise Abaddon. The First Captain grabbed Tarik's arm as he was lifted onto a gurney to be taken away.
"Promise me… Tarik," he whispered, "Promise me… we won't fail this time. Promise me, we will save him. We can't fail again. I can't… fail… again…"
Torgaddon watched as the combination of blood loss and medical cocktails flowing through Abaddon's system drove the First Captain into unconsciousness. Grabbing his hand one last time before the apothecaries took him away, Tarik whispered a response before joining Erebus and the Sons of Sanguinius.
"I promise, brother. I promise you will not fail. We will save him, no matter the cost."
