Chapter 8.4 – I Was There…

Askaellon was the first through. He would not permit the Warmaster to go forward first.

He had no qualms about the other Primarchs, but Sanguinius insisted he be the first to step into the Imperial Palace. Some might have thought this a gesture of arrogance. Anyone who knew the Great Angel knew it was his desire to put himself in the front of the danger.

Much like his Lord, Askaellon would not allow the Primarch to advance before him. And so the Sanguinary Guard came forward, sword drawn onto the vast expanse of the Imperial Dungeon.

Before him stood Dorn and a host of other warriors, weapons ready. The Praetorian held his Chainsword Storm's Teeth in hand. A grim but almost sad look was on the Praetorian's face, which grew sadder when the others stepped through the Webway Portal.

"Sanguinius…" whispered Dorn sadly, "How did it come to this?"

"Brother," replied Sanguinius, "There is no need for further violence. I do not wish you harm. Please. Surrender."

"Why?" asked Dorn, all energy leaving his body, "Magnus and Lorgar I understand, but why YOU, Sanguinius?"

"Because of Horus," said Sanguinius stiffly, "This machinery you see around you. Everything Father was doing here. He had the power to save us. He had the power to save Horus. He CHOSE not to."

"Horus is long dead, Sanguinius," sighed Dorn, "What madness did Lorgar and Magnus promise you? To bring him back to life?"

"Yes, and more. You don't understand the power of the warp, Rogal. Our eyes have been opened. We can control it, and use it to bring about a new golden age."

"We were IN the golden age," replied the Praetorian gruffly, "It is YOU who have brought about a new Age of Strife upon us. Because of your actions this world, perhaps this system and beyond are going to be lost to the warp forever."

"No brother!" insisted Sanguinius, "We have the power to restore everything! We can move Terra out of the warp with the power we possess!"

"You personally can do this?" asked Dorn, dismissively, "Or someone else?"

"Well… Magnus-"

"Of course. Magnus. The one whom Father warned about messing with warp craft."

"Brother, like you, so many never understood my talents," sneered Magnus, "Father himself sought to punish me at Nikaea. I never asked to be the most psychic of us. Father literally MADE ME this way. And then he sought to punish me. For doing what I was made to do. It would be like if he banned you from architectural artistry."

"If Father had commanded me to stop my construction efforts I would have obeyed," growled Rogal, "The difference between us, Magnus, is that my Loyalty is more important to me than my personal desires."

"My Loyalty was absolute," said Lorgar, "Look where it got me. My perfect world, and all its people… burned for loving our Father too much."

"Father was building a secular Imperium!" roared the Praetorian, "I see now the monsters that were hidden behind the façade of the Imperial Truth. The more I see it, the more I believe Father was right to keep it from us. If his plan was to destroy the forces you now obey through silencing all faith, he was RIGHT to do so!"

"Then why didn't he tell me!" wailed Lorgar, "The ignorant fool punished me for my faith, and so I found NEW Gods. Ones who DO NOT punish me for my belief!"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE BELIEVED NOTHING AT ALL!" yelled Rogal, "Your pathetic need to have some spirituality has doomed us all. You and Magnus are the same in one respect. You both think you are smarter and wiser than you actually are. But you… Sanguinius… I thought you better. I cannot believe you have been taken in by these fools and their arrogance. You should never have sided with them."

"I did NOT side with them," said Sanguinius with frustration, "You sound like Alpharius. As I told him as well, I am the one in command here. I drew my brothers to MY cause. I am the one in command here! I AM THE ONE WHO FOUNDED THE CRUSADE VITAE!"

"Then you truly are lost," rumbled Dorn, "If you cannot see you are being used by those behind you, you are damned, Sanguinius."

"I WANT HORUS BACK!" screamed Sanguinius, "IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?! I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!"

"HORUS IS DEAD!" roared Rogal, "HE DIED! HE WAS MORTAL! AS ARE WE ALL! WE MUST ALL ACCEPT HIS DEATH AND MOVE ON!"

"What if I refuse," replied Sanguinius, almost a whisper, "What if I refuse to let death be the end. What if I refuse to accept that our Father knows best. I almost refused him before you know. On Baal. You never knew that, did you brother. If I had chosen to refuse him then, you would never have known me. He would have killed me. He would have killed you too if you did not agree to his plan."

"Perhaps…" answered Dorn, "But there will always be Kings. Rulers. Leaders. If we are to have one for our species, we could do worse than him. He may not be perfect, but he is the best we have."

"He is a Tyrant."

"I know."

"Then why do you defend him, brother!" pleaded Sanguinius.

"Because I see no other way," Rogal replied simply, "I do not think our Father right in all things. But I trust Lorgar and Magnus less. If I am forced to choose between the madness of our brothers, or the tyranny of our Father… It is better to serve in sanity than rule over anarchy."

"So there is no convincing you?" asked the Warmaster.

"No," answered the Praetorian.

"I am sorry then brother…" said Sanguinius, "But I cannot allow you to obstruct our plans."

"Grant me one final request, as one about to die," murmured Rogal, the muscles of the hand on Storms Teeth clenching, "Who stands with you? Who are the brothers that defied our Father? I cannot tell anyone. I will never face them in battle. I just wish to know. Does Roboute stand with you?"

"No, Roboute remains trapped in Ultramar," admitted Sanguinius, "I planned to speak with him after our victory so I might sway him after a fait accompli."

"So Roboute still stands…" muttered Rogal, "This gives me some comfort."

"Of our brothers, along with those that stand beside me, only Corvus Corax joined us on our march to Terra, though he afflicted by some strange malady that I hope to cure with my victory. However Four Primarchs and Five Legions was sufficient force to bring me here."

Sanguinius looked up a the Golden Throne. Atop the great machine sat the burned corpse of Malcador, the device shaking and vibrating as the last of the psychic energy slowly started to run out and the death rattle of the machine began.

"I see Father is no longer here. Unfortunate, but not unprepared for. Vulkan, the Lion and Jaghatai are on their way to Terra as we speak. Their forces will prevent his escape. Perturabo has been close by for some time, operating as my proxy for the conflict on Mars. He will lead them whilst we finish our work here."

"Perturabo…" hissed Dorn, "I knew that turncoat would show his colours eventually. You truly have fallen if you consider him a valuable ally."

"I had no choice," replied Sanguinius, "He kept the secret of my concerns when many others I trust more would not have done. He is not a terrible person, Rogal. I wished the pair of you had not had your rivalry."

"You should have come to Terra," accused the Praetorian, "I could have helped you. We could have found a way through this without it coming to war and rebellion."

"And what if I had?" retorted Sanguinius, "What if I came and spoke with you? What if Father learned of our conversation, and ordered you to execute me for my defiance?"

"He would not have done. I would have kept your secret. We could have spoken with Malcador, we-"

"Answer me Rogal," said Sanguinius, grim faced, "If Father ordered you to kill me, would you have done so?"

"I would have sug-"

"No avoiding the question," interrupted Sanguinius, "No saying you would have recommended Russ, or imprisonment. Would. You. Have. Killed. Me."

After a moments hestitation, Dorn gave his reply.

"Yes."

"And that is the reason why you should have been Warmaster and not me," proclaimed Sanguinius triumphantly, "I would never have killed you. Even if our Father ordered it. I would have defied him and defended you, though it cost me my life and my Legion. No matter what you did. No matter what questions you asked."

"And this is because you lost Horus."

Sanguinius paused, drawing the mental dots between his words and decisions.

"Yes. Losing Horus made me afraid to lose more of you."

"The irony of what you come here to do now surely isn't lost on you," chucked the Praetorian morosely.

"No," sighed Sanguinius, "But I hope if I am successful I can bring everyone back. Not just Horus. Everyone."

"Leave me in the ground," rumbled Dorn, "Any galaxy where your allies are victorious is not one I want to be part of."

"I'll let you make that decision yourself," replied Sanguinius, "In time."

Dorn shifted on his legs, stretching his limbs like an athlete preparing for a field event.

"So how is this to be done?"

"To the death?" said Sanguinius, "For now at least. You are a fine warrior, but I do not think you can beat me, Rogal."

"Care to test that?" asked the Praetorian, "A duel of honour?"

"Very well."

Rogal turned to the units behind him, giving his final instruction.

"Do not engage until I give my command, or I fall in combat."

Likewise Sanguinius instructed his followers, "This is between Rogal and myself. Do not interfere."

The combatants saluted each other. Dorn with his Chainsword Storms Teeth. Sanguinius with the Spear of Telesto. Both faces grim. Both faces determined.

The battle of the Praetorian and the Warmaster.

The fight would go unrecorded by history. Many poets and artisans would create works inspired by the concept Praetorian's Last Stand, but none of them would do justice to what transpired. None that witnessed the duel would ever return to speak of it. Even Lorgar would refuse to write about what he saw that day, in a rare fit of deference to the Praetorian.

Blades clashed, steel sang. Sanguinius made use of his wings, the Praetorian standing solid in the face of the Warmaster. Neither brother gave ground, neither brother wavered for a single moment.

Only one could prevail. Only one had the determination to survive beyond the day.

Rogal Dorn knew he was fated to fall. He knew even if he beat Sanguinius, he stood no chance against the horrors and monsters that followed in his wake. The Great Angel by contrast was fighting for more than just his life. He was fighting for Horus.

When the spear found its mark, the energies of the blade burned away the vital organs of the Praetorian, Dorn simply smiled as his broken body gave way beneath him. Sanguinius rushed to catch the Imperial Fist, and lowered him to the ground with as much care as he could muster.

Behind, the remaining Loyalists drew their weapons and charged, with cries of "For the Praetorian!"

Swiftly, Magnus and Askaellon dove into the fray with the Sanguinary Guard and Thousand Sons warriors tearing through the enemy with great abandon.

"I'm sorry brother," whispered Sanguinius as the carnage unfolded around him, "I'm so sorry."

"At least… it wasn't that bas… tard Perturabo," coughed Rogal with a grin, "I don't think… I could have lived it down… if he had beaten me."

"Your fortress remains unbroken," smiled Sanguinius sadly, blood tears once more welling up in his eyes, "We cheated our way in. But don't worry. I won't let you remain gone for long."

Dorn suddenly became very stern, with the last of his strength he grabbed Sanguinius' arm.

"Promise me, Sanguinius. If you love me at all as a brother, make me this one… promise."

"Anything, Rogal. Anything."

"Don't. Bring. Me. Back. Whatever… happens. Even if… you succeed with Horus. Even if you get everything you ever dream of. Let me… rest. I make this choice. If you respect me at all… respect my final request."

"But…"

"PROMISE ME!"

"I… I…" said Sanguinius with a wavering voice, "I promise… Rogal…"

A smile spread across the Praetorian's face. His muscles relaxed and his head fell back.

"Thank… you. I hope… whatever… happens… you do not… suffer… un… due… ly…"

And with that, Rogal Dorn, the Praetorian of Terra, slipped away from the universe of pain into blissful release.

"Why…" whispered Sanguinius, "Why Rogal… Why did you make me promise that…"

He softly smacked his fist against Rogal's chestplate.

Then again.

Harder. More and more, the force increasing until the blood began to spill from his broken fingers.

"WHY ROGAL?! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?! I COULD HAVE SAVED YOU! WHY DID YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE BETWEEN YOU AND HORUS?! WHYY?!"

Sanguinius let out another psychic scream, this one louder and more intense than before. Magnus turned his baleful yellow eyes to his brother, something connecting in his mind. Lorgar walked forward to his brother and rested a hand upon his shoulder.

"We can still bring him back…" whispered Lorgar, "We will have the power."

"I promised him…" sobbed Sanguinius, "I… I cannot break that promise."

"Why not?" asked Lorgar, "It was unfair of him to make that request. The decision lies in your hands."

"I WILL NOT BETRAY MY DYING BROTHER'S REQUEST!" roared Sanguinius.

"But it need not be his dying request if we return him to life…" pointed out Lorgar.

"I SAID, NO, LORGAR!" yelled Sanguinius, swiping with the tip of the spear at his brother in uncontrolled frustration.

Lorgar staggered back in shock. His hand covering his face. Sanguinius leapt to his feet, dropping the spear, running to Lorgar and holding his arm.

"Brother, I am so sorry! It was an accident! Please, forgive me brother!"

"It is fine, it is fine," murmured Lorgar, pulling his hand away from his face. Where his right eye had been was now a bloody mess.

"Oh my…. Lorgar… Your eye… I am so sorry…" whispered Sanguinius, the blood tears falling without end.

"All is forgiven, my brother," said Lorgar calmly, "This is my error. I bear you no ill will."

"What have I done…" said Sanguinius, looking from Lorgar to the body of Rogal Dorn, "It wasn't supposed to be like this…"

"Come brother," said Lorgar with a weak smile, "All will be restored when we complete the Primordial Essence. Let us go above, to the Chapel of Dreams. Horus awaits us. Together we will all be whole again."

"Yes…" muttered Sanguinius, "Let us… restore Horus."

As the Great Angel was led away by the Herald, the last of the Loyalists collapsed to the ground. The Golden Throne creaked and shuddered, holding on for dear life. It would give way eventually. Nothing could stop it now. The only question now, was when.

As the Primarchs departed the Imperial Dungeons, Lorgar and Magnus did so with smiles.

The Crusade Vitae was victorious. Terra had fallen.