Russ was far from defenceless. His reflexes saved him from the maul's crushing blows. When the Warmaster's hellish minions rushed in to assist their master, Russ skewered them efficiently. His ability with the blade kept the Warmaster back, and for once he was glad of a spear's reach. The weapon lent him arcane power of his own. Each thrust arced with blue lightning that stabbed at the ground. Sheets of light trailed its blade as he swept it round his head to slash at his brother.

Where the lightning caught upon the corrupted surfaces of the hall, filth curled back and the warped decoration twisted. When the spear sheared into the unholy light surrounding Horus, it shrank away, writhing from the spear's edge. Truly, the Emperor had gifted him with a portion of His own might. It was a wyrding blade, steeped in the energies of the Underverse, a weapon from myth.

Russ whirled, keeping up the spear's momentum with a continuous series of rapid steps. The spear thrummed with palpable delight to be used. Its point shivered through gaps in Horus' defence. The Warmaster reacted to each attack, blocking them with his monstrous claw or batting aside the spear's shaft with his maul. Each time their weapons touched, violently coloured sparks fountained in all directions. They took root in ragged tapestries and upon the sticky faces of unclean artworks, so that wherever Russ and Horus went fires kindled. Within minutes the upper part of the hall was ablaze. Warriors fought on in the flames. Space Marines twisted by the maleficarum of the warp struck in mad frenzy at Russ' Wolves. No more foes emerged from the hidden panels, but hundreds more Sons of Horus were pouring into the hall through the great gates. Parties of screaming mortals, many touched by Chaos' warping influence, hurled themselves through smaller doors towards the ship's stern. Russ' amazing mind kept a running evaluation of the haute. His Rout held the way back for now. There remained a single corridor of retreat running through the ship down to the embarkation deck.

He kept it open for his sons, not for himself. Russ expected to die. All he had to do was hurt the Warmaster. He was not sure he could do even that.

Horus had to see the truth of what he was. He had to know what Russ knew.