Russ skidded to a halt at the foot of a profane painting, the Emperor's Spear clattering down beside him. Smoke issued from the rents I carved into the armour of Elavar by Horus' talon.

Horus grabbed the handle of his maul, forcing his heavily armoured body back upright. He gathered his dark majesty to himself again like a cloak. The haggard, suffering figure was gone. Russ could not be sure he had really seen it.

'So you were good enough, after all, brother. You could have killed me. You should not have hesitated. This weakness is what will cost our father victory. You so nearly won.'

Horus strode forwards, his maul raised to deliver the killing blow. 'When your soul is cast from you, and you are adrift in the warp, then you will know the truth as I do, brother. Before your essence is devoured by the gods our father denies, you will know you were wrong to deny me.'

Russ looked up weakly. Blood ran between his teeth. At least one of his lungs was punctured, and his secondary heart had been injured. His flesh burned with the efforts of his primarch's physiology to heal him, but his hurts were graver than the marks on his armour suggested. His chest was a mess of snapped ribs and pulped organs. The wounds were terrifyingly similar to those he had suffered in the Underverse, and he saw them now as prophecy.

'You can kill me,' said Russ defiantly. 'But you will never win.' Horus swung his arm down. A howling grey blur intercepted the maul, knocking it aside. A member of the Rout took the full force of the blow intended for the primarch. The maul pounded the warrior flat. Blood burst from the ruptured plates of his armour.

'You are wrong. I will do both,' said Horus, drawing back his arm to strike again.

But the sons of Russ were roused to protect their jarl. A second warrior ran at Horus, chainsword growling. The teeth of his weapon shattered on the Warmaster's armour and Horus swatted him aside, sending his broken carcass clanging into the wall. A third came, and a fourth, dragging at his arms to save their king.

'Your sons can die before you or after you,' shouted Horus, as more and more Vlka piled atop him. 'But I will kill you.' He shrugged off the press of bodies, sending their souls to Morkai with sideways twitches of his maul, but there were too many, and they would not stop. As Horus slaughtered his bold sons, Leman Russ dragged himself away.