Dark Apostle

Putting his magnoculars to his eyes, he saw the rising dust cloud where a moment before the towering presence of the palace had been located.

'Emperor be praised,' he exclaimed.

He laughed out loud in surprise and astonishment.

'When's our second wave of drop-troopers inbound?'

'Now sir, they should be falling as we speak,' answered his comms officer, who had been staring blankly at his useless machines since his vox communication had been silenced.

'And now they are safe from the wretched fire from those air turrets,' exclaimed Havorn's young adjutant. 'This is a good day for the Imperium indeed! Victory is assured!'

'Victory is never assured,' said Havorn as his eyes fell on the red-armoured Chaos Marines fighting their way free of the tech-guard cohorts. His augmented, ogryn bodyguard growled menacingly and took a step in front of the brigadier-general.

'Quick, sir!' said his adjutant, urgently.

'We have not the time,' said Havorn flatly, seeing the enemy carve a bloody exit from the mass of bodies and begin hurtling across the salt plain towards them. He pulled his gold-rimmed plasma pistol from his holster.

His entourage raised their weapons and sprayed the approaching warriors with gunfire. The ogryn roared as it planted its heavy feet and empty shells streamed from its ripper gun as it fired the weapon wildly. The Chimera behind them rotated its turret and multi-laser fire peppered the traitors, cutting several of them down. Only six Chaos Marines reached the brigadier-general's command group, but it was enough.

The first Chaos Marine ducked under the ogryn's heavy swinging arm and leapt forwards, smashing its tall, spiked icon into the head of Havorn's adjutant, pulverising his skull.

A burst of fire tore apart another of Havorn's men and the brigadier-general fired his plasma pistol in response, knocking back a chainsword wielding foe as the shot took him in the shoulder. He fired again quickly and despatched the traitor, streaming plasma engulfing his helmet.

This was the end, he thought. An ignominious end to his thirty-seven years within the Imperial Guard, hacked apart by brutal warriors behind his battle lines.

'Damn you, you traitorous whoresons!' he muttered and fired his pistol twice in quick succession, felling another of the two and half metre behemoths.

Two more of his entourage were hacked down and he backed further away.

He saw the loyal ogryn fall to the ground with a bestial roar. He wasn't a sentimental man by any stretch, but he felt pain as his faithful bodyguard fell to the ground, coughing blood from his lungs.

Havorn fired his pistol again and again, and felt the rising pain beneath his hand as the pistol overheated, venting super-heated air. With a snarl, he hurled it to the ground and drew his long bladed combat knife. It had been more than twenty years since it had tasted blood, back in the days when he was a captain of the storm troopers.

Only two of the enemy remained standing and they stalked towards him, wordlessly stepping away from each other to take him from both sides.

Havorn kept his eyes on the foe so as not to attract their attention to the massive form of the ogryn picking itself up behind them, blood running from the wounds on its arms and chest, and spilling from its mouth.

With a roar, the ogryn picked up one of the traitors, one massive hand upon the enemy's backpack and the other between his legs. It lifted the Chaos Marine high into the air and slammed it head first into the ground, cracking its neck.

The second traitor turned with a snarl and swung its icon two handed into the ogryn's legs, driving it to its knees. Releasing his grip on the haft of the hateful symbol of Chaos, the Chaos Marine leapt at the ogryn, its long talons extended for the killing blow.

Havorn cried out and surged forwards, but he was too slow and he saw the bodyguard fall, its throat ripped completely out, blood spurting from the fatal wound.

He drove his combat knife through a crack in the traitor's ceramite back plate, the blade sinking deep. Blood spurted from the wound, burning through Havorn's leather glove, and the enemy spun, his fist smashing into the brigadier-general's cheek, shattering the bone.

Pain exploded in his head and he fell back from the force of the blow. He saw the ogryn's large, mournful eyes as it tried desperately to aid its master before the Chaos Marine reached down and broke its neck with a brutal twist.

'Traitorous hellspawn,' spat Havorn.

'Hellspawn yes. Traitor, no,' replied the hateful, possessed traitor, his fang-filled maw forming the Low Gothic words with difficulty. The fangs retracted and the warrior shook his head, his daemonic visage melting away to leave a cold, pale handsome face.

'The Word Bearers Legion, blessed of Lorgar, are no traitors, wretched fool,' growled the warrior as he stalked towards Havorn.