The creature that was Luther holds his gaze, his features a mask of venom directed against his brother. And yet, for an instant, as the momentary flash of distant lasers lights the gloom of the monastery, Jonson sees his friend - the man who fought beside him, the man who recognized him for who he was. The Lion sword, held high, lowers and crashes to the ground from the numb fingers of the Primarch of the Dark Angels. The Lion sinks to his knees. For a moment all is still. Then Luther screams in fury. His once noble features contort as though controlled by another. Lightning arcs around him. What is left of the monastery begins to crumble, at first from the mere shaking of the earth, but soon from the coruscating power wielded by Luther, as it fills the hall. Jonson struggles to stand, but finds himself held in a grip of iron. Luther stands over him, his strength unnaturally returned. "Now you will pay!" he screams. A bolt of pure warp energy envelops the Lion. His mighty body is sent into violent spasms, unbearable pain sears through his very soul. He longs for the darkness, but somehow he remains awake. A final jolt of force tears through his body, turning his blood to ice and his muscles to fire. Then it is gone and he is left broken on the dusty ground. Luther collapses, his head bowed as the force of the chaos gods leaves him. Through the swirling pain that clouds his thoughts he sees Jonson. A wisp of smoke curls before his eyes, and he follows its progress. At the other end of the hall a large piece of masonry crashes to the ground, sending echoes throughout the remains of the structure. His eyes return to the figure prostrate before him. Something small awakens in his mind. He fights hard to bury it, but it is insistent. Then in a flash of realization he knows what he has done. The truth crashes into him like the blow that Jonson couldn't deliver. He is defenseless before its onslaught, incapable of fending off what floods his mind. He physically reels as he recognizes the corruption that has tainted his soul. He struggles to break free from the tendrils of control that enthrall him to the chaos gods, but finds their touch is not easily dismissed. His screams of self-loathing reach far beyond the confines of the hall. They puncture the very fabric of space, ringing out into the warp itself, reaching the masters that Luther now desperately seeks to escape. Their anger is tangible. It boils from the sky in roiling clouds of energy, tearing at what remains of Caliban and sucking it into the Immaterium. Luther longs for it to claim him, but the mighty force fields of the Order's greatest monastery stand firm before the onslaught. The sky above Luther is wreathed in flame, blood rains down and boils as it touches the ground a physical hell to mirror that in Luther's mind. And then, again, all is silent. The blackness of space fills the sky above Luther, but he is no longer aware. All he sees is the body of Lion El' Jonson, borne aloft by the Watchers. He implores them to take him, but his pleas are inaudible and ignored. His mind is full of their silent voices and he cannot escape their words. He drifts into madness and slumps to the ground. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "He is the Lion, the strength of the order. His presence shall not fade. Beneath, he shall sleep, until his time. His return shall be your absolution. The Lion shall roar again." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Brother Lysias sees him first. A broken bundle, lying in the centre of what was the Order's greatest monastery. The Dark Angels advance, believing the arch heretic slain, searching for their Primarch. But as they approach they hear his broken voice, babbling incoherently. He talks of Jonson, of the Watchers, of his salvation. Lysias lifts him as if he were a feather. Luther does not react to his presence. Of Jonson, there is no sign. THE END |
THE PASSING OF THE LION By Jacob Stow |
FABLES OF THE UNFORGIVEN |
