Awake! Amael carefully moved his arm. Pain shot through it, prompting his armour to hurriedly inject anaesthetic into his bloodstream. The pain slowly faded to a dull throbbing and he climbed carefully to his feet. His head swam. The vision lingered in his mind. Closing his eyes he could see the Lion before him; could feel his touch upon his head; could hear his voice resounding through his thoughts. Looking up, he could make out the catwalk several levels above him. There was no sign of any fighting or even movement. He tried the comm. frequencies of Uriel and Lexus. Both returned static. He stooped and retrieved his power sword, thanking the emperor that he had not been left weapon-less by his fall. He knew instinctively what he must do. A few feet from him, bolted into the wall, an access ladder led up toward the catwalk. He sheathed his sword and climbed. He moved swiftly, any fatigue he had felt disappeared, replaced by clarity and single-minded purpose. Ducking under the railing at the top of the ladder, he swept into the passageway beyond. He came across the body of Ariel first, the terminator's suit scorched and ruined. Through one shattered lens, Amael could see Ariel's eye staring sightlessly out of his helm toward the ceiling. Moving on, he found Apollyon. The mighty marine was missing an armoured leg. One by one he came across his slain companions, their defiled forms left amidst the fallen traitors. He reached the end of the corridor, and turned back. Lexus' body was absent. Gone but not lost. The voice whispered insistently inside his mind. Stooping to retrieve a discarded storm bolter, he left the tomb of his brethren behind. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Something bright and disturbing pushed its way into Adonai's ancient mind. The Fallen librarian tensed. He couldn't decide what it was precisely, but something still stalked them in this hive. He got to his feet, his armour lending him its indomitable strength, and reached for his force axe. Antonius glanced over at him. "I wouldn't wander far brother, Vicconius is planning something special for our interrogator! He might require your own special brand of torture." Adonai shot him a look. "Tell Vicconius I had something to take care of." Without another word he marched from the room." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Amael moved swiftly, power sword sheathed at his waist and storm bolter nestling ready in his arms. It had been hours since any view port had given him a sight of his position, but by his own reckoning he knew he was nearing the top of the hive; that much was obvious from the relative opulence of the chambers he now passed through. It was here that the ruling classes made their dwellings. He reached a set of ornate doors, the imperial eagle emblazoned across their span. A myriad of intricately wrought friezes surrounded the symbol of imperial might, depicting the most significant events in Calne's history. At the top, an armoured figure in a winged helm held aloft an immense sword, his mere presence keeping the creatures of darkness that snarled up at him from his feet at bay. Amael smiled grimly and passed through into the room beyond. It was dark save for small bands of starlight that entered through two circular stained glass windows at the head of the room. Amael stopped, unsheathing his power sword, its blade crackling with energy as he activated its generator. For the second time, he knew something was not right. Muttering an outwardly inaudible command he activated his helm's optical enhancers and the room became bathed in a reddish glow. He cast his gaze about slowly from left to right, memorising the layout of the chamber, noting the only other exit on the opposite side of his position. "Is this the best they can do!" a voice sneered from the darkness. Amael span in the direction of the sound but the space was empty. He dropped into a combat stance scanning about for any sign of movement. "Give up Dark Angel," the voice returned. "You cannot succeed where your almighty Deathwing failed. If you surrender I might dispose of you before brother Vicconius arrives." Something flitted on the edge of Amael's vision and he dropped to one knee, stormbolter lighting the room as he emptied a magazine into a wood-panelled wall. With a laugh full of contempt, Adonai moved from the shadow, his black terminator armoured form emerging phantom-like from the other side of the room. The librarian appeared more daemon than man in the bloody haze projected by Amael's helm's sensors. Psychically charged flame licked at the razor sharp edges of his force axe and reflected off the polished ceramite of his armour. Ancient skulls, mouths stretched wide as if in unbearable torment, gazed sightlessly from the traitor's shoulder pads and torso. Amael shoved a new magazine into his stormbolter and sent a hail of fire in his direction. The traitor merely raised his hand and the shells deflected harmlessly from a glowing shield of psychic energy, showering the floor with sparks. By your hand shall I act. Amael moved swiftly to his feet discarding the stormbolter. Adonai approached slowly, his force axe crackling with barely suppressed energy. He stopped only a metre from Amael, eyes burning with daemonic malevolence. Then with an inhuman howl, he lunged forward, axe swinging in a wide arc. Amael dropped to the ground and rolled as the blade sliced through the space he had just vacated. In the same movement he regained his feet and brought his blade crashing down upon Adonai's left shoulder plate. The librarian roared in fury, shrugging off the blow, and brought his axe up in a blaze of warp-fuelled fire. Amael jumped back, but not in time. The Fallen's weapon struck his right arm and his blade spun away behind him. Reeling, he watched as Adonai lashed out with an armoured glove. The blow connected solidly with his helm, tearing it free from his armour and sending him sprawling back into a wall. The traitor laughed again as Amael slumped to the floor momentarily stunned. "You're as weak as your traitorous primarch!" Adonai mocked advancing on him inexorably. Amael reached into the gloom and found the hilt of his power sword. The librarian stopped, looming above him. "Where's your emperor now?" Amael clicked the activation button on his power sword and flew at the traitor. Unbalanced, Adonai stumbled back, force axe cutting the air in an effort to finish the struggle. Amael skidded on the polished floor as he passed the librarian and spun back to face him. Adonai regained his balance and wheeled to face his opponent, but only in time to take the full force of Amael's attack. The Dark Angel's blade bit deep into the librarian's armoured torso sending sparks and fragments of super-heated metal spinning outwards. Blue flames of energy coursed from Amael's blade into the Fallen's armour and Adonai dropped to one knee. Amael knocked him to the ground with a powerful kick, spitting to clear the trickle of blood he felt in his mouth as Adonai struggled to stand. The Dark Angel lifted his sword above his head, for an instant mirroring the depiction of the Lion carved into the door behind him, before bringing it down in an unstoppable release of hatred and fury. The blade cleaved through the raised haft of Adonai's axe and passed into the traitor's ancient body, tearing his armour asunder and his searing his flesh to ash. Adonai twitched violently as pure energy flooded through his muscles and nervous system and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Amael relinquished his hold on his sword, leaving it lodged in the traitor's corpse. "For the Lion!" he exclaimed in a final release of righteous anger. Vicconius watched from the back of the makeshift cell as Malloc and Antonius pinned Lexus to the wall. The chaplain strained half-heartedly against the shackles that were slammed shut about his wrists. It was a wonder he could manage even that Vicconius reflected, after the extended softening up process that he had been subjected to at the hands of the other Fallen. Lexus' face was barely recognisable behind the heavy bruising and bloody welts that were the results of the punishment inflicted upon him. "He's ready Vicconius," Antonius stated with satisfaction. "Good." Vicconius approached slowly, taking his time. "How does it feel brother-chaplain?" he asked almost lazily. "How does it feel from the other side?" Lexus regarded him through puffed up eyes, but said nothing. Vicconius drew a set of blades from his belt. "Recognise these?" he asked. "You should. They're yours. I wonder, can you have a true mastery of your own methods of coercion when you yourself have not experienced them?" Vicconius turned his back on Lexus as if considering his words. "I'll make you an offer brother-chaplain. I'm willing to let you gain an intimate understanding of what a Dark Angel can stand. All you have to do is remain our guest." Vicconius turned back to Lexus, studying the chaplain closely, a cruel smile breaking onto his face. "I'm so glad you accept." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |
E TENEBRAE LUX By Jacob Stow |
FABLES OF THE UNFORGIVEN |
