The mud was thick black. It was everywhere. Rain fell like rocks, mixing with blood from so many dead men lying across the trenches. Artillery shells fell, digging up the soft earth and showering it over terrified figures. With shivering hands, a guardsman was fumbling with paper and tobacco. Trying to roll a cigarette to calm his nerves. Gideon looked at the young man. He couldn't be older than seventeen he thought to himself. Switching to external speaker, the marine looked at the small shivering boy. "What is your name soldier?" Gideon asked. The Cadian dropped his smoke in the mud, and held his rifle with shaking hands. "P-Private Lenant sir. Jordan Lenant." He replied in a quivering voice. Sitting in the murky water, below the firing level of the trench, Gideon waited with the devastator squad. Steam rose from behind him, his thermal dissipaters emitting a beam of hot air. Master Ceraenthus was next to him. The marine had a chest full of medals and purity seals. The entire detachment, Cadian as well as Dark Angel, fell under his command. The young soldier cursed and fished around in the water for his cigarette. Ceraenthus reached over Gideon, and handed the frightened boy one of his own cigars. It was almost bigger than the boy's mouth. Dark brown with a foil strap. "Don't worry boy." The master's voice boomed. "The emperor is with us today." Thanking them the Cadian fished around his vest for a lighting devise. Finding a matchbook, he tried to light one of the small wooden sticks. Rain doused the flame before it could feast upon the fuel it was made of. After three more unsuccessful tries, Gideon took the Cigar from the boy. Holding it to his thermal dissipater, it took and started burning red. He handed it the boy, who thanked him. Gideon looked over to the master. They both had serious doubts the boy would make it through this battle. The Cadian fumbled around his vest again. His shaking fingers pulled a small sheet of paper out of his pocket. He looked at the picture for a moment. Then showed it to Gideon. "T-this is my wife, Clarese. She is g-going to have our baby next lunar r-revolution." The marine looked at the shaking picture. It was an old type. Colored, but not holographic. A woman was sitting in it, her arms folded across her lap. "My father is a better hunter than your father." The older girl laughed at him. "Nuh-uh. My grand father could make a spear that would go through your father and his bordach." Gideon said. "The only reason your grandfather even eats is because he can make spears, he is worthless." "No, your worthless." "Yeah, little girl." Michael stepped up beside Gideon, balling his fists. "You're the worthless, worthless girl." Tears flowed from the girl's eyes as she turned and ran away. "Sir, S-sir are you okay?" The guardsman asked. Gideon was staring at the picture, not listening to the soldier. "Gideon could see her more clearly as he approached. She was a little older now. Maybe nine or so. The sword had cut clean through her. Blood was coming out of her mouth as she breathed deeply. He knelt beside her, looking into her big brown eyes. More blood flowed from the wounds as her breathing became more labored. The hut burning behind her caved in, blowing sparks her face. Tears were streaming down her cheek, mixing with dirt and crimson blood. "Help me." She whispered. "I'm sorry, please help me." Her back arched as she coughed in spasms. Blood poured out of her mouth and nose. Gideon didn't know what to do. He looked at her lower torso, then back to her face. A crimson trail flowed from her legs to her intestines. Standing up, Gideon stumbled forward, then vomited on the ground. Gunfire woke Gideon from his trance. The Cadian was kneeling against the front of the trench. Big scared eyes watching Gideon. Cursing, Ceraenthus pulled his plasma pistol from its holster. Gideon followed suit, checking for anymore signs of tampering by Malachai. Except for some new engraving, it looked the same. Guardsmen in the trench before them were shouting. Lasgun fire echoed through the canyon. "Squad, what is your status?" Asmond's familiar voice filled Gideon's helmet. "Michael, I have hostiles." "Gideon, I don't see anything." "Terphyli, ork bikes, incoming." "Sergai, I don't see anything." "Darmin, ork wartracks." "Kenrath, boyz, two squads." "Hormidael, nothing." "Terance, nothing." "Zacharim, nothing." "Uriel, ork commandoz." The squad had been separated during the infiltration. The ork attack had driven a wedge between them. It was a miracle they survived the rout to the trenches. Without his jump pack, Gideon felt lost. He knew better than to question the Inner Circles decisions, but this just did not sit well in his mind. The reason they gave him did make a little sense. They were there only to defend the devastator squad. Already they were checking their weapons, making sure they would survive prolonged firing. Four heavy bolters Gideon thought. Shaking his head, he opened a channel to Asmond. "Sir, should we move forward, to prepare for assault?" Gideon asked. "No, use the guardsmen as a buffer. They will bog the orks down while the devastators do their work. You are only to act if a marine fall under immediate danger." Asmond cut the channel. "Yes sir." Gideon said to himself. Explosions shook the ground. Mud erupted all across the front. The big gunz battery opened fire on the Imperial Ranks. Men exploded, showering those around them with blood and body parts. The devastators stood now, strafing the ork assault with their heavy bolters. Orange darts charged towards the green aliens. Occasionally, a guardsman was unfortunate, and was struck by friendly fire. Struggling with the urge to fight, Gideon bit his lip. Lenant pulled his bayonet from its sheath. It snapped into place on the front of his lasgun. With each minute, the orks grew closer. With his eyes on the range display, Gideon watched the ork horde slowly come into range for his plasma pistol. A truck full of screaming ork boyz sped towards them. Lenant's rifle shook violently as he fired it. His breath was coming in ragged gasps now. Nothing I can do about that Gideon thought as he aimed his pistol. His hand bucked when he squeezed the trigger. Red sparks showered off the ork truck. Oozing red metal covered the tire that popped instantly. Digging into the ground, the axle buried itself in the mud. The ork waaahg turned to screams of terror, before Gideon heard bones snapping. The truck flipped end over end across the battlefield. The green monsters rolled with it, or were smashed underneath the metal wreck. A grot rigger bounced in front of Gideon. The tiny green alien looked up at him with small red eyes. Green ears drooped as the eight-foot tall marine loomed over it. Raising a quivering wrench towards Gideon, who in turn growled. The green alien dropped the wrench and turned to flee. "Uh-oh." The runt said with a high pitched voice. |
CHRONICLES OF AN ANGEL VOLUME II - BLOODRAIN By Brother Gideon |
TOMES OF VALOUR |
This story has been reproduced with permission from the author. Many terms used in this story (such as Space Marine, Eldar, and others) are Trademarks of Games Workshop, Inc. Their use here is not intended as a challenge to said trademarks. |
