NOTE: I am aware that the Zealots drop from a Phantom. But I have decided to alter that for the sake of narrative tension. Enjoy J
1708 hours, August 30th, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridanus System, Planet Reach
UNSC Shipbreaking Yards, Aszod
Silently, his maroon-coloured harness making only the slightest whisper, the Sangheili Zealot Shfu Navomee' moved up the cramped stairs, that led up to a catwalk. This would take them to the platform at the top of the human facility, where their target continued to cause mayhem and death. A low thrill of pleasure passed through him at the thought. His sword, Impaler, was belted at his waist. Shfu imagined the weapon thirsting for blood, the blood of demons and heretics. It had been quenched previously, in the numerous battles and raids he had participated in during this planetary conquest, but it had been some time since the last feeding. He longed for battle.
Mentally, Shfu checked himself. Such thinking was improper. You are a Zealot, he reminded himself sternly. You are here to serve the Prophets, be the instruments of their will. Not to be a bloodlusting barbarian. Like the demons.
Their target was one such demon, and was truly grotesque. Its face was a terrifying skull, with eyes colder than the black ice. Many of his warriors had spoken in hushed tones of its exploits during the conquest. Killing any child of the Covenant it came across, using weapons of unbearable cruelty. A demon, yes, one so evil that its own brothers shunned it. All in all, a thing to fear.
Shfu was wary of it, yes, but not afraid. The demon might be faster, stronger and taller than the average human, but he was a Zealot. He would not be denied in his mission. His sword would bring burning justice. So went the True Sayings.
Ahead of him, his fellow Zealot Rezu Vadamee' moved, stealthily and slow. Dropped into a crouch, the warrior waved him forward, to the landing at the top of the stairs.
A true legend of the Covenant, Rezu. He had fought since the beginning of the war, meeting the bastard humans in countless contests. When he was strong, he crushed the humans mercilessly. When he was weak, he outwitted them at every turn. None could stand before him. Rumour had it that Rezu had once killed a demon, cycles ago, on some far-off planet, in a brutal fight to the death. Only he knew if it was true. Shfu was glad to have him here, and proud. To think he had been granted such an honour! Even just fighting alongside him would grant him status, perhaps an invitation to Councilor on the Navom' family council. All things were possible.
The top of the stairs granted them a panoramic view of the plains surrounding them, covered in the wrecked carcasses of human ships-some old, some more recent. According to their intelligence cadres, this was an area used by the humans for disarming their warships. Such a practice revealed their vessels for what they really were-shoddy, crude and primitive hulks, bereft of story or legend. A ship that had earned honour, he knew, would not be subjected to such an undignified fate.
Down amongst the rusting ruins, plasma flashes and bullets pinged, as meagre convoys of human forces attempted to impede the advance of the Covenant onslaught. Foolishness-with two of the new Scarab assault platforms in operation, success was impossible. A beam from one of the said Scarabs pulsed, and incinerated a quartet of the vehicles the humans called "Warthogs." Even from this distance, Shfu could smell the stench of plasma residue and roasted flesh. Inwardly, he roared his pleasure at the heretics' demise.
And above their heads, an ominous wall of bruised-black cloud hovered, punctuated by swirls of virulent orange and acrid dust. Pulses of blue lightning flashed in the distance, from the ships that had already commenced glassing. Spot-fires glowed everywhere, and the mountains were blackened like ragged teeth. Soon, this entire planet would be reduced to a wasteland of ghosts and glass. As it should be.
Down below them, the humans had managed to repel their strike teams, and clear the platform. A dropship, from the repulsive human cruiser that waited in dry dock to the east, was coming their way. Groups of human troopers were forming up to create a perimeter, along with another demon, this one clad in black armor. Shfu could see more of their attack craft inbound, but they were being shot down by the mass driver gun manned by the skull-faced demon. Another flash, a roar, and a Phantom burst into pieces. The Zealots quivered with rage.
As the human transport landed, Rezu turned to face him. "I will take this demon by surprise, "he growled. "Prepare to back me up. If we have the chance, we shall slay the second one. For the glory of the kill." He crossed his arms, forming an X. The battle ritual of the Zealot.
"The true devotee honors our name with actions, not words, "Shfu recited. "Honour light our way." He drew his sword hilt, but did not activate it. It was not his turn to spill blood.
Rezu crept forward, along the catwalk, towards the human gun. He was about thirty metres away from where the demon sat, manning the mass driver. Suddenly, a voice grated from the cockpit. Although Rezu did not understand the despicable human speech, translator software hissed through his helmet. "I have your window, sir."
By that, the Zealot took it to mean that the demon would cover the human retreat back to the cruiser. As long as he drew breath, it would not happen. Hearing the rumble of engines, he looked up and saw a blessed Covenant vessel bearing down on them. Coming to destroy the human ship. A most glorious sight. Even now, the human scum were panicking. A Phantom dropship came racing towards them, firing upon one of the human ships waiting to extract its warriors. It went down in a ball of flames and metal, crashing upon the platform. The black-armored demon scrambled for cover as the burning wreck nearly flattened him, before falling to the plain below. There would be no better chance than this. Rezu ran forward, sword hissing to life. He jumped aboard the canopy.
Shfu watched with admiration. Rezu was a warrior without parallel. No demon-spawned villain would best him. He was faster than chain lightning-
Without warning, a fist shot up through the driver canopy, and caught Rezu in the stomach. Winded by the blow, the Zealot flopped down beside the mass driver, panting for breath. Then, like a nightmare, the demon burst from the cockpit, roaring its fury. Pulling out its crude weapon, it placed the barrel to Rezu's head. He was unable to move, stunned.
Shfu watched with growing horror. No, this couldn't be happening. A Zealot was empowered by the Prophets themselves, chosen blades of the gods' wrath. This couldn't be-
With a bang, the gun went off, blowing Rezu's head apart. The Zealot's body slumped down, broken. Shfu stood rooted to the spot, horrified. He…he cut through him. In a matter of seconds. All his training, all his experience…nothing.
The demon snorted in satisfaction, and said something. A moment later: "Who's next?"
I am, Shfu thought with determination. It was up to him now. What he was going to do was bereft of honour, but…
Running forward, he drew his sword, roaring in anger. The demon heard him, turned, but before he could get a shot off, Shfu impaled him upon the sword. It grunted in pain and shock. The Zealot felt a surge of tremendous power. Do you feel my blade twisting within you, monster? Do you-
Without warning, the demon twisted around, and pulled a bent-bladed knife from a sheath on its shoulder. Before Shfu could do anything, the knife entered his neck, tearing through muscle and skin. Through life. How could it-
His lifeblood running out of him, Shfu fell to the ground, unable to feel anything below his waist. The demon panted out its last few breaths, then stilled. The skull-like visage stared at him. Was there anything under it? He would never know.
As the mists closed around him, and the sounds of the world faded, he pondered on the demon's last words. Shouted into his ear. A challenge, he was sure of it. He knew what it said, but did not understand it.
"I'M READY! HOW 'BOUT YOU?"
The veiled mists drew back, and Shfu found himself striding through a peaceful forest glen. The air was thick with the smell of must, and growing things. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, tinged green. A small brook burbled quietly. Breathing in the fresh air, he exhaled with a smile. He was in paradise. He had achieved his reward. No more wars, or death, or heretics. Just glory.
He continued walking through the trees, in no hurry. Eventually, he came in sight of a pair of massive wooden doors, built into a mountainside. Carved upon them were pictures of mighty Sangheili heroes, their blades shining with holy might. Blessed angels took them upward, towards the embrace of the Gods. He new he had found his brothers now. Zealots all.
He stepped towards the doors, feeling confident. When he came up to them, he waited for them to open.
They did not.
Shfu waited, at first with trepidation, then panic. The blessed portal would not open for him. What was happening? Would he be denied his goal? With a ragged sob of despair, he tried to punch the solid wood. The resulting impact broke his hand, and he howled with pain. The noise disappeared into the vast forest.
"You are making a lot of noise, "a serene voice said.
Shfu whirled, to find an aged Sangheili standing before him. He was naked, but seemed unaware of the fact. He had an amused look upon his face, but his eyes were deadly serious, boring right into him. The Zealot fell to his knees, prostrating himself. "Oh elder one, I find myself barred from entering the holy realm. Please, tell me how to gain access-"
"Oh, be quiet, "the old one said, cutting him off. "I'm not one of your virtuous legends, famed in battle writs and poems. I am more of a…" he paused, "…gatekeeper. And I have decided that you shall not enter." He crossed his arms.
Shfu was aghast. "Why is this? I am a Zealot! I have devoted my life to serving the Prophets and their faith! Long are the hours I spent in prayer, in meditation, cleansing my soul in preparation for battle. I have not sinned-"
"Oh, but you have." The elder leaned forward, fists bunching. His voice dropped to a snarl. "You, the Zealot, stabbed your last foe through the back! Like some craven coward born in mud and ruin! It violates everything you espouse!"
Shfu couldn't believe his ears. "But-but it was only a demon-"
"ENOUGH!" The old one was enraged. He seemed to grow tall, and the Zealot shrank back in fear. "No, I have no stomach for hypocrites and curs." His eyes flared with red light. "You shall not enter."
Shfu was destroyed. But he had to ask, "What will become of me?"
The elder seemed amused once again, reverting to normal size. "This is not the place you have read about, zealot. It is not reserved for your kind. This haven is for warriors. Of all races. All those who fought, and gave their lives in defense of country, or others, or friends. All of them are welcome here. Even your so-called demons. In fact-" he chortled-"it is they who have filled this place. A terrible thing for you, no?" He laughed again, then became serious.
"But, "he continued, "I have another that comes to take his place amongst the brave. A demon. He has earned it. Even now, his comrades are escaping, their chance bought by his sacrifice. He is worthy of this place. You are not. Thus, it depends upon me to exact punishment. However, given the circumstances of your meeting…" He waved a hand. "I have decided to grant him the pleasure. Enjoy." The old one disappeared.
Shfu gaped in fear. "What-"
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, the grip strong as iron. The Zealot cried out in pain as he was wrenched around to face the other way.
The skull grinned at him. The knives were placed in its hands. And a voice, deep and melodious, said clearly:
"Trust me. Payback's a bitch."