In the Eyes of Men
by FalconWind
YES! Updated finally! You understand, I was quite occupied for the last while as I'm graduating Grade 12 (have graduated by this posting). So also I had provincial exams and finals to study for. Anyway, I've managed to put this piece up , finally. It's long overdue, I know, better late than never, eh?
Thanks to all those who reviewed, especially DarkMoonWolf!
I have to say that is was a pleasure reading your review! I highly recommend her LotR/WH40K hybrid AU story!
Jeshone: Thanks, man!
mrshinigami: The phrase "If you don't try, you are destined to fail" is one of my own devising. Or, Horandrin's devising, if you like. It's not really important, so don't worry. Just a pearl of wisdom.
George: well, now I guess so!
BTW, if any of you'd like to send me some info on the Thousand Sons, it would be appreciated. Also, as I continue this fic, the accuracy will probably suffer, so this will become somewhat AU.
Chapter Two
Six Months Later...
The room was darkly lit except for the podium, which stood out brightly with the help of several 2000 watt lights. The room was large enough to contain several dozen Land Raiders, though at this moment, it contained several hundread marines of the Thousand Sons chaos marine chapter instead. The area below the podium was filled with row upon row of benches, which in turn were becoming increasingly filled by armour-bodies.
This being the chapel, and this being prayer time, the room was filled, quite literally to capacity by every single Thousand Son. Most of them, simply sat silently and waited for the rituals to begin. Others, some few others, talked among themselves quietly.
Horandrin sat in the row furthest forward among the few other Thousand Sons that had proven themselves worthy of the honour of being so close to the various artifacts and talismans that manifested Tzeentch's power. Every so often, a marine would pass by his seat, and throw a glance and a small nod in his direction before they sat directly behind him.
Ten minutes and a dozen nods later, the Chief Librarian came into view to lead the chapter in their vows to Tzeentch.
"Our Master!," the sorceror boomed, "Hear us well, as we pledge our lives to you! Listen to us well, as we vow our souls to you! Favour us well, as we praise and revere you, our Master!" He thrust his fist upwards, inciting a roar of "Tzeentch be praised!" from the gathered chapter.
Horandrin, and those behind him, took part in the ceremony, if only with a slightly different air about them.
Horandrin, for his part, tuned out of the ceremony as the Librarian recited the long-winded vows and pledges to the Changer of the Ways. Such things, of late, had become increasingly tedious to consciously sit through. His followers chanted prayers behind him, in low, nearly inaudible voices. His eyes unfocused, and turned inwards, to his thoughts. Thoughts of how things had changed thus far...
Six Months Ago...
The tall, imposing figure of Horandrin strode throught the dimly lit corridors of the fortress. He walked with a purpose, yet he carried with him an air of aimlessness. The sorceror also carried, however, and ancient looking tome tucked protectively under his armoured arm.
He walked until he found himself at the door of Daleon, a fellow sorceror, and friend, at one time, for more years than Horandrin could remember. As he approached, the door opened of its own will, or rather the will of Daleon. Horandrin entered the rather small quarters.
Of course, in reality the room was the same size as Horandrin's, though Daleon had a significantly more vast collection of 'trinkets'. Various items of true and false arcana alike. As well, as a number of personal affects from before the Horus Heresy.
"Hello, Daleon," Horandrin said out of habit rather than true friendliness.
Daleon sat on a ornately adorned cushion meditating, and did not return the greeting.
Horandrin moved to the nearby table where a Chess set sat frozen in mid-game. He looked over the arrangement of the pieces carefully. Spotting the newly moved piece, he made his rather swift counter. Picking up the delicately crafted crystal knight with telekinesis, he checked Daleon's bishop. He knew that Daeleon would sacrifice his bishop in order to maintain the larger plan.
Many, many years ago, they had discovered the rules for the ancient game of Chess. Occupied with more pressing and fullfilling matters the game went unnoticed for many years. It remained mostly forgotten until two Sons, in a moment of boredom, played the game, and found its stratagems and the battling of intellects intriging, and a worthwhile means of passing time.
"Daleon," he said again, trying to get the sorceror's attention.
The figure's eyes returned. "What is it, Horandrin?" he said less than enthusiastically.
Horandrin opened the book to the page that he'd bookmarked, and set it before Daleon. "This. You may find it interesting."
"I doubt it," he said skeptically. He glanced over the spell. ""The Light of Revelation'," he read out loud before diving deeper into it. "Interesting," he finally admitted. "But what do you need from me?"
"To cast it."
Horandrin could tell he was slightly confused. Daleon looked at the spell briefly. "Don't waste my time. This spell is well within your capabilities."
"I am aware of that, but I want you to try it," he explained.
The other magic user stood up to face him, his rodes billowing. "What does 'The Light of Revelations' do exactly?" he asked suspiciously.
"It reveals truth."
"What truth?"
"The only truth that matters. Your own," Horandrin said solemnly.
"Perhaps if you stop speaking in riddles, I might consider it," he said annoyed.
"It reveals to it's caster the truth about oneself. It shows, without doubt, what one truly believes."
He stared at him. "No."
"Why not?" Horandrin challenged him.
"Because I choose not to. Now leave." He pointed at the door, which opened upon command.
Horandrin moved towards the doorway. "Are you afraid Daleon? Afraid of what you might see?" he jeered, his voice lowering to a sneering whisper. "Do you know how I see you? Hiding. Dodging the truth. Denying the disease, when even now you suffer it's symptoms. I'm incorporeal, not blind Daleon; I see."
"That's absurd. I have nothing to fear from the truth I already know."
"Then why not confirm yourself? If you really know yourself so well, you have nothing to lose. But if not, you have everything to gain." Horandrin walked into the doorway and paused. "'The bravest man only ever need face himself', Daleon." With that, he left the room, left the sorceror, and left the book.
"Tzeentch be praised!" The cry snapped Horandrin out of his reverie. He looked about him, and his brothers were leaving. He'd somehow managed to completely tune-out the entire ceremony. He hoped that no one noticed his 'absence', or else some one might become suspicious.
Horandrin felt a hand on his shoulder. "Horandrin, what is bothering you?" asked Daleon.
"Only the past, my friend. I cannot seem forget the past year."
"It is indeed an unforgettable time, but you should be looking to the future," he said, "as I do now. As we all do."
He nodded. "Yes. But now we must go. Lest we bring attention to ourselves."
Both of them retired to Horandrin's quarters. The room was contemporary in style, though somewhat dated. A couch and table sat in the center of the room, as well as numerous piles of ancient tomes and manuscripts. Alone now, the talked of recent developements.
"Have you spoken to Calderon about our plans?" asked Horandrin.
Daleon shook his head. "I dare not. Calderon is an ancient, he is more automaton than any of us. I fear he is unreachable, and I fear he may already suspect us of treachery. I don't think we can take the chance."
"Every single one of us was brought into the plan with a chance," he pointed out.
"True enough. But in this case, the risk is simply too great," Daleon said as he set himself down on the couch, which sank deeply with is weight.
Horandrin nodded. "Still, I would have liked his support."
"I would not count on it. We may have to leave him behind." Daleon clasped his hands in front of him. "Which raises another question. Where are we to go afterwards?"
He gave the sorceror a sideways glance. "I have already chosen a planet. You need not worry of that. What we do need to worry about is how exactly we are to get out of the fortress and into space." Horandrin started to pace around the room, awkwardly weaving between the percarious piles of books. "I've considered many plans. Everything from fighting our way out to asking to leave. The latter has proven to be the worst scenario."
Nodding in assent Daleon applied his mind to the problem. "That is indeed quite an obstacle. And, of course, magic is not an advantage here. I believe we should apply a little 'slight of hand'."
"Meaning?"
Daleon leaned forward. "I have read that, in times before true magic, people would employ a technique known as 'slight of hand' to mimic feats of magic." He picked up one of Horandrin's waywards Tarot cards, a replica of an ancient divination practice. "Take for example, this simple card trick." Daleon held the card in his armored hand, and, with a dramatic swing of his arm, made it disappear.
"Interesting."
Daleon turned his hand over to reveal the card lodged under his bracer. "That hand is quicker than the eye, or so they say. It is done by misdirection, distraction, and skill."
Horandrin chuckled. "Are you suggesting we 'pull a fast one'?" he said with a humorous glint in his eye.
"In so many words?... Yes," he replied with an invisible grin.
-----------------------------------
So, still good so far. Sorry It took so long, got WAAAAAAY too many projects going at once. Please R & R!
by FalconWind
YES! Updated finally! You understand, I was quite occupied for the last while as I'm graduating Grade 12 (have graduated by this posting). So also I had provincial exams and finals to study for. Anyway, I've managed to put this piece up , finally. It's long overdue, I know, better late than never, eh?
Thanks to all those who reviewed, especially DarkMoonWolf!
I have to say that is was a pleasure reading your review! I highly recommend her LotR/WH40K hybrid AU story!
Jeshone: Thanks, man!
mrshinigami: The phrase "If you don't try, you are destined to fail" is one of my own devising. Or, Horandrin's devising, if you like. It's not really important, so don't worry. Just a pearl of wisdom.
George: well, now I guess so!
BTW, if any of you'd like to send me some info on the Thousand Sons, it would be appreciated. Also, as I continue this fic, the accuracy will probably suffer, so this will become somewhat AU.
Chapter Two
Six Months Later...
The room was darkly lit except for the podium, which stood out brightly with the help of several 2000 watt lights. The room was large enough to contain several dozen Land Raiders, though at this moment, it contained several hundread marines of the Thousand Sons chaos marine chapter instead. The area below the podium was filled with row upon row of benches, which in turn were becoming increasingly filled by armour-bodies.
This being the chapel, and this being prayer time, the room was filled, quite literally to capacity by every single Thousand Son. Most of them, simply sat silently and waited for the rituals to begin. Others, some few others, talked among themselves quietly.
Horandrin sat in the row furthest forward among the few other Thousand Sons that had proven themselves worthy of the honour of being so close to the various artifacts and talismans that manifested Tzeentch's power. Every so often, a marine would pass by his seat, and throw a glance and a small nod in his direction before they sat directly behind him.
Ten minutes and a dozen nods later, the Chief Librarian came into view to lead the chapter in their vows to Tzeentch.
"Our Master!," the sorceror boomed, "Hear us well, as we pledge our lives to you! Listen to us well, as we vow our souls to you! Favour us well, as we praise and revere you, our Master!" He thrust his fist upwards, inciting a roar of "Tzeentch be praised!" from the gathered chapter.
Horandrin, and those behind him, took part in the ceremony, if only with a slightly different air about them.
Horandrin, for his part, tuned out of the ceremony as the Librarian recited the long-winded vows and pledges to the Changer of the Ways. Such things, of late, had become increasingly tedious to consciously sit through. His followers chanted prayers behind him, in low, nearly inaudible voices. His eyes unfocused, and turned inwards, to his thoughts. Thoughts of how things had changed thus far...
Six Months Ago...
The tall, imposing figure of Horandrin strode throught the dimly lit corridors of the fortress. He walked with a purpose, yet he carried with him an air of aimlessness. The sorceror also carried, however, and ancient looking tome tucked protectively under his armoured arm.
He walked until he found himself at the door of Daleon, a fellow sorceror, and friend, at one time, for more years than Horandrin could remember. As he approached, the door opened of its own will, or rather the will of Daleon. Horandrin entered the rather small quarters.
Of course, in reality the room was the same size as Horandrin's, though Daleon had a significantly more vast collection of 'trinkets'. Various items of true and false arcana alike. As well, as a number of personal affects from before the Horus Heresy.
"Hello, Daleon," Horandrin said out of habit rather than true friendliness.
Daleon sat on a ornately adorned cushion meditating, and did not return the greeting.
Horandrin moved to the nearby table where a Chess set sat frozen in mid-game. He looked over the arrangement of the pieces carefully. Spotting the newly moved piece, he made his rather swift counter. Picking up the delicately crafted crystal knight with telekinesis, he checked Daleon's bishop. He knew that Daeleon would sacrifice his bishop in order to maintain the larger plan.
Many, many years ago, they had discovered the rules for the ancient game of Chess. Occupied with more pressing and fullfilling matters the game went unnoticed for many years. It remained mostly forgotten until two Sons, in a moment of boredom, played the game, and found its stratagems and the battling of intellects intriging, and a worthwhile means of passing time.
"Daleon," he said again, trying to get the sorceror's attention.
The figure's eyes returned. "What is it, Horandrin?" he said less than enthusiastically.
Horandrin opened the book to the page that he'd bookmarked, and set it before Daleon. "This. You may find it interesting."
"I doubt it," he said skeptically. He glanced over the spell. ""The Light of Revelation'," he read out loud before diving deeper into it. "Interesting," he finally admitted. "But what do you need from me?"
"To cast it."
Horandrin could tell he was slightly confused. Daleon looked at the spell briefly. "Don't waste my time. This spell is well within your capabilities."
"I am aware of that, but I want you to try it," he explained.
The other magic user stood up to face him, his rodes billowing. "What does 'The Light of Revelations' do exactly?" he asked suspiciously.
"It reveals truth."
"What truth?"
"The only truth that matters. Your own," Horandrin said solemnly.
"Perhaps if you stop speaking in riddles, I might consider it," he said annoyed.
"It reveals to it's caster the truth about oneself. It shows, without doubt, what one truly believes."
He stared at him. "No."
"Why not?" Horandrin challenged him.
"Because I choose not to. Now leave." He pointed at the door, which opened upon command.
Horandrin moved towards the doorway. "Are you afraid Daleon? Afraid of what you might see?" he jeered, his voice lowering to a sneering whisper. "Do you know how I see you? Hiding. Dodging the truth. Denying the disease, when even now you suffer it's symptoms. I'm incorporeal, not blind Daleon; I see."
"That's absurd. I have nothing to fear from the truth I already know."
"Then why not confirm yourself? If you really know yourself so well, you have nothing to lose. But if not, you have everything to gain." Horandrin walked into the doorway and paused. "'The bravest man only ever need face himself', Daleon." With that, he left the room, left the sorceror, and left the book.
"Tzeentch be praised!" The cry snapped Horandrin out of his reverie. He looked about him, and his brothers were leaving. He'd somehow managed to completely tune-out the entire ceremony. He hoped that no one noticed his 'absence', or else some one might become suspicious.
Horandrin felt a hand on his shoulder. "Horandrin, what is bothering you?" asked Daleon.
"Only the past, my friend. I cannot seem forget the past year."
"It is indeed an unforgettable time, but you should be looking to the future," he said, "as I do now. As we all do."
He nodded. "Yes. But now we must go. Lest we bring attention to ourselves."
Both of them retired to Horandrin's quarters. The room was contemporary in style, though somewhat dated. A couch and table sat in the center of the room, as well as numerous piles of ancient tomes and manuscripts. Alone now, the talked of recent developements.
"Have you spoken to Calderon about our plans?" asked Horandrin.
Daleon shook his head. "I dare not. Calderon is an ancient, he is more automaton than any of us. I fear he is unreachable, and I fear he may already suspect us of treachery. I don't think we can take the chance."
"Every single one of us was brought into the plan with a chance," he pointed out.
"True enough. But in this case, the risk is simply too great," Daleon said as he set himself down on the couch, which sank deeply with is weight.
Horandrin nodded. "Still, I would have liked his support."
"I would not count on it. We may have to leave him behind." Daleon clasped his hands in front of him. "Which raises another question. Where are we to go afterwards?"
He gave the sorceror a sideways glance. "I have already chosen a planet. You need not worry of that. What we do need to worry about is how exactly we are to get out of the fortress and into space." Horandrin started to pace around the room, awkwardly weaving between the percarious piles of books. "I've considered many plans. Everything from fighting our way out to asking to leave. The latter has proven to be the worst scenario."
Nodding in assent Daleon applied his mind to the problem. "That is indeed quite an obstacle. And, of course, magic is not an advantage here. I believe we should apply a little 'slight of hand'."
"Meaning?"
Daleon leaned forward. "I have read that, in times before true magic, people would employ a technique known as 'slight of hand' to mimic feats of magic." He picked up one of Horandrin's waywards Tarot cards, a replica of an ancient divination practice. "Take for example, this simple card trick." Daleon held the card in his armored hand, and, with a dramatic swing of his arm, made it disappear.
"Interesting."
Daleon turned his hand over to reveal the card lodged under his bracer. "That hand is quicker than the eye, or so they say. It is done by misdirection, distraction, and skill."
Horandrin chuckled. "Are you suggesting we 'pull a fast one'?" he said with a humorous glint in his eye.
"In so many words?... Yes," he replied with an invisible grin.
-----------------------------------
So, still good so far. Sorry It took so long, got WAAAAAAY too many projects going at once. Please R & R!