In the Eyes of Men
by Falconwind
Chapter Twelve
"Dust and Reflections"
In an instant, the air became ladden with 20mm boltgun fire and the occasional las beam. All fire converged on the spot the intruding Traitor Marines occupied.
The hanger airlock opened, and Conrad's unit flowed in, adding their lasguns to the mix. But for all the massive destructive capacity brought to bear, the Traitor Marines did not fall. They were as trees in the still night, unmoving even under the hurricane of a hundred explosive rounds.
Horandrin quickly realized that Kalmain was protecting them. And there was little he could do about it, for he knew that Kalmain was much more powerful that he. At least while the protective barrier was up, the intruders would not be able to attack either. "Surpressing fire! Do not let him drop the field!"
Drawing his sword, crackling blue with arcane energy, he approached the Shadow, who looked almost unconcerned. "Divine intervention would be most appropriate."
He nodded and flung his hands forward from his cloak theatrically. The gloved hands seemed to grasp at invisible strings, moving in a graceful pattern that Horandrin scarely recognized. It was some sort of spell, that was all he knew.
Then it happened, most silently, and eeriely, the shadows of the still thunderhawks lengthened. They grew larger, darker until they touched Kalmain's shield, indicated only by the shells ricocheting and exploding against it's impregnable surface.
With a thunderous boom and the rush of air, the shield evaporated, and Kalmain was thrown backward but a few steps.
"The field is negated," the Shadow said simply.
Firepower assailed the Traitor Marines, but they too unleashed their bolters. It was madness, as they engaged each other at point-blank range.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Covan had appropriated himself some of Horandrin's men, including the fearsome hulk of Calderon. With the opposing cries of "FOR THE BLOOD THAT WAS SPILT!" and "ALL IS DUST!" the two groups charged, and reaped terrible vengence. Only Kalmain remained, with vicious fury in his emerald eyes.
Horandrin's eyes met his gaze, and were bright only with determination. He would not let Kalmain stop them. His gaze narrowed, and his world became Kalmain.
It was a surreal experience for the Imperial Guardsman, who had never fought the forces of chaos for real. It was inconceivable that Kalmain still stood, yet there he was.
Conrad's marksman skills be damned, the sorcerer would not go down. At least the Doom Lords and Thousand Sons shielded them from most of the fire. But he scarely believed his eyes when, amidst the fighting, Horandrin and Kalmain found time for a staring match.
Kalmain, was unused to defeat, and would not let himself taste it today. He charged the only being in the room he cared about. Horandrin. Shrugging off the bolter fire, he struck out at Horandrin with his mighty sword, made sompletely of swirling red energies.
Horandrin's weapon, itself imbued with magical properties intercepted the blow, and deflected to the floor, were the two swords sank easily into the deckplates.
"Traitor! You would consort with these weak fools." He swung with speed only possible with a weightless sword. "The Emperor is not your master! Tzeentch is your master!" He struck again, a flurry of jabs, swings, and parries were exchanged.
Horandrin did not distract himself from the fight with talk. Kalmain was a mighty sorceror, one to be feared. Horandrin faked a lunge, and the Sorceror Lord took the bait and was rewarded with a deep slice across his side.
"Argh! How dare you!" He struck again, not with quickness of skill, but force of anger.
Horandrin dodged it easily. He chuckled, for it was becoming obvious that Horandrin was the better swordsman among them.
The withering hail of bullets had sinced stopped, as Horandrin was not immune as Kalmain was. It was fine with Horandrin, however, for this was not a battle. It was a duel.
Another flurry of strikes, and yet again, Horandrin scored a hit.
"You certainly are skilled, Horandrin. I underestimated you. But if I cannot kill you, then perhaps I shall kill your cause!" Turning from Horandrin, he ran head long into the marines.
"DIE TRAITORS!!!"
Horandrin acted from instinct. He did what he knew he had to do to save his brothers, who would most certainly fall under Kalmain's demonic sword.
"You first!" he muttered as he threw his Ethereal Sword, as he had never done before. The sword spun through the air like a giant throwing knife, its sound like a helicopter blade in slow motion.
Kalmain struck out, and his sword was blocked by Covan's. The pair struggled against one another for a split second. Then Kalmain surged forward, limp, collapsing on top of the startled Librarian, whose sword was still locked with the Sorceror Lord's.
Pushing the heavy, empty suit of armour off his body, Covan saw Horandrin's sword, buried deeply into Kalmain's back. From its gold hilt, to its silvered tip, the sword still pulsed with energy.
The conjured sword faded into nothingness, and Covan was able to withdraw his weapon.
His helmet belied the fact that Covan was somewhat stunned. He certainly hadn't expected Horandrin to throw his massive sword.
"My gratitude, Horandrin," he said, his voice disguised through the vocalizer. He inspected his sword, which now displayed a large gouge where the two swords had met. He thanked the Emporer that it had been made of Adamantium. "I don't think I could have survived him, otherwise."
Horandrin withdrew his fearsome weapon from the Sorceror Lord's back, and offered his hand to Covan, who accepted it.
"You wield a fine weapon to be sure," commented Horandrin. He gestured to the gouge. "A lesser blade would have been cleaved in half, followed by your head."
Covan chuckled. "Duly noted. You're men fought well, Horandrin. Extraordinarily well, in fact."
"Such is the consequence of ten millenia of battle practice," Horandrin said, half-jokingly.
"Indeed. More to the point, however, is they fought marines of their own Legion and of their ex-god. Your dedication has been tested, and the..." Covan considered his words, "dust... spilled today is seen, and shall be remembered. I would greet you as brothers, if you would have it." He offered his hand.
A tense moment passed and Horandrin suddenly found himself shaking it. They shared a brotherly half-hug, not unlike the one he had shared with his own alter-ego.
The hanger became a scene most unimaginable. All marines, Thousand Sons or otherwise, cheered. The Thousand Sons celebrated, for it was a milestone, a testament that they had truly done the impossible. The Doom Lords cheered, because having Traitor Marines return to righteousness was the epitome of Imperator Demittus. They revelled in the confirmation of their beliefs; that no man is so far from the Emperor's Light as to not be able to find his way back.
Greetings and gestures of friendship and celebration were passed around for a good while.
Even the guardsmen were not immune to the situation, and as they stood grins plastered on their faces, they were treated to hugs and pats of all sorts.
Conrad laughed uncontrollably. "This is crazy!" He hadn't been so amazed out of his mind, ever. Marines, in his mind, had always seemed less than human to him. Just too serious for his liking. This was like suddenly finding out that dogs can talk when they want to.
The commontion died down to a murmer, and Covan was able to speak one again. "As commander of my expedition, I have the power to invite you back with me."
Horandrin had not felt so pleasant in millenia, and the after effects were still upon him, even as he asked, "Where?"
"Back to our Homeworld of Evernight. We are not quite that far away. And I am certain that our navigator will want to make record time."
Horandrin was taken aback. "You wish to invite us? To your homeworld?"
"I wager you've never had an invitation for planetfall before, hmm?" he laughed. "I guarantee that you would be most welcomed."
"I find that hard to believe; we are ex-chaos."
"Precisely," he said. "Ex-chaos. Formerly chaos."
Horandrin looked about him, and found no opposition. "We accept."
He turned to General Harrington. "You're most welcome, as well."
"Will there be partying?" Conrad asked eagerly, popping his head through the scores of marines. "Because, you know, we could all use a good party."
"Sergeant, you do not know the meaning of the word until you've celebrated with us!" he boasted.
The joyous atmosphere had now been replaced by simple optimism. It was the best that they could manage, for the battle with Kalmain had not been cheap... at least in Horandrin's eyes. Daleon was far more rationalized about the losses they had suffered. 12 brothers destroyed, many badly damaged.
/Or is the term wounded?/ Horandrin thought.
It was not a particularly high number, but one had to take into account the value of each Thousand Son, as Horandrin did. Not only had many millenia of battle experience been lost, but the fact that they would never regain that number was more lamentable.
Concerning the Thousand Sons, injuries were dealt with by sorcerers, who through alchemical processes, repaired the bodies that were no more that power armours imbued with life. A mere techmarine was just not adequate, nor was an apothecary.
The outlook was surprisingly bright, Horandrin reflected. It was an odd thing, that a universe so dark, and so bleak, still remembered how to make miracles once in a while.
Horandrin smiled in his mind. "Who would have thought I'd become an optimist."
"Indeed," said Daleon, who was also repairing one of his brethren. "I do hope it does not rub off on me."
"Perish the thought." Horandrin removed his hands from the fallen marine's chest, and the Doom Lord's eyes fluttered open.
The eyes blinked, and squinted at the bright overhead lights. His gaze shot to Horandrin's mask. And all at once the man's face became stunned, and slightly suspicious. "You saved my life, sorcerer." The man sat up stiffly. "I don't think the Emperor would be pleased at the method, however."
"You're alive aren't you?" Horandrin said dryly.
"That I am. And that pleases me, to be sure." He looked down, examining the half-dozen holes in his chest armour. "Wow."
Horandrin stood up. He was tired. Mentally drained to such a degree that even his limbs seemed to react sluggishly. Looking at Daleon, he was not immune either.
"So that's what it takes to tire a Thousand Son, hmm?"
Horandrin turned at Covan's voice. "It would seem so."
"I have seen what you've done for my men, I thank you for that."
He nodded, and stared at the Librarian. "I have not been this close to a Space Marine, outside of combat, for some time."
"It's strange for me, as well," Covan admitted. "Strange, in a pleasing way."
"The Imperator Demittus," Horandrin asked suddenly, "you believe it, truly?"
"That I do," the Librarian answered. "We are proof. Proof that, at least at one time, the Emperor had mercy in his heart."
"Not any longer?" Horandrin asked.
Covan seemed to chew his words before finally speaking them. "That is something I wonder about, Horandrin." He sighed, and set upon his face a smiling facade. "Such depressing thoughts are not good for the soul, my friend. The Shadow and the others wish to speak, we shouldn't keep them waiting."
Horandrin nodded, and turned to Daleon. "Are you coming, old friend?"
Daleon thought for a moment. "No, I shall keep watch over things."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
The Librarian and the Sorcerer walked out of the hanger, destined for the conference room.
"He has changed," a rich, metallic voice said from behind Daleon.
One would have marveled at Calderon's stealthy approach, but Daleon only nodded, absently. "We all have."
He looked over at the Doom Lords, who sat about their Thunderhawk with an easiness Daleon had never seen before in the Adeptus Astartes. "We are but children," he began reciting, "cast out by the parents and torn from our roots. But it is within ourselves that we look for family, and hold each other as brothers." Daleon could not remember from where the quotation had come, but he knew that it was not the source that mattered, but the meaning.
For the briefest moment, Caldeon mistook the sorcerer for Horandrin. Daleon was not known for quoting scripture. "You should not be so naive, Daleon," said Calderon. "Horandrin needs you to be skeptical. He knows that he wants this too greatly, and that his judgement is skewed."
Daleon looked at the massive dreadnought, surprised. "You do not believe the Doom Lords to be sincere?"
"I do not. Nor should you."
"And why is that? What proof do you have of treachery?" Daleon questioned him.
"Not proof, but precedence. They cannot be trusted any further than we. Remember that they are Adeptus Astartes." He walked off, heavy feet trembling the deckplates.
Daleon looked on after the dreadnought, somewhat startled. Was he so naive, that he did not think that the Doom Lords could betray them? He knew well that the Imperium considered morals and ethics to be 'flexible' when it served them. But that is not to say he believed that they would betray their trust. It is perhaps the man longing for the childhood taste of sugar, but he wanted to believe them sincere. "You're right, Calderon," he said quietly. "But I also remember that we were once Adeptus Astartes, as well."
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APOLOGY: Alright, I must sincerely apologize for the HUGE pause between the last and latest update. As I was writing a came to realize that the story was branching too far off from the main focus, which was supposed to be Horandrin. However, I have managed to remedy this and the next few chapters (already written) will be posted in reasonable intervals.
I am currently working on an ambitious original sci-fi (may appear on ), so hopefully i can pick this up where i left off.
Belated author responses:
TaranGryph: Wow, what can I say. You're review is most welcome. It is always a great confirmation that people are really liking my stories when they take the time to review. In a strange twist to things, your review actually derailed my bullet-train writing binge i was on, and now i think i'm ready to pick up where i left off. You are completely right, by the way.
Ivan Alias: as usual, an enjoyable review. And once again, thanks for the quote.
Darth: Yeah, no kidding.