In the Eyes of Men
by Falconwind )
Authur Note: I am finding more and more weird things that this site does. The site is playing havoc with my otherwise prestine formatting! :angry:
Chapter Fifteen
"Evernight"
A space fleet was a massive thing, though a mere grain of sand cast into the endless sandbox of the universe. The ships of the Tellaris Fleet, accompanied by the bulk of the Doom Lord's Battlebarge, were impressive, but by no means large, as far as Imperial Fleets go.
To the inhabitants of Evernight, the sight was surprising, and only the presence of the familiar Expositus Manus prevented them from acting too strongly. Still, the confusion was tangible enough to put everyone in the Planetary HQ on edge.
Horandrin looked out of the transparent aluminum windows of the Redoubtable's bridge. He seemed, for the briefest of moments, larger than the planet itself as it rotated slowly, almost lazily, in space. The world, called Evernight, was covered in clouds, dark grey clouds that seemed to enbody the very essence of gloom. A cold, dark world, Coven had said.
Tokugawa sat in the command chair, with a slight frown on his face. The large form of the sorcerer was blocking a fourth of the bridge's view, but he did not care enough to ask the man to move. Tokugawa, as he tried to see past the armoured form, blinked and realized that Horandrin looked different than before; he looked smaller.
The helmet crest, the vaguely 'I' shaped emblem that stood out so obviously before was gone, leaving only the gold and blue that distinguished them as Thousand Sons.
The lieutenant on his right reported that the Doom Lords had made contact with the planet.
"This should be interesting," commented Harrington, from the back of the compartment.
Tokugawa merely nodded absently.
"Admiral, they're transmitting landing coordinates."
Tokugawa snapped out of his thoughts. "Very well. Captain Ross, geosynchronous orbit, if you please."
"Aye, sir."
"Horandrin," said Harrington, drawing the sorcerer's attention, "shall we head to the hanger?"
The marine nodded slowly. "Yes."
Harrington noticed that Tokugawa had not moved from his seat. "Admiral?"
"I will stay. To hold the fort."
"Are you sure? This is momentus occasion, Admiral," Kamerov asked.
"I will join you when I am certain all is well, gentlemen."
Harrington nodded, and followed Horandrin out the hatch. He knew Tokugawa well enough to tell when he had made up his mind on a course of action.
------
"The Admiral is cautious," observed Horandrin, "more so than ourselves." He walked next to Harrington, or perhaps you could say Harrington walked next to him.
"He does not like taking chances." Harrington adjusted the colalr of his uniform. "When he cannot foresee the outcome of a battle, he chooses caution."
"And what do you choose, General?"
"I choose to foresee the outcome," he replied, with a slight grin.
For a moment Horandrin stared at him. He had suddenly gotten a strang feeling, as if Harrington were letting him in on a private joke.
They walked briskly, though Harrington and Kamerov had to raise their heartrate to keep up with Horandrin's large stride. They entered the Hanger, and as they always did, the Thousand Sons rose from their seats or various other positions they were in previously. They did not stand at attention, Harrington noticed, but rather they gave him their undivided attention.
"Brothers, we have arrived," he announced to them all. The prior exhuberance had since dulled to an anxiety of interacting with people in a non-combat enviroment. After so long, they had to suppress the habit of simply killing people.
Daleon came up to the other sorcerer. "Do you wish for me to accompany you, Horandrin?"
"I'm afraid not, my friend. Please stay here for now. If anything should happen to me, I expect you to lead our men as I would."
It almost sounded like a good bye. "Are you not expecting to return?" he said, his worry filtered through the grating synthsizer.
He shook his head. "I'm simply being cautious." He motioned over Braxton, and lead them to the nearest empty Thunderhawk.
The transport, however, was far from empty. Inside, sat ten fully outfitted Storm Troopers, one of which wore the stripes of a sergeant major. He stood at attention, and saluted to the sorcerer. "About bloody time, sir."
"What are you doing here, Sergeant?" Harrington asked.
"Isn't it obvious, sir? We're your escort." Conrad glanced at Braxton, who held his storm bolter slung. "Not that I don't have any confidence in Sergeant Braxton's abilities."
Harrington looked at Kamerov, who shrugged. "I didn't order him to, but it's a good idea."
"Don't you think we might be a tad heavily armed for a delegation?" Harrington asked.
"Do you expect the Doom Lords to be any less heaviliy armed?" countered Horandrin.
"Ah, good point, I suppose. Still, if they really wanted to capture or kill us, ten Storm Troopers are not exactly going to turn the tide." Harrington saw Conrad cross his arms in front of his chest. "Not that I have any doubt in your men, Sergeant."
A heavy thud was heard behind them, and they all looked out of the ramp. Calderon's massive bulk blocked the light from the hanger.
"Okay, now THAT is a bit much," Conrad said, nonchalantly.
Horandrin confronted the Dreadnought. "You should stay here, Calderon."
"I cannot do any good in space," the cyborg replied.
"You are far too menacing a sight," Horandrin tried to rationalize.
"And a Chaos Sorcerer is not? I am coming, and if you wish, you may try to stop me." He started to walk forwards onto the ramp, and everyone was forced to move back into the hold.
"You realize that this is insubordination," Harrington growled, as he squeezed in between Conrad and one of his troopers.
"Then lock me inside a little box for a week," was the Dreadnought's reply.
"Har, har," Harrington wasn't amused.
"I just hope they don't freak out when the door opens and they see him," commented Kamerov.
"I'm certain they're smart enough to realize that nobody loads a Dreadnought in backwards if they're going to fight. After all, there are no weapons on his ass," Conrad said, laughing. No one else laughed.
-------
The day was a fairly bright one, as far as Evernight days go. It was no more than an average day of forecast in most climates, but on this world, it was a warm summer. Well below the mountain side, under the watchful gaze of the the Doom Lord's fortress monastery, lay the darknened and shadowy world of their adoption. Legion Master Rodriguez, of course, could not see the constant bright lights of city, for the thick grey clouds blocked his vision.
A veteran space marine of 250 years, he was clad in the legendary Blood Armour of which the lower right leg glistened with the blood of the Emperor, still wet after 10 millenia. The blood was put there when the original wearer of the armour knelt by the wounded Emperor, and recieved the orders to evacuate the Lords of Wrath and the Doom Guard. The armour was sacred and embued with miraculous power.
He thumbed the hilt of his Power Sword absently, as he stared up into the bright blue sky. The briefest disturbance in the air told him that someone was approaching from behind.
"Master Rodriguez, Brother Argus and his autocannon are in position upon the hill side, along with his devastator squad and three others. The 1st Company is battle-ready, as you ordered," informed the Doom Lord's Chaplain. Sister Severast was a woman of somewhat advanced age, though she wore her 400 years well, not that one could tell behind her helmet.
"Good, and Sergeant Tarkov?" he asked.
"Taken out of stasis, as ordered, Master Rodriguez. The technicians are replenishing his autocannon ammunition and flamer fuel." Sister Severast held the Book of the Imperator Demittus closely to her armoured chest, as if holding onto it against a strong wind. "Are you truly expecting treachery?" she asked.
Rodrigues looked at her passingly. "Yes, Mother... I would be foolish not to."
She nodded slowly. "I pray that you will be proven wrong."
"No more than I, Mother. I wish this to be a time for celebration, not battle."
"But you cannot take the chance, yes, I understand, Master Rodrigeuz." wind gusted suddenly as their conversation reached an impasse. "It is strange," she began without preamble, "that I do not think most of us ever truly thought that this day would come. It is something we wish for, pray for, but do not truly expect to see played out before us."
"Yes... ideals are rarely put into practice so... vividly."
Another Space Marine, wearing the standard glossy black of the Legion and carrying the Legion's banner high, ran up to the two marines. "Master Rodriguez, Sister Severast. All personnel are ready. Tarkov, Theodore and Lobard are standing by with the 1st Company."
"Good. They understand to hold fire unless fired upon, correct?" the Legion Master asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, Rackar, stand by my side." The standard bearer did so.
The Legion Master caught the slightest movement in the sky. It was very difficult to see, and was somewhat obscured by the glare of the sun. He donned his helmet and use the magnification and optic filters to bring the object into view. It was actually two objects "Thunderhawks... Heresy Pattern... one in our colours, the other in blue, white, and gold."
"The Thousand Sons, just as Covan said," Severast said, absently.
Rodriguez switched on his radio. "1st Company, assume parade formation."
Rackar, looked at the Legion Master, surprised. "That is not an efficient battle formation," he said, as if Rodriguez didn't now that.
"I'm aware of that, Rackar. But seeing a company in battle formation would not be very hospitable, would it?" Besides, they were still battle ready.
The standard bearer grumbled, but did not press the matter.
The Thunderhawks were plain to the eyes as if continued to descend. One dropped at a surprising rate, and just as the three Doom Lords thought it was going to crash on the landing pad, the engines roared and slowed the massive dropship to a crawl with a mere two meters to spare. The pilot's precision was impressive to say the least, perhaps only outdone by his brashness. The landing was feather soft, the perfect combat drop. The other Thunderhawk landed well enough.
The Thousand Sons Thunderhawk's turret was pointed skyward, threatening only open sky. They noticed that the symbols of Tzeentch had been roughly scraped off, revealing the bare metal.
There was a period of inaction, as they waited for someone or something to emerge from the craft.
Finally, there was the unmistakable sound of a seal being broken, and the hatches finally opened. Covan and his squad stepped out of the black and red thunderhawk first, and approached swiftly. The Legion Master removed his helmet, and embraced his battle brother in a handshake and hug.
"It is good to see you returned safely, Covan," he said.
"Thank you Legion Master, but I was in little danger," he assured him. "Shall we meet our new friends?"
"Indeed, let's."
Covan walked over to the thunderhawk and rapped on the hatch. It slid open, revealing a normal human in some sort of light battle armour, his face obscured by mask and helmet. The exchanged words and the soldier nodded and stepped out of the hatch onto the duracrete.
He scanned the area with his eyes, as Rodriguez had seen many a veteran soldier do. The stripes on his sleeve denoted him as a Sergeant Major, the highest noncommissioned rank one could attain. Following him were two Imperial Officers, one colonel, one grand general.
After them, were four more soldiers, Imperial Guard Storm Troopers, he realized, and two space marines. Rodriguez blinked, and recognized them as Thousand Sons, sans the huge head ornaments. He was somewhat surprised how normal they looked without them.
"Legion Master Rodriguez, may I present Grand General Harrington, and Colonel Kamerov." They regarded each other, but it was plain that both were more than willing to get to the task at hand.
"And this is is Horandrin, Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, and Sergeant Braxton."
For a moment, the feeling of electricity in the air made hairs stand on end. There was a atmosphere of utter unsureness, that anything could happen. The wind swirled about them, flourishing Horandrin's robes and the Doom Lords Standard.
Horandrin stood, unmoving, until he stepped forward, offering his hand. "Legion Master, an honour."
Rodriguez seemed to judge the sincerity in a mere moment. He grasped the gauntlet. "Horandrin, it is I who am honoured. I have never before greeted a sorcerer in friendship."
"Nor I a Legion Master such as yourself," countered Horandrin.
Rodriguez gestured to the Chaplain next to him. "This is Sister Severast, our Chaplain and priest of the Imperator Demittus."
"An honour, Sister. Covan has told me of your Legion's unique gift," Horandrin bowed, dashingly. "And your unique beliefs."
"As he has told us of your extraordinary feat, Sorcerer." She bowed in return. "I believe that the fact that we are not engaged in mortal combat is a good omen, don't you?"
"Indeed," Horandrin agreed.
Rodriguez looked towards Harrington. "And you, General, helped to bring this about?"
"Yes, I'm proud to say that did. Though in all fairness, it was Horandrin that made the choice. I simply picked them up."
"I see. Still you took an awful risk," commented the Chaplain.
"We were willing to take that risk." Harrington grinned. "Though, I must say that you are also taking a leap of faith, as it were."
"In the most literal sense, General, you are right," Rodriguez nodded. "Horandrin, you would do me and my legion honour if you would accompany me inside," he said, gesturing with a sweep of the hand.
"It would be my pleasure," was the sorcerer's response.
They made their way into the massive fortress, past the imposing doors, and into a cavernous atrium. Row upon row of space marines stood at attention, their bolters held crosswise against their chests, as still as statues.
Horandrin could sense their combined lifeforce, and the slightest of movements, particularly of their heads, told him that he was not walking amongst mere sculptures. The space marines stood, in what Horandrin knew as, classic pre-heresy parade formation.
"How many do you number here?" Horandrin asked, aware only after the fact that it could be interpreted at gathering intelligence. He was, however, simply curious.
"Twenty companies are home at this time," the Legion Master said, continue their steady walk past the large congregation. "Roughly 2000 brothers. That does not include civilian support personnel."
"Civilians?" Horandrin asked, unsure of what he meant.
"Yes. We employ a number of civilians, usually in a logistics or maintenance role."
"That is highly unorthodox, if I remember correctly," Harrington said, speaking what was on Horandrin's mind as well.
"It should be obvious that we are an unorthodox legion, or else we would not be having this conversation." They finally came to the end of the assembly. Before them, was a raised platform with a podium. "To put it simply, Horandrin, we understand the nature of man. And that is reflected in the Imperator Demittus."
The assembly was momentarily a roar of footsteps, as the space marines turned in perfect unity to face the podium.
"We would like to learn of your nature, Horandrin. We want to understand you," Severast said, almost gently, as if not to spook him.
For the second time in his long life as a noncoporeal being, Horandrin was almost afraid. He did not know where to begin. He had not anticipated speaking to the entire Doom Lords Legion. His mind drew a blank. "What would I say?"
"Anything in you heart," Severast said, her hand on his shoulder. "Everything that you say is a testament to the Imperator Demittus. Every moment you walk among us without conflict, is a testament."
"You speak of me as if I am some prophet or messiah," Horandrin said, his voice wavering.
Covan looked at him seriously. "In a way, Horandrin, you are."
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I think that's a good place to stop it. I was very surprised that I found the story was almost evolving beyond my ability to tell the story. I may have shot myself in the foot by making Harrington and the others very detailed. This took a lot longer than I expected. I just couldn't seem to get into the groove. I've pretty much exhausted the pre-planed storyline that i had in the beginning, and now i have to figure out how to get to the ending i have in mind. please bear with me. or not, it's up to you.
I'm really sorry that I didn't make my deadline that I set myself. I thought it would help motivate me, but it seems I don't work well under pressure.
Ivan Alias: I always enjoy your comments. What could be up with Conrad?