He had set out on this mission based on the gathered intelligence and the directions of the imperial tarot. Many had died to collect the tiny morsels of information about the fallen and their loathsome designs. Commensurately the largest number of fallen had been captured or killed within his living memory. Whatever were the ulterior motives of the blasphemed traitors Cypher and Dragien, they had to be stopped. Too much was at stake at the present to allow them uncontested freedom of action. He believed in the emperor and prayed that Johnson would guide him. Thus, after much debate and deliberation, prayers and self denial, the inner circle had agreed to his demands. All that could be spared were the two reserve companies that now accompanied him. One from his own chapter and the other from the Absolution chapter who were given the honour, for the mission may well result in vengeance for the demise of their librarian. He had chosen the assault oriented eighth reserve companies from both chapters. He was surprised to see Asmodai waiting for him within the command bridge of the "Sword of Redemption", a strike cruiser with an appropriate name for the mission. They had mapped out their strategy to the last detail as they all realised that the chances of any of them returning alive was slim indeed. Yet, they had to succeed for the very future of the unforgiven chapters was at stake. As the vox-caster announced the imminent arrival at their destination Ezekiel said a prayer to his long departed friend, swearing vengeance in his name, and arose to make the final preparations for battle. He rapidly activated and allowed his psychic hood to run its automated self-test mode. Green lights blinked on the tiny display panel under his collar to assure him that all was well. He then went through the ritual of checking each and every weapon including his prized force weapon, the doom of many a daemon. Finally the prized possession, the book of salvation was lifted in to its armoured cover on his chest. With his preparations complete the grandmaster of librarians pulled the hood of his robe to cover his head and left without looking back. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The massive hall remained as it had always been. Poorly lit and with minimal paraphernalia it exuded a sense of ill omen to anyone who walked in. In the centre of the hall the prisoner remained strapped to the rack. His endurance had been amazing. Despite a slow and constant ritual of physical and mental torture coupled with psychic probing and memory interference he had refused to denounce the false carrion god that sat on terra. Such foolishness can only have one outcome. Every living being has its breaking point. The prisoner was certainly nearing his, as evidenced by his mental efforts to harm himself on numerous occasions. Only with the greatest of struggle had he, Lahorier, sorcerer and commander in the Thousand Sons space marine legion, son of Magnus and mortal enemy of the spacewolves, prevented such suicide attempts. He looked around to once again assess their situation. His cabal of twenty sorcerers was ready, their communing and preparations nearly complete. Huge sacrifices of whining populace, who had been culled so much like farm animals, had been made to bring about the correct ambiance and sensitivity in the warp that surrounded them. They were about to create their greatest magiks, and their lord, Magnus would surely approve. He slowly considered the hooded figure that stood above them on the raised corridor with disdain. The great hall was flanked by two parallel corridors, both at a much higher elevation and open to the hall running along the entire length of the opposing sides. Numerous blast doors were placed along this corridor, which allowed an uninterrupted view of all the proceedings in the hall. Lahorier felt vulnerable, as the black robed marines who were placed on guard duty on both the corridors completely dominated the hall and all his men. If they were to turn on him, he would have to rely on the strength of his magik to protect themselves. One of the rooms that opened on to the corridor had been converted in to a command centre, with armoured plexi-glass replacing the wall. This allowed the command centre to also observe proceedings without interruption. More black robed figures sat at various consoles, monitoring all that occurred both within and without the fortress. Lahorier brought his mind back to the task at hand. He had already cast warding spells to protect them from harm if their ally were to turn on them. His men had reached the thirtieth invocations of the planned ceremony. Only ten more invocations remained. The rack was spinning at increasing speeds, the dishevelled and disfigured figure strapped to it screaming in agony. A conflagration of warp energy suddenly burst forth wreathing the spinning wrack in a ball of blue and green warp fire. The screams grew louder and his cabal chanted more forcefully. The void shields generators placed around them groaned with the strain of containing such force. In the command centre, the dark and brooding figure of Dragien motioned to his minions. At his signal a count down was begun and at its culmination the fallen angel activated a series of levers on the console. Bright light flashed at the other end of the hallway, a shudder running through the entire subterranean fortress. Vibrations were emanating from both the spinning rack and the newly activated device. Lahorier dared a quick glance to his rear, although he knew what had been activated. The bright light spilling out from the device coalesced in to an oval disv of pure light, standing in the vertical plane. Ripples of warp energy were washing upon its other side. This was a gateway to the heavens themselves. How the thrice damned godless mercenary who called himself Dragien had come in to the possession of an elder warp portal Lahorier would never know. He would keep a very close eye on this man indeed, he was far too dangerous to be left to his own devices. At the same time the thousand sons' chants had reached fever pitch as the rack continued to spin so fast that it could not be seen. Somehow the form of the prisoner lying on it was upright, in a cruciform position, arms outstretched and body vertical, his head thrown back. A panoply of colours formed an orb near his wide open mouth, pure warp energy crackled and sparked, The rack kept spinning but the body remained upright. Dragien smiled wryly, as he manoeuvred more levers and buttons on his console. Slowly the wards around the warp portal were weakened enough and strands of energy could be seen wafting in to the great hall. Lahorier tensed as he saw the event occurring, but held his speech. He would give this cur a little more time to prove himself. Like bees drawn to honey, the tendrils of energy suddenly raced across the room to concentrate on the orb of warp energy playing above Azadael's mouth. With a loud crack the two forces met and a blast wafted across the hall. As the smoke cleared Lahorier pulled himself up from the floor and noticed that three of his men had been incinerated by the blast as had two of those guarding on the corridor. The command centres plexi-glass had shattered in to a thousand fragments. Many of his men had their armour torn in places and some of Dragien's men were in far worse shape. But everyone's attention was concentrated in the middle of the room. A stream of pure warp energy was flowing across the hall from the warp portal and in to the librarians mouth. Dragien smiled and screamed "Unleash hell!", pointing to the man seated at the main console. The latter began to slowly rotate a dial and in response the warp stream became more pronounced. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Up in the sky, thousands of kilometres above, reality tore itself apart to disgorge two space marine strike cruisers. Ezekiel felt the weak cry for help from his friend. Anger and hope swelling within him he gave the order. "Angels! This is your moment. To war! To redemption! Launch all craft!" In unison six thunderhawk gunships dropped out of the ships, moments before the ships themselves were torn apart by the massive electromagnetic and gravitational forces unleashed by their re-entry so close to the planet. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * In the newly designated chamber 000, the choir of Dark Angel librarians were scattered to the ground like rag dolls as a blast of warp energy blossomed from the mouth of the oracle. Luther, comrade in arms of the lion, brother and betrayer, now repented may well be the occulus secundus. Layered defences of the chamber activated, with powerful warp shields struggling to contain the growing ball of pure energy. The diminutive watchers were now floating in mid air, their concentration levitating them as they combined their forces to contain the breach. As if from from nowhere more watchers appeared to join the throng. Then with a sudden clang of doors, the combined might of the Librarium of the unforgiven chapters strode in to the massive chamber, force weapons and psychic hoods activated in preparation for the battle of their lives. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dragien savoured his moment of victory "Do it very slowly. I want them to see their doom grow before their eyes!" One of the men at the consoles interrupted hesitantly. "We have lost security sensor relays in sector seven-gamma to twelve sigma. I have no communications possible with any of the external guards either!" Dragien swirled around. "They were likely the result of this magnificent event here!" he said pointing to the flow of warp in the hall. "But activate the automated defence grid and flood the external tunnels with neuronin. That should stop any interference" "Aerial contacts! Sector delta-three-seven! Rapidly descending! Defence grid off line!" Dragien opened his mouth to scream. This was his moment of glory, and no one would interfere with it. The blast door on the opposite corridor opened and Dragien's eyes widened in terror. "You!" |
CHAPTER XXIV: OCCULUS SECUNDUS (Cont) Chronicled By ( Shadow Guard ) |
GATHERING OF ANGELS |
This section provides the narrative history of the events that took place during the Gathering of Angels campaign conducted by the Inner Circle, during Abaddon's Thirteenth Black Crusade. This is in no way the official GW version nor is it in anyway an attempt to infringe on their IP. There are many versions of imperial history buried within the sands of time and this is but just one of them. Read on if you dare! |
