Descent of Angels
Page 34
Zahariel was exhausted beyond words, his entire body aching and battered, though his thoughts were clear and fresh, uncluttered by echoes of sacrifice and the loathsome touch of a creature from beyond the veil.
The Lion had said nothing on their journey to the surface, keeping his own counsel, not even offering words of praise to his warriors.
As they boarded the Stormbirds, Zahariel felt a strange sensation of unease along his spine, and he turned to discover its source.
Lion El’Jonson was looking straight at him.
AFTERMATH
ZAHARIEL WATCHED AS the Invincible Reason diminished in the viewing portal, the Stormbird streaking through space towards the Wrath of Caliban and disgrace.
Barely six hours had passed since the victory at Mining Station One Zeta Five, and events had moved with such rapidity upon their return to the expedition fleet that he could scarcely believe what had happened at all.
No sooner had the warriors of Zahariel’s company returned to the Invincible Reason than they had been issued with new deployment orders.
A declaration from the Lion announced that the flow of new recruits from Caliban was not proceeding as swiftly as was hoped. Therefore, experienced Astartes were to return to the homeworld with all speed to ensure that the recruitment of new warriors was put back on track.
The Great Crusade was entering a new and vigorous stage, and the Dark Angels needed fresh warriors to take the light of the Imperium onwards.
As to the pacification of Sarosh, the fight had gone out of its inhabitants following the battle beneath Mining Station One Zeta Five, the knowledge of their world’s avenging angel’s demise travelling the globe in the time it took the news to reach the expedition fleet.
Army units from nearby expedition fleets, as well as a demi-legion of Titans from the Fire Wasps, were en-route to crush any last resistance, and all that remained was to implement full compliance once the last smouldering coals of rebellion had been smothered.
Zahariel studied the deployment order to see who was being sent back to Caliban. He saw that Nemiel was to remain, and had sought out his cousin before the allotted hour for departure.
But Nemiel was nowhere to be found, and Zahariel had done his duty as ordered, reporting to the embarkation deck with the rest of the warriors earmarked to return home.
The sense of crushing dejection was total, and though there was no outward stigma attached to their departure from the fleet, every warrior knew the truth of it in his heart.
The Lion did not want them with him, and that was the greatest hurt of all.
Brother-Librarian Israfael was there, as was Eliath and the wounded Attias, as well as hundreds upon hundreds of other loyal warriors.
Their contribution to the Great Crusade had been so small, so insignificant in the scale of what was to come, that Zahariel doubted the chroniclers would even bother to record the short war on Sarosh.
The Great Crusade would continue, though it would continue without Zahariel.
Worse than that, it would continue without the man sitting furthest away from any other in the Stormbird.
It would continue without Luther.