C. Goto - Dawn of War

A scout bike came bouncing down the mountainside towards the convoy, followed by two more bikes, struggling to keep pace with their speeding sergeant. The lead biker hit the brakes as he drew alongside the Rhino and slid his back wheel round 180 degrees, spinning it in the dust as he drew level with Gabriel. The sergeant tugged at his helmet, casting it aside, and Gabriel smiled broadly, dropping down to the side-hatch to talk to the veteran sergeant.

“Corallis! It is good to see you, old friend,” called Gabriel through the wind.

“Thank you, captain,” he answered, waving his new arm for his friend to see. “The Apothecaries on the Litany of Fury patched me up and packed me off again-it is good to be back, Gabriel.”

Gabriel just nodded, this was not the time for reunions, and Corallis knew that he was pleased to have him back. “What news?” he said, indicating the area of the mountain from whence Corallis had come.

“A ruined city lies around to the west. It appears deserted. To the east there is a mob of orks lumbering towards the summit. On the summit are the Alpha Legion and a few eldar-the aliens are badly outgunned, captain. Their numbers are small,” reported Corallis.

“Lend me your bike, sergeant,” said Gabriel, reaching his hand out to clasp that of Corallis. “I have a feeling that destiny is calling me from that old city-and I don’t want to keep it waiting.”

In a smooth movement, Gabriel lifted Corallis off the bike and leapt across onto it, taking the sergeant’s place before the bike unbalanced. From the hatch of the Rhino, Corallis looked over at his captain: “I hope that you find him, Gabriel.”

“He will be waiting, I know it… Keep the Blood Ravens on course-I will see you on the summit,” said Gabriel, revving the bike’s engine into a great growl and spinning the back wheel as he peeled away from the convoy and roared off to the west.

A cloud of dust kicked up off the ground as Gabriel slid the rear of his bike round, bring it parallel to the ruins of the old city wall and killing the engine. He stood on the bike and then vaulted up onto the crumbling wall. On the other side was a small clearing, strewn with rubble and cracked masonry, some of it overgrown with moss and creeping plants. Once, it must have been a courtyard or a marketplace, but now it was just a mess of stone fragments and wreckage.

On the far side of the clearing, between two ruined buildings, stood the blue-armoured figure of a Space Marine. His back was turned and his arms were outstretched to the sides, his palms pressed against the walls as though he were holding them up.

Gabriel saw Isador at once and stood for a moment, motionless on the top of the city walls, staring at the back of this old friend. He had never thought that it would come to this, and his soul rebelled against the very ethical imperative that gave his life direction-perhaps Isador could be an exception?

No exceptions, Gabriel, came the voice of Isador, slipping into Gabriel’s mind as though whispered lovingly in his ear.

The Blood Ravens captain vaulted off the wall and crunched down into the old marketplace, landing with one knee touched to the ground and his fist driven into the flagstones, while his other hand rested on the hilt of his chainsword.

“No exceptions, old friend,” said Gabriel in a whisper that Isador could not have heard.

As Gabriel rose to his feet, his hand still poised over the hilt on his chainsword, Isador’s feet lifted off the ground. The Librarian rose about a metre off the flagstones, with his arms still stretched out by his sides, and then he started to revolve slowly. After a few seconds, his body faced directly towards Gabriel, but his head was bowed to the floor, hiding his face in shadows.

You are a fool, Gabriel, came Isador’s thoughts. You were always shortsighted-your mind closed to the very powers that could make you great. I have seen you struggling with yourself. Why struggle, when the power is there just waiting to be released?

“Because it is wrong, Isador. Because there are some things more important than power,” said Gabriel, stalking slowly towards the levitating figure.

There was no movement from Isador-he just seemed to hang in the air, as though suspended on an invisible cross. You are wrong, old friend. There is nothing more important than power: how ridiculous that you, a Space Marine, can still believe that power is not the goal of all our efforts. We crave it-and without it we would be nothing more than primitives. Without it, Cyrene would still be a seething pool of mutation and heresy. Power makes us right, Gabriel. And you are wrong-for you and your faith are no match for me.

“Of all my brothers, why you? You, out of all of us, you were always the strongest,” said Gabriel, taking another cautious step towards the Librarian, his voice rich with emotion.

That is why, foolish Gabriel. That is why. Can you imagine being forced to serve the weak and the fumbling? Could you be commanded by that nauseating wretch Brom? Strength should command, not some pathetic notion of justice. The thoughts were bitter and dripping with venom, making Gabriel’s mind recoil.

“You are not yourself, old friend. I have heard these words before-the cursed Warmaster Horus said as much to the Emperor himself as he unleashed bloody civil war on the galaxy. These sentiments would have found no place in the heart of Isador Akios, Librarian of the Blood Ravens,” said Gabriel, reaching his hand to his head in a reflex response to the pain. “These are not the words of my friend.”

A crack of lightning arced across the sky and thunder crashed as the storm drew closer to the mountain. Isador finally raised his face from the ground and stared at Gabriel, his eyes ablaze with red and golden flames, and his face a ruined mess of cuts, scars and streams of blood. Then I am not your friend.

The words wracked Gabriel with pain, and he slumped to the ground clutching his head. Isador was weak-willed, but his body is strong. He resisted a little, but I broke him easily. This form will be enough to smite you, captain-an entertainment while I await the coming storm.

The voice in his head had lost its aura of Isador; it hissed and cackled, burning Gabriel’s mind and licking at it with blades, slicing at his soul to the point of submission. Gabriel writhed on the ground, his body spasming as his mind played cruel tricks on his nervous system.

I am stronger than you could ever imagine-the daemons and the gods tremble before me, fearing my wrath, fearing my power, fearing the coming of the storm.

Gabriel staggered back to his feet, swaying uneasily and gripping his head in the gauntlet of one hand.

This could have been you, Gabriel. You showed such promise on Cyrene-slaughtering the innocent with the guilty in one stroke. Such power. Such glory. There was a part of you that thrilled when you ordered the strikes, I know it. Part of you thrilled when you betrayed your own people-because you had the power to do it.

Roaring with the release of pent-up rage, Gabriel lurched forward towards the husk of Isador. “I betrayed no one!” he cried as his chainsword flashed from its scabbard, spun once in the air, and then plunged deeply into the Librarian’s chest. “Not even you, Isador.”

The fires in his eyes flared suddenly and his mouth fell open in shock, then Isador fell out of the sky and collapsed to the ground. Immediately, the daemonic whisperings in Gabriel’s head subsided, and he could hear the faint chorus of the Astronomican echoing around his soul once again, giving direction to his faith.

“Innocents die so that humanity may live, Isador,” said Gabriel, pulling his blade out of his friend’s primary heart, “not because we prove our power by killing them. I ended their suffering and saved their souls-and I will do the same for you… not because I can, but because I must.”