Space Marine Legends: Azrael by Gav Thorpe

Author:Gav Thorpe
Language: eng, eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2016-10-06T16:02:15+00:00

Date Ident: 941939.M41

The tower stands on a hill, broken, its empty windows a dead stare, battlements tumbled from within.

Lightning flashes. There is a face in the lowest window; frail fingers clasp at the metal bars. The night air is torn by a plaintive howl, not of any animal, but the unleashed despair of a man.

The twilight that breaks across the sky is no dawn, it is the glow of devouring flames. From the ground itself rises the fire and in the crackle of its burning washes a maniac’s cackle. The licks of fire that paw at the ruin are questing fingers seeking entry. The inferno surrounds the tower, its ruddy light caught on the age-worn stones.

From the tower the man shrieks and moans, his pain a piercing felt keener than any dagger wound. The flames consume him, releasing an agony that is overwhelming, all-devouring and eternal. The burning is not the burning of another, but of the dreaming observer.

He that was without the tower is now within and only he can break himself free.

Azrael rose from his sleep-like state, the dream an itch at the back of his mind. He lay on the hard slab of his cot for several minutes, trying to catch the last images but they fluttered from his thoughts like the embers of a dying fire on a breeze. They were replaced by a memory of small hooded figures with ruby eyes.

He sat up, scanning the cell for interlopers, but he was alone, the door bolted. He recalled the words of Ezekiel, his promise of non-interference, and had to trust that the psyker was true to his commander.

The Chapter Master took the ewer of water from the nightstand beside the cot and drank heavily, ignoring the plain metal cup beside it. The cold liquid refreshed his body even if it felt as though a dark fog continued to permeate his thoughts.

There was something he had to do, he was certain of it, but could not recall the specific task. Instead, he walked over to the vox-caster on the desk. He pressed the runes to connect to the Librarium. After a delay of several seconds the link crackled into activity.

‘This is Supreme Grand Master Azrael.’ The extra word in his title came surprisingly naturally. ‘Inform the Chief Librarian and the Master of Astropaths that they are to broadcast an invitation to our Successor Chapters to attend at the Tower of Angels for a grand council. The sons of the Lion will convene in full at Rhamiel.’

The Hall of Decemial echoed with the tread of the company masters and other officers of command rank. Their robes and hoods were gone; they came garbed in their war-plate, as warriors of the Dark Angels, not members of the Inner Circle. The audience chamber was nearly a hundred metres long, situated above one of the great gates of the fortress once known as the Angelicasta.

Banners and rolls of honour from ten thousand years of war adorned the walls, overhanging each other in places, so great was their number.

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