The Eye of Ezekiel (Space Marine Battles) by C Z Dunn

Author:C Z Dunn [Dunn, C Z]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Games Workshop
Published: 2017-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The warboss raised Puriel’s power fist above its head, holding it aloft as a trophy. The assembled throng cheered, calling for more of the Chaplain’s blood.

Though gravely wounded, Puriel was not finished yet, using his one remaining arm to crawl across the pile of greenskin bodies and retrieve his crozius. He had just got a single finger on the hilt of the weapon when the ork general brought the power fist crashing down, shattering Puriel’s other arm at the wrist.

It did not end there.

The warboss brought the fist down hard again, a mighty blow smashing open the Dark Angel’s backpack and tearing it away from his armour. Then again, and again, and again, until the ceramite beneath cracked open, exposing Puriel’s vulnerable back. Slamming the power fist down one last time, the ork broke the Chaplain’s spine with a sickening crunch, before tossing the weapon aside to be fought over by its exuberant troops.

We have to do something,+ Turmiel sent. The young Lexicanium was not prone to displays of emotion, but Ezekiel could feel the rage in the psychic communiqué.

He’s already dead, brother, Rephial replied. He was dead the moment he allowed the ork to goad him on.

But we can’t just leave him here for the orks to defile,+ Turmiel pleaded.

As if in response, the warboss knelt down before Puriel’s still twitching corpse and tore the Chaplain’s cracked skull mask from his helmet before attaching it to its belt alongside a host of other trophies looted from vanquished foes. With its undamaged arm, the warboss lifted the Dark Angel from the ground and tossed him like a piece of scrap meat into the baying mob. The greenskins’ uncommon restraint finally found its limit as they surged forwards in the hope of claiming their own spoils of war.

Ezekiel! Rephial thought urgently.

Already alert to the danger, Ezekiel hastily threw a psychic dome over the four surviving Dark Angels, Turmiel lending his aetheric strength to the effort once he realised what the senior Librarian was doing. The shield crackled with the raw stuff of the warp as the onrushing orks collided violently against it.

In their rage and frustration, the xenos tried to break it down with knives and axes, only to have them flung from their grasp as corporeal metal met incorporeal energy. When that didn’t work, many of them took to opening fire on the shimmering wall, the shots deflecting back with interest, killing either the firer or those standing nearby. Undeterred, the horde continued to unleash salvo after futile salvo until a primal bellow cowed them into submission.

Falling silent, the greenskins parted, clearing a path to where the two Librarians strained to maintain the shield and Rephial fought desperately to keep Zadakiel alive. The warboss strode brazenly through the gap until it was only a few centimetres away from the Dark Angels, the shimmering field of psychic energy the only thing preventing it from tearing them apart, as it had Puriel.

Twenty metres from the end of his suicidal

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