Fallen Angels

'That is where you are wrong, Terran,' Master Remiel said. 'You and your kind may be content to live as slaves, but we never will!'

Zahariel felt the surge of psychic power a heartbeat before Israfael struck. Time slowed, and everything seemed to happen at once.

Bellowing in rage, Israfael rounded on Master Remiel and flung out a gauntleted hand. Skeins of searing white fire leapt from the Librarian's fingertips, but Sar Daviel was already moving, putting his body between Israfael and Remiel. The psychic blast tore into his chest, searing his flesh and setting his robes on fire.

Luther shouted a command, and Zahariel felt his body respond even before his mind registered what he'd heard. He leapt to his feet and focused his will into his armour's psychic hood. The hood's dampener was not only for self-protection; it could also be used to combat the power of other psykers within a certain distance from the device. Zahariel turned its power on Brother Israfael, and the Librarian's energies faltered. At the same time, Chapter Master Astelan rushed at Israfael from the side, his pistol raised.

But the senior Librarian would not be overcome so easily. Israfael ducked as Astelan tried to strike him with the butt of his bolt pistol and lashed out with his hand. His fingertips seemed to brush lightly against Astelan's breastplate, but Zahariel felt the psychic discharge that flung the chapter master through the air at him. Zahariel ducked barely in time, but his concentration on the dampener faltered for a fleeting instant.

That was all the opening that Israfael needed. With a savage cry, he raised his hands and unleashed a torrent of crackling energy upon Luther.

Zahariel felt the heat of the blast as it burned through the air past his head and struck Luther full in the chest. But the knight did not burn - instead, the wards painted upon his skin flared with an icy luminescence, deflecting the energy in a boiling wave away from his body.

He saw Luther bare his teeth in a wolfish grin, then he opened his mouth and uttered a single word. The sound smote Zahariel like a hammer; he felt a searing pain in his ears and at the corners of his eyes, and he reeled under the blow.

Israfael did as well. Bleeding from the eyes and ears, he staggered backwards before a searing bolt of plasma struck him full in the chest.

The Librarian's eyes went wide. There was a crater in his breastplate as large as a man's palm, its edges still molten. He swayed on his feet, his lips working as though trying to speak, then sank slowly to his knees and toppled onto his side.

Zahariel glanced back the way the shot had come. Lord Cypher slowly lowered his plasma pistol and cast a wary glance towards Luther. 'Are you well, my lord?' He asked.

Luther didn't answer. Smoke curled in thin tendrils from each of the hexagrammic wards covering his body.

'How is Sar Daviel?' he asked.

Master Remiel was kneeling beside the charred body of the old knight. 'Gone to the halls of honour,' he said quietly.

Zahariel tore his gaze away from Cypher and staggered over to Israfael. The wound in his chest was grave, but he checked the Librarian's life support systems nevertheless and was surprised to find a faint reading. 'Israfael still lives, my lord,' he said. 'What shall we do with him?'

Lord Cypher took a step towards the fallen Librarian, his pistol still in hand. Luther stopped him with a hard glance.

'Summon a pair of servitors to take him to the Apothecaries,' Luther commanded. 'When he's recovered enough we'll transfer him to a cell in the Tower of Angels and see if we can convince him of the error of his ways.' Then he turned to Astelan.

'Are the strike teams ready, brother?'

The chapter master nodded. 'All is in readiness, my lord,' he said.

'Then your first orders are to arrest General Morten and his staff, as well as Magos Bosk and the senior officials of the Administratum,' the Master of Caliban said. 'Spare their lives if at all possible, but do what you must to secure them. From this moment forward, Caliban is a free world once more.'

Astelan hesitated. Zahariel could see the struggle in the warrior's eyes, but in the end, his loyalty to Luther won out over years of unthinking obedience. 'It shall be done,' he said.

Master Remiel rose wearily to his feet. Tears streamed down his face as he walked up to Luther.

'The knight of old has returned,' he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He reached out and gripped Luther's arms. 'Behold the saviour of Caliban!'

NINETEEN

Lion Rampant

They discovered the foundry sector entirely deserted upon their return. The Dark Angels found many of the perimeter outposts still intact, shielded from the blast wave of the bombardment by virtue of being sheltered in the lee of thick-walled manufactories, but the soldiers who ma

Force Commander Lamnos, who was also the commanding officer of 1st Company, was waiting outside the assembly building when Primarch Jonson and 2nd Company arrived. 'The building has been secured, my lord,' he reported. 'We encountered several squads of stragglers inside, but they weren't in much shape to put up a fight.'

'What about the siege guns?' the primarch asked.

'All present and accounted for. The building weathered the blast very well, and the vehicles sustained no damage.'

Jonson nodded. 'Well done, Force Commander. Let's get the wounded inside, then begin developing a defence strategy.' He cast a wary eye to the south. 'I believe we've only got two or three hours at most before the Sons of Horus begin their attack.'

The Astartes went to work immediately, scouting out the terrain and scavenging working heavy weapons from the abandoned enemy emplacements. Jonson and the company commanders assembled outside the assembly building along with Nemiel and Brother-Sergeant Kohl, to review the terrain and develop a proper defensive perimeter. The primarch favoured a layered defence, with an outer defensive ring encompassing the entire sector, and an i

'At this point, we only have enough strength to successfully defend about half of the outer ring,' Jonson said. In the absence of a hololith table, one of the Astartes had scratched a crude map of the foundry sector into the permacrete with the point of his power knife, and the Dark Angels had gathered in a circle around it.

'Naturally, we'll orientate our defence to the south, because the rebels will use the most direct approach - at least initially,' the primarch continued. 'We'll site our captured lasca