[Dawn of War 02] - Ascension
Page 33
“We will survive,” said Tanthius evenly. “It is to our credit that we fight to the brink of our own annihilation,” he added with pride. “There are not many others who could claim the same.”
“No, there are not many—and that may well be the point, Tanthius,” said Gabriel, smiling weakly. “Rest well, old friend,” he said, turning and walking out of the apothecarion.
Pushing open the great doors to the Ravenous Spirit’s chapel, Gabriel strode down the central aisle. On the altar at the front was the ornate sarcophagus in which Chaplain Prathios had been laid to rest. This would be his place of honour until such as time as he was called again from his sleep.
“My old friend,” said Gabriel, kneeling before the altar to the Emperor but addressing his words to the entombed husk of Prathios. “We need your guidance now, more than ever. Our numbers are diminishing, and yet I led our Company into this battle. Somehow I knew that it was waiting for us, and I brought us here…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish his thoughts.
Closing his eyes, Gabriel tried to let his mind relax. He tried to fill his soul with light. He waited for the first hints of the Astronomican once again, but there was nothing.
Gabriel. Gabriel, I know that you can hear me. We have little choice when the future is laid out in the past. But decisions are not always about casting into this pre-emptive future-space. Your decisions are your own, Gabriel, even if your choices can never be.
Gabriel’s eyes snapped open. For a moment he had caught sight of Macha, sitting cross-legged in the darkness of a small circular chamber. Her dazzling emerald eyes were shaded behind long, elegant lashes, and her lips had been working silently—or perhaps forming words different from those that appeared in his head. So, she had survived the necron’s lightning arc and the assault of Ptolemea. Despite himself, Gabriel was pleased by the thought.
Closing his eyes once again, a single silver voice struck a note in his head. It was high and majestic, glorious like a solo soprano, soaring and perfect. After a few seconds, a second voice joined it, even higher and more crisp. Then a third and a fourth, deepening the harmony into something profound and resonant, putting his soul at ease once again.
A great crash broke his reverie and Gabriel turned his head to see the silhouette of Corallis in the wide open doorway at the other end of the aisle. “I am sorry to disturb you captain,” he bowed. “But Captain Ulantus is insisting that we make haste for Lorn V immediately. It seems that he is under attack, captain.”
“Understood,” replied Gabriel, climbing to his feet and striding back towards Corallis. “The orks?”
“No, captain. The eldar.”
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