"Deaths Fall" - a Shadow Spectres novel

[Firebrethren]

Short story - "Deaths Fall"

 

Blood. blood, the smell of burning flesh and bone. Those were the smells that first registered to the shaking form of brother Gabriel as he slowly tried to rise out of the blood soaked, ash covered wasteland that used to be a prosperous and vibrant garden world. Elysium burned.

 

As he stared out of the sticky, tar filled hole that had been; seconds before, a squad of his own brothers, his eyes glazed over and he quickly adopted a sullen look of desperation as stomach gripping terror seized upon his ancient form; his eyes falling upon all that he had once loved and cherished as a young neophyte came crashing down around him, in torrents of searing fire and screeching metal.

 

Slowly, as though his whole existence was nought but a nightmare of the darkest fears, his memories started to trickle back into his mind. Elysium, Elysium had been attacked? Had it? oh yes... those grox faced tyrants in the Inquisition had deemed his chapter, his brothers in arms - the victors of Ammara, the shadow spectres of Arcadia traitors against the Imperium of man, and for what? Nothing, thats what!

 

He tried to rise again, but nothing happened... he was injured? He moved a blood stained gauntlet down to feel for his legs, but all they touched was a fleshy lump of something soft and covered in some sort of sticky liquid, what was happening to him? He could see thousands burning around him, as the hard working population tumbled around like pieces of paper in a hurricane. Burning in the firestorm that was his former world, a world he had sworn an oath to protect... and had failed to.

 

Suddenly he saw something, a streak of white aginst the inky black skies. What was that, that blur of white ribbon? A white trail of burning fire, falling out of the heavens like a vengeful angel of old Terra. His vision slowly started to fail, as crimson rivers swamped his small home of a pit, flowing down from the murder fields above him. The white flame was soon joined in it's screaming fall by dozens of similarly shaped instruments of vengeance.

 

As his time in the world of heroes failed him, he started to comprehend the flames. They were black pods, covered in seething coronas of fire. His brothers! They returned, as this thought darted across his wrecked form he smiled. Let them guide his soul to rest in the halls of their Father, as the spectres returned. As the Bringers of Death fell upon their enemies, let him sleep and rest in the light of their Emperor....

 

 

This was one of my first stories in a while, mostly been writing plans and such recently... what do you think? All review welcome

Your regards,

Lord Firebrethren