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The Great Schism by Jack Lang
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The Great Schism Part I
Date: 29 June 2009, 6:04 am
Gunfire echoed throughout the narrow corridors, strobes of blue and green light lit the enclosed spaces.
The easy attack had become a life and death struggle.
A Warrior fell, his head gone. Another toppled with a neat hole through his chest.
They fired into the fog, hazy figures exchanging shots in the gloom.
The shape of a human materialised, it swung forward with a Plasma rifle and knocked a Zealot from his feet. Another leapt and bowled a Major Domo over. Plasma blasts felled the two assailants but more rushed forward to assault the dwindling defenders. They slumped to the floor. But soon only two figures stood against the tide. Small sickly yellow blobs fell from the ceiling, and more clambered from open vents. A flood of the terrifying apparitions closed in for the kill.
*
Twelve years earlier: Sangheilos (Elite homeworld)
Two figures circled each other warily. Each grasped a long stave firmly in four fingered hands. One lunged, the other parried. Sticks clattered and smacked as the two warriors fought for dominance.
Two older warriors watched the fight. They gazed with interest at the blows and counter blows.
"Good blood in that one."
"Good blood in them both."
The eldest observer, a grizzled veteran in his autumn years, clicked his mandibles happily at the compliment.
Sangheili Law dictated that the father of an infant would remain unknown so that no prejudice accompanied a budding warrior. Good blood would show, and be rewarded. Bad blood would be justly punished.
The veteran was Ara 'Naamanee, uncle to the pair, who had been commanded (as was the custom) by his sister to raise her sons as warriors. As the blood of the family ran through student and mentor, if the uncle failed to raise strong warriors then that meant that his bloodline was weak by default. There was no greater shame for a proud Sangheili.
'Naamanee turned his attention back to the combatants. They were near evenly matched and the fight went on and on as they struggled in the sandy arena.
Then one struck the other, a broad swipe that sent him flying. The young Sangheili rolled and came back up, drawing his hunting knife. He ran forward but 'Naamanee's staff rose and struck.
SMACK. It connected with the infant's skull. Another strike and both the young ones were sprawled in the dirt.
"Teil, you disgrace yourself, drawing a blade. Do not give in to anger so easily."
The golden warrior glared at his student as he spoke. "Anger leads to reckless action, reckless action leads to mistakes-."
"Mistakes lead to loss of blood and honour." The young one intoned.
"Very well. You know what to do."
A blade drawn in anger required blood and so it must be. The young warrior held out his left palm flat and drew his blade across the scaly flesh. He did not flinch as the sharp blade cut deep and drew blood.
'Naamanee nodded. With loss of blood went loss of honour, but for one so young to not show the pain…there was hope for him yet.
*
The Ghost fast attack vehicle powered forward, one of many fighting for the glory of first into the fray. The driver is clad in the adorned red armour or an 'Elite Major Domo' to use the human terminology.
His scarred left hand grips the controls tightly as the Ghost is pushed to its limits.
Twelve years have passed, and they show. His body is scarred and strong, his eyes burn with anger and hate. A mark of vengeance adorns his left arm, a mark of pain the other.
Teil's brother is MIA. He assumes the worst.
They are close, the humans are in sight, Teil can smell the fear.
A rocket streaks towards him, it will not miss. He rises up and leaps. The Ghost is hit, it splinters and tumbles.
Teil lands, rolls and continues his forward charge on foot. He draws his uncle's energy sword, an unusual gift-most Sangheili are buried with their swords. It crackles into life. Bullets ping and sparkle against his energy shield, his mandibles split in a roar of fury. A warning alarm sounds, he ignores it. The blood lust is too great, he is a beserker, and the red mist has descended and clouded his judgement.
The first human goes down, cut in half by a swipe. The second falls, clutching the stump of his arm.
More and more die as he slashes and cuts. He does not notice the pain of bullet hits, nor the agony of shrapnel in his back. A human sinks a combat knife into his abdomen, he does not flinch.
*
They are all dead, heaps of corpses lie at his feet. Only now does pain pierce the fog of his conscious mind.
He falls to one knee, the sword slips in his grip. A moment of weakness before he pushes it aside.
He yanks the combat knife from his side, and pulls a chunk of Ghost from his back. The bullets he will remove later, more metal to add to his warrior necklace.
He stands..
Other warriors now approached, awed by the violence they have witnessed.
A Zealot neared. The others moved aside and dipped their heads respectfully as he passed.
The Zealot nodded to 'Naamanee, then turned to address the group.
"We must head back to the Carrier."
He raised a hand to quell the dissent.
"The Hierarch commands it, we have a greater objective." He paused. "A Sacred Ring!"
As one the Sangheili gaped at him in shock. Rows of teeth glinted in the light.
"By the Gods, another Sacred Ring!"
Several Sangheili raised their heads and roared, soon all of the warriors have joined the chorus, caught up in the moment.
The Zealot turned and looked at 'Naamanee.
"Teil, a word."
The two moved off to the side.
"I have received news from Adar 'Mibharee."
He looked up at Teil.
"A Sangheili Major was captured by the humans and transported to one of their 'ships'."
New Hope shone all to clearly in Teil's eyes.
"Which vessel?"
"It is called…In Amber Clad."
The Great Schism Part III
Date: 4 August 2009, 6:30 pm
The titanic vessel loomed overhead, casting the flights of Phantoms into shadow.
Teil sat near the front of the dropship. He pulled at a bullet with a pair of forceps, twisting it around. It pulled free from the wound with a spurt of blood. Unggoy watched the bizarre ritual, awe-struck.
The bullet joined its brothers in a pouch on Teil's waist. He now turned his attention to the blade that had cut him. It was sharp and well made, the Sangheili decided to keep it. It would make a good trophy and serve as a reminder of his brushes with death.
He blinked,weary. The pain was growing.
'Naamanee got to his feet and walked into the cockpit.
The Zealot was standing over the pilots, gazing at the image of the Carrier. He turned as Teil entered and nodded in greeting before turning back to the screen.
They were entering the cargo bay of the Assault Carrier and the screens showed that it was bustling with activity. The ship was readying to depart, its objective complete.
Snatches of a speech came in over the speakers.
"The glory that is a Sacred Ring…prophecy of seven is confirmed…leave at once to herald the final stage. The Great Journey shall begin!"
A screen lit up to Teil's right. It showed a real-time feed from one of the rearward cameras on the Carrier's hull.
Engine flare lit up the bottom of the screen, while the top half showed the angular form of the approaching human vessel.
Teil's fists closed in anger, the impudence of the humans, if the Prophet had not already ordered the retreat they would have swatted the vessel aside like a fly.
Teil drooped visibly. The adrenaline that had sustained him was wearing off. His vision tunnelled and then failed.
He collapsed to the floor.
*
"Teil? Teil!"
The bright light faded and Teil looked around him. A figure became visible.
His brother ran forward and stood before him.
'Naamanee pulled his brother close and closed his eyes.
"Teil." The voice came again, harsh and cold. He opened his eyes and looked at…himself.
A reflection.
The demon stood in his brother's place, the relaxed hug now a vice like grip, Teil struggled but the grip was iron. Dots appeared on his vision as he gasped for air…
The Black clad Sangheili was caught by surprise, the sleeping form before him leapt up and bowled him over, in a flash his plasma rifle was in the hands of his assailant and pressed against his mandibles.
"Teil! Stop!" The voice snapped him back to reality, 'Naamanee relaxed his grip and eased back onto his haunches.
"Forgive me Adar, I dishonour you."
He extended a hand, which the other accepted.
"What troubles you?" Adar 'Mibharee asked.
"Demons haunt my dreams."
Adar grunted "as do they mine, do not dwell upon it."
He beckoned Teil to follow and they left the room.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"The entire slipspace jump, you are lucky, the physicians said that you would die."
Teil recoiled, his terror evident.
"You let a doctor touch me!"
Adar raised a hand in reassurance.
"Fear not, I would never dishonour you so."
He clapped the hand on Teil's shoulder. "Your blood proves itself, you have defied death-a good omen."
"Tell me what has happened."
"We have arrived, your feet tread upon a Sacred Ring."
As Adar spoke a door slid open and Teil could see that this was so.
He had been moved to a field hospital while he slumbered, probably at Adar's insistence.
The air was crisp and clean. Teil breathed in deeply, savouring the first fresh air since his departure from Sangheilos, above his head the ring tapered up into a thin line against the clear blue sky.
"Is it not all the prophets said it would be?" Adar exclaimed. And indeed it was, the scale of it all was breathtaking. Surely even High Charity, capital of the entire Covenant was a bauble compared to this structure of the gods.
*
The Phantoms accelerated as they passed from the shadow of an imposing cliff face. The structure was just ahead.
'Naamanee adjusted the straps of his armour and checked his weapons yet again.
The slung Carbine was secure, his Energy Sword was within easy reach and his Plasma Rifle was displaying a full battery.
His warrior necklace glittered, the fresh bullets shining in the light.
He felt refreshed after his long sleep, the pain had faded and his mind was clear.
He was a perfectly honed killing machine once more.
His triumph over death had replenished the confidence his lance had lost with the retreat from the human world. The members of his lance stood taller and the chatter of the Unggoy was excited.
Of course the discovery of another Sacred Ring had helped wash away the humiliation that had followed the destruction of the first.
Then the pilot's voice cut through them all, his horror palpable.
"We must divert immediately…the Demon is attacking the Prophet of Regret!"
Teil sprang up and entered the cockpit.
"Overheat the engines, we must reach him it in time."
"It is already done."
Spray whipped up around the curved surfaces as the Phantom sped low over the lake, the pilot pushing his vehicle as fast as it would go.
With maximum magnification Teil could just make out the green figure that walked up the steps and into the entrance of the temple
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