Dark Angels

If they withdrew now, Kor'sarro Khan would be surrounded by the horde of corpses—either drowned alive beneath the shambling dead or forced to break out at grievous cost.

No matter the outcome, the White Scars would inevitably harbor resentment toward the Dark Angels.

"Sammael!" Kor'sarro Khan's shout was nearly a roar. His beard and hair flared with rage, and his slashing scimitar became even swifter and more powerful, as though the ones dying beneath his blade were Dark Angels.

Sammael's apologetic gaze passed through his helmet visor. It was the last thing he could do.

"Turn around! Return to the Thunderhawk!"

No one questioned Sammael's fate. The Dark Angels loyally obeyed their superiors' orders; sometimes, other Chapters fighting beside them even felt that Dark Angels recruits had no personalities or thoughts of their own.

"Sammael! Whatever you abandoned us for, was it really worth it?"

"I don't know."

"I asked you what kind of man you were. Now I'll ask you again: what kind of man are you?"

"I really don't know."

The Dark Angels departed swiftly, but Kor'sarro Khan's curses caught up with the Ravenwing bikes racing at full speed. As a son of Jaghatai, Kor'sarro was no less gifted with words than his father.

"You diaper-headed coward! A craven who halts his mount in the charge! A fool who defiles the very meaning of a fine steed's freedom..."

Sammael sighed. He knew Kor'sarro Khan had every right to fly into a rage, but he had it difficult too.

Selling out Kor'sarro would earn him, at most, a scolding and some verbal jabs at his spine the next time they met.

But delaying the capture of the Fallen Angels...

Sammael suddenly shuddered. He could already imagine the consequences of such a delay.

Azmodai, accompanied by more than a dozen