TALES OF LOYALTY: THE SILVER KNIGHTS

Introduction of the Hunt

{oOo}

Taran Horal skittered through the back alleys of Tartral IV's primary Hive. He was nervous, as he should be. Hantol Durantus, the Governor, had a strict curfew in place, and any caught breaking it were imprisoned immediately. The trial, if it could be called that, was done in front of a senior member of the Arbites and while the prisoner was under threat of fire.

So for the most part, this explained why he was alone on the streets. Occasionally he would run into a squad of Arbites, but Taran knew all the corners of the Hive, keeping out of sight as the uniformed officers continued their noisy, straightforward trek. Some had said that it was the threat of Chaos that made the Governor impose such strict rules, but Taran honestly didn't care for Durantus or his restrictions. He couldn't allow himself to be caught. He had somewhere important to be, more important than his own life.

Slowly, carefully, he made his way toward the more barren portion of the Hive. This was where the factories dwelled, making anything from cloth to armor for Imperium's voracious needs. They, too, were affected by the curfew, and though the merchants grumbled, they acquiesced to Durantus' demands. Tension was rising, however, and several in both the higher and lower classes chaffed under the Governor's rules. Many thought it only a matter of time before something horrible occurred.

Taran made his way into an old abandoned textile mill, which in better days had been used to make everything from the elaborate gowns of the aristocracy to the uniforms of the Imperial Guard. The chains that held the doors closed were rusted, and it took little effort for him to break them open. He caught the chain before it could hit the ground, careful not to make too much noise.

Much of the equipment had been taken out since the factory had been in use, but there were still a few ominous shapes in the darkness. Towering above him, he would have been a little unnerved if he hadn't been so focused on his goal. He picked out a shadowed corner, fitting himself as deeply as he could, and waited.

Half an hour later the noises started. It was faint, but alone in the darkness Taran could make out footsteps and the clanking of equipment.

The front door burst open, broken apart by an armored boot far too large for any normal man to wear. Two equally huge figures darted inside, bolters at the ready. They surveyed the area before motioning for the others to come in.

They were five in total, each easily eight feet tall. Their armor was like burnished silver, gleaming from the faint illumination coming from the doorway. The only differing colors were their pauldrons, which were black and held the image of a silver sun over a black field, and the golden aquila on their chests. They moved carefully, as if expecting an attack at any moment.

"You!" the lead one said, his voice metallic through his featureless helmet. Those red eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness Taran had hidden himself in. "Come out of the shadows slowly!"

Taran did as he was bid, unable to hide his awe. He scuttled closer to the giants, careful not to make any threatening movements.

"Astartes… Forgive me, honored lords, for any impertinence I may have given you in our communications. I had no idea that you were Astartes."

"As well you didn't," the obvious leader said again as he removed his helmet. His face was covered in scars, a very long and old one curving around his right eye, and his black hair had been trimmed to a single long ponytail. On his upper lip was a long, thin mustache, carefully trimmed and maintained. This, along with his sharp eyes and tan skin, made it very obvious to any learned man of the marine's origins. "If you had known, we would not be doing our duties correctly."

"You're from Chogoris," Taran said slowly. He was still trying to get his bearings around this obviously unplanned development.

"Yes. I am Arya Temujin, a son of the steppes of Chogoris. But that was a long time ago, and we come to speak of different things."

"Of course, of course. The information you wanted. It took me three years of digging, but I finally found some signs of what you're looking for. Segmentum Ultima is a big place, after all. I'm surprised I managed to find anything at all!"

"Cease your prattling and tell us what we need to know," growled a marine holding a very dangerous looking hammer. Taran quailed and cringed back, and would have tried to blend into the shadows again if he thought it would do any good.

"Calm yourself, Brother Amadeus," their leader said before Taran had moved more than one step back. "We have been hunting for five years, a few moments more will matter little."

"Yes, Brother Sergeant."

"Now," Arya continued. "I believe you have something to tell us."

"Yes," Taran said, stepping forward with a manic grin. He seemed much more sure of himself, now, far less scared or reserved. He spread his hands wide, and the other entrances burst open as people piled in. There were easily fifty of them, screaming adulations to their foul masters and all armed to the teeth. Some frothed at the mouths, obviously so far out of their minds on drugs or bloodlust that they didn't care what happened around them so long as they could kill something. "I have come to tell you your quest is in vain, and your souls will be fed to the true gods!"

"Traitor!" a marine with a power claw over his right hand shouted, his accent coarse and guttural. "I will see ye burn for this!"

"Take cover!" Arya shouted, putting word to action as las and stub rounds peppered the ground around them. The marines scattered, taking cover behind various pieces of machinery. Taryan laughed and ran off, delighting in the marine's inability to stop him.

"Brother Brax," Arya called to the marine with two large mechendrites coming from his back. "Grenade!"

"Affirmative."

Picking a large, bulky grenade from his belt, the techmarine threw it into the oncoming horde. It was bigger than a standard grenade, and looked like an octagon rather than the usual pineapple. It hit the ground right in front of the horde, and in their rush to get at the marines they didn't notice it until it detonated a few seconds later.

The explosion was huge, the shockwave shattering every piece of glass in the building as shrapnel and fire ripped through the bodies of the oncoming cultists. Most died immediately, the survivors screaming as whole body parts were blown away. The marines kept their heads down behind their shelter, but even they could feel the shock wave caving in the metal they had taken cover with. The supports holding the machinery down creaked and groaned, a few coming lose entirely from the power of the blast.

"Yes!" the techmarine shouted, exulting in the explosion. "Another success!"

"Your 'custom' grenades will be the death of me, one day," Amadeus muttered as he hefted his hammer. The bomb had done its work, with all of their attackers either dead or dying. Most of the room was a charred ruin now, and the smell of burnt flesh permeated every fiber of the place.

"Ah, lay off him. It did tha job," the power clawed marine said as they came out of cover. "Ye need ta relax, Brother."

"You would say that, Trygg."

"Hold," the final one of their number, a marine holding an aged wooden staff, called as he peered at the dead. "There is something wrong here."

"What do you feel, Brother Gahiji?"

"That which should not be."

Two of the bodies shambled to their feet again, wounds closing as they did so. Their mouths were stuck in rictus grins, and from their lips poured horrible laughter that hurt the ear. The air seemed to warp around them, and they floated a few inches off the ground. Their skin bulged with muscle, as if it could barely contain the things inside them, and their nails grew into claws. Electricity crackled along their taut skin skin, emanating from otherworldly sources. If one was sensitive enough, one might hear the scream of reality itself. A scream of terror at the existence of such abhorrent monstrosities that should never have come to be in any sane universe.

"Daemonhosts," Arya spat. He put his helmet back on and drew his power sword. "Brothers Amadeus, Trygg and Brax, to the left! Brother Gahiji and I shall take the one on the right!"

"Affirmative!"

Trygg charged his foe first, his power claw activating in a field of crackling power. Amadeus was just a step behind him, holding his thunder hammer in a ready position. Brax leveled his bolter and gave them cover fire, but most of the rounds never reached their target, small explosions breaking in the air a foot from the advancing daemonhost.

One bolt round hit its shoulder, exploding and taking the thing's arm off. It merely laughed and sent out waves of fire at his enemies, the arm already re-attaching from strings of flesh. Amadeus dove to the left, barely avoiding the fire, while Trygg merely ducked under it, intent on reaching the foe first.

Meanwhile, Arya had already reached the other abomination, his power sword deep in its chest. The weapon's power field disintegrated the thing's flesh, but its meat and bone kept regenerating at a hellish rate. Arya growled and shot the thing's legs with his bolter, the rounds blowing huge holes in its body. The legs held on by only threads, but those threads were rapidly growing and reconnecting.

"Foolish man-thing!" it growled as it clutched Arya's helmet. Its claws ran groves in his armor, and the strength of the bound daemon ensured Arya could not escape. "I will enjoy picking your soul apart."

Which was when the crackling wooden staff erupted through the thing's head.

"I do not think so," Gahiji said as the creature fell lifelessly to the ground.

At the same time, Trygg had reached his opponent and was tearing it apart. He alternated between slashing and shooting, his claws ripping open flesh while his bolter kept the thing off balance. Brax kept up his cover fire, distracting the monster between two opponents. It screeched and sent out gouts of flame and electricity, but ultimately it hit nothing as the two marines maintained their assault. Bolt rounds kept coming through its shields, forcing it to repair itself and preventing it from attacking with its full power. With a roar that shook the building, it finally managed to bat Trygg aside, sending the marine flying through the air and into one of the larger pieces of textile machinery.

And then Amadeus hit it from behind with his thunder hammer, its power field exploding with shimmering blue energy and sending the monster careening toward Trygg. The marine had gotten back on his feet by this point, howling with his power claw held forward. Momentum, and the weapon's sparking field, cut the foul thing in half. It clawed weakly at the air, fitfully trying to summon its legs back.

Amadeus caved in its skull with such force that the ground underneath it cratered, the concrete splintering like so much plywood under the power of his strike.

"Sound off," Arya called. "Injuries?"

"I am fine," Gahiji assured him.

"I am operating normally," Brax responded.

"As am I," said Amadeus.

"It cracked my ribs a little. I'll be fine in a day," Trygg mumbled out.

"You got hurt because you charged in before I could get in position," Amadeus noted.

"Aye, aye. I've heard ye before. I'll be more careful next time."

"It only scored my armor a little," Arya broke in, cutting the two off from an old argument. "So I'll be fine as soon as Brother Brax makes sure everything is running smoothly."

"Of course."

"Now, let's go talk to our little traitor."

They found Taran cowering in a corner of the facility, his foot blown off by Brax's bomb. He whimpered as Trygg lifted him off the ground, the marine being none to gentle in his treatment.

"I said I'd see ye burn, filth."

"Please, please spare me! I meant to be loyal, I did! But they came to me in the night, did… did such horrible things to me! I had to submit! I had to!"

"No," Arya growled as he stepped forward. "You did not. Better to have died than to give in to Chaos."

"I have the information! I can tell you what you need!"

"And risk you sending us into another ambush? No. We have surer ways of getting what we need from you."

Gahiji stepped forward, taking off his helmet to reveal a bald head with several augmetics attached. His staff held in his right hand, he placed his left upon the squirming, miserable Taran.

"If I should fall, ensure I fall alone."

Arya, Brax and Amadeus leveled their bolters on him.

"Of course, Brother."

Eyes crackling with arcane might, Gahiji forced himself into Taran's mind, peeling away the layers piece by piece. It was like acid scouring away filth, wiping clean corruption and revealing only the purest of substances. It was not a gentle process, and Taran could feel the Librarian pulling apart his ego to leave nothing but bare, unvarnished truth behind. Taran could, vaguely, hear someone screaming. With his last conscious thoughts he realized that the sound was coming from his own throat.

Gahiji lifted his hand away, wiping it on his armor instinctively as if to wipe away dirt.

"He had the information we sought. The rebirth happened in the Effrenus Sector, on the Eastern Fringe. Beyond that, he knew nothing."

"And he will know nothing more," Trygg growled as he snapped Taran's neck. The man fell to the ground bonelessly; life leaving him swifter than the time it took his body hit the floor.

"Come, Brothers," Arya said as he turned for the door. "As soon as we notify the Governor he was right to fear Chaos infiltration, we must be on our way. The hunt continues."

{oOo}