Indomitus Bellum Chapter 38

"Get him down," Fiett ordered as he picked up a wickedly serrated ritual dagger. Kieva grinned as he strode up to Sergeant Yones, reaching up to tug at the bindings. Yones struggled to break free of the tendrils but they enveloped him and pinned his arms at his side, rendering him helpless. The slimy mass came away from the pillar at Kieva's touch but remained wrapped around the Primaris Marine, preventing him from breaking loose. Kieva unceremonially dumped Yones on the floor and dragged him one-handed towards the altar, pulling him along like a sack of flour.

Meanwhile the others wrestled with their own confinement but could do nothing to intervene. Incensed by own his helplessness Smyth spat, "What's this Kieva? Taking orders from a lowly old Astartes?"

Orath sneered, "For one so determined to rise high, you really do love being someone's bitch!"

Kieva paused at their taunt but then glanced back and said, "You're trying to drive a wedge between us, not a bad idea but we both understand that all must serve Grandfather Nurgle sooner or later, in life or in death."

"Hurry up," Fiett snapped as he pushed the body of Arkais off the altar, letting it drop to the ground.

Arvael had watched all this from his own confinement and he knew that the pair of Traitors were about to sacrifice their prisoners one by one. They would perform vile rites of Daemonic summoning, using the rich lifeblood as an offering to their foul God. It was a crime against humanity, Brotherhood and reality itself, a deed only the foulest Traitors would countenance. The pair may yet retain their unsullied physical forms but there was no doubting that their hearts were as defiled as the fane they had corrupted.

Arvael looked upon Fiett and saw not his old friend but an enemy, as vile as any Traitor. He drew in a breath and said, "Fiett… Fiett!"

Fiett didn't bother to look over as he quipped, "Patience, I'll get to you soon enough."

Arvael however implored, "Fiett, I have to speak to you."

Fiett snorted, "Trying to save me? You always were as thick as battleships' hull."

Yet Arvael refuted, "No, you're too far gone for that, there's no salvation for you. But before you start, I have information you need to hear."

Kieva dragged Yones' thrashing form up to the altar and heaved him onto it as he growled, "Ignore them, he's playing for time."

But Arvael uttered, "You really need to hear this! You've made a critical error!"

Fiett paused and finally looked over; he tested the edge of his knife then said, "This should be rich. Very well, I will humour you. You have sixty seconds before I slit Yones' chest open, so tell me my mistake."

Arvael drew in a breath and said, "When you met me again you assumed I was the same person you knew as a Scout-Novice, but I am not, I've changed."

"That's the best you could come up with?" Fiett snorted, "You always were a blind fool."

"Not as blind as you," Arvael retorted, "You always did think you were better than everyone else, faster, smarter and more deadly."

Fiett cocked his head as he said, "This is pathetic, you have thirty seconds left, then Yones dies."

Arvael looked down at the Traitor and proclaimed, "You really should have come up with some more convincing lies. You spend years and years working with someone who is trying to destroy my Chapter and then suddenly turn up announcing you've had a change of heart. Did you really think I would accept you without question?"

Fiett's smile died as he stepped forward and hissed, "You're trying to make me doubt myself, but I know you Arvael, you always trusted too easily."

But Arvael shook his head and said, "You didn't see what I endured during my Librarius training, but believe me when I say trust is the first thing they burn out of you. I once had two Brothers I trusted absolutely, one tried to murder me and the other I killed before he could fail. Since that day I have fought alongside many others but I have trusted none of them without reservation. Especially you Fiett, I never trusted you, that's why I took precautions."

Fiett's eyes widened and he gasped, "What did you do?!"

But Arvael gazed upon his fallen Brother with contempt and barked the activation word of his Glyph magic.

Fiett froze as a wave of coldness swept through the fane, a look of dread passing over his face. Suddenly a harsh glow shot forth, as an unexpected light burst free of Fiett's armour. On his left pauldron, on his right wrist and over his chestplate, shining glyphs formed, brilliant points of purest light shooting from every place Arvael had touched him on their journey. The Librarian had been unable to access his powers once bound, but the glyphs had stored his energies like a battery and now they discharged it all at once.

Fiett was covered by Glyphs of abjuration, revelation and revocation, marking his plates like brands upon cattle. Fiett threw back his head and screamed as the glyphs blazed upon his tainted flesh, coring into the centre of him. He was soaked in the power of Chaos but the glyphs were anathema to the Ruinous Powers and all who served them. The power washed through Fiett and deep within found the smallest germ of potential, a mutational gift of Nurgle hidden in his flesh. The seed had lain dormant and undetectable, till now, but Arvael's glyphs found it and compelled it to bloom into pestilent life.

Fiett doubled over and grabbed at his guts as he roared, "No, not yet! It's too soon, it's too soon!" Yet nothing could halt the process once begun and black veins bored through Fiett, marring his Transhuman features. His eyes went blood-red and his cheeks shrivelled and sucked inwards, making him look like a skeleton with burning eyes. Clumps of hair began falling out of his head as his flesh began to slough off his skull. Raw bone became apparent under his scalp as his skin retreated to his ears and small horns erupted from his brow, curving back slightly to give him a devilish air. Impossibly his armour began to rust, growing pock-marked and scarred by decay. Brown tinges grew over his plates with astonishing speed and sprouted tiny fronds, that waved in a non-existent breeze. Then his belly began to swell, growing ever more corpulent. Ceramite strained to the limit and then spilt, cracking open across his abdomen to spill ropes of intestines freely around his waist. Finally a spark of light erupted from his palm and shot forth, growing longer and more real in seconds until it manifested as a long staff, topped with a curved twist from which hung a brass bell. Fiett the Marine was gone and in his place stood Fiett, Sorcerer of Nurgle.

Fiett was not the only one changed for the awakening of his potential reached out to affect all he had shared it with. Kieva staggered backwards, clawing at his own armour as the change came over him. He shrieked, "No, you promised me glory! You promised me!" Yet his flesh was already bubbling and slagging off his bones. Folds of skin rolled off his face, sagging around his neck as two tusks erupted from his upper gums, growing down past his chin. His amour became furry as clumps of mould spread all over it, coating him head to toe in filth. His boltstorm gauntlet turned black and skeletal claws erupted from his fingertips, leaving him with one huge claw for a hand, with his other he tried to draw his power sword but his fingers were elongating and fusing together. Longer and longer his right hand grew, until it burst from his gauntlet as a writhing tentacle that jerked and twisted so sinuously that the sword dropped to the ground. Kieva had become a loathsome Champion of Nurgle, as foul as he was deadly.

While this had been occurring Arvael felt the disruption to the patterns of energy in the fane. The abrupt changes wracking the Traitors resonated far and wide and sent ripples through the fungal growths like a wave through the sea. Fronds waved in the air and mulch heaved, but much more importantly the tendrils binding the Space Marines to the pillars quivered, growing weaker and weaker.

Arvael drew in a breath and yelled, "Our chains loosen, now Brothers, push! Push for all you're worth!" He matched deeds to his words and heaved outwards, straining against the tendrils with all his transhuman strength. He felt his arms moving, sinking deeper into the slimy embrace of his shackles as he fought to break free and he managed to gain a few inches of clearance but all he was doing was shifting the tendrils about, he was not breaking them. The vines grew taught, but like an elastic cord they were storing ever more energy, the harder Arvael pushed the stronger they grew.

Arvael tried to fight free but the tendrils were constantly growing tighter, pulling him back against the pillar. Involuntarily his hand slipped an inch backwards and he knew that he could not break his chains. The Space Marines were still trapped and they could not escape. He looked up and saw Fiett and Kieva beginning to recover, their new forms stabilising and their equilibrium starting to adapt to its new state of being. He knew in seconds they would regain their senses and then they would not hesitate to kill the loyal Space Marines.

The others were similarly struggling and he heard Smyth gasp, "It's... not working."

Orath growled, "I can't do it, I can't break them."

All seemed lost but even as despair loomed large a new voice arose, it was Megaro and he furiously roared, "Are you Space Marines or lily-livered curs?! The foe is right before you, corrupt in form as they are in heart. Look at them and see the fiends who mock the Divine Emperor. These scum killed countless innocents, they killed your Brothers! They seek to destroy all that you swore to uphold, this shall not stand! Hate them, hate them as you have hated no other in your lives! Draw on the strength of your fury and claim your vengeance!"

Arvael heard the words and they sparked a fire in his hearts, a depthless anger that consumed his reason and burned his soul with furious zeal. Megaro's fiery speech spoke to the heart of every Space Marine and each one of them bellowed in rage as they pushed harder than they had ever pushed before. Arvael felt his arms burning; the muscles of his body tearing under the strain as his bones creaked and he heard his power armour wailing it was forced beyond its limits.

All the Space Marines were pushing for everything they were worth and Megaro howled, "Never forget, never forgive!"

Arvael unleashed one last effort, ignoring the pain of tearing muscles and the warnings screeching in his helm, he surpassed every limit he had ever known and spat through gritted teeth, "For. The. Emperor."

The tendrils surrounding him were taught as drawn bowstrings then suddenly they snapped, breaking apart with pinging sounds as they were flung away. Arvael instantly found himself dropping to the floor and his boots hit the deck as he fell into a crouch, feeling his armour surge back into life. One second later his Force-Morningstar was in his hands, glowing as his Psychic power flooded back into him, a torrent of devastating might that would wash away all who stood before him. Similar thuds resounded in his ears as the others broke free too and Arvael rose, taking a step towards his enemy.

Yet Fiett's mutated head snapped up and a feral grin spread over his diseased face as he cried, "You fools! All you have done is unleash my full power. Come to me, children of the Grandfather, I call you forth!" He raised his staff high and the brass bell rung loudly, echoing in the fane and beyond. From the passages beyond came a dry, shrieking noise as thousands of desiccated throats screeched as one, joining together in an unholy awakening.

Arvael gripped his weapon tighter as the sounds of rushing feet echoed from the entrances and he cried, "Ware Brothers, the Undead are coming!"