Incantator Congressus Chapter 27
Across the peaks and down the valleys they ran, moving faster than ever before. Ceramite boots hammered the hard ground as they sought to evade their pursuers, a ceaseless rhythm of pounding feet and rasping lungs. They set a pace that tested even Transhuman endurance, surpassing the finest human athletes for speed and endurance. Multi-lungs engaged, secondary hearts boosted vitality and so the Librarians fled into the wild.
Arvael was in the middle of the pack, arms and legs pumping as he matched his cousin's pace. He found his eyes kept sliding to the cold mote of the sun, expecting it to set at some point and he had to remind himself that this false planet had no night, only endless dim daylight. He lingered on that thought, strange how humans depended on diurnal cycles, even his homeworld had its own days and night, though they lasted weeks. What strange effects would this have on a mind, what madness could it lead to, he ruminated.
With a wrench he realised his mind was wandering, his attention frayed by days on the run. Space Marine's bodies were genhanced but their minds remained human, mostly, they could be distracted and made weary by relentless focus. His situational awareness was dulled, a dangerous liability that could cost them badly. He resolved himself to penance for his lack of attention and forced his mind from his body, sending his vision far across the world. His arms and legs kept running on automatic as his spirit swept the area, searching for threats.
To his relief he found no enemy walking nearby but the sky was a different matter. High over their heads a gunship soared, a debased Thunderhawk, searching for targets below. One of Jubila's hunting birds, too close for comfort. He did not think they had seen the Librarians below but out in the open like this it was only a matter of time.
Hastily he sent his mind back to his bones and snarled, "Aerial scouts, right over our heads."
Imix barked, "We need cover."
"That valley there," Ghyrun urged, "It's sharp and wooded, a perfect screen against eyes from above."
Instantly the eight Librarians veered off, dashing to the crest of the slope. Down the loose scree they skidded, pebbles knocked loose by their passing and dust smearing their noble colours. Arvael had no time to appease his armour's spirit as they darted under the cover of a copse, thin trees with scraggly branches and small leaves covering their heads. Into the shadows they disappeared, trusting the cover would keep them hidden. Arvael peered upwards and saw the cruciform shape of the Thunderhawk grow larger, circling high overhead. It must have detected something, but surely it had not recognised the loyalists, else it would be diving with missiles and guns thundering.
"We wait here for it to pass," Jhur proposed, "Then we carry on."
"To where?" Chamat probed, "Do we keep running until we reach the edge of this world and fall into space."
"Anywhere the enemy isn't," Ashuay argued, "We keep mobile and evade capture, it's all we can do."
"Weeks yet to go, they will find us eventually," Hyhush muttered, "Then blood will flow."
He sounded almost eager for the prospect and Arvael glared as he retorted, "We shall not let that happen, evasion and stealth are our greatest assets this day."
"You sound like a cowering wretch," Ashuay sneered as he eyed Imix, the barb obvious indeed.
Yet it was Sythah who said, "They are right, battle will avail us not."
"Keep your opinions to yourself," Ashuay snarled.
"Fighting among ourselves is getting us nowhere," Ghyrun interrupted, "We need to make a watch."
"I'll go downslope, you keep an eye uphill," Chamat stated as he walked off.
Arvael saw flecks of grit and specks of dust falling from his plate, the Steel Confessor again using his power for vain purposes. Arvael kept his mouth shut though as he moved off, peering into the shadows for threats. To his surprise Ghyrun moved closer, keeping nearby as they formed a watch. Arvael glanced at the Disciple of Caliban and saw a thoughtful look upon his face, clearly he had something to say.
They paused behind a narrow trunk and Arvael opened up by asking, "You have a question for me?"
Ghyrun nodded slowly, his face veiled in darkness as he asked, "The others, do you trust them?"
"As much as I can," Arvael whispered thinking of what he knew of Hyhush's rage.
"They are not of your Chapter," Ghyrun whispered.
"I trust them to fight and stand for the Emperor," Arvael countered.
"And what of Sythah?"
That brought a pause and Arvael slowly said, "To think one could be taken by a Daemon and yet live… it is troubling."
"Not as troubling as the prospect of your own fall," Ghyrun hissed.
Arvael turned to face him and snapped, "You accuse me of falsehood?!"
Ghyrun's eyes glimmered darkly as he pressed, "You alone can answer that. You present the face of a naive youth but hide hidden depths. The others wear their flaws on their sleeves but you… I do not know you and I do not trust what I do not know."
"I assure you my spirit is untarnished," Arvael remonstrated.
"Yet you have had dealings with Daemon before, I can smell it on you," Ghyrun snarled, "A troubling prospect for one who carries the Gladius Incandor."
Arvael blinked in surprise but stated, "A Daemon tried to take my body once but I refused its entreaties. I banished it forevermore."
"Fool," Ghyrun spat, "No Daemon is gone forever. One sniff of a soul and they will never forget the scent. You will never be free of your Daemon, it will ever be on your heels, tracking your spoor. Next time you meet it will be twice as cunning and three as relentless. Sythah had the steel to cast out his Daemon but you do not. You should beware of yourself above all things."
"You speak in circles," Arvael retorted, "Seeing threats in every shadow."
"I speak from experience. I was once like you, convinced of my righteousness and sure in my strength to resist the wiles of Chaos. I hunted a particularly vile Neverborn across the forest of Caluderia but when I tracked it down it confronted me with a vision of myself. A dark twisted reflection of my spirit, bitter, cruel and malicious, a fallen Ghyrun, one who could yet be. We battled for a day and night and I was forced to fight my own darkness, even as we wrestled physically and psychically. I emerged triumphant in body but defeated in spirit. I had seen what I could become with a single misstep, and knew such a fate could yet come to be."
"What kind of Daemon would challenge you with such a vision?" Arvael uttered in confusion.
"The cunning kind," Ghyrun whispered, "The only kind there is. To this day I must watch my own spirit for weakness and taint. A lesson you should take to heart. One slip and your Daemon will return to take all that you are."
Arvael was about to press for more information but suddenly he spied a flash of movement in the shadows behind Ghyrun. Instantly he reached out and grabbed the warrior, heaving him to one side as a spark of light erupted. A heartbeat later a spinning bolt-round shot through the space where Ghyrun's head had been, nearly decapitating him. Arvael threw up a kine-shield, just in time as a flurry of rounds shot forth, hammering his barrier with exploding mass-reactives. The thunder rang loud and there could be no doubt, the enemy had found them.
"Traitors in the trees!" Arvael cried as he drew his Force-Morningstar. From the shadows charged a dozen Emperor's Children, their plate shimmering with lurid colours and their hands drawing ritual knives as they closed. Arvael hastily closed his kine-shield into a small buckler over his left arm as the first barrelled at him. A fearsome brute with the tongues of women and children hanging from spikes all over his plate, testimonies as to the atrocities he had committed. Head down and roaring fury the Traitor charged, trying to tackle Arvael and knock him from his feet. The Librarian saw the headlong charge and spun back on one foot, pivoting to let the brute pass, he almost made it. A glancing blow from a pauldron sent him reeling and Arvael staggered back. A swing from his weapon passed an inch from the spine of the Traitor, who careened past, his momentum carrying him onwards.
The pair had failed to kill each other on the first pass but Arvael's troubles were barely begun. A squad of Traitors dove upon him, all eager to spill his lifeblood. Knives were everywhere, fists and knees and body-slams trying to knock him over. They were every bit his equal in combat, each as fast and skilled as he and they did not hold back. They had seen he carried the Gladius Incandor and they wanted it at all costs. Arvael had no choice but to fallback before their onslaught, desperately fighting to keep his head attached. His Kine-shield deflected blow after blow but his armour became scored badly where thrusts slipped past his guard and bit deep. He was hopelessly outmatched and had seconds left to live.
Death beckoned but then the forest came alive. Suddenly branches and roots were coming out of nowhere, wrapping themselves around limbs and digging into joints. It was Ghyrun, his power bringing the forces of nature to aid them and calling upon elemental energies to bind the foe. The Traitors screamed in fury as thorns bit deep but they were yet Space Marines, they were strong and well-armoured and fought to free themselves with all their fury. Branches split, roots were torn apart and brambles shattered as their strength freed them from bondage. Ghyrun focused his energies on one foe, wrapping tendrils around his neck like a noose. A pulse of energy shot through the vine and then foot-long thorns erupted, slicing tendons and arteries like an executioner's axe. The Traitor fell missing a head, but he was only one and in the time it had taken the others tore free of their confinement.
Arvael braced himself for another exchange but as the foul Heretics broke out another attack came in from the rear. Out of the shadows shot a blazing fireball, shaped like a cackling skull, it struck one Traitor in the back and he erupted into flames, covered head to toe in ethereal fires that burned through ceramite like wax. The other spun about to confront this new threat but Arvael's hearts leapt as he saw the other Librarians charging into the fray. Ashuay, Imix, Hyhush, Chamat, Jhur and Sythah, all coming to his aid.
A furious melee broke out as the two forces clashed. The Traitors had weight of numbers but the Librarians had mystical forces to call upon that they could not match. Jhur threw his spear with force enough to penetrate armour, punching the head through one side and out the other, leaving his target transfixed through the hearts. Hyhush fired a tainted beam that immolated a foe, setting him alight like a bonfire on Sanguinalia night. Sythah's hands made a clawing motion and a Traitor convulsed, flesh withering as life-force was drained from cells and age stole over the Traitor, as no Space Marine should ever know and then the foe collapsed into a pile of decaying bones and disintegrating skin.
The counter-charge had culled several Traitors but the rest were not cowed. They were Astartes and had seen the worst horrors of the Warp with their own eyes, they were not afraid. With cries of retribution upon their lips they threw themselves at the newcomers, determined to win through. Arvael reacted on instinct, drawing his power into his weapon as he ran at a fiend with a horn rising out of the right side of his head. The skin and eye were stretched in disgusting ways but the Traitor cared nothing for his disfigurement, carrying himself proudly as he cried, "You shall die here throne-lackey!"
"Prepare to meet your false god in person!" Arvael barked as he swung his Morningstar for the head.
The Traitor swayed back and laughed, "Slow and pathetic. I have been blessed by Slaanesh with the gifts of mutation, you will never hit me with that poor showing."
"Wasn't trying to," Arvael hissed as his free hand flashed out and grabbed the horn sticking out of the head. The Traitor yelled in outrage but was powerless to resist as Arvael heaved down, dragging the Heretic over until he was bent double. Arvael raised his arm high, preparing to smite the cur with his weapon but the Traitor surged forward, tackling him about the waist and carrying him along until he slammed into a tree. Arvael's bones rattled but he furiously held on, forcing the filth to stay low. Again he was slammed into the tree, and again and the angle was poor to bring his weapon to bear. Desperately Arvael drew upon his power, pouring telekinetic might into the foe's skull. He felt the roots of the horn buried in the brain and grabbed them with his mind. A surge of will and he drove the horn downwards, slicing the roots deeper into the skull, mushing brains and dicing the contents of the skull with the mutation he had been so proud of.
The Traitor fell into a limp heap but the fight was far from over. The surviving Traitors battled the Librarians tooth and nail, a furious scrum of hacking and slashing blades and brilliant powers. Arvael prepared to come to his brethren's aid but then he heard the worst possible sound. A crashing boom and the sound of falling trees heralded a massive chariot breaking through the forest and atop it the hated sight of Jubila himself. The arch-traitor had found them.
"He comes!" Arvael shouted in dismay.
"Prepare yourselves for a real fight," Jhur shouted as he ripped his spear free.
"No!" Hyhush yelled, "Fallback and run, I'll delay him."
"What?!" Ashuay barked, "We're not leaving you with nothing but a pistol."
"We can't take him," Hyhush yelled, "I shall stand and you shall flee!"
Arvael saw the look in his eyes, barely constrained fury and a mad thirst for carnage and death. His flaw was overtaking him, consuming Hyhush's spirit with the taint of his bloodline but his will was unfaltering. Understanding dawned, Hyhush was damned, all his breed were, but in that doom was a hidden grace. The curse drove him to seek a worthy end, an acceptance of his morality and a willingness to sacrifice that defined the children of Sanguinius. Hyhush was dead either way but here was a worthy ending, one to be embraced and not feared.
Arvael yelled, "Go, go, go! Get out now. Hyhush will buy us time."
As the others turned to run Hyhush nodded once and snarled, "This is the end of me, but by the Blood I shall pave the road the road to hell with the bodies of my enemies!"