Incantator Congressus Chapter 37
Jubila sat in his chariot, swaying slightly as the conveyance awkwardly negotiated tight turns. Bringing the bulky carriage into the maze had been a source of discontent but Jubila was wary of going anywhere without it. As they journeyed they saw strange sights, temptations of the flesh and glory in battle. Many of the Chosen had yearned to chase these mirages, but a growl from Jubila had stayed their impulses. The warlord wasn't about to let his minions get themselves diced by traps, not until he was done with them at least. So they stood guard, watching keenly for threats. Meanwhile he sat cross-legged on the deck; Gladius Incandor laid across his knees. The relic was majestic in function, so simple and efficient yet Jubila found it dull and had started making improvements.
He drew his spikes across his exposed throat and daubed his fingertips in his fresh blood, then began daubing runes onto the folded metal. Intricate script coated the blade tip to hilt, precise and delicate in form. With perfect concentration he worked but Salmacis muttered, "Can't that wait?"
"No," Jubila retorted, "I have waited long enough already."
"Fulgrim won't appreciate you defacing his prize."
"Fulgrim only cares about Fulgrim's glory, humiliating his plodding Brother, he cares nothing for the relic itself. Besides, I have plans of my own."
"Such as?" Baeghost pressed.
"You'll see," Jubila deflected.
A sudden fork in the road presented itself and the chariot rolled to a halt. Jubila looked up, ready to rebuke his lackeys, but saw the reason. The paths narrowed sharply, too small for the wide carriage to pass. It seemed the Chariot would go no further. Vexed Jubila threw down his tool and snapped, "Strap this to my back!"
His Chosen complied, fitting leather straps around his waist so the Gladius could be carried, yet leave his hands free. Jubila wasn't ready to be parted from the relic, not when they were so close. He jumped from the deck and landed in the soft dirt, followed swiftly by the others. With hand gestures he signalled them to head before him. He held back a moment and waited for them to check around the next corner, then counted seconds until they came back. At thirty seconds he sighed, at sixty he rolled his eyes and by a hundred he growled, "Marvellous, one of those sort of mazes. Split us up and harass us individually; they were ten-a-penny in the Eye of Terror. For all their cunning Daemons of Tzeentch are tediously repetitive."
With a wary tread he set off, heading down the same passage as his followers. Unsurprisingly they were nowhere to be seen and he hastily made his way deeper into the maze. It wasn't long before he found the first body, a version of himself with its face chewed off. Jubila cocked his head and tapped his foot, standing back from the corpse as he waited. After a minute he called, "This isn't my first circus. Come out and get on with it!"
Sure enough a soft tread heralded a figure stepping out. He was similar to Jubila in most ways but his plate was smooth and clean, lacking spikes or hanging silks. His body was stout, without blessings of Chaos, and his colours were the purest purple, adorned only with gold emblems of the IIIrd Legion. On his breast stood the shining Aquila, a mark of loyalty and perfection the Emperor's Children had once been proud to bear, then cast aside.
"Who are you supposed to be?!" Jubila laughed in scorn.
"I am you," the stranger answered.
"You are not from my past, and certainly not my future. A loyal Jubila, that's a joke."
The stranger's cold eyes flashed with anger as he spat, "I am what you could have been, a possible life that may have unfolded. Had events played out differently, then you would have lived my life. Champion of the 19th Company, 4th Millennial, serving under Lord Commander Ozymandias."
"I cannot imagine what choices led to me living such a dull and pedestrian life," Jubila sneered.
"But it wasn't your choice. Others made the decisions, you only followed. You always were a follower."
Jubila's laughter stopped as he hissed, "You know nothing. I am a warlord in my own right!"
But the stranger retorted, "You never earned it, it merely fell into your lap when Ozymandias achieved apotheosis. You followed Iddinam to Praxil, then threw in your lot with Ozymandias. When Fulgrim swore to Horus and Slaanesh you followed his lead without a second thought. Now you come and go at his whim, like a good little mastiff."
"If your head was real, I'd strike it from your neck," Jubila growled.
Yet the stranger sighed, "Had Fulgrim not picked up the blade of the Laer, had he not sworn to Horus, you would never have known the embrace of Chaos. You would have stayed in your place, a mere swordsman of the Legion. Not a Lord Commander, not even a Captain, a humble nobody, content to serve in obscurity."
"That is not me," Jubila hissed, "I am glorious!"
"Try as you might to deny it, in your heart you are always… him."
Jubila spun and found himself confronted by a mortal man. Small and frail, weak and ageing, with a pot-belly and a balding scalp, covered by an astonishingly bad comb-over. Dressed in a plain toga of poor make, marked only with the badge of the Executive of Chemos. This one seemed so far removed from the warlord that he could barely recognise any feature, and yet a certain cast of the jaw betrayed his identity. Jubila, a mortal Jubila.
"Let me guess," Jubila hissed, "A me who never joined the Legion."
"Correct," the mortal answered, "One who failed the recruitment tests and never ascended to Transhuman status. Living out a life shuffling paper in your family's ancestral office, only to inherit the post when death took our father. Married by arrangement, producing children as required… doing everything others expected of us."
"And the point of this is?" Jubila sniffed.
"To show you that no matter what, you have never held agency over your fate. You only follow other's lead, you always have. No matter that you claim the rank of Warlord; you are a disciple, not a leader."
"I am no lickspittle!" Jubila snapped, "I am the glorious angel of sensation, I set my own course!"
"Ozymandias disagrees," the mortal sighed, "Behold the fate awaiting you."
Jubila turned again and saw a cowering ball of flesh in the corner. Transhuman once, but broken and scarred. Open wounds bled profusely, eternally weeping but not enough to kill a Space Marine. Fingers and toes were missing as was his manhood. Emaciated limbs clutched around a chest that was ribs and a shrunken stomach. The face was Jubila's, but filled with fear and terror, missing one eye and all teeth. Madness lingered in these features, along with a depthless terror for the one who did this.
Jubila was given pause by the sight and asked, "And this is?"
"He comes," wailed the wretch, "He comes for you!"
"Ozymandias?" Jubila gasped.
"Don't say his name! Don't say it, we don't say it maybe he'll forget us and leave us be. No, no, no he never forgets. Every night he comes and he hurts us, over and over and over. We beg for death but he never grants it. He enjoys watching us suffer!"
Jubila was disgusted by the pathetic display and sneered, "Your weakness is revolting. He may have beaten you, but he won't beat me. I am Jubila, I am the most perfect blade of the Legion and I am ten steps ahead of that moronic philistine."
But the wretch cried, "He knows, he sees all. You cannot best him, Ozymandias already closes the trap about you… oh no… I said his name… he hears… it's coming!"
"What's coming?" Jubila snapped but the answer was already present. A deep rumble echoed down the passageway and he turned to see a huge outline barrelling down at him. Broad shoulders and bowed legs gave it an apish appearance, with hands like shovels and chest-like a barrel. A squarish head hung low under the shoulders and a single crystal eye was the only feature. Kinebrach in form, but one made of stone, a golem animated and given license to move, its intent to kill Jubila.
The golem charged, trying to run him over in the initial rush. Yet the warlord reacted smoothly. His legs tensed and then he was flying high, somersaulting over the broad shoulders as it passed below. The Charnabal sabre flashed and cut across the spine, but made no impression. A duellist's blade was thin and elegant, but lacked the brutal force of a Broadsword, perfect for slicing throats and penetrating joints but useless against stone.
Jubila's feet touched dirt and the golem screeched to a halt. Its joints rumbled like animal growls as it tried to turn in the narrow passage. It hadn't been hurt in the slightest and Jubila judged a sword was no use in this fight. He danced back a few paces and drew his plasma pistol, then let off a shot at its back. The searing blast struck hard and blew a molten crater into the lumbar spine. Fiery rock oozed from the wound but the golem seemed in no way impaired, it finished its turn and set its lone eye upon him again.
"That didn't work… time to run away," Jubila breathed then turned to flee. Fast as the wind Jubila ran, heading back the way he had come. Behind the golem thundered after, hands clawing the ground like a gorilla charging. Its joints wheezed with every motion, like the breath of a great ape, and Jubila sensed it was but a few inches behind. He tried to accelerate but the twisted maze slowed him down, forcing changes of direction constantly. It was gaining, he couldn't escape it and nothing in his arsenal could hurt it. Many times had he faced danger but never to an enemy so implacable and blunt. The thought that it could kill him and not even care chilled him, indifference was unthinkable in a fight.
He took a left, and another left then a right, then he ran straight into Salmacis. The pair collided and the duellist snapped, "Jubila! I lost you!"
"No time, it's on me!"
"God's below, what is that?!" Salmacis gasped.
"A golem and it's hard to kill. Try your Daemonsword."
"It has no soul to corrupt, I can't fight that!"
"New plan," Jubila spat, "You slow it down, I'll go fetch reinforcements."
With that the warlord shoved Salmacis in the back, propelling the swordsman into the path of the charging golem. The duellist gasped in shock, stumbling forward with arms spread wide as his feet overbalanced. He was helpless to resist as the golem's hands snatched him up and heaved high. The ape reared back with a grinding roar of rock on rock and its other hand wrapped around purple shoulders, then it heaved. Salmacis came apart in a shower of blood and entrails, body ripped into gory chunks that were cast aside, instantly forgotten.
Jubila however was already accelerating away, leaving his minion to die unlamented. With a few seconds grace Jubila managed to gain some clearance, speeding down the passages with all swiftness of foot. Still the golem gave chase and Jubila knew it would never relent, not until he was dead. He had little idea where he was going, or what he would do when he ran out of room, but for now away seemed good enough.
He took a turn and suddenly was confronted by his chariot. It was as he left it, but most of the Chosen had returned, including Baeghost. They stood about in some form of argument but all turned as their master appeared and Baeghost cried, "My lord!"
"To arms!" Jubila shouted, "Stand-by to repel attack."
Bolters, blastmasters and heavy bolters were hefted but Baeghost protested, "We're still missing several of our number, including Salmacis."
"Forget Salmacis, he's dead," Jubila cried as slim pumped frantically.
"How disappointing," Baeghost sniffed, "I really wanted to eat his intestines and make him watch."
"I'm touched by your sentimentality," Jubila quipped as he skidded among them, "Still we must abide small disappointments. Stand ready, here it comes!"
Around the corner the golem charged, its rumbling growls shaking the crystal walls. It was as fast and powerful as ever but this time it was faced with serious opposition. Fingers squeezed triggers and bolters opened fire, Baeghost unleashed his Blastmaster and the Haemonculus gunners on the chariot let fly Heavy bolters. A storm of shell and sonic smote the golem, chipping away rock and shaking its atoms and finally giving it pause. The Kinebrach effigy was forced back a pace by the barrage, its edges fraying as a torrent of shots struck its frontage, but its core was impenetrable. It rallied and then took a lumbering footstep, walking into the salvo like a man into a headwind.
"It's not stopping!" Baeghost shouted.
"Keep firing!" Jubila cried.
"It doesn't die!" Baeghost wailed.
"Keep firing!" Jubila roared.
The golem was nearing, slowed but not dropped by the ceaseless hail of shots. Jubila felt his guts clench in dread, knowing death was staring from that single red eye. He cast about, seeking any way to stop it but saw only warriors, gunners and the chariot… the chariot he had used to blow open the gates of the Inquisitorial fortress.
Quick as a thought Jubila turned and sprang onto the first level of the chariot, then bounded higher until he reached the summit. Overhead dwelt the pale crystal weapon, hanging over the chariot like a scorpion's tail. The crystal tip was spent and lifeless, but it was all he had. Jubila reached up to grasp the ball and began making ritual gestures, muttering, "How did Rebre do this… this way… no this way… come on you little bitch… you must have a drop left in you…"
Frantic gestures produced a response, though not the one he intended. The crystal flared darkly, like a black hole in space, and as light into an event horizon, spiritual energies were drawn into the crystal. Jubila felt a tug at the withered prune of his soul but the effects on the golem were more pronounced. The crystal eye in its head flared and then vomited up a stream of red light, sucked into the orb above, leeched away by depthless hunger. Like water down a drain it vanished, sucked into the weapon and disappearing into the depths.
The golem slowed, its animus stolen and then it stopped mere inches from the Chosen's line of defiance. The firing stopped as weapon's sagged and Baeghost gasped, "That was too close."
Jubila placed his hands on his hips and lied, "No cause for alarm, I had it all in hand."
"Could have fooled me," Baeghost snorted.
Yet Jubila looked upwards, seeing the crystal throbbing with stolen power and a grin spread over his face as he uttered, "One trap down, but doubtless many more lie ahead. And yet I'm suddenly having a great idea. Get everyone on board, anyone not here in five minutes we leave behind. Frak this maze and its traps, I'm going to blast a path straight to the heart of this place and woe betide anyone I find when I get there."