Incantator Congressus Chapter 41

Silence fell as Jubila alighted his chariot, leaping from the top to land gracefully on the churned ground. Everywhere he looked was a scene of calamity, what once had been an orderly arrangement of standing stones reduced to frayed ruins, with sodden earth sprayed over everything. Barely a handful of menhirs were still standing, along with a large ring of blackness, that miraculously had survived untouched. The tale of the battle was writ in the placement of debris and the tracks scored into the ground but Jubila didn't care, that had only been a prelude, his arrival on the stage signalled the climax had begun.

He cast his eyes over the players and was not impressed. Laying in a pile were a gaggle of loyalist scum, somehow beating him through the maze. They were broken and spent, no threat and no interest to him. At the edges of the circle he spied a wisp of motion, Rebre emerging from hiding now the fighting was done. More pressing was the Daemon Harbinger, looming overhead. They had not met before but Jubila didn't doubt who it was. Ugly as hell and bitter in aspect, yes this must be Harbinger. Yet even this paled in comparison to a wispy image lurking in a crystal pillar, Ozymandias, watching events play out from a safe distance.

"Jubila," hissed Ozymandias, "How in the seven hundred hells are you here?"

"I wouldn't have missed this party," Jubila retorted, "It would be a dull affair without me."

"The maze should have sealed your doom," Ozymandias growled, "The traps we wove should have obliterated you."

"Oh, is that what those were, I thought they were park attractions," Jubila scorned, "I grew bored and decided to blast my way straight here, instead of playing with your toys."

"So much for the vaunted machinations of Tzeentch," Ozymandias growled.

"Excuse me!" Harbinger interjected from a mouth taller than Jubila's height, "A Greater Daemon is busy destroying the galaxy here!"

"Be patient, I'll deal with you in a minute," Jubila snapped, "Rebre, I see you back there!"

Rebre stepped out from the corner and nodded in a mocking bow, "Jubila..."

Jubila called out, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I go where my lord wills," the Sorceress replied coldly.

"Do not mince words with her," Ozymandias snarled, "I knew I should have killed you myself."

Jubila snorted, "Watch your words, Fulgrim will not be pleased by your interference with his schemes."

"Frak Fulgrim," Ozymandias snarled, "He is all talk and no guts. I can eclipse him; I shall become more glorious than he ever dreamt of!"

But Jubila replied, "Careful, the Phoenician does not tolerate others to stand in his spotlight. I am his agent and he promises immortality, I cannot die so long as I have his favour. And I shall have it in spades, when I bring him this!"

With a flourish Jubila drew the Gladius Incandor from his back, the mighty Blade of Reason itself. It shimmered in the wan light, its length and weight lending a majestic aura of regal significance. The runes Jubila had worked into the metal barely detracted from its splendour and all drew in a breath as Jubila hefted it in both hands.

Harbinger broke the silence as he roared, "The sword of Guilliman, give it to me!"

Jubila looked up with a smile and retorted, "Try to take it and I shall make you suffer."

The titanic form of the Daemon reared high above; tentacles spread in a threat display. Against that giant Jubila stood alone, a mere sword in his hands. He was no sorcerer, no master of magics, he had nothing to pit against the Daemon, save his skill and his wits, and yet he was not in the least abashed. He stood proud, chin raised to look upwards and a faint smile upon his lips. His hearts beat steadily and his muscles were relaxed as he faced off against a creature that could squash him like a bug.

Harbinger was given pause by the cool reception and hissed, "I know that ego is prerequisite for your breed, I've yet to meet a Slaaneshi warlord who wasn't a raging narcissist, but this is foolish even for you. I outmatch you in every way."

Jubila sniffed dismissively, "I have no reason to fear you."

"I can snuff you out with a word!"

"But you shan't."

"You're very confident of that."

"I have good reason to be."

Jubila's cool response vexed Harbinger and he leaned down, bringing a dozen eyes closer to peer in suspicion as the Daemon hissed, "You have some plan up your sleeve."

"Plan?" Jubila laughed, "I'm not one for planning... but the Emperor's Children didn't become the most perfect of all Legions without embracing the maxim: know your enemy. I know you Harbinger; I know you better than you know yourself. I knew you were Tzeentch's agent in this plot and I made it my business to find out everything about you and neutralise the threat. I beat you before I ever set foot upon this planetoid!"

Harbinger's fangs gnashed and tension built as the Daemon snarled, "I usually don't go for physical confrontation, that's Khorne's arena, but today has proved most invigorating. I shall forgo turning you into a frog so I can rip you limb from limb, then eat the bits I tear off as you watch!"

"You shameless flirt," Jubila laughed, "It sounds delightful but I'm afraid your day is about to get a whole lot worse. Rebre, tell him why..."

All eyes turned to the sorceress, who threw out her arms wide as she opened her mouth and cried, "I'awy'Iwahy,oyou!"

Harbinger reared back in horror as he screamed, "No! Not that! Anything but that!"

Rebre continued, "Y'kiner'ieyt'kiou!"

"Make her stop!" Harbinger screamed as he thrashed about in distress, strength fleeing his body as the syllables washed over him.

But Rebre continued to scream, "R'kiun'juit'weala!"

Harbinger threw back his head as impossible noises tore into him, stealing his vitality and robbing his body of strength. On and on the syllables came, causing indescribable agony and fear, for the first time the Daemon Harbinger knew fear. Warp-energy was sucked from his marrow, all strength nullified and self-agency robbed, trapping his essence in a frail shell of meat. The Daemon became weak and pathetic, unable to move, unable to flee into the warp. Helpless as an insect pinned to a corkboard. The sinewy body collapsed into a heap, coils piling on top of each other and the squid-like head hit the ground with a thud, upside down and unable to move or speak in any way. Harbinger was undone, made useless and inert, a silent prisoner in his host body.

Stunned amazement fell over the Fulcrum as Ozymandias gasped, "His true name... you know Harbinger's true name! No Daemon can resist the power of its true name. How... when..."

Jubila spun to face him and exclaimed, "Know your enemy, my old commander. I told you I knew Harbinger inside and out and when I heard he was involved I made a beeline for his most secret enclave. My little excursion to New Eden wasn't only for slaves and sensation. Buried under a city was an ancient temple, where Harbinger long ago concealed his name. Prideful of him, vain even, but the mighty can never resist leaving a mark somewhere, a little signpost declaring their glory to the universe. Tzeentch and Slaanesh are not so different as they like to believe."

Ozymandias looked stunned but then turned and snarled, "Rebre! You bitch, you deceived me!"

Rebre strolled up to Jubila's side and scoffed, "You deceived yourself. I was placed in Jubila's court by my lord, my true lord Fulgrim. I serve him in all things, as should you."

"You were my agent, my spy, mine to command!"

"Only so long as you didn't get in Fulgrim's way and you have Ozymandias, you have. Interfering in his agent's missions, undermining long-formed plans, boasting of eclipsing his glory. Fulgrim is not pleased at all with you Ozymandias, not in the slightest. He has set aside a most special torture chamber for you in the warp, one even a Daemon must fear."

Jubila sneered, "You would be well advised to run."

But Ozymandias snarled, "Not until I have the pleasure of killing you!"

But Jubila hefted the Gladius Incandor and retorted, "You never were a match for me."

Ozymandias spat, "You threaten me with a sword?! You don't have my True Name, you moron. I am a Daemon, that won't kill me. I'm not even here, I reside deep in the Warp. You can't touch me, but I can touch you!"

Yet Jubila rejoined, "Know your enemy, Ozymandias, you keep forgetting that lesson. I knew you would betray me; you are so predictable. I told Rebre to play along, trusting you would place her next to Harbinger. I know you so well, but you do not know me. For example, you seem to have forgotten how I bound you last time..."

Ozymandias' eyes fell to the blade and his jaw fell as he beheld the runes etched into it. He didn't even pause to let out a cry as he began to retreat, fleeing into the depths of the Warp. Yet Jubila was faster. He leapt at the menhir and drove the point of the Gladius into the mass of crystal, sliding it deep within. The runes flared redly as they made contact and the sorcery he had bound into the metal went to work. Immaterial hooks cast out and snared Ozymandias' essence, deep in the warp where he resided. Designed especially for this Daemon, by one who knew him intimately, Ozymandias was helpless to resist. He fought every inch of the way, screaming in denial but could not prevent himself being drawn out of the warp and into the length of metal, bound within by locks he could never break.

Jubila drew back the sword and held it up to his eye. The once perfect metal had become black and vile, dripping hallucinogens and poisons. The edges were ragged and hooked, with sharp protrusions and deep notches marring its form. The hilt bore an effigy of naked couples, stabbing each other with knives even as they copulated and the crossguard boasted a living eye, that rolled and stared in mad torment. The Gladius Incandor, once a shining beacon of purity become hateful and vile: a Daemonsword.

Jubila laughed aloud, "Trapped again, and this time there will be no escape!"

Baeghost jumped down from the chariot and called, "You did it, you beat him!"

"Them," Jubila corrected, "Two Daemons in a day, I beat two of them! Such glory, such marvellous skill. I beat them both without landing a single blow. Tales shall be sung of this day, Jubila is the most perfect champion who ever lived!"

Rebre oozed nearer and whispered, "A rival has been beaten, a usurper bested and that martinet Primarch denied. Fulgrim will be delighted."

"You played your part beautifully, my dear. But the day is not over yet... I still have a few loyalist heads to claim."

Jubila turned to the gaggle of fallen Librarians. They flopped on the ground, weak and drained. Five drew breath, and one was dead, a Smoke Jaguar he noted, they'd tried to assassinate him enough times to recognise those colours. A shame he couldn't kill that one himself, but the rest would suffice. He strode over and judged their merits, trying to decide which to kill first. A young one, the one with the lightning trick, was on all fours and gasped, "I am Arvael and while there is breath in my body..."

He was cut short by Jubila's bootcap and flopped onto his back, bleeding from a split cheek as the warlord barked, "I'm doing the monologuing! Your only role in this play is to die. This is my moment, mine!"

"Fight you..." Arvael wheezed.

"You shall do nothing," Jubila retorted, "This day belongs to Jubila, chosen of Fulgrim. I am supreme among champions. Even Lucius can't claim to have defeated his enemies without spilling a drop of blood. This is my perfect victory and you shall not spoil it with crude displays of tedious defiance. Your righteous zeal is nothing to me. Already you become an anti-climax, but still, you must die for completeness' sake."

But Arvael breathed, "Not me... fight him."

Jubila saw the young Librarian's eyes were fixed beyond him and the warlord turned in puzzlement, which quickly became shock. From the Smoke Jaguar's corpse arose thick tendrils of cloying blackness, wafting upwards to mingle over the gaping wound. Thicker and thicker it grew, adding to its mass until it equalled his body, then grew beyond it. Spiritual energies, driven by an indomitable will. A shape began to emerge, vaguely humanoid with a pale face, the face of the dead Psyker, but this entity was so much more than he had been. A creation of shadow and will, filled with deadly purpose and driven by the call of blood vengeance.

Jubila's guts grew cold as he realised what he was watching. The Psyker's astral self, manifesting in the waking world after he was dead. Apotheosis, the transition of a mortal being from crude matter to immortal spirit, a man becoming a Neverborn. Only once had Jubila seen such a thing but this was different, there was no boon from the Dark Gods, no blessings of Chaos, this was entirely self-actualised. Only the most terrifyingly powerful of Psykers could dream of such a feat, their connection to the warp so vast it outlasted death itself. Even as Jubila watched Imix K'awiil the man passed into history and Imix Daemon-kin was born.

Jubila stepped back in alarm but was too slow to defend himself. The Daemon-kin that had been Imix coalesced into being then spiritual eyes opened and fixed upon him. Lips moved in a silent cry of vengeance and then it charged at him and Jubila's universe became one of pain and fear.