Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 117

For the first time in millions of years a storm touched the city of the Necrons. Thunder rumbled through the avenues and streets, the percussive banging of weapons fire and explosions creating the impression of a storm raging. Booms echoed off the walls as shells detonated while las-fire pattered like rain hitting a tin roof. Collapsing buildings were the rumble of raging rivers and the snap-hiss of gauss weapons was flashes of lightning. Screams of dying usurpers weaved into the mix, their minuscule lives cut short by superior technology. Even the Necrons were making noise, the sound of living metal shattering faster than could be regenerated.

Mathep saw it all from his chariot. He was flying above the battlefield, watching his army falling upon the usurper force. Among the streets of his city Necron Warriors gave battle to the living foe, cutting them down wherever they lurked. Fleshy bodies fell from collapsing balconies and blood puddled in the streets as corpses piled high. Yet the usurpers were not going down easily. Their primitive weapons fired ceaselessly, tearing silver bodies to shreds. Tanks bellowed as they smote constructs with explosive shells and heavy weapons teams fired furiously into the fray.

Here a Spyder was blown apart by a fat shell, only for the tank to be ripped apart by the blast of an Annihilation Barge closing from behind. It was in turn surprised when a flock of Amber-clad Genic-Gets fell upon it, jump packs flaring with exhaust. They were led by a brute with a snarling chainweapon, who dashed the crew asunder as his comrades tore the barge to shreds. There heavy weapon teams were eviscerated by a pair of Wraiths that ghosted through the wall behind them, only for the Necrons to be inundated by a mob of screaming zealots, led by an animal with a fiery brazier on his head. A Monolith advanced into the teeth of enemy fire, gauss weapons slaughtering all within reach but a swift mechanical walker charged straight at it, ion shield flaring as it dove into the furious barrage. It slammed into the Monolith and a chainblade as big as a tank smote living metal, tearing through it with ease. Again and again it struck until the Monolith lay in pieces and the walker heralded its kill with the clarion call of its vox-hailers.

Mathep was troubled by the battle, by the resistance the usurpers were offering to his conquest. The battle should have been swift and certain, but it had already exceeded his most dire predictions. The usurpers were dug in and well-armed and had even employed warp-trickery, the hated legacy of the Old One's genic meddling still polluting the universe millions of years after their extinction. The collateral damage was immense, the city he had ruled for sixty million years breaking apart in the crossfire. Tombs toppled into rubble, hollow pyramids fell into themselves and mausoleums shattered as explosions ripped them to bits. A monument to the Hyktot's conquest of the satellite galaxy was overturned, its mass slamming into the ground and crushing a hundred battling usurpers and Necrons under its bulk. Mathep knew all this could be repaired but it did nothing to diminish the affront to his rule, this situation was intolerable and he would see it ended.

Mathep growled, "This insult must end."

Tamunn replied, "The usurpers cannot offer more than a brief resistance."

"The time taken is irrelevant," Mathep snapped, "That they dare to stand against us at all is an affront."

Tamunn cautioned, "Do not be hasty, our army is numberless and we are undying."

But Mathep hissed, "I am not content to watch others conquer for me, I want to end this myself."

A single impulse directed his chariot's drivers to dive upon a pack of usurpers. They were manning some form of crude energy weapon, that spat coherent light at a Destroyer. Mathep closed from above and the animals panicked as they spied him. They hurriedly swung their weapon upwards and managed to get off a shot. Mathep was not concerned, his chariot was shielded by arcane forces and the las-shot harmlessly struck the barrier, making it ripple as it shifted the energy into a tame pocket dimension.

Mathep scorned the use of his chariot's gauss weapons and instead lowered his Chronostave, unleashing a blast of raw entropy. The animals screamed as their skin withered to parchment and clothes rotted on their frames. Years piled upon them, turning them into gaunt skeletons, then they died as years turned into centuries. Their bodies became nothing but tallow bones, which crumbled into dust, which in turn became only free-floating atoms. Then they were gone.

A mote of satisfaction rose in Mathep, and he directed his chariot higher. The city was aflame and filled with broken metal bodies but the Necrons were advancing. No matter how much firepower the usurpers brought to bear they could not hold back the silver tide of warriors pouring through the streets. The Necron's numbers were beyond counting and they just kept coming. He saw his army marching up the widest of all boulevards, thousands of them stamping in perfect precision as Gauss flayers flared at the high balconies where usurpers lurked. This route drove into the centre of the city and once it was in Necron hands they would spill over the defenders with ease. One swift thrust would see this battle ended.

Mathep saw the Cryptek Antari floating over the column and he called out, "We have them."

Antari waved an arm as he proclaimed, "Your army shall drive into the heart of the foe and break this resistance. The day will be ours."

It was a bold proclamation but the usurpers were not done yet. From the end of the boulevard rolled forth a wide machine. It rode upon tracks as wide as two tanks and its armour was thicker than any other usurper machine. It had turret sponsons on each flank but its whole front was taken up by a pair of multi-barrelled weapons, that began to spin as it closed. Mathep knew this machine; he had captured it once and preserved it in stasis for its unusual technology as a curiosity. An arsenal employed to deadly effect. Twenty spinning barrels opened fire with the noise of the universe splitting and the front rank of Necrons was decimated. A hurricane of bolt-rounds scythed through living metal bodies, sending Necrons to the floor in a dozen pieces. The front ranks were laid low like wheat before a threshing machine, blasted to scrap in moments. The packed mass behind continued marching into the press of the onslaught, unable to think of any alternative save to obey the order to advance. Hundreds of warriors were slaughtered by the barrage, then thousands as the war machine swept the boulevard with relentless torrents of bolt fire.

Indignantly Mathep snarled, "Destroy it at once, I demand its destruction!"

Antari called over, "How?"

"Bring up Destroyers!" the Phaeron commanded.

From the back of the packed mass arose hovering forms, a hundred Necron warriors with their lower halves replaced by anti-grav platforms and arms by Heavy Gauss blasters. The usurper machine saw them coming and shifted its arc of fire, inundating them with rounds. Blistering torrents of rounds swatted them from the air and a dozen Destroyers fell to the barrage, craters opening across their fronts as they phased away. Yet the rest were undaunted. Their multiple eye-lenses gleamed wickedly as they brought their weapons to bear and fired.

Massive gouges appeared across the front of the war machine as Gauss fire lashed its armour, stripping atoms away at a terrifying rate. Smoking holes were torn in the glacis plates, leaving it looking like it had been gnawed on by giant vermin but the armour was thick and the war machine remained unbroken. Screaming torrents of rounds struck more Destroyers from the air, even as the rest fired back. The War machine was sagging now, its armour torn to shreds but it would not stop firing. Mathep watched in irritation as another dozen Destroyers were blown apart, and another dozen. But then the lashing fire finally found a weak spot and punched through to eviscerate the crew. Actinic blasts ripped through the machine from one end to the other and finally it fell silent, the crew reduced to gory stumps of limbs, missing torsos or heads.

Mathep leaned back in satisfaction and growled, "That took too long. We must make haste, before the usurpers can fall back."

Antari called over, "It may be too late, they are moving to prepared positions. We should…"

He didn't get to finish for a flash of Amber fell on him from above. Mathep's head snapped about and he beheld a Genic-get grappling with the Cryptek. This one was most unusual, a giant by their standards, in half-plate that barely covered his bulging muscles. Red veins threaded his flesh and his head was covered by a pot-helm that left a bovine face exposed. Mathep was surprised to realise he had seen this one before; it was a Mut-ant, one of those who had escaped confinement.

Antari was offended by being tackled and roared, "How dare you touch me?! You are a specimen, I am the Cryptek!"

However the giant merely grappled with the Cryptek as he roared, "For Brothers!"

Mathep urged his chariot about, intending to intervene but the combatants were too close for him to use his Chronostave and the distance between them was too far. Even as he watched the giant slammed a meaty fist into the Cryptek's face as he roared, "For Eckun!" Antari was pinned, and the brute was too close for him to employ his molecular lash but he responded by slashing the flanks with his free arms, sending blood running down the giant's legs. If he was injured the mut-ant gave no sign of it as he threw a punch that dented the living metal chest and he roared, "For Scarrio!"

The distance between the two platforms was too great, Mathep couldn't get there in time to break up the fight and he watched in vexation as the giant grabbed the reeling Cryptek by the neck and waist. The mut-ant heaved Antari high over his head and roared, "For Torfa!" as he slammed the Necron's back down onto his knee. Even across the distance Mathep heard the living metal spine break, shattering like kindling. Mathep could do nothing to intervene as Antari rolled to the deck of his platform and began to shimmer in an attempted phase-out. Yet before he could disappear the giant grabbed his silver skull in both hands and ripped it from the neck with a cry of "For Marko!"

Antari's was tossed aside as his body fell off the platform, the light of his eyes fading away as his form was made non-functional. The remains shimmered and vanished but it was pointless. The Cryptek's mind was no longer in it, drawn away by arcane data-retrieval arrays to be stored in quantum buffers until a new body could be built. Antari was not dead, no Necron could die, but his mind would be harrowed by this experience, left scarred and reduced. Precious memories could be lost in such moments, limiting his intellect and stealing his brilliant insight. The Cryptek's destruction might cost the Necrons more than the Usurpers could ever understand.

Mathep hissed as he levelled his Chronostave but the mut-ant was already leaping clear. Jumping from the platform onto a passing rooftop. He hit the ground and rolled free, disappearing behind an obelisk standing proud of the top and by the time Mathep's chariot came around he was gone. Mathep grip tightened on his stave as his hatred grew. Everywhere he looked the battle raged, Necrons grappling with Usurpers. Guns fired, bayonets stabbed and tanks roared as the usurpers fell back in waves. They had delayed his initial charge long enough to withdraw from their first position and now were retreating to the next set of defences. His swift victory had been turned into a prolonged meat-grinder. It did not matter that his armies were numberless and undying, these usurpers were proving far more problematic than he had expected.

He realised then that he hated these animals, hated them to the depths of his being. They had insulted him, sullied his city and dashed his plans to pieces. He was always going to destroy them, but now he was going to obliterate them one by one and watch the life leave their eyes, then he was going to grind them into dust and dump their ashes into the star they orbited. He was not angry, he had no emotions to be angry with, this was a decision. He chose to hate them and he chose to make their ending as painful as possible.

Tamunn looked over the city and stated, "The foe falls back, what are your orders?"

"Press the advance," Mathep commanded, "Give them no respite, I want them all dead!"

Suddenly he spied a sleek orange form dashing between two buildings: a skimmer vehicle of some description. It had a rear compartment that carried several passengers and he noted these one's armour was finer in make and adornment than the common rabble. A leader of some note, he discerned from experience, the usurpers loved to cover their commanders in gilt. The Phaeron pointed at the fleeting skimmer and commanded, "Take us after that one; I want to kill their leader with my own two hands!"