Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 137

The fighting arena rang with the cheers and threats of a jostling crowd, scores of Amber Vipers exhorting their champions to victory. They surrounded an elevated stage, where two naked warriors duelled with deactivated weapons. Fast and cold they fought, giving and expecting no quarter and blood flowed freely. Soon one gained the advantage and threw his rival from the stage, to the acclaim and boos of the crowd as tokens and trinkets passed between hands, bets being settled grudgingly but without hesitation.

At the back of the room Coluber and Ferrac lounged in their armour, watching another pair of Brothers mount the stage. The commanders of the Chapter were quietly observing the display, but not participating. Coluber was Chapter Master, none could challenge him openly. Ferrac for his part was never challenged, mainly because nobody was dumb enough to climb onto a fighting stage with the Battle-Captain. Among the ranks it was whispered to challenge a brother was brave, to challenge Ferrac was suicide.

Coluber leaned back and commented, "They seem keen today."

Ferrac sniffed, "Three more days to the jump-point and we're getting bored. It's good to blow off some steam, plus it unites us in shared bloodshed."

Coluber sighed, "You don't have to preach to me. But I note our comrades' ardour is high. They are buoyant."

Ferrac chewed on it and said, "We won a clean victory over an alien threat. Spirits are overflowing, morale is through the roof. We should be proud of ourselves."

"Pride yes, but pride leads to arrogance. Observe."

A few paces away a gaggle of Snakelets was surrounding a Chattel. The lowly mortal was pushing a cart stacked with beer cans, for the audience to partake. Many hands were grabbing cans as the next bout began but these four youths were doing more than that. They were pushing the cart back and forth with taunting laughter as the mortal cried salt tears in fear. Well he should, any of the nascent Transhumans could snap him in half with a shrug and all he could do was try to keep his cart upright as the snakelets jeered at his frailty.

"Little grox-fondlers," Ferrac snarled, "I'll sort them out."

"Let me," Coluber said, "I want them chastised not dead."

The Chapter Master stepped up behind the four laughing bullies and snarled, "Attention!" Four sets of eyes turned and then four faces went white as blood drained in shock. In terror they straightened up and stood stock still. As the crowd bayed at the blood being shed on the stage Coluber eyed them furiously and snapped, "What is this slovenly display?!"

One of the four protested, "We were only having a bit of fun!"

Coluber growled, "By harassing a chattel during his labour?!"

"He's only a mortal, why shouldn't we…" came the reply.

Coluber cut him off, "Chattels are valuable commodities, not to be squandered in feeble displays of thuggery. I don't care that you are bigger or stronger; you only have these gifts because your duties require them. More is expected of you, in all aspects of your being. Chattels have the gifts their stations demand. If you think being a Space Marine means we can bully anyone we like then I can rip out your spines right now to prove you right."

"But…" the tallest one protested.

"One more word and I'll send the lot of you to the Cerberii," Coluber snarled, "That is the fate of those who fall short of my expectations. Now get back to your billet and spend the next twelve hours memorising tactical drills. I shall have your sergeant test your understanding most thoroughly. Go!"

Faces filled with alarm the four fled, racing to get out of his sight. The chattel started bowing low but Coluber had already turned away and rejoined Ferrac. The Battle-Captain eyed him and remarked, "Not like you to care for a chattel."

"I don't, but behaviours like that must be stamped out. Space Marines must serve, not lord over men. Cold, fast and ruthless must we be, but never cruel or sadistic. We are not Salamanders, who cry over every dead babe, but neither are we Marines Malevolent who make cruelty a way of life. If we forget that we are no longer worthy of the Emperor's light."

Ferrac snorted, "I thought we were here to enjoy ourselves, not philosophize."

"True," Coluber laughed, "I bet you a bronzed Aquila against that Carnodon tooth that Feterre knocks Intor out of the ring."

"You're on," Ferrac agreed.

They settled back and watched as the two warriors duelled. Blows came thick and fast as blood sprayed the cheering crowd. They fought furiously but within a minute Intor had beaten Feterre down into a broken heap and kicked him over the side of the stage. Laughter and heckles rang loud as the winner jumped down and Ferrac laughed, "Pay up!"

Coluber handed over the tiny trinket from his armour without rancour as he asked, "Best of three?"

Ferrac sniffed, "No, I'm waiting for the beer cart to come around again. Here comes the next pair."

Coluber made to reply but paused as something odd occurred. A cold tingle ran down his spine and his breath froze in his lungs. Colours became muted and sounds dim, like he was looking at the world from the bottom of a deep pool. The warriors around him continued to bray and cheer but their motions were torpid and slow. Strangely he seemed the only one who noted anything amiss, everyone else continuing as if nothing was wrong.

Coluber sensed a presence at his side and declared, "I take it you want to speak, Maru."

Maru Kysoto's voice emerged, "I beheld your confrontation with the youths and I have concerns."

"You always do," Coluber groaned as he turned to face the visitor.

At his side stood a Space Marine in soft purple robes. He was aged and wore a lifetime of troubles on his round face. His hair was platinum white and swept back, while his irises were purple sapphires in his eyes. Maru Kysoto as he had been in life, a psychic projection of his presence beamed straight into Coluber's consciousness.

Maru looked upon the fighting arena and commented, "Brawling again? This I do not approve of."

Coluber was tiresomely used to the Chief-Librarian's intrusions and retorted, "It is good for morale and builds Brotherhood. We are building a martial culture, one red in claw and fang but with a rough dignity all its own. You should join us."

"What kind of fool would challenge a Dreadnought to a fist-fight?" Maru scoffed.

"Ferrac?" Coluber quipped, "Say you don't want to punch him in the face and I'll call you a liar."

"Tempting…" Maru allowed, "But no, I have higher concerns than brawling."

Coluber rolled his eyes and said, "Then leave me in peace, we get few enough moments away from war to enjoy a good match."

"Such displays would never have been sanctioned in my day," Maru scoffed, "No wonder you breed bullies."

"Get used to it," Coluber snapped, "We aren't the type to read poetry, give us a righteous fight and a few beers and we'll be content with our lot. I'll knock them back into shape when they step over the line."

"You don't like beer," Maru pointed out.

"I'm generalising," Coluber snorted, "Don't ruin a good rebuttal with logic and reason."

"Humour, a poor deflection."

Coluber sighed, "I know you wish to inspire us to greater things, but you must accept we will never be your lost kin. We are building a fresh Chapter, an alloy of the old and the new, still raw from the heat of the forge but with boundless potential."

Maru muttered, "The shape of that blade has yet to be set and I am not sure it will be to your liking."

Coluber snapped, "Did you have a point or is this a general portent of doom?"

Maru's eyes narrowed as he said, "I have premonitions of danger about our destination, a sense that you will have to make choices with far-reaching consequences."

"Prophecy?" Coluber asked, for Maru had never shown any affinity for precognition before.

But the Psyker corrected, "Intuition. This beacon we chase must be very powerful and ancient. We know already the Dark Age of Technology produced horrors. Mankind placed its faith in science and marvelled at the works of their own hands as they embraced their doom. Do not repeat their mistakes, lest you are destroyed."

"We handled the Choga easily enough," Coluber scoffed, "I think we can handle whatever's coming. The Chapter has never been stronger or more deadly."

"Wanton destruction is not to be praised," Maru admonished, "Unless it serves a higher purpose. Prudence and sagacity must underpin every stroke of your blade. To reave and destroy without care is to become evil. Your bandits may yet become that which you hate the most."

Coluber rolled his eyes and argued, "Space Marines are made for battle, it's what we do. Death, destruction, ashes, name one Chapter who does not leave ruin in its wake. You speak in circles."

"Your eyes are closed" Maru sighed, "But tell me, have you ever heard the tale of the Compliance of Nippour IX?"

"Your chief recruiting world," Coluber observed, "Can't say I know anything about it, save what you showed me."

Maru's eyes took on a pained expression as he lamented, "Such a beautiful world, with a shining history of loyalty. Ten millennia of leal service to the Most Glorious Emperor, ended by a trillion gnawing insects. Would that we had been there to save it, but our path led elsewhere."

Coluber heard the pain in his voice and gently prompted, "The compliance?"

Maru shook off his introspection and recited, "In the scrolls lays the tale of Djomo Masamu, who led his people to defy the newborn Imperium. Two Legions were dispatched to bring his world to compliance: the Salamanders and the Emperor's Children, with their sires. Faced with the power of two Legions Masamu knew victory was beyond him and wisdom compelled him to bend the knee. Still the Djomo was a proud man and so declared he would only surrender to the most perfect warrior among his foes. Fulgrim and Vulkan readily agreed to his challenge and Masamu bade them each forge a perfect sword and plunge it into the noxious river Fuya, whose waters were death. A day and a night did the two Primarchs labour, their boasts and exhortations filling the forge with the laughter of two brothers at play. At the end of their toil Fulgrim proudly produced a shining sword he daubed Winterblade, Vulkan humbly presented a sword he named Whisper."

Coluber frowned as he commented, "Strange, I have never heard anything of this. I never knew the IIIrd and XVIIIth Legions marched together."

Maru sniffed, "Few tales of that age remain and who would wish to recall crusading alongside a most odious Traitor? Now stop interrupting."

"Please continue," Coluber offered.

Maru resumed his tale, "Blades in hand the two brothers strode into the river Fuya, untroubled by its poisons, and set their swords point down. Winterblade cut all it encountered: leaves, twigs, fish, stone and the very air itself. Whisper cut only the leaves of the Myciata tree, and nothing else was troubled. Upon seeing his Fulgrim laughed, mocking his Brother for forging so blunt a blade and all held the Phoenician as the victor, save one. Masamu beheld the two swords and immediately prostrated himself before the Primarch Vulkan. Stunned by this Fulgrim flew into a great rage and demanded to know why he had been scorned. Masamu explained that while Winterblade had cut well, it had done so indiscriminately and without care. Whisper had cut only the leaves of the Myciata tree, whose poisonous sap made the Fuya river so deadly. Masuma declared it was the warrior who understood restraint and prudence who was perfect. Upon hearing this Fulgrim's anger exploded and he shattered Winterblade against a rock, and lo, from the broken shards oozed blackest poison. The careless blade had taken in the worst aspects of what it cut; becoming a reflection of the vileness it destroyed. Whereas the blade that cut with prudence retained its pure spirit. Fulgrim departed the planet in a cloud of fury but Vulkan gracefully accepted the surrender of the planet and as a mark of respect bestowed Whisper to the Djomo in perpetuity."

"A worthy tale," Coluber remarked, "Is any of it true?"

"Something does not need to have physically happened for it to be true," Maru retorted, "What do you believe the meaning to be?"

Coluber sighed, "That I must take care not to become that which I fight, to become the very thing I hate. I must confront the darkness without letting it taint our souls."

"And take care to choose your weapons with caution," Maru elaborated, "Some things are too vile to hold, some weapons cannot be grasped safely. You understood this when you created the Cerberii but have yet to consider how that relates to your actions."

Coluber scoffed, "Are you saying we should not strike with our full force? That we should show mercy to the enemies of Mankind?!"

But Maru stated, "No, by all means strike hard and true, but remember when you do so it must be for the right reasons. The means you employ reveal the truth of your heart. Doing the right thing for corrupt reasons can be as dangerous as doing the wrong thing for good reasons."

There was a blink in the air and suddenly Maru was gone, allowing colour and sound to return. Coluber blinked at the rush of noise and saw his brethren cheering loudly as two warriors pummelled each other on the stage. Ferrac seemingly hadn't noticed anything and was watching the fight keenly, unaware of the conversation going on behind him. Coluber sighed as he rubbed his brow, feeling a headache coming on. He told himself it was aftereffects of the psychic contact but knew it was Maru's lectures that resulted in such tension.

He turned from the fight and went off to find the chattel with the beers. He hated the taste but oft found himself desiring a few when the Librarian was around. Maybe he could drown his concerns out for a few minutes and actually enjoy himself for once.