Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 175
Tale of the Emperess
The world of Lutum was crowned by a magnificent palace. It was a wonder of architecture and a marvel of artistry. A euphoric vision of gold and silver, laid out in exacting perfection. The beauty of it made men weep with joy, breaths stolen by the effort and grand vision taken to build such an edifice. The gates and streets were splendid, the walls redoubtable and graceful towers brushed the upper atmosphere, where oxygen was scant. It had taken an entire generation to build, putting a serious dent in the teeming billions and leaving the lesser cities emptied and hollow. It was said when the last stone was laid the masons slit their own throats, despairing that they would never again craft such beauty. All this had been done in the name of one soul, a singular being who was beloved by all. For her sake billions had poured their blood and tears into this palace, making it a work of love as much as duty. Battle-Captain Ferrac however didn't give a crap about any of that, as someone was trying to kill him.
As his boots landed on the marble floor a ragged man tried to gut him with a bayonet and a cry of, "For the Emperess!" Ferrac's jump pack was still bleeding heat and his back pulsed with lines of fire where his mismatched plate struggled to dissipate thermal bleed. The bayonet caught his belly and left a groove through amber-hued Ceramite, a mark Ferrac was displeased to have suffered. He made his displeasure known by slamming his axe-rake into the man's head. Spinning chainteeth tore the mortal's helmet apart, then chewed through his skull and braincase. Driven by transhuman muscle the roaring weapon carried on into the chest and abdomen, tearing the foe in half, head to groin.
Two halves of the enemy fell away, viscera spilling out in a sickening display, but Ferrac had no time to celebrate. More enemies arose, screaming in fanatical hate and Ferrac had to defend himself. The first he tore apart at the waist, the second he killed with the point on the reverse of his weapon by slamming it into a neck and the third he smote with a punch to the face, that drove bone inwards to penetrate the brain. A knot of enemies came at him in a rush but Ferrac dealt with them by sweeping his sledgehammer-gun across their front. A rare variant of bolter rounds, they traded penetration for sheer kinetic force. Shells slammed into bodies and sent them hurtling away, folding up like paper dolls twisted in meaty hands. Spines snapped, ribs imploded and skulls folded in on themselves as Ferrac smote them most cruelly.
The carnage gave the surviving defenders pause and at that moment ten more Space Marines slammed to the ground. Jump packs steaming Anaxar assault-squad engaged with chainswords, hook-glaives, flensing knives and spiked gauntlets. Sergeant Anaxar eviscerated a foe with a sweep of his power-trident as he laughed, "Nice of you to leave some for us!"
Ferrac swept his arm about as he chortled, "I know how slow you are so I took it easy."
In moments the squad had finished off the defenders, leaving corpses strewn over Plasteel barriers and the barrels of heavy-weapons. They had been many and well-positioned, but proven no match for Space Marines striking from above. The way was open and Ferrac was pleased to see no more foes stood between them and their goal.
Ferrac was a brutal and fierce Space Marine, his armour battered and scored by the white heat of combat. His amber hues marked by many scars and the black-serpent wrapped around a goblet on his shoulder was chipped badly, yet still recognisable as the icon of the Amber Vipers. Ever at the front of battle Ferrac led his troops by example, giving and taking more damage than any other. Ferrac was a pugilist and brawler, a fighter to his core, and his Marines loved him for it. Yet he was not the master of the Amber Vipers.
Ferrac twisted to see the second wave approaching. Up a gloriously decorated corridor, hung with flaming bowls on golden chains, came Coluber and his Brother-Exemplars. The trio were as different from Ferrac as night was to day, glorious in appearance, from the chasing on their plate to the finishes on their armour. Only one thing marred the vision, a blackened pauldron on Coluber's right shoulder, a mark of lament for losses most dire. The Brother-Exemplars however had not a scratch on them but this was not the product of cowardice, they had been fighting all day too. No, they were simply so skilful with their weapons that no mortal had yet to touch them.
Ferrac was glad to see his old friend joining them but less pleased to see the man walking next to them. In silver armour came a mortal man. His gun-metal plate was thinner than theirs but covered in arcane symbology and runes of aversion. In his hands was a Thunder Hammer inscribed with litanies of righteous slaughter and his grip spoke of a man who knew well how to use it. His face was visible behind a narrow slit in his helm, stubbled and grim yet the self-inflicted brand of an 'I' over his left eye told a tale all its own. This was Inquisitor Markof, Ordo Malleus, and at his back strode a company of stormtroopers.
Coluber called out, "I see you beat us to it!"
Ferrac dragged his eyes back to his lord as he quipped, "We took a short-cut."
"Oh?" Coluber questioned as they drew up.
"Decided to skip the tedious back and forth in the lower levels and go straight for the heart. We scaled a tower and took the grox-fondlers from behind!"
"Maru will be disappointed," Coluber chortled, "Our esteemed Librarian-Dreadnought is bogged down two levels below."
"Maru can go suck a mastiff's teat," Ferrac scoffed, "This glory is mine."
"Save the bravado Astartes mutt," Markof snapped, "We are not here so you can pat yourself on the back."
"Don't test me," Ferrac growled in anger.
"I test all, that is my appointed duty," Markof hissed, "The Emperor's Left Hand is not to be questioned."
"The Inquisition is fit only to wipe His arse!" Ferrac cursed.
"You go too far," Markof snapped, "Such blasphemy demands death."
Coluber stepped in then and chided, "The Battle-Captain's words are as hot as his temper, but he is mine to chastise, not yours. Ferrac: remember by whose order the Inquisitor is present. We have no wish to offend... his commander."
Ferrac shut up then, for he had no wish to invite the Amber Viper's annihilation. The circumstances of the Inquisitor's attachment to their expedition was not pleasing to recall. The less said of that humiliating encounter the better. Thankfully he was spared reliving the memory by Coluber stepping up to a pair of great doors behind the stinking corpses and kicking them open. Beyond was revealed a magnificent throne room. It was long and wide, with black marble floors and white pillars that rose to the roof. For Imperial craftmanship it was oddly spartan, lacking frescos and statues of dead heroes. The only adornments were flaming braziers set below the tall windows, through which the burning spires of the palace lurked and the thousands of Imperial and traitor mortals could be seen slaughtering each other. It lacked the pomp and self-importance of most governor's abodes, the need to glorify the occupant for all to see. It was as if the room needed no such embellishments, for the occupant alone was enough to dazzle.
Sitting on a white throne at the far end of the room was a woman in golden armour. Ferrac squinted as the image wavered like water disturbed by the wind, sights of young and old faces, raven-hair and fiery locks swopping places constantly. It made Ferrac's head hurt and he felt mental barriers raising in his mind, a Space Marine's instinctive response to psychic threats.
A soft voice carried forth, ringing not in the air but in their minds, "Welcome my subjects, have you come to pledge me your allegiance?"
Markof stepped forward and barked, "Avaunt witch! In His name you will stand down and submit to the authority of the Inquisition!"
The voice laughed, "Little worm, you have no idea who you are dealing with!"
Ferrac's temples throbbed with every word and pain lanced into his brain. Anaxar hissed, "My head... she's... in my... head."
"Close your mind!" Ferrac snapped, "Trust your Hypno-indoctrination. A Space Marine's will is proof against the wiles of the archenemy!"
"You defy me?!" the voice rang in their heads, "Why fight when you should rejoice. Feel the love I bring to mankind and hear salvation beckon. The old Emperor is dead, the new Emperess has arrived!"
"Heresy!" Markof snapped.
"You have a stern will," the witch cried, "It will serve me well in time, but know your fellows are already mine."
Ferrac saw then that the Stormtroopers were raising their hellguns at the Astartes. They had been bewitched, turned to the cause of the enemy. A betrayal most foul, with the advantage of surprise and their guns were charged, yet they were not Space Marines. Before the first finger could tighten on a trigger the Brother-Exemplars were among them, Burst-lances sweeping. They cleaved and tore and slashed with flurries of red bursts, volkite fields flaring with every contact. Anaxar squad was a second behind, weapons roaring in righteous indignation.
Ferrc left them to it as he, Coluber and Markof charged the heart of the corruption. The witch rose to her feet as they approached and Ferrac was outraged to see her truly. This self-proclaimed Emperess wore golden plate armour, inscribed with angelic faces and double-headed eagles. Her head was exposed, revealing a pale face and black locks, crowned with golden laurels and around her shoulders hung a fur of white ermine. It was a vile parody of the Terran Emperor in His former glory, a mockery and an insult Ferrac could not abide. He readied to strike with all his might but the Emperess was faster.
A wave of her hand and a solid wall of psychic force slammed into the trio. Ferrac was bowled over by invisible forces, like he had been knocked down by a freight train. Weapons were torn from hands and sent spinning away, leaving him and Markof unarmed. Yet Coluber seemed unaffected, he swayed slightly but carried on his charge, raising the relic-blade Venom to strike.
"A null–collar," the Emperess sneered, "Amusing but pointless."
"Ave Imperator!" Coluber roared.
Yet as he closed the Emperess casually back-handed him. A mortal woman should have no strength to deny an Astartes, yet her blow lifted Coluber from his feet and sent him flying away. The Chapter Master was hurled fifty meters down the throne room by a gesture as effortless as brushing a curtain aside. Ferrac gasped in shock, small and frail this woman may be, but she struck with the strength of a legion.
Markof stumbled to his feet and pulled a null-shackle from his belt as he slurred, "In His name..."
"Be silent," the Emperess ordered and Markof collapsed, wrestling with his own throat as he struggled to breathe.
Ferrac tried to stand but the weight of a Land Raider sat on his back, invisible but undeniable. It left him helpless as a golden-clad finger slid under his helm and delicately lifted his chin. He stared into hypnotic eyes as her voice bored into his skull, "You have failed Him on Terra, but you can yet serve me."
"N... n...no..." Ferrac hissed in agony.
"You can, you will," the voice drilled into the meat of his brain.
"Gnnnugh..." was all Ferrac could force through his clenched teeth.
Ferrac's mind was collapsing under the assault. His mental walls were strong but they were besieged by a will beyond compare. Psychic battering rams smote his castle walls, tearing down ramparts and exposing the foundations of his soul. Knives of fire tore through his nerves, trying to unmake his personality and replace it with something other, something weak and subservient. Ferrac was only holding on by the slimmest margin and his grip was slipping.
"Give yourself to me and embrace the Manifest Destiny I bring to mankind," the Emperess crooned and that was when a lightning bolt arced through the doorway and sent her skidding backwards. Ferrac gasped as the assault faltered, the Emperess diverting her power to defend herself against a power that rivalled her own. Lightning played over her psychic shield as a new player entered the field: Maru Kysoto, warrior-philosopher and Librarian–Dreadnought of the Amber Vipers.
"Stay your hand witch, he is not for you!" Maru roared as his mind threw more lightning across the battle.
"You dare defy me!" the Emperess screeched as she grabbed the lightning bolt and tangled it in her hands. Arcing energies played around her fists as she balled up the power and threw it back.
Maru effortlessly deflected the bolt with a wave and decried, "That is not your power, you stole it!"
"My followers gave it to me willingly!" screamed the Emperess as she hurled purple flames, "Out of love for their sovereign!"
"You are nothing but a parasite, leeching off the sacrificed lifeforce of millions!" Maru roared as he returned blasts of lightning.
"I am strong, I am a god! I can crush you with a thought!"
"You are a child playing with a loaded gun. You may have power but you have no idea how to use it!"
Ferrac rolled over as a psychic battle ripped the air apart. He hastened to the collapsed Inquisitor and grabbed his null-shackle. With the witch embroiled in the midst of battle she did not notice him moving, nor did she note him rise to his feet and creep up behind her. Even in Ceramite plate the heat of the duel scorched his flesh and he was almost blinded by psychic flares, yet he focussed on the mote of darkness in the arcing brilliance, then he pounced. The Null-shackle closed around her neck like an iron collar, sharpened points sinking into her flesh. The Witch screamed as her psychic power was cut off, leaving her helpless and mortal. Instantly the tide of fire flowing from her fingers ceased and she shook in a seizure. The shock was too much for her and she passed out, golden armour slamming to the ground with a thud.
Ferrac lifted his boot to crush her skull but wheezing voice issued, "No... we need... her alive."
"Frak you Markof, she's too dangerous to live," Ferrac hissed.
Markof swayed to his feet as he growled, "You know my commander's orders, and what he will do to you if you return empty-handed."
Reluctantly Ferrac backed off as Coluber and Maru approached and the last stormtroopers died upon a Burst-lance. They looked worse for wear but were standing as Coluber said, "That won't hold her for long."
Maru asserted, "She is strong but unsubtle. I know her style now, I can block her indefinitely."
"You are sure?" Markof asked.
"I have been a Chief Librarian for longer than you have lived. I know secrets this witch cannot conceive."
Ferrac wasn't amused and turned to the windows where the battle still raged and spat, "What of her followers."
Markof bent to lift the fallen witch saying, "We have what we came for... kill the rest."
"Gladly," Ferrac hissed as he stomped off to find his Axe-rake. It would take a lot of killing to wash this bitter taste from his soul and he was eager to get started.