Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 207
The defiled templum was once again filled with worshippers. Along the nave a double rank of black-robed devotees waited, their voices lifted in a funeral dirge. The marble walls were hung with heavy banners, woven with grinning skulls and inverted scythes. Over the altar a tapestry swayed, held aloft by a pair of cyber-cherubs whose babyish skin was waxy and grey. Upon that banner was sown an image of the Emperess as a stern judge and vengeful mistress, eyes condemning the viewer for their impiety. Everything about the shrine screamed the ponderous weight of judgement and none could doubt death hung over that place.
Verina looked upon the templum was satisfied with her labours. Arranging this ceremony had taken considerable time but it had been worth it. The banners had been taken from Lutum, to be used on their galactic crusade but proved perfect for her current needs. The songs and ceremonies had been repurposed in haste, cobbled together out of other rituals but they served to instil dread and awe. Verina wanted all present to know they were living on sufferance, to feel the eyes of their Sovereign upon them at all times, it would keep their eyes upon their labours and cover for her own indiscretions. There was one other addition to the Templum, a large pile of parchment and wood, topped by three stakes, sticking out of the mound like points on a crown.
Verina watched as Moryna directed the singing, leading the worshippers in their rituals. She left the hag to it, content to watch for the moment. She was dressed in her full armour and had her helm on, to hide eyes from accusing glares. She knew what was coming and it would be hard, painful even, but necessary. She had to purge her weaknesses, before the other returned again. All doors to her psyche had to be closed.
As if summoned by thought a chill whisper in the back of her mind hissed, "This won't work."
"Shut up," Verina whispered under her helm, glad its ceramite silenced her voice to the outside world.
"You can't get rid of me so easily," the other growled.
"I can and I will," Verina retorted, "Bother me no more."
The singing ended and Moryna stepped back with a bow. Taking her cue Verina moved forward and switched on her external voculator, amplifying her voice so it boomed, "Comrades, we stand on the edge of a most auspicious day! Today we strike down the last of the Imperial scum and take back our Emperess! We have known torment and woe at our separation an ache in the soul we all share. You have suffered as I have at her absence and we all long for her presence. Yet know there are those among us who do not wish her to return, those who wish her harm. Recidivists, backsliders and dissidents, they want to keep her from you! They want to keep the glory from your hearts!"
A wail of anger and pain swept the Templum as the crowd let vented their hatred, the idea of being denied their Emperess striking at the soul of them. Each man and woman here craved to taste the glory again; they needed it so badly they wept at the idea of being denied. Verina was pleased by their reaction, they would not let anything stand in their way.
"What shall we do to these dissidents?!" she hollered.
"Kill them!" screamed the crowd.
"Do they deserve any mercy?" she called.
"No mercy!" the crowd shrieked.
"Bring forth the prisoners!" Verina yelled.
From the far end of the nave came a party of burly men, dragging three chained prisoners in their wake. Held in those meaty paws the wretches were hauled along with their feet dragging behind them. They hung limply in their chains, heads hung low in pain. Even from a distance it was obvious they had been beaten badly, purple welts over their torsos testifying that their capture and confinement had been a brutal affair. Not all of those injuries were honestly bought either; Verina knew the gaolers had beaten them harshly after their capture, taking out their pain on those who could not fight back. Verina didn't care, so long as they still breathed. Then one of them lifted his head slightly and her heart grew cold as she saw it was Dylun.
The witch-seeker had been battered terribly and one eye was swollen shut by a purple bruise. Blood caked his jaw and his wrists and ankles were disjointed, yet it was unmistakably him. Verina had commanded his capture, ordering his tormenting and her soul trembled at the thought of inflicting such abuse on her lover. Yet the greater part of her ached for her Emperess, the need burning her spirit and demanding she let nothing stop their reunion. She needed the Emperess, nobody could understand how much she needed her sovereign. Dylun was an obstacle to that and so had to be removed. The other two prisoners were nobodies, some random faces she had picked out of a crowd to serve as scapegoats.
The lines of devotees jeered and spat at the prisoners as they were hauled up to the pile of wood and bound to the stakes. Legs gave out under the strain of trying to stand but tight ropes were brought forth to bind their bodies upright, forcing them to stand despite their injuries. Bleary eyes squinted in confusion as they tried to understand their plight and keen autosenses picked out Dylun murmuring, "Verina…"
Moryna cut over him as she shrieked, "These three masterminded a rebellion against our beloved sovereign! They betrayed her, they betrayed us!"
The crowd roared in anger as Verina boomed, "What shall we do to them?!"
"Burn them!" roared the devotees as one.
Moryna turned to take up a flaming brand from a sconce but Verina stepped up and said, "Let me do it."
Moryna blinked in surprise as she whispered, "Are you sure?"
Verina nodded her helm as she answered, "I have to do this."
Verina took up the brand in her ceramite grip and marched to the pile of kindling. Dylun stirred as she approached, trying to break free but his feeble efforts were for nought. He was bound tight and could not break his bonds. Desperately he shook his head and then fixed his good eye on Verina's form and pleaded, "Please, don't do this."
Verina was truly glad she had her helm on, so he couldn't see her eyes, as she stated, "You made me do this."
"I didn't, I wouldn't," Dylun wheezed.
"You turned on me," Verina spat.
"It's a lie!" Dylun wailed, "Please I don't want to die. Not before seeing her again, I can't die before I see the Emperess!"
Verina felt her respect for this man wither in her breast. Dylun had been so tall and strong in her eyes, a champion brave and true. But that had only been when he was armoured and his opponents were not. She saw then that Dylun had been brave enough when he was confident of victory, chasing lone witches with squads at his back or standing on the bridge of a mighty battlebarge. Faced with the reality of being weak and helpless himself, his courage failed. He was a bully and always had been. Faced with the prospect of his own demise he was revealed to be a weak and pathetic man, unworthy of his station.
Verina's love turned to hate as she snarled, "You are scum, a dismal excuse of a man. I should have seen your yellow heart long ago."
"Please," Dylun gasped, "Please don't do this."
"Your weakness has been a millstone around my neck, holding me back and making me vulnerable but no more. I cast you aside and claim my true role as the most faithful servant of the sovereign."
With that Verina threw her brand onto the piled wood and parchment. The kindling had been sprayed with promethium and ignited quickly, flames spreading far and wide in moments. Verina stepped back as the heat hit her, even Ceramite leaking traces onto her skin. The inferno spread rapidly and the prisoners screamed as it began to reach for them, their skin reddening in an instant. A little known fact of the Ecclesiarchy was sometimes executioners wet the wood on pyres, to ensure thick smoke would arise. It was a tiny mercy, to suffocate Heretics instead of roasting them, but it helped a lot of executioners sleep at night to cling to the notion they had spared a morsel of pain from the condemned. This was not so merciful. The flames burned cleanly and fiercely, running up the mound to engulf the prisoners in flames.
All three prisoners shrieked the wails of the damned as flames claimed them. Blackening skin and burning them alive. Dylun howled in torment as the inferno wrapped itself around him, tongues of flame covering him head to toe. His face burned, his hair caught alive and fires roasted his tongue, leaving him a blackened skeleton and still he screamed in agony. Verina forced herself to stand still and watch him suffer and with him a tiny morsel of her soul died. Weak affection and tender mercy scorched away, leaving her purer and more resolute in purpose. A door the other had exploited was slammed shut, leaving her untroubled and alone in her own mind.
Soon all that remained were scorched skeleton, collapsing into ashen cinders. A charred hand reached for the roof in a post-mortem plea but it was pointless. All that was left was the popping of wood and the awful reek of roasted flesh as Moryna shrieked, "So fall all enemies of the true mistress of Mankind!"
Verina added her voice, "Go forth and tell all you encounter of this day. The day we purged our ranks and claimed our Emperess back!"
The crowds left the flickering flames behind, as Verina turned to Moryna and declared, "It is done. Now we have no obstacles left."
"You are certain of this?" Moryna asked warily.
"Utterly," Verina affirmed, "Never has the path been clearer. We shall strike hard and break the Imperials once and for all. Then the Emperess will be with us again and all shall be made right. We set sail this very hour and none shall oppose us!"