Extremus Fors Chapter 23

The pounding of drums rang through the camp of the Sunsiders, a percussive beat that echoed off the soaring ice roof and filled the cavern with booming rhythms. The sound was made by dozens of savages pounding upon moleskin drums, beating their bare hands on tight membranes. Sweat poured off muscles as the furious tempo went on, lactic acids building as minutes crawled by. They didn't care though, the thrill of pain only energised them more. Across the crowd the same feeling was taking hold, the frantic beat making hearts pounding in sympathy. All present felt the music stir their desires and in doing so opened their souls to the powers of the Warp.

Rebre was pleased, her efforts were paying off already. She had arranged this ceremony so to anoint Lugdac and bestow the Daemonsword upon him. So mighty a tool could not simply be handed over like a screwdriver, one must have ritual and ceremony, the moment marked with pomp and circumstance. It also served a darker function. Rebre intended to bind the Daemonsword to Lugdac, ensuring the blade corrupted him, and not her. The tools of Chaos were capricious and treacherous, liable to turn on the wielder and make him their slave. Lugdac would enjoy power beyond measure, with the blade in hand, but the costs would not be to his liking.

Rebre was as corrupt as a soul could be, but she enjoyed her own autonomy. No promise of power could entice her to give herself over to another. Well she had learned that those who sought glory for its own sake attracted enemies like a moth to a flame. Better to rule from behind the throne, and those who thought themselves her masters never knew how she yoked their souls.

She cast her eyes over the gathering. In two long lines stood the rest of the Technobarbarians, their hands heavy with whips and lashes. She herself stood at the end of this run, with the chest and the remaining Lords. Lugdac would have to run this gauntlet to claim the blade, a more harrowing experience than anyone knew. The chief would suffer the lashes of his fellows every step of the way. To survive he would have to be more than stoic, he would have to learn to embrace the pain, to bathe in the sensation of agony and let it energise him. Pain and pleasure would become one, only then could he bear the Daemonsword.

Rebre waited patiently but in her ear tickled a faint voice, "You're making a mistake."

Rebre blinked, the voice was familiar but she was nowhere near her mirror. She lowered her chin slightly and whispered, "How are you here Rebis?"

"Come now, we have a long and tangled history, you and I. We need no such trifles to converse."

"Get out of my head," Rebre hissed under her breath.

"So hostile, one would think I'm trying to steal your body."

"You are."

"Well, yes," the voice chuckled, "But your defences are strong, I admire your resolve. It's not equal to mine, but annoying obdurate nonetheless."

Rebre muttered, "If all you have are taunts, then begone."

"Don't be so rude. I am trying to keep you from making a mistake. Letting that blade out of your sight is dangerous. The Daemon within is spiteful and angry. He doesn't like being bound, he seeks to break out of his bondage. You shouldn't give him a chance."

"I know what I am doing," Rebre hissed.

"On your head be it. Don't say I didn't warn you."

The voice faded away and Rebre breathed, "At last."

"Did you speak, great queen?" Werrey asked at her side.

"Nothing," Rebre told the hovering techno-shaman, "Bring forth the champion of the people!"

The drumbeat increased in tempo, drummers looking like they would beat until they fell down dead. At the far end of the line Lugdac appeared. The chief had been stripped to his waist, exposing the glanded muscles and augmetic implants of his frame. He remained wiry and lean, but his skin gleamed with sweat and his bearing hinted at growing arrogance. At his flanks Goresh and Millic stalked, their alterations a stark contrast to his stubborn frame. The sight made Rebre smile, Lugdac's soul was resistant to change, he would withstand the blade's corruptions well, for a time.

Lugdac strode to the end of the line and declared, "I Lugdac come to claim the gift of Lazar!"

Rebre cried over the pounding drumbeat, "He who seeks ascension will know pain, will know darkness, will know betrayal!"

"I fear nothing!"

"Then come and claim your due!"

Lugdac set off at a run, sprinting down the line. Barely had he taken two steps when the first lash fell, scoring his bare skin. No mere cord of leather were these, but wired coils bearing crackling force. Rude copies of pain-goads, simple fare but effective. At the first touch of flesh they smote nerves with agonising currents, bestowing torment in lavish quantities.

Lugdac's stumbled but clumsily regained his footing and pressed on. His fists screwed up in pain and nails dug so deep his palms bled, but he forced his feet on. More lashes hit home as he advanced, his kinsman sparing not the whip. They were enjoying it, enjoying seeing the pain in his eyes. For some it was payback for a lifetime of cruel rule, but for others it was the act itself. Sadistic pleasure taken in making another suffer, symptoms of their souls rotting.

Lugdac was being stuck from all sides, barely able to take another step. His pace slowed to a crawl and his back was a mass of bleeding cuts. He stumbled to and fro, barely making any progress. His knees buckled and his head was bent over as the pain filled him. Palsy shook his limbs and his right leg gave out, dropping him to a kneeling position. Still the lashes fell, still they struck, never relenting.

"He's not going to make it," Werrey gulped.

"He will make it," Rebre declared.

"It doesn't look like it. He's dying."

"Because he resists," Rebre stated, "The only way to survive is to embrace the pain. He must learn to take strength from his agony, life is pain and so it follows pain is life."

As if he had heard her over the pounding drums and cracking whips Lugdac's head came up. His eyes were blood-shot but in them raged a mad revelation. Rebre could see it, see the truth of Slaanesh take hold. His soul was open to new vistas of understanding, beyond the feeble restrictions of morality and tradition. Slowly Lugdac rose, his legs forced into straightening as he gasped, "More, more… MORE!"

With the cry upon his lips Lugdac pressed forward. The lashes continued but now they were not weakening him, they strengthened. Every surge of pain lent him speed; every agony drove him beyond his known thresholds. Rebre knew this moment firsthand, the moment one went from dabbling in the forbidden to becoming a true believer. A moment once tasted could never be taken back. Glorious heights of experience were revealed and Lugdac became a new creation, wilder, grander and more dangerous than he had been before.

Frantically Lugdac sprinted down the lines and threw himself before Rebre. His back was invisible beneath a sheen of oily blood but his face was filled with passion and he knelt before her, eyes lifted to stare in madness.

Rebre cut her hand laterally and the drumbeat finished. She lifted her voice to proclaim, "Before the eyes of the people you have known pain. What of the darkness, do you fear the unknown?"

Lugdac declared, "I fear nothing, not anymore. My quest for glory shall never cease, no matter where it leads me. I will not stop, I will not hesitate, no matter the price I must pay."

"So it is taught," Rebre declared, "Pain comes from without, but the darkness is born from within. Embrace the forbidden desires within your own soul and you shall ascend."

"I am ready."

"Then bring forth the gift!"

Werrey came forward, her arms heavy with the chest. Rebre lifted the lid and the box was tipped to show the blade. Long as ever and heavy, its length tangled with sharp protuberances and notches. Whirling designs were writ into the metal, lude and cruel in nature, seeming to writhe as one looked upon them. From the crossguard an eye stared, mad and rolling, glaring hatred at all. It was loathsome to look upon, but sighs of awe and envy arose from the crowd, its twisted nature calling out to the corruption in their souls.

Werrey uttered, "Take this gift with the grace of Lazar!"

"Take it and seal your compact," Rebre commanded.

Lugdac reached out and wrapped a blood-soaked hand around the hilt. Sharp thorns sprang out, clawing at the meat of his hand in spite but Lugdac embraced the pain and lifted the sword. He hefted it in one hand, seemingly unbothered by weight enough to bow a strong man. His eyes gazed upon the metal and became distant, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. Then he lunged forward, driving the point right into Werrey's mechanical heart.

A scream issued forth as the Techno-shaman was struck. Sparks showered and she convulsed. Her hands gripped the metal but only cut themselves on the sharp edges, oily blood soaking into the material as if the sword was drinking it. Her head shuddered as she quaked, unable to fall over as the suspensor kept her aloft. "Wh… why…" she managed to utter.

Rebre didn't answer directly, instead saying to Lugdac, "Betrayal, the final aspect. You must allow none to stand in your way, no matter how close. No bond of friendship or family can deny your greatness, no love can stay your hand. The stars belong to he who casts aside all concerns save his own glory."

Lugdac whipped the blade back, leaving Werrey to slump over in death as he declared, "So shall it be, I Lugdac will ascend to the heavens on the backs of any who dare oppose me!"

He hefted the blade high and the crowd cheered, delighted by this display. They pumped the air and hailed their lord's triumph, sure they would climb high in his wake. Unseen by all Rebre smiled. She alone noted a faint image drift through the metal of the sword, Werrey's face, passing through the material like a wisp of cloud through the sky. The blade had done more than kill the Techno-shaman, it had eaten her soul. Her spirit was trapped as fodder for the Daemon, a source of sustenance and amusement that would last an eternity.

Rebre was pleased. With such a weapon Lugdac would be unbeatable, and through him Rebre's designs would be complete. Her return to the stars was all but guaranteed. All she needed now was to find a means to get off this iceball.