Extremus Fors Chapter 32

Rebre rolled over with a sigh, relishing the feel of her body. Next to her Goresh slumbered, his energies spent. Rebre had taken the opportunity to explore his mutations, when the march of the Technobarbarians stopped for night camp, and found them to be pleasing. His physical alterations had been novel and his appetites magnified by the touch of Slaanesh. A shame they wouldn't get another chance to experiment before reaching their destination, but one always had to wring the most out of any moment.

Rebre slid out of the furs piled on the floor inside her tent and stood. She stretched long arms over her head, feeling the cold air run icy fingers over her naked body. The feeling was delicious, for a moment, but then she grabbed her attire and shrugged herself into it. Furs and boots and her knife, all wrapping her body in warmth. Properly dressed she moved to the flap, stepping over dead bodies as she did so. Lesser attendees on her revels, their lives expiring in orgiastic joy. The delights she had unleashed had proved too much for their fragile minds and their hearts had burst with the intensity of the experience. Nothing to be gained fretting over it though, they weren't important in the grand scheme of things.

She rolled her neck as she mused upon recent events. For days Lugdac had led the Technobarbarian clans deeper into Lujan Minoris, travelling deep roads that none had dared for millennia. The passages had grown narrower and the air stale, many whispering they courted doom by venturing so far into the demesne of the Undying. Yet led by the voice only she could hear Rebre had insisted they press on. She had been promised the way off this iceball lay below and would not turn from her course.

She heard a shuffle at the flap and saw Millic at the entrance, a few young figures at her back. The tainted warrior had been proving herself most useful the last few days, bringing a steady supply of sacrifices to feed Rebre's growing power. None questioned why those brought to her never returned, too lost in their fervent awe of her majesty. Of course she had just eaten, but a small snack would be satisfying.

Millic bowed low and said, "Your queenliness, I brought you these folks for the blessing."

Rebre affected a real tone as she declared, "Your queen is weary, but I shall bestow my favour on one of them. Send in the youngest."

A furious whispering arose but was hastily silenced as Millic shooed away the rabble. A moment later the flap stirred and a young waif crept in. She was thin and malnourished, her growth stunted by hunger but even so Rebre could tell she was on the cusp of puberty. She lacked the augmetics of her kin, too lowly and weak to earn such boons. A slip of nothing from Bouldakru, one more nobody who wouldn't be missed.

The child looked about in amazement at the gory stage of Rebre's quarters and dropped to her knees before the queen. Rebre smiled coldly and said, "Rise child."

"Thank you, my queen, I am..."

"Names are not important," Rebre dismissed, "You have come for my blessing?"

"Oh yes!" the child cried, "They say you are leading us back to the sun, that the great chief Lugdac will claim the stars for our people."

"Just so, and you wish to help us achieve our noble goal?"

"More than anything! All my life I waited for you to come. All I had was scraps thrown aside, the meanest grub and clothes but I heard the tales that you would come and it kept me going. I would do anything for you."

"Good," Rebre hissed as her hand snatched her dirk from her belt and slashed the child's throat. The girl shuddered as blood gushed out but Rebre grabbed her tight and slammed her lips over the wound. The hot-iron taste ran down her gullet, the heady tang of lifeblood filling her mouth and coating her tongue in thick vitae. With it came power, the intoxicating might of lifeforce, draining into Rebre and filling her veins with potency. Better than any drug, better than wine or carnal pleasure, the raw energy of a life cut short, renewing Rebre inside and out.

She held tight till the girl stopped shaking, then dropped the corpse to ooze onto the floor. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crowed, "Delicious as ever."

"Enjoying yourself I see," came a sibilant voice from behind.

"Not today Rebis, I'm not in the mood," Rebre groaned aloud as her good mood was punctured.

"You've never had that problem before, I always find ways to stir your lusts," the voice hissed.

Rebre spun in shock as she realised she was hearing the voice with her ears, not her mind. She found standing in the tent a towering warrior, soaring over the tallest Technobarbarian. His body was clad in lurid Ceramite, battered and scored, but once wonderous. Thin chains hung in tatters at his flanks and sharp spikes had been broken off all over. He had a rapier of some description at his hip and his limbs were thin but powerful too. Rebre did not doubt that if he struck he would move so fast as to be invisible, and that one blow from those fists would end her. But it was his face that drew the most attention, piercing eyes, a wicked smile and so pale as to be a ghost. A face filled with evil intent and sadistic narcissism.

"Who are you?!" Rebre gasped, "How did you get in here?!"

A small frown creased his brow, "You forgot me, this is an insult. Jubila is unforgettable!"

"Jubila..." Rebre wheezed as fogs of memory shifted, "You... you are Jubila... warlord of the Third Legion... slave of Fulgrim..."

Jubila sighed, "Ah, I see you needed a little jog to the memory. This is to be expected, you have had quite a journey. So many worlds, so many hellscapes I have followed you across, it's a wonder you aren't a gibbering simpleton."

"You've been hunting me?"

"Indeed I have, and at times I thought we would never be reunited, but at last we can be together my love."

Something about his tone made Rebre wary and she hissed, "I don't want to go with you."

Jubila looked pained as he said, "My dearest, how confused you are. Your memory is addled worse than I thought. We must get you off this wretched iceball at once and to someone who can help you. I have the means to leave this planetoid and take you to palaces of wonder, where the finest thought-weavers will restore you."

Jubila shifted his weight as he spoke and Rebre noted light did not reflect on his armour. She squinted slightly and realised she could see right through him, the poles of her tent visible through his mass. He was translucent, semi-present as an illusion only. This was no true visitation, it was a spell of communication, Jubila's body was somewhere far away.

Rebre's fear subsided, "I have chosen not to go anywhere with you, and you can't make me."

"Dear heart, don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid, I am remembering. Jubila: failure and laughing stock, least among Emperor's Children. Fulgrim's errand-runner and whipping boy. I remember standing in your court and hearing Daemons snigger at how shallow your revels were, how simple your artistry proved. You were a joke long before you died and were reborn as his puppet!"

Jubila's mask of friendly concern evaporated as a wave of fierce anger arose. Any pretence of compassion was dropped, to be replaced with burning hate and seething resentment. He became a thing of malicious spite and cruelty as he spat, "You are going to suffer as no one has before! The indignities I have suffered because of you, the humiliations! The most inventive of Daemons in the Warp will be put to shame, when I get my hands on you!"

Rebre grinned mockingly, "First you will have to catch me, and I doubt you have the means."

"I will find you bitch!"

"You couldn't find me on a hundred different planets! Always two steps behind, never quite fast enough to keep up. I have eluded you through time and space and shall continue to do so forever!"

"I am so close, close enough to smell you."

"If that were true, you'd be stripping the meat off my bones right now. The fact you resort to petty magic tells me you are desperate. What, is Lord Fulgrim growing annoyed that you can't get the blade back... the blade... yes that's it... you want the blade... It was you who bound Ozymandias into its metal..."

Jubila glared but said, "You always were so proud of yourself, but look where that got you. Squatting among primitives, scraping the bottom of the barrel for adulation. You could have so much more; I can offer you more. Simply bring me the blade and all our past spats can be forgiven. I will make you a true queen."

"You have no boons to grant anymore!" Rebre snorted, "Fulgrim took them from you."

"The Phoenician's anger is staggering, but so too is his joy," Jubila urged, "When we present him the blade he will overlook our missteps. His rewards will be lavish beyond the dreams of avarice."

"Fulgrim can keep his rewards," Rebre sneered, "I no longer need him."

Jubila's eyes narrowed as he hissed, "Beware of offending our master, he will not suffer insults to his majesty."

"I don't care what he puts up with! I can make my own way in the galaxy. I have spells of my own and a champion to lead my armies. Anything I want, I can take! You can stay here and watch as I claim the heavens for myself."

"You play a dangerous game," Jubila hissed, "I like danger, but this is stupidity incarnate."

"Tell yourself whatever you need to, I no longer care. Begone shade and watch as I leave you in my dust yet again."

"This isn't over," Jubila snarled, "I will find you and when I do grown men will weep in disgust at what I make of your pretty face!"

With that last threat Jubila faded away, disappearing into nothingness. Rebre sighed in relief, despite her bravado she knew the warlord meant every word. Jubila was on her heels and would not give up no matter what. If she was to elude him then she had to get off this planet sooner rather than later. Time was running short, so she ran for the flap of the tent intent on stirring Lugdac and getting this army on the move. She had to reach their destination before Jubila caught up, or her suffering would be eternal.