Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 322
Everything was going wrong, Ryneon could feel it in his bones. The supposed swift and easy assault had bogged down into a turgid meatgrinder, spilling his brother's lives like water. The tangled maze made any sense of strategy impossible but the Vox was growing quieter with every moment that passed. Squads were no longer reporting, calls for information went unanswered and he could not raise his Sergeants at all. Ryneon could not coordinate a response, discipline and tactics were meaningless in this strange hall. It had simply come down to a number's game, and Coluber's louts had more.
Ryneon cursed Auriga for the millionth time. His vaunted precognition had failed them. He had woven a web of lies around Ryneon's head and the Captain had been fool enough to believe them. Prospects of victory were vanishing as his goal slipped over the horizon of achievability. The horrifying suspicion that his Sacred Oath was beyond him lurked in the back of his mind, but he refused to acknowledge it. Victory never came easily, all fights demanded grit and stubbornness, the refusal to admit the possibility of defeat. Ryneon would win through with courage and honour, there was no other option.
Ryneon sprinted down a winding path, alone and without support. He'd intervened in several fights already, and left broken bodies in his wake, but they were growing fewer. He changed out a half-spent magazine as he ran, fitting his last full clip to Chrysoar as he did so. It would not do to be caught empty at a moment of need.
He heard a grinding roar passing just behind the wall he was running alongside. A mighty machine rumbled past, multi-levelled and broad enough to fill the widest of avenues. Ryneon could glimpse the roof even from behind the wall, and the purple figures atop. They stood proud, firing long rifles from elevated positions. Glorious purple heraldry with golden filigree: Soul Drinkers. Ryneon had dismissed them as irrelevancies, but they had fought beyond the scope of their limited numbers. Damn them for their short-sighted zeal, they should have joined with the righteous side, not the renegades'.
Ryneon had no wish to tangle with a Mastodon and so diverted. He ran down a series of twisting corridors, and saw piled corpses in many places, Vipers, Storm Heralds, Blood Ravens and noble Howling Griffons. He could not help but note that red and yellow outnumbered orange or blue significantly. The Viper's numbers and the Storm Herald's hard-won experience were proving a lethal combination, a deadly alloy of youth and age that brought out the best in both.
Ryneon had to try to wrest back control of the situation and voxed Auriga. There was no reply, the Librarian had stopped responding and Ryneon had to consider the probability he was dead. Ryneon's anger spiked, the useless fool had steered them into a catastrophe and then gone and got himself killed. Could the wretched idiot not do anything right?!
So preoccupied was Ryneon with his frustrations that he stepped out from a turning without looking and nearly got run over. Along a broad avenue a Predator rumbled, its turret tracking for targets and bulky sponsons rotating on gimbal mounts. Ryneon hadn't seen and so was clipped by the outboard, sent staggering into the middle of the road. The Predator rolled on, having barely noticed he was there but another came after, bigger and more menacing. An Omega Sicaran, once loyal to the Howling Griffons but now giving its dubious fealty to another: Bahamat.
Ryneon was right in its path and would surely be crushed under those spinning treads, but Ryneon's reaction was blindingly fast. He lifted Chrysoar and fired, not for the impenetrable glacis plate but the thick vision slit the driver peered through. Armourglass crazed as the round exploded against the surface, it held, but was cracked enough to throw the driver off. The tank skewed sideways, smashing one of its heavy bolters against a wall, leaving Ryneon untouched.
Still the tank was dangerous, its turret spun, bringing plasma carronades to bear but Ryneon was not finished either. He put a bolt round into the forward optic, then the lower ones flanking the treads, pecking out Bahamat's eyes with precision shooting. The Omega was blind, and could not risk shooting but the driver spun the tank around. Barely able to see through his hazed vision slit he could yet pick out Ryneon and tried to run the Howling Griffon down.
Ryneon saw the tank looming, heard the throb of its engine and heard the feral hate of its gears gnashing. He was not moved, he held his ground as the tank jerked forward, refusing to retreat. He held still as it bore down, then at the last instant threw himself aside as his power fist struck. His blow caught a track guard and tore through like wet parchment. Disruption fields flared and the tracks shattered, leaving the treads flapping wildly as the cog-toothed wheels spun. Bahamat careened into a wall and punched its bow deep. The roof hatch popped as the crew sought to escape, but climbing out of a tank was no quick feat and Ryneon prepared to pick them off as they exited.
A roar from behind was all the warning he got as the Predator spun about, Scorpus, another turncoat vehicle. This driver was smarter and held back, as the turret lowered a laser destroyer. Ryneon could jink left or right and try to evade, he did neither. He ran straight at the tank, getting under the arc of its gun. The gunner desperately fired anyway, but the shot went over his shoulder. The sponson guns clunked about, but too late, they should have led with those. Ryneon dashed past before they could engage, then slammed his fist into the engine block. His whole arm disappeared within and Scorpus screamed with violated metal, its turret ceasing to move as the tank died.
Ryneon had dealt with the threat, but the time taken had allowed the crew of Bahamat to escape. They came at him now, three of them charging in a rush. Ryneon reacted by pointing Chrysoar at the leading one's head and pulling the trigger. The target blurred as he jinked aside, allowing the round to pass. Ryneon's eyes widened as he recognised this one, the one who had made him miss earlier, repeating his feat of dazzling speed.
"Get him Kazao!" yelled a Sergeant with a power spear. The leading figure leapt to tackle the Captain, seeming to intend to fight barehanded. Ryneon's power fist went high as the warrior ducked, but then he had predicted that. Ryneon brought his elbow down on this Kazao's head, slamming ceramite into the top of his helm. Kazao was stunned and dropped to the floor.
"I've got him Reddam!" one other shouted, whipping out knives wet with poison.
"Larus, wait!" the Sergeant yelled.
The knife wielder dove in from the right, pointed tips scraping over Ceramite as he sought an opening. Fool, Ryneon sneered, to think mere knives could trouble a Captain of the Adeptus Astartes. Ryneon swung wide and reached for his foe. The angle was poor, he had to reach across his whole body but still he clipped a pauldron and crumpled it to slag, sending the warrior to the ground in a heap. Ryneon kicked the knives out of his hands, but had no time to finish the kill.
A crackling speartip nearly took his head off, the Sergeant trying to stab him in the moment of distraction. Not very honourable, but then in battle nothing was so honourable as victory. Ryneon avoided death by the narrowest of margins by jerking back. He rushed the foe, swinging his power fist for the hearts, only to have the haft clang into his side, knocking him off balance. Before he could recover the Sergeant skipped back, keeping out of the reach of his fist. The Viper was clearly experienced enough to know reach was his advantage, and he handled the spear with consummate skill. A veteran, at last.
Ryneon squared up to him, "You fight better than these whelps."
"I'm going to kill you," the Sergeant snarled.
"Your comrades could not," Ryneon snorted.
"Larus and Kazao are young, I am not. And I know how to kill Space Marines."
"Reddam was it?" Ryneon allowed, "Smart, but overconfident. You seem to forget, I am holding a bolter."
Chrysoar snapped up and emptied in a roar. Reddam hurled himself aside, but he lacked the blinding speed of his kin. Bolt rounds struck him square over the hearts and smote craters into the breastplate. Ceramite shattered as blood flowed, shrapnel driving deep into Reddam's flesh. Ceramite was tough, and the genhanced ribcage beneath added more protection, but at point-blank range the damage was crippling. Reddam sprawled on the ground, bleeding profusely from a mess of a chest, lungs wheezing as his implants fought to keep him alive.
Ryneon hefted his fist, intending to finish the Viper off but then was tackled from behind. Kazao had bounded back up and wrapped his arms around Ryneon's elbows, pinning him from behind. Ryneon snarled in outrage as he fought to break free but despite his Primaris height and strength could not shake this wretch.
"Unhand me scum!" Ryneon barked.
"Shoot him Larus!" Kazao shouted, "Shoot him now!"
Larus rose to his knees, a bolt pistol in hand. The gun spoke and Ryneon felt a crater punch into his chest, jolting him violently back. The Viper dared not fire on full auto, not with his comrade so close, but the impact shook Ryneon to his bones. Unfortunately for them the shock also jolted Kazao and Ryneon suddenly had leverage. As Larus' finger tightened Ryneon heaved about and the bolt round sailed serenely into Kazao's flank, blasting him to the ground again.
Larus' gasp of horror escape his vox grill, only to be cut short as Ryneon barrelled into him. The Captain's fury was epic, his outrage keen and he slammed Larus over and landed on top of him. The two wrestled on the floor, driving knees and elbows into each other. Ryneon could not bring his fist to bear but fought with unyielding wroth, trying to batter his foe into a bloody heap.
All was madness in the scrum, fists and elbows and head butts flying. Then a jolt shook Ryneon's arm and his grip flattered. Chrysoar fell from his hand, lost in the tangle of arms and legs. Ryneon's outrage erupted, these damned Vipers had taken his Brothers, his mission and his dignity from him, they would not take Chrysoar. His arm flailed, seeking his weapon and found a grip. He grasped it tight as he took up the gun, but the distraction cost him dear. A head butt sent him reeling back, then a kick knocked him away.
Ryneon rolled with the blow, using the momentum to rise to his feet. Grasped his gun tight, only to find he wasn't gripping Chrysoar, it was a bolt pistol, a meagre pistol picked up by mistake. Larus vaulted to his feet, holding Chrysoar in both hands as he pointed the barrel at Ryneon's head. The sight froze the Captain in dismay, feeling as if a part of his own soul were lost. His pride and joy had been taken from him, ripping the last shreds of esteem from him. Ryneon's sense of humiliation was overwhelming, the loss unbearable.
"Yield!" Larus shouted, "Order your men to stand down!"
"You cannot kill me," Ryneon snapped.
From the floor Kazao coughed, "It's over, end him!"
"Nothing is over!" Ryneon snarled, "Not with an empty bolter."
Larus' finger twitched but Chrysoar did not fire, the magazine empty. Ryneon grinned, "I shall kill you, reunite with my Brothers and finish the mission!"
But Kazao laughed, "What Brothers? Your squads are falling as we speak."
"No, it can't be," Ryneon gasped in denial.
"Look about you fool, nobody else is left," Larus jeered, "It's over: you lost. Your mission has failed!"
The silence on the vox told Ryneon he was alone, without aid. The Howling Griffons had been overrun by superior numbers. Ryneon was the last man standing. He was surrounded, two more Vipers were climbing out of their tank, even if he beat them all he couldn't defeat the entirety of the Vipers. The conclusion was inescapable, this fight was over, the mission had fallen short and the relics of the Howling Griffons would never return to Mancora. Ryneon had failed his Sacred Oath.
Never in his life had he contemplated such a thing, but here it was, he had failed as Nyoir once did. The thought grated on his soul, to accept the fate of Nyoir was unconscionable. To be seen as a failure, jeered and scorned among his kin. To wake every day knowing he had given less than his all, a badge of shame that could never wash away. Ryneon would dwell eternally with his kin's accusations of imperfection. To see in their eyes scorn and pity, that he could not bear. Ryneon would not become as low as Nyoir, he refused.
"You have won, but it is not finished," Ryneon spat.
"Stand down," Kazao hissed.
"I cannot," Ryneon refuted.
"Then we will kill you," Larus snarled.
Ryneon sighed, "Victory or death, this is the way of the Howling Griffons, there is no such thing as failure. By our Oaths we are bound, by our will is our duty done."
With these words Ryneon lifted the pistol in his hand and pressed it to the side of his helm. With full knowledge of what he was doing Ryneon squeezed the trigger and fired a round into his own skull. The bolt round hit Ceramite at point blank range and punched through, boring into the bone and meat of his head. Ryneon was dead before the round detonated, unaware when his skull came apart and brains flew everywhere. His headless corpse swayed for a second, then crashed down, bleeding from the stump of his neck. Ryneon ended his life for the sake of pride, clinging to fleeting dignity to the very last. The Captain had sworn to die before accepting failure, and so his oath was fulfilled.
