Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 323
An Apothecarion was a busy place at the best of times, in the aftermath of a battle it was a house of bedlam. The med-slabs were full, with bleeding bodies oozing freely. Chirugeons rushed from bedside to bedside, fixing wounds and applying IV lines to pulsing veins. Guts lay exposed to the air, so blessed incense could settle in the wounds, as mortals in filthy smocks tried to clamp gushing arteries and pull shrapnel from implanted organs. Cries for bandages and blood transfusions rang loud, as did calls for sawdust to grit a floor awash with blood.
Coluber tried to stay out of their way, keeping to the recovery end of the ward. Here cases less critical or already passed the danger point rested. Rows of Brothers, impatiently awaiting the clearance to discharge. Coluber was heartened for each Amber Viper who survived, but he was currently eyeing Captain Toran. The Storm Herald was touring his own wounded, speaking freely with them and hearing the tales of their bravery. Coluber could not help but envy the easy comradery of the Captain with his Marines, the way he made each Brother feel like the finest champion of the day, as if they were the heroes and not him.
"He makes it looks so easy," Coluber sighed.
"What?" Ferrac grunted at his side.
"Conversing with his Marines," Coluber explained, "He is beloved by his Marines. I command my Amber Vipers, but I cannot claim to be liked."
"Pah, adulation is for Scholam-girls," Ferrac scoffed, "So long as they face forward and kill on command, that's all we need."
Coluber saw Toran finish his rounds and return to the Chapter Master. "All is well?" Coluber asked.
Toran nodded, "Our casualties were moderate, many who fell in battle will be up and about in a day or two. The dead will be mourned, but there could have been far more of them."
"We too give thanks for our swift victory," Coluber agreed, "The tally was lighter than I expected."
"Tell that to Berio," Ferrac grinned, "The Cerberii are aghast at the mess of their vault. They'll be fixing it up for months!"
Coluber ignored that, "Sergeant Reddam owns much of the credit. His squad culled Ryneon."
"Shame," Ferrac sniffed.
"You mourn his passing?" Toran asked.
"I mourn not being able to wrap him in chains and share my displeasure. Oh, for an hour in a locked room and a bat with a nail, I'd have sent him back to Mancora in a soup tin."
"Be that as it may," Coluber chided, "We owe Reddam many honours."
All eyes slid to his slab, where he lay swaddled in bandages. He was pale, and breathing was shallow, but he lived. Around his med-slab his squad lounged, unwilling to be parted. Their armour was battered but they were proud of their deeds. Larus in particular, who was clasping a relic bolter to his chest as if afraid someone would snatch it from his hands.
"You can't keep it!" Joffel cried.
"I won it in battle, it's mine," Larus retorted.
"That only counts if you kill him, but you didn't."
"Same difference!"
Coluber stepped up, "Problems?"
All turned to look at him as Tebes explained, "Larus is claiming this Bolter as spoils of war."
"I'm within my rights!" Larus uttered.
Toran sounded disapproving, "That relic should be returned to your
forge, for veneration and issue to worthy heroes."
But Coluber sighed, "Alas Victor's Rights is a long-standing tradition in the Amber Vipers. We keep what we kill. Does not your Chapter have traditions of passing weapons in combat?"
Toran's hand brushed the hilt of his relic sword, "On rare occasions."
"Larus invokes correctly," Coluber asserted, "He keeps the bolter; am I understood?!"
The squad fell silent but Reddam groaned, "Can't a marine die in peace?"
Coluber blinked, "Sergeant, you are awake?"
"Not for long..."
But another voice cut in, "Quit bellyaching, you've had worse!"
Shrios strode up, his armour bloody to the elbows. The Apothecary looked haggard and worn, as well he should. He had been working furiously to save the living, and the canopic jars about his waist were heavy with Progenoids. Doubtless he had seen lives lost this day, but his stern aura betrayed no despair.
"The Sergeant will recover?" Coluber asked.
"He's fit to go already, just lazing about like an idle bum," Shrios snorted.
"I'm dying here!" Reddam protested.
"You're wasting my time, these layabouts are a bad influence on you."
Reddam grinned, "I was enjoying having them fret over me for a change, oh well, back to the grindstone. Squad, we need to go find Posix, that coward's gone to ground and nobody knows where. I want to find him before that maggot does something stupid."
Reddam sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He took off, his squad in tow. Shrios shook his head, "A lost Magos, on top of everything else, what else can go wrong?"
Coluber probed, "Hard losses?"
"A few, but we've saved more than we lost. The Amber Vipers will survive, as will the Howling Griffons."
"You're not healing them?!" Ferrac blurted.
"We found a score or so, badly wounded, but alive. We stripped their armour and guns; they rest in a secure room. The Firstborn Blood Ravens were all killed, but the Primaris breed is strong, the Howling Griffons will live."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ferrac snarled as he gripped his axe-rake.
He was stopped by Toran's bulk, "You will not lay a hand on them."
Ferrac was taken aback, "You can't think to let them live?!"
"The Imperium has been weakened by the events of this conclave; I would not see it weakened further."
"They killed our Brothers!"
"They were deceived and misled, as was I. But they remain loyal to the Throne. They must return to Mancora, to explain their Heresy and receive proper punishment."
Coluber wasn't convinced, "They will never forgive us."
"Perhaps not, but they will learn to respect you," Toran argued, "Respect must be earned, and the Amber Vipers will be judged by how you act this day."
"You say the Storm Heralds would fight to defend these curs?" Ferrac snarled.
"I am saying you crave nobility, yet act the brigand. No, to be held noble you must act with nobility. Let them go, with their armour, and you will have earned my respect."
"He's right," Coluber sighed, "The Howling Griffons will be returned to their ship. It may cost us in the future, but I will accept the price. Besides, we have more pressing concerns."
"But..." Ferrac argued.
"I said we have more pressing concerns," Coluber growled pointedly.
Ferrac fell silent but Shrios sniffed, "Now that's sorted, Maru wants a word". Coluber turned to the corner, where Maru's frame hung on thick hawsers. The Dreadnought's legs were a mashed heap of broken spars, unable to support his weight. He needed a Machine Shop badly, but his biology was more concerning, Shrios had insisted he be dragged to the Apothecarion, to stabilise his cellular structure, before the mechanical work began.
"Coluber," Maru stated, "I wish you to witness this."
"Witness what?"
"My legacy."
"You found it?"
Maru affirmed, "I lay my last hope before you, step carefully my friends, you are treading on my dreams."
A flicker of power and a Canopic jar emerged from his hand, so tiny and fragile. He floated it over on a cushion of telekinetic power. Coluber understood his care, the last gene-seed of his line. Maru had found it on Auriga's corpse, unaffected by the psychic lance that killed him. Miraculously preserved.
"It will be added to our stocks," Coluber promised.
"Still say it's a bad idea," Shrios muttered.
"Why?" Toran asked curiously.
Coluber hastily covered, "Maru here predates my Chapter, his gene-seed is not ours, but it is worthy of preservation."
"Matters biologic are your affair," Toran said to the Apothecary, "But I advise caution, mixing blood-lines courts disaster."
"Rest assured I will, if even one recruit survives, I'll count it a miracle."
Maru chimed in, "As the throne wills, but Coluber there is another matter. You must speak to Daggon."
"The Soul Drinker?!" Coluber yelped in surprise.
"He has fought well, and shown no duplicity. And yet we do not understand why he is here. What was Daggon's mission, why did a Soul Drinker come here of all places? You need to know these things."
"I really don't," Coluber scoffed, "I just need him gone."
But Toran argued, "You cannot afford to ignore this. I know where you come from, surely Daggon knows too. There is a mystery here that needs unravelling. Else you will never know what knife is lurking in the shadows."
Shrios added, "Daggon is a boil that needs lancing, whatever his agenda, we must know."
Coluber groaned, "Gah, very well, but let me go alone. I will not have this spread to all and sundry."
Coluber left the party behind, moving to an isolated corner. Here Daggon lay fuming, still awaiting an augmetic leg. The Chaplain's distress was obvious, but he could hardly complain, not when others lay dying. The sight of the golden chalice still made Coluber's skin crawl, but he covered it as he stepped to the bedside.
Daggon looked up, "What do you want?!"
"I..." Coluber breathed, "I wish to thank you, for your aid in battle."
"Save it," Daggon muttered, "Varrel manoeuvred me into your camp, had I any choice, I would have been on the other side."
"Where is Varrel, we haven't seen him."
"Kept safe," Daggon grinned, "If he's climbed out of that cesspit, then he's probably in a shower, scrubbing his skin off."
Coluber eyed him, "Do the Soul Drinkers enjoy antagonising the Inquisition?"
"They enjoy antagonising us. Always pushing us about like pawns, lording over us like we are theirs to do with as they will. The Soul Drinkers are a sovereign Chapter, forging a fresh legend. Yet they whisper in the shadows, always suggesting threats, but never having the balls to say them to our face."
"Because of Sarpedon?" Coluber sighed.
"How do you know that name?!" Daggon barked testily.
"That name is infamous," Coluber retorted.
Daggon glared, "Maybe to outsiders but that name is known to few Soul Drinkers, very few. The architect of our forebearer's destruction, and the cause for our resurrection as Primaris. Our greatest villain and our greatest hero. His renegade actions ensured his Chapter was wiped out to the last Marine, but his passing was noble enough for the Imperial Fists to memorialise him. The Soul Drinkers died because of him; we live again thanks to him."
The inescapable truth stole over Coluber, "You... you don't know, do you? You never knew!"
"Know what?"
"You had no idea! Varrel dragged you along without a clue. All this time, you knew nothing."
"Start making sense or I'll take my remaining foot and kick you out an airlock!" Daggon growled.
Coluber blinked in shock but covered, "I too... have a past, my whole Chapter does. We knew the Soul Drinkers of old... I knew Sarpedon."
"You did?!"
"Not well, he was but a name in the ranks, I don't think we ever exchanged a word. But his face, I will never forget. So fanatical, so self-righteous, so convinced he could do no wrong."
Daggon grunted, "You encountered Sarpedon, that explains the funny looks you've been giving me."
"I... wish things had gone differently... for the Soul Drinkers. They were worthy once, they taught us much. How to live, how to die. They should have seen the danger within, before it destroyed them."
Daggon nodded, "The few of us granted this knowledge swear it shall not happen again. There shall never be another Sarpedon. The Soul Drinkers will be a byword for loyalty, if we ever get the Inquisition off our back."
"I would welcome that," Coluber agreed, "The Imperium is lesser without the purple and gold."
Daggon allowed, "I too would welcome your continued efforts in the Emperor's Service. Rough as you are, you fight for the Golden Throne. If our paths cross again, I will advise my Masters to accept you as allies. For he who sheds his blood with me shall be my Battle-Brother eternal."
Coluber was amazed, to think he had suspected Daggon of duplicity. The Inquisition had brought the Soul Drinker to goad Coluber no doubt, to unseat his reason, but the Chaplain had no clue the Amber Vipers sprang from his line. Whatever the sins of the past were, Daggon owned no part of them. He was pure, as was his Chapter. A small part of Coluber warmed to the thought of the Soul Drinkers fighting for the Emperor once more, sound in spirit and strong of arm. As they always should have been.
Coluber affirmed, "Let the past be, and the sins of yesterday fade from memory. The future is what concerns us. If we cross paths, I shall make sure to seek you out and we shall fight together."
"Cold and fast," Daggon uttered.
"Cold hearts," Coluber agreed, "And fast blades."
