Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 346
Second star to the right
By stablight Skoll trod upon the barren wastes of a tiny moon. Gravity was marginal and each step threatened to send him catapulting high, so every motion had to be careful and deliberate. Even so his walk had a tendency to bounce a little, making progress a series of short hops. The ground kicked up white dust with every impact, sprays of dirt that hung in the thin air long after. Apart from that the moon was an empty waste, bereft of seas and rivers to sustain even basic plant life. A lonely wanderer, orbiting a world on the edge of a stellar system, so far from the centre as to make the sun a mere point of light.
How so small an astral body could hold warmth and atmosphere was baffling, but that was the least of the dark wonders Skoll had witnessed. Since the Abyss yawned open he had beheld the laws of nature overturned, majesty and horror in equal measure playing out before his eyes. The few worlds where mankind clung to existence were scant and growing fewer by the day, largely thanks to Skoll. The Nighthowler had made it his business to ensure the end came swiftly, and for that cause he had landed on this barren moon.
"How much further?" Gathor Hammerhand grunted as his epic bulk slammed into the dust.
"Just ahead," Skoll replied as the jerking of their stablights swept bands of illumination back and forth.
"We trust Seidr's judgement?" Jotnyr questioned.
"The Starfarer has never led us wrong before, he knows where the path of destiny leads."
"You may trust him, but I'm keeping my weapon to hand," Jotnyr hissed.
A snickering hiss betrayed Draugr's scorn, the hunchbacked Wulfen cackling in derision at their banter. He moved with sinuous grace in the low gravity, seemingly born for this environment. Skoll didn't pretend to understand how the mutated creature that was once a Brother could manage so effortlessly, but he did. Draugyr's ease of motion made his comrades look clumsy by comparison.
Far behind the Thunderhawk disappeared below the all-too-close horizon. Skoll had flown down to the moon with only his bosom companions, leaving the rest on Naglfar. The meeting he sought would be delicate enough, without packs of new bloods causing mayhem, or worse the Vanagandyr attacking without thought. Skoll was hardly one for caution, he sought to end the universe after all, but he who sought a Daemon was either a genius or a moron, and Skoll was not stupid.
"You've got it safe?" he asked Gathor.
"Yes, I've got your stinky bone," the Saturnine grumbled, "Don't know why you want it."
"Seidr said we need it, as backup," Skoll grunted.
"What's a bone going to do?"
"That's no ordinary bone, it's torn from the skull of a Norn Queen, bound within is the lingering impression of the Hive Mind. Psychic static, strong enough to cause a Daemon pain. If things go ill break it and the Norn Queen's death-cry will echo forth, instantly banishing even the mightiest prince of the Underverse."
That was the theory, Skoll could only trust it would work, for they had arrived. Ahead a building rose over the narrow horizon, a tiered ziggurat of white stone. How such an edifice could be on this empty waste none could say, but it was here and Skoll approached without hesitation. Distances were deceptive, as they neared he could see the pyramid was short and squat, barely three stories high and roughly hewn, but that did not set him at ease. Fenrisian Ice-spiders did not advertise their lethal nature till the prey blundered into their trap, this smelt much the same to him.
A doorway had been hacked into the lowest tier and Skoll gripped Solulv and Solvarg tight as he entered. The Malefic sprites within grew quiet as the shadows swept over them, cowed into submission by a greater threat. Skoll's eyes quested over the interior and found no imminent danger. The interior was hollow, without internal support or stair. The walls were rough, lacking the runes of the Dark Gods he expected, lit only by flaming torches that burned without fuel. High above an opening to the sky topped the building, revealing starlight burning coldly in the void. Only one thing was worthy of notice, a pool of molten gold laying in a pit, shimmering lights playing over the surface as torches flickered. A series of steps led down to it, like an ancient bathhouse of Ultramar.
"This is disappointing," Gathor sniffed as he lumbered within.
Jotnyr agreed, "I expected profane altars and corrupted choirs, blood sacrifices and offerings of piss and tears to unholy powers, you know, the usual."
Draugr's hackles were upright though and Skoll hissed, "Don't let your guard down, some Daemons are boastful as a Blood Claw deep in his Mjod, others are cunning as a Long Fang laying an ambush. I know which I'd rather face any day."
Gathor sighed, "Remember when we were Blood Claws? Carousing in the Aett, sure we'd tear the enemy limb from limb with our bare hands, like we were living in a saga."
"No," Skoll snarled, "Those days are gone, and the Aett is toppled. Don't linger on the past, it's as dead as Fenris."
"Doesn't mean those days didn't happen," Gathor spat.
"They're gone, let them be," Skoll retorted.
Suddenly Jotnyr hissed, "Beware!"
Skoll's head snapped about, causing his lanky hair to fly. The pool of gold was stirring, as something rose from within. The Nighthowler tensed as a form emerged, rising into the light as liquid gold flowed over its hide. A head made of smoke emerged, feline in aspect with long fangs that hung under its chin. Eyes of burning yellow and upright ears, that flicked constantly. A thick neck made of shadow followed and shoulders broader than Gathor's, leading to a torso that swelled and sank like bellows. Long legs were tipped by paws that hid vicious claws and a tail as thick as a Longboat's hawsers.
The shadow Daemon oozed quiet power, lethal intent evident in every step. From the moment it set foot upon the stair Skoll knew he was in the presence of an apex predator, one that could end them all with ease. Molten gold ran off its flanks, long after it freed itself from the pool, and as it did so the tracks on the skin left glowing yellow runes, in a language Skoll couldn't read and had no wish to learn.
The Daemon topped the stairs and slowly its head turned to face them, notably dropping as it loomed high. The jaw moved and golden fire leaked from within as a voice that echoed in dimensions unseen uttered, "Four stand in my den, twisted in form and stinking of the Dark Ones."
Skoll refused to be cowed, even as his head craned upwards, "I am Skoll, of the Sons of Garm, you are Nightshade. You shall lead me to my prey!"
"Reciting my title garners no mercy; I should devour you whole for daring to approach me!"
Draugr growled in challenge but Nightshade's head turned fractionally and steaming vapour leaked from the Daemon's mouth as he snarled at the Wulfen-touched. Skoll had never seen Draugr back down from a fight but before Nightshade he slunk like a kicked mastiff, unwilling to test the predator's ire. Skoll's mind flickered to the Norn bone Gathor carried, but he did not call for it yet.
Skoll growled, "You are Maleficarum, you are bound by the Dark Gods to treat with any who seek death and doom!"
Nightshade however hissed, "Kin to Daemons am I, but the Dark Ones own not my fealty. I am the hunter of fiends, the predator of Neverborn. Daemon Princes have I devoured, from the Halo Stars to the galactic maw. Those who cannot die have found their ends in my gullet. The servants of Chaos are my prey and you carry their stench upon you."
Skoll growled, "Do not take me for a lackey of the Ruinous Powers. I am Skoll, Jarl of the Wolftime, devourer of stars and herald of Ragnarok! Last of the Vlka Fenryka, all that remains of the sons of Winter and War. From the ruins of dead Fenris I come, to bring about the end of all things. Mankind shall die by my hand, my Primarch will die, and then when the universe is quiet at last the Dark Gods shall be ended too!"
Nightshade paused as its head lowered to examine him closer, "Only a fool or a braggart boasts of the hunt-kill before the spear is cast. Which are you, or mayhap you are both?"
"Do not mock me!" Skoll snarled as he lifted his axes.
Nightshade blurred as he moved. Skoll was struck by an immense weight, flinging him to the ground in a clatter of plate. Solulv and Solvarg dimmed as the fiends within shrank into themselves, unwilling to tempt the wroth of this apex predator. Jotnyr was sent flying and Draugr was slammed down by a batted paw. Skoll's eyes flickered to Gathor, but the Saturnine was equally beset. A tail of molten gold slammed into his bulk and sent him flying into the wall. Something fell from his hand, a bone as long as a man. Nightshade snatched it up and crunched it between his teeth. A thin wail issued forth, but all it did was make the runes on his flanks distort, leaving the Daemon-kin unharmed.
"This was your sword?" Nightshade scoffed.
"It should have worked," Skoll spat from the ground.
"Told you did I, Daemon-kin but no servant of the Dark Ones."
Skoll made to rise but Nightshade loomed over him, head nearly vertical as he hissed, "You bear the marks of Chaos, but you seek their end. I smell Malice on your breath. For this I give you a chance, tell me your secret and I shall grant your boon."
"You'll tell me where to find the Angel's whelps?"
"If you tell me why you left the world of howling wolves," Nightshade growled.
Skoll knew he had no choice, so began the tale, "Armageddon, the months of shame and the stand of Logan Grimnar against the Inquisition. An epic tale told in the halls of Fenris, to regale young Blood Claws about the Vlka Fenryka's bravery and noble hearts. We stood against scheming plotters and trounced them. Many laughed, but I did not. For all their bluster the sons of Fenris served the plotters, with spite and defiance, but serve we did. I alone saw we were an untamed wolf in a kennel, so proud and yet caged."
Nightshade's head tilted, "You broke away?"
Skoll sneered, "Not then, I only heard the tale centuries after. I fought, laughed and drank to forget my ill-temper, but never could I shake the truth. Leman Russ, our Primarch, acted the rebel and yet swore us to the service of the Allfather for all time. Perhaps our grandsire was worthy, but the empire he built was not. Leman Russ placed his sons in chains, bound to serve weaklings and cowards, and then he left us to rot. He turned his back on his own sons and left them enslaved, what father does that?!"
Nightshade's eyes narrowed, "You could not abide serving, you wished to rule?"
Skoll spat, "I wished us to be who we were in our hearts! Unbound by oath to lesser men, free to reave and slay as we will. Beholden to none save our own nobility of heart. I rose to Jarl of my own Great Company, mouthing the expected oaths, but I could only endure so much shame. When the Hive Fleets came, I saw what the Imperium did. The Kryptman protocol, the scouring of whole worlds for no reason. Logan Grimnar lifted not a finger to stop it, after all those songs of our noble cause after Armageddon, he left trillions to die without a care. The hypocrisy was too much to bear; I took my Great Company and swore never to return to Fenris."
"You wish to punish him for his falseness?" Nightshade probed.
Skoll snorted, "No point, he's dead. But Leman Russ, he is out there somewhere. I will bring about the Wolftime, make him return and then carve my name into his hearts. As the last star dies and the universe goes dark he will learn how wrong he was to abandon his sons and I will make him regret chaining us!"
Nightshade's glowing eyes bored into Skoll's then he slunk back, "Your tale amuses me, I wish to see how it ends. You may live."
Skoll half-sat, "You will aid me?"
"You are already on the road, you have only to walk it."
Nightshade turned and slinked back to the stairs, prowling down them one by one. His paws broke the surface of the pool and vanished into molten gold, causing ripples to radiate outwards. Skoll jumped to his feet and saw the Daemon-kin's chin break the surface but called, "Wait, you must tell me where to find my enemies!"
Nightshade's body was sinking into the gold but he held his head aloft for a moment, "If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago."
Nightshade vanished and the pool rippled for a moment then fell still. Gathor stomped forward, "What was that about?"
"Mystical claptrap," Jotnyr growled, "Typical of Daemons."
But Skoll thought otherwise. His head rose to the slice of open sky in the roof, where the stars had begun to dance. Points of light had begun to twist and writhe, lurid colours spreading as space and time were ripped apart. A sudden burst of Unlight signalled a warp translation point forming, a rupture in reality as a ship forced its way back into realspace. Hundreds of thousands of kilometres away Skoll could not see the ship in question, but he knew who it had to be. He had arrived first, and the Angel's whelps had blundered straight into him.
Skoll ran for the door shouting, "Make haste, they are here! To the Thunderhawk, the horns of war are sounding and the hounds strain at the leash. The end of all things is closer than ever!"
