Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 349
To say Skoll was furious would be an understatement. The battle had been all but won, Naglfar had brushed off the Angels whelp's defiance and delivered the Vlka Fenryka to their foes. As reaver lords falling upon a sleeping islet they had made a ruin amongst the callow prey, ending lives and making the deck run red with blood. The few Angelic runts who dared stand were cut apart and Skoll had known the end was at hand. Then it all went wrong.
Cries on the vox from Naglfar of an intruder. The shuddering violence of weapon impacts, followed by the grinding penetration of boarding torpedoes, then the fight became bloody and close. Skoll heard cries of fresh foes entering the fray, Transhumans fierce in aspect and bloody in hand, and one call had spoken of amber warriors marked with a snake and goblet. Skoll had expected the umber serpent of prophecy to be men, not Marines, and it irritated like a fishhook in the cheek. Skoll had thought the Adeptus Astartes a spent force, few and ragged. All he had encountered he had killed, from Sons of the Lion to Manus, but it turned out he'd missed one.
Ahead raged fierce fighting and Skoll raced to intervene. At his flanks the Vanagandyr loped, along with a score of the Sons of Garm. Skoll felt his Wolf spirit frothing in rage, demanding to be unleashed and nearly he let slip its chain. But yet he had orders to give and barked, "Let the mutts go first!"
Jotnyr snarled back, "The wolf-heart hungers!"
"It will feast, but the pack is greater than the lone wolf. Let the chaff take the first shot, I want to see what these newcomers have got."
Skoll slowed a hair, though his inner wolf howled in denial. The Vlka Fenryka did likewise, as the Vanagandyr raced ahead. It was a wise move, as they burst into the hold a brilliant eruption of light smote them, achingly bright. The mutated wastrels fell to their knees in torment but Skoll grinned, his enemy had shown their hand too early, now it was his turn.
Skoll gathered his strength and bounded through the searing light, even as it began to fade. His boots hit metal decking and he beheld a wide ship-hold, large enough to house a regiment. Crates and shanty lean-tos dwelt here, remnants of the scum the Angel's by-blows loved to pick up. From one wall a torpedo protruded, its nose opened like a flower's petals to allow egress. Yet Skoll was far more interested in the Transhumans standing in his way.
A dozen Space Marines, in umber hues unlike any he had seen previously. They wore mismatched marks of plate, with layered folds of armour covering the pauldrons of a few. Some had proud Mark VII helms, others crude Mark V and a few had stylised helms with snarling faces sculpted into them. Skoll had never seen such a bizarre fusion of styles and marks, clashing aesthetics making it seem as if they had been picking through a scrap heap and grabbed whatever still worked. Yet the weapons in their hands looked lethal. Janky and ill-sorted, but proud and in his way.
Skoll fixed his eyes upon their leader, flanked by towering elites with shimmering energy staves, and made his challenge. The reply stoked his anger tenfold. "Ave Imperator!" the leader cried as he charged into the fray. Skoll's wroth peaked, the Emperor was dead, Terra was ash, and yet this cur dared invoke that decaying skeleton as if the Golden Throne hadn't been smashed to kindling. Skoll would make him pay for that.
The Vlka Fenryka howled as they engaged, axes in their hands hacking at Ceramite, as long steel swords struck terrible blows. Skoll however had eyes only for their leader and struck first. Solulv left glittering hoarfrost in the air as he swung high, Solvarg crackled with potential as he chopped for the legs. To his utter shock neither blow landed. The charging warrior in amber twisted and leapt, diving around the fuming axes in a dizzying swirl. A blade flashed and a blow to his pauldron carved a deep furrow, failing to draw blood but insulting regardless.
Skoll snarled as he spun about, expecting a follow-up blow, but to his surprise the foe continued his charge. Into the fray he tore, his flashing blade sweeping out to take a Son of Garm in the spine unawares. All around warriors in Ceramite orange and grey grappled, hacking and smashing in bloody torrent. A flash of red betrayed one of the Angel's whelps was here, but Skoll had eyes only for the leader.
"Stop running and let me kill you!" Skoll snarled.
"Know that Coluber is not fool enough to make it easy for you!" came the taunting reply.
Skoll's wolf-spirit rose in fury and the leash was let slip. Red mist descended over his eyes and he threw himself at this Coluber. Solulv blurred as his arm drove forward, Solvarg lit the air on fire as he struck. A headlong charge did he make, fangs exposed in rabid fury, but Coluber was already twisting out of the way. Not this time, the remnant of thought in Skoll's head barked. He jerked to follow, chasing the fleeting footsteps of his foe, determined not to let him get away.
The beast was unleashed and Skoll's arm had never been deadlier. Faster than a cast spear his blows struck, stronger than the grip of ice that breaks ships in Hellwinter. His hearts pounded in his ears, drowning out the noise of battle, the rasp of his lungs made ribs beat on the insides of his armour like a drum. Skoll saw the world in red hues as he hacked and sliced and chopped, and yet for all that he had not killed the enemy.
Coluber avoided the blows with sinuous grace, falling back constantly as his curved blade weaved a tight web of defiance. He did not block and parry, trusting to strength, but rather deflected and redirected, making Skoll overextend with each blow. The beast howled as it redoubled its onslaught and yet Coluber never let it dictate the terms of the engagement. Skoll wasn't used to that, the Angel's whelps always stood their ground before him, dying in futile attempts to match his strength and fury. This serpent's son refused to give him that chance, Coluber was speed and cunning embodied, he fought cold, like an adder slithering across mossy rocks.
The beast within was enraged but Skoll gripped the leash once more and slowed his assault, he gripped his weapons tight and snarled, "You fight like a coward!"
"Better that than an idiot," Coluber retorted as he held his sword low.
"You are a fool, fighting for the sake of a broken throne!"
"I fight for the Emperor, by the will of his Regent-son have I come!"
Something about that struck Skoll as wrong, but then another intervened. From the raging melee a Marine in red charged, swinging a broken chainsword. One of the Angel's runts, trying to be a hero. Skoll reacted with blinding speed, the stalled teeth clanged off his pauldron as Solvarg cut high, parting the arm from the warrior in a spray of electric sparks. The weakling staggered and Skoll made to finish him off with Solulv, but Coluber blade came into play, knocking the axe aside.
Skoll grinned as he powered into Coluber, slamming him back with a snarled, "He won't thank you for denying him death."
Coluber was pinned chest to chest, unable to run anymore as he spat, "You won't win!"
"I am a son of Fenris, the world of winter and war! No fiercer warriors exist than those under the eye of Morkai!"
But Coluber grinned, "You may be a son of Russ... but I am a son of a bitch!"
A flash of scarlet was all the warning Skoll got as a lance came at his head. The beast surged into control, forcing his skull back. A crackling energy stave tore over his gorget, melting Ceramite. Skoll shoved Coluber away and saw a second lance sweeping low, trying to chop his legs off. The end was at hand, and Skoll nearly let it come, but the wolf-spirit reacted on instinct, throwing him into the blow. He got inside the arc of the lance, slamming aside the wielder as he staggered past.
He pivoted on his heel and saw Coluber flanked by twin elites, hearth-guards coming to their Jarl's aid. Damn bastard had been toying with Skoll, drawing him away so the pair could isolate and entrap him. Smooth, damned smooth, but all it was doing was making Skoll angry. The Jarl did not wait for them to strike but drove forward, twin axes lashing out. Energy staves were forced to defend and Coluber was out of position to strike as Skoll tore bloody furrows in the gleaming armour of the foes. One pass and he was forced to disengage, as crackling speartips ripped into his plate. A servomotor blew and his armour wailed but he ignored it as he swung wide, forcing them back a step.
"We have you surrounded," Coluber growled as he stepped right.
Skoll grinned, "You stick to me like a flea, but a wolf can always scratch back!"
Skoll's hands blurred as he threw his axes. Solulv flew for Coluber's head, forcing him to twist back unsteadily and stagger to avoid being killed. Solvarg hurtled at the bigger elite's hearts, making him dive aside as the thunderstorm blackened his plate. That left one elite and he came at Skoll with a downward strike, trying to bisect his skull. The elite thought the Jarl unarmed and vulnerable, but Skoll had a weapon, he just had to take it from his enemy's hands first.
As the energy stave fell Skoll's gauntlets shot upwards, meeting the haft inches from his head. The elite started in shock as his deathblow was denied and tried to pull back. Skoll didn't let him, the Jarl summoned the strength of the wolf within and heaved hard, forcing the cur to jerk forward. Skoll lowered his skull and met a faceplate with the crest of his head. Ceramite against bone should have only one outcome, but the crack of eye lenses and a stagger to the step told the elite came off worse. His grip faltered and that was all Skoll needed to rip the stave away, swing hard to cut the fool in half with his own weapon.
"No, Seyda!" Coluber cried in anger, his cold demeanour slipping.
"Finally got you mad," Skoll grinned as he dropped the stave and summoned his axes back.
They flew to his hands as Coluber snarled, "I am going to end you, painfully."
"You can try, but you aren't the only one with sly tricks," Skoll sneered.
A shadow at the hold's door signalled Gathor Hammerhand arriving. The Saturnine loomed over the fray, his bulk standing head and shoulders above the fight. His hands morphed into assault cannons and he made to fire. Coluber was faster, he drew a bulky six-shooter from his belt and fired. The pellet struck Gathor in the head, spilling incandescent flares everywhere. All was aching light for an instant but then Gathor shrugged off the white fire scoffing, "It tickles."
Assault cannons screamed as they let fly, tearing into the fight. The Sons of Garm reacted on instinct, dropping to the deck. The serpent warriors were less experienced and were caught full-on. A scything torrent of rounds punched into plate and let blood flow. The closest was struck so many times his armour shattered, dropping Ceramite chunks to the floor as his body was filled with hot lead. He jerked uncontrollably, then fell, riddled through by oozing holes. The serpents fell back, they had no choice, unable to withstand the torrent at close range.
"Now we take them!" Jotnyr snarled as he moved to pursue.
"No, we fallback," Skoll hissed.
"Fallback?!" Jotnyr gasped, "Did you break your skull with that move?!"
"Use your brain, listen to the vox, they've got reinforcements closing. This was but the first wave!"
It was true, the Naglfar was howling warnings of gunships latching on to the hull of the Angel's ship, about to burn through and disgorge their passengers. Hundreds of Space Marines were about to join the fight, a contest Skoll wasn't ready for, not without greater understanding. The balance had shifted and the Jarl needed to know what he was fighting, so he could kill it.
"All packs move back to the Naglfar, let the Vanagandyr keep these fools busy," Skoll voxed, "And someone find Draugr and drag him back to the ship!"
"Sons of Garm, retreating," Jotnyr gulped, "Never would I believe it."
"The wolf-pack fights with cunning. We draw back, we adjust, then we come back and kill them all," Skoll snarled, "Gathor, drive them back, then follow us. Don't delay, I won't wait for you!"
"You never let me have any fun!" the Hammerhand snorted.
As the Saturnine swept bullets around the serpents fell back, leaving the Sons of Garm to make their exit. Skoll paused as he stooped to grab the truncated half of the elite he'd killed, hoisting him over a shoulder. Dead, or soon would be the way he was gushing blood, it didn't matter for Skoll had a use regardless. He turned his back on the fight and made his exit, departing before hundreds of reinforcements could swamp his position.
Skoll strode off muttering to himself, "They can have their petty triumph, for my final victory is inevitable. In the end, everything dies."
