Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 351
Naglfar sailed from the battle, trailing tendrils thrashing gravity waves to propel them. The hybrid ship bled from scores of wounds, dripping ichor and oil into the freezing void. Terrible wounds had the twisted vessel taken, but already they began to close. Fleshmetal drew Chitin armour together, making the ship whole once more.
Deep within the losses were more harrowing. Vanagandyr snapped at each other, venting frustrations with lashing claws. Many of the dominant alphas among them had been lost, and the remainder fought to establish new pecking orders. Claws flashed and fangs bit deep as frenzied bloodletting ran through the tainted bowels of the craft. Many fell, too many and the Sons of Garm were forced to offer incentives to stop the fighting. Cages of females were yanked open and the young and old were forced into the dark tunnels. The Vanagandyr smelled fresh meat and fell upon them in a ravenous feast of living flesh, killing the screaming women in droves. Some among them devoured their own friends and kin, ripping sisters and daughters to shreds, but the Wulfen spirit recognised no ties of family and hunger drove out all reason.
Skoll however was not watching. The Nighthowler marched through pulsing corridors, making his way to the brain of the ship. His armour sparked from deep wounds and his walk hid a limp, but he pressed on, unwilling to turn aside. Over his shoulder he bore the truncated half of the elite he'd killed, still cooling as Rigour Mortis creept in. Behind stomped Gathor and Jotnyr, seemingly mystified as to his intent. Draugr had turned up once they returned to the ship, and he brought a pack of Vanagandyr, instinctively following their pack leader.
"Our losses were troubling," Jotnyr was saying,
"Huh," Skoll grunted in disinterest.
"We lost a third of the Vanagandyr, and many packs are missing their Brothers. You need to address them."
"Don't tell me what to do," Skoll grumbled.
Gathor cut in, "There's no point speaking to him in this mood, his Wyrd is upon him."
"Wyrd or no he needs to be with the Packs," Jotnyr protested, "A Jarl must be seen to lead, or else will not be a Jarl for long."
"They fear me too much to try anything," Skoll grunted.
"There's more to being Jarl than hacking off the heads of anyone who looks at you funny! You must share the spoils of victory, fete courage and boldness and punish failures. Never is it more important than when facing defeat."
"If the word defeat crosses your tongue again, I'll rip it out," Skoll growled. Jotnyr shut up, but Draugr cackled in mocking tones, his lips drawing back as hyena barks of snide jest echoed from the Vanagandyr. Skoll ignored them all as he entered the brain, stepping onto the wet folds of the craniums. Ahead Seidr squatted on his stone circle, fleshmetal cables in his back pulsing in time with the ship's heartbeats. He was deep in communion with the Naglfar, tending its wounds, but Skoll didn't care. The Jarl marched up to the stone circle, stopping short of stepping onto it though he dumped the corpse onto the dull rock.
"Seidr," Skoll growled, "Seidr heed me!"
"I am busy," the Starfarer whispered with closed eyes.
"Is that how you address Skoll?!"
"I am cleaning up your mess and healing our wounds. Do not pretend anyone else can do this. Quit making pointless threats, we both know you need me too much."
"You don't need eyeballs," Skoll hissed.
Seidr finally opened his eyes and betrayed a flicker of surprise at the crowd ringing his den. Skoll typically spoke to him alone, to bring company was unheard of. Then Seidr's eyes fell on the half-corpse and his brow lifted in curiosity. He crawled over in a hunch, dragging cables along as he bowed low and smelt the body, like a mutt inspecting a juicy bone before cracking it open for marrow.
"You bring me a gift?" Seidr asked with a grin.
"You can have it, once you reveal the secrets of my foes," Skoll stated.
"Secrets yes, many strange occurrences, even by the measure of Ragnarok. A Chapter of unknown stripe, a Starfort appearing without a whisper. It appeared from nowhere, I say that literally. To your eyes it just popped into existence, but I see X-rays and smell microwaves, I see all, but I did not see this coming. There was no Warp Translation, no quiver of gravity to betray a Reflex shield. The Starfort did not exist in this universe, until it suddenly did."
"Tell me more," Skoll hissed.
"As you will," Seidr bowed.
Jotnyr looked on in confusion, "What's he doing?"
"Things you can't," Skoll muttered.
Gathor muttered, "I'm bound to my plate, but this is creeping me out."
Seidr was rocking back and forth, throwing his arms up at random as he chanted a meaningless dirge of nonsense words. The fleshmetal of Naglfar responded, extruding fleshmetal cables from the oozing meat of the brain. Jotnyr warily stepped back as the snaking cables inched forward, but Skoll stood unmoving as they climbed onto the plinth. Slithering tendrils found the corpse and drove into the truncated end, writhing as they forced themselves into dead meat.
Skoll looked on interest as the corpse twitched, then jerked with greater strength. Even now black tendrils were worming through the cadaver, wrapping around organs and forcing them to work. Hearts were squeezed, lungs compelled to inhale, while neurons had electricity injected into them. The body shook wildly, then the head convulsed and a thin scream issued forth.
"Bones of Fenris!" Jotnyr exclaimed in alarm.
But Gathor replied, "Impressive."
"Shut up, it's working," Skoll hissed.
The body fell limp as the others slinked back, even Draugr repulsed by the sight of the dead being puppeteered like a toy on a string. Seidr yanked the helm free as the dead man's eyes opened and a gush of thin bile vomited over a grey tongue. The marine was dead, there was no mistaking that, but still he stared in mad panic as Maleficarum dragged his soul back from the Aether and forced it into a sack of cold meat.
"Whaa…" the undead thing gulped.
Seidr crooned, "Take your time, it's not easy being dead but your soul had not dissolved into the Underverse yet, you can speak."
"Why?!" the cadaver wailed.
Skoll spoke, "To answer my questions. Let's start with your name."
"I'll tell you nothing!"
"Wrong answer," Skoll snarled.
Seidr twitched and suddenly the corpse threw back its head and screamed. Fleshmetal cables were buried into the folds of its brains and at the Starfarer's will they lit up. Electrical pulses tore across neurons, simulating agony, searing torment scraping along every nerve. A man would have to be set on fire and sprayed with acid to feel pain like this, and the mercy of death was denied.
"Seyda!" the dead man screamed in agony.
"That's better," Skoll snorted as the torment ceased, "Space Marine or not, you cannot withstand this torture. Your hypno-indoctrination has limits, I have none. Speak truth and you will be spared, refuse to answer and you will burn."
Behind Jotnyr grumbled, "Couldn't you just pull the memories out?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Gathor scoffed as Draugr snickered with a hacking tone.
"Tell me who your tribe are," Skoll pressed.
"Amber Vipers," Seyda admitted without choice, "Led by Coluber, our Chapter Master."
Skoll nodded to Seidr and another pulse was sent into the body. This was different, the electrical current was precisely targeted on the pleasure centres of the brain. Seyda gasped as his grey eyes went wide, a rush of sensation consuming his being. A Slaaneshi cultist couldn't experience such intense physical pleasure, joy and bliss mixed in a heady brew of pleasure. Skoll wasn't blind to the utility of reward, and knew it would loosen the tongue of the victim. After a time the victim would beg to spill his secrets.
"How did you come to be here?" Skoll asked.
"Corposant…" Seyda slurred, "Ghostwind… Xenos tech…"
"A Xenos relic, interesting," Seidr mused.
"Why did you intervene?" Skoll pressed.
"Orders… find Dimmamar, retrieve weapons vaults, bring back contents," Seyda uttered.
"Orders from whom?" Skoll frowned, "For what purpose?"
"Roboute Guilliman, Belisarius Cawl… for the Imperium."
"Lair!" Skoll bellowed and pain returned to Seyda's existence. The dead man screamed in torment as his brain was set on fire, dispelling the clouds of bliss and plunging him into a state of unbearable agony. His remains thrashed and choked, begging to be returned to death, but he was denied. Seyda was forbidden the peace of the grave, condemned to suffer without end.
"There is no Imperium," Skoll hissed, "There is no Throneworld! The Abyss took them all!"
Seyda thrashed as he spilled words, "It's true, the Imperium endures, the Emperor lives! The Primarch of Ultramar returned to save Terra and rebuild the Imperium. He leads an Indomitus Crusade to drive back the darkness, he sent us to cross the rift and retrieve a hidden vault."
"There is nothing beyond the abyss!" Skoll spat.
"The rift cuts the galaxy in two, but beyond lies an empire of a million worlds," Seyda wept.
Seidr intervened, "He does not lie."
"He must be," Skoll growled.
"It's true, make it stop!" Seyda howled.
Seidr let the corpse be for a moment but Skoll was not done, he leaned in, soul aflame with anger. Behind Jotnyr tapped Gathor on the arm and nodded to the exit. The Saturnine stepped backwards, inching out of the chamber as quietly as he could. The Fleshsmith followed, as did Draugr, slinking out before Skoll noticed. The Vanagandyr remained; unaware their masters had slipped away, as Skoll continued his interrogation.
The Nighthowler leaned in, "The Emperor is dead, the Imperium is dead. I saw it happen, the final twilight is upon us and humanity's last hour is at hand. I have scoured hundreds of worlds to hasten the end, hundreds!"
Seyda betrayed a hint of defiance as his lip twitched, "A few hundred down, a million more to go."
Skoll snarled, "If this is true then my task is more important than ever. I will take this Xenos relic and travel the stars, bringing the end to all the worlds of men!"
Seyda snorted, "Try it, a Primarch leads the Imperium and he's thrice the bastard you are, he'll rip you limb from limb."
Skoll glared in fury but snarled, "And what of Fenris?! What of the Vlka Fenryka and the Great Wolf?!"
Seyda looked up with a smug expression, "Fenris stands and the Space Wolves endure. Logan Grimnar fights to defend the northern marches of Segmentum Solar. His brotherhood repulses Ork incursions across a hundred worlds and his name is hailed by men on a thousand more as a champion and hero!"
Skoll's anger broiled over and his hands fell to his weapons. Solulv and Solvarg erupted into life as he swung about, seeking a victim to take his ire out upon. Idle Vanagandyr were caught unawares, carved apart before they could react. Skoll laid into the pack without care, blind to the fact he was killing his own. His axes tore bodies to shreds, as fury erupted from his lips in a howl of rage. The bestial creatures ran from his wroth, they bowed before him, or tried to claw his armour in defiance. It mattered not, Skoll ended them all, cutting their threads to appease his anger.
Behind screaming arose as Seidr began playing with his new toy, subjecting the dead man to highs of pleasure and pits of agony unimaginable. He could sustain this indefinitely, keeping Seyda's soul caged in a prison of dead meat, in endless torment. Skoll ignored it, lost in the red mist of rage. He cared only for slaughter as he vented his ire in a storm of bloodletting. His dream was ashes but he would not let it go so easily. No matter how long it took, no matter how many worlds he had to destroy he would not turn from his course. Though it take a thousand years, Skoll would see the galaxy burn.