Choice and Consequences

The Kroot came at him with its weapon jabbing forward at lightning speed. The blow was inhumanly fast, driven by Xenos sinews and alien muscles it would have ripped the heart out of any mortal man. But Watch-Sergeant Itzaal was not mortal. He twisted aside with eye-watering speed and the jagged knife on the end of the Xenos' rifle merely scored over his blackened breastplate, leaving a silver groove over his hearts where bare Ceramite was exposed. Itzaal fell back, swinging his Macuahuitl hand over hand before him, the prismatic blades on either end of the long haft casting rainbows as he wove a web of defence.

The Kroot paused as its attack was blocked and crouched low, its beak clacking in anticipation of the kill. Itzaal reviled its offensive visage, the crude mockery of the perfect human form. All aliens were an affront to the glorious Sun-Emperor but this one was especially vile. Its thin limbs were covered with festering sores and rancid blood wept from the cracks in its joints. Its leathery skin was mottled like mould and the long braids hanging from its scalp writhed like living tentacles. Even its features were wrong, the beak as sharp as a razor and it had too many eyes. Kroot were a genically adaptive race but this was not natural, the rancid stench of Chaos seeped out of it like soured milk.

Itzaal carefully paced right, keeping the Kroot in his eye line at all times. His face was pale and angular, bearing the hallmarks of Corax's blood, and his oiled hair and iris' were pitch black. His armour was the same shade, utterly black save for his left arm which was shining silver and his right pauldron, that bore the feline icon of the Smoke-Jaguars Chapter. In his hands was a long stave, flattened at either end and lined by prismatic blades that rippled like water as he weaved them through the air. His Macuahuitl, brought from Copan XII, it was his favoured weapon and he would never be parted from it.

Around the combatants the Kroot village burned, the high trees obscured by smoke and fire. Screams and shots arose, human and alien as the Deathwatch Kill-team laid waste to this Xenos nest. Destruction rained down as specialised weapons found nowhere else in the galaxy were unleashed, artefacts that were death for anyone other than the Deathwatch to wield. Yet the fiercest violence was at the heart of the village, where flashes of unlight revealed the Warp at work, their unwelcome allies wielding powers even the Ordo Xenos would baulk to use.

Itzaal put it from his mind as he stalked right, his awareness narrowing to a laser-like focus. He felt the wind on his face, and the crunching of roots under his boots. He felt the blood pumping through his veins, the blessings of the Sun-Emperor unto his flesh, and the pounding of his hearts rang in his ears. His eyes saw only the foe, tensed and ready to spring and he knew the moment of truth was at hand. Once more their blades would pass and this time only one would survive.

Suddenly the Kroot leapt into motion. There was no bunching of muscles, no hint of motion, it merely pounced with inhuman swiftness and the blow simply was. Itzaal however was ready and his speed was Transhuman. He swung his Macuahuitl upwards, the broadhead catching the rifle-blade and knocking it out of the way. The Kroot blinked in surprise but before it could respond the other end of the stave caught it in the groin and the prismatic blades opened its flesh from hip to larynx. With one sure strike Itzaal disembowelled the alien and stepped aside to let it collapse lifelessly into the brush.

Silence fell, the screams of the battle dying out and Itzaal knew the heirs of the Sun-Emperor were victorious. He drew in a breath and released his tension, letting his hearts slow in his chest, calming his humours for what was to come. The battle was over and now the rituals must be observed. He dropped to one knee and reached out his hand to wet his fingers in alien blood then he lifted it to his lips and placed it on his tongue. This was the way of the Smoke Jaguars, to taste the foe's blood and learn their weaknesses and vulnerabilities through the consumption of flesh. Itzaal oft wished to be among his own kin, but that was not for him to decide. He had chosen to join the Deathwatch and the consequences of that were his to bear. All he could do was honour his Chapter's traditions as best he could. Unfortunately this time he tasted only fetid corruption, the vile touch of mutation coating his tongue with vileness.

Itzaal gaged on the rotten flavour and spat upon the ground, emptying his mouth of the taint. He wiped his tongue with his palm, and made a 'Blaargh,' noise.

From nearby a merry laugh issued forth, "Ha! Did the taste offend you?!"

Itzaal looked up and saw another Marine approaching. He had a broad face, ever ready to laugh or make merry, a rare thing among the Deathwatch. At his hip was a curved scimitar and his right shoulder bore the mark of the Crimson Castellans. This was Mellios, a warrior of fierce skill and ardour who Itzaal counted a friend and comrade in arms.

Itzaal stood up and said, "Tainted. Chaos has touched this land."

"The reports were accurate," Mellios sighed, "Good job the Grey knights tagged along."

Itzaal grimaced at that and muttered, "Our honoured allies await us."

"Try saying that with less rancour next time," Mellios scoffed.

Itzaal said nothing as he set off, heading for the heart of the village. As they walked he saw the other members of their Kill-team, cleansing the village of taint. There was Gunta, blood of the Iron Lords, marching from house to house and clearing them with a shot from a wide-bore frag cannon. Here was Consulis, blood of the Blood Ravens, his Power Sword shining as he cleaved injured Kroot in twain. There was Mapphon, blood of the Carcharodon Astra, who was dragging mewling cubs out of their hiding places and decapitating them with a growling chainsword. No consideration was given to youth or infirmity, this den of Xenos' had been condemned by the Ordo Xenos and Malleus and the Chamber Militant would see it done.

Itzaal left them behind as the pair marched to the heart of the village, where five warriors in silver armour knelt in prayer. Their plate was a marvel of psionic art, fashioned with reverent devotion and thrice-blessed against the touch of Daemons. Their plates bore icons of unknown providence save for a sword laid across an open book. Their polearms shimmered with power and each breastplate bore an armoured casing, containing a book none save their order could read. These were the Grey Knights, sole guardians of the secret lore of Titan, the Sun-Emperor's dedicated Daemon hunters and His last gift unto mankind before he ascended the Golden Throne. His last hope to deny the Gods of Chaos.

One of them stood up as the pair approached and Itzaal was put back by the aura of power surrounding him. His features were broad and plain and his head covered by a leather cowl but that was incidental compared to the shining power in his blue eyes. Even though he was no Psyker Itzaal could feel this one's purity radiating, his impenetrable halo of sanctity a barrier against everything foul and corrupt. He wore his righteousness as a cloak and nothing of the Warp could sully his soul.

Itzaal stopped and swallowed slightly but put on a brave face and said, "Hail, son of Titan. We come to settle…"

The Grey Knight cut him off saying, "I have no use for your pretty words. I am Justicar Eriel and you shall submit to my judgement."

Itzaal had no knowledge of the Grey Knight's hierarchy but he wasn't about to be pushed around by anyone and hissed, "You have no authority to command me."

Mellios added, "The Deathwatch are exempt from your mind-wiping, you are not stealing our memories."

"I care nothing for your secrets but in matters of Heresy my word is law," Eriel proclaimed.

Itzaal's gore rose and he gripped his weapon tightly as he growled, "You accuse us of Heresy?!"

Eriel's eyes narrowed and he uttered, "I do, the Ordo Xenos has become corrupted. You shall submit to the Ordo Malleus at once."

Itzaal took a step backwards and lifted his weapon as he snarled, "The Ordo Xenos is subordinate to none, you have no authority over us!"

Eriel took up his polearm and growled, "Do not test me, without any of your pet witch-Librarians you are no match for five Grey Knights. I have uncovered an attempt to hide treason most foul. The Ordo Xenos did not condemn this village to stop a threat but to bury their crimes!"

Mellios drew his blade and scoffed, "And we are supposed to take your word for this?!"

"No," Eriel spat, "See with your own eyes."

The Grey Knight stepped aside and Itzaal beheld a sword driven into the ground. Surrounded by the praying Grey Knights the vile thing quivered, its blade jagged and marred by swirls and blinking eyeballs. It oozed corruption, the vileness of the warp made manifest and staining the ground black. A shimmering aura of purity held the corruption at bay, projected by the praying Grey Knights but without it Itzaal was sure his flesh would be writhing in protest against the raw filth of the Warp.

"This is what corrupted the Kroot?" Itzaal breathed in horror.

"Yes," Eriel uttered, "This blade contains the Daemon K'erietahata. The creature is known to us, it was defeated millennia ago by an Inquisitorial Conclave and sealed away in the vaults of the Ordo Xenos… against our stringent protests. Someone removed it from those vaults and brought it here with a foul purpose, someone with access to the Ordo Xenos."

"But… but who would do such a thing?" Itzaal gasped.

"Ask your comrade," Eriel growled, "Guilt drips off his aura like sweat."

There was the slightest stiffening at Itzaal's side, the smallest intake of breath but it was enough. The reaction was as great as an admission of guilt and Itzaal knew the accusation was true. He knew it in his bones. The Grey Knight spoke truth and Heresy walked at his side. Itzaal turned with dread horror and breathed, "Mellios, what have you done?!"

Mellios looked aghast, his face pale and harrowed. He looked like he would protest but he retained enough honour to speak true and confessed, "Only what I was ordered to do."

"Why?!" Itzaal growled, "Why would you let loose Chaos?!"

Mellios took as step back and implored, "The Tau empire grows too great a threat. Their numbers increase with every race they absorb, creating legions of Xenos. We cannot permit them to continue, we must break their precious unity. Our efforts to corrupt the Tau have failed, their souls are insignificant but their allies are a different story. If we could contaminate those races then we could shatter the Tau Empire. Chaos could end the Tau without us firing a single shot! "

"You would utilise the weapons of the Archenemy," Eriel accused, "You embrace the forbidden creed of Xanthism!"

Itzaal pressed, "You couldn't have done this alone, who else is involved?!"

Mellios stammered, "I can't tell you, their names are forbidden."

"You protect Heretical renegades," Itzaal snarled, "Dupes who play with forces they cannot control. Look about and see the fruits of your labours. These tainted Kroot would never break an empire. Your plan failed!"

Yet Mellios argued, "The plan could have worked, it just proceeded too quickly. We chose too strong a Daemon, its taint became obvious too quickly. A subtler one could worm its way into the heart of the Tau empire, spreading corruption far and wide before the first hint of mutation became apparent."

Eriel stomped forward and growled, "You shall give me the names of these Traitorous Inquisitors."

Mellios backed up a step and cried, "Itzaal, you won't let him kill me will you?!"

Itzaal hefted his Macuahuitl and growled, "No, I won't let him kill you. I shall do it myself."

Mellios' eyes widened and he gasped, "My friend, I don't want to fight you."

"What you want is dust in the wind," Itzaal snarled, "What you have chosen is upon you."

Mellios swallowed as he waved his sword back and forth between the pair and protested, "You can't blame me, it wasn't my fault. The Inquisitors, they made me do it. How could I say no to them?!"

"A child bleats of fault and blame," Itzaal hissed, "A man accepts the consequences of his own choices. You chose to spend the coin of Heresy and now your debt is due."

Mellios' face hardened and he growled, "So be it."

Suddenly he attacked, sword swinging for Itzaal's face. Eriel moved to intercept but Itzaal was faster. He leapt to meet his friend in mid-air, Macuahuitl spinning. Mellios' sword wove around the shaft and darted forward but the angle was poor and the point only carved a slice out of the Smoke Jaguar's face. Blood flowed freely but in return the Prismatic blades sliced through the air, aiming for Mellios' throat. An arm moved to block but the rainbow daggers cleaved through it with no effort at all and swept on to tear out the windpipe of the Traitor.

Itzaal landed on his feet and staggered forward two paces as he recovered. His hearts burned with ire, the weight of his deeds heavy upon his hearts but he refused to yield. He had chosen to end the Traitor by his own hand and he would not shirk from the consequences of his act. He turned to see Mellios kneeling in the dirt, his lifeblood fountaining over his front as he swayed drunkenly. Eriel was looming over him and placed one hand upon his skull. There was a flash in those piercing blue eyes then he lifted his palm and let Mellios drop, dead before his face touched the ground.

Itzaal wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, knowing he would bear that scar evermore and questioned, "You have the names?"

Eriel nodded as he said, "Inquisitor Lords of Xenos and Malleus both, a terrible crime indeed."

"One that shall be punished," Itzaal swore.

Eriel looked at him and said, "You intend to lead the cleansing yourself?"

"Give me the names and Ordo Xenos shall clear up its own mess," Itzaal promised, "You concern yourself with Malleus."

Eriel nodded but asked, "The Daemonsword?"

"Take it," Itzaal stated, "Lock it away on Titan where none will ever look upon it again."

"So shall it be," Justicar Eriel vowed, "A great cleansing is coming and many lives will be ended by my Nemesis blade."

Itzaal knelt by his dead friend and dipped his fingers in the spreading blood. He licked the rich iron stain off his digits, tasting the flesh of Mellios and then he uttered grimly, "My soul burns for vengeance and my blades thirst for the blood of Traitors. The Inquisition led my friend into Heresy and they are about to learn they cannot escape the consequences of their acts."