Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 280

The high peaks of Mancora were sharp and unforgiving, sheer crags and snow-topped peaks covering the planet The seas were more shallow lakes between ranges, than broad oceans. The stark light of the nearby star blazed in the sky, untroubled by clouds and the wind's touch was chilling, the kind of gust that went straight through a man and left his bones frigid. Mancora was a hard world, taxing and pitiless, a world where the will to survive was paramount, and the merest thought of surrender brought death. Unyielding, indomitable and severe, the home of the Howling Griffons was the mirror of the Chapter's soul.

Among the craggy slopes the Proud Eyrie rose. Fortress-Monastery, bastion of war and spiritual home to a Chapter that could trace its lineage across ten millennia. Built into the flank of an unclimbable mountain its crenellations topped kilometre-high vertical walls. Macroweapons crowned soaring towers, shield vanes sprouted like thorns on a cactus and gunship hangers beyond counting were hidden in the summit. The northern flank was a spectacular sight, protruding from the slopes was the prow of an Imperial capital ship, landed in ancient days to form the nexus of the Fortress-Monastery. Its bow thrust into the open air, hanging over a nauseating drop and still bearing a golden double-headed eagle figurehead. A testament to the grandeur of the Proud Eyrie.

On an outcropping a lone Marine knelt in silent meditation. He was naked, his implant sockets exposed to the open air. Ice had crusted upon the metal of the plugs, building up over days of exposure to the freezing wind. The bleak sun brought no warmth, the nights were cold enough to kill a mortal and he had not eaten or drank in three days. Still and silent he remained, eyes closed as he focused on his breathing. There was no world beyond his own thoughts, he was not stirred by the rain or snow that fell upon him at times, nor the sharp cries of the long-feathered Pytrogrines nesting among the slopes. He was utterly focused on his goal, so when a cough rose behind him Brother-Captain Ryneon was not pleased.

"Forgive the intrusion, Brother-Captain," a gravelly voice issued.

"I am meditating," Ryneon replied without opening his eyes.

"I understand, but orders demand I intrude, you are summoned."

"It can wait," Ryneon stated.

"The order comes from the Acting-Chapter Master, he requires your presence immediately."

Ryneon did not stir, "Nyoir, you are aware that I have sworn a sacred oath to meditate for three days?"

"Yes Brother-Captain," the voice replied.

"And how long has it been?"

"Two days, twenty-three hours and eighteen minutes."

Ryneon remained still, "Then I must remain for another forty-two minutes. I would not expect you to understand, but I assure you Chapter Master Alvaro will. Do not come between a son of Mancora and the completion of an oath."

"I am shamed," Nyoir conceded.

Silence fell as Ryneon returned to his meditations. Returning to his state of absolute focus would have been impossible for a mortal, but he was set upon his oath and would not suffer anything to deny him, not even the vagaries of his own mind. Still once more his muscled frame crackled with frost, ice forming again over the Sinew Coils that beaded his sinews, marks of a Primaris Marine.

Time crawled by and after forty-two minutes Ryneon opened his eyes. The harsh light of day stung his cornea but he did not blink. A shiver passed through him and ice cascaded from his limbs as he stood. Cramp sank fiery knives into his joints but he moved his arms and legs in a ritual fashion to ease his muscles, then turned.

Stood three paces back another Howling Griffon waited, clad in the quartered red and yellow armour of the Chapter. He too was Primaris, a Bladeguard veteran with many marks of valour. A heavy power sword was sheathed at his hip and a broad shield was set upon his arm, but his helm was doffed. Haunted eyes set in a face of many scars, and a firm cast to the mouth suggesting he had never smiled in his life. Veteran laurels did he bear but the Company mark on his knee was that of Seventh Company.

"Nyoir," Ryneon stated without any warmth, "A summons you say?"

"Alvaro demands your presence in the Hall of Eagles," Nyoir informed him.

"First I must don my armour."

"But the summons…"

"Again you question my will. First my armour, it will not do to meet a Chapter Master naked."

Ryneon marched past the Bladeguard, head held high. He stepped through an open door and entered the Proud Eyrie, moving into its warren of passages. Within serfs went about their business, heads bowed before the passing of their Masters. Ryneon strode past without comment, their opinions on his nakedness of no import.

Other Astartes were a different matter. They marched by in ones and twos, scarred Firstborn and newer Primaris alike in pride. The Howling Griffons had committee heavily to the Indomitus Crusade and been reinforced with Primaris Marines in turn. Ancient warriors decanted from stasis-tubes to don the rearing griffon of the Chapter. Ryneon however was of neither order. He was Primaris but had not spent millennia in cyro-sleep. He had been born on Mancora, counted among the first generation of Howling Griffons to be implanted with the new paradigm, and among that number he was the first to become a Captain.

Ryneon entered an arming chamber and was greeted by wizened serfs. He stepped into their midst and held out his arms as the rituals of arming began. Chanting ancient phrases the serfs bound him with Ceramite, adding the exoskeleton and fibre-muscle undersheath, before clamping the outer layers on. Thick and broad, the doughty mass of Gravis Armour was fitted to Ryneon. His left wrist was encased in a power fist, but to his right was presented not a sword but a master-crafted bolter. Chrysoar, a relic of the Great Crusade, wrested from the arms of the Traitorous Slaaneshi warlord Yeremus on the day of Ryneon's greatest victory.

Clad in his panoply of war, and with Chrysoar fitted to his hip, Ryneon set forth for the Hall of Eagles, Nyoir trailing behind. Soon he reached it, set in the highest peak of the Proud Eyrie, an amphitheatre under a crystal dome, gazing into the eternal night of space. Here Alvaro waited for him, patiently idling in his splendid armour. Firstborn, his sharp features were predatory and his eyes cold. Black hair swept back as if smooth by constant wind and his nose was prominent. Alvaro commanded the Howling Griffons on Mancora, and carried the nominal title of Chapter Master. Their sworn master was away, marching in the ranks of the Indomitus Crusade. Sadly nothing had been heard from Kenot Friche in many a year, and some whispered he must have died in glory. As Astropathic communications were erratic this could not be confirmed, so Alvaro's rank was honorary for the moment. Another three and a half years must elapse before the traditions of the Chapter would consider Kenot Frische dead.

"You kept me waiting," Alvaro stated frostily.

"I was meditating," Ryneon stated without apology, "As per my sacred oath."

"You were interrupted?"

"I was."

Alvaro turned to Nyoir, "You may not be born of Mancora, but you should know better than to interfere with an oath. Assign yourself penance and remember why you were cast from First Company."

"I offer contrition," Nyoir stated accepting his punishment.

Alvaro let it rest, "Brother-Captain, how fares Seventh?"

"Fit and eager for war," Ryneon affirmed, "Primaris and Firstborn alike."

A sighed, "Still we are divided by our types, the Primaris are the future, but the Firstborn will not fade easily. A crack in our spirit. Belisarius Cawl promises to resolve the matter; he claims he can bridge a Rubicon to make us one, but…"

"Cawl is overly impressed with his own genius," Ryneon finished the thought, "His inventions are less than he promises. Saving the Primaris."

"Agreed," Alvaro conceded, "But we have troubles closer to home. Tell me, have you ever heard of Captain Byrele?"

"Never," Ryneon answered.

"Unsurprising," Alvaro said, "He died two thousand years ago, on a quest for a ghost ship and lost lore. A myth had come to the attention of the Howling Griffons of the day, rumours of secrets from the Dark Age of Technology. A Demi-Company was sent and promptly disappeared. They were never heard from again…till now."

Ryneon did not guess at the next words, he did not speak when unsure and engaged not in idle speculation. Instead he waited humbly till Alvaro continued, "It seems another Chapter has stumbled across the mythical prize, a mongrel brotherhood calling themselves the Amber Vipers. They boast of finding the lost ship and claiming the STC's within. A treasure to be sure, but what concerns us is they also found the graves of Byrele and his band, and looted them."

Now Ryneon did snarl, "The Amber Vipers kept the armour for themselves?!"

"Power armour, bolters, heavy weapons, tanks and Land Speeders," Alvaro spat, "Their greed is shameless."

"Such theft is a violation of the codas that bind the Adeptus Astartes. Those relics should have been returned to Mancora, with due reverence. We would have honoured their names if they had; instead they take what is not theirs! This insult to the Howling Griffons cannot be allowed to stand!"

Alvaro nodded, "Indeed it must not, but that is only the start. These Amber Vipers are notorious, thieves and brigands, louts and drunkards. Our ancient records speak of a Chapter with pride and dignity, but these curs fall far short of their ancestor's example. They make the Marines Malevolent seem upstanding by comparison."

"I care nothing for their manners, only that they stole what is rightfully Mancoras!" Ryneon growled.

"Well spoken," Alvaro accepted, "That is why I chose you and your Company for this task."

"Give me a Battlebarge and Seventh will storm their den, burn out their eyes and take back what they stole from us," Ryneon hissed.

But Alvaro shook his head, "Patience my fierce Brother, patience. The hammer has many uses, but if you depend upon it then every problem seems a nail. There is an opportunity to be exploited. The Amber Vipers call a High Conclave, to debate the disposition of the STCs they claimed. Emissaries from the Inquisition, Mechanicus and other Chapters gather under the protection of parley, to jockey and snipe over the prizes."

"You wish me to haggle?!" Ryneon spat in disgust.

"I wish you not to make enemies we do not need. The Amber Vipers are gutter-trash, but to offend other Chapters and Adepta will not reflect well on the Howling Griffons. Officially you have volunteered to escort the envoy of Mars, his safety is in your hands. Take our fastest Strike Cruiser and convey the emissary with due dignity. Stand silent when they haggle over data-wafers, but your true mission is to reclaim what the Amber Vipers stole from us."

"By any means necessary?" Ryneon asked.

"Short of casting the Howling Griffons into shame," Alvaro corrected, "Make promises if you must, offer resupply if they will trade, sordid as that is. Respect the parley of Conclave to the letter and make sure the other dignitaries see we are proper in all things, so that when the refusal comes we appear the insulted party. Do not fire the opening shot, this is an unbreakable order, make sure they are the ones who draw blood first."

"And when the Amber Vipers break parley?" Ryneon pressed.

"Slit every last one of their throats and take back what is ours," Alvaro commanded.

Ryneon fell to one knee and raised his power fist to his brow, "By the Golden Throne I do pledge that the relics stolen from the Howling Griffons shall return to Mancora. None shall sway me from my path, none shall thwart my advance. Any who stands in my way shall die, no matter who they may be. By the Emperor, the Primarch and the souls of all Howling Griffons who have gone before, this is my sacred oath."

Alvaro accepted the oath by placing his hand on the gauntlet, "I do hear your oath, as do the spirits of all our forebearers, and we shall hold you to it. Return with our relics, or not at all. So it is commanded."

Ryneon lifted his head and declared, "By our oaths we are bound, by our will is our duty done."