Tales of the Amber Viper Chapter 292

"I do not approve of this mummer's farce," Ryneon stated coldly.

Toran countered, "There is a martial honour to it, the clash of gladiators and the forging of brotherhood through bloodshed. Are not the Howling Griffons famed for their tradition of Honour Duels?"

"Such contests are solemn affairs, not to be played out for the amusement of a braying crowd," Ryneon stated.

Toran disagreed, "Brotherhood extends beyond the two combatants, the whole crowd joins as one. I agree it's an exuberant showing, but I cannot fault the spirit of this fighting arena."

Ryneon did not reply, staring at the crowd with cold disdain. Toran took no offence, for the Captain was a stern soul. Toran was finding him hard to like personally, but as a commander of Astartes Ryneon was faultless. Toran was impressed by his dignity and bearing, the record of notable kills and hard-won victories woven into his heraldry and the exacting manner he displayed. Harsh and demanding, but he expected no more of his men than he did himself, a commander who led from the front and shared all dangers with his Marines.

Ryneon had approached Toran after their initial meeting, asking to be shown the Nest. As Toran had been here a few days longer he had agreed, taking Ryneon to view the significant features and ending up at the Fighting arena. Toran knew it would have been better to ask the Amber Vipers, the fact Ryneon had approached a Storm Herald was telling. The Howling Griffon wanted something, and Toran was always open to making new alliances.

Toran's organic eye flashed to the jealous hand Ryneon placed on his bolter. A truly remarkable example of ancient craftsmanship, its superior make was obvious at a glance. Toran would have been proud to bear such a weapon, but Ryneon's grip on its butt was more than that, as if he was afraid someone was planning to steal it. The Amber Vipers were aggressive in their acquisitions, but Toran didn't think they'd snatch the bolter off his hip.

"You seem protective of your weapon," Toran commented.

"Chrysoar is no ordinary relic, I will not risk offending its spirit," Ryneon replied.

"I too bear a relic weapon of legend," Toran stated.

Ryneon however countered, "A relic passed down to you no doubt, awarded as a bequest. Chrysoar was won by my own hand, taken from the grip of the dead Traitor Yeremus. I killed him with one blow, shattering the armies he led from the Cicatrix Maledictum. I took this relic as a trophy, cleansed it and restored its purity with lengthy rituals. Its dignity is no small matter to me."

"A glorious tale," Toran agreed, "I would hear more..."

His reply was cut off as an Amber Viper stumbled into him, with a cry of "Watch it!"

Toran's situational awareness was keen and he reacted with blinding speed, twisting half about and grabbing at the intruder. Reflexively he grabbed at a fistful of tunics and shoved, forcing the offender away. A heartbeat later it registered that the Marine he shoved was wearing a helmet, and all-covering fatigues. Without power armour the blunt force of fibre-bundle musculature sent him staggering back, crashing into a knot of squad-mates.

"Give off!" one with a curved bonesword at his hip barked.

"It wasn't my fault, he pushed me!" the helmet wearer protested.

Toran retorted fiercely, "Do not offend my honour, your carelessness caused this."

"I did not!" the helmet wearer hissed.

Ryneon looked down at them, "I saw it with my own eyes, do not lie to us."

"He calls me a liar!"

"Kazao, calm down," another with a mining pick hissed, "They're Captains."

"I do not care," this Kazao spat, "I have been called a liar and I will have satisfaction!"

Sudden silence fell across the braying crowd as all heads turned and Toran lifted an eyebrow, "Are you challenging me?"

"I am," Kazao proclaimed, "I shall face you in the ring!"

Toran nodded graciously, "I accept your challenge."

"This is a jest," Ryneon scoffed.

"The coda of the arena is clear," one with twin knives retorted, "Anyone can be challenged."

"Not that, I am interested to see the results, but to think this pup thinks he will test a veteran Captain is farcical. Toran will wipe the floor with you."

Toran grinned, "l propose we even the odds, his squad can come too."

That seemed to deflate the young bravados and Kazao gulped, "All four of us, at once?"

"That way you might make me break a sweat," Toran laughed.

"Is four appropriate?" Ryneon asked.

"You think they should bring more?"

"No, four should be enough to make the point," Ryneon replied with a twitch of the lip, his mirth breaking that stony veneer.

Confronted with the Captain's confidence the foursome began whispering among themselves, but Kazao called, "Challenge accepted, Joffel, Tebes, Larus and I will meet you on the stage."

"Then summon an arming servitor," Toran called as the crowd began placing bets.

From the side a servitor trundled forward and began the process of unbinding his plate. As his armour was removed he examined his foes. They seemed bold and brash, but unnerved by the confidence he displayed. The one called Tebes carried a weighty pick, flat hammer on one side, sharp spike on the other. To Toran's warrior eye a strong weapon, but a slow one. The one called Joffel had a scimitar blade of bone, fast and vicious, but a weapon more for slashing from the back of a racing bike, than a straight up duel. Larus had twin knives, in close quarters he would be dangerous, but they lacked in reach. Kazao seemed to want to fight bare-handed, either he was a fool or supremely dangerous, Toran resolved not to underestimate him. He covered his face for some reason, a trend Toran had noted some Amber Vipers favoured, would that help or hinder, a question about to be answered.

The milling crowd whispered furiously among themselves. Barely half–stripped of his plate a shout rang out and the crowd parted as Coluber, Ferrac and Reddam strode in. "What is going on here?!" Coluber yelled.

"Someone voxed you?" Toran asked calmly.

"Never mind that, who started this calamity?!"

Toran replied, "I was challenged, I accepted."

"Who would... oh throne never mind. Reddam, it's your mob!"

Reddam's face darkened, "I'll flay the hides off those idiots. Stand down Captain, I'll beat the daylights out of them."

Toran however replied, "I have been challenged and will not back down."

"This can't happen," Coluber argued, "Parley holds."

"Worry not, I promise not to kill them."

Ryneon chimed in, "Challenge has been made and accepted. To forfeit now is to label your Chapter cowards. Fight, or forsake all honour."

Ferrac growled, "The coda is clear, this duel must proceed."

Coluber looked furious but growled, "I must accede, but rest assured if you don't kill them, I will."

Toran was freed from his armour and shrugged on a shrift. He took up his relic blade and stepped to the ring. A short jump and his bare feet landed on the sanded wood, firm and rough under his bare soles, there would be no chance of slipping. Lighting was adequate, and no sharp shadows were present, there was no glare to consider. The space was sizeable but not so much that a careless misstep couldn't ruin everything. It was almost like being inside a training cage of his Chapter, save for the watching crowd and lack of metal bars.

The four challengers stepped onto the ring but Toran didn't face them. He lowered the point of his blade to the floor and knelt on one knee, "Blessed weapon, be swift and sure in this hour. Lend me your strength and sharpness, that I may conquer my enemy. Be with me, spirit of the blade, and I shall quench your thirst for battle."

Ritual appeasements made Toran stood and faced his foes. There was no formal proclamation, no presenting of weapons, merely the sneers on lips as they spread out. Toran adopted a guard position, feet in a linear pose, sword held at the hip, angling upwards. Toran was no Champion of the sword, but a century and a half of warfare had conditioned his skills and this blade was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

The scuffle of a foot, a whisper of breath and Joffel was leaping in from the side. He sought to take Toran by surprise but the Captain was hyper-alert and his sword was already moving to block. Bone and metal rang as they scraped off each other and Toran pivoted, sliding Joffel's weapon past his shoulder, leaving him overextended. Toran swung wide and went for a crippling blow to the hip, yet Joffel was fast and his sword got in the way. Now it was Toran who was surprised, as his blade failed to shatter the weapon. No disruption field, he cursed, no electric tang of lethal power, this was going to have to be done the hard way.

Joffel grinned as he slashed upwards, tearing his blade past the guard of Toran's hilt to carve a wide gash into his shoulder. The crowd erupted in cheers at first blood but Toran rode the blow. He spun with the slash, letting the momentum turn him. His foot snaked out as his shoulder slammed forward, bowling Joffel over and tripping him simultaneously. The young Marine baulked as his balance was lost, then he tumbled out of the ring and hit the floor.

One down, but the other three were not so foolish. They came in a rush, trying to mob him. Toran's blade was facing the wrong way and he had no time to redress, so didn't try. He stepped into the charge and rammed his hilt backwards, sending it into the throat of the most dangerous foe. Kazao stumbled back, wheezing hard as he clawed at his bruised throat.

Two remained but Toran was exposed and an almighty blow clipped his shoulder. Shoulder bones cracked as Toran spun away, narrowly avoiding a slash from a knife. Tebes pulled back for another blow, as Larus moved to flank, and then they were upon him. Toran swept his blade across, buying space as his feet skipped back. His hearts were beating faster now, the tang of hyper-adrenaline spiking his blood and the compressed time of battle sharpened his awareness. Toran was growing faster and stronger, yet he was outnumbered two to one and had to fall back. Reach let him keep those knives at bay but the mining pick whooshed past, nearly cracking his skull. Toran fell back, only to feel his feet teeter on the edge of the ring, one more step and he would go flying.

"Nowhere to run," Tebes growled.

"Be warned, my knives carry deadly poisons," Larus hissed.

"So noted," Toran replied as he flung himself into the attack.

They hadn't expected that, and Tebes was slow to counter. Larus however stabbed for Toran's flank, exactly as the Captain expected. His hand came off his hilt and grabbed a wrist, then heaved. Larus was pulled to the side, footing unprepared for so bold a manoeuvre. His blade found flesh, but not Toran's, it sank into Tebes' shoulder and skin blackened under the touch of poison. Space Marine implants could handle almost anything, but one arm fell limp anyway. Larus froze in shock, unbelieving of what had just happened.

"If you have poisoned weapons, don't announce them," Toran snorted as he grabbed Larus' tunic and flung him from the ring. The crowd cheered at the fierce display but Tebes wasn't dead. He swung his pick for Toran one-handed, trying to break ribs. Toran wasn't impressed, they were too close for such a blow. He blocked the arm with a raised elbow, then headbutted Tebes squarely. Tebes' stumbled back, then a kick to the midriff sent him flying from the ring.

Toran hadn't forgotten the last one, but Kazao's charge nearly caught him off guard. The young warrior had recovered his breath and flung himself at Toran, tackling him about the waist. There was no skill to the charge, no grace, merely brute aggression and raw rage. Toran slammed his hilt into Kazao's back but it made no impact. He was nearly carried off the ring entirely, as they wrestled on its edge. Kazao's fists drew back and slammed into his flank, cracking ribs as a flurry of blows hammered flesh. Toran was finally impressed, this one was as strong as any Primaris and fast as Novak in his prime. Kazao was gifted with fury and admirably relentless, but for all that he hadn't spent a century and a half fighting in the darkness of the galaxy. Toran had faced worse foes than this, taken wounds Kazao couldn't imagine in his worst nightmares. Toran had been broken in body and soul, left bleeding out and blinded, and yet despite all that he had still fought and won.

Kazao launched a roundhouse blow but Toran caught it in his palm. Bones in his hand broke, sinews tore and pain sank rusty nails into his nerves, but Toran held firm regardless. Kazao froze in shock as his strength was matched, then Toran struck. A knee to the groin cleared room, a slam from his hilt sent the foe stumbling backwards and then Toran's other hand slashed the point of his blade upwards, tearing across Kazao's front.

It was only a shallow wound, from hip to bicep, but it must have done more damage than Toran believed for Kazao grabbed at the ragged tear in his apparel as if nursing a terrible wound. Toran took advantage of the distraction to swing his blade about in a wide arc and the flat of the sword sent Kazao tumbling from the ring. The crowd roared in approval at the Captain's triumph and Toran lifted his blade to declare victory. His hearts thundered and his left hand felt like it was bathed in fire, but the heady savour of victory washed all that way.

Toran saw his foes picking themselves up sheepishly as Reddam stormed over. "Are we in trouble?" Larus asked warily.

"Guess," Reddam growled furiously.

"No?" Joffel ventured.

"Guess again," Reddam spat.

Toran jumped down from the stage and found Ryneon, Ferrac and Coluber waiting for him. "Ha, you gave those curs a damned good thrashing!"

Toran accepted the praise, "A worthy fight."

"Worthy pah," Ryneon chuckled, "They deserved every lump and bruise, shame you didn't spill blood everywhere, but they won't forget their place again."

Toran found his relish in the fight unseemly but turned to Coluber, "I thank you for allowing me to participate in your rituals."

Coluber looked concerned, "I trust this does not affect the Conclave?"

"I will not hold it against your Marines," Toran assured him.

"Well I will," Ferrac growled, "Those fools are going to wish they were never born after I'm done with them."