Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 312
"I still say we should divert and press on to the ship," Persion argued.
"Captain Ryneon has requested our presence, he needs our numbers for an overwhelming offensive," Smyth countered.
"I'm with Persion," Novak declared, "I say we go back and finish them."
"You just want another go at that Dreadnought," Smyth chided.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Novak scoffed.
Captain Toran listened to his comrades' banter as they made their way back through the Serpens Rex. Nearly a hundred Space Marines trailed in his wake, the proud warriors of Third Company. They had acquitted themselves well in the fighting, take few casualties and inflicted far more. Toran was sure they would have increased their tally significantly, had the battle not been upended. The intervention of the Librarian-Dreadnought had stalled their advance, and then sequenced detonations had brought down the roof. Third had been cut off entirely, left unable to advance. Almost admirable of the Amber Vipers, their steadfast defiance reminded Toran of a younger version of himself. But their sins were not forgiven because of that.
Toran had fought Heretics and Traitors across the stars. It could be said they were brave, willing to risk their lives for cause and comrade, but their vile treachery overrode all other considerations. To turn on the Emperor and His decrees was unforgivable, and the Amber Vipers had fallen from the light of Terra. The death of Velpecula, stealing relics and harbouring mutants, these were the least of their crimes. They were thieves, murderers and recidivists, waging war for selfish reasons, blighting the worlds of men and extorting war materials at the muzzle of a bolter. Toran should have seen what they were, what he had unleashed, and he berated himself for being so blind.
"You are sure you want to fight them again?" Smyth asked as he neatly swayed the Company Banner to avoid a truncated girder.
"Naturally," Persion sniffed.
"Only… you and Ferrac seemed close," Smyth pointed out.
"Ferrac is a stalwart soul, but he has given fealty to a damned cause. He fights for Traitors and has forsaken all honour. I would weep to lay him low, but I will if I have to."
Novak didn't sound so sure, "You think you can take Ferrac?"
Persion hefted his Friction Axe in an augmetic grip, "He's good, but I'm better."
"We shall see," Smyth muttered unconvinced.
Toran interrupted the conversation, "If we see Ferrac we shall kill him quickly and efficiently. I intend no honour duelling, no dignity of death at a blade's edge for these curs. If we see Ferrac, Coluber or any of this kind we shall shoot them down like rabid mastiffs."
That gave pause and Novak said, "That is not like you."
"It is my will," Toran uttered.
"Captain, you seem to be taking this fight personally," Smyth cautioned.
"They lied to me, deceived me, made me complicit in their crimes. For this the Amber Vipers deserve only obliteration."
Toran turned right and stepped into a large warehouse. It was a broad space, easily large enough to host a Company, the dark space littered with rotten crates and spoiled goods. The air was cold and oxygen was low, the local air-filters having not been replaced in millennia. A derelict and forgotten corner of the Serpens Rex, but that was not what made Toran freeze in his tracks. Standing in the centre of the space was a lone warrior, in chequered red and yellow. He bore a sword and shield and his height was that of a Primaris. Toran recognised his exposed face, it was Nyoir, of the Howling Griffons.
"Hail cousins," Nyoir called as they entered. Toran was surprised but with a gesture he commanded his squads to spread out, ringing Nyoir in a field of bolters. Toran counted the Howling Griffons allies, but this was damned peculiar. If Ryneon wished to speak then he could have voxed, this was something else. Toran had been betrayed too many times in his life to lower his guard and made sure the area was secure before replying.
"You are Nyoir, sword champion of Mancora," Toran uttered.
"Not a champion, I have never been granted that honour," Nyoir replied, "I speak to you not as a hero, not as a Howling Griffon, but as a Space Marine whose loyalty to the Golden Throne compels him to act."
"I don't like this," Smyth warned.
"This is some deception," Persion agreed.
"There has been deceit but it was not mine," Nyoir stated, "You have been lied to, by my Captain."
Toran's hand fell to the hilt of his sword, "You had better explain that!"
Nyoir nodded, "Ryneon told you he learned of our relics' presence after he arrived, this was a lie. He was made aware of the artefacts before we left Mancora, it is the reason we came. Auriga too, he came here seeking relics, intending to take them from the Amber Vipers by force."
"That is a dangerous accusation to make," Toran hissed.
"It gets worse," Nyoir sighed, "Our oaths of Parley were sworn in false spirits. Ryneon had no intention of honouring his pledge, he planned to break the peace of the Conclave, as soon as he found a convenient excuse. Furthermore he fully intended to obliterate this base as soon as he got what he wanted. Ryneon lied from the start."
Smyth was indignant, "Treachery abounds!"
Toran's anger grew, "Are you saying Ryneon fabricated the evidence against the Amber Vipers?"
Nyoir sighed, "No, the Amber Vipers… are the Amber Vipers. Of their Heresies I cannot speak, even Velpecula's death remains unexplained. The Amber Vipers must make account for their failings, but at least they are open about it. They are what they appear to be, but the Howling Griffons are not. We hide dark intent behind false smiles and noble words."
Toran's organic eye narrowed, "You go against your own Captain with these words."
Nyoir's face flushed with anger, "I am scorned among my brothers for falling short of an oath, but Ryneon freely traipses over our honour and is praised for it! He lies, he deceives, he plots murder and dishonourable deeds without care. The hypocrisy is a knife unto my hearts, every day I swallow his abuse without protest, but knowing that he is no better than me. Ryneon is a disgrace to the Howling Griffons!"
"These are the necessities of battle," Smyth argued, "Truth is oft the first victim of war."
But Nyoir looked at Toran and declared, "Archmagos Castabore is dead."
"What?!" Toran yelled in outrage.
"Castabore, we captured her, Ryneon interrogated her and when she refused to cooperate he killed her in cold blood."
Toran's jaw fell in shock as the reality swept over him. Castabore had been an ally for centuries, a friend even, in her odd way. Toran owed her much and she owed him. He had sworn an oath to protect her, and he had failed. Ryneon had known Toran would intervene and so played out his drama far away. Ryneon had deceived Toran, betrayed him and played false from the start. How much of what Toran believed of the Amber Vipers had been twisted by that cur, how much of the supposed evidence damning them had been planted by a deceiver? Toran would never know.
"That trice-damned bastard," Toran spat, "That dung-eating, two-faced eel. I have been played false, I have been led around by the nose and I thanked him for it!"
"But why?" Persion pressed, "Why would he kill an Archmagos?"
Nyoir replied, "He would claim it was necessary, he would say his oath required it, but the truth is it's because he missed a shot."
"Excuse me?" Persion blinked.
"Ryneon missed," Nyoir explained, "From that moment on someone was going to die. Castabore was simply the closest target."
"The Mechanicus is going to hit the roof," Smyth groaned, "Despite their divisions, they will not stand for an Archmagos to be killed by an outsider."
"No," Novak sighed, "They much prefer to do the killing themselves."
Nyoir confirmed, "Ryneon has disgraced the Howling Griffons in the eyes of the Tech-Priests. When Mars learns of this there will be consequences for my Chapter. Mancora has gained an enemy we did not want or need. Our Chapter Master was adamant we not generate disrepute, but Ryneon cares nothing for our Chapter's honour, only his own."
Toran's anger was fierce and he growled, "You did the right thing to come to us Nyoir, you have proven your loyalty to the Golden Throne. Rest assured I will redress these insults. I ask you to join us in making Ryneon understand the depths of his mistake."
Nyoir's face grew stiff, "Alas that I cannot."
"Pardon?"
Nyoir looked down in shame, "Understand I acted from my own conscience when I told you the truth, but my oaths bind me tight. I am sworn to fight for the Howling Griffons against all enemies, no matter who they may be. If you intend to shed my Brother's blood, I must make a stand against you."
Fingers tightened on bolters as Persion chimed, "You do realise we outnumber you a hundred to one?"
"No matter the odds, my oaths allow no other option. I have failed an oath once, I cannot fail again."
"I could just knock you out till it's over," Novak offered.
"No," Toran ordered as he drew the Sword of Thiel, "Let no Marine raise his hand against this one. I shall give him the honour of duelling him myself."
Nyoir looked at Toran, "You understand I cannot surrender. Victory or death, these are the only outcomes a Howling Griffon can accept."
"You bring great honour to your Chapter," Toran offered, "In the sight of Him on Terra, let it be done."
Nyoir flashed his sword vertically before his eyes and then swept it down into a low guard position. Toran lifted his sword in salute then levelled it horizontally. A hundred pairs of eyes watched in solemn silence as Toran measured his opponent, knowing he faced a master of the blade. Nyoir's armour was bedecked in combat laurels, his tally of kills high. Toran judged, unlike most Primaris, he was deeply experienced in combat and would not go down easy.
Nyoir kept perfectly still as Toran shifted his weight right, waiting for the perfect moment. Toran seized the initiative and leapt to the attack, fully expecting his first strike to be deflected. At the moment of commitment Toran saw Nyoir's eyes and realised the truth. Time froze for an instant as understanding passed between them, the perfect clarity of two warriors communing in the heat of combat. Toran understood Nyoir's intent and the necessity of what must be done.
Nyoir did not move to defend himself as Toran's strike slammed home. No parry was made, no evasion was attempted. Nyoir stood perfectly still as the Sword of Thiel hit his breastplate and slid through, driving energised metal through his hearts and punching out the back. Toran slammed chest to chest, staring into Nyoir's eyes as the impact ran through him.
"Victory… or death…" Nyoir's greying lips whispered, "I choose… death…"
Toran whispered back, "You deserved better than this, you deserved a better Captain than Ryneon."
"Do what… I could not... make it... right…"
Nyoir sagged as breath no longer stirred his lungs. Toran was supporting his weight and pulled back the sword, letting the body drop. Nyoir hit the deck and moved no more, giving his life for honour's sake. Toran stooped to place Nyoir's hands over his breast, sword held length downwards, like a carving of a prehistoric chivalric noble laid to rest.
"Alas poor Nyoir," Toran proclaimed as he stood up, "Your life you dedicated to honour, your death to the oaths you swore. Let no Marine speak ill of this pure soul. Despite being poorly led, Nyoir proved worthy to the last. Mancora shall hear of the passing of the truest Space Marine who ever lived."
Heads lowered around the ring but Persion asked, "So what now?"
Toran stood up and faced his Company, anger burning in his hearts, "We have been led astray by a vile deceiver, tricked into waging unjust war. Ryneon has disgraced himself, he spits upon every principle we stand for. Our dishonour is great, but our rage is greater! We make Ryneon regret the day he betrayed the Storm Heralds!"
