Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 365
From orbit the obliteration of a world was a wondrous sight. Continents burned as sheets of white fire spread, consuming all they found. Forests and rivers, mountains and valleys, cities and vast crop fields, all were fuel for the fire. Phosphor missiles rained down as the Serpens Rex orbited the tainted planet, unleashing ancient horrors from the Dark Age of Technology. The destruction soon became self-sustaining, scouring the planet of the Parascenes bare.
Aronyx watched in silence as the world burned. From halfway up the central tower of the Serpens Rex he observed the destruction, seeing this den of corruption reduced to ashes. Past Regnators approved the extremity of the action, the unyielding grit required to burn a world. Aronyx himself was disquieted. He had never destroyed a planet himself, largely because the Blood owned no power to enact Exterminatus. The only worlds he had seen destroyed were by Skoll's hand. To be unleashing total destruction was a novel experience.
Korinthus nodded in approval, "Thus we become deathly angels, the destroyers of worlds."
Rovenator perked up at that, "Angels of Death?"
"A metaphor," Korinthus chided, "You have not yet earned the right to call yourself an Angel of Death."
"Oh," Rovenator sighed in disappointment.
But Korinthus assured him, "A Templar of Death will ye be before the end."
Rovenator mused, "I wonder, shall we head to Baal, when all this is over?"
"You wish to gaze upon the sands of our Primarch's birthing?" Aronyx wondered.
"Should we not? The Vipers claim Baal endures, we could travel there, meet our kinsmen and be counted among them."
Korinthus disagreed, "And stand in the perfect glory of our progenitor's light? The first Founding Chapter does not suffer the curse the same way we do, they can withstand it with willpower and faith. Time does not press upon them; their days are many and ours few. To look upon that perfect reflection would reveal the ugliness of our own existence. A blow to our spirit not easily recovered."
Aronyx nodded, "We are kin, but no longer family to Dante. He would not welcome us to his halls, no matter we share a gene-father. Besides it means relying on the Amber Vipers much longer than we intend."
Rovenator leaned closer to the window, "Where is Skoll?"
O'leia grumbled, "Probably hiding behind the planet's terminus, my Regnator, where we can't see him. He's not fool enough to test a Starfort's guns."
Aronyx mused, "How strange, in all my days, and those of Regnators past, Skoll has never shied away from a fight. Everything we know of him says he should be charging at us, howling for the kill."
"Times change and we change with them," Korinthus remarked.
"But for good or ill?" Aronyx puzzled, "For the first time the Blood enjoy a measure of safety. Lamentantor has been replenished, our Chapter-barque is renewed, but the costs are greater than I expected."
"You think it a mistake to trust the Amber Vipers?" Korinthus probed.
"I do, my Sacredos. At first I thought it simple expedience, our guidance for their material strength. But they do not think like us. They are callous, cruel and disreputable. They ignore the glory of combat for expedience; they scoff at beautiful deaths and cross all bounds of honour. If we linger too long, we may become like them."
All knew what inspired this lament. The deeds on the planet had stirred great anger among the Blood. The Amber Vipers had thrown the Host away like chaff, selling lives to save their own. Those men and women had not been craven; Aronyx would rip out their throats himself had they been. Brave souls deserved the chance at a beautiful death, to be sacrificed without a care was abhorrent to the Children of Sanguinius.
O'leia voiced what they were all thinking, "They killed our own."
"My Lady of Hosts, has the way of it," Korinthus agreed, "We have been slighted and must demand recompense."
"Coluber won't budge an inch," Rovenator muttered.
"Then it is time we parted ways," Aronyx declared.
"My Regnator, you mean to leave?" Korinthus blinked.
"Indeed, my Sacredos. We are guided in all things by our gene-father's example. Sanguinius' love for humanity is our guide rod. The craven and the idle fall short of his teachings, they deserve no consideration, but the true of heart must be properly honoured. These Amber Vipers understand nothing of the ways of the Great Angel. They cannot be allowed to pollute our souls with their despicable attitudes any further."
The decision was made and Aronyx turned from the window and left for Coluber's abode. They had been shown the way before and made their way up the tower, climbing stairs and ramps with swift strides. Many mortals eyed them, and Aronyx knew his presence was being reported to the master of the Amber Vipers, every step he took in this benighted place was closely monitored. Thus it was no surprise when they reached the dwelling to find the guard expecting them.
The lone Brother-Exemplar stood alert but lifted his spear to allow Aronyx and his entourage to pass. Aronyx entered without fanfare, finding Coluber standing at an ornate sand-garden, examining its sculpted lines with a considered air. He's posing, a past Regnator informed Aronyx, he adopted that pose to impress you. He didn't make that garden, another scoffed, he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. False, deceiver, craven, others hissed.
Aronyx drew himself up and declared, "Coluber, you have gone too far!"
From the corner stepped forward Ferrac, "Watch your tone."
"Stay your anger," Coluber chided as he turned, "Let us hear what our guests have to say."
Aronyx noted the other Captain was present, Reddam, as well as the towering form of the Librarian-Dreadnought. He refused to be intimidated. Psyker or not, Aronyx was not afraid of his anger. The Blood would not be shamed by anyone.
The Regnator lifted his chin and stated, "Your Marines have dishonoured our pact. They are venal and self-serving curs."
Ferrac snorted, "We prefer: miserable thieving bastards."
"You admit it," Korinthus sneered.
"We've been insulted by worse than you," Ferrac grunted, "You'll have to do better."
Coluber cut in, "I have been briefed on the events on the planet, and you should know I stand by the Strike-Captain's actions."
"You applaud him killing our comrades in arms?!" Rovenator spat.
"You killed them, then you led mortals into what is clearly an Astartes' matter. Everything I have learned of Imperium Nihilus speaks of wild danger and unchecked madness. It is folly to expect mortals to survive, where even Space Marines struggle to prevail."
Aronyx sneered, "You shy away from the glory of personal combat. You kill from afar and by dubious means. There is no magnificence in your doctrines, no splendour to be found in your way of war."
"Splendour?!" Coluber snorted, "War is hell boy, not a dance performance! You seek beautiful deaths, but all deaths are horrid and bitter. The only glory to be found in battle comes from victory."
Aronyx retorted, "You fall short of the ideals of Sanguinius."
"Idealists die in battles," Coluber growled, "Realists win them."
Aronyx bristled but then the Librarian-Dreadnought stepped in, "You seek honour and glory, but your intent is not pure. You are distracted by the prospect of your own ending: it pulls your eye from the true focus of the warrior: to triumph."
Korinthus snarled, "Life's greatest feat is to end well."
But Maru countered, "To the true warrior life and death are but binary states of being, neither to be valued above the other. Commit to the moment of action, and let the fates come as they may."
"You know nothing," Aronyx spat.
But Reddam spoke up, "May I remind you that without our Librarian we would all have been blended inside our armour!"
"Speak not to me, craven betrayer."
Ferrac gripped his axe-rake tight, "You dare!"
"I speak truth," Aronyx retorted, "You corrupt our quest for a beautiful death."
"A beautiful death is but another name for failure," Coluber hissed.
That was too far and Aronyx's anger rose. From within the black rage pushed, straining to be free. Aronyx's gums prickled as fangs tried to slide into place, marring his perfect countenance with the dark heart of his gene-sire. Typically past Regnators would have urged patience, but they remained silent, equally offended as he was. Something of this must have reached Coluber's eye for his brow furrowed and his hand strayed to the sword at his hip.
"It seems we are at an impasse," Coluber uttered coldly.
"Then I shall solve it, we are leaving," Aronyx replied.
"You are not," Coluber growled.
"You have no right to stop us."
"We had an agreement, our supplies in exchange for a guide to Dimmamar. Your ship's refit goes apace, and yet I am not at my goal. You owe us a debt."
Aronyx drew himself up, "Then I invoke a Duello!"
Coluber blinked, "You want to fight me?"
"I have issued a challenge, meet me blade to blade or be named craven!"
Ferrac growled, "You fight anyone, you fight me."
"No," Coluber uttered, "I want to teach this snot-nosed whelp a thing or three."
Coluber glared irately, "I take it this ritual has rules?"
Aronyx nodded, "As the challenger I select the weapons: knife to knife. As the accused, you pick the time and place."
"Here and now," Coluber stated, "And when I win you cease whining about pride and try to learn something."
"When I win, you let us go without quarrel," Aronyx uttered.
"Well bargained and done," Coluber stated with a cold smile.
Aronyx held out a hand and O'leia presented her sword. In her hands it was a doughty blade, in his, a mere knife. Coluber took off his curved blade and handed it to Ferrac, then drew a notched knife. He flipped it over and held it point down, spreading his boots for a firmer stance. All others drew back, letting their leaders take position, and measuring the other for weaknesses. Coluber was fast, and knew how to hold a knife properly, but there was a faint limp to his hip. Aronyx could take him.
Without warning the Regnator burst into motion lashing out with a fast slice. He'd thought to catch Coluber unaware, but the older Marine had been expecting it. He stepped into the blow, letting it skitter off a pauldron, as his arm slashed upwards, going for the face. Aronyx jerked aside, only to find a fist rammed into his flank. The impact sent him staggering into the sand garden, kicking grains out of alignment and ruining the perfect lines.
He spun about in a spray of grit, expecting a follow-up blow, only to find Coluber stepping slowly into the boundary, hanging back with a cold sneer. Aronyx's rage built at the insult, and he flung himself into the attack. Coluber's boot was faster, kicking a stone out of the garden along with a spray of sand. The rock pinged off Aronyx's brow, but the rain of grit caught his eyes, making him blink as his eyeballs wept to clear his sight.
A punch to the throat rocked him back, then a kick to the knee dropped him, then a boot landed on his wrist, forcing the knife to fall. Aronyx found himself laid out in the sand, with a bulky rock pressing into his lower back. He was bent over, unable to recover and the prick of a knife at his throat told him Coluber had him dead to rights.
"You want to die?" Coluber hissed, "I can end you right now. Choose quickly."
"Aronyx declared, "I shall never yield."
"You do understand I can kill you?"
"You can, but you cannot reach Dimmamar without us," Aronyx stated.
"Then you agree to remain and fulfil your pledge?"
"It seems I must."
"So I win."
Coluber lifted his blade and Aronyx blinked the tears from his eyes. He pulled himself upright amid the ruin of the garden and cricked his neck. He looked about and commented, "Your garden is ruined."
"It was never mine," Coluber sniffed.
"You won, but expect no fealty from us. When we reach Dimmamar, we are done. Your deaths shall not be beautiful, this is not a threat, it will be of your own doing."
Coluber shook his head, "You continue to miss the point. The only way death can be beautiful is if it furthers victory, otherwise it is a waste. Imperium Nihilus may be a realm of wild phantasmagoria, but we shall make it fear us with fire and shell. We are Astartes, we are made to fight and win. The Emperor fashioned us to be the warriors who triumph, when all others fail. Victory is what we are made for, anything else is a delusion."
Aronyx was not impressed, "You and I shall never agree."
"It seems so," Coluber sighed, "But until we reach our mutual goal, we must pretend to get along."
"For now," Aronyx conceded, "But it cannot come soon enough."
