Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 367

The Lonely Lighthouse, Imperium Nihilus

On the edge of oblivion a sentinel stood vigil over a dying star. Red and bloated the sun was, aged unnaturally and dying before its time. The lighthouse was the stranger of the pair. A tower of bleak stone, crude and ill-formed as if by proto-historic hands. It grew from a drifting asteroid like a mushroom, seeming formed of the same rock. A beacon fire burned at the top, lighting the night for wayward travellers. It orbited the star serenely, without void shield or atmospheric envelope, yet the fire burned regardless. Useless in the void of space, where astral fix and gravimetric augur were the tools of navigation, but the lighthouse was indifferent to the opinions of passing voyagers.

Aronyx alighted with a light tread, almost bouncing from the rock with the force of impact. The asteroid was barely big enough to land on and far from stable. Every motion felt like it would catapult him into space, and yet it did not. The Regnator was the only one of the Blood to alight, coming alone to visit this strange apparition. The others had not protested, awed by the legend of the lighthouse. An omen of hope and terror in equal measure. The Blood had learned to respect the powers aboard in this age, but the same could not be said of their unwanted allies.

Across the curve of the asteroid a Thunderhawk squatted, steam rising from its engines. Amber Vipers poured out, bolters held ready. Battle-Captain Ferrac was at their head, Axe-rake gripped tight. A step behind Maru Kysoto loomed, the Librarian-Dreadnought sweeping the horizon with optic lenses. He at least looked wary, but Aronyx knew he had yet to learn respect. It would come though, of this he was sure.

"What a stinking cesspit," Ferrac growled from his helm.

"Appearances can be deceiving," Maru chided, "The dangers of Imperium Nihilus have proven as surprising as they are dangerous."

"Ha, I'll wager we'll find nothing here but cannibal mutants and burned-out cogitators. We'll be in and out in five minutes."

Aronyx lifted a perfect eyebrow, "You do not need to wear a helm here."

"Like you would know," Ferrac scoffed, "Something shoots me, I want a helm on."

"A helm won't save you, if the powers within take offence."

Maru's torso ground around on its gimbal waist, "You know this place?"

"By legend only," Aronyx sighed, "The lonely lighthouse is a myth, one that features in our archives heavily. We approach the abode of the Anchorites, powerful beings who do not suffer fools gladly."

"Anchorites?" Maru asked, "Are they servants of the Most Glorious Emperor?"

"Most certainly not," Aronyx scoffed, "They serve ends no man can know, but that does not make them enemies. They have guided past Regnators in times of strife, and aided our rivals too. The Anchorites further destiny, beyond that no man can guess their intent."

Ferrac scoffed, "And do the legends say how to kill them?"

Aronyx ignored that as he stepped forward. The tiny planetoid shifted as he trod gingerly across the terrain, the horizon moving with every metre. The lighthouse loomed closer, stark against the glare of the sun. They were on the night side of the asteroid, shielded from the brilliance of the star, but red-tinged the edges of the tower, giving it a hellish aspect.

The Amber Vipers trailed behind, forming a V-pattern with guns held outwards. Aronyx knew that was less than useless, but held his tongue. He would never admit it but after the humiliation at Coluber's hands he was feeling ungrateful. The Amber Vipers were convinced they knew everything worth knowing, but the Blood had seen more than they could imagine. Aronyx thought a sharp reminder of that was in order. A less than shining example of Sanguinius' munificent spirit, but today it was hard to care.

The doorway at the base of the lighthouse loomed, barely big enough to admit Maru. Here Aronyx paused, "Your squads, leave them here."

"Frak that," Ferrac snorted.

"The Anchorites are easily offended, best not antagonise them."

Maru chimed in, "I sense primordial power within, bolters are of no use here."

"You better be right," Ferrac grumbled, "Squads, form rearguard."

Aronyx glanced up at the stars, seeking the glint of the Serpens Rex. It was too far away, even a hundred-kilometre wide bastion reduced to less than a grain of sand at this range. Rovenator and Korinthus would stand vigilant against threats, in his absence, if he did not return the Blood would continue.

Aronyx turned and stepped through the doorway, followed by Ferrac and Maru, who had to stoop low to admit his bulk. The interior was as rough as the outside, a bare stone floor without furnishings or mark. A broad stone staircase ringed the floor, disappearing into a roof barely above Maru's head. Aronyx moved to the stairway and ascended, passing from the first level to the second.

They ascended and here at last they found signs of life. Aronyx stepped off the stairs and found himself confronted by a woman. Young she was, and fair, with sculpted features and spilling locks of ginger hair. She wore armour contoured to her frame, with Ceramite greaves and small pauldrons. In her right hand was a sword that glowed with internal fires and her back sprouted wings of cunning artifice, their mechanisms so realistic as to be almost taken for mutation. A Living Saint she could have been, save that her armour was bored through, exposing rotten bones in her chest and hip, a walking skeleton, lit from within by a ruddish glow. Alive or dead, none could say.

"Daemon!" Ferrac spat as he lifted his axe-rake.

"Stay your hand," Maru hissed, "I know not what that is, but it is no Neverborn."

Aronyx bowed low, "Greetings Burning One, we humble travellers request an audience with the Anchorites."

The strange figure did not reply, her face as still as the stone of the lighthouse. Instead she turned and moved to another stair, ascending without a glance back. Aronyx followed, making sure to betray no aggressive moves. Quiet as a mouse moving through a Carnodon's den he walked, keeping his mouth shut and his ears open.

The next level contained another figure, this one as dark as the previous one was light. She was clad in black leathers, of primitive make, clinging to a body bored through as the Burning One was. She was backlit somehow, obscuring the face in shadows cast by a mass of wiry hair. Even Space Marine eyesight could not make out any features in that face, a pit of empty darkness, save for two eyes that burned like coals. This one bore a whip made of shadow, dark as the void between stars and pitiless as the entropy that gnaws at the roots of the universe.

Aronyx bowed again, "Greetings Hidden One, we humble wanderers seek your guidance."

"If that's not a damned Daemon, you can call me a wetnurse," Ferrac growled.

But Maru rebuked, "Silence is a virtue of the true warrior, embrace it."

The shadowy figure moved to the next stairs and ascended. Aronyx moved to follow, climbing to the penultimate level of the lighthouse. Here the Burning One and the Hidden One stood guard over a third, this one seated at a low table. She was old, with a lined face and skin wrinkled by time. Masses of white hair spilled over her shoulders and down grey robes, and the thin hands resting on the table were tipped with black. She sat in a broad chair made of winding vines, which disappeared under her robes and Aronyx suspected grew into her body.

"Greetings Antikythera of the Anchorites," Aronyx bowed.

"Regnator of the Blood, the Host and the Infernae," the woman said in an arch voice.

"We are honoured to treat with ye," Aronyx offered.

But the woman snapped, "You're late!"

"You were expecting us?" Maru chimed in.

"Ah, the self-proclaimed warrior-poet speaks," the woman scoffed, "Shame he has nothing interesting to say."

"Hold your tongue wrench!" Ferrac snapped.

"And you can shut up," Antikythera snorted, "You are lucky your antics amuse us, else you would be dead."

"You can't take me," Ferrac growled.

"Fool, if they wanted us dead, we would be dead already," Aronyx snapped, "Do not offend the Anchorites, they are unknowable and quick to anger."

Antikythera nodded, "This one understands. I suspect your forbearers are whispering to you now. Is Rillarn in there? He at least knew how to treat us with dignity."

"Regnators past advise me to speak quietly… and leave as soon as possible," Aronyx confessed.

"Ha, smart boys. Take a seat."

Aronyx sat opposite the crone, his knees awkwardly high in the mortal framed chair. Before they could speak however Maru intruded, "I must know, what manner of being are we treating with?"

Aronyx winced, "Forgive my companions, they are…"

Antikythera snorted, "A dandy and a clown. We watched their blundering about the stars with great mirth. They have no idea what they are doing, but their failures amuse us. As to the question: the Great Rift empowers many things, not just the servants of the Dark Gods. Many orders of being have found freedom in what they call Imperium Nihilus, ideas and dreams given the freedom to roam as they will. Consider us neutral parties in the war between order and chaos, beholden to none save our own natures."

"Then you will help us?" Aronyx pressed.

"We guide all, regardless of allegiance. Good or evil is of no import to us. We shall help you, as we helped Skoll."

"You did what?!" Ferrac barked.

"It was we who told him where to find you," Antikythera sniffed.

Ferrac's hand rose to attack but the Anchorites were faster. The Burning One blurred as she bounded forward, wings snapping as a slim hand slammed into Ferrac's chest. The Battle-Captain went down like an infant struck by a sullen adult, his strength pitiful by comparison. A blazing sword was laid at his neck, promising to end him if he stirred. The Hidden One went for Maru, lash streaking out to wrap his torso in a vice. The Librarian-Dreadnought collapsed to his knees, drained of vitality, his reactor crippled as his mind was denied any trace of power, or thought.

Aronyx sat still throughout, past Regnators screaming at him not to interfere. And in truth he rather enjoyed witnessing the Amber Viper's humiliation. Antikythera looked at him knowingly, "Our patience has limits."

Aronyx nodded, "I promise my companions shall not speak again. For I am eager to hear your deep wisdom."

"Flatterer," Antikythera smirked as she reached under her robe and pulled out a deck of cards. Strange symbols were etched on each, arcane meanings radiating from every line. Withered hands moved rapidly as she shuffled the deck and drew three. She laid them out and Aronyx saw a ship on the ocean wave, a wheel surrounded by gears, a moon set against stars inverted.

"A journey, through confusion and madness, to bring about great change," Antikythera announced.

"We seek a world called Dimmamar," Aronyx prompted.

Anitkythera drew the fourth card, a tower struck by lightning, "You seek revelation, an ending and a new beginning."

"An end?" Aronyx asked hopefully.

Anitkythera drew a fifth card, a hanged man, "Sacrifice, martyrdom, the release of burdens. You will find what your hearts seek most, but at great cost."

Aronyx pressed, "What course shall we seek?"

A sixth card, laid horizontally, beneath the five shown. A skeletal figure on horseback, with a scythe in hand. Aronyx's guts clenched at the sight: death, not only of the individual but the masses. The Grim Reaper, coming to harvest a crop. The end of all things.

"Death, for my Chapter?" Aronyx gulped.

"Don't be so literal, look closer and see what is right before you!" Antikythera retorted.

Aronyx looked closer, studying the positions of the cards. Past Regantors told that a card inverted reversed the meaning, but death was horizontal, neither one thing nor another. A ship indicated a journey, a moon inverted signalled madness, the hanged man meant sacrifice and the wheel change. The lightning tower was a flash of revelation, one that shattered the preconceptions of the viewer and brought fresh understanding. It added up to a journey through madness, bringing pain that would change the voyager forever. He knew what that meant, they had to go between death and life, venture within the thin veil between the living and the dead.

"I swore never to return there," Aronyx whispered.

"It is the current that will lead you to your fate," Antikythera stated firmly.

"It will cost us dear," Aronyx breathed.

"To refuse is doom."

"But beyond lies our goal?"

"Destiny calls, it is up to you to answer."

Aronyx steeled himself and rose. He bowed to the Anchorites, then turned to leave. The Burning One and the Hidden One released their prisoners and let them leave without a word. Down the stairs they went, marching downwards in single file. Aronyx walked calmly, though he could feel the ire of his companions like a bonfire on his back.

Two levels down Ferrac's patience snapped, "What the Frak was that?!"

"I was saving your life," Aronyx said, "Be grateful they let you leave with your head attached."

"A poor guest is he who insults his host," Maru chided.

Ferrac ignored that, "Tell me you got what we need."

Aronyx sighed, "We must sail the River of the Dead."

"The what?"

Aronyx explained, "A place between life and death, a narrow aperture where the laws of mortality no longer apply. We shall be tested, each of us, personally. The danger to our bodies is as nothing to the peril to our souls."

"And beyond lies Dimmamar?" Maru asked.

"If we survive, we will be where we need to be."

It fell to Ferrac to grumble, "I think I'm not going to like this."