Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 370
Dimmamar, Imperium Nihilus
The rain did little to dampen the parade. Along endless boulevards the people marched, singing hosannas to the grey sky. The sleeting drizzle made the road slippery and many zealots stumbled, blinking water from their eyes, but they were not dismayed. Banners displaying a skeletal lord on a throne of gold rose over the crowd, along with racks of candles that spluttered in the drizzle. Everyone had at least one candle, and together the endless crowd made a stream of light between Cathedrums.
Coluber looked down from the high balcony, observing the faithful in their devotions. From this altitude the mass of humanity appeared as ants, their size miniscule compared to the soaring basilicas on either side. The sharp steeples rose to the heavens, as testament to the faith of the people, but their golden spires had been fashioned by men and women such as this. The people's power was mighty, as evidenced by the rows of gibbets lining the routes. Within Heretics slowly starved to death, invaders, pirates, Traitors and those found wanting in devotion. Tens of thousands lined the procession, the fruits of Dimmamar's constant battle for survival.
"It's a bit much," Ferrac muttered.
Aronyx corrected, "These people are committed to their faith, such as it is. That has allowed them to withstand the wild phantasmagoria of this age, such feats demand respect."
"It's no worse than shrine worlds across Imperium Sanctus," Coluber mused.
"There are many such places?" Aronyx questioned.
"Many and all as mad as this display," Coluber sighed.
The Regnator lowered his perfect brow, water streaming off his nose, "For an age we thought it delusional, how lost worlds would cling to their belief in a God-Emperor of Terra. We found it laughable, to think He had survived. Only now we find they were right, and we wrong. How strange it is to have one's universe upended."
"He's no god," Coluber chided, "The greatest man who ever lived, but not a god."
"Don't let the walking candlestick hear you say that," Ferrac muttered.
Coluber's eyes drifted sideways, to where a squat figure in heavy robes stood, on a protrusion of the balcony, where he could lecture to the masses. His droning voice was caught by vox-thieves and transmitted to the masses via servo-skulls that floated above their heads. His attire was absorbing the rain, making him appear a wet tent, but his shoulders and mitre carried a dozen wax candles, that dribbled down his back. The rain kept dousing the flames, but lurking attendants would relight them with long tapers. Even a dozen steps away Coluber's genhanced nose could pick out the distinct scents of fat burning, human fats, those candles were rendered from human flesh.
High Apostle Benderick XII, lord and master of Dimmamar. Coluber found him unhinged, even by Ecclessiarchial standards, and yet he commanded billions of faithful followers with steely drive. The orbital shoals of pilgrim ships and broken invasion barques proved Dimmamar was no soft target. Many had come, looking to despoil the birthplace of the legendary Sebastian Thor, only to find the Frater Militia armed and ready.
Benderick seemed to have concluded his sermon for he stepped back and waddled over with gaggles of attendants in tow. The High Apostle must be freezing in the rain, but he showed no signs. Passion broiled off him, like steam off a furnace, inuring him against the chill. His round face was scored with a deep scar in the shape of the Aquila, self-inflicted Coluber judged. Everyone had one here, all the faithful. Curious, but more troubling was the universal tang of yellow jaundice, marks of cannibalism, and Coluber had quickly determined how the people of Dimmamar kept themselves fed on a planet covered in shrines.
"A blessed day!" Benderick exclaimed.
"It is a wonder," Coluber carefully replied.
"The God-Emperor's Angels return to us at last! His grace is boundless, our cup overfloweth!"
Coluber noted the guards didn't seem so pleased. Women in chipped power armour, holding bolters of smaller calibre than Astartes' models, but no less lethal. Sisters of Battle, but from no convent he recognised. They must have been isolated as long as Dimmamar, and yet they'd managed to keep their armour and guns functioning. Coluber had no doubt they'd played a major role in the planet's survival, and they didn't seem happy that Space Marines had returned. The Aquila scars on their faces were raw, constantly renewed, their faith was ardent indeed.
"So long have we prayed for a sign," Benderick continued, "And at last He rewards our faith. The Confederation of Light gives thanks for His blessings!"
"Perhaps we could do this inside?" Ferrac muttered.
"Of course! Let me show you my gallery!"
The High Apostle moved inside, and the trio followed. Coluber was indifferent to the rain, for one accustomed to walking through hails of bullets water was no issue, but at least the priest's candles stopped sizzling. Through a high archway they stepped, Sisters of Battle notably keeping pace with the fire angles open. Good for them, Coluber thought, they were alert for treachery. Naturally he could still kill all of them if it was needed, but an alert guard was a sign of a robust military presence.
Benderick dripped onto a marble floor as he strode down a double row of macabre artefacts. Set up as pieces in an art gallery, for the attention of bored nobles. He up to a skeleton held in the embrace of an iron frame. Tattered robes hung from the corpse, funeral garb and a worm-eaten mitre sat upon a withered face.
"High Apostle Benderick X," the mad priest exclaimed.
"You honour him?" Aronyx ventured.
"Honour?! I spit upon him. He ruled Dimmamar when the darkness first came, he nearly lost the whole system to the Black Brotherhood of Ruin. Died in office, and thankfully his successor was a more zealous man. Still my first act in office was to dig up his remains and put him on trial for Heresy!"
"You charged a corpse with Heresy?" Ferrac blinked.
"Heresy is Heresy," Benderick stated, "No matter how long ago. His punishment is to be forever denied the peace of the grave!"
"Commendable," Coluber stated with no trace of enthusiasm.
Benderick wasn't really listening, moving on to the next piece, muttering to himself. Mad, utterly mad, but Coluber didn't need him sane. He fell back a step and whispered to his comrades. "Kerubim reports the vault's location is secure. They can start digging this very day."
"How long will it take?" Ferrac asked.
"The vault was hidden under a derelict basilica, and Cawl left defences in place. Days, probably weeks."
Aronyx shook his head, "We shall not linger so long."
"You intend to leave?" Coluber asked.
"Our compact is done, and Lamentantor is nearly ready. The Blood seeks fresh wars and new ways to die."
Despite everything Coluber found it disappointing that the Blood Talons were preparing to leave. They'd had their differences, but they were brave and true. Sadly history proved that two separate Chapters could both be loyal and yet prove utterly incompatible, the Amber Vipers and the Blood Talons were too divergent to ever be allies, and yet it seemed a shame.
"We could return you to Imperium Sanctus," Coluber offered.
"The yoke of Terra is harsh," Aronyx deflected, "From what you tell me, the Regent and his crusade would be too confining for my kindred."
"First thing you've said I agree with," Ferrac muttered.
Coluber frowned, "Then you will return to your wandering, cross the River of the Dead and plunge into the wilds once more?"
"Not by that route," Aronyx winced, "Never again."
Coluber understood, the ghostly apparition had shaken him badly, as it had everyone else. Nobody was willing to speak of what they encountered, not Ferrac, not Shrios, not even Maru. But everyone had met a ghost, who had tested their spirit sorely. Coluber had been vexed to find two thousand and seven hundred Chattels had committed suicide during the voyage, and one Amber Viper. That a Space Marine had succumbed was stunning, Coluber wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. Brother Vanquast, of Secundus, dead of self-inflicted wounds.
Coluber planned to circumvent that phenomenon on the way back, though it would add to his journey. The voyage from Sanctus to Dimmamar had cost thousands of Chattels their souls, and Mihas was doubtful they could make the voyage back without even more extreme losses. Coluber was gambling the time spent digging up the Primaris vault, and loading the thousands of Cryo-tubes, would allow a period of healing, but was steeled for more losses to come. Damn Cawl, his mad invention had proven more trouble than it was worth.
"The Aquila Resplendent!" Benderick cried.
"What the Frak?!" Ferrac muttered sullenly.
The High Apostle had stopped before an effigy of the double-headed eagle. Spread wings, clawed feet and twin heads, the Imperial icon, save it was formed of human remains. Human thigh bones were aligned to form the wings, vertebrae made up its heads and the chest was packed with grinning skulls. The whole thing was strung together with sinew and strips of skin that had been wound into ropes. The effigy stank like rotting meat under a hot sun and Coluber fought to keep a grimace off his face.
"Such wonders we work here," Benderick chuckled to himself, "These Heretics came to extinguish the light of Dimmamar, but our faith has seen them reborn into Holier forms!"
"Get a lot of those do you?" Ferrac snorted.
"Every year they come, from the outer dark. Broken ships, lost and wayward strays, or rapacious invaders. Invidious fiends often claim to be helpless refugees, but we have ways of testing their purity, oh yes, we test them down to the marrow! Those who pass the Nine Sacred Trials we embrace into the Confederation of Light, unbelievers are made to serve in other ways."
"As dinner?" Ferrac grunted.
"You dare question our devotion?!" Benderick started with a furious expression.
Bolters twitched around them as the Sisters took umbrage but Coluber hastily deflected, "My comrade merely expresses his admiration for your steely will Few worlds we have seen have owned the strength to endure these dark times."
Benderick nodded as he smugly replied, "Billions of the faithful washed up here after the stars ripped apart, their mighty numbers are surpassed only by the power of their faith. With the Emperor's Holy warriors here, we shall be unbeatable!"
Coluber however corrected, "As we said when we arrived, we are not a garrison. Our mission is to retrieve certain artefacts, for return to Terra."
Benderick didn't seem to care, "When your Starfort appeared from nowhere we were astounded to find Space Marines within, carrying word of Terra's will. The God-Emperor's own, bringing proof His sovereignty endures. Of course, our belief in Him never wavered, but confirmation is joyous indeed. Stay or go as you will, but we shall endure, sure and certain in His righteous will. We must redouble our sacrifices, the Heretic-rendering vats must increase their labour. More candles! More statutes! More feasts! More I say, more!"
Benderick waddled off, ranting about how many more Heretics he would need to execute, seemingly forgetting his guests. Ferrac rolled his eyes, "Human sacrifice, cannibal feasts, bone statues and candles for hats... and this is the sanest planet we've seen so far!"
"They withstood an age of nightmares, I cannot fault them for that," Coluber remarked, "But I wish not to linger."
"Neither shall we," Aronyx affirmed, "Once Lamentantor is fit to sail, we shall take our leave."
Coluber allowed, "A shame, but our deal is done. You led us to Dimmamar, and we shall retrieve our prizes post-haste. Fare thee well and good fortune in the wars to come."
"May your death be beautiful," Aronyx replied.
A hearty moment but Ferrac manage to ruin it, "Don't get too cocky, we've still got to get out of here before something else goes wrong."
