Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 372

Lamentantor was nearly ready to depart. Her systems had not worked so well in living memory and her holds were full of supplies. The main drives shone, armour gleamed and the gundecks presented a wall of ferocious macro-cannons. Her wounds had been made good, her spirit restored and the time to set sail was nearly upon them.

Aronyx reviewed a data-slate in one hand, seeing the state of the Blood with a pleased eye. The Host reported great strides had been made in rebuilding their fighting strength, the improvements in air quality and food rations doing wonders for their stamina. The disorientating effects of the Ghostwind still lingered, but they were recovering day by day. The Blood too were hearty, the recent induction had restored their number to ninety, more than compensating for the losses incurred on the voyage. Only the filthy masses huddling in the dank bilges saw no improvement of their lot, but cowards like them had no impact on Aronyx's deliberations.

Aronyx handed the data-slate to a waiting Host member and took up a chalice of wine from another. It was heady with the tang of vitae, the wine within spiced with drops drawn from veins. The Amber Vipers had made their stores available and someone had liberated a few crates stamped with Imperial marks. Their erstwhile allies didn't seem to care, favouring rough beer over delicate wine, so the transfer went without comment. Rich with the tang of worlds Aronyx had never seen, it had remained flat to his tongue, till they added a few drops of blood. Just enough to sate the curse, not enough to bring forth visions.

Aronyx sipped his cup and remarked, "We should cast off within twelve hours."

"Not soon enough," Rovenator muttered.

"You are eager to be away?"

"These Amber Vipers have been nothing but trouble," Rovenator hissed, "Good riddance."

O'leia was with them and sighed, "I wouldn't mind a few more weeks, to browse their stores and rebuild our stocks."

"We have what we need, and I wish not to linger," Aronyx sighed, "Dimmamar strikes me as an inglorious place, I wish to quest further afield."

"Nine billion idiots and zealots," Rovenator growled, "Not worth dying for."

"My Regnator… where do we go?" O'leia asked.

Aronyx gave it some thought. The Blood had travelled further than they ever had, passing into realms that until now had been rumour and myth. The wilds they had roamed for generations had proved perilous and dark, but fresh worlds beckoned, and stars unknown called. They could go anywhere. To Baal and pay homage to the sands where their Gene-father first trod? But that would mean standing before Dante and his perfect Blood Angels, a harrowing prospect. Cross into Imperium Sanctus and see the wonders of Terra, but given what he'd seen of the Imperial mindset among the Amber Vipers he doubted the Blood would find it to their liking. Aronyx had no real answer, but that did not concern him.

Aronyx declared, "We shall seek our own course, find wars worthy of us and fight as our Primarch intended."

"Back to seeking beautiful deaths," Rovenator grinned, "Nice and simple, just how I like it."

"My Centurio speaks wisely," Aronyx quipped, "We shall return to being who we are meant to be. Thus shall we live, thus shall we die."

O'leia nodded, "Worthy deaths, unlike some."

That brought their eyes back to the hall. They were deep inside Lamenantor, in one of the sections forbidden to the wandering adepts of the Amber Vipers. Dark it was and cold, though frosted with breath drawn from hundreds. On long racks naked men and women shuddered, their wasted frames thin and haggard. Bound by cruel wires, that gouged skin to the bone, they twitched in torment, eyes rolling in pain. Many tubes plunged into their flesh, pumping in nutrients and fluids, while others took away bodily waste for cleansing. Via such means were they kept alive, but the true product of this chamber was not pain but vitae, drips of blood drawn from their veins and pumped to waiting caskets for storage.

Aronyx's lip curled in disdain. These were the cowards and the weak, those who failed to prove themselves worthy of the Blood's largess. The people they brought on board were given every chance to prove their courage and join the Host, but most stubbornly refused. An insult, but the munificence of the Blood allowed them to live, in the hope they would see the light. Their children were taken while innocent, before their minds could be polluted by cowardice, but the rest lingered. The Host took them when the chance they would change their minds had passed. The old, the infirm, those born twisted in body and unable to fight. This was the final fate of the coward. The Chamber of Shame.

A dry itch at the back of Aronyx's throat arose as he stared at the red lines drawing from each body. The curse in him had been growing worse in recent years and a dark urge to rip the lines open and guzzle the contents niggled. But this was not for him, not mostly. The Infernae in their cryo-sleep required copious amounts of blood to keep placated, and nearly all of this was destined for their vault. Barely a dozen remained to them, but there would be more soon enough, the doom of the Blood Talons could not be averted. That thought made Aronyx drain his cup and hand it back, his fine mood soured.

A sudden noise behind drew all their eyes. Aronyx spun on the spot to find Korinthus entering, his fine features snarled in fury. The Sacredos strode in the manner of a man outraged, his staff of office slamming home with every other step. Rarely had Aronyx seen him so enraged, even when the passion of the Primarch was upon him.

"Infamy!" Korinthus barked, "Infamy!"

"My Sacredos, what troubles thee?" Aronyx asked with dignity.

"Villainy, wickedness, vile betrayal! A crime within our own house!"

"Serious accusations," Aronyx uttered, "Of what crime do we speak?"

"My Regnator, the Black Chalice has been taken!"

The words rocked over Aronyx and he thought he misheard. The Black Chalice, their holiest relic, the tangible link to their Primarch. The font of their power and the bedrock of their faith. It was more than a relic of the past, it was their troth with Sanguinius, their touchstone. To lose it was unforgivable. Past Regnators howled in his head, screaming outrage so loud his mind buckled.

"How?!" Aronyx spat.

"I cannot say," Korinthus lamented, "The Infernae guard it night and day, always we keep them near. No man has ever slipped their guard, not once, but they seemed not troubled. An alarum showed one stirred, but no bodies of intruders were found."

"You're saying they let someone take it?" Rovenator gulped, "Or… they took it?"

"Impossible," Korinthus snapped, "I cannot explain this, but they would not defile it so."

O'leia looked confused, "Forgive my ignorance, but the Black Chalice is filled with vitae taken from the veins of Sacredos. Can't we just… replace it?"

"Replace the Black Chalice?!" Korithus spat, "Are you mad woman?!"

Aronyx stopped them with a hand, "She does not understand, she is but mortal. For the Blood there is no substitute. The Black Chalice is as vital to us as our gene-seed. Without it we have no past or future. Our line ends without it, and well it should for all honour is forsaken."

Korinthus snarled, "We must track the thieves and end them!"

But Rovenator growled, "Why do we debate it, we all know who did this."

"The Amber Vipers?" O'leia guessed.

"No other, we should never have trusted the miserable thieving bastards!"

Aronyx could scarce believe it. Despite their differences the two Chapters had been set to part on good, if chilly, terms. Would Coluber truly steal from his guests at the last hour, cast aside all they had done together? Yes, past Regnators whispered, he would. Coluber was an honourless cur, quick to grasp and covetous. He would steal from us, he has stolen from us, he must pay for this.

Aronyx drew himself up and growled, "This shall not stand! Gather the squads and ready our ship for battle. The Amber Vipers have proven faithless and untrue, for this there must be redress. Coluber has broken his word and I will have satisfaction."