Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 382

Aronyx could barely see the walls, so fast did they blur past. Engine throbbing under his rear, turbines howling and Heavy bolter barking the Regnator shot through the bowels of Naglfar, letting slip the ire of a dozen generations. Below massed packs of enemies died, culled by bursts of his weapon. Their numbers were endless, their ferocity terrifying and yet in the face of annihilation Aronyx exulted. Truly this was the finest battle of his life.

Hundreds had he slain with bolt and lance, time and again diving into the fray to smash and sunder. The main arterial routes were easy enough to race down, but the lesser passages proved challenging. He was moving at breakneck speed and the way was uncharted. Only Transhuman reflexes let him navigate in these tight confines and every second promised to see him dashed against a wall. He was dancing on the edge of oblivion and it was glorious.

Below a knot of his Brothers succumbed to the foe, overrun by waves of snarling killers. Aronyx made them pay with one swift pass, blasting them away with a burst from his gun. More foes were added to his tally, but the Blood could not be saved. Aronyx was keenly aware that the vox had stopped responding, of his kin no more was heard. Perhaps some few yet battled on but the chill thought arose that he could well be the last of his Chapter. So be it, Aronyx resolved, if he was the last then he would fight to the final beat of his hearts. He would make the cost of his life dear indeed.

"Mov… up, we're nearly…" the vox crackled as if to disprove his resolve.

"Come in!" Aronyx barked as he hurtled along, "Who yet stands?!"

"This is Coluber, Aronyx is that you?"

Aronyx blinked, "Coluber, what are you doing here?!"

"Never mind that, we're heading to the brain of the ship!"

"Answer me!"

"No time to explain, we have the means to end this. You hear me? We can destroy the Space Wolves, but we must reach the brain!"

Aronyx cursed at the Viper lord's intrusion, this was his battle, his ending. Yet the chance of victory stayed his tongue. To die in defeat was not a beautiful death; victory would make his ending truly magnificent. Aronyx jerked his handlebars about with a twitch and shot up a narrow passage. Foes flashed inches below his boots, claws reaching for his ankles. He gave them only the sight of his jetwash, flaming contrails scorching dozens. Aronyx had never set foot inside Naglfar before, he did not know the way, and yet his hands steered a path regardless. A past Regnator had fought Tyranids long ago, he remembered the way to the brain and this knowledge was a gift most welcome.

Aronyx tore through the convoluted maze of capillaries and trachea, avoiding death by the narrowest of margins. The slightest mishap would spell his doom and yet his only response was to increase speed. Faster he rode, faster, bones creaking as he jinked around corners and shot through tight sphincters. At one point the floor dropped away and he fell a hundred metres, the anti-gravs barely caught him and he swore his footguards ploughed a track into the dank muscle of the floor.

Ancient wisdom steered him at every turn and within minutes he was at his destination. A vast cavern in the matter of the ship, bored out of neural tissue. The insides of the brain were disgusting, dripping vile fluids and throbbing with tainted blood. Sparks of electrical force flittered in the walls and thick cables hung from the roof. At the centre a stone circle dwelt, where a raging figure gave battle to a knot of Space Marines.

In an instant Aronyx beheld Coluber and his brute Ferrac, smashing aside rising cables from the mulchy floor. Three figures in black were with them, carrying a long cylinder that gleamed evilly. Aronyx saw they were advancing to the heart of this place, but the figure was fighting back. It was not Skoll, but some other, bound to the ship by a nest of cables buried in his back. He was one against five, but still he held them at bay.

All this Aronyx beheld in an instant and his response was swift. He yanked his handlebars about, flared the anti-grav and squeezed the trigger. The Heavy Bolter spoke and a cluster of rounds flew away to strike the figure dead-on. Mass-reactives punched through armour, guts were detonated and the Space Wolf died, granted an ugly death as he deserved.

The mass of fleshmetal fell still and Aronyx coasted to a halt, "Why did you come?!"

Coluber's right arm was charred but he held his sword in the left, "To stand with you."

"You were not asked for," Aronyx chided.

"We went through this with Rovenator, we're here, deal with it."

"Rovenator lives?" Aronyx blinked.

"Not anymore," Coluber sighed.

"How did my Centurio die?"

"Facing Skoll, he charged the filth alone, that mad bastard."

Aronyx nodded, "A beautiful death, I applaud his valour."

Ferrac stomped over, knife and gun in hands, "We're here, hadn't we better get started?"

"Give me five minutes," one of the black vipers called.

"We better start evacuating," Coluber stated, "All squads, commence withdrawal back to the boarding torpedoes."

Aronyx was about to argue that his kin would not leave but his words were stolen by a low growl. His head snapped about and he beheld monstrosity. Looming at the far end of the cavern was Skoll, swollen and twisted by the darkness of his soul. Armour had been reduced to random scraps, clinging to muscles as large as Aronyx's chest. His face was distorted, forming into a snout as long fans protruded from gums. His eyes were golden and held only madness, but it remained Skoll, Aronyx could never mistake the axes he bore.

"The Nightholwer comes!" Aronyx cried.

"We shall take him together," Coluber urged.

But Aronyx cried, "For the Great Angel!"

The Regnator was already in motion, gunning the throttle to hurtle forward. Eyeballs squished into the back of the skull and the skin on his face pulled back as acceleration crushed his bones. His hands squeezed the trigger and the Heavy Bolter spoke. A stream of rounds hammered at Skoll's hide, smashing the cur back. Aronyx bore down, determined to end this. He would slay Skoll, he would end the Nightholwer and it would be the epic triumph to crown his death. He could see it now, but his vision was ruined when the Heavy Bolter clunked empty.

Skoll was bleeding but not dead. The instant the storm of shots ceased he hurled his axe. Aronyx twisted over, flying sideways to the ground as the spinning axe shot past. Electrical discharge scorched his golden plate, but he would survive, except for the fact Skoll had two axes. The Nighthowler's arm swung high and caught the jetbike on the underside. Mechanisms exploded, ice encrusted his boots and Aronyx lost all control as his anti-gravs were destroyed.

All became spinning madness. Roof and floor were a blur of motion as he tumbled over and over. He struck the ground and felt shoulder bones shatter, armour wailing in distress. His jetbike slammed nose first into the mushy floor and flipped over, missing by inches. Had it come down on top of him it would have ended the Regnator. As it was Aronyx tumbled over and over, fleeing his bones splinter till he fell still at last.

His pharmacopoeia dumped pain balms into his system but the agony was intense. He could barely breathe, let alone move and was left helpless as others battled on. In the corner of his eye he saw Coluber and Ferrac battling Skoll. The scum hadn't even the decency to end Aronyx, already seeking fresh meat. The vipers fought well and proudly, but they were no match for Skoll. He harried them most cruelly, axes gouging plate with every strike. The black vipers tried to draw a bead with their energy weapons, but the fight was too swift and close to risk shooting.

Insult was given to Aronyx. The final battle was upon them and he lay broken and spent. This was not beautiful, this was no end fit for a Regnator. He tried to rise but shattered bones would not support his weight. He flopped helplessly as the fight turned against the vipers, his dismay growing every second. Was this how Aronyx died, his soul wailed, had he no more to give? His Primarch would have fought on, he had fought on. Sanguinius had battled from the start of the Siege of Terra to the end, never relenting, never giving up. The Great Angel had faced a Bloodthirster on the final day and emerged triumphant, and then gone on to face Horus proudly, knowing his death was certain. Oh, for a fraction of that strength, Aronyx lamented, the merest morsel of his gene-father's potency. Blessed Sangunius, Aronyx pleaded, grant me the lesser portion of your spirit.

His prayer was answered. From within it came, the darkest fury married to a raging thirst for blood. The twin curses of his line, arising in his breast. No, not curses, the blessings of Sanguinius. Aronyx felt strength renewed, firing his limbs, compelling him to rise. Broken bones mattered not, the Black Rage wiped away all pain, and the Red Thirst was a fire in his veins. He would not fall, he could not, the curse would not allow it. Aronyx teetered on the brink, mind falling into the mists of insanity, as the chamber threatened to become the heart of a Palace, and Skoll the Archtraitor himself. Past Regnators held him in the present, pleading with him to remain Aronyx. The Blood Talon was caught between the two impulses, hanging between rage and serenity, all the strength of his Primarch, all the wisdom of his ancestors. It could not last, but then he did not seek time.

Skoll hurled Ferrac away and sent Coluber to the ground with a backhanded blow. Aronyx was already moving, not for the fight but for his fallen jetbike. He grabbed the bulk in broken hands and flipped it over. The machine was wounded, anti-gravs spent, but the turbines yet worked, that was enough. Aronyx drew the Lance of Ascalon and braced it under his arm, as he straddled his steed.

The motion drew Skoll's eye and the Nighthowler turned to face him. Golden eyes fixed on the prey, but Aronyx stared back defiantly. Skoll's arm drew back, readying to throw but Aronyx held tight to his jetbike as he wrenched the throttle wide open. Roaring turbines screamed as the mass of the machine shot forward. There was no anti-grav, the metal of the bike carved a bleeding furrow into the floor, but Aronyx shot forward anyway. All was mad juddering, broken bones grinding against each other, but in the place between rage and serenity Aronyx was indomitable.

Time slowed, he saw Skoll's arm move, saw the axe leave a clawed hand. There was no possibility of evasion, no chance to turn aside. Aronyx could only watch as the spinning axehead came straight at him, cleaving into his breastplate and burying itself in his hearts. Cold, the frigid chill of absolute zero gripped tight, the impact rocking him back. No pain, no time for pain. Aronyx was grateful, his strength would last a moment longer, time enough to slam his jetbike into Skoll's body and drive the Lance of Ascalon straight through his black hearts.

Connection. For an instant they were linked and Aronyx beheld a life without hope. Bleak sorrow, dashed dreams, the soul-biting horror of nihilistic dread. Skoll lived a life without meaning, faced by the end of the universe he had succumbed to despair, thinking the only purpose he could have was to end it swifter. So similar to Aronyx's creed, to seek an end, but the Blood Talon yet had something to fight for, a cause to call his own.

Aronyx's revelation passed as the chill of death stole up his chest. His head rolled back as he breathed, "So… it ends…"

Skoll's body was pinned against a wall, legs crushed by the mass of the jetbike with a lance buried in his hearts. The shock of connection though had broken him from his madness and the dying Traitor breathed, "The Wulfen is gone…. we die but… it means… nothing…"

"It means… everything…" Aronyx exhaled as darkness fell over his eyes.

"No point… to anything…" Skoll exhaled slowly.

But Aronyx whispered, "A purpose to all things… I thank thee… for a beautiful death…"

Wrapped in a chill embrace Skoll and Aronyx expired together. The last Regnator and the Nighthowler, united in death. Aronyx's final breath was released and so he did not see the vipers pick themselves up, did not see them drive their weapon-device into the meat of the ship's brain nor the beginning of the end for the Sons of Garm. Aronyx was long dead by the time the Nail went to work. His ending everything he could ever have wished it could be. Aronyx, Regnator of the Blood Talons, died beautifully and so his Brotherhood passed into history.