Venenum Filios Chapter 16

The ball of shining plasma flew forth, boiling air molecules with the heat of its passage. It crossed the intervening distance in moments, etching shadows into the rocks. It was a crackling ball of magnetism and lethal energies, hurtling right at Toran's hearts.

However Toran was already in motion, the second he saw Mylos' aim rising he threw himself to one side. He dove away from the incoming blast, desperately trying to get behind a large stalagmite standing just to his right. The Captain's reflexes were fast and his movement swift but still the shining plasma caught him a glancing blow, just grazing his Pauldron. A shimmering burst of energy sprang into being; the force field produced by his Iron Halo, but so close was the blast that it still seared off the colours from his plate. The relic wouldn't be able to absorb a direct hit.

Toran hit the ground shoulder first and rolled with his momentum, coming up to his feet behind the Stalagmite. His mind was reeling with shock and confusion, the betrayal ringing in the depths of his soul but he shut that out. He was a Space Marine, conditioned to perform under any circumstances and he locked his bewilderment away behind a mental wall. His reactions were purely physical now, driven by experience and training, which brought him around the Stalagmite with his Master-crafted bolter already in hand. He dove out from cover, sweeping his bolter across the space where Mylos had been standing but found nothing. For all his perfidy Mylos had lost none of his skill and he had already relocated, disappearing into the grey gloom of the rock formation. Toran grimaced in disgust, his hatred rising within him. Whatever his motivations were Mylos had just betrayed him, betrayed Third Company. Toran would make him pay for that, his rage demanded no less.

Toran clasped his bolter to his chest and ducked behind a stalagmite, pressing his backpack to the rockface. All around him was a world of shadows and gloom, the wan daylight barely touching the ground, providing perfect cover and millions of places an enemy could hide. Toran peered out but could see no sign of Mylos, even shifting his Augmetic eye to thermal mode produced nothing. Damn, Toran thought, Mylos was good.

Toran ran behind another rock, hastily clamping his helm back on and sweeping constantly for threats but he found nothing. As he did so he opened his vox link and called, "Furion, Jediah, can you hear me? This is Toran, I am under attack…"

The vox crackled in his ear and a voice echoed, "Don't bother trying, I've cut you off."

"Mylos," spat Toran filled with contempt, "You've finally come for revenge for your twin's death."

"Why does everybody obsess over that? This is bigger than petty revenge," Mylos' voice growled in the vox, "And you can stop trying your emergency beacon, I've locked that out too."

Toran couldn't help but blurt out, "How are you doing this?"

Mylos' voice came back, "A little gift from High Chaplain Samect, he gave me your personal vox codes. Persion isn't the only one who knows how to override a vox network; I've locked you into a private link. It's only you and me out here."

Toran spied a lumpy shape in the gloom and quietly stalked up on it, creeping closer with bolter held firmly in both hands. He was about to pounce but paused when he saw that it was just a rock, a large boulder tipped on one side vaguely resembling a Space Marine's bulk. Toran ducked into its shadow and kept scanning for the foe while he said, "Samect put you up to this, so this wasn't your idea?"

Mylos' voice rang back over the vox, giving nothing of his location away as he said, "Oh they've wanted you dead for years. Lessall, Samect and the others, they were content to wait for a while, certain that you'd be killed by one of your reckless stunts but you just didn't have the decency to die on your own."

"You'll never get away with this," Toran spat.

There was silence for a moment then Mylos remarked, "I can't believe you just said that."

Suddenly from the distant gloom came a volley of bolt rounds, lower in energy than plasma so as to not trigger his Iron Halo. A trio of rounds hit Toran, one denting his breastplate, ripping off a rank chain and the others clipping his pauldron. Toran instantly leapt away, diving for fresh cover but inside he was stunned, he hadn't even seen Mylos and the range of the shot must have been remarkable. He was forcibly reminded that Mylos had earned his marksmen's laurels the hard way. Toran dashed into the lee of another stalagmite, chased all the way by bolt-rounds. He mentally triangulated their source as he ran and snap fired off a volley, sending a trio of his own back in return. Silence fell as he dove into cover but he seriously doubted that he had hit anything, Mylos was a much better shot than he was.

To buy time he spoke into the vox once more, "You know the sound of that will bring the others running."

"Let them come," said Mylos, "They will find your cooling corpse and a tale of how the Phage drove you insane, how I was forced to defend myself from your rabid attack."

Despite everything Toran uttered a single laugh at that and said, "You expect anyone will believe that?"

Mylos sneered, "You are a poor judge of your men, they are far more divided than you believe. You make them nervous, you stand where you should fall-back, advance where you should stand. No one knows what you will do next; they believe you could do anything."

Toran swung his bolter out and peered down a row of standing rocks, he saw nothing and decided to risk moving. He dashed across quickly, feeling like he had a target painted on his back but reached cover without a shot being fired. He drew in a breath and said, "What of Furion, do you really think that Furion will buy this?"

"Furion…" came Mylos' voice tinged with sad regret, "Furion chose his path long ago. High Chaplain Samect personally booted him out of the Chaplaincy decades ago and has always regretted not finishing the job. He speaks of it you know; he says he should have arranged a more permeant solution to that problem."

Toran thought he saw a shadow move and inched forward, as a distraction he said, "And Wrethan?"

Mylos seemed to feel the need to unburden himself and replied, "Wrethan, a blind fool. Convinced that Emperor-worship is so righteous but unwilling to recognise the sacrifices it entails. Unlike me he actually thinks you will join them, that you will embrace their cause, what an idiot. That's why Lessall sent Apothecary Memnos here, to keep an eye on him as much as you."

Toran was given pause by that; Memnos was a stout and rational Brother, he didn't seem like a spy. Yet Mylos could be lying, this could all be to distract him as he was trying to distract Mylos. Toran put it from his mind as he closed, stalking up on his prey. The gloom cleared and Toran saw the unmistakable form of an Astartes' helm, right before him and looking away. Toran wanted to run forward, shouting challenges but suppressed the impulse. Instead he coolly and calmly took aim, fixing his sights upon the back of Mylos' head. At that moment there was a subtle change in the air, a shift of wind, a glint of light or maybe the movement of shadows on the stonewalls. Whatever the cause Mylos' seemed to realise that Toran was behind and reacted with blinding speed.

He spun about and let fly with a volley, faster than Toran could even comprehend. The hurtling rounds soared forth and smashed into Toran's bolter, blasting it apart in a fiery explosion. Toran was hurled backwards by the force of the detonation and felt his Phage ravaged muscles clench in protest as he hit the ground hard.

He overrode their protestations by force of will and compelled his body to roll away, chased by more Bolt rounds. A shell deflected off his helm, making his head ring before he could manage to dart behind a stalagmite. He heard the crump of heavy boots approaching and tried to come around the other side, intending to engage Mylos in close combat. A flurry of bolt-rounds to the walls disabused him of that notion, sending Toran back into cover in sprays of rock chips.

Toran retreated, knowing that Mylos was right behind him. He could almost feel the cur's breath on his neck as he ran, the sights drifting over his back. All Toran could do was run, taking random turns among the towering rock formations. He was brought up short when he ran straight into a strange Space Marine, then he realised it was just a rock, the same rock he had encountered earlier. Unexpectedly an idea formed in Toran's mind and he paused. Hastily he ripped free his red cloak from his armour and threw it over the rock, it was a poor disguise but in the gloom it might just draw his foe in. Toran backed off a few paces and drew his blade, Mylos may be a dead-shot but in melee Toran was more than his equal.

The Captain removed himself from the location; until the rock became a vague red smear, then he waited and watched. Silence fell as he waited for Mylos to approach, knowing he could come from any direction. A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck but Toran held perfectly still, waiting for the first sign of Mylos' approach. The gloom and shadows hung before him and he peered outwards, perfectly aware and on a razor's edge. Where would the cur come from, and how? Then he heard it, the slightest scrape of rock echoing just from the other side of the stalagmite. Toran realised that Mylos had picked the exact same spot to lurk in and was just a couple of feet away, only a pile of rock between them.

Carefully and utterly silently Toran bunched his muscles and then in one mighty heave threw himself right into the column of rock. The weathered and chipped stone was no match for the weight and power of an armoured Space Marine and it broke under the strain, cracking at the base to topple like a fallen tree. The mass of stone leaned over and fell, right onto Mylos in a cloud of dust and ash. He tried to dodge out of the way but was boxed in, only managing to avoid being crushed outright. He collapsed under the weight of the stone and fell down, pinned momentarily and that was all Toran needed. The Captain charged through the swirling dust, pouncing upon Mylos and in one flash of his blade stabbed down into the cur's chest.

Mylos gasped as the Sword of Thiel pierced his primary heart, goring through him and spelling his doom. Mylos looked up at the Captain standing over him and breathed, "It was for the Chapter… it was all for…" Toran however wasn't listening; filled with rage he drew back his sword. Then with a savage snarl he swung wide, lopping off Mylos' head in a single blow.

Silence fell and Toran knew he had won, yet it wasn't enough for he felt a tide of rage surging through him. All the lies, all the betrayals, going back who knew how long, had been revealed. He had been played for a fool and had never realised how deep the enmity ran within his own Chapter.

Toran felt an overwhelming need to make this filth pay and he dropped to a knee. He drew Mylos' combat blade then worked the clasps on his amour, removing the breastplate. With swift and sure stabs he carved out Mylos' progenoids, holding them in the palm of his hand. Then he closed his fist and crushed them, excising any potential legacy from such a base traitor.

Toran heard the thumping of many armoured boots approaching but his guts churned again and his head was swirling. A great wave of blackness arose within him and he toppled over, falling into the dirt to pass out.