Venenum Filios Chapter 19
Something moved in the dark, small and fast, skittering away in a scrabble of claws and whiskers. It was instantly transfixed by a dozen bolters, the movement drawing attention to a potential danger. No rounds were fired though, the Astartes instantly evaluating the target and determining it to be no threat. It was just a rat, one of those ubiquitous rodents that had settled upon every planet humanity had colonised.
As the rat scurried away the Soul Drinkers resumed their sweep, ever alert for more threats. The world around them was dank and dank, lit only by the glow of flamer pilot-lights but it was enough for their autosenses. Small tunnels with mouldy stone walls lay ahead, forcing the Astartes to travel two abreast, in a long column that led off into the darkness. They were travelling in a group for now, the last survivors of their order clustered together as they pressed ever deeper under the ruins. Their movements were swift and eager, hungry for success and tinged with desperation. This was their last chance and they knew it, if they did not find the gene-vault here then their line ended was doomed.
Among their number Commander Coluber was striding confidently, looking proud and imperious for the sake of his men. He was walking with his weapons in hand, Venom and a plain bolt pistol. It was a basic and functional firearm, not truly worthy of one of his rank but it was all they had. The Soul Drinkers lacked the skilled artisans and blessed tools required to maintain exotic weaponry. Save for Venom itself all they had were bolters and flamers. Even the shuttles that had brought them here were workhorse Aquila landers, not the proud forms of Thunderhawks that the Soul Drinkers rightly deserved.
Coluber sighed and that drew the notice of Shrios who inquired, "You have concerns?"
Coluber checked that their vox-link was private and then answered, "We are so close, I can almost taste it but my zeal is tempered by the knowledge that there is so much to do, even once we acquire the Gene-vault."
Shrios nodded in understanding and replied, "The Gene-tech facilities and stockpiles will let us begin to fashion new recruits but to properly rise from the ashes we will still need much more. We need good breeding stock and training facilities. Arms and armour, fuel and munitions, transports, war machines and the workshops to service them… the scale of the task before us is daunting."
Coluber replied, "I have never been daunted by any obstacle, no matter how great. We can rebuild, we shall rebuild, but I cannot pretend that it will be swift. I would count it a blessing to see even one single Company established, but to recreate a whole Chapter… that is too much to hope for in our lifetimes."
Shrios said, "We must be cautious and careful, we will need to preserve every recruit we can. Losses are inevitable but too many at the earliest stages will exhaust whatever gene-stocks we find. We must learn prudence when choosing what wars we involve ourselves in."
Coluber grimaced at that and commented, "That is what concerns me most, caution and prudence… these are not the ways of the Adeptus Astartes, the way of the Soul Drinkers. Daenyathos taught us to live cold and fast, to drive into the heart of the enemy and show them the superiority of our blood. How can we teach them pride and valour by being cautious? We can give them our blood and our colours but how can we pass on our spirit, will the next generation be true Soul Drinkers or mere pale imitations?"
Shrios sounded glum as he said, "I have no easy answers for you my lord, the task may hard but we must be strong enough to walk it."
Whatever Coluber was about to say was interrupted by a blinking icon in his vision. It was Ferrac and the Commander opened his vox link to hear him saying, "My lord, the prisoner is getting anxious. He may try something."
Coluber glanced over and saw the prisoner, Persion, walking with his hands bound behind his back. An Astartes was strong but the plasteel bonds should hold him. He was surrounded and outnumbered but didn't look defeated, he walked with his head held high and he had an air of alertness about him. Doubtless he was planning an escape; Coluber certainly would be in his place. Coluber sighed again; it looked like the chances of them letting this Persion live were growing slimmer and slimmer, if he tried something then they would have to kill him. It gave Coluber much sorrow to think of cutting down yet more loyalists but it had to be done.
He steeled himself and ordered, "Be ready Ferrac, the prisoner's usefulness draws to a close. His head is yours to take when this is done."
"Understood," Ferrac intoned then queried, "And his gear?"
Coluber looked Persion up and down, noting the dull but functional plate, the excellence of its maintenance and the seals reverently applied by skilled artisans. Inglorious as it may be it made the Soul Drinker's own gear look ramshackle and dilapidated in comparison. The tiniest spark of envy stirred in the Commander's hearts at the thought of the resources these Storm Heralds must boast.
Coluber said, "Claim everything in the name of the Soul Drinkers. A dozen of our revered suits cry out for spare parts and that Augmetic arm could yet give good service to a Brother at a later date."
"Acknowledged" Ferrac stated, "But I'm keeping this Friction axe."
Coluber saw Ferrac gripping the fine weapon in one hand and knew that it was practically tradition now for the Chapter to scavenge such trophies from fallen foes. He nodded and said, "It is yours Brother."
Suddenly from ahead came a cry of discovery and Coluber saw much milling about from the lookouts. He hurried to the front and found himself entering a wide cavern, it was broad and long, roughly square in dimension save that the walls sagged in. Its artificial origin was clear from the scattering of columns holding up the roof but the ceiling hung low between them, looking like a slight breeze could cave it in. Perhaps once it had been some grand feasting hall or a workshop for Knight Engines but now it was just another cave, dripping with moisture and furry with mould. Yet none of that truly occupied Coluber's attention, what transfixed his gaze was a single icon carved into the far wall: a Golden Chalice with three jewels. Coluber traced its all too familiar lines and measured the depth of its grooves, they were deep and sharp-edged, far more recent than anything else in the hall.
"They were here, they really were here," Shrios breathed aloud, "We knew that they had stashed the gene-tech somewhere but this is actual proof we're on the right track."
Coluber wasted not a moment to shout excitedly, "Spread out and find a way deeper into the ruin, the gene-vault must be nearby!"
The Soul Drinkers spread out, examining the walls for other entrances. Meanwhile Coluber stepped closer to Ferrac and inclined his head fractionally. Persion had just outlived his usefulness; it was time to do what had to be done. Ferrac tightened his grip on the Friction axe but before he could move there were a series of cries from the far end of the hall.
Two Brothers were standing by a hole in the wall, scanning within with a stuttering, badly-maintained auspex. One was shouting, "We've found it," but the other was shouting over him, "Movement, Auspex is picking up lots of movement!"
Coluber cursed, it seemed that despite all their haste somebody else had found their way down here too. He leapt forward, Venom in hand and cried, "Form up and present arms, prepare for battle!"
Immediately the Soul Drinkers formed a defensive perimeter around the entrance, bolters and flamers pointed down the dark tunnel beyond. Coluber dearly wished that he had some heavy weapons at his disposal. Multi-meltas, Missile launchers or Heavy Bolters would wreck havoc in such tight confines but such means of destruction were beyond them, they would have to make do as always.
In the darkness beyond there was a flash of something, a suggestion of bulky forms in the gloom then suddenly the unmistakeable outline of Astartes warriors were charging forward issuing cries of hatred. Coluber had the briefest impression of scales laid over armour plate, fanged bolters held in spiked gauntlets and twisted horns scraping the roof. It stirred a conditioned response within him, one that had been imprinted in his mind during his earliest training. An immediate rush of righteous hatred and an irresistible desire to meet these foes in battle surged within him as he cried, "Traitors approach, destroy them all!"
Instantly the line of bolters erupted, hurling a wall of mass-reactives down the narrow tunnel. The Soul Drinkers let fly with everything they had, firing relentlessly at the oncoming foe. Coluber gripped his bolt-pistol and fired repeated bursts at the oncoming enemy, the urge to destroy this foe filling him with righteous zeal.
Behind him he heard Shrios shout, "Who are they? How did they get here?"
Oddly it was Persion who yelled, "Alpha Legion, they followed us here!"
Coluber heard the words but he could not pause, the enemy were barrelling down the corridor at them, braving the incoming fire and snap-firing bolts in return. Ceramite armour rang as their glorious purple plate was struck. The foul heretics had inscribed their munitions with fell runes of Chaos and Coluber felt his ire rise to hear the gibbering chitter of Daemons that sang through the air in response.
Solid impacts hit the line of defenders, knocking them back and gouging their plate then Coluber snarled in anger as he saw a Brother go down in a spray of blood. Shrios raced over but the Commander knew it was already too late, that had been a headshot. Twenty-seven, he counted, twenty-seven of them left now, all that remained of the once proud Soul Drinkers.
Coluber's hatred burning fiercely within him and he shouted, "Concentrate your fire, bring them down! For Terra: Ave Imperator, Ave Imperator!"
The line of bolters thundered, creating a torrent of shells in the narrow confines. Coluber spied a trio of hated foes go down with gaping holes blown in them and his spirit rejoiced. Here at last was a righteous battle, one free of compromise and recriminations. Damn prudence and caution, this was what the Soul Drinkers had been born to do, not grubbing about in ruins and stealing from their own kin. It was glorious to be once more what they once had been and for a second he believed that they could again be the proud heroes of legend.
His exultation was short-lived, as something new entered the fray. A huge shape emerged, filling the entire width of the tunnel. It boasted slab-sided plates of armour laid over pulsating metal sinews and bulging muscles with writhing tendrils poking out of every joint. It took a mighty step forwards into the teeth of the oncoming fire, then another and another then Coluber heard Ferrac gasp, "Obliterator."
"Concentrate your fire!" roared Coluber and the Obliterator was inundated with bolts. Yet its body shifted and changed, drawing thick armour plates up to the fore to create an impenetrable barrier. Bolts ricocheted harmlessly off its armour as it ran forward, becoming as powerful and invulnerable as an armoured tank. A storm of shells fell upon it yet did no harm as it charged at them, roaring in rage and madness. Coluber saw it close the distance in seconds, ignoring bolt-shells and gouts of burning promethium then it hit the line.
Soul Drinkers were thrown aside by its weight and heft, cast aside like rag dolls. Nothing could stop its advance and nothing they had could bring it down. It broke through their ranks with a scream of triumphant rage, bellowing in insane mirth as it wrecked havoc. Coluber tensed to leap at it with Venom in hand but was given pause by another cry. In the Obliterator's wake came a screaming wave of Traitorous filth, racing to take advantage of the momentary confusion. They leapt into the fray with knives drawn and claws ready, falling upon the Soul Drinkers in a wave of mad frenzy. The Soul Drinkers met them with courage and zeal and the battle was truly joined.