Venenum Filios Chapter 20
The cavern was ringing with the thunder of weapon discharges and cries of rage. The tight narrow space booming with the mighty crescendo of battle being joined and blood being spilled. The noise was all-consuming, making the air itself heave and echoing back by the confining walls to bludgeon the ears. Any mortal would have been rendered incoherent by the uproar but then these combatants were hardly mortal.
In the dark and suffocating space two bands of Transhumans clashed, Soul Drinkers and Alpha Legionnaires. Each side was the pinnacle of human gene-craft, honed and tested by war and lifetimes of carnage. Each of them was clad in the finest armour and they all were equipped with weapons that were either blessed or profane. Cries of vengeance and rage issued from every mouth as they fought and in the clamour even they could not tell who was shouting what.
Amid the bedlam Persion was struggling to stay alive, jumping back from wrestling foes and ducking around thrashing forms. He was in the middle of the battle but could not fight, his hands were bound behind his back and he was unarmed. So he ran, avoiding conflict in a way that was galling but kept him alive. All around him the Soul Drinkers fought tooth and nail against Alpha Legionnaires but he was not surprised, Traitors often fought each other. It was no concern of his if the slaves of Chaos wished to eradicate themselves.
He watched a Soul Drinker being borne to the ground by a pair of fiends in scaled armour. The Marine punched out with a fist that made a horned helm snap back but his resistance was ended when a knife was stabbed up under an armpit into his hearts. It was a good death, proud and brave, better than the Heretic deserved. Persion owed these Soul Drinkers nothing; he had been listening to their communications and knew that they had been planning to murder him. The filth hid their murderous intent behind a glorious veneer but their arrogance oozed through regardless. Persion knew that for a fact, because in their haughty pride they had failed to properly examine his Augmetic arm.
Persion had managed to avoid revealing the capabilities of his replacement limb and as soon as the battle had been joined he had deployed it. Even now his hand was rotated 180 degrees and his fingers were moving in a way no normal hand could replicate, shifting and twisting as they undid his bonds. It wasn't easy doing this blind and in the middle of a battle but he persisted and then with a cry of triumph his arms came free.
Persion felt his limbs break out of their bonds and he growled as he brought his fists up, he was free now he could deal with the small problem of being unarmed. Persion spied a fallen Alpha Legionnaire, laying on the ground with multiple holes bored through him. Next to his dead hand was a long knife, sharp and viciously deadly. Persion bowed to scoop it up with his hand outstretched but at the last instant he froze. The knife was covered in dark runes and had a fell aura, it practically oozed murderous intent. He did not know what foulness had been done to this blade but it stank of corruption and he would rather chop off his other arm than pick up such a cursed weapon.
His moment of distraction was a terrible mistake, as he froze a leering fiend came at him. The Traitor had talons for hands and feet and a large jump pack arching over his back. Persion was unarmed and helpless, he knew that could not avoid the coming blow but then a firm hand shoved him roughly to one side, out of the way of the charging Chaos Raptor. Persion fell to the ground with a curse and looked up but was shocked when he saw Ferrac standing over him. The Soul Drinker had saved him from the enemy's claws and was leaping to intercept the foe in his place. Ferrac wielded Persion's Friction axe in one hand, meeting black claws with wide sweeps of the red-hot weapon and engaging in a duel as fast and deadly as any Persion had ever seen.
Persion felt confusion well up within him for this didn't make any sense. Ferrac, his gaoler, was taking his place in the battle, a foul Traitor fighting to save him. Maybe it was just because Persion was their prisoner and he wanted the kill for himself or maybe it was a vestigial sense of pride but neither explanation rang true.
Persion looked out over the battlefield, seeing once more the two sides tearing each other apart. They were roughly equal in numbers and ferocity but there were more subtle differences between them. To a mortal the scene would have been utter madness, two knots of battling Transhuman warriors engaged in the anarchy of melee but to an Astartes, fighting styles were as individualistic as handwriting and just as telling. The scene before Persion was an open book to him, one that told a story.
The Alpha Legion was fighting in packs, advancing and falling back in waves, each individual warrior taking advantage of every opening his comrades created. They fought well together, co-ordinated and murderously efficient as a group. Yet each individual was also isolated from his kin, every one of them looking out for himself at all times and not lifting a finger to save a comrade in danger. They were utterly lethal as a combined force but ultimately each and every one of them was only using his comrades for his own ends.
The Soul Drinkers, by comparison, were fighting in tight groups, holding an unbreakable line against the tide. Every one of them was flanked by his squadmates, and they fought together as one. Whenever one of them struck out his comrades would guard his exposed flank, keeping him safe. They risked their own lives to protect their Brothers, trusting the next Brother along in turn to protect them. They fought as a unit, the bonds of trust and loyalty amongst them clear and obvious.
To Persion's experienced eye the differences between the two sides were harsh and unmistakable. The Alpha Legionnaires fought only for themselves, but the Soul Drinkers were fighting for each other. They were like night and day, water and oil, Loyalist and Traitor. Heretics didn't fight like this and if this was pretence then it was the greatest one Persion had ever seen.
Persion looked out again and saw the Soul Drinkers fighting proudly and well, driving back the Traitors with discipline and hardened focus. Greatest of them all was the one called Coluber who was facing a lone Obliterator with his shining blade in hand. His movements were fast and vicious, strike and withdraw, strike and withdraw over and over, taking the looming foe apart piece by piece. The Obliterator tried to lash out but its movements were slow and awkward in comparison. It was unable to land a hit or draw a bead on the Commander who swayed and struck like a serpent in motion. As Persion watched Coluber sliced the hamstrings of the Obliterator, causing it to fall backwards and crash into the dirt. Fast a cobra he struck, leaping onto its wide chest and driving his blade into an eye-socket.
A sudden crash made Persion look round and he saw Ferrac falling to the ground, having been bested by the Raptor in combat. He was wounded and down but not dead, yet he had dropped the Friction axe. Persion saw the weapon before him and realised this was his chance; he could take the weapon and run, breaking out in the anarchy of the melee to flee back to the Storm Heralds. Yet as Ferrac lay there and the Raptor loomed over him, cackling with glee, Persion found he couldn't do it. Despite everything Ferrac had saved his life and he couldn't leave him to die, not like this, not helpless and alone. There was a line, one of honour and Brotherhood and Persion would be damned if he crossed it.
Before he could think it through Persion scooped up the Friction axe and leapt at the Raptor bestriding Ferrac. His weapon flashed and the Raptor barely had time to blink before his weapon carved into its spine. There was a cry of hate and frustration as the Traitor collapsed, then Persion's axe swung again and took off its head. Ferrac looked up in stunned amazement and gasped, "Why did you do that?"
Persion merely offered his hand and clasped the fallen Marine, then heaved him up to his feet. Ferrac's hand went to his combat knife and Persion didn't know what he intended but then another pair of Traitors came at them, from two opposite directions. There was no time to plan or strategize; there was only training and instinct, a response demanded by the situation.
Without needing to speak Ferrac and Persion slammed back to back, facing the Traitors as they came, counting upon each other to watch their blind spots. One Traitor came at Persion with a vicious knife in hand; he was fast and skilled and avoided Persion's deflection to gouge into the elbow joint, drawing blood. The Traitor was quick as lightning, coming back instantly but this time Persion was ready and met the attack with the burning edge of his blade. The Alpha Legionnaire roared as his hand was chopped off, taking the knife with it. Then Persion swung again, slamming his weapon into the chest of the Traitor. Ceramite crumpled like wet parchment under the power of the scalding weapon and the Traitor collapsed in a heap, his insides cauterised into a fused mass.
Persion glanced back and saw that Ferrac had the other Traitor in a close embrace, his knife plunged up under the helm into the jaw. The point of the blade had broken through the top of the helm and the Heretic was transfixed, jerking uncontrollably in death. Ferrac withdrew the knife and the Alpha Legionnaire fell down, still twitching as random nerves fired in his mushed brain.
Persion looked around and saw that the battle had turned in the Soul Drinker's favour, the tight defence winning the day. The Traitors had lost a dozen of their number and were falling back the way they had come, retreating in the face of superior resistance. The Soul Drinkers weren't foolish enough to chase them, this force had been relatively small and the Traitors doubtless had more numbers elsewhere. Only an idiot would pursue a retreating enemy into the teeth of an ambush.
Suddenly Persion felt a rough hand shoving him away as Ferrac barked, "Go, you have to go right now."
Persion saw that Ferrac was pointing back towards the other tunnel , the one they had originally come from and he asked in confusion, "What are you saying?"
Ferrac hastily said, "If you stay Coluber will order us to kill you... he has to."
Persion blinked and said, "But didn't you want that?"
Ferrac snarled, "Of course I did, but you saved my life I owe you a blood debt. Now I'm saving your life in return."
Persion shook his head and said, "Come with me, meet my Captain. After this I can convince him that you are loyal, that the Soul Drinkers are not all Traitors."
Ferrac barked, "No, we are locked on this course. The next time we meet we may well be foes again but I won't kill a Marine who has shed his blood for me, not like this at least."
Persion pleaded, "I've seen you fight, we don't need to be foes."
Ferrac barked, "It's out of our hands, but you have to go. Go right now and I'll make up some story that you escaped in the fight."
Persion took a step back and said, "I won't forget this."
"You better bloody well not," Ferrac quipped, "Now run!"
With that Persion turned and dashed away, racing out of the cavern. He ran into the dark tunnel heading back the way they had come, axe in hand. As he ran he replayed what he had just seen in his mind's eye, knowing that this wasn't over. He had to find Captain Toran and relay his tale; the Storm Heralds had to know what was going on down here.