Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 395
The fighting arena rang with Transhuman voices lifted in cheer, more akin to rolling thunder than the sounds of men. Bare feet crunched sand underfoot, punches made hardened muscle shiver and hoarse cries of violence cut through the din. Here Brothers would contend as the gladiators of ancient Roma once did, pitting their bodies against each other in bouts of skill and strength.
Strike-Captain Reddam breathed deep of the scents as he watched a fight play out on the stage. Astartes' sweat had its own distinctive aroma, laced with chemical traces and hormonal boosters. The heat of so many bodies pressed together tickled his bare skin and his grip upon his deactivated spear grew slick. Beery flecks drifted in the air, as careless hands spilled suds upon the floor, and the laughter and misery of Brothers beat upon the ear. It was a coarse display, but Reddam found comfort in it, here was Brotherhood in action.
"Tebes has got Rortan right where he wants him," Larus noted.
"Any second now," Reddam agreed.
"Here comes the charge... now," Joffel declaimed.
Upon the stage two Brothers fought, Tebes with his mining pick, Rortan with a hook-glaive. A warrior of Secundus, like Reddam's squad, yet they fought without restraint. In the fighting arena anyone could be challenged, of any rank, and any blows inflicted did not besmirch honour or dignity. This was a place where grudges could be worked out, not started, or bouts fought simply for the joy of it. More often than not to simply gauge who was the better fighter.
Rortan was a wild one, fast and aggressive, with a mouth on him to boot, but Tebes held his ground. No taunts had moved him to rash behaviour, no feints had lowered his guard. Though he bled from a dozen cuts Tebes held firm, eyes narrowed and feet spread apart. It seemed his indifference goaded Rortan, provoking him into a rash charge. The hook-glaive lunged, but Tebes deflected the head off his mining pick, using the momentum to spin about. Rortan was caught out of position, a complicated moment passed where Tebes was suddenly behind him, then a boot to the rear sent Rortan flying off the stage.
Laughter and ribald taunts filled the air, as devotional tokens changed hands and bets were squared. Tebes dropped from the stage and made way as another pair of Brothers climbed up, ready to begin their bout. Rortan picked himself up and brushed off his tunic, returning to his squad without rancour. The defeat brought no shame, beyond the teasing of squadmates.
Joffel glanced at Reddam, "You going to put that spear to good use?"
"Not today," Reddam sniffed.
"You do not think you can win?"
Reddam's snort betrayed amusement, "Because I know I will. There is no challenge in beating down you ragamuffins. A Captain's dignity is not enhanced by thrashing the weak and helpless."
Larus chuckled under his breath at the taunt, but Tebes arrived a moment later. He went to speak but a loud thud behind told of a Brother hitting the floor. That was short, and the crowd grumbled at such an unsatisfying match. Swiftly another Brother took his place, Ceces, a master of Kempo, Maru's kata of unarmed combat.
Kazao suddenly spoke up, "I will fight him."
"Kazao, you shouldn't..." Larus tried to say.
"I will fight Ceces, it is my right."
The Aberrant took no more heed of warnings, pushing through the crowd. His body was covered in his fatigues and his head by a stormtrooper helmet. Ceramite plate hid his mutations most days, but out of armour he must conceal his warped visage. Few Aberrants chose to attend the fighting Arena, and yet Kazao seemed to have some fire in him today.
"He's keen," Joffel quipped.
"A long voyage breeds discontent," Larus grunted.
"We could all use a workout," Reddam agreed.
"I think he has more than that in mind," Larus sighed.
The bout began with a headlong charge by Kazao, trying to tackle Ceces. The bare-handed warrior met the charge by falling backwards, grabbing an outstretched arm and heaving. Pulled off balance Kazao nearly stumbled out of the ring, only catching himself at the last second. He spun on his heel, flinging out a punch that Ceces deftly avoided, but second blow came in low, sending him skidding backwards. Even over the roar of the crowd Reddam heard the impact, Throne, Kazao was getting strong.
"Another hit like that and Ceces is done for," Larus declared.
"If he can land a hit, Ceces is moving supremely fast," Tebes counted.
Joffel grinned, "Tell me if Kazao needs an extra hand or anything."
Tebes frowned, "Kazao does not need any more hands, he has the normal amount already."
Joffel groaned in exasperation, "Yes, Tebes, I am aware of that fact. Which is why I used that sequence of words, since the end result is funny."
The bout increased in tempo, the pair dancing around each other. Reddam was intrigued, rare was the fight without weapons, hand-to-hand bouts were almost unheard of. Two opponents, grappling in a contest of aggression and skill. Kazao was stronger by far, stronger than any Marine out of armour had any business being, but Ceces was faster and employed ancient katas most skilfully. Maru's teachings allowed him to turn his opponent's strength against him, avoiding a clash where muscle alone would tell.
Reddam followed the exchange with a keen eye, but then was distracted by a man entering the arena, a mortal man in armour. Inquisitor Markof, strutting about like he owned the Nest. The Fighting Arena was not a forbidden place, technically anyone could watch, but it was rare mortals would come to visit. Something about a clash of Transhumans who could snap them in half, mixed with alcohol, seemed to unnerve most people Markof didn't seem to care though, looking about with a scornful grimace.
Reddam shrugged his spear and stepped over, "What are you doing here?"
"Learning," Markof stated without explanation.
Reddam rolled his eyes, "Learning about us?"
"Learning how low you can sink."
Reddam thumped his spear's haft into his palm, "Nobody asked you here."
"An Inquisitor goes into the shadows with his eyes open, for the Heretic loves the dark."
"It sounds like you accuse us of Heresy," Reddam growled.
"Accusation implies the possibility of doubt; we both know your mongrel breed is guilty a hundred times over."
Reddam could have torn his head off before the man could blink, but instead grinned, "And yet you were sent to summon us for a mission. The noble Inquisitor, sent as an errand boy by a blowhard Primarch. How galling it must be, to rely on the likes of us."
Markof's eyes were chips of flint, "You mock what you do not understand. The Ordo Malleus has concerns that engulf a galaxy, our working arrangement with the Regent is a necessary pact, but do not mistake that for subservience."
Reddam snorted in amusement, "So you swallow your bile and accept you have to work with gutter trash like us."
"No," Markof growled.
That caused surprise, "No?"
"No," Markof snarled, "I accept nothing. You and your motley band of miscreants flout the God-Emperor's laws, you are an offence before the Golden Throne. Others may deem you trivial, or necessary, but I forgive none of it."
A huge roar from the crowd smothered any possible response. Kazao had managed to get his hands on Ceces and with a wrench threw him bodily from the stage. Cheers erupted and gasps of wonder, this had been an inordinately long bout, perhaps the longest on record. Many claimed this was a day to be remembered, while others grumbled as they handed over their bets.
When the noise subsided Markof sneered, "Brawling, gambling, drinking… I expect better from the Imperial Guard. You disgrace the nobility of the Astartes."
"You know nothing of Space Marines," Reddam growled, "We march into the blackest hellholes the galaxy has to offer and grapple with the fiends of hell."
"And steal from the dead," Markof spat.
That brought up Reddam short. Nearly his eyes drifted to the mark on his spear, where a White Scar's emblem had been scored out. Steely discipline kept his eyes forward, but Reddam could not help but wonder how much Markof knew of those days. The Amber Viper's shameful origin was not to be discussed, not in front of anyone.
Reddam chose to go on the attack, "Out of all the Inquisitors, in all the worlds, why did you elect to come on this mission?"
"Deflection won't help you," Markof snorted.
"And why an Amber Vipers recruiting world?" Reddam mused, "These are strange coincidences, and I don't trust coincidence. There's a game afoot, I can smell it."
Markof snorted, "I thought Ferrac was a particularly stupid example of your kind, but it seems you are all blundering oafs."
"Ferrac told us of you, a disgraced Arbites, who failed to police his own family. How many did your son kill, all because you harboured a Rogue Psyker? What is it the Inquisition is so fond of saying: a moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of Heresy."
Markof's expression hardened, "Your words are nothing, you are nothing. The God-Emperor is my shield and my sword, His decree is my command. "
Reddam tilted his head, "You want something, a technology, a relic, a book of spells. Something to fight Daemons, a weapon from us or from the squats. You seek advantage… somehow."
Markof however sneered, "You assume everyone is like you: miserable thieving bastards. You cannot understand a man doing his duty for its own sake; your brain rejects the concept. How low you have sunk. I am here to discharge my duty to the Golden Throne, no more, no less. "
"Don't think you know us," Reddam growled.
"I know all I need to know of the Amber Vipers," Markof spat and with that he turned and marched away.
Reddam glared at the Inquisitor's back as he marched out. Markof was lying, Reddam was sure of it, but about what remained a mystery. That the Inquisitor was playing his own game was obvious, but the nature of it was veiled. Reddam suspected their lives would be easier if someone carved out Markof's heart, but one did not attack an Inquisitor without repercussion, at least not where witnesses might see. Reddam resolved to keep a close eye on the man when they reached their destination, but for now there was nothing to be done save to turn about and observe the next bout in the Fighting Arena.