Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 3

Three days and three nights of anarchy swept over Farjness, the people rising up in a tide of anger and vengeance. The yoke of fear had laid heavy upon their souls and its sudden removal unleashed a volcano of fury. Rioting mobs swarmed the streets, overrunning the suddenly outnumbered cultists. Screaming civilians rushed barracks and the manors of those who served the Traitors, swamping any resistance. Corrupt officials and collaborators were dragged from their beds and thrown screaming from high rooftops. The temples of Chaos were stormed and the Demagogues whipped through the streets, before being hung in market squares. The labour camps were stormed and the prisoners released, many of them so weak they would die regardless.

The Traitor Marines were a tougher prospect. Fighting furiously to the last they reaped a fearful tally in defeat, each one taking a hundred men with them before they died. In truth the civilians may not have had the numbers to win through, were it not for the Raven Guard. As the city exploded into anarchy the shadowy killers pressed their advantage, taking full advantage of the distraction to tip the scales at last. Caught between the rapier of unseen hunters and the sledgehammer of millions of enraged rioters the Sons of Horus fell, dragged down to their end one by one.

Sedaxus reflected on this as dawn rose over the city. From the spaceport he could see the thick smoke rising, making the sun a faint circle in the sky. The light was faint and dim, barely enough for mortals to see by. In an odd way it reminded him of Nostramo, the dank and fetid pit of despair he had escaped from. The comparison was more apt than mere illumination, the city of Farjness was wracked by violence, the mob ruled and blood flowed in the streets as any suspected of collaboration were executed. Dark, blood-soaked and merciless, it could be easily mistaken for Nostramo.

"Just like home," Sedaxus cursed as he lifted his helm free. The noise of landing shuttles battered his ears but he paid it no mind, eyes fixed front. Exposed to the air his face was narrow and gaunt, with pronounced cheekbones that made him look starved. His lips were thin and so pale as to be white, as was the skin over his face. His eyes were pure black and narrowed with a slight grimace. Like all people born of the midnight world light caused him pain, even dim light like this. The genic legacy of Konrad Curze had done nothing to change that, another reason to despise him.

"Feeling homesick?" Engar snorted from nearby.

"For that craphole?!" Sedaxus derided, "I'm glad Kurze blew it up, just about the only good thing he ever did."

"Then why the long face?"

Sedaxus turned to regard him. Engar was sitting on a munitions crate, in the lee of a Shadowhawk gunship. He was fiddling with his sniper rifle, constantly making the tiniest adjustments to hone its aim. His pale face and black eyes could have made one think they shared a bloodline, but appearances aside the Night Lords and Raven Guard shared little in common. Engar's eyes were next to impossible to make out, even in daylight and his features were bland and forgettable, considered average on a hundred thousand worlds. Even in the open he seemed about to disappear, slipping from notice and swiftly forgotten.

Sedaxus drew in a breath and explained, "I was merely comparing the state of this world to mine. How many civilians died fighting in the riots, how many piled corpses lie in the streets? The death toll in Farjness must almost rival an average day in Nostramo Quintus."

Engar looked up and remarked, "Not like you to fret over civilian deaths."

"I'm not fretting, but it's not like the Raven Guard to put civilians into harm's way."

Engar sniffed, "You don't know us that well. You should look up the records of the liberation of Deliverance. When Corax drove the tech-guilds off our moon he knew they'd come back. We had taken our home back but we couldn't hold it. So Corax loaded atomonic charges into shuttles and dropped them down the gravity well. We laid waste to Kiavahr, until the tech-guilds sued for peace. The dead can't be counted, but we were free."

"Sloppy work," Sedaxus sneered.

There was a snort from beside them as Damolos quipped, "Nothing worthwhile is ever achieved without blood." Sedaxus considered the boisterous Marine. Damolos was unlike most Raven Guard stock, ruddy in complexion and with red hair. His face was broad and bore traces of Terran lineage. He must be old, old enough to predate the Legion finding its Primarch, but he looked youthful. It was possible, Warp Travel was a subjective affair, he could well have missed decades, centuries even, in transit between wars. Sedaxus didn't know how he'd avoided Corax's purging of Terran elements in the Legion and he seemed reluctant to talk of it, somehow picturing a slaver-lord didn't fit the laughing Marine at all. The whole Legion didn't like to talk about the slaver origins of the XIXth, saying only those elements were detached into Nomad-predation fleets.

Sedaxus changed the topic as he asked, "Where's Nolaro?"

"Briefing the Interim-governor," Damolos replied.

"Think that cretin is up to fixing this mess?" Sedaxus asked.

"I'm sure the Therions will keep things in order," Damolos said.

They turned to regard long lines of troops marching out of the landing shuttles. Brought down from orbit after the Traitor fleet had fled. They had been hiding in deep space, waiting for word to come and secure the planet. The Raven Guard were ill-suited to garrison duties so the Imperial Army stepped in, to impose order and restore Imperial governance. The stiff lines of marching boys looked like paper soldiers to Sedaxus' eye, clutching freshly issued lasguns in clumsy grips. Probably their first assignment, if he was any judge. He wondered how the people would react to having the tyrant's yoke lifted from them only for it to be replaced by an Imperial one, but then that wasn't his problem to worry about.

In the opposite direction marched knots of black-clad Space Marines, the Raven Guard making their way back to the spaceport to return to orbit. They carried many wounds but walked proudly, their vengeance sated, for now. Mostly they were Tactical and Assault troopers with a handful of Devastators, Terminators and Dreadnoughts rare and too cumbersome for their strategies of infiltration and stealth. Instead they favoured Shadowhawks, variant gunships fitted with auspex jammers and engine baffles to make them nearly undetectable. There were also Whispercutters being loaded, skeletal frames that were little more than an anti-grav engine and a line of harness clamps, leading to a Servitor pilot.

Sedaxus muttered, "A lot fewer leaving Farjness than entered it."

"Sons of Horus were tough bastards," Damolos admitted, "And we had a lot of war-virgins. The last batch of reinforcements from Deliverance hadn't faced Traitor Marines before."

"We'll need another shipment after this," Engar remarked.

"Might as well ask for a Titan Legion," Sedaxus scoffed, "Nolaro will drag us into another meatgrinder and another. So long as Traitors draw breath he will not relent."

"Would you?" Damolos quipped.

Sedaxus considered it and then admitted, "No, not so long as those scum live. The head of Kurze himself wouldn't sate me."

Damolos laughed but the noise drew the attention of a knot of passing Raven Guard. A trio of battered warriors paused and sullen whispers passed between them. Sedaxus groaned silently, knowing what was about to happen. His presence among the XIXth was an oddity, one that provoked a lot of outrage, especially among the newer recruits. By the look of these three they were newly-ascended, faces yet retaining colour and their irises had not yet turned black. Boys fresh from Deliverance and blooded for the first time in Farjness. They had likely been raised in an era of civil war and indoctrinated to despise all Traitors without question.

Sure enough the trio squared their shoulders and strode over. The leader had an air of one used to getting his way and barked, "What are you doing here, filth?!"

Engar cocked an eyebrow and remarked, "Is this how you address veterans?"

"I wasn't speaking to you," the youth growled, "I was talking to this Night Lord gutter-trash."

Sedaxus looked at him and coolly asked, "What's your name boy?"

"I am Meske."

"And does your Sergeant let you play outside after dark?" Sedaxus sneered.

Meske's face went red as he snapped, "I will not be addressed so by Traitor filth!"

Damolos stepped forward and barked, "Do not speak so to him, you don't know who he is, you don't know what he did for us on Istvaan V!"

Sedaxus cut him off with a curt, "I can speak for myself and I don't need defending, not from this babe-in-arms."

Meske's anger surged as he snarled, "I killed three Traitors on this mission!"

"Three? The Sons of Horus must be slipping, perhaps they let some of their half-dead Dreadnoughts out of their Sarcophaguses, that's the only way you could beat anyone."

"Night Lord scum," Meske growled, "I should beat you within an inch of your life!"

"You wouldn't last a day in the VIIIth, not one day," Sedaxus taunted.

"I could take your band of thieves and murderers all by myself," Meske snarled.

"You want to do this the VIIIth Legion way, I can do that."

Meske fists raised as he growled, "That's it, I won't stand for this, prepare for the worst beating of your life."

Sedaxus looked him up and down then snorted, "You're brave and bold, I'll give you that, but dense as a sack of bricks. Only an idiot brings fists to a knife fight…"

Suddenly Sedaxus was moving, claws extending as he darted low. A fist sailed past his head without touching and then his arms struck, slicing through Ceramite along the hip to let blood flow. Meske stumbled and Sedaxus spun about, aiming low to slice across the back of the knee. Meske lurched sideways but his elbow came back like a thunderbolt, catching Sedaxus in the temple and making his head ring. Purple spots flashed before his eyes but all it did was make him angry and he struck for the other leg, tearing out hamstrings and leaving Meske with no support. The young Raven Guard slammed to the ground face-first and then Sedaxus was on him, pinning him to the ground and holding his claws before the youth's face.

"Let me up filth!" Meske roared.

"Not until I teach you some respect," Sedaxus hissed.

"Get him!" Meske bellowed at his comrades.

But Damolos interposed himself in the way and growled, "Don't you two think about it."

Meske squirmed and then sagged and muttered, "I yield."

"Yield?" Sedaxus sneered, "Oh no, you don't get off so easy."

Engar spat, "Don't kill him."

Sedaxus mused, "Tempting but too kind, I want him to remember me for a long, long time."

Meske's confidence wavered as he gasped, "I yielded, you can't hurt me, I yielded!"

Sedaxus leaned in and whispered, "You wanted to do this the VIIIth Legion way, the first thing you need to know is Night Lords have no honour."

He drew back his arm and pressed the twin points of his claws to Meske's cheek. The energised points bit hard and drew blood, ripping through skin and the muscle beneath. Slowly Sedaxus drew back his arm, tearing long furrows through the meat of the youth's face, leaving deep and vicious wounds, ones that would scar badly. Meske managed to not scream yet he squirmed and shuddered in pain, but Sedaxus' arm never wavered. He marked the boy with scars that would linger to the end of his days, ones he would see every time he looked in a mirror.

Sedaxus finished with a flourish that flicked blood to the ground but as he did so another voice bellowed, "What's going on here?!" All turned to see Shade-Lord Nolaro striding over, his stern face filled with anger and his square jaw clenched tight. The pair of youths looked abashed but Damolos stated, "Merely settling a disagreement."

Nolaro looked upon the fallen pair and snapped, "Get off him."

Sedaxus held his position for a long moment, to show he wasn't jumping to obey, but then slowly rolled off and stood up in a manner that suggested it was his own decision. Nolaro waved the youths to pick up their crippled friend, blood still pouring down his cheek and hissed, "Explain."

"That trash insulted the Legion!" Meske wailed, "I defended our honour."

"In other words you picked a fight with a veteran and got stomped hard," Nolaro growled, "Deliverance is churning out thugs and idiots these days."

"That scum…" Meske started.

But Nolaro growled, "That scum has killed more Traitors than you've had hot meals. He's fought with the Raven Guard, bled with us in the ash wastes and ran for his life from Angron's rabid dogs like the rest of us. I know him well and I'd trade a dozen pups like you for one of him. Now get back to your sergeant and explain to him how you disgraced yourself so badly. Move!"

The pair lifted their friend between them and limped off as Sedaxus called, "Put some dressings on those scars, I'd hate for my handiwork to fester, it would ruin the lines!"

Nolaro placed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Brawling again, I told you to avoid brawling, I was very specific."

Sedaxus sniffed, "I can't help it if others start trouble."

"But to scar him so, you've made an enemy for life."

Sedaxus tutted, "One, but those scars will warn others to keep away from me. Better one enemy than a hundred."

Nolaro dropped his hand and muttered, "I don't have time for this idiocy, so forget it. We have new orders, we need to speed up loading our troops and get back on board the Implacable Judgement as soon as possible."

Damolos stepped up and said, "We have a new target, another warlord needs executing?"

"No, it's worse," Nolaro sighed, "We've been recalled to Deliverance."

"Recalled?" Engar gasped, "but there's work to be done out here."

But Nolaro countered, "This order comes from Corvus Corax himself, he wants us back yesterday, all of us, including our Night Lord friend. Corax's message mentioned you specifically and in less than glowing terms. We need to recall all our forces, polish our armour and for Throne's sake Sedaxus, try to keep your mouth shut when we get there."

The foursome looked at each other and Sedaxus sighed, "Off to meet the Ravenlord himself, why does this sound like an invitation to our own executions?"