Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 68
"The rain is passing, I think we're going to live," Aapo commented as he listened to the pattering noise on the hatch over his head.
Hanphu's reply was smug, "A long-dead trader once taught me an appropriate saying: I told you so."
"Don't pretend you planned this," Aapo scoffed, "You haven't the brains."
"I don't need brains, I have luck," Hanphu retorted with a wry smile.
Aapo resisted the urge to reply with uncouth words as he half-crouched to peer out the vision blocks. The cavern Spectre of Woe was trapped in was dark for mortal eyes, and nearly so for Transhuman vision. It wasn't much to boast about, a ten-metre sinkhole following a vein of volcanic pumice. The toxic rain hadn't flooded the space, meaning there was a drainage channel somewhere in here. A tiny trickle of moisture had worn away the rock, leaving a thin crust to hide the gap. Another ten thousand years and this may be some vast ravine, but for now it was a hole, nothing more nothing less.
Aapo wondered if the PDF Troopers thought them dead. It seemed likely; he would have rated their chances of surviving the tornado so close to zero as to make no difference. If they hadn't stumbled into this pit their Rhino would have been peeled open, then they would be scoured to the bone, then their remains would have corroded to nothingness. One was tempted to give credit to divine intervention, and indeed some Smoke Jaguars saw the Sun-Emperor's hand in all things, but Aapo found it hard to believe the Golden Throne would work through a brain-damaged maniac like the Magpyr.
"Cast Spear, Cast Spear, come in," Hanphu whispered into a vox-horn, "Cast Spear, this is the Magpyr, can you read me?"
"Maybe the signal can't get out of this pit, or the storm is blocking comms," Aapo wondered.
K'oy sniggered mockingly from Hanphu's shoulder as he explained, "K'oy says the vox-antenna is shot off."
"Can't your armour's internal vox reach orbit?"
Hanphu opened the vox-unit's casing with a spanner to examine the mechanisms, "Not nearly powerful enough, we make certain modifications, to reduce the chances of detection, but that costs power. We can't reach anyone off Xilbalba without this relay."
"A tree that falls in the forest makes no sound if none are there to hear," Aapo groaned under his breath. Their kinsmen were so near, waging war upon the Orruk on Marajo, a simple vox-signal could summon hundreds of brave warriors, but there was no way to contact them. The facts were stark; one Thunder Warrior had taken apart four Space Marines with ease, only Takana's mutant ability of Shadow-Path had allowed them to escape. That and Engar's final warning, whispered to Aapo, telling him to find the Pariah woman and disable her. The Lord Headsman had been wise, but it had cost him his life, and without reinforcement Aapo was sure they would soon join him in death.
"Two and a half days," Hanphu sniffed.
"Speak again?" Aapo blinked.
The Magpyr peered out the vision slits, "Two and a half days, that's how long it will take to dig Spectre of Woe out of here. Not good, but we only have our hands and some picks. Still it would take a hundred Serviles a month to do the same, so the dawn smiles on us already."
Aapo's eyes settled on a loose spanner the Magpyr had set down, and he seriously considered picking it up and smacking the mad fool. K'oy sensed his ire and hissed invective, baring metal teeth as it did so. Aapo was truly starting to hate that odious little grease-slick, but bit down on a curse. Anger burned in his breast, but so too did guilt. The last two days had given him time to reflect on the dark revelations, the secret shame of his blood. Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords, thrice-accursed Traitor and madman. The twisted reflection of noble Corax, bitter, reviled and insane, a name to be despised by all. Aapo shared this shame, and perhaps too the madness. He certainly enjoyed killing, a worrying discovery now he knew where it came from.
Takana's voice carried from the rear, "The time is upon us." Aapo and Hanphu shared a troubled glance, then ducked into the rear. The Dark Fury was upright, Takana's bones fused back together after two days, not completely restored but enough to stand. Xavaar did not rise. The Shade-Seer lay propped on a wall, oozing slowly from the rents in his plate. He should be fully restored, but the Bronze Beast's claws had destroyed vital organs and ruined the gene-wrought wonder of a Space Marine. That Xavaar yet dwelled among the living was a miracle, but not an enduring one.
"The hourglass runs empty," Takana sighed, his helmless face grim.
"Surely there must be something we can do," Aapo denied.
"A sus-an-membrane coma," Hanphu suggested, "His life can be preserved until an Apothecary can be summoned."
"A fine idea, save he doesn't have one," Takana rebuffed, "An encounter with a foe he calls the Red Flayer cost him the implant, or so he says."
"Then what is to be done?" Aapo gulped.
"We can honour his passing," Hanphu stated.
"I'm not dead yet," Xavaar grunted. Filled with concern Aapo knelt by the Shade-Seer's side, and placed a hand on his vambrace, as Hanphu and Takana stood back. Behind the skin mask Xavaar skull was the yellow of mouldy parchment and his tendons were grey. A faint shimmer of spellcraft kept him alive, but it was fading. Whatever Sorcery Xavaar had employed to keep his skinned body intact was weakening rapidly, soon it would fail. Aapo found it hard to accept, the Shade-seer was hard to like but impossible to ignore, a pillar of the Chapter since the Dawning. The idea of the Smoke Jaguars without him seemed like a fever dream, but there was no waking from this nightmare.
"Death is no stranger to me," Xavaar sniffed, "I should have died five centuries ago, at the hands of my own father. Sorcery stole back more years than I lost, but I always knew the cost must be paid in full."
"Shade-Seer, is there any panegyric to be said over your bones?" Aapo asked.
"You can take my staff back to the Black Ziggurat, the next Shade-seer will need it," Xavaar grunted.
"Your name will be recited for ten B'ak'tun," Hanphu promised.
"Small comfort given where I'm headed. Sorcery demands certain bargains with those who wait beyond the veil. My life has been long, but my soul is bound for a level of hell you can't envision. Don't pity me, I earned this fate long ago. There is no comfort you can offer, but I can offer comfort to you. Ask me your questions; but be quick, my spells fade with every moment."
Takana spoke up, "The Bronze Beast… Legiones Cataegis… what is that?"
Xavaar explained, "The Emperor's first genic troops, or at least before our kind. The proto-Astartes, built to conquer Terra. Rough and ready things, made from grown men for a single purpose. They were designed to lay waste to the Emperor's rivals on Old Earth, and then die out. Powerful, beyond even us, but short-lived. Legend has they died heroically in the final battle of unity, but forbidden rumour told a different tale, of rabid dogs culled before they could turn upon their master. I heard a whisper the XIIth Legion had to wipe out a surviving enclave in the Sol Asteroid belt, but I thought it a hollow tale, till now."
Hanphu pressed, "How can we three beat a Thunder Warrior?"
Xavaar sagged, "I don't know. Methuselah has lived ten times longer than the Thunder Warriors were made to. Mighty sorcery or forgotten genic craft. Methuselah is certainly stronger than even legend tells, too strong to tackle head-on."
"But he must have a weakness."
"The Thunder Warriors were built to fight a single war, one ferocious and bloody but only on the soil of Terra. Legiones Cataegis were a buzzsaw, made to rend flesh, warriors beyond compare but they were not soldiers. They lacked many of the subtle augmentations we receive, they were far less adaptable to the myriad environments of the galaxy and retained no ability to fight as a cohesive unit. Perhaps you can turn that against him."
Takana scowled darkly, "This is no time for subtly we should tear his heart out!"
"Have I taught you nothing?!" Xavaar snapped, "You cannot defeat Methuselah in a clash of arms. You won't even get close, he commands this moon, all serve him. Go for the heart and you play to his strengths. We do not fight like that: first we go for the eyes, then the tongue, then the feet and the hands. Piece by piece take his armies from him, isolate him and drive him mad with frustration. Only then do you stand a chance!"
Aapo butted in, "This is the teaching of the Night Lords?"
Xavaar's red eyes rolled about, "So you heard that?"
"The truth you hid from us was made known," Aapo spat.
"And you hate me for it?"
"Should I not?" Aapo hissed.
"I suppose I deserve no less," Xavaar sighed.
The words were an icy dagger to Aapo's hearts. He had expected denials, rebuttals of the revelations, lies even. That Xavaar would simply confess he had not expected. Till this moment he had clung to the ghost of hope it wasn't true, but reality was cruel and indifferent. Aapo's blood was tainted, he was the child of a Traitor. His shame was unbearable, and dread that he was destined to share his progenitor fate hung over him. Legend told Konrad Curze was damned since birth, was Aapo also doomed?
Xavaar sighed, "My spells dissolve like ice held in the hand, but I shall spend my last moments offering you comfort. Yes, I once walked in midnight-clad but the Smoke Jaguars are neither Raven Guard nor Night Lord entire. Your generation descends from both, Corvus Corax and Konrad Curze both lay claim to your bloodline. Your fates are not yet written, that was Sedaxus' wish."
Aapo's jaw fell, "Sedaxus knew?!"
"He was a Night Lord too, but it did not define him. On the sands of Istvaan V he refused the call to treachery and stood with the Ravens in their most desperate hour. I failed that test, but he did not. Blood does not define you that is why your lineage is not to be feared."
Aapo frowned, "Sedaxus was Night Lord. You left that out of our lore but then surely the Dark One is Curze?"
Xavaar snorted, "We tried to forget him, but he lingers in our histories like a cancer."
Aapo lowered his head to hide his shame, "Curze's madness poisons my mind. The enjoyment I find in killing comes from him."
Xavaar sounded amused, "So simple your understanding is, noble Corax against rabid Curze, as if they were two mirror opposites. No, it is not so easy. Corax could be vengeful beyond reason, his need to slaughter the guilty consumed him. The Ravenlord was as much a creature of the night as his raving Brother. The bloodlust within you does not come Corax or Curze; it comes from Aapo alone."
Aapo urged, "Then how do I purge this shame?"
"Do not try," Xavaar sniffed.
Aapo blinked, "I… I do not understand."
"I could spend a lifetime explaining it, but my last spell unravels. Let me say this: study the Testimony. Arkqas had the way of it, we are monsters made to fight monsters. We called him mad, but he alone among the VIIIth saw with clear eyes. Evil is in our hearts but it is necessary evil. We were made to dwell in the shadows and fight the vilest of foes in their own homes, so others could stand in the light. Do not shirk from your bloodlust, make it turn it towards noble purpose."
"I don't know if I can," Aapo confessed.
Xavaar snorted, "My former Brothers struggled with that idea, but they learned how. That merry band of cutthroats and murderers, even Juru, He Who Thunders, learned how to be noble again before his end. I miss them, even though they were treacherous and selfish creatures. This age is lesser, all glory fade, but once I stood among the company of giants…"
A soft pop rang in their ears and the shimmering vanished. Xavaar stopped speaking mid-sentence, his life ended as the spells that sustained him failed. Aapo reached up to touch his face but drew back as skin and muscle withered in seconds. Years piled upon the Shade-seer, centuries held back by dark magic returning in a rush. The skin mask became dust, tendons rotted and fell away and the blood dried up and evaporated. In seconds Xavaar became a bleached skeleton in drab armour, looking as if he had laid undisturbed for five hundred years.
Aapo's breath caught in his throat. The Skinned Man had passed, his legend had been a cloak of lies, his truths damning but yet he had been a central figure among Smoke jaguars. The founders were gone, Damolos, Sedaxus, Engar, Arkqas and now Xavaar. Aapo had lived to see the end of the beginning and despite all that had occurred his sorrow was great. He lowered his head and marked the passing of living history.
Aapo backed away as Hanphu sighed, "The Black Ziggurat will sing with lament."
"No gene-seed left to harvest," Takana sniffed, "No great loss there."
"You speak ill of the dead," Aapo hissed.
"If you knew Xavaar as I did, then you would shed no tears for his passing."
Aapo looked again at the corpse, "No matter his deeds in life, or his origin, he was our Kinsman, justice must be done upon his killer."
"And Engar," Hanphu agreed, "Justice calls and we shall answer."
"No," Takana stated.
"No?" Aapo blinked, "Then what…"
Takana's lips drew back over his teeth, "The Bronze Beast killed Xavaar, he killed Engar. Such sins go beyond the bounds of justice, it will not suffice. Righteousness, reason, nobility… we shall lay aside these things. Smoke Jaguars lie dead and punishment is due. There is no justice to be found on Xilbalba, from this moment on there shall be only vengeance!"