Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 151
They couldn't see the orbital barrage from the mountains, but they could feel its effects. The air quivered with distant reverberations and the tang of ooze carried downwind for hundreds of kilometres. Birds fled in great flocks and burrowing creatures pulled themselves under the soil. The lake rippled constantly, sending spreading circles across its surface as fish darted in panic, unable to understand what was shaking their world. Vorshaan did though, and he was not happy about it.
The Dusk Prince stood on a ridge, gazing into the distance with his helmet off. His genhanced eyes could pick out the flashes of lance fire and magma bomb, even over the curve of the planet the reflections off the stratosphere carried far. By his estimate the barrage had been on-going for several hours, excessive, even by imperial standards. They'd already brought down enough ordnance to level a Hive city, and they showed no signs of stopping.
"They seem serious," Claw-Leader Xrehsan noted.
"They didn't finish the job on the first attempt," Vorshaan grunted, "They want to be sure this time."
"You think they'd bring down Exterminatus?" Xreshan gulped.
"Not while their army is still deployed," Vorshaan dismissed.
"Not like Throne-lackeys to be concerned with the lives of their soldiers."
"They're not," Vorshaan explained, "But they are concerned with the resources it takes to equip and ship them places. Some cleric in an office on Terra will be looking at ledgers, calculating cost-benefit ratios to determine when to cut their losses. Currently the threat doesn't quite justify wiping out their own army, but if the taint grows and threatens to consume this planet, then crueller equations will go into effect."
A snort from the other side was Claw-leader Mekret, "They run in terror of the glory that is Chaos."
Vorshaan's head snapped about, "Your insipid bleating about the gods is growing irksome!"
Mekret's fanged helm betrayed no hint of being intimidated, "Your blind refusal to accept the power of Nurgle is worse. There is fathomless power to be had in the service of ruin, but your tired old hang-ups are holding us back!"
Vorshaan's voice dropped threateningly, "You question my right to lead this warband?!"
Mekret's eye lenses glinted as the Dusk Prince loomed over him but he conceded, "Not today, you remain stronger, for now."
"Don't forget it," Vorshaan snapped as he turned his attention to the Night Lord's basecamp. Nestled in a mountain dell, far behind the front line, it dwelt a rude camp of barracks and stacked piles of munitions and fuel. Not nearly so grand or lavish as a loyalist base, but the Traitor legions had learned to make do. The Terrans would be surprised to find Traitors encamped deep within their territory, but the Night Lords had ever been able to pass without undue notice, their only rivals in subterfuge being the XIXth and XXth Legions. Claws lounged about, trading dark jokes and eyeing potential rivals while pecking orders were challenged or reaffirmed between Brothers. Slave-helots tended to their gear and gunships, while blood sacrifices were offered up in debased rituals by robed acolytes, to shield the base from orbital surveyors. Night Lords did not offer fealty to Chaos, but it had its uses and they bought their boons with blood, a transaction completed and deal sealed without any hint of subservience.
Vorshaan walked among his brethren, trailed by Mekret and Xreshan, drawing many envious stares and many glances of hate. The Dusk Prince was aware his underlings were jealous of his status and schemed to usurp him, but knew none of them dared to lift a hand against him. Long ago he'd been scorned by the Legion, for his failure to capture the Raven Guard's flagship Shadow of the Emperor over Istvaan V. That smug cur Typhus had gutted the ship with broadsides even as his forces rampaged within. The VIIIth had laughed at his misfortune, well they weren't laughing now. Vorshaan was mighty and skilled, he commanded fear across worlds, and once he had what Von Tor promised he would strike terror across sectors. But there was a pressing obstacle to deal with first.
At the far end of the base he found his erstwhile allies, the Dark Tusks. The corrupted warband had got out of the trap by the skin of their teeth and now regrouped. Their corruption was growing exponentially, their armour pitted by cracks and blistering in places as if the Ceramite was skin. A fetid odour wafted off them, redolent of swampy underbrush and stagnant ponds. Vorshaan looked for the signs of pestilence and found no clouds of flies or bloated flesh, the touch of Nurgle emaciating like famine instead.
A pair of Dark Tusks blocked his way with bolters loaded, "You cannot pass."
Vorshaan lifted an eyebrow, "So you can talk, but you cannot stop me."
"Empex does not desire to talk to you," the other said.
"His wishes are nothing, I am going past. Move, or be moved," Vorshaan growled.
The Dark Tusks shared a glance and then stepped aside. Vorshaan strutted past, revelling in his superiority. Among the Dark Tusks he strode, till he spied Empex. The Master of the Traitors was communing with his fellows, his aura wafting corruption like heatwaves over his head. The eyes in his helm were swampfire green and over his backpack icons of three circles rose, filled with swirling vapours of toxic hue. His plate was blistered all over and his faceplate no longer appeared an affection, but more the true face of a monster. Empex was bathed head to toe in the power of the Warp, and his flesh degenerated accordingly.
"Empex," Vorshaan growled as he drew up.
"Dusk Prince," Empex stated with a hint of scorn as the Dark Tusks parted.
"You have some explaining to do!" Vorshaan snarled.
"I have no need to justify myself to you!"
Vorshaan bristled, "I had the lapdogs in my trap, their lives were about to end, then you messed it all up. Your gifts spilled out of control, your corruptions went wild. Your blights attacked my warriors, the taint you loosed allowed the lapdogs to break free. You lost control, the continued survival of the Smoke Jaguars is entirely your fault!"
Empex's voice dropped threateningly, "You accuse me of allowing them to escape?!"
Vorshaan growled, "You called them your cousins once, I wonder if some lingering affection remains in your thoughts. Perhaps your hearts are not so black as you pretend."
"Do not insult me," Empex hissed.
But Vorshaan taunted, "You are either soft in the heart, or the head."
Eyes turned to the Master of the Dark Tusks as he snarled, "Ten years I hid my true face, ten years I lied to the universe. I had to strut and preen like a whipped mastiff, abasing myself, even pretending the Smoke Jaguars and Black Templars were my equals. I hated every moment of it! On Chasquit IX I received my revelation of death, that life must end and yet I had to stay my hand. You cannot imagine the hate that burns my breast, the frustration. Killing that mewling cur Q'umarkaj was an act of transcendent rapture, and I would taste such magnificence again."
Mekret snorted, "A true follower of Nurgle, he will rise high in our God's favour."
Vorshaan however sneered, "Then you were incompetent. You allowed your gifts to rage out of control, beyond your mastery. The blight did not answer to you, it answered to no one."
Empex did not sound admonished, "All living things must end, and be reborn into new and stranger forms. This is the truth of Nurgle, and it is not for you to stay the will of the God of Decay!"
"I aided you," Vorshaan hissed, "I counselled you in your time of need, I steered you away from traps, taught you the ways of Chaos, hid you from exposure until the time was right."
"And you expect gratitude?!" Empex retorted.
Vorshaan's reply was to strike. His hands blurred as his Chainglaive spun, Adamantine teeth snapping into life. Bolters came up all around as Vorshaan struck, but no shots were fired as he planted the stave down again. All stood silent in dread and awe as Mekret's head parted from his shoulders and the Night Lord's body collapsed into the dirt. Everyone stared in confusion as the Dusk Prince picked a bit of gristle from the Chainglaive's teeth and flicked it away disdainfully.
Empex looked at Vorshaan in disbelief, "You kill your own?"
Vorshaan sniffed, "Mekret challenged me."
Xreshan gulped, "That was an extreme response."
"He spoke of a god's favour, above his own Legion's. Mekret embraced worship, and if there is one thing the Night Lords will not tolerate in our ranks it is blind faith. Not to the false Emperor when we affected loyalty, not to the Chaos Gods now we are counted Traitor."
"But you call them gods," Empex argued.
Vorshaan face the crowd, "Heed this lesson well: the Ruinous Powers will offer you any boon or reward you can imagine, except the most important thing of all: control. If you accept their gifts freely and without question then you become their slaves. Boons from Chaos must be bought at price, for if you think they will give you power without extracting a cost then you are a fool. Horus himself could not master the gifts he was given, and so became the slave of Chaos. The Night Lords were enslaved to a deceitful Emperor once, we will not be anyone's slaves ever again. You could be great Empex, but if you do not learn to master yourself then you are doomed to be nothing but a plaything of your so-called god."
"I see," Empex mused, "It seems I have much to learn."
"Take heed of my warning," Vorshaan hissed, "Learn to restrain yourself. If you lose control again I will kill you."
"I shall, but expect no gratitude from me. One day I will grow mightier than you, and on that day I shall teach you a lesson."
"That day is further away than you can dream," Vorshaan snorted as he turned and strode off.
The pair of Night Lords strode off, leaving the Dark Tusks and Mekret's corpse. They passed the pair of perimeter guards, who appeared thoughtful but Vorshaan paid them no mind. Back into the base they walked, ignoring the curious glances of their comrades.
Xreshan cleared his throat, "Mekret's claw will need a new leader."
"They can sort it out among themselves," Vorshaan dismissed.
"Let's trust the next one isn't so dumb," Xreshan snorted.
"So long as it's fast."
"You are in a hurry?"
Vorshaan nodded, "I received word from Von Tor, he's ready to make his move on Nu Zantium and needs our might to overthrow the Ur-Council."
"And we care because…."
Vorshaan explained, "He yet holds the keys to my new fleet, locations of docks and passcodes to bypass defences. I want those ships, so that means keeping him happy, for a time. So we'll go help him conquer this pathetic planet, then I'll take my reward, one way or another. Von Tor can have this planet as the Crownworld or his new empire, or die to the lapdog's invasion; I don't care so long as I get what I am owed!"