Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 146

Sudden silence swept the basecamp, every voice stilled as all looked to see what was occurring. Serviles stopped their labours as Techwrights brought Servitors to a halt and even Genewrights glanced away from their charges. Prowls stirred, reaching for bolters as Firsts directed them to spread out with short tilts of the head. Headsmen tightened their grips on their transonic axes as Seers subtly drew back, moving about tasks only they knew. All eyes were on the Shade-lord, and the pompous intruders.

Chapter Master Jorrim stood at the head of his Brothers, head held high and one hand resting on the hilt of a greatsword at his waist. The red and gold of their heraldry glinted in the morning sun, weak as it was with the pillar of smoke rising to the sky nearby. Pride radiated off them, with a sense of superiority that only those new to their strength could own. It mattered nothing that they were outnumbered, conviction in their elevated status was baked into their bones.

Damchak scorned their arrogance. These children were barely out of training, fresh from the fields of muster. They marched in ceramite and held bolters, but the greatest among them counted fewer kills than the Doans of the Smoke Jaguars. Even their Master Jorrim was no Captain, a mere sergeant, assigned a command far above his ability. He had not earned his station with mighty deeds, nor been elected by vote of his peers. Damchak beheld a man far out of his depth and blustering to cover his weakness.

Q'umarkaj faced the Fire Lord without flinching as he said, "You speak loudly for one wandering naked into the Carnodon's den."

Jorrim looked down his nose at the Shade-lord, "Your threats are meaningless. I have given you an order and you must obey."

"The Smoke Jaguars are not beholden to a child playing in his father's robes."

"You dare question me?!" Jorrim spat, "I shall have your head for this!"

Damchak interjected, "Who is Jorrim, where are his tallies of hunt-kills? I hear no deed-titles on the wind, your Kinsmen sing no songs of your enemies slain. Name your worthy kills, for we cannot count a single one. Your Chapter burns crops and lords over the ashes calling it victory. You walked the safest path and so earned no esteem. Nothing was risked and nothing was gained, so you are blind to your failings."

Jorrim's face grew stony as he growled, "Your insolence condemns you."

Q'umarkaj's fists shifted as his Transonic claws slid from their housings, "The Orruk in their dens fear my coming, the Devil-sons of the Skull mark tread carefully when I am near. You are not my equal."

"Defy your Warmaster and die," Jorrim said as his guards shifted to spread out.

"The sun sets on all men," Q'umarkaj hissed, "Yours sinks faster than mine."

A subtle shift caused Jorrim to glance to the side and he suddenly beheld he was surrounded. Damchak enjoyed the look on the Fire Lord's face as he understood while they had been talking various Prowls had redeployed. Subtly and without disturbing a single flake of falling ash they had ringed the Fire Lord envoys, over a hundred bolters pointed inwards. Predator tanks were with them, Autocannons lowered in threat, Seers standing on their turrets wafting with warp-power as they abandoned the veils of shrouding that let them close unseen.

Jorrim was confronted by overwhelming forces but remained a son of Rogal Dorn. Stubborn intransigence was his nature, to back down from a fight was unthinkable. Damchak saw the look in his eye and knew the Fire Lord was about to draw his weapon, and then die in a hail of mass-reactives. The implications were not lost on the First, but the Smoke Jaguars too had their pride. They had been accused of consorting with traitors, such affront could not pass unchallenged. It seemed conflict was heartbeats away, but then another voice cried, "Stay this madness!"

Surprise washed over the Astartes as another party entered the arena. Frater Templars in silver Carapace armour and with plumed helms strode into the crowd, their golden lasrifles carefully pointed down to not provoke the Space Marines. At their heart walked two figures as different as night and day, one with a flaming brazier on his head and a pointed beard, the other in dark robes and a shining Rosette upon her breast. Helboran and Ganymit, the Ecclesiarchy and Inquisitorial representatives.

"Stand down!" Ganymit ordered, "By authority of the God-Emperor stand down!"

Jorrim faced the woman with rising anger, "You have no right to invoke the Golden Throne!"

"I have every right!" Ganymit spat, "I am the Emperor's left hand, and He will not abide his servants fighting among themselves!"

Helboran agreed, "You were granted the office of Warmaster to continue the Novan Crusade, not tear our armies apart."

"I hold supreme authority!" Jorrim hissed.

"Your carta is specific and binding," Ganymit retorted, "Military affairs are your exclusive dominion, to do with as you see fit, the investigation of Heresy is ours."

Damchak's eyes passed between the players, trying to follow as a penny-seat viewer watching a high dramaturgist expound upon the stage. Jorrim was an Astartes, towering and mighty, he could kill both mortals with ease and yet appeared cowed by the pair. The Inquisition were the Sun-Emperor's Headsmen, given license to prosecute sin but no right to command. The Ecclesiarchy he understood less, but countless zealots marched to their banner. Somehow the two talked to the Warmaster as if they held the Warmaster's carta, not him. Damchak could only guess that with Bezharad dead Jorrim was the public face of the Crusade, while these pair held all the real power.

Ganymit looked over at the Smoke Jaguars, "You too must stand down and submit yourself to my judgement."

Q'umarkaj cocked his head, "You accuse us too?"

"I shall investigate any Heresy myself; you shall account for your absence while this travesty occurred."

Q'umarkaj hissed, "I walk where the enemies of Man lurk, far from prying eyes."

"How convenient," Helboran scorned.

"Is it a sin to fight the Sun-Emperor's foes?!"

"The plea of innocence betrays you have much to hide."

Damchak senses his master growing angry, and fearing Q'umarkaj's mercurial mood swings interrupted, "We stole into the heart-foes' midst, as is our way, only to be betrayed by the foul Dark Tusks. Walk among our Prowls and count our dead, slain by those we called blood of our blood. The Dark Tusks claimed the life of my Kinsman, they are our enemies now, as they are yours!"

Jorrim snarled, "I do not accept your excuses, such losses can be faked, wounds fabricated. The Smoke Jaguars and the Dark Tusks are alike in mind and soul. You cannot be trusted!"

However Helboran sneered, "I suspect that you simply do not like their faces."

Jorrim snapped back, "They defy the Codex Astartes, they drab themselves in Heretical icons! I suspect they were involved in Vorshaan's plot to murder Marshal Bezharad. Their corruption is plain to see!"

Ganymit raised an eyebrow, "Defiance of Imperial Orthodoxy is no small charge, and more than enough to condemn a soul. How do you defend your deviancy?"

Q'umarkaj stated firmly, "I have no need to excuse our traditions. The Smoke Jaguars are sovereign as any Astartes, we have no more reason to heed you than the Space Wolves or Black Templars do. The Astartes' mantle of duty comes from the hand of the Sun-Emperor, passed down to us through his noble son Corvus Corax. No man, not even an Inquisitor, may challenge how we keep our troth with the throne of gold."

"So long as you do your duty," Ganymit replied, "Which I am unconvinced you are."

"You doubt our commitment?!" Damchak spat.

"She doubts your effectiveness," Jorrim growled, "Ever since this Night Lord appeared you have all been running scared, chasing shadows. Even Bezharad allowed this cur to set the tone of our engagements. No more, as Warmaster I shall drive this crusade to its final conclusion, no matter the cost."

"You have no logistics, no central command," Helboran cited.

But Jorrim declared, "I have a thousand Fire Lords and our Battlebarge in orbit, with all the facilities we need to organise our command structure. New distribution centres will be set up, supply lines restored and our lines stabilised. The Codex Astartes lays out the exact manner a campaign should be run, and I intend to follow its prescriptions to the letter. The Novan Crusade shall not falter under my watch, we will prosecute this war to the bitter end. Until Nu Zantium itself falls to the righteous!"

Ganymit turned her attention to the Smoke Jaguars, "And your intent?"

Q'umarkaj uttered, "Betrayal and murder have been wrought against us, and the call of justice rings in our ears. The law of Sedaxus is plain: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. We shall hunt the traitors across this land, in mountain dell and shadowed glade, yay even unto the depths of the sea. There shall be no resting place for the heathen to lay their heads, no respite from our vengeful blades. I shall claim the hunt-kill, sure as the rising of the sun."

Jorrim's lip curled, "There is a war to conduct and you want to vanish and pursue a personal vendetta. Did not Corax once say Victory Is Vengeance? Your Primarch would be ashamed of you."

Q'umarkaj's reply was a sibilant whisper, "If ever the name of the Raven passes your lips again, your tongue I shall take from you."

"Cease your bickering!" Helboran spat, "We have only two Chapters left and the God-Emperor will not have you waste your strength in petty squabbles!"

"You call Heresy petty?!" Jorrim snarled.

Ganymit overruled him, "We have two Chapters, and two diverging problems. The Novans must be crushed but Vorshaan is free to wreak havoc as he will. Whatever plans the Fire Lords put in place will be sorely challenged by the presence of Chaos Marines, therefore it is my judgment that the Smoke Jaguars will dedicate themselves to removing this threat. Each of you will pursue the objective you are best suited for and prove your fealty to the Throne with your deeds!"

"I am not under suspicion!" Jorrim snapped.

"This is the will of the Inquisition!" Ganymit barked, "Your actions will redeem or condemn you."

Damchak could not help but needle, "Blame there is enough for all this day."

Jorrim spun about to spit, "Your unworthy tongues are an offence. I would see your Chapter wiped out, but it seems you have a chance to redeem yourself. Bring me Vorshaan's head and I will consider the matter closed. Fail and know I shall not rest until the justice you so crave is brought down on your heads!"

Jorrim turned and stormed off, pushing past crowds of Smoke Jaguars like they were mere irritants. The supposed Warmaster was fuming, but the true lords of the Crusade followed in their own time, content that their will would be done. It hardly mattered what they thought, for Damchak knew the spirit of his Kinsmen well. The traitors had drawn first blood, but it would be repaid tenfold. Vorshaan, Empex, and anyone else who stood with them would taste the justice of Sedaxus. The Smoke Jaguars were loosed, and the heavens would shake to hear their roar.