Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 29
Nolaro was the first to fire, stitching a line of bolter rounds across the distance separating loyalists and traitors. Sedaxus saw fat shells hurtling away, jet flares reduced to mere sparks when set against the unlight of the column. They were well aimed and swift, they should have struck Kharkul around the head and neck, blowing his exposed skull to bits and yet they did not make contact. Even as the first round left the muzzle Kharkul's hands were deforming, fingers growing obscenely to become snaking whips of sinuous metal. The lashing tendrils whipped up before him and formed a shield, denying the shots any chance to hit his flesh. The rounds smashed into the tangle of whips and then detonated, causing no damage to their target.
"You are no match for me!" Kharkul roared as he punched forward and sent his whips lashing towards the loyalists. Sedaxus was already throwing himself aside, diving out of the way before a shining point could pierce his hearts. The others followed suit, breaking formation to evade the lightning-swift attack. Sedaxus darted away as a tendril swerved to chase him, sweeping his talons about to fend it off. The sparking claws flared as they made contact, throwing the whip back but revealing that one Raven Guard hadn't made it. Vertul, a veteran who had been with them since Istvaan V had been struck in the chest and run through. He hung from a tendril, blood oozing from front and back as his head sank into his neck and the bolter fell from his grip.
"The time of Space Marines is over!" Kharkul roared in triumph, "You are the past, Chaos is the future!" Sedaxus however was not listening, he stooped low and took cover behind an altar. An impossible device resting atop, throbbing with discharging power, feeding the ritual already set in motion but he paid it no mind. He leaned out a hair and raised his pistol, looking for a clear shot. The Red Flayer was pursuing elusive Raven Guard, lashing the air as he tried to catch the darting figures in black. All his attention was on them but the whipping tendrils made a clean shot hard to find. As if that wasn't bad enough the milling slaves chained to his waist kept drifting into the way, serving as an ablative shield.
"I shall become greater than you can imagine, I shall become a god!" Kharkul bellowed as he advanced.
"That's it, keep talking," Sedaxus muttered as he spied a brief opening appear and squeezed the trigger.
A shining ball of Plasma erupted, flying away at brilliant velocity. It crossed the distance in a moment, aiming to strike the warlord in the flank but at the last moment a whipping tendril swept into its path, stopping the blast a scant metre from touching Ceramite. Sedaxus spat a curse under his breath as a burnt section of whip fell to the ground, but his eyes grew wide as he saw Kharkul turn towards him with a grin.
Instantly a forest of lashing vines came at him, all spearing for his head. He threw himself flat behind an altar but the whips reared high, arcing to come over the top and lance downwards. Instinctively he rolled, hearing dry thuds as the tips slammed into the ground. He kept rolling, angling to get away but in his desperation knocked a plinth over, sending the strange artefact crashing to the ground. Some form of astrolabe, thin spokes bent out of true, glassic panes shattered and gears spun free, leaving it a tangled mess. It was so small a thing to happen but as it did so the column of light flared an angry red and crackling energy broke free as the Daemons of the Warp screamed in joy and frustration.
Sedaxus had no time to wonder what had happened for a loud cry brought his eyes about. He saw Damolos charging straight at the Red Flayer, axe and shield swinging. He bashed aside a scything blow from the left and brought his axe down on another tendril, bellowing, "This all you've got?!"
"Impudent worm!" Kharkul roared, "I shall destroy your body and eat your soul! Your torment will be eternal!"
"Throne, I've never met anyone who loves the sound of his own voice more than you do!" Damolos hollered as he laid in, axe sweeping about in great arcs.
Sedaxus watched as the whipping tendrils closed in on Damolos, engulfing him in sinuous vines. He was surrounded and yet did not relent, smashing them aside with his shield, tearing sparking furrows with his chainaxe, stomping on them with his boots. He stood in the heart of a storm but was not overwhelmed, he held his ground, voice roaring louder than the revving of his axe. Sedaxus had seen him fight many times but never so strongly or surely as in this moment. He was magnificent. And yet for all his strength and grit he was making no progress, unable to land a blow on the Red Flayer.
Suddenly Nolaro skidded into cover beside Sedaxus and snapped, "We're not making a dent!"
"Tell me something I don't know!" Sedaxus snarled.
"The other squads are being overwhelmed, in minutes we'll be overrun by those Ork freaks. Engar, tell me you have a shot."
Engar's voice carried over the vox, "Negative, can't see anything past those whips."
"Frak," Nolaro spat, "We're not giving up till he's dead. Sedaxus, Engar, Jussen, Regua, spread out and draw his attention, open up the way so I can hit him with a melta charge."
"Got it," came affirmatives just as a pained cry came from Damolos. Sedaxus saw two whips scythe in, aiming not for the warrior but for his axe. Twisting vines struck the handle and wrapped themselves around it, covering it from handle to generator. There was a moment of contortion and then the chainaxe broke apart, the battered weapon taken from the hands of a dead World Eater, splintering into a dozen bits, a decade and a half of faithful service undone in an instant.
"That's my axe!" Damolos roared in outrage as he stared at the truncated shaft in his augmetic hand, "I loved that axe!" In return a flurry of whipping vines came at him, trying to cut him in half. He got his shield up in time but the whips struck as one, slamming him away with sheer kinetic force. Damolos went flying, covering twenty metres in a mad tumble to crash down on his back at the edge of the battlefield.
Kharkul drew back to regroup but the others were already moving. Sedaxus went right, while the darting forms of two Raven Guard went left. They opened fire as they did so, hammering bolt rounds at the whirlwind of steel that was Kharkul. His whips thrashed the air, deflecting every bolt but Sedaxus opened up from the other side, sending a plasma blast at his unprotected flank. The weapon screamed with heat discharge, in danger of exploding in his hand, but he succeeded in drawing whips in his direction. Then a hypersonic screech announced Engar opening fire, aiming high to lure more tendrils away from the centre mass. For an instant Kharkul was exposed, his centre unprotected and that was when Nolaro stepped out and fired a Melta-charge straight at his hearts.
Sedaxus watched as the small disc flew free, sailing untroubled past the whips to slap dead centre on the Red Flayer's breastplate. The Terminator lord looked down an instant before it ignited, a comical look of dismay spreading over his face. He drew in his tendrils but too slow, for the cherry-red glow spread over his front, then armour began to melt. Sedaxus' hearts beat louder in triumph as molten ceramite poured down the enemy's front, mixing with melted bone and liquidised internal organs. The sulphurous air became tainted with the smell of vaporised blood as Kharkul doubled over, snarling in agony as his innards were reduced to slag. In a moment he would keel over and die, Sedaxus thought, only he didn't.
As Kharkul's life burned away one of his Bladeslave jerked upright, throwing arms out as the head rolled back. Sedaxus' jaw dropped as skin began to blacken and char, flaking away in clouds of ash as muscles and bone became exposed. It was like the mortal was being sandblasted away, layers of him peeling off and devoured by a power invisible. A thin shriek escaped the dissolving larynx, containing agony beyond mere pain. It was the dissolution of being, the ending of essence and the erasure of the soul itself, the mortal was being consumed in spirit as well as body, everything he was devoured. As the mortal disintegrated Kharkul reared back, laughing loudly as fresh strength flowed through him. Sedaxus gawped as new organs grew in the cavity of his chest, bone and muscle blooming to replace all that was lost. It was like the Orks from earlier, only far more elegant and purposeful, mere shadows cast by the light of Kharkul's power. The Bladeslave became floating dust as Kharkul's armour flowed back into place and Sedaxus understood the Red Flayer was fuelling his lifeforce with their souls.
Everyone stood aghast at the sight, save Kharkul. The warlord gestured and his whips darted forward, blurring with motion to smash into Nolaro's chest. His combi-bolter went flying as Nolaro was yanked from his feet, pulled back in like a fish on the line. Before any soul could intervene Kharkul reeled Nolaro back into his grasp, clamping both palms around snouted helm in a tight grip as the Red Flayer hissed, "I dedicate your death to the Dark Gods of Chaos."
A single heartbeat passed and then spears of metal bored through the helm, ripping through one side and out the other. Nolaro jerked as his brain was ruptured, diced by dark metal that ended his life instantly. Then the body dropped to the ground and moved no more. Nolaro, Shade-Lord, survivor of the Dropsite Massacre and vengeful crusader, died without a final word, cut down ingloriously, an unworthy end for one so bold.
"No!" screamed Sedaxus as he found his voice at last. He fired off another shot, plasma pistol burning so hot his gauntlet singed. He charged into the midst of the whipping tendrils, claws flashing as he sought to avenge his friend's death. The others were with him, even Damolos who swung his shield like an uneven club. Sedaxus hacked and clawed for all he was worth but could not find a way through and Kharkul lashed about, laughing, "I am beyond any of you!"
"We're not going to beat him like this!" Engar voxed.
"Fight on," Sedaxus snarled in blind worth, "To the last drop of blood!"
"Vengeance for Nolaro!" Damolos howled with tearful fury.
The surviving Space Marines fought for all they were worth but could not close with the Red Flayer. All Sedaxus could see were lashing vines and darting whips, blocking any avenue of advancement. Kharkul had grown beyond mere Astartes and laughed as he swept those infernal whips about, besting his attackers with ease. The fight could only end one way but Sedaxus was determined to go down fighting, but then reality shuddered.
The burning column of light flared, throwing wisps of unreal colours everywhere as Kharkul cried, "It has begun! Come Gods of the Warp, come ye powers and principalities, I offer up these worlds to you and in return make me one of you!"
"The ritual," Sedaxus breathed, "He's going to kill everything." He cast about in desperation, looking for anything that could stop the Red Flayer but found nothing. They could not break through his defence and if they did they had nothing which could stop him. Yet something caught his eye, a small device sitting on a plinth, miraculously undamaged by the fight. Suddenly it struck Sedaxus that throughout the battle Kharkul had not toppled so much as a single relic, taking great care to avoid damaging them. If he wanted them intact, maybe that was something Sedaxus could use.
He spun about and brought his claws down on a clicking clock with too many hours on the face. It shattered under the blow and a harsh scream arose from the things pressing to break into reality, fear and joy in equal measure.
"Destroy the relics!" Sedaxus bellowed, "He needs them for the ritual!"The Space Marines spun about, smashing tiny devices and intricate mirrors with their broad fists. A terrible wailing arose as the column of unlight cracked, spilling sparks in all directions. Sedaxus didn't know what effect they was having, but it sounded bad, and pressed on, smashing everything in reach. Kharkul however wasn't about to let that pass and roared, "No! Stop it, you're ruining everything!"
He swept his whips about and in one blow cut Jussen in half, leaving the Raven Guard in pieces. He drew back for another blow and Sedaxus knew he could not avoid the coming strike but as the warlord struck a tiny dart flew by, then erupted into a brilliant magnesium flare. Engar had struck again and Sedaxus' autosenses blanked out for a moment. Kharkul had no such protection, his eyes were exposed and the light struck them most cruelly, gouging Nostramo-born retina with searing fire.
Kharkul screamed as his whips drew back protectively, shielding his face. Sedaxus however pressed on, blindly flailing to break more relics. He felt impacts strike his hips and knees, fumbling to wreck as much damage as he could before the ritual was completed. He felt the icy march of time creeping by, moments slipping past like sand in an hourglass, and bringing annihilation with them. He could only trust they were doing enough damage to prevent catastrophe.
His autosenses finally cleared and he saw ruined artefacts everywhere, smashed bits of devices laying upon the cold ground. The column of unlight was collapsing, heaving to and fro like a sapling in a gale. Bits of it were flying everywhere, breaking free to circle the remainder like debris in a tornado. Screaming Daemons fought to break out of the unlight, desperate to taste the sweet nectar of being real but denied at the last moment. All was bedlam and anarchy and Sedaxus didn't know if that was good or bad.
Kharkul however had recovered his sight and shrieked, "You fools, you don't know what you've done. It's all going wrong!" Sedaxus had no time to reply as the ritual fell apart. Immaterial forces slipped their bonds to run wild, leaking into reality. The column of unlight exploded, spilling empyreal energies across the summit like a flood breaking a dam wide open. Sedaxus had but a single moment to stare as a tsunami of colours surged free and then he was blinded by impossible hues and his ears heard only the laughter of Daemons.