Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 100

Across No-Man's Land a battered convoy picked its way, trying to go unnoticed in the deepest night. They were a ragged bunch, with shorn plates and tracks missing random plates. Engines coughed wearily as they limped from crater to crater, a dozen Crassus transports reduced to cockroaches, trying to escape the light of day. They moved slowly, avoiding ridges and clung to the sunken trenches left by seventeen years of war. To any observer they would appear a lost contingent of the Land Leviathans, cut off from the aborted offensive and trying to slip back to their own lines, but appearances were deceptive.

Damchak peered out the vision slits of the lead vehicle, "Avoid that crater, the rim's too high, we'll be exposed."

"Blessed with eyes I already am," Nizca snorted.

"Cheek not your First young one," Damchak snapped.

"I hear and obey, oh mighty Umbral Flame," Nizca rejoined with a grin.

Damchak didn't admonish the jest, the lad was finding his place in the Prowl and was losing his stiff demeanour. Contentious and stubborn was the relationship between Kinsmen, ever testing and teasing but once esteem was earned those bonds were iron-tight. Respect was earned, not bestowed. That thought made Damchak look sideways, where Nemkir's Crassus was limping along, backlit by not-so-distant detonations. The Raven Guard had not been enthused by Damchak's plan, but had begrudgingly agreed to the ploy. Damchak did wonder if he had been right to speak out, the Smoke Jaguars had been sent to learn the Raven's way, but this Lord Marcher had been intransigent and Damchak was eager to prove himself.

"The Eldest's transport struggles mightily," Nizca reported as he worked the steering levers.

"Getting a Living-dead into a Crassus was no easy feat, we had to make many adjustments," Damchak sighed.

"I wager the metal-men's teeth ground loud enough to be heard among the Tellarites."

"They did seem… what is the word… Apocalyptic? Many threats were offered in the name of the clockwork god."

"Tear out their chrome throats, that will teach them their place!"

A whimper from the rear seat made Damchak turn. Cowering in the back was a rebel, the same man Damchak had stumbled across in the heat of battle. The man hunkered down with a large pair of headphones clamped about his ears, hands working the dials of the comm-array. Damchak knew well the value of stolen codes and passwords, but subtle indeed were the wiles of the enemy and one could never be sure a clue wouldn't slip by. So he'd taken it a step further and stolen the whole comm-operator, threatening the wretch to provide actual clearance. The man's voice was their key, his accent and colloquiums allowing them to pass under the noses of Tellarite defences without challenge.

Damchak stared at the man, causing him to shrink in terror, "All is well?"

"Yes, yes," the wretch nodded, "We are being directed towards the lines."

"They do not steer us away from our quarry?"

"No… there's a big garage near the Shrine, safe under the void shields. Protected by the God-Emperor's grace, they say. "

Damchak leaned nearer, "You gabble words but hide much. You think to betray us."

"Never! Never, I serve the God-Emperor and His Angels. I've seen the glory of the Throne! I have repented my Heresy!"

Damchak smiled coldly, "You have indeed, and shall be rewarded. Your family will be spared the coming purges, you shall live in His light. This is the word of an Astartes, it is unbreakable."

The man nodded desperately, working his dials with sweat beading his brow. Damchak let him be, terror gripped his soul tight and he was not brave enough to cross the Smoke Jaguars. But the Testimony taught that fear alone was a brittle fetter, liable to break and turn into rage once the yoke shifted. To hold the mind in bondage one must mix fear with hope, creating an alloy greater than either. As the Eldest taught the Smoke Jaguars were twinned in soul, and both aspects must be embraced. So Damchak had made promises of surety for the man and his family, the fact the First was lying through his teeth mattered not.

A hard jolt rang through the Crassus as its nose plunged into an abandoned trench. Nizca swore inventively as he wrestled with the steering levers, pulling them out of the dip and back on track. More pressing were the bangs and crashes from the rear, where the rest of the Prowl waited. Damchak scowled as he made for the rear, squeezing through a narrow door into the troop compartment. A short drop led to a wide bay, or least wide enough for mortal men. Into a space meant to carry thirty soldiers and their gear were crammed eight Transhumans, and it was a tight fit. Shoulder to shoulder they hunkered, the roof so low they could not don their helms and upon the floor rolled a missile launcher.

"Abizil!" Damchak snapped as he dropped to the deck.

"Always you look to me when something goes wrong!" his twin protested.

"You are our Heavy Trooper!" Damchak snapped.

"And?"

Cualli cut in, "He spied a roach crawling and dropped his weapon in desperation to taste the sweet crunch of its shell!"

Dark guffaws rang in the hold as Damchak groaned, "I swear, if you get us killed, I will kill you!"

Zyanya looked to the First and changed the subject, "This Lord Marcher, he is worthy?"

Damchak's grin faded, "I esteem him not. Born to power, inheriting his title and his rank. All he has was given unto him as if he were a King of the Boscage."

Mirth faded as Abizil dragged his missile launcher back with a boot, "Why then follow do we?"

Damchak scowled, "He did not earn his power, but he holds it still. The millions who war on Tellar follow his orders, no matter that they spit on his name. To win through we must garner his support, and show him our worth."

"This is the way of Imperium?" Zyanya grimaced.

"It is as the Sun-Emperor wishes," Damchak sniffed, "We are not given to question the order of the stars."

"Deathmaker Prowl would disagree," Cualli pointed out.

"Deathmaker Prowl is not here," Damchak refuted, "We are and we shall prove our worth no matter what!"

Zyanya scowled, "What of Jade Foot?"

"The Raven is brave and true, if unimaginative. We follow his lead and shall support his quest, even if we do so in ways he would not approve."

Cualli scowled, "The ways of the Codex are not our ways. Marching in straight lines is not in our nature."

"You question my will?!" Damchak spat.

"Three and a half billion dead speak in condemnation."

A dangerous current ran through the hold and Damchak sensed the question in the air. The Smoke Jaguars did as he bid because they trusted his judgement, but in their hearts they still questioned the decision to unite with the Imperium. Thousands of years of isolation were not so easily shaken off, and many doubted this was the right path. Damchak and Aapo had browbeaten them into compliance, but no one could command their hearts. Smoke Jaguars were not given to silence when they took umbrage.

Damchak drew in a breath but before he could speak Abizil lifted his voice, "In the season of Uxmal arose the Orruk Godcrusha with his numberless hordes. Across the Boscage they did Waaagh, and the tears of widows ran as rivers. Save us they did cry, Sun-Emperor send us your angels, and Shade-Lord Uxmal did answer. Among the jungles of Yaxchilan did the Prowls meet the Orruk, spilling Greenskin blood to water the roots as if in the rainy season. Many were the Orruk and brave souls did lay down their lives daily. Victory seemed beyond us and the Genewrights did cry to Uxmal: the heart-foe is too great, we must flee!"

Damchak and all the others did lift their voices to cry as one, "And Uxmal said no!"

Abizil continued, "The Orruk did chase shadows among the boughs, catching many. The Prowls bled as never before and many Living-dead passed beyond the veil. The Techwrights did cry unto Uxmal: our losses are too great, we must flee!"

Again the hold rang: "And Uxmal said no!"

Abizil pressed on, "The sky grew dark even in the day and the Orruk were without number. The Headsmen did cry unto Uxmal: the day is lost, we must flee!"

Once more they barked, "And Uxmal said no!"

Abizil's eyes shone as he proclaimed, "And on the hundredth day the Seers did cry, it is time! And lo the heavens opened and the rainy season began. Rain so thick one could drown to breathe, forests uprooted and mud rising as an army called to war. The rivers did burst their banks, the oceans reached for the roots of the mountains and so the waters took the Orruk. Greenskins raged and bellowed but were pulled to their doom regardless. Swept out to sea, sucked into the quicksand-mud, dashed asunder as river waters wore down mountains and scattered forest boughs like cast bones. Godcrusha was dragged to his doom and the Orruk were no more. And Uxmal said, it is done."

Damchak smiled at the legend, an ancient tale from the third B'ak'tun. The Smoke Jaguar's darkest day, when they stood on the brink. At first a cautionary tale against battles of attrition, only to be revealed as a saga about a most cunning trap. It reminded the Smoke Jaguars that hope was to be found in the darkest of hours, and that a wise leader did not reveal all his secrets until the moment was right. The relevance to their current situation was obvious and Damchak silently thanked his brother for the vote of confidence.

Their moment of comradery ended as the Crassus banged onto a hard surface and Nizca called, "Target in sight, we are challenged!"

"Enemies?" Damchak questioned.

"Rebels come in great numbers; they are not fool enough to allow us to pass without inspection."

Damchak was not alarmed and turned to Zyanya, "Release the Magpyrs."

Zyanya reached into a pack hanging from his waist and pulled out three servo-skulls, packed with strange accruements. The rear hatch was opened a crack and the devices were set free one by one. They shot away into the night, speeding off to encircle the area. A variant of the Transonic technology the Smoke Jaguars owned, they could create the impression of Prowls moving unseen. Audio horns, thermal projectors, even vox-hailers gave the appearance of many Marines where none were, only to lay eyes upon them would reveal the deception, and they moved fast enough to avoid easy sightings. In a minute they would create an illusion of an attacking force moving towards the perimeter, drawing all eyes at the exact moment the Space Marines would emerge from their cover.

Damchak flexed his claw as he whispered, "Sing a song of havoc and let mayhem reign. Open the way little Magpyrs, so we may lace in their hearts a tincture of despair."