Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 104

"Your premature attack cost my Brothers their lives!" Captain Nemkir accused.

"Don't try to pin your blunder on me!" Lord Marcher's Hololithic image retorted.

"I had the Shrine in the palm of my hand," Nemkir retorted.

"You had nothing!" Marcher snapped, "The Heretics were about to overrun your position, another five minutes and you'd be dead, and the Shrine would have been secured. I acted as I must, to complete the mission you fumbled!"

"And killed four Raven Guard in the process, and our allies," Nemkir hissed.

"I gave you fair warning, no man can claim otherwise, I have witnesses to prove it," Marcher sniffed.

Nemkir glared, his anger thwarted. The Hololithic image of the Lord Militant stood proud, the slate-grey form shimmering in the dimness of the Reliquary. His face was stern, annoyed even, the very image of a man falsely accused. He held his chin high and his augmetics gleamed, from his metallic eyeball to the finely wrought arm clasping his belt. Anyone who saw him thus would think Marcher the quintessential Terran aristocrat, which was the problem, Nemkir had known too many Terrans to trust one.

The Captain had returned to the Astartes' forward base and demanded an immediate conference with the Lord Militant. He'd eschewed the Stronghold in favour of the Reliquary, the words he had to speak were not for anyone else to hear, not even Chapter Serfs. The Reliquary was cold and dark and isolated, its walls blackened by re-entry and its exterior thick. Hallowed relics lay within vac-sealed vestibules, a gauntlet missing two fingers, a helm cleaved by a gaping axe-wound, a tapestry from Therion, depicting a mighty Capitol Imperialis waging war alongside Astartes giants, who be laughably out of scale to the tracked behemoth in reality. Most prized of all was a blackened quillon, a single shard of Ceramite, encased in crystal-steel resin. Mighty treasures indeed, but not his focus today.

At his side Veteran-Sergeant Oroton and Chaplain Bulvok glowered, their wroth equal to his, but not the greatest. That dubious honour lay with Damchak, the Smoke Jaguar who demanded justice be done. His ire was towering, his rage nearly overpowering. Nemkir sensed he was a hairsbreadth from drawing his bolt pistol and shooting the image of Marcher, for all the good it would do. If that was all Nemkir would let him do it, but the Captain suspected the Smoke Jaguar was planning to hare off and try to claim Marcher's head for what he had done. That was why Oroton and Bulvok were here too, to restrain the Smoke Jaguar if necessary.

Nemkir returned his gaze to Marcher, "You sacrificed many pilot lives with this stunt."

"They are duty bound to follow my orders," Marcher retorted.

"We are not talking about Guardsmen with lasrifles, pilots are skilled personnel, highly trained, not so easy to replace."

"They serve the God-Emperor, as do we all and I did not sacrifice their lives in vain. Our listening posts report calamity behind the Heretic lines. Their Hives are in uproar, their people despair. There are even reports the grand-betrayer Vanderspeak has taken to his bed in shock. Our spies suspect he may not recover. Destroying that Shrine had exactly the effect you desired, the Tellarite rebellion is on the verge of collapse."

It was a bold statement and yet Damchak hissed, "Bluster does not wipe the blood from your hands!"

Marcher turned a look of disdain upon the Smoke Jaguar, "War is cruel and merciless, men die every day on the front line, you are no exception."

"The songbird twitters from its cage of gold, but the feline's eyes never stray," Damchak spat.

"By the Maelstrom what are you blathering on about?!"

Oroton cut in, "He's saying it's easy to talk about sacrifice while you sit safely behind the lines."

Marcher's half-face turned dark, "You dare accuse me of cowardice! I have bled for the God-Emperor, I have fought and sacrificed more than you will ever understand! Look at my face and tell me it is otherwise. I have taken up arms before and I will again! Let no man question my courage and devotion. I will cut down any blackguard who dares impugn my honour!"

Nemkir overrode the argument, "Your courage is not the problem, merely your judgement. A friendly fire incident is not easily brushed aside."

"War is war, accidents happen," Marcher dismissed.

"Your voice is a snare, wicked as the Songsnake's call," Damchak hissed.

"I gave you a fair warning, ask anyone, I have witnesses," Marcher rebuffed.

Nemkir gritted his teeth but said, "We agreed once the Shrine was destroyed our mutual strategy would formed, but I have yet to receive your latest intelligence."

"How very odd," Marcher sniffed, "Must be a clerical error, I did issue orders to share our intel but these things can take time."

"Time is not a resource we have in abundance," Nemkir growled.

"The order was issued, ask any of my staff-officers, they will tell you the same. I have far too much to do to be dealing with your trivial complaints. Contact me when you get the intel, it shouldn't be more than two or three days... possibly four."

Marcher's image vanished, leaving Nemkir frustrated. He should have known better than to trust the Lord Militant's word, the man was throwing every roadblock he could to stymie the Astartes' efforts. Intel two or three days out of date was worse than useless, and his own serf's efforts would not harmonise with the Imperial Guard's. Nemkir was faced with the troubling prospect of trying to prosecute his own war independently of two rival armies clashing, a recipe for disaster. There was little he could do about it though, the Imperial Guard and Astartes had divided their command structures long ago, short of treason or Heresy Nemkir had no jurisdiction to chastise Marcher.

Damchak pounded his left fist into the palm of his claw, "The snapping of his neck in my grip will echo to the heavens!"

Nemkir turned on his ally with a glower, "Marcher's life is not yours to claim."

"He killed my brother!"

"You are not the only one mourning. Our squads lost five Brothers in the assault and yet I do not fly off the handle."

Damchak hissed, "The scales of justice are unbalanced. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, so demands the Smoke Jaguars!"

Nemkir growled back, "Do not test me, look to Sergeant Oroton, he does not bay for blood like a rabid hound."

Oroton however muttered, "Well..."

Nemkir glared at him, "Do not tell me you agree with this madness!"

Oroton's eyes narrowed, "I too lost a squadmate, for no good cause and Marcher attempted to kill us all."

"If that were true then he would have not sent us a warning."

But Oroton countered, "Yes, very convenient, just in the nick of time in fact. Marcher sends word after the bombers were committed but the Lord Militant is not overly familiar with how fast an Astartes can run, if he'd waited a minute more then we wouldn't be here. Note how empathic he was about having witnesses to hand. An Astra Militarum General knowingly orders the death of loyal Astartes, the Inquisition would not forgive such treason, but if the cruel tides of fate turn against us, well what man can account for the vagaries of battle? Marcher could claim unavoidable delays and confusion in the passing of orders, the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. Alas what a tragedy that the Raven Guard did not get out in time, but such things do happen in war, so he would plead."

Nemkir glared at his comrade, "A dangerous accusation. Marcher holds the Carta of the High Lords, to accuse him without damning proof would bring shame and rebuke upon the Raven Guard. The Adeptus Astartes and the Guard were separated for good reason."

Damchak however hissed, "I know the aroma of vengeance well, and this wretches' redolence can be scented upwind! He burns with anger for all Space Marines, he will not be content with one attempt, he will kill us all, unless we kill him first."

Oroton nodded, "I wouldn't trust him as far as a grot could throw him."

Nemkir was incensed by the rank insolence but then Chaplain Bulvok broke his silence, "Do you know what that is?!"

All eyes turned to the relic on the altar, encased in crystal-steel, Damchak scowled, "A broken knife?"

"No knife," Bulvok retorted, "You behold a fragment of the Korvidine Pinion, Corax's own jump pack, torn from his shoulders on the sands of Istvaan V."

Damchak's eyes widened, "A touchstone of the Ravenlord lies before me?"

Bulvok nodded, "Ten such feathers Deliverance holds in remembrance of our gene-father. Corax suffered betrayals greater than any we can imagine, but he did not throw his life away in a fit of apoplexy. He refused the reckless call of Ferrus Manus, to preserve what lives he could for the coming war, and refused the challenge of Angron in pursuit. He denied Dorn's call to stand on the walls and wait for the enemy to come, and scorned Russ' headlong charge at the Arch-traitor. Instead Corax honed his vengeance and forged from it a blade to pierce the hearts of the traitors. His revenge came through discipline and precision, attacking only in places and times of his choosing. Corax did not let the enemy set the terms of engagement, he made them bleed at every turn and never allowed choler to dictate his actions."

Damchak's head turned slowly, "You say I must do nothing?!"

Bulvok's reply was stark, "You must seize the fire in your heart and make it into the force that will drive you to victory. Turn your hatred where it belongs, towards the Heretics, and you will be indomitable."

"This is the wisdom of the Raven?" Damchak hissed.

Nemkir spoke sternly, "This is my will, and you are compelled to obey. Your Chapter awaits my judgement and it shall be determined by how you conduct yourself in the coming days. Set aside your personal grudges, commit to the swift prosecution of this war and you will prove your quality beyond a doubt. Discipline above instinct, either you master yourself or prove unfit to join the Imperium, that is the test that lies before you."

"Marcher does not deserve to live!" Damchak spat.

Nemkir refuted, "His life is not yours to take. The Emperor willed that Transhuamn and mortals shall stand apart. The Imperial Guard has no remit over us, nor we over them. Accept this or be named a traitor to the Golden Throne. Make no mistake, if Marcher dies by the hand of a Smoke Jaguar then I shall deem your entire breed corrupt and my condemnation shall fall as the executioner's axe. Your ships will be struck from the void, your squads burned out of their hiding places and your planet scorched to the bedrock. This is my word, and it is unbreakable."

Damchak's eyes narrowed, "Your certainty is towering, none can doubt you will do as you say. You are the Jade Foot in all ways."

"Give me your compliance, or become my enemy," Nemkir demanded.

Damchak glanced left and right then said, "I have sworn my troth to the Raven Guard and shall not be counted an oathbreaker. Thus is it written; thus shall it be."

With that the Smoke Jaguar turned and stormed out, leaving the Raven Guard behind. Nemkir sagged, troubled by the ire in Damchak's voice. He did not trust the Smoke Jaguar to hold to his word, shocking as that was to think of another Astartes. The Smoke Jaguars had proven twisted in so many ways, to find they lied with ease would be no great revelation. Nemkir resolved to keep a close eye on his strange cousins, lest they prove treasonous in their hearts.

"This isn't over," Bulvok growled.

"I know but the Smoke Jaguars must prove themselves fit, or not, by their own hand," Nemkir sighed.

"They're not wrong about Marcher though, he did try to kill us," Oroton muttered.

Bulvok snapped, "Sergeant, such comments are unbecoming a Raven Guard, assign yourself five hours of self-flagellation for your ill-disciplined mouth."

"I stand contrite," Oroton acceded.

But Nemkir took pity, "I was right to say we cannot punish Marcher ourselves, but that doesn't mean I trust him. Rest assured I will never again put our forces in a position where he can compromise us. This war is far more complicated than any of us first suspected, and we must tread with all the subtly of the Primarch himself. This shall be our sternest test and it is not only the Smoke Jaguars who must endure the tribulations of war."