Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 133
The City of Whispers was a cultural gem of Nova Terra. Nestled in the foothills of the soaring Windering mountains, whose snow-capped peaks stood as a buffer against the barren stretches of the Ganymade desert beyond. Night and day winds blew over those summits, shivering the snowy tracks in a twilight song. Echoes rolled down the slopes and by the time they reached the foothills it had become a babble of constant noise, like voices heard in the next room, indistinct but present. The City of Whispers was well named, but not for the wind.
Cities on Nova Terra dedicated themselves to a certain facet of the arts, and this city's passion was for political and philosophical discourse. In Recaff shops and high Tanna sitting rooms nobles from across the planet would meet and debate the finer points of intellectual study, dissecting the nature of truth and beauty. More prosaic-minded types would argue over legal disputes or proposals pending ratification by the Ur-Council. But lately such talk had faded away, to be replaced by rumours of war. The city of whispers was uncomfortably close to the front line, and many folk were eyeing the aerodromes and freight trains. The wisest of all had already left.
"All to burn," Von Tor sighed as he alighted the Guncutter.
"Boss?" Kazial asked as he surveyed the perimeter for threats.
"The Terrans will come and all you see here will burn."
"What a shame," Kazial muttered in a sarcastic tone.
"Don't be glib!"
"Just saying, you can't get a decent drink here for love or money."
Von Tor cast his eyes down the slopes, seeing the nestled homes and debating halls, "Look at this place, a haven for free thought and the pursuit of truth. Such pursuits would be Heresy on Holy Terra. The very idea of the common man thinking to question his superior, let alone comment on the government, would bring instant death. Not among Novans though, we cherish the enquiring spirit of man."
Kazial looked confused, "Boss, we're the Disquisition. We've killed plenty of folks who questioned the Ur-Council."
Von Tor scowled, "There's healthy debate, and then there's sedition. Not the same at all."
"I'm struggling to remember a time when we chose not to shoot someone for daring to voice their opinion."
"I decide what's treason and what's not, now come on, time's wasting."
The pair hurried away, heading down a back-alley between red-tiled buildings. Night had long since fallen over the city and most decent folk were in bed. They saw nobody on the street, but still took caution. What they were about to attempt was Heresy, one hint of their dealings and they'd both suffer eternally. It was hard to believe the cobbles under their boots could hide such Heresy, but in the most mundane of places did the Traitor lurk, Von Tor knew that better than most.
They were descending a flight of stone steps between two sleepy houses when the horizon flashed, followed by thunderous peals. "A storm?" Kazial blinked.
"No weather," Von Tor grumbled, "That's Titan-grade weaponry at range."
"It's begun then?"
"The Terrans have been their assault," Von Tor sighed, "The schismatic's Titans won't hold against those numbers. This city has a day or two left, at best."
The Disquisitor knew everyone sleeping in their beds would soon die in the heat of Turbolaser and Volcano Cannon. The Terrans cared nothing that this city held no military or strategic significance, they would simply blast it to atoms and move on. The precious hope it represented for a better humanity would be crushed, replaced by the unthinking dogma of the Ecclesiarchy. Absolute conformity of thought, blind devotion to a government incapable of loyalty to its people. How the God-Emperor would weep, if He could see what had become of the Imperium.
The pair reached their destination, a small Recaff house, nestled in a quiet corner of the alleyways. Wireframe chairs were still sitting outside, but the lights were off and the door was ajar. Von Tor slipped his pistol out as they entered, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. The floor was curiously sticky, and his nose smelled something awful yet familiar. He knew what had happened, but his brain didn't want to admit it, not until he found the bodies. Sitting around a long table was a family, young and old, men and women, parents, children and grandparents. They sat as if waiting for a feast day repast, save each of their heads had been removed and placed on the table before them.
"Boss?" Kazial said as his guns swung around the room.
"We're in the right place," Von Tor sighed.
"He did this?!"
"He did indeed."
"We should leave!"
"We wouldn't make it to the door."
"How right you are!" a Transhuman voice echoed.
A flaring match erupted in the corner and a giant in Ceramite was revealed. It shouldn't be possible, something so immense to be able to hide in so small a place, but he had. Vorshaan loitered casually, quite a feat for a man wearing armour enough to plate a tank. His wings were folded idly and his chainglaive nestled in one elbow. With the other he held a tiny match, grasping it in two digits to light a candle on a high shelf.
Von Tor felt fear edging his spine, sheer animal terror trying to unman him. Vorshaan oozed predatory intent, his presence akin to a great feline hovering over a mouse, not pouncing yet only because it chooses to prolong the fun. Von Tor had seen Imperial Space Marines several times and they had been unstoppable and terrifyingly potent, but the Traitor was beyond them. The ancient baroque armour, the sigils of woe glinting on his plate, the blood staining his gauntlets. One could believe this warrior had endured four thousand years of war and survived by skill alone.
"Like what I've done with the place?" Vorshaan quipped as he flicked the match at them.
Von Tor didn't react as it sizzled out, "It was unnecessary."
"You seem to be under the delusion that I need a reason to commit murder," Vorshaan scoffed.
"You're cruel, sadistic and egotistical, but the Dusk Prince always has a plan," Von Tor countered.
"How well you know me! I do so enjoy our encounters, always a lot of shooting and promises of death, but it helps pass the centuries. As for this display, let us say I didn't want anyone waking up, the screaming would have been distracting."
"Even the children?" Kazial swallowed.
"The little ones scream the loudest, as well you know," Vorshaan leered, "Remember Fargac III, and what you did there?"
Von Tor refused to be intimidated and sheathed his pistol, "I did what I had to."
"You did a hell of a lot more than that!" Vorshaan laughed, "Even I was impressed by your ruthlessness. Exterminatus may be all-encompassing, but it's so detached and impersonal. You aren't afraid to get your hands dirty, and how dirty they were that day. That was when I saw the possibility of a partnership between us."
"We aren't partners," Von Tor snapped, "I have a bargain for you, nothing more."
Vorshaan idly grasped his chainglaive and rotated its point upon the floor, causing squeaks that tore down the spine. Somehow he made even this simple gesture threatening as he invited, "Go on then, and tell your lackey to lower his aim, I can kill him before his fingers squeeze the triggers."
Von Tor waved Kazial down as he offered, "I know you dream of building a pirate fleet and reaving across the stars. You need ships and supplies for that. Raiding for them is slow going, but I can give you everything you need in a fraction of the time. There are many secret shipyards hidden in this system, ones the Terrans haven't uncovered yet. Fight for me, and they're yours."
Vorshaan cocked his head, "Interesting... but here's my counteroffer. I kill your lackey, then torture you until you give me the locations, then I get what I want and you die."
"That would be a mistake," Von Tor dismissed.
"You don't get to say no," Vorshaan jeered.
But Von Tor brandished a ring on his hand, "This is a Vortex Grenade! A weapon of last resort. Touch me and we all die, and even you aren't fast enough to escape the blast radius."
Vorshaan paused as he glanced at the ring, "You're bluffing."
"Try me," Von Tor stated without a trace of the terror he felt in his voice.
Vorshaan stared at him for a moment, eye lenses glinting in the candlelight, then laughed, "Oh, you're good! I like you, not enough to spare your life, but I shall defer that pleasure for another day. Your terms are acceptable. My merry band of killers will fight for you."
"All I need is for you to eliminate the Terran Astartes," Von Tor snapped.
"Simplicity itself," Vorshaan snorted, "I fought in the Heresy Wars, I traded blows with the best of the Legions. These children are a shadow of their forebearers, I shall enjoy demonstrating their inferiority in the field."
Von Tor sneered, "The Night Lords fought under the banner of Horus, losing the war doesn't seem to have diminished your ego."
Vorshaan's voice dropped an octave, "Don't presume to speak on matters you know nothing about. The Night Lords only followed Horus long enough to break free of the False Emperor's yoke. The rest fought blindly, for or against, all wrapped up in petty notions of honour and grand causes. The VIIIth alone saw clear from the start, we understood what we were made to be. Savage weapons unleashed upon a helpless galaxy, nothing more, nothing finer. The rest of the Legions came to understand that fact eventually, Horus's dupes first, the loyalist scum later, but they all learned in the end that weapons are all we'll ever be."
Von Tor was sickened by the Dusk Prince's declaration but swallowed his bile, "There are four Chapters you must eliminate: Black Templars, Fire Lords, Dark Tusks and Smoke Jaguars."
Vorshaan sniffed, "Different stripes of the same dogmatic idiocy. I have plans to deal with them, you were right about that. The rest is up to you."
"Then we have an accord," Von Tor stated, "You kill them, then leave and claim your reward. When next we meet, we shall be enemies again."
Vorshaan however leaned down and whispered, "Can you stomach it though, working with me, knowing your fine victory was brought about by the hands of a Chaos Lord?"
"So long as Nova Terra wins I can bear anything," Von Tor uttered, "Morality is a luxury only the winner can afford."
"How very Inquisitorial of you," Vorshaan sneered.
Von Tor's face fell as he accepted his burden of guilt, "It seems it falls to me to play the villain. If I must do so, then I will do it to the fullest. For the future, I must embrace the worst of sin and become evil."
Yet Vorshaan's reply was mocking, "I'm sorry, at what point exactly were you good?!"
Von Tor's ire rose and he nearly went for his pistol. Self-preservation stayed his hand, the Dusk Prince could end him in an instant, there was no question of that. Von Tor knew how deadly Vorshaan was with a weapon, he was counting on it. The Traitor would kill the loyalist Astartes, for no other reason than he could. The bargain they had struck was merely to aim him in the right direction, but the true offer was to allow Vorshaan to engage with the Space Marines directly. If there was no one thing Von Tor had learned of this traitor over their blood-soaked encounters it was that Vorshaan could never resist a chance to prove his superiority over others.
Von Tor faced the Dusk Prince and said, "Your army is in place, when can you begin?"
"As soon as my word is given," Vorshaan declared.
"And how shall you start?"
Vorshaan purred in anticipation, "As the VIIIth always does: first we go for the eyes."