Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 144
Sable Pinion picked its way back across the front line, coasting past auspex and surveyor without disturbing a single alarum. Behind the Novans were in uproar, Wardsmen sweeping the city for intruders, breaking down doors and waking citizens from their beds, little realising the Space Marines had already slipped away. No triumph did Umbral Flame enjoy, only the bitter sting of loss and betrayal. Those they had counted allies had been proven false, and shock warred with anger for dominance in their hearts. Yet Damchak had a more pressing problem.
Tikal's voice was low, "I see the fall of feathers black, torn from the wings of the Raven. A world burning, brother turning against brother. A voice in my ear, crying infamy to the stars. The Devil-sons unveiled, the gods of ruin stretching forth their hand. An age of darkness, the breaking of bonds and the ending of dreams. A gorgon behead, a drake burned to the bone, a raven in flight, seeking salvation that does not come."
Damchak stood outside Tikal's restraint cage and said softly, "You see the death of hope, when legions broke and the Sun-Emperor's vision was cast down. You see the beginning and the end."
"When shall I see the dawn?" Tikal whispered.
"No man can say," Damchak replied grimly, "Twice in my span of days has the Sable Brand taken a Smoke Jaguar, and never from Umbral Flame. One fought alone till the darkness ebbed and he was restored unto himself, the other died in the grip of the Dark One, raving in madness and unable to tell friend from foe. The darkness will endure till you overcome it, or do not. "
Tikal's face was a mask of sorrow, "You cannot know my pain. I see the horror with my waking eyes, dream and reality interchangeable. I see you standing in a Shadowhawk and yet amid the ashes of a world too, piled dead rising on all sides. Both visions are real to me, equal in merit. You say you are real and the ashen horizon false, but I know not if you are the dream and my despair is truth."
Damchak sighed, "I can offer you no comfort. The Legions of old suffered this curse, and they found no cure. For the Smoke Jaguars it is worse, as our Shadow-path has waxed strong in isolation, so too has our flaw. Rare amongst our number, but not so scant as to be forgotten."
"How can I avert the visions?" Tikal lamented.
"You must endure them," Damchak informed him, "Alone will you walk, even among your Prowlmates. Death or redemption awaits at the end of the path, but you must walk with the Dark One until then."
Tikal lowered his head as Damchak stepped away. The Shadowhawk was picking up speed as they passed over Terran-held territory, but it would still be many hours till they reached the central basecamp. Damchak stepped past wounded Kinsmen, nursing grave injuries. Cauill's corpse lay in the corner, awaiting return to the Genewrights so his legacy could be harvested. He was not the only one requiring the healer's touch, the Dark Tusks had left deep scars. Damchak secretly thought had it not been for his power claw, and Tikal's affliction, that Umbral Flame might not be returning at all.
"The boy recovers?" Nizca asked as the First stepped into a restraint cage.
"Such turmoil does not pass so easily," Damchak sighed.
"Loss we have known, more would be sorrow beyond measure."
"Death comes to all men," Damchak muttered.
Nizca's head turned in alarm, "You suspect our sorrow is not a lone one?"
Damchak judgement was stern, "The Dark Tusks took pains to spread their squads among our Prowls, matching us in number, far from the call of friends. Not by random chance did they choose the hour of their betrayal, we would be fools to not suspect a larger plan. Umbral Flame won through but upon the fate of other Prowls my spirit lingers. Our sorrows multiply, this I know in my bones."
Nizca switched tongues, "The idle man in his house sees not the pumpkin spider crawling into his bed."
Damchak agreed, "Sleep with one eye open, for the dead alone can be certain of the dawn."
"The knife speaks truth plainer than words ," Nizca proposed.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," Damchak growled, "These false Marines shall taste the law of Sedaxus, thus it is written, thus shall it be."
The pair fell silent as the Shadowhawk soared on. Hours passed in bitter reflection, Damchak worrying all the while what treachery had occurred elsewhere. He was certain the Dark Tusks had not acted alone, their whole Chapter was suspect, but the implications were dire. Ten years had the Smoke Jaguars fought alongside their cousins and not once had they suspected corruption walked amongst them. When had the Dark Tusks turned their hearts from the Sun-Emperor, during their long quest for vengeance, while the Virus bombs fell on Chasquit IX or even before then. Damchak had no answers and the question worried him.
Some three hours later a call from the pilots drew his attention. Damchak frowned as he linked in his autosenses to the gunship's external pict-feeds and he beheld the scope of the treachery. Sable Pinion soared towards a flaming crater, where once the epicentre of the Imperial army dwelt. A vast caldera, smoking heavily, sending plumes of ash into the heavens. Nothing remained, only slagged earth and flaming brushfire. The ground for kilometres about was cracked and scorched, raging flames having swept the environs clear. Rescue teams milled uselessly at the perimeter, having nothing left to recover. Even the Invasion-Cathedrum was gone, no trace of it remaining.
Damchak's breath caught at the sight, beyond his worst imaginings. Denial was useless, the reality was plain and yet the emptiness in his guts could not be consoled. He had suspected the treachery was broader than one squad, but this was calamity unbound. So many dead, so many lives sacrificed on the altar of corruption. Vengeance had he sworn, but now justice laid its geas upon him too. Twin souls did the Smoke Jaguars own and both were in agreement that the Dark Tusks must be made to pay for their sins. Damchak's anger transmuted from the hot urgency of outrage to the cold condemnation of judgment, he had been angry at the Dark Tusks, now he hated them to the pits of his soul.
The Shadowhawk set down and Umbral Flame pushed out of their cages, heading for the ramp. The lowering door revealed they had set down amid fellow Smoke Jaguars, many of them bearing wounds. Prowls lingered in knots about a rude basecamp, names as esteemed as White Crow Prowl and They Who Thunder, mourning alongside newer legends like Ebony Giant, Deathmaker and Ember Fist. All were missing Kinsmen, but what truly struck Damchak were the Prowls not to be seen anywhere. Storm Flayer Prowl, Silent Step, the Ashen Mantel, surely they must still en-route, the alternative was too grim to bear.
Serviles hurried over, dragging fuel bowsers and blessed icons over the cracked earth to tend to the Shadowhawk's needs. Damchak set a beacon in the vox-net to summon a Genewright as he stepped forward, leaving his Kinsmen to tend to their injured. The dead grass crunched under his boots as he moved among the mourners, their whispers brushing his ears. Sorrow upon sorrow, treachery everywhere, the Smoke Jaguar's losses were keener than he had suspected, or could bear.
Near a collection of Thunderhawk transporters he found the Shade-Lord. Q'umarkaj was directing Serviles to unload parts and supplies, as the wounded requiring immediate surgery were carried inside to be lifted to ships in orbit. The Shade-lord lived, this brought relief to Damchak's spirit, but even He Who Must Be Obeyed bore grievous scars. He too had known the bitter sting of betrayal, but Damchak was sure his Transonic Lightning claws had repaid the betrayal tenfold.
"The rising sun fills my eyes to know you draw breath," Damchak called as he removed his helm.
"Shadow-chieftain," Q'umarkaj spake as he turned from his operations, "You yet live."
"I abide," Damchak replied, "Though my Prowl has lost a Kinsman."
"Only one, count yourself blessed," Q'umarkaj growled, "Others were not so well graced. Our losses were many."
Damchak stopped among the scurrying Serviles, "Storm Flayer, Silent Step, Ashen Mantel?"
"All extinguished," Q'umarkaj spat, "Prowls whose names shall pass into history."
"They shall resound forever," Damchak intoned.
"That is only the beginning of our sorrow, Ethano the Night Hammer was taken from us. He walks among the Living-Dead no longer."
A dreadnought had been slain, the scope of the loss stole Damchak's breath away. The Smoke Jaguars did not favour heavy equipment greatly, though they used it when required, but a Dreadnought was so much more than that. Living history, the voice of the ancestors, wisdom distilled, all this and more. A dreadnought had one step in the world of the living and the dead, their spirits dwelling in both worlds. No greater mystery could there be, and the Smoke Jaguars looked to their entombed Kinsmen to guide them through life and death.
"How did this come to pass?" Damchak asked.
Q'umarkaj replied, "Vorshaan came to us as a prisoner, but it was a ruse. I was returning to witness his execution when word came that Empex, the foulest traitor who ever walked, had taken up arms alongside the Dusk Prince. The Dark Tusks slew the Sons of Sigismund and made their escape, while the corruptions of chaos spilled free. With his last breath Bezharad called down fire from heaven to scour the land bare, sparing this world the touch of ruin, but culling hundreds of his own blood. The Black Templars are a spent force, the crusade headless."
Damchak lowered his head, "They died in service to the throne of gold, their names are honoured by the Sun-Emperor."
"I care nothing for honour," Q'umarkaj growled as his pale face darkened.
"First of firsts?!" Damchak's head snapped up.
"Empex has betrayed us all, he betrayed me! There will be no forgiveness for this sin, no escaping my vengeance! The Dark Tusks have fled into the wilderness, their ships have broken orbit and fled into deep space, but they shall not evade the Smoke Jaguars. We shall hunt them across this planet, then across the stars themselves. Wherever they hide we shall burn them out, no matter what haunted realms they lay their heads, it shall be torn out from under them. And then I will summon the many Successors of Corax to scour their homeworld bare with the fires of Exterminatus, and expunge their names from history. The Dark Tusks shall have nothing, not even the memory of them shall endure. They will be made Nameless, so swears Q'umarkaj!"
Damchak was stunned by the depths of the oath. To be made Nameless was the worst condemnation the Smoke Jaguars knew. Not only to die but to be excised from memory. No man truly died whose name was yet remembered, so taught the Testimony, but if they were forgotten then it was as if they never lived. All their deeds and heroic actions of the past would be counted worthless, their forbearer's triumphs rendered dust. Even their souls would be condemned, cast into the hells of the Warp to be feasted on by Daemons. It was the worst punishment imaginable, and yet a stern voice barked, "You are not going anywhere!"
Heads snapped about as the Smoke Jaguar's encampment was violated by a new face. Marching in lockstep came a score of warriors in red and gold, their hands clasping bolters and their eye lenses locked on the Shade-Lord. At their head strode a proud warrior, his lips set in cold disdain and his eyes filled with disdain. Fire Lords, walking as if they had the right to look down on the Smoke Jaguars and at their head strode Chapter Master Jorrim.
Q'umarkaj faced his counterpart angrily, "The falling leaf does not tell the wind where to blow!"
Jorrim growled, "By the Emperor's decree, you are commanded to submit to my authority."
"You have no right to claim the Sun-Emperor's warrant!" Damchak spat.
Jorrim sneered back, "By Emergency Writ of the Inquisition and Ecclessiarhcy I have been named the new Warmaster of the Novan Crusade. And my first act is to place the Smoke Jaguars under arrest, pending investigation into your involvement in this treachery."
"Traitors claimed the lives of my Kinsmen and you point your bolters at us?!" Q'umarkaj spat.
Jorrim glared back, "Your losses are the only reason I have not levelled this camp with incendiary missiles, but you and the Dark Tusks have been thick as thieves since the beginning. For all we know this destruction was only the start of the plot. I will not accept that you savages are not planning to finish the kill. The Smoke Jaguars stray too far from the Codex Astartes for my liking, you consort with dark powers and flaunt your defiance of Imperial orthodoxy. The Fire Lords are taking charge of this Crusade and you shall submit to my judgement or I will have your mongrel breed declared Excommunicate Traitoris!"