Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 166
Nu Zantium ground to a halt, the mobile cities' tracks finally ceasing to roll. The towering structure steamed under the hot sun, its majesty ruined. Defensive bastions crumbled and buildings collapsed into themselves, coughing clouds of Ferrocrete dust into the air. One side was torn by a vast canyon, where the Imperator Crimson Death had tumbled; leaving the Titan sprawled in the wake of the city. The other slumped wearily, Crimson Vengeance, life slipping from the God-Engine. No blow had struck it, not a single shell, and yet it was dead, the whole of Nu Zantium was dead. No mortal life remained in that charnel house, no trace at all, everyone had been consumed by the rot of Nurgle, then sucked dry of infernal animus as the Arroyo gate collapsed. The smell was nauseating, a fetid odour of decay hanging over the city like a dark cloud.
The surrounding armies halted in confusion, engines grumbling loudly as tank commanders poked their heads out of turrets to see what was occurring. Many of them promptly dropped back and slammed the lids closed, better the suffocating stench of engine grease, cordite and body odour than the aroma of putrefaction that wafted off Nu Zantium. Columns of reinforcements backed up for hundreds of leagues, confused voices shouted into vox-nets as aerial bombers circled uncertainly and Titan Maniples halted their stride, awaiting orders.
After long minutes of argument a single Knight Freelancer volunteered to approach and inspect the city at close range. From the milling armies he advanced, braving the guns of Nu Zantium. No retort came his way, no hail of shells or ravening Vengeance beam. The city was as lifeless as it appeared, but the Freelancer kept his Ion shield raised, weapons ready to respond if needed. Nothing, no hint of challenge, until there was a spark of motion. From one of the Capital Imperialis a single blip on Auspex as two figures appeared, tiny compared to the soaring bulk of the city, and yet clad in Ceramite. Damchak and Nizca, last survivors of Umbral Flame, trooping from the ruins with a weary gait.
Damchak's shoulder burned hot where his Genhanced body knit itself back together. By the time they'd reached the lowest tier he'd no longer needed to lean on Nizca and by the time they'd negotiated their way through the confusing connections of the underlayer he was walking untroubled. His blood-coated face felt the blessing of cool wind, bringing scents of Promethium exhaust and heated metal, a relief after the stench clogging his nostrils. He spied distant faces of curious men, wondering what had occurred here, but he was in no mind to answer questions.
"Call forth a Shadowhawk," Damchak instructed, "Let us be away."
"Questions the Sun-Emperor's Serviles will have," Nizca warned.
"Disappointment they will know," Damchak scoffed pointedly ignoring the battlecannon the Knight was pointing at them.
"I think they intend to press the matter," Nizca observed.
From the waiting lines a Land Raider emerged, bedecked in heraldry red and gold. It was followed by several Rhinos, along with one in black and silver, another with flaming braziers fixed to the roof and a Heretic nailed to an X-beam as a grizzly trophy. Damchak's hearts winced as he saw the Fire Lords tearing across the field, charging towards them with tracks spraying dirt behind. He ceased his walk, let the crop burners come to him if they so wished, he would not grant them the dignity of meeting halfway. Sure enough the Land Raider roared up, then screeched to a halt. The ramp slammed into the dirt and Fire Lords emerged, bolters fixed unerringly on the pair of Smoke Jaguars.
"What is this Heresy?!" Jorrim boomed as he strode from his transport's interior.
Damchak faced him squarely, "Behold the fruits of victory."
"Victory?!" Jorrim spat, "You call this victory?! I had an assault plan prepared, the second wave was about to engage and then… then… this abomination!"
"Victory comes in many flavours, broaden your palette," Damchak sneered.
"This treachery will not go unpunished," Jorrim hissed.
The master of Fire Lords looked furious, his face dark with suspicion. Many scars did his armour bear, signs that he was not a coward and the broadsword at his hip must have reaped many lives. He appeared willing and able to order his Marines to shoot, impatience writ all over him. Jorrim was a man who dealt in certainties, orders of battle and logistical tables, the swing of a sword and the accuracy of a bolt round, the Smoke Jaguars represented uncertainty and he knew only one way to deal with the unknown. Yet his will was thwarted.
"Stay your wroth!" a shrill voice intruded, "By order of the Inquisition this situation is under my jurisdiction!" From the two mismatched Rhinos came Inquisitor Ganymit and Cardinal Helboran. They seemed diminutive compared to the Space Marines towering on all sides, yet they walked as if they owned the planet. Bolters rose before them so they could pass unimpeded. Damchak still found the vagaries of the Sun-Emperor's court baffling but it was plain that the Ecclesiarchy and Inquisition held power over Jorrim and his Fire Lords.
"Explain this," Ganymit archly commanded as she closed.
"These renegades were caught fleeing the scene of this Heresy," Jorrim accused.
"Leal sons do not heed the jibes of children," Damchak retorted.
Jorrim's face flushed, "You stand there covered in the blood of innocents and talk of leal service. Your guilt is plain to see!"
"No innocents remain," Damchak hissed, "Your bleating is as worthless as the gilt on your armour. You make me envy the deaf and the blind."
"Silence!" Helboran snapped, "Clearly some great upheaval has occurred, Smoke Jaguar, you explain this farce!"
"He can't…" Jorrim protested.
"Be silent," Ganymit hissed, "Your Chapter is newborn, and I am less than impressed with your combat record so far. Cross me again and I will have your Chapter sent back to Mars for mind-wiping and retraining!"
Jorrim's ire was a delight to behold but Damchak had no time to gloat, instead explaining, "While the clash of arms rang loud outside we Smoke Jaguars made our entrance. We found the city in the throes of corruption and set our hands to burning it out root and branch, though it may cost our lives. We were stumbled upon by the devil-sons, who had been driven mad by their defilement. Dark Tusks, Night Lords, Daemonkin, all at war with each other. Confusion and calamity were our greatest weapons and by the end Empex was slain and Vorshaan cast out from the world, into demesnes of blasted insanity and gibbering unreason."
"You claim to have killed Empex and banished Vorshaan?!" Jorrim growled.
"The truth points to itself," Damchak sniffed.
Helboran's eyes narrowed, "Such a feat is highly improbable."
"Behold my word made manifest," Damchak nodded.
Nizca stepped forward and presented Empex's severed head. The skin and muscle were falling off it, leaving a yellowed skull, but enough remained to make his face plain. Empex, traitorous Master of the Dark Tusks, punished for his crimes most justly. Ganymit did not touch the skull, but peered closely, confirming the identity before waving for a Fire Lord to take it.
"It seems you have fulfilled your promises," Ganymit sniffed, "You may depart now."
"You jest!" Jorrim spat in outrage, "The Smoke Jaguar's heresy cannot be allowed to continue!"
"You said if they killed Empex and Vorshaan then their loyalty would be affirmed. So it has been."
"Vorshaan survives, half a task completed is no boast at all."
"Wherever he is, he is not here, that suffices for now. Take the victories you are given and be glad of them."
Jorrim glared in frustration as he hissed between gritted teeth, "What of the rest of the Traitor warbands?"
Damchak nodded upwards, "Some Night Lords and Dark Tusks we saw slain, but few. Afterwards we found no trace of either breed, absence and silence are all you will find within. My head knows they walk among the dead, but my hearts are wiser and whisper they slipped away, to trouble us again another day."
"Nothing could get past our armies undetected," Jorrim refuted.
But Ganymit corrected, "There are ways you cannot begin to suspect, the warp makes many things possible. Better that you not ask, you will not like the answers."
Helboran clapped his hands, "Enough of this, we have a city to cleanse and a world to subdue."
Jorrim's jaw fell, "You cannot mean to claim Nu Zantium, it is corrupted inside and out!"
Damchak concurred, "The crop burner speaks truth. Festering blight clings to these bones of metal, no mortal can sojourn beyond and not be tainted."
Ganymit however stated, "There are many precious relics within, and technical marvels the Adeptus Mechanicus has been promised access to. Nu Zantium will be disposed of, but first we shall send in reclamation teams to retrieve what is required."
Jorrim gritted his teeth, "No mortal who sets foot within that mire can be trusted not to carry the seeds of corruption out with them."
Ganymit smiled coldly, "Then instruct your Fire Lords to carry full loads of bolt rounds, executioner duty is laborious work."
Damchak narrowed his eyes, "The Sun-Emperor's Headsmen are cruel."
"Cruelty is what the weak call necessity," Ganymit dismissed.
Helboran spread his arms wide and proclaimed, "The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Imperium! Through their sacrifices shall a new order descend on this planet. First Nu Zantium will be plundered and then demolished, every last panel taken into space and thrown into a star. After we will spread across the cities of this planet and take the population in hand. Re-education camps will be established to indoctrinate the masses in the correct worship of the God-Emperor, while those who led them into Heresy will be burned at the stake. The halls of Heretic learning shall be cleansed with fire, every last book and scroll thrown onto the bonfires and any deviant cultural artefacts Nova Terra once boasted will be shattered with silver hammers. New temples shall be erected atop the rubble of Novan civilisation and Missionaries will teach the people that the only worthy expression of art is the adoration of Him on Terra. Nova Terra shall return to its original name of Constantinus, a beacon of Imperial piety in Segmentum Pacificus!"
Damchak heard the diatribe but cared nothing for it. The Smoke Jaguar's work was done on this planet, their hunt concluded. Damchak had not thought to survive but he had, and the future beckoned. The Prowls would depart this world and return to Copan, there to begin the selection of a new Shade-Lord. A new season of history would come to pass and the names of the honoured dead would be added to. Great times lay ahead, terrible times, but one aspect yet remained to be dealt with.
Jorrim leaned in to hiss, "The Inquisition may have bought your tale, but I know better. You are tainted, if not by Chaos then by heretical creed. The Dark Tusks hid their treachery well, but you are not so skilled. I see through your lies, I smell the treachery festering in your hearts. Know that the Fire Lords will be ever-watchful and when you reveal your true colours, as you inevitably must, we shall stand ready to swing the executioner's axe."
Damchak eyed the Chapter Master sternly, "A Smoke Jaguar measures his worth by the quality of his enemy. It seems we have found a notable one in you. As you watch us, so too shall ye be watched. Should the day come when your Kinsmen turn from the Sun-Emperor the Sons of Sedaxus shall be your bane. Our knives in your back sunk to the hilt, before you spy our shadows."
"This then is a declaration of Blood-feud," Jorrim growled, "Fire Lords and Smoke Jaguars, enemies forever, and one day we will resolve this matter to the sound of swords clashing and bolters thundering."
"Thus it is written," Damchak concurred, "Thus shall it be."