Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 248
Blazing Shadow infiltrated a tramp trader on the edge of the Copan system, sneaking aboard without the crew ever being aware they had stowaways on board. From there it was easy to slip into the orbital transfer docks and then hide in a cargo crate down to the surface. Unfortunately they were obliged to slay the dockworkers who noticed a discrepancy among missing cargo. Regrettable, but only because it left a trail of bodies to mark their passing, still the Chapter had little to no interest in the affairs of mortals and the deaths would be written up to gang violence most likely. Three weeks of trekking through the jungle, followed by a perilous ascent up the sheer cliffs of the Fortress Monastery and then scaling down the mountain slopes into the caldera. All in all Vitcos was surprised how easy it was to get into the Smoke Jaguar's nexus of operations without being challenged, but then the base's greatest defence had always been anonymity, not bastion walls.
Blazing Shadow stole through the midnight streets, passing along avenues they had known all their lives. All was familiar and yet cast into more sinister forms too. They were not here as Kinsmen, but as saboteurs and thieves, stealing into places they should not be. The occasional Servile passed by but brushed past with eyes averted, to mortal eyes in the dark the Space Marines were all figures of towering respect and terror, never to be questioned. Another Prowl would be a different matter, Blazing Shadow would be instantly recognised, their presence an alarm unto itself as they were sent far away, meant never to return. So Vitcos kept a wary eye out for his own kind, but thankfully saw none.
"The house lies empty while the owner sojourns far," Sechura noted softly.
Vitcos agreed, "In their own dens the Prowls rest their heads, spread far across the jungles. The Masters of Smoke Jaguars alone reside at their heart."
"Their?" Ilquitio whispered, "Not ours?"
"Smoke Jaguars no more, remember this," Vitcos hissed.
"A strange day indeed," Ilquitio lamented.
"Hardened your hearts, heed not the weak voice within," Vitcos urged, "Divide your numbers, half secure a Shadowhawk to fly us to Falconer, the rest follow."
Blazing Shadow spilt into combat squads. They had left their ship in the outer system, with orders to maintain vox-silence. Having no reason to question orders the crew would obey, but Blazing Shadow would need a fast exit once the deed was done. Vitcos turned his mind to it now, the plan he had formulated on the long months of warp transit. To slaughter all within reach while exhorting the God of Blood and Skulls would be a short-lived plan. Instead the First had devised a more cunning ruse, one that would be even keener in hurt while allowing them to slip away with their lives.
The Fortress Monastery was a series of stepped pyramids, divided by avenues and running waters. The largest and most imposing of all was the Seer's Black Ziggurat, but there were many lesser templums. The Cairn of Vengeance where the Headsmen dwelled, the Bier of Justice where the Genewright's skills sorted those who would live from those who would die. Terraces of Initiation where Doans awaited their Day of Choosing. The Shade Lord ruled from the Templum of the Sun, the Techwrights hammered away day and night within the Templum of the Iron-Feathered Serpent, but it was the Templun of the Moon that Vitcos steered for: where history was commemorated.
Vitcos led the way up a long flight of steps, then dove into a low-hanging doorway. Within was a series of linked chambers, each a house of history. In various chambers lay tribute from Kings of the Boscage and medals given for victories won across the Imperium. Golden laurels bestowed for worlds saved and gleaming awards of merit. Strangely these held little interest for the Smoke Jaguars, boorish and loud, they much preferred the skulls of enemies slain, given higher places of honour in the Sepulchre Triumphant. Further in history was displayed by carving upon the walls. The Dawning under Sedaxus and great battles under Shade-Lords Palanque, Uxmal and others. The giants of myth: Xavaar, Engar, Damolos and Arkqas. The folly of Damchak was lamented in a single frame, but Aapo the Eldest had a wall all unto himself, freshly carved and not yet worn. Past all these Vitcos led his Kinsmen, to the very centre of the pyramid.
"Voices!" Sechura hissed suddenly.
"Surety have you?" Vitcos whispered in frustration.
"My ears are keen, Smoke Jaguars lie ahead."
"Lay a trap for us they scheme."
"Nay," Sechura shook his head, "They discourse in leisure, without a care. A voice I know: Huacho."
Vitcos' lips parted in a savage smile, "Hounds Sinister Prowl, fortune smiles upon me, this is better than I dreamed. Stay a moment and come when you hear bedlam unleashed."
Vitcos eased ahead, nearing the end of the passageway. Sechura's ears were sharp indeed, for he too heard voices in conversation. Six, no seven distinct cadences, more than he had to hand but caught unaware. They certainly would not be expecting him. Vitcos reached deep into his Shadow-path there found his transmuted gift. The effect of Calan Gaeav upon his nature had not faded, though he had enjoyed scant chance to practice in space. He called upon it now, reaching into the mansions of silence where the dead lay.
All worlds were tainted by death and the Smoke Jaguars were no exception. He felt the spirits lingering in the walls, sacrificial victims whose blood had been mixed with the mortar between bricks. From below came the ghosts of those slain in troths of blood and murder and the lingering spirits of those whose bodies had failed to accept the gene-seed and died in rigours of agony. At a word Vitcos called them forth, hundreds of ghosts responding to his mutated Shadow-path, his to command, to control. He sent them forth as agents of madness and dismay.
The voices ahead turned into shouts of confusion and dismay. Hounds Sinister Prowl beset by ravenous shades. No physical harm could they inflict on the living, not without construct bodies to ride, but they blinded eyes and swamped the ears with unearthly howls. Vitcos was running in a second, Chakrams drawn. He burst into a large chamber, a high roof held aloft by mighty pillars. He gave no heed to the decor as he charged at the nearest Smoke Jaguar, seeing him flailing at the ghosts all around.
Vitcos ducked a wild slice and attacked. His Chakrams met power armoured joints and cut through with ease, spilling blood everywhere. The Smoke Jaguar reacted blindly, trying to attack that which he could not see but Vitcos was ruthless. He'd killed a Kinsman before and found the second experience far less troubling on the soul. He blocked an arm with an elbow, rose to his full height and with one slice of his hand cut the throat.
His victim collapsed in a heap, gushing blood everywhere as Blazing Shadow piled in. Obsidian Blades flashed, lives were reaped and a merry slaughter was made. Vitcos however had greater prey in mind. The First of Hounds Sinister was fighting wildly, Huacho himself. How Vitcos had longed for this day, his hearts were light and his arms eager as he attacked. Huacho spun about, hearing a heavy footfall amid the ghostly wailing. He slashed high but Vitcos swayed aside, sweeping his Chakram over an elbow joint. Nerveless fingers dropped the knife but the other hand came around in a mighty fist. Vitcos let the blow resound off his pauldron and moved his other hand to slash the remaining elbow. Huacho reared back in dismay but Vitcos swept low, bending double as he darted around his foe's back and neatly cut both hamstrings. The First Hounds Sinister collapsed, his limbs useless, helpless to resist but Vitcos did not land the killing blow, instead making one more slash to cut his vox-link and leave him unable to call for help.
Ghostly apparitions converged as Vitcos relaxed his Shadow-path. He drew them to him as a master calling his hunting mastiffs, letting them flow about his form and lend a terrifying aspect. He stood over his victim, relishing in the power he commanded, over living and dead. All around slain Smoke Jaguars lay, their lives cut short by treacherous blades. Blazing Shadow had killed them, blood-stained all hands, they were all guilty. Vitcos calmly clipped his Chakrams to his hips as his Kinsmen moved deeper into the chamber, but he reached up and removed his helm and breathed deeply the aroma of murder.
"Vitcos!" Huacho spat from the floor, "It cannot be!"
"It can and it is!" Vitcos retorted with a sneer, "You should have donned Terminator plate this day."
"Lies, you are a fiend of the underverse, taking on his form and face!"
"Now you defend me?!" Vitcos snorted, "You, whomever scorned me, you who sneered in disgust at my every utterance!"
"False! Vitcos was ever a troublesome Naysmith but he was leal!"
"Perhaps once, but I have seen the true face of Chaos, I have walked on worlds that would blast your sanity to ashes. I know truths of the Smoke Jaguars that would make you weep. Your breed is not worthy, I shall serve no longer!"
The words hit home and denial faded from Huacho's eyes. Vitcos almost felt sorry for the pain caused, even though he'd exaggerated his corruption. The Hound Sinister lay prone but his jaw hardened in hatred. An enemy had Vitcos made this day, one who would burn like a fire in his wroth. No forgiveness, no mercy, no going back.
"You are befouled," Huacho growled, "A Devil-son I name thee, for the slaughter of my Kinsmen!"
"Not only that, Tachna too, I slew the Gaze Catcher and I was proud to do it!"
"He was right to suspect you, you were unsound from the beginning. Eternal shame shall ring that his warning was not heeded."
"Too late, now Blazing Shadow is trothed in family blood and kin-slaying!"
"A thousand times a thousand years of torment is not enough for your wretched soul!"
Vitcos looked down and sneered, "I allow you to live for one reason: to carry word to Teotihuacan. Tell the Shade-lord that I know he meant Blazing Shadow to die amongst the Censors, our lives sacrificed for his sordid pact. But I refuse to die for his sake, as I refuse destiny itself. I choose my fate, I choose to live, and I choose to name him my enemy! The Smoke Jaguars owe no claim over Blazing Shadow. Henceforth we are enemies, from now until my dying breath. Thus it is written, thus shall it be!"
A clatter of boots told of Blazing Shadow returning, their arms heavy with relics. Crystal ingots, fashioned around slim bars of broken-off metal. Such small tokens and yet so heavy with history. Touchstones of glory, emblems of merit beyond compare, entrusted to the Chapter for eternal safeguarding. They were the Quillons of Corax, feathers torn from the Primarch's jump pack on Istvaan V. More than relics, the physical embodiments of the Smoke Jaguar's lineage. To lose them was more than an insult, it was to declare they were unworthy before the blood of their blood.
"No!" Huacho cried in distress, "Do not touch them, you filth!"
"These belong to us," Sechura hissed, "To covet and sully as we will."
"Chase us if you must," Ilquitio laughed, "But you shall never find us all!"
"I will peel your skin off and nail your flayed body to the walls of the Sepulchre Triumphant!"
"You insult well," Vitcos grinned as he claimed a quillon for himself, "Your distant hatred will warm me on long, cold nights."
"No son true of Sedaxus are you!" Huacho cursed.
Vitcos looked down with cold disdain as his Kinsmen departed for the waiting Shadowhawk, "Truth at last, no sons of Copan are we. Tell Teotihuacan what we have done, tell him what we have taken. Your past, your future, your present. So long as one of Blazing Shadow draws breath the Smoke Jaguars are disgraced. All shall know you are unworthy of the Ravenlord's legacy. So come hunt us, bend your will to our ending, but you will not find us. A merry dance across the stars and all you shall hear is our laughter before an unseen hand slits your throat. Hear this, Huacho First of Hounds Sinister, till the end of the galaxy Vitcos shall be the Smoke Jaguar's enemy!"