Legends of the Smoker Jaguars Chapter 172

Domum Vana Somnia had seen better days. A rustic villa set in the rolling hills of the Crastus mountains it commanded a magnificent view of the lowlands, replete with meandering rivers and picturesque woodlands. The villa of some forgotten Terran noble clan, long since eradicated in bitter contests of mercantile interests. With their downfall the house had been left to rot. The passing centuries had turned the red tile roof into a jagged snarl of plasteel beams. The jaunty paint on the wall had been reduced to a grey smear and the marble floors were cracked and uneven as roots pushed through Ferrocrete foundations. Mould covered many rooms, furnishings had long since decayed into furry clumps of wet wood and the precious items had been looted by impoverished workers, even the kitchen had been emptied of utensils. And yet Vitcos found something to explore.

The First of Blazing Shadow stood in what was once a nursery, intently examining a wall. The room was deep in the west wing, not exposed to the elements, so a lingering suggestion of the mural could yet be discerned by Transhuman eyes. It was a pastoral scene of smiling workers gathering crops in a field under a hot sun. No hint of unhappiness was on their faces, no signs of ill-health or lash marks, and the rich nobles sitting on an elevated walking platform received their bounty as rightful tribute. Vitcos could not help but compare it to what he had seen of life in the Imperium and found it most divergent.

A scuffle at the doorway betrayed Ilquitio appearing, "First?"

"My thoughts are far away," Vitcos replied.

"The headcount of Firsts is one short," Ilquitio informed him.

"The hour is not yet so late," Vitcos demurred, "I look upon this and my hearts speak."

Ilquitio glanced at the wall, "This has no bearing upon our hunt."

"The lies of Imperium press most keenly upon our quest," Vitcos rebuffed.

"You speak so of the Sun-Emperor's demesnes?"

Vitcos waved a red gauntlet at the wall, "Falsehoods and mistruth, this art is the very soul of Terra. The idle masters sit above, the lowest are crushed by injustice and toil, and all say the stars mote it be. Equally blind to the truth are the shufflers of paper to our current threat. A simple Orruk they deemed Orkamemnon, a stomping loud fool, coarse of boast and hollow of strength. Numbers he commands yes, but no greater threat, so says Terra. Swift victory and surety of support, thus they promised, but we find the truth of Orkamemnon to be different."

Ilquitio tilted his head quizzically, "Heavy thoughts are an unnecessary burden to the warrior on the hunt."

"Your counsel?" Vitcos asked.

"Trust the Testimony, trust the Prowlmaster, and if all else fails shoot your bolter dry."

"Ha!" Vitcos snorted in amusement, "Your words are sweet elixir!"

"Then I shall remind you of the pressing summons you ignore."

"Lead on by Kinsman, let us face the wroth of the Hound Sinister."

The pair departed the nursery, heading deeper into the villa. The crumbling edifice was built along three lines, backed onto a steep hill but between the east and west wings lay a broad square. Once a garden for the pampered and indolent to while away their evenings, now it was a marshalling square. Doans ran to ready a hasty departure, hastily loading munitions and supplies into idling Shadowhawks, as a pair of Rhinos and a Land Speeder were backed into waiting holds. One of the Living Dead waited to embark, Aapo the Eldest, stirred from his slumber to bring woe to the enemies of man. Seven Prowls of the Smoke Jaguars laboured in the courtyard. Great names with proud histories: Blazing Shadow, Deathmaker, Barking Dog, Red Whirlwind, Steel Helms, Autumnal Kings and Hounds Sinister. A mighty gathering of the Sons of Sedaxus, and all of them heeded Huacho as Prowlmaster.

The First of Hounds Sinister stomped about as he growled, "Vitcos, your Shadow-path is strong, so strong we cannot espy you whenever there is work to be done!"

"A fool is he who takes his eyes off the horizon when enemies abound," Vitcos sniffed as Ilquitio found a pressing reason to be elsewhere.

"The perimeter is watched by eagle-eyed Doans," Huacho rumbled, "You doze in the sun as the fattened feline rests upon the dowager's divan!"

"A harsh rebuke, and yet I acted when all others lingered in the dust."

"Your hasty strike brought us no relief, Orkamemnon moves on Coronam and we must be within those walls before the Orruk lays siege."

Vitcos was put back by that, "You mean to stand on the walls as the Fists Imperial?!"

"A plethora of choices draw down to one," Huacho hissed, "The Testimony offers many paths for the hunter, and yet these Orruk deny them all. There is something different about Orkamemnon, something… ill-starred."

Vitcos was given pause by the confession and he eyed the Prowlmaster. The Hound Sinister loomed over him in Tactical Dreadnought plate, the dark bulk of it crowned along the edges by sharpened fangs. A set of lightning claws braced his arms and the helm at his hip was shaped as a snarling mastiff-visage. Terminator armour was rare among the Smoke Jaguars, long thought lost along with the secrets of jump pack and Land Speeder. Reunification with the Imperium had brought many boons but still the Chapter did not favour such heavy plate, few Prowls had the training to use it and even they only brought it forth in the direst of situations. That Hounds Sinister Prowl had donned so heavy a mantle spoke badly of their perceived odds.

Vitcos stole closer to whisper, "Among the Orruk we spied a new breed, black of hue and commanding of bearing. Their mere presence quenched the fires of savagery and brought peace to those born for war."

Huacho grimaced, "This Waaagh should not be, it sprang out of nowhere and yet it is. These deviants may be the answer we seek."

Vitcos glanced to the side and muttered, "This world is thin, its defences feeble. We would be wise to depart and resume our hunt on better ground."

"You would flee a hunt once set?" Huacho growled his disgust plain.

"The Testimony abhors battles of attrition and vainglorious last stands. Praedium is nothing, it has no value. Better to spend our strength where we can tilt the scales."

Huacho's eyes narrowed, "You defy the word of the seers! The stars spoke to Shade-Seer Ezak himself and foretold that the fall of Praedium would usher in an age of calamity. Orkamemnon's Waaagh is great, but tenfold greater will it become if not throttled in its infancy. Time is our enemy, one that must be fought as ardently as the Orruk. Shade Lord Teotihuacan has spoken; the Smoke Jaguars will bleed for Praedium. Thus it is written, thus shall it be!"

Vitcos' umbrage mounted as he spat, "Are we nought but pawns of prophecy?!"

The Hound Sinister's lip curled, "Again you decry the wisdom of the Chapter."

Vitcos was not cowed and argued, "Fate and destiny are but chains to bind our will. Corvus Corax spake that we choose and we act, life and death are consequences of choices made, not writ by the stars!"

"Speak so before Teotihuacan and my favour will not save you," Huacho sneered.

"Choice and chance are the determiners of the universe," Vitcos refuted, "Prophecy is but a signpost on the road, not the path itself. Your scheme to stand on the walls will be the doom of us all."

"Dangerous words, from an unsound mind!" came a harsh voice. Vitcos's spirits sank as Headsman Tachna stomped over. Like the Prowlmaster he wore Tactical Dreadnought armour but his plate gleamed from the many polished human bones laid along his limbs. Pale skulls of heathens formed his belt and a long roll of parchment hung from them, the words of the Testimony reaching below his knees. His Crux Terminantus was cusped by skeletal hands and the Rosarius hanging over his chest was transfixed by a ruby of purest make. His left arm was a power fist and his right carried a massive double-headed Transonic axe, while over his shoulders was braced a Cyclone missile launcher. Tachna had a deed name: Il-Tzak, the Gaze Catcher, in a Chapter famed for its stealth the Headsman reared like a banner pole.

"Headsman, I…" Vitcos began.

"Your forked tongue carries echoes of the Dark One," Tachna spat from his skull-helm.

"You offer insult!" Vitcos bridled.

"Your every breath is an insult," Tachna growled, "That one so base as you should rise to be First of Blazing Prowl is an insult."

"The choice of Prowl is for the Kinsman alone," Vitcos retorted, "Not even a Headsman may question my Prowlmates!"

"Your sins are hidden," Tachna growled, "But not so well hidden as you dream."

The words were not a threat, Tachna did not make threats, he was the threat. Headsmen were the enforcers of the law of Sedaxus: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. To spill blood among Smoke Jaguars was to have one's blood spilled in return; to take a Kinsman's life was to taste the kiss of the axe. The Headsmen were an executioner's axe laid at the nape of the neck. To avoid such unpleasantness the Chapter had evolved the tradition of the Chase, to resolve disputes between Prowlmates. Normally it defused tensions, but in Vitcos' case things had gone awry, even he admitted that.

"Again you accuse the guiltless of transgression," Vitcos stated.

"Do not plead innocence with me," Tachna hissed.

"The Chase was in accord with tradition!"

Huacho snorted in derision, "It is also tradition that when challenged a First always claims the hunt-kill."

"I won!" Vitcos protested, "There is no sin in that."

Tachna spat, "And so noble Guayaquil embraced the path of the Moritat, allowing you to rise as First of Blazing Shadow."

"No supplication shall pass my lips," Vitcos refused.

"I would not sanction one," Huacho sneered, "I wonder if, on that fateful day, did you seek your Kinsman's doom or perhaps to punish another face. The visage of your father as he abandons the second son, instead of the firstborn?"

Vitcos refused to apologise for his deeds. His past was past, and he felt no shame or guilt for his actions as a Smoke Jaguar. Yet a bitter memory arose, one of the few to survive his gene-forging. A blistering sun burning the cobbles of the sacrificial grounds of Copan XII, chains binding his arms to the floor. A father's craven face turning away, unable to look upon the son he offered as the tribute every family owed to the apex predator of their world. His father's back disappearing from Vitcos' sight as Smoke Jaguars stole from the jungle shade to claim new recruits.

Vitcos suppressed the memory by force of will, he would not be shamed by the cowardice of his birth-father, "You see sins in every corner and yet I walk with my head held high. Let fly all the arrows of suspicion your quiver holds, my armour is proof against any blandishment."

"Few esteem Blazing Shadow under the lead of Vitcos," Tachna hissed.

"I care nothing for your esteem, Il-Tzak."

Huacho glared, "So your actions prove. You defy your Prowlmaster with your wild abandon."

Vitcos snorted, "The Prowls have ever followed their own counsel. You may command those who will stand on the walls of Coronam and die as rats in the trap. Blazing Shadow will remain at large in the hinterlands, alone if we must. We will fight as a Smoke Jaguar ought. When the Orruk bury you in your graves we will mourn you, and then depart to fight for other worlds, as you should have."

"What's this, a Smoke Jaguar abandons his Kinsmen?!" a mechanical voice rumbled. All three turned as a squat shadow blocked out the sun. A towering war machine with heavy slabs of armour protecting a sarcophagus, within which an ancient hero endured. A Thundercoil harpoon on one side, a Chord Claw on the other and kill-tallies beyond counting across the glacis. Aapo, the Eldest, Living-dead of the Smoke Jaguars and a Dreadnought who had spoken with those who walked at the Dawning.

Vitcos swallowed, "Eldest, your ears are sharp."

Aapo grumbled, "Sharp ears are not required when loose tongues flap wild! The Orruk roaring a hundred leagues from this house hear you three mewling!"

Tachna took umbrage, "He defies the voted Prowlmaster and the Headsman's duty cannot be stayed!"

But Aapo snapped, "The wisdom of the ages fades! Troths of blood and murder grow thin so that a Headsman must resort to petty menaces. We are Smoke Jaguars all, born of a shared suffering, bound to a single destiny. Forget this at your peril!"

Vitcos swallowed nervously, "Eldest, I esteem the Prowlmaster's deeds but his plan to stand on the walls is the heir of idiocy."

Aapo lifted his Chord Claw to proclaim loudly, "The names of the Founders are known, but not all are equally renowned. Sedaxus laid down his laws, Arkqas bestowed wisdom through the Testimony and Engar gifted us the Shadow Path. Xavaar taught the myriad hues of deception but it was Damolos who teaches us to delight in the ending of lives, to rejoice in the letting of blood! He whom gave his life to save Sedaxus at the Dawning shall we honour! We shall fly to Coronam and make a great slaughter of the Orruk. Greenskin blood will the ground drink in oceans and the fearless Orruk shall learn to fear our blades!"

Fingertips rattled on breastplates as the Smoke Jaguars quietly applauded the Eldest. Vitcos for his part bared his neck in submission, heeding the Living-dead's sagacity. Few did Vitcos esteem, but Aapo had earned his admiration tenfold-ten times. Vitcos's respect was hard to earn, but once given it was fierce indeed. Vitcos may question the Hound Sinister, and spite the Gaze Catcher, but the Eldest he venerated beyond all others.

"Hasten your steps!" Aapo bellowed, "We must fly within the hour!"

"As you will," Vitcos conceded as the work to load the Shadowhawks redoubled.

"Be not dismayed," Huacho spake, "We fight not alone. The Sun-Emperor's Serviles gather in great number at Coronam, not least of which is another Chapter."

"Another Chapter?" Vitcos blinked, "Surely not the hated Fire Lords?"

"Not our bitter rival, but almost as bad. Storm Heralds, newborns, their character unknown."

"Trust them not," Vitcos urged.

"Worry more for your own sake," Tachna growled, "I will be close to you at all times, ever with you through the battles to come."

Vitcos spat back, "A Headsman goes where he will, but expect no hesitancy from Blazing Shadow. Be fleet of foot, Il-Tzak, for we shall not pause in our slaughter of Orruk should you fall behind."