Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 192
Near the front lines the corpse of a Valkyrie lay smoking. The tangled wreckage had been blown from the sky during the fighting for the Palace and now languished in death. Its fuel had long since burned out, leaving the scorched metal blackened and charred, its cockpit shattered and wings deformed. Despite all this there was motion within, a faint suggestion of movement and noises as if wounded men endured. A flash of vox bleated from the wreckage, calling for evac, a forlorn cry for help despite the risk of discovery. The distress call would surely provoke the Greenskins, Vitcos was counting on it.
"The Magpyrs sing most sweetly," the First chuckled from the cover of a fountain.
"A lure sure to draw the prey," Ilquitio agreed, "True to the Testimony."
"My care for the Testimony is scant," Vitcos rebuked.
"Then why lay the snare at all?"
"Because Huacho would scowl to know of it."
The First was pleased with his subterfuge, placing decoy servo-skulls within the wreckage to draw Orruk. Blazing Shadow Prowl lay nearby, armed and waiting, ready to spring out of cover and close the trap. The leaders of the Imperial army were busy drawing lines on maps and measuring lives spent as a merchant does expenses on a tally chart. This was not the way of the Smoke Jaguars, they did not fare well in battles of attrition or holding lines and bellowing challenges, the battle so far had been dismal, it was time to take matters into hand. The fact that the Prowlmaster would be displeased with Vitcos sneaking off would add spice to the feast. Firsts of Copan were notoriously independent and stubborn, treating orders more as suggestions, and Vitcos was more wayward than most. The only disappointment was that Tachna would not be here to see it, Vitcos would love to see the Gaze Catcher's face when he heard of this.
Unhelmed Vitcos cast his eye over the surroundings. They were within sight of the Palace, in the richest part of the Purple District. Here the most pampered of nobles maintained their townhouses, basking in the reflected glory of the Governor. Houses were tall and broad, with extensive gardens, manicured and dotted with fish ponds and marble follies. This particular house had a garden broad enough to house a hundred slum-dwelling families, not that the impoverished masses would ever lay eyes upon it. Vitcos lingered in one of the stone follies, waiting alongside busts of long-dead noble men and women.
Sechura's voice came over the vox-beads, "First, do we seek death and destruction or to draw the eye of your prey?"
"A hunt serves many purposes," Vitcos replied over the undetectable sub-frequency.
"Arjax-lel will come?"
"He moves as the wind, and will surely his heart quickens to the horns of battle."
"Why do we stalk the footsteps of one Marine, not of our Chapter, not of our bloodline?"
Vitcos pondered this for a moment then said, "The Smoke Jaguars have been abroad among the stars for many B'ak'tun, yet found none like ourselves. The blood of our blood tolerates us, the others avoid us. Our feud with the Fire Lords is bitter beyond tasting. When the Storm Heralds came we took them for more strutting fools, yet in Arjax-lel I see a kindred spirit. One who walks the thorny path betwixt justice and vengeance. He most surely merits the highest esteem, yet he scorns it. Never have I known so bold a warrior turn his face from glory offered, never have I seen one so aggrieved with his Headsman's commands. He is a mystery unto me, I must unravel this enigma, I must know the heart of him."
Vitcos didn't expect them to understand, but few ever knew his true heart. He'd been scorned and cast aside once, doubted more often than that, and yet had risen on his talents alone. The Headsmen sneered at him for winning a Chase, when tradition expected a youth to dawdle so the First could triumph. More bitterly he'd been rejected by his birth-father, on that black day so long ago. Vitcos may be a First but he was alone, there were none like him. In his Storm Herald counterpart he spied the possibility of a shared kinship, a shared suffering, it intrigued him.
"The leaves stir without wind," Ilquitio warned as he squinted into the pale evening light.
"Hide your eyes, slow your breath," Vitcos warned as he donned his helm.
"A patrol in number," Ilquitio whispered as he shaded his weak eyes against painful light.
"Your counting is feeble, don your helm and see true," Vitcos admonished.
"As the First commands," Ilquitio relented as he donned his helmet, his gene-seed mutation of aversion to strong light shaming him once again.
In the distance movement stirred, a gaggle of Orruk coming to investigate the distress call. Vitcos saw them slinking over the plasteel railings surrounding the gardens, their leather jackets emblazoned with horned skulls of sapphire hue. Deff Skulls clan, notorious looters and plunderers of the Greenskin horde. It made perfect sense that they'd be scouting ahead, seeking swag to claim before the rest of the Waaagh rolled over these suburbs. Vitcos counted a dozen, disappointing numbers, not enough for his needs. He sent a signal burst to the Magpyrs, compelling them to increase their cries tenfold. Sure enough the bleating distress drew more Orruk, the prospect of massacring helpless innocents too good to pass up. Thirty crept into view, forty, when the number reached fifty he gave the command to open fire.
Blazing Shadow erupted from concealment, firing as they appeared. From under bushes, from inside follies or lurking in the shadow of statues they appeared, forming a semi-circle around the Orruk. Sechura had been hiding under the surface of a fish pond and rose as the sea-monster breaching, water cascading from his bolter as he opened fire. Vitcos leaned out of cover and began discharging his bolt pistol, picking off Orruk. The smooth snap-bang of mass reactives detonating rang loud and he grinned as he blew the head off the leading Deff Skull. The Orruk swirled in dismay at the ambush, but then rallied and fell back on instinct, charging headlong at their attackers, waving cleavers overhead as they roared in fury.
Vitcos put a trio of bolts into the chest of the nearest Orruk, then another and another. The crossfire was vicious, the reaping of lives fast and yet the Greenskins commanded an advantage of numbers five-to-one. In seconds the range closed and Vitcos took up his Chakrams. The first Orruk to come at him had its throat opened, but the second barrelled past his defence, tackling him bodily. A Black Orruk, wiry and thin, yet strong as granite. Vitcos was surprised and found himself borne to the floor, the Greenskin on top of him, trying to ram a knife into his eye.
The blade reared high and Vitcos jerked his head aside an instant before the blade struck. Stone cracked under its touch and he jerked his knee, slamming the Greenskin aside. He rolled out and lashed out with his Chakrams, causing blood to flow down the foe's chest from a deep lacerating wound, but the Orruk cared not. It came at him again, leaping bodily into the air. Vitcos fell back and lifted his feet, catching the brute in the stomach with both feet. He extended his legs as he fell, adding to its momentum and sending it flying upside down into the bust of a forgotten man. Stone shattered, spraying bits everywhere and the First rolled over to regain his feet.
In the seconds it took to regain his footing the Orruk was up, holding its knife low, then lifted a hand and waggled its fingers in a 'Come here' gesture. Vitcos was incensed and charged, slashing high with both weapons. The Orruk however ducked low, showing stunning speed. Pain in his wrist betrayed a vicious cut to his arm and his grip was lost, sending one Chakram to the ground as his blood flowed. Vitcos snarled as he whipped around, slashing low with the other only to find a boot hammering into his knee. Vitcos stumbled as the iron-shod kick disrupted his stance and then he was tackled again.
Pain in his flank, the knife sinking into the gap between plates, tasting life-blood. The Black Orruk twisted the blade, exaggerating the pain most greatly and yet Vitcos was not done for. He crashed into the wall and threw out his arm, grabbing another stone bust. His flank screamed in torment as he twisted about, but he managed to bring the weight down on the Xenos' skull. Rock crumbled before the dense bone did, but the Orruk's head did reel back and Vitcos drove the sharp shards in his fist right into its eyes. The Orruk jerked backwards, blinded by his strike but he stayed with it, grinding his fist into its face, pulping the eyeballs into jelly. He trusted that hurt, a lot.
The Orruk staggered away, hands going to the ruin of its face and Vitcos struck for the heart, plunging his remaining Chakram into the gaping chest wound to slice the beating organ in two. The Orruk died, falling backwards in a heap as the First retrieved his lost Chakram and looked for more foes. Ilquitio did not need help, twin Daga blades making short work of two more Greenskins, but the fight outside had taken a different timbre. The guttural cries of the Orruk mixed with the snarling of righteous hearts and the crackle of power weapons, bold declamations and the howling of turbines. Vitcos smiled, his plan had worked.
He ran out of the cover and found the fastest Storm Heralds had responded, drawn to the intense combat in the garden. Vanguard Veterans tore through crowds of Orruk with fierce ardour, laying waste to all they surveyed. Blazing Shadow barely had to make their presence felt, so fast and deadly were the Storm Herald's First Company Elite and none more so than Arjax-lel. He strode through the fight with disdain, culling any Xenos who dared stand against him. Cleaving foes in twain, his Eviscerator soaked in the vitae of the enemy. In seconds it was over, he had won again.
"Light of the dawn be upon you!" Vitcos called as he strode out to greet the victorious heroes.
Ajax was clearing his blade again, "We detected enemy activity in this grid-sector and came to… came to… Warp Hells… not you again?!"
"Coincidence abounds, the stars intended our meeting," Vitcos lied.
"Abaddon's Balls, I am getting bloody tired of seeing you everywhere I go!"
But Vitcos demurred, "No need for hateful words. Your aid in battle is most esteemed, I offer you the glory of the hunt-kill."
"I want nothing to do with you," Ajax growled, "How can I be any clearer: stay the hell away from me!"
Vitcos rejoined, "Your words are stone but your tongue is fire."
Ajax's reply was sneering, "You think I don't see you sulking and slinking about as the lowest of Heretics. I have fought Traitor Marines and their fetid stench is far too similar to yours for my liking. You use fear as a shield, thus you are weak, flawed and ultimately worthless. We are the storm made flesh, we are wrath incarnate! Your delusions of speaking to me as an equal are just that: delusions!"
His rebuke was so harsh the ground shook. Vitcos was amazed by the ferocity of his denial, so bold and intemperate as to make the world shiver. Truly he was admirable but yet why did his comrades look to the east? Vitcos turned and realised the shaking of the ground had nothing to do with an argument, but instead the product of hundreds of boots striking dirt. From the east came a vast wave of Orruk, charging headlong towards them. The front had been closer than Vitcos realised, they'd heard the fighting and were inexorably drawn to it. Hundreds upon hundreds of Greenskins, racing headlong towards ten Smoke Jaguars and six Storm Heralds, this was very much not good.
"Oh frak," Ajax exhaled at the sight.
Vitcos could only agree, "Frak indeed."