Bringing light into dark places

[Aqui]

Lovely little update :) Hum... why do I sense an Alpha Legion plot here? :P

 

Ludovic

 

It's a TRAP!!!!

 

You two know too much....or do you? :lol:

[astartes88]

I must confess... I smell the alpha legions ploy with that meat "Cleanly cut and left to be found"....

[Aqui]

I must confess... I smell the alpha legions ploy with that meat "Cleanly cut and left to be found"....

 

I'm not saying anything ;)

 

For any one interested, I've recently modelled Eh'Tor over in WIP. I'll eventually get around to building Brun'El as well, along with a few others :)

 

I'll be posting another instalment in the next few days ^_^

[Aqui]

 

I must confess... I smell the alpha legions ploy with that meat "Cleanly cut and left to be found"....

I'm not saying anything

 

For any one interested, I've recently modelled Eh'Tor over in WIP. I'll eventually get around to building Brun'El as well, along with a few others

 

I'll be posting another instalment in the next few days

 

And over three months later I finally come up with the goods

 

Hard to believe that I started this over a year ago   I would have written more, but the monster that is my Sisters story has demanded more time, and for various reasons has been far easier to write.  However, here is the next bit.  A small one to be sure as I want to get my bearings again.  I had started part two a while ago, but after re-reading it, I decided that that section should be the (potential) start of another story   In any case, hopefully I won't leave it for this long again....

 

Chapter 2, Part 2:

 

With their bellies full, all but Varagol had put aside the question of their mysterious benefactor.  To them it was something that was of little to worry about.  Varagol, more wary in nature, would not let the matter rest.  He had given up in trying to convince the others that there was something awry, but instead strained his senses to the limit, determined to seek out any potential enemy that might come their way.

 

For the majority of their journey, none came, but Varagol nevertheless stayed alert...

 

Dolgma had gone on ahead as usual.  Whilst the others had kept their eyes on him from the moment he set off, within a few minutes, he had disappeared from sight, despite the fact that the weather had been relatively stable for days and that the frozen plains beyond were flat.

 

"How does he do it?" asked Cahseo to no one in particular.  He knew that the others had as much an inkling as he did.

 

"All I know is, he belongs to a tribe called Ah Tabai," Burrom replied.  "Whilst I don't know much about them, they are known for tracking.  Their skill at hunting is renowned."

 

"He told you that?" Varagol posed the question, knowing the answer full well.

 

"What do you think?"

 

"He is rather tight lipped about his past isn't he?" Shrk remarked.  Whilst all in the group were rightly proud of their tribes, Dolgma was as tight-lipped about his background as he was about everything.  His quiet, terse nature made many back at the Huaca  distrust him, but their collective experiences had cemented trust in his abilities, and each others.  Without him, they would be lost.  Very lost.

 

"Still," continued Shrk.  "How much do we truly know about each other?  What drives us?  What hardships and trials have we had to endure to get as far as we have?"

 

Varagol, looked at his comrade carefully.  Until recently, Shrk was the group member short of G'Urg he liked least.  He moaned and complained about everything, and whilst he was diligent in carrying out his share of work, he had a maddening way of sucking the joy out of anything.  Someone once cruelly remarked that should he ever have attained great wealth, he would have complained he would not sleep at night for fear of being robbed.  Varagol had been quick to agree, but after that comment, he realised there was something else that drove him.  Something not yet touched upon.

 

"Perhaps, if we are to truly become brothers, we should each speak.  Tell our tales.  Acknowledge our triumphs.  And lament our losses.

 

"When Dolgma returns we should stop.  We have travelled all day, and it will soon be too dark to continue.  We should undertake this then."

 

Nodding their assent, the others gritted their teeth and redoubled their efforts to catch up with their scout.

 

 

 

 

Having observed the group from afar, he couldn't resist getting closer.  He knew one of them was aware of being followed, but he was far too experienced to leave any concrete proof.  It amused him to keep the youngster on his toes.  To tease his senses to such an extent that the initiate would doubt what his eyes could see.  What his ears could hear.  It suited his purpose to follow them in any case.  Whilst corrupting that clan, his ultimate objective was to locate the stronghold of the Legio Spectra, and over the course of many decades he had made no progress.  These lambs would allow the wolf to enter, the Sheppard's having no inkling of his presence until it was too late. 

 

His original plan in ruins, the figure had, like all of his kind made contingencies.  If he could not bring this Chapter low before the Dark Gods, then he would send them sky high to meet their corpse god instead.

 

The only niggle to his mind, was the slaughtered animal the initiates had found.  It hadn't been him who killed it, and while it would not have been a challenge to best such a mindless creature, it would have too been too obvious to use an Astartes knife.

 

So, someone else is out there.  Scanning the horizon, he could see nothing.  That did not mean anything of course.  Still, it would provide an additional challenge, something that following these mewling juveniles seriously lacked.

 

Chuckling, the figure made its way onward, looking forward to the day his objectives were met, and to meet whomever else was out there.

[Dosjetka]

Took a while to find this (thank you, o mighty tag system!) and I must say that I'm still really enjoying it and looking forward to the next update :) And I'm getting really curious about the mysterious benefactor and the obvious wolf among the sheep ;)

[Aqui]

Took a while to find this (thank you, o mighty tag system!) and I must say that I'm still really enjoying it and looking forward to the next update And I'm getting really curious about the mysterious benefactor and the obvious wolf among the sheep

 

 

It's taken far too long to post anything, but hopefully it won't disappoint.  I want to wrap this "section" of Varagol's life soon, as there are a lot of other things I want to explore

 

Hopefully, it won't take as long to post again either

 

 

Chapter 2, part 3

 

G'Urg had barely enough time to get out of the way.  The knife striking where he lay but a moment ago, the ground causing sparks to fly against the jagged rock.  It was pitch black and whilst he could not see his attacker, his mind was full of fury when he thought of who his attacker was.

 

Churk.

 

"Damn you!" he snarled at the darkness.  There was no reply, the unseen assailant making no sound at all.  Struggling to hear over the sound of his own heartbeats, G'Urg forced himself to calm down.  Closing his eyes in concentration, he stood completely still.  A slight disturbance in the air to his left and his reflexes dodged out of the way, falling forward into a roll.  Staying low, he pulled out his knife from its sheath in his boot.  If this Hattaka wanted a fight, then he would get one.

 

He felt another whoosh of air past his ear, and jumped at the loudness of it.  He could sense someone in front of him, but it was impossible to tell for sure.  Why hadn't the others woken?  The noise should have woken the others up by now.  Smelling burnt wood, he figured he was near the remnants of the fire made to keep the group warm and to ward off predators.  Fumbling around he picked up a piece of wood.  It stank of fat, used to get the fire burning.  He hoped there would be enough to get it to light.  A practiced strike of his knife against a stone caused a spark enough to ignite the stick.  G'Urg allowed his eyes to acclimatise to the sudden light.  There was no sign of the others.  The campsite was empty.  They had abandoned him.

 

So, the others have shown their true colours he thought bitterly, knowing full well he would have done exactly the same.  His strength was fading fast, and the others had known it.  G'Urg was surprised they had kept him with them as long as they had done.  That also did not answer who was attacking him.  Whoever it was they hadn't pressed their attack. 

 

Foolish.  Or was it?

 

G'Urg looked out beyond the meagre light the stick was giving off.  He could see nothing.  So, his opponent was clever enough to force him to rely on light, whereas they could remain hidden in the darkness.

 

Clever indeed.

 

Keeping a wary eye out for an attack, G'Urg relit the fire.  His belongings were within the perimeter the light marked out.  Reluctant to be separated, he gathered his rucksack and bed roll together and sat huddled near the hearth waiting.

 

Waiting for death, or the dawn.

 

 

The group was not without its dissenters.  Brun'El and Eh'Tor were not amongst them.

 

G'Urgs followers, the few that felt any loyalty to him, had spoken up, half-heartedly about the injustice of the decision.  Even they had realised the futility of their argument, when they saw him lying prone, barely breathing.

 

"I'm no medicae, but he nears his end." Churk said simply.

 

"All because of the poison you stabbed him with!" snarled B'Lor.

 

"He challenged me." Churk replied.  "Did you expect me to take such a challenge lightly?

 

"Do you challenge me now?"

 

B'Lor fell silent.  He had no huge love of G'Urg, but he was the nearest thing to a friend he had.

 

"We should at least...help him on his way!" Tulan protested.

 

"We are initiates of the Legio Spectra!" admonished Churk.  "We should not make his passing any more dishonourable by giving him the same end befitting an ailing pet!"

 

"If this is truly his end, then he should meet it the way the Inti intended!" snarled B'Lor angry at Churk's remark.  "He should die a warrior, as befits us all!"

 

"And how would he do that?  He is unconscious.  A warrior fights to his last breath.  He is near his.  There are more than one way for a warrior to die with honour.  If the Inti wills it, he will recover.  He will fight, and continue on the path back to the Monastery Fortress on his own.

 

"If not, then he was never fit to be one of us."

 

The argument was over, but Churk knew there would be a reckoning.  He would welcome the challenge as befits any of his tribe.  In blood and in sacrifice.

 

 

Interesting.

 

Watching the altercation, he was nevertheless amused by the rhetoric used by the initiates.  The strong front they all put up to hide their true insecurities.  Almost pitiful.

 

Almost.

 

He had nearly been caught out by the one called Varagol and that was a sharp reminder to never underestimate anyone.  The question that he really wanted answering was, who else was out here.

 

There was another Astartes out there, there was no doubt.  What their purpose was, was unimportant.  At least until it interfered with his own.  The wound in the stricken animal indicated that it was definitely a Marine, but on closer inspection, it was not one from his fellows.  The weapon marks were from an Astartes knife, but whilst his was heavily serrated, the knife used on that creature was curved.

 

Interesting.

 

Logic dictated that he should dispose of this inconvenience before it caused him more problems.

 

But then, he was not a logical being...

 

 

 

Varagol had listened to his brothers' stories, and had laughed heartily with them in their triumphs, wept stoically in their tragedies.  He felt that he truly knew them as Brothers now.

 

As it was his turn, he explained the fateful day that his own brother had taken the trial and that the Marine he stood up to was none other than a distant relative.  The others sat dumbstruck by this revelation, the looks on their faces hungry to know more.

 

"That is why I have fought to get as far as I have, brothers.  The eyes of my ancestors are really watching me.

 

I have no wish to let them down."

 

They all sat in silence for a while, allowing those words to sink in.

 

"That's a heavy burden to bear, Varagol."

 

"Not so much.  He at least has a surviving member of his Clan.  I have no such luck."

 

Shrk had become sullen recently, more so after he had told he own tale.  The revelation of Varagol's past irked him somehow.

 

"What is it that has gotten under your skin so, brother?" asked Burrom.

 

"You use that word far too freely," Shrk muttered.  "I have felt nothing but derision from you from the time this last trial has begun!"

 

"Whatever bothers you should be gotten off your chest," Dolgma replied.  "Since this trial has begun, you have done nothing but complain.  You have an unerring knack of getting under peoples' skin.  Irritating, moaning, and moribund.  If you have nothing positive to say, then say nothing!"

 

The outburst was completely unlike Dolgma.  A man of few words, those spoken were clipped and to the point, rarely showing emotion.  This, however, was impassioned, angered and a touch of concern betrayed in his words.

 

"We have gotten this far, experienced so much.  To have petty arguments now will sully that.  We are near, so near to accomplishing that which is rarely accomplished by anyone in our Clans.  To see for ourselves the very top of our world and survive!

 

Would you let that idiot G'Urg finish this before we do?"

 

Varagol knew the answer, but wanted the others to say it aloud.  He knew they needed an impetus, a renewed vigour to catch the others up.

 

"Come on, it's nearly light.  We're too far behind to follow the path the others have taken.  We need to take a risk.  A big one."

 

The rest of the group looked at him in horror.

 

"You can't mean..!" Began Burrom.

 

"Do you want G'Urg to return with honour?  Before us?  Well?"

 

None could say different.

 

"Then we take the one chance we have left to us.

 

We take the Puquina.  There is no other way."

[deathspectersgt7]

great read brother was hoping there would be more for now thanks  like the story.

[Aqui]

great read brother was hoping there would be more for now thanks  like the story.

 

 

I would have liked to have posted more, but because it's been some time since I last written anything, I figured that a small post to get me "warmed up" again is better.

 

That said, I'm currently doing the same for my Sisters of Battle story as well (shameless plug) ^_^

 

Thanks for reading ^_^

[Aqui]

Chapter 2, part 4

 

The Puquina.  Its meaning was literally Desperation, or Suicide.  Often, the word meant both at the same time.  It was one of the few words that meant the same thing in every language on Pochutec.  Only the very desperate took to climbing that route.  Very few who took it were seen again.  It was a route undertaking a sheer drop down the side of a mountain carved out of the very stone, down to the lower plains, each hand hold worn away by the fingers of those who used it before you.  The Espurtii corridor, a route the others had taken was a curved one, slow and lingering. In comparison a route far simpler to undertake.  It was far easier to brave the biting winds, the freak snow storms, the Opochtli that occupy the route far were at least a source of meat and fat to keep initiates alive, assuming of course they could stay alive long enough to kill one.  The Puquina was far more dangerous.  Once started, you could not stop to rest.  No respite to rest your aching finger joints, or your knees.  To pause, or to make a mistake, was to fall, five thousand feet straight down.

 

If you were lucky.  There were creatures, fliers that frequented that precipice, feasting on the creatures far smaller than an Initiate.

There were some benefits however.  If one was able to accomplish such a momentous task, it would take but only a day to reach the bottom, where as the others would have another five to circumnavigate the vast valley that comprises the area.  Also, to accomplish such a feat would surely enhance their reputation amongst both the other Initiates and full Battle Brothers alike...

 

"You're insane!" cried Burrom.  He had took a faltering look over the edge, and quavered.  Hawking phlegm, he spat the sputum arcing towards the edge.  It would have been impressive had the wind not caught it and returned it to its previous owner, landing on his face.  Swearing an oath in his own tribes tongue, Burrom backed away hurriedly.  He was loath to admit that his aversion to heights was bringing every nightmare he had come to the fore.  He was a plainsman, the land flat for hundreds of miles in all directions.

 

"Just be thankful that we haven't had our Betcher's Gland implanted yet!" chuckled Varagol, knowing full well that the acid a Marine could spit would not affect their own physiology.

 

Burrom shot his friend a dirty look, desperate to think of another alternate route.  He was paralysed with fear, but would not admit it to the others.

 

"Burrom?"

 

Burrom growled angrily, knowing the others must know his discomfort.  Varagol placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Come on.  The quicker we start, the quicker we finish.

 

"Dolgma.  You go first.  You're the most sure footed of us.  Burrom next, then Shrk.  I'll take the rear."

 

Burrom appeared to want to say something, but kept it to himself.

 

They spent the next hour or so, tying lengths of Opochtli sinew together to make a rope.  They then attached a length to each other and tested it for strength.  Sorting out their remaining equipment, it was divided equally, so that the weight was evenly distributed.  Finally, they approached the edge again, each hoping that the Inti himself was watching and would be merciful.  Dolgma was lowered slowly down the side, allowing him to dictate the speed of his descent.  A few minutes after, he had established a few hand holds and called them out to his fellows.  Shrk gave a little cry out, as he made his descent, it apparent that he had no love of heights either.  Being put second was to ensure that should he fall, the others could brace and stop him from causing them all to fall with him.  As the clumsiest, with a weak ankle, it seemed the best way.  Varagol had purposely put himself at the back, knowing that the one at the back would have the hardest task.

 

To be the one who would prevent the others from falling to their doom if they were all to lose their grip.

 

 

Interesting.  Very interesting.

 

The figure was very impressed.  He could see the four start their descent down the mountain side, his enhanced vision allowing to see their faces quite clearly.  Dolgma, his face unreadable as usual.  Shrk, grimacing with pain from his still injured ankle.  Burrom, uncharacteristically serious, with a look that poorly hid the terror he felt.  And stoic Varagol taking the rear.  Whilst he knew that their current route was in lieu of them wishing to be first back to the Citadel, he knew that bravado had also been a deciding factor.  It was a hard route, one that even he had baulked at, all those years ago as an initiate.  But, his task was to ensure that every initiate was tested to breaking point.  He'd already spooked G'Urg in the dark, making him wary of anything lurking in the impenetrable gloom.  It would be amusing to see if G'Urg could catch up with the others in his camp, or would he himself attempt the Puquina himself?

 

He looked at the group again, made a mental calculation and was surprised.  At this rate, the group would reach the bottom in almost record time.

 

He couldn't allow that.  At least not without a complication or two.

 

Raising his weapon, an old but functional missile launcher, he aimed.

 

And fired.

[deathspectersgt7]

thanks like always great read .is this marine alpha legion?I figure the other has to be RW.

[Aqui]

thanks like always great read .is this marine alpha legion?I figure the other has to be RW.

 

I won't reveal who is who just yet.  Hopefully, the next post will explain ;)  Good to know you like ^_^

[Dosjetka]

I've just read through the last two updates and thouroughly enjoyed them :tu: Looking forward to the next part!

[Aqui]

I've just read through the last two updates and thouroughly enjoyed them Looking forward to the next part!

 

Thanks ^_^ I thought I'd written myself into a corner, but I managed to write myself out of it again (for now :lol: )

 

I have some time off as of now ^_^  So, hopefully, I'll be updating all three stories soon.  If I can get an idea to work, I might be able to start a fourth (as well as the one I have on my Word Press account ;) )

 

I just have to make sure I leave enough time for sleep and painting some minis! :lol:

[Dosjetka]

I think the only minor bit of criticism that I have, is that you don't divide clearly enough when you switch the narrator's point of view/focus. While it's not something major, it can be quite confusing at times and I'd really appreciate if you could use some kind of separation mark (such as four asterisks or something like that)

Edited April 15, 2013 by Battle-Brother Ludovic

[Aqui]

I think the only minor bit of criticism that I have, is that you don't divide clearly enough when you switch the narrator's point of view/focus. While it's not something major, it can be quite confusing at times and I'd really appreciate if you could use some kind of separation mark (such as four asterisks or something like that)

 

I'll be doing something to ensure this doesn't happen in the future.  I am in the middle of writing the next part of a few stories, including the "new" one, so this post is a timely reminder

 

In actual fact, here it is:

 

Chapter 2, part 5:

 

Varagol noticed the flash of weapons fire too late, as the projectile was already too close to do anything about.  Shouting a warning to the others, he braced himself, digging his fingers into the rock face, knowing the others would need him to hold on as hard as he could.  Burrom had managed to hang on as well, but Shrk and Dolgma had let go, their own hand holds were of no use.

 

"Emperor's wounds! What was that!" Burrom snarled, as he fervantly tried to swing the rope enough for Dolgma to regain purchase on the cliff face.

 

"I have no idea, but that was an Astartes Missile fired upon us!" exclaimed Shrk.  "Who would fire upon us here?  The others?"

Dolgma shouted a curse, threatening Shrk with a punch in the face for such a stupid question.  All knew that the entire group had nothing more than knives in their arsenal.

 

"Perhaps one of the Chaplains have seen us, and wish to make it more difficult." Varagol mused.

 

"Difficult!" snarled Burrom, "Don't they think we have enough to contend with as it is?!"

 

"Obviously not, Brother."

 

Burrom snorted derisively, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of it.

 

"Do not see this as a challenge, brothers, but see it vindication of our abilities."

 

"Really?  Is that what it is?  For I can see some shrapnel must have finally done that which even the beatings G'Urg has tried to give has not.  Sent you into a delirium!"

 

Varagol chuckled.  "Use your head for something other than to hit things with, Brother.  If we are not so able to reach the bottom, don't you think the firer of that weapon would have left us alone?"

 

Burrom followed Varagols train of thought. Possibly.

 

"Come on.  We have less than a thousand feet left to go.  We still have a chance of catching up.  Let us not waste it!"

 

++++

 

Brun'El and Eh'Tor heard what sounded like an explosion in the distance.  Even with their enhanced hearing, they could not work out where it had come from.

 

"Training exercise?" Brun'El pondered.

 

"Doubtful.  Full Astartes do not train in this area, to stay away from initiates." Eh'Tor replied.

 

"Then what?"

 

"I'm not sure, his companion replied.  Turning his head, his forced his mind to relax.  He was still unable to feel the presence of Varagol or the others in his group.  He couldn't sense G'Urg either for that matter.

 

"No point in worrying about that.  We still have a trial to finish.

 

++++

 

G'Urg had made little progress of his own, the wound in his side had finally sapped most of his remaining strength.  Pausing for a rest, he could see that the foot prints of his former group was still visible in the snow.  The weather was getting better, the blizzards had now stopped completely.  Stumbling to his feet, G'Urg realised that unless he got back to the Citadel soon and received medicae treatment, he would die.  And soon.  The path ahead was sloping downwards, banking lazily to the left.  The edge of the plains were about two kilometers away now.  So close.

 

He had stopped near a corpse of a Opochtli, mostly composed of bones, its flesh had been stripped for eating.  There was some left, and he shoved as much as he could stomach into his mouth raw.  The taste was vile, but he managed to eat what was left.  The corpse still had much of its sinew and skin, although much of it was shredded, and of no use as a cloak.  Two large bones protruded from the snow, curved like the blades of his tribe.  An idea formed in his mind.  Removing his knife from its sheaf, he set to work stripping what was left of the body.

 

An hour later, he had managed to complete his work.  It would have taken him less time, but his eyes would not focus on what he was doing and had nearly pierced his hand at one stage.  He had no wish to inflict more injury upon himself.  Bunching up his remaining equipment together, he tied it to his back and lay flat on what he had built to test its strength.  It was based on a the furrow making equipment his father used to drive across the land to plant crops, but instead of cutting the ground, he hoped it would be enough to move over it at speed.  Steering it would be difficult, the bone was heavy, despite being hollow, but G'Urg had little choice.  He had to get to the plains fast.  Taking a deep breath, he stood behind it, hoping he had enough strength left to propel himself on this device and that it would stay in one piece long enough to get him to the bottom.  Running forward, he threw himself hard upon the top, his side immediately making him regret it.  The sledge needed little persuasion to move, the snow and ice formed from the others stamping it down was ideal for it to slide over.  The first one hundred metres was straight, and he gathered speed far quicker than he had planned.  Turning into the arc, G'Urg nearly fell off, unused to the speed.  Out of the arc, the pathway became straight again, but steeper and he accelerated even more.  G'Urg had realised that he knew of no way of stopping this thing if he had to.  The path was narrow at this point being merely feet away from a sheer drop.  Ignoring the blurr the landscape had become, he concentrated on what was ahead.  There was a dark shape at the next turn, but his eye sight was still fuzzy and he thought he had imagined it. 

 

Until he ran into it.  The shape turned enough for him to pass, but when it was level with him, it jolted, a limb lifted his sledge, throwing him off.  G'Urg fell unceremoniously into a drift, struggling to turn to face his attacker.  The cold of the snow bit into his eyelids and burned.  He fought to clear them, knowing whatever had thrown him off would press its attack.  He had to see.  Now.

 

No attack came.  Opening his eyes, the shape loomed over him.  It was massive.  And armoured.

 

"No harm will come to you initiate, as long as you allow me to talk."

 

The voice was sibilant, almost like a whisper...no.  Like a hiss.

 

Finally getting his eyes clear, he looked up at the shape.  It was an Astartes, his armour was buckled in a few places, the paint and livery was missing on most of it.

 

"You and I have a common enemy it would seem, youngling."

 

"Who?"

 

The stranger chuckled.  "Come, come now.  Who is it who has thwarted you at every turn?  Who was it that brought back all that meat.

 

"Who left you for dead as the others have?"

 

A choking rage enveloped G'Urg, as he comprehended the strangers words.  Slowly, he was able to rise.  The stranger held out a hand to help him.

 

"Varagol."

 

The voice, chuckled again. "Yes.

 

"Varagol."

 

 

Edited April 15, 2013 by Aquilanus

[Dosjetka]

I want more text, not suspense and cliffhangers :P

[Aqui]

I want more text, not suspense and cliffhangers

 

I'm just glad you liked it.  I promise the next one will be longer (although you might notice I have taken your other critique into account ;) )

[Dosjetka]

I noticed it and I do appreciate it. Thanks :)

 

And the only reason I complained is because you are good at making people want more. So it's your own fault that I'm complaining :P :lol:

Edited April 15, 2013 by Battle-Brother Ludovic

[Aqui]

I noticed it and I do appreciate it. Thanks

 

And the only reason I complained is because you are good at making people want more. So it's your own fault that I'm complaining

 

It's nice to hear that ^_^  I must admit that one of the reasons why I haven't had more updates for this story as I couldn't work out a proper way of moving forward, but I think I might have gotten it back.

 

Let's just say things are going to get very interesting in the foreseeable future ;)

[Aqui]

Let's just say things are going to get very interesting in the foreseeable future

 

 

And here is the next part Not as long as I would have liked, but a bit longer than previous parts. And as I said, things are going to get get very interesting

 

One last thing, it's nice to know people are reading it, but please, please, please, If you are, could you leave feedback, whether it be good or bad, as I'm currently trying to "up my game" when writing.  I'm currently gearing up to write a few things with a view to approach a few publishers, GW and BL being one in particular.  Are there any bad points in the story?  If so, why?  What elements do you enjoy (if there are any )?  It would be greatly appreciated

 

Chapter 2, part 6

 

"Varagol."

 

The mere mention of that name made G'Urg growl angrily.  It started low, bassy and unsettling, the tone rising until he couldn't keep that ire checked.  His shout should have woken the Emperor himself, had it not been for the stranger punching him in the face.  Before claret even hit the ground, G'Urg was facing his attacker, his face puffed up from the impact from the giants' fist.

 

"Firstly, do not attract attention to you or myself." the stranger said, his voice soft with a faint hiss. "Secondly, I would advise one other thing.  Anger.  Control it, do not allow it to control you."

 

"W..who are you?" G'Urg faltered in his question.  He hadn't stuttered since he was a child, when his father beat him ruthlessly for failing to catch enough food.  He hadn't stuttered before the Chaplains, the Chief Apothecary.  Not even the Chapter Master himself.  But this newcomer, there was something about him.  His demeanour was non-threatening, passive even.  But a stone cold killer always recognises another.  The armour was damaged, the Chapter colours and livery were mostly missing.  G'Urg could just see a hint of green and purple in places.  The helmet masked any emotion on the wearers face.

 

"You do not need to know who I am." replied the stranger.  "I have no name, and even if I did, I am not at liberty to reveal it."

 

"A Marine with no name, no colours, or heraldry.  If you are not of my Chapter, then explain why you are on Pochutec!"  G'Urg's anger resurfaced.  The other's very existence offended him.  How could a servant of the Inti, the Emperor live with himself without taking pride in where his loyalties lay?

 

The other could see the look of horror on his face, and chuckled.  Whilst it was supposed to be pleasant, the sound was sinister, the hiss more pronounced.

 

"All you need concern yourself is, I find myself without any means to leave this planet.  Would you help a Brother from another Chapter?  Would you do me that honour?"

 

G'Urg hesitated, knowing there was something not...right about this puissant being.  However, that thought was pushed away.  Another who hated that smug little Hattaka.  A possible ally.

 

He's weighing up his options. thought the stranger.  I already know his answer.

 

"What do I have to do?"

 

Within his helmet, the Marine smiled.

 

"All you have to do is lead me to him.  Lead me to the Citadel of light."

 

 

++++

 

 

Varagol and his group had reached the bottom of the cliff.  In the distance, the vast Citadel of light could be seen, nestled within the plains mountains.  In front of them, the ground could be seen in places as the rocks and snow gave way to flatter tundra.  Shrk's ankle was a slight hindrance, but they were still able to make good time.  By the time they reached the plains proper, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon, the sky tinged with orange, reds and yellows.  Varagol had mixed feelings about his return.  His soul ached to be first, to be the victor, but the time spent scaling the cliff face had taken longer than hoped.  He could imagine the disappointment in his living ancestor's face.  Rustar, who he had first met so many years ago in their village.  Burrom could see Varagol's distraction, but kept quiet.  Dolgma had gone on ahead again, more to keep to himself than to scout.  There was no way anyone could sneak up on them.  No cover, no shadows.  No means of staying down wind.  Even so, he had managed to vanish into thin air.  Varagol sometimes envied him for that skill.

 

The temperature on the plains was hot.  It had been weeks since they had arrived at the training camp, the initiates' had become so acclimatised to the cold, they had removed their winter clothing within an hour of walking.  It was an unusual sensation, to sweat.  The group had had the foresight to fill as many cantinas with snow and ice, and it was certainly needed now.  Whilst they were able to survive for weeks without food or water, it make their journey bearable.

 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Dolgma had returned to them, his face flushed with exertion.

 

"We need to move quicker.  The main group are about two miles ahead.  We can still beat them to the Citadel!"  Dolgma's usual stoic manner was replaced by eagerness, a hunger to beat the others.  Even the more fatalistic Shrk smiled at his enthusiasm.

 

"Well,  it would seem that the Inti still smiles on us.  Let's not waste this opportunity!"

 

 

++++

 

 

G'Urg and the stranger had themselves made good progress.  His wound had been treated, and almost instantly, the pain and the infection had receded.  The wound was still an angry red, but it was already healing.  G'Urg was now quite able to keep up with the armoured Marine.  His mind was racin,g however.  What would happen when they both reached the Citadel?  Would the Chapter Master welcome this Cousin into their stronghold?  Why had he not travelled to the Citadel earlier?  Why did he bear a grudge to Varagol?  To which Chapter did he belong?  No name?

 

They had run twenty miles in less than an hour.  Whatever his wound was treated with, it had given him a strength, a vitality that he had never before known.  The other had stopped suddenly.  So abruptly, that G'Urg had ran past him before stopping himself.  Following his eyeline, he could see why.

 

The Citadel.

 

It was tall, and majestic, its lines blended almost seamlessly into the rock face.  It was truly a sight to behold.  Somehow, its surface captured light and bent it to its will, splitting it into every colour imaginable.  The landing platforms housed the Chapters ships, on this side two Thunderhawks towered over a Storm Eagle and a trio of Storm Talons.  To the east, was a battery of Orbital weapons, ever watching the skies for invasion.

 

Even G'Urg's bitter soul felt proud to be part of such a Chapter.  It's lineage, its history.

 

The other was looking at it.  Without being able to see his face, G'Urg could not see what his reaction to the sight of it was.  Awe?  Grudging respect?  Unable to hold in any more questions, he blurted out a demand for him to answer.

 

"What?"

 

"I said, do you intend to pay your respects to the Chapter Master?"

 

"I intend to see him, certainly."  A funny way of putting it.

 

"Well", continued, "Let us not waste any further time."

 

"And of Varagol?  How will we deal with him?"

 

"Patience my friend.  All good things really do come to those who wait."  With a chuckle, he set off towards the stronghold.

 

 

From along the edge of the mountains, another watched them from afar.  He had abandoned the missile launcher, as it had become useless after being fired at Varagol and his colleagues.  Observing the two figures far below, he pulled out his pistol.  Ornate, and very old, older than he was, he checked the clip.  It was full.  The helmet he wore was that of a snarling skull, a badge of his position and an indication of his own mood. 

 

With grim purpose, he made his own way down to follow them, his eyes never leaving their trail.

[deathspectersgt7]

ahh!The hatred of a brother leads to the path of damnation and treason love this story.

[Dosjetka]

Love it :D More! More! More!

[Aqui]

ahh!The hatred of a brother leads to the path of damnation and treason love this story.

 

So it would seem ;)

 

Love it More! More! More!

 

Am working on the next part now.  It may take a lot longer to post, as I want a really long bit to get to the next landmark in the story.  ETA about a week ^_^

[Aqui]

Okay, it's a lot quicker than I expected, but here is the next part.  At just under 3k words it should satisfy a few members   However, to make it more manageable, I've written up to an appropriate point, and hopefully the next part will end with a suitably epic conclusion to this part of the story. 

 

Chapter 2, part 7:

 

Varagol and the others were running, their pace eating up the trail, foot by agonizing foot.  Shrk was at the biggest disadvantage, but he was still able to keep up at the rear.  Dolgma led with an almost reckless abandon, occasionally letting out a whoop of joy.  The base of the mountain range was so close now, that the group could see the fortified lower entrance.  It was relatively small, and was in the main used specifically for the initiates to return to the Citadel.  The doors were corroded and rusting through lack of use, but still functional.  They still towered over the group at over fifty feet in height, the frame marked with runes of warding and dedications, both to the Primarch and the Emperor himself.  The doors were opened by a control panel mounted in the rock itself.  Entering a code, Varagol expected to feel the mighty doors mechanism shaking the very mountain itself.

 

Nothing happened.

 

He tried again, entering the access code more slowly this time, to prevent a possible mistake.  Nothing.  The others tried too, their own access codes were denied.  Looking around, Varagol could see a vid unit mounted in the ceiling.  Stepping into its field of vision, he tried to get the attention of the Servitors who would be monitoring.  Still no response.

 

"What is going on?"  Dolgma was unusually agitated.  Looking at his friend, Varagol could see that he looked weary, tiredness setting heavily on his features.  It was a long journey back to the Citadel, and all of them wanted to finish it.  It wasn't possible whilst the door refused them access.

 

Shrk had taken to trying to get the control panel to work.  Whilst not as adept as Brun'El, he knew how to coax a reticent machine spirit into working properly.  Peering at the screen, he noticed a number in the top left corner.

 

Five.

"Varagol."

 

Taking a look to see what Shrk was pointing at, Varagol could see his brothers' train of thought.  The panel would not activate, because there was only five of them.  When the others arrived, it would let them in.  But how would it know how many had completed the trial.  Many would not return.  Thinking about the missile fired upon them, he mused darkly that their every move was monitored, every decision made was mulled over and accessed.

 

So, the trial was not yet over.

 

"Brothers, make yourselves comfortable.  We may be here for sometime..."

 

It was over an hour before the other group arrived.  A shout of utter annoyance and disgust was made by a couple, seeing Varagol and his fellows taking rest on the floor near the metal door.  It was however, replaced by others; whoops of triumph, joy and relief.  A couple had made no noise at all, their demeanour differing greatly.

 

Churk stood nonchalantly away from the others, his bearing showing little of how he actually felt.  His eyes met Varagol's and gave him an acknowledging nod.  The other was Eh'Tor.

 

Eh'Tor had his eyes closed, and it was evident that he was trying to use his abilities.  Brun'El was standing nearby, a genial smile on his face.  Varagol stepped forward to greet his friends.  As he got nearer Eh'Tor smiled, although it was tinged with concern.

 

"Well met, Brothers."

"Aye, well met."

"We are glad you made it.  The explanation on how you beat us will have to wait for another time however."  Eh'Tor's voice was strained.  He was keeping something to himself.

"G'Urg?"

"He was left behind some time ago, his wounds at the hands of Churk seemed too severe."  There was a distinct inflection on the word seemed, that both Varagol and Brun'El picked up on, but Varagol thought better of it to ask.  Eh'Tor was not truly one of them anymore, his psyker status pushing a slight wedge into their friendship.

"The door opens!" cried an unknown voice.

Turning their attention to it, the door opened to reveal the gloom beyond, sparks made as it retracted on a vast groove of metal.  The gloom gradually got lighter as illumins warmed up, showing the chamber.  To say it was vast was an understatement.  The rock itself had been tunnelled away with machines that even Brun'El had no comprehension of.  The rock was smooth to the touch, and surprisingly warm.  Above them, were large fans cycling up, to regulate air flow, the noise made everyone's ears pop as they acclimatised to the pressure difference.  At the end of the chamber stood a group of full Marines headed up by one who was instantly recognisable.

 

The Chapter Master.

 

"Initiates," he proclaimed as he raised a hand to bid them halt.  "You have accomplished that, which has claimed many lives in times past.  For that I salute you.  However, do not think that the journey ahead of you will be any easier.  You have yet to gain the remaining organs that will fully transform you into a Marine of this Chapter.  That will be for another day.  Tonight we will rejoice in your courage, celebrate your triumphs and remember those who did not return with you."

 

A Marine in a Chaplain's armour that Varagol did not recognise stepped forward.  "Initiates, return to your cell blocks.  You will be summoned when we are ready for you.  You will not deviate from your destination.  You will not speak to any full Marines on your route unless spoken to.  Go."

In silence, the initiates filed out, many with looks of disappointment.  There had been rumours circulating of a far more grand reception waiting for them on completion of this task.  Perhaps they weren't true.

 

Perhaps.

 

++++

 

G'Urg led his new companion to the Citadel entrance, his own mind still buzzing with questions that he dared not ask.  Shooting a quick glance at the figure who strode beside him, he knew that he was no match for him, even without the armour.  Consideration for the fact that he was of another Chapter must be made, but even so, his manner was far too different to be comfortable to be near him.  The entrance was now closed, their arrival was just as the last of the others had entered.  G'Urg ached to join them, but the stranger grabbed his arm and shook his head.  Standing outside whilst the others were enjoying Emperor knows what accolades or rewards was galling to him, especially as he had seen Varagol and Churk enter side by side.  The anger that threatened to consume him was rising again.  It boiled over, so much so that he actually dared to try to push the other away.  The other was not angered by this, his amusement evident in his voice.

"No, my young friend.  We will wait here, until the Chapter Master summons us personally."

 

"Us?" another quaver in G'Urg's voice made the stranger laugh out loud.  It wasn't a pleasant sound.

 

"Indeed.  I promise you, you have nothing to fear."

 

G'Urg was not so sure.  The Chapter Master was not going to like the fact that an Astartes from another Chapter has been on this planet for a significant amount of time, and that he knew nothing of it.

 

The door opened again, but not fully, it was dark inside, the lights had been switched off.  Marching forward, the Marine disappeared into the blackness.  Seeing the door was closing again, he hastened to join him.

 

As the door shut, he struggled to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  He could sense others nearby, but his senses were unable to tell him anything.

 

"Initiate G'Urg.  Take twenty paces forward.  You will do this without hesitation."

G'Urg was too fearful to disobey.  He felt someone walk past him, but his hearing was muted as well as his eyes. like rags stuffed in his ears.  He could just taste a tang of ozone in the air.  G'Urg whimpered slightly knowing the implications of that.  Armoured hands took him bodily by the shoulders and steered him firmly away from the Chamber.  He had no idea of what the strangers' fate was.

 

Or had any intention to find out.

 

++++

 

"Is this how your Chapter treats a guest?  A Cousin?"  The derision in his voice was blatant.  He had been in a cell for hours, perhaps days, not that he cared.  If it helped him accomplish his goal, he would have waited an eternity.

The Marine who had entered did not answer.  Standing at attention, he allowed a group of Marines to enter.  Chaplain Rustar, Apothecary T'Lom and the Librarian Sturmaz and another whose thicker plated armour had multiple arms.

"I repeat my question.  Is this how you treat a Cousin?"

Sturmaz looked hard at the Marine, his dour face revealing no emotion.  The air stank of ozone, and the temperature dropped instantly.

"Try as much as you like, psyker.  You won't find out what you want to know that way.  One would merely have to ask."

"Silence.  If you are a...cousin of our Chapter, then why did you not contact us sooner?  How did you arrive on our planet?  What is your purpose here?"

 

The Marine with no livery said nothing, his smirk saying enough.

Sturmaz pushed further.  He was hiding something.  Something sinister.  All his abilities could reveal was visions of death, destruction, and....something.  Something on the very edge of his perception.  Green.  Whatever it was, it was...green.  Why does that seem familiar?

"If he will not even grace us with the name of his Chapter, then we have no choice but to summon those who are better able to extract such information.  Those who specialise in such ways.

The captive tried to look suitably offended, but his demeanour was churlish.

"Leave him." Sturmaz said to the others, his words harsh.  Filing out, Rustar stopped him in the corridor. 

"There is something you're not telling us."

"That would be because I'm not sure of what information I have gleaned myself.  I wish to be absolutely certain before we ask the Inquisition to take him."

"The Inquisition?!"

"I fear that despite his words, he has not been a...cousin of ours for a long time."

Rustar turned to the fourth member of the group.  "Eh’Dson?"

"I know that mark of armour well.  Despite its current position, it is a wondrous piece of workmanship.   Our Chapter does not have access to such marks."  If Eh’Dson was able to convey sadness he evidently felt through his augmetic voice he would have.

"It is mark IV or Maximus armour.  Very few intact examples still exist.  Those Chapter who do own such marks would not allow them to be damaged as much as that one, even taking into account that he has been separated from his fellows for an undisclosed amount of time.

"Some of the damage on his armour is old.  Very old."

"How old?"  Sturmaz was agitated by this revelation, his own suspicions gaining more credence by it.

"Hundreds of years.  Even older than that.   That much I am certain."

"impossible!" Rustar exclaimed.  "That would imply that he was a Marine when our Primarch was still abroad amongst men!"

"Indeed.  My armours' sensors would indicate a sixty-five percent certainty of that."

"Enough," T'Lom chided.  "This is not the place to discuss such matters.  We must advise the Chapter Master on what we have found. "

Making haste, they took their leave, the burden of what they now know heavy on their shoulders.

In his cell, the captive Marine smiled.  All was coming together.  He was exactly where he wanted to be.  Soon, he would leave this planet forever, leaving this pathetic Chapter in ruins.

And the Hydra would rise again.

 

++++

 

The celebrations were not as festive as Varagol had imagined.  Whilst there was enough food and drink to go around, there was an undercurrent, something that the initiates were not privy to.  Something that only the command cadre was knew.  All of the Chapter and Company banners were unveiled in all of their splendour, the central one showing the Primarch smiting foes left and right.  Taking his eyes from those ancient links to the past, he turned to his fellows.  Eh'Tor, and Brun'El had joined him, Shrk, Cahseo, Burrom and Dolgma.  Churk was further away talking to a few others pointedly ignoring him. So much for civility he thought.

Burrom was a lot more his usual self, boasting and carousing with aplomb.  Dolgma was distinctly uncomfortable, although he rolled his eyes at some of Burrom's more outrageous remarks.

"What truly happened out there Eh'Tor?"  Varagol asked.  "Why was G'Urg left behind?"

Brun'El caught Eh'Tor's eye and shook his head, refusing to be the one who explained.

"Well?"

"It's a long story my Brother."

"Make it shorter then.  I want to know how it happened."

 

++++

 

G'Urg was locked in a cell.  He was treated with no rancour, but he was not allowed to join the others either.  No explanation was given for his incarceration, and he dared not ask.  he tried to eat what was given to him by the Chapter serfs, but he was not hungry.  He wanted answers.  He wanted to know why how his path had deviated so far from what he imagined for himself.

 

Hearing a noise outside his cell, he froze, fearful that his fate would be known soon enough.  The door opened, and a hooded figure stepped inside.

"Welcome home, Brother."

Looking up at the shape, his eyes was too acclimatised to the gloom of the cell and could not tell who it was.

"I am not yet a full Brother, merely an initiate.  I doubt that I will ever fully become part of the Chapter."

The figure chuckled.  "There are far more bonds of Brotherhood, than mere attachment to a Chapter, young one.  You will soon see."

The words hung in the air.  "What do you mean?"

"As I said.  You will soon see.  There will soon be a time for you to decide on your future.  One will possibly result in your death.  The other will allow you to fulfil your hearts' desire.  Choose well, and you can see this world burn.

"You could see...him burn."

Turning to leave before G'Urg could ask what he meant, the figure closed the cell door.  Stunned by this revelation, G'Urg lay back on his cot, desperate to keep himself calm.

 

Soon. Soon.

 

++++

 

"I want to know how this Marine came to be on our world!  I want to know what his intentions are!  Which Chapter he represents!"  Chapter Master Alizarin was incensed. 

 

"He refuses to answer our questions, has a high resistance to psychic probes and has armour older than yours my Lord," Rustar said, his tone intended to placate.  "Anything else we know is speculation.  We have little choice but to inform the Inquisition."

 

"Inquisition!" Alizarin snarled disgusted by the word.  "I have no love for them.  They claim to keep the Imperium within the light, but spend far too much time in the darkness themselves!"

 

"That maybe, but if we cannot extract the information we require, then what other option do we have?"

Alizarin pondered those words bitterly.  As hard as it was to admit, his most senior Chaplain was correct.  Perhaps a particularly...long spell left alone with the Chief apothecary and Librarian might loosen his tongue.

Rustar could see his Lord's train of thought, even before he voiced it.  He had served him for a long time, and was able to accommodate his wishes efficiently.

 

"Now, to other things.  I heard that you had set your descendant quite the challenge towards the end."

"Indeed.  I had no intention of letting Varagol have an easy time of it.  He and his fellows did very well.  Set a new record for descending the cliff face in fact."

Alizarin chuckled appreciatively.  "I can see him do well in our ranks, if he can contain that wilful streak of his.  A stubborn attitude is not our way, we are not Imperial Fists after all."

"And what of G'Urg?"

"What of him?  He led that stranger to our Citadel.  It is no secret that he and Varagol are enemies.  In fact there are many that would be glad to see him removed one way or another."

"There is still potential in him.  I know it."

"That is up to him to prove.  We do not have the time to coddle initiates to glean what maybe.  We deal with what is."

"Understood.  I will ensure that he gets one chance to prove himself.  He will get no more."

 

++++

 

In his cell, the Marine meditated, his hearts barely beating.  In his mind's eye, he could see what lay ahead of him.  Escape from his supposed captors, escape from this primitive planet, and back out into the universe.  He still remembered his Primarch's words, spoken to him in a rare private moment.  Replaying every word, a shiver of...pride enveloped him.  Pride was for other Legions, not his, but still, it was there.  The Chapters he had encountered had nothing of the fire, the fury of the old Legions.  There were so many of them now, but that was something to use to his advantage.  After all, it was nigh on impossible for one to know every one of them. 

He could hear someone approaching his cell.  Allowing himself to rouse from his trance, he knew that salvation was coming.

 

It was time.

[Dosjetka]

Such a tease, Aquilanus :P