A Knight Pestilent

[BadgersinHills]

“Vidrak Tor.” The plague-knight rumbles, “The Grandfather calls thee to war, and thy silence offends him.”

 

I do not reply, instead regarding the stolid figure in his cracked armour from my throne of Aeldari bones. Xavier Barbas had been his name once, in those golden days before the ambition of Horus brought us all to ruin.

 

“Abaddon shatters Cadia and the Primarchs march to war once more, and yet thou art content to raid and harass the Corpse-Emperor’s merest worlds. It is unlike thee, brother.”

 

I remain silent, for memory assails me. Xavier and I were close once, brothers linked by blood and fire after the dark days of Horus’ passing. We reft our way to the Eye of Terror and were strong, Death Guard and Night Lord, plague and terror.

 

But that came to an end, as all things do. The wars in the Eye ensured our brotherhood frayed into the smallest threads, threads that Xavier now treads on as he speaks.

 

“Thou art not the proud murderer I used to know, Vidrak. What would thy father Konrad Curze think, watching thee rot away as he did in his final days? 

 

Too far, too far entirely. Xavier has not merely trod on the threads of our brotherhood, but set it to brilliant flame.

 

“You gnaw my patience thin, Xavier. Speak of the Night Haunter with respect,” I rasp, “For he died vindicated. Does your father know it, a slave to the powers of the Eye?”

 

“Call me that not, thou art a fool sentimental. Father Mortarion may be a slave, but he knows of his chains. Dost thou, Vidrak?” 

 

The Atramentar at my side tense, the armoured warriors readying their potent weapons. The warriors at Xavier’s side have noticed this and they too itch to draw blade and boltgun. What I will say next is of the utmost importance, I know with certainty.

 

“Enough of this rambling, Xavier.” I say, tired of the verbal sparring , “I called you brother once, and it is for that alone I have not bled you and the whoresons that fight for your banner. What do you desire from me?”

 

He chuckles, dispelling the tension in the hall. The Atramentar and Xavier’s pestilent warriors are still anxious, I can feel it, but no blood will be spilled this day.

 

“The call of Grandfather Nurgle has brought me here, Vidrak. What virtues he sees in thee I do not know, but when the Grandfather calls I listen.”

 

He kneels, the joints of his armour roaring at the unfamiliar movement. A wave of shock ripples through all in the room, and all are stunned. All are stunned by the audacity of the act, shocked by the sheer gall of Xavier. All are surprised that the proud and devout lord of Nurgle kneels before one who knows no faith, knows no gods.

 

All but I.

 

A hacking cough cuts through the pregnant silence, the sound of a carrion bird. I realise after a second or two it is my own laughter. A laughter that infects Xavier too as he rises, the laughter of two brothers-in-blood over a secret only they know.

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s been a while since we have met as brothers, you putrescent bastard, far too long. I will reave at your side once more, Xavier Barbas, and together we will run our claws red in the lifeblood of the Corpse-Emperor’s Imperium.”