My Little Warhammer 40,000: Penitence

My Little Warhammer 40,000: Penitence

Chapter 2: A New World

The fall did not kill him. His genetically-enhanced skeletal structure had not broken or fractured upon hitting branches on the way down or upon impact with the ground. A black carapace, an implant that strengthened and protected his ribcage, had cushioned his organs and prevented internal damage. He was stunned, however, by the transition back into reality. Even the enhanced mental faculties of a Space Marine fought desperately to restore balance and awareness to his mind. It was as he was laying there, trying to make sense of what had happened in the last few eternal seconds, that he heard a sniffing sound near his helmet.

I am not in the mood for this. Even without his armor, the soldier would have been a match for many of the known fauna within the Imperium of Man. Within his ceramite power armor, he could take on anything a feral world could throw at him. His training in unarmed combat and a lifetime of experience dealing with the horrible beasts of a death world didn’t hurt, either.

Rising to his feet, the Space Marine glared in the direction of the animal’s sound, expecting to find some cringing scavenger which had found more than it had bargained for. Instead, his eyes looked through his helmet’s lenses and encountered… an equine? Yes, it was definitely a horse of some sort. And a very small horse at that. The top of the horse’s head was probably a little less than four feet from the ground. His own seven and a half foot frame, with a couple of inches added on by his armor, loomed over the animal.

He next noticed the amount of jewelry the beast was adorned with. Either this world has a ridiculous mineral content, or this animal may belong to someone important enough to squander wealth like this. How short must the people of this world be in order to make the use of such a tiny thing as this as a mount feasible? From there the warrior took note of its black-and-white striped hide. Never before had he seen a horse with colors like this. Some remnant of an ancient breed preserved from the Dark Age, perhaps?

Quickly realizing that he was woolgathering in what could still potentially be a hostile environment, the Space Marine scanned his surroundings. Other than the breathing of the startled equine and a gentle breeze playing through the branches of the surrounding forest, his audio sensors could detect no other noises. His enhanced vision found no signs of lurking predators or an ambush. The soldier’s hand crept past his right shoulder for reassurance…

And found only air. Reaching around frantically, the Space Marine pawed desperately behind his back. “My sword… where is my sword?!” In his panic, he actually spoke his thoughts aloud. Whirling around, the warrior searched the ground frantically near where he had fallen. Scattering leaves and kicking branches did nothing to reveal what he sought. Hoping against hope, he shot his gaze upwards at the branches of the surrounding trees.

There it was. His beloved blade had caught in the crook between a branch and the trunk of a tree. With all that bouncing off the branches, it must have gotten caught as I kept falling. Now, however, the Space Marine was presented with a new problem. The branch that held his weapon captive was fifteen feet upwards. He had no doubt that he was strong enough to climb up that high. Judging by the width of the available branches, tough, he could not say the same for them. It was time to get creative.

Backing up a few steps, the half-ton giant leaned forward and charged straight at the tree. He twisted his torso and rammed into its trunk with a shoulder pauldron. It visibly shuddered and tipped, some of its roots ripped from the ground. Above him, the offending vegetation finally relinquished its hold on the sword. He took a step to the left as the blade came down point first.

The full weight of the sword forced the blade a foot into the dirt. Clasping both hands around the two-foot hilt, the Space Marine pulled the five-foot blade out of the ground. He let out a thankful sigh as he ran his gauntleted fingers along the flat portion of the weapon. A moment was spent lovingly taking the sword’s details and reaffirming its value.

It was not much to look at, at least to another. The dark iron grey blade was simple, unadorned, and without inscribed patterns or oaths. It was also unusually wide; a full foot-and-a-half for most of the blade’s length. No crossguard rested between the hilt and the blade. Instead, the only consensus toward a guard was the bottom of the blade flaring out slightly to the sides. It was more than enough to ward away blows on the outside of the blade while held. On the inside, however… well, if your opponent is within your circle, you’re already in trouble. Satisfied that it was not damaged or in need of cleaning, the soldier hung the weapon behind his back and activated a mag-lock on his power armor’s backpack. There, now you aren’t going anywhere.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, the Space Marine returned his attention to the equine. While the beast still seemed nervous and alert, it no longer shied away from him. Instead, it looked quizzically back at him. By the Circle, its eyes are huge! Feeling much better now that he had his weapon back and there was no immediate danger, he jokingly said, “All right, beast, let’s see if we can’t find your master around here.” The horse’s eyes widened… then narrowed. And it spoke.

“You may be strong, but you must cease.
I am not like you, but I am not a beast!
Your thoughts might be rattled and unkempt,
but I have done nothing worth your contempt!
I know not who masters who at your home,
but here, with the ponies, my will is my own.”

His sword was in his hand before he was even conscious of the action. The warrior assumed a battle stance, with one shoulder forward and his weapon reared back to strike. Although he outwardly appeared calm and ready, his thoughts had once again been set awhirl by this new development. This creature, this animal, had just spoken to him in Low Gothic! A strange dialect of it, yes, but Low Gothic nonetheless! There’s no way! Unless…

“I care not what you are. I don’t know if you’re a shapeshifter or some psyker fiddling with my mind, but what I do know is that there is no way that I am simply talking with a horse! Flee, witch, and be gone from my sight!”

Ᾰ

Stalking through the bushes, the manticore followed its nose as the scent of prey drew it closer. Hungry as it was, the manticore found the smell of pony irresistible. Peering through a set of bushes, it spied its target. It had seen this particular pony wandering around the forest many times and apparently it was now distracted by something else. The predator shifted its bulk, flattening its bat wings against its back and tensing its haunches. It would spring on the distracted pony and scare away whatever was menacing it. A pink tongue ran over its glistening teeth. The beast had no grudge against this hermit, but it was a carnivore. It was simply obeying the law of the forest.

Ᾰ

The horse backed slowly away from the en garde Space Marine.

“I am no witch. I am as you see.
There is no lie or trickery.
I am not capable of sorcery
The skills you describe are beyond me.”

“Stop with your insolent rhyming! You think to give me cheek? I don’t think you are aware of who you’re dealing with!”

As the invader took a step forward, a large beast sprang from some of the nearby foliage. The strange assemblage of lion, bat, and scorpion leapt toward the equine, a roar erupting from its fang-lined maw. The horse screamed.

Ᾰ

“Raaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

“Aaagh!”

“The beast is upon us!”

“Spread out, don’t let it catch us all at once!”

“Brother Meynard! He’s down!”

“Leave him, Mykel! Help us, or the beast will kill us all!”

“Shoot the bastard between the eyes!”

“Which ones?!”

“Any of them!”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

“Meynard? Stay back, we can handle this!”

“For the Order!”

SHINK!

“Rooooooargh!”

THWACK!

“Well-struck, Meynard! Pursue the monstrosity! We can track its blood!”

“Don’t let it get away!”

“Mykel! On your feet! The beast will not… Mykel?”

“Meynard… Meynard is dead.”

Ᾰ

There was no concern or real thought that drove his action. It was only ingrained training, and the flashes of a long-ago memory.

Amplified by his helmet’s external audio speaker, the Space Marine launched forward with a roar of fury that matched that of the pouncing manticore. Both hands closed around the sword’s hilt and swung its massive blade into the creature’s shoulder. The force of the blow reversed the beast’s trajectory and sent it flying away from its prey.

As it groggily tried to regain its feet, the merciless warrior closed on the predator. Faced by this new daunting presence, the manticore began to give ground. Its retreat spared it from a full blow to the head as instead the weapon collided with one of its forelimbs. He could feel the creature’s bone break beneath the strike.

The manticore cried out in agony and ran off as fast as its three undamaged legs could carry it. It extended its wings and used them to turn its running into bounding leaps, anything to get away from the newest monster in the Everfree Forest.

“What is this? No stomach for battle? Come back and face the might of a true son of Caliban!” Though the combat was over, the Space Marine’s body still ached for violence. Combat stimulants pumped into him, heightening his aggression. He wanted to chase after the vile beast and put an end to its miserable existence, but he retained enough sense to realize the impracticality of such an idea. Instead, his anger was shifted to looking upon his weapon. No matter how many times I take a whetstone to it, or have one of the Techmarines sharpen it with their machines, the blade still won’t cut!

The Dark Angel reluctantly mag-locked his weapon with a deep sense of dissatisfaction. He took a few deep breaths to counteract the effects of the drugs in his system. It was the jingling of jewelry that reminded him that he was not alone. Turning, he discovered that the equine was slowly approaching him. Her eyes still held their initial fear, but some other, unknown emotion conflicted with it.

“One moment you threaten, promising strife,
and the next you defend, saving my life.
Thanks to you, I have not died.
Now I must ask, though, why you tried.”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “I don’t know why. I owe nothing to you, and you could be an enemy.” His posture changed from a slightly hunching stance of wariness to a straight-backed display of pride. “But what I do know is that I am… was… a knight of the Order, and that I swore to defend the people from the depredations of the worst Beasts the wilds have to offer. I am a son of Caliban, and I stand against the shadows for all of mankind. Even you, I suppose.”

Nodding slowly, the horse replied,

“You have my thanks. Now, tell me,
do you suffer from injury?
You have just fallen from the skies.
If you were hurt, there would be no surprise.”

“No… I’m fine. But I… thank you for your concern.”

“Good. If we left quickly, that would be best.
There are worse things that hunt in the forest.
If you do not wish to blindly roam,
Would you care to stay at my home?”

“…Very well.” An armored finger pointed at her like the barrel of a bolt pistol. “But understand this: if this is a trap, or you lead me astray, then rest assured that I will see you dead.”

“A fair enough attitude, I guess.
I will cause no undue stress.
Zecora is my name.
Would you care to do the same?”

“You expect me to reveal my true name to a random psyker? You will have to earn that trust.”

She sighed.

“Such distrust is no stranger to me.
Come, let us go. I could use some tea.”