“Finally Wolf Priest Ranek,” said the Great Wolf.
“I bring grim tidings indeed. In the battles that have unfolded in this conflict, we have harvested few gene-seed from our fallen battle-brothers. Although the number of gene-seed lost is small, every one is a precious gift from our primarch, Leman Russ and a terrible loss. Without them, we cannot recruit battle-brothers to replace those lost in battle.” Ranek stepped back.
Logan Grimnar stood once again, and this time he raised the double-bladed Axe of Morkai. “The attacks have begun, and I believe that these random events are a prelude to the true ambitions of the Thousand Sons. I need every one of you, and every one of your men, to meet this threat. What you have not been told is this, and this information will not leave this hall without my leave: we have reason to believe that the Thousand Sons may have recovered the Spear of Russ from the warp. Each of you knows what the Thousand Sons attempted the last time they possessed the relic. You will find out the truth and discover the enemy’s plans and intentions, as well as defending your assigned regions of space.”
Skalds entered the great hall, placing a scrolled parchment on the table in front of each of the Wolf Lords.
“The scrolls you’ve just been given detail the assignments for each of your great companies,” said the Great Wolf. We cannot let our personal ambitions cloud our judgement. “We each must do what must be done. Now go and prepare your Wolves, for once again the Sons of Russ must cleanse the galaxy of the wretched Thousand Sons, just as Russ the Wolf Father did when he led our brothers to Prospero to destroy Magnus himself.”
A howl of agreement rose within the hall, as Wolf Lords and their Wolf Guards raised their weapons in salute to the Great Wolf. The howl continued even as they began to leave the great hall.
As Gabriella rose from her seat, Rune Lord Aldrek approached her. “Lady Gabriella, might we have a few more minutes of your time?” Aldrek asked, gesturing towards the Great Wolf.
“Of course, Lord Aldrek.” Gabriella said, moving down the table to stand near the Great Wolf.
As Aldrek took his place beside the Logan Grimnar, Grimnar leaned forwards and rested his arms on the table. “Lady Gabriella our situation is dire, and our forces are spread thin.”
“Great Wolf, how may House Belisarius be of assistance?” Gabriella asked, her concern genuine. She had lived on Fenris and she valued the ancient alliance with the Space Wolves and the services of the Wolfblade.
“It pleases this old warrior to hear the sincerity in your words, Lady Gabriella, again proving the wisdom of our ancestors in the forging of this alliance. I will need all the Space Wolves that we have to investigate and battle this threat. Although their numbers are few, the members of the Wolfblade have shown their abilities on Terra and on Hyades. I require their aid in unravelling this threat.”
“Great Wolf, House Belisarius and the Wolfblade are at your service.”
Ragnar awoke with a start, and for an instant he did not recognise the group bunks in the guest chambers of the Fang. Then the blur that was the night before coalesced in his mind with images of toasts, song and heroic stories of battle. He felt as if he was sitting in the learning machine again as the images of last night’s events poured through his mind. There were also the strangest images of Haegr entering some kind of bizarre eating contest. It had been a long time since Ragnar had consumed that much Fenrisian ale. A Space Marine’s physiology was designed to resist almost any kind of toxin or poison, however, ale from Fenris was a different story entirely.
Standing up he looked around for Haegr and Torin, but they were nowhere to be found. He walked across the room, until his legs became a little wobbly, forcing him to take a seat. In all his recollections of Fenris, his reminiscences of the Fang, he hadn’t remembered the ale being so potent. Placing his elbows on his knees, he rested his forehead in his hands.
He leaned back in the chair and started to laugh. He was so happy to be back in the Fang, even though he knew it would not last. Soon he and his battle-brothers would be at war again, but right at this moment he was pleased to be home.
The door to the sleeping quarters opened and Haegr entered the room. “Have you been drinking all night, Ragnar? Why are you laughing?” Haegr looked puzzled.
Ragnar was amazed at the resilience of his fellow Space Wolf. He knew that Haegr had consumed much more ale than he had, but here he was this morning completely free of the effects. Ragnar stood up, not about to allow Haegr to see him in his true condition.
“Good day, Haegr,” Ragnar greeted his friend.
“Ragnar, the Great Wolf summoned all of his Wolf Lords into the great hall. They’ve been in there for hours,” Haegr informed Ragnar. “They should have just finished. I thought you’d like to see if we can find out what’s happening.”
“Give me a moment,” Ragnar said. He dressed quickly, and found that the ritual of putting on his power armour helped to clear his head.
Ragnar and Haegr entered the corridor, heading towards the great hall. Ragnar hoped that there would be a need for the Wolfblade. With so many systems under siege, Ragnar felt that every Space Wolf would be needed.
As they rounded the corner of one of the stone corridors, they saw Torin striding in their direction. As Torin approached, Ragnar wondered if his rebirth as a Space Wolf had an unseen flaw, because here was another of his battle-brothers who seemed to have no ill-effects from the night before.
“Greetings, Torin.” Haegr said. “Ragnar and I are going to the great hall to find out what’s happened, unless you already know?”
“I’ll join you and make sure you don’t get into too many fights. Meanwhile, I have special instructions for Ragnar. Our brother here needs to see Wolf Priest Ranek in his chambers. The old priest asked to speak to you once the meeting ended.”
“Very well, I’ll catch up with you later,” Ragnar said, quickening his pace and heading down the corridor to the Wolf Priest’s chambers.
As soon as Ragnar was out of earshot, Haegr turned to Torin. “What’s the story, Torin?”
“I’m not sure, old friend, but whatever it is I fear that things will never be the same.” Torin replied.
Once he got out of sight of the other members of the Wolfblade, Ragnar stepped up his pace. Although he tried not to seem like he was an overly enthusiastic Blood Claw running through the Fang, he was failing miserably in his attempt. He couldn’t help but move quickly, as his mind was running through the possibilities of why his old mentor might have summoned him.
Things were very confusing for Ragnar. Since his interrogation of Cadmus on Hyades, where Cadmus had mentioned the use of an ancient artifact by Madox, he had thought that it might be the Spear of Russ. Then with Gabriella’s visions, he felt that his hopes might be affirmed. His excitement was matched only by his dread. If Madox was using the Spear of Russ again, that meant he would be responsible for more than the loss of the holy artifact, he would have given the Thousand Sons a deadly weapon.
These scenarios dominated Ragnar’s thoughts as he moved through the corridors of the Fang. He wanted to have the opportunity to redeem himself by recovering the Spear.
If the Thousand Sons had the Spear then maybe he had made a mistake using the weapon against Magnus. He had always told himself that he had made the decision in the moment and if called upon to make that decision again he would do so. Now, doubt crept into his mind, and doubt was the most deadly enemy of the warrior.
Ragnar chided himself silently. This was idle speculation, and he knew that his thoughts were getting away from him. Besides, the most important thing was the defence of the Chapter and the Imperium. That was his first duty, and he would live with his decision as long as he continued to serve the Emperor. There was a reason that the Wolf Priest wished to see him, and he would find out in a moment.
Ragnar weaved and sidestepped his way through the busy traffic of the Fang as skalds and servitors went to perform their required duties in this time of war. Finally, he entered the cor
ridor leading to Ranek’s chamber. He slowed his pace. Now that he was almost at the meeting, he hesitated, not really sure if he wanted to hear what Ranek had to say.
Rage filled Ragnar’s heart, rage at his constant feelings of doubt. He was a Son of Russ and he would face his destiny, whatever it might be. Pausing for a moment, he cleared his mind, forcing himself to accept his actions for what they were. He would do whatever was required of him, but this self-doubt and desire for redemption needed to be set aside. His honour was not more important than his duty.
Large wolf skulls hung on the door to Ranek’s chamber. Ragnar knocked and waited, calming himself and focusing. He was ready to meet with Ranek.
The Wolf Priest pulled open the door. “Ragnar, thank you for coming so quickly,” Ranek said, stepping aside to allow Ragnar to enter. His quarters were sparse, exactly what one would expect for the living area of a Wolf Priest of Russ.
“It is my pleasure, Wolf Priest. How may I be of service?”
“It is actually I who may be of service to you.” Ranek walked across the room and sat down, gesturing for Ragnar to sit in the chair opposite him. Ragnar hesitated for a moment, and then sat.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Lord Ranek.” Ragnar said, confused.
“When you left here, Ragnar, you left under a cloud of political turmoil, with the Chapter split by your decision in regards to the Spear of Russ,” Ranek began. “It was a decision that I and many others agreed with, a decision based on the choice of evils. Had you chosen otherwise then I believe that you and your brothers would be dead and the Imperium would have been plunged into war once again as the Thousand Sons invaded.” Ranek paused for a moment.
“Since your return from Hyades, Rune Lord Aldrek and his priests have deciphered their runes, and the Wolf Lords have studied the tactics and strategies of the Chaos Space Marines. They suspect that the Thousand Sons have a terrible plan for all of us.”
“Ranek, I understand the severity of the situation, and I would ask for your forgiveness for the bluntness of this question—”
Ranek anticipated Ragnar’s question, interrupting him with the answer. “Yes, Ragnar, the runes imply that the Thousand Sons have found the Spear of Russ. With the sacred artifact, combined with the holy gene-seed harvested on Hyades, we suspect that they plan on conducting a massive ritual that might somehow bring about the destruction of the Sons of Russ.”
Excitement and dread filled Ragnar’s heart. In that moment he discovered clarity, clarity of mind that he had never known. He knew what must be done. The events that were unfolding were events that were directly tied to his actions, not just the loss of the Spear, but his actions prior to that as well. He had thwarted the Chaos Sorcerer Madox on two separate occasions. Madox’s plot was as much about Ragnar as it was about the Space Wolves. His hatred of Ragnar was at the heart of his plan. That was why Cadmus lured the Wolfblade to Hyades. Ragnar knew that it fell to him to bring this situation to an end, regardless of the cost. Ragnar would stop Madox, redemption or not. It was his destiny.
“Lord Ranek, you know my heart better than anyone. You know that I will do whatever is asked of me. Madox is at the heart of this plan, and the Spear of Russ may be in their hands because of my actions. It falls to me to bring this situation to an end,” Ragnar said, meeting Ranek’s gaze, without flinching.
“The Great Wolf made that decision earlier today Ragnar, and he asked Lady Gabriella for the services of Wolfblade. But, know this, what I have told you about the Spear of Russ is known only to a few and with the leave of the Great Wolf. Do not speak of it, save to Lady Gabriella, a Wolf Lord, myself or the Great Wolf himself. He bade me to tell you. He felt you deserved to know,” Ranek said beginning to smile. “You’ve grown, Ragnar. I asked you here with the intention of guiding you through the turmoil that I had assumed these events would have thrown you into. However, it would appear that you are no longer the impetuous young warrior that I once knew.”
Ranek rose from his seat, extending his hand to Ragnar, who grasped his forearm in a warrior’s handshake. Ranek’s pride showed even on his hard face.
“Now, Son of Russ, go and fulfil your destiny.” Ragnar left Ranek’s chamber for the guest quarters he and the Wolfblade had been assigned. There was no longer any doubt in his heart, no question of where he belonged. Everything he had accomplished, every decision, his every failure had led him to this moment. For the first time in a long time, Ragnar’s destiny was clear and he would face that destiny as a Space Wolf.
EPILOGUE
The war for Corinthus V was nearly over. One more victory and the Space Wolves would break the power of the Night Lords. Yet the war had gone on for one day more than the Space Wolves had expected. With victory in their grasp in a battle on the streets of Saint Harman, Tor, a member of the Wolf Guard, had led his fellow Space Marines into an ambush meant to draw out the Wolf Lord and decapitate the great company. The strength and skill of the Space Wolves had allowed them to emerge defeated but unbowed. Based on information gathered by Space Wolf scouts, Ragnar Blackmane was ready to turn the tables on the forces of Chaos. This time, the main attack by the Space Wolves would provide a diversion, while Tor would get the chance to redeem himself in an assault against a Chaos sorcerer, possibly the leader of these renegades.
Wolf Lord Ragnar Blackmane paced back and forth in front of his men, as they readied themselves for an offensive into Saint Harman. The members of his force waited just outside the Administratum sector, the city’s heart, the same sector of the city where the Wolf Lord had been ambushed only the day before.
Ragnar wanted to give the order to attack. He was ready to seize victory over the traitors and the souls who slavishly followed them, but he knew that timing would be critical. He had to wait until he received the signal that Tor was in place.
Within the fetid and rusted sewer tunnels beneath Saint Harman, over a kilometre away from the Wolf Lord, Tor led a group of Grey Hunters as they followed two Space Wolf scouts. A powerful sorcerer among the Chaos Space Marines had planned a ritual to open a portal into the warp. According to the scouts, the blasphemous servants of Chaos had chosen the Cathedral of Saint Harman, the city’s namesake, as the site of their unholy ceremony.
Tor clenched and unclenched his fist. His Wolf Lord had chosen him from his Wolf Guard to lead this strike, while the rest of the Space Wolves provided a distraction. The day before, Tor had led his pack into an ambush and drawn another pack with him. He had nearly lost his life and had cost his Chapter a few of their great warriors, but Ragnar had chosen him, regardless. For that, Tor was thankful.
He felt responsible for what had happened, and he longed for a chance to restore his honour and make amends. Ragnar had taken him aside before dawn and explained the plan. Tor and a hand-picked group of Grey Hunters would interrupt the Chaos ritual and slay the sorcerer responsible. To provide cover, the Space Wolves would conduct a massive assault, hopefully drawing away as many of the enemy as possible. Tor was surprised that after his failure the Wolf Lord would select him, but one look in Ragnar’s eyes and Tor knew that the Wolf Lord understood exactly how he felt. Tor would not fail.
The older scout, Hoskuld, raised his hand for Tor and his men to halt. The squad hesitated in the acrid dimly-lit sewers. Tor could hear the water dripping from leaking pipes and even in the dim light, he could see the colours of contaminants swirling in the water where he and his men stood.
Hoskuld indicated a set of metal rungs leading to a large grate to the street above. “The alley next to the cathedral,” he whispered. With that, the scouts turned their backs on Tor and his men and jogged off into the deepening shadows of the sewers. Tor knew that they would find their own positions to support the assault.
It was time. Tor activated his comm and signalled to Ragnar, before deactivating it again. The attack would begin, and the rest would be up to him and his pack.
Ragnar’s comm buzzed, and then went silent. Just as he had previously instructed, Tor had s
imply signalled, and then cut his comm. There was no need to risk the enemy intercepting their messages. The time to launch the attack had come.
Ragnar activated his comm, speaking to all of his Wolf Guard, save Tor, who were scattered throughout the force. “Move out! The time has come!”
A soft chorus of howls began from one end of the Space Wolf force, and then raced to the other as each pack joined in. Ragnar enjoyed the sound and he could feel the excitement in his veins. There would be nothing subtle about this attack. The Wolf Lord wanted the Night Lords to know he was coming, and he counted on the fact that in their arrogance, the Chaos Space Marines would see the howls as the foolish bravado of a mob of barbarians, rather than realise this entire attack was a distraction.
Packs of Grey Hunters, Blood Claws and a team of Long Fangs made their way into the rockcrete and plasteel canyons of Saint Harman fanning out into different streets. Each group moved carefully checking for booby traps and ambushes.
A pack of ten Blood Claws escorted the Wolf Lord. Ragnar’s push through the street came with its own mobile cover. A tank, the Predator Annihilator Wolf’s Rage, led the way, with a modified bulldozer blade fused to its front hull, allowing it to push through the debris-filled street. The tank’s lascannons gave the Wolf’s Rage the firepower to deal with almost any enemy. The vehicle was at a disadvantage in the narrow city streets, but Ragnar had chosen the vehicle and its crew because he knew that the threat they posed would draw attention.
The Night Lords didn’t disappoint Ragnar. The front blade of the predator struck a large chunk of rock, and then a melta-bomb detonated, incinerating the blade and sending a spray of hot metal across the front of the tank. Ragnar and the Blood Claws threw themselves to the ground, instinctively going for cover. Their instincts proved correct as bolter fire rained down from the windows of two buildings on each side of the street ahead of them.
[Space Wolf 05] - Sons of Fenris Page 29
