Fixated upon Leoric, Kairos now found itself beset on all sides by its other foes. Those Wulfen not freeing the captives were helping to dispatch the last Thousand Sons. The full force of the Drakeslayers was now turned upon the Lord of Change. Shrieking in rage, the giant monster reached out with its claw, tearing a hole in the air behind it. The next instant, the creature had slipped through the rent in reality.
‘Don’t let it escape!’
The command rang out across the chamber. All eyes turned upon the bloodied figure of Logan Grimnar. This time Krom’s axe had succeeded in breaking his chains. The Great Wolf waved his fist at the vanished daemon. ‘It holds more of our brothers beyond the barrier!’
Ulrik was the first to reach the boiling rent through which the daemon had vanished. The Rune Priest who led the Wulfen was the second. Closing his eyes and raising his staff, the Wulfen compelled the rent to stay open. He cast an imploring look at the Wolf Priest, urging him on. Ulrik didn’t hesitate, but rushed through the portal.
Beyond the doorway was another world, a ghastly ruin of floating plateaus suspended within a skyskape of shimmering incandescent vapour. Close to the rent, surrounded by broken battlements, was a circle of petrified trees, their stony bark etched with sinister, cabalistic designs. To each of the trees, just like the pillars in the alien temple, one of Logan Grimnar’s Great Company was chained. Ulrik stared in shock when he saw that one of the captives had an all-too familiar mane of snowy hair and long pleated moustaches. Somehow, in this world, Logan Grimnar was still a prisoner!
Kairos was stalking towards the trees when its left head swung about, eyes widening in surprise as it saw Ulrik running out of the rent.
‘I did not foresee this.’ The daemon’s voices somehow conveyed a tone of unease. It started towards Ulrik, raising its staff. Then it reeled back, crying out as it saw other warriors rushing out of the rent. The Wulfen howled with fury as they caught the daemon’s scent, charging at the monster in a frenzied mob.
With the daemon focused upon the Wulfen, Ulrik charged for the pillars. Raising his crozius, he brought the maul cracking against the chains binding Logan Grimnar to the stone. An electric shock coursed through his body, almost tearing the crozius from his hand. Staggering back, Ulrik tried to fight down the numbness that dragged at his mind. It was the sight of the Great Wolf, the confidence that shone in his eyes as he saw Ulrik beside him, that gave the Wolf Priest the determination to fight through the effects of the sorcerous shield.
Tightening both hands about the grip of his crozius, Ulrik brought the weapon crashing against the chains once more. Again there was a tremendous shock, a searing pain that flared through every nerve in his body. This time, however, the chains snapped. Logan Grimnar’s body sagged forwards, but the Great Wolf had enough strength left in him to keep from crashing face first into the dirt.
A baleful roar thundered across the floating plateau. Ulrik spun around, putting himself between the source of that enraged cry and the weakened Great Wolf. Kairos fixed him with each of its baleful eyes. The daemon’s malignance slammed into Ulrik like a physical blow.
‘You’ll not cheat me of my prize,’ Kairos snapped. A sphere of swirling flame erupted from its outstretched claw, leaping towards the Wolf Priest.
Ulrik held his ground, ready to die to protect Logan Grimnar. As the fiery sphere hurtled towards him, he could feel his skin blister inside his armour. Before it could engulf him entirely, the malefic conjuration dissolved into a fizzle of sparks. Ulrik saw one of the Wulfen climbing his way up the daemon’s arm, tearing feathers and flesh away with each rake of his claws. The sudden attack had broken the monster’s concentration, sparing Ulrik at the last moment.
‘Make for the portal,’ Ulrik told Logan Grimnar, gesturing towards the rent. ‘I’ll keep the daemon busy.’ Before the Great Wolf could object, Ulrik was already rushing towards Kairos.
The Fateweaver plucked the Wulfen from its savaged arm. The feral warrior’s body writhed in a hideous fashion as Kairos focused its malignance upon him. Bones rippled in obscene displays, flesh bubbled and flowed like water. What had been a fearsome warrior was reduced to a confusion of ruptured tissue under the daemon’s magic.
Kairos’ right head spotted Ulrik as the Wolf Priest came charging towards it. The fiend shrieked in primordial rage, dipping its staff to direct the relic’s hideous power against him. Before the daemon could work its magic, Ulrik threw himself forwards in a desperate lunge. His arm wrapped about the ivory and gold length of the staff. He could feel the mutating energies of Kairos’ conjuration rippling through the shaft and seeking to penetrate his own armour.
‘Foolish mortal!’ Kairos cackled, peering at the Wolf Priest. ‘You cannot hurt me.’
Ulrik glared back at the daemon, the fiend that had caused his Chapter so much sacrifice.
‘Maybe not,’ he barked back, ‘but what about this!’ He slammed his crozius down against the immense tome lashed to the ivory rod. Ancient pages were ripped free by the blow, sent skittering away across the plateau.
Kairos cried out in shock, lunging after the torn pages. Laughing, Ulrik repeated his attack, ripping another fistful of sheets from the tome. The daemon’s left head fixed upon him, the eyes blazing with unspeakable hatred. It started to raise its claw, to pluck him forcibly from the staff, but even as it did, the daemon’s right head shouted in alarm. The Wulfen that had been darting about its legs, biting and clawing at the fiend, now gave up that pursuit, instead rushing after the scattered pages.
‘My book,’ Kairos squawked. Whirlwinds sprang from its eyes, whipping around the Wulfen, trying to catch the pages before the savage creatures could.
Ulrik seized upon the daemon’s distress, sending still more pages fluttering away from its book. Kairos, unwilling to risk any magic that might harm his precious pages, could only try and shake its foe loose by whipping its staff back and forth.
Ulrik endured the vicious motion, biding his time until he saw his chance. As Kairos shook the staff towards its body, the Wolf Priest released his hold. Momentum sent him crashing against the daemon, the flanges of his crozius slashing the feathered flesh of its shoulder. Ulrik grabbed a fistful of Kairos’ robe, trying to use it to arrest his fall while he brought his maul cracking against the fiend’s neck. Ichor oozed up from the gash he inflicted, but before he could strike again, the daemon used its mighty wings to rise into the air. The huge pinions beat at him, breaking his tenuous hold and sending him plummeting to the plateau.
The Wolf Priest felt bones break as he slammed into the ground. Clenching his fangs against the pain, he forced himself up, drawing his plasma pistol and making ready to meet the daemon’s next assault.
The attack didn’t come. Conjuring more of its whirlwinds, Kairos was focused upon snatching the pages Ulrik had knocked loose from its tome.
‘Keep today, whelps of Russ. For I have seen tomorrow!’ Kairos roared. Again, the daemon stretched forth its claw, ripping a hole through reality into which it could retreat.
Ulrik glared after the escaping daemon.
‘Take heart that you thwarted its purpose,’ the weary voice of Logan Grimnar came to Ulrik. He turned around to find the venerable warrior limping towards him. Behind the Great Wolf came the rest of his warriors, freed from their chains by the Wulfen. ‘Its intention was to open a permanent doorway between the Eye of Terror and Fenris. By using the spirits of Space Wolves to power its ritual, the daemon could have created such a gate.’
‘Will it try again?’ Ulrik wondered.
Logan Grimnar frowned. ‘We’ll have to make sure it doesn’t get the chance.’ He scowled at the rent through which Kairos had retreated. ‘If I had my armour and the Axe of Morkai, I’d chase the wretched creature down right now.’ He turned a worried look to Ulrik. ‘Did you find the rest of my warriors? Are they safe?’
Ulrik started to answer when he saw a figure emerge from the rent leading to Dargur. It was the old Rune Priest in the ancient armour. As he
joined them, he bowed low to Logan Grimnar. A low growl rattled at the back of the wizened warrior’s throat as he pointed firmly at the Great Wolf and then at the portal to Dargur. Tapping himself on the chest, he pointed to the rent through which Kairos had fled. Both portals were slowly starting to close.
‘I think he means us to hurry back to our comrades and leave the pursuit of Kairos to his pack,’ Ulrik said.
Logan Grimnar didn’t seem to hear the Wolf Priest at first, staring instead at the symbol adorning the Rune Priest’s armour.
‘We must hurry, my lord,’ Ulrik said, recalling the scene he’d left behind. It was impossible that Logan Grimnar could be both here and on the other side of the rent. One had to be an imposter. Which one was the problem that now faced him.
Logan Grimnar said something to the Rune Priest. Ulrik couldn’t make out his words, but the only response was a shake of the warrior’s head and another gesture towards the portal Kairos had escaped into. Frowning, the Great Wolf nodded.
‘Brothers, let us be gone from this place,’ he called to the other Space Wolves.
Ulrik waited until the last of Logan Grimnar’s warriors was through before slipping into the rent himself. It seemed to be collapsing around him as he clawed his way between worlds. Reality itself was bleeding away, and for a hideous moment he felt the enormity of nothingness reach out for him. Then something far more physical caught hold of him. A fierce grip closed about his arm and pulled him from the rent.
‘I’m not staging another Great Hunt to look for you,’ Krom cursed as he dragged Ulrik from the rent. The wound in reality closed up behind him. The Wolf Priest had narrowly escaped being lost within the void.
‘You’d have the Great Wolf to help you,’ Ulrik said. The comment brought a severe look to Krom’s visage.
‘Which one?’ he grumbled. Krom pointed at the Space Wolves Ulrik had sent through the rent. Logan Grimnar stood among them. But there was another Logan Grimnar who stood with the captives rescued on Dargur. Of the two, it was the Logan Grimnar of Dargur who presented the more convincing aspect, arrayed as he was in power armour and with the Axe of Morkai clenched in his hands. He glared at the Logan Grimnar Ulrik had rescued.
‘You’ve been gone six days,’ Krom reported. The Wolf Priest shook his head. It was almost unbelievable that so much time could have passed here when it had only been a few moments on the other side. If the Logan Grimnar of Dargur was an imposter, he’d had a good amount of time to convince the other Space Wolves otherwise.
All around them, weapons at the ready, stood the warriors who’d risked so much to rescue these men. They were a grim sight, their faces hard – for these were warriors who’d just had the taste of victory turn to ash in their mouths.
‘One of our Great Wolves is an imposter,’ Ulrik said. ‘If I hadn’t gone through the rent, its deception might have succeeded.’
Logan Grimnar of Dargur pointed at his opposite. ‘Or the daemon decided upon this deceit only when its plan here was thwarted. If it can’t open a doorway between here and Fenris, the next best thing would be to leave one of its minions in control of the Fang.’
Logan Grimnar from beyond the rent bared his fangs. ‘You wear my armour and hold my axe. Tell me, if you were a cunning daemon, would you leave such things within reach of the Great Wolf or would you have them available for your spy?’
‘There is one certain way to tell them apart,’ Ulrik abruptly declared, stepping between the two Logan Grimnars. ‘We can have Krom’s wolf Vangandyr sniff them. A daemon might be able to trick a Fenrisian’s senses, but it can’t deceive a cyberwolf.’
Both of the Great Wolves frowned when Ulrik made his statement. It was the Logan Grimnar of Dargur who answered first. ‘We are both so drenched in the stench of Chaos, I would be surprised if he knew the scent of either of us.’
The Logan Grimnar from beyond the portal laughed. ‘A nice effort, but you are fooled,’ he told his double, ‘for Vangandyr is a thunderwolf, not a cyberwolf.’
‘I knew I could count on you to know your wolves,’ Ulrik said. He spun around, his crozius slamming against the imposter’s hand even as he began to lift the Axe of Morkai. An inhuman wail of fury sounded from the false Logan Grimnar as its stolen visage began to slide and flow into a soup of twisted flesh. The Changeling lashed out from within the Great Wolf’s armour, a writhing coil of voidstuff whipping about Ulrik’s neck. Before it could tighten, the real Logan Grimnar pulled the Axe of Morkai from the ground and brought its magic blade chopping down. The daemon’s distorted head went flying from its shoulders to land among the standing stones, where it faded to nothing. The coil wrapped about Ulrik’s throat lost coherence, writhing and ebbing away. The empty shell of power armour crashed forwards with a clatter onto the ancient stones.
‘Do you think it’s dead?’ Krom asked Ulrik.
The Wolf Priest shook his head. ‘With daemons it is never easy to tell.’ Inwardly, he doubted the Changeling was gone, merely abandoning a disguise it no longer had use for.
Logan Grimnar stood glaring down at his armour. ‘Taking my face is one thing, but taking my armour is too much. I’ll have to polish it for a decade to get the stink out.’ Looking up, the Great Wolf smiled at the warriors who had come so far and risked so much to find him.
‘Brothers, let’s be on our way,’ Logan Grimnar declared. ‘It’s been too long since I’ve had the smell of Asaheim in my nose and the taste of Fenrisian mead on my tongue.’
As the Space Wolves withdrew from the alien temple, bearing their wounded and carrying their dead, Ulrik felt his eyes drawn to the mound of stone beneath which they’d entombed the fallen Wulfen. Somehow it felt wrong to leave them behind.
‘You seem troubled, old friend,’ Logan Grimnar told Ulrik when he caught him looking back towards the cromlech.
‘They were brothers in arms,’ Ulrik said. ‘It sits ill with me to leave them here.’
‘This was their hunting ground,’ the Great Wolf said. ‘Their work here is not complete.’ Logan Grimnar shifted uneasily in the borrowed armour he wore.
‘They were of our gene-seed? They were Sons of Russ?’ Ulrik asked. ‘Were you able to communicate with their leader?’
Logan Grimnar nodded slowly.
‘What did you ask their Rune Priest?’
‘I asked him if they were the Thirteenth Great Company,’ Logan Grimnar answered. ‘He said that Great Company is a legend.’ The Great Wolf stared into Ulrik’s eyes. ‘And a legend is how they must remain.’
Ulrik nodded, casting one last look at the cromlech. ‘Yes, they are legend,’ he said.
About the Authors
Ben Counter is one of Black Library’s most popular Warhammer 40,000 authors, with two Horus Heresy novels to his name – Galaxy in Flames and Battle for the Abyss. He is the author of the Soul Drinkers series and The Grey Knights Omnibus. For Space Marine Battles he has written The World Engine and Malodrax, and has turned his attention to the Space Wolves with the novella Arjac Rockfist: Anvil of Fenris and a number of short stories. He is a fanatical painter of miniatures, a pursuit which has won him his most prized possession: a prestigious Golden Demon award. He lives in Portsmouth, England.
Steve Lyons’ work in the Warhammer 40,000 universe includes the novellas Engines of War and Angron’s Monolith, the Imperial Guard novels Ice World and Dead Men Walking – now collected in the omnibus Honour Imperialis – and the audio dramas Waiting Death and The Madness Within. He has also written numerous short stories and is currently working on more tales from the grim darkness of the far future.
Rob Sanders is the author of ‘The Serpent Beneath’, a novella that appeared in the New York Times bestselling Horus Heresy anthology The Primarchs. His other Black Library credits include the Warhammer 40,000 titles Adeptus Mechanicus: Skitarius and Tech-Priest, Legion of the Damned, Atlas Infernal and Redemption Corps and the audio drama The Path Forsaken. He has also written the Warhammer Archaon duology, Everchosen and Lord of Chaos along wit
h many Quick Reads for the Horus Heresy and Warhammer 40,000. He lives in the city of Lincoln, UK.
C L Werner’s Black Library credits include the Space Marine Battles novel The Siege of Castellax, the End Times novel Deathblade, Mathias Thulmann: Witch Hunter, Runefang, the Brunner the Bounty Hunter trilogy, the Thanquol and Boneripper series and Time of Legends: The Black Plague series. Currently living in the American south-west, he continues to write stories of mayhem and madness set in the worlds of Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000.
A Space Wolves pack defends a vital Imperial world from the forces of the Plague Lord.
A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION
Published in 2016 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS UK.
Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Legends of the Dark Millennium: Space Wolves © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2015. Legends of the Dark Millennium: Space Wolves, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy Eye logo, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, the ‘Aquila’ Double-headed Eagle logo, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
All Rights Reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
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