Right now, he simply wanted to feel its presence, to know that it was there if he needed it. It was like having another ally, invisible and yet present. He wondered if his battle-brothers felt the same way or if each of them thought of the beast differently. It was not something they talked about.
From within the garage, he detected a movement. He could tell by the difference in her scent that Karah Isaan was awakening. The hackles on the back of his neck rose as he sensed something else. She was using her powers.
It occurred to him that in her own way she was just as set apart from normal humans as he was. What must it be like to have such powers? It must change a person, Ragnar thought. And it must change the way other people look at you. He thought of his own reaction on the day he had met her. Had he reacted so badly because she was an inquisitor – or because she was a psyker? He did not know. He did know that her powers frightened him; they reminded him of sorcery, of the witchcraft spoken of in whispers back in his home village.
And what was she doing now? What she working some spell? Was it possible that a daemon would come to possess her? The knowledge buried deep in his brain told him that this was a possibility.
At this moment, there was nothing he could do about it. She was a comrade, and part of the mission. If she turned against them he would kill her. He hoped this would not become necessary.
His reverie was broken. Now he wanted action or he wanted to sleep, he did not want to be alone with his thoughts. What was it about this woman that disturbed his soul? Was it that she was a psyker? Or was it something different, something more primal.
He stared up at the distant stars. Morning seemed a long way away.
The sun blazed down on the ruins of Galt. Ragnar studied the horizon looking for some sign of threat. By day, the pall of smoke hanging over the city was obvious. The thunder of huge weapons could be heard in the distance, as the orks continued their mad wanton destruction. It seemed nothing could satisfy their appetite for wrecking things. They would not be happy until they had reduced first the city, then the entire world to rubble. Contemplating such a foe was a frightening thing even to a Space Marine like Ragnar.
‘Soon it will be night,’ said Sven from nearby. ‘Then we’ll be able to get going again.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Nils said, off to the other side of them. ‘All this stalking around ruins is getting me down.’
‘And I still haven’t bloody well found anything good to eat,’ said Sven. ‘Caught a rat this morning, could barely wrestle the little bastard down my throat.’
‘Just like you not to share it with the rest of this,’ said Nils. ‘I could have done with a nice bit of roasted meat.’
‘It wasn’t roasted. It was still alive.’
The rest of the Blood Claws looked at Sven appalled, unable to believe what he was saying.
‘Be that as it may,’ Sergeant Hakon said. They turned; he was striding carefully over the rubble towards them, Inquisitor Isaan and Brother Tethys in his wake. ‘Best make sure your weapons are ready. Tonight it looks like we’re going to see some action.’
‘I know where the warlord is,’ Karah Isaan said. ‘He’s not too far from here. He’s taken over a huge building overlooking the central square. I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye.’
‘Most likely the governor’s mansion,’ Brother Tethys said. ‘It’s the largest building in the central area and it would appeal to the ork mentality. The whole place is a fortress. How are we going to get in?’
‘So we’ll just drive up and ask them to let us through, shall we?’ Sven said sarcastically.
‘That’s exactly what we will do,’ Karah said.
It was night and the moons beamed down. The death flares of exploding spaceships lit the dark sky. All around them the ork throng roistered, brawled and drank. Weapons were discharged. Broken bottles were thrust into ork faces while spectators laughed. Ragnar glanced around warily; his disguise seemed very thin.
They had lowered the canopy on the buggy so it obscured their faces. Once again he and Sven wore ork armour. Once again the others hid out of sight in the back of the buggy.
‘This is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard,’ muttered Sven. ‘How did I ever let you talk me into this?’
‘I thought you liked it because it was stupid. It suits your mentality,’ replied Ragnar. But privately, he agreed with Sven. He could not see how they were going to carry this off. It seemed only a matter of time before they were challenged by some sentry, or invited to take part in another race by drunken orks. Still, all he could do now was keep driving, and pray to the Emperor that things would turn out all right.
They were approaching the town square. Ahead of them he could see a huge statue of what he took to be the governor. It had collapsed like a fallen colossus and now lay sprawled amidst the rubble. Its huge head had come away from the torso, and stared sightlessly at the sky with its stone eyes. The building itself was the only one left standing on the outskirts of the square. It had once been an impressive Imperial structure. Huge gargoyles clutched the four corner towers. A monstrous Imperial eagle, now defaced, spread its shattered wings over the entrance. The floodlights that had once lit it lay smashed near the doorway.
Lights blazed in many of the windows and huge banners covered in crude ork signs hung from beneath many of them. Here and there, Ragnar could see ork faces leering through the windows. He could also see the muzzles of great guns. The place was indeed a fortress.
‘How are we going to get in?’ he asked.
‘Keep driving. Go out of the square and round the back, to where the old servants’ entrance used to be,’ Brother Tethys said.
Ragnar did as he was told. He brought the buggy to a halt in a huge open space filled with wrecked vehicles. It was obvious a battle had been fought here. The cars had been smashed with heavy calibre bullets. Skeletons still lay between some of them where cleanup teams had failed to find them. Ragnar felt his heart race. The moment of truth was upon them. How were they going to get into the building?
He brought the buggy to a halt in an open space. The engine noise died. The stink of engine fuel subsided. He glanced around. There were many orks here too, camped out in lean-tos made from wreckage or in the wrecks themselves. Some of them huddled around bonfires, warming their hands and toasting food. They looked barbaric, monstrous figures from the dawn of time. They looked as savage as any Space Wolf and they were far more numerous.
‘What now?’ Ragnar asked.
‘Watch!’ said Karah. She made a gesture towards the nearest orks and Ragnar felt a surge of power emanating from her. He sensed the sudden wariness of his battle-brothers as they detected the same thing. The pack was uneasy, he could tell. The orks turned and looked towards them. Instinctively Ragnar’s hand went for his bolt pistol but a word from Karah stopped him. Slowly, as if compelled against their will, the orks lumbered towards them. They looked a little confused. Karah said something to them in their own guttural tongue, and they nodded.
‘Conceal your weapons,’ she said, ‘and put your hands in the air.’
‘Like hell I will,’ said Sven.
‘By Russ, just do it!’ Hakon hissed. ‘I see the plan.’
So did Ragnar. She obviously had the orks under psychic control. They would pretend to be prisoners and simply march in. If it was this simple, why had she not done it earlier? His answer was swift in coming.
‘And be quick about it!’ she said. ‘These are strong-willed brutes. I cannot hold them for more than a couple of minutes.’
‘That is all it will take to get us inside,’ said Sternberg approvingly.
Tension filled Ragnar as they approached the doorway – would the ork sentries notice anything amiss; would they be challenged? One mistake would be all it took to bring a city full of greenskins down upon them. He felt his heart rate accelerate as they came to the entrance. He breathed a prayer and brought it back under control. He reduced the flow of sweat on his face by consci
ous effort. Around him he sensed his brothers do the same. The strain was so palpable he wondered the orks didn’t sense it.
The orks on guard were even more massive than usual. Huge tusks protruded from their lower lips. Their eyes glowed with feral savagery. In their massive paws they held the largest and crudest boltguns Ragnar had ever seen. Still, he thought, crude or no, one shot from them would end his life. They looked down at the orks accompanying Ragnar’s party contemptuously and bellowed a challenge. It was so sudden, and so shocking, it was all Ragnar could do to keep from drawing his pistol and beginning to shoot.
Their guards bellowed something back. The noise was so loud it was almost deafening. It appeared ork was a language to be shouted at all times. He looked over at Karah. She was pale and sweating, and he wondered if any of the orks would notice the stress written all over her face. Ragnar hoped that they would assume she was just another frightened human.
Whatever their escort said did the trick. The two massive orks stepped aside and let them pass. They were inside the hall, making their way deep into the heart of the ork citadel.
NINE
The inside of the building had been devastated by the orks, who had wrought havoc everywhere. In every place he looked, Ragnar could see smashed furniture, vandalised walls, gouged paintwork, and bullet holes. Here, once more, was evidence of the orks’ appetite for destruction. They seemed to take pleasure in it. They just seemed to like breaking things.
On and on they ventured, deeper and deeper into the building – and the further they went, the paler and more tired-looking Inquisitor Isaan became. The orks were becoming more and more restless. Ragnar could smell their confusion and their anger. He could sense that they were coming out of the hypnotic trance into which she had put them. He tightened his grip on the butt of his bolt pistol. If trouble was coming, he was going to be ready for it.
Karah was breathing ever more heavily; sweat beaded her tattooed brow. She stumbled as she walked and her chest rose and fell as if she had been running hard. Sternberg and Hakon also seemed to realise was happening. They could see that she was losing control. Without a word, each of them took hold of one of her arms and helped her along.
The party came to a flight of stairs. Up they went, further and further into the building. There were fewer orks here, and more open space. Ragnar sensed that the crisis was coming soon. The orks were becoming angry. They stared around them in confusion. They looked like sleepers awakening from a dream, which in a way they were. Ragnar pushed open a door which led into a wrecked office.
Looking around, he saw that it was empty. This was good. He stepped inside and gestured for the others to follow. The entranced orks did so, but slowly and reluctantly.
Once inside he closed the door. All around him, he could tell by the way his battle-brothers stiffened, that they sensed what was coming – and that they were ready. Ragnar chopped across the throat of one of the orks. The hulking creature let out a long gurgling gasp and collapsed onto the floor. As one, Ragnar’s comrades fell on the other orks. It was over in seconds.
‘What are we going to do now?’ Sven asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Ragnar admitted. He noticed that Sergeant Hakon was glaring at him.
‘Perhaps, in the future, you’ll let us know what you are going to do in advance, Ragnar,’ the sergeant said. The hair had risen on the back of the veteran’s neck. He was like an old wolf being challenged for leadership of the pack by a younger one. Instinctively Ragnar bared his fangs in response. The two of them glared at each other, suddenly locked in confrontation, oblivious to anything else. Despite himself, Ragnar felt the beast rise within him. In that moment, he was ready to leap on the sergeant, to rend and tear.
And he knew that the sergeant felt the same way about him. But Sergeant Hakon was older and wiser and more used to dealing with the beast within himself. He took a deep breath, spread his hands wide in a gesture of peace, and Ragnar could see him relax visibly. Something in the sergeant’s manner calmed him in turn. He felt the fury seep away from him like water running down a drain.
‘I– I will do that,’ Ragnar said at last.
‘Remember that,’ said Hakon.
‘Now we’re in,’ Sternberg cut in, as if what had just happened was of no concern to him. ‘The talisman must be close at hand.’
He looked over at Karah Isaan hopefully. The woman stared down at the floor, unaware that all eyes were upon. Slowly, like someone coming out of a trance or awakening from a deep sleep, she raised her head. She glanced around with dark, blind-seeming eyes. Ragnar sensed her intelligence return only slowly. It was as if her mind had been somewhere else a long way off. She sighed, and then spoke, ‘It is here. It is close. The ork-thing that carries it is using its power.
‘And he is terrible.’
Ragnar heard the fear in her voice and smelled the terror in her scent. For the first time, he wondered what it was they were really going to face.
Silence fell as they all considered their options. Ragnar realised that none of them had really believed that they would actually get this far. They were winging it, improvising a plan in face of new and unforeseeable circumstances. He considered the obstacles that still lay ahead of them. They were in a vast, unknown building packed full of orks. They were hugely outnumbered. They were facing a foe whose psychic powers frightened a powerful inquisitor. And a foe, moreover, who would probably be surrounded by heavily armed bodyguards.
Their only advantage lay in surprise, in the fact that no one knew they were here. They could strike quickly and unexpectedly. But how were they going to get out again? Assuming, that was, that they got their hands on the talisman in the first place. He could tell from the confused scents that all his companions were thinking along the same lines.
‘We can use the teleport to get out,’ Sternberg said suddenly. ‘But someone will have to go to the roof and place the beacon.’
‘What if there is no ship within range?’ asked Hakon.
‘Then we’ll just have to think of something else, won’t we?’ said the inquisitor. His voice was steely with determination.
‘No, then we’ll bloody well die,’ said Sven.
‘Everybody dies,’ said the inquisitor.
‘Yeah, sooner or later,’ Sven snapped back. ‘But personally I’d rather it was later.’
‘We all would,’ Karah muttered from the corner where she had slumped.
‘Sven, Strybjorn, Nils: you’re going to the roof with the beacon,’ Sergeant Hakon said decisively. ‘Ragnar, you and Lars are coming with me and… our guests.’
‘I protest,’ Strybjorn sneered. Ragnar shot him a murderous glance. ‘Why should Lars and… and Ragnar have all the glory?’
‘Because that is the way it is,’ Sergeant Hakon. ‘Brother Tethys, you go with them!’
‘Yes sir,’ the diminutive monk said, almost leaping to obey.
‘We should wait a while,’ Inquisitor Isaan said. ‘Once the orks are drunk and sleepy it will be easier to move around the building.’
‘Logical enough,’ said Sergeant Hakon. ‘Strybjorn, take first watch. Everyone else, get some rest before the action starts.’
It was the middle of the night. They moved quietly through the long dark halls. All around him Ragnar could sense sleeping orks. He could hear their snores; he could smell the alcohol on their breath. The whole party moved with a near-inhuman stealth. Despite their bulky armour, the Space Wolves were all but inaudible even to Ragnar’s keen ears, and he doubted that any but a Space Wolf like himself could have heard the inquisitors as they padded quietly along.
It was dark, but here and there he could see faint lights gleaming. These were places to be avoided, and they all took pains to skirt around them. Ragnar was deeply aware of Karah Isaan walking just ahead of him. He seemed unnaturally sensitive to her movements, but then again, he suspected that they all were. She was the only one of them who truly knew where they were going.
He could sense the deep,
dark fear growing within her as they ventured ever further, approaching their goal. A moment later, ahead of them the Wolf sensed rather than heard ork voices. Almost as one the party ducked through a doorway into the concealment of a quiet room. Ragnar held his breath as a clutch of ork sentries marched past. An anxious few moments of held breaths ticked by before any of them dared breathe. They had not been detected.
After ten more heartbeats they re-emerged into the corridor. Proceeding on their way, they entered a more luxurious part of the building. Here tapestries still clung to the walls and statues, though smashed or ridden with bullet holes, still stood guard in alcoves. Judging by the opulence of the fittings, these had obviously been the governor’s apartments.
Up ahead he could hear the sound of shouting in guttural ork voices. They were approaching the warlord’s lair. He felt his heart start to race once more. A prayer to the Emperor restored control and his twin heartbeats to their normal speed.
He noticed that Karah was chanting softly to herself. Her eyes were half-closed and a dim yellow nimbus of light played erratically around her head. He wondered what she was doing. Was she seeking to attract the attention of the great ork sorcerer from her scryings? Was this her long-awaited treachery? By the Great Wolf, what was going on here?
His hand reached for the butt of his pistol, then he suddenly spun around. Four orks, presumably guards, were stood in a shadowy archway. The orks were looking directly at them all, yet they paid no attention. The brutal creatures looked at them as if it were an everyday occurrence to have a group of armed humans creeping discreetly in their midst. Slowly realisation dawned on the Blood Claw. The inquisitor was using her powers to fool the orks, to befuddle their wits. He had no idea what the orks were seeing. Perhaps they saw other orks or perhaps they saw nothing at all. It did not matter; whatever it was, they were effectively shielded from the orks’ sight.
Once more he noticed the sweat beading Karah’s brow, and how drawn and pale she looked. He realised that all this use of her – considerable, there was no doubt about it now – psychic powers was taking a terrible toll on her meagre resources. He wondered how she would fare when they actually met the ork warlord.
The Space Wolf Omnibus - William King Page 46
