The wolftime, p.18
The Wolftime, page 18
Gaius’ Firstwolves,’ he declared, turning the shoulder pad for the others to see.
‘Good,’ said Ullr. ‘Good enough to stand before the Great Wolf.’
‘We’ll stand out, for sure,’ said Gaius, putting the pauldron back down while the others started on theirs. ‘The others will be in their crusade iconography, I can’t imagine anyone on the Enduring Hate has suggested they change their markings.’
‘They’ll not be there for the comparison,’ said Ullr, standing up.
‘What do you mean?’ Gaius passed the paint and brush to Aegreus. ‘Who won’t be there?’
‘The other Primaris Marines,’ said Ullr, surprised by the question. ‘Did you not hear? I guess not. The Great Wolf has ordered that your companions and their ship remain at the system edge. He does not trust their intent, thinking that Guilliman will replace our Chapter with…’
Ullr waved a hand towards Gaius and his warriors.
‘Does not trust them…?’ Gaius started towards the door. ‘I must speak with Lord Krom about this.’
‘Why?’ Ullr seemed genuinely bemused by Gaius’ reaction. The question stopped Gaius just a few strides away. ‘Do you think he’s going to argue with the Great Wolf? And why do you spend breath on the fate of the others? They are not your concern.’
‘It is an affront to their honour, and an accusation against the whole crusade.’
‘Is it right? Is that the primarch’s intent?’
Gaius scowled, angry that he even had to answer such a question. ‘Of course not!’
‘Then it’ll get put right,’ Ullr said calmly. ‘Remember that you’ve sworn oaths now. You are not part of Guilliman’s war, you are fighters of Krom Dragongaze’s Drakeslayers. The Firstwolves. Don’t forget what I told you about obedience and loyalty.’
Gaius clenched his fists but stepped away from Ullr, his anger punctured by the pack leader’s words. The independence of the Space Marine Chapters was well known to him, and the Wolves of Fenris counted highest in their disregard of Imperial control. However, there was something else that nagged at Gaius.
‘Guilliman serves the Allfather Himself,’ he said, swinging back to Ullr. ‘How can the Great Wolf distrust him?’
‘Ask him yourself, I am not his mouth,’ said Ullr. ‘I am a fist, a blade, nothing else.’
‘We will end up back on the Enduring Hate too if we draw attention,’ said Anfelis, looking up from admiring his handiwork on his shoulder pad. ‘Ullr’s right, these are matters for Chapter Masters and captains to resolve.’
Gaius looked at the symbol on the shoulder pad, unlike anything in the Codex Astartes, the marking of a Grey Hunter of Fenris. If the Great Wolf did not trust Guilliman and Cawl, Gaius and his brothers would be the perfect demonstration of why that distrust was misplaced. They would be exemplars of loyalty and dedication, and prove the worth of every Primaris Marine on the Enduring Hate and beyond.
‘Oh well, we tried,’ said Mudire, stretching out his legs while he cracked his knuckles.
Vychellan shook his head in disgust. He was used to the inclement moods of mortals but Mudire was one of the Founding Four and his attitude was a poor reflection of the whole order of historitors.
‘Our mission does not cease to be at the first setback,’ said the Custodian, holding out a hand as Mudire made to stand from the projection table. The other four in the audiatus were quiet, either absorbing the news or, in the case of Forgewelt Sparbend, still overwhelmed in the presence of one of the Emperor’s closest guardians. ‘All of you have travelled through warzones to do your duty, the imposition of a brief furlough is a small obstacle.’
‘It’s the Space Wolves,’ said Mudire, sitting down again. ‘They are a law to themselves. Even on Terra we knew that. They deal with a handful of Navigator Houses, take a few hundred astropaths every decade or so. I have aunts and uncles in the upper echelons of the Adeptus Terra that know more about the wilderness of the Eastern Fringe than what transpires on Fenris.’
‘Some say the Inquisition don’t even try to go there,’ added Ahlek, who had joined the group in the audiatus, in the hushed tones that everybody used when mentioning the so-called ‘left hand’ of the Emperor. The analogy offended Vychellan, as a member of the ‘right hand’; like all Custodians he was an artifice of the Master of Mankind’s ancient genius, while the Inquisition were nothing more than self-appointed intellectuals and firebrands guessing at the Emperor’s Will. It amazed him to think that the legendary Constantin Valdor had ever allowed their predecessors to gain any kind of influence or power.
‘I am one of the Talons of the Emperor, I go where my duty takes me,’ said Vychellan.
‘Pretty sure that’s what the inquisitors say too,’ said Mudire. He pulled out a slim notebook and held it up as though it was some kind of holy book. ‘I’ve gathered everything we have in reference to Bucharis and the Space Wolves. There were other forces involved. Starships. Militia. Frateris Templars. A complete account of the mad cardinal’s invasion of Fenris.’
‘I have inloaded pertinent resources as well,’ said λ-34-Eliptyka. ‘The forge worlds of Baas-Mem and 50-Aguna made alliance with Gathalamor during the latter decades of the Age of Apostasy.’
‘None of these sources contain any information from the Space Wolves themselves,’ said Vychellan with gritted teeth. ‘Your reluctance to visit Fenris is not reason enough to circumnavigate the purpose of our mission. This is not a matter of cataloguing history, it is a search for an insight into a present threat to the Indomitus Crusade and the future of the Imperium. A threat that extends to the Throneworld. Do not entertain for a second the thought that I will give anything less than my utmost effort to destroy that threat.’
He picked the book from Mudire’s trembling fingers and let it fall open at a random page. He read the first few sentences, about the Chiros uprisings led by Confessor Dolan.
‘As fascinating as this may be, we already know it contains nothing pertinent to the Gift of Bucharis, because we have looked.’ He discarded the book to the table and focused on Mudire. The historitor’s last shreds of bravado evaporated under the Custodian’s stare, and he fidgeted on his seat. ‘You may have been appointed by the lord regent, but I answer to the stratarchis tribune. Would you care to have a conversation with him when we return in failure? I do not wish to tell him that we were thwarted at such a simple obstacle.’
Mudire suddenly had the appearance of a man in the throes of a terrible ailment, his pallor drained, an arm clasped to his stomach as though in pain.
‘The ban of the Great Wolf seems very deliberate, but quite specific,’ said Copla-var, leaning forward with his elbows on the glassite tabletop.
‘“None enter except by invite. None leave except with permission.” That was the edict related from Logan Grimnar.’ Vychellan walked around the table but did not approach too closely to Copla-var for risk of intimidating him into silence. ‘I see no means to turn that to our advantage.’
‘We only need an invite,’ said Copla-var. ‘The ban does not specify from whom it must be.’
‘The Great Wolf, of course,’ said Mudire. ‘The Space Wolves are a “spirit of the law” type of people. I don’t think we can wriggle our way past this one.’
‘On the contrary, accepting your seniority, but you are wrong, honoured founder,’ said Eliptyka. ‘The records I have accessed show that interactions with the Fenrisian Chapter were governed by very specifically worded pacts. The roles, responsibilities and penalties were clearly laid out.’
‘That doesn’t help,’ said Mudire. ‘Grimnar’s decree will be known to all of his warriors. We’re not going to trick our way into an invitation.’
‘Your negativity is starting to sound like desperation,’ said Vychellan. ‘Why do you think trickery will be needed? There may be one among the Great Wolf’s retinue that is willing to engage with our mission. If we do not approach in subterfuge there is less cause for the Space Wolves to suspect our intent.’
Mudire opened his mouth to make another comment but shut it again as Vychellan’s stare hardened.
‘You must all remain prepared to depart when required,’ Vychellan told the group. ‘I will find a way to get us to Fenris.’
‘Who’s in the shit?’ Arjac asked Njal quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on the doors at the far end of the thegnhalle.
‘What do you mean?’ the Rune Priest replied.
Arjac leaned back and turned slightly so that his bulk was out of the way, allowing Njal to look across his chest at the Great Wolf. Logan was sitting on the throne, the Axe Morkai held in his hand to one side, his two wolves sitting attentively like sculptures. Ulrik stood at his right shoulder, divested of his warplate and the Helm of Russ, dressed now in heavy hide trousers and jerkin. A thick cloak of deep red hung to the floor from beneath the wolf pelt that covered his broad shoulders. The Slayer wore a leather mask that obscured the top half of his face and bald head, trimmed beard hiding most of what was beneath. The mask had a hole only for the right eye, from which the icy gaze of the Wolf Priest was fixed on Logan.
The Great Wolf’s expression was thunderous, brow knotted, fist clenched tight beneath his chin.
‘He only summons people here when they’re in the shit,’ Arjac explained.
Njal thought about this for a few seconds.
‘You’re right. I hadn’t noticed that.’ Stormcaller turned his eye back to the doors. ‘It’s Krom.’
Arjac nodded, there was no need to spend any more breath on speculation.
The doors opened at the command of the two Wolf Guard stationed outside, parting to reveal the Wolf Lord of the Drakeslayers in full battle gear. He strode down the hall with his bearded axe in hand, wolf-pelt cloak flowing behind him. But for the throne and the banners hanging from the rafters, the hall was empty of furnishings, the Wolf Lord’s footfalls on rune-carved flagstones echoing in the silence until he came to a halt, half a dozen yards from Grimnar.
Krom grinned, flashing fangs.
‘My king,’ Krom declared loudly. ‘The Dragongaze has looked far indeed, into the gulf of the Everdusk and the eyes of alien beasts, and returns with news of what his sight beheld.’
‘Make proper fealty to your lord,’ snapped Ulrik, stepping forward from the throne.
‘Really deep shit,’ muttered Njal as Krom dropped to one knee, head bowed and axe presented haft first.
Krom stayed for a few heartbeats longer and then rose, his face a mask of confusion. He looked at Ulrik and then to the Great Wolf.
‘For more than two years the Drakeslayers have waged war against damned oathbreakers, filthy greenskins and the worst the galaxy can spew forth, and this is my welcome? I bring great tidings, of allies unknown and warriors reborn! You treat me like a dog that treads muck across your hall.’
‘A fitting analogy, perhaps,’ said Ulrik. Somehow he managed to look even more fierce with a plain mask rather than the full skull-helm. ‘You bring these strangers to our threshold and expect the Great Wolf to throw open the gates of our fortress to them?’
‘Strangers? No!’ Krom addressed Logan rather than the Slayer. ‘They are blood-kin now, sworn to my Great Company. Sworn to your lordship. They have brothers that fell beside mine.’
‘So did the Dragonspears,’ said Ulrik, every word laden with disdain. ‘Are they to be warriors of the Wolf King too?’
Dragongaze opened his mouth to defend himself but the crash of the Axe Morkai’s haft-pommel on the stone cut off all retort.
‘They saved your arse!’ bellowed Logan, standing up. Tyrnak and Fenrir bared their teeth in agreement with their master’s anger. ‘You nearly shamed us in front of the Dragonspears and now you bring these Imperial deceivers to Fenris.’
Krom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘You question my command? Do you also doubt my loyalty?’
‘I doubt that if I gave you a blow to the head with the Axe Morkai you would have less sense because of it,’ growled Logan. ‘Did you think this would be a return in glory, your foot wedged in the door of our keep so that Guilliman and his lackeys can prise it open?’
The Wolf Lord opened his mouth but shut it again, jaw clenched tight.
‘You spoke of our weaknesses to these Ultramarines-in-wolves’-clothing, asked them to send warriors to replace our dead. Warriors sworn first to you! How dare you!’
Krom’s lip curled and one hand moved to the blade of his axe, as though comforting it, perhaps restraining it. Arjac felt Njal tense but he knew there was no danger to the Great Wolf. Even if Krom was mad enough to swing the blow, and though fully plated for battle, Logan already had the Axe Morkai in hand and that was a surer defence than Arjac could offer from ten yards away.
And Krom would not attack. His loyalty questioned, it would be the last thing on his mind. He was a competitor, always eager to prove he was the bravest, strongest, fastest and deadliest. Challenged, he would now try to prove he was the most loyal.
Krom vented a deep breath through flaring nostrils and lowered his axe.
‘They are my company, Logan. The same as all the others. You have no right to keep them from the Aett.’
‘Perhaps you are right, I do not have that power,’ said Grimnar. ‘But the heavens above it are mine. Their ship will come no closer. By my command, as is my right and so I declare now, no vessel of Fenris will approach within ten thousand miles of the Imperial ship unless to board it for battle. Your new brothers can join you as soon as they learn how to swim the void.’
Nodding slowly, Krom absorbed this without his eyes leaving the Great Wolf.
‘So be it.’ His voice was quiet, calculating. ‘It has been hard wars and a long journey, too much time since my warriors last set foot in the Aett. I and they will be in our quarters, but I fear we are not able to answer any call for battle. We are but a quarter of our full complement, and as decreed by the laws of the Aett only by the will of its Wolf Lord can a Great Company of a third or less strength depart for battle. You are my king, my commander, my axe-brother, and I will die for you and the Aett. But not when ten thousand and more ready warriors are to be cast aside.’
Krom raised his axe in salute, turned on his heel and exited with the same proud stride that brought him.
Njal watched Krom depart, his heart heavy. The Wolf Lord’s invitation to the outsiders had been delivered out of loyalty to the Chapter, and concern for its future. The return of the primarch Roboute Guilliman touched upon wounds ten thousand years old, but it was no cause for the Great Wolf to turn his fangs upon his own.
There was something else amiss, beyond the starship full of foreign warriors waiting at the Mandeville point; something they and Guilliman represented that had caused a soreness in Logan’s soul. The Stormcaller needed no talent of reading another’s wyrd to feel the anger washing from the Chapter’s commander. It was not the time to broach sensitive subjects, but there was a pressing matter now that the Dragongaze had, for the time being, been dealt with.
‘My lord, I received fresh tidings from Ironfang.’ The runethegn stepped past Arjac without a glance at the Champion, eyes fixed on Grimnar. The Great Wolf stared at the door where Krom had departed, hands tight on the haft of the Axe Morkai. ‘A short but clear vision-dream of the Everdusk.’
‘No giants?’ said Arjac. ‘No wolves with slavering jaws or knights of metal?’
‘Just a reflected experience, sent across the othersea,’ said Njal, still watching his lord closely. There was still no reaction and he glanced across to Ulrik to see if he held similar concern, but the Slayer was looking at neither of them, seemingly deep in thought.
‘The Gottrok, Logan,’ Njal said with a harsher tone, stopping just a couple of yards away.
‘Mmm? What of it?’ The Great Wolf turned, letting the Axe Morkai swing in one hand, the other moving to his temple as though he was pained.
‘The Everdusk. It is swelling again, my lord.’
Logan’s eyes finally met his Runelord’s, focus and recognition returning. He stroked his beard as he returned to the throne, Fenrir and Tyrnak following him.
‘How quickly? How soon will the Gottrok be swept away again?’
‘You ask questions you know cannot be answered,’ said Njal.
Ulrik returned from whatever musing had occupied him. His expression, what could be seen beneath the leather face mask, turned grim.
‘Weeks, months?’ snapped the Slayer. ‘Days?’
‘The closest tendrils of the Everdusk are weak and retracted for some time, stranding the hulk,’ said Njal, ‘I do not wish to cause alarm, but there is reason for concern. It is not that we cannot reach the Gottrok from Fenris should we need to, but more that we may have no time to stop its departure, with or without us aboard.’
‘We are going back,’ said Ulrik. ‘You heard the oath of the Great Wolf.’
‘And we will be carried into the Everdusk upon it if needed,’ added Grimnar, hands resting on his knees. He appeared relaxed again, which seemed in contradiction to what he had just suggested.
‘Remain upon a hulk in the warp without Geller fields,’ Njal said dully. ‘That is your intent?’
‘The orks survive, so can we. We will find a way.’
Having just witnessed the Great Wolf’s current mood with those he thought disloyal, Njal was reluctant to spend more breath on his worries in case it looked like accusation rather than comment. He heard Arjac stepping up close behind him and turned to find the hearthegn looming at his shoulder.
‘If we’re done, I’m going to head to the forges,’ said the bulky Champion, fingers flexing as though he already imagined the smithy hammer in his hand.
‘I think we are finished,’ said the Great Wolf. He looked at Njal with a raised eyebrow. ‘Are we?’
