The wolftime, p.43
The Wolftime, page 43
‘Or destroy us with machine-breath of fire?’ added Siggurund, another of the hunters.
Gytha said nothing while the roar of the sky sled grew louder. She saw blue flame beneath and a billow of hot air flowed over them as the metal-bodied flyer landed in a cloud of vapour and smoke just a few dozen yards away.
Its side opened with a hiss, the door hinging downward to make a ramp. Twenty figures in red and gold came running out, holding fire-staves. They formed a semicircle around the group, weapons levelled. They wore chestplates and helms of gold and stood shivering in the snow while their leader stepped through the line, his hands behind his back. He had a thick coat on over his armour. A woman followed at his shoulder, with longer hair braided in Fenrisian style, clad in well-made hide and furs.
The leader said something in a tongue Gytha did not know and the other spoke after him, in the accent of one of the southern people.
‘These are jarlgard from the Upplands,’ the woman said. ‘They are here with a great king of the Upplands and have sworn to protect him. This man is their thegn and I speak his words on our wind. My name is Urul Breakbough. The thegn wishes to know why you are here in the forbidden region.’
‘I am Gytha, of the Landsattmaringi. We did not know it was forbidden to enter,’ said Gytha. ‘We are not a people of Asaheim but have travelled here to seek the Sky Warriors.’
The woman turned her words into the language of the guards and a brief conversation ensued.
‘The Sky Warriors are not taking visitors,’ said the woman. ‘Return to your people.’
‘These are not Sky Warriors,’ declared Orin. ‘They cannot speak for the people of the tower. Our gothi has a vision to share with their gothi.’
‘Keep your breath,’ said Gytha, not wanting to discuss her gift or mission with strangers.
‘Gothi?’ said the thegn, looking at the others and then Gytha. He said something to the woman and she shook her head, and then the thegn said something more insistent. The woman looked afraid.
‘What does he say?’ said Gytha. ‘Tell me.’
Urul looked uncomfortable but forced herself to reply, darting a look at the soldiers.
‘They do not understand wyrd as we do. They think it is all maleficarum and that you are runekast.’
‘They can eat shit!’ shouted Artur, stepping towards the thegn.
The soldiers opened fire, missiles of red light slamming into the chief hunter. He fell to the snow, furs smoking, eyes glazed with death.
‘Stop!’ screeched Gytha, turning to hold up her hands to her other companions even as they reached for their weapons.
Seconds later the snow exploded around Gytha and the soldiers started to scream.
Gaius hit the end of the storm troopers’ line at full speed, his fist pulping the face of the first, the impact throwing the twitching corpse into a neighbouring Tempestor. He snatched the lasgun from the next, crumpling it in his hand as his shoulder hit the trooper with the power of a freight hauler.
Another scream split the air as the fourth Imperial soldier went skidding across the ice, neck snapped. Through the pounding of his hearts, Gaius recognised the voice of Gytha shrieking for him to stop.
He halted with bloodied fist pulled back.
The lieutenant in charge of the patrol was bellowing for his men to hold fire, the kaerl translator shouting in his ear. Gytha had snatched the bow from one of her companions and threw it to the ground, calling to her companions to disarm themselves.
Gaius remained poised to strike, within leaping distance of the officer. The lieutenant was trembling, his voice unsteady as he gave the order for the troopers to lower their weapons. Reluctantly they did so.
‘Enough!’ Gytha cried, tears streaming down her cheeks, wetting the furred collar of her hood. She stumbled forward, putting herself between Gaius and the lieutenant, hands held up. ‘Gaius, what are you doing?’
‘Protecting you,’ he replied. ‘If you go with these people, you won’t see the Sky Warriors.’
‘Identify yourself!’ the officer demanded in a quivering tone.
‘He’s a Wolf,’ growled one of the troopers in Imperial Gothic. She glared at Gaius, her face splashed with the blood of her squad mate. ‘Look at the feral bastard.’
‘Watch your tongue,’ the officer snapped.
‘Wise advice,’ replied Gaius, speaking Gothic. The trooper that had spoken went pale, swaying as though she might faint. He did not know what to say. Was he still a warrior of the Chapter?
‘This woman is under my protection,’ he said instead. ‘She has an important message for the Chief Librarian.’
‘What are you saying?’ demanded Gytha.
‘You confirm that she is a psyker?’ said the lieutenant.
‘You have no authority here. These lands are sovereign territory of Fenris, and I am answerable only to the Great Wolf.’
‘I am here by the personal orders of the Lord Commander Roboute Guilliman, the Avenging Son,’ the officer replied, drawing himself to his full height, shoulders back.
‘Personal orders?’ laughed Gaius. ‘The primarch does not give personal orders to platoons of Imperial Guard, even Tempestus Scions.’
‘You’re Primaris, aren’t you?’ said the lieutenant, incredulous. ‘One of the ones they sent ahead?’
‘Answer my question,’ said Gaius. ‘Why do you take the primarch’s name?’
‘My storm troopers are part of his protective retinue,’ he said, chin jutting, chest out. ‘We have been authorised to ensure there is no threat to the lord regent, with the agreement of the Great Wolf.’
‘He’s here?’ Gaius’ hearts thumped harder at the thought and he had to resist the urge to move, conscious that it could spark fresh violence. ‘Guilliman is on Fenris?’
‘Getting ready to depart, which is why we have the patrols. The woman must be assessed by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. That is Imperial Law.’
As he spoke, the lieutenant looked at Gytha. He was right. Talk of gothi and runes and wyrd was a mask for psychic potential. The Chapter believed it came from the spirit of Fenris, a different power to that of the warp. Gaius had spent three years Terran-standard fighting the followers of the Dark Gods and had seen first-hand the temptations and dangers of unchecked psykers. Sorcerers had slain his companions and laid waste to worlds.
Never mind the lieutenant’s authority, did Gaius have the right to bring such a person close to the Aett?
‘What is he saying?’ Gytha demanded. ‘What does he want?’
Seeing her suppressed fear, he was reminded of Gytha’s strength of will, the determination that had brought her this far. He had to trust the beliefs of the Fenrisians. If he did not, how would he ever be at peace here?
‘He will take you away from Fenris and you will never see the Great Wolf,’ said Gaius. He switched back to Imperial Gothic. ‘I vouch for this woman. She is no threat to the Lord Commander.’
‘Who are you to vouch? Give me your name!’
Gaius shut his mouth firmly, refusing to speak.
‘He killed half a squad, sir,’ hissed one of the troopers, shaking with anger and fear.
‘I’ll go with him if he agrees to let me speak to the gothi of the tower first,’ said Gytha. She said the words to the translator rather than Gaius.
‘You cannot,’ said Gaius. ‘You will not return!’
The translator hesitated but received a nod from Gytha, so she passed on what the gothi had said. The lieutenant nodded.
‘What about your family?’ said Gaius. ‘You’ll not see them again. Even if these people think you have strength enough to control your powers, you will be sent to Terra. If not…’
How could he explain that she would never be allowed to leave? Once aboard a Black Ship she was dead, to all intents.
‘I said my farewell,’ said Gytha, now stony-faced. She looked at the Imperial Guard leader. ‘Do I have your oath?’
The translator acted as intermediary again while Gaius looked on, helpless to stop what was happening.
‘I can accommodate that,’ the officer said, stepping to one side, leaving the way clear towards the patrol ship ramp. ‘My word as an officer of the Emperor.’
Gaze following Gytha as she stepped past the lieutenant, Gaius caught sight of the body of a trooper he had felled. The anger had flowed through him so easily. He looked at the snow reddened by his hands and wondered how he had sunk to this level? The rage was not the fault of these soldiers. It was nothing to do with Gytha and her quest.
His shame burned, now deepened by the deaths of the troopers. He could not end his own life and could not live with what he had done. Gaius knew that he could not stay away from the Aett forever. Sooner or later he would have to face the Wolves of Fenris. It would be a release to find justice at the hands of the Allfather’s servants.
Gytha was almost at the ship and the lieutenant signalled for his platoon to follow.
‘I’m going with her to make sure you keep your word,’ growled Gaius, fixing the officer with a stare that made him visibly tremble. The Primaris Marine broke his gaze, eyes downcast. ‘And to face my wyrd.’
Chapter Twenty-six
URGENT MESSAGES
THE PRIMARIS TEST
SALUTATIONS AND FAREWELLS
While he watched the procession of the primarch back to the great dock, Arjac tried to remember when he hadn’t felt misgivings. Perhaps it had been before the arrival of the Gottrok, or before news of the Primaris Marines. It mattered little; every choice made by the Great Wolf seemed fraught with drawbacks and dangers. Even though Guilliman had shown not the slightest resentment towards Grimnar’s refusal, there was talk among the council of Wolf Lords that the primarch would try something – it had even been suggested that he would found a new Chapter called the Space Wolves and simply place them as usurpers. The rest of the talk revolved around the signs of the coming Wolftime. Each leader was keen to see omens in their wars, calling on the oldest legends and tatters of myth to justify why the signs they had seen were of import.
Arjac’s concerns were far simpler. They were returning to Gottrok and he could not avoid the feeling that Logan Grimnar would die there. Wyrd had given the Great Wolf a loop to run with the primarch’s intervention but now he was set back on that course. Warnings from Ironfang said that the space hulk was slipping back towards the Everdusk. Weeks, not months, to remove the threat. All fate seemed to be hinging upon the space hulk.
So Arjac was here in place of the Great Wolf, as it was at the beginning, while Logan made plans for the Chapter to depart as soon as Guilliman had left the system. It had been mentioned that the whole Chapter being absent was an opportunity for the primarch to impose Imperial rule on Fenris, but Grimnar would not spare a single battle-ready Space Marine from the task ahead. The other Wolf Lords were in attendance, paying respect to the departing lord regent.
A discordant movement from the edges of the procession drew Arjac’s eye, as well as the attention of the force of Wolf Guard flanking the parade. An officer of the Tempestus Scions broke across the line and hurried towards Arjac, presumably drawn by the banner of the Great Wolf held by Alrik beside him.
‘My lord, I need to speak with you,’ said the lieutenant, bowing stiffly. ‘It is an urgent matter.’
‘It always is,’ muttered Alrik.
‘Well, you’re speaking to me,’ said Arjac.
The lieutenant looked to weigh up his words for a few seconds before continuing.
‘I have two prisoners of interest to you,’ he said. ‘One is a Primaris Marine who killed some of my men. He says his name is Gaius.’
Arjac and Alrik exchanged a look before the Rockfist told the man to continue.
‘I would have him taken before a court for what he has done, but my captain tells me I should hand him over to you for justice to be meted out.’
‘Right,’ said Arjac, not sure what was expected of him. ‘So where is he?’
‘In my patrol carrier. The other is the more urgent case. She is a native here, a psyker she claims, and says she has a warning for your Chapter. Gaius said to tell you or Njal the Stormcaller.’
‘And what do you expect me to do?’
‘I gave my word that she would be able to deliver her message before I take her to the Adeptus Astra Telepathica for testing.’
‘I see,’ said Arjac, rubbing his chin. ‘Sounds complicated.’
‘Gave your oath?’ said Alrik.
‘Yes,’ said the lieutenant. ‘And she gave hers to return to me.’
‘Fine,’ said Arjac. ‘Show me where she is.’
Time spent in the company of Gaius had not inured Gytha to the spectacle of the Sky Warriors’ stronghold. Flanked by two of the giants in warplate that more closely resembled tower walls than any armour Bjorti had ever made, she half-ran to keep up with their long strides.
There were torn and stained banners on the walls, and columns decorated with shields hammered with rune-metal, while the faint sun slanted down through tall, narrow windows whose sills were above her head. Every archway was like a keep gate, every corridor a hall worthy of a jarl.
Her escorts brought her to a pair of great doors, high mountain ash bound with gilded metal, reinforced with rivets the size of fists. Gytha read the runes nailed into the wood:
Friends welcomed for ever. Foes cursed for eternity.
After an exchange with the pair of guards, the doors swung open and Gytha was led within. She hoped she was a friend.
Inside was vast, almost bigger than the whole of Landsattmar. At first it seemed wooded, with great trunks holding up a ceiling of boughs and leaves, but as she hurried along with her escort Gytha saw they were ornately carved, not the real thing. Birds and animals seemed to hop and scurry through the branches along with imp-spirits and gnomish creatures of legend. The columns had gnarled half-faces, ygdras tree giants of the oldest myths.
The floor was a stone unlike anything Gytha had seen, a single mass that covered the whole hall but made to look like grey flagstones. Three large firepits glowed with embers, supplemented by storm lanterns giving off a soft, constant light in the false branches above.
A council of giants waited near the centre of the hall, surrounding another sat on a throne that dwarfed any chair Gytha had seen. She stopped in her tracks as she saw two immense wolves lying either side of the throne, their amber eyes fixed on her.
‘You’re safe,’ grunted the giant that had come for her, who had introduced himself as Arjac Rockfist.
He stopped and gestured for Gytha to continue, but she could not take another step forward.
‘It’s alright,’ said the Sky Warrior on the throne. He leaned forward, intrigue written in his thick features. ‘I am the Great Wolf, Logan Grimnar. You have a message for me.’
Gytha trembled despite the Great Wolf’s attempt at warmth. There seemed very little difference between him and the beasts at his side, and though there was humanity in his gaze, Gytha could not ignore the fangs that creased the bottom lip and the wolf-stench that filled the hall.
‘I…’ She almost fainted. Taking a deep breath, she forged on. ‘Your greatest pardons, Great Wolf, but I need to speak to your gothi.’
‘My gothi?’ He seemed amused by the word.
Another enormous figure stepped forward, the thud of a staff accompanying him. A wolf’s skull was bound to its top and runes that glittered with their own light hung on thongs from it.
‘I am the Stormcaller. I am gothi here.’
Gytha felt a wave of relief wash through her like heat, bringing tears to her eyes when even the parting from her husband and children had not. This was the end of her travels, the labour that had consumed her this past season, the unease that had filled her dreams since even earlier.
Her wyrd.
‘I bring warning,’ she said, barely finding her voice. ‘I have visions to share with you.’
As he listened to the woman, Njal sent Nightwing to flight. The bird circled the hall while the Stormcaller watched her from in front and behind, in this world and the other.
There was definitely power in her, untamed. It was one-way, like a voxcaster set only to receive; he sensed no ability to broadcast. Instead he used his othersight to reach into her mind and draw forth what was within, giving vision and smell and touch to her words.
What he found was astonishing. Some elements he recognised, the giant wolf and the golden figure, but there were many details that had not been shown to him, messages and clues that would have remained hidden had the woman not come. He had assumed the wolf was the Chapter, or Logan, never quite believing that the Wolftime could really be coming now. As bleak as the galaxy’s circumstance was, Njal had to hold out the hope that there would be a way to survive.
Now he was not so sure and the thought troubled him deeply. As he had warned Logan on the hulk, the Wolftime was definitive and final. Russ had sworn to return in the last days of his sons, to die with them in final battle.
As he tried to find more information, Njal touched upon other recent memories. He unearthed scenes from the immediate past, of a giant warrior killing Imperial soldiers to save her; the same warrior fighting a sea serpent and lashing ships together; lying dead in the embrace of a thunderwolf.
‘Who is the warrior?’ Njal asked, cutting across the woman’s faltering oration. ‘The one that brought you here?’
‘Gaius,’ she said. Suddenly she looked as if she had misspoken, one hand moving to her mouth. ‘I should not speak of him, he feels a deep shame that is not mine to share.’
‘He’s a Primaris Marine,’ said Arjac. ‘One that came back with Krom. Jumped from a Thunderhawk on the way back from the incident at the defence station, presumed dead.’
‘Why is this news to me?’ the Great Wolf said with a frown.
