TableofContentsCoverBacklistTitlePageWarhammer40,000ProloguePart1–TheMadnessofAngels,DarkandLight-I-II-III-IV-V-VI-VII-VIIIInterludePart2–Cretacia,CradleofDragons-I-II-III-IV-V-VIEpilogueAbouttheAuthorAnExtractfrom‘WaroftheFang’LegaleBooklicense

MoretalesoftheSpaceWolvesfromBlackLibrary

WAROFTHEFANGBLOODOFASAHEIM

STORMCALLERWOLVESOFFENRIS

BLOODONTHEMOUNTAINICECLAW

SAGASOFTHEWOLFAnaudiodramaomnibuscontainingtheaudiodramasThunderfromFenris,Doomseekerand

Deathwolf.Visitblacklibrary.comtoseethefullrangeofSpaceWolvesnovels,novellas,audiodramasand

QuickReads¸aswellasmanymoreexclusiveproducts.

Itisthe41stmillennium.FormorethanahundredcenturiestheEmperorhassatimmobileontheGoldenThroneofEarth.Heisthemasterofmankindbythewillofthegods,andmasterof

amillionworldsbythemightofhisinexhaustiblearmies.HeisarottingcarcasswrithinginvisiblywithpowerfromtheDarkAgeofTechnology.HeistheCarrionLordoftheImperium

forwhomathousandsoulsaresacrificedeveryday,sothathemaynevertrulydie.

Yeteveninhisdeathlessstate,theEmperorcontinueshiseternalvigilance.Mightybattlefleetscrossthedaemon-infestedmiasmaofthewarp,theonlyroutebetweendistantstars,theirwaylitbytheAstronomican,thepsychicmanifestationoftheEmperor’swill.Vastarmiesgivebattleinhisnameonuncountedworlds.GreatestamongstHissoldiersaretheAdeptusAstartes,theSpaceMarines,bio-engineeredsuper-warriors.Theircomradesinarmsarelegion:theAstraMilitarumandcountlessplanetarydefenceforces,theever-vigilant

Inquisitionandthetech-priestsoftheAdeptusMechanicustonameonlyafew.Butforalltheirmultitudes,theyarebarelyenoughtoholdofftheever-presentthreatfromaliens,heretics,

mutants–andworse.

Tobeamaninsuchtimesistobeoneamongstuntoldbillions.Itistoliveinthecruellestandmostbloodyregimeimaginable.Thesearethetalesofthosetimes.Forgetthepowerof

technologyandscience,forsomuchhasbeenforgotten,nevertobere-learned.Forgetthepromiseofprogressandunderstanding,forinthegrimdarkfuturethereisonlywar.Thereisnopeaceamongstthestars,onlyaneternityofcarnageandslaughter,andthelaughterof

thirstinggods.

PROLOGUE

Cadia–TheBattlementsofKasrBellocTheLastTurningoftheYear’sWind

999.M41

TheAllfatheraloneknewwhatwouldemergefromthedust.Whateverwascoming,itshookthegroundbeneathitsthousandfoldtread.Ahorde.Atide.Anarmy.Nomatter.Hehadfacedarmiesbefore.He’dfacedthem,guttedthemandsentthembacktothepitsfromwhichtheycrawled.Ragnarleanedonthewall,gauntletedknucklesontherockcretebattle ment,waitingtoseewhatwouldcomeandtrytokillhimthistime.Beyondthebattlementstherewasnothingbutdustandash,drowningthefallencityinacloudtoothickforevenEinherjareyestopenetrate.‘Thesurfaceislost,’saidavoiceacrossthevox.Thevoicespoketrue.‘IhavesaidthatIwillholdthiswalluntilsunset,’Ragnarreplied.‘SoIwillholdthiswalluntilsunset.’‘Iamnotarguingwithyou,JarlBlackmane.MerelyspeakingwhatIsee.’Ragnarsawit,too.Onlyafoolwouldn’t.‘Istheremore?’‘Yes, lord. Nightblade reports theArchenemy has a vanguardwithin the Lavok tunnels. If the foe isreinforceditwillbeamurderousfighttogetthrough.’‘Sunset,’hesaidagain.‘Apromiseisapromise.’Afewmorehourswasn’tsolongtogive.Hewouldholdthecity’slastbastionuntilthesunset,buyingtimefortherearguardoftheCadian57thtowithdrawandreinforcethedefendersatKasrLavok.Ifthevoxcouldbetrusted–andRagnarknewwellthatitcouldn’t–thentheImperialforcesatLavokcouldholdforperhapsanothertwoweeks.Twoweeksofbreath,boughtwithSpaceWolveslives.Therewasatime,deepinhistribalpast,whenhewouldhavebeendisgustedatsuchasacrifice.Itwouldhavebeennothingbutawasteofheroicsouls.Therewasnodisgustnow.Notevenremorse.Ifhewastodiehere,thensobeit.Tohisleftandright,hisbrotherswaitedalongthewall,aslostinthedustasthefoetheywereabouttoface.Hesensedthem,still.Theirheartbeatswerebiorhythmicthunder,andnoteventheconstantshelling

andshakinggrounddrownedthemout.Theiraxesandswordspurred,waitingtoberevved.Packmatesgruntedandcursedwithoneanother,alwaysawareofnearbybrothers,dust-blindornot.Their lord stood bareheaded and half-blind in the dead city’s heart, his features greyed by the dirtchokingtheair.Evenbreathingwasabattlehere,dragginginsmoke-thickairthattastedofburnedstoneand melted steel.What few living humans he’d seen in the last few hours were sucking their breaththroughrebreathermasks.Heandhismenneedednosuchtoys,butevenhefelthisthreelungsstrainingtofilteroutthefilth.Ragnarturnedhisgazetowheretheskyshouldhavebeen.Shapesswamupthere,silhouettesghostingthrough the hazy caul of grit-powder and dust. Sometimes he heard the strangled whine of engines,distorted and distant, never quitematching the shadows that flashed through the choked heavens. Thesilhouettes themselvesdidn’tbankandveer like fightersandgunships; theyswoopedandshrieked likelivingthings.Winorlosethewar,Cadiawasbroken.Everycityuponitssurfacewasaflame,stranglingtheskieswiththesmokeanddustofamillionfallenbuildings.Itwouldtakeadecadejusttocleansethefilthfromtheatmosphere.Thiswasthewayaworlddied.A figureemerged from thedust tohis left.Ragnar recognised thecadenceof thewarrior’s tread,andknewhimbythesnarlofhisarmour’s joints.ThespiritsofeverysuitofarmourintheGreatCompanygavetheirownuniquegrowls,andaWolfLordneededtoknowhismenbetterthantheyknewthemselves.Themechanicsofthisbattleplatesoundeddryandthroaty,harshenoughtosetaman’steethonedge.‘Priest,’RagnargreetedtheotherWolfwithoutmissingabeat.‘Jarl,’wasUlrik’sreply,cracklingthroughthecanine-skullhelm.TheWolfPrieststoodwithhislord,looking out over what was once a city, and what was now nothing but rubble. A world’s worth ofrockcrete powder from broken buildings turned the air to ash. Something the sagas always fail tomention,Ragnar thought.The dust that rises from a dying city, as hundreds of buildings fall to theearth.‘Doyouhearthat?’Ragnarbaredhisteethinanunlovelysmile.‘Themarchingtreadofthosewhowishtogrindusdownintounmarkedgraves.’‘Ihearit,’saidtheWolfPriest,lookingoutintothedustasifhiseyelensescouldpiercethemurk.‘Thesinsofmankindcometodragitdown,atlast.’Ragnarspattowardoffillfortune.‘Isthatwhatthey’llsayofthisday,Slayer?’‘No,jarl.Neverinlife.Thesagaswillsaythatonthisdaytheyoungestlord–calledBlackmanebyhiskithandkin–ledhisbloodiedhuntersintothejawsofwinter.’Ragnar’slaughcuttheairlikeaboltercrack.‘Sothisiswhatit’scometo–priestslyinglikebards.Ismycouragesotenderthatyou’dkeepthecoldtruthfromme,oldfather?’Ulrikdidn’tlaugh,thoughthistimeRagnarwascertainheheardamusementintheancientwarrior’stone.‘Youaskedwhattheywillsayofthisday,YoungKing.Itoldyounolies.’‘Andareyouguessingwhatfatehasinstore,ordidyoureadthatfuturebycastingtheknucklebonesofsinners?’Ahowlwentupalongthebattlements,carriedfromthroattothroat,thecryraisedtotheoccludedsky.Tohumanearsitwouldbenomorethanaferalcall;toRagnaritwasasongofsignificanceandnuance,withemotionandwarninginthetaleittold.Shadows–and the suggestionsof shadows–were lumbering from theunendingdust, too large tobehuman, many too large to be battle tanks. Things of hunchbacked carapaces and thrashing tendrils ofbloody-redironlashingat thedirtyair.Thingswithbestialheadsandmonstrouswings,enginesofwarthatdrooledpetrochemicalrun-off,withbreathofvioletflameghostingbetweentheirceramiteteeth.

Thefirstrankdarkenedfromshadowtosubstance,crawlingandstalkingclosertothefortresswalls.Thesecondrankfollowed.Thethird.Thefourth.More,andmore,andmore.‘They are without number,’ Ragnar said, with neither awe nor fear. He checked Frostfang’s hiltmechanismsonelasttime,toensurethebladewouldrevtrue.‘Atleasttheyrespectedusenoughtosendarealchallenge.’‘Aninspiringspeech,myjarl?’‘Ha!Don’t thinkIcannothear thesmile inyourvoice,Slayer.Nospeeches this time. Iamdonewithspeeches,andourbrothersneedhearnomoreofthem.’Hevaultedup to thebattlementwall, throwinghisarmswideashecriedhishowl to theunseensky.Unlikethewarningcallofamomentbefore,thejarl’showlendedinraucouslaughter.ItwastakenupasacheeralongthewallastheWolvesheardtheiryounglord’sevidentmirth.‘Nospeechesnow,kinsmen!’Ragnarroaredintothedust.‘Whatmoreistheretosaythatwehavenotalreadysaid?Lookdownupontherustedheapsmarchingtoclaimourwalls.Denythem!Killthem!Breakthemopen!’Anothercheer.As it reached its crescendo,Ragnargunnedhis chainsword’s trigger.Thewhineof itspricelesskrakenteethchewingthegrittyairaddedasavagedronetotheWolves’howls.‘Comeforus!’Ragnarroaredatthehorde.‘Ourbladesthirstforthetasteoftaintedblood!’‘Thatwasalmostaspeech,myjarl,’saidUlrikasRagnar’slaughterfadedagain.TheWolfLordturnedagrindownathismentor.‘Iwascaughtupinthemoment,nothingmore.’The battlements began to shake as the war machines drove their claws into the rockcrete walls,beginningtheirinexorableclimb.Ragnardrewhispistol,aimingdownatthedistortedshadows.Toofarawaytofire,butthatwouldchangesoon.‘Areyoureadytodie,oldfather?’Ulrik tookhisplaceat the lord’sside,drawinghisownpistol. It shivered inhisgripas themagneticcoilsalongitsspinethrummedtofullcharge.‘Todayisasgoodadayasanyother.’‘Myhumourlesspriest,’saidRagnar,shakinghishead.Helapsedintonearsilence,closinghiseyesashewaited,shuttingoutthetremorsofthistorturedworldandsoftlymurmuringnameafternamebeneathhisbreath.TheWolf Priest listened as he always listened, solemn during the jarl’s funerary invocation. Ragnarspokethenameofeverywarriorwhohaddiedbeneathhisbanner,forcingmemoriesofeachofthemtothesurface,keepingtheirsacrificeandvalourinhisthoughts.Wouldthateveryjarlvaluehismen’slivessodearly,Ulrikthought,andrememberthemwithsuchreverence.‘…Sunchaser,’saidRagnaratlast.Hetookabreath,notquiteasigh,andopenedhiseyes.Down thewall, a bolter cracked off a single shot. ‘Who fired?’Ragnar shouted to his left. Laughterimmediatelyechoedoutamongdozensofwarriors.‘Answerme!Whichovereagersimpletonjustspataboltwiththeenemystilloveraminuteoutofrange?’‘StonebreakeroftheTwice-Proven,’camethereply.‘Isawhimshoot,myjarl!’Stonebreaker’s name became a sudden chant, mocked with good-natured jeers and cheers by hisbrothers.‘Whenwereach theAllfather’sside,’Ragnarcalledback, ‘the firstwords I speakwillbe to tell theEmperoryoucan’tshootworthadamn,Stonebreaker!’Morelaughter.Ragnarfelthisspiritsliftatthesound.Ah,todiealongsidesuchloyalwarriors,suchfinekindred.Adoomedmancouldaskfornomore.‘Yourritual,’saidUlrik.‘IhavenevertoldyouhowmuchIadmireyouforit.’Ragnarnarrowedhiseyes.‘Idon’tdoittobeadmired.’

‘Iknow,YoungKing.’TheWolfLordhawkedandspat,sendingagobbetofbloodysalivaoverthewall.‘YouknowIloathethatname.’‘Yetothers speak itwithawe.Everyoneofyourmenknowsofyour rite.They loveyou for it.Yourreverence for the slain speakshighlyof you, as does thevalueyouplaceon their lives.Eachwarriorfightingbeneathyourbannerknowshewillneverbeforgotten–notjustwithhisdeedsetchedinstoneupontheHearthworld,butspokeninthesoulfulritualofhislordbeforeeverybattle.Thatmatterstothem,Blackmane.’Theyoungcommanderfoundhimselfuncomfortableundersuchscrutiny.‘Yourwordsaretakingagrimturn,oldfather.’‘Answerme something,Blackmane.Who among the fallen do youmournmost of all?’Ulrik noddeddown towhere thewarmachines crawled beneath them. ‘Who among themany slainwould you havestandingbyyoursideinthesefinalhours?’Ragnar’snakedbluestaremetUlrik’sscarleteyelenses.‘Razortongue,’hesaidatlast.Ulrik looked at his lord through the red-stained gaze of his eye lenses’ targeting framework.Biodatastreamed in a continuous feed down both sides of his retinal display. The Wolf Priest said nothing,knowingRagnarwouldelaborate.‘Forthewayhelookedattheworld.’Thejarlgaveadarksmile.‘Andforwhathetaughtme,ifnotthewayhetaughtit.Luckrunsout,Blackmane.Ihearhimsayingit,evennow.’Ulriknodded.‘Iwouldchoosehim,aswell.ImournedhislossthenandImournitstill.ThoughIdonotmissthearguments.’

I

TheedgeoftheMaelstrom,aboardthewarshipVeregeltYearoftheGreyPromise

960.M41

Redness.Therednessofanger,therednessofshallowandshamefulpain,therednessofbloodinhiseyes.Voices.Thevoicesofhisbrothers,thevoicesofhisenemies.Thevoicesofthosewhofoughtbyhissideandthevoicesofthosewhowishedhimdead.‘Blackmane?’‘Brother?’‘Gethimup.’‘Holdyourfire!’‘Givetheword,Slayer.We’llcutthemtopieces.’‘Thistransgressionwillnotbeforgotten.’‘Norforgiven.’‘Gethimup,damnyou.’‘Bloodcallsforblood.’‘Holdyourcursedfire!’‘Don’tfire!Notunlesstheyfirefirst!’Intothisstormofconflictingvoices,Ragnarcamebacktohimself.‘It isdone,’he told thegatheredwarriorsofbothChapters.Silencefelloverbothsidesas theyfacedeachotherintheVeregelt’shangarbay.BeforehimstoodtheDarkAngels–sixty-oneoftheminall–theirwar-scarredplatecastinthesamecolourasthedeepforestsoftheirannihilatedhomeworld.Theywaitedinorderlyranks,squadbysquad,marked by sigils and standing beneath standards raised by proud bannermen. Robes and surplices ofcreamweremarkedbyrecentbattles,burnedaway inplaces,blood-spattered inothers.Everywarriorhadaweaponraised,aimingdirectlyatRagnar.And behind him, his brotherWolves. Thirty of thembeneath his banner – his to command since JarlBerekhadheraldedhimasbattleleaderforthecampaignattheMaelstrom’sedge.

‘TaketheVeregelt,’theWolfLordhadsaidmonthsago,aboardtheflagshipHolmgang.‘I’llgiveyouathirdofthecompany’spacks.Returntomewithavictory,Blackmane.’Victoryhadcome,hard-foughtbuthonestlyearned,despite thecold indifferenceof theirDarkAngelsallies.Butnowthis.Chainswordssputteredinidlehands,keenlywaitingforthecall tocometolife.Ragnarglanceddownatthebodybyhisboots.AChampionfallen,thecorpseheadless.TheDarkAngel’shead,stillinitshelm,layonthedeckadozenmetresaway.Frostfangpurredinitsease,blooddrippingfromtheweapon’steeth.‘Itisdone,’Ragnarsaidagain.‘Theduelisover.’Onlysilencemetthisdeclaration.Allwasstill,eventhecyborghangar-thrallsthathadbeentendingtothedockedDarkAngelsgunshipsnowwatched,motionless.Theblowthathadcrashedagainsthisfacehadrippedhischeekopentotheboneandtornaflapofskinfree,buthisbloodwasalreadyclotting in the stinging, re-filteredair.Thewound’s relative innocenceonlymadethemomentworse.Ittookallofhisteeth-clenchingefforttohidethemomentaryweaknessofangerandshame.Ragnargesturedtothebodyathisfeet.‘Takeyourdead,’hesaidtotheformationofDarkAngels,‘andgetoffourship.’SixSpaceMarines stepped forwards.Fourof them lifted thebody inwordless reverence, carrying itbacktotheirranks.Anothercarriedtheseveredheadwiththesamesenseofrespectful,monkishcare.TheDarkAngels had no captain, for he had fallen in battleweeks before, leaving command of the FourthBattleCompanytorestupontheirChampion’sshoulders.Nowtheywereleaderlessoncemore.OneoftheDarkAngelsapproachedRagnar,remainingwhiletheothersremovedthebody.Hisfacewasbare, his features blunt, his demeanour one of cold serenity. His armour showed only a sergeant’sinsignia, but the plating was marked with laurel wreaths and ceremonial bolt shell trinkets denotingvalourandmarksmanship.‘Thistransgressioncannotstand,’hesaid.‘Whatdoyouwantofme?Anapology?’ThepainthathadcobwebbedacrossRagnar’sfacewasswiftlyfading, nullifiedbyhis enhancedphysiology and a spurt of battle narcotics injected fromhis armour’sinternalregulators.‘YourChampionisdead.Hadhebeenmoreskilled,hewouldstillbealive.That’sthebeginningandendofit,DarkAngel.’TheDarkAngelinclinedhishead,seeminglyinconsiderationratherthanagreement.‘Theduelwastofirstblood,’hesaid,coldly,viciouslyreasonable.‘Doesitmatter?It’sover.’‘Indeeditis,’thesergeantconcurred.‘Andyoulost,BattleLeaderBlackmane.’JeersandshoutedinsultsrosefromtheWolves’disorderlyranks,buttheDarkAngelwasimplacable.He nodded to the wound upon Ragnar’s head, where the hanging flap of skin laid a sliver of hischeekbonebare.‘Theduelwastofirstblood,’thesergeantrepeated.‘Youbledfirst.’Ragnar looked back over his shoulder, where hiswarrior-packswere throwing derision at theDarkAngels amidst all of the laughter. In reflection, the Dark Angels were perfectly silent, doubtlessconsideringthemselvesabovesuchtriteindignities.‘Listentome,’Ragnarsaid,hisvoicelittlemorethanawhisperedplea.‘IregretyourChampion’sdeath.Truly.Butwithdraw,sergeant,forthisuglyscenewillonlyturnevermorefoul.’‘No,WolfGuard.’‘Areyousoblindtoreason?Wefoughtandwonawartogether,cousin.Proudly!Gonowandwecanavoidstainingthatglorywithbloodshedandfurtherregret.’

Thesergeant,standingwithhishelmunderonearmasifontheparadeground,showedemotionforthefirst time since coming aboard theVeregelt.His lip curled, not in feral temper but in simple, humandisgust.‘Youthinkwefearthebiteofyourblades?Youhavenorighttopleadformercynowaftercommittingacrimethatdemandsredress.Bloodcallsforblood.Itistradition.’‘You…wishtofightus?’‘WhatIwishisofnoconsequence,WolfGuard.Thisisnotaboutme.Youlosttheduelandignoblycutdown the warrior who beat you. You broke the lone tradition that binds us together in the echoes ofbrotherhood.You lostyour temper like anewlybloodedaspirant,disgracing theprimarchs’ ritualwithfoulmurder.’Ragnar’sreplywasathingofhissed,hotbreath.‘Watchyourwords,DarkAngel.I’vecuttonguesfrommen’smouthsforlesserinsults.’‘Ibelieveyou.’Thesergeant’sdisgusthadreachedhiseyes, infectingthewarrior’sausterestarewithcondescendinglight.‘Butbloodwillhaveblood,BattleLeaderBlackmane.’Ragnar’s fury dissipated. It was all he could do not to laugh in disbelief, even in the gravity of themoment.Evenwiththesinhe’dcommittedheavyandfreshuponhisshoulders.‘You threatenusonourownship?Allfather’sbones,DarkAngel,mymenwill tearyourcompany topieces.Already they clamour for your last breaths.Takeyour threats andgowhile you’re still able. Icannotguaranteeyoursurvivalanylonger.’‘I make no threats,’ the sergeant said. ‘You are the one threatening us, which might be considereddangerous ground when we yet outnumber you two to one. You violated the boundaries ofDuellumHonestas.Thus,IchallengeyoutoDuellumDolor.’‘A fight to the death?’ Ragnar couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. A line sergeant against aFenrisianbattleleader,inafighttothedeath?TheWolvesbehindhimwerehowlingwithlaughternow.‘Tothedeath,BattleLeaderBlackmane.Inaccordancewithourritesofwar,youhavethirtyhours–asingleturningoftheCalibaniteday–toacceptthechallengeandpaythebloodprice.’‘AndifIrefuse?’‘Thenyouforfeitallhonour.Ifyouwillnotpaythebloodprice,theDarkAngelswilltakeitfromtheWolves,onewayoranother.’Painnullifierswerenosalvefortheheatofirritation.Hehadlethistempergetthebetterofhim,butitwasn’ttoolatetopullthetwoforcesbackfromthebrink.Itcouldn’tbetoolate.Control,control,hethought.Calm.‘I’mnotfightingyou,sergeant,nomatterhowyouthreatenme.Forthefinaltime,getoffourship.’TheDarkAngelreplacedhishelmwithahissoflockingsealsatthecollar,andsalutedwiththetwo-handedsignoftheaquilaacrosshischestplate.Thevoicethatleftthehelmet’smouth-grillewas inhumanandmetallic,yetsomehowserene.‘Thirtyhours,LordofWolves.’

II

OntheMaelstrom’sedge,whererealityitselfwaspoisonedbytheveilofthewarp’stempestuousenergyinfecting real space, the destroyer Veregelt came to life. Row upon row of cannons rattled clear ofarmouredhousingsalongherspinalbattlements,blackmawsyawningintothevoid.Turrets,dottedlikebarnacles along the ship’s hull, rotated into firing position at the behest ofmind-locked servitors. Sheturnedtowardsherprey,theequallyaustereandmuchlargerstrikecruiserSwordofCaliban,shadowedgreenwheretheVeregeltwasmist-grey.TheWolves pack leadersmet on theVeregelt’sbridge, standing before Ragnar as their battle leaderslouchedinthecommandthrone.Withonlytwoexceptions,theirmoodwasjustifiedandjubilantastheystoodaroundtheirappointedcommander.Ulrikwasthefirstexception,whichwasnosurprisetoanyofthegatheredkindred.TheWolfPriestwasalmostalwaysgrimtothepointofsolemnity.Blackcladandicilyserene,hestoodwithhiscroziuswarmaul restingononeshoulder.His facewasmaskedby thehelmofartificialbone that legendsaidhadonce beenworn by Leman of theRuss Tribe himself.With a singleword, he could have conveyed awealthofwearinessanddisappointmentintheyoungleader’sactions,butsuchwasn’thisway.Instead,theonlyemotioninhisquestionwasbaldcuriosity.‘Wasthatwise,Blackmane?’Ragnarhadnoanswertogive,thoughmostofhisbrethrendidn’tcare.ThepackleadersralliedaroundRagnar,congratulatinghimuponhisvictory.Valkien–calledFoebreakerbyhiskithandkin–clappedtheyoungerwarriorontheback.‘Severedhisheadinoneblow.There’soneforthesagas.EventheotherGreatCompanieswilllaughaboutthisatthenextfeastday.’‘Andyou’resocertainit’samatterofmirth?’askedNalfirRazortongue.‘CuttingaDarkAngel’sheadfromhisshouldersisalwaysgoingtobeworthasmile,Razortongue.’Nalfir was the second of the gathered warriors to show no joy. Ragnar had expected mockery anddisapprovalfromthecompany’sbard,perhapsevenalecture.Hehadn’tgambledonactualanger.Nalfirtore the torc from his neck and let it fall to the deck with a clatter, where it landed by Ragnar’sbloodstainedboots.‘Hearme,battleleader.’Ragnarnodded.‘Ilisten.’‘Aswell you should, after this day’s pathetic deed.’The others found themselves inching away from

Nalfir,thewaytruewolveswilledgeawaywhenahunt-scarredrivalbearsitsfangsatthepackleader.‘Ifabloodprice isowed then theDarkAngelscancomeand try to take it,’hesaid, showinghis longeyeteeth.‘Youmustfight.’Hrolf–calledLongspearbyhiskithandkin,andnamedfortheweaponheoncehurledintoaseadrake’seye–gaveahesitantgrunt.‘KillingtheirChampionisadeedworthyofboasting.Killingasergeantwithbruised pride is less noble.We’ve already won the ritual duel – let’s leave the fools to nurse theirwoundedhearts.’‘Andwhathappenswhenthissergeantfalls?’askedValkien.‘WillBlackmanethenhavetocutdownthenextDarkAngelinline,andthenext,andthenext?Whendoestheirstubbornnessend?’Nalfir breathed a curse. ‘This is amatter far graver thanyou all seem to realise.There’s a time,mybrothers,forspittingontheritesandlawsofourcousinChapters.Manytimes.Thisisnotoneofthem.’Ulrik,oldestofallthegatheredwarriors,gesturedfortheyoungbardtocontinue.‘BlackmaneviolatedthecodebetweenourChapters,’saidNalfir.‘Lifeforlife,bloodforblood,honourforhonour.Thejarlmustfight,anditsaddensmetoseeyouallconsideringanythingelse.’Ragnarshookhishead.‘Thisisn’taboutvalour,Razortongue.It’saboutsanity.Ican’tkilloneofthemincoldblood.We’reWolves,abovesuchpettiness.’Nalfir favoured the jarlwith a sneer. ‘You’re already amurderer, Blackmane.Don’t blame your hotbloodhere andnow.Hecutyou, andyoukilledhim for it.Youhaveno right topreach thedifferencebetween valour and sanity with a dead warrior’s blood on your boots. You could yield, of course.Surrendertothem,offeringyourlifeintotheirhands.They’llkillyouquickly,I’msure.Executionbythefallofaknightlyblade.Butyouwouldn’tsacrificeyourselflikethat…wouldyou?’Ragnar’sliptwitchedinreply.‘Youjudgeme,singer?’‘Asismyright.IamoftheFirstPack–WolfGuardtoJarlThunderfistastrueasyouyourself.Morethanthat,it’smyplace,myduty,tojudgeyou.FirstyoukillaDarkAngelinachild’sfury,nowyouwanttorunfromtheconsequences.They’dhaveeveryrighttoplungeabladeintotheVeregelt’sspineaswemerrilyfled.’‘Fled?’Hrolf’seyesnarrowed.‘It’snotfleeingwhenwe’vealreadywon.ThejarlcallsustodealwiththeFleshTearerswarship.BettertoanswerThunderfistandrejointhecompanythandelayhereplayingyetmorehonourgameswiththeDarkAngels.We’vewaitedlongenough.’‘You’rewiser than yourwords, Longspear. This is not just any ritual, performed by a nameless andmeaninglessChapterwithnohistory.ThesearetheLion’sownsons.WhatdoyouthinktheSacredDuelis?It’sbornofourownsenseofhonourasmuchastheirs–atraditionthathashistoricallykeptourtwoChaptersfromwar.It’sarelease.Ableedingoftension.Everyfewyears,itlancestheregrownboilandflushesoutthepoison.’‘AndBlackmanewon,’Hrolfpressed.‘SoaDarkAngeldied?Warriorsdieinduels.Allfather’sblood,Blackmaneevenapologised.’Therewerediscontentedmurmursat that.Ragnar’s jawclamped tight;apologieswererarelygiven inFenrisianculture,andagracelessorunnecessaryonethreatenedatribesman’sstandingamonghismen,foronlyweaklingssolvedwithwordswhatshouldbesolvedwithredaxesandbloodstainedsnow.Allwarriorsof theAdeptusAstartes strove tobeabovesuchsimplisticattitudes in the theatreofwar,butFenrisrancoldintheSpaceWolves’blood.Acultureleavesitsmarkuponallmen,womenandchildrenwithinitsborders,evenuponpost-humanswholeavetheirhomeworldsfarbehind.‘Enoughofyourcravenwhispering,’Nalfirsnapped.‘Outsidetheship’shullburnstheMaelstrom.DarkAngelsandWolvesalikehaveshedbloodinpurgingthisstorm’sspinwardedge.Fivemonthsoffighting!NowyouwanttoblightthesagabyrunningscaredbeforetheDarkAngels’rage.’

‘Razortongue,’warnedRagnar.‘What,kinsman?Doesmytemperdispleaseyou?’‘Takeabreath,brother.Yourbloodisupandit’spoisoningyourwords.’Nalfir’ssmilewasaslowlydrawnblade.‘Mybloodisup?Iwasn’ttheonetocarveopenoneoftheLion’sknightsbecauseIcouldn’tcontrolmyselfinanhonourableduel.’Nalfir saw the tension spread across Ragnar’s face, tightening the young lord’s features. The otherwarriorsslammedgauntletstothehiltsofweapons,butthebardonlylaughed.‘Sothatburns,doesit?Well,thetruthalwayshasalittlestinginitstail.’‘Watch.Your.Tongue.’‘JarlThunderfistvaluesmeformyhonesty.Hesentmewithyouforthesamepurpose,andIdon’tgivethecontentsofmychamber’spisspotwhetherornotthetruthwoundsyou.TheGreatCompany’seldershavespokenofthedangersofyourtempermorethanonce.Nowweallseewhy.’Hegesturedtotheothersindisgust.‘Lookatallofyou,cheeringourlordforstrikingdownthatknightlyfool.As ifBlackmane losing his temper and violating one of theChapter’s oldest codes of honour issomethingtocelebrate!Doweveneratemurdernow?Youlost,Blackmane.Youwerebloodiedfirst.Weallsawit.WhydidyoustriketheDarkAngeldown?’Ragnarspokethroughclenchedteeth.‘Youwantthetruth?Idon’tknow.Ihavenoanswertoeaseyoursneeringface.Hestruckme,therewaspain…andredness.Irememberthefury,andnothingmore.Whenthe haze faded, the Champion was dead at my feet.’ He spat on the deck, in the Fenrisian custom ofwardingawaybadluck.‘Doesthatsateyourhungerforanswers,judgementalone?’‘Sadly,aye,itdoes.Andyou’rerevealedtobenomorethananuncontrolledBloodClawpromotedfarabovehisstation.’Allwerespeechless in thewakeof thosewords.Valkien’squickgaze flickeredbetween thegatheredWolves, seeing only stunned silence on their features.Words tumbled through his thoughts, finding notractiononhistongue.Nalfirwasn’tyetdone.‘Actionshaveconsequences.Wesawyoukilllikeamurderer.Nowdrawyourprettyswordandfightlikeawarrior.IfJarlThunderfistwereherenow,thiswouldbehisjudgement.’The bard backhanded Ragnar, swifter than a human eye could follow. The young commander’s headsnapped to the side and the pack leaders moved as one – half of them restraining Nalfir for histransgression,halfofthemmovingtopreventtheirbattleleaderfromcannoninghisfistintotheotherWolfGuard’sface.Buttherewasnoblow.Ragnarhadn’tmoved.Heignoredhisbrothersholdinghisshouldersandarms,justasheignoredtheothersforcingNalfirtohiskneesinobeisancetoawaitjudgement.Ragnar’seyeswerecoldandstill.Whenheblinked,itseemedanindulgenceratherthananecessity.Nalfir,prouddespitehisbrothersholdinghisarmswide,staredupintoRagnar’seyes.‘Twenty-fivehoursremain.Timeisnotonyourside.’Ragnarbreathedthroughclosedteeth.Thewarbetweenprudenceandhonourwasanuglyone,withnorightanswers.Theotherssharedhistension,thoughfordifferentreasons.Hesawthesavageglintintheireyesandheardtheheavypercussionoftheirdrumminghearts.Razortongue’swordshadstirredthem,sureenough.Theywantedthis.Fenrisianwarriorstothecore,theywantedtowatchoneoftheirowncutdownanotheroftheirhatedallies,earningrenownfortheGreatCompanyinvictory.Therightactionforthewrongreason.AndRagnarwantedit,too.Fenris’iceraninhisveinsastrulyasitranintheirs.Wearesupposedtobebetterthanthis,hethought.Aboveit.Thetriumphofhigheridealsoverbasedesires.

Nowhewas caught between honour and reason.When honour called for senseless bloodletting, andreasonhadbecomethecoward’swayout.Hismenlookedon,waitingforhisjudgement.Hisfirsttruecommand,chosenbythejarl,andhestoodupontheedgeofmakingagrievouserrorworse.Givingordersintheheatofbattlewasonething.Hehadagiftforit–itcameinstinctively,withscarceneedtosecondguesshimself.Butthis?TheWolvesandtheDarkAngels–animmovableobjectmeetinganunstoppableforce,bothfuelledbyunbreakabletradition.EveniftheImperiumneverheardofthisduel,andevenifbothChapterscelebratedtheirpartinit,thefactwouldremain:Ragnarwouldhavecutdownacousinincoldblood.Heknewwhathislord,Berek,woulddoinRagnar’splace.Berekwouldacceptthechallenge–‘justasinglefoolishwarrior,’he’dlaugh–andreturntotheFangwithaDarkAngelshelmonhisbelt,andataleofbitterhonourtotellinthefeastinghall.ButwhatofHighKingGrimnar?Wouldhefightwithaheavyheartorbackdown,puttingprudenceoveremptyglory?Thetruthwas,Ragnarhadnoidea.Hisrisethroughtherankshadbeensoswift,sounprecedented,thatinthesequietmomentshesometimesfoundhimself lackinganelder’sexampletoguidehisway.Berekwas far fromhereand trustedRagnar to see thiswar throughalone.Ulrikwasa spiritualguide,not acommander to follow.TheGreatWolf, thoughbelovedand reveredby theChapter,was adistantkingwhosepathdidn’toftencrosswiththatofhislesserkinsmen.Thatleftinstinct.InstinctservedRagnarwell,butitwasabestialgift,ebbingandflowingwiththeheatinhisblood.Mostoftenablessing,sometimesacurse.IftheWolvesleft,theysacrificedallclaimtohonour,damagingthefragilepeacebetweentheChapters.Iftheystayed,Ragnarwouldcompoundhisfailureoftemperwithatruemurder,surelybreedingfurtherresentment.‘Blackmane,’ saidGreyHunterValkien. ‘PerhapsRazortongue is right. It’s just onewarrior. Just onesergeant.’‘YoualreadykilledtheirChampion,’Hrolfadded.‘Whatdifferenceisonemore?’Andsomankinddieswhileitschosendefendersdevoureachother.Ulriklookedoninwordlessvigil,radiatingneitherdisapprovalnorencouragement.Ragnarpracticallysnarledathim.‘Speak,damnyou.’‘Andsaywhat,youngone?’‘YouarethesoulofthisGreatCompany.Speak,oldfather.Guideus.’‘There’snothingtosay.Youknowthestakes,youknowthecost.Nowyouseekarightanswerwherenoneexists.Youwerechosentoleadus,Blackmane.Makeyourchoice.Lead.’Thebattleleaderwasthesilentheartofasilentbridge,histiredeyesunabletomeetthewaitingstaresofhisclosestkindred.FinallyhishandclosedaroundFrostfang’sgrip.Andloosened.Hesighed.Ragnarlookeddownintohiskinsman’seyes,andofferedhishandtoaidRazortongue’srise.‘Iwillfight.’

III

SoraelkepthisheadbowedbeforetheLion’sgravenimage,aloneyetnotalone.RobedChapterthrallschanted theirmonastic songabovehimupon the chamber’sbalconies, their hooded faces turned to thedomed ceiling. Their place was to fill this sacred space with holy song, aiding in the Dark Angels’communion.FornowtheysangofChampionHarrad’sgloriesinlife,ratherthantheignominyofhisdeath.Sorael cameoften to the chapel,more so thanmanyofhis brothers.His swordwasbaredas customdemandedinthissacredplace,andeachbreathhedrewcarriedthetangofincenseintohislungs.Itwasafamiliarscent,onethatharkedbacktosomanysimilarmomentsofquietisolationandsolemnity.Heliftedhis eyes to the Lion’s stone-wrought avatar. His gene-sire’s features, cast in stern majesty, staredindifferentlydownatthesergeant.‘Iwilldie today,’he told thestatue. If therewas judgement in theLion’s lifelesseyes, itwasbeyondSorael’s interpretation. Itwas, after all, just a statue. Sorael saw an image, not an icon – a source ofinspirationandreflection,notaconduitforthedivine.Thesoundofapproachingbootsprickledathisattention,disturbinghisdevotion.Hedidn’trise.Therewasonlyonereasonhewouldbedisturbedherenow,andhe’dbeenexpectingthemtocome.‘Sergeant.’ItwasMorthiac,ofcourse.Theywouldsendnoother.Nooneelseofsignificantrankwasleftalive.‘HonouredLexicanium.’The Librarian knelt by Sorael’s side, briefly bowing his head to pay his own respects to the fallenprimarch. Like the sergeant, he’d unsheathed his sword to leave the blade bare. Sorael watched theyoungerwarrior, noting the crude flesh-replenishment patches still not takingwell across the psyker’sthroatandcheek.‘Doyourwoundsstilltroubleyou?’heaskedoncetheLibrarianhadopenedhiseyes.TheyoungLexicaniumtouchedarmouredfingertipstotherivenandpoorlyhealedflesh.‘Onlywiththeembarrassmentofearningthem.Thepainanddiscomfortaremeaningless.’Agoodanswer,Soraelthought.Forallhisyouth–MorthiacwasonlyayearoutoftheScoutCompany–he was still a Dark Angel, cast in the primarch’s stoic image. To even stand clad in ceramitemeantsurvivingahundredwarsthatwouldseelesserwarriorsleftdeadinthedust.‘OnceIamdead,youmustleadtheFourthhome,’saidSorael.Morthiacinclinedhishead,acknowledgingtheduty.‘Thereisachance–’‘Sparemealltalkofwhatmightbe,andletusfocusonwhatwillbe.’

‘Youareaswordsmanofnosmallskill,sergeant.’‘Enough.OnceIamdead,honourwillbesatisfied.WarbetweentheChapterswillbeaverted.ItwillbeyourplacetoensuretheFourthreachestheRock.Wearewoundedandleaderless.Ourtimeinthedeepvoidisover.’‘ItshamesalloftheFourth,’Morthiacsaid,‘toreturnsobloodied.’Emotion darkened Sorael’s face. ‘No. That is plainly and deeply untrue. Thewarwas bitter but theenemywasscourgedinabsolutedestruction.Welosteighteenwarriorsinrighteousbattle,true.NowtheirnamesareknowntotheEmperorofAllandHisprimarchson.Thereisnoshamethere.MasterAralechfellwithallhonouronthefrontlines,asdidBrother-ChaplainEctar.OnlyHarrad’sdeathhasapallcastover it, and the shame of hismurder lieswith theWolf Lord, notwith theChampion himself.HarradfoughtBattleLeaderBlackmanewithallhonour,keepingtothelawsoftheritual.’‘Yes,sergeant.’Soraellookedintotheyoungerwarrior’seyes.‘Aremywordsclear,LexicaniumMorthiac?Theymustbe, for ifyouare tobring theFourthbeforeChapterCommand,yourvoicemust speak theunburdenedtruth.’‘Yourwordsareclear,sergeant.’Sorael stared hard at the Librarian. ‘This campaignwas a triumph. Remember that, brother. ChapterMasterAzraelmusthearthataboveallelse.’‘Imeantonlythatthetragedyattheendofthiscrusadeovershadowsthegloryofwinningit.’‘Indeed.That,unfortunately,maybetrue.OurChapter’smemoryislong,andthisisnotthefirsttimetheWolveshavesouredthePrimarchs’Truce.’Soraelreleasedabreath,lookingdownathisreflectioninhissword’ssilverblade.‘ThoughtheDarkAngelsarehardlyinnocentinthatregardthemselves.’‘Youspeakofaspecificbattle?’The sergeant lifted his gaze once more. ‘No, just the back and forth tides of this long grudge. Ourpenchantforruthlesssecrecyworksagainstus,andtheWolveshaveawayofangeringthosewhowouldbe their allies. Ifwe are careful today,wewill end this stalematewithout aggravating the rest of ourrespectiveChaptersandputtingtheWolvesandDarkAngelsateachother’sthroats.’‘Atthecostofyourlife.’‘Iamatpeacewithit,brother.Thereareworsewaystodie.’‘YouknewthemessageIbroughtbeforeIgaveit.YouknewBattleLeaderBlackmanewouldaccept.’Soraelshowednomirth,beyondadeepeningofthewrinklesattheedgesofhiseyes.‘ThisRagnarisabarbarianwithpoorcontroloverhisanger,butitwouldbeprofoundlyunwiseofhimtorefusetheduel.You sawhimagainst theBearers of theWord in this campaign, alongsideMasterAralech.For all theprimitive’s flaws, he leads from the front andvalues the lives of hismen.He even apologised tome,whenwestoodfacetofaceoverHarrad’sbody.ArarityforaWolf.Theydetestapologising.Itisasignofweaknessintheirculture,yethedidsononetheless,forheknewhehadactedinerror.’Morthiacnarrowedhispaleeyes.‘YouadmirethewarriorwhomurderedChampionHarrad,andwillstrikeyoudownmerehoursfromnow?’Sorael raised an eyebrow in disapproval, about as expressive as he ever was. ‘Do not mistakeacknowledgement for admiration. Did you wish to speak of anything more, or was the message ofRagnar’sacceptancetheonlymatter?’‘TheWolveshaveaskedwherewewishthedueltobefought.’‘Sacristan,’Soraelansweredatonce.‘IntheEndymionCluster,corewardoftheGolgothanWastes.Theworldisnotfarfromhere.’The Dark Angels had won a battle there against the Traitor Legions, long before Sorael’s birth. It

pleasedhimtothinkofhisbloodrunningintotheearthofaworldoncecleansedbyhisforefathers.‘Itwillbedone,sergeant.’‘Thankyou.Nowpleaseleavemetoprepare.’Morthiacrose,bowingand taking the traditional threestepsbackwardsbefore turninghisbackon theLion’s image.Sorael listened tohisbrother’s retreating tread then,aloneoncemore,he listened to theenslavedthrallssingingofthefallenChampionandhislife’sdeeds.Inafewhours,hethought,theywillsingofme.

IV

Sacristanturnedinthesilenceofspace,afrontierworldineverywaymankindjudgedsuchthings.Herewas a world whose peaceful stillness arose from isolation, though it was a peace that vanished themoment one pierced the planet’s atmosphere. Theweather on Sacristanwas forever in flux, and if itwasn’tadamantlyhostiletohumanlife,itwasattheveryleastnotconducivetoit.Scatteredcoloniesdotteditssurface,eachoneprimitivelyshieldedagainsttheblizzardsthattoretheirwayacrosstheworld’sface.Oncetheyhadbeenoutpostsforaplanetaryculturethathadrisen,ruledandfallenafteranuprisingoftheArchenemy’sTraitorLegions.AlthoughtheImperiumhadprevailedinthatlong agowar, theworldnever regained its primacy.Now the settlementswere independent city-stateswith littlecontactwith thewider Imperium:pirate fortresses, substandardmining installationsorothersettlementsofequalirrelevance.A week’s flight brought the Veregelt into orbit above Sacristan. There, patient as only hunters andpenitents can be, Ragnar and his warriors waited. With the empyrean’s fickle nature, they might bewaitingaweek,amonthoradecade.Fortunefavouredthem.Threehoursafter theWolves’arrival theircousinsbrokefromthewarpat thesystem’sedge,andthecommanddeck’sproximityalarmsweremusictotheboredWolves’ears.Ontheocculus, theSwordofCalibanwasaminisculedot, near-lost among the star fieldbutbroadcasting itsidentity across standard Imperial channels.At full speed theDarkAngels vesselwas only eight hoursdistant.Rather than linger on the bridge any longer, Ragnar gathered his warriors and ordered the GreatCompanytothedroppodsforplanetfall.Hewouldawaithisopponentonthesurface.

Fiveshipsknifedtheirwaybackintoreality:acruiserandfoursmallerescortsrunninginunity.Allfivewerearmouredinimmenseplatingoffilthycobalt,edgedwithgoldsocorrodeditlookedclosertorottedcopper.TheprecisionoftheirmanifestationwassomethingRagnarwouldwatchandrewatchhundredsoftimesin the followingyears,poringover thegrainyarchival footage from theVeregelt’sgun-picters, alwaysstudyingtheimageryfornewnuancesandalwaysawedattheartfulnessofthevessels’arrival.Neverinhislifewouldhelayclaimtoashipcaptain’smasteryofthethree-dimensionaloceanofdeepspace, but he had a keen appreciation for the skill, flair and calculatingmind necessary to turn voidwarfare into art.He knew enough to know the difference between training, experience and thosewho

pilotedwarshipswithatruegift.Thearrivalof thefivevesselswasadisplayofutterperfection.Theydidn’tburstfromthewarpinashudderingrun;theyspearedtheirwaybackintorealspacewithvicious,smoothglides,veeringaroundeachotherinrollingarcsastheylancedforwards.NoImperialvesselscouldholdsuchcloseformationas they left thewarp– thatdegreeofunitywasbeyond the limitsof theImperium’sarcane technology.Thesewarshipsmaintainedafluiddanceofcohesionatalltimes.Warpsmoke,formedofclinginghandsandtorturedfacesreachingfrompoisonedmist,trailedattheirrollinghulls.Likesharks,Ragnarwouldlaterthink,watchingthewarshipstwistandglideintheblack,starryocean.TheymoveliketheHearthworld’ssea-tyrants.The five vessels surged forth from the samegash in reality, perfectly positioned behind theVeregelt.They ranat theWolves ship, engineshot,gunportsunlockingandunfolding.A tidal roarofdissipatingwarp energy rolled ahead of them, for even a perfect re-entry into reality couldn’t banish all of themonumentalforcesatplay.ItstrucktheVeregeltlikethecrestofawave,hammeringthevesselfromitsplaceathighanchor.At the time,Ragnarknewnoneof this.Hisworldwasoneofdarknessandnoise– sirenswailing ineverycorridor,ineverychamber,reachinghisheightenedhearingthroughthemetalwallsoftheboardingassaultpod.Automatedimpactwarningsmeltedtogetherwithcallsofbattlestations.Thepodshiveredaroundhim,eachwarrior’sharnessrattlinginitsironsockets.Theshiverbecameatremor, and the tremorbecamea shake.Beyond theboardingpod’s reinforcedhull, therecameagreatwrenchingwhine of protestingmetal. Evenwith theVeregelt’sgravitic generators, he felt the shift ofweightinhisbones.‘We’returning,’Nalfirsaid,feelingitinthesamesecond.‘Whyarewe–’Thevoxexplodedwithcrewmembers’voices,allof themcalling for the jarl.Theyspokeovereachother,thecommunicationchannelsjamming.Ragnardisengagedthereleaseclaspsofhisrestraintharnessandhammeredtheboardingpod’slaunch-abortplate.Thepodbegan its shuddering journeyoutof its firingcradleandbackdown to thehangardeck,grippedintheslowarmsofapositioningcrane.Ragnar looked up at the servitor’s face cybernetically fused to the pod’s ceiling, serving as a crudemachine-spirit.‘Overrideirisseals,’hecommanded.‘Pleaseconfirm,’saidtheservitor,dead-eyed,parched-throatedandentirelydevoidofurgency.‘Override!’Hangarlightspilledinthroughtheopeningirisdoor.Thedeckitselfwasstillthirtymetresbelowthem,drifting closer with ludicrous hydraulic slowness as the crane lowered them. Thralls and tech-adeptswererunningtotheirbattlestations,bucklingthemselvesintocrashthronesoradoptingbracepositions.‘Battleleader,’camethevoicefromthebridgehe’dbeenwaitingtohear,thevoicehe’dbeencallingforacrossthevox.‘Wayfarer,mybrother,speaktome.’‘RaidersfromtheMaelstrom,behindus.FiveshipscladinthecoloursofthevileEighth.’RagnarcouldhearthecommandcrewshoutingbeneathSijurWayfarer’sreport,butfocusedonhiskinsman’svoice.‘Astrikecruiserandfourescortsofunidentifiedpredationclasses.Theybrokefromthewarpontopofus.I’veneverseenamanoeuvrelikeit.’Theyhadbeenwaiting,Ragnarknew.WaitingfortheDarkAngels’andWolves’crusadetoend;waitingfortheAdeptusAstarteswarshipstostandaloneinthedark,awayfromthevesselsoftheImperialNavythat had accompanied them for severalmonths of patrol and reconquest at theMaelstrom’s edge.This

wasn’t an ambush, nor even a battle. Thiswas a reprisal raid. The last gasp of the bloodied and thebeaten,desperatetosalvagesomepride.Theyfollowedusasswiftlyastheycould,aspreciselyastheywereable,waitingforustobealone.Nowtheystrike.‘WhatoftheSwordofCaliban?’‘TheDarkAngelsarepassingthefifthplanetofthesystem,’saidSijur.‘TheSwordisatleastsixhoursaway.Tostayhereistodie.’Thewarriorswithhimintheboardingpodaddedtheirshoutsofindignationtotheauralmelee.Ragnarsilencedthemwithachopofhishand.Fiveenemyships.Five.Todaywasadayforimpossiblechoices,determinedtoshamehimonewayoranother.‘Timetogo,’hemurmured.‘Battleleader?Didyouspeak?’He took a breath before speaking across the vox again. ‘I did. Disengage,Wayfarer.We’re running.Orderallhandstopreparetorepelboarders–theNightLordswilltrytotaketheship.Webeatthembackif they board us, and break into thewarp as soon aswe’re able.Make full speed for the coordinateswherewe’retomeetJarlThunderfistandtheHolmgang.’Theotherwarriorswerefreeoftheirrestraintthronesnow,standingbehindtheiryoungleader.‘TheDarkAngelsmaynotgettheirduelafterall,’Nalfirtoldhim.‘Facingthemwasnoble,Blackmane,butfacinganenemyfleetaloneissuicide.Wehavetorun.’‘Iknowthat,’Ragnarsnapped.‘Yetyourlogicdoesn’tcomfortme.’‘Itneverdoes.ButI’mnotheretocomfortyou,kinsman.’Thebardleanedoutofthepodandspatontothehangardeck,tocounterillfortune.‘Atleastlifewithyouisneverdull.’Ragnar lookedoverhis shoulder, aBloodClaw’smadhumourgleaming inhiseyes. ‘When Idie, letthosewordsbewrittenbeneathmynameintheHallofHeroes.’Theboardingpodwaslowenoughtoleapfrom.Withawildhowl,hejumped.

Ragnar reached thebridgeatadead run,chargingup to thecentralplatformand takingcommandfromSijurWayfarerwith nomore than a nod of acknowledgement.On other Imperial vessels an executiveofficermightannounce ‘Captainon thebridge’withnosmall formality.Aboard theVeregelt,Ragnar’spresenceannounceditself.Everyeyeonthecommanddeckinstinctivelyturnedtohim,evenifonlyforamoment.Hebroughtanaurawithhim,wordlessandvital,bleedingrawconfidence.Ragnar gripped the dais railing as he leaned forwards, watching the battle playing out across themultisectedocculusviewscreen justashefelt it in thedeckshakinghisbones.TheVeregeltarcedandrolled in its flight, but theNight Lords vesselswere jackals biting and clawing as they encircled thebiggership.HoundingtheVeregeltwaseasy,forthecarrion-feedersoftheVIIILegionhadthenumbersandspeednecessarytosteertheWolvesshipto theirdesires.Theyforcedit tobankandveer toavoidcollisions, breaking its attack runs; they dived aside from its broadside volleys, leaving the Wolvesbattlementcannonsroaringtheirpayloadsintotheemptyvoid.Moretellingly,theywerecuttingoffitsescape.‘Like fighting rats,’ Sijur said from Ragnar’s side. He didn’t need to admit theVeregelt’sguns hadscorednoworthwhilehits.Iftheauspexreadingsshowingscandiagramsoftheundamagedenemyshipsweren’tobviousenough,theilluminatingflareoftheirfunctioningshieldstoldthetalewithoutanydoubt.Dataspilledacrosstheocculusalongsidethewarringvessels.Targetingcalculationschangedwitheachsecond.Attackvectorsshiftedandredefinedtheirarcs.Predictiverunesflashedalongsideshipscansand

offered hundreds of probabilities at once. Ragnar’s preternatural mind processed the wealth ofinformationataglance.He came to two conclusions in the same instant. The first was that Sijur had wisely been fightingdefensively, seeking to minimise damage to the Veregelt through evasive manoeuvres and returninglimitedfirewhenthescarceopportunitiespresentedthemselves.The second realisationwas that itwasn’tgoing towork.TheNightLordswouldcripple thembeforetheycouldrun.‘Ourshieldsfellfourminutesago,’saidSijur.‘Nowthey’repreyingonourengines,bringingusdownwithathousandcuts.I’vebeentryingtolurethemintoboardingusearly,sothey’dholdtheirfire.That’safightwemightactuallywin.’The ship shook beneath their boots with sustained impacts. Tremors ran through the grip rail, intoRagnar’sfingersandalonghisarm.TheVeregeltwastakingamercilessbeating.‘What’sthestatusoftheSwordofCaliban?’Sijurkeyedinalong-distanceviewoftheotherAdeptusAstarteswarship,adotofdarknessagainsttheinfinitevoid.‘They’re hours from maximum weapons range. With the damage we’re taking, I can’t even be surethey’restillheadinginthisdirection.’Thenwe’realone.Wecan’toutrunthem,wecan’toutfightthem,andnohelpiscoming.‘Verywell,’saidRagnar.‘HailtheSwordofCaliban.’Theconnectiontookseveralseconds.Whenitcame,itwasflawedbyululatingstatic.‘…manderBlackm…’cameanunrecognisablevoice.‘ThisisBattleLeaderBlackmaneoftheVeregelt.Sorael,mycousin,itgrievesmetoabandonourduel.’Heswallowed, speaking throughclenched teeth. JarlThunderfistmaywellhavehishead for this.AndthatwaseveniftheChaptersdidn’tgotowaroverit.‘…enemyvessels…retreat…’‘Sword,yoursignalistoobroken,’Ragnarreplied.‘Iprayyouhearmywordsbetterthanwehearyours.Thefleetatourpositionsignificantlyoutnumbersus,withorwithoutyouraid.Don’tengage.Repeat,donotengage.TheVeregeltwouldbedeadinspacebeforeyoureachedusanyway.’SijurmetRagnar’seyesandshookhishead.Thesignal,alreadyweak,wasfluctuatingintouselessness.‘Sorael,’Ragnarfinished,‘forgivemeforthisdishonour.Ifwemeetagain…’‘Thelinkisgone,’saidSijur.Ragnargrowled,ventinghisangerbeforespeaking.‘Ceasetryingtoseekawaytoescape.Theyclosethefeignedgapstooswiftly.Comeaboutandfocusallfireontheclosestfrigate.’‘TheBlackPrayer.’‘Icarenothingforitsname,justkillit.Weneedtoprovoketheothersintoalteringtheirpaths.’AstheVeregeltshivered,obeyingthecommandofitstemporarymaster,Ragnarwatchedthevoiddancetaking place through themyriad calculations of flashing Fenrisian runes upon the occulus.He saw theNightLords’intentthemomenttheybegantomoveintoanewattackpattern.Hepointedatoneoftheescorts’approacharc.‘Thatdestroyer…TheVisionofEntropy.Itwillcutusoff,movingbetweentheVeregeltandthePrayer,forcingustorollawayagainandresetourattackrun.’Ragnar narrowed his eyes, estimating and calculating as best he could to keep pace with the three-dimensionalcogitationstakingplacebeforehim.‘Don’tveeraway.’The warriors around him shared a look. ‘Blackmane?’ asked Sijur, seeking confirmation rather thancomprehension.‘It’sourbestchance to tearaholewecanslip through.WhentheVisionofEntropydivesacrossour

pathtobreakourattacktrajectory, taketheshipthroughit.Weriskeverything,here.Breakthroughandbreakfree…orletthemcrippleus.’‘Nochoiceatall,eh?’Nalfirsaidwithaquietlaugh.‘Thiswillalmostsurelykillus,youknow.’RagnarunknowinglyechoedhisAngelicrival.‘Thereareworsewaystodie.’Baringhisteeth,Sijurcalleddowntothehelmsmen,‘Rammingspeed!Allhands,braceforimpact!’

TheNightLordsvesselVisionofEntropydancedalongsidetheVeregelt,taking incidental fire fromthedestroyer’sbroadsidesassheovertookthewoundedWolvesship.Sheveeredahead,hershieldsripplingwithdissipatingenergy,movingintoaclimbthatpositionedherbetweenRagnar’svesselandtheNightLordsescortBlackPrayer.Apredatorwithmillenniaofexperience,sheactedandreactedlikealivingbeingasshesailedinthedeepvoid.Sheranswiftly,engineshotandscreamingintothevoid,herrearwardturretsvomitingtorrentsof plasma and solid shells against the Veregelt’s prow armour. With luck she could survive severalminutesofretaliationatthisrange,holdingofftheSpaceWolvesbarrageagainstherownshields.TheexpectedreturnvolleyfromtheburningVeregeltnevercame.BythetimethecaptainoftheVisionofEntropyrealisedwhy,itwasalreadytoolate.TheVeregeltleaptforwardswithafurioussurgeofspeed,lancingintothedestroyerwiththestrengthofanarrowbringingdownahawkonthewing.TheVeregelt’sproweradicatedtheEntropy’svoidshields,burstingthemasecondbeforeithammeredintotheothership’sspine.BattlementscrumbledastheNightLordsvessel’ssuperstructurecameapart,hopelesslydevastatedundertheweightandvelocityofthespearingdestroyer.Hundreds of crew aboard theVeregeltwere thrown from their feet or out of their restraint thrones.Hundredsmorediedwith theirbodiessmashedagainst thewallsanddeckfloors.Thewarship’sprowwasabluntedruin,mangledbeyondrecognition,andwithitshe’dlostherforwardweaponryarray,nowcrushedbeyondanyabilitytofire.TheVeregeltcarriedtheEntropy’swreckagewithit,theTraitorshipstillimpaledasitfellapartinexplodinghullsections.The final detonation came with the ignition of theBlack Prayer’swarp engines, its force threadingcracksoffirethroughtheforwardhalfofthewoundedSpaceWolvesvessel.ThesurvivingNightLordsescortshadspiralledawayfromthemaddeneddisplayofforce,keepingtheirdistance.Nowtheystruggledtocomeaboutandrecoverthepursuit,astheWolvesshipre-litherweakshieldsaroundherflamingsuperstructure,andlancedfortheholenowtornopenintheenemyformation.Shetraileddetritusandventedroaringairfromherwounds,asifrisingbreathlessfromagraveyardofwreckage.Andthen,withanimpossiblysilentburstofenergythatshouldneverexistinthematerialuniverse,theVeregelt’sarcane,sacredenginescarvedopenawoundinspaceandtime,anddivedwithin.Theripinrealitydissolvedbehindher,breakingdownintotheshrieking,meltingfacesoftenthousandmonsters.TheWolvesweregone.

V

JarlBerek,LordoftheThunderfists,wasakingwithoutathrone.Inthishebelievedhimselftobecarvedin the image of Leman of the Russ Tribe, the Hearthworld’s first and greatest High King. A hundredapocryphal tales toldhowRusshadalso refuseda throne,claiming theywere the iconsofscribesandadministratorswhodemandedrespect,ratherthanwarlordsandwarchiefswhoearnedit.WhenheinheritedtheHolmgangfromhispredecessor,agreatshipmaster’sseatofwroughtblackironoccupiedthecentralcommanddais.Berek’sfirstactupontakingoverwas tohaveitmelteddownandbeatenintoscorchedmetalrings,offeringthemastreasurestohisfavouredwarriorsandsavingtheresttobegrantedasrewardsinthefullnessoftime.HisWolfGuardeliteworetheirringsbeneaththeirarmouras torcs around their necks and bands around their biceps. By such gestureswere traditions born. Toserveinhisinnercirclenowwasto‘wearthejarl’siron’.Hewason thecommanddeckwhenRagnarapproached.Berekstoodalonedespite theseaof thralls,menials and Chapter-serfs working in teams around him. Their lord ostensibly watched from above,thoughintruthhisthoughtswanderedtothegreatocculusviewscreenwithitsvistaofthestarryvoid.Asleekknifeofaship–thedestroyerBaryonyxcastinthecoloursoftheFleshTearersChapter–waitedfortheWolvestodecideherfate.NearherfloatedthenewlyarrivedandsavagelywoundedVeregelt.Berekscowledagain.He’dbeendoingthatagreatdealoflate.‘Youbrokemyship,Blackmane,’waswhatpassedforhisgreeting.Ragnar’sreplywascold.‘I’vecometoreport,myjarl.’‘SoIsee.Youshouldhavecometomebeforeanyother,youknow.Thenexttimeoneofyourcommandreportstomebeforetheircommander,itwillputmeinbleakhumour.’BereksawtheyoungerWolffightbackasneer,notentirelysuccessfully.ItstilltwitchedatRagnar’slip.‘ItakeitthatRazortonguefledtoyoufirst,whisperingofwhathappened.’‘Hedid a bard’s duty, and aWolfGuard’s dutybesides.He toldmeof your actions among theDarkAngels,thenobleandshamefulmomentsalike.’‘I’msurehedid.’Bereknarrowedhiseyes.‘Youbelievehe’dlie?’Ragnarsaidnothing.‘If you and Razortongue are unable to be civil with one another, at least keep the grudge betweenyourselves.IfIhavetointervene,myjudgementwillfavourneitherofyou,Ipromiseyouthat.’Oncemore,Ragnarsaidnothing.

‘Theshameof thefinaldayisn’tenoughtoeclipsethegloryof theprecedingmonths,Blackmane.I’mdisappointedinyou,true,butnotdisgusted.However,hadyoulostthewaraswellasinsultedtheDarkAngels,thiswouldbeadifferentmeeting.Ipromiseyouthat.’‘Yes,myjarl.’‘Andyouknowyoumusthonourtheduelyousworetofight,comewhatmay.YouhavetofacethatDarkAngel…Sorael,wasit?’‘Yes,myjarl.’‘Well.OurCalibanitecousinswilloverlookyourexcrementalmannersforawhilegiventheambush,buthonourmustbesatisfiedoneday.’‘Yes,myjarl.’‘Yes,myjarl.’BerekmockedtheyoungerwarriorbymirroringRagnar’slifelesstone.‘Boy,lookwhatyoudidtotheVeregelt.’Henoddedoverattheimageofthetwoshipsontheocculus.‘Asiftherewasn’talreadyenoughmiseryfillingmyscreen.’‘Itgrievesmetohaveaddedtoyourweariness,jarl.’Thatdrewachuckle,thesoundsodeepandlowthatitwasalmostursine.Berek’smaneofblondhairwasplaitedintodreadlocksthatframedafacehewnfrompalerock.Hewasanuglycreature,makenomistake,andsmilingdidhimnofavours.‘Keepyoursarcasmtoyourself,boy.Thisisseriousandmypatiencewithyouisinshortshrift.’‘As you say,my jarl.’Ragnar turned his gaze to thewoundedVeregeltoncemore, and the void-lostBaryonyxbesideit.‘WhatoftheFleshTearersship?’‘Ihaven’tdecidedyet.Wefoundittenstandarddaysago,aftertrackingitforoveramonth.Wordfromthe Fang reached us soon after.’ Berek shook his head, the charmswoven into his dreadlocks rattlingagainsthisshoulderguards.Hisnextwordsweregrowledlow.‘They’resendingtheSlayer.’‘FromtheHearthworld?’Ragnardidn’tconcealhissurprise.Fenriswasaquarterofthegalaxyaway.Toreachtheirfleetoutherewouldtakemonths.‘No.The Slayer sailswithRedMoon’sGreatCompany, engaged on the edge of the Pale Stars. JarlGunnarhasorderstobringtheSlayertous,thensailbackalone.’TherewasnomissingthedisapprovalinBerek’svoice.‘TheSlayerwillremainwithustoadvise.’‘A…greathonour,’Ragnarpointedout.‘What’sthis?Araremomentoftactfromyou,BloodClaw?’‘Adayofwondersafterall,sire.’ButBerekdidn’tsmile.‘Ilikenothingaboutthis,Blackmane.Notthemisfortuneoffindingthiswreck,not theSlayer’spresence,andI like thecoloursmarking thatwarship’shull leastofall.Honour’sEndwasbeforeyourtime,littlebrother,butwesawtheFleshTearers’trueselvesthatday.I’dsoonertrustRazortongueinadicegamethanthoseblood-maddenedcarrion-feeders.’Ragnar was captivated. Berek Thunderfist speaking in quiet contemplation was an event few of hisbrethrenwouldeverwitness.TheyoungerwarriorkeptsilentastheWolfLordcontinued.‘It’s said the Inquisition’s Black Ships have visited the Hearthworld only once in the span of onehundredcenturies.Didyouknowthat?TheFang’schroniclesrecordonlyoneinquisitorwithFenrisianblood inallof Imperialhistory.Justone. InquisitorJarlsdottyrwashername.Shefoughtalongside theWolvesintheWarofShame,fivehundredyearsago.AtGreatWolfGrimnar’sside,ifyoucanbelievethat.SheevenmettheFell-Handed.I’veheardhimspeakofitmyself.’RagnarfelthishacklesriseatthementionoftheFirstHighJarl,BjornRussbrother,calledFell-Handedbyhiskithandkin.‘I’veneverheardofthisinquisitor.’

‘Notmanyhave,especiallyinthelastcenturyorso.Hernameisspokenwithacursewhenit’sspokenatall.The last timeshewasseenby loyaleyes, shewas fightingalongside theFleshTearers.Yousee?’Berekhawkedandspatontothedeck,eitherindistasteortobanishill luck,Ragnarwasn’tsure.‘ThatcursedChapter.Everythingtheytouchgoesbadlyforthem.Everytimewemeet,itendsinbrokenoathsandspilledblood.’Theyoungerwarrior,stillaBloodClawinrawyouthdespitehiselevationtotheWolfGuard,knewhislord rarely sought the insight of others. Especially not from those who had so recently dishonouredthemselves. Ragnar regarded his jarl with a cautious gaze, his words walking the border close todisrespect.‘Youfearthiswarshipisanotherblackomen,’heventured,notquiteaquestion.‘I fear nothing,’Berek replied. In thatmomentRagnar felt a curiousdisconnect –heheardhis lord’sdefianceyetfeltthefalsehoodwithinit.Berekmightnotfearanythingasahumanwouldfeelterror,butlikemanyoftheWolvesinthelastyear,thethreatofdarkomenshadhimhesitantanduneasy.EversincetheskiesofFenristurnedblack.‘Forgivemypoorchoiceofwords.’Bereksnorted.‘Omenseverywhere.Maybethisisfear,eh?Howwouldanyofusevenknowitstasteifitwas?’BeforetheeclipseofFenris’sun,noWolfLordwouldhavespokenthisway.NowdoubthadcreptintotheChapter’sblood,anddoubtwasa threat too insidious tofight.Therune-castersandspirit-speakershadinfectedeveryoneoftheEinherjar’sGreatCompanieswithadarknessnobattlecouldbanish.Facedwithhiskinsman’ssilence,Berekcontinuedwithagrowledsigh.‘Everyseer,shamanandpriestwithintheFangtellsuswemustbewatchful.Sowewatch,astheywish.TheysingdirgesoftheDawnoftheEndandthecomingof theWolftime.Sowelistenandpayheed.Nowtellme,Blackmane,whyweshoulddealwiththiswaywardwarship.Whynotsailawayandleaveittorotinthevoid?’Thetestwasanunsubtleone,butRagnartooktherareopportunitytoadvisehisliegelordallthesame.Heansweredatonce,speakingthetruthwithoutmockery.‘Lesser Chapters would do just that, but you’re not a coward, Berek. As much as you despise thatwarshipoutthereinthevoid,you’rewearierstillofflinchingatshadows.Theeclipsepromiseddarknessandwe’rerighttotakeitasawarning,butomensshouldmakeuscautious,notleechourcourage.’Berek raised a scarred eyebrow oncemore. Eyes the colour of scorched stone regarded the youngerwarriorwithamusement.‘Prettywords. If Ididn’tknowbetter, I’d say I senseda lecturewithin them. Is that so,youngBloodClaw?’Ragnaroccasionallyknewwhentospeakandwhentostaysilent.Itwasaskillhewasslowlylearning.‘Back to your duty, little brother. Between incurring the wrath of the Dark Angels and breaking theVeregelt,you’vegotagreatdealtomakeupfor.’Ragnar remaineddespitebeingdismissed.Berek raiseda scarredeyebrow. ‘Is theresomethingmore,Blackmane?’‘Yes,sire.You’venotsaidwhatourboardingpartiesfoundupontheFleshTearerswarship.’TheWolf Lord hesitated. ‘The Slayer’s “request” was for the vessel to remain unchanged until hisarrival.’‘Areyousayingyouhaven’talreadysentboardingpartiesacrossseveraltimesintenlongdays,sire?’Berekgruntedalaugh.‘I’msayingmyboardingpartiessecuredtheshipwithoutbreakinganything.Canyougivemethesameguarantee?’Ragnardidn’tdignifyhisjarl’smockerywithareply.‘Whatofthecrewmanifest?’heaskedinstead.

‘There’snodanger–everythingaboardiseitherdeadorinstasis.Athousandmenialsinall.Ninety-oneChapterthrallsinastasis-lockedsectionoftheenginarium.Almostfourhundredsubsistence-gradeworkslavesononeof the intestinaldecks.Threeworkshop-barrackswerescreenedbystasis fields,holdingtwohundredservitorsthatshouldstillfunction.Forty-oneinjuredhumansinapothecarionstasispods,allofwhomlooktobebattle-trainedserfs.Noneoftheastropathicchoirsurvived.NoneoftheNavigationalcoterie.’Ragnarsensedwherehewasleading.‘WhatoftheFleshTearers?’‘Seven,’Berekaffirmed.‘Sevenofthem.Instasis,sealedfromtheoutside,notsimplydeanimated.’Ragnarscratchedathisunshavencheek,thinking.‘Tellmewhyyouwishtogo,’thejarlsaid,hisflintyeyesnarrowingagain.‘Toseeformyself.Thevirtueofknowingone’senemy,myjarl.Nomore,noless.’‘Isee.Well,I’venoobjection,buttakeRazortonguewithyou.’‘What?Why?’‘Because hemade the very same request.And because I’m telling you to do it. It’s called an order,BloodClaw.Yourememberthose,don’tyou?’‘Sire…’‘Now,now.Icouldhavetakenyourheadforyourrecentfailures,boy.Don’teventhinkofarguingwithmenow.’Ragnardidn’targue.Hisglare,however,spokevolumes.‘You’reluckythatIlikeyou,’Berektoldhim.‘Nowgetoutofmysight.’

VI

Thetwowarriorswalkedthrougharchesofcorrodedbronzeanddirtyiron,makingtheirwayalongthewarship’scavernousspinalthoroughfare.ToRagnar’ssenses,thewholeshipbreathedwiththescentoffadedcarrion:chalkandcinnamonontheedgeof every inhalation, too faint tobea stench.Theywerewalking through thememoryofdeath, itssmellnotripeenoughtoberecent.Crateredmetalpockmarksranalongmanywalls,showing–alongwithspentshellcasings–themostobvioussignofbolterfire.Las-burnsmarkedthewallslikelessergraffiti,showingwherethehumancrewhadfoughtbackagainsttheinvadingenemy.Bodiespopulatedeverytunnelandeveryaisle,manyinunwelcomestatesofhalf-life.Aservitor,rottedtobonesandsteelcomponents,slouchedagainstabulkheadlong-sincesealedbyahalooforangerust.Itsbionichandstillquivered,fingertipsscratchinguselesslyagainstthemetaldeckwithacuriouslyorganicscreech.OneoftheFleshTearerslayfurtherdownthehallway,pinnedtothewallbythethreemassivespearsjuttingthroughhischest.Hishelmet’seyelensesgleamedwithactivepower,confirmedbythewhineofhisback-mountedpowerpack,infrequentlyspittingsparks.RagnarbristledasNalfirwenttotheimpaledcorpse.‘What?’thebardasked,seeinghiscompanion’stension.‘ThisisatomboftheAdeptusAstartes,’Ragnarchided.‘TheFleshTearerswillhavetheirownritesforreveringtheirdead.’Nalfir said nothing beyond a derisive snort as he reached under the corpse’s helmet, disengaging thereleasesealsonthecollar.‘Razortongue,’ warned Ragnar. ‘The Slayer himself wishes this wreck to remain untouched. Thatincludestheslainaboardit.’Therewasnohissof air pressure as thebard lifted theheavyhelmet clear.StillNalfir saidnothing.Ragnarstrodecloser,grippinghisbrother’swrist.‘MeredaysagoyoulecturedmeonrespectingthesanctityoftheDarkAngels’rituals.Whatisdifferenthere?’‘Don’tbenaive,Blackmane.TheDarkAngels’ritualisourritual,too.ButtheFleshTearersaredogsandtraitorsandwretches,downtothelastofthebloodline.NowgetyourhandoffmebeforeIremoveitmyself.’Ragnarpulledhishandbackwithasnarl.Helookeddownatthecorpse.

TheFleshTearer stared eyelesslyback at them,his features rotteddown todirtybones in the ruinedarmour.Leatherythreadsofancienttissueheldthebonesofhisnecktogether.‘Agooddeath,’hesaid,gesturingtothethreespearslancedintotheslaughteredSpaceMarine’schest.‘Hard,butgood.’Nalfir stepped awaywith a chuckle, resuming hiswalk down thewide corridor.Reluctantly,Ragnarofferedthedeadwarrioranodofrespectbeforefollowinghisbrother.Ashorttimelater,theycameacrossthefirstoftheslainenemy.AdeadIronWarrior,hisceramiteplatetornopenbybladesandbolts, thebodywithindecayedtoahusk.Damagetothebonesof thecorpse’sneckandchesttoldanothertale;Ragnarrecognisedthematonce.‘Hisgene-seedwasharvested.’ItwasraretobeabletoexamineanyoftheTraitorousOneslikethis,andhecrouchedbythelegionary’sbody,lookingoverthebrokenarmourwithitsindescribablerunicinscriptionsupontheplating.Hesniffed,andthoughtheTraitorwascenturiesdeadhecaughtthetracesofimpossiblescents.Weaponlubricantmadefromblood.Bloodcomprisedofacidandpromethium.Breaththatreekedofforgefires.Forgefiresthatwerefuelledbytheshrieksandscreamsofburningmartyrs.A hundred other impossibilities, each as unnatural as the last. It was the smell of madness.Uncomfortablewithoutbeingdisgusting,addictivewithoutsignofsweetness.ThestenchoftheGreatEyeanditstwisteddenizens.TheIronWarrior’ssilverhelmetwasturnedtotheside,staringdownthecorridorintothedarktowardstheFleshTearer’simpaledbody.Thekillingblowwasobvious:abolterdetonationhadtornhalfofthefaceplatefree,leavingavisageofbrokenfacialboneswithintheroughhole.‘Good shot,’ Ragnar murmured. He reached for the sundered hole, wanting to turn the helmet andexaminetheotherside.Itwasn’tamarkorpatternofarmourherecognised,evenhaditnotsportedtwinhornsofbiometallicivory.ItwasNalfir’sturntowarnhim.‘Skitnah,’saidthebard,usingthetribaltermfor‘unclean’.‘Leave it,Blackmane.’Ragnarhesitatedwithhis fingersan inch from thedeadwarrior’shelm.He rose ina snarlofarmourjoints,decidingtofollowhisbrotherratherthanendureanotherargument.

Theirfirststopwasn’tthebridge.Nalfir’swanderingledthemtothechapel-barrackswhere,amongfull-strengthChapters,severaldozenSpaceMarinesmighthavebeenquarteredbetweenmissionassignments.Therewerenobodies.Mostoftheindividualchamberswerebareofanysignofhabitation,andRagnarsuspected that even before its disastrous end the Baryonyx hadn’t sailed with a full complement ofAdeptusAstarteswarriors.The two Wolves moved on, room by room, until they reached one that showed evidence of oncebelongingtoalivingbeing.Ragnarfeltacreepingsenseoffamiliarityasheentered,seeingwhatwereplainlyawarrior’schoiceinpersonaltrophies.Brokenweaponsofalienmanufacturechainedtothedarkwalls; a tattered pennant almost eroded to nothingness, its allegiance and symbolism now renderedunreadable;citationscrollsandhonourbadges,leftwithcarefulreverenceonthespartanroom’sshelves.Needing no permission, the Wolves poked through the absent warrior’s personal sanctuary. Ragnarmovedtoaweaponrack,runninghisglovedtouchacrossamountedbolter–ablunt,straight,aggressiveTigrus-pattern,notoftenseeninthearsenalsofnewerChapters.Instinctively,hecountedtherespectablenumberofkill-markingsscratchedalongtheboltgun’sbody,beforemovingontoashelfofmementosandtrinketsscouredfromvariousbattlefields.Amongthem:Teethfromachainsword,batteredandbluntfromtheblowthattorethemfree.

Athinsliverofrazorwire,ofthekindoftenfoundmarkingoutImperialGuardtrenches,waswrappedaroundadeactivatedgrenade.A scorched, damaged flake of chitinous armour from some unknowable alien breedwas etchedwithcrudeLowGothicletters,spellingout‘Migar’sFolly’.Ragnarcouldn’tevenguesswhatstoriestheseitems,whichhadmeantsomuchtothewarriorwhochosetokeepthem,spokeof.‘Lykartan,’ saidNalfir fromacross the room.He tappedadecaying scrollwithhisgloved fingertips.‘Thewarriorwhodwelthere.HisnamewasLykartan.’Ragnar turned from thewartime trinkets,hearing theheavypurrofhisownactivearmour.He’dbeenlookingthroughtherottedremainsofthickpapersheets,seeingthemildewedshadowsofwhatwereonceorbitalprintoutsofanembattledcityscape.‘I’mnotcomfortabletrawlingthroughtheserelics.Thisfeelslikeriflingthroughatomb.’‘IsthatwhatBerekfeels,doyouthink?Whenhegoesthroughthechambersofslainkinsmen,decidinghowtodividetheirarmsandarmour?Choosingwhichoftheirownrelicstoburythemwith,whenthey’reinterredbackattheFang?Comfortableornot,hefacesuptothedutywithouthesitation,Blackmane.’Ragnarhadneverconsideredsuchathing,andadmittedso.‘Iknow,’saidNalfir,evidentlywithoutjudgement.‘Come,brother.Let’sgoseeifthisLykartanwasoneoftheonestosurvive.’

Thestasisenginesappearedundamaged.Ragnarmarvelledattheirarchitecture,eachpyloncarvedfromvolcanicglassintheshapeofaCretacianlizard-king,andinturnsetwithinhugenichesintherustedironwalls.More than a group of engines with sacred purpose, the stasismachinery resembled a sculptedrenditionoflifeonasavageworld.Eachobsidiancarnosaurstoodmanytimestheheightofaman,halfsunkenintoits immensesocket.Thenear-infinitecablingofeachenginemadeupthebeasts’veins, justbarelyvisiblebeneaththeblackglassskin.RagnarhadbeenfortunateenoughtowalkuponaBloodAngelswarshipandwitnesssomeoftheartisticmarvelsaboard,wroughtby thehandsof theChapter’sTechmarines.Here,aboard theBaryonyx, therewas a fusion of the familiar and unfamiliar: the artistry of the sons of Sanguinius coupled with theuncompromisingsavageryoftheFleshTearers.Individual pods lined the walls – they formed the talons of the towering lizard-beasts, leaving theinhabitantsseeminglyasleepwithinthegreatglassclawsofmonstrousreptiles.Hewalkedamongthemforatime,takingstock.Themajorityoftheroomwasgivenovertostalagmitecolumnsofgreymachinery,reachinguptotheirsister-systemshangingdownasstalactitesfromthearchedceiling.TheirarcanefunctionwasbeyondRagnar’sunderstandingbutitstoodtoreasontheywerelinkedtosomesecondarypowersource,giventheship’snear-deadplasmacore.Everythingherewasrunningonsubsistentenergy,survivingonborrowedtime.Theplacefelthaunted,inaway.Notwiththeclarityofhearingvoicesechoingoffthewallsorseeingflickersattheedgesofhiseyes,butinthewayanold,oldroomcansoakupthelivesofthosewhooncelivedwithinit.Itwasaplaceofmemory,neitherasanctuarynoratomb.Ragnarwalkedtothestasispods.Mostwereempty.Manywerecrackedorotherwiseflawed.Boltshellcratersandlas-burnspockmarkedmorethanone,orspeckledthewallsandfloornearby.ThefightinghadragedevenherebeforetheFleshTearershadevidentlydisengagedfromtheIronWarriorsandfledforthefools’safetyofthewarp.Seven,thejarlhadsaid.Sevenoftheminstasis.Itproved tobe true.SevenFleshTearersslept, time-locked in their stasispods,eachonehelmetless.

Theirpalefaceswerevisagesofwrenchingfury,showinglengthenedincisorsintheireternallysnarlingmouths.Ragnarthoughtitstrangetoseefacesofsuchaestheticperfectionrivenbyscarsandtwistedbytorment.TheBloodAngelsandtheirSuccessorswereregardedbymanyasthepeakofhumanbeauty.YethereweretheFleshTearers,hideousintheirserenity.‘They’re notwhat I expected,’ he called out toRazortongue across the vox.Though in truth he’d notknownwhat to expect.Mournful defiance, perhaps. The darker side of angelic wrath evident in theirslumberingfeatures.Notthisproud,miserableagony.Nalfirdidn’t reply.TheBloodClawdidn’t care– anotherdetailhadcaughthis eye.Eachof the lastthreeFleshTearershadparchmentscrollsuponhisarmour,tornintothinstripsandformingemblematiccrosses,likesymbolicbandages.Ragnarmovedtothecontrolpanelofthenearestpod,lookingovertheflickeringdisplay.Thecorpseofatech-adept,worndowntobonesandathreadbarememoryofrobes,staredeyelesslyupathimfromthefloor.Heignoredit,seekinganydetailsofthepod’soccupant.NonamewasvisibleamidstthefewruniclettersthatwereevenremotelyGothic.MostofwhatRagnarsawmeantnothingtohim.Onesymbolflashedbrighterthantheothers,obviousinitsurgency.Tworedlines–anXofalarm–pulsing,pulsing,pulsing.‘Razortongue,’hevoxedagain.‘I’vefoundsomething.’Nalfirstilldidn’tanswer.Ragnar’squick,keenstare took in thechamber–moreadarkmetalcavernthanaroom–buttherewasnosignofthebard.Hesoughttotuneouttheclockworkrattlingandlaboriousclankingoftheancientmachinery,seekinghis brother’sheartbeatandthepurrofhisarmour,butthestasischamber’sautomateddinmadetheeffortuseless.Hecaughtnoscentsoverthespicydrynessofolddecayandthecopperybloodreekofleakingmachinery.AskeenasanyWolf’ssenseswere,theywereoverwhelmedhere.Ragnarfelthishacklesrise.HedrewFrostfanginaquietpull.Theweightthatwouldhavestruckhimfrombehindbarelyclippedhisarmourashehurledhimselfasidefromitsshadow.Instincttookover–theBloodClawskiddedacrossthedeckandlaunchedbacktohisfeetinaroarofpoweredjoints.Frostfang’skrakenteethwhinedastheyatethechamber’scoldair.HefacedaFleshTearer.Thewarriorwashunched,sweatinginthefreezingair,withthetoo-whiteskinofhisfacerakedbypatchworkscarring.TheFleshTearerbaredlengthenedfangsattheWolf,staringwiththeshininglightofmadnessinhiseyes.Crackedvialsclinkedagainstblackbattleplatewheretheywerechained in place. Honour scrolls sealed in place against the ceramite couldn’t entirely concealimmaculatelycraftedredcrossesthatresembledwoundsuponthearmour.‘Traitor!’criedthebrokenangel.‘Hold…’Ragnarwarned,levellinghisblade.‘IamRagnar,calledBlackm–’‘Traitor!’Thewarriorlaunchedathim,butRagnarwasreadynow.HemettheFleshTearer,shouldertoshoulder,crashinginaslamofceramitetohalttheotherwarrior’scharge.‘Hold…’hehissedagain as theygrappled,grabbingatoneanother’swrists, each seeking to cast theothertothedeck.‘Hold…damnyou…’‘Filthytraitor,’thewarriorhissedback,nosignofcomprehensioninhiswideeyes.TheFleshTearer’spupilswerepinpricks,devoidofreason.Ragnarfelthisbootsscrapingacrossthemetaldeckasthewarriorforcedhimback.TheFleshTearer’sstrength was immense, beyond any battle-brother he had wrestled with in the past. He fought harder,growling intohis foe’s ruinedwhite face, only to slideback anothermetre.His swordwasuseless intheseclosequarters;hehadtodropittogriptheangel’swristandpreventtheFleshTearerfrompullingouthiseyes.

‘BeginningtowishI’djustkilledyou,’hesaidthroughteethclenchedhardenoughtoache.‘Traitor,’thestrainingwarriorbreathedbackathim.Ragnarslammedbackagainstthewall,feelingmetalgiveway.TheFleshTearerboredownonhimwithrenewedstrengthandleverage,closingonehandacrossRagnar’sface.Thepressurewasexcruciatingasthefingersclosedwithvice-likestrength.Underthepain,Ragnarcouldhear thesquealingstrainofhisownskullthreateningtobreak.Instinctalmosthadhimspithiscorrosivesalivaagainstthepalmcoveringhismouth,buthe’dchokeonthechemical stinkofburningceramite…and theacidwould take too long tohaveanyeffect.He’dbedeadbeforeitateitswaythroughtothefleshbeneaththeglove.Ragnar leaned back into themangledwall, stealing enough room to thunder a kick against the FleshTearer’sknee.Themaddenedwarriorbarelyreacted.OnthesecondkickRagnarkepthisbootagainsttheknee joint of his opponent’s armour, forcingwith all the pressurehe couldgive.All heneededwas asecondtoknocktheFleshTeareroff-balance.Something clicked in his cheekbone. Then a crackle. Then a wet, crunching snap. Vision in the eyestartedtodarken.Roaring,Ragnarkickedagain,hammeringoutwithallhisstrength.TheFleshTearerstaggeredforbarelyaheartbeat,butitwaslongenoughtoreleasetheWolf’sskull.AsthecrushingstrainliftedfromRagnar’sface in a burst of cold, blessed relief, theWolf cannoned his knuckles against theFleshTearer’s eye,shatteringthesocketandjerkingtheotherwarrior’sheadtotheside.Heborehismaddenedopponenttothe deck with a leap that would have brought down a Thunderwolf, pinning his enemy beneath him,poundinghisfistsintotheFleshTearer’sstrickenfeatures.All thought ofmercy fled.Hebeat the angel bloody, breaking the bones of thewarrior’s facewith aflurry of blows. Genetically rich blood splashed across him, making his gauntlets reek, yet still hehammeredpunchafterpunchintotheFleshTearer’sskull.Impossibly, the dying angel answered with a roar of his own, hurling Ragnar off his chest with amonumentalheave.TheBloodClawturnedintheair,landinginabattlecrouchontopofanotherstasispod,hisbootssendingcrackssplinteringthroughthereinforcedglass.‘Traitor!’themangledwarriorscreamedathim.BloodbathedtheFleshTearer’sface.OneofhiseyeshadburstbeneathRagnar’sfist,poppingintopinkishjelly.Hisfangshadevisceratedhisowntongue.Hewasmad… yet somehow not feral. Reason was absent from his bloody gaze, but sentience was not.‘Traitor!’TheFleshTearercameatRagnaragain,hurlinghimselfwithhandsoutstretched.Ragnarmethimwithanelbowto thesoftarmourathiscollar, feelingboneandmachinenervescrunch inunison,but theFleshTearer’sstrengthandmomentumwasenoughtothrowtheWolfdownontothedeckregardless.Theywent at each otherwith fangs and fists, boots and butting heads.Blood rained from the angel’sbrokenface,spatteringlikehotoilacrossRagnar’ssnarlingfeatures.ThedropletsthattrickledbetweenRagnar’steethtastedpetrochemicallyfoulandhismindflaredwithstuttering,hazyimagesofmemoriesthatweren’thisown.Scales on the hide of some great beast, rippling in the night. An endless battlement wall beneath aburningsky.Awingeddemigodwithaswordoffire.Theacridtangofcorruptedsweat.Flamesuckedintohislungs.Painrunningthroughhimalongthenetworkofhisnerves.Hemanaged to free himself by getting one boot on the FleshTearer’s chest and shoving the frothingwarrior aside. Scrabbling away, gasping for breath, fortune had his palm thud down on his discardedblade.RagnarbroughtthebladeupastheFleshTearerlauncheduponhimagain,thewarrior’sweightdriving

the air from theWolf’s lungs andpinninghim to the deck.Frostfangwas trappedbetween them.He’dmissedthekillingblow.‘Traitor!’theangelscreamedintohisface,sprayingacidicsalivaandbloodfromafangedmaw.Ragnarhauledthetrappedbladehigher,keepingitbetweenthem,thekrakenteethscrapingdeepgougesacrossblackwar-plate.Hecouldn’treachthetrigger.Healmostlosthisgripcompletelyastheangel’shandsclosedlikeanironnoosearoundhisthroat,crackingthroughthemachinetendonsofhisarmouredcollar.Nowevenbreathingbecameabattle.WhatlittleairhesuckedintastedoftheFleshTearer’smaddenedmemories.Hestillcouldn’tthumbthetrigger.Hisvisionwasdimmingwhenhefinallywrestledthedeadbladeup,pushingthetoothedsawbladeagainstthesideoftheFleshTearer’sface.‘Trai–’Ragnarcut.Hecarvedwith thedeactivatedsword, themonomolecular-sharpenedkraken teethrippingthroughtheFleshTearer’sskin,muscleandbone.Thewarrior’spulpedeyewastornfromitsmutilatedsocket;thegoredrizzlespatteringRagnar’sfacebecameatorrent,punctuatedwithfragmentsofbone.Hecarveddeeper,sawingthebladebackandforthasbestashisconfinesallowed,cleavingdowntothegreymeatofthebrain.TheFleshTearer’sgriploosened.Ragnarstolethechancetothrowthewarriorasideandstaggertohisfeet,wipingthebloodfromhisblindedeyes.Heheardabolterfire,justonce,andhisclearingvisionwasrewardedwiththesightoftheFleshTearermotionlessatlast,thewarrior’sheaddetonatedintowetredshards.Nalfirstoodabove thebody,hisbolter’smuzzlebreathingfycelinemist in thecoldair.RagnaraimedFrostfangathim,theFleshTearer’sbloodburnishingtheancientblade.‘WhereinthenameoftheAllfatherwereyou?’‘Intheantechamber,’saidthebardwithasmile.‘Aren’tyougoingtothankmeforsavingyou?’‘Savingme…Youtreacherous…Ishouldkillyounext!’‘Fine, then. I admit that you killed this poor creature on your own, but that’s still no way to showgratitude,Blackmane.’‘Youdidthis.’Ragnarpointedtheswordatthecorpseonthedeck.‘DoyouexpectmetobelieveoneofthestasispodscoincidentallyfailedwhenIwalkedpast?Youdidthis,Razortongue.’‘That’squitetheaccusation,brother.’Nalfirseemedascalmandcomposedasever.‘Youshouldtellthejarlofyourtheatricalsuspicion.PerhapsI’llbegivenatrial.AndwhenI’mfoundinnocent,foryouhavenoevidenceatall,ofcourse…thenyoucankissmybootsbeforetheentireGreatCompanyandbegformyforgiveness.’Ragnarbarked inwordless rage,whichonlyencouragedNalfir’s smile. ‘Temper, temper,Blackmane.LookwherethatgotyouwiththeDarkAngels.’‘Iwon’ttakethistothejarl,’Ragnargrowledthewords.‘Idealwithmyowngrudges.ButI’mwatchingyou,“brother”.’‘Dowhateveryouwish.’Nalfirloweredthebolteratlast.‘Weweren’tsupposedtotouchanything,youknow.Lookatthemessyou’vemade.’

VII

Aweeklater,eightsoulsgatheredinjudgement.Sevenwerewarriorsinthegreyofasummerstorm,oneworetheabsoluteblackofadeepnight.TheymetinBerek’scouncilchamberwheretherewerenoseats,justas therewasnocommandthroneupontheHolmgang’sbridge.Allwereexpected tostand in theirlord’spresence.Allwereequal–allbutone.Thislastfigure,cladinsacredblack,saidnothingtotheothers,noteventogreetthem.Hewatchedand,seemingly,waited.To walk into the chamber was to walk into the jarl’s personal museum and armoury. The GreatCompany’s banners and treasures were housed elsewhere across the Holmgang and displayed withrighteous, boastful pride. Here the dark iron walls were adorned with Berek’s personal glories: thebannersoffallenenemyoverlordsandahostofbrokenrelicstakenfromlifelessalienhands.AllwerepurifiedbytheChapter’spriestsbeforebeingputondisplay.Itwasnotfromanysenseofmodesty,ashismenknewalltoowell,thatBerekkepthistrophiesawayfromtheGreatCompany’seyes.Forallhisbluntness,BerekOne-Arm–calledThunderfistbyhiskithandkin–wasnotwithoutawarlord’ssenseofcunning.Hechosetosurroundhiselitewarriorswithhisownglories,fortheyweretheoneswhowerepermittedbytraditionandlawtochallengehimforleadership.HisWolfGuardwerethekinsmenwhohadtoberemindedofhisprowess,andtheshamethatawaitedthemiftheyofferedafailedchallenge.Thewarriorsstoodinsilencearoundthecentraltable.ItssurfacewasagranitereplicaoftheChapter’sannulus,showingthewolfheadsymbolsofthecurrentjarlsincommandofthetwelveGreatCompanies.EachofthesnarlingeffigiesbareditsteethintypicalFenrisiandefiance,carvedprouduponthestone.BerekcalledthegatheringtoorderbyplacinghisaxewithadullclankontotherearingsymboloftheWolfthatStalksBetweentheStars.‘Brothers,wehavecometogethertodecidethefateoftheFleshTearerswarshipthattumblesoutthere,powerlessinthevoid.Whoamongyouwouldspeak?’Alleyesturnedtothefigureinblack,onlytolookawaywhenhemadenogestureatall.ThreeoftheWolfGuardreachedtotheirthroatsandpulledtheirirontorcsfree,droppingthemontothestonetable,signallingthattheywishedtospeak.Ragnarwasamongthem.Hisfacehadhealed,butdiscolourationyetlingeredaroundthefusedeyesocketandcheekbonethathadbeenfractured.‘Greylock,’Berekgesturedtothefirstofthem.‘Yourjarllistens.’Uller,calledGreylockbyhiskithandkin,wasamountainofawarrior.Hewasnamedforthefrostedhair growing among the blond by his temple – the legacy of an axe blow that split his skull in the

headstrongdaysofhistribalyouth.Heweighedinonthewarship’sfatewithtwosimplewords.‘Burnit.’‘Asimplesolution,’Berekadmitted.ThewolftailtalismanshangingfromUller’sbeltswayedasheshiftedhisimmenseweight.‘Burnit,’herepeated.‘TotheabysswiththeFleshTearers.Whatevernobilitytheyoncepossessedislonggonenow.Theirinstinctsarepoisoned.Blackmanesawithimself–theirfirstreactionuponleavingstasiswastoattackhim,andhedidwelltoseethatcurdead.Burntheirshipandlet’sbedonewiththisdebate.Therearewarstofight,myjarl.Warsweshouldbefightingevenaswestandherespeaking.TheFleshTearersalreadythinkthevesselswallowedbythevoid.Theyarelosingnothingthattheyhavenotalreadylost.’Several of the others rapped their knuckles on the table in affirmation. Greylock retrieved his torc,closingitaroundhisneckoncemore.Bereknoddedashespokeagain.‘Greylock counsels thatwe burn it in the void and be donewith it.Razortongue, you next.Your jarllistens.’BarringRagnar, thebardwas theyoungestwarriorpresent,andallof themheard thehotblood inhisvoice.‘WetaketheBaryonyxbacktotheFang.’Silencemetthesewords.Nalfirpressedon.‘WebeseechtheIronPrieststorestoreenoughfunctiontoreachFenris,andonceshe’sdockedintheFang’sskyplatforms,sheundergoescleansing,repairandanoverhaul.Withinayearshe’llbereadytobeginhernewlifeinservicetotheChapter.’Noknucklesknockedonthestonetable.‘We’renotthieves,bard,’saidBerek.‘No,’Nalfiragreedsmoothly,‘wearevictors.’‘Thenwhydoyouspeakoftheft?’‘Ispeakofplunder,myjarl.Ispeakofthespoilsofwar.Consideritatrophyifyouprefer.’TherewasasmileinBerek’ssnarl.‘You’retoyingwithwords.’‘AmInotaskjald?Toyingwithwordsismyduty.’Ragnarwouldbesilentnolonger.‘You,whoadvocatedmydeath-duelwiththeDarkAngelsinthenameofhonour,nowadvocatestealinganotherChapter’swarship?’Nalfirwasunfazed.Ifanything,Ragnar’sprotestationsamusedhim.‘TheDarkAngelsareourChapter’soldestrival,andourbloodlinesrunallthewaybacktotheImperium’sfounding.They’refools,oneandall, but I respect them. They’re loyal to the Allfather’s Throne. The Flesh Tearers are mongrels andmutantsbycomparison–cannibalsknowntodrinkinnocentblood.Didtheoneyoufoughtnotaccuseyouoftreachery?Traitor,hecalledyou.Theyhateus,toourverysouls.’‘Ihearyourwords,’Berekassuredthemboth.‘Yetinthismatter,theftistheft.It’sbeneathus.’‘Myjarl,’Nalfircutin,‘Iknowyouhearthewisdombeneathmyjests.Iknowallofyoudo.Perhapsitbreakswithtradition,aye,I’llconcedethatwithoutafight.ButifwereturntheshiptotheFang,westillclaimrightofplunder.Cananyofyousay it’swise to throwawaysuchaprize?Evenasingle frigateaddedtoourGreatCompany’sarmada…’He let thewords trail away, andwhile theywere ill-manneredandbrash, theywereundeniably true.Practicality now battled with pride inmany of theWolves’ eyes. Even a single frigate represented amonumental addition to anyChapter’s fleet, let alone one jarl’s personal power. Tentatively, knucklesbegantoknock.‘Especially,’ Nalfir added, ‘now that Blackmane’s ill-fated command of theVeregelt left that proudwarshipsogravelywounded.’Ragnarbaredhisteeth.‘HadInotactedasIdid,theVeregeltwouldbeinthepossessionofTraitors,and

athirdoftheGreatCompanydead.’Nalfir’ssmilewasunconscionablysmooth.‘Yes,we’reallawarejusthowyoucoveredyourselfwithglory in that campaign,brother.The fact remains that the companywouldbewell servedbyacquiringanotherwarship.Thisisn’ttheft,kinsmen.Thisisprovidence.’AllpresentcouldseetheindecisioninBerek’seyes.Thecravingofambitionburnedbeneaththecolourofhonour.‘There’sacertaincunningwisdominyourwords,bard…’Ragnarthuddedhisarmouredfistonthetable,justonce.Thesounddrewalleyestowardshim.‘Myironstillliesonthestone.’Berekgruntedanacknowledgementthatwasn’tquiteanapology.‘Speak,Blackmane.Yourjarllistens.’Ragnar’sblueeyesslippedfromNalfirlikeaknifeslidingfromadeadman’sspine.Heturnedhisgazeupontheothers.‘We’retalkingofactsoftreacheryagainstanotherChapter.’Nalfirsmiled.‘Somethingyouhavenotrivialexperiencewithyourself,eh?’‘Onemoreword…’saidRagnar,hisvoiceascoldastheiceuponwhichhe’dbeenwhelpedandraised.‘Evenawhisper,brother,andyouwillregretit.’Againstallodds,thebardfellsilent,offeringonlyasmile.‘I know I’m not without flaw in this,’ Ragnar continued, ‘but what you both suggest is beneath us,kinsmen.You,Greylock,suggestcowardicefor thesakeofconvenience.Youcounsel thedestructionofsacredsteelouthereinthedeepvoid,wherenoonewillseeoursin.Andyou,Razortongue,celebratedishonourbydressingitintheragsofpragmatism.IatleastfeltshameformyfailuresattheMaelstrom’sedge.’‘Whatthendoyousuggest,Blackmane?’askedthejarl.TheBloodClaw looked to eachofhisolderbrothers in turn. ‘TellmeofHonour’sEnd,’ he said. ‘IwouldhearthefullstorybeforeIjudgewhereIstand.’Berekgavealow,displeasedgrowl.‘Iwasbladetobladewiththemadangelsthatday.Ikilledoneofthemmyself. He had a hive-dweller’s blood on his teeth. The blood of the innocent, Blackmane. Allyou’vereadin thearchives is true.TheFleshTearershaveasickness in theirsouls,andonthatdayitbrokefreeforalltosee.IdoubtanyofthemcarrytheAllfatherintheirheartsnow.Nottruly.Theirgene-seedisstagnantandcorrupt.Itsendsvenomthroughtheirblood.YouaskofHonour’sEnd?There’snoneed,BloodClaw.Yousawityourselfwhenyoufacedoneof themaboardtheBaryonyxandhecamewithinabreathofkillingyou.Itwasthat–theverysamething–writtenacrossanentirecity.’‘Amalfunctioningstasispodishardlythesameasawar,myjarl.Tellmeofthebattleitself.’‘Whatelseistheretoknowbeyondwhatthearchivessay?WouldyouhavemesummonaRunePriesthere to let you re-live it, like a whelp on a vision quest? The Flesh Tearers stormed a hive spire,slaughteringthousandsofunarmedImperialsouls.Intheirblindrage,theycouldnolongertellfriendfromfoe.Westoodagainstthem,todefendthecivilians.Thatisthebeginningandendofit.’Ragnarhadseenasmuch,notjustfromreadingthearchivedreportsbutfromtheblurrypictcapturesofvarious helmet feeds.Most of such footagewas from the imagifiers of LongFangs, far back from theaction,bringingtheirheavyweaponstobearonthebattlebelow.‘WhatI’veseeninthearchivesisinconclusive,kinsmen.Onemightevenconsideritsuspiciouslyso.’SilencethreatenedoncemoreasRagnartrailedaway.Itwasthefigureinblackwhobrokethequietwithhishuskymurmur.‘Iwasthere.’Allof them turned to thewarrior indarkplate.Ulrik, theancientWolfPriest,metnoneof theireyes,

insteadlookingattheannulusuponthetableasthoughthestoneitselfheldhismemories.Thelinesonhisleatheryfacecouldhavebeencarvedfromdarkrockforallthegiveinhisexpression.‘Iwastherethedaywedrewourbladesagainstourcousins,topunishthemforbutcheringtheinnocent.Iwas there, and I claim the right of a warrior’s own eyes over the fireside whispers recorded in thearchives.’‘Speak,oldfather,’Ragnarbadehim.IfUlriktookoffenceattheFenrisiantermforatribe’seldestmale,heshowednoneofit.Perhapshe’dsimplyhearditenoughtimesfromWolvesofeveryGreatCompany.‘IamUlrik,calledSlayerbymykithandkin,forIhavewateredthethirstyearthoffivehundredworldswiththebloodoftheAllfather’sfoes.Wefedthecrowsthatday,asdidtheTearersofFlesh.WarriorsintheheraldryofbothChapters fell innumbersenough that theirbrokenceramitecarpeted theearth.Thebloodofthedeadranthickenoughtodrownthegroundbeneathourboots.’‘Butwewon,’Nalfirchorusedloyally.Ulrik’s replywas ice itself. ‘Warriorswhoweren’t yet bornwhen the battle took place now see thebannersandtrophieswetookfromlifelessredhands,andtheycryofourgreatvictory.Isaywefailedthatday.Wefailedtodoourduty.ThestainofHonour’sEndclingstothesoulofeveryWolfwhofoughtthere.TheshamethatwedidnotstoptheAngel’ssonssooner,andtheregretthatwedidnotwipethemfromthefaceofthegalaxy,likefilthfromthebottomofaboot.’Ulrik’seyesweredarklikeoldiron,pinprickedbyminisculepupils.Hisvoiceheldtheroughcommandofanancientking’sdecrees,andhisgazewastheserenestareofaguiltlesskiller.‘ItakenoprideinthedaythattheFleshTearers’honourended.Itisfair,perhaps,tosayyouknowtheheartoftheImperium betterthananyofushere.WefighttheAllfather’swars,butyouseeintotheverysoulofHisempire.YouknowthatnoChapterwouldbedamnedpurelyforturningtheirbutchers’bladesuponinnocentImperialsouls.Wemayhatethemforitbutwewouldnotraindamnationuponthemforthatalone.Theviolencetheybroughtagainstusisnotenoughtodamnthem,forChaptersgotowarwithoneanother at themerest provocation.Nor is it simply that theymassacred an unarmed population. Theirblood-madnessrunsdeeperthanevensuchgraveacts.IfyourelyonlyontheChapter’sarchives,thenyouwillknowofapitchedbattlefoughttoavengetheinnocentdead.AwarragingoverthelivesofImperialinnocents.Butwhatchronicleevertellsthewholetruth?’‘Well…’Nalfirbegan,thoughhewassilencedbyRagnar’squietsnarl.‘HereisthetruthofHonour’sEnd,’Ulriksaidwithcoldfireinhisasheneyes.‘Whenwefelluponthemwith indignationandfury,whenwesought topunish themforwhat theyhaddone,dozensdiedonbothsides.And there it ended.BothChapterswerebloodied,butHighKingGrimnarandSeth,Lordof theSawtoothedHost,broughtusbackfromtheedgeof ruin.Theskirmishendedbefore itcouldbecomeabattle.’Ragnarwascaptivatedbythesightoftheoldwarriorinthethroesofconfession.‘Thearchivelistsonehundredandseventy-threedeadWolves,’hesaid,‘cutdowninasinglebattle.Youspeakofaskirmish.Twohundredlivesisadecade’sworthofcasualties.That’snoskirmish,Slayer.’‘Andthearchivesarecorrect,youngBlackmane.Thatisthetragedyatplay,here.ItiswhytheTearersofFlesh are truly damned. The skirmish ended with reason amidst the madness.When both sides werecalmed by the commands of our lords, a ceasefire should have reigned until both Chapters couldwithdraw.But it failed to hold.TheFleshTearers offered to return our slain sowemight harvest thegene-seedofthehonoureddead.Inreturn,theydemandedwesurrendertheirslainwarriorstotheirownredpriests.’Ragnartookaslowbreath.‘Allfather’sblood.Yourefusedthem.’Ulriknodded,relivingthatlongagoday.‘Werefusedthem.’

EvenNalfir,tooyoungtohavefoughtthere,lookedtotheWolfPriestinsilence.Ragnarcursedquietlyindisbelief.‘Andthen?’heasked.‘Then theyattackedus.The realbattlebegan,overhalf adozendeadbodies.Theydidn’tdare letusexamine theirdead.Doyousee?Theymusthave fearedwhatwewould find in theirblood.Whatevercorruptionburnsintheirbodiesisasicknessthatstealsallreasonfromtheminbattle.Itisasecrettheykeepatallcosts.WereyoutoaccessthearchivesoftheAdeptusMechanicus,Isuspectyouwouldfindprecious little evidence of submitted gene-seed tithes in recent centuries. They are hiding something.Somethingterrible.Ageneticdegeneration,aspiritualcancer…Itishardtosay.WereweaChaptermoreattunedtothewhimsoftheInquisitionandtheAdeptusTerra,wemighthaveofferedtestimonytohavetheFleshTearersdeclaredExcommunicateTraitoris.’‘Butwefaceourfoes,’Berekputinwithagrowl.‘WedonotruntothemortalsrulingintheAllfather’snameandwhinefortheiraid.’‘Asyousay,JarlThunderfist,’Ulrikagreed,passionlessinhisconcurrence.‘But…’Ragnarbegan.‘But?’Berekrepeatedthewordindisbelief.‘Youweren’tatHonour’sEndbutyou’vecrossedbladeswithoneof themyourselfmerehoursago.They’re rabidcreatures,oneandall.You’dbedeadnowifyou’dnotstruckhimdown.TheChapterisirredeemable,Blackmane.’‘No redemption can cleanse them of their butchery, sire, but we broke a most sacred tradition atHonour’sEnd.Inclaimingtheirdead,wegavethemnochoicebuttoattack,whethertheywereguiltyornot.WouldtheWolvesnothavedonethesame,ifanotherChapterrefusedtoreturnthehonoureddeadofFenris?’‘It’sdifferent,’UllerGreylockreplied.‘Utterlydifferent,’Berekagreed.‘Isit?’Ragnar’svoicewasalmostbladedinitsgentleness.‘Andaretherenodegeneratestrainswithinourowngene-seed?ArewesonsofFenrispurerthanpure?Oristhereasecretswimminginourblood–onewewouldkilltoprotect–aswell?’‘I’dadviseyou,’JarlBereksaidslowly,‘tobeverycarefulwithyournextwords,brother.’Ragnar’smusclesbunchedinferalreadinessatthethreat.Hisbreathingslowedalmosttonothing,andhesawthesamehuntinginstincttakeholdoftheothersinthesamemoment.‘I’mnotaccusingourbloodlineofdisloyalty,’hesaid.‘Onlythat thereareaberrantstrainswithinourowncells–asecretknownonlyamongourownkind.DotheAdeptusMechanicusvizierstoilingoverourgenetictithesconsideritunholy?Dotheyseeitatall?Perhapstheirinvestigationsrevealanomalieswithoutdefinitive results, evenafter all these centuries.Perhaps they lack thevision tounderstand theanomaliestheydiscover.DoesHighKingGrimnarevensendthetithes?OrperhapsourplaceasaFirstFoundingChaptergrantsustreatmentthattheFleshTearersaredenied.Whocansay?’Berek’sjawsgroundtogetherhardenoughtocreak.Atrickleofsalivaranfromtheedgeofhislips,andhisgutturalvoicesentshiversthroughthetable.‘Inolongerlikeyourtone,Blackmane.’‘Ispeaknotreachery,sire.ThereissomethinginthebloodoftheEinherjarthatturnstheheartsofmenintothesoulsofbeasts.WeknowitastheWulfenCurse.ButwhatMarsthinksofit,ifanything,Icannotevenguess.ThewarriorIfoughtaboardtheBaryonyxwasnolongercapableofthought.Somethinghadturnedhismind.Ifwecanlearn–’Onewarrior’sknucklesthuddedagainstthestoneannulus.ItwasUlrik.‘Enough,’saidtheoldWolfPriest.

Thatsinglesyllableechoedwiththefinalityofafuneralbell.Musclesbegantoease.Knucklesloosenedfromthehiltsofundrawnswords.Berekwasn’tsoeasilycowed.Thiswashiscouncilchamber,andthewarriorspresentwerehisclosestkindred, oathed to his word and sworn to his command. Ulrik walked between Great Companies,beholdentonojarl,withouttheranktodemandanythingofanyWolfLord.ButhewasalsotheSlayer,thebearerofLemanRuss’ownhelm,withhisnamealreadywrittenmore thanahundred timesacross theChapter’slegends.Authoritydidnotalwayslieinrankandtitle.Berekrelented,releasingthehaftofhisbattleaxe.Onebyone,Ulrikmettheirgazes.‘Blackmanespeakswisely.’HeturnedhisasheneyestoRagnar.Bonecharmsandwoodencarvingsrattledagainsthisarmourwitheventhesmallestmovement.‘Butyoualsospeakincautiously.You’renewlyascendedtoyourlord’shonourguard,BloodClaw.Actwithhonouratalltimes,andnevercastashadowacrossthebloodlineofLemanRuss.’Ragnar tiltedhishead tobarehis throat for amoment–aSpaceWolf’sgesture,not aFenrisian’s. ‘Irecognisemyfailingandwillbesuretocorrectit.’Ulriksmiledattheancientphrase,hisfacecreasingwithamusementsobriefthatitwasalmostillusory.‘Be it so.Remember, I did not saywewere blameless atHonour’sEnd,Blackmane, but noChapterwouldbejustifiedingatheringourcorpsesfortheirinquisitiveknives.Wedonotwarrantsuchscrutiny.Wedonotpaintourfaceswiththebloodofthemen,womenandchildrenwearechargedtodefend.WedonotturnourbladesonotherSpaceMarineswhenourguiltisexposed.WhateversecretstheWolvesholdasprecious,wekeepthemtoourselves.’Ragnarnodded,speakinganotheroldphrase.‘Wedonotdowhatislawful.Wedowhatisright.’Knucklesrappedagainstthestonetableatlast.‘Andwiththatinmind,’Ragnarcontinued,‘IknowwhatweshoulddowiththeFleshTearerswarship.Destroyingitiscowardly.Claimingitistheft.’‘Soweshould just leaveithere?’Nalfir’ssmilewasone-sided,andnoamusementreachedhisstare.‘Youwouldletaprizelikethisrotintheblack?’Ragnarshookhishead.‘No.You’reallavoidingthemostobviousanswer.’GreylocksensedRagnar’sintentandgavealowchuckle.‘Youcannotbeserious,Blackmane.’‘Whynot?’theBloodClawreplied.‘It’saFleshTearerswarship.’‘So?’askedNalfir.‘So…wegiveitback.’Havoceruptedinastormoflaughter.UllerevenslappedRagnarontheshoulderinrecognitionofagreatjest.‘Ah,thehumouroftheyoung,’Bereksaidthroughagrin.‘Oneofthemtriedtocutyourthroatnotthreedaysago,yetnowyouadvocatedoingthemagreatfavour.’Ullerwas still chuckling. ‘Perhaps the youngbloodwishes to fill theBaryonyx’sbellywith our ownwarriors,sowemightleapoutinambushwhenwe’retakendeepintoFleshTearersterritory.Isthatso,Blackmane?Agreethatitis,evenifyouliebydoingso,andsalvageashredofhonourfromthiswhileyoustillcan.’Twosouls remainedsilent throughout the laughter:RagnarhimselfandoldUlrik.Ragnar’s teethwereclenched throughout thehumiliation, the secondhe’dendured in the samemonth.His fingers curledontheirslowwaytobecomingfists.Hecouldalmostfeelhisbrothers’facesbreakingunderthehammeringofhisarmouredknuckles.Ulrikwasn’tblindtosuchthings.‘Controlyourtemper,BloodClaw.Saywhatyouwishtosay,forevenifyourjarlisnotlistening,Iam.WhatdowegainfromreturningtheBaryonyxtotheAngel’smadsons?’

Ragnar forcedhisbilebackdown.Hisvoicewasalmostcalm. ‘Yousaidyourself,Slayer, thateveryChapterhasitssinsandsecrets.Wemustbemindfulofourhypocrisyinthis.Shouldwesailtheretobareour throats and apologise for shedding their blood?No, of course not.Wewere right to fight them atHonour’sEnd.Butthatwasthen,andthisisnow.’Nalfirsnorted.‘Andwhathaschanged?’‘Everything.’Despiteleashinghistemper,RagnarspatontothedeckbyNalfir’sboots.Hewascareful,at least, not to let his saliva ducts acidify the sign of disrespect. ‘You know what has changed,Razortongue.The sky darkened aboveFenris and our priests see grimomens everywhere.Our bladesmustbeturnedtoworthierfoes.Nowisthetimetoresolvethisconflictonceandforall.’‘Resolve?’thebardlaughedagain.‘We’llresolvethisconflictbywinningit.Bydestroyingthemlikethehereticstheyare.’‘ThatwouldbleedtheChapterdry,Razortongue.’Olvec,FirstoftheWolfGuard–calledtheTonguelessbyhiskithandkinfortherarityofhiswords–addedhisvoiceatlast.Ashespoke,hisbrowfurrowedbeneathhiscrestofage-whitenedredhair.‘IndestroyingtheFleshTearerswewouldcrippleourselvesalmostbeyondrecovery.Thinkwhatyou’resayingbeforeyoubreatheyourfoolishwordsintoourears.’Ragnarsensed theshiftof tension in theairandwent for thekill. ‘Howmany timeshavewecrossedbladeswiththeFleshTearerssinceHonour’sEnd?’‘Toomany,’Berekgruntedatonce.Knuckleshammeredonstoneintherhythmofagreement.UnlikethedistantdisrespectbetweentheWolvesandtheDarkAngels,thetensionsbetweentheFleshTearersandtheSonsofRussalltoooftenspilledoutintoopenconflict.Ragnarnoddedasifthey’dprovedhispoint.‘Andeachtimeithasturnedtobloodontheearth,thesnowandthesandbeforeanyceasefireor trucecouldevenbeconsidered.Weshouldface themnow,notasenemiesbutaswaywardcousins.Wemustdecideifouroldbrotherhoodcanbesalvaged.’‘Youbelieveweshouldforgivethem?’askedUlrik.‘Myown…rash…actionsoflatehaveturnedmythoughtssomewhat.I’mnotspeakingofforgiveness,Slayer.Notyet.FornowIsuggestnothingbeyondsheathingourswordsforlongenoughtolearnthetruth.If theFleshTearers are damned, thenwehave lost nothing by seeing it for ourselves. Swords can bedrawnandenemiesended.Butif theymightyetbeourcousinswhentheWolftimecomes,thenIwouldfindoutnowratherthansellmoreofourbloodandsweatinawastefulwar.Weneedallies,mykinsmen.Weneedsoulsthatwillstandwithuswhenthelastsunrises.’‘Pretty words,’ Nalfir sighed with feigned gravity, ‘but they will be wasted on those traitors,Blackmane.’‘Traitors isadangerousword,brother.Wholeechelonsof theAdeptusSororitasandtheEcclesiarchysay the same of us.Howmany institutions decry theWolves as traitors to the Imperium for the timeswe’veshunnedthewilloftheAdeptusTerra?Therollsofhistoryarehardlybareofblackmarks.SeveralciteEinherjarvesselsopeningfireonotherImperialshipsforprovocationthatsurelymakesnosensetothoseoutsidethewallsoftheFang.Alltoprotectourindependence.TheWolvesonceopenedfireonanEcclesiarchyfleetwithoutwarning,justforthesinofsailingintoorbitaboveFenris.’‘To dissuade them frommaking planetfall,’ Berek said. ‘They believedwewereworshipping pagangodsabovetheAllfather.’‘Wedon’ttolerateImperialinvestigation,’addedUller.‘As isourright,’saidNalfir. ‘We’vedonenothing thatotherChaptershaven’tdone.EvenyourrecentfoolishnesswiththeDarkAngelswasn’twhollywithoutprecedent.’‘Everycoinhastwosides,bard.That’sallI’msaying.Weshouldlearnthetruthamidstthelies.’Silenceroseinthewakeofhiswords.Alongsilence,duringwhichhemettheeyesofeverywarrior

present,awaitingtheirjudgement.ThestillnesswasbrokenwithatectonicthudasUlrik’sblackgauntletthumpeddownagainstthestonetable.Heliftedhisfistandknockeduponthestoneagain,beginningaslowbeatofknuckleraps.Theothersjoinedin,onebyone.Nalfirwasthelast,onlyjoininginoncethejarlhaddoneso.‘Verywell,’Bereksaid,hiseyesunreadable, thoughhismouthwasa thin line. ‘Youhavespoken,mykin,andyourjarlhaslistened.Backtoyourdutiesfornow.Iwillgivemyjudgementtonight.’‘Iwillremain,’saidUlrik.‘YouandIwilltalkmoreonthismatter,JarlThunderfist.’Berek’ssmilewasviciouslyforced.Histeethweregravestonesgrindingtogether.‘Ofcourse,Slayer.Whateveryouwish.’

VIII

NalfircametoRagnar thatnightwithfrost inhiseyesandaknife inhishand.SpaceMarinesrequiredless respite thanmortalmenandslumberedfar lessdeeply.Manysimply forewent restas longas theywere able, letting segments of their altered brains close down in succession, resting portions of theirmindswithoutrestingtheirbodiesatall.Yet therewas somethingcleansing in true somnolence.Away from the front lines, thewarriorsof theAdeptusAstarteswouldsometimessleepashumanswouldsleep,restingtheirsensesintrueslumber.ItwascommonforthewarriorsofmanyChapterstokeeptotheirownchambersintheirsparsehoursofrest.ThiswasnotthecasewiththeEinherjar.WithintheranksoftheThunderfistGreatCompany–andlikethewolvesoftheirGothicnamesake–thewarriorssleptinpacks.Thecentralchamberofabarrackshallwasasquad’ssanctuary,armouryandbedchamber.Servitorsandfavouredthrallsoftenlivedinthesamesharedspace,sleepingwhentheWolveswereaway,servingwhenthewarriorswerepresent.One of them, an arming servitor, tracked Nalfir’s movements across the chamber with a criticalcyberneticeye.ItsvoicewasatonelessdroneasitacknowledgedtheWolf.‘ChampionRazortongue,doyourequire–’‘Sssss,’thebardhissedback.‘Silence.’Nalfir’sunarmouredformlandedwitha thudonRagnar’sslabofabed.HecrouchedabovetheotherWolf’spronefigure,eyesnarrowedtoviciousslits,tappingthesilverknifeonhispack-brother’schest.Itclink-clink-clinkedagainstthedarkcontoursofRagnar’sblackcarapacesetbeneaththeskin.‘Blackmane,’hesnarledquietly.HisfingerstightenedaroundthehiltashebathedintheurgetoshedtheirritatingBloodClaw’slifeblood.Ragnar still didn’t move. Every breath drew in the scent of the bard’s salt-sweat, and the knife’sseparate,sharpmetallicsmell.Hedidn’tevenopenhiseyes.‘Blackmane,’thebardwhispered,teethclenchednow.‘Goaway,’Ragnarmurmured,‘orI’lltakethatknifeandpryoutbothofyoureyes.’‘Ithinknot.’Nalfirslidfromtheslab,twirlingtheknifeacrosshis fingerswiththegraceofafiresidetrickster.‘Weshouldspeak,Blackmane.’Ragnarfinallysatup,feelinguncomfortableitchesatthearmourfeedconnectionportsacrosshisspineandshoulders.Theywereredandangry,eachonelikealittlewound.Itwasthefirsttimehe’dbeenoutofhisarmourinmonths,andwithtypicaltimingNalfirhadshatteredthatchanceofwell-earnedrest.‘Thenspeak.’

‘You’renewtotheFirstPackandhungryforglory.Iseeitinyoureyes.Noshameinthat,eh?Butyou’reputtingyourambitionabovetheneedsofthecompany.’‘Ifyouhaveapointbeyondthisposturing,pleasereachitswiftly.’Nalfirshookhisheadandsighedasifhe’dneverseenanythingquitesotragic.‘Thisisallveryselfishofyou,Blackmane.Weshouldbesword-brothers,youandI.Onepack.Oneheart.Onemind.Notpullingindifferentdirections.’Ragnar reachedup tobindhis longhair in its customaryhunter’s crest, dragging the strands fromhisface.Heknewtherewouldbenomoreslumbernow.‘Youwokemeforthis?’‘No,Iwokeyoutochallengeyoutoafight.’Nalfirspuntheknife,lettingitdanceoverhisfingersinasilverblur.LikeRagnarhewasunarmoured,barefootandbare-chested,cladonlyinroughhidetrousers.Scarsdecoratedhisdark-skinnedbody,tellingthetalesofahundredbattlefields.‘AmI toguess thecauseof thischallenge?’Ragnarasked. ‘Orshould I justassumeyouwant toeaseyourbruisedpridebecausethejarlheededmywordsandnotyours?’Ina flashofmuscleand sinew,Nalfirhad theknifeagainst theBloodClaw’s throat.Thekeen silveredgescrapedRagnar’sunshavenskin.Thebardgrinned,facetofacewithhisrival.‘You’reanarrogantchild,Blackmane.YougetaprettyswordfromanoblemaidenonTerraandsuddenlyyouthinkyourselflordofthepack,fiercerandbolderandwiserthantherestofus.’‘IsthisbitternessthatIwaschosenasbattleleader?’‘And look howyouperformed in the role, eh?This is aboutmore than your childish temper.This isaboutarrogance.DoyouthinkI’mblindtoyourglory-lust?’Ragnar’s teeth showedwhite in the chamber’s faint illumination. ‘What I think is that you’re pushingyour luck, singer. If you’reworried about yourplace in theFirstPack, perhapsyou shouldbe fiercer,bolderandwiseryourself.’‘Suchprettythreats,’Nalfir’shoneyedvoicewaslowandsnide,‘fromanunbloodedcub.’Ragnarmovedjustasswiftly,dragginghisboneknifefromasheathonhisshinandpressingthetiptotheundersideofhisbrother’sjaw.Asinglerubydropletrandownthefangdagger,turningtheairmoltenwiththechemicalspiceofNalfir’sblood.‘Unblooded?’hebreathedintotheotherwarrior’sface.‘Keeppushingme,telleroftales.I’llwearyourbloodaswarpaintforayearandaday,soallwillknowmyknifecutoutbothofyourworthlesshearts.’IfRagnarwasthepromiseoffire,Nalfirwasthechilloficeonthewind.Thebard’sspitewasacalmthing,deceptivelygentle.‘You,’ the bard smiled, ‘are an upstart, glory-starved infant. A child playing at being a man. A cubplayingathunter,survivingonlybyyourmaddeningfortune.Butluckrunsout,Blackmane.Luckalwaysrunsout.’Ragnar’sknifeansweredbypressingupwards,piercingthesurfaceofhisbrother’sskinagain,sheddinganothertrickleofgenhancedblood.‘Iknowitwasyou,’hebreathedthewords.‘YoudeactivatedthestasislockontheBaryonyx.Iknowitwasyou,Razortongue.’‘Youknownothing,unbloodedchild.’‘Callmeunbloodedonemore time,’warnedRagnar, ‘andI’lluseyourhonourscrolls towipemyselfafternightsoil.’Nalfir leaned closer, hismouth conspiratorially close to the otherman’s ear.His voice softened to avicious,falselysweetmurmur.‘Worthless.Unblooded.Cub.’

Ragnar threwhimself forwards, bothwarriors crashing to the deck in a tangle of bludgeoning limbs.Around the chamber, thralls and servitors hurriedly backed away. The time of threats and insultswasdone, nowwordless grunts and half-formed curses filled the air, punctuated by the dull thuds of fistsstrikinghomeandheadscannoningofftheironfloor.ThesoundofRagnar’sdaggerpommelcrackingNalfir’sskullwasthethunderclapoflightningsplittingatreetrunk.ThesoundofNalfir’sknifedrivingintoRagnar’sgutswasthewetsmackofacarcassdroppingfrom a meat hook in the butchers’ hall. Priceless blood decorated the deck in shed speckles, a trailmarkingthebrothers’warringpassageacrossthechamber.Nalfir heavedRagnar’s headupbyhis hunter’s crest, using it to slam theBloodClaw’s face againstUllerGreylock’s bare sleeping slab.Once.Twice.Thrice.A smeared andbloody imprint ofRagnar’sfacelookedwildlybackupatbothofthem.An elbowhammered into the bard’s throat, hard enough to close hiswindpipe in a clench of abusedsinew,andasecondblowcrackedintohischinhardenoughtobreaktwoofhis teeth.Rather thanslipfreeasNalfir’sgrip loosened,Ragnarpressed theattack.Amomentofpotential respitedissolved intofurtherbrawling.Bothofthemhadlosttheirknives.Neitherofthemcared.Itwentonlikethisforsometime.Suchwaslifeamongthefrostborn.TheEinherjar’ssagaswerefilledwithbare-knucklebattlesbetweentribematesandpack-brothers.Mostofthemendedwiththerestorationof good sense and brotherly vows of companionship. Lessons were learned. Rivals became sword-brothers.Menwhohadbeenwilling tobrainoneother and spill eachother’s blood found themselvesbreathlessattheendoftheirbrawl,grinning,laughing,bondedcloserthanever.Nothere.Thefightendedwithanirontablecrashingintobothwarriors,thrownwiththeforceofFenris’winterwind.Thetable’sedgestruckNalfir’salreadyshatteredskull,droppinghimasthoughpole-axed.Ragnar tookthebruntof theimpactonhisbackandshoulders,sendinghimsmackingface-first intothewallbeforehestaggereddownontohisknees.Downonthedeck,theybreathedinragged,bestialpanting.‘Nnnh,’Nalfirgruntedthroughblood-coatedteeth.Whateveritwassupposedtomeanwassomethingnoonewouldeverknow.‘Grrrhh,’wasRagnar’sequallyineloquentreply.Awarriorinfullwar-platestoodinthecentreofthechamber,histeethbaredathisdownedkinsmen.Russhimselfhadneverlookedsofulloffury.‘AccursedBloodClaws.’‘I…’beganNalfir,‘…amnota…’Anarmouredbootpoundedintothebard’schest,snappingthereinforcedgeneticfusionofhisribs.Thebard’sprotestdissolvedintoawoundedandpuppyishsnarl.‘Be silent,’ said thewarrior standing above them. ‘Both of you, shut yourmouths.You’ve got bloodeverywhere.It’sallovermyweaponrack.’‘Greylock…’Ragnarmanagedtosayasheregainedhisfeet.Theolderwarrior’sbackhandhithardenoughtotearamortalman’sheadfreefromhisshoulders.Tanksranoverhelplessenemieswithlessforce.Ragnartumbledtothedeck,bonelessandgroaning.‘Isaidbesilent,bothofyou.Thatmeansyourclevertongue,Blackmane,aswellasthebard’swoefulsinging.’UllerGreylockstalkedaroundthepack’ssharedchamber,lookingoverthedamage,followingthebloodspatterswithanursinegrowl.‘Idon’tneedtobeaRunePriesttoreadtheomensinthisbloodtrail.’HegesturedatthesmearedprofileofRagnar’sfaceimprintedonthemetalpalletslab.‘Alltheportentstellthesamesimpletruth–you’re

bothuseless.’UllerlevelledabolterdirectlyatNalfir’sface.Frostshoneintheolderwarrior’sdarkeyes.‘IfyoubelieveIwon’tshootyou,boy,you’vegravelymistakenmytemper.’‘Youwouldn’t.’Nalfirbaredhisbloodyteeth.‘Greylock,mybrother,we’rebothFirstPack.’‘Whichmeanswhat, toyou?’UllernoddedovertoRagnar.‘Youjuststabbedyourpack-brotherintheguts,andhebrokeyourheadopeninreturn.Nowisafoolishtimetocalluponpackloyalty,Razortongue.WhenIsaidtobesilent,Imeantit.’‘ButGreylock–’Thebolterboomedonce.Thethunderwasnear-deafeningintheconfinesofthecommunalchamber,andtheslaves–alreadycoweringinthecornersoftheroom–coveredtheirearsatthedetonation.‘Youwretch!’Nalfircriedout,clutchingthebloodystumpwherehislefthandhadbeen.Ullerkepthisboltertrainedonthetwowoundedwarriors.‘You’ll live, fool. It’s justahand.Asknicelyandperhaps theIronPriestswillmakeyouanewone.’Ullertappedthevox-linkinhisarmouredcollar.‘Rimefang,thisisGreylock.’‘Greylock,’Askarval’svoicereturnedatonce,cracklingoverthevox.‘GetwordtotheSlayer.He’sneededintheHearthoftheFirstPack.’Askarval’s only replywas a dry grunt of acknowledgement.Once the vox-link clicked closed,Ullerfinallyloweredhisbolterandshookhishead.‘AccursedBloodClaws.’‘Stopcallingmea–’saidNalfir,butthebolterroseagaininthetimeittooktoblink.‘Icountonehandstillattachedtoyourwrist,’Ullersnarled.‘Speakonemorewordandthatnumberwillfallinawayyouwon’tenjoy.’Nalfirlapsedintowisesilenceatlonglast.Onthedeck,lyingonhisbackandswallowingthetasteofhisownblood,Ragnarlaughedalone.

He opened his eyes when the Slayer entered the room. Ragnar hadn’t been truly sleeping, merelyimmersinghimselfinthemeditativestatebetweenslumberandconsciousness,quietingalmosthisentiremindratherthanmereportions.Thelasttwodayshaddragged–hewashealedwithinhoursofhisarrival,buthewasconfinedtothestarboardapothecarion.Apunishment,hesuspected,butapracticalone.TheirelderswerekeepinghimawayfromNalfir…andkeepingNalfirawayfromhim.‘Welcomeback,’Ulrikgreetedhim.Ragnar’sbodywasanartist’scanvasoffadingbruisesandhealingknifegougeswhiteningintoshallowscars. The wound across his belly was thicker – a deeper and more jagged reminder of his recentbehaviour.Ulrikturnedold,oldeyestotheyoungwarrior.Hisgazewasunreadable.Ragnarhadtoguesswhetherhewasseeingdisappointmentordarkamusement,andwhethertherewasadifferenceeitherway.‘You’reFirstPacknow,’theWolfPriestsaid.‘Howswiftlyyourise.’‘IsthatprideIhear,Slayer?’Ulrikwouldn’tbedrawnintosuchaconfession.‘Acompany’sFirstPackissupposedtobeanexampleofbrotherhoodandveteranmaturity.’Ragnarsaidnothing,whichsaideverything.‘There’stalkamongtheotherpacksthatbothyouandRazortonguewillbesentbacktotheFang.’Ragnar cursed. Sent back in disgrace. An outcast, begging for entry into another Great Company orservingwithin the fortress-monastery’s hall – denied any honour – until finally drawing a last breath

beneathFenris’stormyskies.No.Hedidn’tdaregiveitanymorethought.Hewasmadeformorethansuchashamefulfate.‘Youhaveatrulyviletemper,Blackmane.’‘SoI’moftentold.’Heflexedhislimbsandstretchedhismuscles,feelingthepleasantcrackleofsinew.‘Halfof those I’vespoken towereashamedofyou for trying tokill apackmate.Theotherhalfwereannoyedwithyoufornotfinishingthejob.Razortongueisanunpopularsoul.’That,Ragnarthought,isaverydiplomaticwayofputtingit.‘Asareyouat themoment,’Ulrik added. ‘Wreckingadestroyer andangering theDarkAngels?Yourbrotherssaythatmisfortuneclingstoyoulikebarnaclesonaboat’shull.’Ragnar’sreplywasanoncommittalgrunt.‘This grudge is beneath you, Blackmane. You’re not a petty or trivial soul. So why this? WhyRazortongue?’‘Ihavenoanswerworthgiving.Hebaitsmeasahunterbaitsprey.Heevencountersmyordersonthefieldofbattle.HespeaksagainsteverythingIsay.IfIstoodbeforetheAllfatherhimselfandsaidthenorthwindblowscoldinwinter,Razortonguewouldinsistthesoutherngaleswerecolderinsummer.It’sjusthisway.’‘Maybeso,’Ulrikallowed.‘Orperhaps it ishisrole in theGreatCompany.Hisplacerather thanhispersonality. Where a lord must seem impartial, the lord’s mouthpiece can speak with impunity.Razortonguewouldhardlybethefirstbardandheraldtobeusedbyajarlforsucharole.’‘I’ve thoughtasmuch,myself.Yet it feelsmore than that.Morepersonal.This isn’t thefirst timehe’striedtokillme.’Ulrik’sdark,weatheredfeaturestwistedinhollowmirth.‘Isthatso?’‘Therehavebeenother incidents,all since I joined theFirstPack.Theseareonly the latest.HeeventriedontheBaryonyx.ThefreedFleshTearer…thatwasnocoincidence,Slayer.Noonewitheyesandareasoningmindwouldbelieveitwasasimplemalfunction.’‘Youseemsocertain,yetyouhaven’tspokenoutagainsthimforthesin.’Ragnarfeltlikespittingattheveryidea.‘Iwon’tfleetothejarllikeachildneedinganembrace.Ifacemyenemiesmyself,onmyownterms.’‘If,indeed,heisanenemy.Angerandconjectureisnotproof,young-blood.Yetyoutriedtostrikehimdown, did you not? And what if you’d succeeded? Murder of a packmate is a grievous crime,Blackmane.’‘I didn’t try to kill him,’ said theBloodClawwith a smile. ‘I sought only to teach him a lesson inrespect.’‘Hesaysthesameofyou.’‘What?’ Ragnar found his grin becoming a growl. The low rumble in his throat infected his words,makingthemaferalthreat.‘You’vespokentoRazortongue?’‘Briefly.He’sconfinedtotheportsideapothecarion.They’rekeepingyouonoppositesidesoftheshipwhileyourecover.’‘I’vealreadyrecovered.’‘Bravewords fromamanwhowaspracticallydisembowelled. Iwouldn’tgokraken-hunting justyet,BloodClaw,nomatterhowstrongyoufeel.’‘IgaveasgoodasItook.’‘Iknowthatbetterthanyoudo,’Ulrikpointedout,‘forI’veseenthedamagetohisskull.ButIdidnotcometospeakofwhathashappened.Icametotellyouwhatwillhappennow.’Ragnarnodded,waiting, sayingnothing.Achillwas snaking itsunwelcomewaydownhisbackbone.

ThefactitwastheSlayerbearingthesentencedidn’tbodewell.‘Yourfatehasalreadybeendecided,’saidUlrik.‘ThejarlinformedtheGreatCompanyanhourago.Itistimetoredeemyourself,RagnarBlackmane.’Ragnargaveawordless,suspiciousgaze,thatfinallybrokewithanunselfconscioussmile.‘I’mnotgoingtolikethis,amI?’

IttooksevenweekstorepairandrefittheBaryonyx.Shewasfarfromthesleekvoidbladeshe’dbeeninherprime,butwiththereverenceandconcentrationofahostoftech-priestsandmachine-thralls,itwasbelievedshewouldsailthewarp’stideswithoutcomingapartattheseams.TheHolmgangandtheVeregeltwerelonggone.JarlThunderfist’sshipshadsailedawaytofightintheAllfather’s name, aswas their duty.The jarl refused towait for the repair’s completion, trusting it tothosehechosetoleavebehind.AnAdeptusAstartes frigatesails theblackskieswitha fullcrewnumbering in the tensof thousands.When theBaryonyx’splasma drives quickened and her engines fired, shewas crewed by the severalhundredsurvivorsofher longstasisdrift,aswellasfourhundredsoulsconsignedtoserveaboardherdecksbyLordBerek.The jarl’sownshipsailedawayfourhundredsouls lighter–nosmall sacrifice,even fora shipofHolmgang’ssize.Doubly so, considering thenumberof thralls and serfs he’dbeenforcedtodonatetothewoundedVeregeltaftersomanyhumancrewhaddiedinthebrief,brutalambushattheMaelstrom’sedge.Mostpreciousofall,JarlThunderfistabandonedoneofhisownNavigationalcoteriestoguidetheFleshTearerswarshiphome.ThevalueofevenasingleNavigatorrankedabovetheprofitofentireworlds,yetBerekleftonebehindwhentheHolmgangsetsail.Sevenweeks alone in the void, undergoing painstaking repair. Sevenweeks until her engines finallyfired,lettingherbeginajourneythatwouldtakemonths.On thecommanddeck–nowclearedofcorpsesand thedust thatunburiedcorpsesbecome–Ragnarstoodbytheemptycommandthrone.Helookedoverthethinherdofcrewmembersmanningtheornatestations, scarcely enough tomanage the ship’s basic systems. Theywould be next to worthless if theBaryonyxranintotrouble.Three-quartersoftheship’sgunswouldrefusetofire.Thedeckshudderedbeneathhisbootsastheshipfinallycamealive.Thestarsontheocculusbegantodrift.‘SetcourseforCretacia,’hecalledouttothesparse,scatteredpacksofthralls.Asifitneededsaying.Asiftherewereanywhereelsethisshipwasdestinedtogo.He’dstudiedCretaciainthehololithicarchives,watchingitturninitsslowdance,feelinganunexpectedstaboffamiliarity.TheworldwasasistertoFenrisinthewaysiblingscanhaveeverythingincommonyet look nothing alike. Both were InhabitareMortua – death worlds in Low Gothic parlance – andfiercelyhostiletohumanlife,yetwheretheHearthworldwasaglobeoficeandragingoceans,Cretaciawasasphereofteemingjungles.Itsfacehadshowedvilegreenagainstthebackdropofstars,almostlikecorposantintheblack.Fenrisdidthesame,thoughwithaglowingvisageofblue-whitefrost.Ragnar leaned on the guardrail around the central dais,wondering if he’d ever see theHearthworldagain.Theisolationofdeep,utterseparationfromhispackandcompanywasn’tentirelynewtohim–notto awarriorwith a past as bloody and colourful as his own– butwas always unnerving and foreverunwelcome.Packanimalsneededtimetoadjusttobeingontheirown,andaWolfwasnodifferent.‘Areyouready,brother?’heaskedoverhisshoulder.Theotherwarriorpresent repliedwitha falseandunlovelysmirk.His facewasanartist’spaletteofripebruises.A curved cranial plate hadbeen crudely implanted at his temple and cheek to rebindhis

skulltogether.‘I’moverjoyedtobecomingwithyou,youknow,’saidNalfirRazortongue.‘I’msurewe’llreceivethewarmestofwelcomesonCretacia.’

INTERLUDE

Cadia–TheTunnelsBeneathKasrBellocTheLastTurningoftheYear’sWind

999.M41

Weaponless and wounded, the warrior fled across the tundra. His boots churned up the snow andshatteredthegreyrocksbeneathhisstaggeringlope,andthoughheoftenstumbled,hedidn’tstop.Tostopwastodie,slainbytheblizzardintowhichhewalked,ortheBeastthatdoggedhisheels.TheBeast’sroarsweregrowingfaint–perhapsdrownedbytheragingwind,perhapsblessedlyfadingwithdistance.Heprayeditwasthelatter,yetfeareditwastheformer.Worsewasthesounditself.TheBeastdidn’tcryoutlikeananimal;itshriekedlikethesingingofasteelblade.Thechillwasaforceuntoitself,acoldbeyondcold.Itsicycaressateathim,penetratinghisarmourandleechingthestrengthfromhisbones,asimpossibleasthatwas.Neverhadhefeltthebiteofsucha storm.At least, not since theweakling years of his scarcely remembered childhood. Frost glazedacrosshisarmour,crackingwhenhemoved,reformingwithinthespanofasinglebreath.Noearthlystorm,this.Rocksgavewaybeneathhislurchingtread,thetreacherousstonessendinghimcrashingtohishandsandknees.Hebreathedacursethatthewindimmediatelystole,rippingitfromhistonguebeforehecouldevenhearhisownvoice.Behindhim, theBeast’smetallic clarion rangout onceagain.Closer, now.Maddeningly close.Hehadn’tbeenoutrunningitafterall.Hedraggedhimselftohisfeet,forcinghisprotestingmusclesbackintotheleaningrun.Everybreathsawing inandoutofhis throat inhaled thestormandexhaled theremnantsofwarmth.He’d forcedhimself into stasis a handful of times in the past, consciously deanimating his biological processesuntilsettlingintoartificialslumber.Thiswasdifferent.Thiswasn’ttheslowingoflife,butthedrainingof it.Hisbiologywasn’tdeanimating, itwasdying. Inhischest,his three lungsweregrowingslow,freezing into hard, useless chunks of flesh. Both of his hearts were lead-heavy, churning icewaterinsteadofpumpingblood.Onheran.Sluggishbloodleakedfromthelaceratedjointsofhis battlearmour,freezingtorubyiceagainst thegrey ceramite.Hecouldn’t recall howhe’d taken thewounds; thewind’sbitternesswasslowinghismind,sweepinghisthoughtsoutofreach.

When the ground gave way beneath him again, it did more than slip from beneath his boots – itlurcheddownwardsandfellaway,allsanctuarysuddenlybanished.Thewarrior felthimselfsliding,tumblingwiththefallingrocks.Onlyapanickedhandslammingintosolidstonearrestedhisdropintoachasmthathadn’texistedthreesecondsbefore.Hehungthere,themusclesofhisarmstrainingandtearing,supportinghisdanglingweight.Beneathhim,onlyblacknessandtheroaringofthewind.Thechasmwasdepthless,limitless.Itwasthewide,lightlessmawofthekrakenthatgnawedupontheworld’score.Howeasy itwouldbe to let go.Toabandonhiswounded, freezinghusk thatpromisednothingbutanotherfewminutesoffrostburnedpainbeforesuccumbingtothisstormofstorms,orthesharp,hotendofadeathbetweentheBeast’sjaws.No.Thisbloodlessfallintodarknesswasnowayforawarriortodie.Hisslackeninggripon therock ledge tightened justasashadowblackened theskyabovehim.Helookedup,expectingtheBeast’sflashingfangs,ortheblurofitsclaws.Whatmethisgazewasneither.His lord stood on the precipice, armoured and armed, his great fur cloak dragged by the blowingwind.‘Blackmane,’saidJarlBerekThunderfist,crouchingtoofferhishandtothehangingwarrior.Ragnardidn’ttakeit.Norcouldhespeakthroughhisclosedthroat,withhistonguenumbedandhislipsrimedwithice.Berekgrinnedthroughafrost-whitenedbeard.Hereachedlower,offeringhisgauntletedhandoncemore.‘Comeon,lad.Timetogo.’

He slumbered for a time, sinking into black unconsciousness instead of the respite of true sleep.Awareness returned in bleary fits and spurts. His senses would come to life long enough to feel adizzying,sicklywarmthagainsthisskin.Hesawthepricklingorangelightofanearbyfire.‘Blackmane?’camehislord’svoice.Ragnardidn’treply.Hecouldn’t.Histonguewasadeadslugbetweenachinggums,histhoughtstooslowtoformintowords.‘Doyouknow,’thevoiceasked,‘justhowcloseyoucametodeath?Howcloseyoustillare?Fightit,damnyou.’Hiseyesfellclosed,drowninghimfirstinnausea,theninnothingness.

Thenexttimehesurfaced,hesawacave’sgreywallsturnedamberbythefire’sflickeringlight.Shredsofadreamslippedfromhisskull–hesawdarkarmourandpriestlyrobes;hesawsilversteelandhehearditsingwithananimal’sroar…andthennothingmore.Thistime,hemanagedtorise.Armourjointssnarledinharmonywiththeachesinhisbones.Thecavewassmall,ahavenratherthanahome.Ragnarbathedinthefire’slightandheat,breathingitinlikelifeitself.Thehotairtastedofbloodandash,buteventhatwasablessingafterthechokingtangofsnowfreezinghisthroat.‘Iwasbeginningtothinkyou’dgonetoyourrewardattheAll father’sside,’saidthehulkingfigurecrouchedbythefire.Ragnar looked at his liege lord, the olderwarrior stirring the fire’s heart with a thick deadwoodbranch.Whenthewordscame,theyweren’ttheonesRagnarhadintendedtospeak.‘YoulooknodifferenttothelasttimeIsawyou.’Berekgrinned,notlookingawayfromtheflames.‘Whatwereyouexpecting,Blackmane?’‘Acorpse,’theyoungerwarriorreplied.‘You’redead,sire.’‘Isthatso?’Berektossedthedeadwoodstaffintotheflames,lettingthemeatitwiththerestofthe

bracken.‘I avenged you,’ Ragnar pointed out. As his thoughts came together in unreliable strands, hewasbeginningtodoubthewasawakeatall.‘Ibutcheredthehereticthatshedyourlifeblood.’‘Oh.’Berekgaveanursinegrowlthatwaslikelyalaugh.‘Howheroicofyou.’Ragnarhauledhimselftohisfeet,onlytobemetwithhislord’smurmuredwarning.‘Carefulthere,hero.You’llbeasweakasathree-daycub.’Astrueasitwas,Ragnarrefusedtoshowit.Hesanktohishaunchesbythefire,oppositehislong-deadjarl.‘Where’sFrostfang?’‘Thatlittlepig-sticker?Whoknows.Youdidn’thaveitwhenIfoundyououtinthesnow.That’syourfirstquestion? I expected somethingmorepractical fromyou,Blackmane.Doyouevenknowwhereyouare?’‘WhereamI?’Berek’seyesgleamed,darkanddelighted.‘Acave.’‘Iseethat,sire.Whereisthiscave?’‘Righthere.’Ragnarbaredhisteethinamomentofirritatedinstinct.‘Whereis“righthere”?’‘Stillgotthattemper,eh?That’llbethedeathofyou,littleking.’‘Asyourswas thedeathofyou?’Ragnarsnapped. ‘You,whobreathedyour lastbreathspitted likevenisonatafeastandguttedbytraitorousblades?’Berek laughed,openinghis furcloak to revealhisdentedandscratchedsuitofbattlearmour.Thebreastplatewasa shattered ruin, carved from throat to groin, scabbedoverbya thick layerof ice.Destroyedorgansandrivenfleshshowed,justbarely,distortedthroughthefrozenlens.‘Yes,justlikeme.Howaretheothers,eh?HowaremyFirstPack?’‘TheyaremyFirstPacknow,lord.’‘Theytookmyironbeforetheytookanyoathtoyou,whelp,sotellmehowmybrothersfare.ByRuss,Imissthemstill.’Ragnardrewbreathtospeak,onlytobestruckbyasuddenpressureinhisskull.Theairhedraggedintohis lungshad the chemical tangof shipboard filtrators, and the comforting fire flared into thestareofanartificialsun,acid-savageinhiseyes.‘Blackmane?’heheardBerekcall.Ragnarheldhisheadinhishands,tostophisskullcomingapartattheseams.‘Blackmane?’

‘Blackmane?’‘Aye,Slayer.Ilive.Merelylostinthought.’‘Morelikedreamingonyourfeet.Asignofskulldamage,oraseriouswoundtothemind.’‘Alliswell,’Ragnarlied.‘Isawnothing.Alliswell.’Ragnarleanedagainstthecorpsebarricade,forcingtheshaking,crampingmusclesinhisarmtounlock.Aheadofhimaliteralvistaofbodieschokedthewidetunnelforfiftymetres.Behindhim,hismenwerebreathlessandbleeding, their fleshwrackedand torn.Several sank to thegroundwhere theyhadbeenstanding,overcomewithmuscletremorsfromfightingforsevenhoursstraight.Oneofthemdraggedhismangledhelmetclearwithacurseandspatoutahandfulofteeth.Duetoadrenalineandpainnullifiersintheirbloodstreams,woundstakenhoursagowereonlynowdiscovered:oneoftheWolvestoucheddirtyglovedfingertipstohismouth,realisingthattheaxeblowthatbrokehisjawanhouragohadalsotornout

partofhistongue.AtRagnar’sside,oneofhisGreyHunterssliddowntothecorpse-ladenground,sittingonthechestofaslainWorldEater.Thewarriorlookedathisownleftarmwithanemotionsomewherebetweendisbeliefandirritation.Infrequentsparksflickeredfromhiscleavedwrist,wherehisbionichandhadbeenseveredaway.Ragnarforcedasmileacrosshisfeatures.‘Betteryourwristthanyourthroat,brother.’Thewarriorgrowledalaugh.‘Trueenough,sire.’Ragnarclappedanencouraginghandonthewarrior’sback-mountedpowerpack,andmovedawayfromthebarricade.Hismenhailedhimashemoved through theirexhaustedpacks.Hekepthis featuresset inaslygrin,jokingwith them, teasing them,mocking thosewho showed superficial and unthreatening injuries.Thegrinwasimportant.Hismenmustalwaysseehimkeenandbattle-ready,neverbesetbydoubtortroubledbycircumstance.Leadershadtobeawareofsuchnuances.Sohegrinned,evendownin theunderworldofblood-stinkandbarricadesmadefromdeadfoes.Hiseyesblazedwithforcedfocusdespitethepainofhissplit-openandhastilysealedskull.Theheadwoundtroubledhimmorethanhedaredadmit.Anhourago,Ulrikhadfusedthebackofthejarl’sskullclosedwith armour cement. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d since decided againstmentioninghowhismind–andhissenses–wanderedworryinglyclosetodreamsanddelusions.The region they now heldwas called the Concourse. There, beneath the generatoria district ofKasrBelloc, they stood against the tides of foes seeking to overwhelm them.The route toKasrLavokwasalready hopelessly strangled. For the whole of the day they’d held the subterranean junctions at theConcourse, where Ragnar’s warriors had manned a series of barricaded chokepoints and preparedseveralfallbackpositions.Thelongdayprecedingthelaststandat theConcoursehadbeensomewhatlessglorious.KasrBellocwas in flames, and just as Ulrik had warned, the tunnel routes to Lavok were so crammed with theWarmaster’sfilthy,miserabletroopsthatallforwardmotionbyRagnar’scompanyhadbeenhaltedinagrind of ceramite on ceramite. The assault failed when the tunnels collapsed, brought down by theArchenemyontopofRagnar’svanguard.Sincethen,allhadbeensilent.ThelastoftheCadian57thhadmanagedtoreachKasrLavokonlytofinditalreadyfallen.ThatwasthelastRagnarhadheardoftheirfate,andofthecitythey’dsoughttosave.‘Nightbladeisback,lord,’saidoneofhiswarriors.ItwasSoergar,calledtheTrueCutbyhiskithandkin.Ragnarslappedhisshoulderguardinthanksandturnedtothegrizzledfigurewhoapproachedfromthedeeperdark.‘Jarl,’theScoutgreetedhim.NotMyjarl.TheScoutswalkedbeyondthebordersofthetwelveGreatCompanies,beholdenonlytotheordersofHighKingGrimnar.Drekka,calledNightbladebyhiskithandkin,wasafarolderwarrior than the lordhereported to thiseve.Hewasawalkingarsenal festoonedwithweapons,yetwithoutthebulkofsacredceramite.Histradewasmurderinthenight,notbreakingthebacksoffoesonthefrontline.Drekka’sreportwasterseandtothepoint.Plainlyheexpectedaswiftdismissalafterhisscoutingrun,butRagnarkepttheoldwarriorbyhisside.‘Ineedyoutopushfurther,’thejarltoldhim.‘FurthertowardsLavok?’Drekka’sdarkfacecreasedwithsmilelines.‘Thetunnelsarelost,Blackmane,andthecityisdead.OurfutureholdsnojourneytoLavok,thisIpromiseyou.’‘Not to Lavok, kinsman.’ Ragnar outlined his plan. Drekka listened and, as was his way, noddedsuccinctlytogivehisagreement.

Thejarlthankedhim,thendismissedhimbacktotheshadows.Asthejarlmovedawayagain,hisWolfGuardflankedhiminsilent,pack-bornunity.Hehidhisdisquietfrom his brother-warriors, but the First Packwas bound to their lord closer than any other. They hadalwaysseenwhatotherscouldnotbeallowedtowitness,andknewhimtoowellforhisdeceptionstotakerootintheirminds.TheothersofRagnar’scompanyhadseentheirlordfighttwiceashardasanyman alive in these tunnels only to keep grinning between battles, but the First Pack saw beneath thefacade.Theirlordwaswearyuntodeath.Theyallwere.Away from the other packs, they gathered around a shimmering hololithic display of the local tunnelnetworkgeneratedbytheSlayer’shand-heldprojector.‘Westandatthebeginningoftheend.’UlrikgesturedtoseveraladjacentpassagessweepingaroundtheConcourse’srear.‘IwasatthesixthbarricadewithSkyhunterandhismen–therearwardtunnelscannotbeheldformuchlongerwithoutreinforcement.’‘Youoldcrow,’saidAlryddwithagunshotlaugh.HehadreplacedRazortongueastheGreatCompany’sbardfourdecadesbefore,buthewasstillfreshtotheranksoftheFirstPack.‘Aren’tyoudrawntoplacesofdeath?Youshouldbepleasedbytheprospect.’Ulriksmiledbeneathhismask,thoughnoneofthemsawit.‘PerhapsIam.I’mmerelypointingouttherealities,youngsinger.’Ragnarendedtheirbanterwithachopofhishand.‘Focus.Focusonwhatmattershereandnow.Fightthebattleswecanwin.Thatmeansholdinghere,andholdingheremeansholdingtheSeptimalpassagesaswellastherearwardtunnels.’Hegesturedtoacobwebofflickeringpassages,asthinasfilamentandspreadingoutinmyriaddirections.‘Here.Ifwetakethecrawl-tunnelssouthofthethirdcauseway,itwilllessenthepressureontherearwardpassages.’Alryddcursedbeneathhisbreath.‘Itwillbeknifetothroatinthosecrawl-chutes.Noswords.Noaxes.Nobolters.’EvenUllerGreylocksuckedinairthroughhisteethasifinpain.‘Itdoessmellalittlelikefalsehope,myjarl,butI’llgoifyouwishit.’‘Ineedyouelsewhere,Greylock.Longspear,Iaskthisofyou.’HrolfLongspearmethislord’sgaze.‘GivemeBloodClaws,myjarl,andI’llgiveyouthosetunnels.’Ragnar nodded. ‘Take the Twice-Proven. Have them leave their ammunition reserves here, dividedamongtheremainingpacks.’Ashespoke,helookedtoHrolf’sfeatures,scarcelylitinthereddishgloom.Longspearshowednouneaseatthethoughtofbeingsentintosomeofthethickestfightingwithoutasingleboltshelltofire.‘Takethosetunnels,’Ragnarsaid,‘andI’llhowlyournamestotheAllfathermyselfwhenIstandbeforehisthrone.’‘Itwillbedone,’Hrolfpromised.‘Greylock?’‘Myjarl.’The jarl’s quick, dark eyes danced across the projection again. His gesturing hand followed. ‘TheSeptimaltunnels.That’swhereIneedyou.’LikeHrolf,Ulleragreedwithouthesitation.‘Whoholdsthosetunnelsnow?’‘TheRedMistandWyrdbane,’repliedRagnar.‘Atlastreport,Wyrdbaneisdowntofivemen.’Ullerpacedtherockcretefloor.‘Goodmenwithgoodblades,butit’sfairertoaskthemtogrowwingsandfly thantoholdtherealonemuchlonger.Byyour leave,I’ll taketheTrueCutandhisSwordkintostandwiththem.’

‘Done.’Ragnar’sreplywasimmediate.‘Go.’UllerbaredhisthroatintheprivateEinherjargestureofobedience.Hewasgoneamomentlater,callingSoergarTrueCutandhispacktofollow.ItwasUlrikwho asked thequestionnoneof theotherswished to voice.He asked it calmly,withouteitherhopeorrancour.Apracticalman,concernedonlywiththedetails.‘Then I assumewe’veheardnothingof reinforcements?’Themoment thewords left hiswolf-skulledhelm,thetunnelshiveredaroundthem,rainingdustandpebbledebrisagainsttheirceramiteplating.Withalittleimagination,thegrowlofdistantartillerycouldbethelaughterofgiants.Alryddlookedtotheshakingwalls.‘Thewaritselfislaughingatthatquestion,Slayer.’Ragnarsmiledatthebard’sgrimjest.ItwasthekindofthingRazortonguewouldhavesaid.

TheWolfLord tookhisplaceat thefirstbarricade,bracinghimselfagainst thearmouredbodiesof thedeadtraitorspileduptomakeawaist-highwall.Thesymbolofablue-and-greenworld,animageofOldEarthperhaps,showedonthedeadwarriors’redarmour.Aworldbeingdevouredbetweenironjaws.AncientUlrikwasatRagnar’sside,hisleatheryfeaturesmaskedbythewolf-skullhelm.Hestared,red-eyed,intothedarknessofthetunnelacrossthebarricade.‘DareIask?’RagnaraskedtheWolfPriest.Ulrik’slaughwasdryandugly.‘I’vecuttheredthreadsofnineEatersofWorldstoday.Nine.Canyousaythesameofyourself?’‘Hecouldsayit,’AlryddsaidfromRagnar’sotherside.‘Butitwouldn’tbetrue.’Ragnar’sanswerwasprecededbyanothergrin,onefiercerandtruerthanthosethatcamebefore.‘Onlythree,Slayer.Butthedayisyetyoung.’

Thefloodcameinatideofshrieking,scarredflesh,andtheremnantsofRagnar’sGreatCompanyrosetofight itback.The foe’s tacticwascrudebutundeniablyeffective– flooding the tunnelswithworthlessthrallstolettheWolveswearythemselvesslaughteringthehordesofzealousslaves.Evenimmortalarmscanache,andevenimmortalhandswilltire.Ragnar’smenbattledwiththeirhandscramp-lockedaroundthebloodstainedgripsofweaponsalmoststarvedofammunitionandfuel.Bolterswerestartingtoclickwithemptythroats.Chainswordsandchainaxeswerebreakingdown,theirsturdymechanisms fouledbyhumanmeat, their teeth-tracks thrown fromoveruse, and their simplehiltenginescoughinginthirst.Behindthebarricadeofbutcheredbodies,AlryddfoughtatRagnar’srightsidewhileUlrikguardedthejarl’s left.The torrentofunwashedmenandwomengroundagainst theWolves’ thin lines in agaleofspitting,frothing,bleedingflesh.Hundredsofknivesandcudgelsflashedoutinmalnourishedhandsonlytobreakuponblue-greyceramite.TheWolvessawalmostnothinghumaninthemenandwomenbesiegingthem.TotheEinherjartheywereasingleorganism,thrashingandheavinglikesomesicklytideofflesh.Tostandagainstthehordewastofightbackanoceanmadeofmeat,boneandrags.Ragnarkilledwitheverymovementofhisachingmuscles.Afistshatteredadreadlockedman’sskull,spilling out the grey sludge within. A sweep of his blade tore a filthy woman’s head free from hershoulders. Hammering the butt of his pistol down collapsed the stitched face of the mutated thingscrabblingathisbreastplate.Onandonitwent,wearingtheWolvesdownhourbyhour.Thevoxwasbeyondworthless,foreverlosttoscreechesofdistortedspeech,toobrokentounderstand,cuttingoffinmidtransmission.TheWolveslearnedtoignoreit;itwasjustmorebackgroundvilenesstodealwith.

When a break in the tides came, it was scarcely a mercy. Taller figures stalked through the ranks,armoured as theWolveswere armoured, bearing freshweaponswhile Ragnar’smen clutched brokenblades.‘Skitnah!’Ragnarroaredabovethechitteringsea.Skitnah.Corruption.Filth.TheWorldEaterswereback,andhesummonedeveryoneofhiswarriorstothebarricades.Alrydd threw his head back in a howl.Hearing their bard still alive at their lord’s side, the raggedsurvivorsofRagnar’sGreatCompanytookupthewar-cry.

Morefoesfollowed.Morefoesdied. It tookno timeatall toadd to thecorpsebarricadeswithSpaceWolveschainbladessingingtheirreapingsong,creatingbuildingblocksinabundance.RagnarfeltstrangelyexposedfightingwithouthisentireWolfGuard.EventheFirstPack’snewestandbravestblood,Tor–calledWolfheartbyhiskithandkin–hadbecomeapresenceeverathis side inrecent campaigns. Now he fought only with AlryddDirgehowler and Ulrik the Slayer, with his otherclosest brothers sent away to serve among the other squads. Scattering their skills would inspire theexhaustedwarriors of depleted packs. Every Blood Claw andGreyHunter would fight harder in theshadowofthejarl’schosencompanions.Ragnarhowledintheheatofthemelee,ventinghiswearyrageinawordless,cleansingcry.Hismuscleswerestrainedalmosttoruinbeneaththeabusedlayersofceramiteplating–itwasonlythetwincallingsofdutyandfurythatkepthimonhisfeet.Fury,thatanywarrioralivebelievedtheywouldbetheonetoendhislifeandlegend;duty,forherefusedtofallwhilethosewhodependeduponhimyetdrewbreath.Hekillednotwithhisblade,withhisbolter,withhis fist,orevenwithhisboot.Theseweremerelytools.Ragnarkilledwithhisheartandsoul,pouringhimselfintoeverydesperatemovement,suckinginlifewitheverysawingbreath.DifferentWolves fought around him at the first barricade. He rotated the serving packs every hour,keepingthemasfreshashecould,sendingthewalkingwoundedbackto thesecondbarricadeinorderthattheymightrushforwardstoaidthedefendersinthegrimmestmoments.Theirpurposewastwofold,thoughtheseconddutywasfarlesspalatable:shouldthefirstbarricadefall,thewoundedpacksholdingatthesecondwallwouldbethelastlineofdefence.Onlytwootherfiguresremainedconstant.Alryddwasaslowblurathisside,thebard’sbladespinningand twisting and cutting and gutting.Ulrik’s croziusmace gave a flare of kinetic light and a cathedralbell’s clang each time it hammered into yielding flesh. The Wolves nearby fought with the sameviciousness,farpastthepointwhereferocitybecomessavagery.Withtheirbackstothewall,theybecamethebeaststheywerenamedfor.Anotherhowlsoundedabovethebattle–abreathless thing,closer toagaspingbark thana true, full-throatedshout.Withoutthevoxthejarlhadnowayoftallyinghiswarriors’casualties.Theyhowlednowundertheirlord’sorderssothathemightkeepcountofthefallen.Theweight of numberswas ever a threat, even if individual humanswere not. Thesewere raggedlyarmouredranksofsoldierswhoonceservedintheImperialGuard:soldierswhohadthrownloyaltyanddiscipline to thewindyetheld fast to their cunning.They tangledhis ankles, clinging tohisboots andshins. They grasped at his arms and elbows, dragging his defences down.With infuriating regularity,sacrificialfoolshurledthemselvesathisblade,willinglyimpalingthemselvesinthehopesofbearingthesworddowntothegroundwiththeirdyinggrip.Oneofthem,theboldestofall,managedtocrawlthroughthecorpseslitteringthefloor,avoidinghalfadozenstampingWolves’boots.Sheroseupbehindthefrontlineandlaunchedherselfuponthejarl’sback,hungryfingersreachingforthelord’shunter’scresttofindpurchaseandcuthisthroat.Hercouragecame

to naught as shewas swatted from the jarl’s back by awhirring cut fromAlrydd’s sword.Oneof thewoman’sarmsremainedinplace,theseveredlimblockedtothejarl’sshoulderguardbyitshand’sdeathgrip.Itwasshakenlooseafterafewseconds,tumblingintotheseaofbutcheredbodiespilinguparoundtheWolves’knees.Itwas dusk on the surface of thisworld atwar,where day and night stillmeant something.Beneathgrounditwasthesameunendingtwilight.Decayplayedaswiftgamedownthere,ripeningbodieswithrotandaddingtheirsicklysweetsmelltothealreadyfoulcorridors.Asthethirddaycametoitsslow,bloodyend,UlriktoretheHelmofRussfromhishead,draggingthestinkingsubterraneanairintohislungs.‘Wecannothold,’hesaidduringalullinthemassacre.‘Iknow.’ThebatteredandbloodyfigureofRagnarwasusingawolfpelttocleangorefromFrostfang’smechanics.‘PulltheTerminatorsbackfromthebattle.Usethemtodigthroughthecollapsedtunnels.’‘Thatwilltakeaneternity.Weneedthematthebarricades.’‘It’souronlychance,Blackmane.Givetheorder.’RarewerethetimeswhentheSlayersawfittogiveorderstotheYoungKing.Ragnarshookhishead,triggeringFrostfangnowitsblockagewascleared.‘No,oldfather.Yousaidityourself,wewillneverreachLavok.GettingGreylockandtheotherstodiglike rats in the dark won’t change that. Do you think they’d even agree? Slayer, you try to tell thecompany’sfinestwarriorsthattheyhavetoabandonthefightandclawthroughdirtinstead.Seehowtheytakethatorder.’Ulrik lookedover thebarricadesat theoceanofdeadbodiescarpe tingthe tunnelfloor,waist-deepinplaces.Withnarrowedeyes,heasked,‘WhatwereNightblade’sorders,jarl?’‘What are any Scout’s orders? Towalk alonewhere an army cannot go. I sent him back up toKasrBelloc.’‘TheenemyholdsBelloc,northtosouthandeasttowest.Tosurfacetherewouldbedeath,deepbehindenemylines.Evenifheescapesthefallencity,therestofuswillnot.Whywouldyoudothis?’‘He won’t seek to escape,’ said Ragnar. ‘I sent him to chase down the source of the fracturedtransmission.’‘Myjarl,’Ulriksighed.‘You’vesenthimtohisdeathatatimewhenwemostneedeverybladebyoursides.Thisisawasteoflife.’Ragnarturnedacoldstareuponhismentor.Ratherthanreply,hereturnedtothebarricadeandpreparedforthenextassault.

Thetidecame,brokeagainstthemandrecededafterelevenlong,bitterhours.Itisnoeasyfeattotallythelostliveswithinaharvestofflesh.DidoneWolfdieforeveryfiftyhumans?Oneforeveryhundred?Whocouldknowforcertain?Confusioninsuchcircumstanceswasforgivable,even amonghumanity’s genetic elite.Eidetic recollections canbe deceivedwhen thewarriors are toowearytodredgethroughtheirmemoriesandcount,onebyone,theharvestoflivesthathaveendedsofar.Timehadawayofplayingtricksonthemindsofthosefightingwithinashield-wall.BeneathRagnar’s boots ran a river of blood that needed no poetic licence to bring to life.He stoodwaist-deep in the butchered dead, hurling them aside as best he could, throwing them against thebarricade.Inthisbriefrespite theWolvesoncemoreremainedinplace, toomuscle-soretomoveawayfromthebarricadeandwadethroughtheseaoftheslain.Manydroppedwheretheyhadbeenstanding,murmuring

prayerstotheoldgodsthattheirancestorshadbecome.OthersbeseechedtheEmperor,notforsalvation–suchaprayerwouldbeconsideredcravenbeyondreckoning–butdemandingthattheAllfatherturnHisholyeyesuponthem,witnessingtheirfinalactsofcourageandglory.Ragnarremainedonhisfeet,thoughonlybarely.Heloweredhishead,lettingthebloodandsweatdripfromhisface.Ashiseyesfellclosed,thestingingacheinsidethemsoftenedwiththesweetestrelief.Forseveralheartbeats,hewasn’tsurehewouldeverbeabletoopenhiseyesagain.Alreadyhecouldhearthemarchingtreadofmorefoesdrawingcloser,theirechoingadvancebecomingatorturedmishmashofsound. These weren’t the leather boots of treacherous Guard or the rags of beggar-cultists. A heavy,crunching treadofceramitebootsonstone isasound likenoother. Itbecomesanorchestraofpealingthunderwhenenoughwarriorsgather;itwasastormRagnarknewwell.How longuntil they reached thebarricade?Hard to say.Twentyminutes.Ten. Itmadenodifference,eitherway.Thiswas,atlonglast,theend.EveryoneoftheWolvesknewit.‘Don’targuewithme,’hemurmuredthroughgashedlips,pickingupthestraythreadofaconversationabandonedoveranhourago.Alryddunderstooditatonce.‘It’smyplacetoarguewithyou,’thebardreplied.Hiswordscouldbeconsideredtheclaimofawisemanorthepleaofacowardlyone.Whicheverwastrue,thebardspokewitharazor-tonguedsharpness.‘Whenyou’rewrong,Blackmane,it’smyplacetotellyouso.’Every warrior remaining could see how it cost him to say those words. Defying his jarl wasn’tsomethinglightlydone.‘HowamIwrong?’Ragnarpausedtospitbloodontotheseaofcorpsesaroundthem.‘Tellmethat,ifyouwould.’‘Wecankillmoreofthemifweholdhere,’saidAlrydd.‘Returningtothesurfaceissuicideunlessthecityisretaken.Thebarricadeshereserveuswell,andthefoediesinhordes.Whatelsemattersnow?’Ragnaropenedhis eyes to the stingingdarkoncemore. ‘Killingmoreof them ismeaningless.Emptyglory,Dirgehowler.’Thebardsplashedwaterfromhiscanteenoverhisface,usingthepreciousliquidtocleanhiseyesofthefoes’poisonous,blindingblood.Oncedone,hehandedthebottletoRagnar.‘Thisisagoodplacetodie,brother.’‘Agoodplace,yes.Notagoodway.’‘Semantics.’‘Yousayso?Iwouldratherdieclawingmywaybacktosunlightthanharvestingtheenemy’slivesdownhereinthedark.’Alryddfelttoowearytoevenbarehisteethinasnarl.‘Areyoulisteningtoyourself,sire?Ifwefightourwayout,we’lllosethebarr icadesandourfallbackjunctions.We’llbedeadbeforeweevenreachthesurface.’‘We’reentombingourselvesbehindwallsofthedead.Theyarebarelybarricadesanymore.Justmoundsofcoolingmeatmakinganoceanoftheslain.’‘They’retheonlyreasonwe’realivenow.’‘IfIdietonight,singer,itwillbebythetermsIchoose.Weareleaving.That’stheendofit.’AlryddknewaswellasanyotherthefutilityofarguingwiththeirlordwhenRagnar’smindwasfixeduponsomething.‘Beitso,then.’Hespatontotheclosestcorpse.‘Iwasgrowingwearyofthescenery,anyway.’Ragnarraisedhisvoicetocalltheothers.‘Kindred!Pack-brothers!Tome,allwhostilldrawbreath!Tome,now!’AlryddrolledseveralbodiesasideashewadedthroughgoretoreachRagnar.‘Ihopeyouknowwhat

you’redoing.’‘Don’t I always?’Ragnar gave aweary laugh at his ownwords as theotherWolvesdrewnear. In amomentofmiraculousrestraint,Alryddletthatclaimgounchallenged.‘Everyone!’Ragnarcalled,uncaringhowhisvoiceechoeddownthetunnels,doubtlesstothelisteningearsoftheenemy.Lettheenemyhear.Letthemcome.‘Leaveyourbarricadesandrally tome.Deathcomesmarching towardsusnow,bearingfreshboltersand readiedbladeswhilewe scavengeweapons from the cold hands of our owndeadbrothers.But Irejectthisdeath.Doyouhearme,kinsmen?Idenyit.Irefuseit.Sharpentheteethofyourswordsandcastasideallyoucannotcarrywithyou.We’llfightourwaytothesurfaceordietrying.Andifluckandspitecarry us back into the sunlight only to be surrounded bymore foes, then Iwill die in the city above,howlingmynametotheembattledsky.Thesearethewordsofyourjarl…’Helethiswordstrailaway,driftingdownthecorridors.Afewsecondspassedbeforeheadded, inaconversationaltone,‘…andyourjarlassumesyou’recomingwithhim?’They didn’t cheer or shout. They laughed. Honest grins split their blood-streaked faces, and thesurvivorsofRagnar’sGreatCompanylaudedtheirjarlwithgood-naturedlaughter.‘Makeready,’Ragnartoldthem.‘Wegoforwards,nomatterwhat’sinourway.Slayer,theschematicifyouplease.’Ulrikraisedtheprojector lens,bleachingtheairwiththeimageof thetunnelnetwork.It twitchedandflickered,asunreliableasever.‘Wecouldscatter,’Ragnarsaid,gesturingatthemap.‘We’vesixhundredandmorecapillarycorridorstochoosefrom,andalllikelystillfeedingenemyfleshtowardsthebarricades.Theywanttochokeustodeathdownhere, thatmuch isclear. Ifwescatter, there’sachanceseveralof thedisparatepackswillreachthesurface.’‘Theodds,though…’oneoftheGreyHuntersspokeup.‘The odds are against us no matter what we do, Crowcaller.’ Ragnar aimed his sword towards thebarricadesandbeyond,wherethemarchingtreaddrewnearer.‘Andwhateverwechoose,wehave littletimetomakeourchoice.’‘Still,myjarl…Ratsscatter.Verminscatter.Weshouldstaytogether.’Knucklesthuddedagainstbreastplatesinanswertothis.Ragnarfoughttohidehispride.‘Atideofiron,’calledoutanotherwarrior.‘Wefightourwaytothesurfaceasagreatpack.’Morethuddingknuckles.‘Yourjarlhearsyourwords,Redhammer.Whatdoyousay,kindred?’ItwasRedhammerwhoansweredagain.‘Whatworthisthereinfivewarriorsreachingthesurface,myjarl,ifallotherslieslainbeneaththeearth?’Knucklescrashedinagreementuponeverybreastplate.AgainRagnarhadtobitebackhisproudsmile.Thiswasloyalty–brother hoodevenuntodeath.‘Iamgladyouagreewithme,kinsmen.Beitso.Wefighttogether.’Ragnarwalkedaroundtheprojectedmap,usingFrostfang’stiptomarkatrailthroughtheshimmeringlight.‘Learnthisroute.Everyjunctionandeveryturn.’Onhewalked,leadingtheirfollowingeyesalongapaththatavoidedthecity’sprincipalandsecondaryspaceports, aswell as entirehabitation sectors andbarracks-fortressdistricts.Thewatchingwarriorscouldseeonethingwithstarkclarity–itwouldtakealmostaweektofightthroughtheroute.‘Thispathwilltakeusunderthefoundrydistrict,avoidingwherethefoeismostlikelytobefloodingthetunnels.Weavoidevacuationcentres,majorthoroughfares,thebastionsofentrenchedenemyforceslast

reported by reliable intelligence. But we will be channelled through several of the subterraneanstrongholdsbuiltbytheenemyastheyclaimedthetunnelnetwork.Ifwesurvive,asunlikelyasthatmightbe,wewillsurfaceatthecity’swesternedge.’‘Thecoast?’askedAlrydd.Everywarriorpresentmarkedthebard’stone.Thecoasthadbeenoneoftheenemy’sprimarylandingsitesoutsidethecity.Emergingtherewasasmuchadeathsentenceasstayinghere.‘It’sthecoast,’saidRagnar,‘ortheeasternplainsintheenemy’sheart,ortheconqueredcityitself.Ourbestchanceistorisefarbehindtheirfrontlinesandcutbacktoourownforces.Atleastfromthecoastwecanre-establishvoxcommunicationwiththefleet,ormakeourwaysouthtoKasrCorollusandlinkwiththeCadianregimentsledbytheBlackTemplars.’‘Iftheyevenremainalivethatfarsouth,’thebardpointedout.‘Everythinginlifeisamatterofif,’Ullerreplied.‘Staysilentifyou’reincapableoffocusingonwhatmatters.’Alrydd liftedahand toreturnanobscenegesture, takingasecond torealise itwas thehandhe’d losthoursbefore.Helookedathisstumpforamomentbeforegruntinginirritation.Truetoform,hemadethegesturewithhisremaininghandinstead.Ragnarcontinuedasifneitherhadspoken.‘Withthecityfallen,theoddsofuseverseeingsunlightarepatheticatbest.Weknew thatwhenwevolunteeredas rearguard tohold thewallsand theevacuationtunnels. But it’s better to die on the hunt,my brothers, and face theAllfatherwithout turning away inshame.’Asthechorusofthuddingagreementbeganagain,Alryddrosetohisfeet,addinghiswordstoRagnar’s.‘Andremember,wearefewenoughnowthatIwillbewatchingeverymoveyouallmake,recallingallthat I see for entry into the sagas. Try not to dishonour yourselves, eh? No one wants their legaciesruined.’Anotherrippleofamusementansweredthebard’swords.Theapproachingbootstepsalmostdrowneditout.‘Gothen,’Ragnarordered.‘Makeready.’As the packs moved away, Ragnar used the filthy robe of a slain human to clean the gobbets fromFrostfang’steeth.Themarchinggreweverlouder,itsdisciplinedrhythmunbroken.Alryddwatchedhim,speakingsoftly.‘Doyouregretvolunteeringforthis?’thebardasked.Yes.No.Idon’tknow.Thereareworsewaystodie.‘Perhaps,’Ragnaradmitted.‘Youshouldn’t.Tensofthousandshavesurvived,allbecauseweheldourgroundinthiscityforaslongaswedid.Allthemilitia,allthesoldiers.Theyneededus.Acitythatwouldhavefalleninhoursheldforoveramonth,myjarl.EvenifourremainsneverreachtheChapter’svaultwecandieproud,andifthisisthefinaltimeFrostfangwillsinginyourgrip,makeherlastsongechothrougheternity.’Youhaveyourmoments,bard.Ragnar finished cleaning the weapon, turning the blade over in his hands, examining it for signs ofcorrosion.‘Mayitbeso,mybrother.’‘It’sbeenanhonourtofightwithyou,sire.’‘The fighting’snotoveryet.’Ragnar revved thepricelessblade.Kraken teeth roaredalong its edges,eating theairbutstarvingformeatand thirsty forblood.He lifted theswordhighandshouted into thedarknessahead,‘ForRussandtheAllfather!’Dozensofhowlingwarriorstookupthecry.

I

Cretacia,HomeWorldoftheFleshTearersChapterTheYearoftheRedIronandRisingStorms

961.M41

Weaponless,shackledinenergybindingswithhiswristslinkedbehindhisback,theprisonerpacedhiscell.HewasasonemightexpectfromanyWolf:proud-eyedanddrapedinthefursofhishomeworld,withhisarmourplatingencrustedwithrunicmarkingsthatmeantnothingtothoseoutsideofhisChapterandtribe.Fromthe levelsbeneathhisboots, the resonantsongofmetalonmetal rangeternallyagainstwallsofstone.Theprisonerendlesslypacedthecell,waitingonlybecausehehadnochoiceinthe matter.Inthewayofthosebornunderwideopenskies,herankledatanynotionofcaptivity.Notthathiscapturehadcomeasasurprise,ofcourse.Theonlysurprisewasthathewasstillalive.He faced his captors when they came for him. One of them was a Chaplain, if the holy rosariusmedallion around his neck was any indication, and his dark-skinned features were a visage ofpockmarkedruinationandcyberneticreconstruction.Aravagedhairlineofrecedingstubblewasblightedbybadlyhealedtissuecratersandtheuglypebblesofburnscarring.‘You’re the most fantastically ugly man I’ve ever laid eyes on,’ the prisoner told him, ‘but by theAllfather,Ibetyou’reproudofthosescars.’TheChaplaindeactivatedthelayeredrefractorfieldsaroundtheprisoner’scell,onebyone.Thekinetic-resistantbarrierssnappedoutofexistencewithfizzingcracklesoftormentedair.AstheChaplainenteredthecell,theprisonersteppedbackfromtheirondoorwaywithnosignofillintentinhisgaze.‘IseektheHighWarriorofyourChapter,’theprisonersaid.‘GabrielSawtooth,LordoftheTearersofFleshandthisworld’smaster.LonghaveIwaitedtosharewordswithhim,facetofaceandeyetoeye.’‘ChapterMasterSethisfarfromhere,’theChaplainallowed.‘HewageswarintheEmperor’sname.IamBrother-ChaplainScarath.YoualreadyknowSergeantVorain.Hewasoneoftheboardingpartythatbroughtyoutome.’‘Priest,’theprisonersaidingreeting.‘Packleader.Hailtoyouboth.’‘Ournameswillserve.MybrothersandIrarelystandbytitles.You’retheonenamedBlackmane,yes?’‘TomykithandkinIamBlackmane.OutlandersmoreoftenusethenameRagnar.Itisourway.’‘Ragnar,then.’

TheWolfbaredhis teeth inagrin. ‘Doyoubring thanksat last for the returnofyourwarship?Manywerethemonthswespentsailingitbacktoyourskies.MyjarlofferedoneofhisownNavigatorsforthejourney–aprizebeyondanyother.Andyourepayusbythrowingusintobindings.ColdisthewelcomeonCretacia.’Scarath was more than used to the various dialects and variances in the common Imperial tongueencounteredacrossthegalaxy.HecouldunderstandRagnar’swords,buttheywereplainlycolouredbytheWolf’sculture.‘Iamnotheretothankyou,’saidScarath.‘I’mheretosentenceyou.’‘Sentence?Ha!Forwhatcrime?’Scarathwonderedifthiswarriorwasaparticularlydull-wittedexampleofhisbrethren.Theanswer,ashesawit,wasobvious.‘ForthecrimeofbeingaWolf.’Foramoment,Ragnarthoughtneitherofthemwouldanswer.Notthescarredsergeant,northegauntandgreyChaplain.‘ForthecrimeofbeingaWolf,’saidthedead-eyedpriest.‘ForbeingatreacherousdogfromaChapteroftreacherousdogs.’‘Ah,soyouwishtoexecuteme.NowIseewhichwaythewindblows.ContinuingthewarbetweenourChaptersplainlymeansmoretoyouthananychanceofbrotherhood.IassumeNalfirwillsufferthesamefate?’TheChaplain,thin-lippedandwithhiseyeshalflidded,spokeinatoneaspassionlessashisgaze.‘Youbothdiedthemomentyouenteredourdomain.Justaswewouldbedeadthemomentweenteredyours.’Forthefirsttimesincehisimprisonmentdaysago,Ragnar’stemperboiledforth.‘Areyousodevoidofhonour that you would condemn us to death without once hearing our words? Our Chapters were asbrothersonce–bloodlinesfromthepurestofsources,descendedfromthemostloyaloffathers.’Scarathwasimplacable.‘Timeschange.’Ragnar clackedhis teeth inFenrisian emphasis. ‘There’s a cold truth indeed. If this is howyou treatthosewhowouldbeyourallies,thenwhateverblacknessyou’rehidinginyoursoulsisdarkerthananyofusrealised.You’rerighttokillme.Deathisbetterthanthepathetic,terrifiedhospitalityyouoffer.’Scarath closed his scarred eyes for a moment, taking a breath. Ragnar couldn’t reliably read thegesture–itwaseithersoulfulreflectionoranattempttocontroltheriseofanger.Noevidenceeitherwaypresenteditself,forwhentheChaplain’sgazereturned,therewasnothingbutwearyfortitudeinhisstare.‘Wewillspeakthen,forthesakeofthearchives.Whyareyouhere,Wolf?’Ragnarhesitated.‘Whatdoyoumean?Ihavetoldyourjailorservitorsahundredtimesandmore.Yourapothecarieshavefilledmybloodstreamwithtruthserums–aviolationandadishonourIhaveallowedinordertoprovemyhonestintent.Neveroncehasmystorywavered.’Scarathsteppedcloser,bringingwithhimthetelltalestonescentofoldceramiteandthebitterpurityofweaponoils.HestoodfacetofacewithRagnar,eyetoeye,justastheWolfhadaskedforupongreetinghim.Honourbadgesandbuzzsaw-shapedtrinketsontheChaplain’sblackarmourglintedinthestarklightoftheilluminationstripsrunningthelengthoftheceiling.‘I’maskingyou,Wolf,notmyslavesorbattle-brothers.Iamaskingyou.ScarathoftheFleshTearers,acastellanof theBlackTower.This isyourchancetochangeyourstorybeforeyouwalkthePathof theSettingSun.’Ragnar’slipcurled.Herefusedtoshowtheuneasecreepingitswayuphisspine.Thiswasapoor,poorwaytodie,deniedawarrior’sdeathinthissunlesscell.Hedidn’tfearthatfate,buthelamenteditallthesame.

‘Iamheretoseeiftherecanbepeacebetweenus.’Scarath’sreplywasimmediate.‘Youlie.’‘It’s no lie,’ Ragnar growled. ‘I have spoken nothing but honesty every time I’ve openedmymouth.You’renotpunishingmeforlying,you’repunishingmebecauseitiseasierthandealingwiththetruth.’‘Yes,’Scarathnodded.‘That’sexactlywhatwearedoing.“Bettertheenemyyouknowthanthestrangeryoudon’t.”Doyouhavethatsayingonyourmiserablehomeworld?’‘Somethingsimilar,’Ragnaradmitted.‘Butwerecogniseitforwhatitis–thefalsewisdomofcowardsseekingtojustifytheirfears.’Scarathshookhishead.Whatlittleemotionhadshowedinhiseyesseemedtodrainaway.‘Whatpeacedoyouoffer,Ragnar?DoyouspeakforyourChapter,orforasinglecommander?’‘NalfirandIspeakforJarlBerekOne-ArmoftheThunderfists.He–’‘Heisirrelevant.Yourlordisonewarrior,leadingonecompany,ishenot?’‘Yousaytrue.’‘Andratherthancomehimself,showinghissincerity,hesendstwowarriorstooyoungtohavefoughtatHonour’sEnd.Howarewetotrustyou,Wolf?Evenifyouspeakthetruth,youspeakonlyforasingleGreatCompany.’‘OurlordwouldcarrywordtotheGreatWolf.’‘Soyousay.’‘Weofferafirststepontheroadbacktobrotherhood.Howcanyoucastthataside?’‘BecauseWolveslie,Ragnar.Whatguaranteedowehavethatsettingyoufreewouldmakeadifference?Wecouldoffer forgiveness toyourwholeChapterandyetstill theenmitymightcontinue.Doyousee?Youdon’tbringpeace.You’vecometoseeifwearecursedandmaddened,becauseyoubelievewearetheonestoblameforthedaythathonourended.TheFleshTearersspitonyourfalseapology.WehavenopatienceleftforthetoothygrinsofblindWolves.’‘Wait,’saidRagnarastheFleshTearerturnedaway.‘Speak,priest.Youcallmeblind.Atleasttellmewhy.’‘Isitnotobvious?Doyouthinkwe’veneversentambassadorstotheFanginthelastcentury?Andwhatbecameofthem?Threereturnedasseveredheadspreservedinalchemicalfluidmadefromseaserpentvenom.Threeneverreturnedatall.’‘Iwastoldnothingofthis.Ididn’tknow.’‘Andhadyouknown,whatdifferencewouldithavemade?TheFleshTearershavescourgedthemselvesfordecadesbecauseofwhathappenedatHonour’sEnd.Wemourneverydropofbloodthatwasshedthatday.HowisitthatyouWolvesdonot?Howisitthatwegrieveandatone,yettheWolvesdonothingbutcheerandgrin?’TheChaplain sighed, asweary as if hewere trying to explain astrocalculation to a beast of burden.‘HowaretheWolvessoself-righteous,foreveractingwithoutshameorremorse?Howdoyoucelebrateyourselvesasheroes,evenwhensomuchImperialbloodisonyourhands?Howdoyoualways,alwaysbelieveyouaretheonlywhiteinagalaxyshadedgrey?Areyoualltrulythatblind?’‘ChaplainScarath…’Ragnartookastepforwards.‘TherearethoseamongtheWolveswhoarewillingto take their portion of the blame for the darkness between our Chapters. Do not let this chance slipthroughyourfingers.’‘Theirportionoftheblame?Fortryingtodesecrateourloyaldead?’Scarath’shandstensed,twitchingclosertothesheathedchaindaggerathisbelt.‘YourbrotherspissedlikedogsalloverthefraternalcodesoftheAdeptusAstartes!TotheabysswiththeWolvesandtheirportionoftheblame,Ragnar.’HeturnedfromtheWolfandmovedtotheirondoor.‘TomorrowyouwillwalkthePathoftheSetting

Sun.There’snofinerdeathonCretacia.Considerthatmygifttoyou,ratherthanslittingyourthroathereandnow.’‘SergeantVorain?’calledRagnar.‘TellmethereismorewisdomwithinyourChapterthanthejudgementofthisfoolishholyman.’ThesergeantmetRagnar’seyesfromthedoorway,thenturnedandleftwithoutaword.‘Scarath!’Ragnarhurledhimselfagainst theclosingdoor.Ceramitearmourcrashedagainst reinforcediron,neithergivingway.Boltsturned.Mechanicallocksthuddedhome.Thewasp-likedroneofrefractorfieldshummedbacktolife,leavingRagnargrittinghisteethandstaringatthesealeddoorwithhiswristsboundbehindhisback.There couldbenopeacebetween twoChapters asproudand stubbornas thewarriorsofFenris andCretacia.Itgalledhimtodiethisshamefuldeathintheenemy’shands,butfarworsewasdyingknowingRazortonguehadbeenrightallalong.

II

For Vorain, the weeks passed as they always did, in tides of duty and respite. The sergeant’sresponsibilitiesweremany,andhewentaboutthemwithinthefortress-monasterywithasingle-mindedfocusthatmadehiminvaluableintheroleofwarden.Itwasarolehedespised,loathtobeawayfromtheChapter’sactivecampaigns,yetonehewasdamnedtoperformduetohisexcellenceincarryingitout.RemainingonCretaciawasanecessaryexile,andonenotwithouthonour.Noneofthatmadeitanymorepalatable.Hisbladehungerednolessthantheswordsandaxesinhisdistantbrothers’hands.They,however,wereallowedtofight.Vorain’sfatewastowatchoveranimpregnablecastle.And then theWolveshad come.Scarathhad tried and sentenced themwithout consulting the sergeanteven once. Vorain was still unsure just how he felt about the Chaplain’s interference. Scarath hadoversteppedhisbounds,withoutquestion,butVorainreliedontheolderwarrior’scounselandguidanceinmattersoftheChapter’ssoul.PeacewiththeWolvesofFenris?Truly?Hewasasergeant.HecouldhardlymakesuchdecisionsfortheentireFleshTearersChapter.ThehallsofanAdeptusAstartesfortress-monasteryalwaysechoedwiththesoundofmilitaryindustry,fromthe forgingofweapons to thechantingand trainingof thewarriors thatcompriseaSpaceMarineChapter.ThegreystonecastlehewnfromthelivingrockofCretacia’sgreatestchasmwasnoexception.Here,VorainoversawtheChapter’spast,presentand future,while its fourbattlecompaniessailed thestarsintheEmperor’sname.Hisworldwasconfinedbygreatarchesandcurvedstonewalls.Hisearsforeverrangwiththesoundoftheforgeschurningoutboltshells,and thehammer-crackof thosesameshellsbeingfiredon the targetranges,hourafterhourafterhour.The only thing that set Vorain’s subterranean castle apart from other Adeptus Astartes fortress-monasterieswasthepresenceofactualbrethren.WhereahundredormorefullyinitiatedSpaceMarinewarriorsmighttendtotheirmonasticandguardianshipdutieswithinthesanctumsofotherChapters,theFleshTearers’strongholdwasbareofsuchcompanionship.Vorain, along with the changeably choleric and coldly serene Scarath, had fewer than thirty battle-brothersunderhisvigil,aidinginthetrainingofseveralhundredaspirants.Overtimehehadfoundhiscapacityforconversationdyingout,erodingfromdisuse.ThetrainingboutswithhisChaplainadvisorwereatleastasourceofverbalexchange.Muchoftherest

ofthetime,amongtheprimitivebrutesharvestedaspotentialinitiatesfromCretacia’spopulation,speechwassomewhatscarce.Evenhisownbrothersspokewithhimlessandless,sensinghiswithdrawalfromtheir ranks – partly because of his bitterness at this honourable banishment, partly because theywereawareenoughtoseethatthesergeantwouldsurelybepromotedtotheChapter’scommandcouncilbeforelong.TheScoutCompanyhadbeenwithoutaformalleaderforseveralyearsnow.Heoftenwatched thebruteswrestling, fightingwithbonedaggersbeneath theproudbannersofFleshTearerscrusades.Theseweretheveryyoungestinitiates,newtotheirlivesasaspirantsyetallmuscledandscarredbeyondtheimaginingofmostImperialcitizens.StrangetothinkthatonlyacenturyagoVorainhadbeenoneofthoseprimitivetribesmenhimself.Howsmalltheworldhadseemed.Waking,eating,hunting,sleeping.Surviving.Whatelsewasthere?Hehadnowayofknowing,then,aboutthegreat,widegalaxyanditsmillionthreatstomankind.Therewasaninnocenceinthatsimplesavagery.Thepurityofbarbarism.‘There’ssomethingwemustdiscuss,’Scarathsaidasthetwoofthemwatchedthebrutesdoingbattle.Thearchedchamberrangwiththegruntsandcursesofthefightingclansmen,thecrashingclashofbronzeweapons, and the pounding of tribal drums echoing off the highwalls. The rancid air stank of sweat,bloodanddesperation.‘Thisharvestisuseless,’wasthesergeant’sreply.‘Youseemdistracted,Vorain.’Thesergeantdidn’tanswer.Vorainhadseenlittleofpromiseinthisnewestbatchofpotentialinitiates.NofutureFleshTearerstoodoutfromamongsttherabble.Theirbloodwouldberunningthroughthefloorgratesbeforesunset.‘Isaid,there’ssomethingwemust–’‘Iheardyou.’Vorainwasalreadywalkingforwards,movingbetweenthepacksofembattledtribesmen.Unarmoured,wearingonlyoneoftheChapter’smonasticrobes,Vorain’sfaceandforearmswerebaretotheir stares.He rolled a headless body overwith the edge of his leather boot, pausing to pick up thecorpse’sfallenaxe.A fine weapon. Its blood-marked blade shone in the hazy light drifting in through the stained-glasswindows.Once theyhadshownasceneof theprimarchSanguinius inallhisglorybefore theEternityGate. Now the scene was half lost to darkness, choked by jungle creeper vines growing against thefortress’walls,blackeningandstranglingtheprimarch’sarmour.TheaxeweighednexttonothingintheFleshTearer’shand,butitspresencewassoothingallthesame.Anechoofatimewhensurvivalwastheonlyquestion,andtriumphtheonlyanswer.Aroundhim,thetribesmenwereslowingintheirefforts,backingawayfromthetoweringwarrior.Theyfacedthedemigodintheirmidstwithnarrowedeyesandclenchedteeth,clutchingtheirweaponstighter.TheFleshTearercastoffhisrobewithashrugofhishugeshoulders.Thetribesmenshrankbackfurther,raisingtheirownbrutishblades.Therewerethirty-oneofthemintotal.IttookVorainfiftysecondstokillthemall.Whenhisbloodyworkwasdone,hestoodinthemiddleofthechamber,listeningtothelifebloodoftheunworthyaspirantssluicingthroughthegratesinthefloor.Theslashinghissofrunningbloodsoothedhisirritatedheadachesomewhat.Noneofthemhadmanagedtoevenblockoneblow.NomatterhowhardyCretaciabreditshunter-sons,onlyoneinathousandwasworthyofwearingtheChapter’sredandblack.Voraincastthestolenaxetothelife-soakedstonefloorindisgust.‘Anotherunworthyharvestafterall,’theChaplainagreed.Vorainstalkedbacktohim.‘Yousaidtherewassomethingwemustdiscuss.Iassumeyou’vehadwordoftheWolves?’

Scarath’swar-tornfeaturestwistedinmirth.‘Afterthreeweeksoutsidethewalls?Theirboneswillhavebeenpickedcleanbyscavengersandbleachedbythesun.Wehavereceivedwordfromthestars,Vorain,notfromCretacia’swilds.’Vorainwasinstantlyalert.Hecouldn’tconcealthehopeinhisvoice.‘WordfromLordSeth?’‘Indeedso.’Thesergeantbeathisfistsagainsthischest,cryinghisexultationtothechamber’shighceiling.Scarathwatched,waitingforthecrytodieaway.‘It’sover?’Vorainaskedatlast.‘Wewillreturntoserveinabattlecompany?’Cryingouthereinthisdungeonwasn’tenough.Hefeltlikeracingtothebattlementsandshoutinghisjoytothenightsky.ThatrushofemotiondiedwhenhesawtheflickerofhesitationinScarath’scalmeyes.ScarathbaredhismetalpegteethinacommiseratingsmilethatVorainwantedtocarvefromtheChaplain’sface.‘Our lord informed me that the last batch of reinforcements was of the finest quality to date. Inrecognitionofyourexemplaryservice,youaretobepromotedtoCaptainoftheTenthCompany,effectiveatdawn.’Vorainwincedatthetitleasmuchasattheknifethrustofdisappointment.‘CaptainoftheTenth.WecanonlyfieldfourcompanieswiththeChapter’sfullstrength.HowcantherebeaTenthCompanywithoutthefiveprecedingit?’‘Tradition,’theChaplainsaid.‘Thenwhatofattrition?Wediefasterthanourranksgrow.TheChapterisfading,theprimarch’scurseeatsusalive,andallcanseeit.’‘Traditionistradition,’saidScarath,‘andthemandatesoftheCodexAstarteshaveservedourkindwellforathousandgenerations.’Vorainexhaled,softandslow.Ahunter’shabit,breathingoutcarefullysoastogoundetectedbynearbyprey.WhenheraisedhisgazetotheChaplain’s,heshookhishead.‘No.’‘Ithoughtyouwouldbeproud,’Scarathsaid.‘Brother-CaptainVorain.’‘It’sarankthatsitspoorlyuponmyshoulders.WhatdidLordSethsayoftheWolves?’‘Nothing,’theChaplainreplied.Vorainturned,fullyregardinghisbrother.CommunicationwiththeChapter’sdistantforceswasrare–availableafewtimeseachCretacianyearattheverymost,relayedbyunreliabledeep-spaceprobesandtremulous astropathy. TheWolves had arrivedwith theBaryonyxover a month ago; Vorain had beenwaitingforcontactsince.‘Andwhy,Chaplain,wouldourlordhavenothingtosayofsuchavitalmatter?’‘BecauseIdidn’ttellhim.CommunicationswereseveredbeforeIhadthechance.’Vorain’s open stare became a glare. Scarath was no fool, nor was he a liar, and certainly not pettyenough to deny such crucial information to the master of the Chapter. If he said communications hadfailed,thentheyhadfailed.Itwashardlyarareoccurrence.Evenso,itshouldhavebeentheveryfirstmatterraisedbytheChaplain.Not thismaddeningtalkofpromotion.Vorainfoundhimselfsosuddenly,swiftlyfuriousthathedidn’ttrusthisvoicenottoshake.‘Ihaveoncemorerelayedwordviatheastropathicchoir,’Scarathassuredhim.‘Thethirdtime,ifImayremindyou.Emperorwilling,wordwillgetthroughatlast.’Vorainexhaled ina feral snarl. ‘I’llconduct thenext transmissionwithLordSethmyself. I’lldemandcrusadingdutiesoncemore.I’mfinishedwiththisexile.’Scarath linked his fingers, patient where Vorain was restless. ‘You will be denied, brother-captain.You’re toovaluablehere, toovaluable to theChapter’s future. I, and the aspirants,would sorelymiss

yourexpertise.’‘Youwouldmissme,’Vorainallowed,‘onlybecauseyou’reunlikelytofindanotherwardensowillingtositinsilenceandletyourulehere.’‘Youwoundme,brother-captain.’‘Imeannooffence.’Vorainretrievedhisnowbloodstainedrobefromtheslickfloor,throwingitoverhisshoulder. ‘And Imean that inall sincerity.The flawhasbeenwithme,Chaplain,notyou. Ihavebeentimidandbitter,concernedwithkeepingthepeaceanddoingmydutyaccordingonlytotradition.’‘Tradition iseverything,’ theChaplainpointedout.Oncemore,Vorainwanted tocut theserenityfromScarath’sfacewithasaw-toothedblade.‘Traditionisnothingbutthewisdomofthepast,’saidVorain.‘Avaluableguide.It’snotlaw,Scarath.Weshouldn’tlivebyitseverytwistandturn.Thepastisrifewitherrorandignominy,andourChapter’spastisplainlynoexception.’Heturnedandmadehiswayforthegreatdoubledoors.‘Doesdutycall,brother-captain?’‘Itis“brother-sergeant”untildawn,’Vorainreplied.‘Butthinkonthis,mybrother.Inmerehours,Iwilloutrankyou.Awardeninrankaswellasinduty.Andthatmakescertaindecisionsminetomake.’‘Isthisthebirthofarrogance,Vorain?’‘Farfromit.Farewell,Scarath.It’sunlikelythatwe’llmeetagain.’TheChaplainsurgedafterhisbrother, followingVorainup thestonestairs inanarmouredstride.Hisheavybootsthuddedintotheerodedindentationscausedbycenturiesofceramitetread.‘Whatmadnessisthis?’Scarathasked,prickledinhisconfusion.‘There’snothingofmadnessinmyactions,’saidVorain.‘Onlypride.I’lltransmitmydecisiontoLordSeth,thenI’llconsecratemyweaponsonelasttime,andgointothejungletofindtheFenrisians.’‘They’rethreeweeksgone.Dead,alongthePathoftheSettingSun.’‘AndIwillfollowthemalongit.FenrisandCretaciaareaslethalaseachother.TheWolvesmayyetliveoutthere.’TheChaplain’shandslammeddownonVorain’sshoulder,grippinghardenoughtoholdthesergeantinplace,arrestinghisdefiantmarch.‘Theyaredead,Vorain.Youprovenothingbythispathetic,stubbornsacrifice.’‘No?’Voraingentlyremovedhisbrother’srestraininghandasifitwerethetouchofanignorantchild.‘IftheylivethenIwillhearthemout,justasweshouldhavewhentheyarrivedandreturnedtheBaryonyxtous.Andiftheyhavefallenthemselves,thenI’llfindtheirbonesandreturnthemtoFenris.’‘Fool.’Scarathpracticallyspattheword.‘Youweren’tatHonour’sEnd.Iwas,andItellyou,youdothemmorehonourandrespectthantheywouldevergiveus.’‘Theyalreadyreturnedourfallen.ThedeadbrothersaboardtheBaryonyxwereuntouchedafterdeath.Yousaidsoyourselfwhenyouinterredtheminthevaults.WhateverwrongstheWolveshavedoneusinthepast,thatwasanoblegesturethattheFleshTearerswillatleastattempttoreturn.’‘Youarethesworncommanderofthisfortress,oathboundtooverseetheChapter’sfuture.Thisdesireforsuicideisbeneathyou,Vorain.’Forseveralmoments, theformersergeantsaidnothing.As thesilencestretched intoawkwardness,hespokewithawearysigh.‘Howmanyaspirantsdieaftergene-seedimplantation?Howmanybrothersfallin Lord Seth’s desperate crusades? Howmany of our brethren are chained in the Tower of the Lost,screamingtheirdelusionstothegranitewalls?’‘Meaningless,’saidtheChaplain.‘Irrelevant.’‘Far from it. TheWolves have come to us, concernedwith their own legacy at the end of theDark

Millennium.Isharethatfearformyownbloodline,Scarath.YouandyourChaplainsknowthetruthbetterthananyone–ourChapterwillbedustwithinahundredyears.Iwillnotdamnusinthepresentforthesakeofafuturewe’llneversee.HelpingtoendthiscoldwarmaybethemostvaluableserviceIeverdoforourChapter.’Heturnedandwalkedaway,leavingScarathonthestonestairway.

Inhisdaysofaimlesssavagery,beforesuchferocityhadbeendirectedagainst theEmperor’senemies,Vorainhadbeenahunter.Ahunter’sprimaryexpertisewasn’tendurance,strengthorevenhisaimwithathrownspear–itwashisabilitytotrack.Atrackercouldfindpreynomatterwhereitfled,andfindhiswaybackhomenomatterhowfarhewanderedfromthefoothillvillage.Hehadabolterandanaxenowratherthanaspearofironwood,andheworethedarkredceramiteofhisChapterratherthandecoratinghisnakedfleshwithritualscarringtoresemblethescaledhidesofthejunglelizard-kings…ButitgratifiedVoraintoknowhecouldstilltrackquarryintheCretacianwilds.HeknewitwouldnotbeaswiftprocessgiventheWolves’month-longheadstart,andwhatspoorhefoundatfirstwasweeksold.Evenso,hesetoutwithrarejoyfuellinghismuscles,feelingfreeforthefirsttimeinyearsashemovedthroughthetropicalrainforestataloping,heavy-stridingrun.Theweightofhisarmourwasimmenseevenasitsmachine-musclesaddedtohisstrength,buthecouldkeepthispaceupforaweekormoreifnecessary.Toofast,andhewouldmissthesignsoftheWolves’passing.Tooslowandhemightnevercatchuptothem.TheFleshTearerbeganbyseekingaroundthefortress-monastery,huntinginconcentriccirclesradiatingout from thebastioncarved into thecliffs.Notknowingwhichdirection theWolveshad taken lefthimwithnochoicebuttobemeticulous,hopingthattimehadn’tobliteratedeverysignoftheirjourney.Vorainfoundthefirstspooronthesecondday,asCretacia’sbrutalsunfellawayandnightbathedthejungleblack.A trailof footprintshad turnedalmost tostone indeep,driedmud.Whicheveroneof theWolveshadcomethisway,thegroundhadsuckedandpulledathisboots,threateningtodraghimdown.Vorainsawotherindentationsinthehardenedearth–signsofhandsgraspingforstability–andfollowedthetrail,readingthetaleittold.TheWolf had staggered several times, as evidenced by the depth and twist of the bootprints. He’dreachedsafegroundataclusterof trees,clawinghisarmouredfingers into thehugetrunksandhaulinghimselfoutofthemuck.Nexttooneofthelastbootprintswastheshallowmarkofwhatwassurelythetipofascabbard,wornatthehip.Ragnar,Vorainknew.Ragnarhadstumbledinthemud,pulledhimselffreeandheadedonwards.Alone?Ofthat,theFleshTearercouldn’tyetbesure.VoraintrackedtheWolvesoverthefollowingdaysbyaseriesofmoresubtlesigns.Afaintbootprint,weeksold,inapatchofdryvenomgrass;theglintofmetalburiedintheearth,revealedasaspentboltshellcasingoncethehunterdugitfromthegroundwithhisfingers.Rarelydidhechanceacrossspoorastellingasthefootprints indriedquicksandagain, thoughwhatsignshedidfindtoldacompellingtruth.TheWolvesweren’tmovingawayfromthefortress-monasteryinwaywardhaste.Theywerehunting,assurely as he was, staying near to the Flesh Tearers’ sanctum. And if they didn’t quitemovewith thecompetence of hunters born to this world, they weren’t going to swift deaths the way Scarath hadassumed.The most obvious signs of their passage were offered by the jungle’s flora rather than anything asmundaneasbootprints.NomatterhowcarefultheFenrisiantribesmenwere,Cretaciawasaworldwithamillion forms of life they’d never encountered.A hedge of insect-eater plants had been beheaded, no

doubt after they’d snapped their bulbous maws at the SpaceWolves’ exposed faces. The quills of apoisonousfruittreeweremissingononeside,probablyspatinfutilityagainstblue-greyceramitewhenoneoftheWolvescametooclose.Vorainfollowedtheirarcingtrailinhiscarefulrun,eyesalwaysscanningtheundergrowth,breathingintherottinggreenstinkofthedeepjungle.Heonlyconcernedhimselfwithcautionwhenherecognisedthesignsthathewasenteringcarnosaurterritory,andinthosehourshewouldproceedinawarrior’scrouch,hisweaponsinhishands.Heknewthehumofhisactivearmourwouldbetrayhimtomanyofthelizard-kingswith their feral senses, but he stillmovedwith care, guidedbyhis hunting instinct.No sense inbringingadditionaltroubleuponhimself.Sometimeshe’dhear theground-pounding treadofa lizard-kingnearby,orseean immenseshadowedflankpassbythroughthedensetrees.In thosemomentsVorainwouldremainmotionless,hisaxeinhishand,knowingeventheslightestmovementwoulddrawthereptilianpredatoruponhim.Minutesafterthebeastpassedon,whenhecouldnolongerhearorfeelitslumberingtread,hewouldmoveoncemore.Hecouldn’tavoidthemall.Thelesserdeinonykinraptors,whichhuntedinshriekingpacks,wereeverathreat,abletodragamandowninmoments,disembowellingtheirpreywithkicksandslashesfromthetalonsontheirpowerful legs.These,hekilledwithabarrageofbolterfirethemomenthesensedthemstalkingnearby,finishingthemwithhisaxeiftheymanagedtoweaveasidefromtheshellsandclosethedistance. As an adolescent human hunter armed only with a spear these creatures had been his bane,among the jungle’s deadliest predators.As a SpaceMarine, theywere only a threat to him in groupslarger than fouror five, and suchnumberswere rarelyencounteredwithinahundredkilometresof theFleshTearers’cliff-sidefortress.Despitethemiseryofhisexile,hefoundhimselfenjoyingthehuntmoreandmore,daybyday.Eveninthemiserableeveningswhenthemonsoonrainsscytheddownuponhimandhespentthenightstrackingandstalking–seeingthroughthegreen-tinteddisplayofhishelmet’seyelenses–hefeltunshackledandfreeratherthanlonely.SeveraltimeshecameacrosstheevidenceoftheWolves’briefcamps.Withbladesandbolterstheyhadbroughtdown the smaller carnosaurs– the raptorbeasts close to the sizeof aTerranhorse–andhadcooked the sour reptilian flesh over deadwood campfires. Each time Vorain found the husks of theWolves’meals,hefeltasmallpulseofsympathy.Evenwiththescalesskinnedaway,carno saurfleshwasnotoriouslyvile.Ononeoccasionhe foundblood,geneticallyalteredhumanblood,spattered indrymarkingsupon thesideofarock.Itwastoodrytotasteinordertogleananyinsightfromit,butthetalewasclearenough.One of the Wolves had limped here to rest for several moments after being wounded. Vorain alsodiscoveredatooth,aslongashisfingerandcurvedlikeacrescentmoon,lyingdeepinthebrush.Foramomenthetookittobeacarnosaurfang,butasheturneditoverinhisfingershecouldseeitbelongedtonoCretacianbeast.Nothinginhismemoryofhuntingonhishomeworldhadevershownafangquitethisshape.He’dseen teeth like thisonlyoncebefore,and thememorywasstarklyclearbecause itwassorecent.Akrakenfang.FromRagnar’ssword.When the secondweekwason the edgeof becoming the third, hemade a discovery that sent a chillthroughhisblood.Adeadsnake,twiceaslongasamanwastall,itsscalesmarkedbyraisedthornsofcartilagewithredblotchesonitsbrownflesh.Itsheadwaspulped;thebeasthadbeencrushedandhurledasideinanger,nodoubtafterithaddroppedfromthebranchesabovetoenvenomitsprey.Voraincarefullyexaminedtheremainsoftheviper’smouth,whichcouldopenwideenoughtoswallowhisfistwithoutdifficulty.Hethumbedasidethefourivorydaggersitpossessedforfangs.Onefangwas

stillintact;threewerebrokenclosetotheroots.Withacrackofbone,hetorethebeast’sjawsopenwidertopeerwithin.Thefleshyductsintheroofofitsmouthwereinflamedevenafteritsdeath.Ithaddiedsecondsafterdeliveringitsvenom.AGridaserpent.ItsbitewasmorethancapableofpiercingthejointsofasuitofSpaceMarinebattlearmour.Voraindropped thedeadsnakebackupon thecolonyofmyrmidon insects thathadbeendevouring itscarcass,andmovedonwithrenewedpurpose.HefoundtheWolvesthenextday.Moreprecisely,theyfoundhim.

III

Thisworlddespisedhumanlife.Asasonofthewinterworld,Ragnarknewafewthingsaboutplanetsthat fought to reject colonisation. Cretaciawas Fenris’ sister in that regard. It was theHearthworld’sblisteringlyhot,venomousreflection.Afteramonthandahalfinthejunglewilds,sorenesshadgivenwaytoaches,andtheacheshadfledgedintopain.The lowbranchesof a tall treehad rakedhis facedaysago, and the scratches thathad firstseemedharmlesswerenowplumpand infected,constantly itching,givingoff thecheesysmellofdirtypus. His armourwas raked open in several places by the claws of leaping, shrieking lizard-beasts –monstersthesizeofaThunderwolfbattlemount–andthewoundsbeneathquick-dryingcoatsofarmourcementwereinflamedandangry,heatinghisbloodandturninghisjointstoglass.Hisenhancedphysiologyfoughttopurifyhisbodyofallalieninfection,butitwasalosingbattle.Bothofhisheartsbeatwitharrhythmicspeed,andhecouldalmost feelhis internalorganshummingas theyresistedwhateverpoisonsweresaturatinghisbloodstream.The only food he’d eaten in over six weeks was the bitter, stringy flesh of the hunting lizards thatattackedthem,whichdidlittlemorethantaketheedgeoffhishungerwhileturninghisgutsinwrenchingtwists.Nalfirwasfaringevenworse.Oneeyewasswollenclosedbyastingfromastripedinsectthesizeofhis thumb. A single second’s contact with the vermin had been enough to turn the veins of his facethrobbingandblack,showingthroughhissweatingskin.Elsewhereheboreseveralwoundsfromtheteethandclawsofbeaststhathadmanagedtopiercehisarmourplating.Hisbodywasworkingsoaggressivelytopurgethetoxinsinsidehimthathisbionichandhadfaileddaysbefore,nolongeransweringhiswill.‘My body’s rejecting it,’ the bard had saidwhen his hand first failed. ‘Treating the false nerves andmusclesasanintrudinginfectiontobehealed.’Theybothknewthey’dalreadybedeadwithouttheirAdeptusAstartesphysiologysustainingthem,andwithoutthesuitsofsacredceramiteshieldingtheirflesh.Evenwiththeirpost-humanendurance,theyhadtoeatanddrinktomaintaintheirstrength.Thevermin-richriverwatertheyfound,evenfilteredthroughrocksandboiledaboveafire,hadtheirinnardsclenchinginspasms.Blood-suckingfliesfollowedtheminaslow,lazyhaze,drunkonthegenhancedfluiddrawnfromtheirveins.At camp one night, looking up at the sparse stars through the jungle canopy, Nalfir had adopted aphilosophicalair.‘IfFenrisisaworldthatseekstoturnthesnowredwiththebloodofitspeople,Cretaciaisaworldset

onpoisoningthem,sotheirmeatandboneswillfeeditscursedearth.’‘A poetic thought. It’d be lovelier if the one voicing it didn’t have black vomit drying across hischestplate.’Nalfirhadwavedhisdeadmachine-hand,dismissingRagnarwithagruntofamusement.Daysafterhisbionicarmhaddeactivated,afreshpainbloomedinNalfir’selbowandshoulder.‘Phantompain,’Ragnarinsistedatfirst.‘Aye.Perhaps.’A few hours later, the bionic hand began to clench and quiver, and the pain beneathNalfir’s armourbloomedintoagonyathisbicep.‘Hurtstoomuchtobeimaginary,’thebardsaid.Hecouldignoreit–hecouldignoreandfightthroughanypain,ascouldallofhiskind–butthemusclespasmswereanirritantthatworeawayathistemper.Hisnervoussystemwaswrackedfromtheplanet’sabuses,andnolongercarriedsignalsfromhisbrainwith any reliability. Half the time hewalked in sweating delirium, cursing in languages from variousworldsacrossImperialspace.He followedRagnar, letting theBloodClaw lead–eatingwhenRagnar toldhim toeat, restingwhenRagnartoldhimtorest.‘We’re being hunted,’ the youngerwarrior announced one evening, ripewith stinking sweat from thestill-vicioussettingsun.Thetwoofthemwereknee-deepinsludge,wadingthroughamarsh.Nalfirturnedhishead,spittingastalactiteofthick,bloodysaliva.One-eyedandwretched,hestaggeredthen,goingdowntohiswaistinthemuck.Somethinglikeaneelslitheredpasthisthigh,leavingatrailofslimeinitswake.Ragnarofferedhishandbutthebardknockeditaway.AsNalfirhauledhimselftohisfeetoncemore,hehadtoclearhisthroatofbloodyphlegmbeforehecouldmakehimselfheard.‘Huntedbywhat?’‘Seeforyourself.’Nalfirsquintedthroughtheblearydistortionofhisremainingeye.Ragnarwasindicating…something…inthemudalongtheshoreofthemarsh.Whenhesawtheunmistakableimprintofapower-armouredboottrailalongtheground,heblinkeduselesslytotrytounfoghisthoughts.‘We’vebeencirclingaround.Thesemightbeourowntracks.’Ragnarturnedanannoyedglareuponthebard.‘Iknowwherewe’vewalked.Thesearen’tourtracks.Trustme.’‘Soourhostsareouthere,too.’Nalfirlaughedforthefirsttimeinweeks.‘Theyjusthadtomakesureweweredead,didn’tthey?Couldn’teventrusttheirownplanettodothedeedforthem.’‘IfI’mnotbackbeforesunrise,’Ragnarsaid,‘goonwithoutme.’‘What?’‘Justwaithere,Razortongue.’Nalfir’swounded thoughtswere slow.Hewashaving trouble following theBloodClaw’swords, letalonethereasoningbehindthem.‘Waithere,’herepeated.‘Butwhy?’‘Becauseyou’reallthebaitwehave.Stayhereandlookvulnerable.’Nalfirsnorted,wolf-likeandgrim,athisbrother’scommand.Hehauledhimselfuptheembankmentandcrasheddowntositonthedrierearth.‘Thatwillrequirenoactingatall,Ipromiseyou.’

Hedrifted inandoutofconsciousness, fighting thewhole timetoremainawake.Sometimeshisbionic

handwouldlockforanhourormore,sometimesitwouldshakewithtremorsfromhistormentednerves.Sometimes he would stare for what felt like hours across themarshland, only to realise scarcely tensecondshadpassed.Sometimeshe’dblinkslowly,onlytoopenhiseyesandseeseveralminuteshadgonebywhilehedozedincorrupteddelirium.HelurcheduprightwhenheheardthethrumofRagnar’spowerarmouracrossthewater.‘Blackmane,’hemurmured.Hiseyesrefusedtofocusontheapproachingfigureasitwadedthroughthemurk.‘No,’saidthevoice.‘ItisI,cousin.’Nalfircouldn’tstopthesuddensmile.Hisvisionclearedasiftunedtohisamusement.‘Well,now.Ifitisn’tSergeantVorain,thewardenofthisplanet.’Helevelledhisbolterwithhisgoodhand,feelingprideburnhotashedrewanunshakingaim.TheFleshTearerstoodstillastheboltercameup.Hehadanaxeinonehandandhisownbolterintheother.LikeNalfir,hisarmourwasscarredbyfangandtalon,discolouredandbleachedbythesulphuricrain.UnlikeNalfir,thefleshofhisfacewasn’travagedandpockmarkedbyvenomandpoison.‘Razortongue,’hegreetedthebard.‘That’smytribalname.YoucallmeNalfir,Cretacian.’‘Nalfir,then.Areyoualone?WhereisRagnar?’‘He’sdead.’‘That’salie,cousin.Iwouldhavefoundhisbonesbynow.’‘Maybeyou’rejustapoorhunter,then.Whocansay?’Voraintensed,exhalingthroughhisclenchedteethashefoughthisflaringtemperbackdown.‘TosayaCretaciancannothuntisagraveinsult,cousin.Onthisworld,onlycripplesandchildrenareincapableofprovidingfortheirclan.’‘WehaveasimilarsentimentonFenris.’Hegrinnedwithblood-pinkedteeth.‘Let’ssaytheinsultstandsfornow.Ifindmyselfinlowspirits.Agoodargumentwouldfiremybloodverynicely.’Vorainshookhishead.‘Yoursurvivalismiraculous.’‘And your hospitality is dire,’ Nalfir replied. ‘We’ve butchered half of the hunting lizards on thiscontinent–IthoughtFenrisianwolveswerebad.Everythinghereistoxic.Everybeastisvenomous,everyplantispoisonous.Eventhewaterteemswithparasites.’Vorainnodded.‘Alltrue,thoughyou’vebarelyscratchedthesurface.Cretacia’smostdangerousbeastsstayfarfromthefortress-monastery.They’velearnedoverthegenerationsthatwe’renottimidaboutusingthecastle’scannonsonthosethatcometooclose.’‘Theoneswekilledwerebadenough.Ugh,andthetaste.’‘Whydidyouremainnearby?’theFleshTearerasked.‘Mostofourbanishedaspirantsmovefarfromthefortress-monasterywhentheywalkthePathoftheSettingSun.’Nalfir’sbloody,toothysmilereturned.‘Wewereseekinganyweaponcachesorarmourybunkers.Thenweweregoingtofightourwaybackintoyourfortress.’Vorainsaidnothingforseveralseconds,realisingthattheWolfwasspeakingthetruth.‘How…boldofyou,’hesaidatlast.‘We’reWolves,’saidthebard,consideringittobeanswerenough.‘Anyway,cousin,I’vedistractedyoulongenough.’TheFleshTearerwhirledinplace,threetimesasfastasanyhumancouldmove,anditstillwasn’tswiftenough.Ragnarsurgedfrombeneaththefoulwater,hammeredtheaxefromVorain’shandswithablowfromFrostfang,andcannonedabackhandacrosstheFleshTearer’sface.TheCretacianstaggeredback,liftinghisbolteronlytohaveitsmashedasidebytheBloodClaw’sgreat

blade.Vorainswallowedashefrozeinplace,eyesmeetingRagnar’sdeathlystare.ThestaticteethoftheWolf’schainbladerestedagainsttheFleshTearer’sthroat.WaterymuckrandownRagnar’swar-plateindarkrivulets.Hishairwasacrestofmattedfilthandhisfacewasdecoratedinthick,hungryswampleeches.Vorainhatedhimselfforbeingimpressed:theWolfhadhiddenthesoundofhisarmourbycrawlingunderthemarshwater,nodoubtforseveralminutes,toambushtheFleshTearerfrombehind.‘Askilfulhunt,’Vorainconceded.‘Isuggest,’Ragnarhissed,‘thatyoumakeyournextwordsgoodenoughtosaveyourlife.’‘YouhavemyChapter’sthanks,’Vorainsaid,keepingthestareunbroken.‘OurgratitudeforreturningthewarshipBaryonyx.’

Theymadecoldcampwithinanearbycave.Adiscordantsongfilledtheirearsasitechoedoffthewalls,madefromthesnarlof theirdamagedarmourjoints, thedripofwaterdeeperinsidethecavernandthedistantreptilecriesofCretacia’srulingmonsters.Ragnarhadwipedtheworstofthegrimefromhisfaceafterhissubmergedambush,thoughhiseyesweredark ringed and shot with blood. There was a wetness in Nalfir’s breathing that the Blood Clawsuspecteddidn’tbodewell.Hewasthefirsttospeak,wavingafatbloodflyawaywithacrackedgauntlet.‘Whyareyououthere,sergeant?’‘Itis“captain”now,’Voraincorrectedwithnoemotionwhatsoever.‘Our heartiest congratulations, then,’ Nalfir grunted, amused at his own weak sarcasm. ‘Answer thequestion,though.’‘Iwishedtofindyou,tobringyouback.’Voraingesturedoutsidethecave,attheeternaljunglefillingtheworldfromhorizontohorizon.‘Unlessyouwishtoremainhere,thatis.’‘Back?’Nalfir’slaughsoundedclosertoagargle.‘Toexecuteusproperlythistime?’‘No.ToreturnyoutoFenriswiththeChapter’sthanks.Andtocomewithyou,asanemissarytospeakofaceasefireinthisfutilewar.’Ragnarwastonguingataloosetooth.‘Yousaiditwasbeyondyourauthority.Sergeantorcaptain,you’restillnotLordSeth.’‘Yourjarl,’saidVorain,‘isonelordamongmany.HiswordmaynotbethewordofyourwholeChapter.Thatdoesn’tmakeitworthless.Itmakesitafirststeptoarebornbrotherhood.’Hetappedhisknucklestotheaquilaonhisbreastplate. ‘I’mjustoneofficeramongmyChapter,andIcanonlyspeakfor thefewmenundermycommand.ButIgivemythanksfreely,andacknowledgethegreathonourinyouractions.OurChaptersmaymeetasfoesinthefuture,butthewarriorsofourtwocompaniesarenolongerfoes.’Vorainreachedforoneofhisbeltpouches,offeringthefallenkraken’stoothtoRagnar.‘Ifoundthis.’TheBloodClawtookitwithamurmurofthanks.Theskinaroundhismouthwasrawandscabbedfrombeingunabletocontroltheproductionofacidicsaliva.Thenewleechbiteswereindescribablyitchy.‘Whatchangedyourmind?’heaskedtheFleshTearer.‘Youdid.Thenobilityofyourgesture,incominghere.’‘I’dhavepreferredyoutorealisethatseveralweeksago,’saidRagnarscratchingathischeek.Oneoftheleechbitesbegantobleedunderhisefforts.‘There’smuchIcannotsay,evenhereandnow,inthismomentofsincerity.ButIcansaythis.Thetruthof the Flesh Tearers is that our gravestones are already carved.We cannot recruit swiftly enough, orreliablyenough,toreplacethelosseswesufferinLordSeth’scrusades.’BothWolveswereimmediately,utterlyalert.TheystaredatVorain,theirsoreeyesalightwithshock.

‘YourChapterisdying?’Nalfirmurmured.Hehadastoryteller’sinterestinsuchadarkconcept.‘Not now, but soon. Some Chapters rebuild over many decades, weighing duty, honour, shame andnecessity.Somefightoneveninthefaceofdestruction.Weareamongthelatter.Inahundredyearsourbloodlinewillbebutamemory.Wefightnownotforglory,buttoleavealegacyworthyoftheprimarchwho sired us. Lord Seth leads us in crusades across the galaxy, committing us where the battles arebleakest,seekingnottosaveus,buttosaveourlegacyintheImperium’seyes.’Vorainpaused,musteringtherightwordsbeforecontinuing.‘ItwascowardlyofmetostandbyandletScarathbanishyoutodieinthewilds.Worse,itwasfutile.Yourdeathswouldhaveprovednothingandsavednolives.IfIamtodie–ifmybloodlineitselfistodie–thenIwishtoleavethislifewithmorethanmyenemiescursingourname.Thisismyfirstactascaptain,thisiswhatIwillsayifyoubringmebacktoFenriswithyou,andthisiswhatIwillreporttoLordSethshouldIreturn.’‘Onemightargue,’saidNalfir,‘thatyouractionsareselfish.Youcareonlyforhowthegalaxywillspeakyournamewhenyouandyourbrothersaregone.’Vorain’steethshowedpearl-whiteinhisdark,scarredface.Itwasalmostroguish.‘Youcouldarguethat.Andthere’struththere,Iadmit.Butthere’salsoapracticalgainfortheWolves.Remember,cousins,thatI’mtheonewhoguidesourChapter’sinitiates.Theirmindsareminetoshape.AndasItrainthenext–perhapsthelast–generationofFleshTearers,theywilltakeshapewiththeknowledgethatatleastsomeWolvesbehavewithhonour.’NalfirturnedtoRagnar,speakinginslurredFenrisian.‘There’smuchhe’sleavingunsaid.’Ragnarnodded,exhalingslowly.‘Andmuchwehaveleftunspoken,also,’hesaidinthesametongue.‘Butdoesitmatter?’VorainmadenoefforttointerrupttheWolvesastheytalkedon.Herosetohisfeet,walkingtothemouthofthecaveandactivatinghisgorget’svox-link.Communicationqualitybeneaththejunglecanopyleftagreat deal tobedesired.Whenheheard the response from the fortress-monastery,Vorain spoke in theguttural,monosyllabicmurmursusedbymanyCretaciantribes.Inthefurthestreachesofhistory,itmightonce,barely,havebeenrelatedtoLowGothic.‘Whatareyousaying?’askedRagnar.‘Requesting a Stormraven and cataloguing your wounds for our Apothecary,’ Vorain replied, artfullyneutral. ‘Wemust reach higher ground for the gunship to reach us. The sound of their engines alwayssummonscarnosaurs,andthereisnowayapilotcanlandacraftbeneaththejunglecanopy.Areyoureadytoleavenow,cousins?’Ragnarrosetohisfeet.‘Thesooner,thebetter.’

IV

Vorainledtheway.HewasawareofthepunishmentCretaciahadinflictedupontheFenrisians,andtookcaretokeephispaceslowasheguidedthemuptherockyincline.Thelooseearthandscreehadthemusingtheirhandsforpurchasetopreventthemslidingdowninanavalancheofrubble.Moreoftenthannot,when theFleshTearerwould turnaround tomark theirprogress,he’d see themclamberingonallfours,bestialanddefiant.Cretacia’smoonwashigh,yetthehumidnightswereasmercilessasthebrutaldays.Sweatranfreelydowntheirfacesastheyhuffedforbreathintheequatorialheat.Likedogs,theFleshTearerthought.Nalfirwassoonlaggingbehind.Ragnarremainedwithhim,keepingupasteadystreamofconversationandcurses.Nalfirdidn’t joinin.Hegruntedwitheachstep,blood-fleckedsalivastringingbetweenhisteeth.Both of his hearts beat out of rhythm now. The snakebite in the back of his leg had been spreadingcorruptionthroughhisshinandthighfortwodaysbuthisimmunesystemalwaysfoughtback,reducingtheinfectiontopainfultingling.Nowitwasabattlejusttowalk–hisentireleftlegwasstiffandnumb.Thelimphe’dbeenhidingfortwodawnswasfinallytakinghold.‘Just shut up,’ he breathed to Ragnar, as they fell further behind Vorain. ‘Blackmane, shut up for amoment.Listentome.’Ragnar’scomradelychatterdiedaway.‘Whatisit?’Thebarddidn’tceasehishitchingstride.Astheyreachedanotherstretchofloosescree,heclamberedup on all fours, dragging his weakening leg up the rocks, pawing at any grip he could find with hisremaininghand.Stonescrapedandscreechedacrosshiscera miteplatingwitheachmetreheclimbed.‘IthinkI’mdying.’Ragnar’slaughwasagunshotbark.‘Don’tbesodramatic.’‘Listentome,yougit.’Nalfir’svoicewasaslickwhisper. ‘Thataccursedserpent thatdroppedonusfromabove,twodaysago.Theonewiththosedaggersforteeth.’Ragnarrecalledit.Thehugesnakehadlaunchedatthemfromthehighbranchesofatree,wrappingitselfinkillingcoilsaroundNalfir’storso,armandleg.Unabletoconstricthiminhislayeredarmourplating,thereptilehadstruckatthesofterjointedarmourbehindhisknee.Threeofitsfourjaggeddaggerfangshadpenetratedthejoint,sinkingintothefleshbeneath.Nalfirpaused,blinkingrancidsweatfromhisbloodshoteyesbeforecontinuing.‘Ican’tmetabolisethe

venom.It’skillingme.’Ragnar’sgrinfadedattheseriousnessinthebard’stone.‘Speaksense,Razortongue.Itwasjustasnake.’‘Aye,andafrostwyrmisjustasnake,too,eh?Butwe’veseenthemkillEinherjarwiththeirvenom.’Hepushedhimselftohisfeetastheyreachedfirmerrock.‘I’mastoryteller.Agathereroftales.Ispeakmorelanguagesthantherearestarsinthenightsky,brother.’RagnarnoddedaheadtowhereVorainwasclimbing,fiftymetresabove.‘YouspeakCretacian?’Nalfirgrinned,showingbleedinggums.‘Notthatthosegruntsandclickscountsasmuchofalanguage,butaye,Ispeakit.Istudiedityearsago.JarlThunderfistwishedmetobereadytotranslateifwecrossedpathswiththeFleshTearers.That’showIknow.It’swhatVorainsaidacrossthevox.’‘Hemightbewrong.’‘Hemightbe.I tellyouthough,itdoesn’tfeel likeheis.Mybloodisonfire,andIcanbarelyseeanarm’slengthinfrontofmyeyes.’BeforeRagnarcouldreply,Nalfirspatamouthfulofdarkblood.‘Allfather’sbones,whatastupidwaytodie.Ifyoutellanyofourbrothersaboutthis,IswearI’llcurseyoufrombeyondthegrave.TellthemIdiedfighting…Idon’tknow.Somethinghuge.Withteeththelengthofyourlegs.’‘Cousins?’Voraincalleddowntothem,seeingtheirpaceslowingmoreandmore.‘Alliswell,’Ragnarcalledback.Nalfirgaveaboyishsnigger.‘Oh,yes,’hemurmured.‘Everythingisjustfine.’‘Howlongdoyouhaveleft?’Ragnaraskedhim.‘Idon’tknow.Notlong.TheFleshTearersoundedsurprisedIwasstillaliveatall,andI’llsaythiswithnoshadowofalie–itfeelslikeIdiedyesterdayandforgottoliedown.’Theheavenschosethatmomenttoopen,withrunnelsofstingingmonsoonraintricklingthroughthethickcanopyabove.‘I’vehadbetterdays,’admittedthebard.Ragnarfoundhimselflostforwords.‘Justkeepgoing,’ theBloodClawsaidafteraminutehadpassed. It earnedanotherbloodygrin fromNalfir.‘Your inspiring talk needs work, brother. Just keep going? That’s how you motivate a woundedkinsman?’‘I’mbeginningtowishyou’djustdie,Razortongue.’‘Ha!’Thebardwipedthesheenofputridsweatfromhisfacewithagrimypalm.‘Imaygrantthatwishsoon. Itwould have to beme thatwas bitten, eh?Not you, oh no.Not youwith your damnable goodfortune.Luckrunsout,Blackmane.HaveIevertoldyouthat?’‘Onlysixorseventhousandtimes.’‘It’sthetruth,youknow.Thejarlbelievesyou’redestinedforgreatthings,butperhapshe’dabandonthathopeifheheardhowawfulyourinspiringspeechesare.’Ragnarscowledatthewords.‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’‘Areyoureallythisfoolish,Blackmane?’Nalfirhackedupagobbetofbloodyfoamandspatitontotherocks.‘WhydoyouthinkI’vebeeninsufferabletoyousinceyoujoinedtheFirstPack?Whodoyouthinkorderedmetobaityouandtestyoueverydamnday?’Betweentherevelationandthesickness,Ragnar’sheadwasreeling.‘Thejarlorderedthat?’‘Thunderfistisacraftierrodentthanthecompanyrealises.Hehasadozengamesandtestslikethisgoingonatany time.He’shadmebaitingyouoveryourprideandambitions–andyour tempermostofall.Can’t have aWolfGuardwho can’t control his fury.Throne aflame, brother, hewas furious after youkilledthataccursedDarkAngel.Hadmetestingyoutwiceashardafterthat.Hewasn’tsurehecouldtrustyouatallanymore.’

‘ThefightintheHearthoftheFirstPack.’Nalfirnodded.‘AndaboardtheBaryonyx.’‘I knew itwas you.’Ragnar felt themaddenedFleshTearer’s hands around his throat again; felt thepressure of being crushed beneath the warrior’s insane strength. ‘I knew you’d deactivated the stasislock.’‘Thejarl’sorders,’Nalfirgrinned,thoughitobviouslypainedhimtodoso.‘Andyousurvived,eh?’Ragnarcouldn’tfindthewords.‘I…thoughtyouwerejust…’‘Justabastard?’Nalfirseemedtoweightheideainhisthoughts.‘Well,Iamthat,aswell.’‘Razortongue…’‘Enoughofthis.You’lltakemyaxeback,won’tyou?Greylockmadeitforme.GaveittomethedayIbecameFirstPack.I’dhateforittorothereonthisswine-pitofaworld.’‘Ofcourse,brother.’‘Good.Good.Mythanks.’Nalfirpulledhimselfoverarockyoutcropping,andasliverofbloodranfromhisnose.Hesniffeditbackupintohissinuses.‘Notdeadyet,’hebreathed.‘Not.Dead.Yet.’The trees were thinning now, the canopy breaking to reveal the churning grey sky, and no longershieldingthemfromthegrittyhammeringoftheseasonalrainfall.Aheadofthem,Vorainwaswaitingwithhisaxeslungoverhisshoulder.Whentheyreachedhimhecastamomentary looktowardsNalfir,whoslunkdownwithhisbacktotherocks,thenspokelowtoRagnarthroughhishelmet’smouth-grille.‘Nowwewait.’

V

TheStormravengunshipcameinlowoverthetrees,itsarmourplatingalreadystreakedwithdissolvingpaintworkunderthewethammeringofthelightlyacidicrain.Itswervedintheskywithanagilityrarelyseen in Adeptus Astartes aircraft, lacking the heavyset power and momentum of the much largerThunderhawk.The craftwas a clenched fist of a thing, its turbineswailing as it drifted in closer.Upon its back, amanned turret rotated inaslowarc, itscannons trackingacross thesky insearchofprey.Theservitorbodilylockedintothegunpodsparednofocusforanythingelse.Ragnarsuspecteditwasmono-taskedfor that singleduty– itwould liveanddie in the turretwithout considerationor complaint.The slaveseemedneithermalenor female, simplyamalnourishedgreyhumancyborgedpast conceptsofgender,identityandpersonality.The gunship’s ramp lowered to reveal the compartment beneath the cockpit, giving the image of anopeningmaw.Rackedboltersandcratesofammunitionwaitedinthestrip-litcrewchamber.Vorainwasthefirsttobreakfromthecoverofthestoneoverhangthatguardedthemfromtheworstoftherain.Hestrodeout into thestormas thegunship’s landingclawsscrapedandkissed therockyplateau.TheWolvesheard the insectilecrackleofhisvox-channelasheconferredwith thepilot–asilhouettetheycouldonlydimlyseethroughthereinforcedcockpitpane.Theonlywarningtheyhadwastheshadowpassingoverthemoon.There,andthengone.Ablurofall-too-briefblackness.Theassaultcannonson thegunship’s spinal turretwhirred,cycling to lifewithnochance to fire.Theshadow struck from above with a grinding crash of metallic thunder – Ragnar saw something vast,somethingwinged–andthenitwasgoneagain,leavingthemwiththedistinctivereekofreptilianfleshandtheechoingsquealoftorturedmetalringingintheirears.Thegunship’sturretwasgone,tornawaydowntoitshydraulicroots.Vorainranbackintotheirdubiouscover,shoutingtothepilotacrossthevox.TheStormravenshudderedas it lifted off again, turbines gasping for altitude, breathing its engine fumes across theWolves in acharcoal-smellingheathaze.They were drawing their weapons when the turret crashed down onto the slope below themwith athunderclap – now a thing of abused metal and shattered glass. The servitor spasmed in its restraintthrone,stillfutilelytryingtocarryoutitsdutiesevenasitbledtodeath.Ragnarwatcheditthrashuntilitaccidentallykilleditself,gashingopenitsthroatonashardofthebrokencockpitglass.

TheStormravendidn’tseektoescape.TheFleshTearerpilotbrought itaroundinanagileswing, theheavyboltersonitssnubnoseopeninguptohammershellsintothenightsky.Lightning illuminated the predator as it struck again, turning it from a shadow to a beast for a singleheartbeat. Great leathery wings cracked like a Fenrisian longship’s sail in a stormwind. Claws likeswords flashed through the rain to clang against the gunship’s hull, sending it spinning aside, drifting,shudderingtocomebackundercontrol.The creature landed on the slope with enough force to send tremors through the rocks. Black eyesgleamed,reflectingthemoonlightasitturneditsbeaked,bone-crestedheadtothewarriors.‘Ptyradon,’Vorainsaid,voicingthenameasabreathlesscurse.Dragon,Ragnarthoughtinthesamesecond.Agods-ruttingdragon.Three bolters kicked as one, booming shells towards the creature’s densely scaled hide. Every boltsparkedandburstwithoutpunchingthroughthebeast’sflesh.Inthefaceofthistorrentoffire,theptyradonlowered itsmonstrous head, armoured brow ridges closing over its bulging eyes to protect them, andcharged.Ragnarhurledhimself away from the advancingbeast and crashed into thegravel scree, settingoff arattlingpebbleavalanche.Voraincuttheotherway,barrellingoutintotheraininadeadsprint,reloadinghisbolterwithaslam.OnlyNalfirheldhisground.Heaimedatthebeast’sclawedhandsattheendsofitswings.SuchwasitsspeedthattheWolfmissedthreeshotsevenatthatrange,scoringonlyasinglehittoitsbonydigits.Itwasenough.Theslighteststumble in theptyradon’sstrideallowedNalfir to throwhimselfafter theFleshTeareratthelastmoment,kickingoffwithhisgoodleg.Behindhim,thereptilianbeastsnappeditsjawswherehe’dbeenstanding.Hecrawledawayacrossthescree,lettinghisweightcarryhimdowntheslopeonatideofrollinggravel.Thegunshipbankedbackabovethem,anglingitsnosedown,andtheheavyboltersdidwhattheSpaceMarines’moremodestfirecouldn’t–thestreamofmassiveshellspoundedthroughtheptyradon’sscaledhide,sendinggoutsofvisceraarcingandsteamingintotheair.Shrieking,thebeasttooktotheskyonshreddedwings,leapinguptoclingontothegunship’sfuselagewithtalonandclaw.TheStormraven’senginesstruggledundertherenewedweight,andwithaprotractedwhineofstrainedturbines,boththegunshipandthemonsterembracingitplungedtotheground.They hit the scree and tumbled down, bouncing, rolling and burning. Twenty metres. Thirty. Fifty.Comingtorestinasmokingheap,halfwaydowntheslope.Stillness reigned. Ragnar aimed his bolter down the incline at the now-motionless dragon. Almostmotionless.Hecouldseeitbreathing.‘Razortongue!’ he called. The bard was much farther down the slope, spitting distance from thewreckageofthegunshipandthewoundedmonsteratopit.‘Climb!’Nalfirfeltsoweakthathealmostlaughed.TohavelivedforsomanydecadesasanimmortalreflectionofRuss and theAllfather… and now to be laid low by the stings and bites of jungle vermin.Climb,Ragnarhadsaid.Climb?Hecouldbarelymoveatall.Itwasallhecoulddotokeepbreathing.With a strangely piteouswhine, thewounded ptyradon lifted its head, opening its guarded eyes, andglareddirectlyat thebard.Thisclosehecouldsee thebulbouseyeballsweren’tcolourlessafterall–theywerehalvedbyaslittedreptilianpupil,darkerthanthemilkyblackoftheeyeballitself.WhatNalfirhadtakenforacollarofbonespinesarounditsnecknowtrembledandbegantorise,eachofthemlinkedbyamembraneofveinedflesh.‘Putyourhelmeton!’Vorainyelledfromhigheruptheslope.‘Itsvenomisblinding!’Nalfirhadonemomenttowonderjustwherehishelmetwas–backaboardtheHolmgang,most likely.

AswithmostWolveshedespisedconfininghisheightenedsensesandshunnedwarhelmsasoftenasnot.Themomentpassed, quick as a blink.Theptyradon’s neck frills quivered as thebeast drewback itshead,anditdisgorgedastreamofthickmucus-likevenominvomitedspurts.TheoozesplatteredacrossNalfir’sarmourashewasreaching,crippledandclosed-eyed,forhisfallenaxe.‘Don’tbreatheitin!’heheardtheFleshTearershout.Asifheneededanotherwarning.Heheard thebeastmovingnow.Nalfirmadea last surginggrasp forhisweapon.His fingers closedaround the axe’s haft and he gripped it tight, thumbing the ignition rune on the handle.The power axecrackledtolife,thepowerfieldaroundthewidebladesizzlingasitsuperheatedthefallingrain.Hewasblind.Oneofhislegswasdeadfromthightotoes.Oneofhishandsnolongerworkedatall.Hewascoveredintoxicpoison-spiteatingintohisarmourplatingthatsenthislungsintoseizuresifheevenbreathedin itsscent.Hisflesh itchedandachedfromrashesandcrackingsoresfromthisunbelievablyhostileworld.His only companionswere one of the Flesh Tearerswho had unjustly banished him toCretacia’sinsanewilderness,andhisbrotherBlackmane,whowasvariouslyseenasahot-bloodedfoolorthejarl’sheirapparent,dependingonwhichoftheGreatCompanyyouasked.Frankly,hebelievedRagnarwasalittleofboth.On topof all of that,Nalfirwasdying from the snakevenom turning theblood inhisveins to slime,deliveredbyaserpentwithfangsthelengthofdaggerscapableofbitingcleanthroughthefibre-bundlemachinemusclesofMarkVIIpowerarmour.Helaughed,unabletopreventit,andoncehe’dstartedhefoundhecouldn’tstop.Itdrewthebrimstone-and-bilescentofthetoxicspitintohislungs,immediatelycausinghisthroatandchesttoburn.Evenashisamusementfadedtochuckles,hekepthiseyesclosedtight.Betterblindedbychoicethanwiththevenomscaldinghiseyeballs.Theresultwasthesame,butitcamewithoutthedistractionofmutilatingpain.NalfirRazortonguedraggedhimselftohisfeetforwhathewassurewouldbethefinaltime,slashedtheairwithhisaxetoloosenhiscrampingmuscles,andblindlyturnedtofacethedraconicmonstercrawlingtowardshim.Dragginghis leg,he stalked towardshis fate.Meeting it standingon two feet, as aFenrisianwarriormust.

RagnarwatchedNalfirlimpingtowardsthelumberingptyradon,knowingthathispackmatewasgoingtohisdeath. In thatmomenthemadehischoice.Hewouldn’topen fireon thebeast.Hewouldn’tchargedowntheslopetoNalfir’said.Thebolter inhishandkickedonce,bellowingasingleshell intotherain.It impactedanddetonatedametre from Vorain’s boot, sending up a shower of gravel and shrapnel that rattled across the FleshTearer’sarmour.‘Lethimfight,’Ragnarcalledtohisred-cladcousin.VorainwastoofarawaytoheartheWolf’swords,but therewas no questioningRagnar’s stern expression. After a hesitation, the captain repliedwith aclosed-fistgestureinAdeptusAstartesbattle-sign,signallinghiscompliance.Ragnarloweredhisboltgun.AFenrisiantribesmanwasgoingtohisdeath.Itwasn’tforhiscompanionsto interfereor intervene. In the tongueofhis tribe, ragged from the infection riddlinghisbody,Ragnarcalledouttothewoundedbard.‘MaytheAllfatherwelcomeyouatHisside,Razortongue.’

Heheardthetraditionalwordsshoutedover theslashof therainandtheguttural thunderof thebeast’sbreathing.Standinginthebeast’sshadow,Nalfirgrinned.Evenwithouteyes,heknewwheretheptyradonwaswounded.LikeallWolves,he’dbeenahunterbefore theSkyWarriors tookhiminto thestars.Hecould smell the blood on its breath from its ruptured organs. He could hear the hitches in its stride

becauseofitsinjuredlimbs.He’dfoughtblindahundredtimesbefore,intrainingandinthefield:inimpenetrablefogandnoxiousgases,inthelightlessdarkofapowerlessspaceshiphold,inwarsuponworldswherethesunneverrose.Heknewhowtohuntandkillwithoutopeninghiseyes.Thebeastwasfast,butitwasalmostaswoundedastheWolfhimself.Nalfirweavedasidefromthefirststrike,carefulnottotrusthisnumbedlegwithanyrealweight.Hespunawayfromthesecondlashingclaw,andleaptoverthecreature’sbarbedtailasitpoundedacrossthescree,seekingtoknockhimdown.Hehadnobolter,andnoideawhereithadfallen.Allhehadwasthepoweraxe,andhewouldonlygetone chance to use it. Another duck beneath a swiping claw, another weave aside from the beast’sthrashingclubofatail.Theshadowthathecouldfeelbutnotseeexpandedoverhim,swellingwide,bringingasuddenchill.Agreatstinkingwindbuffetedhimasthemonsterbeatitsbleedingwings,seekingtorearupforakillingstrike.Comingathimwithitssnapping,crashingjaws.Now.Nalfirmovedwithwhat little strength remained tohim,his axeheld low, its blade striking a trail ofsparksasitgougedthroughthegravel.Heswungupwardswithavagabond’sblow,thekindofdeceitful,desperateattackthatcleavesbeneathashield-wallandhasnoplaceinaduelbetweenhonestwarriors.Theblowlanded.Theaxebit,andbitdeep.Nalfirroaredasitscurvedbladecrunchedintothebeast’sbody,buryingitselfinvileflesh.Foul-smellinggoredrenchedhiminareekingflood,alongwiththecold,wetchainsofreptilianguts.Hehadasinglesecondtowrenchtheaxeback,pryingthewoundopenwider,beforehewassmashedasidewithenoughforcetoshatterhisbreastplatelikeporcelainandblastthelastofthebreathfromhisbody.Nalfir’s form thuddedand rolledacross thescreeslope inamangled tumble,ending itsbrief journeywithanabrupt crashagainst a riseofwet rocks.A sprayof redburst in a splashof colourwhere thebard’sskullstruckthestone.Theptyradondiedwithfarlessdignity,thrashingitslimbsasitsinsidesropedoutinsloppingwetcoils.Itsroarsbecamebleatingwhinesevenasitsoughttoclawitswayovertothebard’sbody.Weakerwitheachstep,withtheorganicpulpofitsinnardsslidingfromthebrutalaxewound,thecarnosaurcollapsedonlyanarm’slengthfromwhereNalfirlayunmoving.The beast’s last breath left its jaws as steambetween sword-length teeth. It died there, glaring at itskiller’scorpse,itsreptilianeyesseethingwithbestial,stupidhate.

Ragnarexhaledatlast,notrealisinguntilthenthathe’dbeenholdinghisownbreath.Voraincametohim,skiddingtoastop.Hisvoicewashushed.‘Hekilledaptyradonwith…withanaxe.Hedisembowelleditwithasingleblow.’RagnarfeltthewelcomeburnofprideatNalfir’slastdeed,andthereverenceinVorain’stone.Hedidn’treply.Hesimplyhauledhimselftohisfeet.‘Aheroicdeath,’theFleshTearersaid,awed.‘A stubborn bastard’s death,’ Ragnar replied. ‘Though in my experience the two are often the samething.’TogethertheyapproachedtheStormraven’swreckage,seekingthepilotofthedownedcraft.RatherthanaidtheFleshTearer,Ragnarwaited,watchingthedeadbeast,daringittomoveoncemore.‘Iwillsummonanothergunship,’Vorainsaid.‘Justone?Andiftherearemoreofthosethingsoutthere?’‘Ptyradonsarelonehunters.’

Ragnarwasn’t convinced, but he had nowill to raise an argument.Theymade theirway over to theptyradon’smotionlessform.‘Gettheaxe,’hesaidtotheFleshTearer.Ittookthelion’sshareofhisremainingstrengthtopushthebeastontoitsside,exposingtheaxedrivendeepintoitsbelly.Hehelditthere,hismusclesburningwithfatigueandinfection,hisfingersgrippingitsimmensereptilianscalesasVorainpulledtheembeddedaxefreewithgruntedcurses.WhenRagnarheardthewetcrunchofextraction,hereleasedthebeast’shideagain,lettingthebodysettle.InkeepingwithCretacia’ssavagefauna,insectverminwerealreadygatheringatthecreature’sbulgingblackeyes,beginningtheircarrion-feedingonthesoftestandwettestportionsofthedeaddragon.Whentheyclimbedbackupthescreeslope,Voraincarriedthedeactivatedpoweraxestilldrippingwithintestinalslime.Ragnarcarriedhisbrother’sbodyonhisshoulders.

VI

ItwasalongroadbacktotheHearthworld.Thewarp’svicissitudeswereasbenignascouldbe,lettingtheFleshTearers frigateStygimolochmake the coreward journey toFenriswithout incident.With fairnavigationalwinds,making the journeywithin the span of half a yearwas considered a blessing.TheStygimolochwas one of the fastest vessels remaining in the depleted Cretacian fleet; she made thejourneyinamerefourmonths.The small warship, crewed by fewer than ten thousand souls, refused to sail deeply into Einherjarterritory.A brief pulse of tele metrywas broadcast into the Fenrisian System, but by the time a patrolvesselfromtheFangreachedthesystem’sedge,therewasnosignoftheFleshTearerswarship.AnunmarkedAquilasuborbitalshuttle–alightlyarmedtransitcraftubiquitousacrosstheImperium–waitedatthelocationofthetelemetrypulse.Itssystemswereactivebutitwasincapableofcover ingthedistance necessary to reach Fenris under its own power, and only had oxygen reserves for aweek ofsurvival.Allidentificationhadbeenscrapedfromitshullplating.Onlytwodetailsreturnedfromanauspexscanofthewingedshuttle,seeminglylostinthevoid.Thefirstwasitslocatorbeacon:activeandbeatinglikeaclockworkheart.Thesecondwasthepresenceoftracelifesigns:twosouls,nomore,noless.WhenitwasbroughtaboardtheWolvespatroldestroyerAtgeir,apackofGreyHunterssurroundedtheshuttleinthehangarbay,bolterslevelledwithcustomarycautionattheloweringramp.ThefirstsoultodescendontothehangardeckwasBlackmaneoftheThunderfists,leadingacoffin-sizedstasispodbehindhim.Helookedwornandweary,withhisarmourbadlyscarredandpoorlymaintained,andhecarriedanaxethatwasn’thisown.‘Blackmane?’ asked theGreyHunters pack leader, recognising theBloodClaw from former feastingdaysattheFang.Ragnarnodded,infinitelyweary.‘Hail,Stormtamer.IbringtheremainsofNalfirRazortongue,slaininhonourablebattleuponCretacia,backtotheHearthworld.’Hetookadeepbreath,savouringtherecycledandreprocessedairoftheAtgeir’slandingbay.‘AndIhaveatalefortheGreatWolf’sears.’‘Thenyou’refortunate,kinsman.TheGreatWolfguardstheFangthisseason,resupplyingandrecruitingfortheWolvesthatStalktheStars.YousaidCretacia?Isthisajest?’Ragnarmanagedafaintsmile,showinghisfangs.‘It’salongstory.’Andar hid his suspicions for now. ‘We registered two life signals aboard the shuttle,’ said theGreyHunter.‘Whotravelswithyou?’

‘Anemissary,’saidRagnar.‘Loweryourguns.’The second figure appeared in the shuttle hatch, clad in red-and-black battleplate.He descended therampslowly,handsopentoshowthathecarriednoweapons.Hisscarredfeaturesweresetinacautiousmask as he became the first of his bloodline to ever breathe the air of a SpaceWolves shipwithoutboardingitcarryingabladeandbolterinhand.AndarStormtamerturnedtoRagnar,disbeliefinhisdarkeyes.‘Helethimselfbetakenalive?’‘He’snotacaptive,’Ragnarsaid.‘AsIsaid,he’sanemissary.’AndarturnedhisgazebacktotheunarmedwarriorandspokeinGothic.‘TheGreatWolfwillbetoldofyourpresence,FleshTearer.’‘Yes.Good,’saidCaptainVoraininhaltingFenrisian.‘It’stime,Wolf-cousins,toendthewar.’‘Todayisadayformadtales,’saidAndar,lookingtothestasispod.Hedraggedhisfingertipsacrosshisheart, a traditional sign of sorrowat learningof a brother’s passing. ‘You sayNalfirRazortonguehasfallen.Howdidhedie?’RagnargaveamirrorofNalfir’sownsmile,asthebard’swordslefthislips.Hespoketheliehe’dbeentoldtotell,whichwasnownothingbutthetruth.‘Hediedfightingsomethinghuge,withteeththelengthofyourlegs.’

EPILOGUE

Cadia–TheStreetsofKasrBellocTheLastTurningoftheYear’sWind

999.M41

Attheoutset,HighKingGrimnarhadsaidthiswouldbenowarofconquest.‘TheArchenemycomesnownot for resources, territory, nor even for their accursed ideology. This is the first battle in a war ofextinction.TheymeantoburnCadia,razeitsfortresses,andsailonwardswithoutlookingback.’Withemptyboltersandswordsthatcriedoutforfuel,thesurvivorsofRagnar’sGreatCompanyreachedthesurfaceonlytobeconfrontedwiththetruthGrimnarhadpromised.Thecitynolongerexisted.Initsplacewasapurgatoryofashandfire.Theyhadn’tmanagedtoreachthecoast.Thetunnelswerecollapsed,barringtheirpassage,forcingthemtosurfacewithinthecitylimits.Withhishelmon,Ragnarbreathedinthesweat-scentedrecycledairofhisarmour,butthecharcoalreekoftheincineratedcityfoundawayintohisthroatregardless.Grittyandpervasive,thesmokeandashanddustblendedtogetherintoadenseatmosphereofruinationthatchokedtheentireregion.Thecitywasstillaflame.Raggedwarbandsoftheenemywereeverywhere,desecratinganddestroyingalltheycouldfindinKasrBelloc’sbones.ThankstotheWolvesservingasrearguardforthecitymilitia’sevacuation,therewaslittleinthewayoflivingsportforthefoetoamusethemselveswith.Thegroundshiveredwiththebellowsofdistant,andnotsodistant,artillery,aswellastheearthshakinggrindofbattletankcolumnsandTitanfootfallsmovingthroughthedeadcity.TheenemywerenolongershellingtheKasrinforce;therewaspreciouslittleleftstandingdeservingofannihilation.Nowtheyweresimplymovingtheirhordesthroughthewastelandthatremained.‘Move,’RagnarvoxedtotheFirstPack.Together theyadvancedinlowcrouches,stalkingthroughthedust-strangled ruins of the fortress-city. The smoke in the air hid the details of their blood-scabbedceramite and reduced them to armoured silhouettes in theperpetual ashendark.Other shadowsdriftednearby,somehuman,somefarfromit.Ragnar had scattered his packs upon reaching the surface, staggering their advance in the loosest offormationsratherthanmovingasahordeofdozens.Packswerenearenoughtocometoeachother’saidin thesmokydarkness,yetnotgroupedupcloseenough tomakesignificantblursonanyenemyauspexscanners.Asever,theFirstPackledtheway.

NearlytwohundredWolvesmadeplanetfallwithJarlBlackmaneatthecampaign’scommencement.Bythe time they regained the surface, scarcely seventy remained.Morewere lost as theymade theirwaythroughthecity–someimpededbyenemyforcesduringthejourney,andRagnarbelievedtheymightyetsurvive in the ruins.Others sacrificed themselves to distract andholdTraitor patrols so that the otherpacksmightslipdeeperbehindenemylines.Eachtimethecompanysplitapartafractionmore,Ragnar’sbitter reluctance grew. The fact he had no choicewas irrelevant. The necessity of such sacrifice stillpained him.Hismemorised list of those fallen beneath his banner grew by the hour upon this cursedworld.TheWolfLordledhismenonwards,coordinatingtheadvancingpackswithwhispersacrosstheshort-rangevox.Foratime,itworkedwell.‘Jarl,’cameamurmuredvoice.‘Tome,sire.’Ragnarlookedbackoverhisshoulder,scarcelyseeingUlrik’ssilhouettenearafallenwall.Whenevengenhancedvisionandafinelytunedretinaldisplaystruggledtopiercethemurk,thingsweredireindeed.HecrossedtheshatteredroadinalowrunandreachedtheWolfPriest’sside.‘Slayer?’Inreply,Ulrikbrushedhisarmouredpalmacrossasectionofthetumbledwallstillstanding.Acrudebutcomplicatedrunewasmarkedthere,cutintothestone.Scrapedwithaknife.‘That’s…Cretacian,’Ragnarsaid.‘Iknowlittleoftheirtongue,’saidUlrik.‘Doyouknowthismark’smeaning?’Hedid.Ragnarnodded,touchingthescratchedsigilwithhisarmouredfingertips.‘It’smyname.’‘Doyoujest,YoungKing?’‘No,Slayer.It’smynameasaCretacianhieroglyph.“ManeofShadow”.’Hebrushedmoredirtaway,revealingaseriesofsmallerrunicletters.Ulriksaidnothing.Hesimplywaited.‘It’sawarning,’Ragnarsaid.‘Nightbladeisdead.’Razortongue’svoiceechoeddowntheyears,driftingthroughhismind.Luckrunsout,Blackmane.Luckalwaysrunsout.‘The Flesh Tearers are in the city.At least… theywere.We need to reach the southern promethiumrefineries.’‘Andwhyisthat,sire?’Ragnarbaredhisteethinarueful,wearygrin.‘Becausethat’swhatthesemarkingsaretellingustodo.Andanactualmission that involvesmore thanrunning,hidingandfighting in thedarkuntilwediehasgreatappeal.Gatherthepacks,Slayer.Wehunt.’

ThescatteredsurvivorscameacrossNightbladeandhisWolfScoutssoonafterfindingseveralmoretrailsigns.Theircrucifiedbodieshungfromthestatuaryofaplaza’sdrycentralfountain,ropedtotheplain,serviceable Cadian stonework by industrial chains. Each of the corpses had been doused withpromethiumand ignitedwhile chained inplace,burnedalive likeheretics tohangasblackenedhusks.Theirdefilementwascomplete;therecouldbenorecoveryoftheirgene-seedaftersuchadeath,evenifRagnarandhiswarriorshadreachedtheScoutshoursaftertheirexecutionratherthandays.Ragnarturnedfromtheruinedwreckagethathadoncebeenfiveoftheoldestandbravestveteranswithinthe Chapter. He watched the shadow of something vast and inhuman staggering mechanically severalkilometresaway,barelyvisiblethroughthedustandashtothewest.Nothinglivingwasthatlarge,butnoTitanmovedwithsuchsicklysentience.Thesightofitmadehisskincrawl.

‘Weshouldcutthemdown,’AlryddsaidofthecrucifiedScouts,‘andturntheirremainstoash.’WhenRagnardidn’tanswer,theyoungbardturnedtoUlrik,whowasmasterofthecompany’sfuneralrites.Theskull-helmedpriestgavenoreplyeither.‘No,’Ragnarsaid.Reluctancethickenedhistone.‘Whenweretakethecity,I’llburnourbrothersmyself.Butnotnow.Moveon.’Theyhuntedoncemore.ItwasAlrydd,aslendersilhouetteinhisCorvusbattleplate,whonextcalledahalt.‘Doyoufeelthat?’hesaidacrossthevox,assoftlyashisrichsingingvoiceallowed.Ragnarfeltnothinguntilhecrouchedandpressedhispalmtotherockcreteroad.Thereitwas:apulseinthebrokenstone,likethecity’sownheartbeat.Orthefootstepsofawalkinggod.‘Titan,’hehissedacrossthecompany’sgeneralchannel.Ragnarorderedthepackstoscatterfurtherandmoveintowhatevercovertheycouldfind.Pickingswereripe in thefallenfortress-city, thoughnostructurewouldprotect themifaBattleTitan tookumbrageattheirexistence.Theycouldn’tremainundetectedformuchlonger,ofthatRagnarwascertain.Thatthey’devenmadeitthisfaronthesurfacewasamiracle,butwiththecitypracticallyrazedtherewaspreciouslittleinthewayofresourcesfortheenemytoplunder.Ragnarsuspectedmanyoftheenemy’swarbandshadalreadymovedontohuntfreshmeatelsewhere.With his back to a lowwall, theWolfLord crouched and concentrated.The ground shivered harder,slowlybecomingatremble,thenarhythmicshake.Henarrowedhiseyes,almostawince,assomethingvastnearbysoundedagreatwarhornacrossthedevastatedcityscape.ImperialTitansblaredtheirsirenstoalert infantryandwarn themoutof theway.Whatever thiswarmachinewas, itdidn’tsoundas if itwerewarninganyoneofanything.Impossibly,itsoundedhungry.Ragnar pressed himself closer to the wall as the god-walker eclipsed what pathetic moonlight wasmanagingtopiercetheoccludedheavens.Heshiftedenoughtowatchthewarenginestridepast,severalstreetsaway,itsarmouredshinsandmassiveclawedfeetsendingtheremnantsofbuildingscrashingtotheground,breakingapartintoyetmoredust.‘Banelord.’Alryddwaswhispering,asiftherewereachancethetitanicmachinemighthearthem.‘I’veneverseenoneoutsideofthehololitharchives.’Ragnarhad.He’dboardedone,infact.He’dguttedthemalformedoverseer-pilotswithFrostfang,beforehurlingtheircorpsesfromtheTitan’scockpit-head.Thathadbeenagoodday,andafinefight.Onlytwoofhismenhadbeenslain.Closinghiseyes,hefocusedonslowinghistwinhearts,strainingtolistenpasttheconfininghelmthatdulledhisinhumanlykeensenses.Distantgunfire.Chanting,singing,praying.Thedrummingoffallingbuildings.Therollinggrowloftanks.Thegod-stepsofmarchingTitans.HecycledthroughImperialvox-channelsyetagain,seekinganythingamidstthestatic.Thevoiceshedidhearwerecrackedanddegraded,andhewasn’tcertaintheybelongedtoImperialsouls.‘Allfather’sThrone,’hemurmured.‘Myjarl?’askedAlryddathisside.TheWolfLordopenedhiseyes.‘Frequencyochre-five-three,’Ragnarreplied.‘Listen.’‘Ihearit,’Ulriksaidatonce.Hisbreathingwasameasured,mournfulinhale/exhalebreezethroughhis

wolf-skullhelmet.ForreasonsRagnarhadnowishtoknow,theSlayerenjoyedthetasteandsmellofthedeadcity.Thepriestevidentlywishedtoexperienceitratherthansealhisarmourcompletely.‘Ihearit,also,’saidOlvec.Theywerehisfirstwordsindays.‘Theenemy.’‘Theenemy,’Ragnaragreed.‘Atthepromethiuminstallations,’saidAlrydd,distractedbythegrotesquevoicesinhisear.Alleyesturnedtothebard.‘You’recertain,brother?’Ragnarasked.‘Therefinerieswereamongthefirstdistrictstobeshelled.Therecan’tbemuchinfrastructureleft.’Hedidn’taddthattheCretacianmarkingswereguidinghim there,promisingsalvation.A leader shouldnever lethisdisappointmentshow tohismen.Luckrunsout,afterall.Alryddnodded,hisheadstilltiltedindistraction.‘They’reusingwhatremainstorefueltheirrearguardarmourdivisions.Assureasthenorthwindblowscold.’Asusual,Ragnardecidedagainstpointingoutthatthenorthwindheredidn’tblowparticularlycold.Thebard’saxiomstendedtobeuniquelyFenrisiansentiments.Even before its near-annihilation,Cadia had been an uglyworld. Its skywas bleached by the rancidcorruption of theEye ofTerror,which dominated the entirety of its heavens, day and night. Itswholeculture, from art and architecture tomorality and virtue,was dedicated to the simplicity and glory ofImperialwarfare.Asawar-world,itsrolewastoguardtheedgeoftheEyeofTerror,whererealityandthewarpmettocreate thehavenofTraitorsanddaemonsalike.Cadiacouldhavebeenbeautiful. It couldhavebeenabeacon for enlightenment and progress in a darkening galaxy. Instead, because of where it lay in theEmperor’sdomain,itwasforcedtodevoteitsentireexistencetoreinforcingitsplanetarydefenceswhilefeedingitsentiremilitarisedpopulationintothebyzantineprocessesoftheImperialGuard.ItwassaidthatCadianchildrencouldstripandcleanaKantrael-patternlasriflebeforetheycouldread.Onotherworldssuchaclaimwouldbeacrudeexaggeration.OnCadia,itwassimplychildhood.Understandably,CadianshocktrooperregimentswereamongtheImperium’smostdecoratedandhighlytrainedGuardforces.Equallyunderstandably,thislefttheworldasagreyanduglyfortress-planet,withits continents given over to vast Kasr bastion-cities, where life consisted of little more than endlesstraining,drillingandmilitarydisciplineinplaceofanyotherkindofculture.Even away from themain population centres, the wilderness was home to several thousand castles,trainingcamps,bunkercomplexesandmountainfastnesses.Thecitiesthemselveswereblocky,armoured,defensiblecommandcentres,oftenshieldedfromorbitanddesignedwithonethinginmind:tocostanyinvaderoceansofbloodforeverymetretheymanagedtotakeandhold.Gun-towerslinedtheavenuesofeveryplacecitizenscouldgather.Communalbarracks ran rowuponrow, roadbyroad, rather than theskyscrapinghabitationblocksofothercitiesonotherworlds.BellocwasnoexceptiontotheKasrtradition.Indeathithadfulfilledthepurposeofitslife–thoughitwasnowdead,aflameandoverrunwiththeArchenemy’srearguard,itwasalsothegraveofhundredsofthousandsofinvadersoldiers,cultistsandslaves.TheWarmaster,cursesuponhisblackname,hadpaiddearlytorazethecity.HewaspayingdearlytoburnalloftheKasr;thedarktruthwasthatitwasapriceheseemedwilling–eveneager–topay.Bellochadbeennamedforthemountainrangethatcastitsalpineshadowacrossthecitynestledinitsfoothills. In theKasr’s southernmost district, closest to themountains, Belloc’s promethium refinerieswereatertiaryconcerntoCadianHighCommandcomparedtoeasternmanufactoriesandthegreatcentralspaceport.IttookRagnar’ssurvivorsthreehourstoreachtheboundariesoftherefinerysector.EachWolfmoved

with renewedvitality,energisedby the thoughtofattacking–at last– insteadofwaitingand repellingassaultafterassaultintheuselessdarkorhidingamongthebonesofthefallencity.Thepacksspacedoutatvariouspointsalongthedistrict’swallededges,aimingtoslip inundetected.Theymetnosentriesorguards.RagnarledtheFirstPackthrougharowofwreckedandlootedwarehouses,withFrostfanginhishands.Ontheymoved,slowedbyUllerandOlvecintheirTerminatorplate,yetrefusingtoleavethembehind.TheWolfLordlistenedtohispacks’voxedcommunicationswithrazorfocus,picturingtheirpositionsinhismindonahololithicmapherecalledflawlesslyfrommemory.The earliest reports spoke of Land Raiders and Rhinos on the ground in the district’s furthest side,watchedoverbypatrolsofceramite-cladwarriors.Theflamesmadeidentifyingthefoedifficultatsuchdistance.Ragnarorderedhismentobegintheattack.Helistenedtotheirspokenoathsastheyadvanced,feelingthefamiliarandwelcomeburnofpride.WithsurlygrowlsandgentlethreatstheydemandedtheAllfatherpayheedtotheirdeedsandglories.TheFirstPackwaslaggingseverelybehindwhenthevoxeruptedwithreportsofinitialcontact.Gruntsofeffortandthetinnythunderofbolterfirerangoutatonce.Ragnar’smusclestightenedwiththeneedtorunforwardsandaidhiskinsmen.UllerandOlvecwerestompingforwardsintheirheavyarmourplating,frustrationwritacrosstheiragedfeaturesassurelyasitwasetchedacrossthefaceoftheiryounglord.‘Go,damnyou!’Ullerorderedhisjarl.Thewarrior’semptyassaultcannonwhinedinhelpless,ammo-starvedirritation.‘Justsavesomeforus.’Ragnarbrokeintoasprint,Ulrik,HrolfandAlryddwithhim.Theyemergedfromthewarehouseintoasalvageyardwithfivetoweringdeactivatedcranes,andsevenothersbroughtdowninthewar,litteringthecourtyardwithpilesofmeltedslagandscrapmetal.Theenemywerehere, itwas true.Hundredsof them,carpeting theground,burstopenbybolter fire.TraitorousGuardsmen,ahordeofthemwiththeirfleshmarkedbyritualknives,massacredupontheearth.‘Sire!’cameSoergarTrueCut’svoice.Laughing.Laughinghardenough tosplitopenhisskull. ‘It’s–’Distortionstoletherestofhisdeclaration.Thevoxdissolvedintostatic.Agunship roaredoverhead,coming inonhowlingenginesandcatchinghimonopenground, far fromcover.Ragnarhurledhimselfdowntothescrap-strewnrockcrete,picturingthegunshipopeningupwithitsarrayofchattering,boomingheavybolters.Spentshellcaseswouldrainupon thesalvageyard likemetallichailstones.Buttheattackdidn’tcome.Theengineskepthowling,asthegunshiphovered.‘Identify yourself,’ came a cold voice in Ragnar’s ears, barely distorted at all. The new toneswereimmediately overlaid by several pack leaders voxing their jarl in the same moment, with the sameinformation.Ragnar rose from his dubious cover, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the Thunderhawk’sscissoringsearchlightsas theydrownedhim in illumination.Hesaw theorangeglowofdistant fireondarkarmourplating,andthewingedbladeemblemonthegunship’snose.Hefeltthesamemadlaughterthatwasafflictinghiswarriorsalsothreateningtotakeholdofhisownjaws.‘ThisistheThunderhawkOphanicVigiloftheDarkAngelsFourthBattleCompany.Werepeat,identifyyourself.’‘Ragnar,’hesaidoverthesoundofhisrelievedmen.‘JarloftheBlackmaneGreatCompany.’The gunship began to lower. Its landing claws slid free into landing position, and the forward rampopenedonslow,loudhydraulics.Thepilot’svoicereturnedoverthevox.

‘Yourrequestforreinforcementsisacknowledged.’TheThunderhawkslammeddownontotherockcretecourtyard of the salvage yard, grinding traitors’ bodies beneath its weight. ‘Captain Sorael wishes tospeakwithyou,JarlBlackmane.’

Fifty-oneSpaceWolvesmadeittotheBellocMountainfortress.Ragnarknewmoreyetlivedintheruinsofthecity.Hewouldreturnandfindthem,whentheImperiumpushedbacktoretakewhatremainedofthedevastatedKasr.Evenso,fifty-onewasanumbertothanktheAllfatherfor.And,somewhatmorereluctantly,tothanktheDarkAngelsfor.SeveralthousandImperialwarriorswereusingthemountainfastnessasafallbackbase.AlongsidethehugeregimentsofImperialGuardsoldierswerethirtyBlackTemplars,astrikeforceofthesupposedlyextinctShadowWolfChapter,anarmouredbattalionoftheSubjugatorsandarecondetachmentofFleshTearersScouts.Over the coming days, the jarl’s warriors would be rearmed, resupplied and reinforced from theEinherjarfleetinorbit.However, the first soul to greet Ragnar was waiting when the gunship’s ramp lowered. Time hadchangedhim,scarringhisfeaturesmorethantheYoungKingrecalled,andaddingseveralbronzetrinketsandhonourbadgestothewarrior’sbatteredceramite.HewasfromaChapterthatcaredlittleforarmourornamentation,however.Littleseparatedhimfromtheappearanceofalinesoldier.TheFleshTearershookRagnar’shand,wristtowristinawarrior’sgrip.‘Youlive,’hesaid.‘Ilive,Vorain.Howdidyouknowweweredownthere?’‘Itwasyourhunter,Drekka,whofirstgotwordtous.Wewentintothecitytoseekhim,buthe’dalreadyfallen.Yousawourwarnings?’‘Isawthem.TheAllfatheraloneknowshowmanyyoumusthavescratchedacrossthecityforustofindevenafew.’‘EvenIcannotbesure.MyScoutshavebeenghostingthroughtheruinsandtakingheadseverydayforweeks.’‘Thankyou,’Ragnarsaid,humbledbythegesture.‘We’llspeakagain,after.’‘After?Afterwhat?’‘ImustmeetwiththeDarkAngelscommander.There’satraditionwemusthonour.’

Theduelbeganatsunrise,thoughtherewaspreciouslittlesunandevenlessinthewayofwarmth.Thetwoswordsmencircledoneanotherinthesnow.Theirbootscrunchedholesinthewhitegroundastheysteppedsideways,bladeslevelledandready.Twolords,alikeinprideanddignityyetoppositesinexpression and bearing. Captain Sorael’s helm was crested with angels’ wings, and his dark armourplatingcoveredinatraditionalsurpliceofknightlyreverenceashegrippedhisbladetwo-handed.LordRagnarwasbare-headedandsnarlingintothewind,hisarmourcrackedandruined,holdinghistoothedswordinasingleloosefist.ItwasascenethathadplayedouthundredsoftimesbeforeintherollofyearssincetheHorusHeresy.Thewarstranglingthissacredworldwas,forthemoment,forgotten–allthatmatteredweretheedgesoftheir blades and the expectant stares of their waiting, watching kindred. All were battered andbloodstained, but those armoured in the blue-grey of clean skies were cheering and howling; thosearmouredinthegreenofdeepforestsweresilentandsolemn.TheWolvesraisedtheirweaponshighovertheirheadsas theyroared,as if theglintof thesettingsunontheirwar-ravagedbladesmightcatch thedistant gaze of theGod-Emperor uponHisGolden Throne. TheDarkAngels had their swords turneddown,thepointsdrivenintotheearthbytheirboots.

FirstbloodwenttoRagnar–agashacrossSorael’ssternfeatures–elicitingacolossalroarfromtheWolves’ ranks. Second and third bloodwent to the Dark Angel, cutting twin slashes across theWolfLord’sface,returningthecheek-sliceinkindandaddingacutacrosstheforeheadforgoodmeasure.The wind tore at Sorael’s tabard and Ragnar’s filthy hair. Still they circled, clashing their bladestogether,eachwarriortestingtheother’sgraceandtechnique,learninghowtheymoved.Notrueblowswere attempted. Even the shallow slashes across bothwarriors’ faceswere delivered for the sake ofspectacleandminorinsultastheygaugedeachother’sskill.Theonlystrikethatwouldmatterinthefightwasthefinalone.Theybegantotesteachother’sstrengthandbalance.Thetwoswordsmetwitharingingcrash,aheavierblowthananyyetstruck.Theydisengagedafteraheartbeat,movingbackintotheirpatientcircling.Therespitebetweenblowswasmuchshorterthistime,astheWolfandtheDarkAngelunleashedastreamofheavy,blurringstrikesthatimpactedagainsttheopposingblade,sprayingsparksintothewinterair.Theexchangelastedseveralminutes,punctuatedbyseveralblade-lockswherebothswordsmenheavedagainst eachother,pauldron topauldronor face to facearound their trapped, squealing swords.Bootsscrabbledonthelooserockbeneaththelayerofmountaintopsnowastheyboretheirweightagainsteachothereverytimetheirbladesgroundtogether.Finallytheydisengagedforthefinaltime,andtheduelbeganinearnest.Sweepingcutstorethroughtheaironlytobemetwithartfuldeflections.Swiftthrustswerebattedasidewiththeflatofabladeorthecrashofavambrace.Foralltheirmatchedskill,thedifferencesintheirfightingstylescouldnothavebeenclearer.Soraelwasaconsummateswordsman,blocking,parrying,riposting,hismovementsthemusclememoryofalifelongsoldier. Ragnar dodged aside from blows rather than seeking to block them, relying on a barbarian’spowerfulkillingcleavesratherthanaduellist’sgrace.Theirspeedwasbeyondanythingthemortaleyecouldfollow–thetwowarriorsbecameasingleentityofblurredbladesandlimbs,twoorthreemetalcrashescominginthespacebetweeneachsecond.Ragnarwouldpresstheattack,advancingandswingingimmenseslasheslikesomereaperof lifefromAncientTerranmyth. Soraelwould defend, recover and replywith a lightning assault of cuts and slashes thatwouldputRagnarbackonthedefensive.Backandforthitwent,onewarriorforcedtogivegroundinonemoment,thenstealingthechancetoretakeitthenext.Above them the shrouded sky promised more snow. And above the clouds, war still raged in theheavens,justasitstillsweptacrossCadiabeyondthebriefsanctuaryprovidedbythemountainrange.Dirty,exhaustedCadianshocktroopersweresoonmillingaroundtheringofAdeptusAstarteswarriors.Even their legendary discipline was overcome by curiosity to see two lords of the Space Marinesengaged ina lifeanddeathhonourduel. Inan Imperiumwherecountlessworldsbelieved theAdeptusAstartes were the Emperor’s mythic angels, to see them in the flesh was rare enough. To see themperformingoneoftheirmostsacredriteswasutterlyunprecedented.Ofcourse,witnessingtheduelrequiredseeingthrougharingoftowering,ceramite-cladsuperhumans.Cadian drivers brought their Chimera and Taurox troop transports closer, and platoons of soldierswatchedbysittingandstandingonthearmouredhullsoftheircarriers.Vorainwatchedfromthesurroundingcircle, followingtheirmovementswithakeenstare.HedoubtedtheImperialGuardsmenwiththeirtoo-humanmindswereabletoprocessthespeedatwhichthefightwastakingplace.Itwascaptivatingandmystifyinginthesamebreath.Frostfang’swhirringteethsentupanendless chainsawwhine, coupling with the waspish drone of the power field around Sorael’s longerblade.Vorainhadneverseenafight like it.Ragnarhad theedge instrengthandspeed,whileSoraelhad the

benefit of far more training and experience. It was too close to predict a victor. The first tomake amistakewouldbetheonetodie.TheWolfandtheDarkAngelbattledon,heedlessoftheiraudience.WhenRagnaroverbalancedonawildswing,Sorael thrustat theWolf’sbreastplate, seekingakillingimpalement;thetipoftheswordcrashedasidefromthejarl’schestasRagnarleanedaway.WhenSoraelwas slow to bring his guard back up,Ragnar risked the chance at a head-chop, only for the knight todeflecttheblade’sedgewithhisvambracejustenoughfortheslashtoswingwide.Thirtyminutesbecameanhour.Onehourbecametwo.Ragnarwassweatingfreely,hisskinsteaminginthemountaincold.Evenpreternaturalmusclesweren’timmunetofatigue,andthefirstsignsofwearinesswerebeginningtoshowinbothfighters.Inthepracticecages,bothwarriorsmighthavebeenabletofightforadayormore,butbothRagnarandSoraelwerepoorlynourishedfromlongdeploymentsandcarryingtheirshareofwoundsfromtherecentmonthsofwarfare.Theirguardswereslipping.Notenoughtoallowakillingblow,butenoughtobetraytheburnoftiringmuscles.SoraelmanagedtotripRagnarwiththelengthofhisblade,andrammedthesworddownevenbefore theWolfLordhadcrashed to the earth.Ragnar rolled to the side, thunderingakick against theDarkAngel’sforearm,sendingthepowerswordspinningfromSorael’sgripwithanastybuzz.HeallowedtimeforSoraeltorecovertheblade,usingthetimetopickhimselfupfromthegroundandspittowardawaymisfortune.Asherecovered,RagnarmettheeyesoftheclosestWolves.Theywerenolonger shouting for their lord, or insults at his foe. All present –Wolf, DarkAngel, human –merelywatchedinsomethingclosertosilence,waitingfortheinevitableslipthatwouldspellthebattle’send.‘Mythanks,’saidSoraelasheapproachedagain,oncemoreholdinghisblade.Ragnarhadbeenjustasgratefulforthemomentaryrespite.Hewastiringfast,andwearinessinaduelwas always the first step in a slow haemorrhage of confidence. Doubt sawmen dead as often as anopponent’sskill.Baringhisteeth,heforcedacockygrinashefacedtheDarkAngel.Maskedbyhishelm,Soraelshowednowearinessbeyondthesubtletellsofhisslowingmuscles.Shownoweakness,Ragnarthought.Onlydefiance.Soraelreturnednothingbutanimpartialgaze,despitethefacthewasnearlypanting,draggingairintohisthreeachinglungs.Ragnarknewthathehadtoendthisquickly,beforehelostthechancetowinatall.Dragginginadeepbreath,theWolfLordattackedfast,holdingnothingback.Alwaysadvancing,stalkingforwards,layingoncleavingswingaftercleavingswingagainsttheknight’senergisedblade.EachcrashofFrostfangagainsttheDarkAngel’sbladebredflaresofmigrainelightfromthetormentedpowerfieldwreathingSorael’ssword.TheDarkAngelfoughtback,counteringwithawhirlingdanceofswordwork,weavinghistwo-handedbladeintoaspinningsilverbarrierbeforehim.Ragnartookastepback,thentwo,thenthree…Hewasgivingupthegroundhe’donlyjustgained,retreatingfasterthanhe’dadvanced.Hisbootsthuddedintothefrozen earth, grinding the snow to powder. Twice he almost slipped as the frost turned treacherousunderfoot.He leaned aside as the aggravated chrome blur of Sorael’s sword crackled and spat past his face,missinghiseyesbyafinger’swidth.Ragnarhadlessthanasecondtotastetheburnedairofthesword’spassing,likeozoneonhistongue,beforethereturnstrikedescendedfromabove.RagnarheardthedesperationinhisownroarasheliftedFrostfangtowardagainstthefallingblade.Thetwo swords locked less than a hand’s span from theWolf’s face.Again came the vicious heat of thesword’senergyfieldagainstflesh.ThrowingtheDarkAngelbackwithafurioushowl,heretreatedanotherfewsteps,breathingheavily,

seeking–somehow–tobuytime.Sorael sensed his triumph. Pressing the advantagewith a volley of cuts and thrusts, the DarkAngelendedwithadecapitatingstrike,plantinghisfeettoperfectionandexecutingthecutwithallthegraceandpowerof thehundred-year veteranhewas.Sorael’s sword sliced at neck-height,matched toRagnar’sstanceandposture,lethalatamathematicallyperfectlevelmadepossiblebyacenturyofexperienceonthefieldofbattle.TheWolvesandDarkAngelswhosawtheendcomingbreathedinasitunfolded;thehumanswiththeirslowersenseshadnoideawhatwashappeninguntilitwasalreadydone.Thebladeraspedthroughthecoldair,theenergyfieldleavingacurvedblurofabusedkineticisminitswake.Andtumbled,deactivatedandsuddenlysilent,intothesnow.TheDarkAngelstoodmotionless,onearmoutstretchedtoendtheperfectdecapitation.Thatarmendedattheelbow.Theseveredforearmremainedwiththesword,andthearmouredhandthatstillgrippedthehilt.Ragnar, on his knees before the Dark Angel, rammed Frostfang upwards. As with Sorael, instinctallowedhimtoexecutehisblowperfectly.HecouldhaveplougheditthroughSorael’storso,hiltingintheAngel’s guts and disembowelling his opponent. Instead, theFenrisian relic sword thrust up, its killingteethslicingthesideofSorael’sneckarmour,bitingjustdeepenoughtotasteblood.Ragnarrosetohisfeet,keepingtheswordatSorael’sthroat.HelookedintotheDarkAngel’sredeyelenses,picturingthewarrior’sfeaturesbehindthehelm’sfaceplate.‘It’sover,Sorael.’‘Itisfarfromover.ThisisamatterofDuellumDolor,JarlBlackmane.Yieldordie–thosearethelawsthatbindushere.Itcanonlybeoverwhenoneyieldsandoffershislifetotheother’sblade,oronediesintheduelitself.’‘Thenyield.’‘No.’‘Yield,andI’llspareyourlife.’‘Never.’Ragnarpressedthebladeagainsthisrival’sthroat,leaningcloser.Hisbreathsteamedintheicywind.‘Don’t make me kill you. Not after four decades have passed since my sin. You lost, Sorael. It’sfinished.’Soraelusedhisremaininghandtodisengagehishelmetsealsandpullthehelmfree.SweatingasmuchasRagnar,hestoodbareheadedandsterninthecoldmountainair.‘Thenkillme,forIdonotyieldtoyou,LordofWolves.’Ragnar could scarce believewhat hewas hearing. Soraelwasmeeting theWolf’s eyes now, dark topale,astareofstarknobilitymeetingagazeofall-too-feralfury.Hekepthishalvedarmheldagainsthistabard,thewoundalreadysealedbyhisenhancedphysiology.ItwastheoldangerthatRagnarfeltnow,creepingoverhisskinlikearash,settlingintohisskulllikeaninfection.HefeltthestaringeyesofhismenuponhimaswellastheDarkAngels’eyesandthewitnessinggazes of hundreds of Cadian soldiers… watching the Imperium’s finest warriors on the verge ofmurderingeachotherinsteadofsavingthisvitalworld.Allofthefighthadbledfromhim,leechingallofhisstrengthwithit.Adrenalinealonekepthimonhisfeet.Therehadtobeawayoutofthis.Razortonguewouldknow.Thethoughtcameunbidden.Trueornot,thebitterandlong-deadbardwould

havealsomockedhimmercilesslyforgettingintothispositioninthefirstplace.Ragnarsmiled,acrookedandslybard’ssmile.‘No,’ he said, and hurled the priceless Frostfang aside, letting it sleep in the snow near Sorael’spowerlessblade.TheDarkAngel’seyesflickeredtothefallenweapons,thenrestedonRagnaroncemore.‘No?’‘No,’Ragnar repeated. ‘Westandat theedgeof the Imperium’sEnd,brothers at eachother’s throats.Russ’ blood, if a Flesh Tearer played a part in saving my life, after all the bloodshed between ourChapters,I’llwillinglyfightatyoursidewithouthatred.Canyoutrulynotdothesame?Now,ofalltimes,whenitmattersmost?Lookatthesky,Sorael.Lookatthisworldaflame.Westandtogethernow,orwefallapart.’Soraelswallowedandsaidnothing.‘ForfortyyearsI’vecarried theguiltandshameof leavingthisduelunfinished,’saidRagnar. ‘We’vefinisheditnow,atlonglast.I’vewonit,Sorael.Ichoosehowitends.Anditendswithbothofourbladesinthesnow,notbathedineachother’sblood.Yield,youproudbastard.Tendtoyourwounds,thenfightbymyside.Ihavewarriorsstilltrappedinthecity.Helpmefindthem,cousin.’Soraelscannedtheranksofhisdark-armouredbrethren,thenwatchedthegrowling,snarlingWolvesforthespanofexactlynineheartbeats.Thinking.Dwelling.Deciding.‘Iyield,’hesaidatlast.Therewasapause.‘AndwewillstandwithyoutoretakeKasrBelloc.’The reactionwas immediate. TheDarkAngels’ ranks drew their blades from the earth, cleaning thesnow from the steel and sheathing them at once. Their solemn presencemelted away, robedwarriorsreturningtotheirdutiesinruthlessorder,preparingforthenextbattle.‘Mybrethren,’saidSorael,‘arenotcelebratorysouls.’‘Mybrothersare,’saidRagnar,amomentbeforethesurvivorsofhisGreatCompanyhowledtothenightsky,longandloud.Whentheshoutingceased,Soraelclearedhisthroat.‘ImustseeifmyApothecarycangraftanaugmeticreplacementtomyarmbeforethenextbattle.Wewillspeakagainbeforeweleave.’‘Wait.’Ragnarofferedhishand.Hislefthand.Soraeltookit,grippingwristtowristasVorainhaddoneupongreeting theWolfLorduponarrival earlier thatday. ‘My thanks,DarkAngel, foryour aid in thecity.’‘Duty,’Soraelrepliedwithabriefsmile.ItwasthefirstsignofamusementRagnarhadwitnessedfromtheDarkAngel.Withthat,thecaptainwalkedaway.Ragnar watched Sorael’s retreating back. ‘Their composure never ceases to amaze me,’ he said toVorain.‘They’refromcooler,calmerbloodthanyouandI,’admittedtheFleshTearer.‘Fortyyears,’Ragnarmurmured.‘Fourdecadesofguilt,washedcleaninaninstant.’Heshookhishead,overwhelmedbytheDarkAngels’stoicmadness,yetshamelesslygratefulfortheirpartinhiscompany’ssalvation.‘Youwerelucky,Blackmane.’RagnarturnedtoVorain,forgivinghimtheuseofthetribalname.‘Youbelieveso?’‘Evenanaxemancanjudgeafightbetweenswordmasters,Wolf.Youwereluckytoweavebeneaththeswordthatwouldhaveseveredyourheadfromyourshoulders.Youwonaduelyoushouldhavelost.Youbeatafoewhowasonlysecondsfromkillingyou.’‘Ihadhim,’Ragnarsaid,perfectlysincere.

Vorainlaughed,thesoundrichandguttural.‘Yoursecretissafewithme,Blackmane.’Hegesturedtothemountain fortress, to thegroundedgunships, to the tankcrewswith theirvehicles, to the rattle-walkingSentinelsmarching here and there, to the dozens of FleshTearers, SpaceWolves andDarkAngels inhesitantalliance,cautiouslymixingranks.‘Well,safewithme…andeverysoulwhosawtheonlyreasonyoudodgedthekillingblowwasbecauseyouslippedontheice.’‘Ah,youlie,FleshTearer.Youlielikeafiresidestoryteller.’‘Atthespeedyouwerefighting,cananyonebesurewhattheysaw?Iknowwhatitlookedliketome.Let’sspeaknomoreofit,cousin.’Ragnardidn’targue.Nordidheagree.TheYoungKingsmiledasheretrievedFrostfangfromthesnow.Luckrunsout,Blackmane.Aye.Butnottoday,singer.

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

AaronDembski-BowdenistheauthoroftheHorusHeresynovelsBetrayerandTheFirstHeretic,aswellasthenovellaAurelianandtheaudiodramaButcher’sNails,forthesameseries.Healso

wroteTheTalonofHorus,thepopularNightLordsseries,theSpaceMarineBattlesbookHelsreach,theGreyKnightsnovelTheEmperor’sGiftandnumerousshortstories.Helivesand

worksinNorthernIreland.

AnextractfromWaroftheFang.

Theycamebeforetheoldsunhadrisen,flyinglowacrosstheplains:threeStormEaglegunshipsinslate-grey, marked with Harek Ironhelm’s Great Company sigil, the Wolf that Stalks the Stars. The forcecontainedwithinthem,twenty-onebattle-brothers,wasoverkillforsuchamission,butthenithadbeenRunePriestOdainSturmhjartwhohadgiventhemthistarget,andtheyhadlearnedtotreathiswarningswithrespect.Thecitytheyspedtowardshadnotexistedformorethanafewmonths.Itroseupfromthecakeddustpanlikeahunchedpyramid,alopsidedzigguratheapedontopofitself,clamberingawkwardlyincrumblingranksabovethehorizonwithalatticeofscaffoldingstillcoveringitsupperlevels.Somepurposehadstirredonitsforgottenworld,rousinganindolentpeoplefromtheir torpor,makingthem suddenly march and build. That was what the Rune Priest Sturmhjart had sensed in his unquietdreams – the turning of men’s minds, the inspiration of toxic thoughts. Back on Fenris, Ironhelm hadlistenedintently,everalerttoechoesofhisownvisions.‘Itishim,then?’theGreatWolfhadasked.‘It is corruption,’Sturmhjarthadconfirmed,glancingathismasteruncertainly,knowing that thewordwouldbeenoughtoordertheassault.NowIronhelmcrouchedintheStormEagle’screwbay,strainingathisrestraints,willingtheslaughtertostart.Hecouldsmellthefoulnesshimselfnow,detectibletohisheightenedsensesoverthefuel-burnstinkofthegunship.Firesburnedonthewallsofthecity,andthecoilingsmokeofthembarredthesky.Woodwasbeingburned,intermingledwithother,moremortal,matter.‘By your will,’ Ironhelm growled to himself, invoking the primarch. He had donned his heavyTerminator plate, as had the other fourwarriors of hisWolfGuard.They tensed for the drop, alreadypushingagainsttheirharnesseslikeleashedhounds.Ironhelm’sStormEagleshotoverthecity’shalf-finishedperimeterwall,air-brakinghardanddroppingsharply.Therearembarkationramphisseddownonitspistonswiththegunshipstilltenmetresup.‘Fenrys!’thunderedIronhelm,hisvoiceswellingashehurledhimselffromtheopenbay.Heplummeted,crunchingtoearthinabloomofkicked-updust.Aheartbeatlaterandhisfrostbladewasdrawnandsnarling,throwingcoldbluelightacrossthepre-dawngloomofthecity.Hisentouragecamedownafterhimandunfurledtoolsofmurder–energy-coiledaxes,assaultcannonsand glittering power swords. Ironhelm ran, ploughing up the soft dust in plumes, heading for a gapingwoundinthecity’supperterraceswherethewallshadnotyetbeenfullyraised.Hebarelynoticedthe

othertwogunshipsdisgorgetheircontentsfurtherdown–twosquadsofGreyHunters,eacheightstrong,fleeteroffootthantheTerminatorsbutscarcelylesslethal–andhardlyheardthemortalscreamingbreakout once they got towork. Itwas desperate, horrified and incontinent screaming, the kind of noise ananimalmakeswhenshowntheslaughterhouse.Ifheheardthesoundsatall,itonlymeantthatkillinghadstartedagainandthathecouldlosehimselfinit–roaringouthisstrength,breakingthebonesandtearingthefleshfromthem.Thefirstresistancecameattheedgeofthegapingchasmwherehalf-builtmudwallswerestillproppedbyaskeletonofwoodensupports.Betweentheirjawswasavoid,drenchedinshadowsthatweredeeperthan they should have been. Guards belatedly swarmed out of it, spilling from the ragged edges likeinsectsfromakickednest.Theyworedirty,cheaprobes,dyedredandstainedfromthedust.Theirbareforeheadsborethemarkofasingleeye,crudelydaubedinochre.Theseonesdidnotscream,butranattheinvaderswithbladeswhirling.Ironhelmcrashed into them, takingout fouron thechargeand laying into fourmore.Hecracked theirspines,throwingthebrokenremnantsaside.Thescythingarcofhisbrothers’assaultcannonblastedmorebodiesapart,layeringthemudwiththrownblood,andinitswakecamethesnarlingblades.Ironhelmpassedthethreshold.Thehaironhisarmsspiked.Thedarkaroundhimwasoily,fleeinglikespilled liquid from thedull light cast byprimitivebrands.Ahigh chamberopenedup, carved into theheartofthecity’sedgeandechoingfromthedullsoundsofcombatoutside.Atthefarendofitstoodanaltarcarvedfromwhatlookedlikebone,overtenmetrestallwithacrowningcanopyofinterlinkedribs.Poolsoffattyoilsburnedinceramicbowls,thoughtheflamesrippleduneasily,gutteredbyawindthathadnoobvioussource.Awoodeneye-devicehungfromlengthsoftwine, twistinggentlyoverthealtartop.Moreguardsrantofighthim,justasuselesslyasthoseoutsidetheprecincts,lastingmeresecondsbeforebolterfireorenergyfieldstorethemapart.Ironhelmwaskillingabsentlynow,hisattentionfixedonthealtar.Therewerefifteenfigureskneelingbeforeit,holdingdaggerstwo-handedinfrontofthemwiththeirbackstothecarnage.Beforehecouldgetclosetothem,theymoved.Twistingawkwardly,theyplungedthe blade-tips into their own faces, digging hard, each prising out an eye. None of them so much aswhimpered,butheldtheexcisedfleshinclenchedfists,liketrophies.Thentheyroseandturned,smilingastheirfacesstreamedwithblood.Ironhelm lumbered towards them. He could feel the shake of the air, the wrongness, the twisting ofreality.Sliversof luminous energywormedacross the altar’s face and the chamber’swalls seemed tocontract,likelungspullinginbeforeabreath.Thefifteensupplicantsdroppedtheirweapons.Theybroke intoarun,heading towardsIronhelmas ifgreetingalordoftheirown.Theyflungtheirarmsopen.Ironhelm swunghis frostblade, severingone at thewaist and another at the neck.Theothers pressedcloser,pawingathim,theirstreakedfacesalivewithanunsettlingfervour.Ironhelmkeptkillingthem.Theydiedeasily,justasallmortalsdidbeforeafrostblade,slumpingdowntothemudfloorinawideningslickofblood.Notoneofthemflinched,nortriedtoprotectthemselves,buttheydidstretchouttotouchhim,torunwitheredfingersdownhisarmour.Thelastonestandingevenmanagedtospeakbeforetheblade’sedgefoundhisneck.‘Thankyou,’hewhisperedhoarsely,tearsminglingwiththebloodonhisface.‘Thankyou.’Ironhelmgruntedashehauledthefrostbladeacross,decapitatinghisvictimandsendingtheheadrollingwetlyacrossthechamber’sfloor.Thenhestood,surroundedbybutchery,hisarmourspatteredandcakedwithblood.Thekillsgavehimnopleasure.Itwasn’tjusttheweaknessofhisprey,butthewayinwhichtheyhaddied.

‘What did thatmean?’ hemuttered, looking down at the still- grinning face of his victim as it rockedgentlytoahalt.Bythenthelastofthechamber’sguardsweredead,cutdownwithoutsomuchasscratchingthearmouroftheirsanctuary’sinvaders.Fromoutsidethechambercamethecontinuingsoundsofone-sidedwarfare,thougheventhosewerefallingawaynowasthecitybegantoburninearnest.Ironhelm’s huscarl, the Wolf Guard Trask, lumbered to his side, powering down his energy-blade.‘Torchit?’heasked,noddingovertowardsthebonealtar.Ironhelmwasunabletoconcentrate.‘Whatdidthatmean?’heaskedagain.Traskhesitated,hisfacehiddenbehindtheheavyfaceplateofhisTerminatorsuit.‘What,lord?’Ironhelmshookhimself,andletthedisruptor-haloaroundhisfrostbladerippleout.‘Aye,torchit.Torchitall.’Hestrodeawayfromthealtar,hisbootssuckingonthegoreunderfoot.He’daccomplishedthetask,andshouldhavebeenenjoyingtherushofcompletion,shakingthebloodfromhisbladeandopeninghisthroatintriumph.He emerged back into the open.All around him themud-brick terraces of the zigguratwere burning,making the air bitterwith drifting ash.On the far horizon, the sunwas rising, throwing long shadowsacrossanemptylandbeyondthewalls.He drew in a long breath. The infection had been cut out, just as they had done on a thousand otherworlds. On other occasions, that had given him satisfaction, but this time, all he could see were theeyelessfaces,thesmiles,theoutstretchedhands.Thankyou.Theyhadbeen speakingGothic, on aworld that hadbeen sundered from the Imperium formillennia.Whywasthat?Thankyou.

Anhour later,more landers camedown from the strikecruiser inorbit.Theybroughtmortal troops toconductmop-upoperations,secure thesite,makerecordsandscanfor furtheranomalies.Thecitywasrendereddown intoaheapofdriftingashes,and the flamessheetedup,metreshigh, fannedby thedrywindsthatracedacrosstheplains.Everyguard inside the templehadbeen slain, for theWolveshad learned frombitter experience thatcorruptionofsuchanaturerandeep,seepingintoeveryporeofaworld,andtheonlycure,suchasitwas,wasexcision.Butthereweremanysettlementsonthatworld,scatteredwidelyacrossthecontinentalplate.Somewerescarcemore thancave- swelling in the rockybluffs;othershad the rudimentaryshapeof towns.Orbitalscans had revealed further settlements straggling out along the grimy courses of sediment-heavy rivercourses.Humanityhadscratchedoutalivingacrossawideswathoftheworld,crawlingoutacrossitssun-bakedflatlands,andmostofthemwouldhavehadnoideawhatwastakingplaceintheunnaturalcitythathadsprungupsoquickly.Manywouldbeentirelyinnocent.Perhapsallofthemwouldbe.ImperialcartographershadrecordedtherockasRivel67-4-3456tonanancientdata-scrolldatingbacktotheearliestdaysoftheCrusade,thoughthetaxonomicsystemtheyhadusedhadlongsincepassedintoobscurityandthenumbersmeantnothing.Theplacehadneverbeenvisitedby theconquering fleetsor takenby the forcesof theArch-Heretic.During the longyears of theScouring it hadnever evenbeenused as a forwardbaseor colonisedbyMechanicusre-seedingcartels.Nooneknewwhyhumanswereeventhere,thoughtherewerecountlesssuchbackwatersdatingfromthe

forbiddenerasofstellarexploration.Formillenniatheyhadendured,forgotten,degenerate,unremarked.Onlyintheyear690ofthe31stmillenniumhadtheeyesofoutsidersturnedtowardsthatworldatlast,hungrilyandwiththeslow-burnfuryofthewronged.Alone,Ironhelmtrudgedacrossthedirt-strandleadingbackfromthecity’sbrokengates.Hislimbsfeltheavyinsidehisarmour,asiftheservoshadgivenoutandthefullweightoftheceramitenowboredownonhisgenhancedframe.There had been killing after the temple chamber – a cleansingmurder, running down from the city’sheighttoitsfoetidbase.Noneofithadmadehimfeelbetter.Everytimeheblinkedhesawtheeyelessfacegrinningupathim,thankinghimforthedeaththathe’ddeliveredwithsuchcasualexpertise.Harek Eireik Eireiksson had been GreatWolf of the Chapter for three centuries, and the number ofwarriorsintheentireImperiummorepowerfulormoreaccomplishedcouldprobablybemeasuredinlowdoublefigures.Hisbattle-name,Ironhelm,wasbreathedacrossahundredworldswiththekindofaweotherwisereservedfornamesfromtheAgeofWonder–primarchs,lordcommanders,lordsofTerra.OfthosewhodweltinthehallsoftheFang,onlytheFell-Handedcouldclaimagreatershareofglory,andheslumbered now, awakened only when the need was greatest. Ironhelm had been created for greaterconflictthanthis.Hepausedinhismarch,lookingbackoverhisshoulderatthevastpyrehisactionshadcreated.Thetasteof theburningwaftedacrosshisface,nowfreedofhishelm’sconfines.Under therisingsun, it lookedalmostbeautiful–ared-goldenglowundertherushofmorning.‘Thiswaswastedeffort,lord,’cameavoicefromcloseby.Ironhelmwhirledaround.Hehadbeenaloneoutontheplainswithoutalivingcreaturewithinahundredmetres.Beforehim,curleduponthedrymud,huddledaman,almostasmuchapartoflandscapeastherocksandrubblearoundhim.Hisrobesblendedin,asdidhisskin,whichwasthesunbakedcolourofstainedwood.Hewasold,hisfacedeeplywrinkledincrackedvalleys,hishandslikeclaws.Hiseyes,shroudedunderathin,lowhood,werepitsofshadow.HelookedupattheSpaceWolf,fullyfourtimeshisheight,withakindofamuseddefiance.‘DonotthinkIfearyou,’themansaid,andhisparchedlipsspreadintoadrysmile.‘Iamtoooldtofearanythingnow,unlessitbealittlemorelife,whichhasalwaysbeenhatefulhere,andsoanendtoitfromyouwouldbeablessing.’Ironhelmnarrowed his eyes, studying themanwarily.He should have smelledhim – the stenchwasreadilyapparentnow,asourmixofsweatandmoulderingfabric.‘Isthatwhyhethankedme?’heasked,almostwithoutrealising.‘No,Idon’tthinkso.’Ironhelmwouldn’tevenneedhisfiststofinishthisone–astampfromhisarmouredboots,littlemorethanhisusualtread,andtheman’sspinewouldsnaplikeporcelain.Perhapsthatwaswhyhedidn’tdoit.Thetollofseveredsoulslayheavilyonhimthatday.Now,underthesun,withtheage-witheredfacelookingupathimandtherushofcombatover,itseemedsuddenlyanddeadeninglyfutile.‘Therewillbecamps,’Ironhelmtoldhim.‘Tribunals,runbyinquisitors.Ifyouhavenotaintwithinyou,youhavenothingtofear.’‘That is gracious,’ said theman,with little trace of sarcasm. ‘Youwill not scrape thisworld of lifeentirely.Perhapsyouhavelearnedyourlessoninthat–tobreedanenemysoperfectly.Tellme,doesithauntyou?’NoonespoketoIronhelmlikethat,notoneofhiswarriors,certainlynotamortal.Thethoughtofcutting

themandownagainflickeredacrosshismind,buthepulledbackagain.ThesunbeatdownontheGreatWolf’sbaredface.Thewindmoanedaroundthetwoofthem.Theairtastedoddlythickonhisfangs,asithaddoneinthetemple.‘Hauntme?’Themansquintedupathim.‘Iknowyoudreamofhim.Youdon’tevenknowwhathelookslike,butyouhearhiminthedeepofthenight.Thevoiceisenough.’‘Guardyourwords,mortal,’growledIronhelm,thoughthesluggishnessdidn’tleave.‘Helives,SonofRuss.He lives.Youknowit.Everywhereyougo,everybattleyoufight– theeyeisthere,carvedonwood,cutfromiron.Itwillneverleaveyou.’‘Cease.’‘Even nowhe ismoving.He has compassed theworldDelavia and cast it into flames. Is that placeprecioustoyou?ItiswardedbyyourWolves?Wellthen,nomore.Itisabrokenshell.Itisacorpse.Itisa–’Ironhelm’sfistshotout,grabbingthemanbyhischicken-thinthroat.Thewitheredmortalgaspedforairbetweentheviceofceramitefingers.‘HisLegionisdead,’Ironhelmsnarled.‘Heisdead.’Themanstruggledtostayconscious.Bloodvesselsburstacrosshisdesiccatedskin,tricklingacrossthegreyarmour-plateinthinlines.‘Youknow…thattobealie,’herasped.‘Youknowthat…heisbeyonddeath.’Ironhelmfeltfleshpartunderhisgrasp.Justafractionmoreandtheneckwouldbesevered.Hewatchedthemanchoke,andthenrelaxed.Themancollapsed,suckinginairgreedily.Ironhelmwatchedhimsuffer.Muchashehadfoughtagainstthem, the words struck at him deeply. The dreams had been going on too long, the imagery was tooresonant,forittobecoincidence.Therewerenevercoincidences.ItwasnoaccidentthatthemanspokestandardImperialGothic,justasthoseinthetemplehad,orthathehadevadeddetection,orthathehadknownofIronhelm’sdreams.Theman’shoodhadfallen,revealinganalmosthairlesshead,mottledwithliver-spotsacrosspaper-dryskin.On closer inspection, Ironhelm sawhis robeswere stitched frommany cuts of cloth, each one aslightly different shade, a subtly different weave, overlapping in a jumble.With a twinge of disgust,Ironhelmsawthatthemanonlyhadoneeye,alonebloodshotorb.Theothersocketwasempty,gougedout,bythelookofit,longago.‘Youwishfordeath,butitwillnotcomebymyhand,’Ironhelmtoldhim,keepinghisvoicesteady.‘Theinterrogatorswillkeepyoualivefor longerthanyoudesire.Speakyourpoisontothem,Iwillhavenopartofit.’Themanlookedupathim,hiseyebloodshot.‘Thesearewordsforyou,lord.Theyhavealwaysbeenforyou.’Ironhelmshothimamirthlesssmile.‘Yes,thatishowyouwouldlikeit.’Hepuncheddown,hardenoughtocracktheskull,andtheman’sbodywentlimp.Herightedhimself,justasthevox-beadinhisgorgetblinkedintolife.‘Huntcomplete,jarl,’cameTrask’svoiceoverthecomm.‘Thecityissecure.LordMarillushasenteredorbit.Youwishtospeaktohim?’IronhelmhadnodesiretomeetMarillus,nomoresothanthemanyotherlordsoftheordoshehadcomeacrossduringthecenturies,butthatwasthepricepaidforengagingthescrapsandremnantsofHeresy–theagentsofTerrawouldneverbefarbehind.‘I’ll seehimon the surface,’ said Ironhelm,grabbing theunconsciousmanbyhis collar, turningback

towardstheburningcityanddragginghimintow.‘Tellhimtoexpectagift.’

Two days later, Ironhelm held his finalmeetingwith the inquisitor before his strike forcewas due tobreak for the void. They stood under the shade of a Chapter lander, its stubby wings casting a longshadowacrosstheblastedplain.Marillus was young, a slim man in gold-lined battle armour. He spoke softly, and travelled with amodestentourage.IronhelmsuspectedTerranaristocracybythefine-bonedface,cleareyesandcontainedmannerisms.Thisalsoexplainedtherapidascensionthroughtheranks.Hewashardtolike.‘Iwill say it again, lord.’Marillusat least lookedhim in theeyewhenhe spoke. ‘Thedestruction isregrettable.Icanlearnlittlefromruins.’‘Theydeservedtheirdeaths,’Ironhelmsaid.‘Nodoubt,butIwillleavethisworldwithfewtestimonies.Itisbettertospeaktowitchesbeforetheylosetheirheads.’Ironhelmfelthisweapon-handitch,andclosedthegauntlettight.‘Theritewasnearcompletion,’hesaid.‘Wedestroyedit.Thatiswhatwearechargedwith.’Marillusheldhisgaze,then,withaslightgestureofregret,letitdrop.‘Thenwewilldowhatwecan.You have my thanks, lord, for what was accomplished. In any case, you also have my earnestcommiserations.Nodoubtyouwillvisitvengeanceswiftlyforyourloss.’Wasthatsarcasm,now?Washebeingmocked?‘Idonot–’‘Ah,perhapsyouhavenotyetheard?ThenIamsorrytobethebearerof it.Delaviawasoneofyourprotectorates,yes?’Atthementionoftheworld’sname,Ironhelmimmediatelysawtheone-eyedfaceagain,squintingupathimfromthemud.‘Whathaveyouheard?’‘Thesignalscameinanhourago,carriedfromasecuresource.Nodoubtyourownpeoplewillbearyouthetidingssoon.Itisgone,burningjustasthisworldwasburned,’Marillusreplied.‘Thatisnotpossible.’‘Noworldis–’‘Itwasunderourwatch.’Marilluslookedathimcoolly.‘AndistherenothinginthegalaxythatcanpossiblyhurtthatwhichtheWolvesofFenrischerish?’Ironhelmfelthatredsparkinhimthen–forthesmoothfacebeforehim,forthebackwaterworldthathadofferedso littleglory, for theconstant,naggingdream-voice thathadplaguedhimfordecadesandhadnowspilledoverintotheworldofwaking.‘Isentyouasubject,’ Ironhelmsaid. ‘Aman,one-eyed, foundoutside thecity.Whatdidyouget fromhim?’‘Yousentmenoone.Ihavealreadycomplainedofit.’‘Youlie!’Ironhelmroundedonhim.‘Isenthimtoyou–youknowtheone.Icouldhavewrungthetruthoutofhimmyself,butI–’‘Thenwhydidyounot,lord?’Ironhelmnarrowedhiseyes,pullingaway.The inquisitor remainedcalm,secure inhisstationdespitehisphysicalfrailty.Washeapartof this?Were theyacting together,cultistsand theEmperor’sagent?HowhadMarillus

receivednewsofDelaviaaheadofhisownstar-speakers?‘Leavenow,’ Ironhelmgrowled, feeling thehairsonhisneckprickup.Somethingwaswrong,wrongwitheverythingaroundhim.Marillusstoodhisground,lookingconcerned.‘Lord,areyou–’‘Leavenow.LeavebeforeIforgetthevowsthatwardyoufromharm.’Marillusstiffened.‘Youarejustastheysaidyouwouldbe.Sobeit.Huntwell,LordofWolves.Perhapsitisbestyoudosoalone.’Theinquisitorturnedwithoutwaitingforareply.Ironhelmwatchedhimgo,hismindworkingfuriously.Perhapsheshouldcallhimback.Heshouldsearchfortheman.Heshouldreturntothetempleruins.Heshould–‘Jarl,’cameTrask’svoiceoverthecomm.‘Tidingsyoushouldhear.’‘FromDelavia,Iknow.Makethestrikecruiserready–webreakforthewarpwithinthehour.’‘Howdidthishappen?’Trask’s voicewas outraged, already thickeningwith battle-fury. Ironhelm didn’twant to hear it. Thefightingwouldcomesoonenough,butthatwouldnotbetheendofit.Anothervoicenowechoedinhismind, one that he should have silenced earlier, before it could have planted the seed thatwould nowplaguehim.Helives.‘Thisisbutthestart,’Ironhelmtoldhim,makingforthelander’sopendoors.‘Marknowthisname.Itispreyforusnow,justasitwasintheagebefore.’He reached the ladder and gripped the iron rail, feeling themetal tremble as the atmospheric driveswhinedintolife.‘Magnus,’Ironhelmsnarled,spittingoutthehatednameasifitwerepoison.‘Allelsecanperishinthefires,butheIshallstrikefrometernity.’

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