'Go to hell,' said Ragnar, placing his bolt pistol squarely on his opponent's forehead and pulling the trigger.
The Chaos Marine fell limp on the end of Ragnar's blade.
Ragnar realised that he had killed three of their foe in the last few seconds. He took an instant to assess the battle. Haegr stood near him and had felled another in addition to his first kill. Haegr swayed and Ragnar wondered how much longer he could stand. Torin was on the ground, slightly closer to the shuttle, struggling to get to his feet. The odds were almost even, four Chaos Space Marines against three Space Wolves, and despite Ragnar's wounds, he knew that victory was in their grasp.
The body of the sorcerer rose from the hangar floor, pulled as if by invisible strings. Blue flames wreathed the sorcerer's gauntlets. The hair rose on Ragnar's neck and his eyes widened as the lifeless body raised its hands.
Reality shuddered. Fire burst forth from the armour and Ragnar brought his arm up to shield his face. He
heard insane laughing echo from all sides and a sickly sweet scent filled his nostrils.
Something started to materialise in the middle of the chamber. A creature floated in the air, drifting on nonexistent winds. Its flesh was blue and pink with one colour replacing the other. Tendrils sprang from bubbling twisting flesh and flailed towards the Space Wolves.
A wave of horror and revulsion swept over Ragnar and he raised his sword defiantly. If this was the end, he would go out like a true Space Wolf. He threw his head back and howled for as long and loud as he could, until his cry drowned out the laughter of the daemon.
When he lowered his head, he heard an answering howl, one with a mechanical undertone. With a huge crash, the wall of the hangar bay cracked. Large rents appeared in the rockcrete. Suddenly, a large section fell inwards, crumbling to dust.
Gymir the Ice-Fisted, venerable Dreadnought of the Thunderfist great company, howled once again as he strode into the hangar. Russ takes care of his own, thought Ragnar, and we take care of his enemies!
The ground shook with each step of the towering Dreadnought. Behind the mighty one, Space Wolves, members of Berek's great company, rushed in. It was an entrance worthy of a song.
The sight of the ancient Dreadnought and the arrival of so many battle-brothers inspired Ragnar. Chanting a prayer to Russ, he charged into the daemon with renewed vigour. He slashed with his blade to his left and right, transforming himself into a whirlwind of
mayhem and destruction. Tentacles flew through the air, spraying black ichor everywhere.
'Ragnar Blackmane.’ shouted Mikal, as he and his fellow Space Wolves followed the Dreadnought into the hangar. Ragnar had saved Mikal and the Wolf Lord once on a space hulk, and Mikal had always sought an opportunity to repay him.
Ragnar forgot himself for a moment and glanced over at Mikal. With preternatural speed, a tentacle grasped his sword arm and another wrapped itself around his neck. One of the dismembered limbs snaked across the floor and wrapped itself around Ragnar's leg. He spat at the daemon as he tried to loosen its hold on his neck with his free hand.
'For Russ!' boomed Gymir. The great Dreadnought swung a massive power fist full into the central mass of the daemon. Energy cascaded from the power fist and the daemon's tendrils snapped away from Ragnar as the creature looked to its own defence.
One of the Chaos Space Marines knocked the thunder hammer from Haegr's grasp, while a second attempted to slice through his power armour with a chainsword. Sparks flew, but they had seized their advantage too late. Two Grey Hunters engaged the Thousand Sons, swinging axes and firing bolters into their foes at close range. The Chaos Space Marines turned their attention from Haegr to their new attackers.
Mikal and three other Space Wolves tackled the two Chaos Space Marines attacking Torin and with a howl, the four of them charged into the enemy. Mikal smashed one of the Chaos Marines with a power fist,
tearing a gaping hole in his armour. A shrieking exhalation of smoke and fire came from the rent, leaving only empty armour.
The second Thousand Son brought his chainsword up to defend himself against the first Grey Hunter who reached him. With a skilful parry, the Chaos Marine not only blocked the Space Wolfs attack, but disarmed him as well. A bolter shot to the chest dropped the first Grey Hunter, even as the second sprang upon his foe.
This Space Wolf seemed fresher and more determined, toppling the Thousand Son. The two engaged in brutal combat, rolling on the hangar floor, each trying to gain the upper hand and make a lethal blow. In the end, the blade of the Grey Hunter claimed the Thousand Son, finding enough of a weakness in a joint to sever the helm.
The Grey Hunters attacking Haegr's foes seemed evenly matched by the Thousand Sons. The Chaos Marines were unrelenting in their attacks as if they could not feel pain or fatigue, while the Grey Hunters' blows became weaker after the initial charge. Haegr reclaimed his thunder hammer and rose again. He swung it into the back of one of the ancient warriors. With a loud boom, the Chaos Space Marine's backpack shattered in a burst of gold and lapis lazuli. The Chaos Marine fell, not to rise again.
Ragnar tried to regain his feet as he watched the final moments of the battle. A Grey Hunter took a double-bladed axe in one hand and slashed through the last standing member of the Thousand Sons. Gymir the Ice-Fisted had locked both power fists against the
central mass of the daemon. The thing from the warp lashed tendril after tendril around the mechanical body of the entombed Space Marine, but the horror held no terror for one who had faced death. Strange warp fire leapt in an aura around the daemon, but Gymir held firm. Then the Dreadnought forced his arms apart, tearing the daemon into pieces. The lights in the hangar bay flickered and a terrible screaming began, but was cut short. Nothing was left of the daemon, and the Dreadnought stood triumphant.
The fight was over and the Space Wolves stayed on guard for a moment before allowing themselves a respite. Haegr leaned against his hammer, standing over his fallen enemies and recovering his strength. Lady Gabriella examined Torin's wounds, and House Belisarius's men formed a semi-circle around her. The other Space Wolves moved together, gathering around waiting for orders. As for Ragnar, he could feel the world spinning as he walked over to the shuttle and Lady Gabriella.
Mikal's voice seemed distant, 'Blackmane! How many other members of the Wolfblade do you have?'
Ragnar was exhausted. 'As far as I know, we are the last three Wolfblade on the planet. I believe that the others are dead.'
'Lady Gabriella, I have orders from the Wolf Lord to return to the Fist of Russ immediately. Your shuttle looks large enough for us. Does its cargo bay have room enough for a Dreadnought?' asked Mikal.
Gabriella looked to the men of House Belisarius. They nodded affirmatively. The shuttle had extra cargo space to deliver supplies to Belisarius's custodial
holdings. 'We're ready to take you to the Wolf Lord,' she said.
The shuttle streamed skyward, its wings touching the licking flames from the towering columns of fire bursting from beneath Lethe. Ragnar knew that he would not return for a long time, if ever. He glanced back towards the city from the viewport.
'By Russ.’ he cursed. It was as Wolf Lord Berek had described it – the fiery explosions traced an eye of flame across the devastated city. Anger mixed with superstitious fear inside him. What type of ritual demanded a symbol so vast? Ragnar shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the foul symbol.
Ragnar's superhuman healing had allowed him to recover from most of his wounds from the battle. Haegr and Torin both sat quietly, Torin with his eyes closed. Ragnar had not realised just how many bolter shells his battle-brothers had taken. To his credit, Torin made no noise, instead he focused inwards, willing his wounds to close. Ragnar knew that his brothers would be ready for battle again soon.
He looked over at Mikal and the other Space Wolves. They all showed signs of the combat, but Ragnar could feel their desire to join their Wolf Lord in space. They had fought in countless battles and they would fight in countless more.
Compared to these warriors, Ragnar thought the Wolfblade looked out of place. Torin's well-manicured moustache and disparate awards seemed foppish. Haegr looked like a horribly out of shape rotund caricature of a Space Wolf. Yet, they were
Ragnar's battle-brothers with a prowess that he would never have guessed at on a first glance. He wondered how he looked. Moreover, he wondered what Berek's men thought of him.
He had been a member of Berek Thunderfist's great company when he had lost the Spear of Russ. Had he brought shame on the company? How could he not have? Ragnar wondered if his former brothers cursed his name. These men would not give him any sign, and he knew that Mikal Stenmark had never cared for him.
Mikal looked over at Ragnar. 'We will arrive at the Fist of Russ and disembark to join the ship-to-ship fighting.' Ragnar's heart leapt, he would be fighting alongside the Space Wolves. Mikal continued, You and the Wolfblade will wait aboard this shuttle for further orders. I suspect you'll return to the Wings of Belisarius. Don't worry. We will deal with this Chaos incursion.' Ragnar's heart sank at first, and then anger and frustration rose in his chest.
Lady Gabriella entered from the cockpit and strapped herself into one of the seats. She was paler than usual, but she had recovered her grace and inner strength. She turned to Mikal. We have a problem. I have spoken to the Navigator on the Fist of Russ. Unusual turbulence in the warp has blinded the astropaths. We cannot send word of what has happened to Fenris.'
The shuttle made a hard turn into a cloud of silent explosions. They dived towards the Fist of Russ. Ragnar thought he could feel the ship turning as it approached the landing bay.
The Wolf Guard checked their weapons. They nodded to each other in acknowledgement and Ragnar could see the exchange of grins. They were ready for battle. Ragnar longed to be one of them.
The shuttle landed fast and hard in the hangar bay. The landing gear screeched against the deck of the Fist of Russ. Sparks shot across the viewports. Ragnar heard the cargo hold doors drop, and he felt Gymir the Ice-Fisted lumber out of the shuttle.
The other Space Wolves immediately released their restraints and followed suit. Mikal paused and gave Ragnar a last look. 'Rough battle down there, Blackmane. You have a gift for finding trouble. May the Emperor watch over you.’ he said and without another word, Mikal left.
Ragnar wondered what his words meant, but he was tired of pondering such things.
'Lady Gabriella, the Wolf Lord wishes to speak to you.’ said the pilot. Gabriella unstrapped herself and walked up to the front of the shuttle. With his sharpened senses, Ragnar could hear Gabriella's half of the conversation.
'Yes, Wolf Lord. I would be honoured to deliver word of this incident to Fenris.’ she said. 'Pilot, take us to our cruiser, the Wings of Belisarius. Wolf Lord Berek has entrusted us to deliver news of this battle to the Great Wolf. Let the Wings of Belisarius know that we must traverse the warp to Fenris.’
Within moments, the shuttle left the hangar of the Fist of Russ, bound for the Wings of Belisarius.
Within minutes, the shuttle docked with the Wings of Belisarius. The cruiser was warp-capable, and it
had a fair complement of guns, although it was hardly a match for the powerful vessels of the Space Wolf fleet. Ragnar knew that they were being left out of the battle, sent to Fenris because Wolf Lord Berek Thunderfist felt that the Wolfblade couldn't help him defeat the Chaos fleet. What angered Ragnar most was that he knew that the Wolf Lord was right.