Torin's brows knitted thoughtfully. 'Honestly, I don't know. I've never heard of such a thing, but who knows? Perhaps that's why the priests cull the Wulfen from the companies and isolate them.' After a few more moments' thought, he shook his head. 'No, if that was true then Haegr and I would have been affected ere now. Something else is causing this.'
Ragnar thought it over, and was forced to nod in agreement. 'That's a pity,' he said grimly. 'If I thought I could stop this by putting a bolt pistol to my head I would do it.'
'Don't be stupid,' Torin snapped.
'You wouldn't say that if you felt the same way I do,' Ragnar said. 'I'm becoming a danger to Gabriella, Torin. The thoughts that are going through my head…'
'I can guess,' the older Wolfblade replied. 'Don't worry, brother. I won't let you harm her. You have my oath upon it.' He sighed. 'Honestly, it's the younger ones I'm worried about. Harald and his packmates don't have the experience we have. They could succumb to the Wulfen and never know it until it was too late.'
Ragnar nodded gravely. 'I hear you, Torin. We can only pray to the Allfather that our oaths will sustain us long enough to deal with Madox and his infernal master. After that…' he shrugged.
'Aye,' Torin said. 'The rest is up to the Fates.'
The two Wolfblades had fallen several dozen metres behind the rest of the group. Ragnar nodded to Torin, and they began to pick up the pace. As they did so, Ragnar caught a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye. With a flash of irritation and a shake of his head he dismissed the phantom image, until he saw it again, streaking across the starless sky from the east.
'Hostile aircraft,' Ragnar bellowed. 'Take cover!'
The Chaos fighters howled across the plain less than fifty metres above the deck, opening fire the moment the Space Wolves began to scatter. Streams of green energy bolts raked along the dark ground and left melted craters in the surface of the roadway. The Space Marines reacted with blurring speed and years of experience and training, seeming to dance effortlessly among the streams of fire. One of the bondsmen wasn't so lucky, however. Two bolts took him high on the chest and shoulder, blowing the gunner apart.
Ragnar caught a glimpse of Haegr pushing Gabriella and Volt to the ground and placing his considerable bulk between them and the attacking ships. The two enemy fighters streaked overhead and split up, arrowing skyward on pillars of ghostly fire. An arc of red tracers fanned the air behind the southerly fighter as one of Harald's Blood Claws opened fire with his salvaged heavy bolter. The Chaos ship made a tight roll, avoiding the explosive shells, and disappeared into the darkness.
'Move, move!' Ragnar yelled, rising to his feet. The dark green border of the agri-combine appeared to be only a few hundred metres away. It wasn't much, but it was the only cover he could see for kilometres. 'Run for the fields! Go! Haegr, get Gabriella moving.'
The Blood Claws started moving at once, heavy bolters sweeping from horizon to horizon in smooth, controlled arcs. Haegr lifted Gabriella bodily to her feet, and then Volt as well, sending both running full-tilt down the roadway with the surviving bondsmen close behind. Torin fell into step beside Ragnar. 'Scout flight, you reckon?' he asked.
'Scouts or escorts,' Ragnar said, searching the sky. 'We'll know for sure in the next few minutes.'
The Chaos fighters made their second pass from the north-east, appearing without warning over the fields ahead. As bolts of energy tore through the pack of Wolves, Harald's gunners stopped in their tracks and filled the air with tracer fire. A burst of shells stitched a line of small explosions along the length of one of the attack craft. It roared overhead, trailing a ribbon of smoke and flame, and then went into an uncontrolled spin and crashed into the earth half a kilometre away.
Las-bolts chased vainly after the second fighter as the bondsmen vented their rage at the enemy ships. Ragnar gripped his bolt pistol and was tempted to loose a few pointless rounds, just for spite's sake. One of the Blood Claws was reeling, clutching at the melted stump of his left arm and cursing at the sky.
Ahead, Harald and his packmates had come to a halt before a knee-high barrier of pale metal that marked the outer boundary of the combine. Volt and Gabriella stood in their midst, staring motionless at the rustling fields beyond.
Ragnar charged past the smoking heavy bolters and made straight for Gabriella. He could almost feel the second fighter rolling in for a third pass, straight down the roadway behind them. 'What in the Allfather's name are you waiting for?' he snarled. 'We've got to get under cover—'
Gabriella turned to him, and the look of horror on her face stopped Ragnar in his tracks.
A dry, whispering sound rose from the dark fields as the vast fields of the agri-combine rustled in the wind. Except, Ragnar suddenly realised, there was no breeze blowing against his face.
The tall, dark green stalks ordered in neat ranks beyond the barrier looked like gene-crafted com at first glance. Long drooping leaves, dozens of them on each stalk, trembled and whispered against one another, as though fearful of the Space Marines' presence.
Lightning split the sky to the east, painting the glossy leaves in pale, green light. Each leaf bore a human face, distorted into a mask of terror and pain. As Ragnar watched, the lips of each face moved in a silent scream or a plea for release.
'Blessed Russ!' Ragnar hissed. 'What in the Allfather's name is this?'
'A harvest of damnation,' Volt said gravely. 'These are the sacrifices that made this dark world possible. Field after field of them, stretching for thousands of kilometres all across the planet.'
'We have to burn them,' Harald said hoarsely. 'Our flamers—'
'Our flamers are not enough,' Ragnar said, 'and right now we need them.'
Then the heavy bolters began to roar again, and streaks of ghostly fire hissed past the stricken Blood Claws. Ragnar whirled and saw a stream of green bolts marching up the roadway towards him. 'Into the field!' he roared. 'Now!'
Raising his bolt pistol, Ragnar began walking towards the oncoming fighter, aiming and firing one shot after another as the Blood Claws began to scramble over the barrier. If the enemy fighter pilot wanted a target, he was going to give it one.
The attack ship was low and level, just a few dozen metres above the roadway. It plunged through a web of tracer fire, its cannons blazing. The two Space Wolf gunners blazed away at the Chaos ship just ahead of Ragnar. One of the Blood Claws was struck full in the chest by one of the energy bolts, blowing a hole the size of Ragnar's fist clean through the young warrior. The gunner staggered, and then sank to one knee, but the Blood Claw kept firing.
A volley of bolts filled the air around Ragnar. One glanced off his left pauldron and burned a molten furrow through the ceramite plate. The blow knocked the young Space Wolf back a step, but he continued to fire until his pistol's magazine was empty.
'Ragnar! Get back here!' Torin called from the combine's metal barrier.
The mortally wounded Blood Claw toppled forward, his hand still closed around the firing lever of his heavy bolter. Hits were beginning to register across the hull of the oncoming fighter however, as the surviving gunner found the range. Howling his defiance, the gunner stepped into the middle of the roadway, right into the attack ship's path.
Ragnar glanced back at the barrier. Torin was there, beckoning with his blade. 'Come on!' he shouted over the hammering blasts of the heavy bolter.
Explosive shells burst in staccato flashes across the nose and glowing viewports of the Chaos ship. Suddenly there was a larger blast farther aft, and the attack craft was haloed in a nimbus of burning gas and electrical discharges. The ship seemed to stagger in midair, and then plummeted like a thunderbolt towards Ragnar and the Blood Claw gunner.
Ragnar saw the danger at once, but the gunner continued to fire at the diving craft. 'Run!' the young Space Wolf yelled at the Blood Claw, but the gunner didn't seem to hear. He was still firing, the barrel of his heavy bolter glowing red with heat, when the fighter smashed into the roadway and crushed him beneath its skidding, tumbling bulk.
Cursing, Ragnar spun on his heel and raced for the combine's metal barrier as quickly as he could. He could hear the grinding, crashing screech of the attack ship disintegrating along the roadway behind him, growing closer with every passing second. At the last moment, Ragnar gathered his strength and leapt for the barrier. Something hard and unyielding smashed into his back the moment his feet left the ground, cracking his backpack and hurling him through the air. Tumbling, he struck the dark earth hard and rolled for several metres, flattening the morbid stalks, and digging furrows into the ground.
The attack ship spent the last of its energy against the combine's metal barrier, scattering steaming debris across the dreadful field. Twisted hunks of red-hot metal landed all around Ragnar, the pieces hissing against the dark ground. Within moments, Torin was at his side, all but dragging the young Space Wolf to his feet. 'I saw more thrusters burning off to the south,' Torin said. 'They're coming this way. Looks like those two were escorts after all.'
Ragnar climbed to his feet. His hands seemed to move of their own accord, dropping the empty bolt pistol magazine and slapping in a fresh one. 'Where's Gabriella?'
'Somewhere in this cursed field,' Torin replied, glancing warily to the south. 'She's with Haegr and Volt. The inquisitor told everyone to make for the buildings to the north.'
The young Space Wolf scowled at the news. 'We can't afford to get hemmed into a static defence,' he said. 'We've got to stay on the move or we'll be overwhelmed.'
'Tell that to Volt,' Torin said ruefully.
'First things first,' the young Space Wolf replied, breathing deeply of the dry, musty air. He tasted Gabriella's scent and felt his pulse quicken. 'Let's go find them.'
The two warriors dashed deeper into the sacrificial field, forcing their way down narrow rows carved between the dark green furrows. Slick, waxy leaves slithered against the plates of their armour and across their faces. When they brushed against his ears Ragnar thought he could hear the plaintive whispers of the souls trapped within.
He focused instead on the sounds of pounding feet echoing from the field in a wide arc ahead of him. It sounded like the Blood Claws had fanned out, or perhaps they had simply been separated by the field's endless, identical rows. Ragnar keyed his vox-bead and his ears were filled with a harsh, atonal sound, rising and falling like the howl of a demented wolf. He called to Haegr or Volt, but got no reply He gave up after a few tries and concentrated instead on loping after the Navigator's scent.
Ragnar heard the approaching ships before he saw them, a rising crescendo of shrieking thrusters coming in low from the south. A dark shape roared overhead. Ragnar glanced up at a black, angular hull that glistened like polished iron and was studded with rows of curved spikes and jagged blades. Open portals gaped like mouths along the underside of the ship, and the young Space Wolf saw armoured, red-eyed figures crouching at their rims.
The assault ships thundered past Ragnar in a staggered line four abreast, riding boiling plumes of smoke and steam. More than a score of dark shapes leapt from the speeding craft, falling like stormhawks on shrieking pillars of superheated air. Ragnar saw at once that they were Chaos Space Marines, but their desecrated suits of power armour were fitted with bulbous, turbine-driven backpacks. They carried ornate bolt pistols and chainswords in their hands, and long trophy cords strung with human scalps hung heavily at their waists. The young Space Wolf recognised them with a surge of frozen dread: Chaos Raptors, the shock troops and flesh hunters of the Traitor Legions. They plunged like arrows into the field around the running Wolves, filling the air with their bloodcurdling shrieks.
Angry howls and the crack of bolt pistols echoed among the shifting stalks as the Raptors closed in from all sides. Ragnar howled a challenge of his own and drew his frost blade from its scabbard. Just as the rune-marked blade whirred into deadly life a dark shape burst into the narrow row ahead of the young Space Wolf. The Raptor spun on his heel, his trophy lines fanning out in a dreadful display as he brought his weapons to bear.
The Raptor's bolt pistol boomed and a mass-reactive shell flattened against Ragnar's breastplate. Snarling, the young Space Wolf broke into a full run, snapping shots at the foe as he came. The bolt pistol shells rang harmlessly off the Raptor's armour, and an answering shot ricocheted from the side of Ragnar's knee. With a fierce shout, Ragnar raised his sword and slashed at the Raptor's neck, but the Chaos warrior was a blur of motion, parrying the stroke with a sweep of its chainsword. Sparks flew from the clash of blades, but the attack was only a feint. Ragnar took another step forward, put his bolt pistol against the Raptor's left eye and pulled the trigger. The heavy shell burst the helmet apart, and Ragnar leapt over the foe's collapsing form.
Sounds of confused fighting echoed all around Ragnar as he tried to focus on Gabriella's scent. Las-bolts hissed through the air, and stray bolt-rounds carved paths through the dense rows of sacrificial stalks. Off to Ragnar's right, a man screamed in agony and a volley of wild las-bolts tore through the air. Bolter rounds rang off armour to the young Space Wolfs left, and then came the unmistakeable sound of a chain-blade rending flesh.