'The spear is gone, Torin,' Ragnar said at last. 'I know this. It's just… I haven't been sleeping lately. That's all.'
'Ha! Clearly you haven't been drinking enough,' Haegr interjected, raising his massive ale horn. 'A cask of ale and a good brawl is what you need, Ragnar my lad! Why don't we go to the mead hall and see what we can find, eh?'
Ragnar stole a glance at Torin. The older Space Wolf seemed unconvinced by Ragnar's clumsy evasion. 'I've had enough of waiting, brothers,' he said gravely. 'I'm going to speak to the Old Wolf and demand he send me to the battle line.'
'Demand?' Haegr repeated, his expression incredulous. The massive Space Wolf threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'Did you hear that, Torin? The cub thinks to command Logan Grimnar!' Haegr's huge face split in a ferocious grin. 'The Old Wolf will hit you so hard Russ himself will feel it!'
Ragnar felt a flush of anger rise to his cheeks. Before he could reply, however, the vox-bead behind his right ear hummed, and Gabriella's calm, quiet voice filled his head. 'Ragnar, I would have you attend upon me, please.'
The young Space Wolf paused, mastering his temper. He reached back to the vox-bead. 'As you wish, my lady,' he answered grimly. Perhaps for the last time. 'Where will I find you?'
'In the Great Wolfs council chamber,' Gabriella replied. 'A ship has arrived from Charys bearing grave news, and there is much to be discussed.'
A cold sense of foreboding prickled the hairs on the back of Ragnar's neck. 'I'll be there at once,' he replied.
Torin watched the change in Ragnar's expression. 'What's happened, brother?' he asked.
The young Space Wolf could only shake his head. 'I don't know,' he replied, 'but I fear it's something terrible.'
White sunlight flooded the Great Wolfs council chamber. The armoured shutters had been drawn back from the tall windows that dominated the east side of the large room, providing a panoramic view of the cloud wrapped Asaheim range and the distant, iron-grey sea. Fenris was swinging close to the Wolf's Eye once more, ending the harsh winter and heralding the even harsher Time of Fire. The rising temperatures had banished the heavy overcast and the clinging mist that enfolded the Fang for much of the year, and for a short time Ragnar knew that the seas would be mild and relatively free from storms. The kraken would rise from the deeps, and the people of Fenris would take to the sea in their long ships to hunt and to fight. The Iron Season, Ragnar recalled, a time of feasting and of battle, of betrothals and births: a time for offering sacrifices to the gods who watch from the clouds.
Logan Grimnar was standing before one of those tall windows as Ragnar entered the room, his wide hands clasped behind his back as he brooded upon the unsuspecting world below. The Great Wolf was in his armour, his shoulders wrapped in a cloak of sea-dragon scales. Runic charms and wolves' teeth were woven into the thick braids of his iron-grey hair, and parchment ribbons from hundreds of major campaigns fluttered like raven's feathers from his scarred grey and yellow pauldrons. Old and fierce, as indomitable as the Fang itself, some said that Logan Grimnar was the greatest living warrior in the Imperium, and Ragnar could not help but feel awed by his presence. Nearly a dozen other Space Wolves stood around the council table, mighty priests or members of Logan's Wolf Guard, each one a towering figure in his own right.
At once, Ragnar caught a familiar scent among the fearsome Wolves and searched among the crowded warriors for its source. Lady Gabriella, Master Navigator of House Bellisarius, sat in a high-backed wooden chair at the far side of the table, studying the assembly over slim, steepled fingers. She wore the dark dress uniform of her House, ornamented with epaulettes and polished gold buttons fashioned with the wolf-and-eye symbol of Bellisarius. Medals and ceremonial braid covered the front of her jacket, proclaiming her personal achievements and the great deeds of her household, and a small pistol and a gracefully curved sabre hung from a belt around her narrow waist. Her long black hair had been bound up in glossy braids that hung about her narrow shoulders and framed her severe, angular face. A scarf of black silk covered the Navigator's high forehead, concealing the pineal eye that was the source of her psychic talents.
Gabriella turned her head slightly as Ragnar's gaze fell upon her and nodded a curt greeting. Then she rested her hands in her lap and turned her attention back to the Great Wolf.
Ragnar stepped forward and knelt before Grimnar. 'Lady Gabriella said a ship has come from Charys bearing news,' he said without preamble. 'What has happened? Why didn't the astropaths—'
'According to the Lady Gabriella, you encountered the Chaos sorcerer Madox on Hyades,' the Great Wolf said, cutting Ragnar off. 'What did he say to you?'
The question took the young Space Wolf aback. 'We did not meet face to face,' he replied. 'He only revealed himself through one of his minions, just as we were about to leave the planet.'
'And?' Logan growled.
'He said his men were going to kill us,' Ragnar said with a shrug.
Grimnar turned, fixing the young Space Wolf with an icy gaze. 'What of the Spear of Russ? Did he say anything about it?'
Ragnar frowned. 'No, lord, he didn't. The traitor Cadmus, however, claimed that Madox was seeking a relic that was a crucial component of a ritual he sought to perform, a ritual that also depended upon Space Marine gene-seed.' A chill raced down Ragnar's spine. 'This was all in my earlier report. What is all this about?'
'Madox has been sighted on Charys, lad,' spoke a voice beside the council table. Ragnar turned to meet the gaze of Ranek, the great Wolf Priest. 'He has the Spear of Russ with him.'
Ragnar leapt to his feet, startled by the news. 'The Spear!' he said, forgetting himself. Russ be praised, he thought, perhaps all is not lost.
'This is hardly a cause for celebration, lad!' Ranek snapped. 'Now the full scope of the Chaos incursion becomes dear.'
'How so?' Ragnar asked.
Ranek reached down and touched a rune at the edge of the council table. A hololith mounted in the table-top glowed to life, creating a detailed star map of the sector. Fenris lay near the centre of the map. Systems currently under attack or in revolt shone brighter than the rest. Minor attacks or incursions were coloured yellow, while major attacks were red. Ragnar was shocked to see that more than thirty systems were affected.
'We have been studying the pattern of the Chaos incursion since it began,' the Wolf Priest said, 'trying to ascertain their ultimate objective. Many of the initial uprisings made sense from a military standpoint: forge worlds, industrialised hive-worlds and trade centres, attacks designed to sow confusion and cripple our ability to respond. But many others confounded us.' He pointed to a pulsing red system. 'Ceta Pavonis, an airless rock occupied by gangs of pirates and slavers. Or here: Grendel IV, an old world all but abandoned three centuries ago when the last of its radium mines played out. Even Charys is nothing more than a minor agri-world, with little strategic value other than its proximity to Fenris. Yet, in each of these places there are major uprisings and reported sightings of Chaos Marines.'
Ragnar considered this. 'Diversions,' he concluded, 'meant to draw our attention from the true objective. What else could they be?'
Ranek gave the young Space Wolf an appraising look. 'What, indeed? We wondered much the same thing.' The Wolf Priest shrugged. 'If they were meant as diversions, then our foes chose poorly. There are far more important systems that require our protection. But we know that our enemies are not fools, however much we would like to believe otherwise. There was a plan at work here, but we could not see it at first.' Ranek gestured at the collection of Rune Priests standing quietly around the table. 'The runes were consulted, and they suggested we seek a new point of view on the problem.'
The young Space Wolf turned, pensive. 'Well, I'm not sure how much help I will be, but if you think I can be of use—'
A melodious laugh rose from the far side of the table, and in moments the assembled Space Wolves joined in, breaking the tension in the room. Gabriella covered her mouth with one pale hand, her human eyes twinkling with mirth. 'Ranek was referring to me,' she said, not unkindly. 'He and the Great Wolf thought I might see a pattern where a warrior might not.'
Ragnar fought to control the flush rising to his cheeks. 'Ah, of course,' he said quickly, 'and were you successful?'
Gabriella's angular features turned sober once more. 'Unfortunately, yes,' she said. She turned to Ranek. 'If you will permit me…'
'Of course, lady,' the Wolf Priest said, stepping away from the table.
Gabriella rose from her chair and stepped over to the hololith controls. 'The problem was that everyone was viewing the incursion as a military campaign, not unlike a Black Crusade,' she said. 'As Ranek said, nearly all of the minor targets had military value, but if we just focus on the areas with a major Chaos presence, we are left with this.' She touched a rune and the yellow indicators faded from view, leaving thirteen systems scattered in a roughly spherical arrangement around Fenris.
Ragnar studied each of the systems in turn. 'None of these are major military or industrial targets,' he said, a puzzled look on their face.
'Indeed,' she said, 'but, being a Navigator, another prospect suggested itself to me: what if the systems weren't important because of what they were, but rather, where they were?'
Gabriella touched another rune. The hololith drew blinking red lines connecting each of the systems together. Ragnar watched them converge, and his eyes went wide. 'It's a symbol of some kind.'
'Not a symbol per se,' Gabriella replied. 'It's a sorcerous sigil, and Charys lies at its centre.' She glanced up at Ragnar. 'Do you remember what the city of Lethe looked like when we left for the Fist of Russ?'
Ragnar nodded. 'Fire from the burning promethium lines stretched all across the city. It looked like… well, I remember thinking it looked like a ritual symbol of some kind.'
She nodded. 'That was the ritual symbol establishing Hyades as an anchor point for this larger sigil,' she said, pointing to the blasphemous sign hanging before them. 'Madox has laid the foundation for a sorcerous ritual of enormous proportions. If what you learned from Cadmus is correct, he now has all the elements he needs for the ritual to begin.'
The scope of the sorcerer's plans staggered Ragnar. He looked to the Great Wolf. 'A ship arrived from Charys, bearing news. What has Berek found?'
The Old Wolfs expression turned grim. 'Berek has been gravely wounded,' he said, 'and the Rune Priest Aldrek is believed to be dead.' Logan turned away from the window and stepped heavily to the table. 'When Gabriella revealed the importance of Charys I sent Berek's great company there to bring an end to this monstrous scheme. It appears that Madox was waiting for him. Berek and his men were lured into a trap.' The Old Wolf leaned forward, resting his scarred knuckles on the table's glass surface. His lined face was grim. 'Mikal Sternmark commands the great company for the moment, and he and the Guard regiments continue to fight against the rebels, but warp storms are growing in the region. Soon the system will be isolated altogether, and the Chaos uprisings have scattered our forces across the sector.' The Old Wolf banged his fist on the tabletop. 'Madox and his one-eyed master must have been planning this for decades. They've outmanoeuvred us, and their teeth are at our throats.'
A low growl began to build in Ragnar's throat. Suddenly he was very aware of the blood rushing through his veins and the pounding of his hearts. Every Space Wolf in the room sensed the change. Hands clenched and heads lowered as they caught the scent of the Wulfen.
'Master yourself, young one,' Ranek said in a low, commanding voice. 'Save the wolf's rage for our foes.'
Ragnar struggled to control his rising fury. 'What of your company, Great Wolf?' he said in a choked voice. 'Surely they can turn the tide at Charys.'
'My company is scattered across our domains, bolstering the efforts of the other Wolf Lords who are hard-pressed,' Grimnar replied. 'Berek's company was our reserve force.'
'Send the Wolfblade to Charys, then,' Ragnar snarled, unable to contain himself.
The Old Wolfs fists clenched. 'What, the three of you?' he thundered. 'Do you imagine you'll turn the tide all by yourselves?'