Sons of Fenris (Space Wolves Book 5) by Lee Lightner

Author:Lee Lightner [Lightner, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2011-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Smoke hung heavily in the air rank with the stench of burning flesh, machine fuel and the residue of promethium. Buildings that had stood for decades were nothing more than burned-out shells. Craters riddled the ground from repeated artillery bombardments. Pieces of bodies lay scattered throughout the ruins, all that was left of victims who were unable to get to the bunkers in time to avoid the shelling. Water from ruptured underground lines flowed freely through the streets, winding its way through the rubble and debris, filling craters and turning the newly exposed dirt to mud.

Impact tremors created ripple effects on the surface of the standing water, first one, followed by another, then another, the intensity increasing with each one. A large beetle, disturbed by the vibrations, scurried out of one piece of debris in a mad dash for the protection of another.

A mechanical footpad crushed the beetle and the rubble beneath it. The Dreadnought Gymir the Ice- Fisted surveyed the landscape. He’d seen bombed out streets before, having served the Imperium for centuries. He had been recruited from some forgotten battlefield on Fenris, and served as a Space Marine for hundreds of years until he was so badly injured that even the Wolf Priests were unable to mend his wounds. However, they were not willing to risk the loss of Gymir’s decades of experience and knowledge, so the honour of eternal service was bestowed upon him with the privilege of entombment within one of the ancient Dreadnought sarcophagi. From within his metal shell, Gymir was a living keeper of the Space Wolf lineage. He spent his time resting deep within the Fang until called upon to serve once more.

Gymir slowly traversed the rubble. His visual sensors, much more efficient than genetically enhanced eyes, swept the debris field as he advanced. The holy assault cannon that formed his arm tracked first left and then right. His power claw opened and closed instinctively, in anticipation of impending conflict.

His heavy footfalls sent vibrations through the ground. Dreadnoughts were not known for their ability to sneak up on the enemy. Gymir did not hide his presence. His visual sensors allowed him to separate organic heat signatures from artificial ones and identify them. He sensed a potential threat hiding behind the rubble twenty metres straight ahead. Locking his assault cannon on the possible threat, he continued forwards, stopping fifteen metres from the target.

The signal was too small to be a Space Marine. Dark Angels were treacherous, but not cowardly. His quarry would not be able to hide from him for long.

‘Stand and be recognised,’ Gymir’s mechanical voice commanded.

A solitary figure slowly rose from behind the debris, his empty hands raised above his head. Gymir recognised the uniform of a planetary defence force officer, although the cloth was tattered, torn and blood-soaked from the soldier’s numerous injuries. The man’s face was badly burnt, and his left cheek was swollen enough for his eye to be forced shut. Blood trickled from both of his ears.

‘Don’t fire.

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