The Hunt for Magnus - Chris Wraight by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785720925
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2015-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

IV

Ironhelm’s battle-group broke the veil, tearing into real space like a dagger’s cut. Seconds after the warp-drives shuddered silent, the plasma engines roared up to full burn, hurling six starships, one line battleship and three escorts, towards the distant sun. As they went, void-shields were raised and gun-lines run out ready for immediate assault.

In the vanguard was Russvangum, the greatest of the warships left to the Chapter and as old as the foundations of the Imperium. Kjarlskar, Frei and Ironhelm were on the command bridge, surrounded by the company’s honour guard and kaerls, when Ark Reach Secundus swam into range of the forward augurs. Streams of raw data surged through the sensor intakes, and picters all across the bridge’s throne dais flickered into life.

‘What do you see?’ asked Ironhelm, speaking to Frei. As ever, the Rune Priest acted as the Great Wolf’s senses, able to detect the ripples and eddies in the skin of the warp before they became apparent to mortal awareness.

The Rune Priest’s pale skin pricked with droplets of sweat, even though the bridge was as cold as that of any Fenrisian ship. ‘By Russ,’ he breathed, his eyes screwed up in concentration. ‘It is… burning.’

More picters filled with visual imagery, flanked by readings across all the sensorium spectra. No detailed annals remained to say what the world had looked like when the Space Wolves, Thousand Sons and Word Bearers had conquered it in the name of Unity, but it was hard to imagine that it had looked then as it looked now.

Ark Reach’s skies were seething with pink, purple and blue energies. Vast cloudbanks tore and jostled across a violent atmosphere, forever moving, forever changing. Pale white lightning slipped from hemisphere to hemisphere, flickering in tiny spurs across the face of a multi-hued troposphere. The entire orb glowed in the void like light refracted through a jewel.

‘Surface scan,’ ordered Ironhelm.

‘Initial readings,’ reported Leofgar, Master of the Sensorium. ‘The world is barren, cleared of life, save for one location.’

‘Show me.’

The closest picter lenses hissed with static, then clarified to show a landscape grid. Most of the view was composed of what looked like a turbulent ocean, though the upper section was dominated by the crown of a rocky landscape. There was nothing in between those two extreme terrains – open seas or sheer cliff-faces, the latter rising up to astonishing heights from such precarious foundations.

The larger part of the exposed rock terrain was empty, devoid of vegetation or settlement. The rocks were streaked with violent colours just as the sky was, giving the impression of some vast geode. One corner, where the highest peaks overlooked the crashing surf, emitted energy signatures – huge amounts, comparable to a whole starship formation, all confined to the minuscule scrap of land. The light from that sector was a neon blaze, testing the limits of picter reproduction. Even under the thick cloud cover the incandescence could be made out, throbbing like a beacon in the deep void.

‘Clear readings?’ demanded Kjarlskar, leaning closer to the banks of images.

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