Wolf Trap - Robbie MacNiven by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785722141
Published: 2016-06-02T13:12:13+00:00

Transit Line four hundred and three,

the Underworld, Midgardia

Egil wiped green daemonspoor sludge from his helmet’s vox grille and the thermal waste dissipaters on his backpack, switching to his armour’s internal oxygen reserve with a thought-impulse.

‘If more of them carry their infections down here we won’t be able to continue our hunt for the Great Wolf,’ Moln said grimly. Like all the Space Wolves still with Egil, the few scraps of his armour not coated in a crusting layer of slime shone scarred silver, stripped to the lowest layers by the nightmarish atmosphere.

‘I agree,’ said Orven. ‘If the surface has been completely overrun we do not have long before they begin to infest these tunnels as well.’

‘But is it overrun?’ Bjorn wondered out loud. ‘What of Conran’s signal? It comes from the Magma Gates, does it not?’

Egil nodded, but stayed silent. Conran’s distress transmission had been weighing on him since he had detected it. Suddenly things had grown complicated again. Had his Great Company evacuated Midgardia as he’d ordered? Or did Conran’s presence point to a larger contingent of Ironwolves? If not then why was he here? And what had caused him to loop a remote distress pattern from the peak of the Magma Gates?

Suddenly, his quest for the Great Wolf did not look so noble, or quite as selfless. He had abandoned his own Great Company, his own pack-kin, during a difficult and dangerous operation. He had left them leaderless. Such an act harmed the integrity of the whole strike force. Even now he could feel the distress of the surviving Champions of Fenris as they sought guidance following Lenold’s demise. When pack leaders died and the links in the chain of command were shattered, the warriors of Fenris returned to their instinctive state, giving deference to the alpha. Until one established itself, a leaderless pack could be prone to prevarication and ill-considered decisions. Egil could feel just such uncertainty creeping through the Wolves now, in the Champions and even among his own Ironguard.

He glanced at Grimnar’s battered, gilded thunderwolf skull. It was cradled in the claws of a crouching Wulfen, the beast looking up earnestly at Egil. For a moment the Iron Wolf considered the paradox, of the symbol of one of the greatest Wolves ever to have lived being held in the malformed hands of something that they couldn’t even be sure wasn’t wyrd-tainted. Egil realised, however, that it had taken a moment’s introspection to come to that conclusion. When he had first seen the Wulfen with the Great Wolf’s broken crown, he had seen only a wolf-brother guarding one of their Chapter’s sacred relics. The other Wolf Lords could yet disagree, but Egil knew he had come to accept the place of his cursed brethren within the ranks. They were all one.

The thought made up his mind. He addressed the combined pack.

‘We are returning to the surface,’ he said. ‘If only momentarily. We must discover what is occurring there, how we might be of assistance, as well as resupply and receive reinforcements.

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