Lee Lightner - Sons of Fenris

Annotation

SONS OF FENRIS

By Lee Lightner

We'd like to dedicate this book to our families for their sacrifice and

support, to all of our battle-brothers for their unending friendship and

finally to the folks at Black Library for giving us this incredible opportunity.

A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by

BL Publishing,

Games Workshop Ltd.,

Willow Road, Nottingham,

NG7 2WS, UK

109876543

Cover illustration by Geoff Taylor.

Games Workshop Limited 2007. All rights reserved.

Black Library, the Black Library logo. Black Flame, BL Publishing, Games Workshop, the Games Workshop logo and all associated

marks, names, characters, illustrations and images from the

Warhammer 40,000 universe are either TM and or Games

Workshop Ltd 2000-2007, variably registered in the UK and other

countries around the world. All rights reserved.

A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 13: 978 1 84416 388 5

ISBN 10: 1 84416 388 1

Distributed in the US by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020, US.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,

mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in

this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or

incidents is purely coincidental.

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IT IS THE 41st millennium. For more than a hundred

centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden

Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will

of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might

of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing

invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology.

He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a

thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he

may never truly die.

YET EVEN IN his deathless state, the Emperor continues his

eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant

stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic

manifestation of the Emperors will. Vast armies give battle

in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his

soldiers are the Adeptus Astartcs. the Space Marines,

bio-cngincercd super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are

legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence

forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of

the Adeptus Mcchanicus to name only a few. But for all

their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the

ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants

and worse.

TO BE A man in such times is to be one amongst untold

billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody

regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget

the power of technology and science, for so much has been

forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of

progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there

is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars,

only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter

of thirsting gods.

PROLOGUE

Splashes of colour painted the clouds with a swirl of reds, oranges and yellows, silhouetting the black and grey towers of Saint Harman, the once great capital city of Corinthus V. Wolf Lord Ragnar Blackmane found a sense of satisfaction in the ability of instruments of Imperial justice to duplicate the dawn of a new day in the middle of the night. Every explosion from the Imperial artillery, every bombardment from the fleet above, left its own mark on the tapestry of the sky.

Ragnar took an extra moment to commit this battle to memory. So many wars on countless worlds could make a Space Marine forget. The wars never ended for humanity's defenders. They constantly went forth to do the will of the Emperor of Mankind and battle the enemies of the Imperium. The Imperial Guard had fought the Chaos incursion for almost a year. After only a month, Ragnar and his great company of Space Wolves had turned the tide of the campaign.

Once Corinthus V had produced munitions and vehicles for the Imperium's vast armies, and the populace took pride in their work, too much pride in fact, looking to the glory of the machine instead of keeping their faith in the Emperor. While the citizens had performed their duties making ammunition for the Space Marine Chapters and the Imperial Guard, including Ragnar's own Space Wolves, the taint of Chaos had slipped onto Corinthus V. Every one of the Space Marines, the ultimate warriors of the Imperium, knew the dangers of Chaos. Daemons from the warp whispered twisted thoughts, corrupting even the most dedicated. Only faith in the Emperor could protect one from Chaos. When Corinthus V lost its faith, Chaos gained its hold. Now, the Space Wolves had almost reached victory.

Ragnar made a point of trying to remember each campaign before its end, and it was time for the end. The time was right for his Space Wolves to make their final assault. The treacherous enemy, rebels and worshippers of the ruinous powers of Chaos, were all but destroyed. One last strike and this campaign was won.

Ragnar stood alone on top of the rocky heights overlooking the city. He enjoyed this time the most. Just before battle, the world seemed different, quiet and tranquil. Moments of quiet were rare in a lifetime of constant warfare. He knew that the moment would not last. His job was not yet done. He caught a familiar scent on the air, and knew it was time.

Powerful strides brought Ranulf, a member of the Wolf Guard, Ragnar's own elite bodyguard, to the top of the hill to stand next to his Wolf Lord. Ranulf was the largest Space Wolf that he had ever known, gifted by the spirit of Leman Russ, primarch of their Chapter, with unparalleled strength. Ragnar thought that if Leman Russ returned to lead the Space Wolves, this Wolf Guard might be able to look the ancient primarch in the eye. More important than his size, Ranulf was one of Ragnar's oldest and dearest friends and the most trusted of his Wolf Guard, holding the title of battle leader, giving him command if the Wolf Lord should fall.

'Are the men assembled?' Ragnar asked.

'Yes, Lord Ragnar, your Wolf Guard awaits you,' Ranulf replied.

Ragnar turned and clapped Ranulfs shoulder. 'As well they should. I'd hate to have them finish the war without me. Ranulf, let's finally be rid of this Chaos filth.'

What's the current status?' asked Ragnar.

'For the most part, the heretics are scattered and disorganised, but some of them have fortified small strong points within Saint Harman. The Imperial Guard has kept them at bay, but they need us to break the final strongholds.'

'Good. The Imperial Guard commander remembered my instructions from the beginning of the campaign. He's saved the last for us to face in the assaults. Starting a war is easy, finishing it is hard.

We've got the hard part to do. These heretics have one last push in them.'

'M'lord?' asked Ranulf.

'My instincts tell me that they are luring us into a false sense of security. They haven't fought nearly as hard this time. We haven't even moved into the combat in Saint Harman. Our Space Wolves had to help the Imperial Guard to even gain a foothold in the other cities. On every other location on this planet, the Chaos worshippers fought tooth and nail, but here in the capital as their last stand, they are routed? I don't think so. They are in trouble, but a cornered animal is always dangerous. Of course, so are Wolves,' Ragnar grinned, exposing his long and sharpened canines. The gene-seed, which transformed Space Wolves from men to superhuman warriors, gave them many gifts. Besides their stature, standing half a metre taller than any man, the most outwardly visible sign was their extended canines. The older a Space Wolf was, the longer they grew. For a Wolf Lord, Ragnar was rather short in the tooth, but no one dared mention it to him.