Nassir Amit hauled himself hand over hand up the rock pile. Seth and Gorn followed closely. All three travelled at a pace that would have broken a normal man. The space marines didn't even break sweat as they climbed.
"With respect my lord, we've come far from our brothers and are in territory suitable for an ambush. I recommend you stop here and allow me to go on ahead. It would not do for our chapter master to walk headlong into an ambush without his honour guard."
Amit was happy to ignore Gorn's words, but Seth took up his laugher again.
"Do not trouble the Flesh Tearer with your caution, brother. The honour of first blood from the traitors rightful belongs to him. Besides, we are here, and the ways of the Flesh Tearers are well suited for handling the likes of the World Eaters."
They fell silent, for which Amit was glad. The sergeant's words provoked a sense of guilt in him; even after all these years, after Signus Prime and the death of Sanguinius, he had not learned anything. Not enough to stop his reckless charge into the face of danger. And as for the captain's words- to declare the Flesh Tearers well matched with the berserkers of the twelfth legion- the symbolism of that match was unpleasant to think of. He tried to bury the thought as he had so many others, but like all of them they pricked at his mind, spiteful and accusing. And while he endured the critical echoes, that irritation in his head was there again, tempting him to relinquish himself to its power and escape the pain. He couldn't help but picture himself, free of inhibition, dropping down to the last ledge and turning to his brothers to stop there damned talk!
Amit crested the next peak, emerging onto fairly level ground. He distracted himself from his imaginings by taking in his surroundings. There were higher rocks still, some twice his height, turning the path ahead in a miniature canyon. Chapter Master Amit calculated all strategic possibilities, from the risks of ambush to the fastest way over the rocks, while his subordinates scrambled up behind him.
"A direct path will lead us to the coast, my lord," Gorn said, unnecessarily as all three of them had committed the map details to memories.
"There is nothing to be found there; it is open ground. The garrisons on the peninsulas are our targets."
"But in the shadow of that storm…" Gorn let his words hang, looking up at the edge of the roiling clouds that they were just a few steps from passing under.
"Losing your nerve, brother? What's a little rain to us?"
"Don't let your attention stray, captain," the chapter master said strictly. "This area is a prime point for an ambush."
"The enemy could never mount those rocks fast enough to swarm down on us lord, and there is nowhere else to hide," Seth strode into the mouth of the small gulley before them. "We delay ourselves with this caution, and I grow more impatient to meet the traitors by the second."
The captain approached the oddly defined edge of the storm where thin rain drops shot down onto the rocks. The water gave off an unpleasant, toxic funk. A roll of thunder throbbed above.
"See, nothing to fear!"
Seth took one step onto the wet rocks under the thunderhead, and then there was pair of deafening explosions.
No, not explosions. Just blasts- crashes- followed by the sound of guttural motors.
From either side of Captain Seth, two vast figures smashed their way through the solid rock walls and converged on the lone warrior. Gorn was half a second faster that Amit, firing his bolt pistol at the assailant on the right, giving Seth the moment he needed to rally and draw his chainsword- the Blood Reaver- to fend off an attack from the left.
As the two attackers faltered, Amit had a chance to see what they faced.
World Eaters. A pair of them in rusted black power armour stained with blood and smoke, with helmets cast with feral jaws and blazing red eyes. They were covered in studs and barbs. The one on the right had three long, needle spikes coming out the sides and top of his head. Both bore massive, double headed chainaxes.
Amit and Gorn sprang forward to aid their surrounded brother. Gorn lead with the combat shield clamped onto his forearm while his drew his own blade, but the spike headed World Eater nearly sent him tumbling as he hit the shield with a sweep of his axe.
"Captain, stay with the sergeant!" Amit ordered as he confronted the other World Eater. Seth obeyed and quickly disengaged to help Gorn while the chapter master closed with the enemy. Sensing new prey, the berserker barrelled into Amit. The Flesh Tearer's heavier armour held him in place, but he still staggered under the traitor's wild strength. Holding one tonfa along his arm's length, he swiped it over the World Eater's chest plate. The wound wasn't fatal, but it still went deep enough to draw blood. A normal space marine would have back off and gone on the defensive while they recovered themselves, but like all World Eater's, this one was driven by volatile brain implants and the smell of blood seemed to enflamed his fury all the more. He rammed into the Flesh Tearer again, pushing his axe teeth down onto his shoulder. Amit grimaced as the blades screamed next to his ear, digging a gap in his armour. He realised he'd need to change tactics if he were to defeat this one.
Allowing rage to guide his actions as well, Chapter Master Amit began slamming his fists one after the other into the traitor astartes. The blades of his tonfas never touched the space marine, but the attack was fierce enough to drive him back. However, this also meant he was in the right position to make use of his huge chainaxe.
The World Eater swung the axe in a wide arc. The spinning teeth ripped a furrow in the chapter master's cuirass. Amit snarled and stabbed out with a chaintonfa. The weapon gouged into the traitor's gut, badly wounding but not felling him, and Amit had to abandon his advantage to dodge a downward swing of the axe.
Nassir Amit observed his opponent carefully, sizing him up, predicting his next move. He heard the blood thundering in his ears and he longed to rush into attack. He forced himself to resist the urge, but it didn't leave him. He braced himself to dart beneath his enemy's guard when he next attacked and go for the opening in his armour, but with an impulsion that felt no better than the World Eater's themselves, he was desperate to fly at the foe to attack; to rip.
To tear…
And then the World Eater was dead.
Caught up in his craving for violence, Amit couldn't understand what had happen. One moment the World Eater was readying himself to charge; the next his head just seemed to implode, snapping down into his neck so fast that if it weren't for the helmet fragments splintering all over the place he might have thought the traitor had retracted his head voluntarily like a tortoise.
Amit was frozen. Had he lost himself to rage? Had his anger stolen his mind and body for an instant, leaving him with no memory of the kill and at the mercy of his volatile temper?
It wasn't until the silver sphere whipped out of the hole in the World Eater's body that the chapter master realised what had killed him.
There was movement from above. He looked up. There- a dark, formless shape crouched upon the rocks. Before Amit could take the measure of it, the figure had leapt from its high vantage point. It was a shadow, concealed by the press of the overhead storm clouds blocking the sun. They rumbled as if in anticipation as this predator descended on the second World Eater. Something which might have been an outstretched hand appeared from the folds of the shadow, gripping a bar from which spewed a thick chain. The chain snapped in response to the shadow's movements, bringing the silver orb, now wreathed in blue flames, swinging down to strike the World Eater. The orb missed his head, but ploughed into his neck, smashing deep into the traitor's body. The World Eater died instantly, collapsing with a 'THUNCK' as the shadow alighted before the stunned Flesh Tearers.
Once the figure was at rest, Amit realised that it was a man. He was covered in a thick cape and cowl of blue grey. His bulk revealed him as an astartes.
"Who are you! ?" Captain Seth demanded, brandishing the Blood Reaver despite the deep wound to his left forearm.
The figure whipped his arm back sharply, causing the Flesh Tearers to ready their weapons, but the mysterious space marine merely snapped the ball portion of his flail back to his hand. As he seized it by the chain at its base, the blue fire on the orb dissolved into nothing. Amit knew what manner of weapon it was.
A force weapon.
The figure casually reached up and tipped back his hood. A grey, leather textured face, framed by shoulder length strings of white hair, looked up at them with blazing yellow eyes.
"I am Temujin the Hun," he spoke with a voice that was cold and flat and deep, like the sound of wind echoing in a cave mouth. "Rune Priest in service to the great company of Wolf Lord Ikuvium Whitewolf of the Space Wolves legion."
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Temujin did not answer any questions about the fate of the other Space Wolves. In fact, he hadn't given them anymore than his identity- he'd just turned away from the three Flesh Tearers and began trekking through the gulley. At Amit's command they pursued him. The rune priest's attitude stirred the hereditary anger within him, but he was familiar with the ways of psykers and respected them, even if their behaviour stretched the limits of the acceptable level of respect that should be afforded to a chapter master. All the same, he fired questions at the Space Wolf as he hurried to keep up with his swift pace.
"What of the rest of your brothers?"
No answer. Amit felt his fingers twitch involuntarily as if his body wanted to lash out at the psyker while his mind resisted. He had a feeling that Temujin wanted to lead them somewhere. Amit continued following, though he wasn't prepared to go much further without explanation.
"What of the World Eaters? Where are they, and what is their strength."
Still no answer.
"You will stand to and answer when a chapter master addresses you, Space Wolf!" Captain Seth barked angrily. "We will not wander blindly into enemy territory because of the secrets you wish to hide. Tell us of the enemy's doings, and of this damned storm that hides them. Answer, now!"
The Rune Priest slowed with a sudden lethargic quality, coming to a halt. The Flesh Tearers did likewise.
"The touch of darkness was too great. Even the power of the storms has been wrested from us."
Seth let out a derisive grunt, unimpressed with the almost poetic reply. Amit silenced him with a look. Though the captain might not appreciate the unique ways of the Space Wolves' rune priests, Nassir Amit knew of the strange power they had over the skies of any given world they might set foot on- the ability to create storms to hide their movements from the enemy.
"Tell us of what has taken place here, priest."
Temujin the Hun finally turned to look at Amit. His gaze was fierce… and seemed almost unforgiving. Something cold trickled into the Flesh Tearer's primary heart.
"When they came, they swept over the continent like the coming of the Fenrisian sun," he answered Amit, subdued and resigned. "None were spared. The efforts of the sons of Russ were fruitless. Now they have gathered at the seas edge. I went there myself; saw of the blasphemous arts they worked there. My brothers and the people of this world have been fed to the waves and spat out as monsters. My apprentice too was poisoned by their power. Now they have turned him in upon himself, and his powers are used for the benefit of the traitors, keeping them safe beneath the storm."
"A Space Wolves psyker has thrown in his lot with the enemy! ?" Gorn asked in disgust. Temujin glowered at Sergeant.
"My apprentice has not given in to the darkness. Even now, as the storm rages so his spirit rages against being made use of in this way."
"From what I have seen of this storm, he should try a little harder."
Amit had slammed his balled fist against Seth's chest plate before he'd even finished speaking. The captain instantly reverted to a regretful countenance at the sight of the chapter master so furious. Amit was about to follow up with equally fierce words, but he felt the eyes of the rune priest upon him; saw them in the corner of his vision, looking with disapproval and indignant disgust. The look unnerved Amit. It was as if he was expecting to see even worse behaviour than the angry confrontation before him. Surely he didn't know. He couldn't have heard about the… the gene-curse.
Amit felt his mind wandering. Memories of Signus Prime, and the self-discovery of the Blood Angels. And then of that fateful day- the day Sanguinius fell. They all felt it, as though it was their own deaths, so violent and horrific his fate was. And with the pain of their primarch's death came the new facet of the gene-curse. The rage to match the bloodlust. The loss of identity- of a Blood Angel's very soul- in place of the death throes of Sanguinius.
In the aftermath of the Great Heresy there had been many changes, the creation of the Flesh Tearers among them. But the truth of the gene-curse wasn't widely known- at least, not yet. Surely this Temujin the Hun couldn't know about it. More importantly, he couldn't know about what the gene-curse had cost- what it had cost the Space Wolves.
Helik Redknife torn apart. The taste of his blood still fresh on his lips.
"Is it justice or irony that should have you come to our aid, Flesh Tearer?"
Amit's full attention snapped back to the rune priest.
"What do you mean, Space Wolf?" Amit replied.
"I read of this path in the runes," Temujin reached out a hand with an old bag made from the shrunken belly of some creature in his grip. He shook it and it rattled with the sound of small stones.
"The great enemy draws close to triumph. They seek to turn our strength against us for their own ends. When the sky clears they will go forth with a champion amidst their number; a champion born of depravity and corruption, to the cost of those who bask in the legacy of Russ. There is one with the power to overturn this fate- the Tearer of Flesh."
Temujin's gaze seemed to intensify. Amit was held by those cruel yellow eyes, even as longed to look away as the rest of the world was closed out till it was only he and the rune priest and the words that were for Amit alone.
"The one who owes a debt of blood to the wolves."
He broke Amit's gaze with ease. The chapter master remained frozen in place even as the Space Wolf turned to look at the path ahead. He knew! How could he know! ?
"There is precious time left to save Wolf Lord Whitewolf," the rune priest stated in an unexpectedly bland tone. "You must follow me," he began to walk away.
"Hold there!" Captain Seth took a step forward. "If there are traitors ahead we cannot just confront them alone. We have an army a matter of minutes a-"
"No!" Temujin barked. "This matter is not to be settled by the masses. Do not send for your warriors. Follow me, now- before it's too late."
The rune priest set off at a light jog.
"Has that psyker lost his mind? He expects us three alone to defeat the entire World Eaters legion?"
"I concur with the captain, my lord," Gorn stepped up next to his chapter master. "This rune priest's suggestions are shear folly, and I wonder whether he can be trusted."
"Aye. We should send for the rest of the squads, and continue with our own plans."
The minds of the captain and the sergeant were made up. Chapter Master Amit, however, was remembering- Signus Prime, and his guilt and his rage. Sanguinius and how he'd nearly fallen to the primarch's wrath because of his brutal honesty- because Amit valued honesty more than anything. Nikaea and his anger when the psykers had been silenced, because he saw in them a touch of the Emperor's majesty.
"I have always trusted the instincts of psykers," Amit addressed his officers. "I will trust them now."
The silence that followed said more than words from Seth or Gorn's lips could have.
"Brothers- we came to this world to aid the Space Wolves in their hour of need. This is the call we have come to answer. Now we go; for the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor!" the officer's replied, still doubtful but ready to fulfil their duty. Together, they set off after Temujin the Hun, towards the inevitable confrontation with the World Eaters.