Chapter Seven: Wolf Pact

In the desert above the mines, the winds howled, casting thick clouds of sand into the air. Massive gargants piled shell after shell into the walls of Thorgrims vault; the shields hummed and flickered under the strain of the immense bombardment but held. Cunning weapons and desperate defenders held back the green tide; the ruin was terrible to behold. The sands were stained green with Ork blood. The shields on the outer perimeter walls collapsed all of a sudden with a huge explosion, audible even through the sand storm. A solid ball round burst into the centre of the wall creating a massive breach. The defenders on the wall were hurled to the ground and there bodies broken and torn by the fall. The survivors tried to make it back to the inner walls, in a race against time as a horde of bikes, buggies and ramshackle trucks poured through. The dwarves send out a last desperate, defiant gesture as their hastily converted mining vehicles rolled out the gates and hurled mega-tons of death in the greenskins ranks. Orks were tossed about like rag dolls. Into their disrupted ranks the defenders poured a stream of their own bikers and trikes. Cover fire from the newly reinforced inner wall turned the entire area into a killing field for Greenskin and Dwarf alike.

Hargin rode forth; gunning his engine he took another swig from his bottle and burped, leaping a dune he turned with his brothers towards the centre of the horde. Dust swirled around him and he shook his beard with little effect attempting to get rid of the itching sensation of embedded sand. Rubbing his shades and grimacing he picked out the nearest Ork, bullets were pelting around him and he started weaving, downing the rest of his drink and spitting out the sand he hurled the bottle to one side with distain, pulling out his bolter he fired into the Ork ranks. Flicking a switch, a grenade popped into his hand, as he leaped the last dune he hurled it into the Orks, behind him the rest of his brothers cut into the Orks with him, the dust was so thick that you could see no more than 10 meters all around; thankfully this meant the Orks superior numbers meant little. To his right Grong fell from his bike. His head was torn off his body by a lucky shot. Squinting through the dust and incoming fire, Hargin spotted Grongs killer. Gunning the engine and spinning the bike round in a spray of sand Hargin rode down Grong's killer and put a bolt though his brain, knocking the corpse to the floor with a hobnailed boot as he passed. Muttering foul curses he turned too late.

An Ork, bigger than most of the Orks in this frenzied battle (though not nearly as big as they were in the Age of Isolation) leapt through the dust, blood oozed from his cracked lips and a manic gleam lit up his scarred and pockmarked face. Hargin swore and tried to turn, as the Ork smashed into him, knocking him to the ground and pressing him deep into the sand. He hooked his foot around the beast's leg and flipped the Ork to one side. Gripping his weapon he battered the Orks skull repeatedly with the butt of his bolter. He didn't stop until the skull cracked and he could be sure that the Ork was at least temporarily dead. Then standing he emptied the bolter into the Ork ranks and cast it to one side. Flicking a switch on his gauntlet, his right hand was covered in blue crackling energy. Spitting a potent mix of sand, blood and phlegm onto the scorched desert sands, he pulled out his bolt pistol and waded forward through the sands.

Around Hargin the conflict raged, the massive Land Train 'Thorgrims Hammer' was surrounded by an azure glow as its shields took the strain of incoming fire. For a moment they seemed to flicker as another salvo rocked the giant vehicle but then as the fire eased off for a second the shields stabilised and solidified. A group of Ork Kommandos tried a direct assault on it clashing melta bombs in there green fists but were driven back by a storm of bolter fire, one of the battlecars opened up and in a flurry of activity and sand; hundreds of Squats disembarked charging into the ranks of the Orks. He couldn't see far in the sand storm created by the sheer scale of the firepower being unleashed, but through the sound of massed artillery and marauding bikers he could hear the bestial cries of the charging Ork infantry. He planted his feet as firmly in the shifting sands as he could. Heavy bolter fire from the walls above him ripped into the charging Orks, he doubted they could see anything other than a moving cloud of dust. The effects were appreciative though. Sporadic return fire from the Orks started getting closer to his position, grunting he threw himself forward to take cover in a dune. Holding his bolt pistol ready for any greenskins that came near he slowly took aim. A bolt thudded into the sand in front of his face, luckily the shoddy Ork made round didn't explode, but sand still cut into his face. He growled, fury masking his face.

As the rush of Orks came into view he began pumping head shots into their ranks. Then he watched in awe as a rippling salvo of rockets burst into their ranks scattering them, the bikers rallied and rushed past Hargin into the Orks, leaving him spluttering in a shower of desert dust and sand. The Orks surprised at the ferocity of the counter attack broke and began to flee.

In the distance laser fire from low orbit was shredding the Gargants and hundreds of small gunships appeared behind the Ork lines disgorging an army of grey armoured troops. The Squats joined the new arrivals in the battle as the Brotherhood sallied out with its finest warriors to assist the bikers. Artillery pounded the enemy from behind the walls giving supportive fire. Soon there was silence. The squats stood facing off against the grey armoured troops. After a few tense moments a human with his helmet off strode through the ranks of his troops. The human had long grey hair, and his armour was adorned with trophies from past victories. He flicked his hair back, baring a set of fangs in greeting.

Hargin walked forwards, removing his gloves and dropping them to the ground.

"You came as promised then human"

Spitting and then rubbing together the palms of his hands, he held one out in an offer of peace.

Taking his hand in a firm grip the humans' eyes narrowed.

"Looks like you didn't need us; there was a Squat fleet no more than a hour behind us. Now do you have anything to drink in this forsaken rock or am I going to return to my ship parched."

Holding his gaze for a moment seriously, the dwarf suddenly laughed.

"You have my clan's debt human. Within an hour this fortress would have been in ruins, already I have troops dashing down to the mines to reinforce our tunnel guard. We would have been caught in between a hammer and an anvil… falling back to the very interior of the mountains themselves. Our relief force would have taken a heavy toll relieving us if at all it succeeded, your help was needed, and it cements our friendship. We will agree to your terms as broadcast, we will petition the high king to sign a peace treaty with your Imperium and our clan we will supply your forces with fresh ammunition and supplies as your advance against the Orks in this quadrant. The Spaces Wolves have the eternal friendship of the defenders of Thorgrim's Vault, well met Leman Russ!"

Clapping his back, Russ bellowed.

"Good! Today we are heroes, let us drink to future victories! And recall old ones."

Slapping his thigh, two giant wolves ran forwards and flanked the two departing warriors. Laughter was heard in the distance as they swapped tales of past glories.

On the Space Wolves flagship a summons was received from the Emperor, and a lone strike cruiser departed with a small escort the next day carrying Russ back to Earth to meet his father.