Wolf Scout Thorald winced as the door to his cell opened,
bright light from the corridor outside spilling into the dank
confines the room. Silhouetted in the doorway stood the towering
frames of two of the Dire Wolves who had captured him and his
companions. Thorald didn't know how long ago that had been now
... it felt like several eternities with all he had gone through.
The young scout swallowed as they moved into the room, freeing
the doorway for the one who waited outside.
Clad in a dark flowing robe the face was all but invisible in the
shadows of the hood. Thorald could see the intricate runes and
sigils that flowed over the robes, marking the wearer as one of
the Dire Wolf Runelords. In his hand was a dull metal staff,
covered in the same runes that the robes bore. From the depths of
that dark hood a cold voice emerged ... "Take the
whelp".
Thorald tried to struggle as the two Dire Wolves seized his arms,
dragging him roughly to his feet. Even at the peak of his
strength he did not think he could have held off the two of them,
and these last few weeks had seen his strength fall far below its
peak.
Without a word they hauled him through the dim corridors, taking
turns at random it seemed like. Finally a door hissed open before
them, and they marched inside. The room itself was dark, the only
light streaming down onto a large metallic looking block. Thorald
was flung roughly against the cold metal slab, and restraints
fitted to his wrists and ankles. The slab slowly began to move,
tilting backwards, then stopping at about a 60-degree angle.
Seeing this completed the two Dire Wolves moved out of the light,
leaving him alone. Then the light above him vanished, plunging
him into darkness.
* * * * *
Thorald strained his enhanced marine senses to their limits, but
he could hear or see nothing in the room around him. The darkness
seemed to press down on him, its pressure building on his skull.
Thorald gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure increase, then
shift, moving around his temples, across the top of his head,
pressing harder then easing off again, pushing once more in a
different spot. "Let me in" he heard, though no sound
passed his ears. "Let me in and you shall know true power
and glory". "Never" shouted Thorald, and began to
recite the Catechisms of Hatred, the prayers to the Emperor, the
Sagas of Russ, anything to strengthen his will and shield his
faith. All the time the pressure was there, pressing against his
skull, iron bands of pain encircling his brow, the silent
whispers threatening, cajoling, promising. With a final defiant
scream he passed out.
In the darkness two figures moved, approaching the slab as the
light above it winked on again. "This one is strong"
said the taller of the two. "Indeed" replied the other.
"Prepare him for tonight ... he will make a fitting
host".
* * * * *
"I think he's coming around". Thorald blinked as
consciousness returned to him. Looking around he found himself in
a small room, 3 other figures coming into focus around him. From
the size and build of the first he could only be a marine, the
marks of his implants standing out amidst the cuts and bruises of
his skin. The second appeared to be a normal human, a short
bearded man. The third took Thorald aback ... staring back at him
were the violet orbs of an Eldar. The slim humanoid watched the
others with an expressionless face. Following his gaze the man
spoke to Thorald. "Don't worry about Charlie there, he don't
say much ... in fact he ain't said a damn thing the whole time we
been in here". Thorald simply nodded, his throat painfully
dry. "I'm Vash, by the way" the man continued.
"How did you come to be here?" asked Thorald, gesturing
at the room with his hand. "I was on the colony on Atera
Prime" said Vash. "I'm a trader ... was a trader ...
till pirates blew my ship out from under me. The few of us that
survived just about made it there, and we were explaining what
happened to the local authorities when all hell broke loose. I
saw several buildings go up in smoke, and next thing I know I'm
flying through the air. When I came to I was in here. Charlie
there was already in here, but he ain't what you'd call much of a
conversationalist. Our big friend was tossed in about an hour
ago, and came to a few minutes before you did".
"I can speak for myself" said the marine. "I am
Brother Sergeant Dohrani, of the Second Company of the
Novamarines. We were defending Atera Prime from a Chaos attack.
The rest of my squad had fallen around the Imperial Shrine we
were protecting, the traitors were coming in from all sides ... I
struggled with them, and one struck me foully from behind. After
that, I know nothing till I awoke here".
"I am Thorald" said Thorald, "Wolf Scout to the
Great Company of Lord Ingar Darkeye. We were deployed on
Gazerich, engaging the Waaaa Bazrog. My scout pack and I were
behind the greenskins lines, gathering intelligence. We were
struck from ambush ... they seemed to appear from out of the
ground almost. Karl fell to their fire, Lars and Erik were pulled
down almost as quickly. Gunnar and I fought, but there were too
many of them. I awoke to find myself here ... wherever here is. I
haven't seen the others since, but I've heard their screams. I
don't know what has become of them."
Dohrani opened his mouth to say something, when a hissing from
the ceiling drew their attention. Thorald had just time to
realize it was gas when the lights went out again.
* * * * *
Consciousness returned sharply to Thorald as fire lanced across
his chest. A sharp hiss escaped his lips as he snapped awake,
only to find himself completely immobilized as he had been
before. In front of him stood a robed and cowled figure, a
bloodstained dagger in one hand. Looking at his bare chest
Thorald could make out strange shapes carved into his flesh, not
deep, but enough that the blood matted his stomach with a warm
stickiness. Looking around he saw other slabs with figures tied
to them, mostly men, but here and there a woman as well. On the
slab beside him was Dohrani, his chest equally bloody where
something had been scribed.
On either side of the slab stood a brazier, flames licking from
its top, pungent grayish fumes rising to mix with the coppery
smell of blood in the air. Waves of heat washed over Thoralds
skin, searing the cuts on his chest.
The figure in front of Thorald paused, then tossed back his hood.
"Lars?" Thorald gasped ... "What ... how
...?" The words simply would not come. Lars smiled, a smile
totally devoid of any warmth. "I am Lars no longer" he
spat. "You will call me Kern. I have embraced the truth, as
you should have done, fool. Mankind is not worth protecting, and
the Emperor nothing more than a moldering relic whose time passed
long ago." He paused, eyes flickering over Thorald once.
"It is not too late for you ... join us, and know the
truth". Thoralds eyes narrowed, and he spat at the face of
the one who had been his brother.
Kern wiped the spittle from his face with the back of his hand,
looked at it, then drove a vicious punch into Thoralds ribs. The
cuts in his flesh erupted in fire as it struck, leaving him
gasping for air. Over his own tortured breathing he heard Lars
... Kern ... speak. "You passed your chance to serve
willingly Thorald ... but all who exist will serve us. One way or
another". With that he turned and strode from Thoralds field
of vision.
* * * * *
From out of the darkness around the fires Thorald could hear
movement, a low whispering chant that rose steadily. He could not
tell what the words were, but the sound and cadence of them sent
shivers down his back. He could hear muffled sobs and gasps from
other slabs, but his body felt like lead, too heavy to move. All
he could do was watch the man on the slab across from him, his
eyes wide with fear, and his breathing fast. Each breath seemed
to send a fresh trickle of blood down over his stomach.
Strange sounds seemed to come from the darkness beyond the
firelight. Thorald's eyes darted left and right, but there was
nothing to be seen. He could hear them though, out there in the
dark... skittering claws and whirring wings, sibilant voices just
beyond the edge of his hearing. From somewhere on his left some
started screaming, raw throated screams full of terror. Abruptly
they cut off, the voice silenced mid-scream.
Thorald could see the tendons straining in the face of the man
across from him, his eyes rolled back in his head. The mouth was
working, but no sounds were emerging from bloody lips. His face
seemed to contort, as if something were moving under his skin,
and Thorald's keen hearing picked up a slight crack - crack
noise. The skin on the man's chest began to bulge and pulse,
expanding further, as if he were taking impossibly huge breaths.
With a scream his chest all but exploded, the ribs shattering
outwards, bending back against themselves till they stood like a
macabre pair of bloody wings, peeling around to the rear of the
torso.
Thorald fought to keep his gorge down as the man's empty chest
seemed to fill in, flesh appearing from out of thin air, sealing
shut the gaping wound. Looking at the eyes Thorald shuddered ...
they were as black and empty as the depths of space itself. The
skin of the face rippled and shifted, like water in a breeze, and
Thorald shuddered as it turned those sightless orbs on him, mouth
opening in a parody of a grin. It nodded once then stepped from
his field of vision.
A featherlight touch brushed against the back of the young
scout's neck, winding around and upwards like a lover's caress.
It drifted across his face and around his head. As it reached his
ear he heard the voice, whispering at first, but growing steadily
louder. "Let me in ... join with me, and I shall show you
the true nature of the universe. The glory of eternity can be
yours ... worlds laid at your feet, the mortals as your
playthings." "Never" he muttered. "My faith
is my shield, the Emperor save me from the temptations of
chaos".
The voice laughed, full of mocking triumph. "Pitiful whelp.
Why do you call to that piece of refuse? His time passed aeons
ago. All you have is his shell, nicely wrapped in its own little
box, an empty husk." Anger surged through Thorald at its
words. "Lies" he spat, "The Emperor is the way and
the truth, protecting and guiding us".
"Ah sweet rage" the voice replied, louder now, closer.
Thorald could feel the pressure increasing on his skin, spreading
over his body, a thousand needles pressing against him.
"Open yourself to the rage, let it fill you, make you strong
... come, try your strength against mine. It is long since I
walked the mortal world, but will be sweet to use another of you
pitiful Marines as my vessel. Your ancestors were much stronger
than you boy ... you are weak, and you are *mine* ".
With that Thorald felt red-hot needles of pain lance through his
entire body. Arching his back he screamed, one more voice in the
chorus of terror filling the chamber. He could feel its pressure
on his mind, forcing him back into the center of his own being.
Sights and sounds began to fade into the distance. He could hear
the screaming grow fainter, overlaid the cracking sound of his
own bones splintering, his body being reformed. His mind screamed
out for the Emperor, for Russ, but the last he heard was the
mocking triumphant laughter that came in his own voice.
* * * * *
Stepping down from the dais the Ulfhednar paused, working its
will upon the weak human form, making the vessel more suitable
for its needs. Around it the hall was growing silent, one by one
the voices cutting off as more and more of the vessels were
accepted and taken, the little remaining noise coming from the
reforming bodies. Glowing red eyes took in the room, the soul
flames of the chosen burning brightly, the lesser lights of the
brethren lining the chamber. One stepped forwards, and spoke to
the assembled throng. "A world lies for the taking beneath
us. Come."
As one they all turned and followed him from the room, the
remainder of the Chaos marines falling in behind. As the body
that had once belonged to Thorald marched past Kern smiled, and
spoke softly. "As I said, brother ... one way or
another". Passing through the door it hissed shut, leaving
the chamber in darkness once more.
Darryl Trainor