Left behind

I was caught day dreaming between circuitry and memories again when the one with the familiar wolf helm woke me. The black armor clad priest gently woke me from slumber to recall my horrifying nightmare before the Twelve Companies in the Great Hall. It had just happened yesterday, why would they want to hear it again? As I lumbered down the halls that once seemed larger, he questioned me about my dream and I responded with the clarity of one who lived it.

Sub zero winds whipped the mountain's peak, lashing its back in great flurries of ice and thunder. In a crag, near the spike that scraped the sky, I stood next to my Father, the Great Wolf. He congratulated me on my unification of over fifty solar systems and I swelled with pride. We laughed of days past and grinned of the memories to be made. He told me he had a tale for my ears and mine alone. He spoke about it as if it were happening that very instant.

Far below, snow wrapped wolves prowled, searching for refuge from the storm and rivals. In the depths of a rift, two packs circled each other, snapping jagged fangs, and preying for their foe's soft neck. A pack white as snow and a pack black as death fought for a mammoth's carcass. The snowy wolves were well fed, and strong but their king was smaller than his enemy. The king of the midnight black wolves wore his crown differently. His pack mates were emaciated, more fearful of their king than the enemy, they watched from a distance with hungry eyes. The rival alpha males stood against one another, fur ruffled to the gray sky, claws pawing the ground.

Freezing wind burst behind the black king, as if conjured, blinding the white wolf. In this moment he struck, lunging with slavering jaw open, confident it would close around flesh. But he overestimated this wolf. His shadowy presence did not inspire fear in this white wolf's heart. With eyes closed it lightly hopped back, shifted its weight and countered. The white wolf's jaw found his flank, rending fur from flesh. But this did not stop the black king's onslaught, he pivoted and shook his enemy off. In one swift action, he scooped a nearby pup in his jaws and threw it towards his foe, catching him off guard with such brutality. In an instant the black king was upon the white wolf again. This time his jaws found its quarry and he wrestled the white king into the snow, steaming crimson stained the battle ground. Countless murders, and non memorable, the black king would sigh if he could. But his hubris had finally caught up. These white wolves were a different breed. They were not coerced into obedience, they offered their loyalty willingly. They would not let their king die.

Before the black king could finish the kill, he was assaulted from all sides. The white wolves snapped his hocks, shred muscle from bone, and tore at his throat. All the while the black king's subjects watched in paralytic horror, unwilling to come to their king's aide. This black wolf was not worth dying for. The last thing he saw was his pack shrinking back into the darkness, no longer under his dominion.

The white king rose on four shaky legs, puppies and pack mates tenderly licked his wounds. They laid a large chunk of mammoth flesh in front of him and waited for his blessing before they would start. He tried to signal with a howl, but blood was caught in his maw and it sounded like a whimper. He scooped up some snow to clear his throat. His howl shook the canyon's walls penetrating the blizzard's blanketing silence.

My Father looked at me and said, “A king is only as strong as his pack.”

He abruptly turned away, heading down the long cavern towards the Great Hall. I chased after him begging to ask him what he meant. But I received only cold silence.

Deep within the Fang, the strongest pack of Fenris dined, thunderously howling. Here in the Great Halls, illuminated by countless guttering candles, the younger Sons of Russ swore boisterous challenges to one another and sealing oaths of brotherhood over flagons of ale and chunks of meat. This was a day of joy to them, the day the Emperor cast down his traitorous son and ascended his Golden Throne. To the old gray beards, with the longer fangs, this was a day of sorrow, a memory of bitter betrayal but even they could take comfort and find joy in each others company. Despite the twelve Great Companies that filled the cavernous Hall with their mirth, it still felt empty. The young pups sat in the back oblivious to the sombre mood of their father, the Great Wolf.

Leman Russ entered the Great Hall to thunderous applause and grinning fangs but he did not grin back.

I watched The Great Wolf, the Wolf King, my Father, Leman Russ, the one who could always be found laughing and swearing the loudest, drinking the most, and fighting the fiercest, go to his throne and sit silently. His eyes were locked where old Bulveye, Lord of the 13^th had once sat. This was the first Great Feast the grizzled Lord was not in attendance and his absence was felt hardest by Russ. The Eye of Terror swallowed them all, promising to never release its hold. The din of the feast was nearly louder than the cacophony of battle. But when the Great Wolf stood, his pack went silent. He scanned us with almost vacuous eyes, so deep was his despair. To die in battle was all a Space Wolf really wanted, and now that is all the Great Wolf sought.

He never had much use for words, he learned to snarl and growl and it still suited him well enough. But he knew he had to say something, anything. With the Emperor gone, the Imperium needed men who could stand together. I still remember how forced the words, how he struggled to push them through his maw. I could see a cold sweat drip down his brow and how he swayed when the occasional gust of wind blew through the Hall. He stood atop that table, and every second crawled along, feeling longer and longer. Then his fierce gray eyes went white and rolled into his head. I caught him before his knees completely buckled. My fellow Wolf Guard brought ale and his throne as quickly as possible but our Father had already recovered. He pushed us aside, finding his footing once again.

The Great Wolf growled, “My pups, I must take my leave now. There is naught but bitter memories of heart break here. My Guard will accompany me and together we will hunt the traitors within the Warp.”

I looked at their faces and heard them wail, whimpering that he change his mind. They tore at their beards and howled in pain. I swelled with pride for a second time that night knowing I would go with him. I didn't hesitate, immediately rushing for the door towards my room to collect my fell claw and sacred armor. But I never made it.

“BJORN!” my Father called, and every set of eyes in the Hall fell upon me. “Bjorn, my son,” my Father paused. He stammered, “this is not a journey for you.” Those words gnaw at me every waking moment and every time I sleep.

“These pups need you to lead them, Bjorn the Fell Handed. But worry not, for in the end I will return. For the final battle. For the Wolf Time.” Not one wolf cheered when he said that. Their hearts were breaking.

I felt the world spinning, worse than when I'd been laid low by heavy bolter fire only months ago. I blacked out.

The familiar voice that belonged to that familiar helm beckoned me. Asking me to recall my dream, or was it my memory, to the Great Hall.

I was slowly coming to, my vision was still fuzzy and out of focus. But I could already tell the faces that surrounded me weren't familiar. They looked excited. So different from the sorrow I had just been surrounded with. I blinked my ocular sensors, I mean my eyes. No, the GUI (graphic user interface) wasn't my imagination. These were merely sensors so I could see. I looked at the young faces around me. I looked at the old one who sat in my Father's spot and even he looked up to me like I had when I sought counsel from my Father. These weren't the wolves of old. Their deeds hadn't been sung and their fangs hadn't been tested.

No. No. No.

This cannot be.

He didn't leave me, did he? Surely, I fought fiercely enough. Surely, I've proven myself to be by his side for the Wolf Time. Surely, this metal sarcophagus wasn't my body. Surely, this is but a nightmare.

I looked again at the faces 10,000 years young.

“Please, Bjorn the Eldest. Please tell us your tale,” pleaded the Old Slayer, Ulrik.

I remembered my duty and my promise to my Father. If I were to break down now, who would steel these young pups' resolve? Who would guide them through this vast darkness? If I fail I will surely never see my Father again. I am a lone wolf, the Last of the Company of Russ, and I will never yield.

I began my tale the same way as I had every century.

“A king is only as strong as his pack...”

1st Person PoV Battle Report

“Alright, troopers. On your feet and pay some fuckin' attention to command.” Sergeant Hudson growled, limping towards us. Ever since I'd been assigned to the 104th Stray Dogs he had that limp, but it didn't seem to slow him down. The nine of us stood up, cause when old Hudson barks, the pack fuckin' listens.

“This comes from the high up in the sky. We're moving out while there's still some light. Scanners have picked up something of an anoma...amona...” The Sarge wasn't the best with words, he usually let the bowie knife in his boot do the speaking.

“God damn it, son. What's the word I'm lookin' for?”

“Anomaly, sir?” I inquired.

“There ya go! Anomaly. Thanks, Private shit for brains.” He let out a harsh laugh. “We're loadin' up, movin' in with three full squads, and a couple of Lemans and Valks for support. Now I wanna be back home, drinkin' some fine moonshine by midnight. So you know the drill. You see a hostile, light its ass up.”

“You got ten minutes. Strap up, check your weapons, say a prayer, and then think of the finest pair of titties that you ever sucked on. HOO AH!”

“HOO AH!” We shouted back.

I walked over to the APC Chimera, grabbed a few extra plasma charges and began setting the temperature gauges on my weapon. It hummed to life with the press of a button, glowing blue with ancient technology. Through thick and thin, I thought. The Emperor had blessed me since the days of boot camp. My aim had been true and I was assigned this holy artifact by the quartermaster but not after he told me, “Don't fuck this gun up, trooper. It's worth more than that whole backwater village you were shit out of.”

“Hey, pussy. Mind if I sit?”

I looked up to see a familiar face strolling towards me.

“Rather you didn't.” I replied back to him. The butt of his meltagun peeked over his back. He always strapped it to him like some kind of great sword too large for a sheath. In his mouth he had a lit cigar, the smoke streamed around his scarred face. He sat down anyways, handing me a cigar.

“Last one before we get a week of R and R, John. But I got a bad feelin' bout this.” This type of talk would never even be whispered around a Commissar, much less other men in the troop. But this was my friend, Mike “The Heat” Reynolds, the finest meltagunner this side of the Milky Way, as he always joked.
We'd both come from that “backwater village” and we were the last two. Two years after we were deployed our entire planet was fire bombed by xenos. Together, in the 104th Stray Dogs, we found ourselves surrounded by men all in similar situations. Although, none of us ever talked 'bout the past openly. That wasn't the way of the “pack” as the Sergeants said.

“Yea, why's that?” I asked, without taking my eyes off the gauges on my weapon.

“Wish I knew.” He lit the cigar and handed it over.

“Lets just get this shit done with, Mike. In a few days we'll be boozin' and whorin' til our dicks fall off.”

“Hell yea, brother. You enjoy that cigar. It's the last ones left from home.”

He started walking away, and I called to him. “Hey, Mikey!”

Mikey turned, “Yea buddy?”

“Light 'em up!” We said in unison.

Within those ten minutes though, the sky had turned to the color of a bruise.

“Well that ain't natural,” laughed old Hudson.

Some of the rookies shared uneasy looks with one another. Us older vets didn't care. Nothing was natural in the 41^st millennium. I looked at my watch. It was only 15:43, darkness shouldn't have set in for another five hours. I checked my weapon's gauges once more.

The comm relay echoed in the chimera. “Hostile's detected but no visual yet. Fire some flares, Alpha 3, over.” I peeked out the hatch, rocketing flares lit up the pitch black sky, the silhouette of a monstrous terror loomed in the distance with wings like a bat. Emperor save us, it was larger than our valks. Beneath it a roiling mass of creatures skittered forward.

“GOD DAMN!” The chimera's gunner shouted. “We have visual!” He yelled into the comm relay.

“Open fire, son.” The Captain's steady voice replied. Within moments every heavy weapon on our line unleashed shells on the creature. Autocannon fire shattered the silence,ripping through the beasts wings, even in our hatch we could hear its unholy shriek of rage. But it didn't stop the beast from launching itself into the night sky, disappearing into the blackness above.

“Not sure of the damage done, Captain.” The chimera driver reported back.

“Don't you worry, son. We got valks headed to your position.”

Distant explosions reverberated through the hull of our chimera, the comm lines were filled with the shouts of kill confirmations. The chimeras of the 104th Stray Dogs pushed forward, eager to end this xenos threat.

Old Hudson bellowed laughter, “Got 'em on the fuckin' ropes already, boys!”

“Forward! Forward!” The chimeras continued rumbling towards the xenos line.

Some of the rookies, fresh faced, ripe with naivete tenuously join their laughter to his. I looked around at the veterans by my side and checked my plasma gun's gauges once more. None of them paid the Sergeant's mad laugh any mind, they knew it only meant the shit was about the hit the fan.

And it did...in a big fuckin' way.

“No...no...no, NOOO!” The chimera gunner shrieked. The screens of the APC went black from the shrouding wings of the behemoth we'd just shot full of shells. It pointed two appendages, the size of .50 cals at us.

Worms, leeches, I don't know what, gripped the steel hull, piercing the sides, top and bottom. Hungry, starving worms, the size of my leg, wriggled through the walls. One had the driver by the throat, sucking him dry. Some troopers unleashed las at the ones nearest to them.

A cacophony of chaos, followed by silence and my ears bleeding.

My vision came back first, or maybe it never really left me. Old Hudson screaming orders at us deaf, dumb troopers. I didn't need my ears to read his roar. I struggled to stand.

“GET UP ON YOUR FUCKIN FEET NOW!” The Sergeant commanded and my legs listened to him. Troopers were knocked out cold from the explosion. I thought I'd lost a limb realized the situation was worse than that, and began searching the area frantically for my plasma gun. It thrummed bluish green in the night. I grabbed it, checked the charges, then pulled a rookie up by the back of his BDU.

The stars that looked down on this alien planet's surface were shrouded once again, the beast above was wheeling around like a giant vulture, ready to pick the chimera's precious cargo clean. I steadied my rifle, slowly squeezing the trigger, when my hearing came back. Even over the roar of the Leman Russ autocannons I could hear the thunder of Valkyrie engines and their hissing lascannons.

The Sergeant's laughter bellowed. The crazy bastard's voice was still louder than the din of battle.

“THOSE VALKS AREN'T TAKING YOU TO VALHALLA! YOU HAVEN'T EARNED DEATH'S PEACE YET, BOYS!”

Bright red lances flashed through the sky, dropping the creature out of the sky. It landed in the sea of bug like xenos, they swarmed over it, paying it no mind. None but the Segeant cheered, we knew this fuckin' fight had just started.

“Alpha 3, take cover in the wreckage. We need to hold your position, over.” The Captain's voice ran clear over the comm operator's loud speaker.

“YOU HEARD THE MAN!” We scrambled for cover amidst the smoldering sheets of steel. The rookie troopers fired las into the darkness, while our accompanying armor lumbered forward, barking lead into the seething masses headed our way.

Six beams of pure energy streaked across the bruised sky, like falling stars amidst a thunder storm, plucked from the sky. Behind them, what looked like a lazy comet followed. I stopped picking my shots and watched in wonder, it was a sight few men could ever dream of. It was then I realized something bigger than I could ever comprehend was happening, and I was just a benched player, thinking my role might actually mean something.

“WHAT'S WRONG SHIT FOR BRAINS?!” Old Hudson shouted. “NEVER SEEN ANGELS OF DEATH DEEP STRIKING?!” His laugh was more than maniacal now. Hadn't enough shit hit our fuckin' fan already?

The six beams slammed into the dark forest half a mile north of my location with impossible force, sending shock waves across the field. The xenos horde paused for a minute, as if it were contemplating the new element in their midst. Those countless creatures, about the size of large dogs seemed to turn in unison towards the tank sized arachnoid behind them, looking for a cue. Within moments they began scurrying forward with renewed hunger. Their coordination chilled me. How could mankind ever hope to survive against creatures of such singular force? As fear wrapped me in its bony arms I felt like a rookie again, not even Old Hudson's taunts could inspire me to bravery.

A voice ancient and confident introduced itself. Impossibly loud, I couldn't tell if it came from the comm channel, or was in my head. It boomed through the trees of the forest.

“Men of the Imperial Guard, I salute you. I am Belial, Captain of the First Legion's First Company. With me are five Brothers of the Deathwing, Knights eternal.”

Men stopped shooting for the briefest of moments, even the tanks.

The voice was warm, full of conviction that could shape even the unknown galaxy.

“In this forest a relic of the Emperor's First Crusade, ten thousand years ago remains dormant. Together, we will recover it. IN HIS HONOR.”

A chorus of voices, the Knights of the Deathwing repeated the last three words of the commanding prayer.

Then the comet hit. The leaves of the trees ignited instantly.

A cold terror began filling the cracks in my resolve again. It told me without words that my flesh would be consumed and recycled. I could feel its alien thoughts squirming in my mind. It told me I was helpless. It told me it was a beast of many names. It told me I could call it the Doom. Behind the voiceless voice I heard the cries of other aliens and humans alike. They begged me to run, to blow my own brains out, to do anything to escape this demon from the void. They warned me my very soul was at peril. I could feel the happy memories hidden deep within me seeping out like piss.

A supernatural light cast six terminator armored silhouettes like dancing, flickering shadow puppets against the horizon. Looming over them a hooded cobra with protrusions that seethed like factory smoke stacks rose.

But the voiceless command was broken again by that valiant Captain of the First.

Again Belial repeated those three words.

“IN HIS HONOR.”

I found myself clinging to the words. They pushed the coldness out.

The trees of the dark forest splintered from the bony projectiles of the xenos horde on the eastern fringe of the forest. It seemed like the forest was collapsing in on itself. I prayed that the Angels of Death were delivered safely from the high velocity spines.

But then they swarmed, over the fallen trunks, throwing themselves at the Knights. Sparks of arcane energy smashed bone in a rush of adamantium.

“Sergeant, we're detecting movement from beneath the surface, heading fast in your direction.”

I didn't need to hear the Sergeant's colorful reinforcing order, checking my gauges one last time. The pebbles and even larger stones near our position began skipping and dancing. It felt like an earthquake. Scythes, or maybe teeth, punched through the rocky ground, and behind it followed a worm like monster, covered in bone. I didn't wait for the order. My plasma gun spit pulses of energy at the creature. If I actually hurt it, if it could even feel pain, I'm not sure. But it reared up on its tail, nearly forty feet high, layers of carapace unfolded like a cobra shows its hood, unveiling razor teeth.

“GIVE IT HELL BOYS!” Old Hudson laughed. As quickly as that creature rose from the ground it felt back into the hell it came from.

The battle raged all around us, HQ kept commanding us forward. Damn you, cushy fuckin' officers, sittin' in the back, always lettin' us have all the fun.

Once more Belial's voice filled the night. I could see the silhouette of his sword carving through the unending horde in that forest.

“FOR THE LION. FOR THE EMPEROR.”

His voice was strained, struggling to rise over the battle.

“IN. HIS. HONOR.”

Then the order came over the comm relay.

“Torch that forest, troopers.”

Alpha Chimeras 1 and 2 obeyed, establishing positions at the perimeter of the forest. The heavy flamers blanketed holy fire across the tree line.

Meltaguns microwaved the air and trees, but the hooded beast wound itself through the trees avoiding much of the fire.

Maybe I thought their mythical armor would ward them from our fire, maybe it was battle rage or maybe my mind made these excuses so I could continue fighting, but the truth of it was shrouded. Whatever the case, it didn't dawn on me at the time. Belial and his Knights were dead. They'd laid down their lives protecting a relic for a God Emperor they'd never met.

This thought settled like a cloud of dust, but I didn't dwell on it. I fired my plasma rifle at that smoking hooded creature, desperate to prove my doubts wrong. My heart was shielded against the coldness. A terrible wrath filled me, one I can say I've never felt again. It guided my hand, imagining the shot and willing it to reality, a single blue pulse smashed the creature's face. It shriveled, imploding on itself, shrinking and writhing.

“Fuck yea, Johnny!” I heard Mikey's familiar voice over the comm. My platoon cheered together. The coldness was leaving as quickly as it had shown itself. The long night was ending and I could feel the blood returning to my limbs.

“No time to celebrate, boys. There's still a relic to recover. Hostiles are still swarming it.”

From my vantage point south of the dark forest, now smoldering like a dying camp fire, I watched Alpha squads 1 and 2 disembark. Without delay the comm line was filled with their battle cry. It crackled with the strain of relaying the words.

“IN HIS HONOR!”

Old Hudson urged us forward. “Move out boys. Give 'em covering fire if needed.” His laughter had ceased.

A sergeant of Alpha squad 1 reported the devastation he witnessed. The carcasses of the crushed, mangled xenos horde was piled high around the giant bodies of the six Angels of Death. Their holy armor was rend with thousands of spikes. His report was interrupted with the gnashing of teeth. More of those dog like creatures renewed their attack.

We charged towards the melee, desperate to save our comrades. Then the comm line went silent. A silence that paralyzed me. He couldn't be dead, not Mikey, anyone but Mikey, please.

From the tree line my oldest friend, Mikey, emerged.

He held a black box, dark enough it seemed to drink the night's own darkness. Holding it high, he spoke into the comm, “In His Honor.”