The wolf inside him rose up, baring its fangs. Its rage and bloodlust filled him. Now? It seemed to ask.
Now, Bulveye answered, and he let the rage of the Wulfen fill him. The Wolf Lord raised his glowing axe and howled, a primal sound born in the primeval forests of ancient Terra itself, and then charged at his foe.
Two of the chieftain’s bodyguards leaped into the Wolf Lord’s path, their glaives held ready. He shot them both with blasts of his plasma pistol, dropping them with glowing craters blasted in their chests. A third bodyguard leaped forwards, stabbing with his glaive. The motion was almost too swift for the eye to follow, but the battle-madness had taken hold of Bulveye, and his body moved almost without conscious thought. He swept the blade aside with the flat of his axe, then brought the weapon around in a back-handed blow that sheared through the warrior’s neck. Bulveye shouldered the headless corpse aside and charged on, howling as he went.
The xenos chieftain was waiting for him, his blade still held almost casually to one side. Heedless, berserk, the Wolf Lord swung a blow that would have split a normal man in two, but the power weapon struck the dark field surrounding the alien and slowed as though cutting through wet sand. When the edge struck the chieftain it scarcely marked his intricate armour.
Bulveye might have died then if it had not been for one of his warriors. One of the Wolf Guard covering the portal, a fearsome warrior named Lars, had despatched his foe and now hurled himself at the alien chieftain as well. His axe struck the alien’s force-field and glanced harmlessly off the chieftain’s helm. In return the xenos leader lashed out with his curved blade and struck off Lars’s head.
Furious, Bulveye pressed his attack, aiming a series of swift blows at the chieftain’s arms and torso, but the chieftain became a whirling blur of deadly motion, dodging the Wolf Lord’s every stroke or parrying effortlessly with his flickering blade. The alien’s black blade struck again, and Bulveye dimly felt the point sink deep into his side. The chieftain drew his sword free and leaped lightly backwards, hissing with pleasure. The Wolf Lord let out a roar of thwarted rage and shot the nimble figure with his plasma pistol, but the bolt dissipated harmlessly against the alien’s force-field.
Before he could pursue further, a black-armoured figure crashed against Bulveye from the right. The bodyguard knocked the Wolf Lord off his feet, and the two went down in a tangle of limbs and weapons. Both struggled to pull their blades free quick enough to deal the killing blow. Out of the corner of his vision, Bulveye saw the xenos chieftain drawing nearer, his sword ready. Then suddenly he heard the sound of an Antimonan pistol at close range and a bullet punched through the bodyguard’s helm.
Bulveye hurled the alien’s body away as Andras raced past with two of his armigers to challenge the alien leader. Their pistols blazed in their hands, but the bullets seemed to vanish in the swirling void surrounding the Harrower. The chieftain’s blade flashed, but the armigers’ force-fields succeeded in deflecting the alien’s attacks. Antimonan swords sliced and thrust at the alien, but the chieftain avoided the attacks with contemptuous ease. Still, the momentary distraction was enough to allow Bulveye to recover.
The Wolf Lord leaped to his feet amid the raging melee, and found himself in a slowly tightening circle as the alien attackers drove his warriors back towards the centre of the room. Many of the Wolf Guard had surrendered themselves to the Wulfen as well, and they wrought a hellish slaughter among the enemy, but for every warrior they slew it seemed that two more took his place. In another few minutes it seemed that they would be overwhelmed.
A shout carried across the chamber from behind Bulveye. He turned to see Halvdan standing by the towering crystal, and the sliver of reason that remained to him told the Wolf Lord that the charges for the reactor had been set.
Bulveye turned back to the xenos chieftain and realised what he had to do. He lunged forwards, gathering speed as he charged towards the alien.
By this time, both of Andras’s warriors were dead, and the young nobleman was fighting the chieftain on his own. He wielded his blade with superlative skill, but the alien was far swifter and more experienced; only the Antimonan’s energy shield had saved him from certain death. Each blow against Andras’s shield sent arcs of energy crackling along the surface of his scale armour, and it was clear that it was close to failing.
The chieftain was so intent on killing Andras that he didn’t notice Bulveye’s charge until it was nearly too late. He shifted position in a blur of motion, swinging his weapon in a decapitating stroke, but the Wolf Lord surprised him by dropping his plasma pistol and seizing the alien’s sword arm at the wrist. The field’s energy sank through Bulveye’s armour like ice water, a cold so sharp it sank like a knife into his bones, but he gritted his teeth and held on nonetheless.
Surprised, the alien spat a stream of curses and tried to pull away, but Bulveye let go of his axe and clamped his right hand around the chieftain’s neck. With a roar of pure, animal fury, he picked the lithe alien off the deck, turned and hurled his body at the power crystal a few metres away. When the chieftain’s energy field struck the crystal there was an actinic flash and a concussion that knocked nearly everyone from their feet. The chieftain’s body was vaporised instantly by the blast; pieces of his shattered, smouldering armour ricocheted around the room like shrapnel from a grenade.
The next thing Bulveye heard was a strident, atonal sound that seemed to reverberate through the structure of the spire itself. Shocked from his battle-madness by the blast, he saw the last of the Harrowers fleeing from the chamber as fast as they could.
Andras stood close to the Wolf Lord, still reeling from the shock of the battle. ‘What’s happening?’ he yelled.
Bulveye grabbed his weapons off the deck. ‘That sounds like an alarm of some kind,’ he shouted. ‘The reactor must have been damaged by that energy field. We need to get back to the transport right now!’
Five of Andras’s men and two of Bulveye’s Wolf Guard lay dead, surrounded by heaps of alien bodies. Jurgen and Halvdan were already helping the survivors to grab the bodies of the fallen and carry them out as well. Together they raced back the way they’d come, ready to kill anyone who got in their way, but the alarm had sent every Harrower on the spire scrambling for their own means of escape. By the time they staggered out onto the landing pad, the skies were starting to fill with Harrower transports hastily lifting off from the doomed citadel. Alien bodies – some armoured, some not – were piled in heaps before the damaged transport, their bodies torn apart by boltgun shells or ravaged by the whirring teeth of Ranulf’s chainsword. The pilot stood with his feet planted on the landing pad before the transport’s gangway, his armour spattered with alien gore. Bulveye raised his axe in salute to Ranulf’s dogged defence, and ordered everyone onto the xenos craft.
‘How long until your charges blow?’ Bulveye asked Halvdan as they clambered aboard.
‘Another fifteen seconds, give or take,’ the lieutenant replied.
‘Morkai’s teeth!’ Bulveye cursed. ‘Ranulf, get us the hell out of here!’
With a whine of tortured impellers and a ragged scraping of metal, the crippled transport shuddered into the air and yawed dangerously to port. The craft didn’t so much take off as fall off the side of the landing pad, taking its passengers on a stomach-churning drop as the vehicle’s motors struggled to repel the force of gravity.
Ten seconds later the spire was lit from within by a series of explosions that rippled outwards from the centre of the structure. Arcs of lightning a thousand yards long whipsawed across the spire’s surface, cutting away landing pads and carving furrows in the crystal surface. Then, slowly, like a toppling tree, the massive spire began to settle towards the planet’s surface. Its tip hit the rocky ground and shattered, scattering debris in a billowing cloud of dirt that stretched for kilometres in every direction, then the spire fell onto its side and vanished in massive detonations.