The shockwave of the blast spun the transport around like a top and sent it corkscrewing through the air. For several vertiginous moments, Bulveye was certain they were going to crash, but Ranulf managed to ride out the wave and get the craft stabilised a scant hundred metres off the ground. Behind them, a rising pillar of dirt and smoke was highlighted by the first, pink rays of dawn.
‘What now?’ Andras said, leaning ashen-faced against the craft’s dented rail.
Bulveye scanned the skies, watching as dozens of Harrower ships boosted their thrusters and climbed into the sky, heading for orbit. ‘We return to Oneiros,’ he said, ‘and wait to see what the survivors do. Either they’ll start fighting amongst themselves to see who will be their next leader–’
‘Or?’
The Wolf Lord shrugged. ‘Or we’ll be having visitors in a very short amount of time.’
Throughout the morning the sky was full of vapour trails from Harrower ships boosting into the upper stratosphere. As the first of Oneiros’s citizens crept tentatively out from their shelters and gaped at the towering column of dirt and smoke staining the sky to the west, Bulveye and Andras led their warriors to the Senate building and awaited Antimon’s fate.
For the first few hours they dressed their wounds, shared out ammunition and fortified the structure as best they could. Then, as the day wore on and sounds of jubilation rose from the surrounding hills, Andras sent an armiger into the city in search of food and wine. By late afternoon a procession of joyous Oneirans began arriving with the last scrapings from their larder: preserved meats, shrivelled vegetables and sweet, cloying wine. To Bulveye’s warriors, it was a feast worthy of a primarch.
As the sun set, the warriors drank and ate and enjoyed the fellowship of battle-brothers who had faced death side by side. Bulveye observed the gathering with no small amount of pride. The Antimonans had acquitted themselves well. In centuries to come, he was sure the planet would provide the Imperium with fine soldiers for the Army, or perhaps even young aspirants to the Allfather’s Legions.
Night fell, and sharp-eyed lookouts manned the terraces outside the Senate building and searched the sky for signs of attack. Not a single flash of light was spotted, nor could the Astartes detect the faint specks of ships orbiting the planet. Bulveye took this to be a bad sign, and he and Andras spent a sleepless night preparing to make a final stand inside the Senate building.
It was just before dawn when an Astartes lookout saw the first tell-tale streaks of light in the sky. Bulveye and Andras were sitting together at the foot of the steps that led to the Speaker’s chair when the Wolf Lord’s vox bead activated.
‘Fenris, this is Stormblade. Fenris, this is Stormblade. Are you receiving, over?’
The voice sent a jolt through Bulveye. He clambered to his feet, looking skywards as though he might suddenly glimpse the Space Wolf cruiser hovering up near the ceiling. ‘Stormblade, this is Fenris! I hear you! What’s your status?’
‘Our battle group arrived in-system twenty hours ago and made a stealthy approach to the planet,’ the officer on the Stormblade answered. When we were still about eight hours away, we were engaged by a large fleet of xenos vessels, but we inflicted heavy losses and forced them to disengage an hour later. The survivors have fled towards jump points near the edge of the system.’
By this point, the rest of the Wolf Lord’s warband were on their feet, as well as Andras and his warriors. Every one had a questioning look on his face. Bulveye regarded them all with a triumphant look and cried, ‘A battle group has arrived from Kernunnos and defeated the Harrowers! Antimon is free!’
Armiger and Astartes alike broke out into cheers at the news. Andras stepped forwards and clapped Bulveye on the shoulder. ‘We owe you more than we will ever be able to repay, my friend,’ he said to the towering warrior. From this day forwards we will remember today as the day of Antimon’s deliverance.’
The Wolf Lord only shook his head. ‘There is no debt between us, brother,’ he replied. ‘Just serve the Allfather faithfully in the years to come and give your due to the Imperium, and that will be thanks enough.’
The young nobleman’s smile faltered. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
Bulveye laughed and waved his hand dismissively. ‘That’s nothing to worry about at the moment,’ he said. ‘It will be months before the Imperium can send representatives to begin integrating your world with the rest of the worlds in this subsector. For now, I expect you’ll be want to restore the Senate, which is a good first step. The Imperial governor, when he arrives, will need their support to ensure full certification of the planet. And then the real work will begin!’
Andras’s hand fell away from the Wolf Lord. He took a step back. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘We have no desire to be part of your Imperium – especially now, when we’ve only just regained our freedom!’
Bulveye felt his heart turn to lead. Jurgen and Halvdan sensed the change in their lord’s demeanour and stepped close. Andras’s trio of armigers did the same, their expressions tense.
The Wolf Lord paused, desperate for the right words to change what he feared was about to happen. ‘Andras,’ he began. ‘Listen to me. I came here because the Imperium needs this world. It needs every human world to come together and rebuild what was lost before. Believe me, the galaxy is a dangerous place. There are alien races out there that would like nothing more to see our extinction – or worse. You and your people know this better than anyone.’
He took a step closer to the young nobleman. His armigers laid their hands on the hilts of their swords. ‘We must be united in a common cause, Andras. We must. The Allfather has commanded it, and I’m honour-bound to obey. Antimon is going to be part of the Imperium, brother. One way or another.’ He held out his left hand. ‘An age of glory awaits you. All you have to do is take my hand.’
A look of anguish crossed Andras’s face. ‘How can you say this to me, after all we’ve been through? Weren’t you the one who said that a life not worth fighting for is no life at all?’ The young man’s voice trembled with anger. ‘Antimon is free, and will stay that way. Her armigers will protect her!’
Bulveye shook his head sadly. ‘The Imperium will not be denied, Andras. So I ask you one last time: will you join us?’
The young warrior’s expression turned hard and cold. Slowly, he shook his head. ‘I will fight you if I must.’
Bulveye’s empty hand sank to his side. His heart felt cold as lead. ‘Very well, brother,’ he said heavily. ‘So be it.’
The axe was an icy blur between the two warriors. Andras never saw the blow that ended his life. A half-second later boltguns roared, and the two shocked armigers fell dead as well.
Bulveye stared at the bodies of the young men for a long time, watching their blood spread in a widening stain upon the floor. Abruptly, his vox-bead crackled. ‘Fenris, this is Stormblade. The battle group is in orbit and awaiting your instructions. We have assault troops mustered and ready, and surveyors have identified targets for preliminary bombardment. What are your orders?’
The Wolf Lord tore his gaze away from the dead men at his feet. When he spoke again, his voice was like iron. ‘Stormblade, this is Fenris,’ he said. ‘This world has refused compliance. Execute crusade plan epsilon and commence combat operations at once.’