40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 682 64. Interlude: Winter in Fenris
M40, Fenris, Winter Tower.

Azek Ahriman's right hand suddenly trembled.

The light from the candle was trembling on his face, and the shadow cast by the quill was fluctuating, spreading across the parchment, like a ghost, distorting the characters and transforming the original meaning of the sentences into a chaotic babbling that could not be carefully understood.
He put down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and turned to look at the candles on the side of the desk.

To a blind man it certainly did not matter whether they burned or not, unless they could shine as brightly as the Astronomican - but Ahriman had never lost sight of the matter since his days as poet of the Pack.

He would leave conspicuous light sources in every place he frequented. Even though the wolves didn't need them and preferred dark environments, he still did it.

Only a few people know that their blind poet leaves a little something in every candle or wick he lights.
Ah, don't get me wrong, you thought it was psychic power or magic, right? I'm afraid you are wrong, he will correct his mistakes.

Ahriman reached out his hand, grasped the longest of the five candles, and slowly lifted it up. The wax slid down the wax bit by bit, causing a slight stinging pain on his palm and fingers.

Since he became blind, his body has become more sensitive to senses in order to compensate, and pain is naturally one of them. For ordinary people, this is not good news, but Ahriman takes it very seriously.

He frowned and raised his hands to let more wax roll down. The continuous stinging pain came upon him in an absolutely abnormal way. Half a minute later, the temperature of the wax had exceeded its original limit and fell on the blind man's skin, which had become abnormally rough due to excessive writing. It even emitted green smoke and hissed.

Ahriman's brow furrowed further.

He stood up and walked to his window. It was the coldest time of the year in Fenris. At this time, countless people would die in the continuous blizzards.

The cold wind howled and the cold air penetrated through the cracks in the stones, trying to knock this thin, tall and ignorant blind man to the ground. However, he limped to his feet and then reached out and pushed open the window.

Sounds like the screams of the dead were carried into the room by the wind.

The light immediately went out. Except for the candle in Ahriman's hand, which had strangely burned to only the last third, the rest of the candle flames had all turned into nothingness. The violent cold wind from the far north of Fenris was raging here.

What was strange was that the ancient paper scrolls that filled the bookcases, long tables, and even covered most of the ground did not move at all, as if they did not actually exist there.

Ahriman's long hair danced like a silver snake. He turned his head expressionlessly to look at a small black dot in this world of ice and snow, then opened his mouth and let out a low wolf howl.

Half a second later, the wolves responded in unison. Sixteen seconds later, four fully armed long-fanged killers pushed open his door, holding axes or greatswords, staring into the room with their hair and beards standing up. They did not leave this killing state until Ahriman himself closed the window to block the cold wind.

Eight golden beast eyes stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Is there anything unusual tonight?" Ahriman asked. His voice was low and his language was extremely primitive. A dangerous growl gathered faintly in his throat, making him sound like an angry wolf.

"No," the wolves responded in unison, bowing their heads in respect.

The leader raised his head first. His wild and angular face was completely covered with wounds and tattoos, and he looked like he was wearing a hideous mask. He retracted his weapon, raised his hand and made a gesture to increase his persuasiveness, and then gave another emphasized response.

"I swear on my name, blind man, no evil spirit will wake tonight."

Ahriman said nothing, but held out the still-burning candle in his hand. The man stepped forward and carefully took it with both hands, then he groaned from the burns of the wax through his gauntlets, and his expression changed rapidly.

"Your answer is completely contrary to the truth." The blind poet said slowly. "Therefore, no matter where this matter leads us, the thread of life will be cut tonight."

He walked towards the door, walked down the spiral stone stairs, and came to the bottom floor of the Winter Tower.

This building is not wide or tall, with only two floors. It is just a small lighthouse built in the northernmost part of Fenris, and it is completely incomparable to the magnificent buildings like Et. However, the protection provided by the wolf pack here is amazing.

Every ten years, a large company will take on the task of guarding it, and only the most elite warriors will get this opportunity. They will set out together, walk here in advance, and need to deal with all dangers along the way.

The elements of Fenris treat you equally, whether you are mortal or Astartes. If you lose your caution, you will die.

There are sea monsters that can leap out of the sea and tear apart gunboats alive, greed monsters that only appear in groups at night, and giant Fenr sheep that can crush a wolf, shield, and armor.
These terrifying creatures living in the north are the culprits that have driven the Fenrisians southward. It's not that no one wants to try to conquer this place, but they all ended up becoming the nourishment of the North, and among them, there are definitely quite a few wild wolves.

Ahriman walked past the long table piled with steaming barbecue, raised a wine glass, and drank the overflowing mead in one gulp. He drank quickly, as if the poisonous wine was no different from plain water to him.

The four wolves looked at him in amazement, not understanding what he was going to do. It was not until the wine glass was thrown onto the thick carpet by Alimu himself that they realized the poet's true emotions at the moment, which were undercurrents hidden beneath the thick ice that ordinary people could not see.

anger.

And this was something they had never seen before.

Ahriman walked to the end of the long table without saying a word. His target was certainly not the rock goat meat rotating in the oven, but the shield and long sword hanging above the oven.

They seemed to be more than simple weapons. Long before Ahriman's fingers touched them, a faint humming sound began to stir. When they were actually held in Ahriman's hands, the humming sound turned into a thunderous roar.

The wolves only heard a loud roar, and the long sword suddenly glowed with dark red fire. The transformation of the shield was even more amazing. It was originally just an inconspicuous one-handed wooden shield, which was nothing even in the weapons of mortals, but now it has become a large shield half a person's height.

If he bent down a little, Ahriman could even hide completely behind it. It was dark black all over, thick and square, with an extremely large exorcism charm blooming wildly in the center of the shield.

"Notify the alpha wolf that the pack must move out," the poet said in a low voice. "Then follow me."

The communicator beeped three times, followed closely by footsteps, and Azek Ahriman's seemingly invisible steps began to crush the wooden floor.

The heavy door was pushed open, the wind and snow poured in, and five figures walked out without saying a word, stepping on the dim moonlight and walking towards the frozen cold sea in the north. If it wasn't said, who would know that the leader and the guide were both blind?

The thick snow creaked under the feet of steel boots, and axes or giant swords carved with runes were held in the hands of their owners at some point. Of course, there was also a candle, a candle that still burned even in the strong wind.

It was only the length of a normal human thumb, and it was ridiculous to fall into the hands of this small wolf pack leader - but it was emitting a light, an unreal warm glow, which should never appear in Fenris.

They kept walking like this until the dark night weighed on their shoulders, and the thick ice replaced the snow and began to bear the weight of the steel boots and their owners.

One of the wolves reached up and tightened his cloak, then pulled out a small piece from a string of black runes hanging from a leather belt. It looked like a piece of stone, and the amulet of exorcism flickered on it as well. He handed it to Ahriman, who let go of the shield, letting it rest on the ice, and then reached out to take it, but his expression was still as blank as a statue made of snow.

Then, the other three stones were handed to him one by one, along with the candle. Its light was already very weak, and the blind man stared at it for a while, half-knelt on the ground, placed it on the ice, and spread out the four stones one by one.

In an instant, the wind and snow stopped, as if the world had stopped.

"Be ready," Ahriman said in a low voice.

As soon as he finished speaking, he blew out the candle.

The only light was extinguished, and even the moonlight was obscured by the dark clouds. The wolves' eyes were shining, so they could clearly see the ice beneath their feet, which was gradually becoming transparent, and the countless faces of the drowned people, which were swollen and pale due to water.

The wolves began to growl.

Ahriman stood up without a word, holding his shield and weapon tightly - as a member of the Thousand Sons Legion, how could he not be proficient in such a useful skill as sword and shield? It was just that he became rusty later. However, the ten thousand years he spent on Fenris helped him pick up these things again.

Oh, yes, thinking about it this way, he was very lucky. He picked up many things he had lost. Martial arts, prudence, reason, and the most important thing - dignity.

Many people would not have such a precious second chance like him. Over the past ten thousand years, the blind man has expressed his gratitude countless times, and the only thing he can do to show his gratitude is to do one thing.

Not by helping Bjorn teach his young, not by accepting Leman Russ's orders to become the poet of the wolf pack, not by helping his surviving brothers find themselves, control themselves, and slowly, carefully rebuild the Thousand Sons.
These things were all important to him and were part of his responsibilities, but compared to this one, they were all insignificant.

Ahriman raised his sword to its highest point, and stabbed it down with one final powerful thrust, until he fell to his knees, until the blade was completely buried in the ice.

The drowned people all opened their eyes, and black fire began to spread. In an instant, it submerged all the dead and all the sea areas like the sea.

Then, the sky and the earth turned upside down, the moon and the sea changed directions silently, the dark clouds dispersed, and the four wolves tensed their muscles and nerves, standing on the moonlight in awe, fear, but courage, and began to perform their guard duties.

And Azek Ahriman, he began to ask questions.

Ask questions to the dead in the sky.

"Who is it that calls upon the power of Fenris?" he asked in all seriousness.

The dead opened their mouths, the cold wind howled, the dead fire boiled, and a voice slowly sounded accompanied by the creaking sound of breaking ice.

"Leman Russ," the voice said, filling the emptiness of nothingness.

The wolves seemed to know nothing about this, only Ahriman swallowed a mouthful of blood in astonishment, but this was not the end, he still had questions that needed to be answered.

"Where? Where is he calling?"

The dead responded again, the sound of the ice breaking continued, and their voices seemed to become more solid.

"A dark and empty place, a prison that shouldn't exist, a madman's fantasy, a man-made hell, the greatest disobedience and the greatest expectation a son can have against his father."

Ahriman couldn't help but take a deep breath, suppress his emotions, and continue asking questions.

"Is he dangerous?"

"No. But if he escapes, danger will come immediately."

The moment of escaping from the predicament is the most dangerous moment? Why?
The wrinkles between Ahriman's brows deepened, and he instinctively wanted to ask questions, but he strangled this instinct for knowledge with his own hands, and became so determined that he was like a completely different person. He understood that there were not many questions left, and they must be used in more critical areas, rather than satisfying his desire for knowledge born of the curse.

"Why did he step foot into this prison?"

"Because he wanted to save his brother, Lion El'Jonson"

This time, the voices of the dead responded with great sorrow - Ahriman looked carefully at the faces of the drowned people, and the same pain surged in his heart.

These people who answered him were not merely the embodiment of an abstract power, or evil spirits bound to this place by terror. On the contrary, they were instruments of suppression, voluntary victims, sublime martyrs.

If the state church dared to publish this list, every person on it would probably be canonized, but this list will never be published. In fact, this list does not even exist.

From the moment these people chose to take on this responsibility, this matter was destined.

Therefore, they knew many other things. To them, this seemed to be a reward, enough to make them ignore the pain and firmly sleep here.

The last question.

Ahriman slowly exhaled, raised his hand and touched his empty eye sockets. The pain from the past seemed to still be spreading. He silently recalled for a moment, thinking about the moment when the sharp knife pierced his eyeball, thinking about Magnus' name, and finally calmed down.

Okay, last question.

The dead are waiting quietly, and the ice is about to break. After this question, the evil spirits will emerge, and then it will be time for a fight to the death.

Azek Ahriman tightened his grip on his weapon and asked—

His voice was blurred by the loud noise of the ice shattering completely. The howling ancient evil spirits fell from the sky and drowned them. Only the responses of the drowned people were still clear.

"Yes, he will correct his mistakes, and therefore Lion El'Jonson will return."

(End of this chapter)