40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 689 71. Interlude: Resurrection (I)

It was already dark, but the sky was still glittering with stars. Blue and white, with a dazzling halo. If anyone dared to look at it with the naked eye, they would suffer from burning pain.

Experienced elders in the tribe often heal such injuries for young people who do not listen to advice, and continue to warn them - do not raise your head at night, you can't afford the price.

You can't afford a disaster of that magnitude, they said earnestly.

They said it over and over again, endlessly, without stopping. Ten million mouths merged into one, constantly wandering on the border between stupidity and folk customs, and finally being soaked in the wisdom of the world, becoming a deep moment in the countless wrinkles on the old man's face.
Bjorn looked up at the sky.

Most Fenrisians have never left this frozen land from birth to death, and they know nothing about other worlds. The old man's warning always lingers in their minds, deeply rooted, forming a bloody line of bones.

Countless dead people lay behind this scarlet line, their mouths filled with dust, their shrunken gums showing, their lips dry and tight, as if they were smiling.

They smiled and said: Don't look up.

Bjorn stared at the stars in the night sky, his expression gradually becoming tense.

In his right hand he tightly grasped a spear, a primitive weapon that had always accompanied this violent race since humans began fighting in the dark with torches in their hands, and had never really left them.

But this spear is different, it can no longer bear the responsibility of being a weapon. The dim cracks silently reveal its final fate to everyone who sees it, just like the numb face of a doctor and the sad eyes of a loved one.

Bjorn finally lowered his head and looked at the spear.

"Did you do as I told you?" Leman Russ asked vaguely.

His voice sounded so weak and dull. Bjorn looked back over his memories and realized that there had never been a moment when his alpha wolf had seemed so vulnerable.

"Bjorn?"

"I'm here, Russ." The Lone Wolf responded almost meekly. "I did as you asked. The Rune Priests have gathered."

"Did they scold you?"

"Of course, Alpha Wolf, they must have scolded me badly, you have to take some time to clear my name."

"Don't worry." Ruth smiled softly. "Wait until I wake up."

He didn't finish his words.

Endless hot wind whistled up from under Bjorn's feet, blowing his fur cloak up and down.

The sky was still shining, unaware of the brief farewell here. Only the sound of the wind, crashing back and forth between the rock walls, flowed into Etna's primitive ventilation system with bruises.
The warm tunnel built with geothermal energy transmits the whimpering sound of the wind to every wolf in the den.

The young Blood Claws were confused by this, they touched the simple knots and ornaments on their armor, and looked at each other. Perhaps a second ago, they were still doing their own things, such as drinking, overeating, and fighting, releasing the endless wildness and violence in their chests, but the sound of the wind changed everything, forcing them to stop and listen to its voice.

The wolf priests who were responsible for training and teaching them knew the truth, but they would not say anything.

Even across the galaxy, few can dig out anything useful from the mouths of these particularly stubborn wolves, let alone a mere Blood Claw. But the priests will also feel sad, and in a few minutes or hours, they will meet their brothers and drink a glass of mead around the fire or long table.
Then, they would say—

"—See you in the winter, Russ," Bjorn murmured.

This was the second time the wolves had said goodbye to him in this way.

Bjorn loosened his grip, intending to let the spear choose its own burial place.

At first, it fell to the ground and quickly slid down with gravity, spinning on the small stone platform here. It couldn't hold on for long and fell into the bottom of Eter, into the open, abyss-like eternal darkness.

The lone wolf walked slowly to the edge of the platform, looked down, and felt the hot wind blowing on his face. He wanted to hear the sound of the spear falling to the ground, so he waited for a long time, but he never caught the slight sound of collision.
So he looked up at the sky of Fenris. Sure enough, a surging white storm was raging in the center of the sky. Although its wind sounded so shrill, it sounded like a promise to Bjorn.

No, that's a promise.

The lone wolf turned around expressionlessly and walked into the rugged cave.

His footsteps were loud, which was far from his habit as a killer. Looking back, he once had such a simple and pure ambition.
Just killing, no other expectations.

Back then, he was an angry man who would get angry over the smallest of things. Wolves are savages, and they make no effort to hide that fact, and Bjorn is definitely one of the best.

Despite this, he was not proud of it, but felt pain, because he could not control this wildness and could only let it choose the time to erupt at will.
It was time that taught him to be calm and tolerant.

To be more precise, it was the time spent fighting together with the other four people that taught him such precious qualities.

It's like taming a wild animal, the lone wolf thought calmly. Or maybe I am willing to be tamed.

Abandon your savagery. Take responsibility and transform the silent footsteps of the killer into the loud strides of a leader so that people can hear him coming.

So that the wolf pack knows that the lone wolf is still there.

Bjorn couldn't help but smile. He knew that he had become as indispensable a symbol as Russ had been. But anyone who thought he was proud of this was very wrong.
A few minutes later, he walked into a cave that was shining silver and rolling with storms and lightning.

There were many people standing here, and Bjorn could tell the total number without even a glance - five per company, which meant that there were a total of sixty-five Rune Priests standing here.

Sixty-five pairs of golden eyes stared at him unblinkingly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to explain something?" an angry voice replied.

Bjorn sighed. He didn't really want to respond to the person who asked the question, but doing so would seem a bit too rude - of course, politeness was not something a Fenrisian would care about in most cases. The real reason that prompted him to answer was actually very simple.

"Please, please," Bjorn muttered, holding his forehead with a headache. "Please don't cause trouble for me at this time."

"look for a job?!"

A huge shadow slowly rose from the storm and ice, extremely tall and huge, with the dull sound of machinery and the collision of steel. The other rune priests made way and bowed their heads to show their respect for this man. Finally, two red lights suddenly lit up.

"I woke up from my deep sleep, full of expectations, thinking that I could kill more demons, more traitors - even if I was sent to destroy a few infantry camps, that would be a good thing! But there was none of that, nothing at all, only your old bones saying lightly, 'Don't cause trouble for you!'"

The roaring sound turned into a visible gust of wind that blew across Bjorn's face, blowing his long hair into disarray. He gritted his teeth and raised his right hand to make a "stop" gesture.

"I swear to the All-Father, Orn Badwinter, I mean no harm to you," Bjorn said solemnly. "But I really wish you could speak to us through a synthesizer speaker, and for the love of Russ, please use less psychic power!"

The wolf buried in the wild iron coffin uttered a few dissatisfied grunts, but still followed Bjorn's words. A synthetic voice with a mechanical tone soon replaced his original voice and echoed in the cave.

"It's the Leviathan that's at fault, Bjorn," said Badwinter in an emotionless synthesized voice. "Every time I speak through its system, I feel my nonexistent vocal cords itching. You need to let me drink some mead, don't you?"

His words caused laughter.

This was strange, as Rune Priests were usually a serious bunch, but the person who was speaking was very special - Ornn Evilwinter, who had been forced into Dreadnought due to siege twelve years after the Heresy.

And before that, he had been one of the best rune priests in the pack, a reputation he had earned long before Bjorn was a Bloodclaw.

Perhaps this experience gave him some special powers. Even in sleep, Evilwinter can communicate with the wolf pack through psychic power. Therefore, if you really want to count, all the rune priests present are actually his apprentices.

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"I'll pour some on your grave," Bjorn replied expressionlessly.

"Oh, then you might have to take a trip into the Eye of Terror, great lone wolf."

Fearless laughed back with a harsh, monotonous synthesized laugh. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Only this time, his joke didn't resonate.

"So, tell me." Evilwinter returned to his real voice and sighed. "What is it?"

Bjorn didn't know where to start for a moment. Although he believed that the old man had already discussed this with other rune priests, it was still difficult for him to put these things that you and I knew into sentences - fortunately, he was now very good at doing these difficult things.

"Russ has temporarily departed, returning to the arms and glory of the All-Father. He will return, but we will not be able to listen to his advice, draw on his wisdom and courage for at least the next five hundred winter days."

Shock and anger surged up in an instant, and the storm and frost projected on the mottled stone walls of the cave even had the faint sign of becoming real objects. Bjorn paused for a moment, looked around, and saw the deep anger and deep sadness.
And the peace that only one person has.

Ornn Badwinter rumbled in his iron coffin.

"Then, his return this time will be the prophesied moment." He said in a dreamy tone. "The Hour of the Wolf?"

He explored the answer, deliberately using the name of "The Hour of the Wolf", not letting go of any possibility of getting some clues from Bjorn. This was an obvious little trick, with the insignificant cunning between brothers.

The lone wolf smiled.

He simply shrugged his shoulders and deliberately made the answer ambiguous - in fact, Ruth had not revealed this to him, but how could he miss an opportunity to make things difficult for the old guy five hundred years later?

However, Evilwinter was not fooled.

"Ah, you're at it again," he said sternly. "Never mind, I won't pursue it. Go on. There's a second thing, right?"

Yes, there is a second thing. Or rather, the first thing.

"Ruth left because of a rescue."

Bjorn lowered his brows and began to speak slowly - his tone was unusually low, as if he was telling a story, as if there was a blizzard outside the cave and they were sitting cross-legged around the fire.

The mead was shaking, the roasted meat was fragrant, the seriously injured had fallen into a coma, mumbling to themselves. Some were sharpening knives, some were spitting blood, and some were roaring loudly, full of righteous indignation.

The wolves listened attentively, sixty-five pairs of eyes looking at him without reservation.

"The Emperor taught us that killing and saving go hand in hand. We have lived up to his example, and so has Russ."

"At this very moment, in another star system, around a world called Kamas, the Dark Angels fight. Their enemy is the Ten Thousand Eyes, a gathering place for traitors and a sinking place for the shamed."

"In the past ten thousand years, they have changed the direction of the blade, and have fallen from protectors to accomplices. The lion is naturally indispensable in this battle. Logically, he should call us, right?"

The priests nodded silently. Bjorn's words might not make sense at first. Why did Lion El'Jonson call on the wolves when facing a traitor? But if you know the inside story, you will know that it originated from an oath.

"I have Gunnar Gunhildr's word and permission," Lion El'Jonson said. "Until Russ is avenged, I will be one of the Pack. I will hunt with you."

Since then, the Lion has never failed to keep his word in every hunt for traitors. The Dark Angels and the Wolves have fought for countless years, but this time, he did not call them again.

The older Rune Priests had already vaguely guessed the reason.

Bjorn nodded slowly, the sound echoing throughout the cave.

"Yes, as you might expect, he did not call us because he did not intend to deal with this matter as one of the wolf leaders. He had to face his own son, the evil born from the scars of his legion."

"We know this history because he keeps his word, he is one of us, there is no lying between us"

"The Lion wanted to be sincere to those traitors, but he was betrayed again. His heart bled dry, his life was completely extinguished, but Russ saved his body—"

The wolves howled, and Bjorn's voice was like a tsunami, stirring up the rage. He was hoarse and furious.

"--Russ has won a glimmer of hope for our leader." Lone Wolf said. "The Emperor taught us that killing and saving are always in parallel. Russ carried out the killing, but was unable to save, and now it is our turn."

With a clang, he drew his sword from its sheath.

"Now it's our turn," Bjorn said. "We will not let him down."

(End of this chapter)