'The Einherjar have gathered to the Wolf King,' said Kettril to Bror. 'Speak clearly and with pride,' he said to Loken. 'And leave nothing out.'

Kettril whistled shrilly between his teeth. The doors opened. Beneath the ivory padding were standard adamantium blast doors, thick and proud as those of any ship. This epitomised the Space Wolves, Loken thought. The deception of iron hidden under primitivism.

'Go on then,' said Kettril. 'Do not keep the Lord of Winter and War waiting.'

The hall beyond was huge, but the number of warriors and the way they clustered in its centre made it seem small and intimate The heights of the ceiling were lost in smoky darkness. A few lancet windows let in enough of Terra's earthshine to reveal the carved monsters lurking at the tops of pillars. Loken wished they had remained hidden. They reminded him of unclean things he had seen aboard the Vengeful Spirit.

Firebowls and resinous torches were the sole sources of light.

Tiny lumen indicators on power armour blinked in the dismal hall, shifting like sparks as their bearers moved. Tyrfingr pushed his way to the front through two score feral warriors. There were lords there aplenty, and other Legiones Astartes sporting primitive bone charms over their power armour who could only have been Leman Russ' famed priests. Many of the company wore the Routs strange leather masks. A couple had helms fashioned in the shape of wolf skulls. The masks danced in the flickering light, making the hall appear like an underworld populated by lost gods. Only a handful of the warriors were barefaced, but they looked as uncanny and fierce as the others.

Upon a throne of bones sat the Wolf King. Bror led Loken towards the primarch without ceremony. Men were coming and going from various smaller doors in the sides of the hall, and the primarch paid no attention to his visitor until he was announced.

'My jarl!' Bror called, shoving past a black-armoured barbarian. 'I have him, I have brought you the last loyal Luna Wolf!'

Approaching the Wolf King was like striding towards a storm. The light changed. The air changed. Subtle pressures played upon little-used senses, those that warned of impending misfortune. They were the senses that told a woman her son was lost in battle, that alerted a child to the danger hiding in the dark. The world became a different place in the presence of Russ, less certain, more primal. Stepping close to him was to step back in time to man's distant past, when fire kept beasts from the cave, and every boulder had a name.

Russ broke off his conversation with his advisers and surged to his feet.