The way of the Fenryka
It was a calm night; the moon of that planet was high above the sky. The stars and the interplanetary defense lights shinned with intensity. The night was very clear and it looked like the stars knew it because they shined with more intensity than the past nights. The wind blew with sharply softness; the weather was not too cold, was not too dominant, not like the savage Fenris, really not like for the Sky Warriors were used to.
Certainly, It was a place too quiet for the wolves, but the tranquility could be a good augury or not.
Near to the fire, Finjonir Whitefist was resting. He has been a Long Fang for many decades, his large beard was a proof proud of that, his longs fangs another. Too many centuries fighting, too many days spent killing without mercy, without retreat, living like a truly Son of Russ. He truly love it, he truly enjoy firing Ichaival but also in all his knowledge, he knows that a calmly night was a precious gift before the battle. Sky warriors like any other Space Marines can be without sleeping for many days but not forever. The first signals, not for mortal eye but for his, came out days later, when they notice slowness in their movements, and a mili-second delay could be the difference between life and death.
Some wolves love to eat too much; others love to continue training even out of training time. Finjonir loves calm moments because in those moments, he can remembrance the great histories that he has inner in his memory. And of course, all fenrisians love to hear histories.
At the days when he was just another blood claw in the Deathwolf’s Company, the things had been different. At that moment, he couldn’t either be quiet or silent. His blood used to be pumped at a very high rate, his anxiety of blood was far than intolerable and resting definitely didn’t use to be one of his priorities. But now he was no Blood Claw, not even a Grey Hunter. He was a venerable Long Fang. He wasn’t chose for a vaerangi, but that didn’t make him any concern about it. Since he became a Sky Warrior a very long time ago, when he finally became member of a Blood Claw Pack, he liked the sound of heavy weapons. The vaerangi notice that and since then he was given a Heavy-Volter. Ichaival.
‘Skald’ said a man whose pronunciation was awful but the tone of his voice was very respectful, certainly he needed a lot of valor to talk to him and mortals normally don’t dare to talk with them.
Finjonir smelled his fear since he started to walk to him. He turned his look to him, in silence, quietly and, immediately, the mortal looked down.
After looking him for a few seconds, he turned the look to the sky, searching something hidden in the night lights. The crackling fire of the blaze was the only sound that partially broke the silence between them.
‘Do you know, mortal…’ Finjonir made a little pause, ‘…what’s a skald?’
‘Fo-fo-forgive me Sir, an old man told me th-that an skald was an storyteller.’ He waited; he waited suffering the agony of not knowing if the space wolf will crush him for daring to ask him, to even daring to talk to him. There were no reports of space wolves killing guardsmen or something like that, only if the turned to chaos of course but, there were too much histories of the brutality of the Sky Warriors, of theirs merciless war with anyone that they consider an enemy, even the inquisition had passed through that and, for The Holy Emperor, that could scare any man in all the Holy Empire.
‘Teach you well, little boy’ said Finjonir. At least he knows the meaning of the word, thought Finjonir. ‘What do you want?’
‘I-It’s my first mission and-d, blessed the Holy Emperor, I meet you, I-I have heard many histories about you and your b-brothers…’
Myths, histories and fantastic sagas, thought Finjonir.
‘Manny of them not true, I suppose’ Finjonir laughed, sharply and loudly; like the Fenryka always did. ‘Many very extraordinary unbelievable victories for you to say, mortal?’ said between laughs.
The smell of fear was less notable; Finjonir noticed that the vostroyan was getting into confidence or at least a little bit more relaxed than at the beginning.
‘So, little one what do you want to hear or what do your fellows ask you for?’
There were more vostroyan troops but with some kind of secure distance. Maybe the little one was chosen to be the one for asking about something. Finjonir smelled nervousness in the air, it was a different scent from fear but a little bit similar, obviously for his super human senses. A common human even cannot smell fear or many other scent of human behavior.
‘Well, Lord, we…we…’ the little one took air deeply and then said, ‘…we want to know if it’s because you’re immortal that you never…’ the last words were not pronounced.
Immortals, so it is all about it.
‘We never what little men?’ said FInjonir.
‘You never quite, skald’
The icy wind was blowing across the camp. It was cold enough for the troops to use warm clothing. Snow covered some Chimeras and a pair of Leman Russ that were stationed near the headquarters.
‘Boy,’ said Finjonir showing his fangs in a sincere sign, ‘do you feel fear?’
The question took him by surprise, but somehow the boy managed to answer: ‘Yes I do skald’
Finjonir smiled, ‘do you let the fear get into you, boy?’
He stopped the words in his mouth, stammering no answer.
‘Aye boy, we shall know no fear, we shall no retreat’ said Finjonir. ‘Don’t even let the fear get inside you because fear is enemy of the Allfather, fear leads to chaos,’ Finjonir tighten up his fist, ‘we shall know no fear and you, little boy, you shall not let the fear pass to you.’
Finjonir shout out a big growl from his inner beast.
‘You should fight boy, you have the sacred mission of the Allfather in our hands.’ Like a thunder disrupting between storms, a louder alarm sounded across the camp. Troops mobilized and orders began to be shouted.
‘We are not immortals boy, but we never surrender.’
‘Wh-Wh-Why?’ the little one said while he was watching his entire platoon moving across the camp; his companions were calling him.
‘We stay, we fight and we kill everything we can and only then, we move’ said Finjonir between snarls. ‘Is the way for the Fenryka.’
A big growl came from the inner beast of Finjonir.
‘And be praised Russ and the Allfather! Today boy, we can forge a new legend… the enemies of the Empire are here.’