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weapon raised. Though his body burned with pain, the Space Marine moved on instinct, stepping to the side and smashing the butt of his bolter’s grip into the greenskin’s throat. The blow crunched through cartilage back to the ork’s spine and the alien was dead before its body hit the ground. The move was muscle-memory, born of years of training. The same reflexes saved him as the second ork swung its axe.
    The Howling Griffon dropped his empty bolter and caught the haft of the weapon in his open palm. The impact almost broke his arm, but the axe came to a shuddering halt and the Space Marine smashed his other fist into the ork’s jaw. Teeth broke with the impact and the ork’s head snapped back violently. It was a punch that would have pulped a man’s head, but the ork was tough and recovered quickly. The alien roared fury into the Space Marine’s face, bloody drool spattering against his helmet. The deafening noise was cut off with a rasping gurgle when the Howling Griffon unsheathed his combat blade and rammed it into his foe’s throat. With a grunt, he kicked the corpse off his knife, but not in time to block the last ork’s arcing punch.
    The Howling Griffon was knocked flying and landed hard on his back, pain lancing through his battered body once more. The ork, the biggest and ugliest one yet, looked down at its stricken prey and grinned as it advanced, the jaws of the great mechanical shears it had in place of an arm snapping open and shut in hungry anticipation. The Space Marine had lost his knife and tried to rise and draw his pistol. The ork’s boot smashed down on his breastplate, pinning him to the floor as the metal pincers clamped shut around his gun arm, cleaving through ceramite, flesh and bone in one piston-driven instant. The Howling Griffon was beyond pain now, on the brink of death, his vision growing dim. The ork loomed over him and raised its gleaming claw to finish the kill.
    The death blow never came. The ork jerked backwards without warning, a fist-sized hole punching through its chest. One shot, then another. The third blew the hulking brute backwards and as the Space Marine tilted his head, he caught sight of gold and crimson figures striding towards him, smoking bolters searching the distance for more foes to slay. They were calling out to him. It was his name, he was sure, but he could not make it out, muffled as it was over the echoing thump of his very last heartbeat in his ears. It didn’t matter anyway. His name, whatever it was, would be added to the Chapter’s roll of honour. He was a Space Marine, a Howling Griffon, and he had done his duty.
    The world turned black for the last time.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    Robin Cruddace writes rules for Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000. ‘Duty’s End’ is his first short story.

A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION
    Published in 2013 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd., Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK
    © Games Workshop Limited 2013. All rights reserved.
    Black Library, the Black Library logo, The Horus Heresy, The Horus Heresy logo, The Horus Heresy eye device, Space Marine Battles, the Space Marine Battles logo, Warhammer 40,000, the Warhammer 40,000 logo, Games Workshop, the Games Workshop logo and all associated brands, names, characters, illustrations and images from the Warhammer 40,000 universe are either ®, ™ and/or © Games Workshop Ltd 2000-2013, variably registered in the UK and other countries around the world.
All rights reserved.
    A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.
    ISBN 978-1-78251-137-3
    No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise except as expressly permitted under license from the publisher.
    This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
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