False Gods

by Graham McNeill

  Euphrati didn’t waste time looking back, but took off as fast as she could towards the stacks, supporting the lurching Sindermann as she went. The pair of them staggered away from the table as a glittering light behind them threw their shadows out before them, and a cackling shriek like laughter washed over them.

  Keeler heard a whoosh of air and something bright and hot flashed past her, exploding against the shelves with a hot bang like a firework. The wood hissed and spat where it had been struck, and she looked over her shoulder to see a horror of flailing limbs and glowing, twisting flesh leap after them. It moved with a rippling motion, lunatic faces, eyes and cackling mouths forming and reforming from the liquid matter of its body. Blue and red light flared from within it, strobing in dazzling beams through the archive.

  Another bolt of phosphorescent brightness streaked towards them, and Keeler threw herself and Sindermann flat as it blasted the shelf beside them, sending flaming books and splintered chunks of wood flying. The horrifying monster loped through the stacks on long, elastic limbs, its speed and agility incredible, and Keeler could see that it was circling around to get behind them.

  She dragged Sindermann to his feet as she heard the monster’s maddening laughter cackling behind her. The iterator seemed to have regained some measure of his senses after her punch, and once again, they ran between the twisting, narrow rows of shelves towards the chamber’s exit. Behind her, she could hear the whoosh of flames as the horror squeezed its body into the row and books erupted into geysers of pink fire.

  The end of the row was just ahead of her and she almost laughed as she heard the claxons that warned of a fire screech in alarm. Surely, someone would come to help them now?

  They burst from the end of the row and Sindermann stumbled, again carrying her to the floor with him. They fell in a tangle of limbs, scrambling desperately to put some distance between them and the loathsome monster.

  Keeler rolled onto her back as it pushed itself from the row of shelves, its rippling bulk undulating with rolling internal motion. Leering eyes and wide, fang-filled mouths erupted across its amorphous body, and she screamed as it vomited a breath of searing blue fire towards her.

  Though she knew it would do no good, she closed her eyes and threw her arms up to ward off the flames, but a sudden silence enveloped her and the expected burning agony never hit.

  ‘Hurry!’ said a trembling voice. ‘I cannot hold it much longer.’

  Keeler turned and saw the white robed form of the Vengeful Spirit’s Mistress of Astropaths, Ing Mae Sing, standing in the archive chamber’s doorway with her hands outstretched before her.

  ‘HORUS, MY BROTHER,’ said Magnus. ‘You must not believe whatever he has told you. It is lies, all of it. Lies that disguise his sinister purpose.’

  ‘Those with courage and character to speak the truth always seem sinister to the ignorant,’ snarled Erebus. ‘You dare speak of lies while you stand before us in the warp? How can this be without the use of sorcery? Sorcery you were expressly forbidden to practice by the Emperor himself.’

  ‘Do not presume to judge me, whelp!’ shouted Magnus, hurling a glittering ball of fire towards the first chaplain. Horus watched as the flame streaked towards Erebus and enveloped him, but as the fire died, he saw that Erebus was unharmed, his armour not so much as scratched, and his skin unblemished.

  Erebus laughed. ‘You are too far away, Magnus. Your powers cannot reach me here.’

  Horus watched as Magnus hurled bolt after bolt of lightning from his fingertips, amazed and horrified to see his brother employing such powers. Though all the Legions had once had Librarius divisions that trained warriors to tap into the power of the warp, they had been disbanded after the Emperor’s decree at the Council of Nikaea.

  Clearly, Magnus had paid that order no mind, and such conceit staggered Horus.

  Eventually his cyclopean brother recognized that his powers were having no effect on Erebus and he dropped his hands to his side.

  ‘You see,’ said Erebus, turning to Horus, ‘he cannot be trusted.’

  ‘Nor can you, Erebus,’ said Horus. ‘You come to me cloaked in the identity of another, you claim my brother Magnus is naught but some warp beast set upon devouring me, and then you speak to him as though he is exactly as he seems. If he is here by sorcery, then how else can you be here?’

  Erebus paused, caught in his lie and said, ‘You are right, my lord. The sorcery of the Serpent Lodge has sent me to you to help you, and to offer you this chance of life. The serpent priestess had to cut my throat to do it and once I return to the world of flesh I will kill the bitch for that, but know that everything I have shown you is real. You saw it yourself and you know the truth.’

  Magnus towered over the figure of Erebus. His crimson mane shook with fury, but Horus saw that he kept tight rein on his anger as he spoke.

  ‘The future is not set, Horus. Erebus may have shown you a future, but that is only one possible future. It is not absolute. Have faith in that.’

  ‘Pah!’ sneered Erebus. ‘Faith is just another way of not wanting to know what is true.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that, Magnus?’ snapped Horus. ‘I know of the warp and the tricks it can play with the mind. I am not stupid. I knew that this was not Sejanus just as I know that without a context, everything I have seen here is meaningless.’

  Horus saw the crestfallen look on Erebus’s face and laughed. ‘You must take me for a fool, Erebus, if you thought that such simple parlour tricks would bewitch me to your cause.’

  ‘My brother,’ smiled Magnus. ‘You are a wonder to me.’

  ‘Be quiet,’ snarled Horus. ‘You are no better than Erebus. You will not manipulate me like this, for I am Horus. I am the Warmaster!’

  Horus relished their confusion.

  One was his brother, the other a warrior he had counted as a valued counsellor and devoted follower. He had sorely misjudged them both.

  ‘I can trust neither of you,’ he said. ‘I am Horus and I make my own fate.’

  Erebus stepped towards him with his hands outstretched in supplication. ‘You should know that I came to you at the behest of my lord and master, Lorgar. He already has knowledge of the Emperor’s quest to ascend to godhood, and has sworn himself to the powers of the warp. When the Emperor rejected Lorgar’s worship, he found other gods all too willing to accept his devotion. My primarch’s power has grown tenfold and it is but a fraction of the power that could be yours were you to pledge yourself to their cause.’

  ‘He lies!’ cried Magnus. ‘Lorgar is loyal. He would never turn against the Emperor.’

  Horus listened to Erebus’s words and knew with utter certainty that he spoke the truth.

  Lorgar, his most beloved brother had already embraced the power of the warp? Warring emotions vied for supremacy within him, disappointment, anger and, if he was honest, a spark of jealousy that Lorgar should have been chosen first.

  If wise Lorgar would choose such powers as patrons, was there not some merit in that?

  ‘Horus,’ said Magnus, ‘I am running out of time. Please be strong, my brother. Think of what this mongrel dog is asking you to do. He would have you spit on your oaths of loyalty. He is forcing you to betray the Emperor and turn on your brother Astartes! You must trust the Emperor to do what is right.’

  ‘The Emperor plays dice with the fate of the galaxy,’ countered Erebus, ‘and he throws them where they cannot be seen.’

  ‘Horus, please!’ cried Magnus, his voice taking on a ghostly quality as his image began to fade. ‘You must not do this or all we have fought for will be cast to ruin forever! You cannot do this terrible thing!’

  ‘Is it so terrible?’ asked Erebus. ‘It is but a small thing really. Deliver the Emperor to the gods of the warp, and unlimited power can be yours. I told you before that they have no interest in the realms of men, and that promise still holds true. The galaxy will be yours to rule over as the new Master of Mankind.’

  ‘Enough!’ ro
ared Horus and the world was silence. ‘I have made my choice.’

  KEELER HELPED KYRIL Sindermann to his feet, and together they fled through the archive chamber’s door. Ing Mae Sing’s trembling arms were still outstretched, and Keeler could feel waves of psychic cold radiating from her with the effort of holding the horror within the chamber at bay.

  ‘Close… the… door,’ said Ing Mae Sing through gritted teeth. Veins stood out on her neck and forehead, and her porcelain features were lined with pain. Keeler didn’t need to be told twice, and she dropped Sindermann to get the door, as Ing Mae Sing backed away with slow, shuffling steps.

  ‘Now!’ shouted the astropath, dropping her arms. Keeler hauled on the door as the roaring, seething laughter of the beast swelled once again. Alarm claxons and its shrieks of insanity filled her ears as the door swung shut.

  Something heavy impacted on the other side, and she could feel its raw heat through the metal. Ing Mae Sing helped her, but the astropath was too frail to be of much use and Keeler knew they couldn’t hold the door for long.

  ‘What did you do?’ demanded Ing Mae Sing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ gasped Keeler. ‘The iterator was reading from a book and that… thing just appeared from nowhere. What in the name of the Emperor is it?’

  ‘A beast from beyond the gates of the Empyrean,’ said Ing Mae Sing as the door shook with another burning impact. ‘I felt the build-up of warp energy and got here as quickly as I could.’

  ‘Shame you weren’t quicker, eh?’ said Keeler. ‘Can you send it back?’

  Ing Mae Sing shook her head as a thrashing pseudo-pod of pinkish light flicked through the door and grazed Keeler’s arm. Its touch seared through her robes and burned her skin. She screamed, flinching from the door, and gripped her arm in agony. The horror slammed into the door once more, and the impact sent her and the astropath flying.

  Blinding light filled the passageway and Keeler shielded her eyes as she felt hands upon her shoulders, seeing that Kyril Sindermann was on his feet once more. He dragged her to her feet and said, ‘I think I may have mistranslated part of the book…’

  ‘You think!’ snapped Keeler as they backed away from the abomination.

  ‘Or maybe you translated it just perfectly,’ said Ing Mae Sing, desperately scrambling away from the archive chamber’s door. The beast of light oozed outwards in a slithering loop of limbs, each one thrashing in blind hunger. Multitudinous eyes rippled and popped like swollen boils across its rubbery skin as it came towards them once more.

  ‘Oh Emperor protect us,’ whispered Keeler as she turned to run.

  The beast shuddered at her words, and Ing Mae Sing tugged on her sleeve, crying, ‘Come on. We can’t fight it.’

  Euphrati Keeler suddenly realised that wasn’t true and shrugged off the astropath’s grip, reaching beneath her robes to pull out the Imperial eagle she kept on the end of her necklace. Its silver surfaces shone in the creature’s dazzling light, brighter than it had any reason to be, and feeling hot in her palm. She smiled beatifically as she understood with complete clarity that everything since the Whisperheads had been preparing her for this moment.

  ‘Euphrati! Come on!’ shouted Sindermann in terror.

  A whipping limb formed from the horror’s body and another gout of blue fire roared towards her. Keeler stood firm before it and held the symbol of her faith out in front of her.

  ‘The Emperor protects!’ she screamed as the flames washed over her.

  RAIN FELL IN heavy sheets, and Loken could feel a tangible charge to the night air as dark thunderheads pressed down on the tens of thousands of people gathered around the Delphos. Lightning bolts fenced above him, and the sense of anticipation was almost unbearable.

  Nine days had passed since the Warmaster had been interred within the Temple of the Serpent Lodge and with each passing day the weather had worsened. Rain fell in an unending downpour that threatened to wash away the makeshift camps of the pilgrims, and booming peals of thunder shook the sky like ringing hammer blows.

  The Warmaster had once told Loken that the cosmos was too large and sterile for melodrama, but the skies above Davin seemed determined to prove him wrong.

  Torgaddon and Vipus stood with him at the top of the steps and hundreds of the Sons of Horus followed behind the three of them. Company captains, squad leaders, file officers and warriors had come to Davin to witness what would be either their salvation or their undoing. They had marched through the singing crowds, the dirty beige robes of remembrancers mixed in with army uniforms and civilian dress.

  ‘Looks like the entire bloody Expedition’s here,’ Torgaddon had said as they marched up the steps, trampling trinkets and baubles left as offerings to the Warmaster beneath their armoured boots.

  From the top of the processional steps, Loken could see the same group he had faced nine days previously, with the exception of Maloghurst who had returned to the ship some days before. Rain ran down Loken’s face as a flash of lightning lit up the surface of the great bronze gateway, making it shine like a great wall of fire. The gathered Astartes warriors stood sentinel before it in the rain: Abaddon, Aximand, Targost, Sedirae, Ekaddon and Kibre.

  None of them had abandoned their vigil before the gates of the Delphos, and Loken wondered if they had bothered to eat, drink or sleep since he had last laid eyes upon them.

  ‘What do we do now, Garvi?’ asked Vipus.

  ‘We join our brothers and wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’

  ‘We’ll know that when it happens,’ said Torgaddon. ‘Won’t we, Garvi?’

  ‘I certainly hope so, Tarik,’ replied Loken. ‘Come on.’

  The three of them set off towards the gateway, the thunder echoing from the massive structure’s sides and the snakes atop each pillar slithering with each flashing bolt of lightning.

  Loken watched as his brothers in front of the gate came to stand in line at the edge of the rippling pool of water, the full moon reflected in its black surface. Horus Aximand had once called it an omen. Was it again? Loken didn’t know whether to hope that it was or not.

  The Sons of Horus followed their captains down the wide processional in their hundreds, and Loken kept a grip on his temper, knowing that if things went ill here, there would almost certainly be bloodshed.

  The thought horrified him and he hoped with all his heart that such a tragedy could be averted, but he would be ready if it came to war…

  ‘Are you battle-ready?’ hissed Loken to Torgaddon and Vipus on a discrete vox channel. ‘Always,’ nodded Torgaddon. ‘Full load on every man.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Vipus. ‘You really think…’

  ‘No,’ said Loken, ‘but be ready in case we need to fight. Keep your humours balanced and it will not come to that.’

  ‘You too, Garvi,’ warned Torgaddon.

  The long column of Astartes warriors reached the pool, the Warmaster’s bearers standing on its opposite side, stoic and unrepentant.

  ‘Loken,’ said Serghar Targost. Are you here to fight us?’

  ‘No,’ said Loken, seeing that, like them, the others were locked and loaded. ‘We’ve come to see what happens. It’s been nine days, Serghar.’

  ‘It has indeed,’ nodded Targost.

  ‘Where is Erebus? Have you seen him since you put the Warmaster in this place?’

  ‘No,’ growled Abaddon, his long hair unbound and his eyes hostile. ‘We have not. What does that have to do with anything?’

  ‘Calm yourself, Ezekyle,’ said Torgaddon. ‘We’re all here for the same thing.’

  ‘Loken,’ said Aximand, ‘there has been bad blood between us all, but that must end now. For us to turn on one another would dishonour the Warmaster’s memory.’

  ‘You speak as though he’s already dead, Horus.’

  ‘We will see,’ said Aximand. ‘This was always a forlorn hope, but it was all we had.’

  Loken looked into the haunted eyes of Horus Aximand, seeing the despair and doubt that plagued
him, and felt his anger towards his brother diminish.

  Would he have acted any differently had he been present when the decision to inter the Warmaster had been taken? Could he in all honesty say that he would not have accepted the decision of his friends and peers if the situation had been reversed? He and Horus Aximand might even now be standing on different sides of the moon-shimmered pool.

  ‘Then let us wait as brothers united in hope,’ said Loken, and Aximand smiled gratefully.

  The palpable tension lifted from the confrontation and Loken, Torgaddon and Vipus marched around the pool to stand with their brothers before the vast gate.

  A dazzling bolt of lightning reflected from the gate as the Mournival stood shoulder to shoulder with one another, and a thunderous boom, that had nothing to do with the storm, split the night.

  Loken saw a dark line appear in the centre of the gate as the thunder was suddenly silenced and the lightning stilled in the space of a heartbeat. The sky was mystifyingly calm, as though the storm had blown out and the heavens had paused in their revelries better to witness the unfolding drama on the planet below.

  Slowly, the gate began to open.

  THE FLAMES BATHED Euphrati Keeler, but they were cold and she felt no pain from them. The silver eagle blazed in her hand, thrust before her like a talisman, and she felt a wondrous energy fill her, rushing through her from the tips of her toes to the shorn ends of her hair.

  ‘The power of the Emperor commands you, abomination!’ she yelled, the words unfamiliar, but feeling right.

  Ing Mae Sing and Kyril Sindermann watched her in amazement as she took one step, and then another, towards the horror. The monster was transfixed; whether by her courage or her faith, she didn’t know, but whatever the reason, she was thankful for it.

  Its limbs flailed as though some invisible force attacked it, its screeching laughter turning into the pitiful wails of a child.

  ‘In the name of the Emperor, go back to the warp, you bastard!’ said Keeler, her confidence growing as the substance of the monster diminished, skins of light shearing away from its body. The silver eagle grew hotter in her hand and she could feel the skin of her palms blistering under its heat.