by Nick Kyme
Backlist
Book 1 – HORUS RISING
Book 2 – FALSE GODS
Book 3 – GALAXY IN FLAMES
Book 4 – THE FLIGHT OF THE EISENSTEIN
Book 5 – FULGRIM
Book 6 – DESCENT OF ANGELS
Book 7 – LEGION
Book 8 – BATTLE FOR THE ABYSS
Book 9 – MECHANICUM
Book 10 – TALES OF HERESY
Book 11 – FALLEN ANGELS
Book 12 – A THOUSAND SONS
Book 13 – NEMESIS
Book 14 – THE FIRST HERETIC
Book 15 – PROSPERO BURNS
Book 16 – AGE OF DARKNESS
Book 17 – THE OUTCAST DEAD
Book 18 – DELIVERANCE LOST
Book 19 – KNOW NO FEAR
Book 20 – THE PRIMARCHS
Book 21 – FEAR TO TREAD
Book 22 – SHADOWS OF TREACHERY
Book 23 – ANGEL EXTERMINATUS
Book 24 – BETRAYER
Book 25 – MARK OF CALTH
Book 26 – VULKAN LIVES
Book 27 – THE UNREMEMBERED EMPIRE
Book 28 – SCARS
Book 29 – VENGEFUL SPIRIT
Book 30 – THE DAMNATION OF PYTHOS
Book 31 – LEGACIES OF BETRAYAL
Book 32 – DEATHFIRE
Book 33 – WAR WITHOUT END
Book 34 – PHAROS
Book 35 – EYE OF TERRA
Book 36 – THE PATH OF HEAVEN
Book 37 – THE SILENT WAR
Book 38 – Angels of caliban
Book 39 – Praetorian of dorn
Book 40 – CORAX
Novellas
PROMETHEAN SUN
AURELIAN
BROTHERHOOD OF THE STORM
THE CRIMSON FIST
PRINCE OF CROWS
DEATH AND DEFIANCE
TALLARN: EXECUTIONER
SCORCHED EARTH
BLADES OF THE TRAITOR
THE PURGE
THE HONOURED
THE UNBURDENED
RAVENLORD
Many of these titles are also available as abridged and unabridged audiobooks. Order the full range of Horus Heresy novels and audiobooks from blacklibrary.com
Audio Dramas
THE DARK KING & THE LIGHTNING TOWER
RAVEN’S FLIGHT
GARRO: OATH OF MOMENT
GARRO: LEGION OF ONE
BUTCHER’S NAILS
GREY ANGEL
GARRO: BURDEN OF DUTY
GARRO: SWORD OF TRUTH
THE SIGILLITE
HONOUR TO THE DEAD
CENSURE
WOLF HUNT
HUNTER’S MOON
THIEF OF REVELATIONS
TEMPLAR
ECHOES OF RUIN
MASTER OF THE FIRST & THE LONG NIGHT
THE EAGLE’S TALON & IRON CORPSES
RAPTOR
Download the full range of Horus Heresy audio dramas from blacklibrary.com
Also available
MACRAGGE’S HONOUR
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Title Page
Dramatis Personae
The Vow
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
The Broken Chalice
About the Author
An Extract From ‘Rebirth’
A Black Library Publication
eBook license
The Horus Heresy
It is a time of legend.
Mighty heroes battle for the right to rule the galaxy. The vast armies of the Emperor of Earth have conquered the galaxy in a Great Crusade – the myriad alien races have been smashed by the Emperor’s elite warriors and wiped from the face of history.
The dawn of a new age of supremacy for humanity beckons.
Gleaming citadels of marble and gold celebrate the many victories of the Emperor. Triumphs are raised on a million worlds to record the epic deeds of his most powerful and deadly warriors.
First and foremost amongst these are the primarchs, superheroic beings who have led the Emperor’s armies of Space Marines in victory after victory. They are unstoppable and magnificent, the pinnacle of the Emperor’s genetic experimentation. The Space Marines are the mightiest human warriors the galaxy has ever known, each capable of besting a hundred normal men or more in combat.
Organised into vast armies of tens of thousands called Legions, the Space Marines and their primarch leaders conquer the galaxy in the name of the Emperor.
Chief amongst the primarchs is Horus, called the Glorious, the Brightest Star, favourite of the Emperor, and like a son unto him. He is the Warmaster, the commander-in-chief of the Emperor’s military might, subjugator of a thousand thousand worlds and conqueror of the galaxy. He is a warrior without peer, a diplomat supreme.
As the flames of war spread through the Imperium, mankind’s champions will all be put to the ultimate test.
~ Dramatis Personae ~
The XVIII Legion ‘Salamanders’
Vulkan, The Lord of Drakes, Primarch of the Salamanders
T’kell, Forgemaster, now named Forgefather of Nocturne
Zau’ull, ‘Firefather’, Igniax Chaplain
Rahz Obek, ‘Firebearer’, Firedrakes captain
Zandu, ‘Firefist’, Firedrakes sergeant
Ak’nun Xen, ‘Flamesmote’, Firedrake
Gor’og Krask, ‘Wyvern’, Firedrake
Zeb’du Varr, ‘Pyrus’, Firedrake
Ashax, Firedrakes sergeant
Phokan, Firedrake
Gairon, Firedrake
Raios, Firedrake
Ba’durak, Firedrake
Rath, Firedrake
Votan, Firedrake
Fai’sho, Firedrake, Apothecary
Reyne, Shipmaster of the Chalice of Fire
The Shattered Legions
Kastigan Ulok, Iron Father of the X Legion, commander of the Obstinate
Ahrem Gallikus Azoth, Medusan Immortal
Saurian, Apothecary of the XVIII Legion
Morikan, ‘The Silent’, warrior of the XIX Legion
The XVI Legion ‘Sons of Horus’
Vosto Kurnan, Captain
Rayko Solomus, Legionary torturer
Menatus
Nevok
Uziel
Hajuk
Morvek
Ezriah
Krede
Ezremas
Ghodak
Harkus
Renk, Apothecary
The Dark Mechanicum
Regulus, Adept, appointed envoy to the Warmaster
Kronus VI, Castellax battle automata
&nbs
p; The Vow
‘What is the meaning of the sacrifice?’
Firefather’s words echoed around a hollow chamber, the deep bass of his voice rebounding off the walls of dark obsidian.
‘To live when others died,’ his supplicants replied as one. Solemnly, speaking with reverence... and anger. ‘To never know the pain of our greatest betrayal. To never feel the bite of our reflected shame in the traitor’s knife. To have never bled upon the black sands of Isstvan Five.’
Silence fell as their voices faded into a dull murmur of half-echoes.
‘What is our purpose?’ Firefather gripped the haft of a weapon and watched his brothers do the same.
‘To remain stoic and eschew all pride. To be the wardens and protectors.’
Firefather stood. His armoured form was reflected in obsidian and his kneeling brothers mirrored him also.
‘And what is our curse?’ he put to them, his voice rising as the mace head of his crozius burst into flame. Fifty warriors stood coldly in its burning aura, their drake scale seemingly alive in the snapping flames.
‘To never know glory. To be denied vengeance.’
Firefather held his burning crozius aloft before plunging it into an iron cradle of oil. Ignition was instant and violent. It sent shuddering firelight throughout the chamber, revealing the statues of fallen heroes, carved from onyx and silently judging.
‘And who are we?’ he asked, bellowing.
‘We are the Unscarred!’ they declared in a roar. ‘Sons of Nocturne. Salamanders and Firedrakes. Vulkan’s blood, and we shall never fail in our duty!’
An iron lid was closed over the cradle and the flame doused, so too the crozius in Firefather’s hand.
Darkness returned and the mood became sombre again.
‘That is the meaning of sacrifice...’ uttered Firefather quietly, turning as he left the chamber through its only archway. ‘Dismissed.’
Prologue
An artefact
They called him an artisan, though Vulkan knew the truth of it. He was a warsmith, no different to his brothers Ferrus and Perturabo. Inside the vault, he had wrought terrible wonders all in the name of that calling, wonders which he now wanted T’kell to destroy.
‘You are the first and only one of my sons to see this vault,’ Vulkan said to his Forgemaster. ‘Held safe within its walls is every artefact I have ever forged.’
Muttering the name of the first drake, Vulkan lit the torches around the chamber, and between the shadows the miracles he had created were revealed in wan light. Despite the darkness, his eyes saw everything, every weapon he had ever made.
He alone knew all of their names, for he had chosen each one.
Song of Entropy.
Igneous Hammer.
Anvil of Desolation.
Poetic, perhaps. Indulgent, certainly. Names had power, Vulkan knew. To name a thing was to give it identity, resonance. To name a thing was to make it real, tangible and to breathe life into the lifeless. No mere things of steel or adamantium these – they were Vulkan’s legacy to his sons and more revealing of his character than any tome or memoir.
And even if he should return from Isstvan V, they all had to be destroyed. The galaxy had changed. It was no longer a safe place for miracles, for evil had a way of twisting the miraculous into something terrible.
‘Such wonders…’ breathed T’kell, and Vulkan saw a kind of fear in his son’s eyes as well as awe.
Vulkan was going to war, for he too was an instrument of destruction, only one that had been forged by his father’s hammer upon an anvil of science and apotheosis. He wondered then if the Emperor ever had the same doubts about His creations. If He were to be given a choice, would He too destroy what He had created? Vulkan supposed it was too late for that now, or perhaps that was what he, Ferrus, Corax, Perturabo and the others were doing by bringing Horus to heel? How Konrad must be laughing now…
Vulkan had not realised his thoughts had made him pause, his gauntleted fingers poised to touch the haft of his spear, until T’kell spoke again.
‘I hope your indecision represents a change of heart, primarch,’ said the Forgemaster.
If only he knew the primarch’s inner turmoil in that moment; but then, Vulkan supposed, it was better that he did not.
‘It does not. The artefacts must be destroyed. I am bound for Isstvan, so cannot do it myself, which is why you must, T’kell.’
‘Then what is wrong, primarch?’
Instead of the truth, Vulkan settled on a lie. He did not like lying to his sons, but it was small compared to the lies that had begun to unfold across the nascent Imperium, lies of false gods and brothers killing brothers. Surely these were greater lies, for to consider them anything else was beyond countenance.
‘I believed I had chosen poorly, although this feels right,’ he said, gripping the hammer Dawnbringer. ‘Fitting. Perhaps its epithet will see my brother illuminated after all.’
It felt like a hollow thing to say. Ever since his last meeting with Horus, Vulkan knew deep down that another encounter between them would end in blood. The greater lies, he reminded himself, within which were woven a thread of truth.
‘Primarch, I beseech you,’ said T’kell, with something like desperation in his voice as he bowed on one knee. ‘Please do not ask me to do this. At least save something.’
Vulkan would have remonstrated with his Forgemaster for such weakness had he not seen T’kell’s actions for what they truly were: hope. He still believed that his father’s creations could be used for good, to end war.
‘There are weapons here that can destroy worlds, my son,’ he said, regarding the inside of the vault.
‘Or save them from destruction,’ T’kell replied, ‘in the right hands.’
‘Mine?’ asked Vulkan, looking down to meet T’kell’s gaze. He saw the plea in his eyes, but also the pride. It gave Vulkan hope.
‘Yes! Or Lord Dorn, or Guilliman. Even Russ!’
‘Rise, Forgemaster. I would not have one of my sons beg me on his knees,’ said Vulkan, and had to fight down his anger at seeing a Salamanders legionary so humbled. I am a teacher, he thought to himself, not a king to be paid fealty to. Leave that pomposity to Guilliman – I’ll have none of it.
‘I am driven to it, primarch,’ T’kell replied, but was back on his feet again.
Yes, thought Vulkan, T’kell is the right choice. If there is even a chance that my craft can be put to good use in spite of what is to come, then T’kell is a worthy custodian of that charge.
‘Very well.’
‘My lord?’
Vulkan faced him.
‘I said, very well. Something should remain. If I destroy everything, then I have given up on hope and on seeing loyalty and honour endure in my brothers. I won’t do that.’
T’kell looked relieved, but Vulkan knew his mood would change as soon as he gave his next order.
‘You are to remain here, T’kell. You won’t come to the Isstvan System – your place is now on Nocturne and Prometheus.’
‘But, primarch–’
‘Do not defy me a second time,’ Vulkan warned. ‘I am not that tolerant.’ T’kell bowed his head.
He had planned on taking the Forgemaster with him, but he was glad now that he had an excuse not to. Vulkan felt the task his father had appointed them on Isstvan ill-omened. It was not because Horus was an excellent military leader, or a greater warrior – there were both better leaders and greater warriors amongst his brothers – it was the change in the Warmaster’s spirit that bothered Vulkan the most, and all that it portended. If he could change, if the Crusade could alter his perception…
Vulkan banished these thoughts. Nothing would change what was to come, but this – what he was about to ask T’kell to do – this he could still influence.
‘You shall become Forgefather, and k
eeper of the artefacts in this vault.’
‘Forgefather?’ said T’kell, confusion written upon his face. ‘Am I not your Forgemaster, my lord?’
‘Of course. A legionary can be more than one thing, T’kell. I am entrusting you with this duty, just as I entrusted you with the vault.’
‘What duty, primarch? Name it, and it shall be done.’
‘To act as custodian. To swear you will protect these artefacts and should anything happen to me, ensure they are well hidden, far from those who would seek to use them poorly.’
Again, Vulkan saw the pride in his son’s eyes, but also the pain. He had no desire to leave his primarch’s side, but would do it anyway. That’s how Vulkan knew he had chosen well.
T’kell saluted fervently. ‘I swear it, Lord Vulkan.’
‘Good. Choose seven to remain, and only seven. One for each of our realms on Nocturne.’
‘There are thousands in here, primarch. How can I possibly–’
‘Indeed there are,’ said Vulkan. As he armoured himself for war, Vulkan found his mind drifting back to his last meeting with Horus. He would need to have words with Ferrus before this was begun. The Gorgon had a temper not unlike the volcanic peaks of Medusa, but he would need to channel that before entering into a confrontation with Horus and the other renegades. In his abstraction, he had almost forgotten T’kell, but as he was leaving, he reminded him again of what he would allow.
‘Seven, Forgefather, that is what your primarch decrees. I go to join with Ferrus’ fleet.’ He felt a deep sense of foreboding that he kept from his son, that this would be the last time he would see T’kell or the vault. ‘See it is done before I return.’
One
Mustering the garrison
A conflagration raged across the dark landscape of the ship’s furnace. Thrust up from the ground the twisted silhouettes of the artefacts reminded T’kell of broken fingers. Tendrils of flame roamed the armourglass chamber like hungry scavengers, devouring everything and spitting forth smoke to obscure this grim vista of uncreation. It tasted acrid and bitter, rising up in all consuming fumes. Through the gaps in the smoke, snatches of structure and form were revealed. A blade blackened by fire, melting. A hull twisted by the immense temperature of the furnace.
Everything burned, and he was the architect of it.
From an observation platform, T’kell looked down upon the destruction he had wrought and wept.
