Spear of Ultramar
Page 1
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
Book 41 – THE MASTER OF MANKIND
Book 42 – GARRO
Book 43 – SHATTERED LEGIONS
Book 44 – THE CRIMSON KING
Book 45 – TALLARN
Book 46 – RUINSTORM
Book 47 – OLD EARTH
Book 48 – THE BURDEN OF LOYALTY
Book 49 – WOLFSBANE
Book 50 – BORN OF FLAME
Book 51 – SLAVES TO DARKNESS
Book 52 – HERALDS OF THE SIEGE
More tales from the Horus Heresy...
PROMETHEAN SUN
AURELIAN
BROTHERHOOD OF THE STORM
THE CRIMSON FIST
CORAX: SOULFORGE
PRINCE OF CROWS
DEATH AND DEFIANCE
TALLARN: EXECUTIONER
SCORCHED EARTH
THE PURGE
THE HONOURED
THE UNBURDENED
BLADES OF THE TRAITOR
TALLARN: IRONCLAD
RAVENLORD
THE SEVENTH SERPENT
WOLF KING
CYBERNETICA
SONS OF THE FORGE
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
WOLF HUNT
HUNTER’S MOON
THIEF OF REVELATIONS
TEMPLAR
ECHOES OF RUIN
MASTER OF THE FIRST
THE LONG NIGHT
IRON CORPSES
RAPTOR
Download the full range of Horus Heresy audio dramas from blacklibrary.com
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Title Page
The Horus Heresy
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Epilogue
About the Author
An Extract from ‘Dreadwing’
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 ~
Ultramarines
Roboute Guilliman, Primarch
Titus Prayto, Librarian
Drakus Gorod, Commander, Invictarus Suzerain Bodyguard
Iasus, Chapter Master of the 22nd
Hierax, Captain of the Second Destroyers
Antalcidas, Dreadnought, Second Destroyers
Kletos, Legionary, Second Destroyers
Aphovos, Librarian, Second Destroyers
Gorthia, Sergeant, Third Squad, Second Destroyers
Lanatus, Pilot, Second Destroyers
Lucretious Corvo, Captain, 90th Company, Ninth Chapter
Ancevan, Sergeant, 90th Company, Ninth Chapter
Tulian Aquila, Captain, 77th Company, Seventh Chapter
Vascas, Sergeant
Maesa, Navigator, Ultimus Mundi
Bethra Kallan, Auspex officer, Ultimus Mundi
Taius Netertian, Shipmaster, Ultimus Mundi
Iron Warriors
Khrossus, Warsmith, 134th Grand Company
Darhug, Captain
Vûrtaq, Captain
Navghar, Sergeant
Savarran, Legionary
Word Bearers
Ker Vanthax, High Chaplain
Mechanicum
Rissin, Magos Dominus
Prologue
Contingency
The Throneworld waits for the sky to fall. The swarming millions in the hab slums beneath the manufactoria await the impact, and above them, the forges operate at a fever pitch of desperate war production. On the ramparts of fortifications tall as mountain chains, armoured giants march among the massed regiments of mortal soldiers, and all their thoughts and all
their guns are aimed skywards. In the high towers, and in the rockcrete canyons of the Imperial Palace, the sentinels of humanity wait for the coming of the Traitors.
The preparations have been made. The fortifications are strong. The architects of the defence of Terra have drawn their plans and issued their commands. There are no further measures to be taken.
Except…
‘If you know the truth of your walls,’ Rogal Dorn once said, ‘then there can be reversals in a siege, but there cannot truly be surprises.’
The words haunt him now. He has acted in accordance with this principle. He has done everything in his power to excise any possibility of surprise. There have already been too many surprises in this war, and the greatest has been the war itself.
The Grand Borealis Strategium is an enormous, domed chamber inside the massive, forbidding block of the Bhab Bastion. It is laid out in concentric rings descending from the central platform. Each ring is dedicated to another layer of defence. Pict screens and tacticarium tables line each circumference. Robed serfs angle the screens to follow Dorn’s movements, so they face him wherever he is in the strategium. From the centre, he can see, in summary form, the entirety of Terra’s defences. Hololithic displays of the quadrants of the Imperial Palace rotate for his inspection. The chamber is silent except for the occasional burst of vox traffic, providing updates of the current dispositions.
There are no windows in the strategium. The walls of the dome are maps of the local Terran space, and hololithic projectors display the orbital defences in real time.
Dorn stands with Malcador on the central platform. He has, for all practical purposes, the authority of a god in this space. Any change he commands in this chamber will be reflected almost immediately in the world outside its walls. He has surveyed, near and far, every detail of the defences for several hours now, and he has made no changes. He sees no improvements to be made on his work.
Yet he keeps looking.
‘You are not satisfied,’ Malcador says, reading Dorn’s expression.
‘Are you?’
The gaunt figure of the Sigillite, robed in shadow, tapped a pale finger against his staff of office. ‘I cannot conceive of any satisfaction until after this war is finished. If then. But what is it that troubles you, Rogal?’
‘What always has. There are too many variables, too many unknowns. And what we do know…’ Dorn grimaces. ‘I would change the odds, if I could, but they are what they are.’
‘We need Guilliman to change them,’ says Malcador.
Dorn nods. ‘I know the spear has been thrown from Ultramar. It could pin Horus against our shields. But I don’t know how fast the spear is coming, or when it might strike, or if there will still be shields when it arrives. And yet every calculus of victory depends on that arrival.’ He gazes at rows of displays, envisaging each position of strength, and what it would take to overcome them.
Nothing is indestructible, he thinks. Anyone who believes otherwise is already halfway to being defeated.
‘Is there any news?’ he asks Malcador.
‘Fragments from the astropathic choirs,’ says the Sigillite. ‘Some of them suggestive, none of them definitive. Guilliman advances from the galactic south, but how fast, or how near he might be, we know no more than we did yesterday.’
Dorn turns to the tacticarium table on the platform. Dark red runes, representing the enemy fleets, close in on the hololith of Terra. The monstrous fist that is Horus’ combined fleets is triggering a psychic displacement wave so vast that it has proven fatal to the weaker astropaths. What is coming is so big, it cannot hide. Dorn can anticipate the arrival of the enemy. What he cannot do is factor in, or exclude, reinforcements.
‘It would almost be preferable to know Guilliman was too far,’ says Dorn. ‘If we knew that Horus would have a free hand for any length of time, then we could set aside any unrealistic, damaging hope.’
‘Your estimations are that bleak, then,’ says Malcador.
‘Without Guilliman? What do you think?’
‘I think the same,’ Malcador admits.
Dorn walks slowly around the edge of the platform, taking in the expanse of the strategium, looking again at the totality of his work. ‘I know our strengths. I know many of the enemy’s. I know enough that I cannot calculate the outcome. If Guilliman arrives, the balance shifts. If he does not…’
Malcador nods, but says nothing.
Dorn listens to the thickening silence. He can almost hear the cracks of the fault lines opening in the heavens as the sky prepares to fall. He wills his brother to find greater speed. He wills the Avenging Son to descend with fire upon the betrayers of their father.
In spite of how much he knows, Dorn begins to succumb to the lure of hope.
It feels like more than a temptation. As the shattering of the sky approaches, it feels like a necessity.
One
Spear and Hammer
The frame of the sandglass is wrought iron, and unadorned. It holds the crystal bulbs in a stern grip, as unyielding and blank to entreaty as time. It once belonged to Guilliman’s adoptive father, Konor. It has been in his private senate chambers in Macragge Civitas, and by chance and strength, it has survived the blows and tumults of war. The crystal is scarred, the iron scorched with burns, but the sandglass has travelled from Macragge to the battleship Ultimus Mundi. It was ancient when it belonged to Konor. It is too imprecise for practical use, but as a personal goad it serves well. Over a foot high, it stands on a corner of Guilliman’s desk. He began to use it shortly after the engagement with the World Eaters in the Diavanos system. It is not the approximate hour that the sandglass marks that is important to him. It is the sight of the falling grains, and the slipping away of time they represent.
Guilliman turned the sandglass over for the first time and let the sands fall when he saw the signs that the nature of his role in the war had changed. Horus had hurled a gauntlet to keep Sanguinius and the Blood Angels from reaching Terra. Guilliman countered by forcing the larger portions of the enemy forces to deal with him and his larger fleet, opening the way for Sanguinius.
Recently, the enemy’s tactics have altered. And now, what the Ultramarines have found, or more particularly have not found since arriving in the Apamea system, is confirmation that the war has entered another phase.
Titus Prayto and Drakus Gorod enter Guilliman’s study. The Librarian of the Ultramarines and the commander of the Invictarus Suzerain Bodyguard both have expressions suggesting a cautious, guarded, puzzled optimism. Prayto has the features proper to a warrior-scholar, sharp and thoughtful, his gaze always observing, and guarded against easy conclusions. Gorod, in contrast, is massive even by the standards of Legiones Astartes, his hulking shape belying his nobility and intelligence.
‘It is as the initial scans suggested,’ Prayto says. ‘The enemy has abandoned Apamea.’
Guilliman nods. On a monumental, circular, oaken table in the centre of the study is a vellum map of the galactic south. On it, Guilliman has laid obsidian icons representing the Ultramarines fleet and the traitor forces. The positions are speculative. He moves them around a lot. He takes into account what little concrete information has come his way, but the map is a vast theoretical. He uses it to play out scenarios, to pace through one narrative after another of the progress of the war, to find the most likely, and use that to guide his own actions. He has left an enemy icon over Apamea. Now he removes it and holds it, pensively working through where he should place it next.
‘Where are they?’ Gorod asks. ‘This system is a great prize to give up without a fight.’ Apamea has two forge worlds. It is still far enough from Terra that its position is not strategic, but if Guilliman can use it to resupply his forces, so can Horus. What Horus cannot do, and Guilliman will, is gather more willing, loyal armies to bolster his strength further. Even if blocking the Blood Angels is no longer a prio
rity, Apamea is worth holding under most military considerations. Only a very select set of circumstances would dictate abandoning it.
‘There is no sign of a conflict?’ Guilliman asks.
‘Very little,’ says Gorod. ‘Some signs of conquest, yes, when the traitors took the system. But nothing recent.’
‘They pulled out,’ Prayto says. ‘They were not driven out.’
‘So where did they go?’ Gorod wonders.
‘Here,’ says Guilliman. He places the icon next to the largest mass of enemy fleets, in the broad vicinity of Terra. There is no doubt about the pattern he is seeing now. The Ultramarines have encountered at most token garrisons in the last few systems. And now nothing. ‘Horus is feeling pressed,’ says Guilliman. ‘If he is abandoning what he has held, then his goal is more urgent, and more critical, than stopping Sanguinius.’
‘We can theorise the Blood Angels have reached Terra, then,’ says Prayto.
‘I believe so. There are two things that would force his hand. That is one of them. The other is the pressure we are exerting. Theoretical – the Blood Angels are on Terra, and Horus feels he must lay siege to, and break, Terra before our arrival, or he will lose what advantage he has. And there is Beta-Garmon.’ He points to the system on the map. ‘It is the gateway to Terra. We are reaching the point in this war where speculation will vanish. We will know what Horus must do, and he will know the same of us. And in the end, this is the essential truth. If he is to have a chance of taking Terra, it must be soon.’
‘This is if he means to conquer the Throneworld,’ says Gorod. ‘And not simply destroy it.’
‘He won’t,’ Guilliman says. ‘I thought I knew my brother, and I was wrong, on many levels. But I can still recognise Horus, even through the atrocities he has committed. And I recognise his approach to war. Destroying Terra will not satisfy him. He will not be satisfied unless he feels he has defeated our father. He will not rest until he has proven his superiority. That need is a flaw. It buys us time.’
‘Enough time?’ Prayto asks.
Guilliman glances at the grains draining into the bottom bulb of the sandglass. ‘That is our duty now. To ensure the time we have is enough.’
‘Guilliman will come to Carchera,’ Warsmith Khrossus says. ‘That is not in question.’