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
More tales from the Horus Heresy...
CYBERNETICA
SONS OF THE FORGE
WOLF KING
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
TALLARN: IRONCLAD
CORAX: SOULFORGE
THE SEVENTH SERPENT
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
CENSURE
THE EAGLE’S TALON
GREY TALON
THE EITHER
THE HEART OF THE PHAROS / CHILDREN OF SICARUS
RED-MARKED
ECHOES OF IMPERIUM
ECHOES OF REVELATION
THE THIRTEENTH WOLF
VIRTUES OF THE SONS / SINS OF THE FATHER
THE BINARY SUCCESSION
DARK COMPLIANCE
BLACKSHIELDS: THE FALSE WAR
BLACKSHIELDS: THE RED FIEF
Download the full range of Horus Heresy audio dramas from blacklibrary.com
Also available
MACRAGGE’S HONOUR
A Horus Heresy graphic novel
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Title Page
The Horus Heresy
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Part One
One
Two
Three
Four
Part Two
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Part Three
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
An Extract from ‘Jaghatai Khan: Warhawk of Chogoris’
A Black Library Publication
eBook license
The Horus Heresy
It is a time of legend.
The galaxy is in flames. The Emperor’s glorious vision for humanity is in ruins. His favoured son, Horus, has turned from his father’s light and embraced Chaos.
His armies, the mighty and redoubtable Space Marines, are locked in a brutal civil war. Once, these ultimate warriors fought side by side as brothers, protecting the galaxy and bringing mankind back into the Emperor’s light. Now they are divided.
Some remain loyal to the Emperor, whilst others have sided with the Warmaster. Pre-eminent amongst them, the leaders of their thousands-strong Legions are the primarchs. Magnificent, superhuman beings, they are the crowning achievement of the Emperor’s genetic science. Thrust into battle against one another, victory is uncertain for either side.
Worlds are burning. At Isstvan V, Horus dealt a vicious blow and three loyal Legions were all but destroyed. War was begun, a conflict that will engulf all mankind in fire. Treachery and betrayal have usurped honour and nobility. Assassins lurk in every shadow. Armies are gathering. All must choose a side or die.
Horus musters his armada, Terra itself the object of his wrath. Seated upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor waits for his wayward son to return. But his true enemy is Chaos, a primordial force that seeks to enslave mankind to its capricious whims.
The screams of the innocent, the pleas of the righteous resound to the cruel laughter of Dark Gods. Suffering and damnation await all should the Emperor fail and the war be lost.
The age of knowledge and enlightenment has ended.
The Age of Darkness has begun.
Dedicated to the memory of Alan Bligh,
1974-2017
~ Dramatis Personae ~
The Primarchs
Horus Lupercal, The Warmaster, Primarch of the XVI Legion
Fulgrim, Prince of Pleasure, Daemon Primarch of the III Legion
Perturabo, The Lord of Iron, Primarch of the IV Legion
Angron, Prince of Blood, Daemon Primarch of the XII Legion
Mortarion, The Death Lord, Primarch of the XIV Legion
Magnus the Red, Prince of Change, Daemon Primarch of the XV Legion
Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the XVII Legi
on
Alpharius, Primarch of the XX Legion
The XVI Legion ‘Sons of Horus’
Maloghurst, ‘The Twisted’, equerry to the Warmaster
Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain
Horus Aximand, ‘Little Horus’, Captain, Fifth Company
Falkus Kibre, ‘Widowmaker’, Captain, Justaerin Cohort
Kalus Ekaddon, Captain, Catulan Reaver Squad
Argonis, ‘The Unscarred’, emissary of the Warmaster
The III Legion ‘Emperor’s Children’
Eidolon, ‘The Risen’, Lord Commander
The IV Legion ‘Iron Warriors’
Forrix, ‘The Breaker’, First Captain, triarch
Volk, Commander of 786th Grand Flight
The XII Legion ‘World Eaters’
Khârn, Captain, Eighth Company, and Equerry to Angron
The XVII Legion ‘Word Bearers’
Zardu Layak, ‘The Crimson Apostle’, Master of the Unspeaking
Kulnar, Slave of the Anakatis Blade
Hebek, Slave of the Anakatis Blade
Others
Actaea, Oracle of the Ashen Saint
Sota-Nul, Ambassador of Kelbor-Hal
The Neverborn
N’kari, Exalted Daemon Prince of Slaanesh
Amarok, Psychopomp
Sa’ra’am, The Daemon Beneath, the Knife’s Edge, the Laughter of War
Tormageddon
‘Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?’
‘Call for all your chattels,
Call forth the might of your land arrayed in fine steel, set them to parade before us so that they may still pass and the sun not set,
Raise your hand and hear their acclimation, so loud that it might wake Yodan and Karies from their red slumber,
Watch the sun glint off sword and spear, look into eyes that see nothing but glory in the clamour of arms and wish to hear no greater music,
Have this done, and set it before me, and I will say that I see only the grin of skulls, and hear the cry of wind through bones.’
– from the Crone’s Reply to the Queen
in the Mystery Cycles of Colchis
‘And this, too, shall pass.’
– saying of ancient Terra
Prologue
The Eve of Triumph
The cloaked figure walked across the plain that had been a mountain. The light of temporary camps the size of cities stained the night sky. The engine fires of warships shone brighter than the stars in the dark, and the passage of mass lifters and macro-shuttles scratched orange wounds across the horizon. Here, on the half a kilometre-wide parade avenue, nothing moved except the flames of the torch pillars rippling in the wind.
The figure paused and turned in place, looking behind him. He could see into the far distance, the darkness dissolving before his gaze. Gunships and drop-ships sat in neat squares that were camps for the most honoured of the assembling forces. Lights moved amongst the earth-bound warbirds. A peal of distant laughter reached his ears as the wind changed direction. For a second, he fancied he could hear the dry joke that had prompted the sound, and in his mind’s eye he saw a warrior slapping another on the back. Across the plateau, brothers of different blood but born to a single purpose would be sharing similar moments of comradeship.
He listened for a moment.
‘I was there,’ said a voice from a cluster of armoured figures gathered around a cage of red coals. None of them saw the listener standing at the edge of the flame light. The cloaked figure recognised the voice, and the story. A smile briefly touched his face beneath his cowl. ‘I was there the day Horus slew…’ The wind gusted, snatching the words away and sending sparks billowing from the glowing coals.
The figure turned away and carried on walking down the empty parade. Tomorrow, millions of feet would march where he walked, but for now it was his and his alone that trod the road. The Imperial Dais loomed in the middle distance, a marble mountain set in place of those it had replaced. Ten thousand artisans had laboured without sleep to coat it in the symbols of victory and power: statues of men and women clutching thunderbolts of bronze, eagles with gilded wings spread, the names of the millions who had fallen in mankind’s two centuries of war to reclaim the stars. From its tiers and balconies, the high and honoured would watch the might of the Great Crusade pass, but for now it was empty and silent, its majesty cloaked in the brief night.
The figure set his eyes on the dais’ silhouette and walked on. No one stopped him, though he knew that eyes both human and transhuman watched the ground he covered. None of them saw anything, save maybe a flicker in the dark or a spill of dust carried by the breeze.
He heard the arming of weapons as he stepped into the shadow of the dais. The subtle hum of exquisitely crafted armour murmured at the edge of hearing. He stopped and turned his gaze to the pools of deeper dark amongst the statuary. Five Custodians stood amidst the gloom, invisible to the mortal eye. Like him they were swathed in falsehoods, their shape and substance folded out of noticing. They knew something was there, but they did not know where or what he was. Such was the limit of even ascended humanity.
Carefully, he touched his left thumb to the ring on his forefinger. Circuitry in the circle of iron pulsed a signal into the dark. The Custodians hesitated, then began to shift out of aggressive posture.
‘Why comes the stranger to the door at night?’ said a voice from a dark niche in the base of the vast dais. ‘Why, because he is no stranger,’ said the voice again as the cloaked figure turned. An old man stepped into sight, a staff clutched in both hands, as though to help him walk. Malcador, Sigillite of the Imperium and aide to the Emperor of Mankind, looked directly at the hidden figure and raised an eyebrow.
‘Wishing for solitude, Horus Lupercal?’
‘Something like that,’ said Horus as he dropped the falsehood from his head.
‘Would you believe that so was I?’ asked Malcador.
‘No,’ said Horus, and smiled. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Neither would I.’ The old man gave a dry chuckle. ‘May I share in yours, though?’
Horus nodded.
‘Come,’ said Malcador, gesturing towards an open door in the base of the dais. A flight of wide stairs rose beyond the threshold. The pair passed through and began to climb.
‘He told you,’ said Malcador after a while.
Horus nodded.
‘Yes.’
‘You are surprised?’
‘I am… uncertain.’
‘A disturbing feeling for you, I am sure,’ said Malcador. ‘He thought that you would be.’
Horus glanced at the old man walking beside him.
‘And yet He still wishes me to do this?’
‘Of course,’ said Malcador. ‘Do you not do the same when you place trust in your commanders? In Abaddon? In the Twisted?’
‘I do wish they had not gifted him with that name,’ said Horus.
Malcador gave a small snort of laughter.
‘A little crass perhaps, but if the glove fits…’
‘From you that must be a compliment.’
‘Indeed,’ said Malcador, and smiled.
They lapsed back into silence and continued to climb. At last the procession of stairs led into a wide corridor. A door opened to the night at the far end. Banners hung from the walls, each of them woven with symbols in metallic thread on silk: a red lightning bolt, a
ring of red teeth, a wolf’s head set against a sickle moon. Horus paused for a second to look at the wolf-head banner, and then the primarch and the Voice of the Emperor of Mankind stepped through the door and onto a broad balcony. The night air fell away to the plain beyond. The lights of the Legion camps and the distant glow of the Mechanicum construction conurbations lay before them, embers scattered on sable.
The wind gusted, dragging at Horus’ cloak as he leaned on the balustrade.
‘Can I refuse?’ he asked at last.
‘Of course,’ said Malcador.
Horus looked down at the parade avenue, now far below them.
‘And if I accept?’
‘Then things will change.’
‘The others…’
‘Will grow to accept it, too.’ Malcador looked up from the view and gave a smile. ‘As will you.’
Horus looked at him sharply. The Sigillite held the primarch’s gaze. Horus looked away after a moment.
‘Perhaps.’
Malcador raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
‘It will change everything,’ said Horus at last.
‘Everything changes…’
‘And nothing changes,’ said Horus, his shadowed face forming a brief smile.
‘Oh, I think that part does not apply to this, do you?’ The wind gusted, and the banner poles set beneath the balustrade rattled in their fixings. ‘You wonder how it will affect you…’
It was Horus’ turn to raise an eyebrow.
‘I do not mean that you doubt yourself, my friend, just that you wonder what the world will be after this. And, yes, it will change you – how could it not? But you will rise, Horus. The Emperor did not make this decision lightly. He knows that you will become what you always promised to be.’ Malcador paused and shifted his weight on his staff. ‘The others… Yes, some will resent it, some will even resist, but ultimately all will accept it.’
‘I was wondering what I would do if this duty had been given to another, to Roboute or Rogal…’
‘And?’ asked Malcador. ‘What would you have done?’
‘I would have wondered why it had not been given to me,’ said Horus, then laughed, the sound bright against the breath of the wind. ‘Then I would accept it and do everything I could to help them bear such a burden.’
‘Quite so,’ said Malcador, ‘and many of your brothers will do just that. Listen to them, Horus. You will need their help, just as the Emperor needs yours.’