Warhawk, p.1
Warhawk, page 1
Book 1 – THE SOLAR WAR
Book 2 - THE LOST AND THE DAMNED
Book 3 - THE FIRST WALL
Book 4 - SATURNINE
Book 5 - MORTIS
Book 6 - WARHAWK
SONS OF THE SELENAR (Novella)
FURY OF MAGNUS (Novella)
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
Book 53 – TITANDEATH
Book 54 – THE BURIED DAGGER
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
Also available
MACRAGGE’S HONOUR
Dan Abnett and Neil Roberts
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
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
HUBRIS OF MONARCHIA
NIGHTFANE
BLACKSHIELDS: THE BROKEN CHAIN
Download the full range of Horus Heresy audio dramas from blacklibrary.com
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Title Page
The Horus Heresy: Siege of Terra
Dramatis Personae
Part one
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Part two
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Part three
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Afterword
Acknowledgements
Notes
About the Author
An Extract from ‘Alpharius: Head of the Hydra’
A Black Library Publication
eBook license
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 end is here. The skies darken, colossal armies gather.
For the fate of the Throneworld, for the fate of mankind itself...
The Siege of Terra has begun.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The Primarchs
Jaghatai Khan, ‘The Warhawk’, Primarch of the V Legion
Mortarion, ‘The Pale King’, Primarch of the XIV Legion
Rogal Dorn, Praetorian of Terra, Primarch of the VII Legion
Sanguinius, ‘The Great Angel’, Primarch of the IX Legion
The V Legion ‘White Scars’
Shiban Khan, Called ‘Tachseer’, Brotherhood of the Storm
Yiman, Brotherhood of the Storm
Chakaja, Brotherhood of the Storm
Qin Fai, Noyan-khan
Ganzorig, Noyan-khan
Jangsai Khan, Brotherhood of the Iron Axe
Naranbaatar, Chief of Stormseers
Namahi, Master of the Keshig
Ilya Ravallion, Called ‘the Sage’, Counsellor to the Legion
Sojuk Khan, Ilya’s adjutant
The VII Legion ‘Imperial Fists’
Sigismund, First Captain, Master of Templars
Fafnir Rann, Captain, First Assault Cadre
Archamus, Master of the Huscarls
The XII Legion ‘World Eaters’
Khârn, Captain, Eighth Assault Company
Skarr-Hei, Berserker
The XIV Legion ‘Death Guard’
Typhus, First Captain
Caipha Morarg, Equerry to the Primarch
Zadal Crosius, Apothecary
Gremus Kalgaro, Siegemaster, Master of Ordnance
Gurgan a Dhukh, Sergeant
The XVI Legion ‘Sons of Horus’
Azelas Baraxa, Captain, Second Company
Indras Archeta, Captain, Third Company
Xhofar Beruddin, Captain, Fifth Company
Talons of the Emperor
Constantin Valdor, Captain-general of the Legio Custodes
Diocletian, Tribune, Legio Custodes
Amon Tauromachian, Custodian
Crew, ‘Aika 73’
Talvet Kaska, Commander
Adria Vosch, Main Gunner
Eria Jandev, Front Gunner
Helwa Dresi, Driver
Gurt Merck, Loader
Imperial Army
Bran Koba, Sergeant, 13th Astranian Void-Jackals
Jera Talmada, Colonel, Departmento Munitorum
Ayo Nuta, Major-general, Terran Orbital Command
Katsuhiro, Trooper
In the Ruins of the Palace
Basilio Fo, Former Blackstone inmate
Euphrati Keeler, Former Remembrancer
Garviel Loken, ‘The Lone Wolf’, Chosen of Malcador
The Neverborn
The Remnant, A Daemon
Others
Erda, Perpetual
Leetu, Her Legionary
Actae, Sorceress
Alpharius, Her Companion
John Grammaticus, Logokine
Oll Persson, Perpetual
Dogent Krank
Bale Rane
Graft
Hebet Zybes
Katt
Malcador the Sigillite, Regent of the Imperium
Khalid Hassan, Chosen of the Sigillite
Erebus, The Hand of Destiny
PART ONE
The blade
Handing over
New blood
It begins under stone.
Hidden, folded up in darkness, cold as the breath of winter dawn. The people of Ong-Hashin come for it, as they have done for as long as songs have been sung in their high valley, lodged between the Takal Shoulder and the eastern fringe of the Great Borai Plain. They climb the narrow ways, leather-bound feet slipping against the rock, hauling their own picks and baskets.
The ways down are hand-cut, supported with timber frames. The lintels of those frames are scraped with angular glyphs, made with the same blunt knives they use for prising stones from their mounts’ hooves. These are not high calligraphic marks, but the marks of a hard people, used to rockfalls and landslips. They wish to delve for it, to find it, then return. They do not love the deep places, the cool sweat of the narrow tunnels, for they are Chogorian after all, and like the open wind on their faces.
When they hack it out, it is brittle. Blacksand, they call it. It crumbles in your hand, if you treat it roughly, once out of the earth. A few moments later, though, and it is hard, so much so that you can toss it into a basket and start to work at the lode again. If you hold it up – a chunk the size of a man’s fist – you can see the sparkling fragments within, catching the light of subterranean candles.
Once done, they take it all back down the track, picking their way carefully. It rains often, as the Takal Peaks capture the moisture rolling across the open lands, and the rocks are greasy with moss. This party returns to a settlement deep in Hashin country, perched between pine stands, frigid and mist-clouded. They take the blacksand pieces and haggle with the blademakers. This takes a long time, and is a bad-tempered affair. Those who have laboured to obtain it are weary and need to sleep. Those who wish to take it are anxious to get to work. And the sun is low, by then. No bargains are well made at dusk, the sages say.
The following dawn, and the labour begins. In Hashin, blademakers always come in pairs – a man, a woman. They need to know one another very well. Sometimes they are siblings; more often, bonded couples. The charcoal furnaces are stoked until the flames spit. The blacksand chunks are turned and assessed again, then placed in long-handled pliers. At this stage, the man works the fire, the woman handles the pliers. Both wear thin cotton shirts, despite the chill of the air outside. Inside the forge, it is already punishingly hot, and their exposed flesh glistens.
Once hot enough, the chunks are withdrawn from the fires and beaten. The man takes up a hammer, striking hard. The woman directs him, shifting the red metal over the anvil’s blunt surface. Impurities are beaten out. It is gruelling work, a process that jars bones. The process is repeated, over and over, until the steel starts to purify. The beaten flakes are broken up, doused in cold water, then re-melted and re-struck. Plates are created, stacked on top of one another, then gently placed back into the flames, melted, compacted, re-melted. Both parties scrutinise, checking for flaws.
Neither speaks. If they need to make their feelings known to one another, they tap with a hammer in a certain way, but this is rarely necessary – they are masters of the craft, working by intuition and observation. The steel is folded, again and again, each time refining the metal, hardening it, purifying it. Soon it begins to lengthen, to thin, to extend out into the long curve of a true blade. The hammering is remorseless, clanging out of the forge’s open doorway, keeping the rest of the village awake.
Finishing the blade’s face is done by the woman. She mixes a clay jacket for the cutting edge, using her thinner fingers to press the spatula into the slurry. By then, both workers are weary, having been at the forge for days. When the clay is broken off after more time in the coals, the pattern on the steel is visible. Every blademaker has a different mark – for some, solak blossom; for others, tiger’s claws. The most prestigious, and hardest to achieve, is the lightning spread, forking from tip to scabbard-edge. This one bears such a mark.
Then it is filed, marked, polished, washed. If all is perfect, the blade is wrapped in straw and fabric, and placed in a heavy cart drawn by aduun. A red pennant is tied to a long pole, marking the cart as sacred cargo – it will not be attacked on its journey, even if it passes through tribal lands at war. The blademakers rest at last, their hands calloused, their skin blistered. They will never see their creation again, and receive no payment for their work. The entire village supports them, and they occupy positions of reverence. All know where the swords are destined to find service.
The cart then travels west, descending rapidly before reaching the open country. After many months of trekking across the grassland, eventually the drivers spy the Khum Kharta on the horizon, pale against the whisper of the long grass. They pull up, and prepare the cairn. Stones are piled up, draped with prayer-fragments and incense bowls, crowned with the pennant. The blade, still wrapped, is placed at the top. Then the drivers withdraw, beginning the long journey home.
The following night, it is taken up into the fortress by Legion menials. Once inside the shadowy halls of Quan Zhou, each prayer-fragment is studied, interpreted, then placed in the librarium. From these scraps, the masters of Chogoris learn much of the shifting patterns of the endless grass, and where to draw aspirants from, and how the health of the thousand realms ebbs and flows. The blade – still without its hilt, scabbard or guard – is unwrapped and carried into the forges. None of the painstaking marks made by the Hashin blademakers are removed. None of the tiny flaws – few as they ever are – are removed. This is a product of the people of Jaghatai, not of a machine intelligence. When polished to a mirror sheen, it reflects the authors’ faces in every flash of light from its surface.
A powered grip is added, meticulously crafted onto the steel, bound into it, worked at by hand until the gold chasing cuts smartly into the metal’s surface. The disruptor field is blended, harmonising with the structure of the underlying blade. It will be tested, over and again, returned to the forges many times by the sparring-tutors until the balance cannot be improved upon. The flare of the energy field is bonded to the marks made in its first forging, augmenting them, giving the sword its signature. Thus the labour of Hashin will be witnessed across the known galaxy, as vivid as the lightning it mimics.
Only when all is done can it be passed up to the blademasters of the ordu for final scrutiny. They keep the weapon in their temple vaults, surrounded by ritual guardians, unused, unlit, until an aspirant is inducted into the Legion with a suitable character for the blade.
This one is given to the warrior named Morbun Xa. Morbun Xa is famed, not just for his prowess, but also for his restraint. He is a model of the Path of Heaven, they say. The blade suits him. He takes it with him on the void-ship Korghaz with the Brotherhood of the Night’s Star. It is first drawn against an enemy on the world of Egetha IX, where the ordu is victorious.
During the long years of the Crusade, it changes hands twice, as its bearers meet their end in battle. The great treachery nears its endgame, and now it is borne by Ajak Khan, of the Brotherhood of the Amber Eagle. He stands on the walls of the Palace as they crumble beneath his boots, and calls out curses on those who assail him. He grips the hilt loosely, making the steel dance around him. The skies are black, like calligrapher’s ink. The air is ringing with noise – from the infantry yelling, from the god-machines that have all but penetrated the last solid line of defence, from the thunder of the fixed guns.
