False Gods

mistakes, and now we have come to

this,’

'Mistakes?' asked Petronella, though she suspected she knew the Warmaster's meaning.

Temba, giving him lordship over Davin,’ said Horus. 'He begged me not to leave him behind, claimed it was too much for him. I should have listened, but I was too eager to be away on some fresh conquest.'

'Temba's weakness is not your fault, sir,' she said.

'It is good of you to say that, Miss Vivar, but I appointed him,' said Horus. 'The responsibility lies with me. Throne! Guilliman will laugh when he hears of this: him and the Lion both. They will say that I was not fit to be Warmaster since I could not read the hearts of men.'

'Never!' cried Petronella. 'They wouldn't dare,’

'Oh, they will, girl, believe me. We are brothers, yes, but like all brothers we squabble and seek to outdo one another,’

Petronella could think of nothing to say; the idea of the superhuman primarchs squabbling quite beyond her.

They were jealous, all of them,’ continued Horus. 'When the Emperor named me Warmaster, it was all some of them could do to congratulate me. Angron especially, he was a wild one, and even now I can barely keep him in check. Guilliman wasn't much better. I could tell he thought it should have been him,’

'They were jealous of you?' asked Petronella, unable to believe what the Warmaster was telling her, the mnemo-quill scratching across the data-slate in response to her thoughts.

'Oh yes,’ nodded Horus bitterly. 'Only a few of my brothers were gracious enough to bow their heads and mean it. Lorgar, Mortarion, Sanguinius, Fulgrim and Dorn – they are true brothers. I remember watching the Emperor's Stormbird leaving Ullanor and weeping to see him go, but most of all I remember the knives I felt in my back as he went. I could hear their thoughts as clearly as though they spoke them aloud: why should I, Horus, be named Warmaster when there were others more worthy of the honour?'

'You were made Warmaster because you were the most worthy, sir,’ said Petronella.

'No,’ said Horus. 'I was not. I was simply the one who most embodied the Emperor's need at that time. You see, for the first three decades of the Great Crusade I fought alongside the Emperor, and I alone felt the full weight of his ambition to rale the galaxy. He passed that vision to me and I carried it with me in my heart as we forged our path across the stars. It was a grand adventure we were on, system after system reunited with the Mas­ter of Mankind. You cannot imagine what it was like to live in such times, Miss Vivar,’

'It sounds magnificent,’

'It was,’ said Horus. 'It was, but it couldn't last. Soon we were being drawn to other worlds where we discov­ered my brother primarchs. We had been scattered throughout the galaxy not long after our birth and, one by one, the Emperor recovered us all,’

'It must have been strange to be reunited with broth­ers you had never known,’

'Not as strange as you might think. As soon as I met each one, I had an immediate kinship with him, a bond that not even time or distance had broken. I won't deny that some were harder to like than others. If you ever meet Night Haunter you'll understand what I mean. Moody bastard, but handy in a tight spot when you need some alien empire shitting in its breeches before you attack.

'Angron's not much better, mind; he's got a temper on him like you've never seen. You think you know anger, I tell you now that you don't know anything until you've seen Angron lose his temper. And don't get me started on the Lion.'

'Of the Dark Angels? His is the First Legion is it not?'

'It is,’ replied Horus, 'and doesn't he just love to remind everyone of that. I could see in his eyes that he thought he should have been Warmaster because his Legion was the first. Did you know he'd grown up living like an animal in the wilds, little better than a feral sav­age? I ask you, is that the sort of man you want as your Warmaster?'

'No it's not,' said Horus, answering his own question. Then who would you have picked to be Warmaster if not you?' asked Petronella.

Horus appeared to be momentarily perturbed by her question, but said, 'Sanguinius. It should have been him. He has the vision and strength to carry us to vic­tory, and the wisdom to rule once that victory is won. For all his aloof coolness, he alone has the Emperor's soul in his blood. Each of us carries part of our father within us, whether it is his hunger for battle, his psychic talent or his determination to succeed. Sanguinius holds it all. It should have been his…' And what part of the Emperor do you carry, sir?' 'Me? I carry his ambition to rule. While the conquest of the galaxy lay before us that was enough, but now we are nearing the end. There is a Kretan proverb that says that peace is always 'over there', but that is no longer true: it is within our grasp. The job is almost done and what is left for a man of ambition when the work is over?'

'You are the Emperor's right hand, sir,' protested Petronella. 'His favoured son.'

'No more,' said Horus sadly. 'Petty functionaries and administrators have supplanted me. The War Council is no more and I receive my orders from the Council of

Terra now. Once everything in the Imperium was geared for war and conquest, but now we are burdened with eaxectors, scribes and scriveners who demand to know the cost of everything. The Imperium is changing and I'm not sure I know how to change with it,’

'In what way is the Imperium changing?'

'Bureaucracy and officialdom are taking over, Miss Vivar. Red tape, administrators and clerks are replac­ing the heroes of the age and unless we change our ways and our direction, our greatness as an empire will soon be a footnote in the history books. Every­thing I have achieved will be a distant memory of former glory, lost in the mists of time like the civilisa­tions of ancient Terra, remembered kindly for their noble past,’

'But surely the Crusade was but the first step towards creating a new Imperium for mankind to rule the galaxy. In such a galaxy we will need administra­tors, laws and scribes,’

And what of the warriors who conquered it for you?' snarled Horus. 'What becomes of us? Are we to become gaolers and peacekeepers? We were bred for war and we were bred to kill. That is what we were cre­ated for, but we have become so much more than that. ,’ am more than that,’

'Progress is hard, my lord, and people must always adapt to changing times,’ said Petronella, uneasy at this change of temper in the Warmaster.

'It is not strange to mistake change for progress, Miss Vivar,’ said Horus. 'I was bred with wondrous powers encoded into my very flesh, but I did not dream myself into the man I am today; I hammered and forged myself upon the anvil of battle and conquest. All that I have achieved in the last two centuries will be given away to weak men and women who were not here to shed their blood with us in the dark places of the galaxy. Where is

the justice in that? Lesser men will rule what I have con­quered, but what will be my reward once the fighting is done?'

Petronella glanced away at Apothecary Vaddon, but he simply watched impassively as she took down Horus's words. She wondered briefly if he was as upset as she was at the Warmaster's anger.

As shocked as she was, her ambitious core realised that she had the makings of the most sensational remembrance imaginable, one that would dispel forever the myth of the Crusade as a united band of brothers forging their destiny among the stars. Horus's words painted a picture of mistrust and disunion that no one had ever dreamed of.

Seeing her expression, Horus reached up with a shak­ing hand and touched her arm.