False Gods (Horus Heresy #2)

by Graham McNeill

‘Everything degenerates in the hands of men.’

‘In mockery are the seeds of impiety sown,’

‘I will follow you until the galaxy burns and the stars themselves go out.’

‘No idea,’ said Ignace, sneaking a look down her cleavage. A thin silver chain hung around her neck, whatever was hanging on it, hidden beneath the fabric of her top. ‘My face is up here, Ignace,’ said Euphrati. ‘I know, my dear Euphrati,’ he said, ‘but I’m terribly bored now and this view is much more to my liking.’ ‘Give it up, Ignace, it’s never going to happen.’ He shrugged. ‘I know, but it is a pleasant fiction, my dear, and the sheer impossibility of a quest is no reason to abandon it.’

Common decency and civil behaviour are just a thin veneer over the animal at the core of mankind that gets out whenever it has the chance.’

Erebus, brother Astartes, First Chaplain of the Word Bearers… Trusted counsellor of the Warmaster… Liar.

‘Kill for the living.’ ‘Kill for the dead,’ said Aximand, placing his hand on top of Abaddon’s. ‘To hell with the living and the dead,’ said Torgaddon, following suit. ‘Kill for the Warmaster.’ Loken felt a great love for his brothers and nodded,

‘What happened here?’ wondered Loken. ‘The briefing texts didn’t say anything about the moon being like this.’ ‘What did they say?’ ‘Didn’t you read them?’ Torgaddon shrugged. ‘I figured I’d see what kind of place it was once we landed.’ Loken shook his head, saying, ‘You’ll never make an Ultramarine, Tarik.’

horus is too prideful. hes the warmaster and hes talking about laurels. smh.

‘So what do we do?’ asked Torgaddon, and once again, Loken was surprised. ‘We watch our backs, my friend. We watch our backs.’ ‘Good plan,’ said Torgaddon. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. And here I was all set to walk into a potential trap with my guard down.’ That was the Torgaddon that Loken knew and loved.

‘I saw it, Warmaster, the galaxy as a wasteland, the Emperor dead and mankind in bondage to a nightmarish hell of bureaucracy and superstition. All is grim darkness and all is war. Only you have the power to stop this future. You must be strong, Warmaster. Never forget that…’

‘Did you speak to him before you slew him? What did he say?’ ‘He said… that only I had the power… to stop the future…’ said the Warmaster, his voice suddenly faint and echoing as though coming from the other end of a long tunnel. Puzzled, she looked up in time to see the Warmaster’s eyes roll back in their sockets and his legs buckle beneath him. She screamed, reaching out with her hand towards him, knowing that she was powerless to help him, but needing to try to prevent his fall. Like a slow moving avalanche or a mountain toppling, the Warmaster collapsed. The mnemo-quill scratched at the data-slate and she wept as she read the words there. I was there the day that Horus fell.

‘No, my dear, ignorance and fear create the gods, enthusiasm and deceit adorn them, and human weakness worships them.

‘I tried to reason with her, but you know how it is with those religious types, never any room for a dissenting opinion.’

Such things have a habit of wanting to be told and this will be no different.’

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

There is a Kretan proverb that says that peace is always “over there”,

‘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?’

common decency and civil behaviour were just a thin veneer over the animal core that lurked in the hearts of all men…

‘Just because I’m not smashing things with my fists doesn’t mean I’m not choleric.’

Abaddon picked up a piece of his armour, and began polishing it, before hurling it aside with an angry snarl.

‘When you have come to the edge of all that you know and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen,’ the Warmaster had told him. ‘And what are they?’ he had asked. ‘That there will be something solid to stand on or you’ll be taught to fly,’ laughed Horus as he jumped.

‘So that’s it then,’ he said calmly to himself. ‘I’m dead.’

He stopped by the tank with XI stencilled upon it and placed his hand against the smooth steel, feeling the untapped glories that might have lain ahead for what grew within, but knowing that they would never come to pass. He leaned forward to look within.

it’s that men of words – priests, prophets and intellectuals – have played a more decisive role in history than any military leaders or statesmen.

‘Those with courage and character to speak the truth always seem sinister to the ignorant,’

‘In the wake of such deceit and destruction shall we despair, or is faith and honour the spur to action?’