Download Dark King and Lightning Tower (The Horus Heresy, Book 8) by Dan Abnett, Graham McNeill PDF

By Dan Abnett, Graham McNeill

The darkish King
The acts of terror and warmongering through Konrad Curze, Primarch of the evening Lords Legion, have earned the ire of his brother primarch, Rogal Dorn. Wracked through bad visions of the longer term, Curze is pushed insane and assaults Dorn, environment the evening Lord on an inexorable path in the direction of everlasting damnation.
The Lightning Tower
Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists Legion, faces a stark fact – he needs to tear down the beauty of the Emperor¹s Palace, a shining beacon in a galaxy of darkness, and switch it right into a fort. With the military of Horus drawing ever nearer, as he blights the Palace with gunports and defence towers, Dorn needs to face a tricky query, 'What are you afraid of?'

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Extra resources for Dark King and Lightning Tower (The Horus Heresy, Book 8)

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No sooner was the blow delivered than Curze was in motion, swooping through the darkness like a shadow. Cries of alarm echoed as his gaolers realised he was amongst them, stabbing beams of helmet lamps crisscrossing madly as they sought to pinpoint his location. With skill borne of decades spent as a murderous hunter of men, Curze ghosted invisibly between the beams of light. Another warrior fell with his torso ripped open, blood squirting from torn arteries like ruptured pressure hoses. Gunfire split the darkness, starbursts of muzzle flashes, as the warriors opened fire on their unseen attacker.

A sensation unlike anything he had felt previously danced in his blood and Curze savoured it as he understood it for what it was. Contrary to Guilliman’s rash pronouncement, it seemed Astartes could know fear. This fear – such as it was – was something to be treasured. Mortal fear was a rancid, sweaty thing, but this… this was caged lightning in the marrow. Curze pounced towards the armoured Templar, one of Dorn’s best and bravest. Veteran or not, he died as any other man did – in blood and agony.

Doubt, regret and hesitancy were weaknesses others might suffer from, but not Konrad Curze. His breathing deepened and the tenebrous chamber came alive to him. Curze felt power in the darkness; the cold intellect of hunters and creatures of the night that killed beneath its cloak. Lethal instincts honed on a thousand battlefields were now heightened to undreamed of levels and would now serve him equally well on this one. He spread his arms wide and a ripple of psychic force pulsed like the blast wave of an explosion with Curze at its epicentre.

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