Chapters (31)
The writing of this book has been a journey, and I could not have reached its conclusion without the incredible support of everyone at Black Library. I would particularly like to thank Laurie Goulding, for getting me launched on Ruinstorm, for his enthusiasm and copious notes as we hammered out the story and themes, and for his years of extraordinary service to the Horus Heresy as a whole. And special thanks also to Nick Kyme, for his editorial brilliance (as ever), and for his help on all fronts during this process. Thanks, too, to all my co-authors in the series, especially Dan Abnett, Guy Haley, Graham McNeill, James Swallow and Gav Thorpe, whose works were instrumental to my efforts here. I hope I have done them justice.
Finally, my thanks, as ever, to Margaux, for always being there, and for more than I can fit into these paltry words.
Thanks to all for seeing me through the storm.
David Annandale,
April 2017
About the Author
About the Author
David Annandale is the author of the Horus Heresy novel The Damnation of Pythos and the Primarchs novel Roboute Guilliman: Lord of Ultramar. He has also written Warlord: Fury of the God-Machine, the Yarrick series, several stories involving the Grey Knights, including Warden of the Blade, and The Last Wall, The Hunt for Vulkan and Watchers in Death for The Beast Arises. For Space Marine Battles he has written The Death of Antagonis and Overfiend. He is a prolific writer of short fiction set in The Horus Heresy, Warhammer 40,000 and Age of Sigmar universes. David lectures at a Canadian university, on subjects ranging from English literature to horror films and video games.
An Extract from ‘Tallarn’
An extract from Tallarn.
Lieutenant Tahirah – officer commanding First Squadron, Amaranth Company, Jurnian 701st Armoured – swore as the tank braked sharply. She was still swearing as she came off the empty gun mount and spun through the air. The ground hit her hard as she tried to turn her fall into a roll. She skidded across the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, hit the tarpaulin-covered crates and stopped. The air thumped from her lungs. That stopped the swearing. She felt the cool rockcrete press against her cheek. A dull pain filled her chest. Her mouth was open; she could feel her lips and tongue flapping as she tried to breathe.
I must look like a fish, she thought.