False Gods by Graham McNeill Read Free Book Online Page A

the sky splitting like silk and the mountains toppling is clearly nonsense, but it talks of men becoming daemons and turning on their fellows.’
    ‘Ah… now I see. You think that this is another clue as to what happened to Xavyer Jubal?’
    ‘Don’t you?’ asked Loken, turning one of the yellowed parchments around to point at a fanged daemon figure clothed in fur with curling ram’s horns and a bloody, skull-stamped axe.
    ‘Jubal turned into a daemon and tried to kill me! Just as happened to Anult Keyser himself. One of his generals, a man called Wilhym Mardol, became a daemon and killed him. Doesn’t that sound familiar?’
    Sindermann leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Loken saw how tired he looked, his skin the colour of the parchments he perused and his clothes hanging from his body as though draped across his bare bones.
    Loken realised that the venerable iterator was exhausted.
    ‘I’m sorry, Kyril,’ he said, also sitting back. ‘I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you.’
    Sindermann smiled, reminding Loken of how much he had come to rely on his wise counsel. Though not a tutor as such, Sindermann had filled the role of Loken’s mentor and instructor for some time, and it had come as a great shock to discover that Sindermann did not have all the answers.
    ‘It’s alright, Garviel, it’s good that you have questions, it shows you are learning that there is often more to the truth than what we see at first. I’m sure the Warmaster values that aspect of you. How is the commander?’
    ‘Tired,’ admitted Loken. ‘The demands of those crying for his attention grow more strident every day. Communiqués from every expedition in the Crusade seek to pull him in all directions, and insulting directives from the Council of Terra seek to turn him into a damned administrator instead of the Warmaster. He carries a huge burden, Kyril; but don’t think you can change the subject that easily.’
    Sindermann laughed. ‘You are becoming too quick for me, Garviel. Very well, what is it you want to know?’
    ‘The men in the book who were said to use sorcerous powers, were they warlocks?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Sindermann. ‘It’s certainly possible. The powers they used certainly do not sound natural.’
    ‘But how could their leaders have sanctioned the use of such powers? Surely they must have seen how dangerous it was?’
    ‘Perhaps, but think on this: we know so little on the subject and we have the light of the Emperor’s wisdom and science to guide us. How much less must they have known?’
    ‘Even a barbarian must know that such things are dangerous,’ said Loken.
    ‘Barbarian?’ said Sindermann. ‘A pejorative term indeed, my friend. Do not be so quick to judge, we are not so different from the tribes of Old Earth as you might think.’
    ‘Surely you’re not serious,’ asked Loken. ‘We are as different from them as a star from a planet.’
    ‘Are you so sure, Garviel? You believe that the wall separating civilisation from barbarism is as solid as steel, but it is not. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass. A touch here, a push there, and you bring back the reign of pagan superstition, fear of the dark and the worship of fell beings in echoing fanes.’
    ‘You exaggerate.’
    ‘Do I?’ asked Sindermann, leaning forward. ‘Imagine a newly compliant world that experiences a shortage of some vital resource, such as fuel, water or food; how long would it take before civilised behaviour broke down and barbaric behaviour took over? Would human selfishness cause some to fight to get that resource at all costs, even if it meant harm to others and trafficking with evil? Would they deprive others of this resource, or even destroy them in an effort to keep it for themselves? 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.’
    ‘You make it sound like there’s no