Portents of Doom ( Kormak Book Ten) (The Kormak Saga 10)

by William King

  Coiled Serpent knew he was heartbeats away from death if that blade made contact. Even wounded as he was there was a good chance he could drag the Guardian down into hell with him. There was an equally a good chance that he could fight and win.

  Something stung his side. Pain surged through him. He twisted his head and saw a crossbow bolt quivering in his flank. Other soldiers were recovering from their panic and firing their weapons. In the moonlight, their shots were not very accurate, but they did not have to be. All it would take would be for one unlucky hit to strike home. He let go his hold on the big cat’s claws and prepared to return to his body.

  Something was wrong. He could not disconnect from the flesh and sinew of the great beast. Something somewhere was blocking his spirit from returning to his body. He had a sudden flash of insight. Balthazar, he thought. He has the sorcery to do this . . .

  It was the last thing that passed through his mind before the terrible blade cut into the great jaguar’s flesh. An awful flame incinerated him and then there was only darkness and the shadow of death.

  Balthazar stood upright and smiled a sad saintly smile at the watching tribesmen. “It’s no use; I can’t revive him.”

  The tribesmen stared at him. He wondered if he had misjudged things. He felt sure that none of the tribesmen had been able to follow what he had done. There were shamans who could, but all of them lay sprawled around the clearing, their spirits far away, riding within the bodies of jungle beasts.

  He had seen his opportunity when Coiled Serpent screamed and clutched his side. It seemed as if the Chief of Chiefs had taken a wound while spirit riding in the huge jaguar he had summoned. Balthazar knew that if he could trap the shaman's spirit there that Coiled Serpent would die if the beast died.

  He had pretended that he was working a charm to heal the Chief of Chiefs, but all the time he had woven a ward around the body to prevent Coiled Serpent’s spirit from returning to it. After that, it had just been a matter of holding the ward in place. He had sensed the flow of power that told him that Coiled Serpent was attempting to return to his own form and he had battled to prevent that from happening all the while claiming that he was doing his best to help.

  Now he wondered whether it had paid off. The under-chiefs looked at him suspiciously. He was still an outsider here even if he was high within what they regarded as one of their secret Lodges. Perhaps one of them had even understood what he was doing and was about to denounce him.

  A squat, fat man stared at him and licked his lips. His feathered headdress moved from side to side as he craned his neck. He stretched enormously muscled arms, interlocked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. Balthazar looked within himself and found his most powerful death magic. If these savages attacked him, they would discover that they were biting off far more than they could chew.

  Something in his manner must have alerted the waiting chieftains, for they stepped back as if they had seen a poisonous serpent. The fat one stared at Balthazar, licked his lips once more and said, “You were a blood brother to the Chief of Chiefs. You know better than any of us what needs to be done with the Sunlanders. Give us orders, and we shall see that they are carried out.”

  As he spoke, the fat one made a secret sign with his left hand, and Balthazar knew that they were part of the same Lodge.

  “Nothing has changed,” Balthazar said. “The strangers must die!”

  “As you wish,” the fat one replied. “So shall it be.”

  The others present agreed. Orders were given. Devilish shouts echoed through the jungle as the tribesmen raced forward to finally overtake their quarry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The giant jaguar thrashed and died. The smell of singed fur and burned flesh filled the air. There had been magic present within that huge carnivore; Kormak was certain. Someone had controlled the beast and sent it after him. It was no accident that he had been attacked. Someone wanted him dead.

  The Siderean soldiers were already half-routed. Many fled along the road ignoring the commands of Sergeant Terves and Admiral Zamara. The rest stared at him as if expecting him to tell them what to do.

  Hundreds of chanting savages were emerging from the jungle half a league away. They whooped and yelled and brandished spears as they raced forward. There were far too many of them to fight. Kormak exchanged a helpless look with Admiral Zamara. “We need to run. Now!”

  Zamara did not look pleased, but he understood the situation was hopeless. He turned to his men and said, “Don’t leave any wounded to fall into the hands of these devils.”

  The soldiers stared at him and then at the comrades they had carried so far. There was nothing else to be done. Those who were captured could expect ritual sacrifice at best probably preceded by torture of the most unspeakable sort.

  That realisation settled on their faces. One or two nodded. Some shook their heads, not yet ready to die. They had no choice. Their friends were going to have to leave them.

  A man slit the throat of a comrade he had carried for the last five leagues. Another put a crossbow bolt through the eye of a friend. One pressed his dagger into the hands of a blubbering man who begged him to carry him just a little further. Reluctantly his friend shook his head and turned his back and walked away.

  Zamara himself walked over and beheaded the man with a slice of his blade. “Now run as if all the Demons of Shadow were after you—because they soon will be if you stay here! Run you dogs! Run!”

  “I wish I still had my horse,” Rhiana said. Breath was coming hard from her lungs. Sweat ran down her face. She clutched her sword in her hand as if she was ready to use it at any moment.

  “It probably saved my life,” Kormak said. He fought to keep his breathing even. He was weary, but he did not want to show it in front of the others. Soon they might need to turn and fight. There was no need to look behind him to see whether the enemy was closing. He could tell by the shouts.

  Some of the troops had already fallen behind. Their screams echoed through the night as they were overhauled and dragged down.

  “I’m not sure that was a good swap,” Rhiana said and grinned.

  “I’ll remember you said that,” Kormak said.

  “Save your breath for running.”

  Up ahead loomed the squat stone structure of a Sunlander fortress. It stood on a low hill overlooking the mouth of the pass. Behind it rose grey mountains. In front of it was a flat plain, a killing ground cleared of trees and boulders. In the moonlight, the place had a deserted look. Kormak hoped that this was not the case. Otherwise they were doomed.

  The sight of the fortress had restored some of the company’s spirits. One or two of the men give a ragged cheer. The rest just ran harder.

  Screams of frustrated rage came from behind as the tribesmen realised that their prey had almost reached sanctuary. The roars of great beasts mingled with them.

  Kormak glanced over his shoulder. More huge jaguars bounded ahead of the tribesmen. Their eyes caught the moonlight and shone like demon beacons. In a matter of heartbeats, they would overtake the fleeing soldiers.

  He slapped Rhiana on the back and shouted, “Run!”

  She did not have to be told twice.

  A rumbling roar, a pain-filled scream. A man went down behind Kormak to his right. He turned for a moment and saw a huge jaguar perched on a marine’s chest, already rending meat from the man’s flesh.

  Best to just keep running.

  Rhiana’s face was pale and ghastly. She tripped, her long boots unsuited to running. Kormak grabbed her shoulder and helped her to her feet even as he scanned their surroundings for a new threat.

  Another big cat pounced on a soldier’s back. The man turned, trying to wrestle with the beast but he had no more chance than a field mouse against a wildcat. Kormak and Rhiana started running again.

  They hit the foot of the slope. Kormak’s legs felt as if they were made of rubber. After a long day of marching and an hour of running, he could barely put one in front of another.
He almost stumbled as he began to race uphill. Sweat ran down his brow and drenched his clothing. His lungs worked like a bellows. Rhiana put out a hand to keep him from falling.

  “Getting old,” he told her.

  “Move or die, old man,” she said. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, again and again, and again. He cursed the heat. He cursed the tribesmen. He cursed the slope of the hill. He lashed his weary body onwards. Every extra stride was torture.

  Ahead men were shouting at the castle to open the gates. There was no response. Had they run all this distance only to fail within sight of safety?

  The castle mocked them with its silence. Kormak would have expected to hear alarm bells by now.

  No, he told himself. Only minutes had passed since the castle came in sight. It felt like a lifetime to him, but a sleepy sentry might not have reacted. A man up ahead screamed. “Don’t shoot you stupid bastards, we’re Sunlanders!”

  Kormak could see a crossbow bolt protruded from the man’s arm. Someone was awake on the battlements after all and had decided to open fire.

  Zamara bellowed, “I am Admiral Zamara, in the Service of King-Emperor Aemon and I command you to open these gates. We are pursued by tribesmen and hard-pressed.”

  It would have sounded a lot more impressive if he had not been gasping for breath, but there was a righteousness and a desperation in his voice that obviously got whoever was on the wall’s attention. The shooting stopped.

  “Don’t waste your bloody ammunition,” someone shouted from up there. “And sound the bloody alarm bells.”

  “Is that you, Urek?” Anders shouted.

  “That’s Sergeant Urek to you,” the voice came back.

  “It’s me, Anders from the Third Company. The Admiral is telling the truth. We are hard beset. Open the gates. Or we’ll die here.”

  A bell clanged on the wall. Lanterns were revealed. Kormak saw men’s faces among the battlements about ten strides above his head.

  “Listen. Behind us, you can hear the tribesmen and their bloody beasts.”

  Kormak turned. A few of the jungle warriors quicker than their comrades were almost upon the small band. Half a dozen big cats feasted on the bodies of slain Sunlanders. Kormak was glad there were not more of them. Beyond them, he could see the tide of tribesmen flowing towards the hill. Arrows and spears began to hit the ground. They were still a hundred strides away, but the gap was closing fast.

  He heard a rumbling sound. He turned to look, but the gate appeared to be resolutely closed. The spears were fifty strides away now. Twenty.

  “Kormak!” Rhiana said. He turned to look at her. The second eyelid had fallen in place over her eye, giving her a weird inhuman look. If she was lucky, the tribesmen might mistake her for one of the beings they worshipped. It was a slim chance, but it was better than nothing at all.

  “What?” he bellowed, his voice harsh and croaking from the exertion.

  She looked as if she was about to say something but a spear arced down where she stood, forcing her to spring to one side. Kormak turned just in time to deflect one thrown at him with his forearm.

  “Form up there, you sea-dogs,” Terves bellowed. “Let’s take some of these bastards down with us.”

  Even in the teeth of overwhelming odds the Sergeant was determined to make a fight of it. Kormak drew his blade. He was not going into the Kingdoms of Dust alone. He would see to that.

  One of the great cats finished eating and stalked forward. Its movements were slower and spoke of satisfaction. The beast was replete, but it looked as if it intended to give itself the pleasure of pulling down more prey for its masters. Kormak wondered what kind of magic bound it. Perhaps he could break the spell by striking it with his blade. Of course, that would likely only goad the beast to fury.

  The tribesmen hit the bottom of the slope and slowed. Some of them began to form up in fighting groups. Behind Kormak the grinding noise continued, then there was a loud creaking then Sergeant Urek shouted. “Get in you idiots, before I change my mind and close this bloody gate again!”

  Kormak turned his head and saw that the great wooden door had swung open. A squat man with a clipped black beard and a huge belly stood there, flanked by a group of crossbowmen. Behind him was a deep tunnel, running through the wall and out into the castle interior. He made an urgent beckoning gesture and then spat on the ground in front of the gate.

  “Come on,” he bellowed. The voice was Urek’s.

  “Front of the line hold your ground,” Terves said, still clutching at his arm. “Cover the rest as they go through.”

  For a moment, it looked as if the men might break into a panicked run, but the front rank knelt and aimed their crossbows. Terves stood with them; Zamara stood behind them. Anders and the rest of the company ran for the open gate.

  Sensing that their prey was about to escape, the tribesmen let out a furious roar and rushed forward. Crossbow bolts flickered out from Terves’s line and from the walls above chopping a dozen down. The rest trampled on the fallen in their lust to get to grips with their prey.

  Kormak took a deep breath and let the warm night air fill his lungs. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing became more regular. His limbs still felt drained of all strength, but he knew that was simply an illusion. He had felt this way in the past before combat. His body would respond with its usual speed when called upon to do so.

  The tribesmen could not hold a steady line. The swiftest far outpaced the slower ones. They too had been wearied by the long chase. “Run, you fools, run!” Sergeant Urek’s voice shouted from the gates.

  Terves looked at Zamara. The Admiral nodded.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Terves shouted. The men needed no further encouragement. They turned and raced for the door. Kormak and Rhiana waited alongside Zamara and the Sergeant.

  “Better get going Admiral,” Kormak said. “They’ll need you within.”

  “You’re the one the King sent on this mission,” Zamara replied. “Get inside now!”

  More crossbow bolts flickered from the battlements, and something else tumbled and streaked through the sky leaving a sickly yellow trail behind it. It landed in the middle of the onrushing tribesmen and flared into a yellow light. Someone in the Keep had loaded a catapult with alchemical fire. The stench of burning bodies filled the night. Great cats screamed, driven wild by the stink of the unnatural flame.

  Kormak cursed the pride of Siderean nobility. Zamara would not give ground unless he did. The Guardian shrugged and ran for the gate. The others were at his heels. The sounds of raging tribesmen filled the night not five strides behind him.

  Ahead of him, the gate beckoned. Sergeant Urek and the others had already started to withdraw. There was no way Kormak could see that they were going to be able to shut the gate before the tribesmen arrived here.

  Kormak let Terves, Zamara and Rhiana draw ahead of him. They passed under the stone threshold and raced beyond. Kormak turned at bay and glared back at his pursuers. About fifty of them were almost on top of him. He sprang forward and cut left and right with his blade. Leather shields parted as if they were made of cloth. Limbs separated from torsos, heads from necks. Splatters of blood decorated the walls of the gateway.

  For a moment the sheer fury of his attack halted the tribesmen’s advance. The leading warriors tried to get out of his reach. They stumbled into the ones behind them, tripping them, and sending them sprawling.

  “Stop playing the hero, idiot!” Sergeant Urek bellowed. “Get back here now, or I’ll leave you to your well-deserved fate.”

  Kormak’s blade flickered through a great figure of eight that took down two more of the attackers, and he began to back away from his foes. They regained their nerve and charged forward. Some made straight for him and died, others rushed past howling battle cries, keen to get to grips with the men in the courtyard.

  Something made a grinding sound overhead. The rush of displaced air made Kormak step back. The clang of metal on stone echoed through th
e gateway tunnel. A man screamed, impaled by the spikes of the portcullis gate that had dropped from overhead. The tribesmen rushed forward and pressed against it. One or two tried to push spear blades through. Kormak slashed at one and broke off the point. His nostrils caught the acrid tang of alchemicals and he knew what was about to happen.

  He leapt back into the courtyard, chopping his way through the tribesmen trapped there. Most of them were already down. Behind him, yellow light flared. Men screamed. Flesh burned. The portcullis tunnel became a deathtrap as alchemical fire poured into it through an opening in the floor of the tower above.

  The survivors of the chase lay in the courtyard. Outside the gates, the warcries of the tribesmen filled the night.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kormak leaned wearily on the battlements and grinned at Rhiana. The sun rose over the killing ground revealing corpses sprawled in their hundreds. The tribesmen had rushed the walls again and again but without the benefit of siege engines or ladders they had failed to do anything but be cut down by crossbow fire.

  The mutant jaguars that jumped onto the walls had wreaked havoc before they had been cut down. The giant serpents that had slithered stealthily up had done the most damage, but in the end, they had been put down too. After the first hour, the tribesmen had backed away, and sent smaller parties to infiltrate sections of the wall furthest from the gate while they launched massed attacks with spears and bows at the front.

  The tactic had almost succeeded the first time, but once the garrison expected it, roving patrols had brought warning and managed to kill most of the tribesmen that had made it over the battlements. Kormak had killed a score of them himself during the night.

  He was bone weary now, along with all the others. The survivors of Zamara’s expeditionary force looked weariest of them all. Rhiana lay propped up against the wall. Her eyes were shut. Her breathing was soft. Sensibly she was taking her rest where she could. Kormak reached out to run a hand through her hair, thought the better of it and looked away with red eyes. The alchemical stink from the gateway was making them water.