by William King
Orm took the key and opened the door of the cell then stepped into the room and embraced Balthazar. “You are free, Count.”
Balthazar smiled. Let the Guardian come to Helgard now. Soon his enemies would be within his grasp. He must see that a proper welcome was prepared.
Balthazar’s new quarters were an improvement upon the cells. He had a view out of the tower window over the roofs of the town. He could see the walls that it had such difficulty getting through earlier, the open squares of the market and the crowds of people moving to and fro among the stalls there. He felt as if he had been returned to life.
He told himself not to be so weak. It was his destiny to triumph here. His allies were now in charge of this fortress. Things were going as the Lord of Skulls intended them to.
He looked down at his hands. They were not shaking. He reached out and picked up a goblet of wine. Orm had poured it for him with his own hands.
Briefly, Balthazar considered uttering a spell that would detect poison. He dismissed the idea. Orm would not dare poison one of his superiors in the cult of Xothak.
“What shall we do, master?” Orm asked. He rubbed his hands together obsequiously. He had been doing that a lot since he had let Balthazar out of the dungeon. He seemed to be one of those men was only capable of either bullying those encountered or fawning. Balthazar considered for a moment.
“Your guests should be here soon,” Balthazar said. “The damned Guardian who has followed me all the way from Maial. No doubt he will have soldiers with him.”
“You want me to kill him?” Orm asked.
Balthazar considered his options. “How do we stand? How many of our people are in positions of authority?”
Orm dry washed his hands once again. “About half of the officers belong to us. But they are in the early stages of initiation. They might be shocked if they were asked to perform some of the more delicate tasks.”
Balthazar thought about it for a moment. “How many people can be trusted with delicate work?”
“Myself, obviously.” Orm scratched his head. Balthazar noticed that his skin had nasty flaky quality. His eyes had an intense haunted look. “Five that I would trust. Some of the others have participated in rituals and would probably be willing to attend a sacrifice if they thought they could advance through the ranks.”
“If you counted those,” Balthazar said, “how many more would there be?”
“We could make a ritual thirteen with you as the leader,” Orm said.
Unless they attacked from ambush, the cultists would not be able to kill the Guardian. There were simply not enough of them within the fort. Even then he would not want to bet his life on them being able to kill Kormak. The man was just too dangerous with a blade in his hand, and his companions were almost as bad. It would have to be sorcery.
He reviewed the spells that he knew. He touched the sacrificial dagger that Orm had retrieved from the cart.
There was still strength within the talisman. The power of Shadow was still strong. He could use it to summon something that would kill even the Guardian.
Even that was problematical. Kormak was too well equipped for dealing with supernatural threats. He had already slain the Servant of Xothak. Something far more potent would be needed. He would need to summon the Lord of Skulls himself. Something deep in his mind whispered that the time was right. He knew he could do it. He was blessed by Xothak. He was the god’s chosen prophet.
It would display his mastery to the cultists and himself. To raise a god from the Outer Dark—the thought made him shiver with pleasure.
They could slay the Guardian and his companions, overwhelm the fortress and claim this whole city for the Shadow. The tribes were already on the warpath down in the lowland jungles. If Helgard fell then the whole of the plateau could be taken, and the gold mines seized. He could then proceed to find the sarcophagus of Vorkhul at his leisure.
“Summon them,” Balthazar said. “We have much to do and very little time to do it in.”
“Are you certain, master?” Orm said. “It would mean withdrawing our officers from their positions at what is a very delicate time. There are those who think I have overreached myself by assuming command of this garrison.”
Balthazar scowled. “The work we are doing now is of the utmost importance. Far more important than your pitiful career. Follow me on this, and you will be rewarded with immortality and power beyond your wildest dreams. Cross me in this and your punishment will be unimaginable.”
Balthazar let those words hang in the air. He was sure that Orm’s imagination would be working out exactly what sort of punishment may be inflicted upon him and it would be far worse than anything Balthazar could describe. Every man best knows his own fears.
“It shall be as you say, master.” Orm left the room.
Balthazar had no doubt that his commands would be obeyed. He began to formulate refinements to his plan as he sipped his wine. This time, he would put an end to the Guardian’s interference forever.
Shadowfall was coming, and he intended to occupy a throne when it arrived.
After the day’s march, Kormak’s knees ached. Slogging up the pass from Helgate had proved hard. The days when he could have run up the Mountain Road all day were gone, never to return.
“You look as if you swallowed a tree frog,” Anders said. He was sweating and did not look to be in any better condition than Kormak.
“It’s a long hike up a steep slope.” They both stared at the wall blocking the pass. Towers guarded each end, and a large wooden gate loomed in the middle.
“At least it’s cooler up here. A different world. The villages and town of the High Plateau are a world of their own. The native tribes are different too. No less bloodthirsty than the jungle clans, just different.”
“You Sunlanders have a way of making friends wherever you go.”
Anders spat on the ground. “Says the man who comes from a country famous for its reavers.”
Beyond the wall, horns sounded. Orders were bellowed. Kormak wondered what was going on. He could see that there were sentries in the towers bringing weapons to the ready. Did they think this small band of bedraggled warriors was attacking the gate?
Zamara walked forward. He held his hands above his head in the universal sign of someone who has come in peace.
“Hello!” he shouted. “We have come up from Helgate; we are on a mission for the King-Emperor.”
“Just wait where you are!” the sentry on the tower shouted back.
Kormak could see that men were filtering out of the tower along the wall. All of them carried crossbows and looked prepared to use their weapons.
“What is going on?” Zamara shouted.
“Just wait there, and you will soon find out.”
The gates opened, and Kormak could see that a strong force of armed men waited beyond them. These men looked as if they were prepared for war. Rhiana moved up to Kormak sighed and said, “What is going on here?”
Kormak shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Anders said, “They looked scared. Far more scared than they ought to be given our numbers.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Kormak said. Zamara waited for the commander of the tower to emerge. The man marched forward, flanked by a group of armed men. He came right up to Zamara and the two of them exchanged words. They talked for a fair length of time, and then Zamara nodded and turned and walked back towards the others.
“It seems we were not the only people who saw a demon last night,” Zamara said. “Some sort of bat-winged monster was seen circling the town before dawn this morning. They are worried. Also, they have had messages from the lower Fort. Ravens brought word of the tribesmen’s attack. They are preparing to send a strong relief force down there.”
“What about us?” Anders said. “They don’t look too pleased to see us.”
“I have talked to them,” Zamara said. “We have to go to the Fort and report to the Commander. Then we’ll see what is ha
ppening.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Helgard had the same atmosphere as every other garrison town Kormak had ever visited. There were lots of soldiers in the streets, all wearing the white tabards marked with a black tower. They gazed on the newcomers with a mixture of suspicion and interest. Armed men with unfamiliar faces marching through the cobbled streets of their station were bound to draw attention.
Kormak could not help but notice that they were being marched between two forces, each one stronger than their own. If one were of a suspicious mind, it would almost seem like they being marched to the keep under guard.
He supposed he could not exactly blame the gate commander for doing this. A demon had been seen flying over the city, and they were strangers. The marines wore the colours of Zamara’s flagship, and those were almost certainly not familiar to the men of this remote fortress.
Still, it made him uneasy. He did not like the sensation of being hemmed in on either side and automatically he began scanning the streets for escape routes.
They followed a wide road leading from the gate all the way to the fortress. Soldiers and vendors crowded the streets. Mouth watering aromas emerged from baker’s shops. The smell of tobacco and beer and sweet Siderean wine emerged from a tavern. Older men lounged on tables on verandahs. Younger women, loosely garbed, studied the marching men with the eyes of flower girls inspecting potential clients. Housewives led chattering children into alleyways over which washing fluttered on corded lines.
He saw rain barrels set to collect water and noticed the wells they passed in each square. All had either a bucket or pump nearby, and it became clear why this site had been chosen for a garrison. Water was even more important than food when it came to resisting a siege.
“You have problems with the tribes up here?” Kormak asked Anders.
The mercenary nodded. “They’ve never quite appreciated the benefits of Siderean rule.”
“The Aquileans were just the same about the Taureans.”
Anders shrugged. He clearly did not want to say what he really thought. It would not do to be heard criticising colonial rule in the streets.
Kormak paid more attention to the locals now. Many of the soldiers were dark-haired Siderean peasants. Most of the officers were tall, blonde Sunlanders. Mixed in with them were a smattering of people of a different type, copper of skin, with shining dark hair and dark eyes. Many of them were tattooed. Some were dressed like local peasants and shopkeepers. Some wore greyish robes, woven with odd geometric patterns. Their skins were tattooed in a similar manner. Kormak looked in the direction of one of the nearest.
“Tribesmen?” he asked.
Anders nodded. “They come into town to trade. They often find strange things out there in the deserts. Old artefacts, bits of jewellery, silverwork. They bring in salt as well. They trade it for cloth and spices and blades.”
“You trade weapons with your enemies?”
“Not all of the tribes are always hostile, and let’s be honest, there are always men who will sell weapons to anyone, even if they are potential enemies. I reckon the Governor thinks better that it happens under his soldiers’ eyes and is taxed.”
Kormak thought back to his youth in Aquilea. There had always been men willing to take the hard paths into the mountains in search of profit, and they had brought blades and arrowheads and firewater as well as other things. They had usually turned a good profit on them too.
“I don’t think the Guard Commander is entirely sure about us,” Anders said, giving voice to what Kormak had been thinking. “I get the impression we’ve been punted up the hill, so he doesn’t have to take responsibility for us.”
Anders was an astute observer. That was exactly what seemed to be going on.
“He does seem uneasy.”
“There’s something else. He said he was taking us to Commander Orm.”
The words echoed through Kormak’s mind. In the lower fortress, Captain Kurt had mentioned sending word to Commander Herrero.
“It seems there has been a change of command here in Helgard.”
Once again Kormak knew what the mercenary was thinking. It was odd that such a thing should have happened so soon after the passage of the demon and just before their arrival.
Suspicions whispered in the back of his mind. The keep loomed threateningly over them. He told himself to be very careful in this place.
The portcullis clanged down behind them as they crossed the drawbridge. He was reminded of the trap sprung on the tribesmen who had pursued them into the lower fortress. Only this time, he felt as if they were the ones who were going to be burned.
They crossed a courtyard, towards the inner keep. On the steps of its entrance stood an armoured man in a white tabard. A gold sash marked him as the Commander.
He strode towards them, smiling in welcome. He was thin, and his skin had a greyish sweaty look. His hair was lank, but his eyes were keen and when he spoke his voice was surprisingly deep and resonant. “Welcome to Helgard,” he said. “I am Commander Orm.”
“Greetings,” said Zamara. He looked pointedly at the troops flanking them.
If Orm was daunted, he gave no sign of it. “You have papers from the Governor, I understand.”
“And from the King himself,” said Zamara, looking in Kormak’s direction.
“A Guardian of the Dawn sent at the King’s command,” Orm said. There was just a hint of mockery in his voice and perhaps beneath that a trace of nervousness. “Are we under suspicion of heresy or consorting with the Old Ones then?”
He seemed wound very tight. He tilted his head to one side and focused his eyes on Kormak intently.
“No,” Kormak said. “We were dispatched on a mission by the King, one of some urgency.”
“Well, rest assured we shall do whatever we can to expedite your journey.” He held out his hand, and Kormak realised that he still expected to be presented with papers. A bureaucrat this one.
Zamara produced the letter the Governor had given him. Orm took it, looked at the seal and placed it within his jerkin. “I am sure this is in order, but I must read it you know, and for that, I need my eye-glasses. I am all but blind without them.”
He waited for a moment and added, “I believe you said you have orders from the King.”
“I shall hand them over when you have your reading glasses,” Kormak said.
Orm shrugged and smiled. “As you wish. Come. I have had a feast prepared. You must tell me of your adventures. Captain Kurt’s message leads me to believe you had some troubles getting here.”
“That we had,” said Zamara. He shot Kormak a quizzical look. He had obviously caught the strange undercurrents of the conversation.
“My adjutant will show your men to the quarters prepared for them. You will be my guests in the main tower.”
So they were to be separated from their soldiers. That was ominous.
Orm led the way through the chill stone corridors of the inner keep to an office. The place was sumptuously furnished. On the wall hung a portrait of a stern-faced older man wearing a gold sash. Orm looked up at it, made an ironic salute, turned to Zamara and said, “Herrero, my predecessor. My very immediate predecessor. He died only this morning, forcing me to assume command until I receive orders from Governor Aurin.”
“How did he die?” Zamara asked.
Once again, there something smug in Orm’s smile. “He choked on a fishbone. A sad death for such a great warrior.”
“Indeed. Now we have business here.” Swiftly Zamara told Orm the outline of their quest. The Commander listened, his expression one of rapt attention.
“Of course, I will help you in any way I can. It may take a few days to assemble but I can provide you with horses and food and gear to replace what you have lost, and I can provide you with an armed escort as well.”
“Excellent,” said Zamara.
“Until then I insist that you be my guests here in the Keep. You shall have the officers’ chambers. Tonight
I will throw a welcoming feast and see you are introduced to all the prominent local citizens.”
“That will not be necessary,” said Zamara.
Orm smiled. “I do not think you understand. We so rarely get an excuse to throw a good party here or to hear the latest news all the way from Siderea. You would be doing us a favour by accepting the invitation.”
Zamara smiled. “In that case, I don’t see any way I can refuse.”
“I had hoped you would see things that way,” said Orm, flashing another ambiguous smile.
“He seems like an odd fellow but efficient,” Zamara said. They were alone for the moment. Rhiana had withdrawn to the rooms she was to share with Kormak.
The Admiral studied the chamber for a moment. It was small, but it had a bed and a window with small leaded glass panes and a thick curtain. An elder sign hung over the window and the door. “Larger than some of my last shipboard berths,” he said.
Not even a ship’s captain had so much room on even the largest of vessels. Zamara judged his surroundings with a seafarer’s eye and a voyager’s determination to make the best of wherever he found himself.
Kormak said nothing. Zamara raised an eyebrow. “You disagree.”
“No. It is larger than your cabin on the Pride of Siderea.”
“I mean about Commander Orm.”
“He seems determined to help us.”
“But? I hear a but in your voice, Sir Kormak. We’ve been shipmates too long for me to miss it.”
“There is something odd about him, and I don’t like the fact that he took command when he did.”
Zamara considered this for a moment. “Chain of command, Guardian. You know how it works. He stepped into the place assigned to him.”
“I know. I know. It’s just that so much has gone wrong on the trip already.”
“Come now! We’ve undergone worse hardships in the past. To tell the truth, I cannot think of any voyage we’ve made together that’s gone entirely smoothly. We’ve found safe harbour for the moment. Let’s enjoy it.”