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

by William King

  The deadly blade the Guardian carried was much worse. It was like a thunderbolt borne by a mortal god. A Shadowborn merely had to emerge from cover to be struck down. Those who were slowed by the torch-burns were the easiest of prey. Its overconfident legion was half destroyed before the mortals were halfway across the hall.

  It slowly percolated through the filter of Xothak’s mortal brain that its enemies were not fleeing. They were looking for it. Their sheer arrogance was astonishing. It felt a faint surge of fear, a product of the still functioning glands of this stolen body. Xothak dismissed it at once. If the mortals emerged into the courtyard, they would be destroyed.

  Nonetheless, Xothak ordered the rest of his force to retreat. There was another card to play.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kormak’s breath came in gasps. The darkness lessened. The torchlight was brighter. For a few terrible moments, he had feared that they would be overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers of their foes. So many of the shadow things had emerged so quickly. It had taken all of his strength and quickness to strike them down before they could claim another victim.

  “Still ahead of us?” Kormak asked. He did not bother to look at Rhiana. He did not want to be distracted.

  “Still ahead of us,” she replied. “What’s going on? The pearl’s glow is brighter, and we haven’t been attacked for ten heartbeats. I thought they were just going to keep coming until we were finished off.”

  He could hear the undercurrent of controlled fear in her voice.

  “We’ve beaten them,” said Zamara. “They can’t take any more.”

  He was trying to sound confident, but it was obvious from his tone that he did not believe what he was saying. He was just whistling in the dark, trying to keep his courage up.

  “That seemed a little too easy,” said Rhiana.

  “You call that easy,” said Anders. “You must have been in tougher battles than I ever was.”

  “What’s that noise?” Zamara asked.

  “What’s that smell?” added Rhiana.

  From ahead of them came a hideous slurping sound, and a smell of excrement and rotting meat. The tang of blight intensified with every moment. The neighs of terrified horses filled the air.

  “I don’t think it’s anything good,” said Anders.

  “You don’t say,” said Rhiana.

  “We’re not getting younger,” said Kormak.

  “If we go out there, we might not get any older,” said Anders.

  “You didn’t really expect to live forever, did you?” Rhiana asked.

  “I was going to give it my best efforts,” said Anders.

  “Everybody dies,” Kormak said.

  “And on that cheerful note, let us proceed,” said Zamara.

  Xothak drew its surviving servants to it. One by one they emerged from the surrounding darkness. One by one they joined their shadowy integument and then their flesh and blood and souls to its own. They merged into the host body adding mass and power.

  The Lord of Skulls gained size and weight. Its arms and legs became those of a giant. Its chest thickened and its shoulders broadened.

  Xothak's point of view shifted as its body added the height of a man and the weight of ten. It was not a form that could be held together by the normal architecture of a human body. It took magic to compensate for its distortions and the extra strain placed on its organs.

  Each life Xothak harvested added a freight of recollections and sensations as well as a few heartbeats to the time the Lord of Skulls could remain in this place.

  Flickers of memories flashed across the surface of Xothak’s mind. It recalled childhoods spent in noble mansions, teeming slums, inns, and wagons. It saw the hives these insects swarmed through, felt the press of fleshy life all around, remembered the satisfaction of a hundred appetites for food and drink and sex and power.

  It knew all of their hungers and all of their sins. It saw their petty dreams and ambitions and lusts, and it felt over and over again the one lust that dominated all others in his worshipper’s minds, the lust for power and dominance.

  It was ironic that the drive for individual power had led all of the humans to being absorbed into Xothak’s one vast mind. Their trivial memories would live forever within it. They would have their promised immortality.

  The giant form was unwieldy and it could not, without some modification, fit into the corridors of the castle, but that did not matter now. In their unspeakable arrogance, pygmy foes were coming to challenge the Lord of Skulls. It would teach them the error of their ways.

  Xothak reached down and picked up an enormous block of paving stone. It came free from the ground and dripped cloying wet earth as it was raised aloft. The Lord of Skulls would crush the arrogant insects who had set their will against it.

  “What do you think is going on up there?” Orm asked Balthazar. He was drywashing his hands incessantly. Balthazar sensed the flow of energy all around him. Xothak was working some mighty sorcery. Despite this, the darkness was lessening. What could be going on? Surely the accursed Guardian could not be defeating their overlord.

  “I don’t know,” said Balthazar. “Perhaps you should go up and take a look.”

  Orm looked at him. “Perhaps we both should.”

  Balthazar considered this. Terrible things were going on in the castle above them, and there was always the possibility that if they went up there, they would accidentally walk into the trap their master had set for their foes.

  The Shadowborn might kill them as easily as they killed everyone else. Some of them had fancied themselves as rivals to Balthazar before their transformation. Perhaps they would take advantage of their new status to remove him from the picture. It was possible after all that they might be returned to human form after this night, and if he was not there, the cult would need a new leader. Most of them would feel themselves to be qualified after being touched by their god.

  And there was always the unthinkable possibility that the Guardian had survived. It was not that Balthazar believed any mortal capable of prevailing over their master. It was rather that this man had proven himself to be too lucky. It was almost as if he was favoured by the Holy Sun, and that the Light watched over him and warded him.

  He realised that his thoughts were very close to blasphemy and that it was entirely possible that Xothak could sense them. He could not keep them from his mind, so he tried to dismiss them. They returned. He was not going up because he feared what might happen, he told himself. He wanted to go up and witness his master’s triumph.

  Yes. That was it. They would both go. They would hopefully be in time to see the vanquishing of the Light and the triumph of the Shadow. And if anything had gone wrong at least they would not be hunted like rats through the corridors of the dungeon.

  Balthazar touched his amulet. It seethed with power. He could think of a way of escaping if he needed to. Not that he would need to. No. Not at all.

  “We shall go up and observe our master’s victory,” he told Orm. He gestured for the soldier to go first, in case they met any enemies on the stairs.

  The shadows swirled around Kormak like clouds scudding before a chill wind. They flowed out of the keep and into the courtyard. He did not like that at all. In spite of this courtyard was becoming brighter. Silver spears of moonlight stabbed down, forming pools on the flagstones.

  The Guardian stepped through the door and flinched when he saw what waited for him. The creature was gigantic, vaguely man-shaped but twice as tall and far broader, more like a great ape than a human being. Its chest was enormous. Its breathing sounded like a bellows. Shadows covered it like a raiment, darkening the skin and giving the creature an unreal look. Eyes of glowing green peered from the great globule of its head. In its massive paws, it held a huge slab of rock uprooted from the ground beneath it. Shadows pooled around the creature, shimmering and dancing as if the giant were illuminated from a hundred different shifting light sources.

  It tossed the stone with
the speed and ease of a child throwing a pebble.

  “Look out,” Kormak shouted, throwing himself flat. The stone hurtled overhead, swift as a crossbow bolt. It crunched into the doorway. Chips of flying stone struck Kormak on the back and cheek. His armour stopped most of it, but blood dripped down his face from a gash. The creature was already stooping to pick up another stone.

  Kormak raced forward, praying to the Holy Sun that none of his companions had been slain by the impact of that mighty slab of rock.

  Other human beings were emerging from other doorways. As soon as they saw what was going on, most retreated the way they came. One or two soldiers aimed crossbows at Kormak. Some of the others drew a bead on the monster.

  Kormak threw himself to one side as a crossbow bolt shattered on the stone behind his head. Fortunately, the light was still not good enough for the attacker to get a good shot at him.

  He sprinted across the courtyard avoiding the pools of shadow just in case they contained any nasty surprises.

  The creature hefted another huge stone. Great muscles bulged and swelled in its forearms as it prepared to throw. At the last second, Kormak threw himself backward on his heels. The stone blurred past his face. He felt the cold wind of its passage.

  Two more figures emerged in a doorway behind the monster, near a stairway leading up into the tower. Kormak recognised them. Balthazar and Commander Orm, moving together like conspirators.

  He cursed. Balthazar must have been here all along. It was mostly likely him who had summoned this great demon. There would be a reckoning for that. Provided Kormak survived the next few minutes.

  Another crossbow bolt clattered off the stonework nearby. Lucky. He had been lucky. That bolt could so easily have bit home, killing him or slowing him down for the monster’s next strike.

  Kormak raced forward once again, raising his blade to strike. The monster gestured. Paving stones erupted from the ground all around the Guardian, impelled by the power of dark magic, driven through the air by its pulse.

  He had fallen into the trap of thinking the monster a mere stupid ogre using missiles as its chosen weapon. He had been overconfident in the power of his amulets to protect him. They might be able to stop any direct magic, but the thrown stones were physical. Once in motion, momentum kept them moving even if the magical power that had set them going was neutralised.

  A whirlwind of bricks and cobblestones smashed into him, sending ripples of agony through his entire body.

  Balthazar smirked as he saw the Guardian fall into the Lord of Skulls’ trap. The man’s brazen overconfidence had been used against him. The cloud of stones smashed towards Kormak. Incredibly the man dodged some and deflected others with his blade but many more of them impacted into his body with bruising, possibly bone-breaking impact.

  Somehow, by hunching and sweeping with his blade, he had avoided being hit on the head, but he was battered and slowed by Xothak’s onslaught. The Lord of Skulls was going to remove his threat forever.

  Anders’s heart sank as he watched the hail of rubble hammer into the Guardian. A large stone impacted on Kormak’s chest, sending him tumbling. Somehow, the Guardian kept moving and kept attempting to defend himself, but it was obvious that he could not survive much longer. It was equally obvious that once he was dead, there was nothing to prevent the demonic giant from slaying them all.

  The mercenary held the torch tightly in his hand and glanced around looking for a way to escape. There was none. The keep had turned into an immense death trap. If they fled back into the castle the Shadowborn would come for them in the darkness, and the only way out was to get past the giant, and it had already shown it was capable of stopping them quite easily.

  He turned and looked at Zamara. If the Admiral had any bright ideas about how to turn this situation around, he gave no sign of it. Rhiana looked pale and desperate in the light of the pearl. She did not seem sure whether to advance or flee.

  The torch burned brightly in his hand. The torch. Of course, flame would hurt the creature of Shadow. All he had to do was get close enough to burn it. He doubted he would have any better luck with that than the Guardian.

  The sound of panicked animals came from the stables. The horses could sense the presence of the demon and it was terrifying them. They were starting to kick their way out of their stalls. Even as that thought occurred to Anders a huge black mare emerged from the stable foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling in panic. Other horses were behind her. Their movement attracted the attention of the demon. It sent a massive slab of stone hurtling at the black mare, killing her outright. Her death sent the rest of the beasts into a panic.

  Still, thought Anders, they might provide some cover. He raced across to the stables, not sure what he would find, but thinking anything had to be better than standing here waiting for death to come. The others followed him.

  Zamara vaulted onto the back of a steed. It bucked beneath him as he fought to control it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Another heavy piece of stone hurtled into Kormak. Pain blasted through his ribs. He raised his left arm just in time to block another piece of rock from hitting his face. His reward was a surge of pain in the bicep. He glanced over at his foe. The monster stood there, triumphant. Its hand was empty of anything to throw. Perhaps it felt it no longer needed it. Behind him, Kormak could hear the whinnying of panicked horses. The smell of blood filled the air.

  He was hanging on to consciousness by a hair. He could not take much more of this pounding. The demon looked thinner now as if it was losing mass. There was a smell of burning and corruption in the air. Was it possible the creature was consuming itself as it worked its magic? If so, all he needed to do was hold on for a little bit longer.

  His teeth bared in a wolfish smile. There was not much chance of that. He needed to do something now, or he was finished. From behind him, he heard the sudden sound of clopping hooves and a war-cry shrieked in challenge.

  Looking back he saw that Zamara had somehow mounted a warhorse and was sweeping towards the shadow demon. His charger looked insane with fear and rage, but somehow the Admiral was guiding it. Behind him, Anders had managed to get onto a beast as well. It bucked and swayed and refused to move. The demon’s head turned towards this disturbance. For a moment, the smashing of rocks slackened.

  It was now or never, Kormak thought.

  Xothak could not afford to allow itself to be distracted by the charging horsemen. There were powers within the Guardian’s blade which would destroy this carefully constructed mortal form and banish it from this world.

  The cloud of flying debris kept flowing towards the Guardian.

  Something massive smashed into Xothak. Huge hooves connected with its form. They hurt. Xothak reached out with massive claws to slay the thing that had caused it an instant of pain.

  The gall of defeat filled Kormak’s mouth as the hail of flying stones smashed into him. He ducked and weaved and rolled, always trying to keep moving towards the demon, protecting his head with his left arm, his sword still clutched in his right.

  He felt a flash of hope when Zamara’s steed smashed into the demon. It faded as great dark claws reached out and buried themselves in the horse’s flesh. Shadows started to spread across its skin.

  Zamara vaulted clear of the saddle and landed on the ground in front of the monster’s feet. As he did so, Anders and Rhiana, carrying blazing torches, charged across the courtyard. They had the look of people who knew they were going to die but intended to go down fighting written on their faces.

  He could not allow them to die. The demon swelled in his vision. Its claws had dug right into the horse's flesh now, revealing bone and blood. The animal kicked out, but its struggles were getting weaker and weaker. It would not live more than a few moments.

  Kormak fumbled for the hilt of his blade. His fingers curled around the familiar grip. He forced his arm to move, pushing himself half upright, raising the sword. The horse managed a last kick, overbalancing the demon
, sending it tumbling backwards onto the point. Flesh sizzled. Light blazed, banishing the shadows from its skin.

  Blazing agony surged through Xothak’s flesh, so great it threatened to disrupt the aeons old pattern of its mind.

  The damn blade had entered its avatar’s back. It had started to unbind the spells holding the whole form together. Anger and agony blazed in Xothak’s mind, but there was nothing it could do with that deadly rune buried within the flesh of its host.

  Xothak sensed Balthazar’s presence and briefly considered taking possession of the mortal, but the Count was not yet prepared to house its power fully. Balthazar would be just as vulnerable to the Guardian's deadly blade. Instead Xothak sent its remaining strength surging into the talisman Balthazar bore. Then the Lord of Skulls withdrew into Shadow, leaving the remains of its former body to tumble to the earth tenantless.

  Balthazar’s jaw hung open as he watched the great body dissolve beneath the evil power of the dwarf-forged blade. How could this be happening, he wondered? Mere heartbeats ago victory had seemed certain and now because of a panicked warhorse and a broken-bodied Guardian things had turned around completely.

  He felt a sudden pulse of power in the amulet around his neck. It burned cold against his breast, and he was aware that he possessed more power than ever he had before, a parting gift from his master.

  He smiled momentarily and considered invoking it against his foes. He could smash them like bugs. Then he noticed the Guardian rising, runes blazing on the blade he held in his right hand. His head swivelled bringing his gaze to bear on Balthazar. Cold fear flickered along the sorcerer’s spine. Perhaps there was a better use he could put the power to.