Born Of Darkness (Book 7)

by William King

  “The fact that we are calling this council is answer enough,” said Prince Taran. “The business of government is disrupted. The counting of the latest revenues from the colonies is delayed. People are afraid. Royal prestige is undermined. Heretics and rebels are abroad in the realm. The cults of Shadow are at work everywhere trying to undermine my brother’s rule. Now we must deal with this thing rather than hunt them down.”

  “All cogent arguments,” said Frater Jonas. “We need to find out who did this. Presumably there are records of when and where the cargo was put aboard, who authorised it, who collected it, who sent it.”

  Admiral Lorca said, “There are manifests accounting for every item transported on my ships. The entire cargo was loaded at Port Montanea, delivered by Governor Kolkin’s men. I counter-signed for every piece.”

  “Then you know the sarcophagus I am talking about,” Kormak said.

  Lorca considered this. “Thousands upon thousands of treasure chests have to be loaded, Sir Kormak. I can’t be expected to remember all of them, but in this case I do. It was a striking piece of work. It had been discovered in some ancient temple complex far inland. Knowing the King-Emperor’s interest in such things, Governor Kolkin sent it on. He seemed quite proud of the thing.”

  Prince Taran scratched a note on a piece of parchment. “Did he now?”

  Aemon walked over to his brother and placed a bony hand on his shoulder. “Come, brother, let us not be too hasty to jump to conclusions. I have made my interest in such artefacts clear enough. I mention it to every governor of every colony before they take up their position. They all know about the Royal Museum. We already have a score of such sarcophagi. Who would guess this one was different?”

  “Perhaps the contents could have been investigated more thoroughly.”

  “It was magically sealed and opening it would have damaged it,” said Aemon. “I am interested in all such seals. Solareon used them. I will learn to use them too.”

  Solareon had been the greatest wizard-king of the First Empire. He had bound demons and conquered entire kingdoms of the Old Ones. If Aemon intended to emulate him, his ambitions were vast indeed.

  “The seals did not look like any used by the First Empire,” Kormak said.

  Aemon smiled. “You have had experience of such things?”

  “I have handled one set by Solareon himself.”

  “Then we must talk about it some time.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty, but at the moment . . .”

  “At the moment we have more pressing affairs, of course. It can wait.”

  “What are we going to do?” Prince Taran asked. “An almost invulnerable demon is loose in our palace. It has killed our subjects and doubtless it will kill again. We need to find some way of dealing with it.”

  “We shall, brother. Have faith. The Light will reveal the path to us.”

  “I think your brother is troubled by concerns about your safety, sire,” said Jonas. “What if this creature was sent to slay you? What if it is a demon bound to pursue this ungodly task.”

  “If it is my time to walk into the Light, it is my time, old friend. I am not afraid.”

  “We have summoned Abbot Gerd of the Order of the Dawn’s Trefal Chapter House,” Prince Taran said. The familiar name startled Kormak. It could not be the same Gerd, could it? “I have brought the second and sixth regiments in from their barracks to reinforce the guards in the palace. It would perhaps be best, if we found you alternative accommodations.”

  Kormak wondered if there had been some collusion between Jonas and the Prince in bringing this matter up.

  “No,” Aemon said. “I will not be driven from my palace by the forces of Shadow. No demon can penetrate the sanctity of the Cathedral. I will spend my time there, praying for the creature’s defeat.”

  Taran seemed so satisfied that Kormak wondered if this was what he had been seeking all along. “Very well. Sir Kormak what would you recommend we do?”

  “Once Abbot Gerd arrives I will requisition the things that I need. He has men trained to deal with situations like this. Till then, seal the entrances to the catacombs, let no one in or out without approval. Keep torches burning. Flame hurts the Old Ones as much as sunlight. I will place elder signs of salt to reinforce the wards.”

  “There are prisoners down there—heretics, traitors, all manner of scum.”

  “They should be brought out.”

  “I had not taken you for such a soft-hearted man,” said Taran. “Why be concerned about such scum? The catacombs are huge and not every prisoner is accounted for. We’d need to risk sending soldiers down as well.”

  “If the creature feeds on the prisoners it may well grow stronger,” Kormak said.

  All of the faces around the table looked horrified. Prince Taran said, “I shall see what can be done. Anything else?”

  “Send the soldiers in large companies with every man carrying a torch and oil flasks. If they come across the creature they can keep it at bay with them. They should not engage unless they have to and they should withdraw as fast as they can.”

  “As you say. What next?”

  “Once I have spoken to the abbot I will go below and investigate the sarcophagus.”

  “So until then we wait.”

  “Better to do that than to send more men to their deaths seeking a monster they cannot kill.”

  “Indeed,” said King Aemon. “If there is anything you require from us, Sir Kormak you have only to ask my brother and he will provide it. I shall return now to the Cathedral and pray for the confounding of our Shadow worshipping foes.

  Kormak suspected it would take more than prayers to do that. He wondered where the creature was now and what it was doing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IN THE SHADOWS beneath the palace the Old One waited. It banged its head against the stonework and howled with frustration. Why could it not remember who it was or where it had come from? It could recall only an eternity of imprisonment in the metal coffin. It had endured a centuries-long nightmare of entrapment, far from the light of the Moon, far from the agony of prey.

  When the coffin lid loosened and it sprang forth to strike, it had been near mindless. Instinct had taken over and it had shifted into new shapes to take advantage of its freedom and attack.

  After its escape it remembered fighting and fear as light burned it and it fled from the mortals. Something told it that it should not have happened. Those squawling hairless apes were born to be its slaves.

  Its leg hurt where the mortal’s poisonous blade had struck. The wound refused to heal despite all the instinctive magic it had brought to bear.

  It had shrugged off the blows of the other apes. The cuts inflicted by their weapons had closed almost instantly. Only that accursed sword with its deadly runes had caused any lasting harm.

  A rat scurried by. The Old One sprang, impaling the rodent on a dagger-like claw. It flicked the tiny corpse into its distended mouth and crunched down with sharp teeth. Bones broke. Blood trickled down its throat. Along with the taste of brain tissue came a surge of small, feral memories. Of hunger and hunting for food in the dark. Soon it would integrate the rat’s flesh into its own form. Perhaps that would help heal the wound.

  It altered its shape as easily as a mortal breathed.

  He was male now. He stood differently. His balance altered. Fur rippled and grew. Hound-like ears twitched. His wolf-like muzzle wrinkled as he snarled.

  He changed. His snout shrank. His brainpan bulged. It was easier to focus his mind in this form.

  He kept shifting, extending the range of his thoughts, decreasing the range of his senses. It was as if the more of his mind he freed from processing basic sensations, the greater his powers of reason, the more he could remember.

  The Old One limped further down into the darkness. He needed refuge and time to think. In the distance, he smelled blood and warm living flesh. He caught the faint pheromonal traces of fear and hunger and hate. There were other senti
ent things down here.

  Good. He had not fed in a long time but he would now and he would grow stronger and give his enemies cause to regret their temerity.

  ***

  “I might have guessed I would find you lounging around in the lap of luxury,” said the abbot as he entered the room. Gerd had not changed much since their youth. He was medium height with shoulders so broad he looked squat. His hair was Sunlander gold and his beard was long and curly, not carefully trimmed like those of the Sidereans. He limped and that was new. “As always, you’ve landed on your feet.”

  Kormak lay on the couch in his chambers, with his sword close at hand. He had rarely felt so weak and he did not like others seeing it. “You know what it’s like when you’re a Guardian. One day it’s a peasant’s hut, the next day a King’s palace.”

  Gerd’s smile held a complex mix of envy, bitterness and agreement. “You look like you’ve seen better days, Kormak.”

  “I have, Gerd. And many of them.”

  “What in the name of the Angel Zhamriel happened to you?”

  “I met an Old One in the King’s vaults last night. I neglected to wear my armour.”

  “Rumour has it you did not kill it.”

  Kormak did not want to say he had still been weak from guiding the ship through the storm. It sounded too much like an excuse “Rumour has the right of it.”

  “I knew I was not summoned to the palace so they could look at my cheerful Taurean face. So there’s an Old One loose in the Palace Imperial, is there?”

  “A very dangerous one.”

  “It must be if you did not kill it.”

  “I’m getting old, Gerd.”

  “We all are.”

  “I feel it.”

  “You thinking of giving up the blade?”

  “You did.”

  Gerd looked down at his leg. “Tendon was slashed. Healed badly. Made it difficult to do the dance of blades.”

  Kormak tapped his chest. “I took a few cuts myself last night.”

  “Doesn’t look like anything that would slow you down in the long term. You’ll heal.”

  “Yes,” Kormak said. “I’ll heal.”

  Gerd gave a short barking laugh.

  “What?” Kormak asked.

  “You’re the last man I would have thought to hear talking about giving up the blade. I always thought they’d pull it from your cold dead hand.”

  “How many are left from our oath year?”

  “You. Me. Magritte. The rest are all gone.” Silence filled the room while they contemplated the deaths.

  “And only you are still carrying a sword. Magritte went back to Aethelas last year. She’s teaching herbalism to acolytes, believe it or not.”

  “Good for her.”

  “What would you teach? How to climb a rock like an Aquilean ape?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “You did not ask me here so we could discuss your career choices, did you? Because if that’s what you want, let me give you some advice. Don’t become abbot of a chapter house. It’s all prayers, scrolls and bloody politics with barely time to steal beer from your own cellars.”

  “I thought it was what you always planned on doing.”

  “Yes, I am really living my dream,” he said. “Look what it got me. Fat, bored and forced to listen to your whining.”

  He smiled to take away the sting of what he was saying then said, “You didn’t ask me here so we could wax nostalgic about the good old days. What do you need?”

  “Truesilver armour if you have it.”

  “The shirt will need adjusted to fit your heathen build but we have a good man for that.”

  “Sunflares.”

  “Every chapter house has those. Basic alchemy, man. Ask me for something difficult.”

  “Valen’s Elixir.”

  “There was no need to take me at my word. You know it is forbidden. You know why too.”

  “It can cause apoplexy, heart failure and rupture of internal organs. None of which will bother me if this Old One is eating my heart.”

  “I never knew you had one.”

  “Can your apothecary do it or should I ask the King instead?”

  “Don’t embarrass me. Of course, he can. It’s just I will have a hell of a job explaining what happened to Grandmaster Darius if you drink the stuff and keel over and die.”

  “I am not planning on it.”

  “No one ever does. You really want it? You remember how we used to laugh about the old men who used it. We’re older than them now.”

  Kormak nodded. “We were never going to get old.”

  Gerd looked out the window. “But we did. And we are the lucky ones.”

  “I’ll need essence of truesilver.”

  “I can see this is going to get expensive. It’ll be interesting when the Auditor pays me a visit.”

  “What a thrilling life you lead.”

  “We can’t all be bold monster hunters. Well, not anymore.” Gerd looked serious. “How many weapons will you need the truesilver essence for?”

  “As much as you can get me.”

  “You planning on starting your own mercenary company?”

  “The King’s bodyguards will need it and there may be people with me.”

  “Oh there will be people with you all right. Me and some of my lads.”

  “Better make sure they come with all their gear.”

  “They’ll have alchemical banefire and sunflares.”

  “Trick your lads out with every ward and rune you’ve got. We have no idea what this thing is capable of.”

  “Other than shredding you, you mean. That’s quite enough for me.”

  “You have a Shadowhound?”

  “I have a pack of them. Take your arm off quick as look at you. You think we’re going to need trackers?”

  “It depends on how good the local Diviners are.”

  Gerd glanced around. “You are in the Imperial Palace. The walls are an arm-span thick and covered in elder signs. There are wardstones built into the support pillars. Most of the household is scryer-shielded. I doubt the Archmage Eldarak himself could perform a halfway decent divination in this place. I’ll bring the hounds. To tell the truth it’ll do me good to see someone else foot the bill for feeding them for a bit. The bastards eat more than all the brothers put together and that’s saying something. Has to be prime beef as well. They’re picky as a bunch of Selenean epicures. You’ve no idea how much it costs . . .”

  “You can expect quite a large donation from the Palace.”

  “Good because this is going to cost plenty and all these alchemicals will need to be replaced.”

  “When can you get the brothers here?”

  “Half a dozen are already with me. The rest are down in the city making sure the locals don’t steal everything that isn’t nailed down.”

  “Get everybody you can up here. Leave the minimum you need to keep the chapter house safe.”

  “The servants and the lay brothers can do that if I shout at them enough. Anything else?”

  “Tell your boys they’ll need to be careful. They’ll not have seen anything like this thing before.”

  “You’re not reassuring me, Kormak.”

  “Good. Scared men pay attention.”

  “Scared men make mistakes too. We both know that.” The words hung in the air after he left.

  ***

  Outside it was noon. The Holy Sun beamed down on his people, his light keeping them safe from monsters. Inside the cool of the palace, a small army was on the move.

  Warriors in the uniforms of the Household Guard watched all the entrances to the catacombs.

  Hard looking men in white surcoats bearing the red dragon of the Order of the Dawn waited among them. They wore belts containing flasks of strange alchemicals. Elder signs warded their helmets. Most of them wore other runes on armlets, necklaces or rings. All of them had burning torches at hand.

  Groups of household servants gawk
ed. Nobles in full court dress displayed just as much curiosity.

  Kormak felt the unfamiliar armour of truesilver on his shoulders and chest. He had forgotten how light it seemed when worn. He ran his hands over the contents of the pouches and rings in the belt the abbot had given him, making sure everything was there.

  He touched the stoppers of tubes containing truesilver essence. He ran his fingers over the rune-lines inscribed on the otherwise smooth surfaces of sunflares. He studied one. The faint glow showed it was ready to discharge a burst of the stored light of the Holy Sun.

  He felt the flask containing Valen’s Elixir. Why had he asked Gerd for it? His own strength would be enough. It always had been in the past. He should return the potion and tell the abbot he had made a mistake in a moment of doubt.

  “So what’s the plan?” Gerd asked. The abbot carried a mace marked with dwarven runes. Near him stood a big man who held the leads of three huge black dogs. The dogs were the size of wolfhounds with jaws like bulldogs. They looked at Kormak as if considering him for their next meal.

  “We’re going down to the vault to take a look.”

  “By we, you mean . . .”

  “You, me and the dogs.”

  “We might want to take some more.”

  Kormak shook his head. “They’re needed up here to make sure nothing gets out.”

  “I’m rather hoping we do.”

  “I meant other than us.”

  Gerd made a face. His hands went to his belt. He too carried sunflares and alchemical fire. He licked his lips.

  “You sure you want to come?” Kormak asked. Gerd shot him an odd look. Kormak felt that his friend did not so much want to go with him as need to do it. Perhaps he wanted to show that he had been a Guardian himself once and to prove he still had it in him. He had always been competitive even when they were boys. “It might be best if you stayed here. You are the abbot after all.”

  Gerd smiled as if he saw through Kormak’s attempt to discourage him. “What could possibly harm me? I have a famous Guardian to protect me. And if this Old One gets too close I’ll threaten to make him pay for feeding the dogs. That should scare him off. It bloody well scares me.”

  “I’m starting to worry about this obsession with accounting.”