by William King
“Morghael’s army was put down by Duke Donal of Osterlund and his sons. He fled the field. The Duke put me on his trail and here I am.”
“If this Morghael’s a necromancer, he could be the one who opened the barrow.”
“Quite possibly.”
“And yet you never told me. Instead you spent time quizzing me about whether any of my people could have done this. Or whether the hill-tribes could be behind it. And all the time you had a far more likely suspect in mind.”
“I needed to ask Brandon. I can’t just assume Morghael did this. If it was somebody here it would mean I was leaving someone behind me who might open another tomb. Morghael is the most likely suspect but he’s not the only one. You still want to come with me? On the trail of a necromancer?”
“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to call back the sentry and go explain the matter to Gena.”
“I think that might take some explaining.”
“When you’re right, you’re right,” said Brandon. He meant his grin to look devil-may-care but instead it just looked nervous.
CHAPTER FOUR
KORMAK ACCEPTED THE offer of nuts, waybread and dried meat from the old woman. She was the grandmother of one of the children he had rescued from the barrow and she wanted to show her thanks. He took the food and placed it in his saddlebag, and then accepted some small copper coins from the father of another boy.
He noticed that there were more parents here giving him things than just those of the children he had rescued. He guessed the whole village wanted to show its gratitude. Part of him was embarrassed and part of him was grateful. Not everyone was so generous to Guardians as these people were being. Many times on his travels he had gone hungry amid richer folk.
Brandon stood nearby talking in a low voice with his wife. Lady Gena seemed none too happy with her husband riding off. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe she was just as angry with whoever opened the barrow as Brandon was. Brandon finished talking to her, then went and said something to Radney. The eldest boy would be standing in for him while he was away. At least that was the theory. If things went the way they usually did, Lady Gena would be the one in charge.
After what seemed like hours, all farewells were said and the villagers lined up to wave them off. The men mounted up and set off along the road north. As they passed the milestone Kormak looked back and he could still see the villagers watching and waving.
He looked at Brandon and the knight looked back at him then gave him a conspiratorial grin. Kormak guessed that he was glad to be back on the road. It took him back to the times of their youth. It was odd that someone could be nostalgic for the times of the Orc Wars, but he thought he understood.
The land was bleak and dreary. Occasionally Kormak made out sheep in the hills to the south but there was nothing living to the north. Not even a crow hovered in the empty sky. There was something about the Barrow Hills that discouraged living things.
Their road had originally created by the Solari Legions. It ran straight and true as all the ancient Empire’s roads did. No one had dared uproot or deface the runic way markers that showed the symbol of the Holy Sun and the time worn face of one of the Emperors. Kormak thought it belonged to Adrianicus, judging by the resemblance to some old coins he had seen.
Brandon was mounted on a big, fierce-looking chestnut warhorse. He rode as easily and well as he had done in his youth. Kormak envied him the skill. He had grown up in the mountains and was more at home on his own two feet than in the saddle even after all these years. Brandon looked at Kormak then looked north then back at Kormak.
“Gena was not too happy about me going off with you.”
“I suspected as much.”
“She thinks I should stay at home with her and the boys and not go gadding about over the Northlands.” Kormak could tell he was quoting his wife exactly from the tone of his voice.
“How did you convince her?”
“I told her I wanted to punish the bastard who let the wight loose. He’s the one who really killed little Olaf.”
“How far is it to Hungerdale?.”
“About two days ride along the old road. We’ll make camp for the night in the shelter of the Stricken Oak. There’s a wardstone there.”
Brandon was silent, then he looked at Kormak and said, “Let’s hope we get things done before the first snows. Winter is a miserable time of the year here. The wind blows in off the Barrow Hills and it has the chill of the grave on it. It’s been getting worse for years now, even before the Comet appeared in the sky.”
There was a note of horror in his voice and he glanced at the hills again as if he feared some enemy might emerge from them. “Gena always talks about going south to visit her family, to see the great Summer Fair in Vermstadt. She talks about taking the children with her. I sometimes think that might be a good idea.”
Kormak could tell that he was worried. If someone was opening barrows, dark and dreadful things might soon be coming out of those hills. “She’s never gone south since you got wed?” Kormak asked.
“Talks about it all the time. She misses the City State sometimes. Take a look around you and I think you can see why.”
“But she has never gone…”
“You know how it is. There’s always something more needs doing. The roads are not easiest to travel on. The Tinkers bring tales of bandits. There are rumours of orc war-bands and monsters. Now it’s the civil war between the Princes. It’s cold here but it’s safe. At least it has been until recently. Now I wonder. You’ve been in the south. What do you think?”
Kormak recognised it at once. The hunger for news. Not many people came this far north. What was ancient gossip in the courts of the Dukes was fresh rumour up here.
“There are always bandits,” Kormak said. “Out of work soldiers, displaced nobles. You know how it is. I’ve not heard of any warbands though, and that’s something I would expect people to tell me about. Monsters… you’re talking to the wrong man. I meet those wherever I go. It’s the nature of my calling.”
“You meet more now than you did a decade ago though, don’t you?” Brandon sounded as if he wanted Kormak to deny it. Kormak thought about it for a moment and answered truthfully.
“Yes.”
“Let’s hope there is nothing waiting for us on the road then,” said Brandon, smiling.
“I would not count on that,” said Kormak.
Brandon looked at him, finally getting to the question he wanted to ask. “This necromancer, Morghael, why would he flee north? Why would he come here?”
Kormak gestured to the hills around him. “A lot of barrows up here.”
“You think he plans to raise an army from the bones of Kharon?”
“I don’t know. I do know that tomb dust from Kharon is used as part of the rituals in raising the dead.”
Brandon looked at him sidelong. “You know a lot of things it would be better not to. I’ve never heard that before.”
“It’s not common knowledge.”
“Why tomb dust from the Cursed Lands?”
Kormak considered his response carefully. “Some say it’s because the Shadow is in the dust, a legacy of the Defiler’s curse, that it becomes a kind of seed inside a corpse and stirs it to life if the rituals are performed right. I know it works. I saw Morghael’s army.”
“You think he came here for more dust?”
“It has to come from Shadow-tainted tombs, which makes it dangerous to collect, which makes it very expensive. Raising that army must have taken a lot of dust, cost a fortune.”
“Well, there was a wight in that tomb and if he was looking for dust he must have got what he came for. Why not just head on back south?”
“That’s a question I have been asking myself. I have a feeling I am not going to like the answer.”
Around them, the hills brooded. Rain started to fall. They rode on into gathering darkness.
The rain came down in a heavy drizzle. It soaked through Kormak�
��s cloak. He knew he was going to have to check his armour for rust at some point and oil it again. Brandon sat with his back to the ancient runic stone. At least it blocked the wind. He was cursing the cold and the wet. “Why did I agree to come with you again?” he asked.
“Because you wanted to take part in the glamourous life of the wandering Guardian.”
“I knew it was something like that.”
“Why did you really come?”
Brandon looked as if he was going to make a joke then shrugged and said, “Because I want to kill the bastard that let loose that wight. Olaf was one of my people, a kid. He should not have died like that.”
There was silence for a moment then Brandon added, “I grew up around here and I’ve heard all the stories. Do wights really eat the soul of their victims?”
It was obviously something that was preying on his mind. Kormak considered his answer carefully. “They devour whatever is in us that gives us life. Some would call that our soul.”
Brandon let out a long sigh. “Always so precise with words, aren’t you?” It was clearly not what he wanted to say. Suddenly he cursed and said. “Bastard! It makes me so angry when I think of that kid and that barrow and some bloody madman letting those things free.”
“He might not be a madman,” Kormak said. “He might be doing it for a reason.”
“That’s even scarier,” said Brandon. He glanced sidelong at Kormak. His eyes narrowed. A sour grin twisted his face. “But you’re not scared, are you?”
“Not yet. There will be time enough for that later.”
“Gena calls you the fearless Kormak, you know. I don’t think she means it entirely as a compliment.”
“You mean she thinks I am too stupid to be scared,” Kormak said, making a joke of it. “She would not be the first.” He wondered if the fact that his wife thought Kormak fearless and Brandon not, was one of the reasons the knight was here.
Kormak glanced north. Mist or low-lying cloud obscured the Barrow Hills. The land was bleak, mostly rock and heather and gorse. Here and there were ruined cottages. They were not in the distinctive Sunlander style but lower and squatter. They were overgrown with wet moss and looked as if they had been here for a very long time. They added to the sense of abandonment about this place. The cold wind chilled Kormak but it was not the only thing that did so. He felt as if there was something in those hills watching him and waiting. It was something old and malevolent and it did not like men at all although it was prepared to use them.
“This rain is good,” said Brandon. “It’s turning the land off the road to mud. We will be able to track the ones we are looking for if they leave it.”
“Not too many places they can go,” said Kormak. “They can just keep going into the hills along the Great Northern Way.”
“I always used to laugh when my father called it that. It’s a track. It goes nowhere except the mines at Elderdale. It’s not gone anywhere else for a very long time.”
“It once led all the way to the Defiler’s Tomb Palace at Forghast,” said Kormak. “The Solari road joined the trail the Kharonians built.”
“No sane man has gone there since the Great Curse blighted the land. There’s no one goes north of Elderdale now except tomb robbers and dark magicians. Most of those don’t come back. The ones that do get put to death if we catch them.”
“There’s always those that slip through,” said Kormak.
“You know some?”
“There’s always those who dabble in the forbidden. You can’t catch them all, or if you do, it’s years or decades later when they have worked some evil.”
“You know more about such things than I.” Brandon paused for a moment and then turned to look at Kormak. Most of his face was hidden by the cowl of his cloak but Kormak could see he was chewing his moustaches. It was not something he had done back amid his people but it was a nervous tic Kormak remembered from their youth. “What would anyone be looking for up in those hills if it’s not tomb dust?”
“The Death Lords were terrible magicians, sworn to the Shadow. They knew a great deal of dark lore. They made many powerful charms and artefacts. I’ve seen some for sale in Norbury and other places.”
“You shop in some interesting places.”
“I was not shopping.” The grin disappeared from the big man’s face as he worked out what Kormak had most likely been doing. “Sometimes scraps of Shadow and scraps of power cling to such things. Sometimes they still have the spells they were imbued with. There are those who can use such things and have the money to pay for them.”
Brandon shook his head. “I have never understood that.”
“Understood what?”
“Why put your soul at risk? Why risk letting the Shadow come between you and the Holy Sun’s Light?”
Kormak shrugged. “Some men don’t think of their souls. Some men don’t believe we have souls. Some men want power in the here and now. Some want to prolong their lives.”
“Is it possible?”
“The Defiler lived for centuries. Some say he lies in his tomb at Forghast even now, waiting to return.”
Brandon looked thoughtful. “The Old Ones live forever.”
“They don’t age,” said Kormak.
Brandon understood what he meant at once. “But they can still die. You kill them with that sword of yours.”
Kormak nodded. “Yes.”
“Why don’t they age and we do?”
“The priests say because we are the Children of the Holy Sun and they are the spawn of the Lady of the Moon, that it’s because they are soulless that they live so long.”
“I know what the Books say, Kormak. I have heard the sermons. I want to know what you think.”
Kormak laughed. Brandon had looked around when he said it to make sure they were alone. Even out here, with an old friend, there were certain things that were discussed very reluctantly. “You think I disagree with the Books?”
“You’ve said things from time to time that made me think you were not entirely in agreement.”
“I have talked with Old Ones and what they say disagrees with the Books.”
“You have talked with…”
“Yes. They were there at some of the events the Apostles describe. Sometimes their descriptions agree. Sometimes they don’t.”
“The Old Ones might lie.”
“They might.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
“You have talked to beings who have talked to the Apostles and to the Saints.”
“Yes.”
“And what did they say?”
“That they were men like you and me. That some of them were touched by the Light and some were driven by hate. That some of those we think served the Light served the Shadow and vice versa.”
“And you believe this?”
“Some of the Old Ones claim there is no Light and no Shadow. There’s just living creatures and their deeds and their self-justifications.”
“Did you believe them?”
“I believe in the Shadow, Brandon. I have seen too much evidence of its existence to doubt it.”
“They say when the Defiler cursed the Solari a Black Sun rose over the land, spewing darkness as the sun sheds light, and that it tainted all the land around Forghast with the Shadow’s power. That is why the dead walk there, and the old evil seeps out despite all the wardstones and watchtowers the Solari left. Do you think that is possible?”
“Yes,” Kormak said.
They sat in silence after that while the rain fell and the night gathered around them. Kormak felt that something watched them from the darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEY HAD RIDDEN for the better part of the day. Ahead of them, just off the road, a wheeled caravan stood beside a massive rune-carved stone. The vehicle looked completely out of place in the grim, grey, rain-soaked hills. The roof was a brilliant red, the walls were lime green, the spokes of the wheels wer
e painted in multiple colours and their rims were bright yellow. Near the wagon, ponies cropped the straggly grass.
A small group of Tinkers garbed in colours just as bright as their caravan were grouped upslope. A large grey wolf stayed close to one, a woman, in a way that suggested it was tame. The folk had gathered around something.
Kormak dismounted. The scent of the wolf was making his horse nervous. He tied it up near the ponies and strode up the hillside. Taking his cue from the Guardian, Brandon did the same. As they approached the wolf growled and the Tinkers turned to look. There were three men and a woman. None of them carried swords. The men had daggers in their belts though and one of them had a sling in his hands now. He held it casually but it was obvious he was prepared to use it. Kormak held his hands up, fingers splayed to show his hands were empty. He walked closer. The wolf growled. Kormak kept walking.
“Sir Brandon, it is an unexpected pleasure to see you here,” said the oldest of the men. He had once been tall but age had hunched him, giving him the gnarly look of an old tree. The two men flanking him bore a strong family resemblance. They were both broad-shouldered, brown-skinned, hawk-nosed with dark eyes and brows so black they looked as if they had been drawn on with charcoal. Their moustaches were as luxurious as the old man’s but theirs were black. All of them had scarves wound around their heads.
The woman was younger looking, in her twenties judging by her appearance. Her hair was coal black and thick, halfway down her back in a mass of curls. Her lips were huge and red and pouting. Her eyes were dark as well. Her skin was much paler than the other Tinkers and she bore no family resemblance to them at all. She restrained the wolf with a hand on its neck.
The animal was a massive creature, by far the largest natural wolf Kormak had encountered. He had met larger but they had been part of packs whose leader was an Old One and they had been twisted by the old dark magics.
“Javier,” said Brandon nodding at the older man before greeting the younger two. “Stefan. Andreas. Well met upon this lonesome road. I do not recognise this lovely maiden.”