by William King
“Will they send someone to reclaim your blade, if you fall here?”
Kormak smiled sourly. “They always send someone.”
“I am surprised your Order has lasted so long.”
“There are still thousands of us, even in this much diminished age,” Kormak said. “Once we sent armies to fight in the name of the Holy Sun.”
“They are not all Guardians though. They are mostly novices and laymen. There are less Guardians than there once were. Or so I have been told.”
“You might be right.” He wondered why this was any concern of hers. It made him suspicious for a moment. He looked at the dead land around him, with its empty houses, their windows like the eye-sockets of skulls. “All things end,” he said. “Nations, knightly orders, the lives of men. The good and the evil.”
“The Old Ones remain,” she said, her fingers moving smoothly through that gesture of respect. He shook his head.
“Even they die,” he said. “I have killed some.”
“You regret that, don’t you?”
“Some of them,” he said. “I regret killing some men too. It does not change things.”
“Killing changes many things,” she said. “That’s why people do it.”
“It was the regret I was talking about.”
“I suspect you are better at the killing than the regret, Sir Kormak.”
“I won’t disagree.”
Up ahead he could see that Brandon and Lucas had stopped. They were on the brow of a hill looking down.
“I think they have found something,” Kormak said. He was glad to have an excuse to end the conversation. It had disturbed him and he was not sure why.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“BY THE HOLY Sun, look at that,” said Brandon as Kormak and Aisha came up alongside him. Below them the ruins of Forghast sprawled as far as the eye could see, covering hillsides, filling valleys.
It must have been a great city once, Kormak thought, greater by far than Norbury, as large at least as Vandemar at the end of the Holy Road beyond the Wall of Kings, which some said was the wealthiest and the wickedest city in the world as well as the largest.
The city walls were huge, built by piling enormous stone upon enormous stone, like a drystane dyke built by giants. On some of those stones were inscribed runes taller by far than a man. On others, carved skull faces, many strides high, leered out.
The walls had tumbled down in places, and the fallen stones were discoloured as if by fire or magic. Those would be the places the Solari had broken through when they had come out of the south, with fire and the sword and faith in the Holy Sun burning in their hearts.
Closer inspection revealed that most of those buildings had been burned as well. Their roofs lay open to the sky. Throughout the city were the stumps of broken towers, the shattered shards hinting at how high they once must have reached. In the centre, on a hill, squatted an immense ziggurat. Terrace after terrace rose skyward until they reached an enormous shimmering black stone cap. The Tomb Palace covered an entire hillside, was as large as many a city itself. Flights of steps as wide as streets ran up its sides. Even at this distance, in the weak sunlight, it shimmered greenly, as if surrounded by a ghostly halo of magical energy. Just looking at it made Kormak feel queasy.
“Tens of thousands must have lived here once,” Brandon said. “I would not have thought it so great.”
“The necromancers lived in those fallen towers, and the greatest of them all dwelled within that black pyramid. Over that ziggurat the Black Sun rose,” Aisha said. “This was once the home of some of the most powerful sorcerers in the world.”
“It’s the home of other things now, maybe worse things,” said Lucas. He sounded troubled as if he wanted to run and ride away. If he had, Kormak would not have blamed him.
“That glow,” Brandon said. “What is it?”
“Someone is working magic within the pyramid,” said Aisha. “They are invoking ancient spells. I think we can all guess who.”
A breathless quiet lay over everything as they rode down towards the remains of Forghast. The hooves of their horses sounded too loud, ringing against the stone. Everything seemed to urge them to silence. It was as if they were in a titanic graveyard. There was a sense that noise might draw unwelcome attention, that there were things here best left undisturbed.
Ahead of them a massive gate, five times the height of a man, pierced the wall. Monstrous doors of buckled bronze lay where they had fallen, warped by the impact of battering ram. The stones of the gateway were scorched black and Kormak wondered what kind of burning could still leave its char after centuries of northern wind and rain.
He tried to picture what it must have been like here on the day Forghast fell, as a horde of tawny haired Solari smashed through this gate. He had seen cities fall in his time. He could picture the arrows darkening the sky as the desperate defenders fired down from the walls. He could hear the sizzle of boiling oil on flesh and the screams of the dying and the boom of a massive metal-beaked ram smashing against the bronze gates.
The image seized his mind like a vision and for a moment he wondered if there was some more magic than mere imagination at work. Of course, this had been a city of necromancers. Some of the warriors would, even then, not have been numbered among the living. In the darkness, wights and other abominations would have taken part in the fray.
They were on haunted ground. Many men had died here, and died horribly in a place where mages had worked the darkest of magic and the power of Shadow stained the land. In combination those things could have terrible results. It was no wonder this place was avoided by sane men. He could almost feel the taint that had seeped into the stones with the Defiler’s curse. It intensified with every heartbeat and every step.
They passed under the shadow of the arch and out into the remains of the city.
The bones of the unburied were strewn everywhere. Blackened skulls lay in the ruins. He could see vitrified wood where doors had burned black. A half melted shield clattered away from the hooves of his horse.
“Did all these people fall in battle?” Brandon asked. “I’ve seen war in my time, the Holy Sun knows, but this must have been fought on a scale larger than anything in my lifetime.”
“Many died of plague,” Aisha said. “The Defiler released it after he took his death wound, before his acolytes carried him below and sealed his tomb. It killed those who had killed his empire. It was part of his curse upon the land.”
“And it was a terrible one,” said Brandon. His face looked pale in the gathering gloom. There was an odd scent in the air.
A thought struck Kormak. “Perhaps he was sowing seeds.”
“What do you mean,” Lucas asked.
“What could be better for a necromancer than a city of corpses, a kingdom of the dead. You would not need tomb dust for these. This place is tainted with the Shadow.”
Brandon looked at him sidelong. “You think he planned to return.”
“He was a necromancer,” Kormak said. “He defied time and death. It is what those who dabble in those kinds of forbidden secrets always seek.”
“Just as well those Sunlander priests slew him then,” said Lucas.
“Did they though? If he could cheat death, he could return. He could outlast his foes. Those who opposed him have all gone to the grave. Now there is only us.”
“You don’t think he is really still waiting, do you?” Brandon asked. Kormak looked at their frightened faces. What was he doing? They were scared enough without him giving voice to his own fears. Already the sun was starting to fall below the horizon and darkness was coming, as its watery light failed to pass through the barrier of clouds.
“We’ve come a long way,” he said. “Not much further now.”
Night came. Eldritch green light rising from the ziggurat underlit the moon-obscuring clouds. An odd haze crept between buildings. There was an odd fusty smell to it that Kormak did not like. The smell of rot was in the air. His tongue tingled
. His hair felt sticky, his flesh unclean. Shae growled, his hackles rising. Aisha stroked his neck with her hand and gazed about. Kormak sensed something passing overhead again.
The burned out buildings had turned into a maze. It was hard to find a way forward through the endless warren of ruins and bones. He had a crawling feeling between his shoulder-blades. Somewhere out there in the darkness something huge and inimical was stirring. He began to think he was hearing furtive noises, almost too faint to be picked up. When he looked away, Kormak could still see the shapes shimmering in his vision.
“Morghael is awakening old and evil magic,” said Aisha. They passed into a wide street and the bulk of the buildings cut off their view of the ziggurat. Mist continued to rise. Dots of greenish light swarmed through the air, like clouds of fireflies. Sometimes they settled on a pile of corpses and sank in and vanished.
Shae stood still now, his ears pricked up, his nose twitching. His teeth bared in a snarl. He began to growl. Kormak was not sure whether it was from anger or fear. The horses whinnied nervously. Brandon’s warhorse seemed ready to attack. Kormak’s beast had been trained to endure whatever, but the rest seemed on the verge of bolting.
“There’s something out there,” Lucas said. “I can feel it.”
A bat-winged shape swept over them and vanished into the fog. “The Old One passes us in the night,” Aisha said.
“Or hunts us,” said Lucas. He did not sound happy with that idea. He looked at Kormak’s blade significantly.
“If it attacks us, I will kill it,” said Kormak. It was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Neither Lucas not Brandon looked comfortable with the idea of being attacked by an Old One. Aisha looked dismayed, perhaps by his mention of slaying one of those who her faith regarded in the same way as followers of the Holy Sun regarded saints or angels.
The mist grew thicker and thicker. Parts of it were luminescent, strands pulsed with soft, sinister greenish light. These quested through the gloom as if seeking something. Sometimes they came close, like the fumbling fingers of a blind man, but retreated when they came into contact with the living.
Kormak could see no further than a few arms lengths ahead. He breathed in the air. It felt curdled in his lungs, as if the Shadow tainted even his breath. He looked at the Elder Sign he bore. It glowed bright as a star and felt warm to the touch. He felt sure that this was what had repelled the tendrils of shimmering mist.
“We should find a place to hole up for the night,” said Lucas.
“The horses are restless,” said Brandon.
“We cannot see where to go,” said Aisha. “In night and fog we may wander aimlessly.”
“We don’t have time,” said Kormak. “Morghael is working his magic. We don’t know how long it will take him to complete his ritual.”
“We may not be able to even find the Pyramid in this,” said Lucas. He sounded scared.
Kormak was going to ask how hard it could be to find the Tomb Palace. All they needed to do was keep going upwards but wandering through the endless, empty streets had already shown it was not that simple. The city had hidden slopes and lesser hills and the streets wound through them. The fog obscured all landmarks more distant than a few strides away. The greenish glow was everywhere now so they could not use it as a beacon.
It was frustrating, as if the elements themselves conspired to keep them from finding Morghael. Kormak did not rule out the possibility. He had been in places where the weather could be bent to the will of sorcerers and other, less human entities. As if echoing his thought, Aisha said, “If we find a spot I can ward us against the taint of Shadow.”
Lucas emerged from the mist again, a shadow against shadows until he resolved into a lanky man. Kormak looked at him suspiciously for a moment. He had known creatures who could take the form of men. Many of the Old Ones could look exactly as they wished.
“There is a place over there that still has a roof,” Lucas said, either unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge Kormak’s stare. “It’s big enough for us to pen the horses inside so they don’t wander off. We can wait this out until morning.”
“It might not rise with morning,” Kormak said. “If it’s not a natural mist.”
“You want us to continue on?” Brandon asked. He was chewing on his moustache again and looking out into the gloom as if expecting an attack momentarily. All of them were tired and afraid.
Kormak said, “Out there a madman is working evil magic. We cannot stop now. We cannot give him a chance to work whatever necromancy he plans.”
A loud inhuman yammering rang out. It was answered from a distant part of the ruins. Echoes and the mist made it difficult to tell exactly how far.
“Ghouls,” said Lucas. Brandon nodded. He remembered the sound.
Lucas frowned. “What the hell are they doing here? All the stories claim they avoid the city.”
“Something is leading them,” said Kormak.
“Or summoning them,” said Aisha.
“There was something odd about the first howl though. It did not sound right,” Lucas said.
“So you are a connoisseur of monster howls, are you?” Brandon asked.
“He’s right,” Kormak said. “It was different from the others we’ve heard.”
“You still want to stay here?” Lucas asked.
“I never wanted to stay here,” Kormak said.
Another chorus of howls echoed from the north.
“Another pack,” Lucas said. His eyes darted everywhere as if he was searching for a way out.
“How many of them are there in this bloody place,” Brandon asked.
“Too many for us, I fear,” said Aisha. Her horse startled and she had to saw on the reins to keep it under control.
“We can’t run in this place,” Lucas said. “Not on horses.. Not in the mist. We would break our necks.”
More ululating cries rang out, startlingly loud. It was very close by or it sounded it.
“Don’t panic. Don’t run. Don’t get separated.” Kormak said.
“You’d better tell that to the horses,” said Lucas.
“We need to find a place to build a fire,” Kormak said. “Those things will track us by scent if they are not led to us.”
An inhuman laugh sounded from the gloom. From all around came the sound of mad tittering as if the ghouls echoed the mad mirth of their master.
“I fear they have found you already, Guardian,” said a deep voice that Kormak recognised at once. “They were always going to find you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE MISTS PARTED to reveal a horde of loping, leering ghouls. At their centre stood a creature that looked part ghoul and part-human although much larger than both. It eyed them with a fierce, mad gaze. Kormak recognised those eyes even though the last time he had seen them they had looked out of a much different form.
“Malion,” he said. The Old One pranced forward, made a capering travesty of a courtly bow, then bounded back amidst his horde of ghoulish followers. They parted around him as if fearing his touch. What sort of creature could inspire such fear in ghouls, Kormak wondered?
The monster sprang atop a ruined wall and crouched there supporting itself on all fours, flabby lips hanging open, drool dripping from the sides of its mouth, running over teeth like tusks.
“You threatened me, Guardian,” Malion said. “I do not… I do not... like that.”
It seemed that Malion had lost whatever semblance of sanity even an Old One could possess.
“So you came here to kill me.”
“No. I came here to warn Morghael. My sister helped you so it seemed only fair that I help him to balance the score.”
“It seems to me that this is a little more than balancing the score. And you have helped him in the past. It was you who told the wights he released where to strike. It was you who spied on us for the necromancer. You have worked evil. You have broken the Law.”
“Are you going to punish me for it, Guardian,” Malion asked. There was
mad mockery in his voice. “Are you going to perform your duty? Are you going to fulfil your famous oath?”
There were scores of ghouls out there and more arriving all the time. It seemed unlikely that they could triumph over so many.
“Kill me and more will come,” said Kormak.
“Things are going to be very busy in the Northlands soon. Your Order will have other things to worry about once Morghael finishes his ritual.”
“They do not forget,” said Kormak. “However long it takes, they will catch up with you.”
“I no longer care,” said Malion. “Let them come. They will come into a land in which the Shadow has woken and face the legions of the Black Sun.”
“That won’t matter,” said Kormak, although in his heart of hearts he wondered whether the Old One’s confidence might not be justified.
Malion tilted his head to one side and scratched his forehead, drawing a bloody furrow with his claws. The gesture conveyed a hint of doubt, as if he was not quite as certain as he wanted to sound. He seemed to come to a decision.
“It has been a while since I hunted with my pets,” Malion said. He gestured towards the ghouls with a stringy, muscular arm that was longer than any human limb and which ended in talons. “I might indulge in some sport. Pick one of your friends and give them to me for the chase. I will leave you free to go on with the remainder.”
“You are mad,” said Sir Brandon.
A long clawed finger stabbed out, pointing to Brandon. The flesh around Malion’s long, lean face shifted until folds dripped down in a parody of the knight’s moustache. Malion scratched at his cheeks, drawing blackish, clotted blood then licking it away with his too-long, forked tongue. “That one will do.”
Kormak stared at the Old One. He had known its type before. It was possible Malion merely wanted to torment him mentally before slaying all of them. Some of the Old Ones delighted in turning humans against humans, they seemed to feed on it in some way.