The Kormak Saga

by William King

  “Gilean,” he said. He was already reaching for his sword, just in case it was not.

  “Guardian,” she said, hunkering beside him.

  “I was wondering whether your incense worked or whether I just had a particularly vivid dream.”

  “It worked but we have been busy. There is war under the eaves of Greatwood. Weaver’s people encroach on Kayoga lands. They have their turncoat humans, they have the spiders and they gather the Lost. We are pressed hard.”

  “The Army of the Morning is here,” said Kormak. “You have allies.”

  “That is a good thing to know.”

  “I am glad you are here.”

  “You seem to be the only one. There were a number who I suspect would have shot me gladly if they had seen me.”

  “All elves look alike to us. We cannot tell the Lost from the Children of the Green.”

  “I suspected as much which is why I slipped through unnoticed. My people will provide you with scouts to guide you and warn you of ambushes but we must ensure they are not slaughtered by mistake.”

  “A recognisable symbol would help. Your arrows are green although I doubt the eyes of most here are keen enough to spot that.”

  “Speak with your leader, have him provide us with tokens, those gryphons on the hawsers of his tent would be useful. Or we could use some of your Order’s dragon signs.”

  “Those would be more useful, I think. They would remind men you are our allies and under the Order’s protection. I can also get you those by nightfall tomorrow, if I start right away.”

  “That would be good.”

  “Meet me at the Eastern edge of the camp. I will see that the sentries are warned.”

  “As you say.” There was something hesitant in her manner so Kormak asked, “How goes the war?”

  “Weaver has grown strong in her shadowy web,” Gilean said. She sounded weary and Kormak resisted the urge to ask any more questions.

  “Till tomorrow then,” she said eventually and then she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of forest blossoms behind her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE STREETS OF Green Oak were eerily quiet. There were a few rotting bodies with skeletons picked clean. Webs covered the entrances to the buildings, small spiders scuttled everywhere. The village bore no resemblance to the bustling township he had first seen on his arrival in the Settlements what felt like decades ago although it was just over a month.

  Alchemists from the Solar Flame sampled the water from the well and found it poisoned. Master Graydon and Lord Rhys conferred and ordered it burned to the ground. If nothing else, it gave the alchemists an opportunity to test their creations before they were put seriously to use. It turned out that they had something more in mind.

  The mages marched around the town, marking a huge Elder Sign in the dirt with their staffs and inscribing complex runes at the points where the lines met. One of them and a number of bodyguards took up a position at each point of the star.

  As they did this, the alchemists entered the village with a retinue of warriors intended to kill the spiders. Prayers to the Holy Sun were invoked as the buildings were soaked in pitch black oil. When Master Graydon gave the order the oil was ignited with sunflares. Soon oily smoke drifted skywards. The wooden buildings burned easily. It was eerie how quickly all signs of human occupation had vanished.

  As the flames rose, the mages chanted ancient spells. The fires intensified in response to the ancient words. Kormak felt the Elder Sign on his chest grow warm in response to the eddy currents of magic.

  For long minutes the assembled force watched the town burn and listened to the mages chant. At first, aside from the intensity of the blaze, there seemed to be nothing too unusual going on. The mages kept chanting. Their words echoed within Kormak’s chest evoking strange emotions. Images of destruction drifted into his mind, of cities consumed by fire, of worlds destroyed by a blaze brighter than the sun. Still the town burned.

  Slowly the flames flowed together, pooling into one place like water in a bowl. At times now Kormak thought he saw figures within the flames, humanoid shapes dancing and brandishing weapons. He was reminded of the castles and demons he had seen when looking into the fireplace when he was young but these seemed more real and more intense.

  Slowly the flames began to leap in response to the words the mages were chanting. It was if some huge alien entity was dancing to the rhythm of the spell. Slowly they coalesced.

  Tentacles of fire licked out from the vast conflagration to scorch the surrounding forest. The trees they touched burned intensely bright and then collapsed into ash as if their entire substance had been turned into flame in seconds.

  Kormak watched the circle of mages sitting chanting, their concentration was fierce for the elemental could not be allowed to run out of control.

  The assembled troops watched awe-struck by the power of the sorcery. Kormak understood how they felt. He had spent a lifetime witnessing the effects of magic and this was one of the most potent manifestations he had witnessed.

  He hoped that none of the Kayoga were out in the woods where the elemental rampaged. Nothing was going to survive an encounter with that monstrous blaze. Eventually, as evening came on, the flames died away leaving nothing but ash and desolation in their wake. Only then did the army seem to wake from its trance and cheer the mages. There was something at once appalled and elated in the sound.

  “Did you see that?” one of the peasant archers asked another.

  “I bet that impressed the heathens.”

  “The bastard elves are probably still running.”

  “I am glad those wizards are on our side.”

  “Yeah but can we trust the bastards?”

  “We are with the Order of the Dawn. If they are not trustworthy they will soon know what for. The Order kills rogue magicians.”

  “Creepy though, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes but what power! My old man used to say the wizards could rule the world if they wanted to.”

  “I’ve heard they do, in secret. That there is a cabal of archmages and Kings and Lords all dance to their tune.”

  Kormak had heard such things said many times before, and even though he had known and been friends with several wizards in his time, he felt a certain sympathy for the speakers. The use of so much power brought it home to him just how potent magicians were when they co-operated. So much power concentrated in so small a group was something he instinctively distrusted even if that power was deployed in the service of the Holy Sun.

  He reached the rise on which the Grand Master’s tent stood. Graydon was there, surrounded by mages and alchemists. They looked weary but proud. “That was impressive.” Kormak said. “Although perhaps we should have waited until we were across the river.”

  “This will help morale,” Graydon said. “It lets the men know that great powers work on their side. They’ll need such faith in the days ahead. Things will not go so easy once we are inside the Shadowblight.”

  “No indeed, Grand Master,” said the leader of the wizards. She was a good-looking, red-haired woman in what appeared to be her early thirties. From his experience of mages Kormak knew that she might be any age from thirty to three hundred. “The magic will not be so easy to cast either. There will be resistance from the force of the Blight itself. Such things abhor cleansing magic and are not without strength themselves.”

  “I shall take your word for that, Elanora,” said Graydon. “Nonetheless I must congratulate you and your cabal. You have made a good beginning here.”

  “But that is all it is, Grand Master,” said the chief sorceress. “I sense that out there in the forest is a power that will soon oppose us and it is very strong. And the elementals will not be so easy to control in the Shadowblight. They are creatures of magic and thus more vulnerable to corruption…”

  “You and your people get some rest,” said the Master. “I have things to discuss with Sir Kormak and preparations I must supervise for our departure tomo
rrow.”

  “As you command, Sire,” the woman responded. She and her companions withdrew into their tents. Multiple sentries stood guard on them. After having listened to the soldiers speak Kormak found himself thinking that they were there as much to keep an eye on their charges as to watch over them.

  When the mages had departed, the Chapter Master said, “Useful people.”

  “Vulnerable people,” Kormak said. “If anything happens to them we lose our best chance of destroying the Blight.”

  “That is why I have guards watching over them, and others placed throughout the camp. I no more want anything to happen to them than you do.”

  “There are those in the camp who dislike the use of magic.”

  “That may be, but they will like the protection it gives us before the end.”

  “I am sure of that,” said Kormak.

  “You wanted something?” The Master asked.

  “I want to know if the insignia for the elves had been prepared yet.”

  Graydon gave a sign to one of his pages. The boy scuttled off and a few minutes later returned with a couple of heavily built porters each of whom carried a chest.

  “They are ready for when our allies show up. At long last. I was beginning to have my doubts.”

  Kormak nodded. “Not unreasonably. I will take these to the agreed meeting point.”

  “Tomorrow I will have the brethren explain things to our troops. We are going to need these Kayoga alive if we are to find our way to the heart of the Blight and expunge the evil there.”

  Gilean waited with a group of the Kayoga at the edge of the clearing where they had agreed to meet. The porters looked about nervously, worried by the presence of the elves. It was only natural given all of the things the army had been told about their opponents. The sentries clutched their weapons tight but they did not attack when the elves seemed to materialise out of the forest.

  The elves took the surcoats. They tried them on, laughing. The clothing had been made to fit men, not elves, and it hung loose and short on their spare frames.

  “These will not help us hide from the Lost,” said one of the elves.

  “They may spare you from being shot by humans when you come to lead them.”

  “We sensed the presence of great sorcery in the forest today,” Gilean said, staring at Kormak. “There was burning and death among the trees.”

  “That was us,” said Kormak. “There will be more burning when we enter the Blight.”

  The elves made warding signs with their hands. They knew what was being done was necessary but deliberately starting a blaze was a crime among them.

  “Can your sorcerers really control what they unleash?” Gilean asked.

  Kormak shrugged. “I do not know. I don’t think that even they do. The Shadowblight worries them. They think it may be able to corrupt even the Burning Ones.”

  “Let us hope not. They would be terrible adversaries.”

  “I think even if they are corrupted they will not serve Weaver. They will do what they wish. It is the nature of such beings.”

  “You speak as if you have had experience of this,” she said.

  “I have.”

  “We meet across the river tomorrow,” Gilean said. The elves stepped back into the trees and were gone as if they had never been. The sentries stared at Kormak as if they had just witnessed him talking to demons.

  Kormak charged forward into the Lost elves standing among the trees, casting spears at the soldiers fording the river. The Brothers of the Dawn with him fought savagely with mace and sword and shield, crashing through the thin elvish line, sending the forest dwellers scuttling back into the woods to regroup. So far casualties looked light on both sides.

  From all along the river bank came the sounds of conflict. Armed bands had been landed on the northern and southern flanks of the army and swept inwards pincer-like to clear the landing point where the bulk of the force would cross. The force of elves guarding the ford looked as if it had been all but swept away.

  Baron Enderby and a group of his men were swimming the river at the shallowest point, still mounted on their horses. It seemed the Baron was serious in his intention of making a cavalry charge against the elves. Kormak found he could almost respect the bold idiocy of the man.

  All around him brothers whooped and slapped each other on the backs, all semblance of their usual monastic discipline lost. It was their first encounter with the forest dwellers and they had won it easily; too easily Kormak thought. This had been little more than a skirmish line, scouts sent to watch for their arrival. Word of their coming would be winging its way back to Weaver now, if she had not already known about the army on her border.

  He said nothing. He knew the mood of jubilation would end all too soon.

  Kormak watched the rafts as they crossed the river. They were little more than chopped down trees down with the trunks roped together but they served their purpose. Ropes thrown across the water provided some guidance.

  Some of the more nimble warriors swung across on them. One jongleur walked across the narrow strand while a minstrel sang a comic song. Some knights swam their horses across while their companions cheered. The rest waited for their turn on the rafts. It was going to take the rest of the day just to move the entire force across, and it did not bode well for them if they were defeated. There would be no easy line of retreat.

  A sense of foreboding filled Kormak. He remembered the expedition with Grogan and how that had ended. He recalled his attempt to warn the villages of the Settlements of the coming invasion. That had ended in failure. For him this had not been a lucky land. Perhaps the Shadow really was too strong here.

  Some brothers from the Order were manhandling their wagons onto the rafts. They were artificers, responsible for overseeing the use of the ancient First Empire weapons the Order preserved. He prayed that the strange sorcerous devices would prove more reliable than some of the Solari war engines he had seen used in the past.

  He walked past the lines of soldiers who waited among the trees. All the elation of the earlier victory had gone, eroded by the occasional poisoned dart that emerged from nowhere to claim another victim. The men looked out nervously now.

  This was not the sort of land they were used to fighting through and the taint of Blight was upon it. He could see that many of them were young and nervous. He thought that was good in a way. It would keep them alert and that was the one thing that might keep them alive here.

  He was nervous himself but for different reasons. One of his greatest fears was that Weaver would attack the army in force as it crossed. That would be the period of maximum vulnerability. If their crossing had been heavily disputed by archers it would be very difficult if not impossible.

  There had been no real attack, only the one brief encounter with Weaver’s scouts. He hoped that was because the Lost were busy in the north fighting against the Kayoga but the pessimistic part of him suspected a trick. There had been so many losses in this part of the world already.

  He heard a soft mocking growl from nearby. He turned, hand on hilt of sword. Fierce eyes glared at him from the undergrowth. Massive fangs glittered in the forest’s half-light. Zlith padded forward and licked his hand with a very rough tongue.

  “He says you always taste good,” said Gilean’s voice from somewhere amid the shadows. “Someday he would like to take a bite.”

  “Tell him I hope he is joking.”

  “He never jokes about such things,” she said and laughed. Seeing his expression she looked at him and said, “Something troubles you.”

  “I am wondering where Weaver’s people are and why they have not opposed our crossing more strongly.”

  “The fight at the ford was little more than bait, an easy victory to lure you into complacency. Weaver wants your people in the Blight. It is her land. It will serve her. Your lines of communication will grow longer. Your people must feed on tainted meat and drink tainted water or starve. For now they are disciplined but h
unger breaks down all discipline. And the longer they are here the more vulnerable they become. The more vulnerable we all become.”

  “Then we had best finish this quickly,” said Kormak.

  “If we can finish it at all,” said the elf.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THEY DROVE A burning road through the forest. Kormak watched the alchemists move ahead. They carried barrels of chemicals on their back and they sprayed the evil-smelling fluid onto the trees. Where it impacted, nothing survived. The blighted wood caught fire, giving off a sickening smoke. This was a Burning indeed.

  Behind the alchemists the wizards did their work, chanting spells making sure that the flames only spread in one direction and did not start a conflagration that would burn down the entire forest and roast the army to death. It was slow work but they cleared a path of advance. The knights could lead their horses ten abreast if they wanted.

  Kormak waited tensely. He sensed that there were eyes out there in the forest watching them and those eyes were not in the slightest bit friendly.

  By the end of the first day they had covered a number of leagues and entered a great clearing in which they could make camp.

  Foresters were set on guard around the perimeter of the camp for the night. Although they did not know it, they were not alone. Out there, Gilean and some of the Kayoga watched along with the great wolves and the giant owls. Kormak was glad of that. One of his greatest fears was the camp being attacked in the night and the men scattering into the haunted forest to be picked off one by one.

  In the centre of the camp great bonfires burned, fuelled by wood and alchemicals and the magic of wizards. There was something about the flames that made the Kormak uneasy. Normally fire was the great enemy of Shadow but even it could be bent to the Shadow’s purposes. Some of the logs burned with a greenish flickering and Kormak remembered the sorceress’s words concerning the way that elementals could become corrupted. The fires provided them with a weapon against any attack but they could so easily be turned into a blade held at their throat by the wrong sort of magic.