Taker Of Skulls (Book 5)

by William King

  Kormak looked over the side of bridge. Three hundred yards below the stream looked tiny. He kept walking over the great span. He was very conscious of the long drop beneath him.

  “Bad place to get caught by an ambush,” Boreas said. “No way on or off except to jump. Attackers could easily hit from the top of those towers.”

  “That’s why they were there,” Karnea said. “The dwarves were able to defend each entrance to the bridge and the middle as well. There were gates in each.”

  It was not what the dwarves could have done that worried Kormak. It was what men could do now. That far tower perched at the edge of the bridge would be the perfect place for Otto and his boys to wait for them. Even if all they did was drop rocks, they could most likely cause casualties. “Let’s hope there is no one waiting for us,” he said.

  “If you’re thinking about Otto and his lads, I would not worry,” said Sasha. “They would not climb those towers if their lives depended on it.”

  “Why not?” Kormak asked.

  “They are haunted.”

  “By whom?”

  “No one knows but lights are seen in them, and voices speaking in strange tongues are heard, and people vanish who go into them, never to be seen again.”

  Karnea looked up. Her interest was piqued. “I would like to inspect one of those places. This might be the result of some old dwarf rune-magic.”

  “We don’t have the time,” Kormak said. Sasha looked relieved. “We need to push on.”

  When they passed under the arch in the last tower guarding the bridge’s far side, Kormak sensed something. He reached up to touch the Elder Sign on his chest, but he felt no tell-tale warmth. An odd expression passed over Karnea’s face, and she frowned, clearly puzzled by something. Kormak was glad when they got out of the shadow of the structure and into the cold mountain light again. There had been a definite sense of presence about the gatehouse.

  Sasha smiled coolly at him. “If you think that place was bad, just wait till you see the City in the Deeps,” she said. “That place is really spooky.

  In the distance a dire wolf howled, as if in mournful agreement. Kormak looked up at the ridgeline from which the call had come. He saw a grey shape up there. Something small was perched on its back. After a moment, it vanished. But somewhere in the distance another howl answered its call. Kormak did not like that at all. It sounded too much like a signal being passed along a line.

  Chapter Seven

  THE ROAD TWISTED round a corner and a long valley became visible beneath them, running all the way to the foot of one of the great peaks. The road ran down the slope and directly towards a massive gate, flanked on either side by two monstrously huge statues, like the dwarven road markers but on a completely different scale. Within the valley was a camp of scores of tents and dozens of other structures. Even from this distance Kormak could see hundreds of people moving around down there.

  “Prospect Valley,” said Sasha. “There are a lot of rough people down there. Try not to pick too many fights.”

  “Your friend Otto is the one we have to worry about,” said Boreas.

  “He’s not my friend, but he’ll no doubt have a few down there. They can be a pretty scummy crew.”

  “I am sure they are not all bad,” said Karnea. Even she did not sound too optimistic about that.

  “Not all of them will side with Otto,” said Sasha. “He won’t likely try anything too open in the daylight but things might get a bit sticky come nightfall.”

  “Well, we’ve got a few hours yet,” said Karnea. “Maybe we can get underground before then.”

  “That might be even rougher,” said Sasha. “They could follow us in and no one would interfere if they attacked us in the Underlands.”

  “So, it’s our last night above ground for a while,” said Boreas. He studied the camp in the distance. “We might as well get a move on.

  There were more people in the camp than it appeared from a distance. That much became obvious as they approached. There were scores of tents, ranging from large pavilions of silk, to small prospectors tents made from canvas. There were lean-tos built from sticks, set against the sides of boulders. There were makeshift shelters made from cloaks stretched across branches. There were even a few cabins of stone and chipped rock. The camp was set near a stream for water. There were a few keen traders obviously here to try and get the pick of the artefacts early. They were easy to spot, being flanked by burly bodyguards.

  As they entered the outskirts of the camp, Kormak noticed some familiar looking people had pitched tents. The squat massive figure of Otto loomed from among his hulking henchmen. They glared over at Kormak and his companions as if they resented being forced to wait here to rob them. Kormak smiled at them as they passed.

  “Hey Sasha,” someone shouted from a nearby tent. “Going underground again? Thought you said that, after last time, you were never coming back?”

  “I’ve got a new crew,” Sasha said.

  “Tough looking bunch. Except for your lady friend. She looks tasty.”

  “That’s enough of that,” said Boreas.

  “No offence, chummie,” said the prospector. “I didn’t realise she was with you. Still, if she’s free I might be able to trade you something just as tasty for a night’s company.”

  Boreas looked as if he was considering violence. The prospector backed away.

  “He seemed like a friendly chap,” said Karnea.

  Sasha walked over to another campfire and squatted down beside it. “Hey, Heidi,” she said. “How are tricks?”

  “Could be worse,” said the large, wart-faced woman. She was garbed in a suit of chainmail and had a meat cleaver within easy reach. Its sharp edge was driven into a wood stump. “Been a few goblins sighted the last few days. Those big bat things have been scudding across the face of the moon since it waxed. And you must have heard the dire wolves howling when you came up the road last night.”

  Sasha nodded. “Goblins bothering the camp again?”

  “More and more of the little bastards show their pointy little heads every night. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started doing more than sneak thieving. Bunch of folks haven’t come back up from the Deeps. Jonas Tegel says there’s whole tribes below now but you know what Jonas is like...”

  “I do,” Sasha said. “Sounds like it could get nasty around here.”

  “It’s getting late in the year,” Heidi said. “Folks will be heading back down into Varigston soon as the first snow looks likely. It’ll be the little bastards’ last chance to grab anything that’s not nailed down. So yeah, I’d say it’s a fair bet that we’ll have goblin trouble soon. You here to buy?”

  “I’m taking my new crew underground.”

  “Thought you said you wasn’t gonna do that no more, dearie! I mean after Duncan died and what happened to Simeon.”

  “Money’s tight.”

  “And there’s a chance of a big score?” Heidi asked. “You was always looking out for that motherlode.”

  Sasha smiled a little sadly. “Duncan was. I was just along for the ride.”

  Heidi ran an eye over them. Her eyes narrowed when she looked at Kormak and then at Boreas. “Bad boys, this pair.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “They’re going to need to be. Otto arrived in camp last night and was asking about you, and folks that meet the description of your new crew. He seems to think you owe him money... or blood, the way he’s talking.”

  “We’re going under tomorrow, so he’ll have to be quick.”

  “You know him. He may just follow you down, now he’s got the scent of blood.”

  “The day I can’t lose Otto in the Underlands is the day I deserve to have him get my blood.”

  “You just be careful of him, dearie. He’s got a mean streak has Otto, and for whatever reason you and your new friends have brought it out in him.”

  “Mind if we pitch here?”

  Heidi looked at them carefully then
looked over at Otto’s bunch, weighing things up. Clearly she was not too keen on getting into trouble with Otto herself. After a few minutes she said, “That might not be too healthy for me, but what the hell... you’ve done me a few good turns and I always had a soft spot for little Tam. Pitch away. If there’s any bother, we’ll see how it goes.”

  They made camp. Boreas set things up with an old mercenary’s ease of habit. Kormak walked over to Karnea and said quietly, “Probably best if you don’t set up wards. We don’t want to spook these people. We need them on our side. You might want to avoid charging the flame-binding rune as well.”

  Karnea smiled at him. “As you say, Guardian.” Kormak winced hoping no one had heard that. Karnea broke out the cooking gear and began rummaging through the supplies for food. In the distance a dire wolf howled. The sound was long drawn-out and chilling. For a moment, everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing and looked around to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them.

  The howl was answered first from the north and then from the south. Judging by the way it echoed Kormak thought there might be several packs of the monstrous wolves out there. They were coming closer.

  “Sounds like they are hungry,” said Sasha.

  “Maybe they smelled Karnea’s stew,” said Boreas. He looked hungry himself.

  “It’s no joke,” Sasha said. “If those packs come out of the hills we’ll know all about it.”

  “Then let’s pray to the Holy Sun that they don’t,” said Boreas.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Kormak saw a large group of men approaching. “Looks like we’ve got other problems,” he said.

  Otto lumbered along in the lead, followed by his crew. They all had spears and swords now. Knives were still at their belt. Otto had his hammer in his hand. He strode up to the fire, loomed over it and said, “I was wondering when you would show up. It seems like we missed you on the road last night.”

  Boreas picked himself up off the ground. “What do you want?”

  “Just visiting,” said Otto. “We wanted to make sure that you were all right. We would not want anything bad to happen to you. That stew smells good,” he said, sniffing the air.

  “Would you like some?” Karnea asked innocently. “I don’t think there’s enough for all of you boys but we’ve got some to spare.”

  Otto looked at her to see whether she was serious. Karnea smiled at him. He looked as if he was considering it but then shook his head. “You owe us money.”

  “Like I said, I am willing to pay you something for your trouble,” said Karnea.

  “You owe us more than a few pennies.”

  “How much do you think is reasonable?” Karnea gave no sign of being intimidated. She sounded merely curious.

  Otto looked as if he was doing sums in his head. Judging by his frown, it was not the sort of mental exercise he was good at. “Ten gold solars,” he said.

  “You seem to have some problems with arithmetic,” Kormak said.

  “Maybe. But I have no problems with smashing the heads of welchers.” At that moment, a chorus of howls erupted nearby. Mixed in were high-pitched tittering yells. Both were followed by screams and the sounds of violence.

  Out of the gloom, Kormak could see great grey shapes of dire wolves loping.

  “Wolves in camp,” shouted Sasha, hefting her pick.

  Chapter Eight

  DOZENS OF GIANT wolves raced in, yellow fangs glistening in the firelight, saliva dribbling from their lips. Their eyes reflected the light like demonic moons. Their jaws looked big enough to take off a man’s head at a bite. Their fur was patchy. Blotches of pale skin showed in places. They bore about as much resemblance to the sleek denizens of the Elfwood as a maltreated slum-bred cur did to a Sunlander Lord’s prized hunting hounds.

  Mounted on the wolves’ backs were goblins. Their skins were greenish and scaly. They had bodies the same size as a child’s but their elongated arms and legs made them seem taller and reminded Kormak of a spider. Their eyes were much larger than a man’s in proportion to their heads, and bulged out like those of a frog. There was a ferocity in their gaze that outmatched even that of the wolves they rode. Their mouths were filled with rows of sharp, vicious teeth. Their ears were huge and bat-like and turned independently, twitching in the direction of any sound. Some goblins were riding two to a wolf, one guiding the beast, the other using its missile weapons.

  The invaders raced through the camp, tossing darts at prospectors, stabbing with spears. Behind the wolves, hordes more of the small creatures scuttled in the shadows, long blades and short spears clutched in their long bony fingers, capering and shrieking as they watched their cavalry do its work.

  A man went down with a spear through his chest. Otto turned just as a wolf sprang at him. He wedged his weapon in the beast’s jaws. The momentum of the creature overbore him and he landed on his back. The wolf’s rider lifted its spear and made to stab him in the chest.

  Kormak’s blade cleared its scabbard and took off the goblin’s head. His return strike split the spine of the dire wolf. Still howling ferociously it fell, jaws attempting to close on Otto’s arm and his weapon.

  Boreas clutched his hammer and glared around him. Sasha reached down and picked a brand out of the nearby fire. She began to whirl it around her head, fanning the flames to maximum incandescence. Karnea looked lost in thought, but not alarmed, simply as if she was trying to remember a difficult recipe or a complex poem. There was a look of concentration in her eyes. Her brows frowned over the frame of her glasses.

  Kormak strode forward, slashing at the wolves and their riders. They parted around him seeking to escape his deadly blade. One goblin raised a dart and threw it at him. Kormak stepped aside. A high-pitched scream from behind him told him that the missile had hit another goblin.

  A goblin vaulted from the saddle at him. In each hand it held a rusty blade. Its expression spoke of a desire to carve his flesh as a butcher might carve a pig. Kormak extended his sword and impaled the creature. With a screech of agony it lashed out at him with both weapons. Kormak lowered his blade and let it slide off. At the same time he turned sideways so that his foe’s weapons slid past him.

  He glanced around. Boreas stood beside Karnea and Sasha, hammer smeared with blood from where he had hit his opponents. Sasha whirled her brand, keeping the wolves at a distance. Otto’s men stood in a tight knot weapons facing outwards, ready to confront their attackers. Otto himself lay on the ground, beneath the corpse of the wolf Kormak had killed. His eyes were wide and he looked scared that someone might notice him and do away with him. Kormak caught a glint of fear in Otto’s eyes as their gazes locked. With a desperate effort the prospector threw the beast’s corpse off. It was as if he was scared that Kormak might attack him while he lay on the ground.

  Kormak knew he would have to watch his back. What a man like Otto feared most was usually what he would do himself given the chance. Even as that thought struck him, Otto sprang, raised his hammer and said something to his men. His eyes widened and he pointed a warning at Kormak. The Guardian risked a glance and saw there was nothing there. He turned as Otto and his lads swept towards him, weapons raised. Clearly they intended to kill him in the chaos of battle when no one would notice.

  He parried the blow of the hammer, and stepped aside eluding the blow of one of the prospector’s swords. He cut at the handle of the hammer, splitting it and separating two of Otto’s fingers. The big man’s eyes went wide and Kormak’s blade slashed his throat. He lashed out killing two more of the prospectors and the rest turned to flee. Kormak made sure they were gone before giving his attention back to the conflict. He needed to locate Karnea and Sasha. They were nowhere to be seen, lost in the chaos of battle. He had been ordered to keep one alive and made a promise he would do the same for the other.

  The camp was full of wolves and scuttling goblin figures. The spindly little humanoids called to each other in high-pitched gibbering voices. Kormak saw Heidi wrestling with a group of thr
ee on the ground. They were crawling all over her, trying to stab her, and bite her with their sharp teeth. He strode across and killed them with three quick strokes. The big woman rose to her feet, shaking. She was bleeding from a dozen bites and cuts. She pulled her cleaver from the skull of one of the little monsters and began to hack at a body in a frenzy of fear-fuelled hatred.

  Not all of the goblins were attacking with insane ferocity. Some were scuttling through the tents, grabbing things. What they took seemed quite random. Here one danced, wearing a man’s shirt. It looked like a long dress on the goblins small form. Another lay sprawled on the ground and poured rot-gut whisky into its mouth. Others were fleeing from the camp carrying anything they could. Some were struggling to pull heavy chests or large statues. They were quite prepared to face their own brethren in defence of their ill-gotten gains. Kormak saw two brawling so hard they rolled into a campfire, scattering burning wood and hot ashes.

  The wolves were no different, one moment they attacked with mad ferocity, the next they were pulling forth a corpse as if to take it and devour it at their leisure. Their disorganisation seemed to be the only thing that kept them from over-running the camp.

  A hail of short spears, more like darts than javelins descended in a cloud around him. He swept them from the air with his blade and looked around to see who had thrown them. Overhead he saw what looked like a flock of giant bats. Saucer like eyes looked down and he thought he heard whooping goblin cries coming from their backs. More missiles descended, hitting humans and goblins alike.

  A horn sounded from nearby. Kormak glanced around looking for the source. There was a pack of goblins, larger and leaner even than the others, mounted on white wolves that looked even more fierce than the rest. At the centre was a massively muscular goblin. In each hand he held a blade. Another pair of arms were folded across his chest. A chain of skulls and teeth descended from his neck. There was a look of intelligence and calculation about him that made him different from any of the other goblins. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed the blade in the Guardian’s hands, as if he had seen it before. If the creature was truly Graghur then he had. Graghur had fought at Brightmere over a thousand years ago when Areon the Bold had slain the Old One Masarion with it.