by William King
He flew increasingly slowly. Dhargon’s Beacon did not seem to be getting any closer. He had misjudged the distance. Beneath him lay only rolling dunes. The land was dead.
He considered turning back. Then the wind would help him instead of hindering. Unfortunately, it would also carry him into the arms of his waiting enemies. To return now was to court certain death. He needed to push on, to cast aside his doubts, to keep moving.
His wings were leaden. Lifting himself was like running uphill after hours of effort. Every wing beat cost him. His heart thundered in his chest. His breathing was laboured. The cold night air bit.
Keep going, he told himself. You can’t give in now. You can’t let your enemies win.
He remembered the mockery of his father. He remembered every rival he had ever eliminated on his way to becoming a leader of the Shadow cult. He pictured all their grinning faces in his mind. He pictured the evil looking Guardian raising his sword to deliver the deathblow. He was not going to give any of them the satisfaction.
The distant horizon started to lighten. A shudder of fear passed through Balthazar. If he lost his demon form, he would be stranded in the desert, without food or water or clothing. At least he still held his sacred dagger. The power Xothak had granted him still burned within it. He might be able to use that to help him survive.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, his carapace smouldered. Filaments of pain worked their way into his flesh. He lost altitude fast. In the direct light of the morning sun, his armour would vanish and with it his wings. He would fall from the sky if that happened.
The Beacon could not be more than a few miles away. He was not sure he was capable of walking across the desert to reach it. He needed to get there and light the signal fire that would summon aid.
Pain flared across his skin. He did his best to ignore it. He skimmed above the ground, rising and falling as he followed the line of the dunes. His only guide was the enormous pillar of the Beacon. Relief surged through him as he entered its shadow. For a moment, his carapace ceased to burn. He was almost blind with weariness. Around the base of the monolith, rocks clustered. He needed to get there and he needed to find what he sought.
Not much further, he told himself. Just keep flying. Just keep flying.
He forced his wings to beat, the effort like lifting the weight of the world. It was all he could do to make his limbs move.
His heart thundered. His breath rasped in his chest. Something scraped against his body. He had lost consciousness and dropped the final few yards to the ground. He forced himself to his feet. He flexed his wings. They responded feebly. There was no way he had strength to take to the skies once more.
He put one foot in front of the other. Ahead of him lay the rocks that surrounded the great pillar.
The cave mouth was close. Inside he would find shelter from the heat. The full light of day was upon him now. His skin burned. The demon flesh moulded to the contours of his body evaporated into a foul-smelling smoke.
No matter. It had served its purpose. It had taken him to where he needed to go. He picked up his dagger from where it had fallen from the pocket of flesh in the armour. He turned it over and over. The ancient runes flickered darkly. If worst came to the worst, he could end his own life with it. He told himself not to even consider that. He had come so far and done so much. He did not have so much further to go. With Xothak’s blessing, he would make it.
He reeled into the cold darkness of the cave. His head spun. All strength drained from his limbs. He collapsed to his knees and fell, striking his head against the stone. Sparks flickered across his field of vision.
No. It could not end like this. Not now.
He forced himself to look around. There were bones that looked as if they belonged to a human. There was dried scrub wood, collected from some desert shrub. He hoped it would serve his purposes. He took it outside along with a flint and tinder he had found there and piled it up. It burned easily.
Soon a column of smoke was rising into the sky. He made himself sit and look at it from the shadows of the cave. Hopefully, the fire would summon help. If it did not, he had just left the sign for every enemy within a dozen leagues that they could read.
Once again, he felt dizzy, but now he could afford to let himself take some rest.
He did not know how long he was asleep. When he woke, a monster was looking down at him.
* * *
Slowly the caravan assembled in the courtyard of Helgard Keep. The afternoon sun blazed down. The heat hit Kormak like a blow. He was already light-headed from the pain-killing herbs he had purchased from the apothecary. Sweat soaked the bandage wrapped around his forehead.
He cursed under his breath. This was taking too long. Balthazar had a huge lead. If he was still capable of flying, he could almost be at the destination by now.
Porters heaved water barrels and sacks of grain and haunches of meat onto the back of the wagons. Mules and oxen were hitched, horses put into harness.
Zamara rode around on the back of a prancing charger. The Admiral seemed happy to be on horseback again. Kormak was not so sure how well Zamara’s fine steed would perform out in the desert. He was no judge of horseflesh. He had never liked riding the beasts if it could be avoided.
Sergeant Terves stood beside a half-laden wagon, arguing with a local merchant. Beside him, a man who looked like a clerk ticked off something on a scroll. Kormak walked over. All heads turned to look at him.
“What is going on here?” Kormak asked.
“This highwayman is trying to charge us four times what this wine is worth,” Terves said. The merchant’s face flushed. He did not look happy with the description but he did not look as if he was going to back down either.
“It is a fair price,” the merchant said. “You won’t find anything for less in the town.”
“We’ll find the same price because all you merchants have formed a cartel to extort money from the king’s purse,” Sergeant Terves said.
“I resent that,” the merchant said.
Tension crackled in the air between them. The merchant began to squirm uncomfortably. Kormak gave him the full force of his glare. Still the merchant did not open his mouth.
“I’m not sure we need wine,” Kormak said. Sergeant Terves made a grimace. He was a Siderean, used to drinking wine with every meal when it was available. They preferred it to water if they could get it. The merchant too appeared distressed by this information. He looked as if he was going to argue but Kormak continued to stare at him.
“Are you sure about that, sir,” Sergeant Terves asked.
“I’m not sure that we can afford it at these prices.”
“I will accept a note of hand on the Treasury,” the merchant said.
“I’m not sure I want to give that,” Kormak said. “I’m an Aquilean. We never developed a taste for wine in my country.”
The merchant shook his head as if to say that Kormak was simply admitting to being a barbarian. He did not voice those thoughts aloud.
“I can give you a small discount,” the merchant said eventually “but I’ll be taking food from the mouth of my children if I go below five silver pieces per barrel.”
“I would not want your children to starve,” Kormak said. “So I won’t take any wine.”
“Three silver pieces,” the merchant said.
“Make it two and you have a deal,” Kormak said.
Sergeant Terves give a satisfied smirk. He could not resist adding, “And it’s still robbery.”
Kormak moved around intervening in the negotiations where he could. He noticed that Rhiana was doing the same. She was a captain from Port Blood. Haggling was second nature to her.
“Sir Kormak,” Anders said as he walked up. His face seemed even more haunted than usual. There was dust in his thinning blonde hair. Traces of stubble jutted from his chin. “Just the man I want to see.”
“You probably the first person who has said that today,” Kormak said. “Nobody else
seems pleased to see me.”
“You’ve never seemed like a man who would let that bother you.”
“What can I do for you?”
Anders said, “I think we need more water.”
“We’ve already got a wagon full,” Rhiana said. “But I can’t say I disagree.”
She was a merwoman, unused to being so far from the sea. Just the sight of the water barrels seemed to reassure her. Kormak said, “the price of the barrels has increased threefold since people found out about our expedition.”
“It’s always the way,” Anders said. “We had the same thing from we set out for Xanadar”
Kormak looked around to see who was listening. Nobody seemed to be paying too much attention. He was not too happy with this talk of their destination. He was certain there were still Shadow cultists in Helgard. And he was equally certain that they would do anything to stop the expedition if they could. After all, they had managed to summon a demon in the heart of the keep. Who knew what else they would try?
“I don’t like this,” Anders said. His face wore a worried frown. His gaze focused into the distance as if he could see something there that nobody else could.
“You said that a good few times,” Kormak said. “I don’t think it’s doing anything for morale.”
“Good,” Anders said. “I don’t want anybody happy with the prospect of going where we are going. It’s a dangerous place and I can’t say that often enough. If everybody’s alert, we might just have a chance of surviving.”
Rhiana’s face fell. She did not need any reminders of how dangerous were they were going was. She had spent hours on the battlements staring out in the direction of the desert.
“Have there been any more sightings of the demon?” Anders said.
“About a dozen,” Kormak said. “The people of Helgard are spooked. And you can’t blame them for that.”
“Has anybody reliable seen anything?” Anders said.
“Last night, some sentries saw a winged figure flying off in the direction of Dhargon’s Beacon,” Kormak said. “Sentries on the wall spotted a column of smoke from its base this morning.”
Anders made a tut-tutting sound. He grimaced. “Then our friend Balthazar is definitely going for the lost city.”
“I never doubted it,” Kormak said.
“I always hoped you were mistaken,” Anders said. “But it was only a hope. The bastard definitely wants whatever it is that is out there.”
There was venom in his voice. Balthazar had been one of the cultists who had forced the location of the lost city out of him. The mercenary had not forgiven that. Anders also blamed the count for the death of his friend Gregor. Kormak supposed that was good. At least the man was ready to go out into the wastes.
“How long do you think it will be till we’re ready to go,” Anders said.
“I’m hoping later this afternoon.”
Anders said, “So soon?”
Kormak said, “We need to be going. Balthazar already has too big a lead on us. The Holy Sun alone only knows what will happen if he finds the lost city before we do.”
“I doubt even the Holy Sun knows that,” Anders said.
Kormak said nothing. He was thinking about the horror of more Old Ones as powerful as Vorkhul and as dedicated to the Shadow being unleashed upon the world.
Chapter Three
Kormak jerked the reins of the wagon. The oxen pulled. Beside him, Rhiana stared back towards the town. They were leaving at last, rumbling through the heat of the late afternoon. Behind Helgard, the great peaks of the Xilarean Highlands loomed, cool and fresh-seeming in the distance.
A cloud of dust rose where the soldiers marched and Zamara rode. Half a dozen carts strung out behind them, all groaning under the weight of supplies. Many had goats or cattle tethered to the back, to be slaughtered along the way for food. Some people thought they were mad in taking so much with them. Kormak doubted that it would be enough. He’d plenty of experience of expeditions gone wrong. He had no great faith that this one would go any better.
Zamara rode beside Anders. The Admiral seemed intent on quizzing the mercenary as much as possible about their destination.
Rhiana sighed.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Kormak asked.
“I haven’t felt right since we reached these high dry lands,” she said. “I do not like it here. It has the look of death to me.” She gave a small shudder as if she had some presentiment.
“You don’t need to come, Rhiana,” Kormak said. “You could stay behind in Helgard citadel.”
“I’m not sure I could,” she said. “I saw the way they looked at me. I’m a child of the Old Ones. They are followers of the Holy Sun. Demons attacked their garrison. I suspect they blame me.”
“I think Admiral Zamara made it clear that was not the case,” Kormak said. “And I did my best to emphasise the point.”
“I know,” she said, “and I’m grateful, but I do not wish to stay there on my own. Still less do I want to try and find my way back down through the pass and along the jungle road back to Maial and the sea. You’re stuck with me.”
Kormak reached out and touched her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Rhiana said.
“I am worried,” Kormak said. “Count Balthazar is dangerous. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And we have no idea what we’ll find when we get to Xanadar.”
“That’s not true,” Rhiana said. “You’ll find more of those coffins. With more of those Old Ones. That’s what Anders says, anyway. Maybe some of them will still be alive, like Vorkhul was.”
“I hope not,” Kormak said. “He was almost the death of me.”
“Don’t say that,” Rhiana said. “It’s not something I want to talk about.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?”
“Something more cheerful.”
“This is not a trip for cheerful things.”
“I think you’ll find Balthazar,” Rhiana said. “And I think you’ll kill him.”
“You have a funny idea of what’s cheerful,” Kormak said.
“I’m just trying to look on the bright side,” she said.
“I can see mountains in the distance,” Kormak said.
“And now you’re looking more cheerful. Why is that?”
“I grew up in the mountains,” he said.
“You really think will be monsters out here?” Rhiana said.
“Anders is convinced and I believe him.”
“He makes it seem as if it’s an endless wasteland full of deadly creatures.”
“You’re getting weeks of dangerous travel compressed into a few hours of his storytelling,” Kormak said. “That’s bound to influence things.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve led a life that’s not been unadventurous. I know how these things sound when you tell them. I remember once when I was diving above the lost city of Axalanys. I encountered a shark the size of this wagon.”
Kormak said, “And what did you do?”
“I punched it on the nose and it turned away.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “I’ll do the same when I see Count Balthazar.”
“Well, we know he is the sort of man to run away,” Rhiana said. Kormak pulled on the reins once again. The wagon rumbled forward, juddering and bouncing as it hit a stone. The pain of the jolt in his bruised ribs made Kormak wince. It was not going to be the most comfortable of trips. The land looked increasingly hostile. And Balthazar was already far ahead of him.
* * *
Balthazar knew he was face to face with one of the legendary sand demons. The mutated creature was bigger than a man. Its hide looked both scaly and stony at the same time. He could not see any eyes. There were only darker patches where they would have been in a human head.
The monster was neckless. Spikes protruded from its back, shoulders, and forearms. A dark paste that looke
d poisonous smeared the end of each.
He tottered to his feet, weak, hungry, and dehydrated. He searched in his memory for a spell that would bring swift death to an enemy. Useless. He lacked the strength to cast any spell. He raised the sacred dagger, its blade between him and the monster. Perhaps he could tap its power to work magic. Heat and exhaustion made that feel all but impossible. “What do you want?”
Shadowy figures blocked the entrance of the cave. Several more sand demons shut out the light. He might have been able to strike down one with a lucky blow but there was no chance of slaying so many. His quest was over before it had begun.
The sand demons stood silent and menacing. Some had curved horns. Some had arms that ended in crab-like talons. Some had tentacle stingers instead of arms. The long spikes extruding from their flesh made them look like the spawn of the Old Ones, something grown in a vat and infused with life by sorcery. Perhaps they had come through the ancient portals from other worlds, as so many others were said to have. He resigned himself to the fact that he would never know.
“What do you want with me?” Balthazar repeated.
The monstrous figures lumbered closer. Balthazar stepped back, bones crunching beneath his feet. The stone wall scraped his spine.
The leading sand demon paused just outside of striking distance. It retracted the poison spike inside its forearm armour. It held a stubby misshapen hand open in a gesture of peace and then turning beckoned for him to follow.
“What do you want with me?” Balthazar repeated. Still, no response came. Why did the creatures not speak? Were they incapable of it or did they feel he was unworthy of their words?
Balthazar contemplated attacking the demon’s unprotected back but that would be suicide. The creature had too many companions. He was not sure that he could drive his blade through its hide anyway. It looked so thick as to be impenetrable. There was nothing for him to do but follow.