by William King
“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I fear that if he is not stopped he is just going to do something worse than he’s already done, and come back with the power to wreck all our lives. I don’t think he’ll go easy on me if he finds what he’s looking for.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
“Although I imagine you will be at the head of his shit list.”
“Ahead of you anyway. Is that the only reason you’re with us?”
“There’s not a lot else for me to do. Everybody else I know, except for a few whores back in Maial, is dead.”
“You wouldn’t be looking to join them, would you?”
“Just because you have a death wish, don’t imagine everybody else has.” Anders spoke as if Kormak had touched a nerve. He glared off into the distance, took a sip from his flask, and offered it to the Guardian. Kormak shook his head.
“You don’t drink much, do you?”
“I need to keep a clear head. Otherwise somebody is likely to take it from my shoulders.”
“That’s quite likely out here.”
“What do you think is going to try it?”
“There’s the tribes for one. As hard a bunch of bastards as I’ve ever come across. They live around the edge of the Desert of Demons and raid and trade as the mood takes them. They’ve no love for us Sunlanders. They think we’re here to steal their land.”
“And you wouldn’t do that now, would you?”
“I wouldn’t, that’s for sure. What would I do with this patch of scrub? Your friend, Admiral Zamara, might think differently.”
Kormak laughed. “I don’t think he wants it any more than you do. What else are we likely to find?”
“Showing a professional interest now? There’s no shortage of monsters out here either.”
“What sort?”
“You’ve heard me talk about them before. At the lost city, there are men of metal and glass. And things that don’t look like men but which are made of the same stuff.”
“Golems maybe?”
“I’ve never seen a golem up close, just heard the stories.”
“If you’ve been to the Graveyard of Angels then you’ve seen things that look close enough. Or if you’ve seen the armour of the Angel Zhamriel in the Palace Cathedral back in Trefal.”
“King-Emperor Aemon never invited me. But I have seen the burned-out shells of angels in the Graveyard. Yes, the metal men looked like them. Made of similar substances, like they’d been moulded in the same vats.”
“Not the product of the Old Ones then?”
“No. You think something else made them?”
“I try to keep an open mind.”
“You don’t exactly play the fanatic, do you?”
“My order already has plenty of those.”
“And sometimes they need someone who can think, do they? That would be you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you implied it.”
“What else are we likely to encounter?”
“I already told the Admiral all this, but I suppose you have better things to do. Can’t say as I blame you, she’s a beautiful woman.”
Kormak let that slide by. He was not sure he liked Anders talking about Rhiana that way. He also felt embarrassed that he had been spending more time with her than learning about potential threats. It was a distraction he could ill afford. “What else?”
“Sand demons. They shadowed us from just beyond the Beacon, followed us for a few days and then just seemed to give up.”
“They attack you?”
“Sometimes, and they were hard. Bodies all armoured, fired poisoned spikes at us, big as javelins. We never caught any of them either. They always disappeared into the night and the dunes.”
“They could see in the dark?”
“Seemed that way. We’d follow them, and their tracks would just disappear. Just as well there weren’t more than a couple of them at a time. They were bad enough.”
“Anything else?”
“We saw elementals dancing on the edges of storms. At least some of the lads claimed they did. There were scorpions big as dogs. They looked blighted.”
“Many creatures grow to an unnatural size in blights. It’s the way of things.”
“I’ll take your word for it. The sand demons looked blighted too.”
“In what way?”
“Twisted, mutated, strangely shaped. Some of them looked as if they had been made of wax that was overheated and flowed into new forms and hardened.”
The mercenary shivered and drew his cloak tighter about him. “How can it be so hot in the desert through the day and so cold at night? You’d think being higher up we’d be closer to the Holy Sun and it would be warmer.”
“I don’t know,” said Kormak, going along with the change of subject.
Anders yawned. “I think all this drinking and all this lack of sleep is catching up with me.”
Perhaps it was that or perhaps he just did not like being interrogated. Kormak could not blame him for that. A Lunar changeling had worn Kormak’s form and tortured Anders. Being questioned might have brought back those memories.
Anders wrapped himself in his cloak and stumbled back towards the camp. Kormak watched him go then settled down on the rock to wait for the sunrise. He wondered what Balthazar was up to now.
Chapter Six
Balthazar woke. The sand woman lay beside him. The warmth of her body communicated itself to him. He turned over and glanced at her, lying on one elbow, looking down at her.
Her eyes opened and she stared up at him. “You are awake,” she said. “That’s good.”
“This is a somewhat intimate situation to be in with someone whose name I don’t know,” Balthazar said.
“I am Nexali, shaman of the Blighted Ones. And you, my guest, what should I be calling you?”
“My name is Count Balthazar.”
“Count? That is a title belonging to one of the rulers among the lowlanders, is it not?”
“I’m a nobleman there.”
“That means you are one of the conquerors. Those who claim to worship the Holy Sun. Who follow the ancient enemy.”
“I was brought up in that faith but I saw the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
“That the Holy Sun is a lie. Nothing responds to the prayers of its worshippers. It is all just a story. There has only ever been one pantheon of true gods in this world. I learned early that real power lay with what the unenlightened call the Shadow. I can sense from my surroundings that your people believe the same. I feel its presence all around us.”
Her smile revealed gleaming white teeth. They were pointed and not a reassuring sight. “In my dreams, I was told that you were a priest, that your rank was the equal of mine. I was told that you would do mighty deeds in the service of our master. I can see that I was told correctly.”
“I’m sure you never doubted the word of the Lord of Skulls.”
“Never.” Her hand strayed across his chest. He noticed her nails were clipped short.
He continued to look into her eyes. She met his gaze levelly. “I did not expect to find anyone living out here in the deep desert. Only monsters.”
“The Sunlanders think my people are monsters. They think our symbs are our real selves. They call us sand demons.” She laughed as she spoke the last sentence.
“Symbs?”
“The living armour of which I divested myself. It fuses to my body when I leave the Steading.”
Balthazar looked over at it. He had some experience of wearing living things. “I’ve bound a demon in a similar fashion.”
“The symb is not a demon,” she said. “It is a living organism, like you or me. It was created by the Eldrim Xayal a long time ago. It was intended to let my people survive in regions that are entirely hostile to humankind. Wearing that armour, I can exist beneath sand. I can walk across the desert without food or water.”
Balthazar considered this. “That is mighty sorcery.”
“It is no sorcery at all,” she said. “The symbs rid our exhalations of poisons and turn them into something usable. They transform our urine into potable water, change excrement into food that we can eat.”
“That does not sound particularly pleasant,” Balthazar said.
“It depends on what you’re used to,” Nexali said. “We grew up wearing them and our armour protects us in the desert. We are grateful even if we no longer worship our original patron.”
“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” The thought that such a thing might be useful if he was trying to escape crossed Balthazar’s mind.
“Go ahead,” she said.
Not without some reluctance, he rose from the sleeping mat and walked over to where the armour lay. It had folded itself or perhaps been folded when he slept. He was reluctant to touch it but he knelt close to it. It looked at once leathery and plant-like. He said this out loud.
“According to Xayal’s words,” Nexali said, “it shares something with plants. They transform the poisons we exhale into breathable air for the planet. They draw energy from sunlight.”
“I never knew that,” Balthazar said. “It is not a branch of sorcery I have ever studied. I imagine that fleshweavers know more about these sorts of things.”
“Xayal was a great fleshweaver, perhaps the greatest. It is said that he planned to sail between the stars in a ship that was a giant version of something like our armour. Xothak slew him before that could happen.”
“That is almost a pity,” Balthazar said, and he meant it. It sounded like something that he might try himself one day when he was granted power by Xothak. It was something he would look into. There was much he could learn from the sandfolk. It seemed that his hardships had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It was often the way.
“How do you eat what the suit produces?” He could not stop himself from asking.
“We do not need to eat our own excrement if that is what you’re worried about,” Nexali said. “Once the suit is linked to us the process happens naturally. Food is removed from our stomach and recycled back into our bodies.”
Balthazar felt certain it was not quite as simple as that but he did not want to offend Nexali and he did not need to find out the gory details. “It must be useful,” Balthazar said.
“You will find out. For you are to be gifted with a symb.”
“I’m not sure that will be necessary.”
“It will be necessary,” Nexali said. “There is no way you can cross the great desert without one. You will not be able to leave this place until you have your own symb.”
Four massive sand demons entered the chamber as if silently summoned. They surrounded him.
Balthazar felt the jaws of a trap closing around him. He fought as they dragged him from the room.
* * *
Kormak’s companions were silent as they passed Dhargon’s Beacon. Even the mules stopped braying. The presence of the gigantic monolith weighed even on the beasts of burden.
By day, the thing did not glow. It gleamed, black stone inlaid with golden runes that reflected the light of the Holy Sun. It bulked immense as a mountain. The elder sign was warm against Kormak’s chest. Magic flowed strongly here.
“It’s impressive,” said Rhiana. “In a terrifying sort of way.”
“Yes, it is,” said Kormak. The vast shadow of the thing cooled the air around them. No birds nested close to it, even though it would seem to make a prime site for scavengers, with a clear view for leagues in all directions. Anything living seemed to avoid coming near it.
“What do you think made it?” Rhiana asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. It bears some resemblance to structures I have seen in the Graveyard of Angels.”
“That’s halfway round the world.”
“If humans can travel so far, whoever built this could do the same.”
“I’ve never heard of anything this big being out there.”
“It’s the style more than anything else that makes me think of the place. Of course, it could have been built by some creature related to the things found in the Graveyard.”
“I always heard it was the Angels of the Holy Sun who died there, along with their enemies.”
“According to scripture there were many different types of angel, divided among many different Hosts.”
“You think this could be a relic of the angels?”
“Or something coeval with them.”
“Who was Dhargon? It sounds like the name of an Old One.”
“Perhaps it was. The names of many are lost in the mists of time. Some only show up in scripture, or in the lists of the Order or the stellae of the Courts of the Moon, but we nothing more about them than that. It’s possible the Eldrim themselves would know but we don’t have any Old Ones here to ask.”
“That might change when we find Xanadar.”
“It will be the first thing I ask if we meet one, when it gets free of its sarcophagus,” said Kormak. “If I am not trying to stop it removing my head.”
“What’s that?” Rhiana asked, pointing to a gap in the rock wall beneath the monolith.
“I don’t know, but I’d better look,” Kormak said.
He dropped off the wagon and walked towards the cluster of rocks around its base. A cave was visible among them. When he strode to the entrance, there were signs of burning. Someone had built a fire here. Someone had sought to attract the attention of something. When he stepped within the cave, he saw there were bones. Bending low, he also saw there were footprints. Some of them were human sized. Others were three-toed and monstrous.
He heard footsteps behind him. Rhiana and Zamara were there. Kormak was not surprised it was them. No one else had shown any inclination to investigate the megalith.
“Found anything interesting?” The Admiral asked.
“Someone built a fire outside, yesterday or the day before. It attracted the attention of something.”
Zamara picked up a bone and inspected it. “You think it was Balthazar?”
“He flew this way.”
Zamara looked at the three-toed tracks. “And something monstrous found him.”
He turned the bone over and over in his hands. “You think something ate him?”
“These bones are old. And most of them are not human.”
“So, he contacted something. Demons or beasts judging by the tracks.”
“I would guess demons, knowing Balthazar,” said Rhiana.
“Or Old Ones, maybe,” Kormak said.
“Same thing,” said Zamara.
“No. They are not,” Kormak said.
“I knew you were going to say that,” said Zamara. “I was just trying to wind you up.”
Rhiana said, “If Balthazar was here, he’s not now.”
“I’ll order the men to scout around the rocks. We might pick up a trail,” Zamara said.
“I’ll look myself,” said Kormak. They emerged into the sunlight again. It felt even warmer after the cool damp of the cave. Anders was waiting for them. He looked tired. There were bags underneath his eyes, and the stubble on his chin was even more pronounced.
“Find anything interesting.”
“The spoor of sand demons,” said Rhiana.
“That’s not good news,” said the mercenary. “It was after we passed the Beacon we kept running into them.”
“I’ll tell the men to keep a weather eye open,” said Zamara.
“That would be wise, Admiral,” said Anders.
“I’m certainly starting to think so.” He eyed the massive stone of the Beacon sidelong. He looked about as happy with their situation as Kormak felt. They waited for the scouts to return but there was no trace of Balthazar or any monsters.
They returned to the wagons and set off once more across the desert, heading directly west, navigating by landmarks that Anders remembered or thought he did. Kormak sincerely hoped that
they were not getting lost.
* * *
Balthazar lay on the flat, altar-like rock. Armoured limbs pinned him as firmly as any shackles. Overhead the crystal ceiling reflected his struggles. Panicked, he searched his mind for a spell of destruction. A rocky hand clamped over his mouth before he could utter it. It was almost as if the Blighted Ones knew what he was thinking.
“This will hurt,” Nexali said. “But do not worry. Most people do not die when they join with their symb.”
Most. Balthazar cursed the woman. How could he have ever believed that she meant to aid him? Anger surged within him. He fought it down, forced his muscles to relax. Perhaps that way they would think him submissive. It was his only chance of taking them off guard.
Nexali loomed over him. She held a blade in her hand as if this was a ritual and he was the sacrifice. Balthazar had presided over enough of them to know. She closed her eyes and placed the netherium dagger to her lips as if praying to Xothak. Balthazar tensed. At any moment, he expected the weapon to be plunged into his chest.
He kept his eyes open, wanting to see death as it approached. Nexali opened her eyes. Power glowed within them.
“You are an outsider,” she said. “This will not be easy for you. Your body is not as prepared to receive the fleshweaver’s gift as ours are. Your mind is not either, but you are a sorcerer. It should be enough.”
Should, he thought. She was not the one whose life was at risk here. It was easy enough for her to talk of should.
“You must relax,” she said. “You must not greet your new skin with too much fear in your mind. It will respond to that.”
What are you babbling about, woman? Greet a new skin?
“It is like summoning a demon,” she said. That was something he understood at least. “It will be bound to you. It will draw life from you, as you draw life from it.”
Nexali reached down and produced a drooping slug-like mass of flesh. It writhed and squirmed eyelessly in her hand. It bore no more resemblance to a symbiotic skin than a larva bore to a wasp. It dripped an ugly slime, but she held it with reverence.
His chest burned where she slashed it with the knife, painful as a wound taken in battle. If the hand had not been clamped over his mouth, he would have screamed. Instead, he bit down on it. The owner showed no more sign of being pained than a boulder would have.