by William King
Staring into the distance, he recognised the tall, spare form of Count Balthazar standing at the edge of the jungle as he pointed out something on the wall to one of the tribal leaders. No other Sunlander could be walking free amidst the tribesmen. Kormak’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He wanted to clamber down the wall and seek Balthazar out, but that would be suicide.
Even as the thought occurred to him, Balthazar seemed to feel himself under observation and withdrew among the trees. Kormak slumped back down against the wall.
A shadow fell upon him. He looked up to see a huge blonde haired man.
The giant extended a hand. Kormak was not sure whether he was expected to shake it or use it to help himself up. He did both.
“Kurt,” said the giant. “Commander of Helgate Keep.”
“Kormak, of the Order of the Dawn.”
“You know how to fight, Guardian.”
“So do you and your men.”
“The keep did most of the fighting for us. If those tribesmen understood how to build siege engines or had the patience to cut off our supplies, this place would have fallen long ago. As it is a few hundred men can stand off a thousand here with minimal losses, as we just proved. Who’s your friend?”
Kormak wondered if Rhiana was the real reason Kurt was here. She was a very attractive woman, and those must be in scarce supply around here.
Kurt must have read his expression. “My wife would kill me if I looked at her too long. Lovely as she is and all.”
Rhiana opened one eye and said, “Thank you for the compliment, Commander.”
Kurt smiled. It made him look ten years younger, little more than a teenage boy. “You are as brave as you are lovely. And you too are very good with a blade.”
Rhiana pulled herself upright and offered him a hand. He looked as if he was going to bow and kiss it but then shook it.
Kurt said. “You must indeed be weary. I came to offer you chambers inside the keep and some food and drink before you turn in.”
“You are a most thoughtful host,” Kormak said.
Kurt turned and stared at the lines of bodies sprawled beyond the walls. “I don’t think my other guests would agree.”
Count Balthazar stared from the jungle’s edge at the keep. He recognised the Guardian of the Dawn as he looked out over the battlements. He could feel the man’s burning gaze upon him. It made him shudder and step into the shadow of the trees.
He ignored the angry looks the chiefs aimed at his back. He ignored the atmosphere of brooding menace that surrounded them. The tribesmen had taken dreadful casualties. They knew they had been defeated and they wanted someone to blame. He was as good a candidate as any.
It had all been a waste. Hundreds of warriors’ lives had been thrown away in futile efforts to take an impregnable fortress. He could have told them that. He would have told them that if he had thought they would have listened. They had been too caught up in the excitement of the chase and their desire for revenge and glory. He had not even tried.
It was a pity, though. Each one of those warriors could have been put to better use. Their lives could have been better spent serving the Shadow even as sacrifices. If only there were some way of channelling the death energies of a battle into sorcery. Would that not be a wonderful thing?
Of course, a thousand lives would not have been too many to spend if it had brought down that accursed Guardian but it had not.
“Can you not work some magic that will give us victory here, Master?” the fat-bellied chieftain asked.
Balthazar shook his head. “The place is woven round with elder signs. Not even one of the Old Ones could enter such a place unscathed.”
“That is not an answer calculated to make the other chiefs happy.”
“Then tonight, I will perform a summoning. Of course, I will need an appropriate sacrifice. Perhaps one of them would care to volunteer.”
The fat chieftain gave a sour smile that showed his filed teeth. “I do not think that will be necessary. We have prisoners. We shall wait to hear what the Lord of Skulls has to say.”
Kormak woke. He sat up and stretched. His back was sore. His legs were stiff. His muscles were tight. Light streamed in through a small arched window. There was no glass. The air was too warm, his body too sticky with sweat.
He glanced at the unfamiliar walls. It was a familiar sensation. In his life, there had been many times when he had not woken up in the same place two days in a row. Rhiana lay near him, leaning on one arm, studying him.
“I was wondering when you would join the waking world.”
“Wonder no longer. I am here.” He sighed.
“What is it?”
“This air—it’s so hot and moist. I feel as if I am trying to breathe underwater.”
“I wish we were. I think the air is getting thinner and thinner the further we get from the sea.”
“You might be right. I’ve heard some scholars claim that the atmosphere gets thinner the higher you go. We should not be so high that it makes any difference now, though.”
“Fascinating,” she said, making it sound as if it was anything but.
“If I am boring you, you can always leave,” he said. He was uncomfortable and slightly annoyed by her presence. He told himself it was the heat and the weariness and the humidity. Maybe it was.
“It’s not that. I am a long way from home, and it is getting longer. I miss the sea air. I hate being surrounded by these hills and those trees. Give me a long horizon and an open sea any day. I want to be back in Port Blood.” She said it as if it were a realisation that had just struck her with its full force. As if she had known what she was saying before but felt it in her bones now.
“I can understand that. I am not so keen on this place myself. Give me the cold mountains any time.”
“We’re not very alike you and I,” she said.
“You’ve only just noticed?”
“I mean it. I thought there was something between us. No—there is something between us, but there are many differences as well.”
She paused as if waiting for him to contradict her. He agreed with her, but he still had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was tension between his shoulder blades the way there used to be before a fight when he was young. He was better prepared for combat than for dealing with emotional realities these days. He supposed he always had been.
“I thought we were going to die last night,” Rhiana said.
“I thought so too. But I’ve thought that many times and I’m still here. You never know.”
“That’s not what I am talking about. We’ve both faced death more times than most people will give alms to a beggar. We’re used to it.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
She shook her head. “You really believe in avoiding the issue, don’t you? You want me to do all the work? I thought you might have said something when you thought we were about to die.”
“Rhiana, I care about you, and you care about me. I know that. I understand it. I can even say it . . .”
“But . . .”
“There is no but. It’s a statement of fact.”
“But . . .”
“But we are two different people. We want different things. We are going different places. Maybe in a different life that would not be true. I wish it were so, but it is not. I am a Guardian of the Dawn. I have duties to perform. There are things I am sworn to do.”
“And I am a merwoman, one of your sworn enemies.”
“You are not my enemy. Nor will you ever be. That is not the issue here.”
“Then what is?”
“I cannot stop being what I am, doing what I am doing? Can you see me giving up the blade and signing on as the first mate on a pirate ship out of Port Blood?”
She smiled. There was some sadness in the smile and more humour. “You would be good at it. And you would not be a pirate. You would be a treasure hunter. Like I am. I’ve never been a sea wolf.”
“Would you give up the sea and swear to follow the Way of the Dawn?”
“That’s not a possibility is it?”
“If you could, would you?”
“It’s a hypothetical question.”
“Then answer it hypothetically.”
“I would think about it.”
“And what conclusion would you come to?” Kormak pushed.
“The Order would never accept me. I am a child of the Moon.”
“You served the King of Siderea as a spy.”
“Are you trying to recruit me? Because I was not serving the King of Siderea for gold or loyalty to his kingdom. I served him to get revenge for my sister.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“No. I would not do it. I am the master of my own ship in Port Blood. I could be a captain now. I would not want to serve your order.”
“Then you understand how I feel about being a mate on a ship.”
Kormak wondered how this discussion had suddenly gotten so heated. How had he triggered so many booby-traps? There was real hostility in the air. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes and lips were narrowed.
“I hear what you are saying,” she said. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked at a space over his shoulders. He was tempted to reach out and try to take her in his arms, but he fought the impulse down. This discussion was something that had needed to happen for a long time. He had put it off for too long.
A knock sounded on the door. Terves’s voice said, ”Sir Kormak, Captain Rhiana, the Admiral would like a word with you.”
The two of them glowered silently at each other.
“Sir Kormak? Captain Rhiana? Are you in there?”
“Yes,” Kormak said after the silence had drawn out for ten heartbeats.
“I’ll tell the Admiral you will be down soon then,” said Terves. There was a question mark in his voice.
“All right,” said Rhiana. Silently the two of them dressed and made their way downstairs. The trudge to the Keep’s great hall seemed to take longer than yesterday’s chase. Kormak wondered what in the name of Shadow was so important that Zamara needed to talk about it now.
Chapter Seventeen
Bread, cheese, and wine, as well as dried beef and salt biscuits, covered the table in the great hall. It was the same garrison food Kormak would have got back in the Old Kingdoms. Zamara was there as were Kurt and a pair of blonde-haired men that might have been his brothers. He introduced them as his lieutenants. A chubby soldier waited on the table.
Anders stumped in. His hair was wet. He looked like he had just dunked water from the well over it and towelled it away with a bit of old tunic.
“Glad you could join us,” said Zamara. There was a sardonic note in his voice and a trace of envy too.
Kurt said, “We don’t have a great deal of variety in our diet here, but we do have some good cheese. It’s a bit hard though. And the butter gets runny quickly in this heat.”
“You have butter?” Kormak said.
“Churned up in Helgard and packed in ice. The ice turns to water by the time it reaches here, but it keeps it from going rancid. We store it in the cellar. It’s cool enough down there.”
“I am surprised you don’t sleep down there in this heat.”
“In high summer, I sometimes consider it,” said Kurt then laughed. “Of course the men would probably think I was down there eating all the food and drinking all the wine.”
His lieutenants laughed dutifully.
“You two have slept most of the day away,” said Zamara. “We’ve been busy. Ravens have already been sent ahead warning about the tribes gathering. And I have been up talking with the Commander about our journey.”
Kormak shot him a warning look. You never knew who might be a spy for the enemy. Kurt seemed like a pleasant enough man, but those were the ones who made the best spies.
“Don’t worry, Guardian, the Admiral, has told me just enough to let me know you’re on some mission for the King and it’s likely to take you into the Wastelands. I can’t say I envy you that. I was stationed on its edge for a couple of years. It’s a nasty place. Dry, lots of sand storms, monsters from the blights. Some say there are demons out there in it.”
“There are,” said Anders. The Commander looked at him with interest. He obviously grasped that although Anders was clearly not a member of the ruling class, he was somehow important to the mission. He was curious as to how but too well-bred to ask.
“You say that with some certainty,” Kurt said.
“I have seen them.”
“And yet you still live.”
“I am a fast runner. The people who were with me were not so lucky.”
Kormak shot Anders a warning look this time. He did not want the Commander provoking the mercenary into giving away all the details of their quest. Anders took a deep breath and shut his mouth. The exchange was not wasted on Kurt. He covered his small tight smile with his left hand, gestured to the table and said, “Eat, drink! Be welcome.”
“The Commander and I were talking about the pass,” Zamara said after the silence had become too awkward. “You will be pleased to hear that the temperature drops quite sharply by the time you reach the top, Sir Kormak.”
“That is good news,” Kormak said.
“Of course, it’s a steep climb even on the old road, and it’s not without dangers. The supply caravans often loses a man or two on the way here,” Kurt said.
“What kills them?”
“Rock falls, accidents, monsters of various sorts. It’s an easy route to follow, though. Not much chance of getting lost if you follow the road. I’ve have written a letter of introduction to Lord Herrero, the Commander of Helgard. He is well known to me. I doubt my scribbling will make much difference since you bear orders from the King himself but it can’t do any harm. Personal connections count for a lot in this part of the world.”
“That is true anywhere,” said Zamara. He and Kurt and the lieutenants laughed as if at a joke they shared. Perhaps they did. They were all Siderean nobles after all.
“Indeed,” said Anders. His tone was sour and drew disapproving looks from the aristocrats.
“What do you think stirred up the tribesmen, Sir Kormak?” Kurt asked. His tone made it clear that he and Zamara had already gone over this.
“A renegade nobleman,” Kormak said. He could not prevent himself from doing so. He felt the urge to puncture their complacency. “His name is Balthazar. He is a sorcerer and the leader of a Shadow cult. He fled from Maial when he was unmasked, along with some his fellow nobles. I saw him this morning, among the attackers.”
The looks he got from the aristocrats were now almost as cold as the ones Rhiana was giving him. He concentrated on his food untroubled. The conversation drifted into tales of shipboard and garrison life. Kormak wondered what Balthazar was up to right now.
Night settled over the jungle. The moon hid among the clouds. Chieftains who had gathered to witness Balthazar perform the ritual eyed him with trepidation and not a little envy. Every man was a potential enemy, for every man coveted what he had. Balthazar smiled, determined to show no weakness.
He looked down at the captured soldier. Weak from his wounds, he lay spread-eagled, arms bound and staked to the ground. Eyes wide with horror and the effects of narcotics. His mouth was gagged so he could not scream. Balthazar would have cut his tongue out but for the risk of him drowning in his blood before the sacrifice could be completed.
Balthazar finished inscribing the circle around the man and said, “No one, on pain of death and far worse, can break this circle. Remain where you are no matter what you see, no matter what happens, or else flee into the night, if you have not the stomach to witness the arrival of a being from the Outer Dark.”
The tribesmen licked their lips. One or two of them fidgeted and looked as if they would like to depart. None of them did. It would not do to be suspected of weakness in a group like this.
“Do you under
stand?” Balthazar asked, determined to make them acknowledge his words. It was necessary. It was not just their lives that any foolishness would put at risk, it was his own.
One by one the shamans nodded. Their plumed headdresses rippled. Their averted eyes studied the circle he had inscribed on the ground. He knew they were wondering exactly what he intended. They were uneasy. All of them knew what might happen if a demon of Shadow broke free from its summoner. All of them would be reviewing such defensive spells as they knew. None of them had the strength to ward off an unleashed Umbral, but all needed some protection. They just had to be a harder target than the fellow next to them.
Balthazar clutched his sacrificial dagger to him then began the long chant, felt the power slowly build within him. He reached out with his spirit to open the gateway to Shadow. The air shimmered with shadows all around as the Outer Darkness overlapped with the mortal world.
Closer and closer came the ancient evil presence. The air in front of him shimmered. The temperature dropped. Mist swirled around him, converging in a small whirlpool in the air above the bound sacrifice. Balthazar chanted, knowing that the Umbral was almost upon him. Closer . . . Closer . . . Now!
He plunged the sacrificial dagger into the soldier’s heart and shrieked the final binding phrase of the invocation.
The Umbral was on the very edge, at the gateway to the mortal world. It lunged in, lured by the scent of the dying man’s departing spirit. Its hunger caused it to extrude a tentacle out of the mist and into his heart. The tentacle pulsed as it fed on the soldier’s soul. That was a mere morsel to it and it was still hungry.
The creature he called upon was one of the lesser denizens of Shadow, but no less dangerous for all that. Just because it stood in relation to Xothak as a moray eel did to a giant squid did not make it any less dangerous to the unwary soul swimming in its territory.
