Kormak 01 - Stealer of Flesh

by William King

  “And you would help my husband free a demon in order to gain its knowledge?” She looked at him angrily. Again, she seemed sincere.

  “It is something I need to consider.”

  She turned to face him. The length of her naked body pressed against his. “You are a very cautious man. You still don’t trust me, do you?”

  Kormak shrugged. “I don’t trust anybody.”

  “Not even yourself, it seems.”

  The door burst open. Lord Tomas was there. Wesley was beside him and a number of men at arms. They looked ready to use their weapons at the slightest provocation. Naked and unarmed, Kormak did not fancy his chances against them.

  “I came to ask your decision,” Lord Tomas said. He looked from Kormak to his wife. “I heard you…talking to my wife.”

  Kormak said nothing. There was nothing to say. He could tell that behind his cold facade, Lord Tomas was incandescent with rage. He glanced at Wesley and his men at arms who studiously kept their faces blank, to avoid admitting they had noticed his humiliation.

  “Take Sir Kormak to the dungeon,” he said. He strode forward and grasped Kathea roughly with the arm.

  “You and I will have words, wife,” he said.

  The guards surrounded Kormak, weapons drawn. There was nothing he could do except throw himself on their blades and he doubted that would do anybody much good.

  Wesley tossed him his clothing. There was a smirk on his face now that the eyes of Lord Tomas were no longer upon him. “I think Lord Tomas has decided he no longer has need of your services.”

  The cell was cold and damp and the bars were strong. Kormak had tested them and they resisted his strength. He cursed his own stupidity and the weakness that illness had brought. Somewhere in the mansion, a conspiracy of maniacs were going to unleash a demon, and he doubted that any of them had any real idea of what that meant. Kormak was not sure that even he did. No one had encountered a Ghul in hundreds of years since the Guardian Malos had hunted down the last of them. It had left a trail of death and mayhem hundreds of leagues long once it had been uncovered.

  He grabbed the bars again and shook them but they would not give. One of the guards said, “That won’t do you much good. Man can’t bend iron that thick. Believe me.”

  It was Marcus, the guard who had been there when Tarsus first treated him. There were three other men sitting at the table, playing cards.

  “Your master is going to unleash a demon,” Kormak said.

  “He told me you were suffering from delusions,” said the guard, “and needed to be restrained for your own good till you got better. I can see he wasn’t wrong.”

  Kormak studied the man. He had keys on his belt. If he could lure him close enough he might be able to knock the man out and get the keys and free himself. And then he would only need to overcome three armed men, he thought sourly. After that he would find Lord Tomas and then what, he asked himself? The ritual would be guarded. Lord Tomas had clearly thought things out. Still, he would worry about that after he was free. He considered faking illness but he doubted that would put the jailor within reach.

  These were cautious men and strong. He was not going to be able to fight his way out of here.

  There was a sound of knocking from the door at the head of the stairs leading down into the cells. The jailor walked over and looked out through a slot. He said something and nodded and opened the door. Kormak looked up and saw the wizard Tarsus. The old man limped down the stairs, walked over to the table where the guards sat and helped himself to some of their wine. None of them objected. He seemed to have some trouble fumbling the stopper back on the jug. It took him some time to get in place then he came over to the cell door and looked at Kormak.

  “You could have handled this better,” said Tarsus. His tones were very low.

  “Have you come to gloat?” Kormak asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Shouldn’t you be helping Lord Tomas free the Ghul?”

  “I should be but I am not. I told him I was too sick.”

  “Why did you come here?” Kormak asked.

  “I came to help you,” Tarsus said. “It was one thing to talk about unleashing the Ghul when it was just a theoretical possibility. It is a different thing entirely since I have held the amphora in my hands. I can feel the evil in the thing. I want no part in setting it free.”

  “Not even if it can help you stave off death?” Kormak asked.

  “I doubt it can do that now. There is not enough time left for me to learn its secrets and even if there was, I am not sure I would seek immortality at such cost.”

  “But you thought differently once.”

  “Like I said, contemplating a thing in theory is different from putting it into practise. And I am old and tired and I will rest in my grave.” He coughed again and more blood came up. “I have not found life so much to my taste that I look forward to prolonging it.”

  “How can you help me?” Kormak asked.

  Tarsus glanced over at the jailors. They lay slumped over the table, heads down, exceedingly drowsy. Tarsus walked over to the head jailor and took the keys.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kormak asked.

  “I am a man no worse and no better than yourself, Sir Kormak. I do not want to see that demon unleashed and I believe that between us, we might stop that from happening.”

  “I am still not entirely sure I can trust you.”

  The wizard unlocked the cell. “Well, when you make up your mind, perhaps you will follow me to Lord Tomas’s vault. I suspect I will prove slightly less impressive with a blade than you but I’ll do what I can.”

  Kormak pushed the door of the cell. It swung open. He stepped through warily. Tarsus had already turned his back and was limping over to the stairs. He did not seem to care that Kormak was in a position to bludgeon him down. Kormak walked over to the jailors. They were still breathing. He helped himself to one of their blades and their heavy leather jerkins. It would do no harm to have a disguise as they moved through the manor house.

  “They are not dead,” said Tarsus. “It was just a sleeping powder added to their wine. I used to play chess with Marcus. I rather like him.”

  “Any treachery, wizard, and I’ll cut you down.”

  “Then how will you find your way to the Sanctum? Ask the guards?”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “I find one of the few good things about old age is that it’s given me enough experience to cover most situations.”

  “There’s no need to sound so smug about it.”

  “I take my pleasures where I can find them.”

  “Is that another piece of wisdom that occurred to you in your decrepitude?”

  “You’ll be old too one day, Guardian, if you are lucky. I hope you encounter another soul as miserable as yourself then.”

  “Well, you’ve given me some answers for them, haven’t you?”

  “Glad to be of service.”

  Tarsus hobbled up the stairs; Kormak followed him out into the huge ancient manor. It was dark and cold and the wind howled.

  They moved across the courtyard and for the first time Kormak got a really good look at the outside of the manor. It was massive, an ancient palace that sprawled across the hilltop. Most of it had a half-ruined look to it, was covered in winter ivy and other creepers. There was a fountain in the courtyard with no water in it. The central statue was of a mermaid with dragon-spines running down her back. It was an odd thing to see so far from the sea.

  “They are in the crypts below the mansion,” Tarsus said. “Lord Tomas is going to perform the ritual.”

  “Why are you not there? Won’t they suspect something?”

  “I told them I was too ill to take part. It was not hard to make them believe that.”

  Suspicion stabbed at Kormak again. He wondered whether he was being led into some sort of complex trap. He could not see how it would work when it would have been easy enough for Lord Tomas to
have him trussed up and brought to the catacombs. That did not mean it was not possible though. He had known of Old Ones who liked to play strange games with the minds of their victims. Perhaps these men were like that.

  Tarsus picked an archway in the side of one tumbled down building. There were strange signs carved into the stonework of the lintel. They resembled no Elder Sign that Kormak knew of.

  The old man paused for a moment. He was shivering. “At least we are out of the wind,” he said. “It chills me right to the bone these days.”

  “That may be the least of your worries soon,” Kormak said. Tarsus nodded and fumbled in an alcove in a wall. He produced a torch which he smeared with some sort of sulphur paste. With a word of power, he lit it. An infernal stench filled the air.

  “You can still work sorcery, I see,” Kormak said.

  “A mixture of sorcery and alchemy. A trick really. All the high powerful spells are beyond my strength now, otherwise I would not need your help.”

  Tarsus held up a hand and cocked his head to one side, listening. Kormak could not hear anything and he would have been willing to bet a gold solar to a copper farthing that his hearing was better than the wizards.

  “They have begun,” Tarsus said.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “There are other senses than the five most men rely on. I can sense the flows of power in this place. Someone is working a ritual.”

  “Why tonight?” Kormak asked.

  Tarsus shrugged. “The moon is near full. The Lady’s gaze always looks favourable on the working of magic. It is a propitious time for rituals. And now they have your blade with which to compel the demon.”

  “There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

  “I think Lord Tomas was nervous for all his talk. He needed your blade for reassurance and he needed a host for the Ghul. Events tonight conspired to force him into a decision.”

  “A host?”

  “It’s not easy to communicate with the bodiless. Better to have it embedded in a mortal form. Easier to slay it with your blade if things go badly. They did not want to use you because they are afraid of your order and because you might be able to resist the possession.”

  “Who are they going to use?”

  “Lady Kathea.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t the way they originally planned it—they were going to use a servant—but Lord Tomas was quite hurt by her infidelity.”

  That made the nobleman seem almost human. Kormak did not know whether that made him better or worse.

  “What will happen to her?”

  “The demon will devour her soul and take possession of her physical shell. It will wear her body. It’s not a bad plan actually. She is weaker than they are and even if the demon masters the body quickly it should not pose too great a physical threat.”

  “We must save her.”

  “Youthful chivalry is an appalling thing,” said Tarsus. “It makes men stupid.”

  “You are not suggesting we should let her die, are you?”

  “If the demon is embodied we can kill it.”

  “Is there no other way?”

  “We can stop the ritual before it goes too far although we may already be too late for that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “If you can keep them busy, I might be able to compel the Ghul back into the bottle by reversing the spell. It is by no means a certainty though.”

  “I’ll take any chance I can get.”

  “Very well but if worst comes to worst and the demon becomes corporeal don’t hesitate, strike it down with that sword of yours.”

  “First I will need to get my hands on it.”

  “There is that,” said Tarsus. “Still I have every confidence in you.”

  Kormak was not sure he had every confidence in himself. He was still recovering from his ordeal in the storm. He was not at his fighting peak. He hoped there were not any guards between them and the vault.

  They pressed on along the corridor. Kormak felt the oppressive weight of the old buildings above him. He realised that this ancient passageway went a long way down below the earth. The stonework supporting the ceilings looked strong but it did not look modern. The flagstones beneath their feet had been worn away by the passage of countless feet.

  “What was this place?”

  “It was a chapel to the Old Gods, I suspect,” Tarsus said. “Certainly the altar below bears their markings.”

  “That is never a good sign,” said Kormak.

  “Not all those who were worshipped before the coming of the Holy Sun were evil.”

  “It seems like a singularly appropriate place for a ritual to free a Ghul,” said Kormak. He was starting to feel tense. He could sense the presence of swirling currents of magical energy in the air. He realised that Tarsus must be much more sensitive to these things than he was.

  The old wizard paused. He was wheezing and his breath was coming out in clouds. It was getting colder. Kormak wondered whether it was just the chill of being underground or whether this was some sort of byproduct of the ritual.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “No,” the wizard said. “I have not been all right for a very long time but I can go on now.” Kormak realised how desperate the venture was now. It was just him and this old sick man, trying to prevent the freeing of an ancient evil that it had taken the mightiest sorcerer who had ever lived to bind.

  From down below, he could hear chanting. He thought he recognised the voices, muffled as they were. They belonged to Tomas and someone else: Wesley. “Why not just unstopper the flask?” Kormak asked.

  “There are seals on it that must be removed and spells that must be in place to control the Ghul when it emerges, or at least constrain its freedom of action. They must bind it with a pentagram if they are to force it to do their bidding. They are rightly afraid of what may happen if it breaks free.”

  “And you are not?”

  “I am terrified. It is all very well telling yourself that you do not care whether you live or die, but I find that when it comes to it I would rather go on living.”

  “Most people are like that.”

  “But you are not?”

  “I long ago learned how to control my fear.”

  “The famous discipline of the Order of the Dawn. Alas it is too late for me to learn it now.”

  “You are doing pretty well. Wait here, I shall get a bit closer and find out what is going on.” Tarsus sat down on the stair gratefully. Kormak hoped that Tomas and his companions did not hear the old man coughing.

  He trod as lightly as he could down the stairs. The chanting became louder as he closed the distance. He found himself standing in the shadows of an archway looking into a large vault. Around the walls were various statues of animal-headed gods. In the centre was an altar, large enough for a human sacrifice.

  Lady Kathea was on it, bound by chains of ancient black iron. Around the altar a pentacle had been laid out with salt. At the centre stood the ancient amphora. Lord Tomas read from an old scroll, intoning words in the Old Tongue that made Kormak’s flesh creep. He wore the Elder Signs that had belonged to Kormak as well as some of his own.

  Nearby stood Wesley. He had Kormak’s blade in his hands. It was unsheathed. The disrespect filled Kormak with anger. Such a weapon was never supposed to be unsheathed unless you intended to kill. It was one of the oldest and strongest teachings of his order.

  The man had no right to hold that weapon. He had not undergone the sacred cleansing or performed any of the rites of initiation. He had not been selected and judged worthy to bear the blade by another Guardian. It was a sort of sacrilege and Kormak, despite all his acquired cynicism, found he still had enough faith in what he did to feel outrage.

  Not that it would do him much good while Wesley held the blade. Dwarf-forged steel was far sharper and stronger than any normal metal, lighter too, and there were runes worked into the blade to help it strike true. Those wou
ld work for anyone who bore it. Kormak could not help but notice that the runes on the naked blade were glowing. They were affected by the eddy currents of magic from the ritual.

  Wesley advanced to where Kathea lay. She looked up, eyes wide with terror. She clearly understood all too well what her fate was intended to be. It was perfectly possible her husband had explained it to her in his calm, mad way. Wesley placed the flask upon the altar near her. It seemed to be shimmering now. Perhaps it was a trick of the torchlight but Kormak doubted it. It seemed that the spells were having some effect on the ancient binding. Or perhaps it was something else. Kormak did not know. He was not a sorcerer. His training had been in how to protect himself from evil magic when that was possible.

  The knight held Kormak’s blade at the ready. It was only then that Kormak realised what was intended and that he was too late to prevent the Ghul being freed. He raced forward to make the attempt anyway.

  The knight took the dwarf-forged blade and brought its edge down on the seal of the flask severing it. Tomas smiled as a shimmering, shadowy, ectoplasmic form emerged from the mouth.

  There would be no forcing the Ghul back into the jar now, Kormak realised. It was broken. They intended to bind the demon or kill it using his blade.

  Kormak jumped over the salt lines of the pentacle being careful not to disturb the physical outline, knowing he was most likely disturbing the magical one. He landed close to the altar. Wesley saw him and strode to meet him. His strike was lightning fast. Kormak raised his blade to parry. The dwarf-forged sword notched its edge. Wesley pressed on with his attack and Kormak found himself on the defensive. Wesley was an excellent swordsman and in the peak of physical condition. Kormak was still weakened by his ordeal in the blizzard and the subsequent fever. Wesley was on him, cat-quick. Their swift footwork disturbed the salt, turning straight lines into scattered randomness.

  Kormak parried again and again, too slow to find an opening in his opponent’s guard.

  “No, you idiots! You have ruined everything,” Lord Tomas shouted. Over Wesley’s shoulder, Kormak could see the ectoplasmic form was starting to take on a roughly humanoid shape.

  Wesley grinned at him. White teeth showed like those of a skull. His eyes were dark and hooded and there was no mercy in them. “I had heard Guardian’s were better swordsmen than this. It seems you are over-rated.”