2 Defiler of Tombs

  As if to mock his words, more howling erupted from the hills around them, echoing all the valleys. Brandon’s hand reached for his sword. Lucas picked up his bow.

  “Best build up the fire,” Kormak said. “Just in case.”

  He clambered up onto a large boulder and squatted there so that he could get a better view of their surroundings. He thought that he could see a group of shadowy figures moving across the valley. They were about the size of men but something about their posture told him they were not. As he watched they began to lope closer. They were lean and long limbed and moved from upright to running on all fours quite easily.

  Kormak felt someone else climbing beside him. Lucas joined him. He grinned and said, “Ghouls all right, a hunting pack and we’re in their territory.”

  Casually he strung his bow and selected an arrow. He sighted at one of the pack and pulled. His arrow whizzed into the night. One of the ghouls made a sound like a dog whose tail has been trod on only much louder. The rest of the pack came on at greater speed.

  Kormak watched the ghouls lope closer. Lucas fired another arrow. It took one through the heart and knocked it over. It began to scrabble to its feet once more. Kormak was reminded of the hill-man’s encounter with the strangers they were pursuing. The ghouls had the same kind of resilience to mortal weapons. Kormak drew his blade. He was used to fighting such foes and it was rare to find anything that dwarf-forged steel could not cut.

  As the first ghoul reached them, it sprang, a weird cavorting leap that brought it crashing down on the top of the rock. It was a jump no mortal man could have made. Kormak struck, a clean blow that separated the monster’s head from its shoulders. The flesh sizzled where he cut, and drops of black fluid, more like melted flesh than blood, dripped. The headless body moved on, crashing down next to their companions.

  Lucas fired again. This time his arrow pinned a ghoul’s foot to the ground. Kormak leapt down amid the pack of monsters. His blade flashed left and right and two more of the creatures fell. A clawed hand grasped his arm before he could react. Strange charnel breath-fumes hit him. He felt dizzy for a moment and expelled all the air from his lungs in case of poison. A grey flash came out of the gloom and the ghoul toppled as Shae ripped at his throat. Its claws tore free from Kormak’s arm, leaving great gauges in the leather of his jerkin and drawing blood from the muscles of his bicep.

  Ignoring the pain, Kormak stepped forward, blade flickering out. The runes on it glowed now and the ghouls’ yelps held a panicked quality. This was not what they had been expecting from their prey at all. A bull-like bellow ripped through the air and Brandon charged into the fray wielding his greatsword two handed. It tore through even the unnaturally resilient rubbery flesh of the ghouls. Another arrow flashed out of the night. This time it took a ghoul through the eye. It was either a fantastically skilful or a fantastically lucky shot under the circumstances.

  Kormak kept attacking, fast as a great cat, striking down a ghoul with every blow. Within another few moments, the ghouls were fleeing into the night. Shae started to race in pursuit until Aisha called him back. Kormak turned to see what had happened to the others. Aisha stood with a bared dagger. Lucas was still perched atop the rock, bow in hand, shooting at the fleeing ghouls. Sir Brandon was chopping the corpses up with his blade although whether this was driven by fury and fear or a sensible desire to make sure the things did not rise up again was beyond Kormak’s ability to tell at that moment.

  He looked out into the dark. With the ghouls in retreat there was no obvious threat. He shouted for Brandon to stop, not wanting to get too close to the big man in case he was in some sort of berserk rage. He had to shout again and again until it was obvious Brandon heard him. He looked up, jaws working in fury, lips curled in a fighting sneer. He shook his head as if to clear it and then he gave a rictus grin that was closer to a snarl than a smile.

  Lucas dropped from the rock and began to pick up the few arrows that were still usable. “Nicely done,” he said as he walked past Kormak. “You know how to use that sword.”

  “Sit still and stop fidgeting,” Aisha said. Kormak did as he was told as she rubbed the herbal salve into the wounds. “Often these things can become corrupted.”

  “I know,” Kormak said. “I have been wounded before.”

  “I can tell by the scars,” she said. “But you’ve never been bitten by a ghoul or you would not be so cheerful.”

  “They say the bite is poisonous,” said Kormak. “Or that it carries some wasting disease.

  “Think of all the rotten meat between their teeth. That would be enough to poison most men if it got into their blood,” she said. “Anyway essence of guildwart should prevent that from happening. I could try some healing charms if you would take off your amulets.”

  “Not necessary,” said Kormak.

  “You’re not a very trusting man, Guardian,” said Aisha.

  “Life has given me no reason to be.”

  Around the fire, the others chatted and smiled. The atmosphere had definitely changed for the better. Lucas and Sir Brandon talked like old comrades. Kormak smiled. He had seen this sort of thing happen after battles. There was nothing like facing a common foe to forge bonds between warriors. For once even the gloom of the Barrow Hills seemed to have lifted.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen better shooting,” Brandon said. “You had half those ghouls down before I even got to them,” Sir Brandon said.

  “I got one or two,” Lucas allowed. “But Sir Kormak got most of them. Best swordsman I have ever seen.”

  “You are not the first to say that,” said Sir Brandon. “I’ve only known two who were better.”

  Kormak raised an eyebrow. “I am sure you are going to tell us who.”

  Aisha rubbed the ointment into the wound. The faint smell of something bitter touched his nostrils. There was a stinging sensation that quickly vanished.

  “Your old master, Malan,” Brandon said.

  Kormak nodded. “I will give you that one.”

  “The King’s Champion Dalian.”

  “He was a very good swordsman,” Kormak said.

  “But you think you are better,” said Brandon.

  “He was good in a tournament,” said Kormak.

  “Look at him, he kills a few ghouls and he thinks he’s better than the royal champion,” said Sir Brandon. There was a joshing undertone to his voice and something else, a little darker.

  “No shame in being bested by a King’s Champion,” said Lucas.

  “He never bested me because we never fought.”

  “You think you could have beaten him?”

  “We’ll never know. I’m not ever likely to fight him.”

  “You could always challenge him,” said Brandon.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Then you would know.”

  “I don’t fight for fun,” Kormak said. “And I don’t fight to prove how brave I am.”

  He let those words hang in the air for the moment to see whether the knight would pick up on them. Kormak remembered his fury earlier. These comments were not really about him but he was stung by his friend’s attempts to needle him.

  “No. You fight to kill things,” said Brandon. Aisha looked at him. Clearly she had picked up on the strange currents in the conversation.

  “You all fought like heroes tonight,” she said. “And I am grateful for that. I can see that none of you were afraid of the ghouls.”

  “I was,” said Lucas. “I don’t mind telling you that. When I saw that pack coming for us I thought my life was over.”

  For some reason his words seemed to calm Brandon. “Forgive me, Kormak. My blood is flowing fast tonight. It was the fight. I do not question your courage or your skill.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Kormak said. He knew whose courage and skill the Sunlander knight was really questioning; his own.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE LAND LOOKED worse as they moved on, even bleaker and more empt
y. Grey clouds hid the sun. A smell of rot drifted on the wind, and sometimes Kormak found there was a strange taste in his mouth as if invisible spores had somehow found their way in. His tongue tingled at times and he felt dizzy in the saddle. He pulled out the wraithstone amulet. It was a little darker, and black threads seemed to be extending itself through the core of the stone. They were in a shadowblight, for sure.

  Kormak and Brandon rode beside each other. Lucas was at the front, on point, watching the road. Aisha rode behind them with Shae. The wolf’s tail hung between its legs and sometimes it raised its muzzle, sniffed the air and whimpered. Sometimes it snarled fiercely.

  “I don’t like this smell,” said Brandon. He wrinkled his nose. The huge moustache lifted like a raised eyebrow.

  Kormak said,“There is a taint on this land, the effect of the Defiler’s curse. Dark sorcery curdled an entire nation, turning the land sour, filling it with evil magical energies.”

  “You were never the most reassuring travelling companion, Kormak.”

  “I would not have believed things could be so bad up here after all these centuries.”

  “Not many folk come this way and many of those who do, don’t come back. The sort of people who come here are not the type to let a little dark magic bother them either.”

  “I am not at all sure things have not gotten worse recently. There is a feeling in the air as of something coming awake, of a power stirring.”

  “You think it’s your necromancer friend up to his tricks?” He was trying to keep his tone light but Kormak heard the fear underneath.

  “It’s possible.”

  Brandon wrinkled his nose again as a gust of the cold wind brought more of the foul smell. Kormak felt as if something was catching at the back of his throat. Brandon started to cough.

  “What do you think of the hill-man?” he asked.

  “He seems alright,” Kormak said. “He’s brave enough.”

  “I was thinking the same. He fought well last night.”

  “The wolf fought well too,” said Kormak.

  “It’s a beast and everyone knows they don’t like unnatural things.”

  “It is more than a mere beast.”

  “Familiar?”

  “Something of the sort.”

  “I will take your word for it. She’s an odd one as well.”

  “No odder than any other witch.”

  “I don’t have a lot of experience of those. I just think sometimes she behaves like a great lady at court and other times she reminds me of old Agnetha back in Hungerdale.”

  “I’ll need to have words with her,” said Kormak. “There’s things that need to be said before we reach the end of this road.”

  The hills grew more bleak. The few trees were white barked, blotched with fungus, leaves a rotting black. The worst thing about them was that they still possessed a diseased life, tentacular roots holding onto the blighted soil of the Cursed Lands like the grasping fist of a miser clutching his last copper coin.

  Clusters of rock, some of them inscribed with black and white spiral runes emerged from the blasted landscape. Tumbled buildings, marked with the moon and skull emblem of Kharon, marred the hillsides, the burned out remains of what once had been fortified hilltop towns. Empty windows watched them pass. Something about them reminded Kormak of the eyes of skulls. Kormak felt the weight of ages press down on him. Time and death lay heavy on this land.

  Clouds had settled on the tops of some of the hills, great monsters of fog waiting to swallow anyone who rode into their billows.

  The Cursed Lands really did seem haunted. It was easy to imagine ghostly sentinels watching them from the stumps of those destroyed watchtowers. Kormak had passed through many places blighted by the Shadow but rarely so vast or so tainted. The power of the Defiler must have been great indeed for his curse to have been so strong. He said as much aloud.

  “It need not be so,” said Aisha. “There are some places where the Shadow is stronger anyway, where old curdled magic lies heavy.”

  She sounded as distantly thoughtful as he had, and seemed just as surprised to have spoken. All of them were looking at her now. “Generations of necromancers dwelled in this place. For centuries they worked their evil wills. They made sacrifices. They worked the darkest of magics. That will leave its taint. Some ancients claimed that such magic draws the Shadow to it, others that it is merely a filthy residue left by the spells themselves.”

  “These are not good things to know,” Brandon said. He eyed her suspiciously. “Where did you learn them?”

  “I am a scholar of sorts, Sir Brandon. I have picked up many odd bits of lore in my time.”

  “You think the fact that the necromancers worked their magic here led to the Shadow tainting their land.”

  She shrugged. “It may be that the Shadow already was in this place, that it made necromancy easy and twisted the minds of the Kharonians. Once they started working the spells all of that was reinforced. It has happened in other places at other times. People forget.”

  Kormak’s eyes narrowed. This was the sort of thing his Order had taught him during his noviciate. He could remember the dry voice of old Frater Orice reciting the tale of the fall of the Kingdoms of the Sunrise from the Deed of Saint Marcus.

  “Does it really matter how the land became tainted?” Lucas asked. “The problem is that it is and we are here and we need to pass through it.”

  Shae whimpered uneasily, paused to sniff the air, and then hurried into Aisha’s shadow. She glanced around with nervous eyes. Kormak wondered what she could see. Witches could often perceive what ordinary mortals did not.

  He suspected he had some idea. The whole land seemed to watch them resentfully, like a vast monstrous thing waiting to spring on them when their guard was down. He had rarely been in a land that felt so inimical to the living, as if the Curse of the Defiler was a vast sentient thing that animated all around them with its fathomless malice.

  Sometimes Kormak thought he caught hints of movement. He was not sure what they were and that disturbed him. Sometimes it seemed to him that the shadows were in the wrong place, that clouds of mist billowed in slightly the wrong direction for the prevailing wind.

  “I don’t like this at all,” said Lucas. “There’s something out there, watching us, and it’s hungry.”

  So he felt it as well. Kormak studied the sky. It was overcast, the light of the sun was wan, but still too strong for Old Ones to be abroad. Few creatures of Shadow would walk in its light unless they had a mortal host to protect them from its beams. As far as he could tell they would still be safe until nightfall.

  It did not mean that they were unobserved though. Some of the Old Ones could perceive mortals in their dreams, as if their consciousnesses had become unshackled from their bodies. Many of the undead could sense the presence of the living as they walked across the land in which they were buried. In daylight, they were, perhaps, safe from assault but they were not hidden.

  Some of the most powerful of the inhumans could work magic even in the sun’s light, reaching out from their sunken lairs to affect the weather or the minds of mortal men, causing them to walk astray, into traps and mazes of spells. He thought of how the wight had trapped those children back in Brandon’s village. He thought of little Olaf and suppressed his feelings of guilt. No, it was well not to assume that they were safe simply because the Holy Sun was in the sky.

  “Why did the Solarians come here anyway,” grumbled Brandon. “They had already seized the nice, warm southlands when they came over the Ocean. What was up here they could possibly want?”

  “Mines full of silver and tin and copper,” Lucas said.

  “A land full of sorcerous enemies,” said Kormak.

  “I think Lucas was right,” Aisha said. “Something is definitely out there, watching us.”

  “You can sense it?” Kormak asked.

  She nodded. “Shae can too.”

  “He does not look too happy.”

  “He
is not easily upset but he does not like this place.”

  “Then we should pay attention to him,” said Kormak. He eyed the witch as suspiciously as she looked at him. There were too many secrets in the air. He needed to find out what she knew and soon.

  “What in the name of the Holy Sun?” said Brandon. Kormak looked around. Mist had gathered about them, keeping its distance like an army awaiting the order to charge, wraith-like shapes moving within it.

  “Stay close,” said Aisha.

  The watery sunlight got weaker and the clouds of mist on the hills became denser. They seemed to move like living things.

  “There’s nothing natural about that fog,” said Lucas.

  “I know,” said Brandon. “It’s almost as if it’s stalking us.” There was an edge of fear to his voice. “I don’t mind telling you it’s getting on my nerves. If there’s something a sword can cut I will fight it but how do you fight mist?”

  “It has not attacked us,” said Kormak, wanting to put an end to this chatter before it went any further. “So you don’t need to.”

  “It has not attacked us… yet,” said Brandon. As if in response to the conversation the mist had come closer, tendrils reaching out like tentacles, one of them crossed the road ahead, partially blocking it.

  Shae's ears pricked up. They all stopped and listened. After a minute, Kormak heard it too. It was a small, clicking noise, like hundreds of tiny needles being run across the teeth of an ivory comb.

  “What is that?” Brandon asked. He was looking directly at Kormak.

  “I don’t know,” said the Guardian. He got down from the saddle and put his hand on the hilt of his blade. He peered into the gloom. Small patches of shadow seemed to moving in the mist at ground level. They reminded him of small, scuttling animals, but they moved backwards and forwards with a crazed purpose and intensity. He moved forward and they and the mist retreated in front of him. A similar soft, sinister noise could be heard from further up the slope. It seemed that whatever the things were, more of them were coming. They were gathering in a fashion that Kormak did not like.