2 Defiler of Tombs
“Many died of plague,” Aisha said. “The Defiler released it after he took his death wound, before his acolytes carried him below and sealed his tomb. It killed those who had killed his empire. It was part of his curse upon the land.”
“And it was a terrible one,” said Brandon. His face looked pale in the gathering gloom. There was an odd scent in the air.
A thought struck Kormak. “Perhaps he was sowing seeds.”
“What do you mean,” Lucas asked.
“What could be better for a necromancer than a city of corpses, a kingdom of the dead. You would not need tomb dust for these. This place is tainted with the Shadow.”
Brandon looked at him sidelong. “You think he planned to return.”
“He was a necromancer,” Kormak said. “He defied time and death. It is what those who dabble in those kinds of forbidden secrets always seek.”
“Just as well those Sunlander priests slew him then,” said Lucas.
“Did they though? If he could cheat death, he could return. He could outlast his foes. Those who opposed him have all gone to the grave. Now there is only us.”
“You don’t think he is really still waiting, do you?” Brandon asked. Kormak looked at their frightened faces. What was he doing? They were scared enough without him giving voice to his own fears. Already the sun was starting to fall below the horizon and darkness was coming, as its watery light failed to pass through the barrier of clouds.
“We’ve come a long way,” he said. “Not much further now.”
Night came. Eldritch green light rising from the ziggurat underlit the moon-obscuring clouds. An odd haze crept between buildings. There was an odd fusty smell to it that Kormak did not like. The smell of rot was in the air. His tongue tingled. His hair felt sticky, his flesh unclean. Shae growled, his hackles rising. Aisha stroked his neck with her hand and gazed about. Kormak sensed something passing overhead again.
The burned out buildings had turned into a maze. It was hard to find a way forward through the endless warren of ruins and bones. He had a crawling feeling between his shoulder-blades. Somewhere out there in the darkness something huge and inimical was stirring. He began to think he was hearing furtive noises, almost too faint to be picked up. When he looked away, Kormak could still see the shapes shimmering in his vision.
“Morghael is awakening old and evil magic,” said Aisha. They passed into a wide street and the bulk of the buildings cut off their view of the ziggurat. Mist continued to rise. Dots of greenish light swarmed through the air, like clouds of fireflies. Sometimes they settled on a pile of corpses and sank in and vanished.
Shae stood still now, his ears pricked up, his nose twitching. His teeth bared in a snarl. He began to growl. Kormak was not sure whether it was from anger or fear. The horses whinnied nervously. Brandon’s warhorse seemed ready to attack. Kormak’s beast had been trained to endure whatever, but the rest seemed on the verge of bolting.
“There’s something out there,” Lucas said. “I can feel it.”
A bat-winged shape swept over them and vanished into the fog. “The Old One passes us in the night,” Aisha said.
“Or hunts us,” said Lucas. He did not sound happy with that idea. He looked at Kormak’s blade significantly.
“If it attacks us, I will kill it,” said Kormak. It was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Neither Lucas not Brandon looked comfortable with the idea of being attacked by an Old One. Aisha looked dismayed, perhaps by his mention of slaying one of those who her faith regarded in the same way as followers of the Holy Sun regarded saints or angels.
The mist grew thicker and thicker. Parts of it were luminescent, strands pulsed with soft, sinister greenish light. These quested through the gloom as if seeking something. Sometimes they came close, like the fumbling fingers of a blind man, but retreated when they came into contact with the living.
Kormak could see no further than a few arms lengths ahead. He breathed in the air. It felt curdled in his lungs, as if the Shadow tainted even his breath. He looked at the Elder Sign he bore. It glowed bright as a star and felt warm to the touch. He felt sure that this was what had repelled the tendrils of shimmering mist.
“We should find a place to hole up for the night,” said Lucas.
“The horses are restless,” said Brandon.
“We cannot see where to go,” said Aisha. “In night and fog we may wander aimlessly.”
“We don’t have time,” said Kormak. “Morghael is working his magic. We don’t know how long it will take him to complete his ritual.”
“We may not be able to even find the Pyramid in this,” said Lucas. He sounded scared.
Kormak was going to ask how hard it could be to find the Tomb Palace. All they needed to do was keep going upwards but wandering through the endless, empty streets had already shown it was not that simple. The city had hidden slopes and lesser hills and the streets wound through them. The fog obscured all landmarks more distant than a few strides away. The greenish glow was everywhere now so they could not use it as a beacon.
It was frustrating, as if the elements themselves conspired to keep them from finding Morghael. Kormak did not rule out the possibility. He had been in places where the weather could be bent to the will of sorcerers and other, less human entities. As if echoing his thought, Aisha said, “If we find a spot I can ward us against the taint of Shadow.”
Lucas emerged from the mist again, a shadow against shadows until he resolved into a lanky man. Kormak looked at him suspiciously for a moment. He had known creatures who could take the form of men. Many of the Old Ones could look exactly as they wished.
“There is a place over there that still has a roof,” Lucas said, either unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge Kormak’s stare. “It’s big enough for us to pen the horses inside so they don’t wander off. We can wait this out until morning.”
“It might not rise with morning,” Kormak said. “If it’s not a natural mist.”
“You want us to continue on?” Brandon asked. He was chewing on his moustache again and looking out into the gloom as if expecting an attack momentarily. All of them were tired and afraid.
Kormak said, “Out there a madman is working evil magic. We cannot stop now. We cannot give him a chance to work whatever necromancy he plans.”
A loud inhuman yammering rang out. It was answered from a distant part of the ruins. Echoes and the mist made it difficult to tell exactly how far.
“Ghouls,” said Lucas. Brandon nodded. He remembered the sound.
Lucas frowned. “What the hell are they doing here? All the stories claim they avoid the city.”
“Something is leading them,” said Kormak.
“Or summoning them,” said Aisha.
“There was something odd about the first howl though. It did not sound right,” Lucas said.
“So you are a connoisseur of monster howls, are you?” Brandon asked.
“He’s right,” Kormak said. “It was different from the others we’ve heard.”
“You still want to stay here?” Lucas asked.
“I never wanted to stay here,” Kormak said.
Another chorus of howls echoed from the north.
“Another pack,” Lucas said. His eyes darted everywhere as if he was searching for a way out.
“How many of them are there in this bloody place,” Brandon asked.
“Too many for us, I fear,” said Aisha. Her horse startled and she had to saw on the reins to keep it under control.
“We can’t run in this place,” Lucas said. “Not on horses.. Not in the mist. We would break our necks.”
More ululating cries rang out, startlingly loud. It was very close by or it sounded it.
“Don’t panic. Don’t run. Don’t get separated.” Kormak said.
“You’d better tell that to the horses,” said Lucas.
“We need to find a place to build a fire,” Kormak said. “Those things will track us by scent if they are not led to us.”
 
; An inhuman laugh sounded from the gloom. From all around came the sound of mad tittering as if the ghouls echoed the mad mirth of their master.
“I fear they have found you already, Guardian,” said a deep voice that Kormak recognised at once. “They were always going to find you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE MISTS PARTED to reveal a horde of loping, leering ghouls. At their centre stood a creature that looked part ghoul and part-human although much larger than both. It eyed them with a fierce, mad gaze. Kormak recognised those eyes even though the last time he had seen them they had looked out of a much different form.
“Malion,” he said. The Old One pranced forward, made a capering travesty of a courtly bow, then bounded back amidst his horde of ghoulish followers. They parted around him as if fearing his touch. What sort of creature could inspire such fear in ghouls, Kormak wondered?
The monster sprang atop a ruined wall and crouched there supporting itself on all fours, flabby lips hanging open, drool dripping from the sides of its mouth, running over teeth like tusks.
“You threatened me, Guardian,” Malion said. “I do not… I do not... like that.”
It seemed that Malion had lost whatever semblance of sanity even an Old One could possess.
“So you came here to kill me.”
“No. I came here to warn Morghael. My sister helped you so it seemed only fair that I help him to balance the score.”
“It seems to me that this is a little more than balancing the score. And you have helped him in the past. It was you who told the wights he released where to strike. It was you who spied on us for the necromancer. You have worked evil. You have broken the Law.”
“Are you going to punish me for it, Guardian,” Malion asked. There was mad mockery in his voice. “Are you going to perform your duty? Are you going to fulfil your famous oath?”
There were scores of ghouls out there and more arriving all the time. It seemed unlikely that they could triumph over so many.
“Kill me and more will come,” said Kormak.
“Things are going to be very busy in the Northlands soon. Your Order will have other things to worry about once Morghael finishes his ritual.”
“They do not forget,” said Kormak. “However long it takes, they will catch up with you.”
“I no longer care,” said Malion. “Let them come. They will come into a land in which the Shadow has woken and face the legions of the Black Sun.”
“That won’t matter,” said Kormak, although in his heart of hearts he wondered whether the Old One’s confidence might not be justified.
Malion tilted his head to one side and scratched his forehead, drawing a bloody furrow with his claws. The gesture conveyed a hint of doubt, as if he was not quite as certain as he wanted to sound. He seemed to come to a decision.
“It has been a while since I hunted with my pets,” Malion said. He gestured towards the ghouls with a stringy, muscular arm that was longer than any human limb and which ended in talons. “I might indulge in some sport. Pick one of your friends and give them to me for the chase. I will leave you free to go on with the remainder.”
“You are mad,” said Sir Brandon.
A long clawed finger stabbed out, pointing to Brandon. The flesh around Malion’s long, lean face shifted until folds dripped down in a parody of the knight’s moustache. Malion scratched at his cheeks, drawing blackish, clotted blood then licking it away with his too-long, forked tongue. “That one will do.”
Kormak stared at the Old One. He had known its type before. It was possible Malion merely wanted to torment him mentally before slaying all of them. Some of the Old Ones delighted in turning humans against humans, they seemed to feed on it in some way.
“I will count to one hundred and then my pack will pursue. I am giving you a head start. There should be some sport.”
Brandon glared at the Old One contemptuously. “You and your hundred brothers pursuing one man. I had heard the Old Ones were braver. I would not give you the satisfaction of running. Come at me and I will cleave you in twain.”
Kormak measured the distance between him and Malion. He could cross it in a few strides and his sword would be in his hand.
Malion’s grin widened. “You think you could defeat me? With your pathetic steel weapon.”
“I can fight you and I can kill you,” Sir Brandon said. Malion laughed.
“You can’t kill him with a mortal weapon,” Kormak said.
“He can borrow yours,” said Malion. Was that what this was about Kormak wondered. Getting the blade out of his hand. How subtle was the Old One? Probably a very great deal. He might be mad but he was intelligent.
“That cannot be,” Kormak said. “I swore an oath.”
“And you will keep that oath even if your friend dies,” Malion said.
“I will kill you myself,” Kormak said.
“That was not the terms of the proposition,” Malion said. “This knight claims he wishes to fight me. If he does I will let you live and go on your way, no matter what the outcome. If he does not, we shall see what happens. It may be I shall fly away and leave you and your friends here with my pets.”
Despair settled on Kormak. He was being given the choice of disarming himself or watching his friend die.
“I do not need Kormak’s blade,” said Brandon. “I never learned to fight with such toothpicks anyway. My father’s battle-blade is good enough for me.”
“There is no need to sacrifice yourself, Brandon,” Kormak said.
The knight grinned. “I am not afraid.”
He brandished his sword. He looked surprised, as if he had passed a test he had not expected to. “Really. I am not afraid.”
The ghouls formed a huge circle around them. Kormak wondered what the chances were of cutting his way through such a vast horde. Not good he thought and their deaths would achieve nothing. Morghael would still be free to complete his evil work. Aisha looked at Kormak. “Are you really going to allow this madness. You know he has no chance against an Old One.” This time she did not make the gesture of respect.
She spoke so low that Brandon had no chance of hearing. Kormak was glad for that at least. “I am,” he said.
“You are a cruel man, Kormak,” she said. She sounded almost admiring. Lucas moved over. He held his bow ready. He licked his lips and held an arrow ready. Clearly he could calculate the odds as well as Kormak.
“I don’t like this,” he said, but he made no move to stop it.
“Are we going to wait all night?” Brandon asked Malion. “Are you frightened, Old One?”
Malion’s spring was tigerish. Kormak was not sure he could have avoided it himself. Brandon could not. He did not even try. His enormous blade swept down and smashed into the Old One. It encountered some resistance as it met flesh but it cleaved through Malion’s ghoul form. The flesh knit behind it with a hideous slurping sound. Brandon reeled away with a great gouge torn in his upper left arm. Mail had parted under the Old One’s claws.
“Is that the best you can do?” Brandon asked. He strode forward, slashing with the blade. Malion ducked underneath it effortlessly, striking with his claws. Brandon stepped back, blade moving in a figure of eight in front of him, keeping the Old One at bay. Malion did not step into it.
Kormak had seen such a thing before. Perhaps it was an instinctive response to being struck, perhaps the regeneration of the flesh caused the Old One pain. He seemed in no hurry to be struck again. Instead he began to circle, moving to the right. Brandon kept his sword moving, but blood was dripping from his arm. It was only a matter of time before he weakened.
All around the ghouls hissed and gibbered, sometimes raising one of their eerie howls. They moved around the edge of the fight, almost as if they were prepared to leap in and take part themselves. Malion turned and hissed something at the largest and it slunk back. Clearly the Old One was enjoying itself, and did not welcome any intervention on the part of its followers.
Brandon leapt forwa
rd and struck. The blow took Malion clean through the neck. Kormak wondered if Brandon had remembered his talk about stopping the walking dead by cutting off their heads. The blade smashed through flesh but once again it knit. Malion reached out with both claws and buried themselves in Brandon’s upper arms. The knight dropped his sword and threw himself forward. He was a huge heavy man and he and the Old One overbalanced, wrestling.
Malion's inhuman strength prevailed. Malion was astride Brandon, his hands around the knight’s throat, his talons lightly piercing flesh. He raised his head and let out a long, ululating howl. Kormak sprang. His blade was at Malion's throat, where it touched flesh burned.
“Are you really ready to die, Old One?” he asked. His mouth was right next to Malion's ear. “This blade will kill you.”
“I will tear off your friend’s head by reflex.”
“He is dead anyway.”
“You will not survive my pets.”
“Are you absolutely sure of that? Without you to lead them, if I kill a few, the rest will flee. I have survived far worse than this.”
“You are not a very honourable man, Guardian.”
“What is to be, Child of the Moon? Life or death? Are you really ready to find out what lies beyond that particular doorway?”
“Very well then I yield.”
“In the name of the Lady and your hope of her forgiveness?”
“In the name of the Lady, in my hope of my forgiveness I swear to let you pass.”
“And take no action against us for a year and a day.”
“And take no action against you for a year and a day.”
“And give no further aid to Morghael by word or deed.”
“That is not part of an honourable surrender. That is not part of the Law.”
Kormak pushed the blade a little deeper. The smell of burning flesh reached his nostrils.
“And give no further aid to Morghael by word or deed. Now take your burning blade away.”
“Dismiss your pets.”
Malion gave another long howl. The ghouls looked at him with their saucer eyes. One or two growled at him in challenge. Malion growled back and one by one they backed down and departed, melting away into the mist.