2 Defiler of Tombs (19 page)

“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 forward 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.

“I really do not like you, Sir Kormak,” said Malion.

Kormak beheaded him. Flickering sparks danced from his form. His flesh melted into a black pool and then bubbled away. The others looked at Kormak appalled.

“He had surrendered,” said Brandon. He looked appalled. “You took his parole.”

“He was tainted by the Shadow, he had broken the Law” said Kormak. “He would kill and kill again.”

“You are not a nice man,” said Lucas. He shrugged. “But I am glad you are here.”

“Odds of hundreds to one are not good odds,” said Kormak. “Let’s take a look at those wounds now.”

He leaned forward. Brandon did not look well.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“WHY DID YOU go and interfere?” Brandon asked. “I had him right where I wanted. He fell right into my trap.”

The armour on his chest and upper arms was tattered. His flesh was shredded. He was bleeding badly. Aisha knelt beside him. She had produced some herbal ointment from within her bag and was applying it to the wound. Kormak watched her. She seemed to know what she was doing.

“They say the claws of Old Ones are infected sometimes,” Aisha said. She had taken a spare shirt and was ripping it into bandages. There was still a lot of blood flowing from Brandon’s mangled flesh.

“The orcs gave me worse,” he said. He looked pale and grim. Kormak wondered whether he was going to make it. He had seen men die from smaller scratches inflicted by Old Ones.

Somewhere out in the night, thunder rumbled. “What was that?” Lucas asked.

A cold wind blew, scattering fragments of the mist, bringing with it a strange smell like ozone and sulphur and rot. A loud crackling hiss sounded. Off in the darkness, black lightning danced above the city, flickering from the ground to the sky in an eerie reversal of a normal storm. All of the bolts converged on one point. That point grew darker and expanded with every strike, at first a small black dot, growing.

“Morghael has opened the final doorway.” Aisha looked at Kormak. “It seems we have run out of time. The Black Sun is rising again.”

“I can still ride,” said Sir Brandon. “Get me on horseback and let’s go.”

Kormak considered just leaving him there but that did not seem either fair or wise. Aisha finished tying off his wounds. She gave him some herbs to chew on to kill the pain.

They rode through the dark streets of the dead city with a foul wind from hell blowing into their faces. The buildings shimmered oddly as the black sphere above the ziggurat grew in power. Streamers of shadow leapt from it, surged outwards, settled into the bones of the long dead. They stirred and twitched.

Spinal columns slithered like snakes along the street. Bones clattered together, meshing like interlocking fingers. Skulls rolled as if tumbled by the black wind.

The sediment of bone and desiccated flesh scattered over the city was becoming imbued with a fearful animation.