2 Defiler of Tombs (4 page)

“You think one of my folk did that?”

“I am asking if it’s possible.”

Brandon laughed. There was relief in his laughter. “You’ve never lived in one of these small villages have you?”

“Not since I was a boy.”

“There are no secrets in a place like this. Everybody knows everybody else. If someone’s dog has pups its big news. I know it almost before the bitch does.”

Kormak looked at the more distant huts. Brandon followed his gaze then shook his head.

“If someone was taking walks into the Barrow Hills I would know about it. Look how bare the land is. You can see right across the fields. You can count the sheep on the hills from this tower. You can’t go any distance without the sentry spotting you.”

“What about at night?”

“Nobody in their right mind would head out into those hills at night. You saw what my men-at-arms were like. Hell, my people won’t go looking for lost animals in those hills even in daylight, and a sheep is worth a lot up here.”

Kormak nodded. He had not really expected it to be anybody local. It was something that had needed to be asked. There were procedures that needed to be followed.

“What are you going to do when you find whoever did this?” Brandon asked.

“What do you think?”

“There are those who call your Order assassins. I can see why.”

“Kill a peasant they call it justice. Kill a nobleman they call you an assassin.”

“I never knew you were so bitter.”

“You want to know why I have killed more nobles than peasants?” Kormak’s voice was very soft.

“I feel sure you are about to tell me.” Brandon licked his lips nervously.

“Most peasants don’t have the education to work the high rituals of Shadow. Most of them can’t read. It’s the nobles and the clergy can do that. They are the ones who learn to call those things that should not be summoned.”

Brandon took another swig of from his flask. He looked thoughtful.

“They are also the ones with influential families and friends. You kill a nobleman there are always consequences, whispers and attempts at payback.”

“What is your point, Kormak?”

“You might want to think about that the next time a noble points at me and calls me an assassin behind my back.”

Brandon took a step back and Kormak realised he had let a note of menace enter his voice, sufficient to worry even the knight.

“That’s not why I brought it up,” Brandon said. He handed offered the flask again. It was a gesture of reconciliation. Kormak did not take it.

“Then why did you?”

“If you go around executing people with a king’s warrant, people up here might object.”

“Would you?”

“Not if you find the bastard on my land, I won’t. But you might not and you might need someone to speak up for you. Someone the local lords know.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying I’ll go with you. You might need me. I know the other landowners.”

Kormak accepted the flask. “You sure it’s not just because you want to execute them yourself.”

“Well, there is that,” said Brandon with a grin. It faded as quickly as it came. “I am serious, Kormak. Whoever opened that barrow deserves death. I won’t kill a man lightly but I will kill him for that. I owe little Olaf and his folks that much.”

“I can’t say as I blame you,” said Kormak. “But we’ll have to find whoever did it first and that might take some time and you have lands to watch over.”

“Then I’ll ride with you a ways and turn back if it takes too long.”

“You have some idea who did this, do you?”

“There were some travellers who passed through a week or so ago, skirting our land. Some shepherds saw them, said they looked pretty strange. Some Tinkers were here just a couple of days before you arrived. They were heading north to Hungerdale and most likely beyond.”

“Tinkers?”

“They come and go, they trade with the hill-tribes and the miners at Elderdale. A wagon passed on the old road a few days ago.”

“You think the hill-tribes might have something to do with this? They are descended from the Men of Kharon and some of their shamans and witch-women still keep to the old ways.”

“It’s possible. They used to raid along the border but we have not had any trouble for years.”

“Maybe some of them have decided that opening a barrow might be trouble enough. The hill people have no love for you Sunlanders.”

“Is that the voice of experience talking there, Kormak?”

“I am from the highlands of Aquilea.”

“The Aquileans bear no love for we Sunlanders either. You raid the borders of north-west Taurea constantly.”

“I don’t.”

“Your kinfolk do.”

“I have no kinfolk.”

“Your compatriots then,” Kormak shrugged. Brandon seemed to realise that he might have given offence.

“You really think it might be the hill-tribes?”

Kormak shook his head. Brandon looked at him and a realisation struck him. It was obvious from the expression on his face. He straightened his shoulders and looked directly at Kormak.

“It was lucky for us you were here,” said Brandon eventually. There was a question in his voice. He was clearly wondering what had brought the Guardian to this part of the world.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I am looking for a necromancer called Morghael.”

“Why?”

“He took advantage of one of the battles down south to raise a regiment of the walking dead from the bodies left behind. Both sides in the civil war contributed to his army. He terrorised a fair bit of the Duchy of Osterlund.”

“I had not heard this.”

“You will. The rumours will come North in the spring.”

“If he has an army you’re going to have trouble with him.”

“Morghael’s army was put down by Duke Donal of Osterlund and his sons. He fled the field. The Duke put me on his trail and here I am.”

“If this Morghael’s a necromancer, he could be the one who opened the barrow.”

“Quite possibly.”

“And yet you never told me. Instead you spent time quizzing me about whether any of my people could have done this. Or whether the hill-tribes could be behind it. And all the time you had a far more likely suspect in mind.”

“I needed to ask Brandon. I can’t just assume Morghael did this. If it was somebody here it would mean I was leaving someone behind me who might open another tomb. Morghael is the most likely suspect but he’s not the only one. You still want to come with me? On the trail of a necromancer?”

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to call back the sentry and go explain the matter to Gena.”

“I think that might take some explaining.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” said Brandon. He meant his grin to look devil-may-care but instead it just looked nervous.

CHAPTER FOUR

KORMAK ACCEPTED THE offer of nuts, waybread and dried meat from the old woman. She was the grandmother of one of the children he had rescued from the barrow and she wanted to show her thanks. He took the food and placed it in his saddlebag, and then accepted some small copper coins from the father of another boy.

He noticed that there were more parents here giving him things than just those of the children he had rescued. He guessed the whole village wanted to show its gratitude. Part of him was embarrassed and part of him was grateful. Not everyone was so generous to Guardians as these people were being. Many times on his travels he had gone hungry amid richer folk.

Brandon stood nearby talking in a low voice with his wife. Lady Gena seemed none too happy with her husband riding off. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe she was just as angry with whoever opened the barrow as Brandon was. Brandon finished talking to her, then went and said something to Radney. The eldest boy would be standing in for him while he was away. At least that was the theory. If things went the way they usually did, Lady Gena would be the one in charge.

After what seemed like hours, all farewells were said and the villagers lined up to wave them off. The men mounted up and set off along the road north. As they passed the milestone Kormak looked back and he could still see the villagers watching and waving.

He looked at Brandon and the knight looked back at him then gave him a conspiratorial grin. Kormak guessed that he was glad to be back on the road. It took him back to the times of their youth. It was odd that someone could be nostalgic for the times of the Orc Wars, but he thought he understood.

The land was bleak and dreary. Occasionally Kormak made out sheep in the hills to the south but there was nothing living to the north. Not even a crow hovered in the empty sky. There was something about the Barrow Hills that discouraged living things.

Their road had originally created by the Solari Legions. It ran straight and true as all the ancient Empire’s roads did. No one had dared uproot or deface the runic way markers that showed the symbol of the Holy Sun and the time worn face of one of the Emperors. Kormak thought it belonged to Adrianicus, judging by the resemblance to some old coins he had seen.

Brandon was mounted on a big, fierce-looking chestnut warhorse. He rode as easily and well as he had done in his youth. Kormak envied him the skill. He had grown up in the mountains and was more at home on his own two feet than in the saddle even after all these years. Brandon looked at Kormak then looked north then back at Kormak.

“Gena was not too happy about me going off with you.”

“I suspected as much.”

“She thinks I should stay at home with her and the boys and not go gadding about over the Northlands.” Kormak could tell he was quoting his wife exactly from the tone of his voice.

“How did you convince her?”

“I told her I wanted to punish the bastard who let the wight loose. He’s the one who really killed little Olaf.”

“How far is it to Hungerdale?.”

“About two days ride along the old road. We’ll make camp for the night in the shelter of the Stricken Oak. There’s a wardstone there.”

Brandon was silent, then he looked at Kormak and said, “Let’s hope we get things done before the first snows. Winter is a miserable time of the year here. The wind blows in off the Barrow Hills and it has the chill of the grave on it. It’s been getting worse for years now, even before the Comet appeared in the sky.”

There was a note of horror in his voice and he glanced at the hills again as if he feared some enemy might emerge from them. “Gena always talks about going south to visit her family, to see the great Summer Fair in Vermstadt. She talks about taking the children with her. I sometimes think that might be a good idea.”

Kormak could tell that he was worried. If someone was opening barrows, dark and dreadful things might soon be coming out of those hills. “She’s never gone south since you got wed?” Kormak asked.

“Talks about it all the time. She misses the City State sometimes. Take a look around you and I think you can see why.”

“But she has never gone…”

“You know how it is. There’s always something more needs doing. The roads are not easiest to travel on. The Tinkers bring tales of bandits. There are rumours of orc war-bands and monsters. Now it’s the civil war between the Princes. It’s cold here but it’s safe. At least it has been until recently. Now I wonder. You’ve been in the south. What do you think?”

Kormak recognised it at once. The hunger for news. Not many people came this far north. What was ancient gossip in the courts of the Dukes was fresh rumour up here.

“There are always bandits,” Kormak said. “Out of work soldiers, displaced nobles. You know how it is. I’ve not heard of any warbands though, and that’s something I would expect people to tell me about. Monsters… you’re talking to the wrong man. I meet those wherever I go. It’s the nature of my calling.”

“You meet more now than you did a decade ago though, don’t you?” Brandon sounded as if he wanted Kormak to deny it. Kormak thought about it for a moment and answered truthfully.

“Yes.”

“Let’s hope there is nothing waiting for us on the road then,” said Brandon, smiling.

“I would not count on that,” said Kormak.

Brandon looked at him, finally getting to the question he wanted to ask. “This necromancer, Morghael, why would he flee north? Why would he come here?”

Kormak gestured to the hills around him. “A lot of barrows up here.”

“You think he plans to raise an army from the bones of Kharon?”

“I don’t know. I do know that tomb dust from Kharon is used as part of the rituals in raising the dead.”

Brandon looked at him sidelong. “You know a lot of things it would be better not to. I’ve never heard that before.”

“It’s not common knowledge.”

“Why tomb dust from the Cursed Lands?”

Kormak considered his response carefully. “Some say it’s because the Shadow is in the dust, a legacy of the Defiler’s curse, that it becomes a kind of seed inside a corpse and stirs it to life if the rituals are performed right. I know it works. I saw Morghael’s army.”

“You think he came here for more dust?”

“It has to come from Shadow-tainted tombs, which makes it dangerous to collect, which makes it very expensive. Raising that army must have taken a lot of dust, cost a fortune.”

“Well, there was a wight in that tomb and if he was looking for dust he must have got what he came for. Why not just head on back south?”

“That’s a question I have been asking myself. I have a feeling I am not going to like the answer.”

Around them, the hills brooded. Rain started to fall. They rode on into gathering darkness.

The rain came down in a heavy drizzle. It soaked through Kormak’s cloak. He knew he was going to have to check his armour for rust at some point and oil it again. Brandon sat with his back to the ancient runic stone. At least it blocked the wind. He was cursing the cold and the wet. “Why did I agree to come with you again?” he asked.

“Because you wanted to take part in the glamourous life of the wandering Guardian.”

“I knew it was something like that.”

“Why did you really come?”

Brandon looked as if he was going to make a joke then shrugged and said, “Because I want to kill the bastard that let loose that wight. Olaf was one of my people, a kid. He should not have died like that.”