Kormak 01 - Stealer of Flesh (17 page)

Kormak agreed but it did not seem politic to say so. The old man’s gaze shifted and he focused his eyes back on the road. Riders were approaching. Pennons fluttered on the end of their lances. They held the short moon-curved bow so common in this land. When they got closer, he would doubtless find they were armed with scimitars.

“Riders often pass along this road. Some of them are charitable,” said the old hermit. Kormak fumbled some change from his purse and dropped it in front of the old man. He laughed and picked it up then rose to his feet and handed it back to Kormak

“I have no use for silver out here. It would only tempt men of violence and make me think of the foul uses I could put it to back in the city.”

Kormak shrugged. “I cannot spare food or water; I have a long journey ahead of me.”

“Perhaps I can spare you some then,” said the old man. “Water at least. This road is no place to be caught without water.”

The riders were close enough now that Kormak could see he was wrong. They carried the straight blades of Sunlander Templars. Their gear was an odd mix of light armour, recurved lunar bows and western helmets and swords. Kormak guessed these were descendants of the Oathsworn who had set out to reclaim the Sacred Lands from the moondogs generations ago. They had adapted to the local climate. There were obviously some things he could learn from them.

One of the men was as richly dressed as a prince. His robes were silk, his breastplate worked with intricate shapes that were only vaguely recognisable as Elder Signs. The patterns were almost lost as if the people who had made the device were more concerned with decoration than protection from the Old Ones and the Shadow. The rest of the men were warriors, either feudal retainers or well-paid mercenaries. They had a hard competent look to them. Kormak took his place beside the old man. He did not really expect violence here but you never knew. The normal laws of men were sometimes suspended in the wastelands.

The lead rider came closer. Kormak could see he was a handsome young man with very dark hair and very white teeth. His hair fell in ringlets to his shoulders. His beard was well-trimmed to two points. He looked foppish but there was something about the way he sat in the saddle and assessed Kormak’s stance that told the Guardian he was not quite as soft as he looked.

“I see another has come to consult you, father,” the newcomer said. There was something taunting in his speech and at the same time something deferential. There was respect there as well as mockery as if the youth sought to prove how cynical he was and yet at the same time, in his heart of hearts, feared the wrath of the old man’s god. It was an attitude Kormak had seen many times among the spoiled nobility of the far west. The young man looked at Kormak. “Not a Sunlander and not an easterner either. That is a puzzle.”

“An Aquilean,” Kormak said. “It’s north-west of Taurea.”

“You are a long way from home.”

“Sir Kormak is on a quest, my son.” There was something odd in the way the hermit said those words as well. “He is hunting a demon.”

“Then that is a dwarf-forged blade upon his shoulder. Interesting. I had not expected ever to see such a thing. Would you mind if I took a look at it?” He held out his hand in complete expectation that Kormak would simply hand the blade over.

“Yes,” Kormak said. “I would.”

His tone obviously rankled the retainers. They reached for their weapons.

“Tell your men I can kill you before they reach me, and then I will kill them,” Kormak said. He said it loudly enough so that the youth did not need to.

“Are you really so good with the blade?” the youth asked. He did not seem in the least bit frightened.

“Yes,” Kormak said. “But if you feel the need to put that to the test, by all means, go ahead.”

The youth smiled. “That will not be necessary. It was rude of me to ask a Guardian to part with his weapon. I spoke without thinking. There is no harm done to my dignity. I hope you will accept my apology, Sir Kormak.”

The retainers at once relaxed their grips on their sword hilts. They did not look any less wary though. All of them inspected Kormak with fierce, hawk-like eyes.

“The matter is forgotten,” said Kormak.

“Very good. Let us start again. I am Prince Luther Na Veris of the city of Sunhaven. I have come here today to bring alms to this noble and long-suffering hermit,” Again there was that faint and ironic emphasis in this speech, “and then I will ride back to the city. I hope you will do me the honour of riding a ways with me and perhaps guesting in my mansion.”

“I would be honoured to ride with you, Prince, but I am on a most urgent mission and I cannot accept your hospitality.”

“You can tell me of your quest as we ride. Perhaps I may help you in some way. I am not without influence in these parts and it will do my soul some good to aid the righteous.”

There was still an element of mockery in Luther’s words, just as there had been when he spoke to the hermit, but Kormak sensed the underlying seriousness of the young man’s intent. “That would be a blessing.”

The Prince nodded and then gestured and two of them men at arms dismounted and took leather-bound packages from their saddlebags. They brought them to the hermit, set them down beside him with respectful bows and then retreated back to their steeds.

The Prince walked over to the hermit and they exchanged murmured words. There seemed to be some quiet debate going on, possibly of a religious nature. Kormak studied the guards as they waited. They looked back at him. Most of them were indifferent but some glared. They had taken his earlier words as a challenge and they were keen to show that they were not afraid.

In the clear sky Kormak saw a hawk in flight. As he watched it stooped, and he knew that somewhere in the distance death had touched the desert.

A moment later Prince Luther returned. “With your permission, Sir Guardian, let us be away!”

They rode side by side towards the city, with the line of retainers stretching out behind them. Kormak was uncomfortably aware that there were men with bows at his back and that he might be shot without warning. The die was cast though, and he did not believe any of the retainers would attack him without a word from the Prince. He paid very close attention to Luther Na Veris as they rode.

A warm wind had sprung up from the desert. It made Kormak’s eyes feel dry and the skin of his face itch. The Prince produced a scarf and drew it across the bottom half of his face. The warriors did likewise, gratefully. Kormak realised that they would not do the thing until Luther did.

The Prince gazed at Kormak sidelong. “It is strange for a Guardian to be so far from Mount Aethelas.”

“I hunt a demon. I have tracked it for hundreds of leagues, from Vandemar and beyond. I think my hunt will come to an end soon.”

“A demon? Of what sort?” The question was casually put, in the same way as a wizard might put it.

“You are a sorcerer?” Kormak asked. The Prince laughed.

“No. I am a dabbler. I have read some grimoires and some ancient texts written by the Old Ones. I read them more for the imagery than the knowledge. I find it helps with my compositions.”

“You are a scholar then.”

“Of sorts. It is my poor pretence to be a poet.”

“Luther of Sunhaven,” said Kormak.

“You know my name I see. It is flattering to be renowned as far away as the cold hills of Aquilea.”

“I heard your name at the Court of the King of Taurea. A bard had set certain of your lyrics to music.”

“I wrote a cycle of love poems in my salad days. They enjoyed a certain ephemeral popularity. They are still sung in taverns and sailors carry songs far.”

“I had not realised you were a prince.”

“It is a not uncommon title in the Sacred Lands,” Luther said. “A lot of nobles awarded themselves high honours when they stole these lands from the Seleneans. I am descended from one. There are many others. Princes are as common in Sunhaven as knights in Taurea or so they say.” He smiled affably. “But you were telling me of your quest. It is not every day I get to meet a man who hunts demons.” Once again there was an element of irony in the Prince’s speech, mocking and undercutting his protestations of interest.

“It’s not every day I meet a Prince who is also a poet.”

“I assure you I have had by far the less interesting life of the two of us.”

The walls of the city appeared on the horizon. They were massive. Sunhaven had quite clearly been built to withstand a siege. The walls extended outwards in buttressed points. They were ten times the height of a man and Kormak had heard it said you could drive a chariot along the top of them. Over the walls a gigantic white tower worked with patterns of gold loomed over the city, dominating the entire skyline.

“It is true,” Kormak said. “The walls of Sunhaven are laid out in the same pattern as the Elder Sign.

Luther nodded. “The walls of all five of the Holy Cities are. It is said that if you looked down from the sky, the way the Holy Sun does, that the roads between them would form the pattern of a gigantic Elder Sign as well. It may be true. These ancient roads run straight enough.”

“Is that so?”

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? How the ancients did it. Built so straight and so far that they could enclose an entire kingdom within the Elder Sign’s sacred protection.”

“Some would say they were inspired by the Sun himself. After all it was one of the Prophets who commanded the work.”

Luther smiled indulgently. “Personally I wonder why they did it. Elder Signs are used to keep demons in as well as out.”

“You think this land is some sort of prison?”

“There are certain old grimoires that hint as much.”

“Go on.”

“Some say this land is a massive gateway to the Realms of Shadow, that armies of demons lie in wait beneath the crust of reality to emerge and work evil. They say it is from this place that the Shadow first entered the world, before the coming of Men. That is why the Holy Cities were built here—they are watchtowers against another onslaught by the Shadow.”

“There are regions where such things happen,” Kormak said. “But I have never encountered one so huge.”

“But you have visited such places?”

Kormak nodded.

“We really should talk you and I. There are many things I would question you about.”

“Would that I had the time, Prince.” Luther nodded affably at this refusal. He did not seem at all troubled by the response.

“It is a strange thought, is it not, that the earth upon which we walk may have the legions of Shadow beneath it?”

“It is a disturbing thought.”

“This can be a disturbing land.”

“But one that can inspire a poet,” Kormak said. “If his imagination ran in certain directions.”

“I hear a hint of the Inquisition in your voice, Sir Kormak, the trace of fanatical disapproval.”

“It was an observation, that was all.”

“I have noticed that certain of your observations sound like threats.”

“I would say that perception lay within the mind of the listener. In this case, at least.”

“You debate like a priest, sir.”

“I was taught by them,” Kormak admitted.

“That in no way surprises me,” said the Prince. He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared off into the distance. “I think we shall be in time,” he said.

The city came ever closer. Kormak could see that many buildings lay outside the huge walls and were dwarfed by them. It was often the case in this world he had found. Cities outgrew their ancient defences. In the west there were places where the walls marked the age of certain parts of cities the way the rings of a tree did.

There was no real boundary between the desert and the outer city. At first they merely rode between isolated white-washed mud-brick houses, which became more and more common until they were ragged, half-empty streets and then densely packed ones. People went from being relatively rare on the outskirts to swarming crowds as they got closer to the walls.

Soon they were surrounded by hawkers and water-sellers and jugglers and clowns. Beggars and thieves moved closer as well. About half of the folk were dressed in western style tunics and britches made from light linen fabrics. The others, darker skinned, were garbed in flowing robes of the Desert Tribes. The men in britches tended to wear the Sign of the Sun and walk proudly and aggressively. The desert men wore Lunar symbols and spoke softly.

Prince Luther nodded to one of his men, the same one as had given the package to the hermit and the man produced a purse and tossed a shower of small coins into the crowd. People scrambled to pick them up as the Prince rode through.

Ahead of them a gate surmounted by an Elder Sign loomed ten spans high. It had huge valves of bronze. Armoured men stood on either side. Prince Luther studied the sky. It was starting to get dark. “Good,” he said. “The North Gate is still open. There will be no need to spend time in some Low City Tavern and wait for the dawn.”

“I regret I must take my leave of you, Prince,” said Kormak. “And seek a bed for the night.”

“It would do me great honour if you accepted my hospitality, Guardian. You will lose no time or money and more importantly you will not get your throat slit in some low dive. It does happen here.”

“Men have tried to cut my throat before, Prince. I am still here.”

“I have a library containing many volumes that might interest you. I have scrolls concerning the Ghul and their city in which you might find knowledge valuable on your quest. I have maps too. I am quite the collector in my way.”

Kormak glanced at him sidelong. In that moment he was reminded a little of Lord Tomas who had freed Razhak originally. Luther had a similar intensity. Still the things he offered might prove useful. “That would indeed be useful.”

“Then it is settled. You will accompany me to my mansion and you can consult with my library and I will avail myself of the opportunity to pick your brain of knowledge and bore you with displays of my own erudition.”

“Very well, Prince Luther, I accept your offer. For this night alone.”

“Capital.” They rode through the North Gate. It was like riding into a tunnel, dark and shadowy. It was full of men with donkeys and camels and carts all trying to get passed the guards. Prince Luther was obviously recognised for he was waved through as were all those with him.