Born Of Darkness (Book 7) (6 page)

Duke Leone pushed his chair back and listened as if this was the first confirmation he had received from a reliable source about events in the vault. “What is the thing? And why is it here now?”

King Aemon looked at Kormak. The Guardian limped over to the table. His wounds pained him despite the healing the King had given him and the potions of the royal physician. He felt groggy from the after-effects. “It was an Old One,” Kormak said. “It was too strong and too fast and shifted shape too easily to be anything else.”

“Impossible,” Leone said. “We are beneath the light of a sunstone, within a palace warded against all such intrusions.”

Aemon’s expression was mild. He did not look at the Duke when he spoke. “The sunstone’s rays do not penetrate stone walls and every defence has a weak spot. It may be that someone has discovered ours.”

“I believe the creature entered in a sarcophagus delivered by the treasure fleet,” Kormak said.

“Are you sure?” asked Admiral Lorca. He was a brawny man with silver hair cut short and a well-trimmed silver beard. His voice had a rough note to it, as if hoarsened by years of bellowing orders across a ship’s deck.

“The coffin was disturbed when we entered the chamber. It seems the most likely source of the problem. It was open. It was the right size. It had been closed with binding runes. A trail of blood led from it to where we found the chancellor’s body.” He listed each point slowly and firmly.

“Accepted, Sir Kormak,” said Duke Leone. Admiral Lorca’s eyes narrowed. He clearly did not want to accept this. After all his fleet had delivered the sarcophagus and he was, ultimately, the individual who might have to take the blame.

“The question is why would anyone send such a beast to the Palace Imperial and unleash it here.” Duke Leone said.

“The fact that we are calling this council is answer enough,” said Prince Taran. “The business of government is disrupted. The counting of the latest revenues from the colonies is delayed. People are afraid. Royal prestige is undermined. Heretics and rebels are abroad in the realm. The cults of Shadow are at work everywhere trying to undermine my brother’s rule. Now we must deal with this thing rather than hunt them down.”

“All cogent arguments,” said Frater Jonas. “We need to find out who did this. Presumably there are records of when and where the cargo was put aboard, who authorised it, who collected it, who sent it.”

Admiral Lorca said, “There are manifests accounting for every item transported on my ships. The entire cargo was loaded at Port Montanea, delivered by Governor Kolkin’s men. I counter-signed for every piece.”

“Then you know the sarcophagus I am talking about,” Kormak said.

Lorca considered this. “Thousands upon thousands of treasure chests have to be loaded, Sir Kormak. I can’t be expected to remember all of them, but in this case I do. It was a striking piece of work. It had been discovered in some ancient temple complex far inland. Knowing the King-Emperor’s interest in such things, Governor Kolkin sent it on. He seemed quite proud of the thing.”

Prince Taran scratched a note on a piece of parchment. “Did he now?”

Aemon walked over to his brother and placed a bony hand on his shoulder. “Come, brother, let us not be too hasty to jump to conclusions. I have made my interest in such artefacts clear enough. I mention it to every governor of every colony before they take up their position. They all know about the Royal Museum. We already have a score of such sarcophagi. Who would guess this one was different?”

“Perhaps the contents could have been investigated more thoroughly.”

“It was magically sealed and opening it would have damaged it,” said Aemon. “I am interested in all such seals. Solareon used them. I will learn to use them too.”

Solareon had been the greatest wizard-king of the First Empire. He had bound demons and conquered entire kingdoms of the Old Ones. If Aemon intended to emulate him, his ambitions were vast indeed.

“The seals did not look like any used by the First Empire,” Kormak said.

Aemon smiled. “You have had experience of such things?”

“I have handled one set by Solareon himself.”

“Then we must talk about it some time.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty, but at the moment . . .”

“At the moment we have more pressing affairs, of course. It can wait.”

“What are we going to do?” Prince Taran asked. “An almost invulnerable demon is loose in our palace. It has killed our subjects and doubtless it will kill again. We need to find some way of dealing with it.”

“We shall, brother. Have faith. The Light will reveal the path to us.”

“I think your brother is troubled by concerns about your safety, sire,” said Jonas. “What if this creature was sent to slay you? What if it is a demon bound to pursue this ungodly task.”

“If it is my time to walk into the Light, it is my time, old friend. I am not afraid.”

“We have summoned Abbot Gerd of the Order of the Dawn’s Trefal Chapter House,” Prince Taran said. The familiar name startled Kormak. It could not be the same Gerd, could it? “I have brought the second and sixth regiments in from their barracks to reinforce the guards in the palace. It would perhaps be best, if we found you alternative accommodations.”

Kormak wondered if there had been some collusion between Jonas and the Prince in bringing this matter up.

“No,” Aemon said. “I will not be driven from my palace by the forces of Shadow. No demon can penetrate the sanctity of the Cathedral. I will spend my time there, praying for the creature’s defeat.”

Taran seemed so satisfied that Kormak wondered if this was what he had been seeking all along. “Very well. Sir Kormak what would you recommend we do?”

“Once Abbot Gerd arrives I will requisition the things that I need. He has men trained to deal with situations like this. Till then, seal the entrances to the catacombs, let no one in or out without approval. Keep torches burning. Flame hurts the Old Ones as much as sunlight. I will place elder signs of salt to reinforce the wards.”

“There are prisoners down there—heretics, traitors, all manner of scum.”

“They should be brought out.”

“I had not taken you for such a soft-hearted man,” said Taran. “Why be concerned about such scum? The catacombs are huge and not every prisoner is accounted for. We’d need to risk sending soldiers down as well.”

“If the creature feeds on the prisoners it may well grow stronger,” Kormak said.

All of the faces around the table looked horrified. Prince Taran said, “I shall see what can be done. Anything else?”

“Send the soldiers in large companies with every man carrying a torch and oil flasks. If they come across the creature they can keep it at bay with them. They should not engage unless they have to and they should withdraw as fast as they can.”

“As you say. What next?”

“Once I have spoken to the abbot I will go below and investigate the sarcophagus.”

“So until then we wait.”

“Better to do that than to send more men to their deaths seeking a monster they cannot kill.”

“Indeed,” said King Aemon. “If there is anything you require from us, Sir Kormak you have only to ask my brother and he will provide it. I shall return now to the Cathedral and pray for the confounding of our Shadow worshipping foes.

Kormak suspected it would take more than prayers to do that. He wondered where the creature was now and what it was doing.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN THE SHADOWS beneath the palace the Old One waited. It banged its head against the stonework and howled with frustration. Why could it not remember who it was or where it had come from? It could recall only an eternity of imprisonment in the metal coffin. It had endured a centuries-long nightmare of entrapment, far from the light of the Moon, far from the agony of prey.

When the coffin lid loosened and it sprang forth to strike, it had been near mindless. Instinct had taken over and it had shifted into new shapes to take advantage of its freedom and attack.

After its escape it remembered fighting and fear as light burned it and it fled from the mortals. Something told it that it should not have happened. Those squawling hairless apes were born to be its slaves.

Its leg hurt where the mortal’s poisonous blade had struck. The wound refused to heal despite all the instinctive magic it had brought to bear.

It had shrugged off the blows of the other apes. The cuts inflicted by their weapons had closed almost instantly. Only that accursed sword with its deadly runes had caused any lasting harm.

A rat scurried by. The Old One sprang, impaling the rodent on a dagger-like claw. It flicked the tiny corpse into its distended mouth and crunched down with sharp teeth. Bones broke. Blood trickled down its throat. Along with the taste of brain tissue came a surge of small, feral memories. Of hunger and hunting for food in the dark. Soon it would integrate the rat’s flesh into its own form. Perhaps that would help heal the wound.

It altered its shape as easily as a mortal breathed.

He was male now. He stood differently. His balance altered. Fur rippled and grew. Hound-like ears twitched. His wolf-like muzzle wrinkled as he snarled.

He changed. His snout shrank. His brainpan bulged. It was easier to focus his mind in this form.

He kept shifting, extending the range of his thoughts, decreasing the range of his senses. It was as if the more of his mind he freed from processing basic sensations, the greater his powers of reason, the more he could remember.

The Old One limped further down into the darkness. He needed refuge and time to think. In the distance, he smelled blood and warm living flesh. He caught the faint pheromonal traces of fear and hunger and hate. There were other sentient things down here.

Good. He had not fed in a long time but he would now and he would grow stronger and give his enemies cause to regret their temerity.

***

“I might have guessed I would find you lounging around in the lap of luxury,” said the abbot as he entered the room. Gerd had not changed much since their youth. He was medium height with shoulders so broad he looked squat. His hair was Sunlander gold and his beard was long and curly, not carefully trimmed like those of the Sidereans. He limped and that was new. “As always, you’ve landed on your feet.”

Kormak lay on the couch in his chambers, with his sword close at hand. He had rarely felt so weak and he did not like others seeing it. “You know what it’s like when you’re a Guardian. One day it’s a peasant’s hut, the next day a King’s palace.”

Gerd’s smile held a complex mix of envy, bitterness and agreement. “You look like you’ve seen better days, Kormak.”

“I have, Gerd. And many of them.”

“What in the name of the Angel Zhamriel happened to you?”

“I met an Old One in the King’s vaults last night. I neglected to wear my armour.”

“Rumour has it you did not kill it.”

Kormak did not want to say he had still been weak from guiding the ship through the storm. It sounded too much like an excuse “Rumour has the right of it.”

“I knew I was not summoned to the palace so they could look at my cheerful Taurean face. So there’s an Old One loose in the Palace Imperial, is there?”

“A very dangerous one.”

“It must be if you did not kill it.”

“I’m getting old, Gerd.”

“We all are.”

“I feel it.”

“You thinking of giving up the blade?”

“You did.”

Gerd looked down at his leg. “Tendon was slashed. Healed badly. Made it difficult to do the dance of blades.”

Kormak tapped his chest. “I took a few cuts myself last night.”

“Doesn’t look like anything that would slow you down in the long term. You’ll heal.”

“Yes,” Kormak said. “I’ll heal.”

Gerd gave a short barking laugh.

“What?” Kormak asked.

“You’re the last man I would have thought to hear talking about giving up the blade. I always thought they’d pull it from your cold dead hand.”

“How many are left from our oath year?”

“You. Me. Magritte. The rest are all gone.” Silence filled the room while they contemplated the deaths.

“And only you are still carrying a sword. Magritte went back to Aethelas last year. She’s teaching herbalism to acolytes, believe it or not.”

“Good for her.”

“What would you teach? How to climb a rock like an Aquilean ape?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“You did not ask me here so we could discuss your career choices, did you? Because if that’s what you want, let me give you some advice. Don’t become abbot of a chapter house. It’s all prayers, scrolls and bloody politics with barely time to steal beer from your own cellars.”

“I thought it was what you always planned on doing.”

“Yes, I am really living my dream,” he said. “Look what it got me. Fat, bored and forced to listen to your whining.”

He smiled to take away the sting of what he was saying then said, “You didn’t ask me here so we could wax nostalgic about the good old days. What do you need?”

“Truesilver armour if you have it.”

“The shirt will need adjusted to fit your heathen build but we have a good man for that.”

“Sunflares.”

“Every chapter house has those. Basic alchemy, man. Ask me for something difficult.”

“Valen’s Elixir.”

“There was no need to take me at my word. You know it is forbidden. You know why too.”

“It can cause apoplexy, heart failure and rupture of internal organs. None of which will bother me if this Old One is eating my heart.”

“I never knew you had one.”

“Can your apothecary do it or should I ask the King instead?”

“Don’t embarrass me. Of course, he can. It’s just I will have a hell of a job explaining what happened to Grandmaster Darius if you drink the stuff and keel over and die.”

“I am not planning on it.”

“No one ever does. You really want it? You remember how we used to laugh about the old men who used it. We’re older than them now.”

Kormak nodded. “We were never going to get old.”

Gerd looked out the window. “But we did. And we are the lucky ones.”

“I’ll need essence of truesilver.”