Stealer of Flesh

They moved across the courtyard and for the first time Kormak got a really good look at the outside of the manor. It was massive, an ancient palace that sprawled across the hilltop. Most of it had a half-ruined look to it, was covered in winter ivy and other creepers. There was a fountain in the courtyard with no water in it. The central statue was of a mermaid with dragon-spines running down her back. It was an odd thing to see so far from the sea.

“They are in the crypts below the mansion,” Tarsus said. “Lord Tomas is going to perform the ritual.”

“Why are you not there? Won’t they suspect something?”

“I told them I was too ill to take part. It was not hard to make them believe that.”

Suspicion stabbed at Kormak again. He wondered whether he was being led into some sort of complex trap. He could not see how it would work when it would have been easy enough for Lord Tomas to have him trussed up and brought to the catacombs. That did not mean it was not possible though. He had known of Old Ones who liked to play strange games with the minds of their victims. Perhaps these men were like that.

Tarsus picked an archway in the side of one tumbled down building. There were strange signs carved into the stonework of the lintel. They resembled no Elder Sign that Kormak knew of.

The old man paused for a moment. He was shivering. “At least we are out of the wind,” he said. “It chills me right to the bone these days.”

“That may be the least of your worries soon,” Kormak said. Tarsus nodded and fumbled in an alcove in a wall. He produced a torch which he smeared with some sort of sulphur paste. With a word of power, he lit it. An infernal stench filled the air.

“You can still work sorcery, I see,” Kormak said.

“A mixture of sorcery and alchemy. A trick really. All the high powerful spells are beyond my strength now, otherwise I would not need your help.”

Tarsus held up a hand and cocked his head to one side, listening. Kormak could not hear anything and he would have been willing to bet a gold solar to a copper farthing that his hearing was better than the wizards.

“They have begun,” Tarsus said.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“There are other senses than the five most men rely on. I can sense the flows of power in this place. Someone is working a ritual.”

“Why tonight?” Kormak asked.

Tarsus shrugged. “The moon is near full. The Lady’s gaze always looks favourable on the working of magic. It is a propitious time for rituals. And now they have your blade with which to compel the demon.”

“There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

“I think Lord Tomas was nervous for all his talk. He needed your blade for reassurance and he needed a host for the Ghul. Events tonight conspired to force him into a decision.”

“A host?”

“It’s not easy to communicate with the bodiless. Better to have it embedded in a mortal form. Easier to slay it with your blade if things go badly. They did not want to use you because they are afraid of your order and because you might be able to resist the possession.”

“Who are they going to use?”

“Lady Kathea.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t the way they originally planned it—they were going to use a servant—but Lord Tomas was quite hurt by her infidelity.”

That made the nobleman seem almost human. Kormak did not know whether that made him better or worse.

“What will happen to her?”

“The demon will devour her soul and take possession of her physical shell. It will wear her body. It’s not a bad plan actually. She is weaker than they are and even if the demon masters the body quickly it should not pose too great a physical threat.”

“We must save her.”

“Youthful chivalry is an appalling thing,” said Tarsus. “It makes men stupid.”

“You are not suggesting we should let her die, are you?”

“If the demon is embodied we can kill it.”

“Is there no other way?”

“We can stop the ritual before it goes too far although we may already be too late for that.”

“Anything else?”

“If you can keep them busy, I might be able to compel the Ghul back into the bottle by reversing the spell. It is by no means a certainty though.”

“I’ll take any chance I can get.”

“Very well but if worst comes to worst and the demon becomes corporeal don’t hesitate, strike it down with that sword of yours.”

“First I will need to get my hands on it.”

“There is that,” said Tarsus. “Still I have every confidence in you.”

Kormak was not sure he had every confidence in himself. He was still recovering from his ordeal in the storm. He was not at his fighting peak. He hoped there were not any guards between them and the vault.


They pressed on along the corridor. Kormak felt the oppressive weight of the old buildings above him. He realised that this ancient passageway went a long way down below the earth. The stonework supporting the ceilings looked strong but it did not look modern. The flagstones beneath their feet had been worn away by the passage of countless feet.

“What was this place?”

“It was a chapel to the Old Gods, I suspect,” Tarsus said. “Certainly the altar below bears their markings.”

“That is never a good sign,” said Kormak.

“Not all those who were worshipped before the coming of the Holy Sun were evil.”

“It seems like a singularly appropriate place for a ritual to free a Ghul,” said Kormak. He was starting to feel tense. He could sense the presence of swirling currents of magical energy in the air. He realised that Tarsus must be much more sensitive to these things than he was.

The old wizard paused. He was wheezing and his breath was coming out in clouds. It was getting colder. Kormak wondered whether it was just the chill of being underground or whether this was some sort of byproduct of the ritual.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” the wizard said. “I have not been all right for a very long time but I can go on now.” Kormak realised how desperate the venture was now. It was just him and this old sick man, trying to prevent the freeing of an ancient evil that it had taken the mightiest sorcerer who had ever lived to bind.

From down below, he could hear chanting. He thought he recognised the voices, muffled as they were. They belonged to Tomas and someone else: Wesley. “Why not just unstopper the flask?” Kormak asked.

“There are seals on it that must be removed and spells that must be in place to control the Ghul when it emerges, or at least constrain its freedom of action. They must bind it with a pentagram if they are to force it to do their bidding. They are rightly afraid of what may happen if it breaks free.”

“And you are not?”

“I am terrified. It is all very well telling yourself that you do not care whether you live or die, but I find that when it comes to it I would rather go on living.”

“Most people are like that.”

“But you are not?”

“I long ago learned how to control my fear.”

“The famous discipline of the Order of the Dawn. Alas it is too late for me to learn it now.”

“You are doing pretty well. Wait here, I shall get a bit closer and find out what is going on.” Tarsus sat down on the stair gratefully. Kormak hoped that Tomas and his companions did not hear the old man coughing.

He trod as lightly as he could down the stairs. The chanting became louder as he closed the distance. He found himself standing in the shadows of an archway looking into a large vault. Around the walls were various statues of animal-headed gods. In the centre was an altar, large enough for a human sacrifice.

Lady Kathea was on it, bound by chains of ancient black iron. Around the altar a pentacle had been laid out with salt. At the centre stood the ancient amphora. Lord Tomas read from an old scroll, intoning words in the Old Tongue that made Kormak’s flesh creep. He wore the Elder Signs that had belonged to Kormak as well as some of his own.

Nearby stood Wesley. He had Kormak’s blade in his hands. It was unsheathed. The disrespect filled Kormak with anger. Such a weapon was never supposed to be unsheathed unless you intended to kill. It was one of the oldest and strongest teachings of his order.

The man had no right to hold that weapon. He had not undergone the sacred cleansing or performed any of the rites of initiation. He had not been selected and judged worthy to bear the blade by another Guardian. It was a sort of sacrilege and Kormak, despite all his acquired cynicism, found he still had enough faith in what he did to feel outrage.

Not that it would do him much good while Wesley held the blade. Dwarf-forged steel was far sharper and stronger than any normal metal, lighter too, and there were runes worked into the blade to help it strike true. Those would work for anyone who bore it. Kormak could not help but notice that the runes on the naked blade were glowing. They were affected by the eddy currents of magic from the ritual.