Stealer of Flesh

THE WOLVES OF WAR

THE WHITE EYE of the watching moon glared down on the burning village. Corpses sprawled everywhere. Most of the dead looked as if they had fled in panic and been overtaken by large beasts. Their flesh was ripped and their bones had been broken and gnawed for marrow. When he’d heard the sounds of violence and cries of pain Kormak had almost ridden on. After all, the civil strife tearing apart the Kingdom of Valkyria was not his fight, but the eerie howling told him there was work for him here.

Another strange echoing cry rang out through the cold night air. It sounded like the baying of a wolf but there was also something almost human in that call. It was answered from a different part of the village. Kormak reached for his sword but he did not draw it. He would only do that if he intended to kill.

His horse snorted skittishly although it had been trained to endure far worse than this. He got down from its back to inspect the dead.

He had been hoping to find a bed for the night in the local inn. The long chase after the Ghul Razhak through these mountains had left him badly in need of rest. Instead of sleep, he had found only horror and death. It must have come recently, for the bodies were still warm and the blood around some of them had not even started to congeal.

Something huge loped towards him out of the darkness. It had the shape of a man but it was bigger, perhaps half again as tall and perhaps three times as heavy. Greyish fur covered its body. Its head resembled a combination of a man and a wolf. Around its throat was a chain of nocturnium, one of the ancient night-metal alloys, forged into strange and terrible Elder Signs.

The monster opened its mouth and howled. Its long pink tongue lolled from its open maw. Its massive yellowish fangs glittered in the moonlight. Spittle drooled from its jaws and dripped onto the ground.

Hunger burned in its eyes as it moved ever closer. It came on with a terrible confidence, as if certain that it could not possibly be opposed by the man in front of it. It sprang, its leap carrying it far further than any human could jump. It stretched out its arms, long claws glittering in the moonlight, bright with the promise of death.

Kormak stepped to one side. His dwarf-forged blade leapt from its sheath, slashed outwards and parted the creature’s head from its shoulders. Its skin sizzled where the sword edge bit. Even as he watched, the wolf-man changed back into a human being. Its corpse lay there in a pool of pink pus.

Another howl rang out, as if in answer to the dying wolf-man’s cry, followed by a cry of pain.

Kormak moved through the streets of the burning village towards the sounds of screaming. He had heard that things were bad in the Mountains of Darkness and it seemed that he had not been misinformed. He passed a temple, a small shrine really, on fire in the middle of the village. The symbol of the Holy Sun was inscribed on the burning spire. He knew that these people were of the same faith that he himself followed.

He emerged into the middle of the temple square where another wolf-man confronted a villager armed only with a scythe. He was standing over the recumbent form of another human, trying to protect him. The wolf-man advanced with a lazy confidence that seemed entirely justified. The man slashed at it and his blade pierced the creature’s flesh. The skin knitted behind the cut, there was no blood, and it was as if the creature had never taken a wound. Some magic protected it from the effects of normal weapons. Kormak began to understand how just two of these monsters had been able to slaughter the entire village.

Kormak shouted, trying to get the monster’s attention. The peasant looked at him and in the moment when he was distracted, the wolf-man reached out and lazily tore his head off. It stood there, clutching the severed head, blood dripping over its talons. Its mouth lolled open and it seemed almost to be laughing. Kormak walked towards it, blade held at the ready. In the moonlight, the runes on the sword glowed slightly, telling Kormak of the presence of magic, even though he did not need told that at the moment.

The wolf-man seemed confused. Kormak guessed that it was not used to having its victims advance upon it, showing no fear. He also guessed that the creature sensed the power within his dwarf-forged weapon and was alarmed by it. Perhaps it smelled the blood of its companion on him.

Before Kormak could do anything, the wolf-man turned and fled, bounding away faster than a horse could run. It sprang over the wall of the village and raced off into the night. Kormak could hear its howling receding into the distance and knew that he could not overtake it.

He looked around him one more time and could see nothing but dead bodies and burning buildings. There was no sign of any further monsters so he strode over to where the headless villager lay. Beside him was a wounded man in the robes of a priest, a great gash torn in his flesh. Looking at his wound, Kormak knew the man did not have long to live. “What happened here?” he asked.

The priest looked up at him. “Massimo’s Wolves came. They killed everyone.”

“Massimo?” Kormak asked.

“Jaro’s henchman. The wizard. Moondog rebels, the pair of them. Kill them, Champion of the Sun. Kill them all.” He coughed blood and tried to make the sign of the Sun over his ripped chest. His eyes went wide and cold and Kormak realised that the last thing he had seen was the moon, an ill omen for a man of his faith.

Kormak picked his way through the ruins of the village, looking for survivors. There were none. The wolf-men had been thorough about their work. On his way back, he checked the body of the wolf-man he had killed. It still lay there, in a puddle of what looked like liquified flesh. The night-metal necklace glittered on its throat. Looking closely Kormak could see that it seemed to have fused into the flesh.

Kormak prised it free. It tingled in his hand as he touched it. He could feel the foulness in it, the taint of Shadow. It shattered when he struck it with his blade.

A wisp of ectoplasm drifted free and he ran his blade through it too, dissolving it and sending the bound spirit to its final death. Whoever this Massimo was, Kormak thought, he knew powerful dark magic.

He did not want to take his rest surrounded by the dead, and perhaps the wolf-man would return with companions.


In the distance Kormak could see smoke rising. There had been a lot of it since he had started riding through the Mountains of Darkness. Everywhere he looked there was burning and the signs of strife. It felt wrong. It was late autumn, not the time for local lordlings to be making war. He had seen more burned-out villages with the charred bodies of massacre victims strewn through them. He had seen farms and cottages burned to the ground. He had seen the flocks of sheep slain and left to rot.

He had been born in the mountains of Aquilea, a rough land, where clan feuds burned hot and long but he had never seen anything like this. Flocks were for rustling, not to kill and leave lying. This was more like the work of mad beasts than men. It was as if madness had struck right across the mountains.

He had seen their tracks, those of large, armed bands, leading away from the place where the massacres happened. Mingled with those of horses and men had been what looked like those of very large dogs. He guessed the wolf-men rode with the warriors.

Ahead of him he saw a body on the road. There was something about this that was at once repulsive and disturbing.

He reined his horse to halt and dismounted to inspect the corpse. He noticed the smell from many strides away, a peculiar mixture of rotting meat and something else, something suggestive of things long dead. He had a suspicion he knew what he would find even before he reached the body and he was not disappointed.

He knew the man, or he had known in him life. It was the robber-knight Wesley. His features seemed to have aged and at the same time putrefied. His body and his life had been consumed by the Ghul who had possessed him. It feasted on the life energy of its victims even as it took possession of their bodies.

The process was happening faster than it ought to according to the old records. Perhaps the Ghul had been weakened by millennia of imprisonment. Or perhaps some of Solareon’s spells binding it were still in place. In any case, this might perhaps represent a strange stroke of luck. If the Ghul needed to shift bodies constantly it would be easier to identify as the bodies decomposed and it would find it more difficult to locate new victims who would be wary of its appearance.

It seemed like it had already found a new victim, one who had not been wary enough, or perhaps one who had simply been overpowered by the knight. It occurred to Kormak that he had no idea what the new victim looked like. There did not seem to be any witnesses. He studied the ground for clues and found a staff and a bundle lying nearby, the sort that a tinker or an itinerant labourer might have carried. Had these belonged to Razhak’s last victim or was there no connection? In the absence of any further indicators, he would need to presume that there was a connection.

He looked around for tracks and found none. He had encountered no one on the road, so the Ghul had not doubled back. It was probably safe to assume that it was still fleeing before him, but for how long would that continue? If it reached a town it would have many more potential victims and many more ways to cover its tracks. Of course, there might be mages there who could help hunt it down. Kormak knew if the hunt took much longer he would need to seek the aid of a wizard himself. He could not simply rely on luck.

Part of him wondered why he was doing this at all. He could simply turn back and leave the Ghul to go on its way. No one would know but him. He could just turn his horse around and head west, back to Taurea and the home of his order. There was nothing to stop him. There were even those who would argue that it was his duty to do so, but he could not bring himself to believe that. The monster was free at least in part because he had failed. Lord Tomas and Wesley had taken his sword and his gear and used it in the ritual that had set Razhak free. It would not have happened if he had not been present and too weak to stop them.

Even as he pondered this he thought he heard movement in the undergrowth nearby. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. If Razhak was present he would need to defend himself. He walked closer to where the sound was coming from and he thought he heard sobbing. He kept one hand on the sword hilt and he pulled the bushes apart. Something looked up at him, large eyes staring fearfully out of a dirt-smudged face. It took Kormak a moment to realise it was a teenage girl.


She looked at Kormak. He inspected her for signs of possession.

“You just going to stare at me?” she asked. Kormak tilted his head to one side. She moved her hand. There was a knife in it. “If you come any closer I will stick you.”

She glared. He studied the pupils of her eyes. They were wide but they looked normal. There was no glaze and she was not looking at him fixedly. Her mannerisms were normal although that might not mean anything. A Ghul like Razhak had centuries to learn how to counterfeit those.

“What’s your name?” Kormak asked. He watched, listening closely for the slightest hesitation.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Kormak. I am a Guardian of the Order of the Dawn.”

“Yes and I am Our Lady of the Moon.”

“I would not say that too loudly where the Old Ones might hear,” Kormak said.

“It’s daylight. They do not come out in the sunlight.” She sounded normal but he had not really heard enough to judge. He needed to keep her talking. He needed to collect more information. Sometimes the only way to tell if someone was possessed was to look for small cues in their manner. He doubted that anyone who Razhak was within would rant and rave like a lunatic. The Ghul did not seem to be that sort of demon.

“Most of them can’t. Some can cloak themselves with spells. Others can take possession of human or animal forms. Sometimes they have other gifts. They can hear or see things a long way off. Particularly concerning things that are of interest to them.”

“You sound like a Guardian.”

“How would you know? Have you ever met one?”

“You sound like what they are supposed to sound like.”

“What is your name?”

“Are you on a quest?”

“I am hunting a monster. I am trying to decide whether you are what I am looking for.”

She looked insulted and then a little frightened and she brought the knife between them. She held it edge on, more as a barrier than as if she knew how to use it. She would have had the point towards him if she did.

“And if you think I am the one you are looking for, you will kill me, won’t you?”

He nodded.

“You’ll try,” she said.

“No. I will kill you,” he said. “It is what I do. That tiny knife won’t stop me. You can’t even hold it properly.”

His voice was flat and calm and that just made it more frightening. She flinched away from him.

“You really would, wouldn’t you?”

“I really would.”

“And you’re the sort of cold bastard who would tell me that as well.”

“I am trying to get a sense of who you are and whether you are possessed.”

“Like by a demon?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not an accident you are on this road. You are looking for something that looked like a rotting corpse walking.”

“I am.”

“It looks like the nastiest beggar you ever saw, smelled worse, smelled so bad you knew it could not be anything good.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Why do you think I am hiding here?”

“I have no idea. I am trying to find out.”

“So you can decide whether or not to kill me.” He did not say anything, just watched her. He was ready for anything or he thought he was. He was not prepared when she laughed and said, “You’re as bad as the Wolves.”

“Who are they?”

“You’ve just ridden into these parts, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“They’re who has been burning and raping and looting and killing. They’re the worst of the worst, the remnants of Jaro’s army and something even nastier.”

“Who is Jaro?”

“Jaro was the Pretender. He raised his banner here in the mountains, declared himself king. A load of the local lads thought he’d make a good one so they signed on with him.”

“The real king of Valkyria decided different.”

“Who is to say who is the real king?”

“The one with the victorious army.”

“You’re not as dumb as you look, are you? Yeah—King Sturmbrand scattered Jaro’s rebels at Hell Ford. They say he struck down the Pretender with his blade Lightning but the body was never found. Massimo, Jaro’s pet wizard, retreated into the mountains to cook up some new devilry. The Wolves appeared soon after that.”

“So you’ve got what’s left of a rebel army riding around and plundering.”

“That’s how it started. Have you decided whether you are going to kill me or not?”

“Not yet. Keep talking.”

“You could be one of them, you know. You’ve got the eyes.”

“Have I?”

“Flat and cold and with a real distance in them. You’ve killed a lot of people, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t even have to think about it or look embarrassed or ashamed when you say it?”

“Should I?”

“You obviously don’t think so. You’re proud of it, aren’t you?”

“No. It’s my calling. You were telling me about the Wolves.”

“They used to be called that because of the wolf’s head on Jaro’s banner. But since they started following his lieutenant, Massimo, the sorcerer, some of them have become real wolves. You heard of Massimo?”

“No.”

“He’s a bad one, has made pacts with the Shadow, so they say, and if you really are a Guardian you should take a look at him.”

“I might.”

“You would never get within a hundred feet of him. The Wolves would tear you apart.”

“His pets are nasty?”

She laughed bitterly. “They’re not pets. They are men. Or at least they once were men. He did something to them during the rebellion, changed them in some way. Now they are something different. At night, they can change into monsters. You know, I really am starting to believe you are a Guardian. A normal man would be back on his horse and riding for his life about now. You just stand there as if you’ve heard this sort of thing all before.”

“I have.”

“So are you going to do anything about it? Somebody ought to make Massimo and his bastard monsters pay for what they are doing.”

“It sounds like it will take more than one lone Guardian to do that.”

“I thought you lot were supposed to be heroes, sneer in the face of danger, defy demons, that sort of thing.”

“I am sorry to disappoint. I already have one monster I am tracking. Are you going to tell me what you know about it?”

“So you are convinced that I am not it?”

“Maybe.”

“Cagey bastard, aren’t you?”

“It’s how I have lived to my advanced age.”

“It’s a skill I wish you would teach me.”

“What is your name, girl?”

“Petra.”

“What are you doing on this road?”

“My brother and I were fleeing, trying to get away.”

“From where?”

“Oakbridge. It was our village back along the road. The Wolves burned it.”

“You fled?”

“We fled. We were the only ones left alive. Luck really. Our house was on the edge of the village furthest from where they broke in. Tam smelled the burning, woke me. We crept out and hid, dived into the millpond. That way the Wolves could not smell us.”

“Clever.”

“Tam was a good hunter. He knew about such things. He taught me what he could after our parents died.”

“Where is he now?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

“The demon took him, or it took his body.”

“It was horrible. I could hear him screaming. He told me to run then he told me to come back. The voice did not sound like him at all.”

“It wasn’t. It was the thing that killed him.”

“He’s dead then.”

“His body is walking the world. His soul is not in it though.”

“Then I can’t even give him a proper burning.”

“You follow the Solar rites here?”

“Our village did. It’s all mixed up here though in the mountains. Some are moondogs. There’s old hatred here. Massimo is a moondog, so are his Wolves. You’d better hope they don’t see you. You’re sworn to the Sun, aren’t you?”

“I was. A long time ago.”

“You going to kill me or not?” Kormak looked at her. She was just a girl, with eyes that looked as if they were about to brim with tears, who had been hungry for too long. At least as far as he could tell.

“How did Razhak catch you?”

“Razhak? Is that the sort of demon you are chasing?”

“It’s his name.”

If she was curious as to how he knew that, she gave no sign. “He rode up, on a big horse. I thought there was something odd about him. It was the smell. We started to run but he rode Tam down. He just passed me by.”

“I don’t think Razhak would want a woman’s body here. It would make him too vulnerable.”

“You make it sound very cunning.”

“A land torn by war. A woman on her own. Too much like a victim.”

“He might use it as a trap.”

“You do think like a hunter.”

“I can help you hunt this bastard demon,” she said. “It killed my brother.”

“I am not sure I want any help.”

“You going to do this all on your own?”

“I don’t want to hunt a demon and look after you at the same time.”

“You are the soul of chivalry, aren’t you? A real knight.”

“A real knight would beat you for showing such disrespect. They don’t like uppity peasant girls.”

“So I should be glad you’re not? And I am not a peasant. I am a freeholder.”

“You got any place to go, or were you and your brother just fleeing?”

“My father’s sister has a place down in Steelriver. She would take us in. Or she’ll take me in now.”

“How far is Steelriver?”

“It’s the main town about five leagues ahead. It’s mostly a Sunlander place and it’s too big for the Wolves to attack, yet. All the Sunlanders are heading that way. What? What did I say? You look as if you swallowed a lemon.”

Kormak thought about what she had said. He suddenly saw a pattern to all the burnings. “It’s a cattle drive,” he said. “They are burning you out and driving you all to one place.”

She looked at him. Her mouth opened as if she was about to contradict him but then it closed again. “You know, you might be right.”

“There’s been a lot of feuding between the Sunlanders and the moondogs hasn’t there?”

“Always has been since Kyril the Conqueror claimed these lands in the name of the Holy Sun. The moondogs don’t like that one little bit.”

Kormak nodded. He could tell the girl was talking about humans when she mentioned moondogs. Further west that particular name was reserved for the Old Ones themselves not those who worshipped them. Here the words had the sound of a most bitter insult.

“You think they are going to get everyone in one place and then burn it?”

“It’s an old trick in siege warfare. Force your enemy to open the gates to refugees from their own side. If they open the gates, it’s more mouths to feed. If they turn them away, it demoralises.”

“Lord Martin would not turn any one of the True Faith away. The city council might. They are a bunch of money grubbing bastards by all accounts.”

“You always use such language?”

“Who are you, my father?”

“Where is he?”

“Dead, like my mother. Red plague took them.”

Kormak could tell by the set of her mouth that she was not going to say anything more on that subject.

“You can walk with me to Steelriver. Razhak is most likely going that way anyway.”

And that would not be good, Kormak thought. There would be many new bodies there, and in a big town he could hide all too well.

“You not going to ask me to ride with you?”

“My horse does not need the extra weight and I don’t need anyone behind me who is so ready with a knife.”


They had been on the road for hours and Kormak was tired of fending off the girl’s endless questions. He just stared at their surroundings and let her chatter flow over him. She did not seem to care so long as he grunted occasionally as if he were listening.

It was getting dark. The mountains which mere hours before had been vast and clear, dappled with woods, bright with snow on the peaks, were becoming mere gigantic shadows that loomed menacingly all around. Clouds hid the face of Our Lady of the Moon. It did not look like they would make the town this evening so it was time to make camp.

Kormak swung his steed off the road when he found a convenient hollow. It was cold, with the chill of oncoming winter. He began to gather sticks for a fire. Petra began to help. He noticed that she had a leather strap in her hand now with a stone in it and he watched her warily. Many a warrior had been killed with a sling. It made him reluctant to remove his helmet. He had known some men who would have mocked him for that but he was still alive and they were long in their graves.

“You any good with that?” he asked.

She nodded and began to whirl the sling. He kept his eye on her, ready to throw himself to one side if she looked like she was bringing it to bear on him. The stone whizzed away and brought down a squirrel in a nearby tree. It was an excellent shot in the bad light.

“Impressive,” Kormak said.

“Dinner,” she said. She nodded at the sword. “You any good with that thing?”

“I don’t intend to bring down any squirrels with it.”

“It was not squirrels I was thinking of,” she said. She nodded towards the mountain slope. There was something moving amid the undergrowth there. It might have been a wolf or a bear. Kormak returned to getting the fire lit. It might prove useful in keeping beasts at bay as well as keeping them warm. Petra moved closer. She set the squirrel down and began to clean and skin it. She carefully placed the pelt aside. He guessed she might be able to sell it or the tail. Or maybe she wanted to use it herself.

“You don’t seem too worried,” she said. He could tell whatever was out there was on her mind.

“If we have to fight, we have to fight,” he said. “I am not worried. I have an expert slinger on my side.”

“It was a lucky shot,” she said. “And I can’t bring down a bear.”

“It seems to be heading away anyway.”

“It might come back.”

“Worry about it when it happens.”

“Can you really do that? Push everything out of your mind.”

“No,” said Kormak. “But I can try.”

She put the squirrel on the end of a twig and began to roast it over the fire. “You want some?” she asked.

“I have waybread.”

“You going to offer me some?”

“I thought your offer of roast squirrel was not entirely altruistic.” He offered her some of the waybread anyway and shook his head as she pushed the squirrel forward. She took the waybread.

“You speak like the preachers who used to come round the villages.”

“I was educated in a monastery.”

“Mount Aethelas?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not a Sunlander. Why did they take you in?”

“The Holy Sun accepts all those who accept him.”

“And you accepted him?”

“The Aquileans worshipped the Sun before the Solari came from over the World Ocean.”

“You did not answer my question.”

“That might give you a clue that I am not going to.”

“Keep your blade handy. The Wolves roam the night.”

“I think we’ll notice if a band of riders comes thundering out of the dark.”

“Sometimes the wolf-men hunt on their own.”

“You’re not frightened, are you?”

“Why should I be? I have a Guardian here to protect me.”

“Who is going to protect me?”

“You are not quite as reassuring as the stories say you should be.”

“Worry about the wolf-man when the wolf-man comes. Or leave it to me to worry about. Get some sleep.”

She seemed to already have taken him at his word. A sound of snoring emerged from the other side of the fire. Kormak made sure his blade was close at hand, wrapped himself in his cloak and stared at the sky. There was a moisture in the air, a dampness that reminded him of the mountains of his homeland. It made him feel almost nostalgic. He avoided looking at the fire. He did not want to ruin his night vision.