Stealer of Flesh

THE FLESH STEALER

“BE VERY STILL, stranger,” said a voice from behind Kormak. The beam of a lantern fell on him, illuminating the hideously decomposing corpse he had been inspecting.

The highlander glanced up from the body of the murdered man, squinted down the alley, towards the light. There were two men there, wearing the conical helmets of the Vandemar city night watch. He said, “I am not the one you are looking for.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” said one of the watchmen. He was tall, almost as tall as Kormak and even broader although most his weight was fat. His massive form blocked one exit of the narrow alley.

He held a crossbow with the negligent ease of a man who knew how to use it and the bolt was pointed at Kormak’s heart. Kormak doubted that even his mail shirt, forged by dwarves in the ancient days before they departed the surface world, would be able to stop it at this close range. He was in no hurry to find out. He had no intention of dying in this dark alley between the massive tenements of Vandemar if he could help it. He still had work to do.

“Step away from the body, stranger,” said the big man’s partner, the one holding the lantern. He was small and wiry and looked the smarter of the two by far. He rang his hand-bell loudly. “Keep your hands away from your sword. You have the look of a man who is quick with his hands but believe me you’re not as fast as a crossbow-bolt. No one is.”

Kormak did as he was told. He kept his hands out from his sides and he made no sudden moves. “I tell you, you are making a mistake. There’s not much time before the killer strikes again.”

The weasel faced man grinned appreciatively. “It’s good that you are so co-operative. Not many of those we pick up are. But I doubt the killer will be doing much killing while we have you here though.”

“Look at the body then tell me that,” said Kormak.

“Take a few steps back and I will do just that thing.” He kept ringing the damn bell and Kormak knew it was only a matter of time before more watchmen came, even in this dingy run down part of the city.

Kormak backed away. The guard’s eyes did not leave him. “What happened here, anyway?” he asked. “You and Ana come to some sort of arrangement? She lure this poor bastard up here and you knock him off? It won’t be the first time but it’ll be the first time she’s been caught. You’ll both swing for this.”

“Ana?” Kormak asked.

“Don’t play innocent. You know her. Red-haired trollop. This alley is her patch, has been for years. You her new pimp?”

Kormak grinned a wolfish grin. “I am a Guardian.”

The guards laughed. “Sure and I am Our Lady of the Moon,” said the bigger one of the two.

“You picked a strange place to step out of the old stories,” said the smaller one. “I thought I had heard them all but this is a new one. Wait till we tell the lads down at the watch-house.”

“I don’t have time to argue,” said Kormak. “Take a look at the body and then tell me that a mortal man did that.”

The weasel faced man shrugged and squatted down by the body. He looked at it, looked up and then turned and bent double. The sound told Kormak that he was being sick.

“What did you do to him?” the small guard asked when he had finished dumping the contents of his stomach on a pile of offal. He stood up straight and began to jerk his warning bell frantically. Its loud clangour rang out through the alley, scaring even the rats that had started to gather for their feast.

“I did nothing,” said Kormak. “The Ghul did it.”

“A Guardian and a Ghul,” said the big man. He was still chuckling. He had not inspected the body as closely as his companion. “This is an interesting tale for the lads.”

His companion did not look amused now. He looked scared. “You a wizard, big man?” he asked. “You know some sort of Shadow magic?”

“No—I hunt those who do.”

“Yeah and next you’ll be telling us you kill the Children of the Moon as well.”

“Not always,” said Kormak. “Only when they break the Law and will not repent it.”

“That’s crazy talk,” said the bigger guardsman. “It’s the bedlam lockup for you, my friend.”

“Look at the body then tell me I am crazy,” said Kormak. He spoke slowly. He was starting to lose his patience. The big man kept laughing but the crossbow did not waver. His companion leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He looked down then and he stopped laughing. As soon as their eyes were off him, Kormak sprang forward, lithe as a panther.

The crossbow swivelled. Kormak struck the side of it with his fist. The bolt flickered off down the alley, clattering against the wall. Kormak punched the big guard in his ample stomach, dropping him. A second blow sent the smaller man spinning into the wall. Kormak grabbed him, smashed his head against the wall until he fell. The big man was groaning and trying to unsling the club from his belt. Kormak kicked him in the head then raced off down the alley. He jumped a midden heap, vaulted over a low wall of crumbling brick and turned left, racing under ancient balconies and the wooden walkways that ran between the upper stories of the tenements.

The alleys were dark and dingy but he kept moving, knowing with every minute that passed his task was getting harder. It had been little more than luck he had found the body. A passing trader had described Razhak’s last victim heading this way with a red-haired girl. Kormak had not been sure whether to believe him at the time but it was the only lead he had got so he took it and found the familiar looking corpse.

Razhak had stolen the form of pedlar called Nial after he had abandoned the form of the girl, Petra. Now, unless Kormak was greatly mistaken, the Ghul was wearing the body that had once belonged to Ana. He knew he had only a few hours before it stole another and left behind a hideously decomposing corpse.

Or it would if it was sensible. It knew Kormak was after it. He had almost caught it in Steelriver and in an inn along the Holy Road. It would want to make at least one more shift, to a body for which it would be much harder to find a description. That would make the task of finding it much more difficult, and the watch would be after him now and Kormak would be out of time.

He should have killed the watchmen. He would have bought himself some time by slitting the watchmen’s throats. It was what Razhak would have done. The Ghul would leave no witnesses. He could not do that. The men had done him no harm. They were not his enemies. They were not creatures he was hunting. It was no part of his duty to kill men who were just doing theirs.

It was going to cost him though. Soon the watchmen would wake up with a grudge, and they would know what he looked like and what he sounded like. They might even be able to spot him by the way he wore his blade. He had told them he was a Guardian, after all, in the slight hope that they might aid him. Well, there was one thing he could do about that. He unbuckled the sword belt from around his chest, where it supported the scabbard at his left shoulder. He buckled it around his waist. He forced himself to walk more slowly as he approached the torchlit shambles of the Mall. He slouched his shoulders, and assumed a drunken, stumbling walk.


He emerged into an area that was comparatively well lit by flickering torches over the alley mouths and red-lanterns over the doors of the cathouses. Big men with hard-looking glances inspected him as he passed. Girls called for his custom. They smelled of alcohol and cheap scent. The cleaner, better looking ones were all in the bars and brothels. When they saw he was not interested, they left him alone and went in search of more attentive clients. There were plenty of those. Vandemar was where the Holy Road met the Great Silk Route. From its harbour ships bore the spices of Marathay and the silks of Vendalaya all the way to Taurea and the kingdoms of the Sunlanders. From here Oathsworn Templars set out along the Holy Road to defend the Sacred Lands of the Sun.

The red light district was full of men from half a dozen Solari kingdoms. He saw massive Taurean warriors with full golden beards, garbed in the heavy armour of Templar Knights. There were dusky skinned magii from Skorpea and the hot lands of the Far South, robed in silk, carrying staffs carved from human bone. There were men wearing the silver crescent signs of moon-worshippers and the golden disks of those who followed the Holy Sun. A snake-charmer from Far Kothistan played his pipes in the street while his iridescently scaled pets danced to his wailing music, their poisoned fangs clicking shut close to the naked ankles of the fakir’s diaphanously clad twirling wife.

There were more than just men present. Two green-haired elf-women walked passed. They studied him with huge almond shaped eyes, arms around each other’s waists. One beckoned to him enticingly. He shook his head. A giant strode along, a noble-woman’s palanquin strapped to his back, and a retinue of fork-bearded desert-born guards trailing in his wake.

Kormak saw two monstrous grey-skinned orcs, a head taller than he was and twice his weight. Just the sight of them made his hackles rise. He had fought in the orc wars and the idea of being able to pass them in the street was alien to him. One of the creatures saw him staring and grinned, showing its tusks, wrinkling the multi-coloured scar tattoos on its face. There was no mirth in the expression. To an orc a smile was a challenge. Kormak looked away, and heard the orc grunt contemptuously to its companion. A gobbet of spittle landed on his boots. Kormak forced himself to keep his hand away from his sword hilt and walked on.

A girl grabbed at his arm as he passed. “Looking for some company, mister?”

Kormak turned. The girl did not look like a typical street girl. She was not dressed so revealingly. Her face, though thin, was pretty and there was no makeup. Her eyes had a glint of humour in them and an alertness that made Kormak wary. “You know Ana?”

“You thinking of a threesome?”

“You know her or not?”

“A regular of hers, eh?”

“You seen her?”

“Big Ana: tall girl, red hair, white skin, freckles? Getting a bit old for the game?”

“That sounds like her. Can you tell me where to find her?” Kormak jangled his purse. “There’s something in it for you, if you can.”

The girl looked up and down the street. She did not seem particularly busy. She stuck out a slender hand with bitten nails. “Hand it over.”

Kormak gave her one of his silver pieces. It was the ancient type, with a hole in the middle, meant to be strung on cords around the neck. She looked at it in the torchlight, held it up to her eye and laughed. “This is three hundred years old,” she said. “Reign of Albigen the Third. Where did you get it?”

“Give it back if you don’t want it?”

“I want it. I could sell this to a collector. Got any more? We could split the difference on what Miser Tala pays me.”

“I am looking for Ana,” Kormak said. “Tell me where she is. It’s important.”

The girl looked at him and shook her head. “You got it bad for her, eh? Who would have guessed?”

“Yes. I really want to find her,” said Kormak. “You going to tell me or you going to give me the coin back?”

“You said there was more if I could tell you.”

“If you tell me true, I’ll give you another of those but I need to find her fast.”

“I’ll show you where she is then and you can hand over the gelt.”

The girl turned and walked along ahead of him, pausing occasionally to make sure he was still there. Kormak wondered if he was making a mistake trusting her. After all, she could be making this up or she could be thinking of the wrong girl entirely. He shrugged. What choice did he have? This was the only lead he had and if it was wrong he would need to find another way to pick up the trail. He had already followed it too long. One way or another he was going to end this tonight.

“Where you from?” the girl asked. “Not from around here, I can tell.”

“Aquilea.”

“That’s somewhere far west, isn’t it? An island on the verge of the Outer Ocean where the great waterfall drops of the Edge of the World.”

“It’s a mountain land north of Taurea, keep heading north from there and you’ll reach the Plains of Ice.”

“The way I heard it,” the girl said, “head north from anywhere and you’ll hit the Plains of Ice eventually.”

“I heard that too.”

“So you’re a westerner then. You’re a long way from home. Trading in spice and silks I suppose, looking for a ship back.”

She was fishing for information, he knew. Trying to figure out how much he was worth. A thought struck him. “Lead me into a robber’s lair, girl, and you and your friends will all die.”

She laughed in his face. “You’re that tough, eh?”

“Tough enough,” he told her.

She stopped laughing and looked closely at his scarred face. “Yes, I believe that,” she said. “You’re older than I thought at first and I’m guessing you did not get those grey hairs and those scars by being anybody’s easy mark. What you do anyway? Mercenary?”

“Soldier,” he said.

“You sworn to one of the Warlords then?”

“You always ask so many questions?”

“Only when I like the look of a man… or I think he’s wealthy.”

“Which is it in my case?”

“A little of both.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You’re honest at least.”

“You still want to find Ana?”

He nodded.

“Then here we are.” They had paused outside a three story caravansary inn. The sign of some long sort of blue-scaled dragon hung over the doorway.



“The Blue Wyvern,” the girl said. “Ana always goes here when she has some money. Scar the Orc deals her glitterdust and other things. I saw her head this way earlier. She looked a little dazed so I guessed she was coming down and looking to score again.” She held her hand out. “Well, it’s been sweet,” she said. “Pay up and I’ll be heading along.”

“I still haven’t found Ana yet. Wait here and I’ll go in. When I come back out, you’ll get paid.”

“Oh yeah, sure I will. Maybe you would like to sell me the Pale Wizard’s Tower while you are at it.”

“You don’t get paid until I find Ana.”

“Then I am coming in with you.”

“That might not be the wisest thing.” She tilted her head to one side.

“Like that is it? You going to give her trouble, big man?”

“She inside or not?”

“I’m going in. You owe me another coin.”

Kormak shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What’s your name, big man? In case, I need to find you again?”

“Kormak. What’s yours?”

“Nuala.”


They walked up the stairs and through the swing doors of the tavern. The bouncers looked at Kormak but did not say anything. They looked harder at the girl. It seemed as if one of them recognised her and was about to say something.

“She’s with me and I have gold,” said Kormak. He slipped the man a coin.

“The customer is always right,” said the bouncer. They went inside.

“You go into these places a lot?” Nuala asked.

“I’ve been in a few.”

“I could tell.” Kormak strode up to the bar and put a coin on the counter-top. “Beer for me and whatever my friend here is having. And have one yourself,” he said.

The barman poured two drinks and put a coin in the goblet on the stand behind him. “For later,” he said. “The boss does not like it if we drink on the job.”

“Understandable,” Kormak said. “Ana come in?”

“Ana who?”

Kormak tapped another silver coin on the counter-top. “Tall girl, red hair likes glitterdust, knows Scar. Would you like me to draw you a picture?”

The barman looked over at the bouncers. There were two more by the door.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Kormak said. “I need to find her fast though.”

He put the coin on the counter-top and placed another beside it, setting it spinning with a flick of his thumb.

“You a friend of hers?”

“A special friend. A client.”

The barman trapped the coin with his hand. “She went upstairs to see Scar. She looked a bit stunned.”

“He’ll give her something to perk her up, no doubt,” Kormak said.

“No doubt.”

Kormak put another coin on the bar, finished his drink and said, “Maybe he’ll give me the same.”

The barman gave him a professional smile. “You can but ask,” he said. His gaze went to the first floor balcony. An orc was coming out. With him was good-looking, blowsily dressed red-head. She looked down and pointed at Kormak and shrieked. “That’s him, Scar. That’s the bastard who said he’d cut my throat.”

The orc followed her pointing finger. Kormak cursed and began walking towards the stair. Two bouncers moved to block his way.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said.

“No choice, pal,” said the biggest of the two. “You don’t pay our wages. Scar does and she’s a client of his.”

He smiled as he spoke but before he finished the sentence a blow was on its way towards Kormak’s head. Something glittered on the man’s fist. Metal knuckle-dusters, Kormak assumed. He stepped to one side and inside the man’s guard and dropped the man with a punch. His twisted and his elbow buried itself in the second bouncer’s stomach. The man fell retching. Kormak took the stairs two at a time. The red-head kept screaming. “Stop him. He’ll kill me!”

The rest of the bouncers and the clients rushed at Kormak. The orc drew two black steel scimitars. It was not a good sign. Such weapons were the mark of an orcish blademaster. Forged in the blood furnaces of the shaman smith’s they would resist even the bite of a dwarf-forged blade without notching. Kormak wondered if he could put a knife through Ana’s throat from the distance. The orc fell into a guard position. It was much bigger than Kormak.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Kormak said.

The orc laughed. Its tusks glistened in the lantern-light.


As soon as they crossed blades, Kormak knew he was fighting against a master. The orc was astonishingly fast, skilled and strong. Scar smiled as he brought his blades into play and for a few seconds Kormak was hard put to defend himself. He saw by his opponent’s face that he was not the only one surprised. After a few moments the orc frowned and then gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement, as much to himself as to Kormak, that he faced a worthy foe.

“I shall eat your heart and your liver,” Scar said. “You are worthy.”

Kormak saw Razhak begin to slide away from behind the drug dealer and move towards the further staircase. He cursed, determined that the stealer of flesh would not escape him again.

A faint look of contempt passed across Scar’s face. He obviously thought he was the subject of Kormak’s words. Kormak heard feet on the stairs behind him. He knew it was only a matter of heartbeats before the bouncers were on him and there was no way he could defend himself from them and a warrior of Scar’s skill.

He adjusted his breathing as he had been taught so long ago on Mount Aethelas and unleashed the full fury of his sword arm. Scar went immediately on to the defensive, stepping back and away, defending himself in a whirlwind of blades. Knowing it was risky, but that he had to chance it anyway, Kormak vaulted over the balcony, and landed, knees flexing to take the strain of the fall on a table on the lower floor. Drinks spilled and chairs overturned as patrons scrambled to get away, taken aback by the sudden eruption of a large swordsman in their midst.

Razhak had reached the bottom of the stair and pulled up short, aware that he was going to have to confront the Guardian after all. A look of fear flickered over the face of the female form he wore. Kormak tensed himself to spring when Scar vaulted down from the balcony to land atop the table between him and Razhak.

“It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of fighting one almost my equal, stranger. Who was your master?”

The dealer stood as ready to fight as talk and Kormak knew that his time was running out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man behind the bar was loading a crossbow. It would be a tricky shot in the crowded bar but all it would take would be a lucky hit and it would all be over. Worse, Razhak was already making her way out through the back way and not only Scar but a room full of panicking patrons now lay between them.

“I do not fight for pleasure,” said Kormak.

“Then fight for your life,” said Scar and sprang. Kormak found himself pressed face to face with the orc, glaring into its red eyes, able to count the stitches of its scar tattoos. The table shuddered under their combined weight. They measured strength against strength for a moment then Kormak attempted to trip the orc. Springing back, Scar landed on the space between the tables, keeping his feet lithe as a cat. He lashed out at Kormak’s leg. The Guardian sprang above the blow, letting it pass beneath him, knowing it was a mistake since it would put him off balance.

Scar struck again and somehow Kormak twisted to parry the blow. He landed badly, losing his balance and rolled away, feet over shoulders, using his momentum as he had been taught. He heard Scar bellowing at the tavern patrons to get out of his way. He smelled burning now. Someone had knocked over a lantern in the confusion. More people were screaming. The crowd was starting to panic.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned ready to strike. He saw Nuala. She tugged at him and pointed towards the door. He saw the sense in what she was saying. There was no point in staying to fight against overwhelming odds; nothing to be gained either. He nodded and shouldered his way towards the doorway, with her following behind. He punched a man down who got in his way, barged another to one side and moments later they were outside.

“Scar needs help, Fat Bulo and his men attacked,” said Nuala. The bouncers nodded and made their way through the doorway adding to the confusion.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said the girl. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”

“The trouble is just starting,” Kormak said. “And I am not the cause of it.”


“You weren’t kidding when you said you were good with a sword,” said Nuala. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone last so long against Scar. He is the best swordsman in the city, possibly excepting the champions of the Four Warlords.”

“He was skilled,” said Kormak. He glanced around warily. Their surroundings were enough to give anyone pause. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall drinking den, deep within the maze of alleys around the Mall. It was little more than a bench, some planks set on beer barrels and a canvas canopy overhead. All around were more tables where people ate and drank. They were surrounded by the bustle of people.

“You have a gift for understatement, stranger,” she said. “They say Scar was the First Blade of the Red Horde. He would still be today perhaps, had he not plotted against the Khan of Khans.”

“Who tells this story, Scar?”

“It’s no joke. He’s killed two score of men since he came to the city, made himself the most feared gang boss in the Mall and you have contrived to make him your enemy.”

“It’s a gift I have, apparently.”

“It does not seem to trouble you all that much. Is your life worth so little to you?”

“I have a job to do here, girl, and I intend to see it done.”

“A job that involves killing some pox-raddled old whore? How can that be important enough to throw your life away?”

“The woman Ana is dead. She has been possessed by a demon.” Nuala looked at him again. Her eyes narrowed. She tilted her head to one side. She looked as if she were trying to judge whether he was sane or not.

“A demon is loose in our city? Which of the sorcerers unleashed it? Mandragora? Khane? And why? They are not normally so careless. They know the Warlords would have their head.”

“None of them. I have followed this demon all the long leagues from Belaria. It flees before me, sometimes, turns at bay at others. Somehow I feel we are reaching the end of the road here, one way or the other.”

“You certainly will, if you offend the likes of Scar.”

“If it is so dangerous, why are you still here?”

“Because you still owe me money.” She smiled as she said it. It lit her face, made her pretty in a way Kormak had not noticed before. He found himself smiling back.

“That is a matter soon settled. It might be best for you if you left me.”

“It might, but I can see that you might need some help soon and you look like a man who can pay well for it.”

“What sort of help can you give me in my task?”

“You might be surprised.”

“I am serious. This is not a game, girl. You could get killed. Or worse.”

“Worse than being killed? I am not one of those women who believe in fates worse than death.”

“Razhak could devour your soul, and steal your flesh.”

“How do you know this?”

“I belong to the Order of the Dawn.”

“I thought they were a legend. I had heard they were all dead.”

“Not all of us. Not yet.”

“And that is why you hunt this demon across the world?”

“I swore an oath. And I keep my promises. For good or ill.”

She tilted her head to one side. Her look was wary and watchful. It reminded him of a nervous bird considering taking flight. “Either you are the most convincing maniac I have ever met or you are serious.”

“I am not a madman.” He did not know why he was bothering to try and convince her of it. He had work to do and Razhak was getting no easier to find, and yet somehow, he found inertia creeping over him. It has been a long time since he had talked at length with anyone, let alone a pretty woman.

“Tell me about this demon.”

“Why? Are you a sorcerer?”

“No but I know one. He might be able to help you.”

“Wizards are rarely friendly to my order.”

“This one will be friendly to anyone if they have enough cash.”

“What good can he do me?”

“How do you propose to find this demon now? Will you go hunting through the city while Scar and his men hunt you?”

“If need be.”

“That’s your plan? It’s not a very good one.”

“Alas, I find my options are limited.”

“Then what harm will it do to consult my friend? He is a diviner. He may be able to help.”

“And this will of course cost me…”

“Well, I should be paid for the matter of the introduction and he will need money. As I said, he is fond of gold.”

Kormak looked up. The watchmen he had encountered earlier had entered the courtyard. They were looking around and he did not doubt they were looking for him. He put his head down and kept his hand on his sword.

“What is it?” Nuala asked.

“The watch,” he said. “They are looking for me. I gave them those bruises earlier.”

She rose and he thought she was about to take flight. He would not have blamed her. Instead she moved around to where he sat and wriggled onto his knee. Looking over her shoulder he could see the watchmen coming ever closer. In a few heartbeats they would be close enough to recognise him for sure and he could not fight them with the weight of a woman on his lap.

She leaned forward and said, “Be still. This won’t hurt,” then kissed him full on the lips. He was momentarily startled and then he realised what was happening. His face was obscured from view. They looked just like any other street girl and customer in the place. The watchmen certainly would not be expecting this of a Guardian hunting a demon. It was not what he expected himself. He found himself kissing her back and the embrace lasted longer than was strictly necessary for cover.

Once the watchmen had passed, she stood up, looking at their receding backs, then stretched out her hand to him. She pulled him from the seat towards the shadows, the very picture of a street girl leading a client to a private place to fulfill an assignation. Kormak wondered if perhaps that was what was really going on here, then he shook his head as his habitual wariness re-asserted itself. It would not do to trust this woman, even a little, he decided.

She laughed as they made their way through the alleys. “Scared for your virtue, noble knight?” she asked.

“I was just wondering how much you were going to charge me for the kiss.” She paused for a moment. Her face suddenly looked hard then she laughed. “I did that for fun. I have no love of the watch and you are a handsome man.”

“I am not that handsome.”

“Then let us say you have the type of ugliness that does not repel me.”

“I am flattered.”

“No, you are not. This sort of thing happens to your sort all the time. The enigmatic stranger, passing through on his way to somewhere else.”

“You sound like you have had experience.”

“So do you.” What could he say? She was right.

Silence fell as she led him through the maze of alleys. He was starting to suspect it was true. If Vandemar was not the most populous city in the world it must be pretty close. He had never been in slums so extensive or so tightly packed. It seemed like a lot of people were packed within these walls. He shuddered to think what Razhak could do in such a crowded place.

“What are you grunting about?” Nuala asked.

“I was thinking I don’t think I have ever seen a city so densely populated.”

“A lot of people have crowded in from the countryside over the past few years. They think they can avoid the wars of the Warlords that way, the pillaging armies. They think that they can make their fortune in the great merchant city, that the streets are paved with gold.”

The bitter way she said the words made him wonder if she was one of those people who had fled from the countryside. He was not familiar enough with the local accents to tell whether she was local or not. “How did you get on the trail of this demon anyway?”

Was there fear in her voice? Perhaps what he had said earlier was starting to sink in.

“It killed a man called Nial in the caravansary at Lemal back along the Holy Road from Belaria. It took his body and left a stinking corpse. Before that it stole the form of a girl called Petra. I knew her somewhat.”

“A friend?”

“In a way.”

“How can you be so certain you are on the right track?”

“It follows the Holy Road. It is heading for Tanyth out beyond Sunhaven in the Sacred Lands. I had hoped to catch it before it made it so far. I was unlucky. So far it has always managed to elude me.”

She laughed. “I have never met a man who thought it unlucky not to meet a demon.”

“If I find it, I can kill it. There are few of its kind I cannot, if I am lucky.”

“A man of your talents could make a good living in this part of the world, providing you did not upset the wrong people, of course. Given your personality you would probably have a very short career.”

“I never expected my life to be a long one.”

“Then why do it?”

“I told you: I swore an oath.”

“Somehow I doubt it is that simple.”

“It’s not. It never has been.”

“You still trying to keep the mystery in our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“And here was me thinking we were becoming friends.”

“What’s your story? You’re not a flower-girl, are you?”

She shrugged. “No. No. I am not.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I get by.”

“Pickpocket? Bawd? Hustler?”

“You don’t have a high opinion of me, do you?”

“I am trying to guess what a young woman your age is doing alone in the streets of the red-light district at this time of night, if she is not a flower-girl.”

“All three of the things you mentioned and some other things too,” she said. “I know people. I put people in touch. I get people things that they want. I find out interesting things and exchange those with interested parties.”

“You’ve a number of sidelines then…”

“A girl needs to get by.”

“Do yourself a favour then, girl and don’t try and pick my pocket. Do right by me and I’ll see its worth your while. Do me wrong and I’ll see you pay for it. On that you have my word.”

“And you’re the man who always keeps his promises,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”


“Here we are,” Nuala said. They had stopped in front of a tall, narrow-fronted building so rickety it seemed in danger of imminent collapse. Huge beams had been spread between it and the building on the other side of the alley, seemingly in an attempt to prevent that from happening.

“I can see your friend is successful in his trade,” Kormak said.

“There’s no need to be so ironic. Darien is not that interested in the trappings of success. He is not materialistic.”

“I am guessing he will still want my money though.”

“He needs to pay for his research. All those books and alchemical ingredients cost money. He likes his wine and other things too.”

She walked down a very narrow flight of steps disappearing below ground level. She began to rap on a metal door-knocker. Voices shouted from the windows for her to keep the noise down. A light went on within the cellar. Kormak heard someone move closer to the door, grumbling and cursing. He held himself ready. If there was going to be any treachery it would come now.

A slot in the door opened. There was a muttered exchange and obviously Nuala was recognised for the door opened. A tall, thin man, dressed in a none-too-clean robe stood there. He held a small saucer with a guttering candle on it. He looked up the stairs at Kormak and beckoned for him to come down. The Guardian did so slowly. The man did not look very threatening but if he was a wizard that meant nothing. They could be dangerous even when their hands were empty.

“Come inside, man,” the wizard said. “I do not intend to stand out here all night while you decide to take a swing at me.”

Kormak strode closer, still wary. Close up, Darien looked even less menacing. He was tall and thin and scruffy looking and smelled as if he had not washed in many days. There was wine on his breath and the scent of something else, possibly black lotus, one of the many narcotics to which mages became addicted because they believed it enhanced their powers and their ability to study ancient texts. Kormak began to suspect he knew why Darien had need of money. He did not relax his guard any. He had spent a lifetime in dangerous places with dangerous people where appearance was often deceptive, and wizards had a tendency to be among the most deceptive of all.

“A Guardian, eh?” Darien said. “And that would be a dwarf-forged blade, I suppose.”

It came to Kormak that the man had a Sunlander accent and close up he looked like a Sunlander too.

“You are not from around here, are you?” Kormak asked.

“I am from Sideria, the port of Trefal, and I can see you are an Aquilean. I am surprised that you claim you are a member of the Order of the Dawn.”

“You’re not the first,” said Kormak. He was oddly pleased to hear a familiar accent speaking a familiar tongue. He quashed the feeling. Now was not the time to relax his guard. “How did you end up here?”

“Same way as everybody else - I came to search for the mystic secrets of the east. I wound up without the price of passage home, and to tell the truth, this is as good a place as any for a man in my profession. Excellent book dealers, a long history of mystical and astrological research, some interesting systems of thaumaturgy…there’s a lot to learn and a lot to write down. When I get back home I will have the material to astound the old men at the Colleges of Magery.”

As soon as he heard the words, Kormak knew that Darien would never go home. He had just found a delusion to give his life in this distant place meaning. “You trained at the Siderian College then?”

“Yes. I studied under Wigge and Thalman. I was considered quite a promising mage once, you know.” Some remnant of a once-fierce pride smouldered in his voice.

“I hope you have kept your skills honed. Nuala says you are a diviner.”

Darien laughed. “I cast horoscopes for wealthy old women.” He gave the girl a pointed look. “I perform divinations for those who wish to ascertain whether certain residences are protected by magic. It is a way of earning a crust. It is not my real work.”

“That is a pity, for I have need of someone who truly has the gift.”

“You are looking for someone or something.”

“I am looking for a Ghul.”

Darien slumped chair. He looked pale. He leaned over and poured himself a drink out of an alembic sitting on his workbench. “You seek one of the Undying ones. You have set yourself quite a task, man who calls himself a Guardian.”

“I know it. I have followed this one from Belaria. I intend to follow him no further if I can help it. Can you help me?”

“I don’t see why I should. Those creatures are dangerous, more dangerous than I think you can possibly understand.”

“Few know more than I.”

“Said with the confidence of the true ignoramus,” said Darien.

“If you are too afraid to help me I will go and seek the thing myself. I understood you had need of gold.”

“The dead and the damned have no need of gold and I might be both very soon if I went seeking a Ghul. They eat souls and steal flesh you know.”

“A wizard who can tell me what any street-corner storyteller knows—how useful.” He looked at Nuala. “I thought you said your friend was a scholar.”

Nuala shrugged. “He is. He is not normally so backward when the prospect of earning is dangled in front of him either.”

“The child seeks to tell her elders how to behave,” Darien said. “Girl, if what this man says is true, I advise you to walk out the door and don’t look back. Leave the city if you hear of any strange deaths. I most certainly will.”

“There are always strange deaths in Vandemar,” Nuala said.

“Newly dead bodies that look and smell like month old corpses, the worms wriggling through them even as the body decomposes?”

“I have not seen any.”

Kormak nodded. It was clear that in this Darien actually knew what he was talking about. “I have seen one tonight,” he said. “There will be another before morning unless I miss my guess.”

Darien looked at him, clearing judging Kormak as much as the Guardian was judging him. “Why?” he asked. “The Ghul will not need to shift for at least another moon unless the body it currently occupies is sickly. They can dwell within a new form for years sometimes until they burn out all its life force.”

“This one will want to avoid me. It knows I know what its current form looks like. Also it is damaged. It has just been freed from one of Solareon’s amphorae after millennia.”

“And naturally it fears you.” The tone was mocking but Kormak could see the wizard was starting to take him seriously.

“It fears the sword I carry.”

“The stories say Guardians carry magical blades,” said Nuala.

Darien looked at her and laughed. “Is that why you are interested in him, girl? If so, let me give you a piece of advice you had best heed. No one ever got rich stealing a Guardian’s blade. They always claim them back. Kill this one and they will send two more just as deadly and they will never rest until they have what is theirs. You do not wish to cross the Order of the Dawn in matters such as this.”

“I was not thinking of any such thing,” said Nuala, perhaps a little too quickly. Darien’s smile widened.

“No. I would not have to be a diviner to see that you have something else on your mind, girl. Well, it’s your funeral.”

“You will not help?” Nuala asked. “You can find this thing if you want to. There is nothing you can’t find with your spells and your crystals. You have told me so yourself often enough.”

“What I say when I am in my cups and what I choose to do when I am stone cold sober are two different things, girl. This man is what he claims to be. You had best avoid him. His sort carry death with them wherever they go. It can be contagious.”

“If you truly are a diviner, you could help me find this thing and kill it,” Kormak said.

“I truly am but I would like to go on living.”

“You might not get to do that if you don’t help me.”

“Was that a threat?” Suddenly the wizard, without changing in the slightest, seemed a lot more dangerous. His presence filled the room. His voice crackled with ominous menace.

“There is a Ghul loose in the city. It will take lives and cause havoc. You might be one of its victims.”

“My premises are warded.”

“And you never have to leave?”

The wizard considered him for a moment and seemed to weigh the possibilities. He poured himself another drink and then shook his head.

“I can get you passage back to the west,” Kormak said. The wizard looked up. His interest was piqued now. “I can get you into the King’s Library in Taurea.”

“Could you now? Your Order still has some sway in Taurea, after all.”

“Can you find the Ghul?”

“If you take me to where the last body was, yes.”

“Will you?”

“For the price of passage west and a letter of introduction to the King of Taurea’s librarians? Yes. On one condition. You protect me from this Ghul, come what may?”

“Very well.”

“I have your word on that.”

“You have my word.”

“Then let us be about this business.”


They retraced their steps back through the Mall, heading for the alley Kormak had fled earlier in the evening. He was muffled by a robe he had borrowed from the wizard and his face was hidden by one of the local mortarboard caps. He doubted he would have made a very convincing wizard’s apprentice even without the sword on his hip but it was the best they could do.

There were watchmen everywhere and they seemed alert. There were bravoes that Nuala made them turn aside to avoid as well. “Scar’s allies,” she said. “The bouncers recognised me earlier and know I came with you. They will have passed that on to the orc by now.”

“What are you going to do about that?” Kormak asked.

“I’ll work something out. I may have to leave town for a while. If worst comes to worst, I’ll tell the truth.”

“The Holy Sun forbid you be driven to such a dire expedient! What truth would that be?”

“That you were just some stranger who paid me to show him the way to his place. By the way, when will you pay me?”

“When this is done and I have found out whether your friend is worth his fee. I have not decided yet whether this is not some sort of elaborate trick to part me from my money the two of you cooked up.”

“You are one of those tiresome men who insists on paying by results I can see.”

“I have found it is the one sure way of getting them.”

“That is certainly a point in the method’s favour.”

“When you two have finished flirting perhaps you will tell me when we have found the place we are looking for,” Darien said. “I am starting to catch a strange scent in the air.”

Kormak looked at the wizard with new respect. They were close to the spot where he had found Nial’s body. Another turn of the corner and they were there. The corpse was still present as well. Kormak had guessed that no one had wanted to go near the thing fearing it cursed or plagued or worse. The look of the wasted form did not trouble Darien. He walked right over to the corpse and bent over it. Kormak did the same, being careful as the wizard was not to step into the puddle of black putrescent matter surrounding it.

“Definitely a Stealer of Flesh,” said Darien. He sounded at once frightened and oddly satisfied. “The signs of abandoned possession are all there: the withered corpse, the bites of a million worms, the oily liquid residue, the smell of exhumation. One of Death’s children has been here and that’s for sure.”

He closed his eyes and intoned a chant in High Hardic. He kept at it for several long minutes, moving his head from side to side and sniffing the air. “It left here wearing the body of a woman.”

“So much I already told you,” Kormak said.

“Perhaps you would care to tell me where it is now,” Darien replied. “Or would you just let me perform the task for which you are paying me?”

“Pray proceed.” The wizard straightened up and partially opened his eyes, keeping them slitted as if he was squinting into some bright light. Kormak wondered how much of this was part of the spell and how much was just for show. He sometimes felt that even the wizard’s themselves could not tell. Darien began to pace down the alley that Kormak had taken earlier, sniffing the air. He took a different turn from the one Kormak had, but shortly thereafter he was out in the streets of the Mall and heading towards the Blue Wyvern.

“How could this demon have known to find Scar?” Nuala asked. “Did it steal Ana’s memories as well as her flesh?”

“They can and they do,” said Darien. “They can accumulate a lot of strange knowledge over the years. This is why some sorcerers deal with them. Of course, they are Old Ones. They have much magical knowledge anyway.”

“You know a lot about such things,” said Kormak. He could not keep the suspicion out of his voice. He knew that Razhak was not a true Old One. Perhaps Darien did not.

“I am a wizard. It is my job to know such things and much strange knowledge comes to me as a by-product of my researches.”

“Why would an Old One steal human bodies?” Nuala asked. She spoke quietly so that they would not be overheard. Darien replied in a murmur.

“No one knows. Many of the sages have theories. Some say they wanted to hide among humans when the ancient wars that drove the Old Ones from the Lands of Men began, that they were spies sent among us to sow distrust and dissension.

“Malius says the Ghul were not true Old Ones at all but rather a slave race who sought to emulate their masters and divorced their spirits from their bodies. He claims that the process was imperfect and that the lost souls needed to find new housing simply in order to survive.” Darius looked at Kormak as he said this.

“That would fit with what I have observed,” Kormak said. “Razhak does not leave mortal form for longer than it takes him to jump from one body to the other. He seems to need the flesh in order to survive.”

“Fascinating,” said Darien. “There is a monograph to be written on this subject.”

“Only if we survive the encounter,” said Nuala.

“There is no need for you to be here, girl,” said Darien. “It might be better if you are not. If our Guardian here succeeds in killing the body this demon wears it will be looking around for a new host. The less candidates there are present the better.”

Nuala looked as if she was considering the wizard’s words. Kormak would not have blamed her for departing. “I will pay you for what you have done,” he said. “You have earned at least part of your fee. We can meet back at Darien’s sanctum after we are done and I will settle all scores.”

The girl looked at him and shook her head. “I have come this far. I will see this through to the ending. I am curious now.”

“We all know what curiosity did to the cat, girl,” said Darien.

“I am not a cat,” she said.

“I know women who would disagree with that statement,” said Darien.

“Not for very long,” said Nuala.

“Not once you have shown them your claws anyway.” Darien sniffed the air and closed his eyes and murmured something again. “The scent is getting much stronger.”

“I am not surprised, we are getting very close to the Blue Wyvern,” Nuala said.

“Let us move around the building,” Darien said. “I will see if I can pick up the trail.”

“Let’s try and keep out of sight,” Nuala said. “It would not do for Scar’s bravoes to see us.”

Darien nodded and they made a sweep around the outside of the tavern, sticking to the alleys, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. By the end of it, Darien was frowning.

“What is it?” Kormak asked.

“The trail leads in to the Blue Wyvern.”

“I already know that.”

“It does not go out.”

“So Razhak is still within.”

“It seems the most likely option. You seem surprised.”

“I would have expected the demon to take a new form and flee.”

“Perhaps it has come to some accommodation with Scar. They would have something to offer each other.”

“It would be a dangerous pact for Scar to make.”

“He lacks your specialised knowledge on the subject of Ghuls, or mine for that matter.”

“There is another possible explanation,” Nuala said. Kormak and the wizard looked at her.

“Razhak knows you will come back for her. She may have told Scar this. They might be waiting for you within. If they are sensible, they may even have watchers set already. You are most likely walking into a trap, Guardian.”


Kormak looked at the wall surrounding the Blue Wyvern. “I am going to have to go back in there, it seems.”

“I trust you are not planning on doing so through the front door,” said Darien. “That would seem particularly lacking in sense.”

“I can get you in,” said Nuala. “We go over the lock and up the cornices and in through the balcony on the third floor. All the lower windows are barred.”

“It sounds like you’ve given this some thought on a previous occasion,” said Kormak.

“Nuala can’t look at a house without thinking of a way in through the window,” said Darien, ignoring the glare the girl gave him.

Kormak considered his options. At least, he knew where the Ghul was, if Darien was telling the truth. The question was whether Razhak had changed forms once again and how to find him once he was in the building. Still, it was better than he had feared. At least he did not have to chase the demon through the city, looking for a trail of destroyed corpses. Of course, there were some unpleasant potential implications of the fact that the Ghul had decided to stay in one place as well. It was perhaps expecting him, and it had, perhaps, cut some sort of deal with Scar. Nuala was right. He might well be walking into a trap. He noticed that both the girl and Darien were staring at him.

“Well, what do you want to do?” the girl asked.

“I am going in.”

“I am going with you. You don’t look like you know how to take out a pane of glass without making a noise. Or are you planning on just smashing a window and hacking your way through Scar’s men?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“All that will get you is dead and your demon will still be on the loose.”

“Very well then,” said Kormak. “Let’s get going.”

They made their way up to the wall. It was tall enough so that Kormak could reach the lip of the wall by stretching, but broken glass and nails had been set in the stonework on the top.

Nuala removed her leather jerkin and wadded it up. “Boost me up,” she said.

Kormak made a stirrup of his hands and lifted the girl. She threw the jerkin over the sharp objects and then used it to stand on as she crossed. Kormak pulled himself up with his fingers and scrambled over with less grace than the girl. He felt as if the glass had punctured the jerkin in places but the garment had served to reduce any damage to mere scratches on his own clothing.

Nuala reached up and pulled the jerkin down. She opened it up, revealing slices and punctures in several places. “You’ll pay for that,” she said.

“I suspected I was going to,” Kormak said.

“It’s my favourite,” she said, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did to her. She glanced around. The garden looked empty and there were no guards anywhere in sight. They padded across it, keeping to the shadows.

“I always expect black lions in places like this,” whispered Nuala.

“Not very convenient when you have clients coming and going and the neighbours might complain,” Kormak said.

“There is that.”

They reached the wall. Kormak could see what Nuala had meant. Rows of gargoyles were carved on the side of the building from the second floor. She reached within her jerkin and produced a coil of rope. It looked as thin as string and Kormak doubted it would hold their weight. That did not seem to bother Nuala as she coiled it into a noose and then threw it over the nearest gargoyle.

“Spidersilk,” she said and began to clamber up the line. “It’s strong enough to hold both of us, although I suggest you don’t put that to the test unless you absolutely have to.” She reached the first gargoyle, grasped it and pulled herself up. That put her within reach of another gargoyle and she just kept climbing. Kormak decided he had better follow her.

In armour, it was not quite as easy as the girl made it look but he managed. Within a few minutes he found himself dropping onto the balcony beside her. “You’ve done this before,” he said.

She nodded and inspected the panes in the window. Just the fact they were of glass told Kormak that Scar’s operation was making money. In the west only the richest could afford glass. City councils often taxed people based on the number of glass windows they had. It was as good an indicator of wealth as any other. She produced a very narrow, very thin dagger and worked it slowly into the window frame; softly and slowly she sawed away and the lowest pane began to slide out. It fell quietly backwards and made a gap. She put her hand through behind the next highest pane and repeated the procedure catching the glass before it could fall as the small pane toppled backwards. After a couple of minutes she reached the latch and undid it, and opened the window.

She crawled through and gestured for Kormak to follow. They were in a quiet chamber, lit by moonlight. Nuala moved over to the doorway and opened it. Kormak followed her. They were looking out into a long corridor, lined with doorways.

“Scar uses these rooms for his wealthier clients. The ones with the lighted windows will be occupied by some of the local gentry, puffing away on his wares.”

“Nice to know,” said Kormak, “but that’s not going to help us find Razhak.”

“You think it will still be wearing Ana’s body,” she asked.

“It most likely is. I doubt it would want even Scar to see it shift forms. That would be likely to turn even an orc against it.”

“What if it has? Could you still spot it?”

“There are signs, if you know what to look for.”

“It might be helpful to know what those are.”

“I don’t have the time to lecture you on the subject,” Kormak said. “Stick close to me and I will let you know if we are in his presence.”

She nodded. They pushed on along the corridor and came to a flight of stairs leading down. A man and a scantily clad woman came up them and Kormak realised they had their own business. Nuala pushed herself against him as she had done when the guard appeared earlier and he hoped the bar-girl and her client did not look too closely at them.

“The girls use the private rooms upstairs,” she said, after they separated. She seemed to be breathing a little faster than normal. Kormak knew he was. “There’s supposed to be other rooms in the basement, with chains and other more exotic devices for those who like such things.”

“Scar has his finger in a lot of different businesses,” Kormak said.

“This Vandemar, big man,” she said. “People do what they have to.”