William King - Stealer of Flesh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are a scholar then.”

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

“Luther of Sunhaven,” said Kormak.

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

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

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

“I had not realised you were a prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on.”

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

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

“But you have visited such places?”

Kormak nodded.

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

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

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

“It is a disturbing thought.”

“This can be a disturbing land.”

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

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

“It was an observation, that was all.”

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

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

“You debate like a priest, sir.”

“I was taught by them,” Kormak admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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