Kormak 01 - Stealer of Flesh (12 page)

“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.