Born Of Darkness (Book 7) (9 page)

He lengthened his stride and prepared to draw his blade. The howling became louder. The dogs had led them to what they sought.

***

The hounds were close now, the Old One thought. His form swirled in response, adding sub-dermal armour, spikes and claws. His teeth grew longer and sharper. He fought down the fury building within him. Now was not the time to give way to instinct. He was too close to the bestial as it was.

He could lose himself in rage and never come back, drown in a pool of animal instinct and thoughtless reaction. It had happened to others of his kind, a fate to be avoided at all costs.

He shifted form, enhancing the areas of his brain responsible for reasoning at the cost of his powers of perception.

He put his back to the wall and tried to force himself to think.

The human would be here soon, bearing that terrible sword.

He flexed his claws. He was no longer disoriented after escaping long confinement. He was confident that he could kill the ones who hunted him.

But he might take another wound. The one he had already was weakening him. Changing took more effort than it should have.

Khazduri
. The word came out of nowhere bringing with it an image of a short humanoid, a being broader than a man, with longer arms and a beard of sensory bristles around its head. The poisoned weapon had been Khazduri-forged. It bore more than one of their forbidden runes.

The Old One tried to lower the bucket deeper into the well of memory but nothing came up. He could find no more knowledge to go with this.
Khazduri
. He savoured the taste of the word, and the images that went with it.

A rune-sign entered his mind, a symbol summing up the essence of the thing it described. It was a cosmic code that could manipulate that thing itself. A word from the language the Source had used during the Shaping of Creation. The sign was the essence of the Khazduri, of all they were and could be.

The Old One had once known thousands of such symbols. He had used them to rewrite the pages of reality in sentences of fire. Great holes gaped in his memory where those words had been torn out. Perhaps it would be possible to recreate them by studying the outlines of their absence. Perhaps he could deduce the nature of what was missing from the gaps it had left.

He would not be denied the power and knowledge that were his birthright. He would once again take his place on the pinnacle of creation. He would be himself once more. He would be
Vorkhul
.

At last, he had it. A name. His name. The rune burned in his mind. It was more than just his name. It was the core of his being, the basic web from which his existence had been woven, the seed from which he had grown.

The dogs were almost on top of him now. There was no time. No time. The interplay of memory and image had distracted him. His enemies had found him.

Vorkhul opened a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, transformed his saliva to poison, bellowed a challenge. Let them come. He would kill them. He would kill them all.

A muted glow announced the presence of his hunters. The Old One prepared to slay.

CHAPTER TEN

FANG ROUNDED THE corner and skidded to a halt. A monster hunched there, ape-like arms extended. Its head was wolf-like. Its fur was an odd desiccated green. Spikes of bone protruded from its flesh.

Unable to stop, Balthus tumbled by Fang. His momentum sent him bowling into the creature. It lashed out with one shovel-like hand. Huge talons bit into Balthus’s flesh drawing blood. The dog let out a high whimpering squeal. Its head lunged forward. It buried bear-trap teeth in the arm of the Old One.

“Sunflare! Watch your eyes!” Gerd bellowed as he tossed something. Kormak looked away.

A brilliant flash slashed the darkness. Kormak waited an instant and glanced at the Old One. Semi-translucent lids protected its eyes, turning them into glowing green orbs. The sunstone’s light had seared its fur and blistered its flesh.

Kormak moved forward. He drew his blade in one smooth motion. He aimed for the creature’s arm, intending to take it off at the wrist and then impale the thing while it reeled away wounded.

With terrifying speed the Old One swung the dog. Balthus would not let go. The dog’s huge form, heavy as a man’s, connected with Kormak.

It was like being hit with a sack of meat wielded by an ogre. The force of the blow tumbled Kormak to the ground.

Rhiana cast her spear. It caught the Old One in the chest. The creature’s howl was deafening. Gerd limped forward brandishing his runic mace. Rodric reached down into his belt to draw forth another sunflare.

There was a sickening crunch as the Old One smashed Balthus into the wall. Bones broke. The dog’s jaws came lose. The Old One’s wounds closed with a sickening, sucking sound.

Kormak rolled away from it and rose to his feet.

The Old One glared at him. Kormak saw inhuman rage and hatred in its eyes. It tore Rhiana’s spear free and tossed it on the ground. Its form flowed. Its limbs lengthened. It bounded away, moving with a speed even the hounds had difficulty keeping up with.

Rodric yelled, “Quick, lads! Seek! The bastards on the run now.”

***

Vorkhul fled with the hounds at his heels, passing open doors into cages where humans had once tortured other humans. If not for the accursed blinding light, he would have slaughtered his enemies while they were too surprised to respond.

The sunflare had forced him to protect his eyes even as his body burned. The front of his body felt scorched. Fire was a thing that could cause him pain. So was sunlight. It might even prove fatal. The Old One needed to put distance between himself and his foes. Given time his body would heal all the wounds except the one taken from the Khazduri blade.

He came to a fork in the passage and took a right, heading down a long flight of stairs. His rear limbs shortened as he did so, enabling him to maintain speed.

At the foot of the stairs, Vorkhul went left. He passed more cells, some of them occupied. He hoped to lose his pursuers in the maze of corridors. Not much chance of that while they had the hounds. He might be able to elude the humans but their pets would sniff him out.

There was only one answer. Kill the dogs. They were running with the humans, restrained by the leads. Move faster. So fast the humans would have to unleash the dogs to let them pursue. Then he could kill the beasts and disappear into the maze at his leisure.

The Old One lengthened his stride. The scorched flesh was regenerating. The irritation around the spear-wound faded. He would heal. His opponents would not be so fortunate.

***

Fang and Slasher dragged Rodric along, filled with confidence now that they had seen their prey turn and flee. The natural order of their world was restored. They pursued. What they hunted fled.

Kormak suspected it was not going to be that simple. He had never seen an Old One so mutable. Most of them modelled their forms on sentient beings or natural animals. This one had taken shapes like nothing Kormak had ever seen. It moved into unnatural anatomical configurations with ease. It had done so even after taking a wound from a dwarf-forged blade.

Gerd’s laboured breathing came from behind him. Kormak glanced back. The abbot’s face was red. His limp had become more pronounced. “Go on ahead,” he shouted. “I am just slowing you down.”

Kormak shook his head. “Not with this thing about. We stick together and we stay within the circle of light.”

“It will get away.”

“The dogs will track it down. They have its scent now.”

“You’re just determined to keep me running, aren’t you? You know my leg will ache for days after this.”

“Tell me about your accounting problems if it makes you feel better.”

“You were always a cruel bastard, Kormak. Did I ever tell you that?”

“More than once.”

“I could give the hounds their head,” Rodric said. “Let them run the prey down.”

“You saw what that thing did to Balthus,” Kormak said. “We stick together.”

“You scared of it, are you?” Gerd asked.

“I’ve drawn my blade on it twice and it’s still alive.”

“Point taken.”

Kormak glanced over at Rhiana. Her face looked haunted. She was getting less comfortable, the further they got from the surface. Or maybe it was the sight of the cells with their chains and bars and implements for causing pain that disturbed her.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “I love being down here in the dark, hunting for a monster that could kill me with a swipe of its claw.

***

The hounds barked. Their tongues lolled as if they were trying to lick their prey’s trail from the ground.

“We’ve got the beast for sure,” said Rodric. “They have the scent. They’ll follow it to the bowels of hell.”

The green pearl’s light gave his face a sickly, half-rotted look as if he were already in hell.

“Let’s hope we find him soon. I am not sure I could find my way back to the surface,” the abbot said.

“I can,” Kormak said.

“You want us to rely on your infallible Aquilean sense of direction. Maybe it would be better if someone who won’t get lost led us back to the surface.”

“Would that be you?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’ll do it.”

“Still recklessly overconfident, I see.”

“You can stop gabbling now. There’s nothing here to be frightened of.”

“Still ready to cast aspersions on other men’s courage.”

“Only yours.”

“That’s all right then,” said Gerd. His breathing came out in a rasp. He fell silent and a look of total concentration came over his face, as if he were focusing all his resources on keeping up.

Kormak wondered at the wisdom of the abbot being here at all.

***

The hounds led them further down into the darkness beneath the palace. To Kormak, the contrast between the glorious architecture on the surface and these dank caverns was stark.

The torches were more than half gone. The green glow of the pearl in Rhiana’s hand seemed a little dimmer. Light was their weak point. If the creature managed to dowse their torches they were in trouble. In the darkness they would be easy prey.

“How far down do these things go?” Rhiana asked. “All the way to the Kingdoms of Dust?”

“Not quite that far, I hope,” Gerd said.

Rhiana said, “They stink of age.”

“The catacombs were here before the palace was,” Gerd said. “A long time before. The Solari built a fortress on this spot long before the Sunken Kingdoms vanished beneath the waves. It was their first outpost in the Old Kingdoms. Legend has it that they found the armour of the angel waiting for them in an abandoned temple complex.”

The image of the great citadel of Khazduroth filled Kormak’s mind. In some ways these catacombs reminded him of the dwarven city. They were not built on the same epic scale but they seemed to go almost as deep and cover a similar area.

Rhiana said, “My people’s legends say that the angel was always here. They thought it was a sentinel guarding against something.”

“I wonder if it was meant to guard against things like the Old One we’re hunting,” Gerd said. “A bloody hand would be nice.”

“We’re on our own,” said Kormak. “No angel is going to help us here.”

***

Vorkhul moved deeper into the darkness, eyes adjusting. He had no sense of colour anymore. All he could see were shades of grey. No matter. He could rely on his enhanced senses of smell and hearing.

The hunters would never give up as long as there was life left in them. So far they had not been tempted to unleash their hounds.

It came to him that he knew this section of the labyrinth. He had been here before in his wanderings. These corridors and cells were laid out in a skewed grid. He could circle back and come upon his pursuers from behind.

He bared his fangs in a snarl. If he moved fast enough he could be upon them while the hounds still led them on his trail. He could pick off their rearguard, take them all one by one.

A growl of satisfaction rumbled deep in his chest. He would be the hunter. The humans would be his prey.

***

“By the Holy Sun, I’ve never seen an Old One change shape so quick,” said Gerd. “And I’ve fought almost as many as Kormak here. This one was different.”

“They’re all different,” Kormak said. “Every last one of them. They all have strange powers. They all have different shapes. They all do different things. It’s what makes them what they are.”

“Why the hell would anyone sent one to the King of Siderea,” Gerd said. “Couldn’t they just have sent normal assassins like anybody else?”

“I don’t know but I intend to find out.”

“And I’ll help you but first I think I’ll need to have a little lie down. My bloody leg is killing me.”

Gerd’s limp was more pronounced. He brought up the rear. Kormak gave his attention back to the hounds. Fang had slowed a little and was sniffing the air in a puzzled manner. The torches flickered as if the flow of air within the catacombs had changed.

Fang gave a faint whimper, as if he sensed something was wrong.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

VORKHUL PADDED CLOSER through the gloom. A green glow marked the presence of the hunters. The odours of their weapons irritated his nose and made his eyes water. His heightened hearing picked out the bickering of the humans and the whimpering of the smallest hound. It sensed his presence somehow. No matter.

He extended his claws and sprang. Ahead of him stood the squat human who had thrown the sunflare. Vorkhul’s claw took him through the chest. Long sharp talons pierced the links of the armour, penetrated flesh and slid through the gaps between ribs.

Razor edges ripped through human meat. They sliced vertebrae and nerve cord, slashed internal organs. The Old One howled with pure pleasure as his prey screamed. He licked the metallic tasting blood that splashed his lips. He closed his jaws on the man’s neck, rending flesh, tearing arteries.

The human with the deadly sword turned his head. His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, blade bared. The sea-woman with the odd scent whirled her torch to make it blaze brighter. The big man unleashed the dogs.