Their eyes were wide and fearful. They looked at the armed men surrounding them in abject terror, all except the boy. He looked angry.

“What happened here?” Zamara demanded. “Tell us!”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” said Frater Jonas. “The King of Siderea has sent us. We are here to protect you.”

They looked from the tall nobleman to the small priest and they seemed more afraid of Jonas than Zamara. It was his robes, Kormak realised. They were heretics of some sort.

“The writ of the King-Emperor don’t run here,” said the boy. His fists clenched. “The Blood Coast is not part of Siderea.”

“King-Emperor Aemon’s word is law wherever his soldiers are,” said Zamara. His manner was lordly but not unkind. “You’d do well to remember that, boy, before you speak.”

The boy glared at him. Kormak recognised the belligerence in him. The youth had looked on horrors. He no longer cared what he said or what might be done to him.

“What is your name, lad?” Kormak asked before matters could spiral out of hand.

“You’re no Siderean,” the boy said. “You don’t look like one. You don’t sound like one.”

“He asked you a question,” Zamara said.

“I’m an Aquilean,” Kormak said. He kept his voice gentle and moved between the soldiers and the survivors. “It’s far north east of here.”

“You don’t sound like a barbarian.” The boy seemed determined to give offence. “You sound like a priest.”

“I was educated by the Order of the Dawn,” Kormak said. The woman perked up.

“You’re a Guardian then, a monster hunter,” she said. “I thought as much from the way you carry that blade.”

Her voice was not what Kormak had expected. It was aristocratic in its way. Perhaps she was one of those who sought sanctity in a simple way of life.

The boy seemed to have found something to hold on to now. “A monster hunter, eh? Well, there’s work for you here!” His voice rose as he spoke till he was almost shouting.

“I thought there might be,” said Kormak. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”


The boy’s name was Lorenzo. The woman’s name was Mora. The children were Edwin and Kaili. Their village had been known as Wood’s Edge. It was a peaceful place, founded by Preacher Thomas to enable its folk to explore the simple glories of the Holy Sun away from the corruption and hypocrisy of the big cities and the Universal Church.

Last night a ship had been sighted out at sea, a long sleek vessel, a warship of sorts, flying the flag of Siderea, but not looking much like any royal ship the former sailors among the congregation could recognise.