Portents of Doom ( Kormak Book Ten) (The Kormak Saga 10)

Portents of Doom

Book Ten of the Kormak Saga

William King

Typhon Press

Chapter One

From the buckboard of the wagon, Kormak surveyed the marines from The Pride of Siderea as they waited for the order to march. At the west gate of Maial, thirty squat, dark-haired men checked their blades and crossbows, and strapped their shields over their backs.

Sergeant Terves, garbed in the same leather armour as the marines, wiped sweat from his brow with one knotty fist. He caught Kormak’s gaze upon him. The grizzled old sergeant nodded as if to say they were almost ready to go.

Their commander, Admiral Zamara, tall and muscular, his blonde hair recently cropped against the heat, trotted backwards and forward on his horse. Kormak envied his ease in the saddle. He had never been better than an average horseman himself.

Porters loaded half a dozen wagons with supplies. There was water and wine, and arrows, dried meat and fruit in barrels. There were sausages and salt and vegetables too. A lot of hot peppers for the stews. Governor Aurin had grumbled about the cost but he had not had much choice but to pay up. Kormak bore a warrant from King-Emperor Aemon himself ordering any royal servant to do all in their power to aid him.

Alongside the marines milled a company of about sixty men drawn from the local watch. They did not look any too pleased at being pressed into service. Kormak guessed they were more used to bullying the local beggars than marching through the jungle and into the wastelands.

The watchmen looked almost comfortable in the heat. Even though the hour was early, it was warmer than the hottest summer day back in Kormak’s mountainous homeland, Aquilea. Sweat ran down his spine and soaked the back of his shirt, making it sticky against the wooden seat back. When he licked his lips, they tasted salty from perspiration.

Wagons rumbled towards the city, bringing in produce from the farms to the local markets. A herd of skinny looking cattle was being driven along as well. The smell hit Kormak’s nostrils as they passed through.

The city walls loomed twice his height overhead. Curious watchmen studied their preparations from the guard towers. A bunch of locals with nothing better to do had come to the battlements to watch the expedition set out.

Perhaps a few were spies but who would they be spying for here, and who would they report to? Count Balthazar, the Shadow-worshipping sorcerer who had so nearly unleashed doom on the city during the Masque of Death?

Possibly there were agents of the Courts of the Moon, who opposed the King-Emperor of Siderea in all things. Kormak had just unmasked one of their changelings. Perhaps there were more.

Most likely they were just curious onlookers with nothing better to do.

He raised his eyes to catch a view of the Ziggurat of Xothak. The giant structure, half-demolished by colonists seeking stone for their buildings, still dominated the skyline, even if a good chunk of it was missing.

The sight made Kormak uneasy. The Lord of Skulls had been sworn to the Shadow. Most Old Ones were dedicated only to their own interests, but Xothak had been corrupted to serve evil. It had made war on its kin and then vanished a long age of the world ago. Hidden cults still worshipped its memory. Kormak’s recent experience attested to that.

According to Sunlander scripture, Xothak had been banished by the Angels of the Sun. There were other legends that he had passed through a gate into the Outer Dark and waited there still. So it had been written in the grimoires Kormak had taken from Count Balthazar’s secret library.

There were hints of other things too—of summonings where Xothak’s spirit manifested itself in selected avatars or granted its worshippers forbidden power and knowledge.

When reading such books, it was hard to separate fact from fiction, wishful thinking from knowledge.