2 Defiler of Tombs Read Free Page A

courage; it was a question of temperament and training and having the right weapons, and that sometimes it was not courage that made him do what he did, but a different species of fear, the fear that he could not do what once he had done in his youth. These thoughts were pointless. Even if the others understood them, they would still resent him.
    “What now?” Brandon asked.
    “We go back.”
    “Through the darkness and mist?”
    “Aye. I have my blade. It will burn anything that comes upon us this night.”
    “Lead on then!”
    They began the trek home.
     
    “Reminds me of the night march to the Grey Tower,” said Brandon as they led the procession through the hills. He was nervous and talking for the sake of it. All around them were rocks and moss-covered standing stones lit by the eerie moon. Behind them men held flickering torches that barely kept the darkness at bay. “The Orc War was a terrible time.”
    “It was,” said Kormak remembering. The orcs had erupted from the endless steppelands of the east and surged across the Sunlander kingdoms, leaving a trail of carnage and destruction. It had taken three years of bitter fighting to throw them back. It seemed that the man-flesh eaters had not learned their lesson. Rumour had it that some new khan had arisen and they massed beyond the borders of Belaria once more. It seemed they wanted new stock for their human herds.
    “I could take it more then,” said Brandon. “My bones were not so old. The lack of sleep did not slow me, and I burned with the lust for glory. Now I burn with the lust for bed, and not just because my Gena is there.” Brandon patted his paunch. It had grown, just as his jowls had. His face and limbs were thicker, and although he still looked strong, he did not have the lithe power of his youth. “The years have been kinder to you, Kormak. You don’t look a day older than you did then, except maybe for the grey in your hair.”
    Kormak smiled. “I carry their mark in a different place, that’s all.”
    "Let me keep my illusions," said Brandon. "I’d like to think the passing of the years was kind to someone."
    Kormak kept a wary eye on the surroundings, half expecting something to emerge from the darkness.
    "Things have been getting worse, since that hairy star appeared in the sky, since the bloody civil war started,” said Sir Brandon. “First the old king himself goes and has a stroke and now his heirs fight over who will succeed before he is even buried. There are monsters everywhere. Maniacs are unleashing the things in the tombs. The orcs stir on the borders again. It looks like the Holy Sun has decided to test the Kingdom of Taurea once again."
    "The way you are talking, it sounds like he's decided to test the world," said Kormak.
    "You'd be in a better position to know than I am," said Sir Brandon. "I am just a poor back-country knight-- although even I can see that things are worse than they were when we were young."
    "Worse than when the orcs were overrunning our lands?"
    "I am starting to think so."
    "I pray you're wrong."
    Both men fell silent. They both knew he was not wrong.
    "I hear the Oracle at Shattermoon is predicting the end of the world," said Brandon after the silence had grown too long. "I hear she says that the Shadow will soon return to claim all the lands of men."
    Kormak suppressed a shudder. "Someone is always predicting that. For as long as I've lived, someone's been predicting that."
    "Aye," said Brandon. "But this has been the first time I've ever thought they might be right. There was a baby born not three months ago over at High Farm. She had no eyes. Not even a trace of them. Just skin where the eyes should have been."
    "What happened to the poor mite?"
    "The parents wanted to follow the old way, to expose her on High Hill. They thought she was touched by the Shadow. I took the child from them and sent her to the Temple orphanage at Skara. The priestesses took the babe in."
    "Such things have always