2 Defiler of Tombs Read Free Page B

happened," said Kormak. "Particularly in areas where the Old Magic is strong. And you are near to the Cursed Lands here. The bones of Kharon lie just north.”
    "Aye- that's true. But that's the sixth malformed child born within a year. I've never known things this bad, not even when the orcs ravaged the land."
    "That many? I did not know it was so."
    "You’ve most likely been too busy fighting monsters and hunting wizards to pay attention. I have to. I am the lord of these people."
    Kormak felt ashamed. It was a sort of thing he was supposed to notice because he had been trained to notice. He should have spotted such omens. But Brandon was right about one thing- he had been busy. He had been doing the work of three Guardians.
    "You've gone very quiet, Kormak," said Sir Brandon.
    "I was just thinking."
    "I thought there was a nasty smell of burning wood."
    Kormak laughed. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last done so and he was glad of it. The people that followed them were not. They looked at Kormak as if he were mad. They were too nervous for humour and they saw precious little to laugh at in this bleak land.
    “I'm glad you've not lost your sense of humour, Brandon," said Kormak.
    "A few more nights like this and I might well do," said the knight. Suddenly they emerged from the mist. Kormak could see lights of the village glow beneath them and a river glittering in the moonlight. Above the waters, on a high promontory, stood the small strong keep that was Sir Brandon’s home. They had made better time than Kormak had hoped. The people behind him gave glad cries and offered up prayers for their deliverance. Several of them began to run downhill towards the village and the folk who kept vigil there.
    “We made it,” Sir Brandon said. It was only then that Kormak realised how truly afraid his old friend had been.
     
    Kormak surveyed the small chamber gratefully. A fire blazed in the grate. A platter of bread and cheese and a mug of ale lay on a small table beside the bed. A gold-painted solar circle and two wooden blocks carved with protective Elder Signs hung over the doors. A curtain of fur blocked the draught from the tiny window. Sir Brandon was not wealthy enough to afford glass.
    Kormak stretched out on the bed, making sure that his sword was within easy reach. There had been times when such caution had saved his life, and even here in the house of a friend he was not going to relax it. You never knew when the past might catch up with you. Kormak had seen many strange deaths in his time.
    He pulled off his boots and leggings. The stone flags felt cool under his feet. He made his way to the window and pulled back the fur. He was not sure why he did so, but instinct was at work, and he had learned long ago to trust it.
    From the Tower he had a view away from the river looking towards the Barrow Hills. Green lights flickered. Witch lights that moved like the souls of the damned across the misty hills. Another evil omen, he thought. A sign that dark times were ahead. In the sky, the green comet glowed, still distant but noticeable, the eye of an evil god looking down upon the sleeping world.
    Soon he was going to have to go back out and investigate. Perhaps there was some connection between those lights and the open barrow and the man he was here to hunt. As if they sensed his eyes upon them and wanted to hide from mortal notice, the lights vanished one by one. Kormak waited for a long time but the glow did not return. He closed the curtain and threw himself on the bed, covering himself in piled furs. Images of the dead child and the open barrow haunted his mind.
    Sleep was a long time coming.

CHAPTER THREE
    THE GREAT HALL was not much of a great hall. It was a large open room that took up a good deal of the lower floor of Brandon’s keep. A large fire blazed in the far corner and a couple of small boys rolled on the straw-covered floor wrestling with each other and the dogs. A larger boy sat in a wooden chair