Born Of Darkness (Book 7) Read Free Page B

armies could have fought within the nave. Paintings of scenes from the Testaments covered the walls. Statues of saints filled the alcoves. All of them gestured towards the holy relic that dominated the chamber.
    Light falling through the stained glass window illuminated the armour of the Angel Zhamriel. It reached halfway to the ceiling. The proportions were wrong for anything human-shaped, too broad at the shoulder and too short in the leg, as if the Angel had been a monstrous dwarf. Kormak had no problem with that. Why should one of the Holy Sun’s greatest servants wear the form of a man unless it wished to do so?
    A massive elder sign covered the breastplate. The faceplate bars of a helmet large enough for a man to stand inside formed another elder sign. Solar runes marked the huge shoulder-guards. Scars marred the metal. The armour looked as if it had been struck by some unimaginable force and survived.
    The armour had stood here for thousands of years. Before the First Empire had smashed the falling kingdoms of the Old Ones it had occupied this spot. It was a reminder of the times when the Angels of the Holy Sun had walked with earth-shaking stride across the lands of men. This cathedral had been built around it.
    Here was a relic of the time when angels had fought with the demons of Shadow to decide the fate of the world. It was a thought to stagger the mind.
    “It looks like a Solari war-golem,” said Rhiana.
    “Yes, it does,” Kormak said, impressed that she knew what a war-golem looked like. The armour of the Angel was much larger and the workmanship made even the intricate metal crafting of the First Empire look crude but the resemblance was obvious.
    He inclined his head and offered up a prayer. Only after he had done so did he notice the man on his knees on the steps of the plinth upon which the armour stood. He wore plain brown robes. If it had it not been for the small gold circlet round his head Kormak would have taken him for one of the sanctum priests.
    The figure brought his head to the floor for the last time and spoke some ritual words. The elder sign on Kormak’s breast warmed as it always did when eddy currents of magic swirled around it. Kormak peered around looking for a threat but nothing was visible. Zamara noticed Kormak’s sudden alertness and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Rhiana glanced around. Her narrowed eyes had the blind milky look once again.
    The slender figure on the steps turned, rose, bowed to the relic and walked slowly and reverently away. As he came closer, Kormak could see he was a tall man with mousy brown hair and a stringy beard. His face was ascetic, his hands fine. The front of his circlet contained an ancient five-pointed star of protection.
    He walked straight towards them and opened his hands wide. As he did so, the amulet on Kormak’s breast gave out faint flickers of heat.
    “The Angel sometimes talks to me,” the man said in a soft pleasant voice that held not the slightest hint of madness. “It tells me what must be done.”
    When he finished speaking Kormak’s amulet had cooled again. The stranger stood there for a moment then tilted his head to one side as he inspected Frater Jonas. “Jonas, my friend, it is good to see you once more.”
    He opened his arms and Jonas walked forward to accept his embrace.
    “And it is a pleasure to see you again, Your Majesty.”

CHAPTER THREE
    THE KING-EMPEROR released Jonas from his embrace and turned his eyes on the rest of them.
    “And it is good to see you too, cousin,” he said. Zamara was on one knee, head tilted forward in a respectful bow. As court protocol dictated Kormak had done the same. Rhiana made a curtsey.
    “And who are these two stalwart strangers?” Aemon asked.
    “This is Sir Kormak, of the Order of the Dawn,” said Frater Jonas. “And this is Captain Rhiana, a valued servant of my order who worked on our behalf in the benighted precincts of Port Blood.”
    Aemon steepled his fingers as