Born of Darkness (William King) - William King Page 0,45

must find him.”

Rodric’s small eyes widened. “As you say!”

He unleashed Fang and the Shadowhound shot off towards the Palace. Kormak ran in pursuit followed by the Brothers of the Dawn, while Prince Taran marshalled the troops behind him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“HAVE YOU SEEN anything like this before, Sir Kormak?” Prince Taran asked, fighting hard to maintain his composure as Fang snuffled round the corpse. The prince kept his hand near his mouth while his gaze darted elsewhere. He avoided looking at the body.

It surprised Kormak. He had thought the Prince a hard man, acquainted with corpses on the battlefield and in the torture chamber. Perhaps it was the circumstances. One did not expect to find dead bodies sprawled in the decorative alcoves of one’s palace.

“Not exactly,” said Kormak. Ignoring the group of nobles huddled around him, he bent down over the dead man. The skin was flaky and desiccated, a sure sign that a life-eater had been at work.

It looked as if someone had cracked the skull open in several places with a chisel and then had scooped out the brain. Small splatters of jelly lay on the ground but the bulk of the organ was gone.

“Not exactly?” Aemon said. Unlike his brother the king had no trouble looking at the corpse. He inspected it the way he had looked at the book back in the Cathedral.

Kormak said, “Such desiccation is usually the sign that a certain sort of vampirism has taken place. It is typical of a lifestealer such as a Quan or a Barrow Wight. I’ve seen brains removed and eaten before too. I’ve never heard of the two things happening at once.”

“Why would someone remove a brain?” Duke Leone asked. Prince Taran stared at his brother with what looked like rapt attention but was really just a way of avoiding looking at the body.

“Some Shadow cult sorcerers believe you can devour a man’s soul by eating his brain, or gain his knowledge,” Jonas said “According to most experts thanatomancy involves the absorption of many of the victim’s memories.”

“A somatic component,” said King Aemon. “Sometimes to work a spell, a mage will use an object that is symbolic, that focuses his mind on the conceptual element of the spell.”

Kormak nodded.

“The corpse’s outer garments are missing,” King Aemon said. “And I believe I recognise the features of poor Brother Serbius, one of the Cathedral scribes.”

“Vorkhul must have killed him and taken his robe. It looks like the creature we hunt is disguised as a monk.”

Fang barked and raced off. He had found the trail again. They ran in pursuit.

***

Wrapped in his stolen robes, Vorkhul made his way through the palace. The thick cloth protected against the sunstone light leaking in through the windows. He kept his face downcast and his cowl pulled up and he ignored the servants around him. The distant hound had ceased to howl. It emitted a series of loud barks.

Vorkhul altered his shape once more, lengthening his snout, increasing his sense of smell. He altered his ears so he could hear more. He wanted all the warning he could get of pursuit. Nearby a woman gasped. Perhaps she had noticed something. He strode on.

The barking came closer. He did not doubt the dog sought him now. There was no need to maintain his disguise. He lengthened his stride and broke into a run. Ahead of him was a flight of stairs. He raced up them and into a corridor.

A servant girl emerged from one of the room, adjusting her dress. A serving man was with her. Vorkhul dived through the door and slammed it shut behind him. Ahead he could see a window. The light from the Cathedral blazed through it.

He needed to find the Museum and he needed to find it now. How was he going to manage that before the pursuit overtook him? Scents assaulted his nostrils—the mortal with the deadly blade and the wizard-king who had been in the vaults. There were others armed with truesilver-treated blades.

He felt like turning at bay and rending his pursuers but now was not the time. He checked the bar was in place then moved towards the window. He must risk the light of the sunstone or be destroyed.

It was time to fly.

***

Fang whimpered and scratched against the woodwork of the door the trail led them to.

“Break down the door,” Prince Taran said.

He and Duke Leone threw themselves against the heavy wooden door. It did not bend or creak or give way in the slightest.

“Someone bring an axe,”