Born of Darkness (William King) - William King Page 0,49
light’s deadly glare, turned it into a welcome blueish glow.
The human struggled to rise. Vorkhul savoured the moment, knowing that victory was his now. He would first break the human’s limbs, starting with his sword hand. Then his legs. Then he would crush the human’s skull and eat his brain and find out what he really was made of.
***
Kormak tried to move. The metal demon clanked closer till it loomed over him. He lay in its cold baleful shadow as it studied him with malevolent eyes. He could hear a hound giving voice to its hunting call and the sounds of men racing closer. Vorkhul’s eyes lifted from him to gaze at the door.
Kormak forced himself to roll away from the Old One. As he did so, he caught sight of museum guards advancing into the room. In one hand they held shields bearing elder signs, in the other they held blades.
A metal-shot boot descended where Kormak had lain. A hair slower and his arm would have been broken. The Old One pursued him. The guards charged, shields held high, swords raised to strike.
***
Vorkhul felt a brief pulse of frustration. The distraction provided by the guards had given his prey a brief respite. The two foolish humans advanced on him. Their temerity astonished him. How dare such insects attempt to strike him?
Despite the protections woven into the armour, he was still not comfortable looking at their shields. His battle-suit protected him from most of the magical effects of the runes but their shape still made him queasy. No matter. He did not need to look directly at them.
He lashed out with one enormous gauntleted hand. The blow smashed the shield of the nearest guard, crumpling metal, splintering the wood that backed it. His hand passed through the head of the human’s head. Blood and brains shot everywhere. The sight of the jellied grey matter sent a twinge of hunger through Vorkhul. Later. Later.
The dull sound of metal on metal brought his attention to the impact of the other man’s blade upon his armour. Vorkhul grabbed the sword and snapped it in two. He took the jagged shards that remained and drove them through the human’s body.
He sensed the approach of more mortals. They were arriving in scores, not just guardians of this museum but troops from the palace. An army would soon be on top of him.
He would kill them all. Still he would need a more efficient way of doing it. Glancing around he saw the great battle axe hanging on the wall. It was a weapon intended for a Lunar prince, a fine compliment to his armour. With it he could slaughter the humans all the quicker.
A glance showed him that the human with the Khazduri blade was tottering to his feet. His weakness gratified Vorkhul. He was tempted to pursue right now, but he wanted to get the axe before the bulk of the human army arrived. He strode to the wall and pulled it down.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KORMAK REACHED INTO his beltpouch for a sunflare. He had only two left. The Old One’s back was turned. He needed to get its attention. Grogginess slowed him. His battered body protested every movement.
Vorkhul touched the rune on the axe’s blade to the glowing gem on the breastplate of the armour. The greenish glow transferred itself from armour to axe, filling the weapon with killing power. Darkoth had slain three guardians and an army of humans before the Archmage Pelageus dispatched him. Vorkhul had been a deadly opponent before. Now he might prove invincible.
More guards raced into the room. They gazed with horror on their fallen comrades and what they took to be the animated suit of armour. One of them froze. The remaining four moved forward, spreading out so as not to present an easy target.
Booming laughter emerged from the demon armour, an alien sound, made by a creature with no idea what mirth was. It just wished to communicate its contempt in a manner it knew the humans would understand. The guards’ advance ground to a halt.
“Run,” Kormak shouted. “Run!”
Two of the guards turned tail and fled. The others backed away, keeping their eyes on the Old One. It strode forward, metal footsteps ringing on the flagstones.
“Run! Damn you! Now!” Kormak bellowed. He did not want to throw the sunflare and blind the men. It would make them cattle to the slaughter. A soldier glanced at him. Vorkhul’s axe flashed out, leaving a trail of green light in its