Born of Darkness (William King) - William King Page 0,5

red and purple. Ruffed collars framed their faces and covered their necks. Jewelled codpieces covered their groins. Long swords curved at the tip hung scabbarded on jewelled belts. Most of the men had neatly clipped beards. Most of the ladies wore revealing elaborately patterned gowns.

In separate groups other nobles stood, just as superbly tailored but this time garbed all in black with white ruffs. The women in this group wore black gowns that covered their breasts and wimples that hid their hair. The two groups glared at each other with barely concealed loathing.

Servants and messengers threaded through the nobles. They wore tabards showing the Star and Dragon. Kormak judged that the elaborateness of their garb showed the rank of the servant. Frater Jonas took in the scene at a glance and nodded to members of each of the groups.

“I have not missed the intrigues of our courtly factions,” he murmured so low that Kormak was the only one who heard it.

A servant in a more elaborate uniform than the others came forward. “His Imperial Majesty is at afternoon prayer in the Sanctum of the Angel. You may wait upon him there.”

He did not speak like a servant. He spoke with all the authority of his royal master. Jonas gave him a small bow and said, “Thank you, Hans. I will await His Majesty’s pleasure.”

He gave a small gesture for them to follow and led them across the courtyard. The stares of the nobility followed them.

***

They passed through two open-brass-bound oaken doors that looked thick enough to resist a siege engine. The cool, dark interior of the Cathedral smelled of incense and floor wax rather than storm-cleansed sea air.

The ceiling of the Sanctum arched twenty times the height of a man. Small 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