Stealer of Flesh - By William King Page 0,3

to regret using his healing herbs on you,” said Marcus.

“If he has not broken the Law he has nothing to fear from me.”

“You are not a very wise man, Guardian,” said the guard captain.

“Most probably true,” said Kormak, “and I have a feeling you are going to explain exactly why to me.”

“You are still sick and weak and you are threatening the only man present who can heal you.”

“I am threatening no one,” said Kormak, “and only a fool would threaten me.”

“He is correct, Marcus,” said the wizard. “Those who kill guardians rarely live long thereafter. His order is a most vengeful one and they have their ways of finding those who have done them wrong.”

“It seems we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” said Kormak. “I apologise for my tone and I thank you for your aid. You saved my life. I won’t forget that.”

The wizard coughed, covering his mouth with a white handkerchief. When it came away there was blood on it. He shrugged and looked almost guilty for a moment and then said, “You are welcome, Guardian. I would have done the same for any man. If my words gave offence earlier, I apologise.”

“My sword?” Kormak asked.

“You are determined,” the guard said.

“His order live for those blades,” said the wizard. “The worst sin he could commit would be to lose it.”

The wizard coughed. “Your armour and your amulets and your weapons are in the keeping of Lord Tomas. As is your gold. It is all there. Nothing has been taken. Those artefacts are very valuable. Believe me Lord Tomas knows more about such things than most living men.”

“What do I owe you?” Kormak said.

“Nothing,” said the wizard. “As I said, I would have done the same for any man. Now you must take this herbal draught and rest, if you are to heal and regain your strength. I will not have all my healing undone by pleurisy and the wheezing death.”

The two men rose to go. The wizard indicated the beaker and cup beside the bed. “Drink it,” he said.

“I will do so,” said Kormak, making his refusal clear. “But first I have much to think upon and prayers to make.”

He did not want to say he was not going to be forced into drinking any potion by anyone, no matter how well disposed they seemed to be. There were some strange undercurrents here, he felt, although he was too tired to quite put his finger on what. Even as that thought occurred to him, the room seemed to spin. He clutched the bed and said nothing, determined not to let his weakness show. He did not want anyone to suspect how vulnerable he was.

If the men noticed anything, they said nothing, merely moved towards the door. Kormak was glad when they were gone.

Once the wizard had left, Kormak tried to rise. His head spun and he felt sick. Someone had placed a bowl beside the bed and he threw up into it. He realised he was cold and shivering and the room whirled.

The wizard had not lied when he had said Kormak was in a bad way. He had not felt this sick since he had taken an infected wound from an orc’s scimitar. He staggered over to the window and moved the drapes. Outside all he could see was night and snow. The wind still howled down the chimney. He realised that he was very lucky indeed to still be alive.

He checked his fingers. There was no obvious frostbite damage, for which he was grateful. He was a man who lived or died by his skill with the sword.

He tottered over to the fire and stood there for a moment, warming himself. Someone had built it up to a blazing intensity and the heat on the front of his body made him aware of the chill on his back.

He stirred the fire anyway, enjoying the feel of the metal poker in his hands. He let it cool then he staggered back to place the metal rod on the table beside his bed. He inspected the alchemist’s flask that sat beside the bowl. He unstoppered it, and allowed the smallest drop of its contents to fall on his finger. He sniffed, recognising the scent of bitterbloom and winterweed, two herbs used by chirurgeons the world over for the treatment of conditions such as his. He put his finger in his mouth and touched it with his tongue. He detected nothing amiss anyway, so he allowed