that if she refused to go on, Luther would stay behind also. Remaining to protect his sister would give him the excuse to do so while allowing him to retain his self-respect. Kormak had seen many men at these delicate moments before. The whole pattern of people’s lives could be altered by such decisions and they came and went with such speed.
Olivia appeared to be giving the matter serious consideration but Kormak knew she had already made up her mind. “Yes. I want to see the end of this and I want to see the heart of the city.”
Benjamin returned. “The lads will accompany you in return for the increased payment. They would probably have come anyway. They feel safer close to the Guardian’s sword and your sister’s magic.”
“It is alchemy,” Olivia said. “Not magic.”
Benjamin’s respectful nod hinted at the fact that he had no idea of the difference.
Luther deflated a little. “Well, that’s it then. We go on.” He sounded disappointed and afraid.
Kormak shrugged. “Mount up then and let us be away.”
They rode through the streets. The city looked as if an army of giants had stormed through it, kicking down buildings, setting them alight. Some of the stonework was blackened and cracked. Statues had been defaced. Shards of broken runic crystal lay everywhere.
“This army resisted the Old Ones for centuries but the First Empire destroyed it in a year,” said Luther.
“The Old Ones were not really trying,” Kormak said. “It was a game they played to while away the time. They do not think or set goals as mortals do.”
When the words came out, Kormak knew they were true. The knowledge was a mixture of Razhak’s and his own.
“They were thorough,” said Olivia.
“Solareon brooked no opposition to his rule.” Kormak said. “He was a proud, cruel man.”
“But a great one,” said Luther.
“A great mage certainly,” said Olivia. Her tone made it clear that one had little to do with the other. “Possibly the greatest human mage of all time.”
“And chosen by the Sun as well, filled with the Light. How else could he do what he did?”
“An army of warriors and an army of mages always helps achieve military goals,” said Kormak. “And he had both.”
He studied the ruined streets all about him. The destruction was on a titanic scale but it had all happened long ago. It was like looking at a stage long after the actors had left. Cataclysmic events had occurred here but in a time so remote as to make them unimportant.
Incongruously, a Solar centurion’s helmet sat on top of a ruined column, as if its owner had just set it down hours ago and would return to reclaim it.
“You are smiling, Sir Kormak,” said Olivia.
“Just when I think I understand something, it slips from my grasp,” he said.
“It is often the case,” she replied. She glanced around them, shivered and pulled her cloak tight although it was not cold. “This place is not what I expected.”
“It has a certain shattered grandeur,” said Luther.
“Yes, but it is remote, unconnected to our world.”
“The builders of this city were not men,” said Kormak.
“The destroyers were,” said Luther. He sounded at once exalted and appalled by the idea. “We are used to the idea that we live in the shadow of titans, that we are less than the Old Ones but men did this…”
“The First Empire was as powerful as any of the Nations of the Old Ones,” said Kormak. “Much was lost when it fell.”
“Oh, I know, Sir Kormak but it is one thing to know something and another to feel the certainty of its truth.”
At that moment, the look in his eye reminded Kormak of the old hermit, Luther’s father. It was easy to see the connection of blood between the two of them.
They came to the junction of two huge streets. A statue still stood. It was blacked and defaced which gave it a demonic look. At first it seemed to resemble a man, but the proportions were wrong. It was broader and the limbs were thicker. The features were doughy, the eyes round pools in the face, the nose tiny, the nostrils mere slits. There was something suggestive of the face of a cat about it.
“That is what the Ghul originally looked like, I am guessing,” said Luther.
Kormak nodded. Again he had that nagging sense of familiarity, as if he could put a name to the face if only he tried hard enough to remember. For him this place was doubly haunted, by