spray of blood fountained towards the ceiling. Then he was through, running around the columns of light descending from the skylights. He fought the effects of the elder signs inscribed on the windows above him.
Behind him he could hear the footfalls of his pursuer and the echoes of many alarm bells.
***
Kormak forced his beaten body through the chamber filled with sarcophagi. The silver masks of Lunar kings leered down at him. Their smiling metal faces mocked his desperate efforts.
An armoured man slumped against the wall at the entrance to the Lunar chamber, his throat slashed.
Inside the room Kormak saw the moongate. The silver teardrop reflected the light of the sunstone. The massive shadowy shape of Vorkhul stood before it.
For a moment, the Old One studied his own reflection then he noticed the mirror-image of Kormak in the doorway. He turned his head to look at the Guardian and gave a defiant howl that echoed through the Museum.
Kormak advanced into the chamber, blade held ready. This time Vorkhul would not escape. He was going to end the Old One’s life and take vengeance for Gerd.
***
Vorkhul studied the dormant moongate. Given time he could activate it. Unfortunately time was something that he no longer had. Fear filled him as the mortal closed the distance. He stepped off the plinth and stood before the Lunar armour. He recognised the workmanship. He saw the intact runestones. Potent wards and defensive magics were built into it. It looked like it ought to function. He altered his shape, becoming boneless and liquid as he flowed over the armour and in through the vents and gaps.
***
Kormak charged. The Old One flowed into the armour of Darkoth. The Guardian lengthened his stride and raised his sword. The last strands of Vorkhul’s liquid form disappeared inside the demon-masked metal suit.
***
Relief at being inside the armour filled Vorkhul. Was this ancient war-machine still functioning? Only one way to find out.
In the distance he heard the baying of hounds and the shouts of men. The alarm bells rang louder.
Vorkhul extended tendrils to touch the runestones. They felt dormant, but not dead. He fed life-force into them, activating the spells they bore, noting the way they responded to his touch.
This must work. He could not die now.
Aether flowed out of him and into the runestones. He became aware of the armour as if it were part of himself, as the spells within it responded to his presence. It became a second metal skin, protecting him, strengthening him.
Triumph roared within him. Inside this armour he no longer need fear the light of the sunstone, or the power of elder signs. He was safe. He was strong. He was all but invincible.
Through the faceplate he gazed upon the advancing human. He no longer feared the mortal. He was master of this place.
***
Kormak saw the runes on the armoured suit spring to life. The surface of the moongate reflected their green glow. Oddly coloured shadows skittered along the walls. The eyes set in the armour’s demon mask glittered. A massive gauntleted hand twitched.
The amulet on Kormak’s chest grew warmer in the eddy currents of strong magic. The suit was a powerful artefact. A rune glowed right in the centre of the armour’s chest. It was the largest and brightest. He aimed his blade at it and stabbed. Perhaps destroying the rune would unravel the web of spells woven around the suit.
He felt the rightness of his lunge. He was on target.
Too fast to parry, the demon knocked his blade aside. A massive metal fist caught Kormak in the middle of the chest. A wave of pain surged through him.
***
Power filled Vorkhul. The small spark of magic he had provided to ignite the armour’s systems had worked. Now it sucked in the surrounding aether and filled him with magical energy, enhancing his strength and speed.
Memories flooded into him. He had used such armour in battle in the past. More spells were embedded in it. It would take him only moments to catalogue them and activate them. He parried the human’s strike, no longer worried about the runes on the blade. The armour protected him just so long as the human did not find a weak spot. He would not give the mortal time to do that.
He struck with the force of a battering ram. The human catapulted away, into one of the descending columns of light. Vorkhul strode forward, no longer fearing the glare of the sunstone. The crystal eye-pieces of the helmet filtered out the