The Nomad - By Simon Hawke Page 0,1

the palace, where the king’s throne stood. All of the king’s wives were present, dressed in their white robes and lining both sides of the throne room. They ranged in age from young and fresh-faced girls to old and wrinkled women.

Veela had felt a sense of mounting excitement and anxiety. She had never seen the Shadow King before… nor, as it turned out, was she to see him on her wedding day. The throne remained empty as the senior templar conducted the solemn marriage ceremony. It was brief and incorporated the vows she had to take as a templar of the Shadow King. When it was over, each of the wives came up and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. She was married, and the king had not even been present at his own wedding.

It was five more years before she actually laid eyes on him. In those five years, she had completed her training as a templar. On the night of her official instatement into the templar ranks, the sorcerer-king had sent for her. She was once more bathed and scented with fragrant oils and perfumes, and this time all of the hair on her body was removed. Then she was conducted to the bedchamber of the Shadow King.

She had not known what to expect. She had lived in the palace for five years and never even caught a glimpse of him, nor had she been able to discuss him with any of the other wives. His name was never mentioned, save in official orders. As she was brought into his bedchamber, she found him waiting for her. She stood with downcast eyes for a long while after the attendants left. Finally, she risked raising them. He simply stood there, looking at her.

He was a tall man, standing well over six feet, and gaunt, with deeply sunken features. He was completely bald, and his nose was hooked like that of a predatory bird. His neck and arms seemed unusually long and thin, and his fingers were like talons. His brow was so pronounced that it appeared to be a ridge over his eyes, which were a strange, light golden hue. He had said nothing, but merely held out a clawlike hand toward her. A quick gesture with his skeletal fingers and her robe simply fell away, leaving her naked. Then he beckoned her to the bed.

Whatever she might have expected, it was nothing like what she might have imagined. The room suddenly went dark, so dark she could not even see her hand before her face. She felt him get onto the huge bed and then his naked body seemed to slither on top of her. There were no kisses, no caresses, no tender words exchanged. It was over almost as soon as it had begun. He took her, grunted with satisfaction, though whether it was satisfaction in the act or in the confirmation of her virginity, she could not tell, and then the next thing she knew, the braziers erupted into flame, flooding the room with light, and he was gone. And she did not see him again for ten more years.

Now, it was sixty years since she had first been brought to the palace. She was now among the senior templars, though she was still among the youngest of them. The years had changed her. The power of the Shadow King kept her vital, but her face was lined with age now, and her hands were old and wrinkled. Her flesh sagged, and her skin had become as fine as parchment. But for Nibenay, those years had wrought greater changes still. However, it was not age that had changed him, for the Shadow King was already old when Veela had been born. It was the metamorphosis.

As one of the senior templars who attended to him personally, she saw him more often now than all those years ago. And he was no longer human. He was even taller now, though much of his height came from his long, scaly and reptilian neck. His browridge had become much more pronounced, extending like a bony protrusion out over his eye sockets. His eyes were yellow-gold, with black, vertical pupils, and the lower part of his face had extended into a snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. His feet were dragon’s claws, and a long, reptilian tail with a barb on the end of it extended from beneath his robe. His back was humped from protruding shoulder blades, which were slowly sprouting