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The banter continued all the way back to their camp.
Kormac didn’t join his men for dinner, but he did accept the bowl of stew they offered. One of the soldier’s checking the perimeter had snared some rabbits. While they sat around a fire and ate, Kormac cracked open the journal Khaal left and started reading.
While Kormac had believed Khaal had requested the remote posting to escape his grief, it turned out Khaal had intentionally asked to be posted at the garrison because he’d heard rumors of a cave with great riches. Son of a whore. He’d come here to treasure hunt.
Khaal went on to admit causing the avalanche with his exploring. He’d used angled mirrors and sunlight to weaken the ice shield coating the wall and the cave entrance. When the collapse proved larger than expected, Khaal conscripted soldiers to help him cross the mound of rubble and unblock the sealed entrance. No surprise, one of the men Khaal took was Ioan. According to Khaal, there’d been nothing to find, nothing but the object in the glass which he tried to chip free, to no avail. The glass proved tough and would require a pickaxe, which a merchant had promised to bring on his next pass through.
Despite his obsession with the stone, Khaal also studied the symbols on the wall. Even copied them in his journal in the hopes of finding someone able to decipher them.
The dragon was mentioned, too, with Khaal claiming it appeared not long after his discovery of the cave, a cave that disappointed because of its lack of riches. He’d been convinced there were more secret caverns but hadn’t had any luck finding them.
The writing became harder to understand in the last few pages as Khaal began rambling about the voice in his head and his horrific dreams. Then nothing.
The journal ended and Kormac set it aside to lie on his bedroll. This trip had turned out to be strange. An entiregarrison murdered by its commander. A dragon living in the Pass, and a mysterious cavern he’d never heard mention of.
What could it mean?
And why had his bracers not stopped tingling until he entered his tent? He’d had to endure the odd sensation the entire march back and couldn’t understand why it finally stopped. Or even why it began in the first place.
Restless and in need of some air, he eyed his armor which he’d peeled off before his meal. There’d been no threat since their arrival, and yet, caution never hurt. He threw on his hauberk and strapped on his sword and dagger. His eye was caught by the medallion he’d taken off the soldier in the watchtower. He grabbed it and held it in front of his face. Why had the soldier been holding it? What did the symbol on it mean? Did the fact his bracers bore it mean something? His father never explained, or most likely didn’t know when he passed them on. Kormac had never seen the pattern on it replicated on anything until now. Just another oddity. He tucked the medallion in a pouch at his waist and stepped from the tent.
Most of the camp had retired for the evening with the exception of the first watch. Six men, one at each corner of their camp, plus two others roaming. They would switch at intervals to ensure fresh eyes.
At the fire, one man sat slumped. Fallen asleep in his spot rather than making it to his bedroll. As Kormac neared, ready to nudge the soldier to get him to bed, the man fell over without a sound or even a reaction.
The tingling in his arms began but he ignored it to reach for the man, intending to roll him over. The bend saved his life.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Kormac bent to check on the soldier fallen over by the fire, the air whooshed overhead. Kormac threw himself sideways and pivoted to see Simon swinging at him!
“What are you doing?” Kormac yelled, pulling his dagger. “I’m not the enemy.”
The soldier had a glazed expression as he brought his weapon back for another slash. Kormac raised his arm and blocked the blow with his bracer, grunting at the impact.
“What is wrong with you, soldier?” he barked. Did the man sleepwalk, or in this case sleep-fight?
Simon didn’t respond but rather readied for another blow, leaving Kormac no choice. He hacked with his dagger at the hand holding the blade.
Even though he sliced through flesh and tendon, causing blood to gush, Simon didn’t react by cry or even expression. His nerveless fingers did drop the sword, but the idiot bent to pick it up with his other hand.
What was wrong with him?
With a chill, Kormac realized it had to be whatever afflicted Khaal and most likely Ioan. It didn’t take much effort to block the next clumsy blow and disarm the man.
“Snap out it,” Kormac barked, wondering why no one else noticed this mini battle.
Simon either didn’t hear him or couldn’t stop himself.
Kormac growled as he stepped to the side and smashed the pommel of his weapon against Simon’s head. A blow that should have knocked him out.
It didn’t.
Simon staggered a few paces but remained standing and still wanting to fight. He rushed at Kormac and impaled himself on the dagger. Worse, he dropped with it embedded, tearing open his flesh deep enough to kill. However, like Ioan at the citadel, while seemingly dead, Simon’s mouth opened and a shivery, cold voice emerged. “You might have killed this body, but another will take its place until I am freed.”
“Who are you?” barked Kormac.
“The nightmare you’ve forgotten. The death that is coming for you. There is no escape from my vengeance and wrath. I shall decimate Airiok’s line, starting with you.”
