Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

A s 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."

"Not today, foul spirit." Kormac grunted as he smashed in Simon's head. Probably harder than needed, but better than listening to more unearthly messages. Dead men shouldn't be talking. Loyal soldiers shouldn't be suddenly killing, for there was no doubt now that the body by the fire wasn't sleeping.

They were under attack by an enemy that could possess minds. He'd never thought he'd encounter something that would frighten him so much. Not that he'd admit it.

"Lomar!" He bellowed his second's name but got no reply. No one answered, leaving him to wonder if he was the only one awake.

Perhaps this was a nightmare.

Kormac stalked away from the fire, noting the stillness and the lack of any movement, hence why he startled at a sudden reply.

"You called, Warlord." Lomar emerged from between two tents, hands behind his back.

Since when did his friend use his formal honorific? Only in ceremonial settings did he usually call him Warlord.

As Lomar neared, Kormac found himself tensing, the tingling in his arms intense. "Wake the soldiers. We leave tonight."

"Whatever for?"

"There's something wrong," Kormac murmured. "Simon attempted to kill me."

"And failed. But this body is much stronger, and more skilled." Lomar cocked his head and offered an eerie smile.

It made Kormac's blood run cold. "Don't tell me you've been taken by the madness."

"Are you afraid, Airiok's descendent?" mocked the thing using Lomar's body.

Actually, he was. Not for himself, but for his childhood friend. A man he loved as a brother. He couldn't kill Lomar, and yet he might not have a choice as Lomar began to swing his axe.

It whistled as it came for Kormac. Fast. Precise. He barely dodged the first swing. This fight would be tough with Lomar a swift fighter, almost as quick as him. The near miss shredded the sleeve of his tunic, revealing the bright purple glow of his bracer.

Lomar hissed. "I see some of the old magic remains."

Magic? Kormac had little time to think as he evaded the next thrust of the axe. He parried with his blade and wondered how to extricate them both. How could he free Lomar from the evil presence possessing him?

As he ducked and spun, he wondered how the presence had affected Simon and Lomar, but not him.

The tingling on his arms intensified as he once more used his bracer, this time to shove against Lomar. It gave him an idea, probably a dumb one, and yet he still dug his hand into the pouch and pulled forth the medallion. It glowed, not as bright as his bracers, but that didn't seem to matter when he shoved it towards Lomar's face.

The man recoiled and growled.

"Don't like that, eh?" Kormac taunted. "Get out of my friend."

"Never." When Lomar lunged, Kormac didn't block the coming blow but ducked under before popping up to drape the chain over his friend's neck. The change proved instant.

Lomar slumped, his dazed expression replaced by horror. "What happened?"

"You tell me."

Lomar rubbed his face. "One minute I was headed for my bedroll, the next, I couldn't control my body. It was as if I were a passenger watching while it did horrible things. Please tell me it was a nightmare."

"It would seem you were afflicted by the same thing that infected Khaal and Ioan."

"So those soldiers I saw myself striking…"

"Most likely dead." Kormac had a feeling most of the men he'd brought had been killed. None had yet emerged to see the commotion.

Lomar's face twisted. "Tell my family I love them." He dropped his axe, went to his knees, and laced his hands behind his back, head bowed, ready to be punished.

"Stand up," Kormac barked. "I'm not executing you."

"You should," Lomar whispered.

"It wasn't your fault."

"My hand wielded the blade."

"Not by choice."

"The laws?—"

"Are mine to make. Mine to break. And in this case, there are extenuating circumstances that warrant further study." Kormac paused. "Do you still feel the presence within you?"

"Yes and no. I am in control." Lomar frowned, "But there is something within, struggling to break free."

"The amulet appears to stop it."

"What amulet?" Lomar glanced down at his chest and saw the glowing medallion.

Oddly enough, Kormac's bracers had stopped tingling the moment he slipped the chain over Lomar's head. "The one I found with the soldier that fought in the watch tower."

"How is it a piece of jewelry stopped the madness?" Lomar lifted it as if to remove it.

"No." Kormac slapped his hand. "You can't take it off. It might be the only thing keeping the evil spirit from using your body."

"I've been cursed. Must have been something in that bloody cave," Lomar growled.

Kormac could have slapped himself for not seeing the connection. Khaal had been in the cave, as had Ioan and Simon. So had Kormac, but he remained unaffected. Why? He recalled both Lomar and Simon touching the glass—perhaps that was the difference. Or did it have something to do with his bracers? The ancient armor had the same symbols on them as the amulet that had saved Lomar. Perhaps that had protected him even as he didn't understand how.

"We need to see how many we lost and gather those that survived. I want to leave before dawn." He wanted away from this cursed place.

"We?" Lomar shook his head. "I can't be trusted."

"The medallion?—"

"Could be removed or stop working. If you're not going to eliminate me, then you need to at least disable me."

"I am not hurting you."

"Tie my hands." Lomar tucked them behind his back.

"That will cause questions."

"More questions than all the deaths?" Lomar glanced at the body by the fire. "Barron was supposed to get married."

Despite his heavy heart, Kormac tethered his friend. Lomar was right. He couldn't be trusted, not while the medallion glowed indicating the evil presence. Was this why the warlords had inherited the bracers? A warning system for an evil they'd locked away. How had his father not informed him? Did he even know?

Questions for later. First, they needed to leave.

The body count proved lower than he feared, Kormac's emergence having put a stop to it before too many died. Still, they'd lost five. Five men who wouldn't go home. Five families to mourn. And too many who noticed Lomar riding his horse with his hands tied to the pommel.

The only good news? None of Kormac's other men appeared infected, or at least none tried to go on a murderous rampage, and his bracers remained dull metal.

They rode hard towards the citadel that very same night. Even harder when a shadow overhead had them glancing up to see the massive shape that soared in the sky, passing over the half-moon. The men huddled in their saddles, fearful since they'd heard of the mighty dragon in the Pass.

But while big and fearsome, it didn't attack, and there were no further issues with death.

They rode with only short breaks, Kormac in a hurry to reach the citadel. Once there, he had Lomar placed in a cell even as he recalled how Ioan had managed to escape his. In its confines, they tested what happened when the medallion was removed.

Nothing during daylight hours. Lomar had no issues and remained himself.

But as soon as night fell…

Only the glowing medallion kept him in check.

The doctors who examined Lomar could find nothing wrong. The last one—an elderly gent who'd long retired—was the only one with the balls to tell Kormac, "This isn't an illness of the body but the spirit."

"How do we fix it?"

"I don't know, but the witches of the marsh might."

"Witches are but charlatans," he stated by rote.

"Some are, yes, but the marsh witches aren't. They can do things no one else can. And before you scoff, I travelled much as a young man. Saw things that if repeated would have many calling me a liar."

"Like what?"

"I was in a village when a man arrived, heavily injured, his wounds infected, his fever burning and blistering his skin. He should have died. I could do nothing to help him. But then a woman came. She lay her hands on the man, and she glowed. Glowed bright and, to my wonder, she healed him."

"Or the fever broke."

"It was more than just the fever that went away. Most of his wounds closed up. Not completely, but enough he didn't need bandages. The infection, the red puffy skin, the pus, gone." The old man clapped his hands. "Within days, he was back on his feet."

"We don't know a witch can heal what ails Lomar."

"Then I guess you will either have to kill him or keep him a prisoner for the rest of his life because there is no medicine that will cure him."

With that statement, the doctor left and Kormac pondered.

Could a witch help? The people, himself included, didn't hold them in high esteem. Until recently, they used to execute them. Airiok the destroyer had been the one to start the purge of those claiming to use magic, but Kormac's father had put a stop to that during his reign.

Did he dare invite one to the citadel? Lomar needed help and of a kind Kormac had never imagined contemplating.

Was his friend worth swallowing his skepticism and pride?

Kormac sat down to pen a request.