Rain had been falling solidly for some time, and his sodden clothes stuck to his skin, offering no protection from the cold wind that blew in from the sea. But the weather and its effects hardly registered with the young necromancer.

Kelewulf talked to the lich quite openly now. After all, there was no one to hear, and no one to see his strange behaviour. ‘I need to rest,’ he said in a small voice. ‘This majik … it’s exhausting me.’

The lich stirred within him. But we are so close. There will be time to rest soon enough, after we’ve achieved our goal.

‘We will not achieve our goal if I collapse—’

There was a moan behind him, a terrible, guttural sound, and Kelewulf spun around towards its source. A creature had appeared out of nowhere, a hideous thing that might once have been human but was now decayed and rotten. What little flesh still clung to it in places was greyish-purple, but most of it had fallen away, revealing muscle and sinew at some points, hints of bone or cartilage in others. The smell of rot and decay that accompanied it was like nothing he’d ever experienced, and it was as much as Kelewulf could do not to gag. The thing turned its head to look at him through rheumy grey eyes, the whites of which were a foul, sulphurous yellow colour.

‘Did you summon this creature?’ he asked, staring at it with a mixture of fascination and revulsion.

No, the lich replied, and Kelewulf heard the exultation in his voice. The portal we are creating is ripping holes in the curtain that separates this world from the Void.

The undead thing lifted its chin and sniffed the air. Then it turned and shuffled off in the direction of whatever it had detected.

‘Where is it going?’ he asked.

To feed, the lich responded, drawing the last word out and chuckling.

There was a pause while Kelewulf took this in. He didn’t dare ask what it was the creature sought out.

Still tired? the lich whispered inside his head.

He realised that he wasn’t. The appearance of the revenant had filled him with a new-found vigour, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to get on with their work and complete those last two blocks.

He smiled as he closed his eyes and summoned the majik within him.

He couldn’t wait to see what other horrors they might summon forth.

Northern Vorneland

32

The farmer opened the door to his farmhouse just wide enough to peer out at the visitors, a young boy and girl, their travel cloaks wrapped tightly around them to stave off the cold. The night had become even more foggy in the last hour or so, and the grey air swirled slowly behind the pair.

‘Yes? Who are you?’ the man asked.

‘We were sent by King Rinkor,’ the boy answered.