Free Kormak 01 - Stealer of Flesh by William King Page A

oncoming winter. He began to gather sticks for a fire. Petra began to help. He noticed that she had a leather strap in her hand now with a stone in it and he watched her warily. Many a warrior had been killed with a sling. It made him reluctant to remove his helmet. He had known some men who would have mocked him for that but he was still alive and they were long in their graves.
    “You any good with that?” he asked.
    She nodded and began to whirl the sling. He kept his eye on her, ready to throw himself to one side if she looked like she was bringing it to bear on him. The stone whizzed away and brought down a squirrel in a nearby tree. It was an excellent shot in the bad light.
    “Impressive,” Kormak said.
    “Dinner,” she said. She nodded at the sword. “You any good with that thing?”
    “I don’t intend to bring down any squirrels with it.”
    “It was not squirrels I was thinking of,” she said. She nodded towards the mountain slope. There was something moving amid the undergrowth there. It might have been a wolf or a bear. Kormak returned to getting the fire lit. It might prove useful in keeping beasts at bay as well as keeping them warm. Petra moved closer. She set the squirrel down and began to clean and skin it. She carefully placed the pelt aside. He guessed she might be able to sell it or the tail. Or maybe she wanted to use it herself.
    “You don’t seem too worried,” she said. He could tell whatever was out there was on her mind.
    “If we have to fight, we have to fight,” he said. “I am not worried. I have an expert slinger on my side.”
    “It was a lucky shot,” she said. “And I can’t bring down a bear.”
    “It seems to be heading away anyway.”
    “It might come back.”
    “Worry about it when it happens.”
    “Can you really do that? Push everything out of your mind.”
    “No,” said Kormak. “But I can try.”
    She put the squirrel on the end of a twig and began to roast it over the fire. “You want some?” she asked.
    “I have waybread.”
    “You going to offer me some?”
    “I thought your offer of roast squirrel was not entirely altruistic.” He offered her some of the waybread anyway and shook his head as she pushed the squirrel forward. She took the waybread.
    “You speak like the preachers who used to come round the villages.”
    “I was educated in a monastery.”
    “Mount Aethelas?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re not a Sunlander. Why did they take you in?”
    “The Holy Sun accepts all those who accept him.”
    “And you accepted him?”
    “The Aquileans worshipped the Sun before the Solari came from over the World Ocean.”
    “You did not answer my question.”
    “That might give you a clue that I am not going to.”
    “Keep your blade handy. The Wolves roam the night.”
    “I think we’ll notice if a band of riders comes thundering out of the dark.”
    “Sometimes the wolf-men hunt on their own.”
    “You’re not frightened, are you?”
    “Why should I be? I have a Guardian here to protect me.”
    “Who is going to protect me?”
    “You are not quite as reassuring as the stories say you should be.”
    “Worry about the wolf-man when the wolf-man comes. Or leave it to me to worry about. Get some sleep.”
    She seemed to already have taken him at his word. A sound of snoring emerged from the other side of the fire. Kormak made sure his blade was close at hand, wrapped himself in his cloak and stared at the sky. There was a moisture in the air, a dampness that reminded him of the mountains of his homeland. It made him feel almost nostalgic. He avoided looking at the fire. He did not want to ruin his night vision.
    The whinnying of the horse woke Kormak. His steed was a warhorse, trained to remain calm in the face of battle, fire and monsters. It was nervous now though and that in turn made him nervous. He rose to his feet, reaching for his blade. The girl was already up with her knife out.
    “Planning on slitting my throat in the dark, were