Lords Of The Lance by Graham McNeill

Author:Graham McNeill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FMT
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2023-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Two Roads Diverge

Karolina lowered her sword as she beheld the corpse-features of her brother.

A low moan escaped her cracked lips, and tears welled in her eyes as he awkwardly climbed down from the revenant steed. His unnatural mount twitched and shivered, as if it too felt the bite of the cold night air or perhaps knew something of the horror in its grotesque condition.

Henri’s skeletal jaws parted, but his voice was a shadow of the deep baritone she remembered.

‘Karolina,’ he said, rank black fluid glistening behind the few teeth remaining in his skull. ‘You came for me…’

She took a faltering step backward, shaking her head at the sight of her dead brother.

‘Come no closer,’ said Varo, as the corpse of Henri approached Karolina.

‘No, wait, let him speak,’ she said, fighting to keep her resurgent grief in check.

Henri turned his head with a creak of hardened, leathery sinews. He had to have been dead half a year, and though time had withered the flesh and muscle from his bones, the dry desert heat had preserved his features enough that he was still painfully recognisable. Wisps of his once lustrous blond hair still clung to his skull, fluttering in the night winds as though they might come loose.

‘Please, sister mine,’ he pleaded, taking another step forward. ‘It’s me, Henri. I beg you…’

The sand billowed in a boom of spread wings as Yoanna and ­Meliane landed their pegasus mounts behind his undead steed, which gave no sign it was aware of these new threats. Yoanna had her bow drawn, an arrow aimed unwaveringly at Henri’s head, while Meliane held her short-lance at the ready.

Karolina held up a shaking hand to stay their attack. ‘Are you truly my brother?’

Henri nodded slowly, his desiccated flesh fused to the metal of his gorget. The dryness of the hot desert wafted from him, and the smoky texture of cured meat caught in the back of her throat.

‘I am,’ he said, his voice growing stronger, more like she remembered – as melodic and soulful as a veteran steersman’s song. ‘Your love for me, it brought me back. My soul felt your presence, and as your tears fell upon my body, Morr’s Gate opened for me.’

Out of the corner of her eyes, Karolina saw Varo, Severine and Sigurd surround Henri. Each had a weapon drawn, ready to strike her brother down.

‘This thing is lying. No one returns from the death god’s realm,’ said Varo, but Karolina could hear the uncertainty in his voice and the wound in her heart grew wider.

‘Please,’ begged Henri. ‘Look into your heart, Karolina. See the truth of me.’

She so desperately wanted to believe this was Henri. His presence here meant she might yet say all the things that had gone unspoken between them. She saw her brother in the way he moved: the slight twist in his hip from a horse-fall as a young man that made him limp slightly; the curious tilt of his head he’d always made when they were children and he tried to read her lips when she mispronounced her words.

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