Sitting on a broken tree trunk, one of them beat on a huge kettle drum, the skins drawn taut to give a flat, dulled sound. One of the Karzełek turned and instinctively Iwa hid behind the walls, peering out through a crack in the plaster. Still the beat continued. She could just about make out the drumsticks, which were fashioned from the thighbones of some animal, longer and thicker than even the largest bison. A ball of leather was wrapped around the end of the bone and, as the music continued, ancient runes sunk deep into the bone crackled with magic.
But nothing could have prepared her for what came next. A group of Karzełek danced in front of the drum, their bodies swirling in time to the music. In the centre was a patch of mud and, as the figures danced, the earth began to move. Again the beat picked up and the Karzełek began to howl. Underneath the mud was a membrane covering a thick, yellow, yoke-like substance. Slowly something moved inside. Then, as the creatures wailed, a claw ripped through the membrane and the yoke exploded as, with a roar, a Karzełek clawed itself up from the mud.
Iwa flinched. She’d seen this before, and not just with Miskyia. Around her the drumbeat picked up as another set of claws tore through the mud. A shiver fluttered across her spine. No, it wasn’t her memory. Iwa remembered the painted cave. She must have read the minds of the hunted men there far better than she had realised, because now their reminiscence stirred deep within her.
They knew of these creatures. She remembered the old mage, his hands filled with paint as he daubed his magic on the cave wall. For a moment she thought that it might even have been the Karzełek who’d hunted them, their snakes’ bared fangs dripping with poison as they waited outside the cave. No – it had been something else, something far worse. For the cave painters the Karzełek had been nothing more than a memory, a song passed down from generation to generation until it had become little more than a myth that lurked half-forgotten at the back of their minds.
‘This is how we sleep through the centuries,’ a voice said. Iwa jumped: a Karzełek stood behind her. For all its size it had crept up on her without the slightest sound until its shadow rested across her shoulders. ‘We await the return of the master and the old gods.’
‘Did Lord Bethrayal give you the power to do that?’ Her curiosity overcoming her fear, Iwa nodded to where the new Karzełek stood, the yoke dripping yellow across his skin.
‘This is our magic, which not even Lord Bethrayal could master.’
‘Then why do you serve him if you are so powerful and hate us so?’ She flinched as she caught the look of anger on the Karzełek’s face.
‘That is not for you to ask. You should not be here, human, you should not watch.’
That was good enough for her. Without another word, she turned and fled back into the safety of the temple.
Inside, Miskyia waited. ‘When are we going to rescue my father?’ Iwa was impatient. For all of Miskyia’s reassurances, she wasn’t convinced that Wislaw wouldn’t kill Yaroslav the first chance he got, and she didn’t want anything more to do with the Karzełek, either. ‘We need to get going,’ she continued, following after Miskyia as the sorceress led her through the stones.
They were at the water’s edge with the courtyard spread before them. Iwa shuddered as she saw the tree again, the pig’s head hanging from its lifeless branches. Now she could make out the runes that ran across the courtyard. The whole floor was paved with them, incredibly ancient and etched into the stone so thinly that they were almost imperceptible.
‘So your powers have grown,’ Miskyia said from behind her. ‘You never noticed the runes before.’
‘It was dark.’ Somehow the fact that the sorceress knew what she could see didn’t surprise her. What else does she know?
‘That is when they are at their most powerful. In sunlight they merely sleep, and it takes all my craft to summon them. It is only in the moonlight that they truly wake.’
‘So why not summon them at night?’
‘Because we need to act quickly. The planets will not be in a favourable alignment again for many moons. The Lord Bethrayal cannot keep coming into our world for very much longer: each time he uses a little more of his energy and when that is gone…’ Miskyia took a deep breath and didn’t bother to say any more.
‘But won’t that…?’
‘My service is to the stones,’ the witch was quick to cut her off, ‘and the magic that lies within. They are my masters and I am always quick to obey.’
‘Will we attack the camp soon?’ Iwa said hopefully. ‘Now that Wislaw has found out about this hidden place it’ll only be a matter of time before he seeks us out. He’ll come here, and convince the krol to bring his woyaks.’ She shivered. Would there be enough of these Karzełek creatures to fight them off?
In the ruins, Sturmovit quaked. He’d kept very much to the shadows. Maybe he too didn’t trust his brethren. Iwa tried not to look in his direction, but it was hard not to feel some sympathy for the creature. Perhaps he has as much to fear from them as we do, more probably. But she kept the thought to herself as she felt the presence of the spells whisper softly around her.
‘If you understood the dangers you’d not be so eager to summon the Lord Bethrayal.’ The sorceress laid a finger
