The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

The group collected around him, all looking past the far wall of the temple. Crumbling stacked stones outlined the foundation of another demolished structure. The interior had been dug out and filled with a vast pile of human bones in the most basic attempt at a mass grave.

  Kitlyn gasped. “That’s horrible. They didn’t even try to bury them, just piled the bodies on top of each other.”

  Oona bit her lip, fixated on the grisly sight.

  “These poor people.” Isha sighed. “I thought the war was bad, but I’ve never seen so many dead in one place like this.”

  “A massacre.” Bertan bowed his head.

  Kitlyn dismounted Apples and walked over to the edge. Someone dug a shallow pit within the boundary of the ancient wall, about four feet down from ground level. The bodies had been there so long that no trace of dried blood, gore, or any foul smell remained. Dozens of rusty weapons stuck out from the pile, along with a shield or two. She studied the remains, breathing a silent sigh of relief upon not seeing any tiny skeletons.

  “These are probably soldiers.” Kitlyn decided not to disturb the site and backed up. “We don’t know who destroyed this town, but I don’t see any small bones… and there are weapons.”

  Oona wiped tears from her cheeks. “The townspeople might have fled. That sorcerer could’ve taken over the village and brought men to fight for him.”

  “Or the civilians and their families were buried proper, not dumped.” Niron grimaced.

  “Oh…” Oona flinched at the thought.

  Kitlyn jogged over to her. “Most invading armies wouldn’t have merely slaughtered civilians. I’m fairly certain we didn’t invade Ondar. Barbarians might have done this, but they don’t kill unarmed women or children.” They take them.

  “That’s good.” Oona looked up with a weak smile, her eyes red-rimmed.

  Frith appeared about to say something, but reconsidered. Kitlyn shot him a grateful stare before climbing back into her saddle.

  “The mountains are not too much farther.” Beowyn pointed ahead, and urged his horse into motion again.

  Open ground continued after the village. Kitlyn glanced left and right at seemingly endless sloping hills stretching away in either direction, wondering if the valley had an uphill end or if it might continue straight into the side of the mountain. A few hundred yards later, a standing wall of grey fog thinned enough to reveal an opening in the side of the mountain itself, a massive crack in black stone that formed a canyon wider than two houses.

  A leathery flutter from above made Kitlyn look up at thick, grey fog.

  “Think it’s in there?” asked Niron.

  “It’s the only thing here.” Beowyn chuckled, starting to put his blade away.

  The shadows of two enormous birds dove toward the group. At another leathery flutter, Cloud’s eyes bulged from their sockets. He reared, neighing a most horrible sounding wail, and leapt forward. Oona managed to leap off the saddle in a relatively controlled manner, landing in a tumble. The pure white horse took off at a full gallop, heading back the way they came from, toward the ruined village.

  “Attack!” shouted Kitlyn. “From above!”

  “Dismount!” roared Niron.

  With a shrill screech, the left shadow dove faster, emerging from the mist in a glimmering array of blue-violet scales. A dragon-like head tipped the end of a long prehensile neck. Two reverse-jointed legs tucked tight against its belly, each foot bearing wicked talons the size of longswords. Unlike a dragon, it lacked forearms, its wings more like those of a bat. Brilliant violet feathers lined both sides of a narrow, trailing tail connected to a body about twice the size of a warhorse.

  Those aren’t birds… Kitlyn leapt to the ground. Apples lifted his head at the sky and snorted, unimpressed.

  The diving wyvern went for Oona, who’d rolled to a stop face down, extending its feet as if to scoop her up and fly off. Kitlyn yanked her longsword free of its scabbard and ran to her, swinging at the talons with all her strength. Her sword bounced off the gleaming indigo claws with a resounding clang. The creature’s bulk and speed knocked Kitlyn over onto her back, but she managed to skew the wyvern sideways enough that it grabbed dirt instead of Oona.

  “Tenebrea’s teacups!” shouted Oona before leaping to her feet.

  Screeching, the second wyvern angled after Beowyn’s horse.

  “Oh, no ya don’t,” roared the big man. “I just got him.”

  Beowyn hurled himself into a leap and raked his huge sword at the beast. The blade struck the scaled hide with a dull thump, sending the wyvern into a lateral roll and causing it to crash upside down in the meadow about thirty feet away.

  Apples turned to keep facing the still-flying wyvern. Evidently angered, the quasi-dragon turned and came racing back at Kitlyn. She widened her stance, raising her blade. Seconds before impact, she spotted its barbed tail coming, and dove to the side. The bone-hard tip passed over her with a loud whuff and a shrill cry of irritation from the wyvern. She landed on her chest, pounding the air out of her lungs.

  “Formation,” yelled Niron.

  The soldiers gathered close, all facing out.

  “Get inside the ring.” Galfred waved at Kitlyn and Oona, beckoning them.

  Kitlyn pushed herself up, scowling at the airborne menace. The wyvern that crashed flapped back into the air, climbing high. The other one circled back for another try, skimming low over the meadow straight at her. Kitlyn dug her fingers into the earth, her hands aglow with green magic. At her command, a stone spire erupted straight up out of the grass mere feet in front of the racing wyvern.

  The creature barely had time to emit a squawk of alarm before crashing into the pillar with enough force to crack it. A collective groan of sympathetic pain came from the soldiers. The rock spire fell forward like a cut down tree, the wyvern practically hugging it with its wings, and shook the ground upon impact.

  Kitlyn raised a tangle of grasping roots from the ground, winding them over the creature’s wings, around its body, and pinning its jaws closed. A brilliant blue flash happened off to the right along with a startled wyvern shriek.

  The other one crashed in an ungainly heap, tumbling in a heap of flailing limbs and wings several times before jumping upright on its feet, swinging its head back and forth, biting randomly at the air.

  “What the devil’s wrong with that one?” Isha pointed her sword at it.

  “It’s blind.” Beowyn broke formation, advancing on it.

  “The beast still has teeth.” Niron limped after him. “Give it distance.”

  Kitlyn sent more roots up from the ground, tangling and binding the blinded wyvern before dragging it to the ground and cocooning it in place. Both creatures struggled and squirmed, emitting piteous—and painfully loud—shrieks.

  “That makes it easy.” Beowyn walked up to the blinded one, angling for a beheading strike.

  “Be some good coin.” Isha nodded. “That leather’s worth quite a bit.”

  Bertan headed for the other wyvern by Kitlyn.

  Oona moved in his way. “Please don’t.”

  Kitlyn stood, dusting her hands off. “Don’t? Those things almost ate us.”

  “I know, but…” She cast a pained glance at Beowyn. “It feels wrong to slay something that is helpless. They’re no harm to us now.”

  Beowyn lowered his blade, staring at Oona. “I pity your father. How long will those roots last?”

  “My father?” asked Oona.

  He chuckled. “That look you gave me. No man with a soul could look into those eyes and deny any reasonable request… even unreasonable.”

  Oona glanced at Kitlyn. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing… King Talomir had never acquiesced to her request to give ‘the servant girl’ enough status to be a handmaiden.

  “He said ‘with a soul,’” muttered Kitlyn.

  “You don’t mean that. He wasn’t that bad.” Oona pulled her into a hug.

  Kitlyn sighed. “Maybe. I’m upset with him. He shouldn’t
have poisoned himself. I had so much more I had to say to him. He had so much to answer for.”

  “He is answering for much if he’s in the Banefallow,” whispered Oona. “That is perhaps even too cruel for him.”

  Kitlyn gripped Oona tight, trying not to cry at the thought of her father being ripped apart by spirit wolves over and over… and over. As furious as she was with him about the war, she had still lost her father and had been powerless to stop it.

  “Highness?” Isha approached and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. “How long will those roots hold them?”

  “Long enough.” Kitlyn swallowed, released her grip on Oona, and tried to stand tall and confident despite having tears on her cheeks. “A few hours at least. We should be well out of their sight.”

  “Bah.” Beowyn put his sword away. “Carryin’ two hundred pounds of leather would be a right pain in the”—he glanced at the girls—“something.”

  Apples glanced at the nearer wyvern and tossed his head like a nobleman refusing a cheap wine.

  “Cloud!” shouted Oona. “Cloud?”

  “There.” Keal pointed. “Cowardly thing ain’t he? Pretty though.”

  Oona brushed dirt off her armor. “We don’t have wyverns in Lucernia. He’s never seen one before.”

  “He isn’t a warhorse.” Kitlyn patted Apples’ flank.

  Bertan laughed. “Neither is Beowyn’s.”

  “Aye. This one’s too damn lazy to run.” Beowyn ruffled his new horse’s mane.

  Oona called for Cloud a few more times before the horse cantered over. She hugged him around the neck and spent a few minutes murmuring soothing things. The not-quite-dragons eventually gave up screeching, staring around with wild panic-stricken eyes.

  Maybe they’ll think better of attacking us again.

  She climbed back into the saddle and rode with the group to an opening in the mountainside. Walls of black rock rose straight up to the clouds on both sides of a dirt-floored passage. It hardly looked natural, like the earth had sprouted two mountain ‘teeth’ right next to each other. The width of the canyon varied, but from here, it didn’t seem as though it ever became narrower than about twenty feet.

  “Perhaps we should leave the horses.” Beowyn looked up at the walls. “It could get a bit tight, and the terrain might become impassable for ’em.”

  “Captain Niron can’t keep up too well,” said Isha.

  “Yes. You’re both right. Well, someone will need to keep watch over the horses. I suppose that is me this time.” Niron nodded to Beowyn. “Sergeant.”

  Kitlyn jumped down from her saddle, crouched, and pulled her boots off.

  The soldiers stared at her in confusion.

  “Could be rough ground up ahead… and it’s cold. ’Course I’m just a grunt, and it’s wildly out of my station to even ask the queen why she’s doing something even if it does appear strange.” Bertan dismounted. “But I hope you’re the type of young monarch that appreciates wisdom from age if not status.”

  Kitlyn stood, smiling. “I understand, and appreciate anyone who offers their wisdom in sincerity. My magic draws upon the Alderswood and direct contact with the earth makes it stronger.”

  She stuffed her boots in the saddlebag.

  “You sure you don’t want to bring them in case of rough ground?” asked Bertan.

  “I should be all right. And if we stumble on a field of broken glass, Galfred can carry me.”

  The boy coughed and turned bright red.

  Oona snickered.

  Niron remained on his steed and held Cloud’s reins. The other horses responded to commands except for Beowyn’s, though it seemed inclined to follow the crowd of horses anyway.

  A little bit of magic chased the chill from her toes—and everywhere else. The gloomy, blustery day became as comfortable as a perfect spring afternoon. Beowyn took the lead, heading into the black-walled canyon.

  After about a hundred paces, they waded into a bank of low-lying fog about knee deep. The peculiar mist unnerved the soldiers, Galfred more than the rest. Kitlyn’s connection to the earth allowed her to feel the roots binding the wyverns, revealing them as still secure. She kept the sense of it at the back of her mind, focused more on avoiding putting her foot down on sharp stones, which she sensed with the same magic she’d once used to ‘see’ her surroundings in the pitch dark of Underholm.

  Some minutes later, the wyverns began to thrash against the roots with renewed fervor that verged on panic. Both root bundles tugged harder and harder as if the creatures tried desperately to flee from something that terrified them. Feeling a touch guilty—and not expecting the wyverns to find them in the canyon—she unraveled the roots, releasing them.

  The frenetic shrieking cries of wyverns receded off into the sky.

  “Something is coming from behind us.” As soon as she said it, she stared down at where her thighs vanished in the fog. Dozens of pressure imprints approached from ahead of them, similar to how she could sense through the earth wherever a person stood nearby, though these didn’t feel anywhere near as substantial as people. “…and something is coming from ahead of us.”

  “Something?” asked Beowyn. “I don’t see anything. What did you hear?”

  “I feel it in the ground. Lots of footsteps but too light to be people.”

  Everyone stood in tense silence for about ten seconds before the clatter of bones echoed off the walls in front of them. Oona drew her longsword, as did the soldiers.

  “Skeletons.” Beowyn yanked his great blade from his back-sheath.

  “Niron…” Kitlyn turned to stare toward the canyon exit. “The horses…”

  “Going.” Galfred sprinted off.

  Beowyn, Isha, Frith, and Keal formed a line.

  A mass of skeletons rushed out of a standing wall of fog about fifty feet ahead, appearing like specters from thin air. Some wore armored helms, some had tattered fragments of clothing or armor dangling from their bones. All carried rusted blades of varying length.

  Kitlyn drew a melon-sized rock out of the wall to her right and hurled it into the approaching fiends. A comet of black surrounded in brilliant emerald fire smashed through them with a rippling crunch like dozens of branches snapping in rapid succession. The stone barely slowed, punching its way out the other end of the crowd. Bones flew in random directions and a handful of skeletons blasted completely apart.

  The front line of skeletal warriors crashed into the soldiers with a disharmonic ring of steel on steel.

  “Not going!” shouted Galfred from behind. He ran back into view, chased by a far larger mass of skeletons, and skidded to a stop by Oona before turning to face the oncoming wave of dried bones.

  One against over a hundred.

  Kitlyn glanced rapidly back and forth between the two groups trapping them. Bad to fight two armies at once. She faced to the rear, dug her toes into the dirt, and opened the core of magic in her chest. When she’d awakened Omun, she’d been terrified. Her emotion almost reached the same peak, but rather than fear, her desperate need to protect Oona surged out in spirals of green energy.

  She pictured a barrier forming and rising, growing, blocking off the entire chasm from wall to wall. Black stone rose from the fog, lifting at a ponderous pace. The skeletons charged into it, half a dozen spilling over and landing flat before the wall became too high for them to hurdle. A few more climbed and leapt to the ground, but she pushed it higher until the continuous scratching of bone on rock announced they could no longer get past it.

  Galfred, Bertan, and Oona met the skeletons that made it past the wall. Oona swung her longsword in a two-handed grip, but didn’t seem ready for the skeleton’s speed. It dodged her strike and pressed the attack forcing her to focus entirely on defense, giving ground but not suffering a wound. The first skeleton to reach Galfred stabbed him in the thigh, but he continued swinging, driving his sword into its chest with enough force to smash it apart.

  Bertan whirled into a frenzy of slashing and kicking, te
aring down three skeletons in the few seconds it took Kitlyn to cease concentrating on making the wall bigger and summon another fist-sized stone. She launched it at the skeleton menacing Oona, blasting it to pieces. The second it went down, Oona lunged to her left and whacked her sword into the spine of another one attacking Galfred, shaving off a few ribs. It ignored her, continuing to swing at him. Shouts of anger, pain, and triumph arose behind her from the soldiers fighting the forward group.

  Kitlyn spun, waving her arms while glowing spots of green energy formed in her hands. She raised her arms with a rapid thrust, drawing a rock spire up from the ground that smashed two skeletons trading swings with Bertan. Free of their assault, he lunged and grabbed the ribs of the next one near him and pulled it down while ramming his knee into its skull, sending it flying. The headless bones continued twitching until he stomped on its spine a few times.

  Oona drew back and chopped at the same skeleton she’d been fighting again, slicing its left leg off at the hip. It careened over sideways, finally took notice of her, and began crawling across the ground at her, barely visible in the fog. Oona shrieked and jumped back while slicing downward. A hollow clonk with a hint of crunch accompanied her blade stopping. She swung again and again, emitting a series of war cries each time.

  Galfred punched another skeleton in the sternum, knocking it back far enough that he had the room to round his blade in a solid blow that shattered it to loose bones. Bertan smashed the last one in the rear group, his attack disintegrating its spine the same instant the fiend’s rusty sword clanged against Galfred’s shiny one.

  Oona kept chopping at the fog in a repetitive series of clanking crunches.

  “It’s dead, highness,” said Galfred.

  “Of course it’s dead!” She swung twice more. “It’s bones.”

  “I mean… It’s destroyed.” He sighed at his leg. “Ouch.”

  Kitlyn spun to face the front of the group and lobbed rock after rock, winging them around the soldiers. The enchanted stones smashed anywhere from two to four skeletons at a time, blasting bones far into the air. Between her magic and the ex-deserters’ blades, in under a minute, the only skeletons still moving stood behind the wall, clawing, hissing, and scratching.