A Tide of Bones

by Ben Stovall

  “I was,” he said. The woman was silent for a minute, considering her words. Inaru couldn’t help but notice her accent. It was southern, yet different to that of Joravyn’s. She spoke quickly and smoothly, almost like a song. It reminded Inaru of the few times he’d heard Fanrinn speak Elvain.

  “I … I had a job posted on it—er, have, I suppose. No one has contacted me about it. You …” she hesitated, unsure if she should ask more of him, he assumed. She bit her lip, an action Inaru had not seen happen often; though his contact with humans had been limited to Joravyn and Ulthan lately, and they didn’t seem the type. She inhaled deeply. “I was hoping, after you helped me back there, that maybe you would consider taking it.”

  Inaru mulled about the thought in his head. It must have been somewhat dangerous, if this woman owned a sword but did not want to go about it on her own. Her dark hair moved in front of her face as she tilted her head, weight shifting to one foot. “What is the job?”

  “Wait, really?” She was genuinely astonished.

  “I’ll have to see if my comrades are okay with what it is, which requires knowing the specifics, but I believe we will be able to help you, yes.” The orc smiled as he watched her expression light up.

  “It’s about my father, mister Inaru—”

  “Please, just Inaru.”

  “Oh – Inaru. He lives a bit to the west and sends me letters every other week. I haven’t heard from him in nearly two months,” she admitted.

  “Ah, and you wish to see him again, to make sure he is okay?” Inaru asked.

  “Yes. It’s been a couple years since I’ve taken the trip, but I know the way. I just don’t know how much the road has changed since then.”

  “Follow me,” he said. He led her inside, grabbing an empty chair from a table, and walking toward the corner where his friends sat. Joravyn seemed to have been drunk under the table, with Tyrdun having a matching number of cups around him. Inaru smiled around his tusks. He set the chair down next to his, moving Joravyn’s chair a little and stirring the man awake.

  “The tavern’s not closing already, is it?” Joravyn asked rubbing his eyes. Inaru’s chair groaned under his weight as he reclaimed it, and he gestured to the seat next to him with an open palm. Lytha lowered into it.

  “How long has Joravyn been out?” he asked.

  “Two minutes at most,” laughed Tyrdun. “Wagered he could drink more than me—and I thought wizards were smart!”

  “Well, he had you buy the drinks,” Ellaria smirked. Tyrdun considered the idea for a moment before his eyes grew wide. Joravyn only smiled.

  “Who’s this, Inaru?” Ulthan asked grinning at his acquaintance.

  “Her name is Lytha. She has a job for us.”

  “I thought ye were headed to the board?” Tyrdun asked incredulously, his eyes glued to the dark-skinned woman. Inaru had thought Lytha quite pretty—for a human—but he didn’t know she’d have such an effect on the table.

  “I was, but—”

  “He found me on his way; I’d been attacked by some thieves and disarmed. Inaru saved me,” Lytha answered before he could.

  Ulthan looked on the orc with pride, and Inaru couldn’t help but smile in response. “On the way back, she told me of a job she had.” Lytha explained the situation as she had outside, but more relaxed and eloquently. Inaru assumed it was because he had already agreed that they’d help. Probably.

  “To the west, you said? How far?” Joravyn asked.

  “The cabin he lives in isn’t a very long journey, near Vakal’s Ridge. I know a shortcut that would have us there within the week. As for coin, I don’t have much, but—”

  “Us?” Fanrinn asked. Where Inaru had understood she meant to accompany them immediately, it seemed to have slipped the elf’s mind. He hoped.

  “I intended to be along, yes,” she said, searching. She looked to Inaru.

  “I told her she would be able to come,” Inaru answered, setting her at ease.

  “You what? You already told her we’d do this?” Fanrinn asked, his words heated. Whether from ale, frustration, or weariness Inaru could only guess. The elf’s visage was locked in a slight scowl.

  “No. I did not make that decision for you.” Inaru felt her eyes on him, and added, “I intend to see this done, and I hope you will all be along, as we have spent the better part of a day reminiscing, but I only assured her I would go.”

  Silence hung over the group. Tyrdun was the first to speak. “Of course I’m with ye, friend. Don’t want to leave you to this task alone.”

  “While he wouldn’t exactly be alone, I agree. We have come back together only so recently; I would not see us all split again so soon,” Ulthan said, and he nodded at Inaru, smiling.

  “We’ll have you at your father’s in no time, Vainyri,” Joravyn promised.

  “There’s no way I’m not going!” Ellaria nearly shouted.

  Fanrinn pouted and crossed his arms but said no more. Inaru knew that the elf would accompany them, even if only to keep an eye on his sister.

  “We’ll leave first thing in the morning, then,” Ulthan said.

  “But first,” said Tyrdun, “a round to celebrate! To Red Watch!” They all raised their cups and echoed the words, some ale and wine spilling onto the table before drinking them down. It was, without a doubt, the best cup of swill Inaru ever had.

  Two

  Ellaria tended to the fore of the group, eyeing the woods, itching to draw her bow and fight something. Excitement bubbled within her. She couldn’t believe it – she was finally on an adventure! Every step renewed her joy, a smile finding a home on her face causing her cheeks to ache.

  A crack broke among the overgrowth. She turned in time to watch a deer bound across the fallen leaves and grass, a melody sounding under its hooves as it danced away.

  “Don’t see that every day,” Joravyn said, startling her with his sudden presence. “Surprised it got so close to the road.”

  “I don’t know if this qualifies as a road,” she quipped.

  He snorted. The trail was little more than worn grass – though it was wide enough for them to walk three abreast. They began to walk once more, the mage keeping pace with her.

  “So, Joravyn,” Ellaria said.

  He eyed her, waiting.

  “How does your magic … work?”

  “Haven’t met any other mages?” he asked.

  She shook her head. In truth, there had probably been one or two – but they’d been in the city and likely would’ve brushed her off if she’d questioned them.

  Joravyn grinned. “Pretty simple, really. Arcane energy is all around us. I just draw it in and turn it into fireballs and lightning. Or whatever else.”

  “Just like that?”

  He beamed. “Just like that.”

  “Can anybody do it?”

  The smile faded. “No.” Ellaria deflated. “The talent is mostly tucked away in bloodlines. Everyone’s got a bit of connection to it, but not enough for anything meaningful.”

  “Oh,” she said, frowning.

  “I mean, if you really wanted, you could probably learn some cantrips or simple spells. But it’d be a lot of work and study. And most colleges and academies wouldn’t take you on unless you showed promise. Or had a lot of coin.”

  She sighed. “Right.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” the mage offered, “I probably couldn’t pull that bowstring back if my life depended on it. So, you’ve got that on me.” He winked.

  She rolled her shoulders. “It’s something. I guess.”

  Joravyn laughed.

  Rolling her eyes, but grinning herself, Ellaria turned to the others, walking backwards. Inaru’s face was cut into the same goofy grin he’d worn all morning as he looked over his new dragonscale armor. The smith in Souhal, Virdan, had worked it unbelievably well. What few scales they’d been allowed from the hoard covered Inaru’s chest under a loose crimson tunic, the long sleeves of which were tucked into scaled bracers. His hand
s were bare as before, and his boots and pants were unchanged. He continually rubbed the bracers, smiling at the feel of the textile.

  Lytha was keeping up, but it was apparent she wasn’t used to walking this much distance in a day. Much less in the four hours since they’d left the city.

  “Hey, Ulthan,” Ellaria called.

  “Hm?”

  “You guys have been around her for years now, right? What kind of monsters live in these woods?”

  “Oh,” the auzixian paused, considering his answer. “Well, basilisks further southwest, in the hills before Achor. Heard rumor of unicorns—never seen one, though. Goblins, of course. Every so often a skalvan will come down from the mountains. Uhh …”

  “Ogres,” Lytha added. “Last time I made this journey I saw a few. Two … maybe three. But they were much further west.”

  “Disgusting creatures,” Joravyn muttered. Ellaria had to agree. They were a plague upon whatever land they found themselves in. They were hulking, ravenous, idiotic, nasty beasts, their bodies covered in thick fur matted with blood and mud and feces. They stood anywhere from eight to ten feet tall, maturing into adulthood at the age of five. “If I ever see another one again, it’ll be too soon.”

  “Agreed,” Ulthan sighed. “But, they shouldn’t be any trouble for us.”

  “Depends on how many there are,” Fanrinn said pointedly.

  “What about … ooh! Are there gryphons around here?”

  The paladin paused, then shrugged. “It’s possible. They’re skittish by nature—and they’ve had negative experiences with humans overall. We probably wouldn’t see any.”

  “Most live in Ulen anyway,” Joravyn added. “There’s a rumor in the empire that the elves use them for war.”

  “Sounds … devastating,” Inaru said. “A mage on a flying beast … wouldn’t even be fair.”

  Fanrinn’s mouth twitched into a frown. “Who said war was fair?”

  The orc shrugged.

  Ulthan turned toward Ellaria, keeping his strides even. “Is there a reason for these inquiries?”

  Ellaria laughed. “I just … I want to fight a monster!”

  The paladin snorted.

  Fanrinn glared at his sister. “This isn’t a game, Ellaria. They’re dangerous. Everything out here is. You could die. We all could.”

  Ellaria’s features fell into a frown, then a slight scowl. But she said nothing. Fanrinn scoffed, and hustled forward, taking point. Inaru fell in stride with Ellaria. “He isn’t wrong,” the orc said, his voice low, “but excitement … it’s normal. Just be careful and follow directions when the time comes, alright?”

  Ellaria nodded. “I just wish he didn’t look at me as a child. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Inaru laughed at that. “You will always be his little sister. He’ll never stop protecting you.”

  “I don’t need him to.”

  The orc beamed. “No. I don’t think you do.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The members of Red Watch stepped into a large clearing, the path bending through its edge and returning to the forest. A shallow hill dominated the circle, its surface covered in bell-headed flowers of a white hue that were blue at the edges. “Queen’s Bloom,” Joravyn said. “Any alchemical uses, Stitches?”

  “Not really … well, it’s used in perfumes,” the elf answered.

  Ellaria arched a brow at that. “Any particular reason you know that, brother?”

  The medic turned away sharply, his cheeks turning red. The mage had to suppress a laugh. Yes, there is, Ellaria. If only I could remember her name! Joravyn nearly burst again.

  “Alright, alright,” Ulthan called. “We’ll stop here, eat lunch, then get moving again.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” Tyrdun replied.

  Joravyn ate quicker than everyone else, and before long he stepped away from the clearing to escape the chatter.

  He didn’t make it far into the woods before he found an altar of some kind. A tall stone monolith stood, stretching into the sky about five feet, a circle of other stones around its base two feet up. A cloth had been tied around the standing rock toward its apex, dancing in the gale that blew by. Runes were etched into the surface, but they weren’t a language the mage knew—much to his surprise. And chagrin.

  But … something told him it was a monument. A site dedicated to a hero, or an army. A place of eternal remembrance. He reached into his bag and produced a single gandari crown setting it on the stone circle. Don’t know if this was worth much in your time, but … well, they’re worth a lot now.

  “Joravyn! Ye almost done? We’re ready to move!” Tyrdun’s unmistakable voice called out.

  “Almost, Stonehammer. Sorry.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Ulthan clenched his jaw tight in a grimace. Moments after they’d found a good clearing to camp in for the evening, the band saw billowing smoke raise from the south. Ellaria volunteered to scout the source and had been gone for some time. Whether it was beasts, humans, or just a fire, the group could not set up camp until they were sure the area would be safe throughout the night. Ulthan was tense, and Fanrinn’s constant pacing wasn’t helping. A branch cracked suddenly from the overgrowth, and Ellaria stepped out. She spoke only one word: “Ogres.”

  “How many?” Tyrdun asked.

  Ellaria shrugged. “Don’t know. They’ve got a log wall around their camp. Could be ten. Could be forty.”

  Ulthan sighed. It seemed the ogres Lytha had seen set up a more permanent residence since her last trip. He shook his head grimly. Ulthan had been honest before, a few ogres would be no trouble, surely; an entire encampment … Regardless, they needed to clear them out. He looked over his comrades, thinking. “Alright,” Ulthan began, “this is what we’ll do: Inaru, Tyrdun, and I will be the vanguard. We’ll march in and hold the attention of the ogres. Ellaria, Fanrinn, Joravyn, you’ll all stay at the back and support us from there.” Ulthan looked to Lytha and remembered how she’d met Inaru. Defeated by three lone men in a street using your sword? Ogres will have you dead before we know it. The paladin looked to his bag and smirked. He picked the sack up off the ground and withdrew a crossbow and a small quiver of bolts from within, striding over to Lytha. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”

  “Yeah, it’s a crossbow. I’ve seen them.”

  “Do you know how to use one?” he asked.

  “I,” she paused, “I’ve used one before, but not very much. And it’s been a long time.”

  “It’s quite simple, really. All you have to do is point this tip at an enemy—in this case an ogre, very hard to miss them—and pull the trigger here,” he signaled to the small metal that could so easily cause so much damage. “I want you to stick to ogres in the back, and ones off on their own. Until you’ve had some experience and proper training, the risk that you hit one of us is one we can’t take, but we’ll need your help to take the camp down.” Lytha nodded as he handed them over to her. “Stay close to Fanrinn and the others, they’ll keep you safe.”

  The paladin turned back around to his comrades, “Does everyone understand the plan?” The party all nodded. “Very well.” He felt the excitement in his bones. “Ellaria, lead us to the ogres.”

  Darkness engulfed the boughs above as the sun finally set. Ulthan cursed under his breath, eyes darting to the now wholly black shield. Fireball would’ve come in handy.

  The group spilled out into a clearing, and a large spiked log wall jabbed up into the sky, a few lone torches held on to its exterior. The stakes were haphazard and uneven. They’d begun to sag from their own weight. Despite that, a roughshod gate was the only entrance to the camp, and a perimeter of stumps and dirt was all that stood before them. Smoke rose from the protected center, spilling out into the forest around them as the frigid winds whipped across the clearing. The air stank of grime and muck, much to the party’s revulsion. They were another seventy feet from the palisade proper. He looked over the wall’s top reaches, and saw a single spire rose abo
ve it.

  “Ellaria,” he whispered, “do you see anything atop that tower?”

  She squinted and then nodded. “One ogre, but he’s asleep. They won’t know we’re here if we keep quiet.”

  Ulthan nodded. He motioned Tyrdun and Inaru to the fore with him, and the three all crouched low as they made their way through the stumps. The others gave them about thirty feet of distance before doing the same. Ulthan held his fist up, signaling them all to stop, as he spied a lone wire between two stumps, shining in the light. He muttered a silent thanks to Solustun and pointed it out. Tyrdun tapped his shoulder and pointed at a large boulder hoisted above a small ramp at the base of the wall. Ulthan had to stifle a laugh. That boulder would smash the ramp and hit the ground. Of course, that was still unacceptable, as the crash would alert the camp that something was outside. He motioned the back group and Fanrinn nodded, understanding the warning. The three of them stepped over the wire.

  Ulthan and his allies reached the large gate in the wall. This is it. The auzixian held on to the calm a moment longer. It wasn’t long before the others were close by, ready to rush inside.

  They threw the gates open and charged with the air of surprise, managing to take two of the large hairy monsters down in the chaos. The camp was bigger than the paladin had assumed from outside its walls. A bonfire blazed in the middle where the ogres began to jump to their feet and rush at the intruders. Further inside, against the back wall was a large roof of hides that covered a makeshift hovel that only had two walls. On the left was another tower still being built, and a small pool of water, brackish-looking and overgrown with moss. Ulthan tried to take a quick count of the ogres that were headed their way, but the beasts looked so similar he kept losing track around eight. They hit the charging ogres and demanded their attention while their ranged group to spread around to flank.

  Tyrdun met them first, mace slamming into the leg of one, causing it to fall. Inaru slammed both of his axes into another, before ripping them out in opposite ways, certainly leaving it dead. Ulthan pushed his sword through an ogre but missed his mark and didn’t kill the monster immediately. The ogre fell to its knees in front of him, and the paladin slammed its head hard with his shield, causing it to slip off his blade and onto the ground where it would surely bleed out. He heard a thud hit the ground behind him, and assumed it was the ogre who had been on the tower; though he could not spare the second to look. One of the beasts with a massive club brought it down to bear, and the paladin blocked it with his shield, slamming it into the ogre’s weapon, forcing the wretch to drop it. Ulthan slashed his blade in a wide upward arc, cutting into the ogre’s throat, its blood splashing onto his armor. He looked over to Inaru, who was preoccupied with two of the beasts and didn’t see the third on his left, who held its club high in the air. Ulthan reached out with his shield, but he was too far to block the hit. The ogre roared as it brought the club into a downward strike and then—