by Dante King
Bone Lord (Book 1)
Dante King
Copyright © 2019 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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About the Author
Chapter One
Threads of fate, the sum of all a man was, all he is, and all he could be.
Sometimes, the gods would entwine their own fate threads with those of mortal men, granting men of choice supernatural abilities. But that was long ago, and the only god left was a real prick. The God of Light. The God of All That Is Holy. The God of Chastity and Virtue and all the other things that turned a real man’s stomach.
He had no interest in giving me power. I’d asked him, and he’d promptly told me to fuck off before sending a squad of his lackeys after me.
Still, I’d survived since then by evading every one of his holy assholes. They were stronger than me, and always would be. At least until I found myself another god.
But a mortal man made do with what he had. Or with what he could take. In my case, it was Grave Oath, a powerful weapon, forged in the Underworld by an archlich, blessed by the hand of the Death Goddess herself.
Or so the weapon’s previous owner had said before I’d killed him with it.
For me, it was nothing more than a dagger that could rend bone and steel alike. And that wasn’t its only trick, as the soldiers who’d joined me in the unlit crypt would soon discover.
Three armed and armored soldiers rounded the bend, their torches flickering over the enchanted wards carved into the walls. I was hidden to them as they split in different directions and scoured the chamber. The tombs were all empty, the burial treasures taken centuries ago by the first people to dive the crypt.
I held my breath as a soldier approached my trap. He stepped on the triggering mechanism, and the metal spikes bit into his right leg.
“Fuck!” the poor bastard roared, grabbing his leg and clawing at the vices.
The second soldier just kept scanning the darkness further down the passageway, and the largest soldier ignored his companion’s pleas for help and knelt to inspect my trap. “This isn’t old,” he said as he drew a cutlass the size of a claymore. “Looks like we’ve got company. Someone else must have caught word of the skull.”
The weathered blade reflected the light of his torch and further illuminated the rest of his body. He was a giant, and probably a real one at that.
He would prove the most trouble, so I’d neutralize him first.
I drew Grave Oath and crept toward the soldiers with soundless, slow steps, taking care not to leave the concealment of the shadows left untouched by their torches.
“Would one of you fuckers help me!” the trapped man yelled as he made more futile attempts to pull his leg free of the mental pincers.
“You walked into it,” the second soldier said, having turned back while inspecting the opposite side. “Get yourself out of it.”
The man with the cutlass started to chuckle, but I was already behind him, I slipped my dagger through the gap in his leather breastplate and skewered his right kidney. From any other blade, he might have died after 20 minutes, once he bled out, but Grave Oath was different. Whether it was the special metal or the Death Goddess’ enchantment didn’t matter to me. Nor did it matter to my new friend. The soul was torn from his body, and what landed on the crypt floor was a withered husk of a man, a hundred pounds lighter and looking a hundred years older.
“You,” the trapped soldier said as he reached out to grab me.
I ducked beneath his arms, circled behind him, and slashed the hamstring of his uninjured leg. His screams filled my ears as the other soldier charged me. Before he could bring his ax down to slice me open, I flung a handful of throwing stars. The first hit him in the heart, the second punctured his throat, and the third struck him between the eyes.
I needed to claim his life before it escaped his body, so I drove Grave Oath through his heart. After the blade had taken his soul, I returned to the man I’d left screaming in my trap.
“Your friend over there mentioned a skull.” I lifted the soldier’s chin with the point of my dagger. He had stopped screaming and now looked at me with wide eyes.
“You’re the Soultaker…” His voice quavered, and he let out a fearful sob. “Please, kill me any other way. I beg you, don’t use the dagger.”
“You work for Sergeant Rollar, don’t you?”
The man made a small nod, careful not to press into my dagger.
“Then you’re responsible for what I found two day’s stride south of here.”
It wasn’t a question. I knew this soldier was part of a battalion that had pillaged the village. It was why I’d followed them. I’d intended on getting justice for the innocents they’d killed.
“We were just having a little fun. What’s a few peasants to you? You’re the Soultaker.”
“Tell me of the skull. What does Rollar want with it?”
“He thinks it belonged to the Death Goddess before she was killed. I never believed it was here. I was just happy to get away from the camp.”
The skull of the Death Goddess? Even if it were a fake, I could sell it in the nearest trade outpost. Or I could visit Rollar and see how much he was willing to pay for it.
“Thank you for that information. It seems coming here wasn’t a bad idea after all.”
I shoved my dagger upward, and the blade went clean through his jaw and cut into his brain. I watched his eyes milk over and his head shrivel like an apple left in the sun for too long.
Most people had heard of me, and they thought I was a crooked bastard who’d kill anyone if the price was right. But I had principles. Most people were deserving of death, so the rumors came close to the truth. These three, though, I’d killed for free.
I retrieved my throwing stars before I looted the corpses and found a handful of copper coins. Their weapons and armor were of no use to me.
The mention of the skull had piqued my interest, so I descended further into the crypt. Grave Oath emitted a dull light, negating the need for torches to illuminate my path. Empty plinths flanked me as I trod down the narrow passageway and arrived in a square chamber. The room was entirely empty.
Except chambers inside a crypt were never truly empty.
Nor were the traps hidden without some sign that a particularly perceptive diver could spot. The whole point of the burial crypts was to reward those brave—and intelligent—enough to enter them. The brave ones tended not to last long, but the smart ones would be remunerated a hundredfold for their efforts.
I stayed in the passageway while I inspected the walls for some kind of magical proximity trigger. I passed over the mosaics of the Death Goddess’ rise to divinity and her subsequent fall but found no indication of glyphs used for enchanted traps. I flicked a throwing star onto the tile in front of me
and waited a few seconds.
Nothing.
I reached out with my foot and pressed on the tile before leaping back. A heavy cleaver swung onto the spot I’d touched, its edge gleaming in the light of my dagger. The massive blade swung back and forth a few more times before it started slowing down and finally stopped moving.
A sound like an ax grinding against an anvil came from behind me, and I ducked. A spear the size of a ballista bolt raced over my head and crashed into the wall behind the dais.
“Fucking crypts,” I muttered. “There’s a reason I never enter them.”
I looked to where the spear had embedded itself and saw that the wall had been broken through. Bricks were scattered on the ground, and a hidden room lay behind the wall. My curiosity got the better of me, so I continued checking for traps until I’d triggered another half dozen cleavers and a particularly terrifying trap that rained metal spikes from the ceiling.
It didn’t take long though, and soon, I was crawling through the hole in the wall and into the small room. Only a single font of blessing stood in the center. Inside it was the clearest water I’d ever seen.
“Why are you here?” I asked the font.
Everything in a crypt served a purpose. Unlike the burial chambers in the Southern Isles, where I came from, these structures were made not for the dead but for the people who wished to claim their prizes. Every item, every image, and every relic was purposefully placed to help a diver progress through the crypt.
I studied the font, staring into its crystalline surface. I was greeted by the reflection of a man of about 30, with silver-white hair and sunken eyes. Stubble peppered his gaunt face.
“Shit,” I said. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Which was mostly true. I’d been pursuing Rollar and his men for almost a week, hoping they would lead me to some kind of prize. I’d heard the sergeant had abandoned his post along with half his soldiers. Apparently, he’d found a codex filled with locations of lost artifacts, and he’d set off across the continent to find them.
Was this font one such artifact?
I removed my left glove and held it above the font. The liquid looked like water, but one could never be too sure. I slowly lowered my glove, and as soon as it touched the liquid, bubbles started to form around it. In an instant, the hissing, broiling water had consumed it.
“Acid water. What’s the point of you?”
As soon as I muttered the words, the image of a troll entered my mind. I whirled around with my dagger raised, half expecting one to leap from the hidden room and attack. But none came.
There were other creatures who were vulnerable to acid, but those hadn’t been seen for centuries. Not since the Death Goddess had truly fallen and the very thing she served had claimed her.
Out of nowhere, the mosaic on the wall nearest to me started to move. The tiny tiles peeled off the walls of their own accord and fell to the floor. They collected together, swirling and seemingly attracting and repelling each other in a fixed pattern, building upward piece by piece until a woman was standing before me. She was a patchwork of tiles, but her identity was clear.
Isu. The Death Goddess.
“Vance,” she said. Her voice was like icy fingers trailing down my spine. She smiled, her teeth whiter than the wedding gown of a paladin’s wife.
I glanced at the acid. If this was truly the Death Goddess, then chucking the contents of the font over head was a bad idea. If she was merely an imitation, however, not throwing the font right away could lead to my immediate death.
Still, I’d been searching for three years for some sign that a god might have survived. I couldn’t risk losing this chance.
“You have finally come to me,” the woman said as she approached me. She wore a black gown of spidersilk—all made of tiles—showcasing her ample curves. Twin horns curved up from her head, her facial features a visage of artistic perfection.
“You’re Isu,” I said with a slight upward inflection, positioning myself in front of the font so that I could push it toward her if necessary.
It would be difficult to flee back through the crypt without triggering traps. I’d been careful, but there was always a slight chance I’d missed one. Normally, I’d take twice as long to leave a crypt as I did to reach its lowest point, but a mosaic undead woman chasing me would mean a hasty—and hence, risky—exit.
“How else would I know your name—or know that you have slain 36 souls in my name?” She was only an arm's length away from me now, and I could make out each individual tile that made up her body.
“I’ve never prayed to you.”
“There was one time,” she whispered, her fingers touching my chin and forcing me to look into her eyes. “In Vargos.”
My heart constricted as I remembered my room in the Vargos inn the night I’d stolen Grave Oath.
“Yes, now you remember. You asked for my help. You hoped I would hear you and entwine your fate thread with my own. I was too weak to grant you this request, but not too weak to hear your prayer. Nor was I too weak to lead you to the path of that filthy merchant. His was the first soul to enter my dagger for many, many years. With each new soul you retrieved, I grew stronger—until I was strong enough to lead you here.”
“No one leads me,” I said through my teeth. “I came here of my own free will.”
“Of course you did. I merely nudged you in the right direction. Now, the choice is yours.” She gestured at the font. “Will you kill me, kill yourself, or walk away?”
The first sounded like a bad idea if she was truly the goddess—and I figured her knowledge of Vargos and the merchant meant she was at least some form of divinity, if not Isu herself.
Leaving the crypt now would mean throwing away an opportunity I’d longed for ever since I’d met with the God of Light in his Golden Temple. He’d cast me out, laughing all the while. I’d always wondered why he’d wanted me dead. Perhaps this was the reason why? It was said the God of Light could see into the future. Had he foreseen this meeting between me and Isu?
But the goddess had only given me three choices, and none of them involved joining her or allowing our Fate Threads to cross. The only other choice I hadn’t yet considered, because it seemed so foolish, was killing myself. What purpose would it serve?
Except, if this woman was truly Isu, then she could always resurrect me. Would I come back to this world as a zombie? A skeleton? Or perhaps even a lich?
I looked up and met her stare. Her pupils were as black as the flags hanging from Deadman’s Cove. I almost lost myself in their depths. I shook myself out of it and opened my mouth to ask a question, but she silenced me with a finger held gently against my lips. Her touch was colder than a frost dragon’s breath. I couldn’t pull away from the finger, and my knees shook as I struggled to keep myself from stumbling.
“I can give you no answers,” she said. “First, make your choice. Kill me, kill yourself, or leave this place.”
I pondered killing myself. I had the acid in front of me. It would be easy. But was that how I was meant to solve the riddle?
No, the acid was meant for killing the mosaic woman. Undead were not nearly as vulnerable to acid as trolls, but it was one of the only elements they were at least a little vulnerable to. Northern crypts were not impossible to conquer, and, for that reason, each item only served one purpose. If this woman was Isu, then the font was the only way I could kill her. So, killing the Death Goddess was the singular purpose of the font.
The woman was obviously trying to test me, but what if I could test her?
I turned my dagger until the blade’s point was touching the center of my chest. I studied the mosaic woman’s expression and noticed her lips curl slightly upward—either the expression of a victorious trickster, or the smile of a woman who was proud of someone who’d deciphered her riddle.
I pushed the blade a little closer, and its sharp tip pierced my leather cuirass. I didn’t take my eyes off the woman, and her smile grew eve
r so slightly as she leaned closer to me.
In a flash of movement, I turned the blade in the other direction, grabbed the woman, whirled her around, and pressed my dagger against her throat.
“You know, I’ve always hated riddles,” I said. “Now, if you are Isu, then you are weak. You were meant to be dead, but this dagger has made you stronger. Strong enough to take physical form on this plane. I bet it would really ruin your millennium if I killed you with precisely this weapon, wouldn’t it?”
“You please me,” she whispered, as she licked her lips and craned her neck backward a little. “I was waiting for you to surprise me. Now, would you like our fates to cross?”
I didn’t remove my blade. I didn’t trust her in the slightest.
“Of course. Isu would know that I have been searching the continent for a god who survived. All I found were useless relics, forgotten temples, and a whole lot of nothing. This crypt was my last attempt. All of Rollar’s expeditions have failed. And I know; I have followed him and his men on every last one of them.”
“And yet you have been holding a relic in your hand ever since you left Vargos. And you are face-to-face with the divine you have sought all this time. Put away your blade, and I will give you what you desire.”
Another test? Or the truth?
I shoved her forward with a twist, and she stumbled and straightened up again at a few feet from me. She still looked composed, though, and looked at me as she had when she first appeared. I kept my dagger raised and my hand on a throwing star at my belt. If she made even a hint of an offensive movement, I would bury a star in her forehead.
“Where’s the skull?” I asked. “That’s what Rollar’s men were searching this crypt for.”