Bone Lord 3

by Dante King

  The ground beneath our feet trembled as the massive drawbridge finally touched down, leaving the gates of the fortress wide open. Five hulking Jotunn warriors emerged, gripping axes and clubs, eager grimaces of murderous intent on their ugly faces.

  There would be a slaughter tonight, all right, but they would be on the receiving end.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The field was well-lit with our bonfires, so the Frost Giants had no trouble seeing us. With a roar, their jog turned into a full-on sprint. The ground beneath our feet was shaking with the intensity of their charge, but still I held out as they bore down on us. Not yet, not yet…

  They came to within 150 yards. A few seconds later, it was 100. Still we held fast. At 50 yards, that was the time. I closed my eyes and blasted out my order to the undead Frost Giants and the rest of my undead troops—every single one of whom was submerged beneath the black waters of the moat, hiding right under the noses of Engroth and his warriors.

  I had positioned a number of undead Frost Giants right under the drawbridge. The moment my orders entered their minds, they reared up out of the water, grabbing the drawbridge and holding it open.

  Then, the rest of the army surged out of the black waters.

  I opened my eyes, my heart pounding with vicious excitement and triumph. My troops climbed up and streamed into the castle by the thousands, weapons gleaming in the light of the bonfires. Up on the battlements, Engroth’s jaw dropped as sheer surprise was writ plainly across the faces of all the other drunk Jotunn up there.

  “R-raise the drawbridge. Hurry!” Engroth howled.

  The Jotunn inside the castle cranked the wheels to raise the drawbridge, but they were no match for my undead Frost Giants. The floodgates had been opened.

  “Charge!” I kicked Fang into a charge and hurtled toward the five Jotunn, who now skidded to a halt, eyes wide and mouths agape.

  War cries erupted behind me as my party followed. I drew the power of my skeletons into the chain of my kusarigama, whirling it in faster and faster arcs around my head. These Frost Giant motherfuckers were huge, but with the power of 50 skeletons all concentrated in my chain, I’d hit them harder than even the biggest Jotunn ever could.

  To my right, Rollar surged forward on his direbear, the usually huge animal looking like a puppy when compared to the Jotunn. But as big as the Frost Giants were, blasts of thunder from Rollar’s enchanted war hammer would knock them off their feet. Mur was sprinting along ahead, propelled by a raging lust for vengeance against the warriors who had killed his brothers and his friends. He smashed into the leading Jotunn, engaging two of them simultaneously with his huge axe, hacking and slashing with a manic fury and beating them back with ease.

  Fang roared and launched himself into a leap at the nearest giant. My zombie lizard may have been a little smaller than the Frost Giants, but his weight and speed contributed to our tremendous momentum. I lashed the end of my kusarigama chain into the Jotunn’s chest, and the full force of 50 skeletons hitting him in one concentrated point hurled him off his feet, crushing his chest in the process and sending him flying through the air.

  He landed on his back. A second later, Fang and I landed on top of him. Without delay, Fang tore the giant’s throat out with his jaws before charging onward toward the castle gates, leaving the huge blood-spurting corpse jerking on the ground.

  With that, I had killed my first Frost Giant.

  The defenders at the castle had now realized that they had no option but to fight, so they were racing down off the battlements to mount some sort of defense against my undead army. The Jotunn in action were a sight to behold. They fought with precision and fury, even though their coordination was off and their reflexes were slower than if they’d been sober.

  One particularly huge Jotunn was storming through, sweeping his stone club in massive arcs, roaring as he smashed a path through the swarming undead. With each scooping blow of his club, he sent dozens of skeletons and zombies flying upward and outward in all directions.

  I needed to take this son of a bitch down immediately, but there were too many undead swarming him. Even Fang couldn’t find room to attack him.

  But I could.

  I jumped off Fang, leaving him to his own violent pursuits—he always had a great time in battles, the rascal. I strode through the chaos of warring troops, calmly dodging, ducking under, or jumping over wild swings of Jotunn clubs and axes. If a single enemy weapon had connected, it would have popped my whole body like a ripe pumpkin. I tucked my kusarigama into its sheath on my back; my Plague Fists would be a more suitable weapon to use on this Frost Giant. Once I’d kicked his ass, I would stab Grave Oath through his eyeball. Sucking out a few Frost Giant souls would give me a generous skill boost, I figured.

  I sucked the power of old Death up through the ground, and it turned my fists from their usual flesh tone to an eerie gray. There was plenty of Death power for me to suck in here—many skeletons of long-dead Frost Giants, as well as tens of thousands of human bodies, the people the Jotunn had eaten over millennia.

  My fists pulsing with Plague power, I jumped over one of my downed zombie barbarians, his form turned into a grisly, almost unrecognizable lump of pulverized flesh.

  “Hey, asshole!” I yelled at the giant. “Down here! You think you have what it takes to tangle with a god? Bring it on, you ugly motherfucker.”

  The Frost Giant roared and brought his club down in a furious blow. I rolled to the side, easily dodging the powerful but clumsy attack. The giant’s club smashed a grave-sized crater in the stone floor next to me. I came up from the roll smoothly and sent a right hook into the side of the Jotunn’s knee, which was just higher than my head. Now, even a punch from the strongest man in the world landing on one of these Frost Giants would have felt scarcely more painful than a flea bite to them. But this was no ordinary punch. This was a blow imbued with the power of ancient Death and the necrotic magic of decaying corpses. My fist smashed the giant’s knee, pulverizing the bones and ripping out the tendons, all while spreading crippling black rot through his flesh. The force of it not only demolished his knee but also sent him crashing to the ground.

  To his credit, he stood after a few seconds, breathing hard and leaning on his club. He was trying to keep his weight off his ruined leg, which was quickly turning black and rotting. He glared down at me with a new sense of grudging respect in his eyes, but he was still intent on swatting me like a pesky fly.

  Standing on one leg, he aimed another swing at me, but I had other plans, including a plan for a much bolder and more devastating attack. I jumped over the huge club as it whistled through the air and grabbed onto his forearm as it passed me. His traveling forearm became a kind of ladder that I clambered up with monkey-like speed. Before he could swat me off him, I aimed a sharp jab at a place I knew would do some crazy damage.

  Yes, I punched a giant in the dick.

  The blow must have been the equivalent of a sledgehammer swung by the world’s strongest Jotunn into your balls. I somersaulted backward as soon as the punch connected.

  He roared and crumpled to the ground. Then this huge, ferocious Frost Giant curled up into a ball and started crying like a little girl as the Plague rot consumed his genitals. I considered punching him in the head to finish him off, now that he was lying on the ground, but with the Plague rot devouring his body from the cock upward, he wasn’t going to be getting up again.

  “Remember the God of Death,” I said, “when you get to the Sea of Souls. Before that, though, you’re getting me some new skills. Let that thought comfort you while your rod and stones wither.”

  Another Frost Giant took a swing at me with his axe. I jumped over it, ran up his arm, and punched him in the nose before he could swat me off. The blow caved in his face and spread gray grave rot across his head, and he smashed to the stone floor. I jumped off him as a cloud of dust billowed around us and waded into the thick of the battle, whipping out my kusarigama again and swinging the chain a
ll around me, drawing on the strength of my skeletons and zombies to pummel the Frost Giants with immensely powerful blows.

  Giant after giant fell beneath the mighty swings of my kusarigama chain, and the moment they hit the ground, my undead troops—spiders, barbarians on wolves, Crusaders, skeletons, whichever ones were closest—would swarm all over them, pinning them down and cutting them to pieces with dozens of simultaneous attacks.

  The giants screamed as Isu’s death juice boiled their flesh and blinding flashes of light cut the night sky as Elyse summoned her warhammer’s power. Friya was among the giant’s, stabbing with her spear and harrying them while Rami called great whirling tornados to lift Jotunn into the air before slamming them down again. Drok had severed the arm of a giant and was now swinging it around like an oversized flesh-club, cackling madly as battlelust filled his mind.

  My zombie spiders sank their fangs into the enemy and filled them with necrotic fluid. Flesh peeled from the bones of giants as undead direwolves savaged them with blackened fangs.

  We were winning. Despite the Frost Giants’ best efforts, they couldn’t stop us. There was no need to hold the drawbridge open any more; there were no more Jotunn manning the drawbridge mechanism, since all of them had been drawn into the battle. I commanded my undead Frost Giants to get out of the moat water and join the battle.

  This was the finishing blow. Once my hundreds of Frost Giants started wading in, it was all over. They swarmed over the remaining Jotunn, smashing them to pieces, and soon, we had Engroth cornered.

  “Come on, you bastards,” he roared, defiant to the end, holding his axe above his head. “Try to finish me!”

  “Stand back, everyone!” I shouted. “Let Mur have him!”

  My undead troops moved back, making a circle of bodies that acted like a fighting ring, with Engroth at its center. And into it stepped Mur, his face a mask of crimson fury.

  “Your foul reign is at an end, scum,” he growled at Engroth. “And now, I will have my revenge for my brothers. And after I’ve killed you, I will stick your head on a spike above the city gates, and I will wear the crown of the Jotunn!”

  “Not if I cut your ugly head off first, Mur,” Engroth growled. “Come!”

  And they charged. Steel clashed on steel as Engroth and Mur exchanged blow after blow, each fighter ducking and dodging and parrying, hacking and slashing with their huge axes, the steel glowing orange in the firelight. Each time the huge axes crashed into each other, the ground beneath our feet shook. It was an electrifying fight to watch.

  Engroth was older, but he was a more experienced fighter and a better strategist than the younger Mur. While I would have put my coin on Engroth under any other circumstances, at this moment, he was drunk, and his reflexes were slow. He was weary from the battle he had just fought, demoralized by the defeat of his forces. Mur, on the other hand, was burning with a fierce desire for revenge and was energized by our victory. His attacks, although less precise than those launched by Engroth, were pushing the older Frost Giant back and forcing him on the defensive.

  Finally, Engroth slipped up, allowing a downward hack from Mur’s guard to penetrate his defenses. The axe bit into his chest, smashing through his collar bone and opening up a gaping wound. Engroth gasped and staggered backward, dropping his axe as blood gushed from the gruesome cavity. Mur stepped in calmly, ripped the axe out of the dying king’s hand, then swung a horizontal cut at him. The blade slammed into Engroth’s stomach, the force ripping him off his feet.

  Engroth buckled over, intestines spilling out of his disemboweled stomach. He sank slowly to his knees, and his head drooped forward. Mur took this opportunity to pluck the crown off Engroth’s head and place it on his own.

  “I am now the King of the Jotunn,” Mur said with unexpected composure, raising his axe high above his head. “And you, Engroth, will die as a nobody. Your head will rot on a spike above the gates, to remind all of us of what happens when a king becomes corrupt.”

  With that, he brought his axe down in a vicious swipe, taking Engroth’s head off his shoulders. It hit the ground like a boulder, and blood poured from his neck as his body flopped to the ground after the head awaiting its shaming.

  It was done. We had won the battle.

  “All hail the new King of the Jotunn—Mur!” I roared.

  The Jotunn and my party cheered, and Mur raised his axe above his head.

  “Remember our deal, Mur,” I then said to him. “You swore a blood oath to me, and I’ve delivered my end of the bargain.”

  He nodded. “And I will deliver mine. The remaining Jotunn will swear allegiance to me, and I guarantee you that none of them will impede the progress of your army. As for the Cloak of Changing, come, you can take it right now. It was a treasure of Engroth’s, but I have no use for it myself.”

  “Come with us, Friya,” I said to her. “You’re the one who’s going to be using this thing.”

  Friya dismounted, and she and I followed Mur into the interior of the castle. Everything was huge in here, from the doors to the tables and the chairs, making us feel like infants. Mur took us down to the castle vault. Every Jotunn we saw along the way saw the crown on Mur’s head and immediately dropped to their knees before him.

  He commanded the guards to open the vault for us. Once inside, he walked over to a thick wolfskin cloak hanging on one of the walls. He handed it to Friya, who took it with a look of awe glowing in her beautiful eyes.

  “Finally,” she murmured. “I have dreamed of this cloak for many years. I have known since I was a girl that it would be my destiny to wear it.”

  “Well, now that we have it, we can rest for the night,” I said. “Maybe have some of that mead you Frost Giants are so fond of, eh, Mur?”

  Mur chuckled, his laughter rattling the stone walls of the vault.

  “You are welcome to have as much mead as you would like, Vance,” he rumbled. “And I will have some chambers prepared for your people. You will be safe here. You have my word. You have given me a kingdom, and an impossible victory in the face of complete defeat. It is the least I can do.”

  “Mead and a rest after a victory,” I said. “Is there anything better?”

  Friya clutched the cloak to her breast and kissed me deeply. Mur shifted uncomfortably.

  I pulled back from the Wise Woman. “But we have to leave at first light. Time is running out—if it hasn’t run out already.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The next morning, King Mur insisted on escorting us to the borders of his land, with his personal bodyguard: 10 Frost Giants, mighty warriors who had grudgingly served King Engroth but were now fiercely loyal to Mur. They were grateful to him—as it turned out many Jotunn were—for removing the corrupt and inept King Engroth. We didn’t exactly need an escort, not with the army I now led, but it was a gesture of solidarity and friendship from Mur, so I gladly accepted.

  The bordering lands were once again forested, and while there was snow in the trees, there wasn’t nearly as much as there had been in the fields we’d been trekking through, nor was it as cold and generally inhospitable.

  “Be on your guard once you leave these territories,” Mur said. “We have heard tales of strange things, especially coming from the direction of Lucielle’s fortress. You will find the fortress due southwest from here, around two days’ march, if you keep a steady pace from sunrise to sunset. Your uncle Rodrick sounds much like Engroth, and like Engroth, I hope you are able to give him the justice he deserves. Cut off his head and stick it on a spike, Vance.”

  “Believe me, Mur, I’m going to cut that motherfucker’s head off,” I said, “but I won’t stick it on a spike after it comes off his shoulders. No, I’m gonna stick it in a privy and then get everyone to piss and shit on it until it has disappeared.”

  Mur boomed out a peal of thunderous laughter. “I like you, Vance! You are one human I would never eat.”

  “God, Mur, god. I’m no man. Remember that.”

  “Yes, ye
s, of course. Without your powers of Death, I would be wandering the wastelands alone, a pauper. I will not forget what your undead army did for me. If you ever need the assistance of the Jotunn, all you have to do is send a message to me, and I will come to your aid. I owe you everything, Vance, and we Jotunn do not forget such things.”

  I reached up and offered him my hand. He dropped down onto one knee so that he could shake my hand—well, offer me a finger of his hand to shake. Hell, even his finger was thicker than my thigh.

  “I appreciate that, Mur,” I said. “I hope it doesn’t ever get to the point where I have to call on you for aid, but I’ll remember that the offer is there. Farewell, my friend.”

  “Farewell, God of Death.”

  Mur and his enormous bodyguards gave a thunderous cheer, then we were on our way. Friya shook her head, grinning. She’d been smiling like a madwoman ever since she’d acquired the Cloak of Changing. She hadn’t used it yet, but I could tell that she was itching to.

  “I never thought we would leave this land as friends and allies of the Jotunn,” she said, still smiling. “I was praying that we would merely pass through with only a minimal number of our party being killed and eaten. Never could I have imagined that we would help to depose their king and stay in their castle as honored guests. Few humans can claim to have done such things.”

  “I just saw an opportunity and seized it,” I said with a shrug. “And thankfully, it paid off. Now, since we have two days of marching ahead of us, why don’t you tell me a bit more about this Cloak of Changing? I can see that you’re dying to try it out.”

  “It is a relic of the God of Beasts, like Rollar’s helm. But while Rollar’s helm allows him to speak to animals, this cloak will allow me, as I told you, to change into one—into a werewolf.”