The Bones of the Past (Books of Dust and Bone)

by Craig A. Munro

  One man, dressed identically to the others, stepped out of the front rank and turned to address Salt. “Lord Saltig.” He gave a salute with his spear. “Nok Dreth welcomes you to our city.”

  The crowd was instantly buzzing with the news. No outsider had been allowed past the gates in living memory. Everyone was craning their necks looking for who had managed to win the favor of the Dreth monarch. Salt noticed with a grin that they were all looking past him. He looked over at his companions, but the soldier spoke again before he could say anything.

  “Your companions must wait. We will provide whatever they require.” In perfect unison, the soldiers turned to face outward and took two paces forward, pushing people out of the way where necessary with their shields. And opening a path through the center of their formation.

  “Please follow.” Salt led his horse after the nameless Dreth.

  Hundreds of merchants, their handlers, guards, and families looked at him and pointed. Every one of them trying to decide for themselves what made the scruffy Bialtan so special.

  Salt walked as straight as he could, trying to ignore the weight of their stares. They finally walked through the open gate, and he was out of their sight. It was pitch-black inside. Salt kept walking straight for at least fifty paces before he felt a hand on his arm and stopped.

  “Apologies, allow me to guide you.”

  Salt reached out as the guard prompted him to turn. His fingers brushed against the stone wall he had been about to walk into. They walked into a tunnel, and Salt watched the now-distant bright opening of the gate pass from view entirely. Salt had never been afraid of the dark. Not even as a child. But walking through this total darkness, entirely dependent on a stranger, was unnerving. He was further disturbed by the unmistakable feeling of a slow but steady downward incline. Visions of a city built underground in utter blackness filled his mind. Behind him he heard the soldiers reentering the tunnel. The pounding of their boots echoed loudly in the tunnel. Salt tried to start up a conversation with his guide to break the tension.

  “Your city has impressive defenses.”

  “Thank you, Lord Saltig.”

  He tried again. “Have your fortifications been challenged often?”

  An even more uncomfortable silence stretched on until Salt didn’t think he was going to get an answer at all. Finally, though, the Dreth spoke hesitantly.

  “The last time was one hundred twelve years past. We defended ourselves from your Bialta.” Obviously able to see the look of confusion on Salt’s face he continued, “Your countrymen fought bravely.”

  “You speak as if you remember it,” said Salt.

  “My first day as a Spear Brother. I will not forget.” The laughter died in Salt’s throat. Gurt warned him that there was more to the Dreth than anyone guessed. Lera and Gurt had told him the Dreth had no mages in the strictest sense, but not to assume they didn’t have some kind of power. I guess I just found the proof of that.

  Salt and his guide walked down for a time until the ground leveled off, then eventually slanted upward again. The nameless soldier guided Salt to the side and opened a door. Salt was stunned. The great wall he’d seen from outside was not the only wall in the city. The city held a complex pattern of similar walls surmounted by soaring towers. The Dreth homes, shops, and other buildings were built in the shadows of the walls in the narrow slivers of space that were open to the air. The homes wouldn’t have been out of place in one of Darien’s nicer neighborhoods, though not even the street in front of the palace was as immaculately clean as Dreth. A few men and women went about their business in eerie silence. Salt noticed that the bluish skin coloring was far less pronounced in the people around him. They looked far more human than the Dreth ambassador.

  “This is the outermost segment on the west side of the city. We will pass through several dozen more segments before we reach the Core.”

  “Several dozen!” Salt exclaimed. “Just how many walls does this city have?” The guard paused momentarily, his surprise clear.

  “The whole city is built this way. It is our last stronghold, and Nok Dreth sits at the center.”

  At a loss as to what to say, Salt commented on the houses. “The houses here look Bialtan.”

  “You are kind. I will pass on your words to the architects. The next segment we will pass through is Keralan inspired. After that will be Styrian and then Hollentic. . . .”

  Salt blinked. Styria? Hollent? Where the hell is that?

  “We have prepared a room for you in the ninth northern segment. It too has Bialtan construction. Rest. Nok Dreth will summon you.”

  Salt looked out the window of the room the Dreth had prepared for him and sighed. It was midmorning and still dark outside. Even though the sun was high in the sky, its light did not reach down to the Dreth homes. The room was far nicer than he had expected, nicer than any he’d ever seen, really. A wide selection of foods and wines had even been prepared for him. The building had the look and feel of an inn, but Salt was sure he was the only lodger. The Dreth filling the role of tavern keeper downstairs had welcomed him and offered to prepare anything that Salt required. But the offer had felt forced. The man was cold and distant. The whole city felt claustrophobic and depressingly dark. Salt couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the lavish treatment and barely touched the expensive fare that had been laid out for him. Instead, he spent most of his time just staring out the window, trying to make sense of these people who were more different than any he’d ever met, seen, or heard of. He was finally starting to understand Min’s and Brolt’s comments. Very few people passed by in the street. Salt debated with himself about going out and exploring but finally decided to stay put. The Dreth and their giant city unnerved him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

  The Spear Brother who had guided him to the tavern had certainly been more talkative than Ambassador Ben Akyum. Not that that was saying much. But he still wasn’t someone Salt would choose to share a few pints with. They’re all just so stiff and serious. Considering the fuss the Dreth had made about the sword, they didn’t seem to be in a hurry to take it from him. Wishing that Nok Dreth would just summon him so he could hand it over and start the trek back home, Salt rummaged through his bags and laid out the ceremonial clothes Gurt had had prepared for his audience with the Dreth ruler. Gray-and-black clothes fit for a noble.

  Gods, the guys down at the docks would never let me live it down if they saw me dressed in this. A crest was sewn into the doublet. A stylized hammer and a roaring dragon overlaid the Bialtan royal crest. Well, at least Gustave didn’t give me anything too pretentious. He found a large gold ring with a matching crest in one of the pockets. Shaking his head, Salt tried on the new clothes. Like everything he’d been given since he took up residence in the palace, they fit perfectly. He looked in a mirror and barely recognized himself.

  A loud knock at the door made Salt jump. He felt inexplicably guilty, as if he’d been doing something he shouldn’t. He hesitated for a moment, thinking about pulling off the fine clothes, before sighing and opening the door. Eight Dreth soldiers waited in the hall. Not one of them spoke. They just parted to make way for Salt and waited for him to fall in to their formation. The armor they wore was not like that worn by the Spear Brothers who had escorted him into the city. These men and women wore far more elaborate armor, every raised edge lined with silver. The spears they carried had no points. Salt swallowed hard. Firespears. And if he wasn’t mistaken, the man at the front of the group wore a Firesword at his belt.

  An honor guard capable of leveling a city, if the stories are true. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or disturbed.

  Salt mumbled a wordless excuse and ducked back into his room to recover the Firesword. He slung the scabbard across his back and joined the Fire Warriors. They set off at a brisk pace. They kept so close to Salt that he had no difficulty walking through the dark tunnels within the walls. Their silent nearness was unnerving, but Salt was still glad for a guide when they passed in
to the pitch blackness. They moved through several city segments, each stranger than the last. Salt couldn’t begin to guess where the buildings were from. One segment contained a single long sprawling building that left room for no other but looked so awkwardly shaped that he couldn’t even imagine what use it could be put to.

  Salt didn’t need to be told when they finally arrived at the Core. It was awe inspiring, even given the gargantuan city built around it. The titanic tower dwarfed the great walls that radiated out from it like the spokes of a wheel. The segment they had entered held no buildings. Only a small ornamental garden filled the space. It was the only vegetation Salt had seen anywhere in Dreth. The lush greenery and colorful flowers felt out of place in this city in the desert. There were no windows in the side of the Core, just featureless stone and the smallest door Salt had seen since he arrived in the city.

  The Fire Warrior at the front of the group walked up to the small door and, without ceremony, pulled it open and ducked inside. The rest of the honor guard took up guard positions on either side of the door.

  Salt took one last look up at the huge building. This one tower is probably twice the size of the king’s palace back in Bialta. He took a deep breath, ducked inside, and was once again swallowed by darkness. The Fire Warrior pulled a long chain out of his cloak. A small bright light shone at the end of it. Then he turned and started walking up a steep flight of stairs. Salt was breathing hard well before he reached the first landing. His guide’s steps never faltered. He continued walking resolutely long after Salt had lost count of how many floors they had climbed. The small concession made for their human visitor and his inferior eyesight wasn’t very helpful. If anything, the light on the chain made walking up the stairs even more difficult as the shadows jumped and shifted each time the dull light was obscured by the guide’s body.

  When they finally reached what looked to be the top, the Fire Warrior motioned for Salt to go through a door, then he turned and walked back down the stairs, extinguishing his light as he went. Salt was left alone, forgotten and unannounced, sweating profusely in his finery. As he fought to catch his breath, he rubbed his aching legs with trembling hands. Sweat dripped off his nose onto the floor. Salt trained as hard as anyone in the Night Guard. He was, he well knew, in excellent physical condition. But his Dreth guide had managed to climb up and away from him without the slightest sign of fatigue while fully armed and armored.

  Well, no sense in worrying about the clothes now. Salt sat down on the top step with a sigh and tried to recover from his ordeal. He wasn’t comfortable in the perfect blackness, but he was tired and light-headed and most certainly didn’t feel up to speaking with another Dreth just yet. He had been sitting for quite some time when he noticed that he could see. Not a lot, but he could see a very faint outline of a door not too far away. Presumably the same one that his guide had shown him. The idea of getting back to light, of being able to see again, prompted Salt to get moving. He pushed himself wearily to his feet and went through the door. The faint light that filled the room was almost blinding after the stairway.

  The room was nothing like what he might have expected. An oversized forge dominated the center of a huge open space. Chains and pulleys hung from a ceiling lost in darkness. Fragments of armor and half-built weapons and suits of armor were stacked on every available surface, from the heavy stone tables to the numerous wooden chairs. Some effort seemed to have been made to decorate the workshop—a handful of paintings and maps were set into the walls at odd intervals. Above it all hung thick chains supporting shiny black bones. The skull of a giant monster, its mouth filled with teeth as long as his arms, grinned down at Salt. Salt looked at it curiously. Not sure what it’s made of, but if they wanted to convince anyone it’s real, they should have at least made the skeleton bone colored. Black just looks weird. He dropped his eyes and scanned the room for signs of Nok Dreth.

  “And just like that you dismiss the greatest treasure this city holds?” Salt turned to see a Dreth in thick leather work clothes standing in the doorway behind him. His head was uncovered, and Salt could finally see what a Dreth really looked like. He had thin white hair and the same bluish skin he’d seen on the ambassador’s arms. Otherwise his features were remarkably human, though the proportions were somewhat off in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. “That skeleton you so casually dismissed is all that remains of the greatest dragon to visit this continent in untold millennia: Dragonlord Kilmarat himself, my old enemy.”

  Salt bit back a sarcastic comment about a crown on a scarecrow. “It is impressive.”

  “You are one of Bialta’s new Night Guard, are you not? I understand your king formed the Guard with the express purpose of hunting down magical threats within your country. I’m quite sure I read something about it. That couldn’t have been more than thirty years ago or so. Surely your mandate hasn’t changed so much in such a short time?”

  It suddenly occurred to Salt whom he was talking to so casually. He bowed low. “Your Majesty . . .”

  “I am not some human king, Night Captain Saltig. Address me simply as Nok Dreth.” Then he held up a placating hand. “No need to continue, Night Captain. I see the intentions of your words in your bearing and posture. You only concern yourself with real threats and you doubt the veracity of the stories you have been told about our race and the stories of dragons most of all.”

  Salt squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Nok Dreth. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Nok Dreth waved away his apology. “Of course you didn’t. That doesn’t keep you from being skeptical. Believe me when I say countless ‘truths’ that are widely accepted across the world are in fact totally false. Skepticism is a positive trait, particularly in a leader of men or an investigator, of which you are apparently both. In this case, however, your doubts are misplaced. There is no need to take my word for it, though you will learn that Dreth do not utter falsehoods. Go and pick up that large bone on the table by the wall. Yes, that one.”

  Salt looked at the huge bone Nok Dreth had indicated. It was taller than he was and nearly as thick around as his thigh. It must weigh a ton. He reached under it and pulled. And nearly fell over when the giant bone lifted as if it were no more than a chicken bone. Amazed, Salt turned the bone in his hands and looked back over at Nok Dreth.

  “Yes, surprisingly light, isn’t it? That’s not all. Try to break it. Go on, as hard as you can, smash it into the stone floor or table. Strike it with any of the weapons or tools here; you will not be able to scratch it.”

  Salt did as he was bid, swinging the thing around and slamming it into the stone floor over and over. Not a chip, not a scratch. Just as Nok Dreth had predicted. The thing’s so light I can’t get any power behind my swings. It’ll be different with a hammer. He lifted a heavy-looking smith’s hammer that was lying on a table nearby and smashed it down on the narrowest section of the bone. A dull thud and the shock that traveled up his arms from the impact was the only result. Nok Dreth smiled at his look of wonder.

  “I see you are starting to accept what I said. That is good. Dragon bones are incredibly strong. They must carry the great weight of the wyrms themselves, and remember that dragons fly. If their bones were as heavy as you’d expect, even their great magics would be taxed by holding them aloft. But we can speak of these things later. For the moment, I understand that you have brought something for me, Night Captain Saltig, Lord of Dustland.” He said the last with a small smile.

  With another embarrassed look, Salt carefully took the sheathed blade off his back and handed it to the Dreth monarch. “Here is the Firesword, Nok Dreth. I am happy to return it to its rightful owner.”

  Nok Dreth took the sword and drew the blade slowly. Then he swirled the blade through a complex series of practice moves almost too fast for Salt to follow. I need to stop thinking of this guy as old no matter what his age is.

  “Thank you. Captain Saltig. It is good to have my sword back. And you are right. I am its rightful owner
. My brother and I made this sword together. The first and greatest of the Fireswords. I feel young again to have it back. But enough. As to your reward . . .”

  “No reward is necessary, Nok Dreth. I’m happy to have been given a chance to visit your city and serve both our peoples.”

  Nok Dreth nodded. “A political answer. Surely one you were instructed to give. Very well, since I cannot ask you what you want, I will decide for myself. I will make for you a weapon from the very dragon bone you were holding.”

  “You are too kind, Nok Dreth.” Salt did his best to bow. Silence followed. Salt cast about for something to talk about. He wasn’t ready for the audience to end just yet. He couldn’t face going back down those stairs. Then Salt’s interest was caught by a painting of a city on a hill by the sea. Something about the coastline was familiar.

  Noticing his interest, Nok Dreth explained, “It is indeed your Darien City. It was called by another name in those days. It was beautiful. Our cities had no need of walls in those days.”

  “Just how big was Dreth back then?”

  “That is going back a long, long time. Many thousands of years, to the height of our empire. In the earliest days, Dreth filled what is now the Great Desert. But we were a curious and enterprising people who often longed for more as your kind do. We built great tunnels and roads through the Icespine Mountains and built some of our greatest cities in what is now your Bialta as well as in Aboleth.”

  I wish Lera were here. She’d love to be able to ask this guy questions. I’ll just have to do it for her and try to remember as much as I can.

  “Our arts were unsurpassed. We built ships easily twenty times the size of any seagoing vessel you might see today. We explored the world and traded with the people we met.”

  A strange look crossed Nok Dreth’s face. “Some blame our great curiosity for awakening the anger of the dragons. Some of our most intrepid explorers left on an expedition to cross the Endless Ocean. They did not return. Soon after, the dragons came. Huge monsters who flew across the ocean to bring death and destruction to our lands.