Bound in Stone 3

by K. M. Frontain

  “Let’s let Olent harry them until they are out of range, shall we?” Ugoth murmured. He lifted his spyglass and trained it on Herfod, who now gazed fixedly at the burned field that separated them. “What’s he looking at?”

  “Gods!” Vik shouted. “The dragon! It’s … it’s immense!”

  Ugoth lowered the glass. There it was. And indeed, it was monstrous. Grey razor scales thrust outward from a colossal body. The head was wider than a man’s length and twice as long. And yes, greyish teeth filled a massive gaping maw. The dragon had risen halfway out of the earth, tearing buried rocks loose and leaving them scattered everywhere. A small object rested before the beast’s mouth. “The bait!” Ugoth hissed. “Take it! Take it!”

  The giant maw dipped. The beast nipped the barrel with surprising delicacy and then tossed it upward. The ugly head followed the trajectory. When the barrel fell, the jaw snapped closed on it. The throat moved convulsively, and the dragon turned toward the first wall and remained motionless.

  Was it looking for more? Ugoth couldn’t see any eyes at this distance. Did it have any? “Come on, Lord Berholt! Another!” he whispered.

  The Omeran nobleman didn’t fail him. A second barrel rolled down the hill. The treat was accepted and devoured. A third tumbled after it, but the dragon’s head shifted away as if it looked in the other direction.

  “It’s being called,” Vik said “Look! It will leave.”

  But not before it took the last delicacy. It snapped this up and then dove. A deep humming noise vibrated in the air just as its nose met earth. Land parted like water, the most incredible sight. The ground humped upward with the dragon’s passing. The low hum muted and disappeared.

  Ugoth lifted his glass and trained it on the knoll. Marun had returned from wherever he’d disappeared. He stood next to Herfod. The sorcerer’s fingers were snarled in a chain about his neck, and he glared down at the field where the dragon had been.

  “Yes, he’s called it. Quick? What are the ghouls doing?” Ugoth demanded.

  “They are milling about rather stupidly at the moment,” Vik reported. “The dragon seems to have distracted Marun at the wrong time.”

  “Are they out of range of the ballistae?”

  “Almost. Another shot has been fired.” A brief expectant silence ensued, and then Ugoth heard the results. “It has struck. They are moving toward the broken bodies, back in range.”

  Ugoth grinned. Across the barren field, his enemy had turned toward the ghouls and concentrated now on them. His hand yet tangled with the chain.

  “Ugoth!” Vik shouted. “Look!”

  The king lowered the glass. The dragon had re-emerged from the earth. It squirmed in a strange rolling motion, tearing up the earth as it spiralled. Its mouth gaped open. It roared. The cry was filled with agony.

  Ugoth laughed exultantly. All along the lines, along each wall, his soldiers lifted their weapons and shields and cheered.

  Chapter Ten

  Marun startled and looked toward the front. The earth dragon was squealing like a stuck pig, a giant stuck pig. It rolled in agony within the earth it had just churned up. Rocks and dirt flew outward from its massive body.

  “Well,” Kehfrey said. “That was a very bad snack.”

  Marun cursed volubly. A clamour broke his invectives off. Across the field, all along the lines, up the entire face of the mount, the enemy army cheered with waving arms and weaponry. Within seconds, the cheering became jeered insults, and then a din of weapons booming against shields thundered down the mount.

  “Damn him!” Marun hissed. “Damn you, Ugoth!”

  “Smart fellow, this King Ugoth,” Kehfrey commented, unaware that he had been responsible for training the perspicacious mind of the Shadow Master’s opponent.

  Recalling this perfectly, Marun snarled at Kehfrey to shut up. The sorcerer’s spies had kept him well informed over the years. Bitterness burned in his guts like the worst sort of venom, and it scorched Kehfrey through the soulstone. Kehfrey looked at him, a disturbed expression tightening his features.

  “Why are you pissed with me?”

  “Never mind!”

  “No, I won’t never mind! Why are you pissed with me about this king?”

  An interruption saved Marun from answering.

  “We waste our time and our strength!” Quei shouted at the sorcerer. He stomped up from behind. “Call the attack! We should fire on them!”

  “Yes, call it,” Kehfrey agreed. “We’re just letting him winnow away at our forces.”

  “I can’t call it yet!” Marun said.

  “Why the hells not?”

  “Yes, why not?” Quei added weight to the demand.

  Marun scowled at the Stohar, because the interruption was becoming less than helpful. “Remember the other thing!” he spat.

  “What other thing?” Kehfrey said.

  Quei frowned. “Yes, what?”

  The oaf! The great ogre-brained oaf! “The harpies can’t move any faster! If I urge them into quicker motion, they’ll trigger the ward.”

  “Harpies?” Kehfrey said. “What harpies?”

  “Never mind!”

  The dragon emitted another series of helpless wails. Marun turned in time to see it cough up the contents of its stomach. Dirt, rocks, what might have been small bits of wood, all of it vomited onto the burnt field. The monster groaned pitifully.

  Glowering bitterly, Marun willed it back within the earth. There was nothing else to be done. It would either die of whatever poison the Ulmenirans had fed it, or regain its strength within the depths.

  “Shouldn’t you heal it?” Kehfrey asked.

  “No,” Marun said. “It feeds on earthly energy and will only consume my power, and it might attack me while it’s confused and in pain. I can’t afford to fritter away the time or energy.”

  “Then I shoul—”

  “No,” Marun interrupted. “I can’t spare your power either. Let the Great Mother see after the beast, if she has any sympathy for it.”

  The dragon cried out a last time and then curled downward. Briefly its tail flashed out, a spike with cutting blades that could tear armoured men in half, and then it was gone. The rumble of its movement faded away. Marun scowled at the mount. Presently he wheeled about and pulled Kehfrey away with him.

  ***

  “He’s moving off with Herfod,” Ugoth reported. “I think he’s had enough of me gloating down at him.” He heard a commotion behind and turned. Brother Keth had come up with his gang. They were puffing from the climb up the hill.

  “Well,” Keth greeted. “It’s us again; only we get to protect the blessed Brother Vik now.”

  “Oh leave off, Keth!” Vik snapped.

  Keth laughed unapologetically. He and Vik rarely got along. Keth wasn’t certain of the reason, but he suspected Vik was suspicious of his feelings toward Herfod, and why that should bother Vik, Keth had no idea. As if it should bother the roach that another one was after his brother’s ass. Keth was more worried that Ugoth would figure him out. Ugoth would kill him. Vik would only get that resentful look on his face again, like the one he wore now. Odd nit of a man. With such a surfeit of lovers, he shouldn’t begrudge his brother one admirer.

  “Where’s my gang?” Vik demanded.

  Right. Let’s just make sure the oaf monk knows he’s unwanted. “Oh, they’ll get here soon,” Keth told him. “They were put on duty on the further side of the hill.”

  “Well, get around me, then. Marun will make an attempt to get me. He’s got a promise to keep and he can’t attack while I’m up here.”

  “Is that so?” Dutifully, Keth’s group positioned themselves around Vik. “What was the promise exactly?”

  “Not to kill Kehfrey’s family,” Vik answered.

  “Puts the Shadow Master in a bit of a bind, doesn’t it?” Keth ignored the surprised noises of his cohorts. After the kidnapping, he’d accosted Vik in his tent and gotten the truth about Brother Herfod’s past, but had sworn not t
o repeat it. From below on the mount, he’d watched the goings on before the Shadow Master’s pavilion and comprehended perfectly the meaning of the unfolding events. Brother Herfod was spelled fit to lose his mind and certainly couldn’t know who he was any longer.

  Vik smiled grimly in response to Keth’s cynical words, but then sniffed the air in disgust. “Did you fall into a latrine?”

  Keth was insulted. Make it known that he was unwanted, yes, but don’t accuse him of bearing a stench. He washed as diligently as any other follower of Turamen. “Fall into a latrine? I didn’t fall into a latrine!” he said, but paused to sniff as well. “What is that? That’s revolting!” He scanned the area suspiciously, and then something hit him. He flew into the air and sprawled several yards off.

  “Keth!” Vik shouted.

  King Ugoth, who had been watching the movement of the enemy army below, whirled and pulled his weapon. He was in time to see Vik shift backward as if something had jarred him. One of Vik’s arms lifted. It stretched at a strange angle, and then his feet rose from off the ground. Quick snaps of wind buffeted the air. The stench that came with the gusts was overpowering.

  “Ugoth!” Vik screamed. “Harpies!”

  But they were invisible! Ugoth had nothing to sight on for a strike. He made a decision, leapt up, and slashed the air just above Vik. He hit something solid, but no sound of pain resulted.

  A blue fireball flashed by Vik’s struggling body. It hit and flared over the harpy. Suddenly she was visible.

  She was dead. He was in the clutches of a ghoul. “No! Don’t let it eat me!”

  The situation worsened when something unseen seized Vik’s legs and lifted him perpendicular. Realizing there was a second harpy, he screamed in protest as he rose further in the air.

  Ugoth darted beneath him and leapt upward. He grabbed Vik about the waist and hung on desperately. Another aura ball flew. It whizzed toward the emptiness near Vik’s feet and struck the second invisible monster. The hideous female flickered into being.

  Keth was back then. Bleeding across his back, he staggered forward and hit the second harpy with his metal-bound sticks. The blow staved in a portion of her spine. She released Vik’s legs and tumbled upon her face, but Vik and Ugoth continued to rise.

  A third aura ball sailed up. It hit the first harpy again. This time she shrieked. Filthy claws momentarily appeared above her shoulders, revealing a third harpy. This ghoul gripped the lower one and added force to the upward movement.

  “Shoot them!” Ugoth roared. “Shoot them!”

  Vik screamed in agony. He dangled with both his and Ugoth’s weight pulling at one arm. The harpy’s grip had crushed to the bone. Dried filth over her claw had created serrated edges sharp enough to mangle flesh. Nothing but a few sinews held Vik high.

  More fireballs hit the harpies, and they lowered by several feet. A pair of monks grabbed both Ugoth’s and Vik’s legs and pulled. Vik screamed, and suddenly they tumbled down. Vik gaped in horror. The harpy rose, blood dripping from her claw.

  “Oh!” Ugoth cried, still clutching Vik. “Oh, Vik!”

  His left forearm had been ripped off and remained clutched in the harpy’s claw. As they watched, the monster rose higher and fled the attacking monks. A last aura ball shot into the air, but the missile was wide. Unexpectedly, it hit the third harpy, bursting around her and making her visible. The undead creature raced after her sister.

  Ugoth’s gaping stare returned to Vik, who had raised his truncated arm to stare at it blankly. It spouted blood profusely.

  “Keth! Save Vik!” Ugoth screamed.

  Keth thudded up to them, knelt and grabbed Vik’s amputated arm. He pulled loose flesh over exposed bone while calling the healing chant. Blue erupted out of Ugoth’s skin mere seconds after Keth began, as if Herfod’s ward recognised the call of the young monk. The power flashed down onto Vik and sank into him. Keth’s chant added to the holy fire, and both forces combined to create a spire that leapt upward a dozen feet.

  Awed, Keth ended the prayer, his hair on end from the tingling flow of godly energy that blasted into him from the divine elsewhere. The power roared out of him and sank into both Herfod’s brother and the Ulmeniran king. The spire flickered and abruptly snapped out with a crackling noise.

  Keth weaved dizzily and settled backward onto his seat, feeling as if he’d been scorched to his marrow. He blinked owlishly at Vik, who during that momentous healing had glowed as brightly as his brother had ever done. Keth was convinced this meant something significant, though he wasn’t certain what. There had been a sense of immense concern as the energy had rippled through him, a sense of ….

  Kinship.

  And a name! There had been speaking! He’d heard a god speaking! He had caught a name! What had the voice shouted?

  Enough, Hamen!

  How very odd. Who was this Hamen? Had Hamen been a god, perhaps the one passing the heavenly power into him? And had the divine speaker ordered this Hamen to desist? Just as well. Keth’s skin felt tingly still, as if the power had truly seared him.

  He forced his mind back on the now. Herfod’s injured elder brother yet stared at his dismembered arm. The flap of skin had healed over the stump. Keth watched in amazement as Vik opened his mouth and began to laugh. Still beneath and holding him, Ugoth whispered frantically. Keth listened and comprehended. Despite their terribleness, the words made perfect if grim sense.

  “There is no certainty in life but one. Death is the only certainty. Observe your life and laugh. Life is nothing but time spent, and time is forgotten,” the king repeated fervently.

  “Yes,” Keth agreed. “Yes. But as Brother Herfod used to tell me, cause trouble and have fun while you’ve got life in you.”

  Ugoth paused and stared. Vik ceased laughing. Abruptly and with absolute sneering derision, he waved his stump at Keth. “This is not fun!” he shouted.

  “You’ve still got your most experienced arm, haven’t you?” Keth retorted.

  Vik’s glare twisted into a crazed smile. “Come and visit me tonight, you monk bastard,” he challenged, “if you find a one-armed man attractive!”

  For a moment, Keth just stared at him, and then he unexpectedly pulled Vik away from the king and kissed him with a passion that made the answer to the challenge unmistakable.

  Ugoth righted himself as best he could beneath the preoccupied Turamen monk and astounded Winfellan. “I thought you were with Henrel!” he blurted.

  “With me?” Henrel cried. He looked up from the furious business of smashing the already downed second harpy. His expression turned outraged.

  Keth pulled his lips off Vik. “Henrel? Henrel likes women!”

  Ugoth gaped at him. After a moment, his features twisted into a wry expression. “That little lying bastard.”

  Keth grinned. “Herfod thought you might go after me, did he? Well, I’ll thank him for the protection when we get him back, but just to let you know, I gave up wishing for him when I learned you claimed him.” He stood and glared down at both king and potential lover. “Marun’s about to receive a gift. Get up! Both of you! He no longer has a promise to keep!”

  Ugoth leapt to his feet. He located his weapon, glancing briefly at the second harpy as he bent to retrieve it. The ghoul lay motionless upon the ground, the unholy life lashed out of it because of aura balls and a smashed brain. Henrel had created a disgusting mess of what was left of the monstrous female. Ugoth wiped his blade on the grass and sheathed it.

  “Get that filth out of here! Someone heal Keth’s back!”

  “I think that was taken care of when the gods healed Vik,” Keth said, but Ugoth didn’t listen, too intent upon searching the ground.

  Presently His Majesty located the spyglass and lifted it from a tuft of long grass. Ignoring the soldiers who moved around him to pull the reeking corpse away, he lifted the tube to his eye and searched the enemy encampment. He saw no sign of the harpies.

  “Look!” Oswell shouted. He pointed further afield.r />
  Ugoth lowered the glass to sight with both eyes. A sudden burst of flames leapt above tents tops farther down the encampment. Ugoth lifted the telescope hastily. “Damn!” he hissed. Whatever had caused the conflagration, the tents hid it.

  “There goes my gods busted arm!” Vik snarled next to him.

  “You think?” Keth said.

  “Gods, yes!” Vik hissed. “That’s Marun’s work!”

  Ugoth lowered the spyglass. “He still loves you,” he said flatly.

  “Then he should have kept my arm to polish his wood!” Vik shouted.

  He cursed Marun then, cursed him with the vilest invectives he’d ever learned, tears of anger and shock in his eyes. Shortly, the curses had turned into sobs of grief. He clutched at his stump in despair.

  “Keth,” Ugoth called.

  “I’m on it,” Keth said tightly.

  “Take him to my tent. Wash him. He stinks.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  The monk pulled Vik away from the ledge. Keth’s team surrounded the pair and escorted them along. Ugoth watched them go and then stared across the vale at the inferno beyond the tents.

  ***

  “Harpies!” Marun heard a soldier shout.

  He looked upward. Two grey figures flapped beneath the glowering clouds. They flew toward his position, but there was no struggling figure in their claws and the third harpy was missing.

  “No!” he whispered. It had gone wrong. The strike had gone wrong.

  With this realization, his guts seemed to sink to the depths of the earth’s core. He stared at the single claw of the first grisly female. She clutched something in it, something fresh and bloody. The harpy thumped to the ground near him, landing awkwardly because of the second crippled leg. Her stench made the nearby soldiers stumble away and retch helplessly. Marun continued to gape at the thing in her talons.