Beginnings: Five Heroic Fantasy Adventure Novels

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to inquire about his health and see what ails him? Perhaps if he’ll give me a list of his symptoms, hm.”

  At that point, Tikaya realized ‘sawbones’ was slang for doctor. The connotations in that name disturbed her—she had never visited a healer who did not work as much with the power of his mind as with his hands—and she hoped she did not require this man’s services any time soon, especially if he kept serrated metal tools in his kit.

  “Bones,” the commander snapped. Strange that he used the term instead of his brother’s name. Maybe the staid Turgonians had regulations against familial familiarity.

  “What?” Bones asked. “He froze to death. What do you want me to do?”

  “Figure out what drove him to run out here naked and suicidal.”

  Bones levered the barrel of his rifle under the corpse and leaned onto the stock. Ice snapped, and the rigid body rolled over. Tikaya jumped, surprised at the irreverent treatment of the dead. That did not keep her from staring. The front half was no more illuminating than the back, but the face, eternally contorted in terror, made her shiver. The man had died afraid, very afraid.

  Bones shook his head at the commander. “Nope, no clues.”

  Okars ground his jaw. “Curse the Headquarters desk-rider who thought it’d be amusing to put my little brother on the same ship as me.”

  “Exquisite torture, isn’t it?” Bones grinned.

  Tikaya stared at the brothers. They were joking. A corpse lay before them, a corpse probably belonging to one of their own citizens, and they were joking. Uncharacteristically intense irritation stirred within her.

  “Animals,” she blurted before she could still her tongue. “Where’s your respect for the dead?”

  The commander’s bushy brows lowered, and a cold, almost predatory expression darkened his face.

  Bones placed a hand on Okars’s sleeve. “You’d best get back to your place, ma’am. Stay out of the way and let us do our jobs.”

  She nodded and backed away.

  “Mouth shut, Tikaya,” she muttered. “Keep your mouth shut around these warmongering fools.”

  Strange, she thought she had learned that lesson already.

  8

  When Tikaya and the marines reached the shoreline, it differed little from the ice they had been marching across. The ground rose subtly, and she supposed a beach lay somewhere under all the snow. Two docks, embraced by ice, stretched away from a couple of wooden warehouses with drifts piled to the eaves along their northern walls. One of the dogs lifted a leg and yellowed a sign post promising the availability of alcohol at the Rat Wrangler.

  The town itself, with a single snowy road running parallel to the waterfront, seemed more outpost than community. Unpainted wood dwellings hunkered against the elements. Three long rectangular buildings overlooked the town from the crown of a hill. No life stirred anywhere. A stiff northeasterly wind rattled shutters, and somewhere a door banged against a wall.

  “Welcome to Wolfhump, ma’am,” Agarik said, speaking for the first time since the discovery of the body.

  “That’s the name of the town?” Tikaya asked.

  “It’s a trade outpost for the miners working the mountains. I don’t think there’s a lot to do up here except drink and watch the wildlife, uhm, frolic.”

  At the head of the formation, Commander Okars made a few hand gestures, dividing men into parties for scouting. Marines checked rifles and a couple strung bows. Tikaya wondered if she might talk the commander into letting her borrow one. She thought of letting an arrow fly into Sergeant Ottotark’s chest and his scream of pain as he pitched backward, sprawling on the ice. Tikaya jerked with surprise, startled her mind had conjured the grizzly image. Too much time spent with these Turgonians.

  “As far as you know Wolfhump should be occupied?” Tikaya asked.

  “Of course, it should be occupied,” Agarik snapped. He twitched, seemingly as surprised by his tone as her. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  A growl rumbled up ahead. One dog dove at the other dog’s neck. Fangs sank into flesh and the victim squealed, a heart-wrenching cry that halted conversations.

  Tikaya gawked at the brutal attack. Marines jumped into the fray, grabbing the dogs by the ruffs of their necks and trying to pull them apart, but the attacking canine had gone berserk. Muscles surged, fangs flashed, and soon blood spattered the white snow.

  “Get those dogs under control, private!”

  “Trying, sir!”

  “Idiots,” Agarik muttered and strode forward to help.

  Tikaya stayed back. The exchange had a bizarreness to it that left her uneasy. She glanced toward the icy sea again, wishing Rias was there to consult. Her gut lurched. The ship was gone.

  Nothing to worry about, she told herself. It had probably just retreated to open waters to keep from being ensconced when the ice reformed. But that meant the group had nowhere to retreat to if they ran into trouble they could not handle. She squinted, trying to spot the main party, but the sun shone brilliantly on the ice. Even through her goggles, she could not make them out yet.

  “Don’t touch—”

  “Get off me!”

  She turned back in time to see two marines crash to the snow. They wrestled and thrashed, and men previously trying to keep the dogs apart now turned their attention to separating the human combatants.

  “Satters, Choyka, stand down!” Okars raced toward them, his voice strained and angry. Where was the calm confidence one expected from a senior officer?

  Tikaya pulled her goggles up as if a clearer view might enlighten, but the scene only stunned. The smaller dog lay still, its neck torn open, blood drenching the snow beneath it. The other raced across the ice field, yowling like a wolf. Three marines grappled on the ground, clawing and punching at each other. The commander tried to drag one of them away and took a fist to the jaw. He slipped and went down.

  The sawbones stood back, a bewildered expression on his face. At least he was not brawling with anyone.

  Tikaya jogged over to his side. “What’s going on? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

  He worked over the wad of tobacco in his mouth. “Nope.”

  “Could it be the Nurians again? Trying to keep us from resolving whatever is going on in those tunnels?”

  He froze, mid-chew. “How do you know—how much do you know?”

  “I know they tried to kill me so I couldn’t help your people translate that unknown language.”

  “I suppose it’s possible the Nurians have done...something. I can’t think of anything natural that would explain this sudden aggressiveness.”

  The scuffles were dying down. Men’s ragged breaths frosted the air. A couple marines still struggled against those restraining them, while others seemed embarrassed. Blood flowed from broken noses and split lips.

  “Bones, come patch people up.” Commander Okars did not appear wounded, but his eyes had a wild cast to them. “And tell me what’s going on.”

  “No idea.”

  “No idea? Grandmother Hakstor was a better sawbones than you. For spit’s sake, get your ass over here and figure this mess out.”

  Amusement flickered in Bones’s dark eyes, and he gave Tikaya an irreverent salute, saying, “Nice talking with you, ma’am,” before he trundled off.

  She was not sure what to make of the man’s odd humor or this situation. The fact that she was dependent on the marines out here rankled. She gazed down the flat coastline toward the mountains, wondering how many hundreds of miles lay between her and a town where she could find passage out of the empire. A lot, she feared, and she knew nothing about surviving in this climate.

  “Corporal Dansk,” Okars said. “Head back and warn the others. Corporal Agarik?”

  Tikaya shook away her musings and turned her attention back to the marines.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “We’re heading in. Stay here and guard the woman.”

  Irritation flattened Agarik’s lip
s, and for a moment Tikaya thought he would question the officer. He kept himself to a glum, “Yes, sir.”

  One man trotted back the way they had come, while the others marched away in pairs, leaving Tikaya and Agarik alone with the dead dog.

  “You want to go with them, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows at Agarik, whose gaze remained fastened on the backs of the men. “To explore?”

  He huffed a sigh. “No.”

  “You must not lie very often, because you’re not good at it.”

  A slight smile quirked his lips.

  Tikaya’s gaze returned to the buildings overlooking the town. A giant cannon and a flag pole flying Turgonian colors stood before one. Military structures, she guessed. If there were any clues to this mystery, she wagered they would be in an office up there. Exploring the town might be hazardous, but, then, standing out here where anyone with a bow or a rifle could target them felt hazardous too. And if this strange aggression affected the main party... She thought of Rias holding a box of blasting sticks and shuddered.

  “Why don’t we ramble up that hill and see if we can figure out what’s going on?” Tikaya suggested.

  “We’ve orders to stay here.”

  “Actually, I believe your orders were to ‘guard the woman.’”

  “’Stay here and guard the woman.’”

  A breeze gusted down the coast, icy fingers poking through Tikaya’s scarf. “They don’t encourage initiative in Turgonia, do they?”

  “Not in the marines, no.”

  She curled her fingers in her gloves. Even if she did not want to explore, she would have appreciated getting inside out of the wind. “Suppose the woman runs off and you’re forced to chase after her in order to guard her?”

  “With respect, ma’am, I could catch you before you ran five steps.”

  “Rias would run off with me.” It was a stupid argument, and she knew it. She felt like a stubborn five-year-old trying to wrangle an extra hour of play before bedtime. Unfortunately, manipulating men to get her way was not her specialty. No doubt her teenage years should have involved less time studying ancient tablets and more time flirting with boys at the beach.

  “I’d rather he run off with me,” Agarik said.

  The comment surprised a laugh from her and reminded her flirting would probably not work on him anyway.

  A gun fired in the town, stealing her mirth. Someone shouted. It sounded like Turgonian, one of the marines, but distance muddled the words. Agarik’s grip tightened on his rifle and he took a step before he stopped himself. A scream of pain echoed from the dwellings, and it made Tikaya shiver.

  “Something creepy is happening here,” she said. “We should check the buildings on the hill. They’re military, aren’t they? That’d be the place to start looking for answers, you’d think.”

  “Tikaya...”

  “Why are you being so frustratingly obtuse about this?” she growled. “You’d think I was asking you to—” She noticed Agarik’s startled expression and caught herself.

  “Something creepy is happening here,” Agarik said softly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I understand that you want to be the good soldier and follow orders, and I don’t want to get you in trouble. But...” Rias’s words flashed through her mind: to live when the rest of your team died would be an unacceptable disgrace to many. “Do you want to be the only one of your team left alive when the others catch up?”

  His gaze jerked up, latched onto her. He closed his eyes for a long moment before sighing and asking, “When I get court-martialed and kicked out of the empire for following your suggestions, can I come live on your island?”

  “Absolutely. Free lodging in my parents’ guest bungalow overlooking the sea. I’ll even introduce you to my cousin’s handsome friend who surfs nude every afternoon. He was in one of my linguistics classes; he has a gifted tongue.”

  Agarik’s eyes widened, and he clapped her on the shoulder, leading the way toward the hill. “If you’d promised me all that the first time we met, we’d still be on your island.”

  Tikaya peered down the main strip as they passed it, but she did not spot any marines. They must be exploring inside the buildings.

  When she and Agarik rounded the back corner of a saloon, they jerked to a halt at the sight of skulls and bones half-buried in fresh snow. Human skulls and bones.

  “Cursed ancestors,” Agarik grunted.

  The snow had obscured footprints but did not quite hide the tooth marks scoring the broken bones, the marrow prodded out by tongues.

  “How long has it been since your people had contact with this town?” Tikaya asked.

  “How should I know?” Agarik barked.

  She peered at him, at the irritable frown creasing his brows.

  “Sorry.” He nudged a skull with the toe of his boot. Myriad fractures spun out from a ragged hole smashed into the back. No wolf had done that. “The fits of rage surprise you, don’t they? You think you’re fine, and then...”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s a concern, especially since the second group is bringing explosives.”

  “I’ve never heard of a Nurian plot like this,” Agarik said.

  She gazed thoughtfully at the mountains, the tundra, and the ice-coated sea. “Since I grew up around practitioners, I’m sensitive to when they’re performing their science. I haven’t felt any of the telltale signs of one at work.”

  “So, this isn’t magic?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then what?”

  She could only shrug.

  Tikaya and Agarik did not speak as they climbed the hill. Several minutes had passed since the last yell, scream, or shot that would have indicated the scouting party was still around. It was as if they had simply disappeared.

  They reached the first of the buildings perched on the crown. The back two, one-story wood structures with narrow windows, were probably barracks and offices. The closest, a taller building with corrugated metal walls, lacked windows, though massive sliding doors marked entrances. Tikaya and Agarik stopped there first, heading for the leeward side, which was free of drifts, though shoveled snow piled high near a walkway. It could not have been too long since the living occupied the outpost.

  Ice shattered and metal groaned as Agarik shoved a door open a few feet. Weak sunlight probed the interior, revealing an empty building with an earthen floor splotched with dark stains. The smell of engine oil wafted out.

  “All the caterpillars are gone,” Agarik said. “Guess we’re stuck with dog sleds.”

  “Caterpillars?” she asked.

  “Steam vehicles designed to handle the ice and snow.”

  “Ah. How many are there supposed to be?”

  “There’s room for five or six in there.”

  They crunched across the crown of the hill, sinking calf-deep into snow. Wind gusted, blowing powder off the roofs.

  A three-foot long icicle sheared off an overhang and plunged into the snow a foot from Agarik’s shoulder. Tikaya jumped to the side, tangling her feet, and toppled into the snow. Agarik raised his eyebrows, and she felt sheepish.

  She clambered to her feet. It was chance that the deadly icicle had dropped then, nothing more. Regardless, Agarik took a couple steps to the side before continuing along his route.

  Heavy shadows lay in the alleys between the buildings, and Tikaya glanced skyward in surprise. The sun had dropped well past its zenith.

  “It’s already afternoon.” Feeling silly for blurting the obvious, she added, “I didn’t realize how short days are up here.”

  “I was here once near the winter solstice. Day is about an hour then.”

  By the entrance to the next building, shoveled snow piled nearly to the roof. They followed a wide walkway with a couple of inches of fresh powder blanketing it. Paw prints marred the surface. Large paw prints.

  A gnawed skeleton, not quite hidden by the snow, sprawled a couple feet from the door. A hammer protruded from the skull, it
s head caught where it had smashed a hole through the bone. Shreds of a black uniform were tangled amongst the ribs.

  “I hope our scouting doesn’t require us spending the night here,” Tikaya said. “I doubt this town gets any less disturbing after dark.”

  Agarik nodded at the hammer. “Scavengers might have cleaned these corpses, but it looks like humans were responsible for the deaths.”

  “Of course. Killing people is what you Turgonians are good at.” She regretted the words as soon as they came out.

  Agarik slid a knife free of his belt and whirled, glowering at her. “We need answers, not sarcastic comments.”

  Tikaya skittered back, hands raised. He turned the knife so the afternoon sun glinted against the frosty steel. His breath steamed the air before his intense dark eyes.

  “Agarik?” She shifted her weight, thinking of the razor in her rucksack. It would take a lot of rummaging to find it. She should have done that as soon as the other marines let her out of sight. “Put the knife away, please.”

  His cheek twitched and the blade trembled.

  “Something here is affecting you, remember? They let it affect them...” Hands still raised, she nodded toward the bones. “And now they’re dead.”

  Agarik forced his fingers open, and the knife tunneled into a snow drift. “Of course. I know.” Eyes closed, he took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you think... Are we making a mistake being here? Will whatever happened to these people happen to us?” For the first time that Turgonian fearlessness faltered.

  Tikaya decided she preferred the fearlessness. “You know as much as I do, probably more.” She picked up the knife and dusted it off. “Mind if I keep this for now?”

  He flinched but nodded. “Go ahead. I have my rifle and pistol.” He waved at the town. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can always leave if the situation escalates into something dangerous.”

  She bit back a comment about the townspeople apparently not being able to leave to save their lives.

  Agarik pushed open the door, and Tikaya peered around him. A single corridor stretched to the opposite end of the long building. The far door stood ajar, and daylight slashed inside. Shadows in the middle stirred. Two dark furry shapes turned their direction.