Stronger than Bone

by Sidney Wood

  One by one, they caught up to him. Even the guy in the back with only three teeth in his head followed. The truth was, none of them had better prospects on the horizon. This job, and the pay-out promised at the end, was all any of them had to look forward to.

  Curly chuckled to himself. “Worthless, but desperate: that makes them dangerous. At least that’s something.”

  Several hours later, they split up. They had lost the trail again and Curly sent them all out in opposite directions to find anything that would get them back on track.

  The man with three teeth was walking his horse leisurely through the forest and trying unsuccessfully to whistle, when he came across a peculiar site. A woman was lying on the ground, her head near a stump. He looked around to make sure he was alone before climbing down from his horse and taking a closer look.

  “Oh my! She’s beautiful,” he thought. Leaning close, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Miss?” he said quietly. “Miss?” he said a little louder.

  Timidly, he reached out and lifted her eye lids with one hand. “Oh my,” he said out loud. She was definitely dead. Her eyes were clouded over and now the blue pallor to her skin made death an obvious conclusion.

  He stood up and looked around again. Seeing no one, he squatted next to her again and his mouth opened in a three toothed grin. He reached out and opened her blouse with one hand and reached beneath with the other to touch her cold dead skin.

  He shivered with excitement and smiled even wider. All of the sudden she moved. “What the hell?” he said as pulled his hands away and stood up.

  He waited there for a few moments staring at the corpse, but nothing happened. Smiling again, and shaking his head at the silly way his mind was playing tricks on him, he slid his hand back under her blouse.

  Suddenly, icy fingers grasped his arm and he was jerked down on top of her. “What the…?” Sharp pain exploded in his neck and he yelled as something bit him hard. “Help!” he screamed as her cold dead arms wrapped around his torso and held him tightly in place. Cold legs wrapped around his, and although he struggled, he couldn’t get free as her cold teeth tore into his neck and face.

  Symbols tattooed on her back beneath her clothes glowed red and hot as fresh blood filled her body and life returned.

  A few minutes later, she came to, dazed. Pushing the corpse off of her, Joszette scrambled to her feet and vomited in horror at the bloody mess she was trapped beneath. Her own vomit was bloody and had chunks of meat in it. Trembling with fear, she ran through the woods to her cabin and closed and locked the door. “Where is Charity?” she thought as her mind raced. “What happened? Who was that man? Was that a man? Oh my God! What happened?” Joszette collapsed on the floor and fainted.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  (Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

  “What do you mean, they aren’t here?” asked Guy. “You’re telling me that the entire battalion is out on a training exercise? Everyone?”

  The Corporal looked uneasy as he considered how much to say. “The camp is under guard, but for the most part, yes.” He could see how disappointed Charity was, and he offered, “They’re due back soon.”

  Guy looked at Mateo and Charity and then back at the Corporal. “Is it ok if we stay here until they return? It’s been a long road getting here and I could use the peace of mind these walls offer.”

  “Of course!” the Corporal said. He seemed relieved to give them some good news. “I’m sure we can accommodate you sir, at least until your brother, Major Martin, comes back, but you’ll have to turn over any weapons here before you come in.” Each of them carried only a knife, and the corporal said they could keep those. He opened the gate and the three travelers made their way inside.

  Turning back toward the gate, and holding the puppy up for emphasis Guy asked, “Corporal, is there a veterinarian or a doctor in the camp?”

  “Look for Cunningham. He’s the closest thing we have to a healer around here. I’d check the bath tent or…,” and he paused and shot an embarrassed glance at Charity before saying, “…the whore tents.”

  Guy furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything in retort. He just turned back around and kept walking toward the area the guard had approved for them to set up camp.

  Tired and disappointed, but relieved to be off the road, Charity followed the others. The first thing she wanted to do was to look for this Cunningham guy, and then she wanted a bath. She was used to traveling and being out in the wilderness, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She smelled bad and she knew it, and for some reason that bothered her. Not only that, but she started bleeding this morning, and although Joszette had told her it would happen soon, it was uncomfortable and she was terrified that someone else would notice. That bothered her even more.

  Guy tried to think of something funny to say to cheer her up, but changed his mind when he saw the irritated look on her face. “Wow, she looks angry, he thought.

  Once they were in the designated area, Mateo tied the pony to a nearby tree and unloaded his bed roll. The three of them stood around for a minute realizing they really had nothing else to unload, and nothing to set up.

  “So, Mateo…what do you say we hunt down Cunningham and get this furry little girl some help?” said Guy.

  “I’m coming with you,” snapped Charity with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

  “Yes, you are…okay then,” said Guy feeling outmatched. Careful not to make eye contact with the hormonal young woman, he swallowed hard and walked straight toward the bath tents.

  Mateo smirked a little and fell in behind the other two. As he watched Charity he was reminded of his own children, and he started thinking about what to say to her when he took his leave in the morning. He wore a look of concern as he bobbed up and down, walking with an exaggerated roll heel-to-toe with each step. His arms hung limply at his sides without swinging and his pants were inches too short, making his gait look quite comical to anyone who might be watching.

  The flap to one of the bath tents was folded partially open and a pair of sunken, light colored eyes, ringed with heavy dark circles, stared out.

  “Who are those dingalings?” thought the resident expert in horse husbandry, Stephen Cunningham. His job was not only to keep the horses healthy, but to control and influence breeding of the mares set aside for that reason. He had a way with animals and for some reason they remained calm around him, even when he had to be…intrusive. At first he was thrilled to be in charge of such a miraculous part of the Army’s maneuver and logistical support system. That wore off quickly, however, when the soldiers started calling him “Horse Humper” and “Horse Fister.” Now days he spent most of his time getting drunk.

  Cunningham stood there naked and dripping wet as he watched the three strangers approach. “Gimpy, Grumpy, and…hmmmm…Bob,” he named them with a chuckle. He turned back into the tent and began to dry off. Before putting his clothes on, he took a long pull from a freshly opened bottle. He made a mental note to find out who those strangers were at some point, but chances were he’d forget all about them by the time he finished the bottle.

  Someone cleared their throat outside the tent.

  “Mr. Cunningham? Are you in there?” asked a man’s voice. “We have a hurt pup here that we need you to take a look at, please.”

  Cunningham stood still, head turned to look over his shoulder, but his eyes were focused down on the floor. “I’m the Horse Humper, not the Dog Humper,” he growled and he took another drink.

  Guy’s head snapped back involuntarily as if he had been slapped when he heard the man’s response. “Horse Humper…?” he thought. Then out loud he said, “Did he just say…?” He turned his head and looked at Mateo as if for help or advice.

  Mateo just shrugged and tried not to laugh as he raised his open palms in an “I don’t know” gesture.

  Guy looked at Charity, who had pursed her lips and was in the process of walking angrily past him to the tent.

  “Um
Charity…,” Guy warned.

  Throwing the tent flap completely open, Charity marched inside. The naked man startled and tried to quickly step into some trousers. He got one leg partially in and raised the second, but he couldn’t connect with the opening and wound up spilling over onto the floor. He smacked his head pretty good on the edge of the tub and knocked over his bottle in the process. “Gaaaa!” he said as he gingerly felt his head and checked his hand for blood.

  “When you get yourself together Mr. Cunningham, my dog is hurt really bad. I don’t care what you do to those poor horses, but if you try to do anything besides help my dog I will cut you!” and she held out her knife to make the point.

  “Y-y-yes ma’am,” Cunningham stuttered. “Let me get dressed and I, I, I, I’ll be right out.”

  Charity walked out of the tent and closed the flap. She tucked her knife back into her belt and crossed her arms.

  Guy couldn’t help it, and a chuckle escaped his lips. Mateo snickered too, but turned his back so she wouldn’t see.

  Charity shot Guy a dangerous look, but immediately softened and she ended up smiling as well. She walked over and began to pet Cuddles, who licked her hand gently as she lay in Guy’s arms.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  (Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

  It was midnight and the Duke’s estate was quiet. Duke Dennison slept in his chambers soundly while guards posted inside and out kept watch. Shane was with the Sergeant of the Guard overseeing late preparations for the departure they would be taking in the morning.

  In his guest chambers, the red headed Rebel sat in front of a stone fireplace talking in low tones with an old acquaintance. The fire died down to coals and embers, and the room was mostly dark. That is how Death preferred it. He and General Virden leaned toward each other as they spoke in quiet, careful voices, as if conspiring against the entire world.

  “Two thousand horses I’ve pledged, and five thousand men,” whispered the red headed General with a smirk. “Their spies know nothing of our true strength.” He untied and removed the leather vambrace from his right forearm, revealing tattooed runes similar to those on Death’s body. “You were the first of us, but hundreds have followed. Since the word of your rebirth, many more have taken the blood rites.”

  “As I recall, my choice to adopt the blood rites was labeled blasphemy and forced my exile,” said Death in an angry whisper. “Are you saying things have changed?”

  “Officially,” said the General, “blood magic is still considered blasphemy, but I promise you those days are near an end. Too many have seen and felt the power of the blood. It cannot be denied much longer.”

  Death considered that for a moment. “Still, I am surprised to see an alliance with the Duke. He stands against everything the rebellion was founded on”

  “The Duke is a fool!” General Virden hissed. “Our armies are already on the move. He will help us defeat the King’s army, and then the arrogant bastard will hold the gates open while we destroy this kingdom once and for all.”

  A noise from behind them caused both men to turn. In the darkness, the General could not see the hidden door closing quietly across the room, but Death saw it clearly. Flashing a smile at the General, he rose and moved with such speed he seemed to disappear.

  Catching the door as it closed, he saw a shape retreating down the secret corridor between the walls. He raced after the spy and grasped her arm.

  “Lady Evelynn,” he whispered in her ear. “What brings you into the darkness?”

  Lady Evelynn tried to twist away from Death’s powerful grip. She hit him repeatedly with her free hand to no effect and she tried to cry out. Her voice would not obey her mind, though, and the only sounds she could manage as she struggled were muted cries and protests of, “No,” as he pulled her in closer.

  Death opened his mouth and placed it over her soft, warm neck. His tongue could feel an intense heat from the blood and adrenalin coursing through her veins as her heart pounded faster and her fear took her over. He longed to snap his jaws shut, cutting through that supple flesh, and spilling all of her precious blood into his waiting mouth. His body quivered in anticipation and lust for the taste and feel of her hot blood, but he resisted.

  He lifted his head and spoke softly to the matriarch of the house, “You will not be the undoing of this.” Death clamped an enormous hand over her mouth and dragged her back into the room.

  “Well, this is unexpected,” said the General with raised eyebrows. “This presents an interesting problem, but not an incurable one.”

  The General directed Death to bring her to a seat near the fireplace while he dragged a small table in front of her. He placed a paper and quill on the table.

  “You are leaving, my Lady. You will write a note to your husband explaining that you must go and will contact him soon."

  She looked at him with undisguised fear in her eyes and nodded understanding. Death loosened his grip and her hands shook as she did her best to comply. Once done, she laid down the pen and set her hands in her lap, waiting patiently for her fate.

  Death once again wrapped his arms around her and stood her up. He placed a hand over her mouth and turned her to face the General.

  Walking over to Lady Evelynn, the General pulled a dagger from his belt and swiftly cut her hand. Then nodding to Death, he did the same to the monster’s hand. While the General held her arm, Death pressed his hand to hers and held it there to ensure the blood mingled.

  Lady Evelynn’s eyes grew wide with terror and confusion. Her eyes filled with tears and she whimpered though her mouth was still covered tightly by Death’s other hand.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of my Lady,” said the General. “You will not feel any pain or see any physical changes.” Gesturing to the giant holding her, he said, “This type of transformation doesn’t happen without the full blood rites and rebirth. No, you won’t become like him. You’re simply tainted: unclean and unworthy.” He touched her face gently as if he cared for her.

  “You will rage and kill, and be unable to control it. For the rest of your pitiful life, you will have uncontrollable anger at the slightest provocation. It’s an interesting byproduct of ingesting the blood of a re-born. Even now, the blood in your body is changing. Believe me, the outcome is always the same. You will lose yourself entirely and kill whoever is near you.” He paused and looked at her frightened, searching eyes. “You are wondering how long until you lose control. It affects everyone in their own time. Sometimes it takes less than an hour. Sometimes it takes the better part of a day. But it is certain.”

  Evelynn’s eyes overflowed with tears and muffled screams escaped from around the hand Death continued to hold over her mouth.

  “It’s a wonderful gift,” said the General. “Our friend here…” He pointed again to Death. “…and a few others were experimented on, when very few dared to practice this lost art. Oh yes, it’s quite old. In fact, no one really knows where it started, or by whom. There are rumors that it comes from across the seas, or over the mountains, but no one really knows.”

  “Welcome sister,” General Virden said. “I wish I could be there to see the beast within you come out to play.”

  Looking at Death, the General said, “Strip her clothes and leave her in a nearby village.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  (Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

  Laughing and singing, the battalion returned to camp in high spirits. As they approached, the Sergeant Major signaled quick time march, and they strode back into camp dress-right-dress with chests out and heads held high.

  No one was more excited than the new officers. The Colonel had made sweeping changes throughout the battalion, appointing new officers and firing many of the old. Over the past week of field exercises he had proven to each of them that he valued their opinions, and trusted their judgment. Even when they were wrong, he turned it into a teaching moment and let them try again. The young officers, mostly commissioned fro
m the enlisted ranks, learned valuable lessons about judgment, decisive action, and leadership.

  It wasn’t all hugs and lullabies though. There was hard work for everyone, and grueling tasks to be accomplished every day, all day. There was plenty of yelling.

  “Holy hell, that Sergeant Major can yell,” thought Lynn several times every day. He shook his head and smiled. There’s just something about a good Sergeant Major.

  Every task had a purpose, and every day brought the men closer together. Teamwork and camaraderie were encouraged and pushed at every opportunity. The new Battle Captain, Major Martin, had a knack for tasking companies according to their strengths and building on them.

  Petty differences were handled every day in a make-shift ring, hand to hand. No one ever had a difference to settle with the new XO, of course. Lynn wasn’t so sure that didn’t disappoint Captain Brente, just a little. The ring was also used for friendly sparring and training, and the Colonel participated freely, and often.

  The most memorable sparring match had been between the Colonel and the Battle Captain. The entire battalion had gathered by the end of the match and cheered them on. Most favored the Colonel, but Major Martin’s old company cheered him on loyally. That was as good a character reference as Lynn had ever seen. He almost hated to win, but in the end that’s exactly what he did.

  During the match, Chase also noticed his former command cheering him on. His chest swelled with pride that they would cheer him on against the King’s Champion. He was surprised at the Colonel’s stamina and speed, but he could tell he was just a little faster. Chase was not used to being so evenly matched. He almost hated to let the Colonel win, but in the end that’s exactly what he did. He knew these men needed to have the utmost confidence in their leader. They had to believe that he really was the legendary warrior the King was touting. The best part was; he really was that good. It wasn’t just about his fighting ability; it was about his iron will and his ability to rally the soldiers around him to do incredible feats.