Necromancer's Gambit (The Flesh & Bone Trilogy Book 1)

by A J Dalton

  'So everyone's sick, are they?' Mordius asked sceptically. 'What's my sickness then?'

  The androgyne closed its eyes and spoke in a rumbling voice that was so low that it was felt rather than heard. 'You have a sickness of the spirit. You fight against it, but it is slowly spreading through your being. Beware, left untreated for too long, it will consume your entire being. Physical corruption and death will then soon follow.'

  'Nice trick with the voice,' Saltar said evenly. 'Let me guess, for the right donation you can treat his sickness for him? And what about me? What's my sickness?'

  The androgyne's eyes remained closed. 'You! You are not welcome in this sacred place!' Abruptly, the deep voice became a high-pitched screech that hurt their ears, even when they quickly covered them. 'Stealer of souls! Leave this place! Leave!'

  They ran for the door without even pausing for a backward glance to see if the holy physick pursued them. They hurtled into the refuge of the quiet street, Saltar tripping on the portal's sill as he went and tumbling onto the cobbles. The skin was scraped from the palms of his hands and all he could think to do was stare stupidly at them.

  Mordius, out of breath, stood with his head down and his hands on his knees. 'It's alright,' he panted, 'I don't think he's followed us. Phew! That'll teach us to make light of Malastra. Saltar, are you alright?'

  The Memnosian hero held his hands up to Mordius like a street urchin begging for alms. 'Will the skin grow back?'

  The necromancer sighed. 'I'm afraid not. Your flesh is dead, you know that. Come on, let's stand you up so we can get you dusted down.'

  With Mordius's help, Saltar got himself up onto shaky legs. 'What did the priest mean when they called me a stealer of souls.'

  'I really don't know,' Mordius confessed. 'You said you wanted to know more about your former self. Well, it seems Malastra has seen fit to provide you with some clue. What I do know is that I could do with a drink after that. Let's find an inn near the palace as you spoke of before. I do hope there's one open. Help me up onto the horse will you?'

  They moved further into the city, the streets sloping upwards. At last, they came to the top of the rise and entered a wide plaza. In the centre rose a massive, ornamental keep, its sheer walls clad in polished, black marble. It had crenellations at the top of its walls and there were the traditional arrow-slits instead of windows, but the lack of a moat or hazardous trench made it clear that the edifice was designed more for forbidding display than practical defence. Indeed, the cafes and restaurants around the edges of the plaza, many with outdoor seating, only served to confirm the impression that the throne preferred to secure its position by providing a public spectacle and encouraging the type of sightseeing that implicitly acknowledged the throne's majesty, than by using any force of arms to ruthlessly suppress any hint of opposition. Such a monarchy was ultimately not a cruel one and would allow its people to live in contentment, Saltar decided. He began to wonder if Accritania really was as hateful an enemy as the people of Dur Memnos had been taught to believe. In fact, given what he had seen of Accros and the rest of the country, Accritania hardly seemed like any sort of credible threat to Dur Memnos.

  'One wonders how the war continues when a mere handful of soldiers could overthrow this city. Mordius, this does not look like the sort of place where we would find the Heart. If it truly is an object of the sort of power you have described, then Accritania wouldn't be suffering this creeping decay that we see around us.'

  'I understand what you say, Saltar, and cannot help but think you have the right of it. Be that as it may, we have all but completed this journey, so may as well see what will finally greet us. Do you think we will have much trouble entering the palace?'

  Saltar eyed the mock fortifications once more. The heads of a few guards could be seen moving along the tops of the walls, and there were two guards standing before the raised portcullis.

  'Those two stagger as if drunk. What's wrong with them?'

  'They are likely animees,' Mordius replied. 'Old corpses find it difficult to co-ordinate the small movements and adjustments required to keep a body balanced and upright. It's not so obvious when they're walking, but when they are required to stand still, that rocking motion is a telltale sign.'

  'If they are old corpses, then we should have little trouble winning past them. It depends what necromancer we may then have to face. If we go in under cover of darkness and move quickly, we may avoid all confrontation.'

  'If Wim is with us. Very few gods seem to have been on our side thus far, but Wim might be just fickle enough to look upon us kindly with his mad eyes for this night.'

  'I didn't think you were that religious, Mordius, or did Malastra's priest scare you so much?'

  'If I recall, you ran from the temple just as fast as I did, Saltar.'

  'Yes, I did, it's true,' replied the animee, falling into something of a reverie.

  At least Malastra had reacted to his presence in her temple. Previously, he had wondered if gods actually considered the likes of him to have any sort of legitimate existence or whether they just saw him as some vain extension of Mordius's will. In a way, the words spoken by the priest, if they were genuinely on behalf of Malastra, were a validation of what he was, albeit that they sought to expel him from the temple. The words gave what he currently suffered a significance, and if it had a significance then that which drove and defined him, the dream of full resurrection, must also have weight and potential.

  But what would he be fully resurrected to? Who had he been when alive? How had he been a stealer of souls? Did he really want to discover he had been some monster? Perhaps he would come to regret being resurrected. Maybe he should stop trying to find the answers, but if he did that what else was there? Nothing. What reason would he have for helping Mordius? None. What significance would his shambling existence have? None. His dream and the promise of answers were all he had, perhaps all anyone ever had. If he didn't like the answers, he'd have to deal with that when he got them. Knowing the gods, of what Mordius had told him of them anyway, it was highly likely that he wouldn't actually like the answers. It would be just like them to serve up some sick joke or contrive some bitter irony for their entertainment. Still, as Mordius had just said, they had all but completed their journey, so they might as well see what would finally greet them.

  Stealer of souls. It wasn't the first time he'd been furnished with some intimation of horror with regard to his previous life. There had been the Accritanian soldier he had killed back on the King's Road beside the Weeping Woods. That man had named him both a monster and damned. And then there were the episodes on the incarnadine bone-fields of some nether realm. There, he had been named brother by a ghoulish giant. Lastly, there were the disembodied flashbacks and random memories that allowed nightmarish phantoms to haunt his mind. If he'd been the type of being to know fear, he would have been totally unmanned by it, destroyed. But he was not that being. He was a monster who saw no value in the life of another, wasn't he? And yet there was Kate.

  There was Kate. He found he cared what became of her. And Mordius. Perhaps that was all the answer he needed. But if anything were to happen to them... They had to get the Heart, for otherwise they could never be sure of any type of safety. If they could not retrieve it, the creeping decay that they saw around them in Accritania would eventually find them, no matter where they went. The war would continue until all human life had been consumed. Maybe that was why Dur Memnos didn't bother trying to take Accros: the continuation of the war was the real aim, not the final defeat of the enemy and winning the struggle. That meant that those directing the war must be seeking the annihilation of all human life, and ultimately serving Lacrimos, whether it was intentional or not.

  Saltar realised that the only chance to save himself, his love and his friend was to assassinate the two kings who led the war and get the Heart. He now also began to understand why certain larger forces might be attempting to use Mordius to secure the Heart.

  'Ora
stes must die!' Saltar said out loud.

  'What?' Mordius ejaculated. 'Are you mad? Where did that come from?'

  'It's all connected, Mordius, you must see that.'

  'Well, I suppose, but assassination is a very different proposition to stealing a magical artefact! And maybe we should keep our voices down when talking about such matters. We can probably be executed just for using the word assassination.'

  'There's an inn over there. Let's go and talk about it in closer surroundings.'

  Mordius nodded and gestured for Saltar to lead on. The inn they had chosen had both a picture and a legend above its brightly painted, red door: a smiling man standing at attention and named The Loyal Citizen. The door stood invitingly open, and so they entered unannounced. Inside, a dwarf sat on a high stool behind the bar counter and polished a valuable drinking glass with his cloth. Everything in the place gleamed except for a figure half-slumped at a table near the bar and nursing an empty tankard.

  Mordius's heel echoed on a floor board and the innkeeper and barfly looked up curiously. They stared for a second, and then the dwarf shouted:

  'Welcome, gentlemen! Come in, come in!' He got down off his stool, disappearing behind the bar for a second, and then came through a half-door in the counter.

  Mordius and Saltar moved to the table occupied by the barfly. 'Are these chairs taken?' Saltar asked.

  The barfly blinked and then began to laugh so hard that a tear ran down his cheek.

  'Please, sit!' the dwarf urged. 'Don't mind Jacobie. He gets like that sometimes. It's a type of melancholia. He's a philosopher, you know. Sit, sit! Are you gentlemen in need of rest? We have rooms.'

  That set Jacobie laughing even harder, and the dwarf pursed his lips in disapproval.

  'We have recently come to Accros,' Mordius explained as he took a chair. 'We have unusual herbs and plants to sell. We wondered if such things would be of interest to those in the palace.'

  At mention of the palace, Jacobie quietened and looked down at his tankard.

  'But, come, we have coin to wash the dust of the road from our throats as well. Jacobie, will you not join us? I would happily buy you a drink in return for your advice on the local vintages that are worth the coin and those that are best avoided altogether.'

  'Gentlemen! The Loyal Citizen only serves the best!' the dwarf protested.

  'Of course,' Mordius continued quickly, 'but some will not suit every palate.'

  The dwarf paused as he thought that through, which allowed Jacobie his chance.

  'Well then, innkeep, it had best be the Stangeld brandy. That never fails to please.'

  'Oh, yes!' the dwarf said enthusiastically. 'But mind, gentlemen, it is no cheap drop. It was the favourite of the captain of the King's guard when he used to frequent this place.'

  'Used to?' Saltar asked. 'Has he taken his business to another establishment then? Perhaps we should inspect this other place before we order here.'

  'No, no!' the dwarfish innkeeper hurried, clearly panicked at the prospect of losing the only real customers he'd had in a long while. 'There is no establishment to rival the Loyal Citizen. All the inns round about used to be full of the King's guard of an evening, but then they were all sent to the war. It is only a matter of time before Dur Memnos is brought to its knees, the army returns and life returns to normal.'

  'Of course, of course,' Mordius nodded. 'But who then guards the King? Are there none within? Surely I saw guards out front of the palace before.'

  'Those are guards provided by the good necromancer Savantus,' Jacobie took up as the innkeep hurried away to get his most expensive brandy.

  'Ahh, I see! Perhaps he would be interested in our rare herbs,' Mordius mused. 'Is there any way to be introduced to the palace or to arrange an audience?'

  Jacobie blew his cheeks out and then glanced after the diminutive innkeep to see if he was yet coming back. In a lowered voice, he said to Mordius and Saltar: 'If you'll take my advice, then you'll find somewhere else to trade. There's few as comes out the palace as enters, you see.'

  'How is that?' Saltar asked.

  'I cannot say anymore!' Jacobie asserted as the dwarf returned. 'It is otherwise inexplicable why the city burghers believe they can build defences against the natural might of the Achon and Roshan. Then there are the priests of Cognis...'

  'Here we are!' the dwarf interrupted. 'Jacobie, spare them your philosophy long enough that they may give this worthy brandy their full and deserving attention. Will you be staying on long gentlemen? If so, I shall freshen one of the rooms.'

  'Certainly this night,' Mordius nodded at Saltar.

  ***

  They rode all through the night. Kate, the Scourge and Young Strap dozed intermittently, and allowed their mounts to follow along in the wake of the lead mount. At the front of their line, Nostracles leaned forwards in his saddle as he focused intently on using his priestly powers to sense the whereabouts of Brax and the other three giants. If there had been any living thing present with the ability to see through darkness, it would have seen nothing but avid determination on the priest's face and would have quailed at the savage ferocity threatened by it. If that living thing had been wise, it would then have slunk away to hide and pray that it was not the object of the priest's hunt.

  Faint scintillations of bioenergy filled the air around the priest as he poured himself forth in his demand that the world give up the giants. It was as if by force of will alone he would exact his revenge on them. If there was any order, justice or value in this world, then they could not escape the ultimate retribution, Shakri's ultimate sanction. Mercy was only for those who could still be redeemed, not for those whose twisted desires and very existence was a sacrilege.

  On and on he forged, trying to tear apart or burn away the concealing night. And just as the sun began to bestir itself, he sensed them not far ahead.

  'They are there. Ready yourselves,' he said simply.

  The Scourge's head snapped up, instantly alert. 'Wha?' asked a semi-comatose Young Strap, with dark rings around his eyes. Kate had already been awake and was reaching for her crossbow.

  'They are aware of our presence and move this way. They must have caught our scent. They rush like the mindless creatures they are.'

  'Your bow, Young Strap, quickly,' the Scourge ordered drawing his sword and palming a throwing knife.

  Young Strap fumbled a bit, his fingers numb from the night temperatures and his limbs stiff. The horses' ears pricked and swivelled. One snorted and another pawed the ground.

  'Okay, ready!' Young Strap croaked, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. His teeth chattered slightly, but he held his bow in a firm and practised grip. He put one arrow to the string and another between his teeth.

  Shadows grew out of the gloom of dawn as the sun broke the horizon. They lengthened and shortened as the golden orb began to climb. The Scourge's eyes swept backwards and forwards as he tried to detect any out of place movement.

  'They will be hard to spot,' he warned. 'Be on your guard, all of you, and shout if you see anything.'

  'They are fanning themselves out to come at us from slightly different directions,' Nostracles informed them absently and began to whisper unintelligible words as he clutched the lightning jade amulet he wore around his neck.

  The clearing before them suddenly flared with early morning light and the giants were revealed leaping towards them across the lightly packed snow. They came at them in a wide arc and showed no signs of slowing. If anything, they increased their speed at the sight of the party of Guardians.

  'Loose at will!' the Scourge grinned fiercely.

  Kate's trigger clicked before the Scourge had even finished the last word of his command. Her bolt thudded high into the chest of the nearest giant. Its headlong charge slowed and it raised its head to howl in pain, but Young Strap's arrow speared it through the neck so that it died before it even had the chance to utter its anguish. It crumpled to the snow and did not move again.

  The yo
ung Guardian's second arrow was already in flight. It caught another giant in its left shoulder mid stride, so that it was caught off balance and spun halfway round. The Scourge's throwing knife slammed into its lower back and it staggered, some vital organ or nerve apparently damaged.

  The behemoth was almost upon them, roaring its bestial challenge. Young Strap's horse shied away and the archer found he could no longer get a bead on the giants. Kate was still wrestling with the winding mechanism on her crossbow, for her weapon took longer to reload although it was more powerful over short distances. Her gaze constantly flicked between her hands and Brax to try to judge whether she would have enough time, or whether she should cast it aside and draw her blade. The Scourge kicked at the sides of his destrier, but knew he wouldn’t be able to get up to speed fast enough to match the Chief Warden’s momentum, He just hoped his steed remembered its training well enough to swerve and pivot at the right moments and allow its rider more than one pass with the blade.

  The stink of the giants was upon them now. Young Strap’s horse whinnied in panic. ‘Come on!’ Kate shouted in frustration at her slowness. The Scourge had begun a screamed battle cry. The giant coming just behind Brax peeled away from its leader and made for the mounted Nostracles with an anticipatory snarl and leer.

  Above it all rose Nostracles’s chanting. The hairs on the back of their necks rose as the air became charged with power. The priest’s right hand shot forwards, fingers clawed. The amulet in his left hand shone with a fierce green light that was painful to look upon.

  Kate blinked to clear her vision and looked up to find the three giants that were still alive suspended just above the ground. With small futile movements, Brax struggled against the magic that held him but the other two hung immobile.