Empire of Bones

by Christian Warren Freed

  “I assure you that if we must make war in Delranan it will be my utmost priority to ensure no civilians are needlessly killed nor their homes and farms destroyed in retribution of what happened here. You and I do not always see eye to eye but I have grown to respect you as a Man,” Aurec reassured him.

  “Just as a Man?” Rolnir questioned.

  Aurec smiled. “Your prowess as a general is already well documented in Rogscroft. That being said it now falls on the rest of you to fix this kingdom. I don’t promise an end to the dark times. There are no magical stores of crops waiting to appear when we need them the most. We must work for everything we have.”

  “I have teams sifting through the rubble in search of dry goods and perishables. The Goblins were thorough but not enough. Each day finds new stores,” Venten admitted. “Other teams are taking away the rubble. What can be used is recycled and the rest burned in the hundreds of campfires around the city.”

  “Good. We may all die of starvation but at least we’ll be warm,” Aurec joked.

  Nervous laughter sprang up around the room.

  Vajna grunted his amusement. “You’ll be presiding over an empire of bones, Your Majesty.”

  “We are all responsible for not letting that happen,” Aurec replied coolly. “What other business needs to be addressed this morning?”

  He couldn’t tell them how badly he wanted to go back to bed, despite his fears of seeing Maleela tortured or worse the moment he closed his eyes. His thoughts gradually took over, forcing their conversation to idle background noise.

  * * * * *

  She awoke to pain pulsing through her head. Her body felt abused, as if she’d been dropped from atop the water fall at Bryk Peak. How so much suffering could be stuffed into such a small frame eluded her rationale. Sparks peppered her vision when she opened her eyes. They eventually faded, leaving her with a fleeting sensation of blindness. Maleela tried to rise, at least to her knees, but the combination of pain and lack of muscle use left her immobile.

  “Ah, good, she awakens,” came a wisp of voice.

  Another said, “She should be dead. The Hags were most unkind with their handling of her.”

  “Lord Death claims who he wants. The princess is destined for greater moments than the ignominy of a senseless death in a nameless place.”

  “This is a dangerous game,” the second warned.

  “It is the same we have played for thousands of years,” answered the first.

  Maleela tried to speak, her words nothing more than strangled croaks.

  “You are dehydrated. Water and food will be made available to you. Do not worry. If we wanted you dead you never would have been brought back to Delranan.”

  Her heart stuttered. Delranan! How in all the gods did I wind up back home? What manners of beasts does my father have in his employ?

  As if reading her mind, the first voice told her, “Your father is the least of your concerns, Princess. He is a puppet serving us, as you will be soon enough.”

  She felt the cold draft of their departure, leaving her once again alone in the dark. She tried to cry as all of the dire possibilities dancing in her mind collided into one inescapable conclusion: she’d been brought home to suffer for her crimes against the throne. Her tears never came. They’d dried up long ago.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  An Unlikely Ally

  Boen tucked his sword close to his body and rolled forward to avoid being struck by the monstrous stone figure trying to decapitate him. Groge wasn’t as fortunate. The Giant took the brunt of a blow and was propelled backwards. He landed with the force of a small quake and a loud huff exploding from his lungs. Having traveled from one coast of Malweir to the next, the Gaimosian had seen all manner of fighters, monsters and myths, but never anything as ferocious as what assailed him now. Not even Anienam’s magic had any effect.

  Rekka shouted something in those hazy moments right before the fight began but no one had heard, either that or they simply didn’t listen. Only Boen and the Dwarf captain threw themselves whole heartedly into the fight. Ironfoot hacked away with his double-headed battle axe. Stone chips flew from the gargoyles with each swoop but the stone creatures continued to harass them. Nothol Coll tried firing an arrow only to watch it shatter on impact. The gargoyles were impervious to mortal weapons.

  “Damn it, Anienam, do something!” Bahr shouted over the shrieking of stone wings.

  The wizard wore a shell-shocked look as well as any hardened veteran. “Do what? They are made of stone. I’ve never encountered anything like this!”

  Bahr growled. “Everything has a weakness. Find it so we can kill these things.”

  Anienam cursed under his breath but went back to trying to conjure an effective spell. He had quite forgotten about the fabled defenders of Trennaron and failed to recall any spell in all his lore able to defeat the gargoyles. Imbued with powerful magic far beyond the realm of the Mages, they were the perfect warriors.

  Rekka slid in beside them. Her normally perfect black hair was disheveled. Her soft eyes bore a wild look. “Bahr you must order them all to put down their weapons immediately!”

  “Are you mad? These things will kill us in a matter of heartbeats,” he shot back.

  She shook her head. “No. They are responding to the threat we pose. If we put down our weapons they will not attack.”

  He paused. She’d been locked away within the castle for years but that didn’t mean she knew everything about Trennaron to keep them alive. On the other hand, her iron will and exuding sense of righteousness had a calming effect on him. He was able to think clearly. The gargoyles launched from the walls the moment Bahr and the others entered the massive clearing. They didn’t attack until Boen drew his sword and rode to the forefront of the group. Until that point they seemed content with circling from a distance, as if watching to find any traces of hostility. Reluctantly, Bahr decided to trust Rekka.

  “Are you sure?” He left the obvious unspoken. If she was wrong they were all going to die, quickly.

  She nodded again. “Positive. Trust me, Captain.”

  Bahr stuffed his sword away and rose with his hands outstretched to the sky. He shouted, “Lower your weapons! Do it now while we still have a choice!”

  The others were equally reluctant, but Bahr’s tone eventually pushed through that stubborn refusal to abandon their only means of defense. Boen was the last to lower his sword. His great chest was heaving with exertion. Sheets of sweat made him appear glossy. His eyes bore that wild look he had when he abandoned civility to the whims of his killing frenzy. Inexplicably, the gargoyles ceased their assault and hovered menacingly well out of reach.

  Bahr turned to Rekka. “That information would have been helpful before we entered the clearing. Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “No, Bahr, but the protectors have a specific purpose and we are a band of warriors. It was inevitable that some form of conflict would arise upon our meeting. Boen and Ironfoot were preparing to attack the moment the gargoyles launched from their watch positions,” she explained. “I was so overjoyed to return to Trennaron that I overlooked the situation. My apologies, Captain. It will not happen again.”

  “I hope not,” was all he said.

  Boen stalked towards him. Every minor characteristic cautioned anger. “What was that?”

  Bahr stopped Rekka with his hand and stepped between them. “Calm down, Boen. We’re not going to fight each other. Rekka made a mistake. No one got hurt. The only way we’re going to succeed is by focusing on our next move.”

  “Mistakes get people killed,” Boen growled.

  “So does ignorance,” Bahr fired back. “Something tells me this place has more than just those stone gargoyles protecting it. Am I correct, Rekka?”

  She nodded. “There is magic at work all around us. The castle will know whether we are good or evil and take actions accordingly.”

  “What of the Man inside?” Bahr asked. “Will he help us?”

  �
��Artiss Gran hasn’t physically helped anyone in centuries. He is a mystery, even by our standards. I only saw him twice in all of my time here,” she answered.

  Boen rolled his eyes. “What’s the point? We came all this way for what? Exactly? I don’t mind fighting, but there has to be a good reason. She’s never seen the one person we’ve come to see. I may not be a genius, Bahr, but this smells bad.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. We’re here. Our only option is to push forward and see if this Artiss Gran has the answers we need,” the Sea Wolf answered. “Rekka, will the gargoyles leave us alone if we mount up and continue?”

  “As long as we do not take up arms again,” she said.

  “That’s good enough for me,” Bahr told her and climbed into his saddle. His eyes never left the circling figures high above. “Let’s move out. It’s getting dark and I don’t fancy being caught out in the open again.”

  The others followed his lead and soon were on the path to Trennaron. The castle loomed closer with each step, growing taller and wider. No other structure on Malweir was so large nor majestic, nor were any castle gates so securely fastened. Bahr had the sinking suspicion Artiss Gran wasn’t going to open them for anyone.

  Anienam pulled alongside him and said, “That was quick thinking back there. You saved us, Bahr.”

  “I did what needed to be done,” Bahr replied. “Can you tell me anything about what we’re getting into?”

  “Nothing I haven’t already said,” the wizard replied. “This is a strange place for me. I am still trying to learn the rules. We are going to have to rely on Rekka’s insights to get us through this stretch of the journey.”

  “What about the Hamr? Will Gran give it freely?”

  Anienam wished he had the answers. Their quest would pass smoothly if he could decipher the Dae’shan’s plans. Time steadily slipped between his fingers like grains of sand and, even though he stood on the very doorstep of Trennaron, Anienam felt no closer to the solution than he had when he sought out Bahr in Chadra at the end of summer. Too many forces were working against him, making it difficult to keep up. The worst was the unnecessary capture of Maleela. Clearly the Dae’shan had designs for the princess, but what and why?

  “I don’t know. His position was created by the gods of light for the Dae’shan. It is impossible to say how he will react once we present our requests.”

  Bahr frowned. “I thought the Dae’shan were the bad guys? Why is one guarding a place of power?”

  “They used to be neutral. Impartial Guardians of all power and lore throughout Malweir. Apathy set them against each other and finally led to their downfall to evil. Only one remained true to their purpose and he has hidden within these walls since that day. It is entirely possible he isn’t aware of the situation in Delranan,” Anienam explained.

  Bahr struggled to keep up. Magic was anathema to a simplistic Man like Bahr. He based his life choices off of what he could see or learn. Invisible powers capable of crushing a Man did nothing for him. The single fact he plucked from Anienam’s words was that the Dae’shan either couldn’t be killed or they had no interest in committing fratricide. That didn’t bode well.

  “Rekka, will Artiss Gran open the gates?” Anienam asked.

  She cocked her head in thought, the sure answer of months ago no longer so concrete. “I do not see any reason why he shouldn’t. He sent me to the north to warn you of the coming war. It stands to reason he knows as much as his former brothers, though I cannot say for sure. A being that powerful seldom takes anyone into his confidence.”

  Their answer came quicker than they expected. All of the gargoyles suddenly tucked in their wings and swooped back to their eternal positions atop the walls. The massive gates groaned open when the group was still a hundred meters away. No guards poured out to meet them. Only a red-tailed hawk watched as they led the horses inside Trennaron. Its piercing glare followed their movement until the last person entered and the gates swung closed. The hawk screeched once before taking flight back to the jungle.

  Dorl Theed looked over his shoulder to see the last glimpse of the outside world squeeze shut. A lump formed in his stomach. “Looks like we’re in it now, eh Nothol?”

  “Seems so. I wonder if this Gran fellow has any more tricks up his sleeve,” he replied.

  Dorl was too tired to care. He already figured on dying during this quest. What did it matter if it was here or back in Delranan? “Do you think we can trust him? I overheard Anienam talking about him being one of the Dae’shan.”

  “When did you make a habit of trusting anyone?” Nothol asked back. The notion clearly amused him.

  “I don’t, but we’ve run out of options.”

  Nothol stopped his horse and looked Dorl dead in the eyes. “You’re not thinking of backing out again are you? We had a deal. Stick with this until we got paid and then wash our hands and move on to something better.”

  “A deal’s a deal, Nothol. I’ve got your back for as long as you need me to. I just don’t like how all control has been taken away from us and given to some shadow character we don’t know if we can trust or not,” Dorl said. His face darkened considerably. Many foul thoughts swirled in the back of his mind.

  Nothol stayed silent. My friend, we’ve never been in control, of any of this whole sordid mess. Our lives hang by the whim of wizards. And don’t that just gnaw at your soul?

  Any further thoughts ended the moment a thin figure clothed in a stark white robe suddenly materialized in front of Bahr and Rekka. The jungle Woman immediately dismounted and dropped to a knee with head bowed. The others looked from the new arrival back to each other in confusion.

  “Welcome, friends. Trennaron is the last pure gift of the gods of light. To stand on these hallow grounds is as close to godliness as a mortal may come. Be at peace within these walls,” the figure announced with disturbing authority. “Rise, Rekka Jel. You have served us well. All that was asked, you accomplished and more. You are a testament to your people.”

  Her cheeks flushed with remembered shame yet she obeyed. “Master, I have returned with Anienam, son of Dakeb and last scion of the order of Mages. He is accompanied by Bahr, brother of Badron and the rightful heir to the throne of Delranan.”

  The hooded figure looked over the group. “Where is the princess? I do not see her among them. Has she not come?”

  Rekka swallowed. “Princess Maleela was stolen by enemy agents not two days ago in the jungle. I can only assume they are moving back to Delranan for some nefarious purpose.”

  The figure was silent for long, uncomfortable moments. “That is…unfortunate. She is a key to all of this.” He paused. “But where are my manners? You are exhausted from the arduous journey south. Food and beverages are already being made available for you, as well as hot baths and sleeping arrangements. Once you have finished we shall speak.”

  The robes fell apart like thousands of tiny snowflakes. Even Boen gasped. A door opened, silently urging the adventurers inside.

  “What about our gear and the horses? We can’t leave them here unattended,” Bahr asked.

  Rekka removed her saddled bag and slung it over a shoulder. “They will be seen to, probably better than ourselves. Trennaron has many attendants, Bahr. They are in good hands.”

  Dorl and Nothol exchanged wary looks before following suit. The door closed behind them without a sound.

  “I haven’t eaten that good since Drimmen Delf,” Ironfoot said as he rubbed his widening stomach. His burp was so loud it rang from corner to corner. He chuckled. “Damned fine food. I feel like a king.”

  “You sound like a cow,” Boen snickered. He tore a great chunk of beef off a rib bone and chewed greedily. Juices slid down his chin and into his beard.

  Ironfoot barked a deep, rumbling laugh. “You’re one to talk. I’d heard Trolls had better table manners than Gaimosians but never believed them until now.”

  Skuld’s mouth fell open. So sure was he that a fight was brewing, he slid his chair out of
the way. The last thing he needed was to be trampled by two angry individuals with something to prove. He took another mouthful of the dark, bitter ale and sighed. Nothing he’d eaten or drank in the last few months compared to the luxury pouring down his throat.

  “Funny, but true mostly,” Boen said and surprised them all. “Wizard, why didn’t you tell us this place was like living in the lap of the gods? We might have been in more of a rush to get here!”

  Laughter rippled through them until even Anienam smiled. Bathed and fed, they’d forgotten all of the hardships and toils suffered on their quest and certainly abandoned thought of the next phase. Getting back to Delranan wasn’t going to be easy at all. In fact, Anienam surmised it was going to be much harder than any of them imagined.

  “Ah good, I see you have taken advantage of this lovely feast I ordered be prepared.”

  Banter faded and all heads turned to the hall entrance where a very old Man with sad eyes stood watching. His wrinkled hands were clasped in front of his waist. Once pristine robes were stained, faded through time and use. His beard was long but thin. What hair remained circled a growing bald spot. Dark brown pinpricks peppered his skin.

  Rekka rose and bowed again. “Master.”

  “There is no need to stand on formality for me, Rekka. I am an old Man, far older than even Master Keiss. A time will come when my title will be used but it is not this day. Tonight, we are all equals. Or so I hope. Truthfully, it’s been so long since we had visitors I’m not sure I know how to properly entertain anymore. My name is Artiss Gran and I am the last steward of Trennaron. Welcome.”

  “The honor is ours, Master Gran,” Anienam answered smoothly. “Long have I desired to look upon the wonder that is Trennaron. No story or legend in any of the races of Malweir gives this glorious castle justice.”