Pile of Bones

by Bailey Cunningham

  “I know it’s not fair,” she said. “I know you want to hurt me. But you must have realized how high the stakes were.”

  “Are you kidding? It was supposed to be fun. Go on quests, gain experience—just like any RPG. I knew about the monsters. But I wasn’t stupid. I stayed away from them. I never expected that another miles could do this to me.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “I’m nineteen!” His eyes glittered with pain. “I had my entire life ahead of me, and now everything I ever fucking wanted is gone. Because of you.”

  He swung the ax wildly. She jumped back. Sam was no longer holding her hand—Ingrid couldn’t see her anywhere. Gripping the ax two-handed, he swung again. He had the advantage. The ax blade was dull, but with enough force, it would still crush her armor like a tin can. Her sword was barely a prop. She’d have better luck stabbing him with a piece of rebar. She brought it up in time to parry the ax blade, and the shock of the impact made her wrist go numb for a few seconds. Gritting her teeth, she took another step back, keeping the blade high.

  “I’m sorry for what I did to you,” Ingrid repeated. “You’re allowed to hate me. If I were in your place, I’d hate me, too. But we had no choice. Pulcheria was going to die.”

  “She was safe in her room, until you showed up. It was our duty to protect her. You were the ones who broke into the arx.”

  “Latona was going to kill her.”

  His expression wavered. “You’re lying.”

  “What did Mardian promise you?”

  He hesitated, lowering the ax slightly. “He knows a medicus that can fix my leg.”

  “The damage is done. The greatest doctors on this side of the park wouldn’t be able to fix your leg. What makes you think that someone in Anfractus could do a better job, without any drugs or technology?”

  “She—I don’t know—something to do with the lares. Some kind of partnership. They can do things on the other side. Mardian swore it.”

  “He’s manipulating you. He—”

  Something struck her in the back of the head. Ingrid stumbled, then sank to one knee. The pain made her want to throw up. She could see white dots in front of her eyes. Dimly, she made out a shape beside her. It was the man in the boots. He was holding a metal support strut. Ingrid touched the back of her head. She felt a tangled mess of hair and blood. The room began to spin. You’re going to pass out, her brain told her. Between the smoke inhalation and the fresh blow to the head, it’s a miracle that you’re still conscious.

  “Found one of them!” The auditor smiled down at her. For a moment, his face resembled a paper lantern. His cheeks were slightly sunken, and he had a sharp nose.

  “The lares,” she murmured, speaking to his boots. “Are they really here?”

  He chuckled. “Of course. They’re everywhere. Those queer little gods. They couldn’t stay away from a place like this.”

  “But—the rules—”

  “There are no rules anymore. No sides. Latona’s going to make sure of that.” He raised the steel pole again. “You may have slowed her down, but you can’t stop her. All this smoke”—he gestured to the room around them—“came from one curious lizard that I found sleeping under the photocopiers. Imagine what an army would be capable of.”

  “What’s your plan?” She grimaced from the pain. “Set fire to the world?”

  “No. Just to the people who stand in our way.”

  “Hey,” the kid began. “I’m not setting fire to anybody.”

  The auditor stared at him. “You were about to bury an ax in this one.”

  “I wasn’t actually going to kill her.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.”

  “She said that Mardian—”

  “Don’t fucking listen to a word that she—”

  The white dots cleared. Ingrid wrapped both hands around the blade. The auditor started to turn, but he was still distracted. Lurching to her feet, she raised the weapon to eye level, then drove it back down with all of her strength. It passed through the leather of the auditor’s boot, and she kept pushing until she heard the point scrape against the floor. He screamed and dropped the pole. Ingrid drew out the blade, reversed it, and smashed the pommel into his face. She heard the pop of cartilage surrendering to blunt-force trauma. He crumpled to the ground, his foot making bloody, snow-angel smears against the linoleum.

  The kid advanced on her, ax held high. She tried to raise the sword, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed. He had at least a hundred pounds on her, and his grip was a vise. Ingrid could feel her hand going numb. Then something burst from the smoke and crashed into him. Two shadows went down in a heap. Ingrid switched the blade to her left hand. She was shaking but not scared. The smoke cleared a bit, and she realized that it was Carl who’d knocked him down. They struggled, and then the kid punched Carl in the face. He’d lost his ax in the scuffle, but when you’re built like a tank, you don’t need much else. He pinned Carl to the ground, kneeling on his chest. It wouldn’t take much more pressure to crack his ribs. Carl wheezed but couldn’t cry out. He’d lost his knife.

  Ingrid heard a low whistle. Then she heard screaming. The kid’s left hand was pinned to the floor by an arrow. His fingers clenched spasmodically, nails digging at the ground.

  “Gnnah—shit—oh shit—uhn—”

  He slumped forward. He’d lost consciousness. A bloody palm print was beginning to form around the wound.

  Shelby appeared, holding the bow. “Did I hit something?”

  Carl managed to free himself. “You almost hit me.”

  “The smoke was in my eyes.”

  “Next time, you should yell something. Like Fire in the hole.”

  “That’s for artillery, not arrows.”

  “Then yell Arrow in the hole.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “My ribs beg to differ.”

  The smoke was vanishing now. Maybe the salamander had grown tired and crawled back to its nest underneath the photocopiers. Ingrid saw two shapes in the far corner of the room. They were Oliver and Sam. Oliver had raised his knife, and Sam held the fire ax. She must have stolen it in the confusion. The two stared at each other in surprise. For a moment, Ingrid thought that Sam might still swing the ax. Then she lowered the weapon.

  “I wouldn’t relax just yet.”

  They all turned. Even the wounded auditor, still bleeding all over the floor, managed to crane his neck in the direction of the voice. Mardian stood by the circulation desk. He was holding someone else. Was it the fourth pair of shoes? It took Ingrid a moment to recognize the figure, who was half the size of Mardian. She went cold as the realization struck her.

  Andrew didn’t struggle. He just stood there, calmly, while Mardian pressed the edge of a knife to his throat.

  “I found this one in the stairwell,” Mardian said. “He actually cut me. I was so surprised, I nearly let him escape.”

  “I should have aimed higher,” Andrew said. “It was my first stabbing.”

  “Wait.” Ingrid lowered her sword. “There were four of you. I count three.”

  “He’s creeping up behind you right now,” Mardian said. “All stealthlike.”

  “I saw him bolt for the emergency exit,” Oliver replied. “Just before everything went pear-shaped. He must have gotten out.”

  “Not a problem.” Mardian tightened his grip on the knife. “He won’t get far. My lady has no use for deserters.”

  Andrew frowned slightly. “Who is this lady that you keep talking about? Also”—he looked at Oliver—“why did you leave me on the fourth floor? Was it something I said?”

  “Shut up.” Mardian stepped back, pulling Andrew with him. “You’re the cause of this, auditor. It was your silver tongue that charmed the undinae.”

  “I told you before—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can help you with your taxes, if that’s what you want. But I didn’t charm—” His eyes narrowed. “Undinae? Is that a person, or a plural noun?”

  �
�Unbelievable.” Mardian laughed softly. “After all this trouble, you don’t even remember. You can’t. Now what am I supposed to do with you?”

  Andrew’s eyes widened as he took in the rest of the room. He looked at Shelby and smiled in disbelief.

  “Why do you have a bow?” Then he saw the kid with the arrow in his hand. “Oh. You—did you shoot him? With an actual arrow?”

  Mardian looked at Carl suddenly, and smiled. “The foxes told me about what you did. Someone has boundary issues.”

  “Shut up, gelding.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m quite intact, on either side.”

  “Did killing Narses make you feel like a true spado?”

  “The old capon managed to elude us. He’ll be found, though. And this isn’t about me. It’s about your lack of impulse control.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “This must be killing you.”

  “I know I’m not the best at reading nuance,” Andrew said weakly, “but has everyone completely stopped making sense? Or am I dreaming?”

  “Even damaged, he’s still dangerous.” Mardian tightened his grip. “I have my orders.”

  “No.” Carl took a step forward. “How can he be a threat? He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about. Just let him go.”

  “Do the two of you know each other?” Andrew asked. “Are we all playing some kind of extreme RPG? I think someone forgot to tell me the rules.”

  “There are none,” Mardian replied. “I mean, there used to be. The rules held everything together. No crossovers. No talking about the secret. But things crossed. People talked, like they always do. Not everyone is good at keeping secrets. The lares are restless. Powers are moving back and forth. Soon, you won’t be able to tell one side from the other.”

  “I don’t know what your lady friend is expecting,” Carl said, “but you can’t just commit murder on school property.”

  “My position is secure. I can do as I wish.”

  “The police are on their way.”

  “How long have you lived in this city? The police are cruising up and down North Central, looking for people to hassle. You might as well call a taxi. They’ll show up in twenty minutes, or forty, or half past never. It’s all up to chance.”

  “We outnumber you,” Carl said. “The odds are in our favor.”

  “Certainly. But I’m fast. He’ll bleed out before you can reach me. Pumping his stomach is one thing. You won’t be able to sew his head back on.”

  “That’s where I know you from,” Andrew said. “You were at the hospital.”

  “Keep up, sweetheart. You don’t have much time left.”

  “Look.” Carl raised his arms. “If you need a prize, take me instead. Your psychotic lady can torture me.”

  “You think a failed bard will pacify her? It’s because of him that Pulcheria lives. He must pay in kind. There’s no way around it.”

  “I suppose you do whatever she tells you.”

  “I do what’s necessary. I always have.”

  Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Has everyone gone crazy from smoke inhalation?”

  “You can’t stop this,” Mardian said. “Egressus will fall. Once she controls both cities, the balance will shift in her favor. The silenoi have already breached the divide. They’re hungry, and this city is going to be their banquet. Latona will create a new order.” He laughed. “Do you know why Regina is really called Queen City? Because it belongs to the basilissa. She’s going to level it, like an old roach motel, and build a new temple on its ruins. A temple to the lares. Just like the old days, before the blasted wheel controlled everything.”

  “How will a bunch of spirits be any different from the goddess of chance?” Shelby demanded. “They’re selfish and devious. Why would they serve her?”

  Mardian smiled. “Let’s just say they’re planning a family reunion.”

  Andrew started to say something. But his eyes were suddenly drawn to the floor. Ingrid followed his gaze. Her breath caught. As she watched, a tiny set of footprints appeared in the swirl of blood around the fallen auditor. The tracks continued, foot by foot, and something smeared the blood behind them. It looked like a tail. The tracks made their way across the blood path, then stopped, about a foot away from Mardian.

  Andrew stared at the spot where the tracks vanished. “What is that?” he whispered.

  Mardian pressed the knife until it drew blood. “No more games. It’s time to finish this.”

  “Andrew”—Carl’s eyes were wide—“what do you see?”

  “I think it’s”—there was a note of delight in his voice—“a salamander.”

  “Talk to it!”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Yes! We’re all crazy from smoke inhalation, remember? Talk to it, Andrew! Tell it you want to make a deal!”

  “No deals,” Mardian hissed.

  Andrew continued to stare at the ground. He seemed to be listening to something. Then, smiling, he said: “Yes. I understand.”

  Two tendrils of smoke rose from the ground. Then a spark landed on Mardian’s shoe. It was quickly followed by another spark, and another. They popped out of thin air, like miraculous fireworks. A flash of orange struck his hand, and he swore, dropping the knife. Andrew elbowed him sharply in the stomach. Mardian fell against the counter, sparks raining down on him from all directions, landing on his clothes, in his hair.

  Outside, they heard the tramping of boots. Yellow lights flashed against the sliding glass doors, cutting through what remained of the smoke. Mardian had misjudged the city. The firemen were here.

  “The emergency exit!” Oliver cried. “Now!”

  Glass shattered.

  Mardian clawed at his burning clothes.

  The kid with the arrow in his hand was beginning to stir.

  Ingrid dropped the sword and ran.

  She didn’t stop until they reached the parking lot. She would run all the way home, if she had to. Neil was waiting for her. And Paul. They had no idea what was coming. She looked at Andrew. Carl had an arm around his shoulder and was guiding him toward the truck. In spite of the blood on his neck, he was smiling, like a child realizing for the first time that he shared the world with salamanders.