Bones of the Empire

by Jim Galford

  “Feanne, get the wolves,” Estin said as he started back up the hill, though she had already headed that way. “We need a healer out there, just in case. I’m going with the forward line.”

  Catching him by the wrist, Feanne pulled Estin close and nuzzled his cheek before stepping back and smiling at him coyly. “I will see you on the field of battle. Go.”

  With Linn at his side, somehow keeping up in a hundred pounds of armor, Estin ran up the hill after the soldiers. He knew it likely had only been about fifteen minutes by the time he crested the hill again, but he feared the worst. Explosions in the distance echoed through the hills. The crackle of magical lightning was unmistakable.

  As he came over the hill behind the soldiers, Estin finally got a clear view of the plains ahead, and for a moment, he really thought he had been too slow. Massive burned sections had filled with melted snow, and more spells went off every few seconds, blowing snow and dirt a dozen feet into the air. Then he realized that around every crater were dozens of either unmoving or badly damaged zombies, having been ripped apart by magic. He followed the next series of spells and saw Alafa and Barlen darting through the zombies at a dead run, narrowly avoiding the certain death that came with the Turessian spells. The zombies were far slower than the deer, often getting caught in a ball of flame or bolt of lightning. A quick tally told Estin that nearly a quarter of the enemy force was down, if not destroyed, while the Turessians angrily tried to catch the two deer.

  “Stupid but effective,” Linn reminded him, pulling on his helm and tightening its strap under his jaw. “I thought everyone from the old pack was crazy, but every one of them has been amazing. I’d give anything to have the force we had in the canyon. Those people, with some decent preparations and tactics, could have won this war already. Let’s show those four down there that we’re not a force to be reckoned with.”

  Linn whistled sharply, and the soldiers began down the hill toward the Turessians, who had their backs turned. With luck, they would not even notice the charge until Linn’s men were on them.

  Seconds later, the first of Linn’s soldiers crashed into the zombies. The soldiers cut through the undead like paper, chopping down another hundred or more before the Turessians even knew there was an attack coming. The four robed humans scrambled to turn their army, but the undead were slow to understand, many pivoting the wrong way. By the time Estin and Linn reached the bottom of the hill, nearly half of the enemy force was on the ground, with more dropping each second.

  Howls behind Estin gave him cause to smile. Dozens of werewolves, several werebears, and even a handful of dire wolves raced past him and then past the soldiers. They cut a swath through the enemy army and went right for the four Turessians, who were backing away, using the zombies as shields. Magical explosions dropped several of the werewolves, only to have them stand seconds later and shake off their injuries before charging again. The battlefield was utter chaos, with the undead unsure what to do and the Turessians forced back to back as they struggled against the lycanthropes.

  “Estin!” Alafa cried, loping out of the melee with Barlen at her back, grinning like an idiot. “You had a great plan! It worked! Thanks!”

  Estin bit down on his tongue to keep from saying anything about not having made the plan.

  Linn’s soldiers began bringing their wounded to the back lines. He ran to them, meeting the injured and dying before they were placed on the ground. He moved from one to the next as quickly as he could, trying to prioritize the worst off, channeling a rush of healing magic into each. When he would lift his hand to go to the next, the horrible gashes and claw marks would already be closing. Within minutes, he had everyone in decent shape again, with only one life lost.

  It felt good to be needed on the battlefield again, despite his racing heart. The exertion had passed far beyond mental and had started to take a toll on his body. He very nearly collapsed once bodies were no longer being brought to him. But then he saw Feanne and the lycanthropes had boxed in the four Turessians. Rishad, Turess, and Linn hurried over to help.

  A bone-rattling shriek echoed across the plains, and Estin looked up in time to see a werewolf reduced to little more than ash at a gesture from one of the Turessians. The robed man turned his attention on Feanne next, and Estin realized he was much too far away to help.

  Magical energy flared and faded as it slammed into an invisible barrier in front of Feanne. Searching the people nearest her, Estin spotted Turess. He frantically went through the motions of one spell after another, intercepting every attack the Turessians made against the werewolves and soldiers. Soon the four Turessians slowed, then stopped their casting and huddled to stay out of reach of the werewolves, held back only by Feanne’s repeatedly shouted orders.

  As though his legs were unsteady, Turess put his weight on a dwarven woman beside him to keep himself upright. Even at a distance, Estin could see the bracelet he wore steaming, the skin near it burned and blistered. There was a story to that item that Estin dearly wanted to know and what little he had been told was not everything.

  Running to join Feanne, Estin realized the Turessians had not so much relented as they had been contained. Turess still stood nearby, ready to deflect any magic the Turessians managed to weave despite his exhaustion. But it was Rishad who had actually stopped them. He held a hand high, and when Estin shifted his vision, he saw tendrils of magic wrapping all four of the Turessians, funneling all of their magic away in a blossom of energy.

  Without their magic, the four men stood nervously watching the werewolves and bears, apparently unsure what to do. In all actuality, Estin knew they were probably still strong enough to kill many of those around them. They had their limits, though, and their attention was shifting rapidly between Rishad and Turess. There was enough doubt to keep them from acting.

  “How many does he have?” Feanne was asking as Estin came over. “How many of…you.”

  One of the men eyed her the way one might look at an unpleasant present a puppy had left on the rug. “Thousands. We will overrun the nations and beat you back into the caves from which…”

  At a flick of Feanne’s hand, one of the werewolves tackled the man and bit down on his face, crushing his skull loudly. The wolf spit out bone and gore, remaining atop the Turessian as his injuries slowly healed. After about thirty seconds, the Turessian was nearly whole and watching the werewolf in horror.

  “Let us try this again,” Feanne said, crossing her arms. “How many does he really have?”

  “Tell her nothing,” snapped another of the Turessians. “Dorralt can probably hear everything she’s saying. If anything, she’s helping him gauge numbers.”

  Laughing, Feanne walked closer. “If he has to gauge our numbers, he does not have thousands of you. With thousands, he would not concern himself with how many we bring. A hundred of you would crush us, and we both know it. Your own words tell me he likely has only a few dozen.”

  The last man who had spoken opened his mouth, but his face abruptly went slack and all tension in his muscles fell away. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed to his knees. Then, as though yanked back to his knees by strings, he looked around quickly with glowing red eyes. A malicious smile slowly spread across his lips.

  “Hello, Dorralt,” Rishad said, keeping his hand up to maintain the spell over the others. “Nice of you to join us. Care to add anything to the discussion? We’re rather busy here.”

  From the other side of the group, Turess’s face twitched near his eyes, though he said nothing. The only action he took was to rub at his bracelet.

  The kneeling Turessian turned his gaze on Rishad, and his features twisted into an almost inhuman smile. “Good day, Rishad. I wondered where you went. That’s three times my children went missing and turned on me. I think you can see in your mind what happened to Ilarra.”

  Rishad’s smirk faded abruptly and he lowered his eyes.

  “Working with the beasts,” Dorralt continued through the other man’s mouth, sw
eeping his gaze across the army. He stopped when he got to Turess, but returned his attention to Rishad. “I would have expected more of you…and them. This paltry army is all you could muster? I give you credit for the lycanthropes, but the rest is at best ragtag. Even my brother’s presence is at most a distraction.”

  Feanne snarled at the Turessians, getting a decent flinch from the three who were not possessed.

  But Dorralt openly laughed at her before waving dismissively at her and turning to Estin. “I thought we killed you already? Why do you keep showing up where I am trying to work, wildling? The fox is an imbecile, that I understand, but you are clever. Clever creatures do not attempt to sneak into a foe’s den. Are you serving my brother now? I had thought you to be past being someone’s slave, but that is the only explanation I can see…”

  Estin brought as much magic to bear as he could manage, attempting to strike down the body that Dorralt inhabited. As he did, the man brought up his hand and all of the voices in Estin’s mind vanished. His whole body abruptly felt heavier, and his mind buzzed painfully.

  “Stop that,” Dorralt warned, giggling madly. “I may be at a disadvantage in this puppet, having already been weakened by Rishad. However, that is not enough to completely stop me, Estin. I can feel Turess trying to crush what little power I can still reach, but it will take him precious seconds longer than you have left to live. I can strike you down right now…you or your whore. You aren’t who I want, though. One problem at a time.”

  Fighting down the urge to leap at the man and claw him, Estin looked around frantically. No one seemed sure what to do, including the werewolves. Even Turess appeared to be straining at some magic Estin could not decipher, though there were no effects he could see from it.

  “Arella,” Rishad called out, and one of the werewolves came forward, her clawed hands still covered in blood. “Would you be so kind as to demonstrate that I am not holding anything back from my old master?”

  Growling, Arella leaped at Dorralt, swiping her claws across his body. He made no effort to move, but when her claws tore open his robes, the wounds instantly began festering, causing Dorralt to look down at his stomach. Instead of healing, the wounds continued to grow worse, as though infection were occurring at an incredible rate.

  After several seconds, Dorralt put a gloved hand to the middle of the cuts, trying to keep his intestines in. “You have figured out a few things since we spoke last,” Dorralt said, frowning. He swept his other hand over his stomach and the wounds closed. “You cannot kill me with tricks, Rishad. At best, you can kill this shell. I doubt he would appreciate dying like that. I take it you have not shared the specifics of how you did that with the others?”

  “Have I ever been that kind of fool?” Rishad asked, pointedly ignoring Estin’s glare. “Only a few of us know. Turess has what he needs to figure it out, but I won’t offer anyone the tools to kill me unless you give me no other choice. End this war and we can keep it hidden from the masses.”

  Unlike Dorralt, the remaining Turessians—including the one pinned under a werewolf—looked horrified. They stared at Dorralt’s side, where the wounds had failed to close on their own. For all the bravado Estin had seen from the Turessians, apparently knowing they could be truly hurt was enough to shake them.

  “Then you are still a fool, Rishad,” Dorralt noted dryly. “I already see the rest of your army and the traps you are attempting to lay. I am so truly sorry, Rishad. Neither of us have a choice anymore. My plans should have spared us all, but you have taken that choice from me.”

  Abruptly, all four Turessians collapsed and began decaying rapidly at the same time Estin felt his magic return.

  Nearby, Turess collapsed, clutching at his head. Linn and several others ran to check on him.

  A second later, Arella screamed and fell beside them, clutching her chest. Rishad and Estin ran to her, but she was choking, coughing up blood as her tongue swelled to fill her wolfish jaw. Without hesitation, Rishad jammed his hand into her mouth, keeping her from choking on her tongue. In doing so, Arella’s fangs ripped his glove apart, shredding the flesh beneath.

  “What is it?” Estin asked, forcing Arella to lie down, with Rishad’s help. Her skin was burning and her heart pounded so hard that Estin could feel her pulse by touching any part of her flesh. He tried to ignore the blood pouring from Rishad’s hand, given he was doing little more than flinching each time Arella’s spasms caused her to bite him. “What is this?”

  “I have no—” Rishad clenched his jaw. Then, shaking his head, he pulled away the top of his brown robe, where the necklace that kept Dorralt out of his mind hung. The metal steamed and flames licked at it, scorching Rishad’s skin. “This is tied to Arella. He’s attacking her through it. He was close enough to strike at me, and he’s using this to kill her.”

  Shifting his sight to look at magic, Estin saw there was indeed a strong link between the necklace and Arella’s body. With her ability to regenerate and her slow aging, it had likely seemed smart at the time. Now, Estin had to think she had pushed her luck much too far. New energies wrapped around both the necklace and its tie to Arella, burning her from the inside out. Dorralt was using his own ties to Rishad to channel flames into Arella.

  Putting his hand over the necklace, Estin tried to disrupt the new magic, but it was far stronger than he was. Almost immediately, a sensation like fire in his blood washed through him, cutting off his attempt. He gasped and blinked hard, trying to clear the fog that filled his head. It felt as though a horrible fever had just broken.

  “I can fix this. Keep Arella stable,” Rishad said, pulling his hand free of Arella’s mouth. He gingerly lifted the necklace and held his other hand over it, despite the flames that burned right through his fingers and lit what was left of his glove aflame.

  Obeying, Estin put his hands on Arella and poured what magic he could into her, cooling her body slightly. It would not be enough for long. Estin was already tired, and Dorralt’s spell was doing an incredible amount of damage to Arella, which he could not have kept up with even when fully rested. Despite her ability to heal herself and Estin’s efforts, her eyes had rolled back and she was barely breathing. The heat coming off her melted the snow all around them and made Estin’s pads feel as though they were blistering.

  Estin split his attention between Arella and Rishad, waiting for the flash of magic he expected Rishad to use to stop Dorralt’s attack. Instead, a brittle crack made Estin jump slightly as Rishad broke his necklace and crushed it into a lump of metal. When he let go of the jewelry, pieces of fell away and Arella stopped convulsing, her breathing gradually returning to normal. Under Estin’s palmpads, Arella’s fur and skin were rapidly cooling.

  “I thought…” Estin said, getting a sharp nod from Rishad.

  “Dorralt can and will destroy or control me now, once his strength returns,” Rishad said calmly, smoothing his robe. “It has been an honor and a privilege, Estin. I don’t have time to call Turess over, so please tell him everything you are about to see and swear to me that when this is all done, we will have made a difference. I would tell him myself, but I know enough of Turess to think he will do something heroic that will cost us lives in the long run. For now, this is between us, at least until it is too late to change course.”

  “I swear,” Estin said, sitting back on his feet. Arella rolled over and coughed up some more blood. “What can we do?”

  Rishad and Arella met each other’s eyes, and Arella hung her head, seeming to grasp what had happened. With her talon-like claws, she knocked aside the remnants of the necklace. Snarling, she got up onto her hands and knees, letting one of her hands land in a pool of her own blood without apparently noticing. She slid over to Rishad, put her other hand to his face, and pressed her forehead to his as he closed his eyes.

  “I promised him I would deal with it when this day came,” she said, closing her own eyes. With a deep-throated growl, she drove her already bloodied claws into Rishad’s chest, causing him
to stiffen and gag. She yanked her hand out a moment later, and Rishad collapsed, as dead as any mortal would have been. His skin paled and turned grey as his extremities started to disintegrate. Still kneeling over him as he fell apart, Arella said, “This was the original plan if the amulet had not worked. I believe he had always known it would come to this. I had hoped for another way.”

  Frantically, Estin looked at the others nearby. Both confusion and sadness clouded Feanne’s face as she stared at the pile of cloth and ash that had been Rishad. The soldiers had been far more concerned with cutting down the remaining zombies and had more or less ignored the entire exchange. Even Turess and Linn appeared ignorant of what had just happened, with Turess still clutching his head and Linn trying to help him up.

  “Leave me,” Arella snarled, still without having reverted to her human form. The sharp rebuke startled Estin and also several soldiers, making them back away. Only Estin and Feanne did not budge. When Arella looked up again, it was not with anger, but sadness. She said quietly, “He was my friend. Please let me mourn him. Once we go, I must never look back or my pack will see me as weak.”

  Estin whispered his apologies, got up, and went over to Feanne, who continued to watch Arella and the dust-covered robes lying in front of her. He took her hand, wincing as he closed his hand over hers and felt cool and sticky blood fill the space between his fingers.

  “We aren’t asking her right now,” Estin said, tugging her arm to keep her moving when she hesitated.

  “I have to know how she killed him and hurt Dorralt,” she whispered back, glancing over her shoulder at Arella. “I’ve torn into dozens of Turessians and never seen one act like that. I’ve ripped their chests open just like that and not one stayed down. I’m stronger than she is and have more magic…”