The Temple of Heart and Bone

by Evren, S. K.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Cardalan replied, snapping to attention. He turned to Drothspar and Chance. “If you’ll come with me, please?” He led them to a row of buildings at the back of the compound.

  “What’s going on?” Chance asked quickly.

  “We can talk about that inside,” the captain replied.

  The scent of horses was strong as they moved back toward the buildings. Men were leading animals from the stables to be staged in the courtyard. Other men continued loading wagons with bales of hay. A sergeant berated his men for allowing a torch to get too close to their wagon. Drothspar, Chance, and Captain Cardalan entered one of the buildings amidst fading shouts and neighing.

  The building they entered was an administrative office. Several soldiers were organizing bits of parchment at tables around the room. They all looked up from their work as Drothspar, Chance, and Cardalan entered.

  “Everyone, clear out,” Cardalan ordered curtly.

  “But Sir—,” one of the soldiers started to protest.

  “Now!” Cardalan said sharply. The soldiers looked at one another, shrugged and hastily left the building. Cardalan waited until the last man had left. He stepped through the doors at the back of the room to make certain the building was clear.

  “What is all of this about, Captain?” Drothspar asked. Cardalan stared at him for a moment and then answered.

  “During our meeting earlier today,” Cardalan coughed uncomfortably, “a messenger arrived from Sel Avrand. It seems one of their western-most cities was razed. Completely. Not a single living thing remained. The attackers set fire to the fields and woods around the city.”

  “I see,” Drothspar said evenly.

  “No,” Cardalan disagreed, “I don’t think you do. I said that no living things remained,” he reminded them. “Well, apparently, not too many dead ones did either. When the relief forces found the city, Sa Ruus, in ruins, they reported that the enemy had taken the bodies of the fallen with them. Only the most horrendously mutilated and incapacitated bodies remained behind.” Cardalan paused and raised his finger to indicate a very important point. “The thing is, those mutilated bodies were still, for lack of a better term, alive.”

  “What?!” Chance stared at him with wide eyes.

  “The few bodies that remained were still animate. The relief force said that the “eyes of the dead” followed them wherever they went. They said that the dead tried to speak to them, that the mouths moved but no voice came forth. They said that they poured oil over the corpses and set fire to them, but that the bones still stirred, even in the ashes.

  “The council that my Lord attended was called by our Sovereign, King Olventross, to give audience to the Eastern emissary. It was this emissary that brought news of these black miracles. Our Lord King has put out a general levy to call all the forces of Marynd to stand to arms. My Lord Ythel has been given orders to send an expeditionary force east to ascertain the veracity of these claims. I will be leading that expedition.” The captain looked meaningfully at Drothspar. “My Lord and I both desire your company in this effort.”

  “My company?” Drothspar asked, bemused.

  “Quite frankly,” Cardalan said with an ironic smile, “you’re the only dead person we know—at least that’s still walking.” He looked furtively at Drothspar.

  “And you think I am somehow connected to this?” Drothspar said. It wasn’t really a question.

  “Quite possibly,” Cardalan admitted. “At the very least, you may sense something, notice something that we might otherwise miss.”

  “And what is that”?

  “Honestly, I have no idea.” Cardalan said truthfully. “If I were to take my men into an unknown forest, I’d look for a local guide. You stand in a forest that no man has returned from… I can’t think of a better guide for this expedition.”

  “When do we get started?” Chance asked, her voice firm.

  “We?” Cardalan asked. “I’m sorry miss, but my orders do not include you.”

  “Where he goes,” she told the captain, pointing at Drothspar, “I go.” Her eyes burned defiantly.

  “I don’t think you understand where we are going, miss. This is not a social outing. This is a serious probe into hostile territory.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Captain. I am going with you. I’ve been through the remains of Æostemark. I’ve already seen what you have not. I can hold my own, and I most certainly am not going to stay behind while my friend goes out into that kind of danger. No.” She stared hard at the captain. “No way.”

  Drothspar looked at Chance feeling somewhat surprised. She, however, was fixed solely on Cardalan. Cardalan stared back at Chance as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying. He looked quickly at Drothspar seeking support.

  “He’s not going to help you,” Chance said to Cardalan. “Even if he doesn’t want me to come, I’m still going.” Her voice had settled into a calm firmness.

  “I see,” Cardalan said stiffly. It was clear that he did not like being contradicted. “What do you say, Priest?”

  “Drothspar, Captain. My name is Drothspar. If she wants to come, I think we should be grateful for her help.”

  “Very well, Drothspar, I will see to it that another horse is made ready.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Chance said primly. Cardalan did not reply. He turned on his heel and left the room.

  Drothspar and Chance did not have time to discuss the situation. Cardalan returned after a few moments outside.

  “Your mounts will be ready shortly,” he said. Chance surmised that the captain had taken the moment to cool down outside. Perhaps he’d taken it out on some soldier, she thought.

  “You are most efficient, Captain,” Drothspar said. Cardalan acknowledged the compliment with a curt nod of his head. His bearing relaxed as he realized that he was not in for a fight.

  “I want you to know,” he said looking at Drothspar and Chance, “I was merely concerned for the young lady’s well being.” His eyes shone with sincerity. “Truly, Miss, where we are going will not be pleasant.” The captain was not used to losing battles. His body tensed slightly as he spoke.

  “And I want to thank you, Captain,” Chance said brushing against the captain and lightly touching his arm, “for being so concerned about my well being.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I do hope that I won’t be too much in the way.” Her voice was sweet and gentle.

  “Well, Miss,” the captain sputtered, “I’m just not sure—”

  “Captain,” Drothspar interrupted the man.

  “Yes?”

  “My companion is well-traveled and has, I assure you, seen hard times. She has also just stolen your dagger.” Drothspar paused while Cardalan’s hand slapped toward his waist. “She is quite resourceful, as you can see. I wouldn’t worry yourself overly much.”

  Chance looked speculatively at Drothspar and then back at Cardalan. She smiled wryly at the captain and gave a little toss of her head. She let his dagger slide out of her sleeve and handed it back. Cardalan took the dagger quickly and stared at Chance as if she might be hiding something else that he might later miss.

  “Don’t worry, Captain, that’s all I took. Call it a ‘field exercise.’” She smiled again.

  “Of course,” he said, though his voice betrayed a hint of suspicion. “I will return shortly and collect you when we are ready to move out.” Cardalan returned his dagger to his belt and left the room.

  “You’re very good at that,” Drothspar told her. She eyed him for a moment, wondering exactly what he meant.

  “How did you know?” she asked. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s caught me.”

  “I knew a few pickpockets when I was younger,” Drothspar explained. “One, in particular, thought he could rid himself of the competition if he taught me how to spot the process.”

  “Was he right?”

  “Actually, he was. I became quite adept at catching pickpockets, a number of whom were his competitors.�
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  “What about him?”

  “You know,” Drothspar said candidly, “I never could catch him.” He shook his head. “Believe me, I tried. I think he thought it added a certain excitement to see if he could snatch something while I was watching.”

  “So you never caught him?”

  “No,” Drothspar said sadly.

  “What’s wrong then?” She felt a measure of disappointment over Drothspar’s downturn in mood. Was his pride so important that the escape of one thief could depress him?

  “Timmer’s competition didn’t really approve of him teaching me the tricks of the trade. A number of them didn’t really appreciate being caught, either. One morning I found a body lying face down in the street. It was Timmer.” Drothspar paused. “He was a nice old man,” he said simply. “I liked him.”

  Chance looked at Drothspar and then turned away. She regretted the disappointment she’d felt. It was so easy, she thought, to misunderstand him. No face for expressions, no eyes to read. Even so, he still had a heart—somewhere. Which really mattered more? She realized she was defending him from herself, as if her own disappointment had been an attack against him. It was all so odd.

  “Where did you learn the trade,” he asked her softly. She turned to look at him and she could feel the color rise in her cheeks.

  “I, uh, well...,” she said, twisting where she stood. “I learned it—”

  She broke off abruptly as Cardalan entered the room.

  “Our mounts are ready, it’s time to leave,” he said. He held the door open into the courtyard. Chance hefted her travel pack quickly and headed outside. Drothspar watched her leave and then stood to follow.

  “We’re staging by the gate,” Cardalan told them as they walked through the torchlight. “Twenty men will be going with us; we’re to act as a light scouting unit. We’re not going out to engage the enemy,” he explained, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Don’t get spread out and don’t fall behind. We just don’t have the men to mount a rescue.” Cardalan led them to three saddled horses held by grooms. “You’ve all ridden before, I take it?”

  Chance took her reins from the groom and flowed gracefully into her saddle. “Yes, Captain,” she said with a smile. Drothspar walked up to his horse and started to put his foot in the stirrup when the horse shied away.

  “Are you all right, Drothspar?” the captain asked seriously. His look clearly indicated that he needed the former priest.

  “It’s been a few years,” Drothspar answered in his hollow whisper. The eyes of the horse opened wide and his ears flickered nervously. Drothspar walked slowly up to the animal and patted it gently on the neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered softly to the horse, “it’s okay.”

  The animal began to relax slowly and the grooms stepped up to hold the reins while Drothspar mounted. Slipping his foot into the stirrup he climbed into the saddle, though less gracefully than Chance. The horse stared back over his shoulder, certain there had been some mistake. He had expected the weight of a man and Drothspar was considerably less. “Think of it as a windfall,” Drothspar whispered as he continued to pat the horse’s neck. The animal eyed him suspiciously then turned its head to the front.

  “Sergeant,” Cardalan called, “is everything in order?”

  “Yes, Sir,” a thick, grizzled man replied. He sat solidly on his horse and his face was serious.

  “Very well, Sergeant, form up and move out. I’m going to inform his Grace that we’re leaving.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Drothspar and Chance fell in behind the soldiers as they started to ride toward the gate. The air was cool and moist, carrying the scent of the flowing Vistel. Drothspar continued to soothe his animal and Chance wore a broad smile. The men, the horses, even Drothspar and Chance felt the excitement of setting out at night.

  Chapter 30 – Into the East

  The small company passed through the streets of Arlethord guided by their own torches. Here and there, lights glowed above street level, evidence that some of the citizens were preparing for an early day. One or two curtains were pushed aside to watch the horses clatter by in the street. The sergeant leading the column kept the pace slow to keep down the noise. Drothspar also suspected the man didn’t want to get too far ahead of his captain.

  They were challenged at the city gates, but the sergeant won them passage. Just after they rode out of the city, Drothspar and Chance heard the staccato hoofbeats of two horses moving quickly behind them. The horses paused briefly at the gate and then cantered through to join the column. One of the riders was Captain Cardalan, the other was a woman that neither Drothspar nor Chance had seen.

  If Cardalan had been upset by Chance’s decision to join the company, he now looked to be near a fit of rage. He rode straight-backed in his saddle, his form crisp and clean, but his face was a deep scarlet. The color of his face was enhanced by the amber torchlight which also highlighted his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. He said nothing to his companion but rode directly to the sergeant. He issued one terse order and the column picked up its pace and headed east. The woman who was accompanying Cardalan fell back to the end of the column with Drothspar and Chance. She followed along without saying a word. Her eyes were fixed eastward and she kept quietly to herself.

  Cardalan rode with his sergeant at the head of the column. Before the sun broke over the horizon, Arlethord was miles behind. The city stood out in sharp relief illuminated by the morning sun. It seemed small as it sat crouched amidst the golden fields surrounding it. The crisp light of dawn made it look as if it were merely a toy within easy hand’s reach.

  The sun’s light shone directly before them as they rode into the forest. It glistened and sparkled between tree trunks and leaves, flickering, flashing, and stabbing into their eyes. Woodland animals took startled glances at the swiftly moving party and bolted quickly away. Birds spread warnings in songs and screeches while the sun continued to rise.

  Drothspar had been watching the actions of the soldiers in the column. They rode with discipline and training, but he caught their covert attempts to question each other. He could tell by their glances that they were curious about their guests. To his surprise, they seemed more concerned about the woman who had come with Cardalan. She wore the same chain armor and surcoat that each of the soldiers wore. He had assumed that she was one of Ythel’s retainers. He could tell by the soldiers’ whispers that he had been wrong.

  As he looked at the woman who rode slightly behind him, Drothspar noted the color of her face and hands. What the darkness had masked, the sun now revealed clearly. This woman had come from Sel Avrand! Not as pale as the citizens of the West, this woman’s skin was a rich, golden tan with just a hint of red. Her features were finely cut, and her skin warmly accented her beauty. A wealth of thick, black hair framed her face and rose and fell with the strides of her horse. Drothspar was certain he was seeing one of the most beautiful women he had ever encountered; her back was straight and she exuded a power and command that would have challenged Ythel, himself. Her eyes burned with a cold fire, as if just by staring she could level a path clear to their destination.

  “They are curious about me,” the woman said to Drothspar without warning. “And so are you, I see.” There was no trace of self-consciousness in her voice. Her words came easily in a fluid, almost musical accent. Drothspar nodded in acknowledgement. Chance, who overheard the woman speak, turned her head to listen.

  “My name is Vae,” the woman continued. “I am to be a part of this expedition. There is no reason to contest this decision. For you, as for me, there is no choice.” Her words were spoken with a note of finality.

  “We don’t ‘contest’ your presence,” Chance spoke up. “We are not really with the soldiers up there.” Chance nodded her head at the soldiers behind Cardalan.

  “You ride with them, don’t you?” Vae asked.

  “Don’t you?” Chance retorted. Vae stared hard at Chance without saying a word. Her head tilted slightl
y to the side and she nodded her head once.

  “I suppose I do. What is your name, child?”

  “My name is Chance, and I am not your child.” Chance regretted her choice of words instantly. Vae’s proud face softened slightly and her eyes widened. She looked for a moment as if she’d been slapped.

  “No, you most certainly are not,” Vae said softly. She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Who is your silent companion?” she asked brusquely. “A man of the cloth?”

  A wry smiled flashed across Chance’s face as she looked at Drothspar. A man made of cloth, she thought to herself. Drothspar’s head swiveled to face her and the smile fell quickly away. How did he know, she wondered.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Chance replied after a moment’s hesitation. “His name is Drothspar.” One of the soldiers who rode in the rear of the column sat up stiffly as he heard Chance. He did not turn, nor did he say a word, but his scarred face flushed slightly.

  “Does he speak?” Vae asked.

  “He’s had some problems with his throat lately,” Chance said. Well, that was true, she thought to herself. “He doesn’t speak very often now.”

  “I see,” Vae said. “As it happens, I have some skill with herbs and unguents. Perhaps when we have leisure I can be of assistance.”

  “Perhaps,” Chance said noncommittally.

  Cardalan looked back along the column as their conversation drifted to his ears. Drothspar noted a worried look on his face. Cardalan put his heels to his horses flanks and the column picked up its pace to match. Conversation was no longer possible as the wind tore at their faces. They kept that pace until Cardalan decided the horses needed rest. He slowed the pace of the column to a walk and fell back to talk with Vae.

  Drothspar and Chance kept up with the soldiers while Cardalan and Vae dropped some distance behind. It was approaching noon when Cardalan rode back to the head of the column to call a break to their journey. His men found a clearing large enough to provide space for themselves and their horses. Within minutes, a small fire was burning and rations were passed out to the soldiers and their guests who sat in a ring around the fire.