Cursed Bones (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Five)

by David A. Wells

  “Maybe he could be useful,” Anatoly said.

  “How so?”

  “Ixabrax mentioned that he’s getting hungry and I don’t want to carry these corpses up to the cave, do you?”

  “And after that?”

  “After that, I suspect he’ll be much more inclined to provide us with some useful information about his unit and their mission.”

  Abigail chuckled, nodding her approval and sheathing the Thinblade. “Pick up your friend there and start walking.”

  When they entered the cave, the man looked around, assessing his situation, then staggered back, dropping the corpse of his companion and backing away until he was pressed up against the wall. Ixabrax opened his eye, then raised his head and sniffed at the corpse.

  “I see you’ve brought me a snack. Any chance you could unwrap it for me?”

  “Take off your friend’s armor,” Anatoly said to his prisoner.

  The soldier hesitated, still staring in disbelief at Ixabrax.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Lord Zuhl is the dragon god, how can you betray him?”

  Ixabrax extended his giant head until his snout was inches from the soldier’s breastplate, regarding him steadily until the man started trembling and wet himself.

  “I worship no human. Zuhl is a dark and evil wizard who has enslaved my family by means of his magic, nothing more. Once the enchanted collar binding me to his will was cut from my neck, I was free of his influence, and given the chance, I will eat him just as I’m going to eat your friend here. Now take off his armor.”

  Ixabrax withdrew his head, still eyeing the man like a cat eyes a mouse, but the soldier didn’t move, standing transfixed, frozen by fear.

  “I suggest you do as he says,” Anatoly said.

  Still trembling, the soldier slowly started to unbuckle his dead companion’s breastplate. When he was finished and backed away, Ixabrax’s tail rose over the dead man and suddenly skewered him through the chest, then casually lifted the man to the dragon’s mouth where he took his time chewing, all the while looking intently at the captured soldier.

  “Are there more where this came from?” he said, stifling a belch.

  “Come on, let’s go get the next one,” Abigail said, motioning to the cave entrance.

  The soldier swallowed hard, his eyes wide, sweat beading on his brow despite the chill air, but he obeyed. An hour later, they had a pile of armor and weapons stacked up in one corner of the cave and Ixabrax was snoring contentedly. All five of the enemy soldiers were gone and the remaining man was standing against the wall, looking at Ixabrax with a mixture of fear and awe.

  “Everything I’ve been taught for my whole life is a lie,” he whispered, a look of horror on his blood-stained face.

  “Yes,” Abigail said. Anatoly nodded. Both were sitting next to the fire. The soldier had been disarmed and his armor removed, though given his fear of Ixabrax, Abigail suspected that both precautions were unnecessary.

  “But why?”

  “Because Zuhl wants to rule the world,” Abigail said. “And you can’t do that if you tell people that that’s what you’re trying to do. Tyrants have to lie, they have to fabricate fear within the hearts of their people and then promise to protect them from the imagined threat they’ve created.

  “Zuhl has been working toward this for centuries. He’s kept your tribes stirred up and at war for generations so he would have just the kind of men he needed to fight in his army. He’s used every sort of propaganda known to humanity to fabricate the myth of Zuhl as savior when he is the perpetrator of war, the cause of your suffering, the reason for the plight of the people on this island. And the worst part is, your people believe the lie so completely that most will never be persuaded to believe otherwise.”

  “But the Reishi have returned, as he said they would,” he said, trying to hold on to his crumbling beliefs.

  “Yes, but Zuhl only told you half the story,” Abigail said. “Phane Reishi is an evil bastard who needs to die … yesterday. But he’s not the real Reishi Sovereign. My brother is and he sent his army to Fellenden to protect the people there against Zuhl’s army even when our home of Ruatha is under attack by Phane’s forces.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because it was the right thing to do. Because there was horrible suffering being inflicted on innocent people and he had the power to make it stop … so he did.”

  The soldier slumped down against the wall and put his head in his hands. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Abigail said. “I’m going to let you go.”

  Anatoly looked at her with a questioning frown.

  “Why would you do that?” the soldier asked, looking up at her.

  “So you can tell your brothers-in-arms the truth,” Abigail said. “Once you do that, I’m quite sure they’ll kill you for treason. Just make sure to deliver this message for me before they do: If they come near this cave, my dragon friend here will feast.”

  The soldier looked from her to Ixabrax and back again.

  “They’ll never believe me, but you’re right about one thing, they will kill me.”

  Abigail shrugged. “So run away instead. Find a village where you can make a life for yourself. Leave your companions ignorant of the threat they face if they come to attack us. It’s up to you. Take the honorable path and give your fellow soldiers a chance to survive or run away like a coward, your choice. Just be certain of one thing, if you return here, you will die. Now take your cloak and your sword, but leave your armor and go.”

  Haltingly, the soldier strapped on his sword from the pile of gear they’d collected and pulled a cloak over his shoulders. He stopped at the mouth of the cave and turned back, shaking his head slightly.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “What’s your name?” Abigail asked.

  “Haldir.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Haldir. Now get out of here and don’t come back.”

  Chapter 30

  Several minutes passed without a word, both of them content to stare into the fire crackling in the growing darkness of late evening.

  “I’m not sure if that was mercy or vengeance,” Anatoly said.

  “Maybe a little of both. Or maybe I just wanted to give Haldir the chance to exercise his free will informed by all of the facts.”

  “He’ll probably lead them right to us,” Anatoly said.

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. Zuhl’s soldiers have come to revere and fear the dragons, even if under false pretenses. I doubt Haldir wants to meet Ixabrax ever again.”

  “Either way, we should be vigilant tonight,” Anatoly said.

  Abigail nodded. “Why should tonight be any different?”

  They kept the fire low and built up a screen to diminish the soft glow it cast from the mouth of the cave, but the soldiers didn’t come. The next morning, Abigail watched the sun rise over the sparsely wooded slope of the mountain, expecting to see troops marching toward her, but there was no sign of them.

  Magda’s fever broke that morning and the infection in her wound started to diminish with each successive application of Old Man’s Beard. While the infection was no longer a danger, the wound was still serious and debilitating.

  “You should go without me,” she said after listening to them recount the events that had transpired since she’d become delirious with fever.

  “Not a chance,” Abigail said.

  “I won’t be fit to fight for weeks. You can’t afford to wait that long. Zuhl’s already sent soldiers after us. When they fail to produce results, he’ll send something else, or he’ll come himself.”

  “We’re not leaving you here alone,” Abigail said flatly.

  “She’s right,” Anatoly said. “You’re not strong enough to feed the fire, let alone hunt and we don’t have enough food to last you until you heal. We’re staying.”

  “Then we need to figure out how to help me heal faster,”
Magda said. “Has Alexander visited lately?”

  “A few days ago,” Abigail said.

  “Apparently, Isabel is still in a bit of trouble, so I suspect he’s trying to help her,” Anatoly said.

  It was several days before Alexander returned. Abigail was starting to get restless, but Magda’s wound was still too serious for her to travel, let alone fight. Abigail was pacing outside the entrance to the cave when Alexander appeared.

  She stopped and glared at him. “You really should check in more often.”

  “Sorry. Isabel was captured and I couldn’t find her. I’ve been spending every moment trying to get past the magical defenses surrounding the place where she’s being held.”

  “Is she all right?” Abigail asked, suddenly worried.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know who has her or why.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex. Sometimes I forget how much you’re tying to manage all at once.”

  Magda smiled from her bedroll as Alexander and Abigail entered the cave.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Much better, though not well enough,” Magda said. “I fear that Zuhl will find us before I’ve healed sufficiently to travel.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Consult with Master Alabrand,” Magda said. “Perhaps he’s aware of some medicinal herbs native to this part of the world that would speed my healing.”

  “I was just going to pay him a visit. I’ll see what he knows.”

  “How’s everything else going?” Anatoly asked.

  “Aside from Isabel, mostly the same. Dad’s building up his line in Buckwold. Blackstone’s magic has failed, so the wizards have relocated to Glen Morillian. Mom and Emma have gone with them. All that’s left in the Keep are Rangers and a few Sky Knights. Phane is working day and night to build ships, both in Karth and Andalia, but he seems content to wait out the winter before making his move. Bianca has secured the northern fortress island and is running patrols into Fellenden. Cassandra is busy with her wyvern-breeding program and training new Sky Knights; she’s already increased her ranks by fifty. My leg is stiff and sore but healing, and Jack is going stir-crazy.”

  Abigail smiled. “I know how he feels.”

  “He misses you, by the way.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’ll be back with Lucky’s advice in a few minutes.”

  He faded into the firmament, reappearing in Lucky’s workshop in a blink. Lucky was sipping a cup of tea, reading and listening to the sputtering and bubbling from several tables filled with glassware.

  “Ah, Alexander, there you are. I’ve acquired the ingredients to make a quart of aqua regia. I’ve been eagerly awaiting the next step in the process.”

  “Excellent, but I need some more advice for Magda first. The Old Man’s Beard eliminated her infection, but her wound is still pretty serious. Any suggestions?”

  “There are a number of healing herbs that grow in colder climates but most are rare.” He got up and went to a bookshelf, searching briefly before selecting a tome and flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He laid the book open on the nearest table.

  “This is called snowbell … it’s similar to deathwalker root in its healing properties, but it’s hard to find, growing almost exclusively on rocky outcroppings high in the mountains.”

  It looked like a creeper vine that covered the rock it lived on without actually putting down roots. The leaves were small and very dark green, and tiny white, bell-shaped flowers grew in clusters on the end of long stems.

  “What part of it do I need?”

  “The vine itself,” Lucky said. “The flowers are useless except for decoration, but the vine can be prepared just like deathwalker root to make a healing salve.”

  “How quickly does it work?”

  “Depending on the severity of the wound, days or weeks, but generally much more quickly than the natural healing process.”

  “If I can’t find any, is there anything else that might work?”

  “Not this time of year,” Lucky said. “If they can find an apothecary, they may be able to purchase it.”

  Alexander nodded thoughtfully. “I have no idea how the people on Zuhl might react to their presence.”

  Lucky shrugged with a smile. “Why not go and ask for yourself?”

  Alexander chuckled softly. “The simplest solutions are usually the best.”

  “Indeed they are. Now, I’m eager to proceed with my project.”

  “All right, the sovereigns tell me that one of the ingredients of aqua regia is muriatic acid.”

  “Yes, essentially a concentrate of stomach acid.”

  “Good, so mix the aqua regia, but keep a quantity of muriatic acid aside for use later. Dissolve an ounce of gold into the aqua regia and boil it down to one-tenth of its initial volume, being cautious of the fumes.”

  “Wait, am I to understand that gold is the secret of Wizard’s Dust?”

  Alexander nodded, smiling. “Essentially, yes, but it’s more than that. Gold is Wizard’s Dust, or more to the point, Wizard’s Dust is gold, only in a much different state than it’s normally found.”

  “Miraculous. I’ve often wondered why men are so obsessed with gold. It isn’t very useful as a metal, except for jewelry, of course, yet it’s been used by every society in history as money. Now I think I understand that better. Gold is the link between consciousness and the firmament, the source of life and magic. No wonder we’re drawn to it, no wonder men crave it, even if we don’t fully understand why.”

  Lucky sat down chuckling softly with a mixture of awe and revelation ghosting across his face.

  “The sovereigns have outdone themselves with this. Keeping such a thing secret for so long is almost beyond imagining. Consider how many people are carrying gold in their pouch as we speak.”

  “I know, and that’s exactly why it must remain secret,” Alexander said. “Tell no one … ever.”

  “I understand, of course,” Lucky said, nodding solemnly. “So, I’ve dissolved an ounce of gold in a quart of aqua regia and boiled it down to one-tenth of its original volume.”

  “Add an equal quantity of muriatic acid and boil it down again. Repeat this step until no more fumes are produced, then gently boil it down until the solids are just dry. Be careful not to burn it. Take the resulting material and repeat the steps from the beginning until the product is a rich orange-red in color.”

  “This is very exciting, Alexander. I’m quite sure that every wizard who’s ever lived since the fall of the Reishi has dreamed of learning the secret of Wizard’s Dust, the secret of magic itself. Thank you for entrusting me with this task.”

  “You’re welcome, Lucky, but it’s important for you to understand that you are literally one of only two people in the world capable of producing Wizard’s Dust. It’s more than just gold manipulated by a complicated process … it requires magic to create, powerful magic.”

  “In a way that’s reassuring,” Lucky said. “If just anyone could learn the process and make it work, we’d have people attempting the mana fast left and right; most would fail and die horribly, but those who succeeded would lack the guidance and wisdom of other, more experienced wizards. There’s no telling what they might do, even if by accident or mistake.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. The power to manipulate the fabric of reality itself must be guarded and protected. To do any less would be to unleash a thousand Phanes or Zuhls on the people of the Seven Isles.

  “When Balthazar Reishi told me of the crushing burden he felt after he first discovered the process for creating Wizard’s Dust, I didn’t fully understand. It seemed to me that he’d just unlocked the secret of life. I imagined that I would be jubilant in his place, but now I understand the weight he felt.

  “Honestly, if we weren’t at war with such dangerous enemies, I’d give serious thought to letting this secret die with me.”

  “You can’t mean that, Alexander.”

  “Consi
der the consequences for the world if we fail to control this. If this secret falls into the wrong hands, it’ll be our fault. We will bear some of the blame for the evil they do, the suffering they cause.”

  “Magic is power. Like a hammer, it can be used to pound a nail or beat someone’s brains in,” Lucky said, donning the hat of the tutor. “We don’t deprive the world of hammers because they can be misused.”

  “No, but a hammer can’t be used to destroy tens of thousands of lives or enslave whole countries … magic can. While I agree that it is a tool, it’s far too powerful a tool to be left lying around like a hammer.”

  “Fair enough, just don’t forget that magic is also used for good, enriching and improving countless lives, assisting with food production, building construction, and healing, just to name a few of the limitless uses of magic that benefit not just those entrusted with wielding it but society in general.”

  Alexander nodded, smiling at his old teacher. “I miss these conversations.”

  “Me too, my boy, me too.”

  “I should be going. The process will take you a few days to complete, but the end result will be stable. Just keep it someplace dry until I can return with the next steps.”

  “Take care,” Lucky said as Alexander faded out of sight.

  Chapter 31

  After returning to the cave and clairvoyantly searching the surrounding area for any hint of snowbell, Alexander finally decided that seeking out an apothecary was probably the best chance they had for procuring the rare root. He floated high over the cave and found the telltale streamers of smoke rising over a village in the distance. It was several leagues away over rough terrain but it was also fairly large, more of a small town than a mountain village.

  It was perched on the high ground of a bluff overlooking a winding stretch of fast-moving mountain stream. A single road led into the town from the south, crossing the stream over a well-made stone bridge that arced gently across the steep ravine. Several smaller roads led from the town into the less tame parts of the island farther north.

  Alexander discreetly materialized between two buildings near the market square and strolled out into the flow of people coming and going, taking care to avoid being near enough to anyone for them to brush up against him and wonder about his lack of substance.