Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  “He looks like one of the birds,” Cutter said with a smile.

  The rest of the army laughed.

  “Come on, everyone, Blaster’s right,” Watcher said. “We have a skeleton to catch and we can’t do it standing around here. It’s time to run!”

  Instantly, all the parrots took flight as the family of NPCs sprinted to the south, chasing their terrible and dangerous prey.

  CHAPTER 21

  The skeletons trudged through the stagnant waters of the swamp. The murky water reached up to their bony knees, making it difficult to walk. A family of green slimes was bouncing cautiously out of bow range, watching the invaders but unwilling to come near. All creatures knew to be wary of skeletons and their arrows.

  “General, the villagers are following,” a skeleton shouted. It was one of the scouts sent back to watch for anyone following.

  “What?” Rusak bellowed in disbelief.

  The skeleton was out of breath, having sprinted to catch up to the company of monsters. He looked cartoonishly small next to the hulking form of the general. But that was what made this monster such a great scout; with his diminutive size came the ability to hide easily, as well as great speed.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  The scout slogged through the mire, moving closer to his commander. “The boy-wizard leads a group of villagers. There are many warriors there, but elderly NPCs as well.” The scout stopped to take another breath. “I thought they had all been destroyed.”

  “As did I.” Rusak stopped walking and considered the problem.

  “How did that wizard do it?” Ratlan asked, shocked. “He must have used powerful magic to get out of that trap.”

  “Perhaps.” General Rusak stared at the scout. “I’m more curious as to how they found our trail.”

  “Perhaps that wizard is stronger than we thought.” Captain Ratlan sounded scared. “He must have great powers.”

  “Indeed,” Rusak replied, then focused on the scout again. “Did they see you?”

  “No, General. I hid in the water, then moved to islands filled with vine-covered trees.” The tiny little skeleton stood tall, though he was still dwarfed by his commander. “They did not see me, and I ran as fast as I could. They are only a few hours behind us.”

  “Excellent, go back to your position as forward scout. I don’t want to stumble into any surprises up ahead.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lithe skeleton took off, running much faster than a normal skeleton.

  “That was a clever idea to send that skeleton back to see if we were being followed,” Captain Ratlan said.

  Rusak scowled. “I don’t need your approval.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Ratlan took a step back.

  The general relaxed a bit. “I’ve learned to never assume an enemy is gone, even if it seems impossible. I have no idea how they escaped that trap in the War Room. I would have figured all the villagers would have drowned. That boy-wizard’s magical powers must be growing. He is indeed dangerous and must be destroyed.”

  The captain nodded his agreement.

  Glancing at their surroundings, Rusak considered how he would use this terrain to their advantage. Small islands dotted the shallow waters, with oak trees standing tall on the tiny chunks of land, each draped with long, hanging vines. Lily pads floated on the still and stinking waters, allowing the skeletons to occasionally step out of the waters and check their surroundings. Off to the left stood a witch’s hut, the building standing atop four legs.

  Rusak smiled. “Did you see that old hag’s face when she saw our warriors?”

  Ratlan nodded, remembering. “She tried to defend herself by throwing poison on our skeletons … what a fool.”

  “She was obviously ignorant about the undead,” Rusak said. “Poison has no effect on skeletons. If the hag had used potions of healing on our skeletons, then she might have done some harm … NPCs are such fools. Our warriors enjoyed destroying her.”

  “Was there anything useful inside her hut?” the captain asked.

  “Just a few bones and some bone meal. It will feed a couple of our soldiers, but not many.”

  “What do you want do about the villagers that are following us?” Captain Ratlan asked.

  “We’re going to set a little trap for the NPCs. You see those two steep hills up ahead?” He pointed to a pair of hills covered with trees, long, stringy vines hanging from the branches.

  Captain Ratlan nodded.

  “We’re gonna lead them through that pass. When they’re knee-deep in water and between those two hills, your two squads of archers will step out from behind the vines and open fire.” Rusak reached up and scratched at the scar that ran down his face and across his red and useless eye. “You’ll destroy as many as possible, and slow them down while the rest of the army continues toward the Swordsmith’s Workshop. The villagers have been finding some important relics, like this Helm of Calling, here.” He pointed to the shining, silver helmet under his arm. “Perhaps there are more at the Workshop.”

  “But what if the villagers won’t slow down?” Ratlan asked, an uncertain look on his pale face. “What if they attack us? We are outnumbered.”

  Rusak grabbed the skeleton by the collar of his iron chestplate and yanked him close. “They will be in the water, fool. How fast do you think they can move?”

  “Well … I mean, what if—”

  “I don’t care about ‘what if’s’. If you’re too afraid, let me know and I’ll find another to promote to Captain.”

  “No sir, I’m not afraid.” Ratlan stood tall, bony chin held high. “We will stop them.”

  “You better. If those villagers get through that pass without slowing down, and you are still alive, I’ll be most displeased.” Rusak leaned forward and leered over the captain.

  The captain shrunk back, intimidated, and lowered his gaze to the ground. “We will not fail you.”

  “Very well. Take your archers and get onto the hills. I’ll leave a trail for the villagers to follow.”

  “Yes, sir.” The captain saluted, then trudged through the knee-high water, motioning to his squads to follow.

  While the soldiers veered off and headed for the hills, Rusak put the Helm of Calling into his inventory, then put away his bow and drew his long, iron broadsword. It sparkled with magical enchantments, producing a purple glow and giving the general the faintest splash of color.

  “You, private,” Rusak boomed, pointing at one of the skeletons.

  The monster turned toward his general, then pushed through the muck to reach his commander. “Yes, general.”

  “Turn around and face away from me.”

  The skeleton did as he was instructed, for to disobey the general meant instant death. In this case, it didn’t really matter if he obeyed or not; the fate was the same. Raising his blade high in the air, General Rusak brought it down upon the skeleton, tearing into the monster’s HP. He hit him again, destroying the defenseless skeleton. A handful of bones, along with his bow and arrows, fell to the ground, floating on the surface of the water.

  “Thank you for volunteering, private. You are the beginning of the trail that will draw the villagers into our trap.”

  The general smiled, then pushed onward through the smelly swamp water, driving the skeletons faster and faster, occasionally finding more volunteers to keep the trail easily visible.

  CHAPTER 22

  Watcher plodded through the knee-deep water, the putrid smell of the swamp making him want to gag. He stepped up onto a lily pad, then jumped to a block of dirt, then leapt to another lily pad, glad to be out of the muck for a moment. The army moved slowly through the swamp, but they knew it was the right direction. Needle kept glowing as it pointed toward the ancient relic carried by the skeleton general.

  “Are they still heading in the same direction?” Cutter was at the front of the formation, his diamond sword in his strong hand.

  The big warrior stopped and waited for Watcher to catch up.

 
“So far, they’re still heading south.” Watcher turned to the east. Needle dimmed, then grew bright again when he brought it back to their original direction.

  “Maybe they’re actually running from us,” Cutter said with a smile.

  Planter laughed and slapped the big NPC on the back. He glanced at her and placed a hand on her shoulder for just a moment.

  I hate the way she laughs at his jokes, Watcher thought. He’s not that funny.

  This had never bothered Watcher before, but for some reason, it really got to him now. And then he saw it: Cutter placed a hand on Planter’s shoulder.

  Did it linger there a bit too long? Did he brush his fingers down her arm like Cleric used to do with Watcher’s mom?

  “I don’t like the way he looks at her,” Watcher whispered to himself. “I wonder if he likes her … does she like Cutter?” Icicles of fear stabbed into Watcher’s soul … am I too late?

  He felt angry, but it was something different … something he hadn’t experienced before. Watcher knew he didn’t hate Cutter, but right now, he couldn’t stand looking at the warrior.

  He jumped back into the muck and pushed his way through the swamp, turning away from the pair as Planter giggled again, then stepped up onto a nearby lily pad, happy to get his feet out of the murky waters. He glanced back at the army, Planter and Cutter at the edge of his vision.

  Focus, Watcher, check on the people who are counting on you. Watcher’s internal voice was angry, but now it was focused at himself. The army was strung out in a haphazard formation, with no thought given to how they marched and their defenses.

  “I don’t like how exposed we are out there,” Watcher said.

  “What?” Cutter asked.

  Planter had moved off to walk next to Winger.

  “I said I don’t like how exposed we are out here.”

  “What do you suggest?” Cutter asked.

  The young boy rubbed his square chin and he thought. He glanced at the two hills that seemed to be in their path, the trail leading between them. “I want to put the archers on the outer edge of the formation. If the skeletons attack, it will be with bows first.”

  Cutter nodded, but said nothing.

  “I remember seeing some of the skeletons with swords. When they get close, they’ll use their blades instead of bows, but I suspect they aren’t very good with them. That’s where we’ll have the advantage; the skeletons can’t compete with your swordsmen up close.”

  Cutter smiled, silently accepting the compliment.

  I hate that I just complimented him…. Focus, Watcher … focus.

  “We’ll have the archers on the outer edge, then your swordsmen behind them. Also, I’m gonna distribute the Frost Walker boots, as Mapper calls them, to our best fighters. We have about ten pairs in total; I want to use them effectively. The elderly, sick and wounded should be at the center where they can be protected. Right now, they’re all just spread out in no particular order. We need to be prepared.”

  “But I don’t see any skeletons nearby,” Cutter said. “Why does it matter right now?”

  “The problem isn’t with the skeletons you can see,” a voice said from behind. “Rather it’s with the ones you cannot see.”

  Watcher turned and found his father, Cleric, smiling up at him.

  “Always prepare the battlefield before the battle starts; that’s what a wise commander does,” his dad said.

  Watcher nodded.

  “But there isn’t a battle going on,” Cutter said.

  “Not yet,” Cleric added.

  Cutter considered the words, then nodded. “Watcher, you’re in command. This army is following you to the Bad Lands, not me. Give the command, and the warriors will do as you say. If they don’t, they’ll have to answer to me.”

  Watcher gave the warrior a scowl. Why is he being so nice? He jumped off the lily pad and landed with a splash in the mire, some of the murky water splashing on Cutter’s ornate armor. Watcher smiled spitefully, then moved to the archers and told them where to go, then collected the weaker villagers and put them at the center of their formation, surrounded by swordsmen. Watcher put Winger in command of the right flank of archers, while he and Planter would be with the left. As he positioned the troops a voice shouted out from in front of the army.

  “I found bones up here.” A villager suddenly stood, his grayish-green armor making him difficult to distinguish from the swamp.

  Watcher moved toward the individual. As he drew near, he saw a huge grin form on the NPC’s face; instantly, he knew it was Blaster, their forward scout.

  “It looks like skeleton bones,” Blaster said when Watcher and Cutter reached his side. “I found them just floating here with the monster’s bow and arrows.”

  Watcher took the weapon as Blaster threw the bones aside.

  “Why would they just leave these bones here?” Winger asked as she approached. “It doesn’t make sense. They knew we’d see them.”

  “Maybe the skeletons don’t know we’re following them,” Planter said.

  “They know, alright.” Blaster removed his leather cap, allowing his black tangle of curls to spring outward as if trying to take flight. He scratched his head, then replaced the cap. “Every now and then I see a skeleton hiding in a tree or lying low in the water. They know we’re here, and they’re probably watching us right now.”

  They all glanced around as if hoping to spot a skeleton.

  Blaster laughed. “You won’t see them. These skeletons are crafty and careful; they’ve been trained well.”

  “If they’re watching us, then let’s give them something to be afraid of.” Cutter glanced at Watcher. The boy gave him a nod. “Everyone, we’re gonna speed up … it’s time to run.” He turned back to Watcher and the others. “We’re gonna put some pressure on the skeletons. If they want to watch us, fine. They’re gonna watch us getting closer and closer. Eventually, they’ll make a mistake, and we’ll be there to catch them.”

  “So, your plan is to charge forward?” Winger asked.

  Cutter nodded.

  “Clever idea,” she said, a sarcastic tone to her voice.

  “Let’s all get back to our positions,” Watcher said. “Cutter is right. We need to close the distance so we can see where these monsters are going. They must be heading for that ancient building in the Bad Lands. And being in that terrible-sounding place, I bet it’s not a wizard’s tower, but it will be a monster place, built by the warlocks.”

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of the skeletons reaching a warlock building first,” Cleric said.

  “Then we better hurry up.” Cutter moved forward, running as best he could through the shallow bog.

  Watcher and Planter took up their positions on the left side of the army. As they trudged through the muck of the swamp, he looked up at the two hills on either side of them. Scanning the hillside, he looked for threats, but all he saw were thick vines hanging from the branches of oak trees.

  Suddenly, ghostly white shapes emerged on both sides. Skeletons pushed through the drooping foliage and took aim at the villagers, their pointed shafts notched and ready to fire; the group was under attack from both sides.

  “It’s a trap!” Watcher shouted as fifty arrows took flight and rained down upon them like deadly hail.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Everyone, hold something over your head,” Cleric shouted.

  The old man pulled an iron chest plate and held it over his head. Others used pieces of armor or blocks of stone or dirt; anything to shield them from the arrows that were about to strike.

  Watcher stood there, staring at the arrows, terrified beyond the ability to think. Planter rushed to his side and knocked him into the water, then pulled out a wooden shield. Holding it over her head, she protected both of them as arrows thudded into the wooden rectangle.

  “Get up.” Planter reached down and grabbed Watcher by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “We need to do something, fast.”

  “Yes, do somethi
ng.” Watcher glanced around at the army.

  The archers and swordsmen were all looking to him, waiting for him to give some command. Even Cutter was waiting for him. The big warrior glared at Watcher for a moment, expecting him to do something, then stopped waiting and gave his own commands.

  “Swordsmen, get ready to—”

  “No! I know what to do,” Watcher shouted.

  He placed a block of dirt onto the soggy ground, then stood on it so as to have a good view of the battlefield. “Archers … ready … FIRE!”

  The villagers returned fire just as the skeletons launched another volley.

  “Every other archer … protect, just as I taught you.”

  Half the archers pulled out pieces of leather armor, then held them over their companions, the two soldiers hiding under the makeshift shields. The arrows struck the armor instead of hitting the villagers.

  “Fire again.” Watcher turned to the swordsmen. “Those with Frost Walker boots, put them on and get to the shore as fast as you can. The rest of the swordsmen, move to the archers and protect them.”

  Ten swordsmen and swordswomen put on the Frost Walker boots. Instantly, the water beneath their feet froze solid, allowing them to run across it. Half of them headed for one hill while the rest moved toward the other. As the warriors ran, the archers continued their attack on the skeletons. With a constant rain of arrows falling upon them, the skeletons were forced to remain under cover.

  “Archers, advance to the hills.” Watcher pulled out his enchanted bow and drew back an arrow. His keen eyes sought out anything white amidst the hanging vines. When he spotted something, he fired, then drew and fired again.

  The frost walkers made it to the shore quickly. Now, with swords drawn, they charged up the hill, shields held at the ready. The NPC archers drew closer to the hills, continuing their barrage of arrows as they advanced. When the swordsmen drew near, the archers ceased fire and charged to the shore. The sound of fighting emerged from beneath the branches of the oaks. Shouts of pain, from skeleton and villager alike, filled the air. Watcher knew his friends were getting hurt, but there was only so much he could do from here.