Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel

by Chris Salisbury

  With a loud roar of his own, he leaped forward, holding his large fists in the air. As he landed, he slammed his massive hands down on the wolf. In his drugged haze, Rawrf watched his fists pass near the blue-white hide of the wolf and crush the ground instead.

  Just as a gorilla would avoid a fight with an unnatural foe, a Shade Wolf would not take on such a large and powerful enemy alone. The wolves relied on their superior numbers to confuse opponents with noise and movement, finally prevailing with a series of coordinated and lethal attacks. Going one on one with Rawrf was suicide, even for the most skilled Shade Wolf. One lucky strike from the bone-crushing arms of the gorilla, and the scales would tip in the ape’s favor. But neither creature was in its right mind as all instinct gave way to rage, hate, and magic.

  The wolf struck first, racing in and tearing at the gorilla’s left thigh with wicked precision. The blue energy-infused fangs sliced deep into the muscles of Rawrf’s leg and the ape screamed in pain. The gorilla countered by swatting at the wolf with one of its large arms. This time the blow connected squarely and sent the blue wolf hurling through the air. It struck a tree, releasing a burst of blue-white energy as it hit the trunk and slid to the ground. The spectral wolf stood up; shook its whole body, and unharmed, resumed the fight.

  This time the beast did not hesitate. It acted as wolves characteristically never do: it moved in for a point-blank frontal attack. Rawrf’s huge arms, massive chest, and his own mouthful of powerful fangs awaited the charge. The wolf raced in and leaped to the gorilla’s chest. Aiming for the ape’s throat, it bit hard but missed and crunched the gorilla’s shoulder instead.

  In response, the Ghast Gorilla wrapped his arms around the wolf and struck at the creature’s unnatural body as best he could. But with each forceful blow, it only seemed to infuse the wolf with more energy and strength.

  The wolf’s teeth continued to tear deeper into the gorilla’s flesh even as it received punishing blows from the defender. Rawrf dropped to the ground, slamming his shoulder and the wolf with it.

  Back and forth they went, tossing and turning in a tempest of fangs, fists, and fur. Rawrf was punching, kicking, and tearing at the wolf as it chomped different parts of the gorilla’s body. Nightmare sounds of howls, roars, screeches, and moans seared the air. The two fought on, their epic battle destroying bushes, trees, and even pulverizing rocks.Circling overhead in the night sky, a lone owl peered down upon the fight, watching as the two rolled closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

  Finally, the wolf lost its grip, and Rawrf heaved the attacker from his torso, and the Night Beast tumbled over the forest floor. The Ghast Gorilla was torn to shreds. Huge gashes on his shoulder, chest and arms cut so deep and so wide, it was only a matter of time before he would bleed to death. The spectral wolf, on the other hand, seemed completely unharmed. No broken bones, no cuts or wounds of any kind were evident on its energy-riddled body.

  The spectral wolf got back to its feet and slowly advanced toward its enemy. Rawrf barely stood, as his heels inched closer to the edge of the cliff. His breathing was labored and slow. He might have fallen much sooner in the battle were it not for the potion giving him increased endurance and augmented strength. The wolf leapt at him again, but the gorilla had only the strength to raise his arms in defense. His slowed reactions opened a window of opportunity for the Shade Wolf, and the attacker did not miss. Its jaws crushed down on the ape’s neck and lacerated flesh, bone, and arteries.

  As his life source began to slip away, Rawrf embraced his enemy. He was unable to fight, but was unwilling to let go. The Ghast Gorilla stumbled backwards and let out a final gasp as it toppled over the cliff…the wolf still in its grasp. Both creatures disappeared into the mist that rose from the bottom of the nearby falls.

  The owl, still overhead, changed course and made several passes at the bottom of the falls, its head swiveling from side to side to scan the small river. A few moments later, a large object bobbed to the surface of the water and drifted to the far bank. The owl followed, and just as it flew over dry ground, it transformed in a magical whirl of wind and smoke. As the owl disappeared, Korwin appeared, once again in his elfin form. The owl was the only animal transformation he could execute, and the feat was not one that commanded respect from his peers. But, from time to time, the shape was useful.

  Korwin hurried to the river bank and found the lifeless body of Rawrf. The Ghast Gorilla was so badly torn up that it was hard to determine if this creature was even an ape.

  There was, however, no sign of the spectral wolf. It was gone and with it Korwin’s chance of unlocking an ancient magic; a magic even more powerful than the ghost wolf he had just created.

  CHAPTER 3

  The last few beams of light disappeared as the sun slid below the horizon. Rain fell in sheets, coming down at a sharp angle, as the winds of the tempest howled against the stony mountain sides. Lighting spat from dark, billowing clouds, and thunder boomed through the skies like a raging beast.

  Nestled against one side of the narrow pass, a small settlement of maroon and gold, canvas tents of every shape and size flapped and shuddered in the growing storm. Even though the downpour soaked every inch of the terrain, the durable structures held fast, and offered shelter to those within.

  “Ah… the mighty Mardin! I’m surprised to see you here on a dreary night such as this,” echoed a voice from the distance.

  A woodsman, as if standing on an invisible platform, turned to look in the direction of the voice. He hovered above the largest of the canvas tents, and though the rains and winds continued their assault on the ground below, his being seemed completely unaffected. Though the gales shrieked through the pass, not a lock of his brown hair, or a fold in his dark cloak moved. It was as if he stood within an invisible sphere that protected him from the elements.

  Mardin’s appearance was that of a large male human. He had a broad chest and shoulders, and thick forearms and hands. A sturdy, but elegant broadsword hung at his hip.

  “Sedar. I’m in no mood for your games… or your presence,” said Mardin as he turned to look at the tents below.

  Sedar moved closer, his chest expanded and his head up. Like Mardin, he walked on the same invisible plane, high above the tents. Likewise, the storm had no effect upon his cloak or finely woven tunic. He slid back the hood of his cloak to reveal a large grin on a handsome face.

  “Come now, are we not brothers? One and the same, you and I?” asked Sedar as he stepped even closer.

  Mardin was none too pleased with the remark and folded his arms in defiance. “We are many things, but a brother is not one of them.” He continued, unwilling to wait for a response. “What are you doing here, Sedar?”

  “Why, the same as you, of course. If our mighty God of War chooses to leave his home to observe the dealings of a few insignificant mortals, then I too am curious,” Sedar answered as he struck the same pose as Mardin.

  “My plans are my own. Search for your amusement elsewhere,” the God of War said as he put his hands on his hips.

  As he spoke, Sedar circled behind Mardin, as if trying to get a better angle on the tents below. “I don’t know why you fight against me so; we may not be related by blood or birthright, but we are certainly bonded in purpose.”

  Mardin did not move. “You wish only to satisfy your own desires. You care nothing for these mortals or the members of the council, save your mate Narisa. And even then I doubt your heart has room for anyone but yourself, Sedar.”

  “I’m disappointed you don’t see things differently. After all, what better companion is there for war than a little mischief and a lot of chaos?” Sedar answered.

  “Says the Lord of Chaos. You may be a member of the council, but I see little value in what you offer the worlds”.

  Now it was Sedar who folded his arms in defiance. “I offer a helping hand.” He looked to the sky, and then titled his head to listen to the wind. “Strange, I hear no battle cries. Not the beat of a single drum. No
r the wicked clash of steel on steel. Tell me, God of War, how many years must pass until you fulfill the duty that your title so boldly proclaims?” he said.

  Mardin snapped his head around and gave Sedar a stern look. “Be careful!” he warned.

  The deity continued without the slightest hesitation. “What should I report to the council? There are no wars, or rumors of wars on all of Illyia. No disputes over lands, squabbling over taxes, fights over the love of a woman, or even vengeance for an untimely demise. It’s all so boring and … uninspired!”

  The God of War slid his hand to the handle of his sword and gripped hard. “Watch your tongue, or I will cut it from your lying mouth.”

  “Perhaps these people just need some motivation. I could speak with Alistar. Yes, a famine or pestilence would be magnificent. Yes, that would do it. You’ll see how quickly the mortals turn on each other when their fields are barren and their bellies empty. I wonder…or perhaps Hossef could unleash a plague,” Sedar taunted.

  “Enough! How dare you instruct me in the ways of war? If it was not for my sword you would have perished with the others many seasons ago!” Mardin said.

  This time Sedar bowed his head and retreated a few steps from the God of War.

  “I would never dare to be so bold, Mighty One. My apologies, I only offer suggestions. Perhaps some assistance to ease your troubled mind and allow you to think on more important affairs,” offered the deity, hiding a slight grin.

  Mardin released the grip on his weapon. “Remember your place, lest I be compelled to remind you!” answered the God of War.

  Sedar stood up.

  “Indeed I do. I was foolish to doubt your wisdom. Surely, you wait for just the right moment to bring conflict into the lives of these people. I understand now. You’ve been planning, moving the proper pieces into place, setting the kindling for the inferno. You are far more devious than I realized, mighty Mardin. To lull the mortals into such peace, comfort and contentment, only to rip them from their safety and punish their pride. Their fall will be most grand, and the ensuing horror worthy of song and legend. Yes, I see it clearly now. This will be the war of all wars. You are truly worthy of your title, God of War. You have no equal. You only lack the champion to light the spark.”

  Mardin was confused. He had been so focused on the taunts of Sedar that he almost lost sight of his current purpose. But now his fellow deity reminded him of the task at hand, and his last remarks only strengthened his resolve. “Yes, too many seasons have passed since the feats of my last champion. A problem I will remedy soon. Tell the council that war is coming to Illyia, but only when and how I choose it, and not one moment before,” he instructed.

  “Most excellent news. I will inform them straight away,” said Sedar as he bowed and backed away. “You will have your champion, and I will have mine,” he said under his breath. And the God of Chaos disappeared.

  Satisfied with Sedar’s resignation, Mardin folded his arms, smiled slightly, and then refocused his attention on the largest of the maroon tents.

  A small company of soldiers on horseback entered the pass and trudged through the sloppy, deep mud. Their armor and helmets reflected the light from torches and periodic flashes of lightning.

  ****

  Kelor roared as loud as his voice could project. The panther cub was only a few weeks old, but he was growing rapidly and already weighed nearly four hundred pounds. Despite his large body and increasing strength, he was still very much cub-sized in comparison to his mother.

  A fully grown and mature giant cat, she was ten paces long from nose to tail, and weighed close to thirty-seven hundred pounds. While impressive in comparison to the tigers or even lynx that roamed the vast plains and mountains, she was average for a panther, the largest of the cat races on Illyia. The color of her coat was dark rust with a pattern of dull yellow spots running throughout.

  Kelor watched her side raise and fall with each breath as she slumbered on a pile of straw at the far end of the large steel cage.

  “Mother, I’m hungry,” Kelor said aloud, but she did not respond.

  “Shhh,” his brother whispered as he snuggled up against their mother’s belly. Keon looked like his older sibling in almost every way, though he was just a little bit smaller. They both had black fur, a trait from their father, and faint, gray spots, a pattern similar to their mother, trailed down their spines to their tails.

  Both panther cubs cringed as the terrible sound of screeching metal echoed throughout the cage.

  “Kai! Stop that!” Kelor growled. Both watched their brother, the third panther cub, gnaw on one of the metal bars as if it was a bone. And then he frolicked in the straw, swatted at the bars, and then chomped down again with his teeth.

  This time a swift strike from Kelor’s left paw reacted to the screeching. It struck Kai square on the rump, and one sharp edge of a claw scraped the cub’s skin.

  Kai yelped as he sprang to his feet and darted away to avoid another attack. He whimpered until he safely nestled close to his mother, just under her jaw. He plopped his head and draped one of his paws over his mother’s front leg. He, too, looked much like Kelor and Keon with his dark fur and gray spots – with one exception. Milky white socks of fur covered each of his four paws. Still, at first glance the three panther cubs were nearly identical.

  Kelor roared again, as his stomach ached from hunger.

  “Kelor. What’s wrong?” Keon asked, concerned about his older brother.

  The panther paced inside the cage. “Mother is sick,” he said. “And I want meat.” Kelor circled his family, walking near the padlocked door of the cage, and then back again. Back and forth he paced, growling and grumbling as he went.

  “Be quiet!” yelled a guard as he banged a large staff against the side of the cage.

  Both Keon and Kai flinched at the loud clatter, but Kelor glared in the direction of the noise.

  The guard bent down and took a closer look inside the cage. The creature was tall and bulky. Its head was that of a bull, its body that of a large human and at the ends of its legs was thick and sturdy hooves. Pierced through its large, black, wet nose was a shiny, nickel metal spike. The top of the creature’s head had only one long, ivory colored horn. On the right side of the Minotaur’s head where the second horn should have been, there only remained a stump. A small portion of horn surfaced above the skin, revealing jagged edges where it had been sawed off the beast-man’s head.

  Kelor’s body tensed, and he slowly crouched. His yellow eyes fixated on the guard’s face. The cub’s ears flattened against the top of his head as he let out a low, long hiss. Stay way from my mother, beast! he thought as his back legs tightened like coils ready to spring.

  “Cry all you want; I will feed you only when master wishes it.” The Minotaur sent a blast of air through his cavernous nostrils. “Stay in your cage, where you’re safe from monsters like me.” The beast-man roared with laughter as he gave the metal cage another strong hit with the staff. As he stood up, his one horn nearly pierced the top of the tent.

  It wasn’t until the caretaker left that Kelor finally relaxed. He’s the lucky one. If I ever get out of this cage, he’ll see what I can do, he thought. The panther cub looked back at his family, his two brothers and his mother all asleep now. Try as he might, he couldn’t settle down. He lay still and stared at the cage door. Danger is coming, I can feel it.

  CHAPTER 4

  A tall, thin man stood in the center of the receiving area of the largest tent. It was not a big room or lavish, but it was adequately furnished. A few simple chairs, a wooden table, a couple of chests, and rug of woven fern fronds ran towards the tent door. It was the best he could do to accommodate visitors while separating them from his rare and valuable collection.

  The Warden, as he was often called, was an odd fellow in almost every respect. Everything about him just seemed a bit different. His silver, goatee beard was neatly trimmed, but the long hairs from his chin were braided and bound with a thin leath
er strap. He wore earrings in each ear, but only simple gold hoops, nothing too fancy. Instead of a hat or cap, he wore a leather bandana tied at the back, with the knot under his long, ponytail.

  His attire was as unique as the rest of him. Everything he wore was custom-made to exactly fit his shape and stature. He laced his tunic half-way up, leaving the top open to expose his defined muscles and ample chest hair. The rest of his garb was all leather. Bracers and gloves, trousers lined with pockets, and a pair of tall boots laced up to his knees. Around his waist he wore a leather utility belt featuring more pouches. A rapier sword with a thin long blade hung on one hip and a small dagger on the other. He looked like a pirate, lion tamer, and adventurer all wrapped into one distinctive package.

  “Hurry up, Dox, they’re almost here!” the Warden said.

  The Minotaur hustled through a side entrance carrying several mugs and bottles in each of his large hands. “Sorry, Master, the cubs are getting restless. I think the female will wake soon,” Dox said as he put the mugs on the table.

  “Good. Easier to fetch a higher price when they put on show. I hate it when they just lie there. It’s not good for business,” he said confidently smiling.

  A moment later, the sound of a half-dozen horses could be heard coming to a stop. The clang of metal followed along with the echo of several muffled conversations just outside the main entrance to the tent.

  Up until this point the Warden seemed completely at ease, but now he was on edge. You never know what will come through that door. Assassin, brigand, competitor…customer? You’ve been in this business a long time, old man. You’ve been in it because you’re the best and because you know how to handle a blade, he thought.

  He motioned to Dox, and four more armed guards entered the tent. Just in case the negotiations become a bit more than interesting, thought the Warden. He stood and waited, placing his hand on his hip, conveniently positioned just above the handle of his sword.