by Troy Osgood
“There is always time,” Hesh said, still with that sneer. “And we don’t know if we can trust him.”
“He did appear out of nowhere,” another councilor added.
“From the cemetery,” said a third.
Sheren just shook his head. He looked at Hutch who looked overwhelmed. He was a good man and served the village well as Lead Councilor. Usually Hutch was able to shepard the strong personalities that were the council as well as the village. The people of Minoda could be as hard as the mountain they mined. But now Hutch looked tired. This was beyond his abilities.
“Did you not hear him,” Sheren said to the councilors. “He was going to do something whether we ‘let’ him or not. He did not need our permission.”
“He also said that he might not be able to do anything at all,” Hesh said.
“So we send him away and do nothing,” Sheren asked, his voice rising. Fools. They were fools.
“The Kings Guard will come,” one of the others said.
Sheren laughed, more a bark, short and hard. When had these men become stupid? They were the leaders of the village, they were smarter than this. Was it the threat? Were they all scared and unsure? When Minoda needed them the most, were they failing?
“They will come,” Sheren said. “But it will not be quick and it will not be in force. Not on the word of a boy,” he added. Michel had been a good choice, but they would not listen to him, not right away and when they did it would be to send scouts.
All like Culann had said.
Hesh started to talk but Sheren had had enough.
“There are six more of those damned skeletons that could come here at anytime and there could be more,” he said, his voice hard. “You saw what one did, what it took for us to stop it. I will not pass up help from anyone for the sake of pettiness and ego,” he finished.
Hutch and a couple of the others looked embarrassed. Hesh looked angry, outraged.
Sheren did not care.
“Our responsibility is the village and its people,” Sheren said turning and moving towards the door. “Nothing else.”
He stepped out onto the porch, slamming the door behind him.
There were less people gathered in the square and all eyes turned towards him. He stood on the steps, taking deep breaths, calming down. The councilors were scared, he knew, but it was just an excuse. They had to step up, do what the village expected of them. Be what the village needed. He looked around at the people in the square, his friends and neighbors.
The door opened behind him. He didn’t turn.
Hutch came up beside him, looking out over the village and its people.
“Come,” Hutch said taking a step down. “Let us catch up to the Far Rider and see what we can do to help him help us.”
Sheren nodded.
“The watches,” he prompted.
“Even Hesh should be capable of organizing watchers,” Hutch said with a smile and a chuckle.
Culann had been correct.
The village’s smithy was out by the mine, which made sense.
It was also much larger then he had assumed.
The road from the village to the mine was wider and better maintained then the one that went to the cemetery. Two carts wide, with a slope up the mountain that was gentle. It wrapped around the first mountain and across the face of another before ending at the mines.
The mines were on a wide and flat plateau nestled on the side of the mountain, three dark holes carved into the face, heading in different directions. The ground was rough and rutted, wagon and carts wheel paths dug into the surface over years of constant use. The smithy was tucked against the mountain just as the road entered the plateau. Another large building stood in the middle of the plateau, near the edge. It had a square roof and no walls, just four large furnaces under the roof. The Smelting House.
The blacksmith’s was a large building, with half its size being just a roof over open ground surrounded by low stone walls with multiple openings. That was where the anvils and forge itself was laid out. The forge was built in the center of the space, open cavities into the flames on all four sides. Four anvils were aligned with the forge. A couple work benches were organized around the space. The two visible outer walls of the building proper were made of wood, the shared wall between the building and forge was made of stone. There were two doors, one on the front and one into the forge, and no windows.
Smoke could be seen coming from the smithy’s forge.
Together, the boy and the man, walked towards the building. Culann didn’t bother to hide the sound of his approach, which he had to work on as it was more natural to be silent. Years of walking through forests had instilled that in him. It was more natural.
Davey, of course, made a lot of noise.
The smith heard them and walked out into the forge area, stepping out of the shadows. He studied Culann as they walked up.
“Davey Tobiason,” the smith said. “Where’s your Da?”
“Coming,” Davey replied.
“Master Smith,” Culann said, bowing. “I am Culann Hawkfall and I have favors ta ask.”
“The name’s Harland,” the Smith said. “Favors, eh,” he asked with a chuckle. He was an older man, his black hair gone mostly to gray. He was tall and muscular, strong. All the men of the village were strong, large man. They needed to be, doing what they did. But the smith carried it definitely. He wore leather pants, boots and an apron. Nothing else. There were burn marks, ash stains, on the apron and pants. Burn scars could be seen across the man’s muscled arms and chest.
“He’s going to help with the skeletons,” Davey said excitedly.
“Is he now?,” the Smith replied, again studying Culann. The man’s gray eyes settled on the axes in the sheaths at Culann’s belt as well as the chain mail armor. “That mail is dark iron,” the smith said pointing at the armor. “Not sure what those axes are made from. Weapons and armor are better than anything I could make,” the man said simply. He didn’t appear upset at the admission, just stating facts. “Not sure what kind of favors I can provide.”
The smith turned, leading Culann into the forge area.
Davey watched them, wondering if he should follow but was afraid he’d be in the way. He looked down the road but couldn’t see his Da yet. Not sure what to do with himself, he walked towards the mines.
He lived in Minoda, was from a family of miners, so he had been to the mines before. Not alone though. Every child in the village knew to stay away from the mines, not to go wandering into them. It was instilled in them at a very young age and every child obeyed that rule.
The right most of the three was the newest, he knew. It had only been started about ten years ago. The other two shafts still produced iron and other metals at a high rate; there was no danger of them drying up anytime soon. Or so his Da said. But they had started the third to increase production. The merchants who owned the mines had wanted more ore and the villagers had to produce. Davey had never met the merchants, didn’t even know their names. They were just ‘the merchants’ to most of the village. He had heard his Da talk to his Ma about them. They weren’t well liked by the villagers.
He figured he would learn more as he got older and started working the mine himself.
Sometimes he dreamed of another life, a life of adventure. But he knew it would not happen. He was a miner’s son, a miner’s grandson, and so on. All the way back to the founding of Minoda.
Davey stood in front of the mine, reaching out and running his fingers over the rough timbers that formed the mouth of the cave. He couldn’t see far in, the shadows dark and deep. Something far back in the tunnel caught his eyes.
The shadows moved.
He watched as something, two somethings, detached from the darker shadows. It was black on black and only the movement made them stand out. He took an involuntary step back as the noise came to him, echoing in the tunnel.
The scrape of bone on bone. The clack of a jaw moving up and down endlessly.
There were skeletons in the tunnel.
Davey took more steps backwards, wanting to yell out but unable.
The skeletons came closer and he could start to make out features as the shadows lessened. He could see the bones take shape, the arms reaching out and the skulls. The things walked steadily, somehow, towards him. They knew he was there.
The first exited the mouth of the mine, mere steps away from Davey.
The bones weren’t white, not like he thought they would be. They might have started white once, long ago, but now were stained. Brown, gray, black, the colors of the mountain behind them. There were cracks in the bones, small pieces missing. Rough textured, except at the joints where the constant scrapping of bone against bone had smoothed them out.
He continued to walk backwards as a second skeleton joined the first, walking out of the mine’s mouth. He watched both of the monsters advance on him. They didn’t move fast but it was a steady pace, quickly making up the distance between them and the boy. He could see another in the tunnel, shadowy shape coming towards the entrance.
He took more steps back.
He fell, hard, hitting the ground as his foot tripped over a rock.
He pushed up, scrambling backwards and was finally able to find his voice.
“HELP,” Davey Tobiason yelled.
Sheren heard the yell.
He knew the voice.
They were halfway down the road towards the mine when they heard it.
“Is that,” Hutch asked.
“DAVEY!,” Sheren yelled.
He took off at a sprint, his body tired from all it had been through the last days, but he forced it to move. He heard Davey yell again.
Gods above, he prayed as he ran, please not my son.
Culann had heard the clacking first, weirdly echoing out of the mine.
When Davey yelled, he was already out from under the smithy’s roof. He had his bow off his shoulder and was pulling an arrow from the quiver. He had moved so quickly, a blur to the smith. It had seemed one fluid motion. The yell and Culann was instantly away from the smithy and in the open where he had a clear shot.
He pulled back on the bow’s string, arrow nocked, and took it all in.
Davey on the ground, scrambling backwards. Three skeletons coming out of the right most mine. Two close to the boy and a third further back, just emerging.
Culann let the arrow fly.
It was straight and true, hitting the first skeleton in the head. The steel tipped arrow snapped off the shaft, the arrow breaking in pieces against the creature’s bones, not even leaving a mark. But it did get the monster’s attention. It turned towards Culann, along with the other two.
He dropped the bow and pulled out his hand axes.
“Davey,” he said calmly, loud enough for the boy to hear over the noise of the skeletons. “Behind those rocks.”
He watched as the boy was able to stand up and run towards a large group of rocks that were near the center of the flat plateau. A skeleton turned at the noise, tracking the movements of the boy.
Culann drew and nocked, quickly firing the arrow. It flew and hit the skeleton, snapping like the first. But it worked. The skeleton turned, coming towards Culann now.
He dropped the bow as the third skeleton out of the mine, which was closest to him now, came too close. Not enough time to draw and nock an arrow. He pulled his hand axes out, running his wrists through the straps.
Glancing at the other two, he crouched lower raising his left arm. The hand axe caught the grasping skeleton’s arm at the wrist. Culann adjusted his stance as the skeleton’s unnatural strength tried to push him down. The Gods damned thing was strong and he could barely hold it back.
He swung with the right axe for no damage. The skeleton wasn’t even staggered.
The angle was wrong; the skeleton was still advancing, pushing him down with its weight and strength. And the other two were getting closer.
CHAPTER SIX
NOW
The 13th day of Deireadh in the year 324 WR (Way Reckoning)
Culann timed the leap perfectly. He jumped up, clearing the skeletons, starting to flip in the air. He swung down with the hand axes, one at each skeleton.
The right hand axe, glowing red, hit the skeleton at the shoulder joint.
Sparks erupted from the impact, small flames crawling up the skeleton’s arm and shoulder.
The left hand axe, glowing blue, hit the other skeleton on the head.
Frost could be seen spreading from the area of impact.
Culann finished the flip, landing crouched with the axes held away from his body, facing away from the skeletons. He stood up, turning as he did, hearing the skeletons turn as well. The undead still advanced, bone against bone, jaws clacking uselessly. He smiled; glad he had done some damage.
“Ye arenae that tough are ye,” he said to the two skeletons.
Flames could be seen along one’s arm and shoulder, spreading towards its head and body. The fire didn’t seem to be hurting or damaging the skeleton, not physically anyways, but the arm didn’t lift as high and the head moved stiffly.
The ice had spread from the other’s head, the frost glistening in the sun. It was down onto one shoulder, spreading along the chest and arm. That arm, covered in frost that was turning to a heavy layer of ice, was hanging at the skeleton’s side twitching as it tried to lift it. The fingers of that arm, not covered in frost, were wriggling quickly and feebly. The frost and ice were growing, attaching the arm to the skeleton’s chest.
Culann whistled, the same three notes, and the axe heads stopped glowing.
He twirled the hand axes in his hands, taking a stronger grip and another step back.
The ice covered skeleton was slower, lagging as the magical ice chilled even its bones. The weight of the ice was growing, making it stumble as it advanced. The flame covered skeleton was a good four or five steps ahead.
Culann took a couple steps to the side and whistled four notes, different notes.
Both axe heads glowed, this time with a bright blue color.
He set his feet; legs bent and moved his arms freeing them fully from the cloak. He watched the skeletons, timing the movements.
When the left most, the one on fire, was within three steps he ran. He swung wide with his left hand axe, the blue glowing head hitting the creature just under its outstretched arm. He moved too fast for the skeleton, the arm still reaching forward as the axe head hit it solidly in the chest. The magic of the rune’s carved into the metal hit, a blue glow erupting at the impact. The enchantment, creating a field of energy around the head, pushed the skeleton causing it to stumble and fall onto its side.
Culann continued his run, chopping straight down with his right axe.
It hit solidly on the joint where the skeletons ice covered shoulder and chest met. There was a loud cracking sound, echoing through the mountains. Culann’s momentum carried him forward, bowling into the skeleton and both fell to the ground.
Culann was up quickly, disengaging from the skeleton’s grasping arm, the only one that could move. He stomped down on the ice covered chest, using it to springboard himself up and into a roll. He hit the ground; arms tucked in, and rolled back upright.
Turning back to the skeletons he whistled the four notes and the blue glow faded from the axe heads.
The ice covered skeleton was having a hard time getting up. It tried to push with its arms but only one worked. The other, covered in ice, would not move, hanging limply at its side.
The other skeleton, its entire upper body now covered in dancing flames, was slowly turning and advancing back towards Culann. It was moving much slower, the magical flames burning through the power that kept it moving.
“Davey,” he heard from behind.
He risked a glance and saw Sheren and Hutch coming onto the plateau from the road. They stopped next to the smith, watching the fight. At least Hutch was. Sheren’s eyes were on his son only a couple dozen feet away,
hiding behind a rock.
“Davey, donae move,” Culann yelled as he watched the boy take a couple steps away from the rocks. The movement and noise had caused the flaming skeleton to turn. Culann’s shout brought its attention back. “Stay there. Ye donae move until I tell ye.”
The boy was smart, he froze where he was, a couple steps away from the shelter of the rock. He didn’t want the noise to attract the monsters again.
Culann shifted to the left, away from the mountain and towards the open area in front of the mine entrances. The skeleton turned with him. Culann kept turning, his motions putting him closer to the skeletons but turning their backs to the rocks and Davey Tobiason.
The ice covered one had managed to sit upright. The ice around its chest and shoulder had cracked, the arm hanging useless at its side. Only the ice was keeping the arm attached.
He took a couple steps back towards the mine, drawing the flame covered one with him.
He shifted to the right and the skeleton, now in front of the ice covered one, shifted with him.
Culann smiled, putting the hand axes back into their sheaths.
He waited, watching as the creature moved slowly closer. He could start to feel the heat from the flames. Culann set his feet, adjusting his stance and weight distribution. He crouched down.
He waited.
“Davey,” he said, not shouting, but loudly. “Get ready.”
He waited until the skeleton was two steps away.
“NOW!,” he shouted.
Culann pushed up with his feet, bending and rolling backwards. He kicked out, hitting the skeleton with both feet in its chest. The creature fell backwards with the impact. Culann flipped over, his hands hitting the ground and used them to continue the flip, coming to a stop standing up and facing the skeletons.
The creature fell back a couple steps, tripping and falling onto the other.
He looked towards the rocks and saw Davey running towards his father.
Sheren stood there in horror. He heard Culann Hawkfall order Davey to stay. Now his son, his only child, was frozen a couple steps from the rocks. Away from the cover. But Culann was moving the skeletons, keeping their attention on him.