by Troy Osgood
One of them was on the ground, unable to get up, with what looked like ice growing over it. The other was up and moving slowly with flames spreading around its upper body. It followed Culann as the man moved it, turning it so it faced the mines and no longer towards the spot where Davey would run.
He wanted to yell out, to call for Davey, but had to force himself not to. The Far Rider had a plan, he knew, he hoped.
He heard Culann tell Davey to get ready and Sheren gripped the handle of the sledge hammer tighter, shifting so he could see Davey and Culann, wanting to be ready.
What was the man doing, he thought, as he watched Culann put away his hand axes. The man crouched down, watching the advancing skeleton. Then he leapt up, kicking out and causing the skeleton to stumble and fall into the other.
Culann yelled and Davey took off running.
“Davey, get behind me,” Sheren yelled as the boy ran up to them, panting heavily.
Sheren turned, putting himself solidly between his son and the open mine entrances. He held the sledge with both hands, ready as Culann pulled out his hand axes. The two skeletons were tangled up, grabbing for each other, the fires spreading from one to the other.
“Look out,” he heard Hutch say from next to him.
Sheren watched as another skeleton came out of the mine, walking and reaching for Culann who did not see it.
Culann saw Davey run, Sheren putting the boy behind him.
He saw the two skeletons in front of him, a big pile of bones and grasping arms. The fire spread to both of them, covering them from the skull to the foot bones. They grabbed at each other, fighting and grappling with each other.
He heard the other man, Hutch, yell.
He turned towards the mine, hearing the new noise of the approaching skeleton a second too late. Its approach had been hidden in the sounds of the fight, the noises the other skeletons made.
Culann swung with his leather covered arm, catching the things fingers as it clawed at his arm. He felt the fingers bend, twisting as they latched onto him. The grip was strong; he could feel it crushing his wrist. The hand axe in that arm was useless, he couldn’t swing it.
The other arm reached for him but he batted it away with the right hand axe. He bent over, the skeleton’s weight pushing him down.
It shouldn’t have been so strong. It was just bones, nothing but bones.
He had come across animated skeletons before, but nothing like this.
He started batting at it with the free axe. Swinging and hitting bone, hoping to free his hand. Nothing, the swings were at the wrong angle and doing nothing against the magically strong bones.
Culann cursed.
Davey watched as Culann wrestled with the skeleton.
He wanted to run, to shout, to do something, but he didn’t know what he could do.
The skeleton had the Far Rider by one arm, with the other doing all it could to keep the skeleton’s other arm away. Sheren, Hutch and the smith stood frozen, unsure.
Someone had to help the man.
More noise from the mine and they saw another skeleton emerging and the two on the ground had stopped wrestling with each other, the flame covered one starting to stand up. The other, the ice now melting, rolled around trying to push itself up but unable with one arm now fallen off.
Culann saw the skeleton coming out of the mine, moving quickly. He tried to push the one holding him back but its grip was too strong and he couldn’t set his feet. It was all he could do to keep his balance as the thing kept leaning its weight against him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the one on fire standing up. It was facing towards men standing by the smithy. The men and the boy. He saw that only Sheren was armed.
He wanted to yell at them, tell them to run.
But it was too late.
Sheren saw the skeleton, somehow on fire, look towards them. It sensed they were there. How, he did not know or care. All that mattered was that it was now walking towards them. It should have gone after Culann, that was where the noise and activity was, but it didn’t.
“Dagda protect me,” Sheren prayed and stepped forward to meet the creature.
“Da,” Davey yelled behind him.
“Run to town,” Sheren told the boy without turning around. “Bring help.”
He heard the sound of Davey running down the road. Good.
He took a couple swings with the sledge, getting the feel of the familiar weight.
He felt the presence of another next to him, seeing the village smith come up alongside with his own sledge hammer in hand. Together the two men spread out, putting some distance between them, keeping the skeleton in the middle.
Sheren saw Hutch run into the smithy. He came out a couple seconds later, holding a pick axe. The older man looked towards the flaming skeleton and then towards Culann who was pulling the skeleton away from the new one.
Hutch made up his mind and ran towards Culann.
Culann saw the other skeleton. He pushed at the one holding him with the right hand axe, not swinging, but pushing with the head, keeping it as far from him as he could.
He took a step back, pulling it slightly off balance and getting some more distance between him and the other, the new one.
Another step, turning to keep the one holding him in front of him.
He pulled back sharply and quickly, the skeleton off balance. He set his feet and pushed as hard as he could, sending the off balance skeleton into the other. The two came together, the new one grabbing onto the first.
Culann grunted as the weight of two skeletons came against him, the grip on his arm tightening.
He stepped back, pulling and pushing to keep the one holding him moving back and forth, shifting to keep both in front. He saw Hutch running his way with a pick axe.
Hutch ran. He was old and had been letting himself go the older he got. No longer having to work in the mine, he was no longer as strong and had lost the stamina. How he wished to be young again, at the height of his strength, like Sheren Tobiason.
He kept clear of the skeleton rolling on the ground and slowed as he came up behind the two fighting against Culann Hawkfall, the man he had not been sure he wanted help from.
He swung the pick axe, feeling the jolt in his arms as the tip connected with the skeleton’s skull.
The tip should have gone in. This was a tool used to break rocks and even though he wasn’t as strong as he used to, the weapon was sharp and well forged. It should have broken the skeleton’s skull.
It hit, but slid off the skull, the end of the pick axe getting caught in the skeleton’s ribs.
Hutch pulled, but it was stuck hard.
He kept pulling and was surprised when the resistance lessened. Stumbling backwards he lost his grip as the pick axe was pulled from his hands. He saw the skeleton turning towards him, the end of the pick axe poking through the front of its rib cage.
Hutch was too slow. He didn’t get out of the way in time.
The creature swung its hand connecting with Hutch’s head. The skeletons fingers were straight out, not in a fist, and that was the only thing that saved Hutch’s life. The force of the blow knocked him backwards, hitting the ground and falling unconscious.
The skeleton advanced on the fallen man.
Sheren swung with the hammer, knocking aside the skeleton’s grasping arms. He could feel the heat from the flames, the entire body covered in them now. The skeleton shook, stumbling as the Harland hit it from behind. It turned towards him as he stepped back.
Sheren swung again, connecting with the skeleton’s shoulder.
It swung back towards him and Harland hit it again.
Back and forth they kept it turning, preventing it from moving, but doing no damage.
Culann saw the old man, Hutch, fall. He saw the skeleton moving towards the unconscious man. He saw Sheren and Harland the smith occupying the flame covered skeleton. They were moving it back and forth but not harming it and sooner rather than later it would s
top and concentrate on one of the men.
He cursed again, gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm. He hit the skull with the back side of the axe head. He hit the arms. He pushed against the chest.
He didn’t want to do this.
It was meant as a last resort, kept in reserve.
And it was not meant to be used in such close quarters.
But he had no choice.
“Close yer eyes,” he shouted. “Get down,” he added.
He couldn’t see if the men had obeyed. He didn’t have time.
He spoke the word.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The word echoed, not so much with actual sound but with resonance. It didn’t carry through the mountains and the valleys but it was felt by those around.
Sheren had his back to Culann and the skeletons. He didn’t see it as much as felt it. The force of the word, the feel and vibration, pushed him forward. He could see the light spreading out, so bright.
Harland the Smith was facing towards Culann and barely managed to get his arm up to cover his eyes. The flash was so bright, it still hurt as tightly closed as they were.
The flash was seen down in the village itself, the villagers all turning and looking.
Still running down the road, Davey felt the sound, pausing and turning. He saw the flash, blinking his eyes repeatedly. He wanted to run back to his Da, scared and worried. But he had a job. His Da and the others were counting on him. He continued running towards the village.
He didn’t need to shout it.
He just needed to speak the word and the magic did the rest.
Culann spoke, calmly and clearly.
Light erupted, there was no other way to describe it, from beneath his chain mail, seeping through the links, flowing out in waves that grew brighter and brighter. It wasn’t just light, it was vibration and force. It flowed out of the amulet he wore beneath the armor, expanding.
The skeleton’s grip on his arm was released, the magic forcing the creature back. The skeleton froze, shaking slightly as the magic light and vibrations passed through it. Large cracks and fissures formed in the bones, flakes falling to the ground.
The light and the vibration, the resonance, was a wave. It left the amulet under the armor and flowed across the plateau. Bright when it passed, a thin band, a sliver in the air.
Culann stepped back, shielding his eyes, as he let the hand axes fall, his wrists slipping out of the leather hoops. He reached into the satchel at his side, pulling out a wand about a foot long. This was made of a dark wood, highly polished, with a square head made from some kind of bluish stone. On all the surfaces of the head was carved the same rune.
He watched as the light spread across the plateau, causing Sheren to stumble and Harland to cover his eyes. The smith cried out in pain.
He knew he had to move quickly, the magic would not hold the skeletons for long.
Whatever spell gave them life was strong. They should have been destroyed by what he had unleashed. Instead they were frozen. Somewhat, he could see that the one in front of him was shaking, trembling as it tried to move through the magic. If that one, closest to the spell’s effect, was trembling then the one furthest away would be fully moving soon.
He muttered the word that activated the wand, seeing lines carved in the stone head start to glow with a bluish light. He touched the head of the skeleton in front of him, holding the wand steady as the thing trembled. Another word and the blue stone flashed.
From the point where the wand touched the skeletons head, blue lightning crawled along the skull and down the neck, along the shoulders, down the body and arms. In seconds the entire skeleton was covered in the blue lightning.
Culann turned away as the lightning flared, sparked and contracted. All the lines pulled together, rushing towards the spot on the creature’s forehead. He stepped back, pulling the wand away and watched as the skeleton was crushed by the magic.
The lines snapped, breaking the skeleton into pieces.
He moved quickly, laying the wand against the back of the head of the next skeleton, the one that was reaching down towards the body of Hutch. The monster was bent over, arms reaching out almost reaching the man. It was a wonder it hadn’t fallen on top of Hutch. There were cracks in the bones, similar to the first, but not as big with less flakes on the ground.
Culann spoke the word and watched as the blue lightning enveloped the animated skeleton. Again the lightning spread out, covering every inch of the creature, and then contracted breaking it into millions of tiny pieces.
He left the one on the ground, the ice completely gone and still struggling to get up with one arm, seeing that the magic had worn off on the last one.
“Swing,” Sheren heard a voice yell out.
He thought it was Culann. He wasn’t sure.
The magic had caused him to stumble, to almost drop the sledge. He felt weak, drained. He blinked, seeing spots in front of his eyes.
Through the blur he saw Harland stumbling backwards, arm still covering his eyes. He saw the skeleton, flames no longer dancing across the body. There were small cracks across some of the bones, a couple of small flakes missing. But it was moving, lunging towards Harland.
Not thinking, not aiming, just hoping, Sheren swung the heavy sledge.
He caught the skeleton on the shoulder. The swing was weak, barely pushing the skeleton but enough to interrupt it, causing it to stumble and slow.
That was all Culann needed.
He moved around Sheren and tackled the skeleton.
They fell together, men and bones. The impact jarred Culann, grunting in pain as he landed on top of the creature. It was on its side and rolling over, its inhuman strength moving Culann, forcing him onto his back as it tried to right itself.
“Yer done,” Culann said standing up, pushing off against the skeleton.
The creature rolled onto its back and Culann laid the head of the wand against its chest.
He spoke the word and the lighting spread out from that point, moving quickly over the skeleton. The process repeated itself, the skeleton being covered in the energy and then contracting. The skeleton broke apart.
Slowly, tiredly, Culann moved to the last skeleton.
He tapped it on the forehead, repeated the word and watched as the last creature was destroyed.
He returned the wand to the satchel, stretching his back as he walked. Grabbing the hand axes, he looked out over the plateau.
Four piles of bone flakes marked the location of the four skeletons. Hutch still lay on the ground, not moving. Sheren was kneeling in front of Harland, who had fallen to the ground. The smith was rubbing at his eyes.
“How are ye Master Smith,” Culann asked walking towards Hutch.
“I can’t see,” Harland replied.
“That will pass,” the Far Rider responded.
Sheren clapped the smith on the shoulder and followed Culann towards Hutch.
“How is he,” Sheren asked as the other knelt down beside the fallen man.
“He’s alive,” Culann replied, laying his fingers against Hutch’s neck, feeling the man’s pulse. Slow but steady. “We need a liter ta carry him.”
“What was that light?,” Sheren asked moving towards the mine the skeletons had come from. He strained to hear but there was nothing in the depths of the tunnel.
“Last resort,” Culann said placing his axes back in the sheaths. He reached down the front of the chain mail, pulling an amulet out.
He held it out on the chain. It was about an inch in diameter and made from silver. A rune surrounded by a circle.
“Powerful dispel magic,” he added. “One time use until I kin get a mage ta recharge it. It should have destroyed these things,” he finished kicking at a pile of skeleton dust.
“They’re that strong,” Sheren asked amazed.
“Aye, apparently,” Culann said shaking his head. “I used up all me magic on them and it barely kept us alive.”
“That wand?”
“Rune o’ Breaking,” Culann said pointing to the piles of dust. “Only five charges on it until see a mage. One now.”
They turned, hearing noises from the road. They watched as Davey, leading a group of five villagers came out onto the plateau. The men, all armed with sledge hammers and pick axes, came to a stop looking the scene over. Davey ran to his Da.
“I donae know what creates these,” Culann said, loud enough for only Sheren to hear. “But there is some powerful magic at work.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
He heard the commotion before he entered the village square.
The road came through the Northwest section of the city, with a couple houses set along it before it opened into the village square. Culann paused before he stepped out from the last house, looking out into the large open area.
In front of the stage were two armored men, dressed in the garb of the Jeryan King’s Guards with helmets off, one still on horseback and the other holding the reins of both horses. The one on horseback was causing the commotion.
The villagers were gathering around the two soldiers.
Culann stepped out into the square, keeping close to the houses and buildings along the edge, listening as he made his way closer.
“What’s going on here?,” the soldier on horseback shouted across the crowd.
The people started speaking, one after the other, all on top. The soldier looked out over the gathering, angry and annoyed. The man on horseback was older, gray lining his black hair and beard. The one holding the reins was younger, fresh faced, barely out of his teen years. He looked slightly embarrassed. Both men were chain mail armor with the tabard of the Jeryan Kingdom in the local Duke’s colors. They wore swords strapped to their belts and maces could be seen hanging from the saddles.
“Quiet,” the older man shouted, snapping. “Who’s in charge?”