by Troy Osgood
Sheren nodded. Jemas swallowed, fighting down the fear that was threatening.
“I will occupy two o’ them. Ye will need ta destroy the one,” Culann said taking a couple steps forward. “Donae worry about completely destroying it,” he added. “Just enough ta make it harmless.”
“I understand,” Sheren replied.
“Yessir,” Private Jemas said.
Culann took another step forward, holding the staff level between him with two hands. He watched the movements of the skeletons. The two damaged were lagging behind by ten feet or so. Those would be his targets. He glanced at the forest below the cliff at the road’s edge. He could knock all three down to the bottom but he doubted that would destroy the creatures and it meant they would have to deal with them eventually. No, best to end it here and now.
“Get ready,” he said, not looking back.
The first skeleton was only feet away and Culann took a step towards the mountain side.
He watched as the creature turned towards him, changing its path. Culann stabbed out with the staff, the weapon giving him added length. He hit the skeleton in the chest and pushed, causing the thing to stumble. The skeleton grasped at the weapon but had a hard time grabbing onto the small diameter of the wood.
Culann pushed again, walking forward and using his angle to turn the skeleton. It stumbled to the side, off balance, fighting to get at Culann. He glanced at the other two which had turned and were angling for him.
“Ready,” he asked looking at Sheren.
The big miner nodding, tightening the grip on his hammer. Next to him, Jemas had dropped one of the maces, holding tightly to the other.
Culann took a step forward, pushing the skeleton back. It tried to walk forward but could not. Its momentum kept it leaning towards Culann and the man pulled the staff back quickly. The skeleton stumbled forward but before it could fall, Culann pushed back with the staff hard.
The blow to the chest pushed the off balance skeleton back a couple steps. It leaned back, starting to fall over but tried to steady itself. It didn’t have a chance.
Holding onto the end of the staff, taking a couple quick steps forward, Culann swung the long weapon low. There was a loud smack as the wood struck the lower leg of the skeleton, taking it out and causing the creature to fall.
It hit the ground with a clatter of bones and tried to push it up. It got an arm under it but fell again as the arm was kicked away. A heavy sledge slammed against the skeletons skull, the noise echoing through the mountains.
Culann, still holding the end, forced his momentum to change. He stopped the arc of the swing and reversed it, bringing the weapon back around. He pivoted on his foot, turning and whipping the staff behind him. He now faced the stand of trees and the two skeletons.
The swing of the staff connected with the side of one, causing it to stumble into the other. Both quickly righted themselves, arms waving towards Culann.
He jabbed out with the staff. First hitting one and then the other. Back and forth he went. Jabbing one. Jabbing the other. Each push with the staff forcing the skeleton to take a step back. All he was accomplishing was delaying them. Eventually he would tire or stumble and the skeletons were too close for such a mistake. They were too close for an attack, not with a weapon like the staff and not in his unskilled hands. He was decent with the weapon, but not good enough in this situation.
Back he pushed, keeping the skeletons from moving forward.
Sheren swung with the hammer hitting the shoulder joint. The impact echoed but the skeleton showed no damage. Jemas swung with the mace, hitting the knee. Again the impact could be heard but no damage was visible.
The angle was wrong, Sheren thought, the skeleton too low to the ground. They had to bend and could not give it their full strength. He remembered the first skeleton, the first night, and how long he had swung at the trapped thing. It had taken a long time but eventually the skeleton had been destroyed. He knew this one would be too.
But it wasn’t netted or trapped. It could still move and tried to.
The skeleton kept trying to move, reaching up with its arms.
The claw-like fingers grasped at nothing, both men taking positions where the creature could not reach them. But the thing’s movements made it difficult to keep hitting in the same spot. Some of the attacks hit ground and not bone.
It kept rolling and thrashing.
Sheren kept swinging.
Culann jabbed out with the staff, pushing the skeleton back another step.
Pulling the weapon back, he changed the angle and jabbed out again. The second skeleton stumbled, nearly tripping over. That gave Culann a new idea.
He took a step back, grabbed the staff about half way down its length and waited. The two skeletons mindlessly stepped forward, not thinking why the weapon wasn’t still jabbing at them. One step, two steps. Culann swung the staff back and snapped it forward.
He let it slide through his closed hand, grabbing it at the end tightly, and swung it through an arc. He wasn’t aiming for the chests, he was aiming lower.
The weapon hit the first skeleton in the knees, toppling the thing over, pushing it into the other. The swing continued and hit the second skeleton in the knees as well. Bones clattered as the two undead collapsed on top of one another.
Culann moved to the side and prodded with the staff, jabbing at the two, getting them to grab at it but ending up grabbing at each other.
“Ye are stupid things,” he said to the two skeletons. “Thankfully,” he added but quieter.
He had to adjust his thinking on the skeletons. They were animated dead, and like most of what was called the undead, they were unthinking. These weren’t capable of learning. The same trick had worked twice. They were incredibly strong and dense. Tough but stupid. No,not just stupid, tough but completely mindless.
They reacted to noise and tried to destroy anything they came in contact with.
Something bothered him about the skeletons movements. He tried to reason it out as he poked at the two on the ground, keeping them occupied with each other. The skeletons reacted. There didn’t seem to be a direction to their movements, just going after whatever got their attention. No direction, no command. Was there a necromancer involved? That seemed unlikely. The evidence and behavior didn’t point that direction.
If there was a necromancer, why hadn’t the village been attacked already?
Under the control of a spell, the skeletons would do more than just react.
It was like these were just created and let loose.
The sound of a sharp crack caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder, watching as Sheren kicked a skeletal arm further down the road. The arm rolled and skidded across the dirt surface, kicking up little rocks and dust. It came to a stop and laid there, the fingers twitching and grabbing at nothing.
Another crack and Private Jemas pulled a leg away at the knee. He held it up, watching the foot moving. The foot starting kicking up and down, shaking, and Jemas threw it over the edge of the cliff.
The two men returned to smashing at the skeleton, breaking pieces off one at a time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Davey Tobiason stood at the edge of the cliff, where the wagon pushed across the road left space to get around, staring down the road towards the cemetery. The sun was setting and he should have been at home eating dinner with his parents. But Ma was home, no food made, sitting at the table weak with worry. A couple of the neighbors, other wives, were with her. They were comforting Ma and annoying Davey.
Which is why he was here.
His Da was still out there.
With the Far Rider and the soldier.
The four villagers had come back with the wounded older soldier hours ago.
Others had wanted to go out and see where Sheren and the others were. Davey had been here when a group had started to organize. But it had been Councilor Hesh, a man he knew his father did not like, that had told the men to stay. Had told them to not risk
themselves. Either Sheren and the others would return, or they would not.
Davey could understand why his Da did not like Hesh. Not many in the village did.
There was no way that Sheren Tobiason would not have gone out searching.
And so Davey had stayed here, watching and waiting.
The men on guard duty left him alone. They had tried to send him home, but only after threatening to run down the road to find his Da did they give up and let him stay. One of the wives from the village brought dinner, soup and bread, for the men and made sure to bring a bowl for Davey. She also mentioned how his mom needed him home, but didn’t try to force him.
He felt guilty. He knew he should be with his mother, but the house was full of people that were there for his mother. He needed to be here for his father.
The three men walked slowly down the road. They were tired, weary. Sheren, somehow after everything he had been through the last couple days, was doing better than the other two. Working the mines every day built up stamina and reserves of strength. But he was starting to show fatigue.
They had managed to destroy all three skeletons, but it had taken a long time. Private Jemas and Sheren constantly hammering away at one, well Culann occupied the others. The road behind them was littered with skeleton parts. Some still seemingly alive and moving. Arms and fingers had tried grabbing at them as they had walked past.
Culann leaned on the staff, using it as a walking stick. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. It had been a long time since he had had to expend so much magical energy. He was already thinking of what he would need to do. Still no closer to understanding where this threat was coming from, it was time to arm the villagers so they could defend themselves.
But that would require rest and plenty of it.
There were rare times in his life that he wished he had spent more time studying, learning to really use the magic that he was capable of. This was one of those times. He managed to get by with what he had, not relying on the spells that he knew or could learn. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust magic; he did, as he used it with his weapons all the time. He just didn’t like casting the magic himself, using his body’s own energy reserves to power the spells. Items, objects; those he liked to use. Casting spells, not at all.
Although, he thought, not having to use an instrument to cast the spells did have its advantages.
The sun was setting, bright red in the sky to the West, casting shadows along the road.
They turned the last bend in the road and could see the wagon blocking the path.
They could also see a person running towards them.
Sheren braced himself as his son ran into him, hugging him tight.
“Whoa lad,” Sheren said with a weary smile. “I’m okay.”
He smiled as the boy peeled himself off, standing up straight and looking a little embarrassed.
“Ma is worried sick about you,” Davey said.
“I’m sure she is,” Sheren responded. “Your Ma is good at that.”
Culann watched the two, father and son. The bond between them was evident, the love. He thought back to his own father and how they had been together. There had been a bond, true, but not of love or family or even duty or honor. The bond between father and son for Culann had been one of responsibility and privilege.
It had never even been father and son. Father and heir was more like it.
Watching them, Culann had to wonder how his life would be now if he had stayed. He would have sacrificed personal freedom for responsibility and not a responsibility that he wanted.
He was much happier now, he knew. No matter what, that was not the place for him.
He locked the thoughts away, concentrating on the here and now.
Looking back he saw Private Jemas lagging behind, stifling a yawn.
“It’s late,” Culann said to Sheren. “We need food and I need a place ta rest ta get me magic back.”
The miner nodded. “The tavern has some rooms.”
The three men and young boy walked into the village proper, houses starting to crowd in on the side of the main road. Smaller roads, lanes, led off the main route, leading to the fronts of the many small homes of the villagers. Minoda was an organized town, laid out in an easy pattern to follow, the small homes close together but each family having a small fenced in plot of land for a garden behind the house.
More people started to appear as they approached the village square, gathering around the central stage. Hesh and the other councilors were already there, standing on the stage, with Hesh waving his hands to quiet the crowed.
“Sheren,” a voice called out and Culann saw a woman racing towards them.
He slowed his walk, holding a hand out to halt Private Jemas, as Sheren’s wife enveloped him in a huge hug. She was a pretty woman, that stood out even dressed simply like she was. She started talking rapidly to both him and Davey. Culann led the young soldier away, leaving them to their private moment. Jemas followed him as they walked to the stage, the small crowd parting to allow them access.
“What happened,” Hesh called out from the top of the stage.
“How is Sergeant Jaspers,” Culann asked, ignoring the man.
“He should live,” a woman said from the front row of villagers. “He lost a lot of blood but is resting comfortably.”
“Can I check on him,” Private Jemas asked.
“Of course,” the woman said sympathically leading Jemas towards one of the buildings on the edge of the square.
“Well,” Hesh said once more. “Are you going to…,” he started but didn’t get the chance to finish.
“We’ll wait fer Sheren,” Culann interrupted the man.
Hesh looked like he wanted to speak, but he glanced around at the others and saw them all looking towards Sheren, waiting on the big miner. The councilor settled down, not happy.
Sheren felt the eyes on him, turned and saw the attention. He grimaced and looked like he wanted to say something but his wife, Mary, prodded at him as she held onto Davey not letting the boy follow. Sheren, with one last glance back at his family, walked towards the stage.
“What happened,” Hesh asked as the miner mounted the steps alongside Culann.
“Jaspers,” Sheren asked.
“Resting but will live,” Culann answered.
Sheren stood on the stage, looking at the councilors around him and turned to face the crowd of villagers. The low murmuring of dozens of conversations faded away as all eyes turned to face him.
“There were skeletons in the crypts,” he stated, voice carrying out over the crowd. Questions started to come from the villagers, voices rising. “They’re destroyed,” he added using his hands to silence the crowd. “That’s what took so long.”
A wave of relief washed over the crowd. From where he stood, Culann could see the villagers visibly relaxing.
“Hold on,” Sheren said, his voice rising above the villager’s excited talking. “We still don’t know what is causing this or where they are coming from. We need to be on guard. Every able bodied man and boy over eighteen will be on watch shifts. We will have watch posted at the road to the cemetery as well as to the mines.”
Now grumblings came from the villagers.
“What about the mines?,” one yelled out.
“The mines need to remain closed for now,” Sheren replied to the angry shouting.
He watched the crowd, letting them vent their anger and shock. He knew it was fear behind the shouts. The shouts and mutterings slowed down, quieting and finally ceased. All eyes were back on Sheren again.
“What about him,” a voice said from the stage.
Hesh stepped forward, pointing at Culann.
“He said he was going to help us, what has he done,” the man asked, it was Hesh.
“Besides save the lives of Hutch, myself and my son,” Sheren asked angrily. He moved right in front of the shorter Hesh, looking down at the man. “Don’t be more of a fool then you already are.”
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br /> “He wasn’t named in the guard rotation,” Hesh said weakly, stepping back. He had a cornered, scared, look in his eyes.
“Master Hawkfall needs to rest,” Sheren said giving Hesh one last glare before returning his attention to the villagers. “He used up all his magic helping us and needs rest. Without him there would have been six or more of those skeletons attacking us.”
He paused, visibly angry. Taking a deep breath, letting it out, Sheren calmed himself.
“Everyone line up along the side of the stage,” he said pointing to a side. “We’ll start assigning watches.” He moved over to the side, watching the villagers starting to line up. There were a couple of teens, as well as a couple of men, that were hesitant at first but angry looks from the others caused them to line up. “That includes all of you as well,” Sheren said to Hesh and the other councilors who had stayed still on the stage.
The men all looked at each other, at Hesh and then at Sheren. The large miner gave them all a flat stare and without having to say anything else, the men moved off the stage and lined up with the other villagers. Their friends and neighbors. Sheren just shook his head, telling one of the younger boys to run and fetch a quill and paper.
Culann watched for a couple minutes, wondering if he was the only one watching the dynamic of the town shift. He glanced over to where Sheren’s wife, Mary, stood with some of the other village women. From the way she stood, the way she looked at her husband, Culann realized she was seeing it as well and was proud.
Smiling, knowing things were well in hand, he moved off towards the tavern to grab a meal and some rest.
Culann walked down into the tavern’s common room, the early morning sun shining in through the windows. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all. The room had been decent, good sized and with a comfortable bed. It was obvious that it didn’t get used much; there had been a faint musty odor that had not had enough time to go away before he lay down for the night. It hadn’t mattered. He had been so tired that he had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow.