by Troy Osgood
The other mine entrances still had the braces set against the planks, but at the third they had not been replaced after it had all been removed so the Far Rider could enter the chamber at the end.
He stretched out his arms, the newly formed muscles tight. At only twenty two years of age, he had not been working the mines for long. Like many in the village he started out in the smelting building, taking the rough ore and refining it to more useable ingots. The smelting building was relatively new, compared to the Smithy and the two older mines. It was easier to do the refining here and just have to transport the much smaller and lighter ingots. He had only had to work the smelting fires for two years before he was allowed to start in the mine. As such, he hadn’t developed the level of muscle that the older workers had.
Standing still for so long was not helping. He was growing stiff.
Guard duty was boring, nothing happened. Which he thought was a good thing.
Lucien glanced down at the sledge hammer next to him, leaning against the mountain. He could see the rune that had been etched into the face of the head. They had told him that it was magic, but he wasn’t sure. He had seen what the skeletons had done, what it had taken to destroy the first one. He had no desire to test this supposed magic.
Especially if Joen Hunst was his partner.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Joen, he did. The two were close in age and had started working the mines at the same time. It wasn’t that Joen was a second generation resident of Minoda either; where Lucien’s family were among the first settlers. It was just that Joen was clumsy.
He had seen Joen swing a pick axe and everyone gave him a wide berth for their own safety. Lucien didn’t want to have to count on Joen to work together with the newly runed weapons. Not when his own life was on the line.
He looked around the plateau. There were two villagers stationed outside each of the mines as well as a couple others over where the road started. There were plenty of people nearby, so it wasn’t as if he was counting on Joen alone.
But still, he didn’t want to have to find out how fast the others could get there.
Lucien stifled a yawn, watching Joen pace back and forth across the entrance to the shaft. The other man was almost marching, his sledge over his shoulder in imitation of the way that Sheren Tobiason had been carrying his lately.
Joen’s footfalls crunched on the loose stone of the plateau, sounding loud in the otherwise silent day. They were loud enough, distracting enough, that Lucien almost didn’t hear it.
The noise, quiet at first but getting louder, came from inside the shaft.
He stepped back from the wall, turning and looking into the darkness through the gaps in the planks. He was sure he could hear something coming from further in.
“Stop,” he said to Joen leaning in closer to the barricaded shaft.
“Huh?,” the other muttered behind him and Lucien waved his hand to shush the man.
There was definitely something making noise.
Joen stepped closer, hearing it now as well. Lucien picked up his sledge, taking a step back. He could hear the other villagers scattered over the plateau. They were reacting to what they saw Lucien and Joen doing. If the two men at the third shaft, the one where skeletons had already come from, were staring into the depths of it, that could only mean one thing.
“I think I see something,” Joen stated, putting a hand on the planks as he leaned in closer.
Lucien took another step back, gripping the handle of the sledge tightly.
“There’s..,” Joen started to say and jumped back as a skeletal hand reached through the gaps in the planks. “Dagda! There was nothing and then it was just there,” he said breathing heavily, fear in his voice.
Together the two young men moved further away from the tunnel entrance watching as now two pairs of bony hands were reaching through the planks. Now they could hear the sounds of bone scrapping on bone and the horrible clacking of the moving jaws. New sounds joined the rest, that of bone against wood and wood cracking and straining.
Lucien looked at the edges of the planks, seeing them starting to bend and pull away from the timbers of the arch.
“Chicol’s Breath,” Lucien heard a man curse behind him. The others from the mine entrances had rushed over and now stood with Lucien and Joen, watching the skeletal arms flailing and the bone fingers trying to grab.
“Damned things are pushing the planks out,” another man said in a voice that Lucien was surprised was so calm.
They watched as cracks started to form in the planks where the skeletons arms were, the bodies of the creatures pushing against the solid wood. Gaps could be seen at the edges as the iron nails were being pulled out of the timber frame.
“Everyone step back,” one of the villagers said and Lucien happily complied. “Someone run to town, warn them.”
“Get Sheren,” another said.
The first plank fell to the ground, loudly landing and kicking up dust, causing all the men to jump and curse. Hands tightened on weapons as all took steps back, spreading out. Some took more steps but a couple stood strong in the front. Now the bodies of the skeletons could be seen, the arms still uselessly outstretched and grasping at nothing. The legs of the creatures strained against the plank along the bottom and the heads caught on the plank across the top. The creatures were almost bending, the arms pulling the midsections forward.
Private Jemas watched Sergeant Jaspers chest rise and fall. The older man was lying on a bed in what had become the makeshift hospital. It was someone’s home, a larger two story building, that had the first floor cleared out and beds brought in. Jaspers was in the middle bed along the back wall.
His eye, that was now missing, was wrapped in bandages which also covered up most of the deep scratches on the man’s face. He had no shirt on, most of his chest covered in bandages. All the wraps were still white, showing that the bleeding had stopped. Finally.
Well still unconscious, Jaspers was finally sleeping soundly. At least that was what Jemas had been told. An older woman, hair all gone to gray, one of the villager’s wives, was acting as the doctor. Minoda had no cleric, so she had been drafted into service. Jemas had been taught some basic battlefield medicine; how to bandage wounds and the like, and it appeared the women knew what she was doing.
Without anything to do, Jemas had wandered the town. Out of place, without clear direction, he had volunteered for a watch shift and had been assigned the wagon. Once his shift was over, again at a loss for something to do, he had thought to go and see if the Far Rider, Culann Hawkfall, could of have used his help but in the end he wound up checking on Sergeant Jaspers.
“Hey, you there,” a voice said from one of the other beds.
Jemas looked over and saw the village smith, a man called Harland, sitting up. The smith was looking towards Jemas, but not focused on him exactly. He remembered that the man had been blinded, caught in the backlash of some spell Culann had cast. It was supposed to be temporary, but it didn’t appear as if the man was fully seeing yet.
“Yes sir,” Jemas said walking towards the man. “How are you doing?”
“Lots of bright spots,” Harland answered with a chuckle. “But starting to see some shapes. Lighter spots in the brightness.”
“What can I do for you?,” Jemas asked.
“Some water,” the smith replied adjusting his position on the bed.
Jemas looked around the room spotting a pitcher of water on a counter by the wall. There were a couple mugs so he grabbed one and poured some water into it. Walking back he held the cup near the smith, helping guide the man’s hands to it.
“Thank you lad,” Harland said taking a sip. He set the cup down on his lap, holding onto it with one hand. “Can’t wait to see again. Feel pretty helpless. Can’t even get my own drink of water.”
“Madam Thurmanson should be back soon,” Jemas said, unsure of what he should do next.
Harland was about to say something when a commotion from outs
ide caught their attention. Shouting, lots of it.
“Something’s going on,” Harland said, head tilted towards the noise.
“I should go,” Jemas said. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Go do your duty lad.”
Jemas nodded, not realizing until he was almost out the door that the smith would not be able to see the movement. He grabbed his shield and the sledge he had been given off the ground where he had left them, leaning against the side of the building. The shield felt familiar, its weight settled comfortably as he put his arm through the straps. The sledge though felt odd. It was heavier than his sword and the mace he had used yesterday. Culann had said that he couldn’t etch a rune onto the mace with the rounded head. That ability was beyond his skills. So they had given Jemas a sledge to use.
He held onto it now as he stepped into the village square, noting the shouting coming from the mining road. Villagers, mostly those that had been on watch, were making their way towards the watchers that had been stationed at the end of the road. Jemas joined them, hearing the two men talking over each other in their excitement.
From what he could gather, the relay system had worked. Skeletons had been spotted at the mine, not yet broken through the planks, but would soon. The warning had been passed down the road, from watcher to watcher.
“What do we do?,” a villager asked.
“Where’s Sheren?,” another questioned.
The group looked around, at each other, back to the village and up the road. None of the other councilors were there, and Jemas was beginning to doubt that any but Sheren Tobiason would be listened to.
“Sheren is at the cemetery with the Far Rider,” someone shouted out in answer.
More looks passed around, no one wanting to make a decision.
“Someone run and get Sheren and Culann,” Private Jemas said, speaking up and surprising himself and the villagers. “I need two of you to come with me; the rest will stay here and fortify this position.”
Silence fell, the villagers all looking at the young man dressed as a Kings Guard. Jemas tried to maintain a steady glance, the look similar to one he had seen the drill sergeant at his training use. The look of a man who was waiting for his commands to be followed. Inside he was nervous and fearful. He didn’t know why he had spoken up. It had just come out. He knew that someone needed to make a decision and the words had just flowed out.
“I’ll go get Sheren,” one of the younger men said finally.
It was like a dam burst with that one statement. The others started reacting, following Jemas’ commands. Two men stepped up to volunteer and the others started talking about what materials they could get to form a barricade across the road.
Nodding, still keeping the look of command, Jemas was inwardly shocked. They were doing what he had said, what he had suggested. They were following his orders.
With the two men following, Jemas set off at a jog down the road towards the mines, knowing that the villagers were doing what he had ordered. He smiled to himself, still surprised.
Culann stood in front of the fifth crypt. It looked like the others, nothing to make it stand out. A stone arch with fading carvings and a large stone door that was unmarked except for cracks that marked the passage of time. There was nothing to indicate that the crypt was still in use and the name of whatever family was housed within had long worn away.
He leaned against the stone. It was too thick to hear through. If there was even anything within.
The thought had come that there was nothing making the skeletons form inside those specific crypts. There could be skeletons currently in all the others. There was no way of knowing. Not now at least. If the skeletons appeared when they had broken into the Dvorkan chamber, then it took a couple of days for the animated creatures to push the heavy stone doors open.
This crypt could be hours away from opening or days.
Culann studied the edge where the door met the arch, running his figures over the crack and feeling the difference and how they were not flush. Naturally occurring from craftsmanship of the door, age or were there skeletons even now pushing at it?
Sighing, he set the dark iron rod against the stone arch and grabbed the rusting metal handle that had been attached to the door. He wished he had thought to bring some oil to use on the hinges, afraid they would be hard to pull against and would squeak. No help for it now, he thought.
With both hands he started pulling on the door.
The stone ground against the threshold, the hinges squeaked loudly. Slowly the heavy stone slid out revealing a space of a couple inches around the arch.
Culann stepped back towards the opening, staying well back in case a skeletal hand tried to grab at him. He watched the dark slash where no light penetrated, the partly open door blocking it all. There didn’t appear to be anything right at the edge. Grabbing the rod, he banged on the edge for a minute, the sound reverberating down the length of the crypt’s tunnel.
He stopped, pulling the rod back and leaned in as close as he dared. He thought he heard something from the far end, a scratching sound. Setting the rod against the arch again, he grabbed the edge of the door and pulled.
The heavy stone slid further and Culann continued until there was an opening of about six inches between the frame of the arch and the back side of the door. Now daylight was able to get into the front of the tunnel, lessening the shadows but not providing complete light.
There was definitely a noise from deeper inside the crypt. Grabbing the rod he took a quick glance at the door and saw multiple marks broken into the stone, similar to what they had seen on the inside of the other door. Evidence that a skeleton had been pushing on it. Taking a step back, he started banging the rod against the door.
Jemas ran onto the plateau, breathing heavy from running the almost mile in armor with the sledge and shield, the two villagers lagging behind. He took in the scene quickly seeing the watchers from the village arrayed in a half circle in front of the third mine entrance. He couldn’t see the entrance itself, the villagers were in the way, but more was becoming clear as they all took steps backwards.
Heads turned as he jogged towards them, his armor making noise. He could now hear the clacking of the skeletons jaws and the strain of the last of the planks. The villagers parted as he approached, opening up a view of the entrance.
The middle plank had fallen with the top and bottom being pushed out by the relentless pressure of the two skeletons. The creatures pushed forward, taking small steps as the feet got caught on the bottom plank, but their strength was slowly pulling the nails out of the arch.
“Push them back inside,” Jemas shouted. “We need to reinforce the barricade.”
It took a minute, the villagers watching him, trying to decide what to do. It was the two that had followed him that decided it. They had come up behind the others as Jemas shouted his orders and it was they who grabbed some of the watchers, moving quickly to do as he had said.
“We need to,” He started but stopped as he saw a crack start to form in the top plank. He had been about to tell them to start banging the ends of the planks back into the arch but it was too late.
The sharp crack of the heavy timber echoed over the plateau and into the valley. The plank split in two, the force of the skeleton’s head pushing against it threw it back and the last bit of nail was ripped out of the arch. The two pieces fell with a loud boom, throwing up dust.
The villagers all paused, all turning to look at the entrance.
It was like the skeletons paused as well. The plank fell away, the resistance fell away, and they stood still as if they had been surprised. But it didn’t last as the creatures started moving again. One was so close to the bottom plank that when it went to take a step its foot caught on the wood and without the upper plank to catch it, the skeleton fell over.
But it fell out onto the plateau, where it started moving to try to right itself.
The second skeleton got lucky and managed to step
over the bottom plank. Its arms reached out, fingers opening and closing, and started moving quickly towards the villagers.
Panic set in on the people of Minoda. Now that the skeletons were out of the mine with nothing to stop them, the people kept moving back, leaving Private Tern Jemas alone.
Jemas took one step back with his right, putting his left foot in front, angling the shield so it faced the oncoming skeleton. He gripped the unfamiliar weight of the sledge, making sure the runed head was facing out. He hoped Culann was right about the rune. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, watching the magical creature take another step towards him.
He glanced at the fallen skeleton; saw that it hadn’t righted itself yet.
The first skeleton was on him, the bony fingers slapping against the shield. He crouched down, angling the shield to push the arms of the creature up. The force of the flailing arms, the surprising strength behind the bones, pushed against him. The fingers scrapped against the iron, causing an ear curdling screech to sound through the plateau.
Jemas swung with the sledge. He as at an odd angle and didn’t know the proper way to grip the weapon for best effect, so the swing was weaker then intended but the effect was strong. The head of the weapon hit the skeleton’s knee bone and the rune flared up, a bright orange.
Surprised, Jemas almost dropped the weapon, but managed to hold on. He stood up as the pressure against the shield was released, the skeleton stumbling to the side by the blow.
Over the sounds of the skeletons, Jemas could hear murmurings from the villagers. They had all seen the swing of the sledge and the flare of the rune. They had seen the skeleton stumble.
Jemas took a side step, moving around the skeleton, and swung the sledge again.