Empire of Bones (15 page)

“You’ll grow out of this stage soon enough,” Ironfoot’s rough voice called from behind. The stout Dwarf dropped a pair of sacks without so much as a grunt.

Skuld wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure if the Dwarf captain was serious or not. “I’ve never had to work so hard in my life.”

“Hard work builds strong character,” the Dwarf answered. “If you’d been born in Drimmen Delf you would have been conditioning from a young age. Dwarves are naturally competitive, to the point of getting hurt all too often. You have smarts, but you lack strength. Don’t worry yourself over it. Strength will come. Give it time.”

“Do we have time?” the gangly youth asked.

Ironfoot rolled his thickly muscled shoulders. “Beats me. No one has properly explained just what this quest is all about.”

“Why did you come with us?”

“One doesn’t argue with the king of Drimmen Delf. Dwarves are loyal and obey without question. I am representing the Dwarven kingdoms. If the fragmented information your wizard said is correct this quest will help determine the fate of Malweir. It will not be said that Dwarves didn’t do their part.”

Skuld cocked his head. “You’re not the least bit curious about what we’re doing?”

“Dwarves aren’t curious about much in the world of Men. I will follow until the time is right to return to my mountain home, kill whoever needs to be killed, and take my place of honor in the halls of our heroes when this is ended. Life is simple, young Skuld. Don’t seek to complicate it needlessly.” Ironfoot paused. “Speaking of which, what do you see in that crazy old wizard? He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Anienam?” Skuld paused. He hadn’t told anyone, though he suspected Bahr knew. “He thinks I have the ability to become a wizard.”

Ironfoot guffawed loudly, making Skuld’s face flush. “Magic is fading from this world, Skuld. Why do you think he’s the last of his breed? The Mages had their run and messed it up. Whatever gods are out there don’t seem likely to give them a second chance. It’s an age of steel and will these days. Gone are the days of magic users and good riddance I say. Anienam’s a nice enough fellow, if quirky, but his sort only mucks things up for the common Man. Don’t fall for his guile. He’s a wizard after all!”

This merely confused Skuld further. His mind felt muddled and, being overly impressionable, irrevocably lost. Warrior. Thief. Wizard. Orphan. What was he to become? Who was he? No answers were forthcoming. He was alone in the company of great warriors, royalty and wizardry. What did a boy like he have to contribute? He knew he should have stayed in Chadra and stuck with picking pockets. This wasn’t the life he wanted.

Ironfoot saw the conflict in his eyes and slapped Skuld on the back. “Buck up, lad. Most youth seldom have an inkling of their true path. Yours will come to you, often when you least expect it.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meanwhile? Boen wants me to be a warrior, or rather, he’s adamant about talking me out of it. Anienam thinks I am his heir and Bahr thinks I should go home. I regret stowing away.”

“Regrets are part of life. Every man has his share. It’s how we deal with them that shapes our character,” the Dwarf explained. “Don’t be in such a rush to make things happen. Besides, we’re probably all going to die on this quest anyway! Ha!”

Dismayed by the sudden burst of reality, Skuld watched Ironfoot amble back towards the supply hut. He wished he had parents. A normal life with a good home and the prospect of food each day. The hardships thrust upon him were overwhelming to the point he considered giving in. Malweir wouldn’t miss one orphan boy. No one would. Skuld reluctantly went back to work, convinced it was no easy time to be young.

Bad Memories

Maleela, princess of Delranan and sole heir to the throne, sat on a small rock combing her auburn hair. Barely eighteen years old, she felt the crushing weight of the world bearing down on her slender shoulders. She liked to pretend she was a real princess, with handsome courtiers, a lavish room in a grand palace. The object of everyone’s affection. Reality was much darker. Princess she might be, but one tainted with a family history of madness. It was her family that ripped the heart out of Delranan and ruined so many lives in Rogscroft. She despised her father for what he’d done.

The tears were all dried. What little she’d had to begin with were used early on. Her love for Aurec sustained her in the dark hours of the night when she wasn’t sure she had the inner strength to continue. But she wasn’t sure if he still lived. Badron had unleashed the wolves of winter under false pretense. Her love was the first thing to shatter. Fate conspired to keep her and Aurec apart. The quest to save the world--she scoffed at the idea that a handful of misfits were what Malweir needed--tore her away from the shackles of her life and sent her rushing to distant lands she’d barely read of. She hated feeling out of control but was powerless until they turned around for the return voyage.

Not that she’d ever had an easy life. Comfortable, to an extent, but seldom easy. With her mother dying in childbirth, Maleela was passed around between surrogate mothers and midwives until she was old enough to start taking care of herself. Her days were spent with the kitchen staff and servants instead of being pampered like her station deserved. She learned more secrets than she was capable of keeping, including her father’s deep-rooted hatred for King Stelskor of Rogscroft. Some past slight propagated their feud. It was only a matter of time before Badron saw his opportunity and took it.

Badron blamed her for the untimely death, knowing the innocent child had nothing to do with any birth complications. That didn’t stop him from manifesting his grief and sorrow into abject hatred for his only daughter. What should have brought them closer together only tore them apart. To her credit she never held it against him, at least not until recently. Maleela spent her childhood pining for her father’s affections, getting only a cold brush-off instead. Indifference turned to anger, anger turned to disobedience and disobedience turned malevolent. She fully hated the man she had no choice but to call father.

Maleela tried clearing her mind. She closed her eyes and imagined Aurec’s hardened face leaning close to kiss her cheek, whispering softly in her ear that everything was going to work out. She smiled but it was laden with sadness. Her heart ached, growing harder. The fairy tale she lived in was a prison far worse than any a poet might conjure with mere words. No matter how much she longed to be back in his arms she knew on a primal level that their relationship would never be the same. The feelings of pain that singular elicited took her to the brink of mental breakdown. She was strong but at the limits of her reserves mentally.

Nothing in her life made sense. Her only link to family was Bahr. Her reclusive uncle was hard beyond measure and unused to displaying any emotion, especially love. He’d given up his claim to the throne for whatever reasons and taken to a life on the open sea. Maleela viewed that as an act of cowardice, no matter how successful and renown he’d become. She wanted to cry on his shoulder, to feel the warmth of his love. Just to have him hold her tight like when Nothol pulled her from the river again would mean more than she could ever express.

Thoughts of her family dissatisfying to every degree, Maleela absently dug the tip of her dagger into the soft ground. Badron was hundreds of leagues away. Bahr wasn’t a target and she had no way of knowing whether Aurec was dead or alive. Outlets for her anger ran low, leaving her with Ionascu. The crippled, demented old Man brought bile to her lips. He was the representation of everything wrong with the world. What he thought was guile proved little more than a thinly disguised attempt at widening the rift between father and daughter. Not that the idea didn’t have merit. She wanted nothing more than to be done with the entire sordid mess. Removing her father from power offered the most rewarding solution.

Maleela learned many things growing up. Treachery--what some would label politics--was an instinct she didn’t think she had, at least not until Ionascu started hounding her. She found herself going back to visions of a throne occupied by the first queen in Delranan’s history whenever her mind slipped. Between her father’s distractions in Rogscroft and Harnin’s purported debauchery ravaging Delranan, the path would be open for her to ascend to power. She already had the proper combination for a command staff and allies. All she needed was the military might to enforce her will.

She’d never taken a life and didn’t think she ever wanted to get her hands bloodied. Having deaths committed on her command was another matter entirely.
Perhaps I could begin with Ionascu. He serves no purpose among us. Why does my uncle keep him alive
? The answers remained elusive, for she wasn’t in the decision-making council. Ever since they followed the wizard into Rogscroft to steal her away from the one she loved, Maleela increasingly found herself on the outside. What secret plans did they have that they simply weren’t telling her? The thought of being purposefully kept in the dark was maddening.

“You’ll ruin your blade like that,” Nothol’s voice called from over her shoulder.

She reluctantly looked up. Any thoughts of murder or revenge fled, leaving her ashamed. “It’s not really a good blade. Too old and weak to help much. Although it is good for filleting a fish.”

“You should treat it properly. You’ll never know when the time comes when you’ll be forced to use it for real,” he said.

Nothol took a seat on a path of moss across from her.

She did her best to keep frustration from showing. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of her uselessness in the group. “Nothol, when have you seen me wield a sword? My uncle ensures I’m never in harm’s way. Maybe he’s right for it, maybe not, but I have yet to get involved in any of the fighting.”

“And you’re complaining?” he asked innocently. “I’d give my right arm for the chance to be done with the violence. Don’t get me wrong. I’m good at what I do but I want more from life. Every enemy I kill is one more piece of my soul that dies. Be thankful he protects you from the nightmares.”

Stunned, she didn’t know how to respond. Nothol was only a handful of years older but more experienced by far. To hear such blatant admission was shocking. She never imagined a man like that would regret his chosen lifestyle. “Why do you do it if it bothers you?”

He shrugged. “What else am I going to do? This is my life, Maleela. I’m good at what I do and I have just enough friends to keep me from getting into too much trouble. I earn enough to keep my belly full and a roof over my head. Well, most of the time. To be fair, this quest is getting on my last nerve. I really would like to go home, but I’ll never tell Dorl that. I’d never hear the end of it!”

She giggled, already imagining the falsified hostilities between them. It was that sort of bond, where one could do anything with little or no effect, that she needed to keep her balanced. A bond she sorely lacked. “I envy you, Nothol Coll.”

He was genuinely taken aback. “Me? Why in all the gods would you envy me? I don’t have a home. My father disowned me and I use a sword to get my point across. This isn’t the sort of life you want to lead.”

‘We’re not so different. My father has hated me from the moment I took my first breath. My family is either dead or insane and would rather abandon all thoughts of going home than returning to that vile Keep.” She took a stuttered breath. “I want the freedoms you enjoy.”

He rubbed his freshly shaved chin. A bath in one of the freshwater pools and a shave were among the first things he did once they were given the liberties of going through Teng. He felt like a new Man despite weeks of constant hardship. It’s amazing what a little soap can do for morale.

“My life isn’t freedom. I’m trapped in a world that will swallow me whole that one moment I stop paying attention,” he said and paused. “Dorl’s lucky. I think he’s finally found love. Even if he is too hardheaded to see he’s damaging it. He has something I never have and that makes him a rarity in our line of work.”

“There has to be a better way, but for the life of me I don’t know how. We’re trapped in a vicious cycle. Only death awaits,” Maleela said, head hung low.

“Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re not worth it, Maleela,” Nothol told her with surety. “We’ll pull through this and you’ll find your way back to Aurec. Life has no choice but to get better.”

“You really believe that?”

He nodded and gave her his most charming grin. “Of course, otherwise what’s the point? I’m going to get some food. I never did like going to bed on an empty stomach. Leaves me feeling weird in the morning.”

He walked off whistling, hands clasped behind his back. Nothol Coll was many things. He preferred to be a man that enjoyed life as it happened.

Night fell with the slow crawling of an army across endless plains in search of the un-findable. Life in the jungle took on a completely different feeling. Most of the villagers finished their chores and hurried within the safety of the village. Teng was nestled in the heart of the jungle where many large and terrible creatures roamed the dark. It was one of hundreds of similar villages scattered throughout the jungle.

Rekka felt out of place, as if her home was alien. She fondly recalled early childhood memories but lacked the context to make them meaningful. Teng didn’t feel like home anymore. The people looked the same. The village was unchanged. She doubted anything had changed in a hundred years. Life was at its basest form deep in the jungle. Men and women hardened by the elements and taught from an early age that Brodein would swallow them the moment they weren’t wary trudged about their lives in a meager existence.

The trappings of modern society didn’t exist. People traded for what they needed rather than using coin to pay for it. There was an undeniable sense of peaceful coexistence between Man and the jungle. Birds and small mammals ventured from the depths of trees to interact with the villagers. Snakes and spiders the size of dinner plates crawled along the ground, all but ignoring the people of Teng. Only the large predators remained hidden.

She’d only been gone for a little over a decade. Any connections once shared between herself and anyone else in the village were lost. Seeing Cashi Dam should have invoked certain emotions. They’d never loved each other, though she suspected Cashi had vastly different feelings than she did. He was a proud warrior, heir to the defense of Teng. Any woman would be proud to call him husband. His social status was bound to rise once the elder finally passed. Rekka wasn’t impressed by the trappings of power.

She rebuked his advances in favor of training for her eventual apprenticeship to the citadel of Trennaron. Her life was meant for bigger, more important events than mere marriage to a village leader. Naturally Cashi didn’t understand. How could any woman of Teng ignore his displays of strength? He grew angry after she turned her back and walked into the jungle. Rekka never had a real choice. She was meant to serve the Guardian just as he was meant to defend his village. The last she saw of Cashi Dam was with his fists clenched and face twisted in rage. She never expected to see him again.

Sitting at the edge of the jungle, the very same edge she had last seen him, Rekka replayed the events in her mind. Nothing had changed in all the years she’d been gone. Worse, her relationship with Dorl was unnecessarily strained by her reunion with Cashi. She didn’t plan on meeting him again. Certainly didn’t plan on him still pining for her, but that was the cold reality of the situation. She saw it in his eyes. Cashi Dam still cared deeply for her. She closed her eyes and tried to flush the images away.

“The jungle is not safe at night, Rekka. You should know better than to sit here alone.”

Rekka frowned. She desperately wanted, needed, to be alone in order to get her thoughts in order and find a way through the miasma of human emotion choking her. Cashi Dam’s sudden arrival prevented any progress. “The jungle is not my enemy.”

“Ah yes. You have spent many years traveling under the trees in the name of a higher calling,” he replied. The derision in his voice was like a slap to the face.

“I do what I was called upon to do. Nothing more.”

He shuffled closer. Each footstep the slightest whisper. “We all have duties. Your life is not so unique in that regard.”

Rekka finally couldn’t take any more and stood to face him. “Why have you come to me, Cashi? I am in no mood to use words carelessly.”

“Is it not obvious?” he asked. That familiar look haunted his dark brown eyes.

“No. Speak plainly.”

He fidgeted slightly, clearly nervous. Rekka’s heart clutched. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t ready for this. Her eyes closed so that he wouldn’t see the sorrow building in them.

“I love you, Rekka. The time has come for you to be my wife,” he said. His words were strained, unsure. Cashi planted his spear in the ground and straightened his back in expectation of her reply.

Rekka despised her situation. She wasn’t meant to fall in love. Part of being sent to Trennaron entailed limited human contact and no possibility of finding love. Cashi didn’t understand. He couldn’t. His place was here, with his people. Rekka willingly surrendered any semblance of a normal life in favor of serving a higher power. At least that’s what she told herself. Truthfully, she ran away because she didn’t love Cashi and was opposed to the entire arranged marriage tradition of her people. The antiquity of such actions weren’t necessary in today’s world. Not even in Teng. She longed for the freedom of the open plains. The cold wind in her hair and the right to choose how to live her life. The confinements of an arranged marriage to a Man she harbored no feelings for was a fate worse than death.