Empire of Bones (23 page)

The lone survivor of the Teng warriors finished burying his comrades in their village custom. He stripped the bodies of everything but a loincloth, tied their hands and feet together, and gently took them all to the nearest body of water where he found a large banyan tree. Their bodies would forever be interned in a nameless part of the jungle, swallowed by other life forms so that all life might benefit. With a heavy heart he returned to the ruined campsite and collected what he could carry on his back.

He hefted his broken spear and looked Rekka squarely in the eyes with an accusatory gesture. “Their deaths are on your hands, Rekka Jel. Never return to Teng, for you will be hunted and executed for the murder of Cashi Dam and these warriors. You are a traitor. I name you outcast.”

Rekka said nothing. She bowed her head in acknowledgment and returned to her sword. Dorl made to stand up and defend her but was stopped with a loving hand on his forearm. There were some battles he wasn’t meant to fight.

Trennaron

Endless miles of jungle dragged on at a grueling pace, punishing the invaders who dared to delve into the unseen heart of Brodein. The small band of adventurers pushed on without much regard for their surroundings. The singular purpose of reaching the mythical temple of Trennaron drove them when all else withered and died. Each of them lost weight. Their clothes began to rot and fall apart. The jungle intended to claim them much as it had countless others over the centuries. Not even the wizard was strong enough to stop it.

The days began to blend together. Differences between night and day lost meaning. The canopy blocking out the sun and moon thickened the deeper they went. Only Ironfoot found comfort in the confining atmosphere. Much of the jungle reminded him of his caverns in Drimmen Delf. He took the point position for most of their trek while Anienam recovered his sorely depleted strength. Only Rekka knew what to expect when they finally arrived at Trennaron and she was being more tight-lipped than usual.

Grief and guilt haunted Bahr. Life as a sea captain was one fraught with peril, constantly exposing him to near winless situations. Failure was a strange companion he’d grown accustomed to being near. This sort of failure threatened to steal his will to continue. Strange that so little a thing could cause intense amounts of damage. He wasn’t used to having a family, not from the day he abandoned his right to the throne and went in search of his own life. Having a meaningful relationship, even one still budding, ripped out of his hands on a whim bore great holes in the corners of his soul. Her abduction was his fault. Carelessness led them into the jungle. His lack of understanding of the situation worsened all of their lives.

Yet they continued with him, not saying a word of the past. They followed his guidance with the unspoken knowledge that he was going to steer them in the right direction, get them to their final destination and, hopefully, bring them home alive. It was a great weight threatening to become a burden. He was used to being a leader. Taking charge and being responsible for the lives of his crew went hand in hand with being captain. He enjoyed it. Relished the opportunity to watch his people develop and grow under his tutelage. This quest was changing his mind. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone. Bad things clung to them when he was.

Camp was established in the middle of a small stand of teak trees. Verdant moss blanketed the ground, providing a natural bed more comfortable than any they’d had since leaving Chadra so many months ago. Small talk broke the monotony, but there wasn’t any real feeling to it. The sheer impossibility of what the Gnaals represented left them shaken in ways no one wanted to admit. Confidence waned at a time when it was needed to improve.

Bahr finished brushing his horse down and idly picked the coarse hair from the brush. The repetition soothed him and helped him forget the troubles hounding him. He looked out towards the camp, taking in each of them singularly. Dorl was bordering on becoming a jealous wreck. Rekka might as well be a statue. Nothol was oddly quiet, still blaming himself for losing sight of Maleela in the first place. Skuld stood on the edge. The boy was ready to break. Bahr hoped not. He rather liked the former stowaway. Boen was as implacable as ever. Groge hadn’t spoken much since his combat with the Gnaal. Ionascu was already mad, making Bahr wish they’d killed him long ago. He couldn’t stand listening to another off-key song.

The only one that didn’t seem bothered by what had happened was the Dwarf. Dour as he was taciturn, Ironfoot marched on without complaint. The stout Dwarf never tired. Never complained. He was a credit to his race and to warriors everywhere. Bahr wished he had more Dwarves along. He could conquer a kingdom with enough, despite their crude mannerisms and affinity for warm ale. Still, they were second best in a fight only to the Gaimosians. His initial reluctance to accept Ironfoot into the ranks faded after the battle with the river Men. Ironfoot fought with a deadly combination of skill and ferocity. He was quite possibly their most valuable asset.

Bahr’s gaze finally fell on the wizard. Anienam Keiss was a shadow of the cocky Man waiting on Bahr’s rain-swept doorstep. The swagger of self righteousness was gone, lost somewhere between being buried under Chadra and the jungle. His overarching sense of purpose seemed diminished, as if he had lost his confidence. Bahr was ashamed to admit he took a measure of perverse enjoyment out of it, but he needed Anienam at full speed if they were going to succeed in getting the Blud Hamr and return safely to Delranan. Shoving the brush back into a saddlebag, Bahr headed over to the wizard. It was time they talked.

“I was wondering when you’d come around,” Anienam said indignantly. They hadn’t spoken since the outburst at the end of the battle.

Bahr felt his cheeks flush. It was a difficult thing for a grown Man, swallowing his pride. “We should go somewhere. I don’t want to disturb the others. They’ve been through enough. Let them rest while they can.”

“Agreed.” He held out his hand for Bahr to pull him to his feet and they walked back to the opposite side of the horses.

“I’m a man, Anienam. I make no excuses for my actions, nor do I expect anyone to do the same for me. This world is harsh and I need to be harsh along with it. That being said, I was…wrong to lash out at you. It wasn’t your fault Maleela was taken. You didn’t deserve my wrath.” Bahr felt better with the admission, but still had a long way to go to get back to where they were at the beginning of the quest.

Anienam graciously accepted the admission. He knew it was as close to an apology as a Man as proud as Bahr was going to give. It worked. “Captain Bahr, we have all been stressed greatly. This quest has taxed us all. I admit I’ve not been my best, nor have I given you all I have.” He held up a hand to prevent Bahr from interrupting. “There is good reason for that. Much of what we are about to experience will test the limits of your faith and comprehension. We are dealing with forces beyond the scope of your imagination. I thought it best not to encumber the others with these details until absolutely necessary.”

“While I question your decision-making capabilities, I won’t deny the others have been through more than any of us imagined,” Bahr gave in. “But you and I need to have a reckoning. The longer this journey lasts the more I find myself doubting you. We need complete trust if we’re to continue. Anything less will take us past the edge of ruin.”

“Agreed.”

Bahr handed him a half-empty canteen. The hardest part of the conversation was passed, leaving the path forward ready for discussion. Compounding questions bothered him to great ends. He needed resolution before continuing, if only for his peace of mind. Trennaron wasn’t far off according to Anienam’s calculations. So close to the end of what had been a very long, grueling quest, Bahr needed to know as many variables as possible before they turned around and headed home.

“We should be there by tomorrow I think,” Anienam said after swallowing. “Rekka’s aid in this proves invaluable. Without her we’d never be allowed to find it.”

Bahr appreciated everything the jungle Woman had done for them, despite knowing less about her than he did the wizard. It seemed he’d made a bad habit of surrounding himself in mystery. “What makes her the key to all this?”

Anienam fixed him with a disbelieving glare. “You can’t be serious. She’s the sole reason we’ve made it this far. Trennaron is one of the oldest places of power in the world. Natural power, tapped directly from the world’s core. Mystics and Mages swarmed there once upon a time to increase their lore. It has been guarded by the Dae’shan since the beginning of recorded time. Not the Dae’shan trying to kill us, but one who abandoned their wicked ways, choosing to remain loyal to the gods of light. A handful is chosen to defend the Guardian of Trennaron each generation. They come from all of the jungle villages. Rekka is the chosen representative from Teng. It is an incomparable honor to serve.”

“You’re talking in circles,” Bahr said.

“My point is the path to Trennaron will only be open to Rekka. We’d never find it by ourselves,” the wizard finished.

Bahr nodded absently, folded his arms across his chest, and ambled back to the group. He had much to ponder before they arrived. More importantly, he thought of nothing else but keeping Rekka Jel alive.

With Rekka in the point position, the band of adventurers trudged deeper into the jungle. They didn’t run into the Gnaals again, nor the warriors from Teng. No one went this deep into the jungle without good reason, she explained. Bad things tended to happen when the predators all outweighed the prey. The going was slow thanks to the density of the undergrowth. Despite Anienam’s reassurances that their pursuers were gone, Bahr couldn’t help but feel like he was still being watched. Still, the journey continued on.

Skuld’s horse tripped over a half-buried root and broke its leg, forcing them to put the poor creature down. No one wanted to do it, but they couldn’t risk the wounded animal bringing some of the more dangerous jungle cats or lizards down on them. Boen took care of it once the others moved out of sight. He didn’t want the other horses getting spooked from the gore. He gave the horse a final, sorrowful pat on the neck before putting it out of its misery. Far from sentimental, Boen much preferred being around animals than people. It hurt him more to see the horse die than a friend.

They kept moving. Losing the wagon and a horse hampered their ability to move with speed. Skuld alternated walking and riding with Rekka. They were the two lightest of the group, putting less stress on her mount that way. Unnecessary supplies were dumped. The loss was regrettable but Rekka assured them they were close enough to Trennaron not to worry. That made them worry more. Nothing had gone right since Bahr agreed to Harnin’s proposal to go into Rogscroft to rescue Maleela. They were desperate for a good break.

Another day came and went before the group discovered the abandoned-looking one lane road in the middle of the jungle. Rekka’s mood brightened instantly. Her sudden change in attitude proved infectious, spreading through the group almost instantaneously.

“We are close,” she told them. “Follow this trail until sundown and we will arrive. No enemies will be near. Trennaron holds great powers and is warded by the most potent magic.”

“Good. It’s about time we were able to relax,” Boen said, grinning.

Rekka turned her head sharply. “Relax? No. This is not the time to relax. Trennaron is protected, Gaimosian. The guardians will most assuredly try to prevent us from getting within the perimeter. We must be more wary than ever before.”

Boen frowned but kept his thoughts private. How would it sound to the others for him to admit he wanted to go home?

Clear of brush, the road hastened their movement. Bahr was glad to be done with the clinging jungle. He wanted to see the sun again. Feel the fresh kiss of warmth on his face one last time before entering the mythical castle. Birds of all colors became abundant the farther down the road they went. Their songs filled the air with majesty, the canopy providing a natural amphitheater of acoustics as the birds flit across the road.

The trees gradually pushed back until they formed a wide avenue capable of marching five horses abreast. Bahr spied the first golden rays of sunlight piercing through the veil of leaves, warming the plush grass.
How unlike home. I’ve never seen green so vibrant. This land is so foreign to me. Almost makes me wish I’d been born down here rather than the harsh north. Life has more of a chance for success this far south
.

Rekka, followed closely by Boen and Ironfoot, emerged from the concealment of the jungle into a massive clearing. The Gaimosian whistled shrilly. He’d traveled from one side of Malweir to the other but had never seen anything so impressive. The clearing formed a perfect circle, stretching for nearly a mile in every direction. Large birds flew by the arching treetops of the great banyans ringing the field. A herd of deer, brown with thick, white stripes running over their backs grazed without fear. Wild flowers blossomed in wide patches, transforming the clearing into a patchwork of colors. No clouds marred the sky, lending the world a sense of calm, peace. Boen almost felt at ease.

“This is an eyeful,” he murmured, slowly sheathing his sword.

Rekka watched him. “You may yet have need of that. The protectors will know we are here already. It’s best to stay on guard.”

“From the deer?” he asked, choosing to disbelieve her cautiousness. “I’ve never seen a more serene place, Rekka.”

“Have you learned nothing from your travels? Often the most innocent thing is the deadliest. But no, the deer will not bother us. I used to come out and feed them. The true protectors are atop the castle walls.”

Boen frowned and urged his horse forward. If trouble was around he wanted to meet it first. Haze filled the center of the clearing, obscuring the structure carefully hidden within. Nothing Rekka said did Trennaron any justice, for it was protected against the common person. The only ones capable of seeing it were the ones it wanted. Boen refused to believe a building was capable of deciding who looked at it. His own superstitions were mocked back in the mountains when the ghosts of his forbearers had come to him with dire warnings. He failed to heed their advice. A lament he continued to feel the effects of. Begrudgingly, he decided to let Rekka resume her place at the head of the advance.

The mist gradually parted, as if sensing Rekka’s return. They had their first views of ancient Trennaron. No words were capable of doing it justice. The walls stretched high into the sky and equally deep underground. Alabaster as bleached bones, the city-fortress bore a goodly presence. No evil was permitted to enter, leaving Trennaron unsullied. There were no statues or monuments to vain glory. Nothing to supplant the inherent grandeur emplaced within the walls.