Empire of Bones (24 page)

Spiked crenellations jutted like spears into the sky. Unlike other fortresses, Trennaron lacked murder holes or spy ports. There was nowhere for cauldrons of boiling pitch. No guard towers housing an infinite amount of weapon stores. The great, central dome was marred only by the oculus in the center. The ground around the base of the walls remained pure. There was no evidence of a moat or barracks. Trennaron wasn’t built for warfare. Trennaron served a much higher purpose.

Golden faces were carved into the walls. Some smiled. Others stared back. A pair of cupped palms lined the main doorway, wordlessly offering protection for whoever was permitted to enter. The desire to commit violence dissipated quickly. Trennaron allowed no violations of its time immemorial rules. Legend whispered the gods of light constructed the castle as a focal point for wholesomeness. Virtue and righteousness were hallmarks of any who was allowed within. All else was cleansed from the soul. So long as a Guardian remained, Trennaron maintained its power. Malweir needed a place like this in such dark and troubling times.

Boen couldn’t take his eyes from the magnificent structure. He imagined the Dwarf was having an internal fit, knowing his people would never be able to craft such a place. After all, how does one compete with the power of the gods? He spied massive figures carved from the rock, spaced evenly across the tops of the walls. Their size gave birth to much speculation. None of his private theories seemed to have much value and he was forced to abandon thoughts towards them. For reasons the Gaimosian didn’t know, he knew they were important.

He was about to ask Rekka what they were when one of them suddenly launched into the sky. That was followed closely by a score more.

“The protectors have awakened!” Rekka shouted.

Ingrid’s War

Half buried in the snow, Ingrid struggled to keep from shivering. Her teeth chattered to the sound of stones smashing together. Even with gloves on, her fingers turned bluish. Cold penetrated down into her bones. Her only comfort came from the knowledge that twenty others suffered the same. Brave people all, they’d given up the comparative comforts of their homes in order to assist Ingrid in turning the tide of the war back against Harnin. Most of the events in Chadra were hearsay this far out in the countryside, but each and every one of the people Harlan mustered were true patriots to Delranan. Their allegiances ran above crown and king.

They’d been waiting, half buried in the snow since before dawn to ambush the Wolfsreik supply train reported to be moving from one of the outlying bases back to what remained of Chadra. Ingrid’s orders were specific and based on Harlan’s scouts. Hopefully the intel panned out, otherwise the rebellion would be in need of a new command structure. All enemy personnel were to be eliminated while as much of the supplies as possible were confiscated. The people in the villages needed the supplies to sustain themselves until spring.

Orlek argued against her going. She insisted the only way to endear these new fighters to her cause was by leading from the front. Inaella’s greatest failing as a leader was her refusal to be seen as an example for the rank and file to emulate. Ingrid was determined not to make the same mistakes.
Of course that doesn’t prevent me from making entirely different ones. I’ve never been a soldier, unlike Orlek or Harlan. This is all so new to me. All I can do is give my people the best they deserve and pray Harnin folds before we do
. She knew there was no alternative. Death awaited every other avenue except success.

She looked over at the nearest snow covered body. Orlek. His eyes never tired as he scanned the road for signs of the enemy’s approach. She envied his ability to always keep going in the face of adversity. Unanswered questions ran rampant through her mind as she toyed with trying to figure out what he’d been before the nightmare began. Everyone had a story to tell and, while the vast majority of them were plain and uninteresting, Orlek clearly had something he wanted hidden. Ingrid wanted to know what. Not that she needed to. Her life was a growing mass of complications, but the simple knowledge would go so far in soothing her aching psyche. At this point she needed every victory she could get, no matter how obscure.

A stiff wind blew snow in her face. The light powder was unsettling and got down her blouse. Ingrid shivered, wondering how it was possible she could get any colder than what she already was. Cold. Miserable and bordering on being dejected, Ingrid was ready to give in. She was starting to doubt the accuracy of Harlan’s intelligence network. Placing both hands beneath her, Ingrid readied to pop up.

“Hsss,” Orlek said quietly. “They’re coming.”

Ingrid felt trapped between powerful emotions. Her cheeks reddened from her foolishness in believing her people had failed her while her adrenaline began to pump with the prospect of meeting the enemy in the open field instead of the confines of the city. Until now she’d only battled in Chadra and a handful of the closer villages surrounding the capital. Fighting in the undisguised wilderness was an alien concept. She had trouble conceptualizing how her fighters would be able to successfully camouflage themselves while being in the open.

Orlek quickly showed her. The open tundra comprising the vast majority of Delranan was lightly forested between stretches of seemingly endless leagues of open plains. There were perfect places for ambushes, most natural. This wasn’t one of them. They had a clear view of the road stretching on, a dark streak in the middle of pristine snow. Fortunately the drifts were piled so high Orlek managed to plant the strike force without any trace of being seen. He and Ingrid went into position last. Each dragged large pine boughs behind them to cover all of the snow shoe tracks peppering the otherwise unspoiled snow.

Caltrops littered the road, threatening to become as much of a danger to her people as for the Wolfsreik horses. She preferred to take the horses alive. They didn’t have much fodder but were in sore need of animals for quicker transport across the kingdom. Orlek argued against it. The horses were bred for war, even the draft horses. They’d prove more difficult than they were worth in the long run. Killing them might be the kindest mercy she could do. Despite the illusions of righteousness swirling in her dreams, Ingrid knew very few professional soldiers had switched sides.

“I don’t see anything,” she whispered back.

Orlek grinned, his brown-stained teeth in sharp contrast to the pure white of the snow. “Put your ear to the ground and listen. You can feel the vibrations of their footsteps. We have less than fifteen minutes.”

Ingrid believed Orlek was suffering from frostbite of the mind. How could anyone hear vibrations in the ground and accurately judge distance and rate of travel? Regardless of how she truly felt, it was her responsibility to ensure her people were ready. Ingrid rose cautiously, barely her head and shoulders poking above the frozen surface. Any fears she had faded. One by one she noticed the subtle shift of a pile of snow marking where one of her fighters was hidden. They were already preparing.

They’d rehearsed the drill to the point each knew their tasks as well as those of the person to their left or right. Orlek was a harsh task master who put his people to the test. He berated their mistakes while calmly praising outstanding performance. He brokered no failure. Anyone caught not doing their jobs was summarily dismissed and hidden away to prevent them from betraying the rebellion the way Inaella had.

“Relax,” Orlek hissed. “They know their jobs.”

She wanted to believe but this batch was unproven on the battlefield. They might easily break and run the moment pressure grew too intense. Each one understood death was more than likely, a fact she made no qualms of admitting. The failures of the past continued to plague her decisions towards the future. Orlek was forced to reel her in from time to time, a deed he strongly considered performing now. Ingrid was giddy to the point she threatened to give away their positions.

“We need these supplies,” she said unnecessarily.

He let it go. Everyone calmed their nerves in their own way. Who was he to criticize hers? She was no great combat leader. Not even a mediocre one truth be told, but she pursued this rebellion with such passion, such fervor, he was swept up in the tide. Ingrid believed in a free Delranan. He wished more like her would spring forth. The rebellion needed bodies, strength in numbers, if they were going to outlast Harnin’s five-thousand strong Wolfsreik. That still left them with the bulk of the ten-thousand-strong main army returning whenever the war in Rogscroft ended. Orlek focused on his current enemy. He’d worry about the rest when the time came.

Minutes dragged by. She didn’t think the supply convoy would ever arrive, but it did. And in much greater strength than she had anticipated. Fortunately Orlek was used to being underestimated. His group of fighters was strategically emplaced along the western edge of the road, ready to ambush as soon as the horses stepped on the caltrops. A second, larger body, led by Harlan, was hidden in a stand of pines about a hundred meters away. They would remain hidden until the battle began and sweep in from the rear while the enemy was distracted. In theory the plan was sound. Orlek was about to find out just how sound.

Ingrid crinkled her nose at the stench of horse and riders who’d been in the field for too long. She didn’t know how anyone could let their hygiene go for so long. The first riders came into view, followed closely by the wagons. Another thirty soldiers accompanied the supply train. Few of them were actually paying attention. They’d grown complacent since the demise of Chadra and the majority of the rebellion, just like Orlek predicted. None of them expected to run into serious trouble this far out in the countryside. That would be their downfall.

Patience wasn’t one of her strong suits. Ingrid forced herself to remain still. It was one of the worst tortures she could imagine. She felt certain the scouts looked her in the eyes a dozen times while the convoy continued on. Her heart quickened. Her mouth dried unnaturally. The sword at her side felt cumbersome. She wasn’t a soldier. Pretending to be one now out of vain glory was foolish at best. Why wasn’t the enemy attacking? She
knew
they’d seen her. What were they waiting for? The sickness of their cruelty pervaded her innermost confidence. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

Orlek rose in a small avalanche of snow. His bow was strung and drawn. His eyes were sharp. Tensed muscles begged to be released. To exercise their anger in the song of flesh and steel. A horse kicked out and went down in a hail of grotesque screams. The second horse followed closely behind. Orlek fired. His aim was true. The shaft took the wagon master in the throat, pitching him off the side. The wagon teams immediately went out of control and bolted forward into the nightmarish mess of the caltrops even as the stricken scouts shouted and tried to warn them off. The rest of Orlek’s fighters rose and fired one arrow each at the nearest targets.

Most struck a fresh body, though one or two managed to hit the same soldier. It didn’t matter. The Wolfsreik were taken off guard. Orlek bellowed and his fighters charged while the enemy was still disoriented enough to lack cohesion. Ingrid was the last to rise, despite her jittery nerves and an unquenchable desire to strike first blood. Her timid roar disappeared in the growing chorus. She pointed her sword at the closest soldier, one of the fallen scouts. He was trapped beneath his horse; his leg crushed from the fall. Ingrid hesitated when she caught him staring back at her. The fright in his eyes was evident to a blind man.

“Do it,” Orlek ordered with sternness that made her flinch.

Ingrid spent hours thinking of what it would take to turn the rebellion to her way of thinking, her vision for a stronger Delranan. How many imaginary soldiers had she killed over the course of the winter? How many times did she stand triumphantly over her vanquished enemies while her fighters cheered her name? Reality was much harsher than her dreams. Ingrid plunged her sword down into the fallen soldier. She vomited as the soft flesh tore and gave way to bone and the hidden organs within. The soldier gave a short cry while dark blood frothed on his lips. His eyes rolled back into his head in death. Tears filled Ingrid’s eyes. She never saw Harlan’s gallant charge from behind.

“Here, you need to drink this,” Orlek said brusquely.

Ingrid, eyes burning from her tears, couldn’t stand to look up into his face. She feared whatever judgments he had reserved for her. Shame heaped upon her slender shoulders. She’d been so eager to get into the fight that she never considered the cost it would take from her soul. Talking of battles and deeds of grandeur was well and fine, but the cold reality of watching a Man she killed turn pale blue in a puddle of his own blood twisted her stomach. She wasn’t cut out to be a field commander.

“Take it, Ingrid. You need warmth inside you,” Orlek insisted. “There will be a time for self-loathing when this war is done.”

She stared blankly at the snow.

Frowning, Orlek bunched his heavy cloak and sat beside her, forcing the flask into her trembling hands. “We’re at war. Men die. There is no escaping that fact. The only way the enemy will die is if we kill them. You did what you had to do.”

“I killed him,” she protested.

He shook his head. “No. You killed an enemy asset. He was a soldier that would have run you through without second thought. Worse if you’d been taken alive. Men like that like to have fun with their captives before they kill them. Be thankful you struck first. The alternative would not have been to your liking.”

“How do you do it?” she asked slowly. Each word inspired fresh pain.

He shrugged. “I don’t think about it. You must harden your heart to do the kind of work I do. Killing isn’t easy, especially for someone who’s never done it. I’d like to tell you it gets easier with time, but it doesn’t. Not if you let it get to you. The best way to do it is to put it from your mind immediately.”

Orlek neglected to mention how the faces continue to haunt you night after night. He didn’t figure she needed to worry about that right now. They’d just scored a major victory, even on such a small scale, and needed to capitalize on it before the enemy regained momentum. Other patrols were still out in the countryside. The faster the rebellion struck, the easier it would be to spread the enemy out. They desperately needed the Wolfsreik to disperse in order to strike harder and to greater effect. He couldn’t do that with Ingrid wallowing in grief.

He fixed a stern, almost fatherly look at her. “Ingrid, there is no time for this. We are at a critical crossroads. Harnin will send all of his might here once he learns of what we did. It’s time to spread out and bring this kingdom to its knees. The people need you. I thought you purged the weakness from our ranks when we left Chadra and overthrew Inaella?”

Ingrid abandoned her misery and shot Orlek a foul glare. “You know why I did what I did, Orlek. Your hands are just as red as mine. The rebellion had grown stagnant. I did what needed to be done for the good of the kingdom.”

“The kingdom or your own ego?” he asked.

“My ego has nothing to do with this! I am a patriot. Harnin One Eye has ruined our land, killed our people, and invited darkness into our hearts. He needs to be removed before we are all reduced to corpses frozen and forgotten in the harsh winter freeze.”