Empire of Bones (3 page)

“Mind yourself! I’m coming,” he roared through the massive red beard covering his lower face. Ice crystals had formed in the hairs, giving him a wild appearance. Even with gloves on he was loath to touch the freezing sword hilt. “If you’ve got weapons put them on the ground and have your hands raised. I won’t hesitate to run you through, just for getting me out in this damnable cold!”

He fumbled with the deadbolt and triple locks before setting his hands on the heavy iron locking bar. It took a bit of strength to pull it free but the door swung easily open after. He drew his sword and waited for the visitor to make himself known. Refle tensed as the figure emerged from the night. Not himself, but herself! He briefly considered lowering his sword but had learned that females were just as dangerous as everyone else in these times. He had no intentions of dying for anyone tonight.

“State your business,” he ordered.

“I am here to see Lord Harnin,” she replied.

Refle drew back, taken off guard by the bold request. No one in their right mind wanted to see Harnin. “Who are you? Show your face.”

She slid a few steps forward until she was cast in the glow of the fire and slowly removed her snow-colored hood. Refle gasped. Her face was pockmarked and shallow. Her eyes seemed much too large for her face and she bore scars from the plague. Her hair, once raven black and luxurious, was stringy and missing in places.

“My name is Inaella. I was once a leader of the rebellion. I wish to join Lord Harnin.”

Refle swore under his breath.

The Voyage South

The Fern River begins on the northern coast of Malweir and flows all the way down through the jungles of Brodein and into the Bay of Cuerlon, covering some three thousand leagues. Moving at a swift pace, the river barge was making nearly one hundred leagues a day. Bahr and the others watched as they left the frozen northern kingdoms and headed towards the fringes of the Jebel Desert on their right. The river Men warned of desert pirates but Bahr was convinced the river Men were the greatest threat. The very looks in their eyes warned that they were going to make a play for everything the moment Bahr let his guard down.

Pushing sixty, Bahr had made a living on the water, though in a far different capacity. His ship, the
Dragon’s Bane
, was the stuff of legend. Or had been until Harnin turned on him and burned it to the ground. His gaze hardened at the memory of seeing the flames rise high about the surrounding dock buildings and warehouses. Targeting the self-exiled son made no strategic sense. Bahr, the older son, abdicated all rights of the throne to Badron and took off to raid and explore the northern coast of Malweir. The thought of being trapped by cagey politicians and endless hours of meetings left him feeling uneasy. His one true love was the water. There was an inescapable freedom to be had with the wind on his face and sea spray on his hands.

His adventurous lifestyle provided him great wealth and standing among the noble houses. Several approached him to perform odd jobs they didn’t want traced back. He became as famous as he was feared. Bahr often thought that was the underlying cause of dissent between Badron and him. One rose to notoriety while the other became mired in politics. Life was fine for the longest, until the day his niece Maleela was born. Badron’s wife died in childbirth, leaving the distraught king hating his daughter. It was an animosity that carried on to this day. Bahr stood up for the hapless girl, causing a rift between brothers. The rift gradually turned to hate and Bahr seldom returned to his birthright after.

Badron tolerated his absent brother while turning a blind eye to his piratical actions. Harnin, ever in the shadow of greatness, hungered to see Bahr removed permanently, viewing the lesser son as another obstacle. Looking back, it all made sense now. Bahr realized Harnin was a troubled soul with the strong need to take what wasn’t his. The one-eyed Man was the source of a great many problems and a thorn in Bahr’s side. Removing him would go a long way in reestablishing relations with his brother.

“I can’t recall the last time you didn’t wear a troubled look.”

Bahr grinned wryly at Boen’s comment. The big Gaimosian was nearly the same age but twice as large. A son of the long vanquished kingdom of Gaimos, Boen was known as a Vengeance Knight. The name was ancient, stemming from the need to reclaim their fallen kingdom. They were the best warriors in Malweir and the most dangerous. He and Bahr had been friends for many decades.

“I can’t recall the last time I didn’t need to,” Bahr replied.

Boen grunted and nodded. His gaze swept out to the sand dunes pushing right up to the river banks. “I’ve never liked the desert. Too arid and boring for my tastes. Give me the forest and a host of enemies to prove myself against.”

“Haven’t you had enough enemies for a while? I was sure those Dwarves were going to be the death of us,” Bahr said. Thoughts of their participation in the Dwarf civil war were still fresh in his mind, even days later.

Boen turned to him. “The Dwarves are capable fighters, but they’re not Gaimosian. Give me a company of Knights and I’ll sweep our enemies from the face of the world. Still, those Dwarves provided a damned good fight.”

“That they did,” Bahr replied. The horrors of the Dwarf civil war surpassed anything he had ever seen. He’d never imagined gunpowder weapons, much less cannons capable of such wanton destruction. Everything else paled in comparison. It was only a matter of time before that weapon knowledge spread across the various kingdoms of Malweir. Warfare would grow more violent, deadlier. He prayed he wasn’t alive to see that happen.

“When do you think it will happen?” Boen asked, shifting the conversation.

“Hard to say. I don’t think they’re going to wait too much longer. The desert isn’t a good place. It’s too open. There’s no natural cover other than these dunes,” Bahr replied. “My guess is they’ll strike once we get closer to rocky ground.”

“The Graven Forest lies to the east not much further down the river. There are plenty of places for ambush.”

Bahr nodded absently. They hadn’t had a moment of respite since fleeing from Chadra in the middle of the night. The Dae’shan sent Harpies after them. They’d fought bandits and Delrananian guards. He was feeling every bit of his six decades. Unfortunately there was no end in sight. Anienam Keiss, the wizard, insisted that they needed to rush in order to reach the mythical city of Trennaron in order to recover the Blud Hamr. A lifetime on the open seas left him without much of a sense of urgency. It went against his grain to rush into anything, even something so dire as the salvation of the world.

Boen folded his massive arms across his chest and spit into the river. “We should take care of it before they can ambush us.”

Bahr sighed. It was the same argument they’d been having since before leaving the Dwarves. The river Men were bandits and it was unspoken knowledge that they aimed to rob Bahr and the others the instant they felt their guard was down. Reluctant to kill without good reason, Bahr felt his options steadily shrinking.

“We’d give ourselves away,” he said quietly. “Whoever they have waiting downriver will be expecting some kind of message.”

“That’s only a problem if we let it become one. Let me take Ironfoot and finish this. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder for no reason.” Boen had that familiar glint in his eye that Bahr had come to dread. Years of friendship left him too close to a great many truths.

“Can you do it quietly?”

Boen grinned. He knew the old Sea Wolf would give in. “Quietly enough. It’ll be finished in a few seconds.”

“Leave one alive, just in case we need to deal with their friends later,” Bahr instructed.

“One is a very good number,” Boen replied. “Fitting for a Gaimosian. I’ll go get the Dwarf. You keep the others out of it.”

“Are you sure you don’t need Dorl or Nothol?”

He shook his head. “They’ll just get in my way.”

Bahr started planning ahead. They were still days away from the jungle and the mythical city of Trennaron, if it even existed. Bahr had his doubts. He trusted his friends, though Anienam Keiss remained an enigma. The last surviving son of the ancient order of Mages continually steered them in the right direction despite having secret designs of his own. The Sea Wolf knew he wasn’t being told everything and, for one used to being in command of his own destiny, chafed at the restriction. He decided it was time for the old fool to come clean. Before anyone else died.

“Fine. Make it quick. I’m going to have a little chat with our wizard,” Bahr said.

Boen left without another word. A true professional, he was one of the best at what he did. Hundreds had died at his hands. He was a mercenary, assassin, and sword for hire. Kings and queens sought the remnants of vanquished Gaimos for all of their dirty work. He didn’t mind. Kingdomless, Gaimosians roamed the world in search of that one quest that would give their lives definition. None of that mattered to Bahr. Should Boen fail, or even one of the river Men escape, it would mean the end of their quest. A quest he still wasn’t sure was going to end well.

Nerves growing, Bahr made his way to the back of the barge to confront Anienam. He found the wizard expecting him. “Are you ever surprised?”

Anienam shrugged and popped a piece of old bread in his mouth. “Rarely, though normal people have a tendency to do strange things unexpectedly. What troubles you, Bahr?”

He pursed his lips, struggling to decide how to say what he felt. “Honestly, you do.”

Anienam flashed that devious smile he’d done a thousand times already. “I can’t say as that I’m surprised, perhaps only that it’s taken this long. Speak your mind, Bahr.”

“Now isn’t the time,” Bahr cautioned.

Anienam swallowed. “Boen is going to do it finally?”

Bahr scowled. He hated how the wizard knew things without being told. “Can you conjure a spell to keep them from shouting out?”

“If you wish,” the wizard replied. “Though I hardly see how that will help.”

“It will keep them from alerting any lookouts they have on the shore.”

“Bahr, the river Men are pirates. Men you know how to deal with. Killing this bunch will only delay the inevitable, not stop it.”

“How long before we reach Trennaron?” He hated feeling rushed but time was against them. They had less than one hundred days before the hour when the dark gods would make their next attempt at entering Malweir. That felt like a long time, but Bahr was no fool. They’d lost countless days already and still had to make the return trip to Delranan. He doubted they’d be able to do it in time.

Bahr cursed his luck. The dark gods were akin to myths. He wasn’t sure they existed at all, despite Anienam’s assurances. According to legend the dark gods were banished countless millennia ago but, like all evil, managed to find a way to return. Once every thousand years the planes of existence aligned perfectly, creating a bridge back to Malweir. This singularity led to the corruption of the crystal of Tol Shere and the subversion of the Dae’shan, not to mention a thousand other calamities plaguing Malweir’s history.

Once every thousand years and it happens to fall during my lifetime. What a charmed life I live
It got worse. There were only three places in all of Malweir where the dark gods could come back. Two had previously been destroyed, leaving only Arlevon Gale in the remote regions of Delranan. Bahr’s kingdom had become the battleground for the fate of the world and he didn’t like it. He didn’t know, but hundreds had already died in both Delranan and neighboring Rogscroft.

“Three, perhaps five days,” Anienam replied. “Getting to the jungle will be easy, through it another matter. Fortunately we have Rekka with us. She is from Teng and quite capable.”

Rekka Jel was an incredible asset, one Bahr was more than happy to have in his favor. Her skills with a sword were almost a match for Boen. She didn’t speak much and had only recently taken a passionate liking for Dorl Theed. The relationship threatened to cause havoc between the members of his band, but he wasn’t worried about Rekka. She was as cold as deep winter. Dorl, however, was a ball of emotion Bahr didn’t want to deal with.

“How can we be sure this Hamr still exists?” Bahr asked. He had a thousand unanswered questions, each of which capable of altering the future. “We’re trusting an ancient text that no one remembers.”

“Much of the future is already built in the past. We are just wanderers through this great story, Bahr. The tools to defeat the dark gods were created thousands of years ago with the knowledge that there would be a finale. We are living in that time. The final battle is looming on the horizon and we are the key players. Everything else is merely part of the great show.”

“Great show? How many lives are going to be lost because of this game?” Bahr demanded, his voice rising before he realized it. A few heads turned their way. “My kingdom is the battleground between good and evil. Will there be anything left?”

“One cannot say. All I know is that at the end of these hundred days either good or evil will triumph,” the wizard said with sadness in his voice. “I don’t predict the future, Bahr. The risk is too great.”

Not hearing what he needed, Bahr grunted and stormed off.

Boen yawned and slid the thin rope from his sleeve, pulling it tight. The Dwarf captain, Ironfoot, was already on the opposite side of the barge doing the same. Boen’s best chance was to strike quickly and tear through his enemy like a late summer storm. He casually walked up behind the nearest river Man. Most Men would feel their hearts race, their palms sweat, and their mouth go dry. Boen was Gaimosian. He did this for a living. It was as easy as breathing. His one concern stemmed from having to do it in the middle of the day. The river Men insisted the river was too dangerous to traverse in the night and put to shore at the end of each day. One of these days they’d put in to an ambush.

The river Man glanced over his shoulder and nodded gruffly to the bigger Boen. Smiling fiercely, the Gaimosian threw the rope around the pirate’s neck and twisted sharply. A sharp crack broke the Man’s neck. Boen dropped him and hurried to the next. He only had a few moments before the others got wind of what was going on. Speed was his asset. He launched himself at the next, crushing the Man’s throat with a strong punch. Gagging, the body dropped into the river. Boen snarled but there was nothing he could do about it. The river Man leader drew his curved saber and barked orders in his native language. Boen threw down his rope and drew his mighty broadsword. The weapon was easily three times as heavy as the saber and twice as thick.

Boen gestured for the man to make his move. Doubt flickered in his eyes, giving the Gaimosian the time he needed to attack. Unsure, the river Man tried to throw up his saber in defense. It was already too late. Boen raised his sword and brought it crashing down on the swarthy man. There was so much force his saber sliced deeply into the man’s chest and shoulder. The river Man screamed even as Boen brought the pommel around and punched a strong blow in his face.