Empire of Bones (4 page)

A second man, hidden behind crates of supplies, leapt onto Boen’s back, punching and biting anywhere he found vulnerable. The Gaimosian left the crippled captain and managed to snatch his attacker by the collar, dragging him up and over his back. The man landed on top of his captain, face down. Boen stabbed down. His sword pierced both men and lodged in the deck. Knowing it would take too long to reclaim the weapon, Boen drew a dagger and spun to search for new targets.

There were ten river Men in all, leaving six more somewhere on the barge. Ironfoot’s job was to storm the wheelhouse and take out the bridge crew. Boen got the heavy work by design. He stalked his way down the deck. The barge was massive for a river boat. Nearly fifty feet long and twenty-five wide, it was large enough to fit their wagon, a Giant, and all of the horses while still having both crew and passenger cabins. Bahr and the others were within the passenger cabin, leaving the Gaimosian free range of the deck.

The others were valuable fighters but he meant what he told Bahr. They would only get in his way. He needed the room and ability to maneuver without worrying about friendly fire or people bumping into him. Gaimosians worked best alone. A river Man lying atop a stack of crates took a swing for his head. Boen ducked and stabbed up, catching the man in the throat. Blood sprayed down on Boen’s head as he twisted the blade and ripped it free. The Man died without a sound. Boen kept moving.

He came across a pair of bodies gruesomely savaged. They lay at awkward angles and had been hacked, inexpertly, to death. Boen frowned. The Dwarf was more zealous when it came to fighting than he was. Seven dead, three to go. He knew the rest would be located in or around the wheelhouse. Boen took the short flight of stairs leading up to the bridge and stepped over a corpse hanging down the first three steps. He’d died where he tried to escape. Inside Boen found another body shoved into a corner. The last, which he presumed was the captain, stood with hands tied behind his head and a dirty rag shoved in his mouth.

Ironfoot turned from his view out the bridge window and nodded briskly. “They didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Boen noticed the specks of blood staining the Dwarf’s sleeves and knuckles. He’d been expecting more and knew he must look like a complete mess compared to the general cleanliness of his comrade. “The ship is secure. That the captain?”

“As near as I can tell he is,” Ironfoot replied. The Dwarf combed his thick fingers through his rust-colored beard and spit. “He’s not very compliant.”

“Would you be?” Boen asked. “Keep us in the middle of the river. I’ll get Bahr. We’re not stopping tonight.”

The river captain glowered at Boen.

Once the bodies were dumped overboard and most of the blood washed off so as not to upset the horses, Bahr followed Boen back to the wheelhouse. He glanced at the captain before gesturing for his gag to be removed.

“You bastards! I’ll see your throats slit from ea…”

Ironfoot backhanded the captainacross the mouth. A tooth fell out as the river captain grimaced. “Enough talk.”

Bahr ignored the Dwarf, instead crouching down to eye level with their captive. “Where is the ambush set up?”

The river captain spit at him. “Ambush? You’re the murderers! You killed my crew. Good men. I’ll see you hung from the walls of Paedwyn for this.”

Boen laughed hard.

Bahr leaned in closer. “What you fail to realize is that you’re expendable. We don’t need a captain because I am one. Now, tell me where your friends set up their ambush and we might let you live.”

The river Man, wild-eyed, looked from Bahr to Boen before exhaling heavily and hanging his head. He knew he was dead either way.

A Long Night

Bahr piloted the barge down the Fern River well after night fell. They placed Ironfoot on the bow since he and the Giant Groge had the best night vision. Groge stood in front of the wheelhouse, his massive height allowing him to look into the bridge without bending down. The river captain remained tied and under guard. Only the gentle sounds of water lapping against the aged wooden hulls marked their passing.

“I still don’t agree with how you handled this situation,” Anienam admitted once the wheelhouse cleared out.

Bahr shook his head. He was tired, frustrated, and more than a little anxious to be done with this task. Anienam’s doubts only pushed him closer to snapping. “Like it or not it’s already finished. The river Men are pirates and it was only a matter of time before they turned us over to their friends. We took the best path available.”

“Killing should never be the best path,” the wizard scolded. “We both know what that leads to, Bahr. There will be time enough for dying in the days ahead.”

“What would you have me do? Let them all go or just sit idle while they rob and kill us?” Bahr asked. “I’ve dealt with these types before and it never ends well. Boen saved our lives, yours included, by taking control of this barge.”

“Perhaps,” was all he said.

The water continued pushing the barge south. Bahr, not feeling like talking, watched the river for signs of submerged rocks or rapids. He may have been a captain but his skill and trade was on the open sea, not the narrow confines of an unfamiliar river. His instincts warned him to scan the shoreline for signs of the enemy but the river demanded his full attention. The true danger lay in uncertainty. Like most of the others, he’d never traveled this far south.

Bahr smoothly turned the wheel controlling the rudder, straightening the barge with the center of the river. It felt good to be standing at the helm again. Disturbingly, his legs seemed to have forgotten the feel of the water. He frowned. It had been far too long. His thoughts gradually turned back to the river captain. The swarthy Man was rightfully incensed at being captured and forced to watch the bodies of his crew unceremoniously dumped into the river, but what he’d planned for Bahr and the others was far more diabolical.

The ambush spot was still a few hours away, at least according to their prisoner. At the southern fringes of the Jebel Desert was a great bend, causing a bottleneck. The river Men had been using it for years to conduct their raids. While the captain insisted there would be no more than a score of his people waiting, Bahr expected far more. Wordlessly, he piloted the barge south.

Dorl Theed finished checking his quiver and stretched. “I don’t care for this.”

His longtime friend and partner on many quests, Nothol Coll, rolled his eyes. They’d been sell swords for nearly a decade and had gotten into more trouble than most people did their entire lives. That was fine with both, but this latest quest was grinding them down. Worse, Dorl was growing increasingly more focused on his love for Rekka Jel. Nothol knew that any slip of concentration might end with their deaths. He needed his friend to keep his mind clear.

“You complain too much,” he chided. “Bahr has gotten us this far. Trust him to get us the rest of the way.”

Dorl snorted. “The way to where? We’ve been attacked nonstop since fleeing Chadra. Sooner or later our luck will run out.”

“Keep talking like that and it’ll be sooner. You’ve changed.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Nothol sighed. “I mean you used to be the fearless one. You never hesitated to jump into desperate situations. Now you’ve got a in your life I’m starting to think you handed her your balls.”

“Mind your tongue, Nothol,” Dorl bristled. “I’m still dangerous enough to cut your tongue out.”

Nothol laughed in his face and checked the string of his bow. “Now you’re delusional. You and I both know I’m better at swords, bows, and any other weapon you can think of. Stop trying to show off for your girlfriend.”

Rekka sat atop the wheelhouse overhearing their conversation. Her soft, almond-shaped eyes lit up as they fell on Dorl. Amusement danced across her face. She felt no jealousy or anger off of Nothol Coll. Instead, their relationship sparked melancholy. She’d never had such strong ties of friendship and was envious of them. Her sword sharp and sitting in her lap, she continued to listen while thinking of how the villagers of Teng were going to receive her return.

She’d been away for a very long time, more than five years. The dream masters trained her group to serve the gods of light. Never did they imagine the end battle for the world would occur in their lifetimes. Barely out of her teens, Rekka was sent to Trennaron to serve the last true Dae’shan, Artiss Gran. It was a great honor bestowed on the trainee with the highest scores and most prowess. Only one a generation received the detail. Rekka was honored. Her family would be heaped with pride until her dying days.

The Dae’shan continued to serve the gods of light, defending the castle of Trennaron from evil influences. Many great secrets were stored within the castle. Secrets some argued were best left forgotten. The Mages often traveled deep into the jungle to share knowledge and even store their most precious lore with the guardian. Artiss Gran was the gentlest of souls. His even thinking and mild demeanor left him at odds with his fellow Dae’shan. The rift grew between them until he decided to flee. Amar Kit’han, now a servant of the dark gods, never forgave him.

Rekka trained under Artiss for many years. Instead of weapons, she learned from books and maps. He entrusted her with a wealth of knowledge that few ever obtained. However good her life was, it was also cursed. She knew, as did Artiss, that the time was fast approaching when all of her skills and dedication would be put to the test and she might have to give her life for the cause of the righteous. Dying didn’t bother her. She came from dust and knew she must eventually return to it. Her life was solely dedicated to good. Developing emotions for Dorl left her exposed, suddenly uncertain.

Love was unlike any other emotion she’d ever felt. Her pride in serving Artiss had gone unmatched for nearly a decade before she happened upon Dorl Theed. The sometimes foppish sell sword had a charm and charisma that compelled her attention. He was a good Man, even if he didn’t know it himself. Rekka considered herself fortunate to have found a Man she could confide in. She prayed their time together would be enough to fulfill their need for companionship. Both were lonely souls in need of more. She wasn’t sure she could provide more. Her death at the end of this quest was almost a certainty, leaving her with the question: how does one give more than they have?

“Captain Bahr says to get ready. We’re coming up on the spot,” Skuld announced to each of them as he made his way from stern to bow. The young street thief was steadily growing into a Man before their eyes. He’d snuck aboard the
Dragon’s Bane
thinking to find treasures in the Murdes Mountains. What he got was much more.

Skuld was the definition of confused. He wanted to be a great warrior like Boen, a wise Man like Bahr, and Anienam was convinced he’d make a fine wizard. He often grinned himself to sleep, thinking that his life had nowhere to go but up. Perhaps with a little time he might grow to be all three. He’d put on muscle since leaving Delranan to rescue the princess. His hair, already unkempt, now hung past his shoulders. His clothes were starting to fray and he generally smelled bad from the inability to take a bath but he didn’t care. He was more alive than ever, even if he didn’t know which direction to take his life. He paused when he found Princess Maleela listening to the twisted, broken Ionascu close to the bow.

“Princess, you must think of your people,” Harnin’s former spy cooed. “Delranan is dying and your family has lost power.”

Her face brightened in the pale moonlight. “My family abandoned Delranan long before Harnin stole power, Ionascu. You were one of his puppets. You know more than anyone how foul his deeds have become.”

He nodded too eagerly. “True. True, but there is always hope that he can be removed. Would you see your father back upon the throne or…yourself? Perhaps it is time for the kingdom to have a queen.”

He smiled wickedly. Once a trusted spy for Harnin One Eye, Ionascu was betrayed and tortured until his body was broken. Harnin discarded him after the mission to rescue Maleela from Rogscroft. He dreamed of the day when he’d be able to exact his revenge on the One Eye, falling deeper into dementia as the days fled. The visions didn’t come until their time in the Dwarven kingdom of Drimmen Delf. Nightmarish figures came to him in the cold night and whispered promises of power, and more. He quickly fell under their sway even while knowing they were the servants of great evil. They promised to restore his former glory. All he had to do was deliver Maleela to them.

“Why are you so interested? You didn’t seem to mind working for my father and his band of thugs,” she replied tersely. Yet despite her rough tone, he managed to plant the seeds of doubt and worse, the desire to be more than the limitations of herself.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Harnin abandoned me and your father never cared. I am alone in the world, Princess. All of my men were murdered before your very eyes. What else can I do but try to change what is?”

“We have all made sacrifices, Ionascu. Don’t try to make me believe yours is more than any other on this ship. Go back to your hiding and leave me be.”

Properly scolded, the broken Man snickered. “Delranan is going to need new leadership when this is said and done. Why not the daughter of the king?”

He took up his walking stick and hobbled off, whistling under his breath. Maleela let out the breath of anger she’d been holding and wiped her face with her palms. Men like Ionascu were part of a greater problem she hadn’t come up with a solution for. Closing her eyes, Maleela tried to think of a time when her life wasn’t so arduous. She couldn’t. Badron blamed her for the death of his wife, her mother. The queen died giving life to Maleela, leaving a permanent scar on the relationship between father and daughter. She didn’t know why, but her thoughts suddenly veered down the direction of Ionascu’s urging. Questions sprang to life. Why couldn’t she be queen? The ruler Delranan deserved. Ideations of grandeur sprinkled through her mind, making it hard to focus on the task at hand.

“Excuse me, Princess,” Skuld interrupted. The look of concern on his face told her he had overheard much of Ionascu’s conversation. “Captain Bahr says it’s time to get ready.”

She blinked rapidly, hoping to erase the devious thoughts in her mind. “Thank you, Skuld. Are we ready?”

“As far as I’ve been told. Those river Men will never know what hit them,” he beamed proudly. “Captain’s got me up on the bow with Ironfoot.”

Maleela thought that bit was too much and decidedly more dangerous than the youth was prepared to handle. She wasn’t prepared to confront Bahr, her uncle, directly about something she was sure would be brushed off. Skuld had undergone numerous challenges and death-defying acts since stowing away about the
Bane
. Who was she to debate that?

She laid a warming hand on his wrist. “Be safe, Skuld. We’ve come too far for any of us to get hurt now.”

“It’ll be all right. I promise.” He gave her that youthful smile of his and marched off to take his position on the bow.

Skuld suddenly discovered self doubt. He’d been so sure of himself right up until hearing Ionascu. The man made his skin crawl. He couldn’t understand why Bahr kept him on. Useless, the former spy was their greatest liability. After hearing his conversation, Skuld was now convinced Ionascu served some nefarious purpose and Maleela was his target. He decided to look after her. The only trouble was in not letting her know.

“This is no place for a boy,” Ironfoot said as Skuld approached.

The Dwarf warrior stood with his hands on the bow rail. He reveled in the wind kissing his face. Having spent the majority of his life underground, Ironfoot took in each new sight with delight. Iron torcs made his biceps bulge. A horned helm sat on a nearby crate. His battle axe and pair of black powder pistols were close by. He only wore his chainmail chest armor over a leather jerkin. Dwarves were no strangers to war, and he was in no hurry to get dressed.

Skuld would have been taken aback a few months ago but he’d come to realize his companions were of iron spines. It was his duty to match them. “Captain Bahr sent me.”

The Dwarf nodded. “I figured. Has the Giant spotted anything yet?”

Avoiding the obvious height reference, Skuld replied, “I don’t know.”

“I can’t see a damned thing from here,” Ironfoot said. “It’s been long enough between battles. I figure it’s time to get our hands dirty again.”

Skuld flashed back to the bodies being dumped into the river. All of his childhood dreams of becoming a mighty warrior died a little more with each new fight. He didn’t see how anyone could come to disregard life so casually. Ironfoot glanced back at his sudden quietness and looked on the boy with understanding.

“This isn’t an easy life, Skuld. We fight. We die. If we’re fortunate we get to live a full life in between. Don’t be so quick to judge. No one on this barge kills because they want to. Now be a lad and go see if the Giant has seen our opponents. I’d just as soon not get my head shot off while waiting to don my kit.”