Empire of Bones (5 page)

Glumly, Skuld nodded and headed back towards the bridge and Groge.

The barge scraped over a series of low rapids. Stone and wood colliding echoed over the gently rolling valleys on both sides of the river. Bahr cringed, the sound louder than thunder to his ears. Torchlight illuminated small areas on the surrounding hills.

“There are many figures moving in the night,” Groge called back over his shoulder.

Bahr strained but couldn’t make anything out. Small trees rose up on both sides, preventing his line of sight from extending very far. Large boulders populated great portions of the shore, making the going more treacherous. His only option was to trust the young Giant until the enemy gave themselves away.

“How many can you see?”

Groge paused, silently counting. He turned and gave Bahr a dreadful look. “More than thirty.”

“That means there must be at least fifty. They wouldn’t all be in the open like that,” Bahr grunted. Fifty was a very large number. His best ally was the current. The barge would only move as fast as the river let it, giving them too much time in the kill box. He looked at Anienam and said, “I don’t suppose you have any spells that can speed us right along?”

“Unfortunately no,” the wizard replied. “Our best option is to keep our heads down and hope for the best.”

“I’ve never been the sort to rely on hope,” Bahr told him. “Groge, when I give the word I want you to blow on that horn of yours.”

“Yes, Captain,” the Giant said.

Satisfied that there was nothing else he could do, Bahr piloted the barge into the ambush.

Ambush

“They’re not sure what’s going on,” Bahr said as the barge continued through the bend.

Anienam agreed. “They expected to have torches lit and their captain delivering us without our knowledge. Running dark was a good idea, Bahr.”

“For the moment. It won’t be long before they decide something’s not right. We’re nowhere near out of this yet.”

As if on cue, a single arrow sped from the trees to strike the wheelhouse. Torches burst to life along the banks. The river Men popped up, weapons in hand. Bahr grimaced tightly. All of the river Men he could see were armed with sword and bows.
That’s a lot of arrows. Heads down might not be good enough
. “Groge, now!”

The Giant smith put the horn to his lips and gave a mighty blow. The sound was deep, thunderous. It swept across the hills and fields, trembling the very earth. Men dropped their weapons to cover their ears before the pressure burst their eardrums. Bahr shied away. Even behind Groge the sound was incredible. The Giant gave another blow, followed closely by another. A scattering of arrows sailed back in response.

Rekka Jel was the first to respond. Her aim was true. The dark shaft took the river Man in the middle of the chest. He dropped into the water. Incoming fire from the shores picked up. Dozens of arrows now peppered the barge’s hull. The battle began in earnest. Dorl and Rekka fired opportunistic shots, only doing so when they had clearly defined targets. Enemy fire increased as the bend grew tighter. Soon Bahr would have to be extraordinarily adept at maneuvering the barge or they’d run aground. Then the fun would really begin.

“This is nuts,” Dorl snapped under his breath as he released another arrow.

Nothol, stationed a few meters away, agreed. “We’ve been in worse. Keep your trap shut and keep up your fire.”

Dorl checked his quiver. He had less than twenty shots left. Not much considering the enemy had seemingly endless amounts of arrows to draw from. He privately wondered how much longer they were going to last before the decision was forced.

“Fire! They’ve got fire arrows!”

Dorl wasn’t sure who shouted out but his heart sunk, just like the barge if enough of those arrows took hold.

Bahr resisted the urge to kick the cackling river captain in the face. Instead he watched, helpless, as dozens of flaming arrows struck the barge. Maleela and Skuld raced to put the flames out. He knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened and they’d be forced to abandon ship. Images of the
Dragon’s Bane
burning taunted him. He vowed not to lose another boat, at least if he could help it.

“I told you! You’ll never escape us,” the river captain snarled, having slipped the gag down to his neck. Wild delight danced in his eyes. “I’ll see to it you die last, Sea Wolf. You’ll watch every one of your companions die painfully first.”

“I thought I told you to gag him?” Bahr snapped at Anienam.

The wizard frowned, only now realizing what had happened. A handful of arrows struck the wheelhouse. Sparks and flame dripped onto the deck.

“Can’t you do something? We’re going to burn to the water soon!” Bahr shouted angrily. He was tired of being used.

Anienam pushed his heavy sleeves up to his elbows and narrowed his eyes to slits. His lips moved in ways that no words could form. The barge rocked as if being pulled from the water and gently set back down. Bahr felt his skin prickle. His hairs stood on end. Outside, Groge busily extinguished the flames with his massive slabs of calloused hands. They already appeared black in the semi dark.

The world darkened suddenly, so black Bahr couldn’t see the wheel. Violent humming grew in his ears, turning into screeching whistles. Letting go of the wheel, he threw his hands up to cover his ears just as a blast of frigid wind rocked the barge. He was certain it was a cyclone, even though he’d only rarely heard of similar outbursts of nature on land. When he opened his eyes every torch and burning arrow had been extinguished, including the numerous fires he’d spotted on land. Anienam had saved them, for now.

Any relief he felt was short lived at the sound of multiple splashes. His face darkened. The river Men were going to attempt to board and recapture the barge. He only had moments before they made the short swim to the hull. Bahr jotted to the door and shouted, “Prepare to repel boarders!”

The sound of swords being drawn answered him. Boen and Rekka took the port side while Nothol and Dorl, against his protests, went starboard. They worked too well as a pair to break up in the middle of a determined fight for survival. Ironfoot remained on the bow, ready to assist whichever side needed him more. That left Groge patrolling the aft, though Bahr somehow doubted anyone in their right mind going anywhere close to the Giant.

Wet hands stretched up to grasp the rails. A score of river Men pulled their way onto the barge. Naked from the waste up, they were covered with tattoos and armed with cutlasses and daggers. None of them knew what they were getting into. Boen brought his sword down with a violent two-handed chop, cleaving the first river Man’s skull before he managed to get to his feet. The corpse fell back into the river as others climbed aboard. They bellowed curses and roared defiance at the people who’d killed their friends. The Gaimosian stepped back and gestured for them to attack. They did.

He hacked. Slashed. A body crumbled under the tremendous force of Boen’s blow. Hot blood washed across the deck. A horse whinnied from the bow. An arrow whipped past Boen’s face, the feathers neatly cutting his right cheek. Snarling, Boen doubled his efforts. Bodies began to pile around him, enough that the river Men in the back slunk off in search of softer targets. The Gaimosian sliced through his remaining enemies with little effort.

When it was over he stood hunched. Blood coated his chest and arms. His breath came in ragged gasps. He suddenly felt very old. Maleela’s cries got his attention and he forced away any thoughts of weakness. The princess needed his help. Hefting his sword, he hurried towards the passenger cabin where he found a pair if river Men trying to break in. Great chunks of door already lay on the deck. They hacked away with small boarding axes, eager to claim their prize. Boen never gave them the chance. He slashed the closest across the back, severing his spine. The river Man died in silent agony. The second spun in time to see Boen’s blade take his head off. Boen kicked the head away with disgust.

“Princess, are you all right?” he asked between labored breaths.

Relief in her voice, she replied, “Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Keep this door barred until we come back for you,” he instructed and took off before she could answer. Sounds of combat still raged from the bow.

Moving as fast as his old legs could go, Boen slipped past the wagon and horses to find Dorl finishing a river Man with a blade plunged down through the chest. Nothol had another against the rail and was punching him in the side of the head as hard as he could. Rekka and Ironfoot had multiple bodies heaped around them. A quick scan told him the rest of the barge was secure.

The Dwarf wiped his axe clean. “A good fight. Are there any others?”

Boen shook his head. “I took care of the ones in the back. Still, we should check. I don’t want to be surprised in the middle of the night.”

Dwarf and Gaimosian swept the barge for any more river Men. They found one half-buried under a stack of burlap sacks and crates, clearly waiting to slit their throats once the battle ended and everyone bedded down. Boen stepped aside to let Ironfoot finish him off. There wasn’t any need for prisoners. They heard no further splashes. No announcements of the river Men trying to repeat the failed tactic. Boen didn’t think that meant the attack was over; merely the river Men were going to be more cautious. They still had the numbers, though without the skill or tenacity. He directed Dorl and Nothol to begin dumping the bodies in the hopes that the sight would deter more attacks. Psychological warfare was almost as important as actual fighting and Boen aimed to take full advantage of the situation. Being trapped on a small moving barge left him with little options and no place to hide or run to if things got too bad. He hated the feeling.

Passing Groge, he looked up and asked, “What do you see?”

“The others are holding back. I do not believe they expected such violence,” the Giant answered. His tone was awkward, as if laden with sorrow.

Boen shrugged it off. He didn’t have time to deal with emotions, not if they expected to survive the next few minutes. “I wouldn’t be in a hurry to come at us again either. Too bad some people just don’t learn.”

He stomped up the irritatingly steep flight of steps to the wheelhouse and leaned heavily against the doorframe. Bahr glanced back at him. His eyes were raw, bloodshot. “Any casualties?”

“A few scratches, maybe some bruises,” Boen replied. “I could use a drink.”

“We all could. These river scum just don’t know when they’ve been beat.”

Boen shot a look at the bound captain. “What about this one? He doesn’t serve any purpose now that we’ve sprung the ambush. I say we get rid of him now.”

“He might still have some information we can use,” Bahr cautioned. The idea of killing a defenseless man didn’t sit well.

Boen recognized the defiance in the river Man’s eyes and knew there’d be no further information given. Especially not after witnessing so many of his people get cut down. “Keeping him around is a liability. They might keep coming if they know he’s still here.”

Bahr considered the possibility, reluctantly admitting he’d overlooked it in the heat of the moment. The last thing he wanted was a running fight with tribes of river Men. There wasn’t time, nor was he inclined to devote so much energy to such a trivial cause. They hadn’t come down the river to fight. Trennaron awaited. His decision became painfully evident.

“Time to go,” Bahr said and snatched the river captain by his collar.

The smaller Man protested, desperately trying to kick free but Bahr was stronger and had the advantage of having his hands free. He dragged the Man out of the wheelhouse and down the short flight of stairs. Hate-filled eyes stared up at him, the silent curses almost making Bahr laugh.

“Any last words?” he asked once he reached the side rail.

Ironfoot ambled up, arms folded across his thickly muscled chest. “What’s this?”

Bahr paused. “Old trash. Boen, care to do the honors?”

The Gaimosian grinned savagely and hefted the river Man up over his head.

“Try to get him close to shore. We wouldn’t want him to drown before his friends can get him out,” Bahr suggested.

Boen cocked his head nonchalantly and tossed the small Man out into the river. They were still in shallow enough water the river Man wouldn’t drown without a lot of bad luck. The barge had only gone about a hundred meters downriver before others splashed out to rescue him.

Revengeance

Winter continued to grow colder the later the season became. Weeks of heavy snows hampered even the bravest soul, with rare moments of sun and blue sky. Aurec, newly crowned king of Rogscroft, stood with his hands on his hips, head titled back to enjoy the kiss of sunlight on his chapped face. There were too few tranquil moments in his life of late and he meant to take full advantage when possible. He closed his eyes and daydreamed of a simpler time, one spent in the arms of his love, Maleela.

They fell in love purely by accident, but then again, what love is intentionally created? Both knew their fathers would never approve. Badron and Stelskor bore a hate going back decades for reasons Aurec’s father never truly understood or accepted. So Aurec and Maleela were forced to live far apart, in entirely different worlds. Aurec struggled with this and finally came up with the idea of rescuing her from her father and building a life together where no one would bother them.

Life had other plans. The moment he broke into Chadra Keep and stole Maleela was the moment he set events in motion that could not be undone. Delranan and Rogscroft went to war under the false pretense of grief over the slaying of Badron’s only heir. If only the people knew it was Badron’s desire to conquer his neighbor, perhaps they might not have been so eager to call for blood. Badron immediately sent a small commando unit into Rogscroft to steal Maleela back even as he mobilized his vaunted army, the Wolfsreik. Aurec and Maleela’s love would plunge both kingdoms into the misery of war.

Badron struck swiftly, bringing the full weight of his ten-thousand-man army to bear. They hammered the defenders until they besieged Rogscroft proper. The unexpected happened next. An army of Goblins from the Deadlands to the east marched into Rogscroft, apparently in league with Badron. None of Stelskor’s advisors had any plausible solutions or reasons for the unethical alliance. Not that it mattered. The combined weight of armies broke the walls of Rogscroft and the city fell. King Stelskor was executed and put on display while Badron unleashed his armies on the countryside. Nothing less than total domination was acceptable.

Cities and villages fell under the crush of Goblins and Wolfsreik. Aurec did everything he could but it would never be enough. He reluctantly became the king of a nearly extinct kingdom. Until he was approached by members of the Wolfsreik staff, that is. General Rolnir was an honorable Man. One who didn’t appreciate being used for murder. His hatred of the Goblins and the way Badron conducted the war led him to act in his best interests. Rolnir abandoned Badron to side with Aurec. Suddenly, Rogscroft stood a chance.

Aurec smiled appreciatively at the thought of the Goblin main body being crushed by the combined forces of the Wolfsreik and the Rogscroft defenders hidden in the secret village of Grunmarrow just days ago. The war had gone so poorly for him Aurec couldn’t see any bright spots. He knew in his heart that Rogscroft was finished. It was only a matter of time. The impenetrable gloom crushing his spirit lifted when Rolnir suddenly switched sides. There was only so much evil one could take.

His thoughts shifted to the approaching task. The combined force was in the process of preparing to march on Rogscroft with the intent of taking back the city. Stelskor’s murderers were going to pay for their audacity. Today was the dawn of a new campaign. One that would change the fate of his beloved kingdom, hopefully for the better. He grinned at the sound of boots crunching on fresh snow.

“Is it that time already?” he asked without looking back.

Venten came to a halt. The older Man and advisor to the Aurec’s father folded his hands over his lap. His long gray hair hung down past his collar, reminding him how long it had been since he’d been properly groomed. “Yes, sire. The vanguard is prepared to deploy. General Rolnir requests your presence in order to begin.”

Aurec turned slowly and looked on his old friend. They’d been together since Aurec was a child. There was no he trusted more than Venten. “Remember this day, old friend. Today is the day we take our kingdom back.”

“A day that will be long remembered if we are successful.” Ever the voice of caution, Venten didn’t want to get his hopes up. Badron was a foul Man with a clearly defined sense of bitterness, and Venten took Stelskor’s death harder than Aurec and often blamed himself.

Aurec paused. “Of course. There is still much to do before our kingdom is free again, but I can feel the course of things changing, Venten. My father should be here to lead us, not me.”

“This is not the time for doubt. Your father prepared you well, Aurec. There is no other I would see in command right now than you.”

Thoughts of his father smiling down on him lightened Aurec’s heart. He believed that the end of the dark times was near and that Rogscroft would be able to rebuild once the winter snows melted. He had to believe. Anything less was akin to surrender. So many had died because of one man’s vanity. Badron was a cancer in need of excising. So much still needed to be done Aurec often felt overwhelmed. Life had been much simpler during the opening stages of the campaign when he led a small battalion worth of brave Men who sacrificed everything for the future of their kingdom. Now came the hour in which he could deliver vengeance for the bodies lying frozen, buried under the snow on forgotten fields. What bitter irony that he now marched with his former enemies--the very same soldiers that had killed his Men.

“Thank you, Venten, for everything. You have been a friend and voice of reason when I needed it for many years. I am honored to have you by my side,” Aurec said slowly.

Venten bowed curtly. “The honor is mine. You’ve grown to a fine Man. I pray your reign over Rogscroft is long.”

Enough said, the pair made their way to the head of the massive army. Aurec had never seen so many soldiers gathered in one place. Close to twenty thousand had answered the call and were ready to march on the capital. Most were Men of the Wolfsreik. He marveled at their professionalism, even after all they’d been through to reach this point. A lesser army would have fractured and slunk away already. Each wore some sort of animal pelt draped over their dulled and dented chest armor. Their helms were lined with wool to keep their heads from freezing. Aurec was in awe of the sight. He secretly wished to have such strength at his command. No one would ever try to conquer his kingdom again.

Deciding not to waste time on dreams, the king of Rogscroft nodded to some of the Men as he passed. Most of the Wolfsreik merely stared back, still unaware that he was the king of Rogscroft. When he finally made it to his Men, he experienced different emotions. These were the heart of the kingdom: brave Men all that had willingly sacrificed time with their families for the greater good of all. They wore whatever armor they could find. Some of it was taken from fallen Wolfsreik soldiers. Nothing about the five-thousand-man rabble so much as hinted at professionalism. They were the lesser army Aurec feared, but his pride was unequaled. They’d fought and bled for him, for Rogscroft. He owed them more than any Man was capable of providing. Most greeted him with cheers. They waved their weapons and chanted ancient battle cries. Their pride surpassed his.

Next was the enigmatic Pell Darga. The mountain folk were taciturn, often choosing to stay within their enclaves rather than dealing with lowlanders. Aurec had made friends with their leader, Cuul Ol, almost a year ago and their friendship blossomed into a strategic alliance. He never imagined the diminutive warriors had so much in the way of numbers. Far more primitive than his own people, the Pell stood roughly five feet tall and were lithe. Their dark brown skin blended perfectly with the caves and trees and they had the martial prowess of fearsome predators. He feared them nearly as much as he respected them. Their short spears had proven incredibly effective against the Goblin hordes. The tribal leaders nodded reverently to the newly crowned king. He expected nothing more.

General Rolnir stood in quiet conference with Cuul Ol at the head of the army while the command staff busied with final preparations nearby. The redheaded man was roughly fifteen years older than Aurec’s twenty and every ounce the warrior. He’d been the commanding general of the Wolfsreik for seven years. Placing honor above loyalty, Rolnir steadily broke away from the depredations Badron concocted. He wasn’t the same king he had been before the night his son was murdered. Rolnir suspected some outside influence over his king but couldn’t prove anything. Regardless, he couldn’t take anymore. The Goblins were the last straw. Every man had limitations. Rolnir reached his.

He turned and bowed formally. “Your majesty, the army is prepared to move.”

Aurec flushed, secretly hoping it was covered under his already near frost-burnt cheeks. “Excellent, General Rolnir. I must admit I am thoroughly impressed with the size of our force.”

“I personally never thought to see such a sight,” Rolnir confirmed. “Wolfsreik, Rogscroft, and Pell Darga working together. What’s left of the Goblin army will fold under our approach. Your kingdom will be returned to you, though I cannot promise the condition in which I pass it off. Badron will not leave easily. I imagine anyone still living in the city will face reprisal.”

“That is a difficult choice but one I feel needs to be made. Like it or not, I can’t protect everyone from the enemy. All we can do as professionals is minimize the collateral damage amongst the civilian population.” Aurec paused to think about where those words came from. A year ago he never would have talked like that.

Venten gave him a look of approval and mouthed, “You’ve grown up.”

“What is your plan?” Aurec asked.

Rolnir clenched his hand repeatedly, trying to lessen the sudden cramp. “I’m pushing a scouting foray out. Two of yours are in charge, Mahn and Raste, I believe. Their mission is to get as close to the city as possible and report on enemy strength, troop movements, and emplacements. Once we have that intel we’ll know exactly where to strike and how hard. Hopefully we can do this with minimal casualties.”

“It was my understanding that we virtually destroyed the main Goblin army.”

Rolnir nodded. “As far as I know we did, but we can’t leave anything to chance. Badron is deranged. He’ll stop at nothing to cement his power over both kingdoms. There could feasibly be a secondary force I don’t have knowledge of.”

Several of those gathered paused. The implications of his words struck deep. Underestimating the enemy was a cardinal sin for battlefield commanders. New questions sprang to life. What if Badron did have a second army? How strong? Where were they? Aurec’s head swooned as visions of total annihilation arose. He may be king, but he was barely out of his teens. Young men shouldn’t be forced to make such decisions.

When he spoke, it was slowly. “These are risks we must take. I don’t see any way to avoid it. Is the main body to wait here until the scouts return?”

“No. Grunmarrow is at the base of the Murdes Mountains. Too far away for us to respond to any threats. I intend to march our army two days east and establish a field camp in the low hills just west of the city. We’ll be able to get to Rogscroft in a day and still have the strength to fight upon arrival. Our biggest concern will be the supply trains keeping up.”

“Speaking of which,” Venten commented. “I don’t happen to see any wagons.”

“No. Commander Joach escorted them out before dawn. I don’t need thousands of hungry Men waiting for no reason,” Rolnir said with a smile.

“Won’t they be at risk?” Aurec asked.

“I’ve used that same tactic against your Men and others over the course of my career. It works and hastens the timeline considerably. It also boosts morale. Imagine how good it feels to have a hot meal waiting by the time you pull in from a full day’s march. High morale makes better fighters, Aurec, and we need all of the advantages we can get.”

Cuul Ol, the Pell chieftain, slammed the butt of his short spear on the ice-crusted snow. “This is good. My warriors want to fight. Goblins don’t belong here.”

No one could have said it better. The Pell Darga clans distinguished themselves during what some now dubbed the Battle of Betrayal. Thousands of Goblins fell under Pell spears and daggers. Now that their blades had been drawn and blooded, the Pell wanted more. All pretense of peacefulness evaporated. Aurec feared for any army that became objects of their ire.

“Very well. General, you may deploy the army at your discretion,” Aurec said, still smiling at Cuul’s eagerness.