Cursed Bones

chapter 18



Anatoly slipped the book into a satchel and looked to Magda. She nodded.

“I’m sending a hundred Rangers to ride escort,” Conner said. “If there’s any trouble, they’ll cover your retreat.”

“I know Alexander well enough to know he’s not telling us everything,” Anatoly said. “And he wouldn’t do that without good reason, so I suspect there’s going to be some kind of trouble.”

Magda raised her eyebrow.

“Just make the trade and bring her back,” Conner said.

Anatoly grunted. He was still a little stiff and the set of dragon-plate armor that Captain Sava had given him didn’t fit quite as well as his ruined armor, but it was far lighter and more durable. Sava had lost several of his Strikers during Zuhl’s attack, but their armor had survived unscathed.

Anatoly and Magda rode for the better part of the day, arriving at the location chosen for the exchange late in the afternoon. Zuhl and a hundred of his brutes were there waiting. Anatoly swallowed the sudden lump in his throat when he saw Abigail sitting atop the horse next to Zuhl. He clenched his jaw as he raised his hand, signaling the company of Rangers to halt.

He and Magda proceeded forward as Zuhl and Abigail trotted out from the protection of the men surrounding them, stopping ten feet away in the open space between both forces.

“Did he hurt you?” Anatoly asked.

“Just a few bruises but nothing that won’t heal,” she said.

“I’ve brought Lady Abigail, as promised,” Zuhl said. “I would see the book.”

Anatoly scowled as he withdrew the book from his satchel and held it up for the ancient mage.

Zuhl smiled ever so slightly. “May I?” he said, holding out his hand.

Anatoly rode forward cautiously, extending the book to Zuhl.

He took it and closed his eyes for a moment, muttering words in some long-dead language, and waited for some unseen response before smiling to himself.

“Excellent, our business is done,” he said, turning away from them and leaving Abigail in their care.

She sighed with relief.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, spurring her horse toward the Rangers.

Anatoly rode up next to Magda.

“Did that seem just a bit too easy to you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

Once they were well away from Zuhl and his brutes, they stopped to make camp for the night.

Anatoly was brushing his horse when Alexander appeared beside him.

“That’s not Abigail,” he said quietly. “I’m not even sure if it’s human.”

“What do you mean?” Anatoly asked, his mood visibly darkening.

“Zuhl sent an imposter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Alexander said. “Her colors aren’t right and it looks like she’s under a powerful spell. But more to the point, I just looked in on Abigail in Whitehall. She’s still being held by Zuhl.”

“Then we gave him that book for nothing,” Anatoly said.

Alexander smiled, shaking his head. “Not for nothing. Have Magda help you take the imposter alive. We might gain some valuable information.”

Anatoly nodded, unslinging his war axe.

He approached the fire cautiously, catching Magda’s eye and showing her the blade of his axe. She tensed slightly at his unspoken warning, made an excuse and left the fire where the Abigail double and a number of Rangers sat sipping hot tea.

“Abigail’s an imposter,” he whispered. “We need to take her alive.”

She looked at him hard, searching his face for confirmation.

His unflinching gaze left no room for doubt.

She nodded before turning toward the campfire and beginning her spell.

Anatoly began to move quietly out of the way.

Magda released her spell, sending twin spheres streaking toward the imposter, one light blue, the other amber. The amber sphere hit first, striking a shell of magical energy surrounding the imposter and rebounding back at Magda. She tried to dodge her own spell but was struck on the shoulder. The amber light almost instantly encapsulated her, paralyzing her with her own magic and sending her toppling to the ground.

The blue sphere struck the imposter a fraction of a second later, spreading its light-blue magical energy across the surface of her body in an instant. A moment later the spell surrounding her broke, revealing a woman that didn’t look quite human. Her skin had an almost imperceptible blue tinge to it and her eyes were catlike, similar to those of a dragon.

She sprang to her feet, muttering the words of a spell and extending her arm toward three nearby Rangers who were caught totally off guard by the sudden turn of events. A spray of frost leapt from her hand, coating the surprised men with ice and stunning them into near paralysis.

Anatoly didn’t waste any time. He started rushing her the moment she stood, his axe raised high and ready. As she turned toward him, he brought the blade down, cleanly severing her forearm, her hand flopping to the ground. She screamed in pain as he continued into her, slamming his dragon-plate-armored shoulder into her chest and knocking her to the ground, stunned and wracked by the sudden pain of his assault.

Within seconds he had her bound and gagged.

“Check on Mistress Magda,” he barked to a nearby Ranger as he secured the imposter’s bindings.

Alexander appeared in their camp a few minutes after the imposter had been taken to a tent and tied to a post.

“Well done,” he said.

“What about Abigail?” Anatoly asked, uncharacteristic worry seeping into his voice.

“You and Magda will ride for the Gate at first light,” Alexander said. “I’ll have Abel open it for you as soon as you arrive. From Ithilian, you’ll go to Zuhl and find the dragon Ixabrax. He’ll help you free Abigail.”

“Why would a dragon help us?” Magda asked.

“I made a deal with him,” Alexander said. “I believe he’ll honor it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Magda said. “Dragons are nothing to trifle with.”

“Trust me when I tell you, I understand that better than most. Abel will fill in the details when you arrive.”

“And what about that book?” Magda asked. “Ancient spellbooks can be exceedingly dangerous.”

“You have no idea,” Alexander said. “Fortunately, neither does Zuhl.”

“I take it he didn’t get what he was expecting either,” Anatoly said.

“No, he did not,” Alexander said. “With any luck, he’ll be dead by the time you arrive.”

“I’m starting to like this plan,” Anatoly said.

“I thought you might,” Alexander said, fading out of sight.

Dawn broke over clear skies on Ithilian. Anatoly and Magda stood before the Gate dressed in heavy furs as was the custom on the Isle of Zuhl. Twelve highly trained and skilled individuals handpicked by Jataan P’Tal stood behind them. Some were wizards, a few were Rangers, the rest soldiers, but all of these men had one characteristic in common: all of them were big, powerful-looking men.

Abel was there as well with General Kishor and Mage Lenox. Everything was in place.

Alexander appeared on the Gate platform and nodded his approval.

“The enemy is unaware of our plan,” he said. “Our initial attack will take them entirely by surprise. Once you’re through the Gate, I’ll be able to communicate with you and coordinate your efforts, but other than that, you’re on your own. This is your last chance to reconsider.”

Anatoly grunted dismissively, Magda held her head high and stood her ground. All twelve members of the newly formed Reishi Elite Guard took a single step forward as one.

Alexander turned to Abel. “Proceed.”

The King of Ithilian used his Thinblade to open the Gate to Zuhl. The moment the stone wall shimmered away and opened a passage to an island thousands of leagues away, the largest of Mage Gamaliel’s explosive weapons rolled through. Shouts of alarm were heard from the soldiers of Zuhl as Abel closed the Gate. A moment later Mage Lenox crushed the activation stone, detonating the weapon.

Abel counted to ten before opening the Gate again to a scene of chaos and carnage. Thousands lay dead or dying, their broken bodies scattered haphazardly across the frozen tundra of southern Zuhl.

Fourteen souls stepped through into the disarray, separating into their assigned teams and heading in the direction of their respective objectives. Anatoly and Magda went north into the sea of soldiers surrounding the Gate. Their objective, the rescue of Abigail, was the most vital to Alexander, but the others had important work to do as well.

The members of the Elite Guard had been sent to collect information about Zuhl’s army, his battle plans, and his ships. They were to blend into his army and look for vulnerabilities, striking where they could from the shadows, seeking opportunities to do the greatest harm with the minimum risk of capture or discovery. Each had volunteered. Many would never return. None could be taken alive. All of them had accepted the risks. All of them had suffered loss at Zuhl’s hands. Once through the Gate they broke into teams of three and melted into the vast army that was working to understand the nature of the sudden threat that had disturbed their otherwise mundane morning.

Wearing clothes and furs taken from Zuhl’s barbarian horde on Fellenden, Anatoly and Magda blended in without effort, just two more people in a sea of many. They wound their way through the tents and paddocks, avoiding contact as much as possible. Most of the soldiers were making ready for battle, donning armor and pulling on their boots. Few gave them a second look and most of them only to appraise Magda until they saw Anatoly with his axe resting on his shoulder.

It didn’t take Anatoly long to notice that the men with emblems of rank also carried the finest weapons. Most of the soldiers were armed with mediocre blades and spears, but the officers all carried well-made weapons forged of quality steel. When he realized the significance of their weapons, that they served as an indication of rank, he made sure everyone passing by got a good look at his war axe.

It took most of the morning to reach the outskirts of the army encampment. A few sentries tried to question them but they were dissuaded by Anatoly’s deliberate aggressiveness.

Rather than accept their challenge, he demanded to see their weapon or armor, inspecting it as a superior officer would, berating them for their lack of attention to detail and ordering them to repair whatever defects, imagined or real, that he happened to find.

He strode through the encampment like he was the commanding general and his demeanor was enough to cause most soldiers to look the other way or quickly attend to whatever task was at hand.

When they rounded a corner and caught their first glimpse of Whitehall, the enormous white marble fortress that stood in the center of the city, they came face to face with an officer dressed in polished white armor and armed with a spear of such craftsmanship that Anatoly was actually impressed.

To the officer’s right was a woman who didn’t look quite human. Her skin was tinged blue and almost looked scaled, her eyes were catlike and her fingernails had grown into talons.

To the officer’s left was a man armed with a finely crafted sword and a shield formed from a dragon’s scale.

“You there,” the officer said, pointing his spear at Anatoly. “What’s your name?”

Anatoly stepped forward, Magda began muttering under her breath. “Who are you to question me?” Anatoly barked, facing off with the man.

“I am General Kergen, commander of Lord Zuhl’s army, and I know all of my senior officers by name. You are not among them, yet you carry a weapon of rank … so I ask again, who are you?”

In a blink, Anatoly leveraged the axe off his shoulder and brought it down in a powerful stroke aimed at splitting Kergen’s head in half, but the general shifted sideways just enough that Anatoly’s axe came down on his shoulder plate instead, driving the man to the ground with the force of the blow but not even denting the armor protecting Zuhl’s commanding general. Anatoly kicked him full in the face, sending him toppling over backward, blood spraying across the ground.

The second officer raised his shield and drew his sword in one fluid motion, rushing Anatoly, slamming him with his shield and knocking him off balance. He pressed his advantage with a powerful sword thrust, driving his blade into Anatoly’s breastplate hard enough to penetrate even the most finely crafted steel armor, but the dragon-plate held.

Magda’s shield spell encircled her with protective force and she began casting another.

“Flee, Priestess!” the second officer shouted as he squared off with Anatoly, who had regained his balance and had raised his axe into a high guard.

The woman with blue-tinged skin released her spell. The air grew cold and still, then a thick wall of ice grew rapidly from the ground, completely encircling both General Kergen and the woman.

Magda released her spell, a simple force-push that sent the man facing Anatoly flying to the ground.

A dozen or so nearby soldiers had noticed the fight and were coming to assist their commander.

“Time to go,” Magda said.

Anatoly looked at the man sprawled on the ground, then at the onrushing soldiers and clenched his jaw as he nodded to Magda and turned toward the city.

They fled into the cover of the sprawling mass of poorly constructed homes and shops. The capital city of Zuhl was a study in contrasts. Most of the people lived in squalor, surviving just on the edge of desperation in the city’s outer slums. Their homes were inadequate to the climate, cobbled together from stone or scraps of wood, animal pelts filling the gaps and serving as doors. Yet in the center of the city stood Whitehall, a magnificent fortress castle fashioned from polished white marble, its soaring towers capped in gold leaf, each flying Zuhl’s banner, flapping in the wind.

Anatoly and Magda wove through the city evading their pursuers. Most of the people they encountered were women, children, or the elderly. Every man capable of wielding a weapon had been pressed into service, leaving the most vulnerable of their society to fend for themselves in the face of a harsh environment and a scarcity of food. The people of the city were cowed, dispirited, and afraid. They avoided eye contact and did their level best to ignore Anatoly and Magda.

Shouts of alarm filtered through the frigid morning air from their pursuers, but they were fading into the distance as Anatoly and Magda moved deeper into the city. Closer to Whitehall, the slums gave way to homes and shops constructed from stone with stout wooden doors, yet none were made from the white marble of Zuhl’s fortress.

“We need a place to hole up until nightfall,” Anatoly said.

“I agree,” Magda said. “Perhaps that house would do.”

“Judging from the smoke coming out of the chimney, I suspect someone’s home,” Anatoly said. “I’d rather not kill anyone who doesn’t have it coming.”

“Again, I agree,” Magda said. “Give me a few moments to prepare and I can subdue them without bloodshed.”

Anatoly nodded and she began casting another spell.

He knocked forcefully on the door. “By order of Lord Zuhl, you are commanded to open this door,” he shouted.

A woman timidly opened the door, her eyes wide with fear. Before she could utter a word, Magda reached out and touched her on the forehead. The woman’s eyes closed and she slumped to the floor. Anatoly entered quickly, followed by Magda. An elderly man sat by the fire eyeing them suspiciously, two children peeked around the corner of the doorframe leading out of the main room of the house. Magda closed and barred the front door.

“We won’t harm you if you don’t give us cause,” Anatoly said, pointing his war axe at the old man.

“I’m old and frail,” the man said, rocking in his chair, “you have nothing to fear from me, but my son will be home this evening. If you’re still here when he returns, he’ll gut you both while his sons watch.”

“Come, children,” Magda said to the two young boys in the other room. They stayed where they were.

“It’s all right, boys,” the old man said. “Our guests won’t harm you.” He fixed Anatoly with a look that was both a command and a desperate plea.

“Is there anyone else in your household?” Anatoly asked.

“No, just the four of us,” the old man said, as the two boys went to their grandfather.

“I think I’ll have a look around just to be sure,” Anatoly said.

“I thought you might,” the old man said, looking into his tea.

Anatoly returned a few moments later. “Three rooms and a cellar. Just the one door in the front and a window in back that’s barred. I think we’re good.”

Magda nodded.

“What did you do to my mother?” demanded one of the boys.

“She will wake in a few minutes,” Magda said.

Anatoly slung his axe, carefully picked the woman up and gently laid her on the couch.

“We have no quarrel with you,” he said. “We just need a place to stay for a few hours.”

“What did you do?” the old man asked. “Speak out against Lord Zuhl? Or are you just common criminals?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” Magda said.

“Fair enough,” the old man said, “the less I know the less I can tell the soldiers when they question me.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Magda said.

The woman woke with a start, sitting up and looking around frantically. “Who are you? Why have you invaded our home?”

“We mean you no harm,” Magda said. “All we need is a place to hide for a few hours, then we’ll be on our way.”

The woman looked at her boys, the beginning of panic spreading across her face. “And then what? Will you kill us? The soldiers will surely question us about your whereabouts. How can you afford to leave us unharmed knowing that we’ll go to the authorities the moment we can?”

“Hush, Kayla,” the old man said. “Why don’t you make us another pot of tea? My cup has grown cold.”

She looked from him to Anatoly, then back to the old man and nodded, getting up and going to a cabinet.

“You’re not from the Isle of Zuhl, are you?” the old man said. “No, I thought not. You are clearly a seasoned warrior and you carry a weapon of rank, yet you treat this woman as an equal. That is not our way, so I can only surmise that you have come from another isle. That makes you an enemy of Lord Zuhl.”

He fell silent and nodded to himself, smiling slightly. “There was a great explosion early this morning. Such a thing would make an excellent distraction, don’t you think?”

“Stop speculating about us,” Anatoly said. “You’re an old soldier and you’re trying to gather information.”

“I’m an old man who was once a soldier. Quite honestly, my only interest here is that you don’t harm my son’s wife or my grandchildren. As for my speculation, well, let’s just say I’m curious. I served Lord Zuhl for many years, my son serves him now. That service has provided this home for our family and guaranteed that we eat well while others go without, but I have no love for Lord Zuhl. He has kept the people of this island embroiled in war and petty disputes for centuries. I’ve often wondered at his motives … until now.”

“Go on,” Anatoly said.

“Now that the Reishi scourge has returned, Lord Zuhl is prepared to defend us against it. All of those centuries of border wars between countless tribes have bred a people uniquely suited to making war. We are battle-hardened and prepared for the enemy we face. While I don’t believe that Lord Zuhl is the god he claims to be, he is wise and prescient. I for one am glad that he’s gone to such great lengths to preserve us against the Reishi threat.”

Anatoly and Magda shared a look.

“As I suspected, you’re infiltrators sent by the Reishi,” the old man said. “You will fail. Lord Zuhl will find you and you will suffer greatly for your murderous ambitions.”

Anatoly snorted and shook his head. “The truth is, you wouldn’t believe the truth if I told you.”

“Why not tell me?” the old man said. “We both know you’re going to murder my family before this day is done. What do you have to lose by humoring an old man with your version of the truth?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Magda said.

Kayla brought a tray of cups filled with steaming hot tea, timidly offering it to Anatoly first, the cups shaking from the trembling in her hands.

“I’ll pass,” he said.

“As will I,” Magda said.

“Suit yourself,” the old man said. “I want you boys to both drink your cups, all of it.”

“Stop!” Anatoly said.

Kayla froze in midstride.

“Can you detect poison?” he asked Magda.

She looked at him sharply when the realization of what he was suggesting sank in, then nodded curtly, muttering the words of a spell. The tea began to glow a soft, menacing reddish color.

Anatoly swatted the tray out of the woman’s hand, scattering cups of poisoned tea across the floor.

“You would kill your whole family?” he demanded.

“Better by my hand than by yours,” the old man said, drawing a knife from the folds of his tunic and casting it at Anatoly with remarkable accuracy. It struck his breastplate just left of center and clattered to the floor.

Anatoly spun his war axe into his hands and stepped forward, shoving Kayla to the floor with the haft of it.

“Remain seated, old man,” Anatoly said. Then turning to Magda, he said, “It’s time to go.”

Magda nodded, casting another spell. A pulse of soft white light shone from her outstretched hands, bathing the four in its power. A moment later they all slumped into a deep sleep.

“They’ll be out for several hours and then they’ll wake feeling refreshed and well,” she said.

“That’s quite a spell,” Anatoly said.

“I actually devised it to help people through sickness,” she said with a sad smile.

They banked the fire and left the family to their magically induced sleep.

“Do you think they’ll believe any differently about us when they wake, alive and well?” Anatoly asked.

“I suspect they’ll believe what they want to believe,” Magda said.

“You’re probably right.”