Hammers in the Wind (33 page)
His soldiers cheered above the crackle of flames. Each was loyal, totally subservient to Harnin. He praised their loyalties, for it was these men who were going to help him seize power and keep it. Harnin tried to imagine the look on Badron’s face when he finally ran his sword through the king’s stomach.
“Lord Harnin!”
The call shattered his illusions. He frowned at the angst in the voice. Something was wrong. The runner stopped and knelt at his master’s feet. His breath was ragged. Small drops of blood stained his jerkin.
“Speak,” Harnin ordered.
“My lord, the king’s brother has escaped.”
Harnin reeled.
Impossible
. He drew his short sword and killed the messenger. His men stared in muted disbelief.
“Back to the Keep,” Harnin barked. Blood ran down the length of his blade. “I want Bahr found, dead or alive. Move!”
One Eye fumed while men scrambled to obey. He was so close to completing his long awaited revenge and now all of his carefully laid plans were unraveling. Despite holding the throne Harnin felt powerless. Too much was happening too fast. Badron’s wrath would be furious should he discover his brother had not only escaped but what Harnin was planning for the kingdom.
He watched the reflection of the flames on the water and slowly made up his mind. He had to act quickly if everything was to be saved. The alternatives were too bad to contemplate.
End of Book One
Anienam Keiss whispered a few words and the inside of the temple sprang to life under a pale blue glow. Together he and Skuld wormed their way around the piles of broken rock and marble that littered the floor, past rows of near petrified benches.
“What do you know of magic, young Skuld?”
The street thief was taken off guard. Truth be told, he never bothered to think about it. Magic was another of those things in life that didn’t matter. “Nothing, sir. I don’t see what this has to do with anything though.”
Anienam smiled. “Consider it an old man’s fancy.”
They continued on. Anienam was impressed with the scope of the building. At one point it must have been the largest building in the north. Ages old cobwebs hung from every corner. The air was more stale here than in the outer chamber. Skuld found his breathing grow harder with each step forward. A loud snap stole his attention, forcing him to look down. Two skeletons lay stretched out. Tatters of dark robes clung in strips to the dust-covered bones. The street thief wanted nothing more than to leave this house of death. He was no stranger to the tunnels, but this went beyond the depths of his courage.
“How will we know what we’re looking for?” he asked. His voice was desperate to take his mind off of the present.
“Patience, my young friend. The way will be shown to us.”
Skuld stared at the old man’s back. He couldn’t begin to fathom the sarcasm his elders constantly displayed. He shook his head and continued on. The sooner they finished the better.
“Please hurry,” he whispered. The walls closed in on him.
Anienam offered a compassionate glance. “We are almost done. A few more moments and we can leave.”
Casting another spell, Anienam focused his attention on the far end of the ruin. It took a moment for anything to happen. Then the air heated, grew damper. A steady thumping noise haunted the shadows. It reminded Skuld of a heartbeat. The farther the duo went the louder the sound became. Skuld struggled to maintain what little courage remained.
“What is that?”
The answer drained the warmth from him.
“I don’t know.” Anienam gathered his power, just in case. “Keep a sharp eye. We are looking for a bright green light.”
The thief did as he was told, hoping and praying to find the key to unlock the next stage of their journey. The ruins groaned. He felt tired eyes watching him, but no matter where he looked they remained just out of reach. Shadows transformed into eerie hands creeping forward to snatch him away to some distant catacomb, never to be heard from again. His heart weakened and only found strength when Anienam spied the faint trim of green light.
“There Skuld! Quickly, go and grab the book!”
The thief climbed over a broken table and found a massive tome alone on a marble pedestal. He hesitated. The book looked new, as if waiting for his coming. Better judgment warned him not to proceed. Nothing good was going to come from this.
Could it be a trap?
He doubted the wizard’s ability to protect them. A strange new energy seeped into him, his muscles and his resolve. Skuld reached out and ran his fingertips over the ancient volume. He suddenly realized how wrong he had been.
*****
“Did you feel that?” Argis asked.
Dorl swallowed hard and clenched his sword that much tighter. It wouldn’t mean much if they were attacked, but it helped sooth his frayed nerves. He shivered slightly. All of the warmth left him. His breath turned to vapors.
“What in the…”
Dorl never got the chance to finish. The ground trembled and shook, throwing them violently down. Dust rained down so thick he could barely make out the others. The torches snapped and hissed. Dorl struggled back to his feet and immediately began searching for the source of danger. The far wall exploded outwards as dozens of skeletal hands shot out, clutching desperately at Maleela. Still on her knees, she barely rolled away in time.
Dorl Theed swore to himself. The skeletons pulled and clawed their way free of their eternal tombs. Nothol dropped into a low guard and waited. His eyes hardened. Of the many foes he’d faced over the years, this was a first. The undead continued to break free around them. Dorl managed to overcome his fright and pull Maleela to the relative safety their group offered. Nothol grinned savagely. He didn’t know what it was going to take to kill a skeleton but he decided not to wait to find out. He attacked. With the confined space only one man was able to wield a sword effectively. Dorl and Argis fell back to protect the princess.
Nothol Coll’s first strike ripped a broken skull from the neck a moment before he kicked the remains to dust. The skeleton collapsed in a ragged heap, taking three more with it. This might not be so bad after all. He swung again, this time splitting one at the waist. More came. And more. The skeletons numbered more than fifty. Even with Nothol Coll hacking and slashing the dead soldiers continued to break free. Bones piled around them.
Dorl Theed watched the situation worsen. He desperately wanted to help but there simply wasn’t enough space for both men to maneuver without cutting each other. Frustration made him tremble.
“We have to help him,” he told Argis.
The former captain stood with his mouth agape. Shock immobilized him. Never in his wildest thoughts could he imagine and army of the dead. His knees were weak. His mind refused to obey his body. Twice he almost dropped his sword.
Dorl snarled and slapped the man on his back. “Damn it Argis snap out of it! We’re going to die down here if we don’t act.”
Recognition flashed in the back of his pale eyes. “What can we do against this?”
At least he still has his tongue, Dorl frowned. “Send them back to the underworld and hope for the best.”
Dorl Theed took a small step forward and was violently jerked backwards. The force made him drop his sword. Bony fingers gripped him tightly, trying to rip him apart. He let out a strangled cry as they took him to the ground. Dorl struggled with all his might. He punched and kicked. A bone arm ripped away and became his only weapon. Dorl used the arm to lash out at his attackers.
The sudden attack finally forced Argis into action. His resolve strengthened, the old man clenched his sword and attacked. Dust and bones flew wildly about the small chamber. The Delranan noble fought like never before. Vague ideations of what would happen to him should he fail pushed him harder. His muscles soon screamed and began to ache. The old man didn’t have much left.
Dorl managed to break free. The sell sword managed to find his sword through the mayhem and unleashed his pent up fury. Every beating and taunt from Harnin’s guards came back now. Hatred, agony, embarrassment, and fear burst from the inner well of his soul. Dorl attacked, and attacked, with sword, fist and boot. He didn’t stop until Argis placed a weary hand upon his shoulder.
Dorl looked around. His breath was ragged, clogged with dust and bone matter. The battle was over. All of the skeletons were destroyed, sent back to the decay of their eternal death. Argis dropped to a knee. He was much the worse of the two. Maleela sat huddled in the corner. Even with all she had been through she couldn’t bring herself to accept a battle against the dead.
“What just happened?” Argis asked through strained breaths.
Nothol sheathed his sword. “This place is cursed.”
“Should we go and get the wizard?” Dorl asked hesitantly. The rage was gone, leaving a numb sensation in its place. He had had enough of magic and having Anienam around made him queasy.
The ground trembled and shook violently. Huge chunks of ceiling crashed down. The walls shattered and started to collapse.
“Cave in!” Nothol shouted.
Argis forced himself back to his feet. “We must flee!”
Dorl passed a desperate look to the empty doorway. There was no sign of Skuld or the damned wizard. Duty and honor urged him to go and look for them. Reality screamed otherwise. The very walls were coming down around them. Waiting was not an option.
“Run!” he tried to shout above the roar.
He pushed Argis ahead and ran for his life. Dorl Theed gave a last thought to the others and kept running before they all died.
Continue with Tides of Blood and Steel, Book two of the Northern Crusade, by following this link:
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