Path of Bones (5 page)

She set foot upon the disc, and a painful pulse of energy seared through her body.  Her breaths scraped down her lungs like bladed fog.  Drazzek sensed that something was wrong, so the Allaji assassin helped her off the rune-covered stone and back up the side of the hill.

“You stupid wench!” Crogas yelled.  He kicked up soil and dust as he came halfway down to take her by the hand.  “If you die, the whole plan fails.  Is that what you want?!”

“
No,” Kala said through gasps for air.  She was dizzy, and felt a painful pressure against her skull.  Drazzek held her tightly by the arms as she stumbled up over the edge of the pit and back onto level ground.  Kala took deep and calming breaths.  After a few moments her heartbeat slowed and her breaths calmed.  “Thank you, my friend,” she said to Drazzek.  She turned to Crogas.  “We don’t have much time,” she said.  “This Scarstone is linked to the others.  The magic is still virulent, but it’s fading.”

“
Unfortunately, there’s still much to do,” Gallaean said, appearing through the crowd of slaves and flanked by a pair of his men.  The tall and broad-shouldered Jlantrian still wore his priestly cloak of the One Goddess over his heavy chain armor in spite of having been banned from Corvinia’s church many years ago; to celebrate his excommunication, he defiled his raiment with dried blood and fetishes made of bone and skin.  A heavy flail hung from his belt, and his unshaved face gleamed with malice.  “We’ll need more slaves to continue the dig,” he said.

“
Then do it,” Kala shouted.  The slaves all watched and waited nervously, their Tuscar and human masters standing by with flails and whips, waiting for instructions.  Kala turned to each of her fellow Cabal members and addressed them.  “We’ve come this far, we’ve accomplished so much – these are minor setbacks, my friends.  Access to Chul Gaerog is within our reach!”

“
Minor setbacks?” Gallaean said with a sour smile.  “You mean like the disappearance of the Dream Witch?”

Kala glared at him. 
Don’t rise to this odious torturer’s challenge,
she told herself, but he was right – Crinn’s failure was a problem they needed to deal with, and soon. 

“
Crinn will find her,” she said.  “I’m not worried about that.  He knows what’s at stake.”  She ignored Gallaean’s chuckles and cast her eyes back to the beautiful silver runes on the Scarstone, elegant in their violent simplicity.  They were the same style of runes her father had stumbled upon in the Heartfang Wastes. 

“
Well, you
should
be worried,” Gallaean said.  “Your General has now proved his incompetence on several occasions.  What makes you think he’ll suddenly be able to perform this miracle?”

“
How long will it take for you to analyze the Scar’s magical defenses?” she asked Crogas, ignoring Gallaean’s bait.

“
A few days,” he grumbled.  “Maybe longer.”

“
Then might I suggest,” she said as she turned back to Gallaean, “that until Crogas has an answer we double our efforts in this dig?”

Gallaean smiled viciously.  He was lowborn, and in spite of their common allegiance to the Cabal he still held a barely contained hatred for Kala and her noble birth. 

“Of course, M’Lady,” he said with an overly extravagant bow.  “A pleasure to serve.”

“
Go to hell,” she said, and turned away.  Whips lashed and shouts echoed across the early morning sky.  The sun had barely risen but the Bonelands were already scorching, and it was only going to get worse.  Crogas went to fetch his books and scrying tools, while Gallaean ordered his men to secure a perimeter around the Scarstone.  The maps Kala had provided would allow them to determine where in central Corinth they’d have to dig to the find the other artifacts.

Kala was determined to let neither Gallaean nor Crogas spoil her elation at their having discovered the first Scarstone.  Yes, there was still much to be done, and plenty could still go wrong.  Despite what she’d said Kala wasn’t at all confident Crinn would find the Dream Witch, and the chances of she and Crogas being able to use magic to excavate the remaining stones were slim – both the Blood Queen and her Arkan lackeys had taken great pains to make the items difficult to manipulate, and there were bound to be dozens of Veilcrafted traps in place.

With any luck, Crogas will trigger one and blow himself up. 
She didn’t wish that on him, not truly…unless he took Gallaean with him.  Those two misogynist bastards got under her skin far too easily, and Kala couldn’t think of a way to settle her differences with them without resorting to violence. 
There will be time enough for that once you’ve uncovered the rest of the Scarstones.  For now you need them, and they need
you
even more. 

Every individual in the Cabal was at odds with at least a few of its other members, but the strength in their secret coalition rested on their ability to put aside their differences, and by doing so they’d found one of the fabled Scarstones and uncovered the identities of the other two Skullborn.  The Cabal had secret armies amassed and spies in both the highest courts and the basest hovels.  Theirs was not a large organization, but they were powerful beyond measure and wealthy with information and stolen gold.  It had taken Kala many years to make contact with the Cabal, and it had been a constant struggle to advance within their ranks and rise to the level of respect needed to convince them this undertaking was worth their time and effort. 

But what an undertaking it was.  They were going to storm Chul Gaerog and steal the source of the Blood Queen’s power.  It was an impossible ambition, but Kala was special, and with the Cabal’s resources she’d turned what sounded like a mad delusion into an attainable reality.  Only three women bore the Skullborn mark of Carastena Vlagoth, the sign of her power and infamy.  The Blood Queen was in an odd way Kala’s true mother, just as the other Skullborn were her sisters.

She thought of those women, and the pain she’d bring to them.  A wicked smile crossed her lips.  She’d never met the other Skullborn, but she would soon.  The Cabal’s plans depended on it.

The sky darkened as the slaves resumed the dig.  Flakes of black ash fell from the clouds like dead snow.  There were over three-hundred people in the ruins of Corinth, nearly two-thirds of them slaves purchased by Gallaean and his men.  They were a strong and durable lot, though their prolonged exposure to the cursed soil was beginning to take its toll – many of the workers had started to lose their hair and the hue of their skin darkened unnaturally, making the white slaves tan and the tan slaves black and the black slaves pitch.  Their flesh was riddled with scrapes and cuts from their master’s lashes.

Kala circled the pit, her black lions at her side.  Silence and Phantom had been out hunting in the outskirts of the ruins, working in tandem to bring down the large desert reptiles which haunted the region.  Her lions were as dark as night and as quiet as ghosts, and the sight of them struck such fear into the slaves she could smell men pissing themselves as she passed.  Their soft purrs were like razors on glass, and when they were close Kala felt invincible. 

The air was thick with heat and dust and the sound of digging and whips.  The slaves continued to haul bucketfuls of earth and pieces of cracked stone from the bottom of the pit, clearing away the space around the Scarstone so Crogas could work. 

In addition to the slaves were Gallaean and Crogas’ mercenaries, scruffy and unshaved ruffians with dark cloaks and wickedly curved blades.  Despite their drunkard’s appearances Kala knew each and every one of those men was a ruthless professional killer.  Her own personal soldiers – defectors from the White Dragon Army – were also scattered throughout the city, out of sight but never so far that she was ever defenseless.

Kala sometimes thought she heard the voices of Corinth’s dead in the wind, slithering through the broken streets when the moon came up and the land turned cold.  She glimpsed the manor and the window of the room she shared with Tharus and wished she were back there now, waiting for him.  She’d barely been fifteen when her mother had given Tharus to her as a manservant, and it hadn’t taken her long to put him to good use.  She didn’t love him – love was for the weak – but she’d grown used to him, and the notion of not having him close disturbed her in ways she didn’t want to think about.  He served her without question and guarded her fiercely. 

She retraced her steps to the manor and stood at the head of the steps, looking out at the ruined city.  Kala rubbed her palms together.  A tingle of excitement and fear ran down her spine.

Soon.  Goddess, we’re so close. 
Part of her still had her doubts, still wondered if she wasn’t going too far. 
No.  You’re an Azaean.  Your mother isn’t the only one meant for greatness.  Besides, it seems to be in the family’s nature to betray our parents.

“
Mistress,” a voice said from behind her.  It was Vance, a tall and thin soldier who’d once been a member of the Grail Order but was now the head of her small personal body of soldiers and mercenaries.  A jagged scar ran down his face and across one ruined eye.  “I have news.”

“
Is it
good
news, Vance?”

“
I’m afraid not.”

“
Then go away,” she said.

Vance considered her for a moment.  He still looked every bit the White Dragon officer, right down to his defaced leather and chain armor and  longsword. 

“Very well,” he nodded, and he turned to go back inside.

“
It’s all right, Vance,” Kala said.  “You know, you really should learn not to take me so seriously.  I’m not my mother.”

“
No,” Vance said.  “You’re better than she is.”

I know
, she thought. 

“
What news?” she asked.

“
Six more slaves vanished in the night,” he said, “along with three of our own men.”

“
Vanished?”

“
We found traces of blood, and a few fingers.  Nothing more.”  Vance ground his teeth.  The disappearances of slaves and soldiers from Corinth had been a thorn in their side ever since they’d arrived, but it was of little surprise – the Bonelands were rife with all manner of dangers, from Dust Men and Iron Scorpions to bands of marauders and bandits.  All in all it was a wonder they hadn’t lost more.  “I’ll wager it’s the damned Razorcats,” he said.  “I’d like to take a hunting party out to find those who’ve gone missing.”

“
No,” Kala said.  “I know this is a matter of contention between you and the mercenary captains, but I warned you before not to underestimate the dangers of the Bonelands.”

Vance was about to answer when an ear-splitting scream cut through the air. 

Kala looked towards the dig.  Slaves ran in every direction and mercenary soldiers drew their weapons and made for some unseen threat at the edge of the square.  Crogas barked orders, and Vance drew his blade and moved down the steps.

A blur of razored steel and black fur moved down near the pit, a giant hunter cat with smoking skin, a lashing tail and disproportionately huge claws and teeth.  Diamond black eyes glittered in the morning gloom, and a tongue lined with dark spines licked across its slathering and oversized jaws. 

“Razorcats!” someone shouted.

The one Kala saw had the shredded and bloody corpse of a serving girl under its claws.  More cats moved into view near the squat stone fountain, the tents, and the ruins of nearby buildings.  The Razorcats’ black eyes were like cold dead mirrors and their growls sounded of breaking glass.  There were least a dozen in all, and maybe more.

Two of the cats jumped into the slaves and slashed bodies apart in a storm of blood and limbs.  Shrill screams rang out, pitiful and mewling cries.  A dozen mercenaries pushed through the slaves, hacking down those who got in their way.  The Razorcat’s tongues snatched off heads and their claws crushed skulls. 

Armed men descended on the Razorcats with flashing swords, but the beasts of the Bonelands were stronger and faster, and the mercenaries were hacked to pieces.

Crogas and Kala both called on the Veil from their separate positions.  Crogas was suddenly aloft, floating on an invisible disc of force that carried him high into the air.  Kala lifted herself from the ground on freezing wind that rippled her hair and swept her up like she rode on the back of an ocean wave. 

The air crackled with the smell of death.  Her lions stayed behind her in spite of their roars, obeying her silent will.  Down below she heard Vance order her personal guard to form a perimeter around the manor and wait for his orders.

Crogas fired molten blades from his hands, and the air burned.  The Veilcrafted missiles dodged around Cabal mercenaries until they found the Razorcats.  Gritty roars turned to painful hisses as the burning projectiles sprayed the cat’s insides to the ground.  Two of the creatures fell.

Kala’s vision turned red.  Spiky tendrils of ebon frost oozed from her fingers.  Spectral tentacles twisted around the bodies of two more Razorcats and crushed them, squeezing out blood and guts until the bodies exploded across the ground and covered nearby slaves and soldiers in a nauseating splash.