The Bone Shaker (NewCon Press Novellas Set 6 Book 1) Read online

  Just as Abildan had warned, the enemy showed no remorse and were many in number. It was as if death had twisted them into a corrupted mockery of life that acted only on some basic, ravenous instinct.

  Vladisal maintained a protective circle around the boy. She stopped distinguishing child from adult, man from woman; they were monsters, one and all, and as each fell under her blade, the dulling of their luminous eyes was the only true sign that their hunger was at an end.

  A grisly face, its lips gnawed away, came forward with a tentacular grin. Feeble and emaciated, one of its eyes rotted to nothing, it reached for Vladisal with long, claw-like fingers. Its mouth-roots whipped for her face. Dark blood sprayed as its head fell from its neck. Another ventured towards the knight, falling in similar fashion, as they all did.

  A scream filled the air.

  Shouting a curse, Vladisal felled another beast, but as she raised her sword again, she felt pulling on her leg.

  It was the boy. He was alive!

  Clutching at Vladisal’s armour with red-slicked hands, the boy’s whole body shook and convulsed. Vladisal felt a momentary surge of hope within the maelstrom. It quickly vanished as the boy’s eyes glowed with blue light, and he coughed slim, snake-like roots from his mouth.

  He clawed at Vladisal’s leg, breaking fingers upon hard armour. Instinctively, Vladisal batted him away with a backhand. Another monster came at her. She skewered it through the gut, her blade slipping between the coils of roots wrapped around its body like armour.

  It was a mistake.

  The coils tightened on the sword, and Vladisal couldn’t wrench it free. The monster shambled forward, sliding further down the blade. Vladisal lost her grip, stumbling backwards, and the enemy was upon her.

  Roots wrapped around her arms, too many to shrug off. More probed at her armour. In panic, Vladisal kicked out, catching the nearest tree-demon high on the chest. This action scattered the monsters, but also toppled Vladisal. She fell to her back on the clearing floor.

  Someone shouted her name. A volley of arrows punctured the tree-demons closest to her.

  A small figure crawled up Vladisal’s prone body. Eyes glowing, mouth open and roots lashing, the boy gurgled at her.

  Vladisal closed her hands around his throat, holding him off. One mouth-root struck at her gauntlet while the other attempted to sting her face. Hands tugged at Vladisal’s legs, banging upon her armour, as though the monsters were trying to break a crab’s shell for the soft meat underneath.

  Where is the mercy? Vladisal thought as she snapped the boy’s neck.

  The lights of his eyes did not fade. His roots continued to whip for Vladisal’s face. She knew in that moment that she had failed, and the ungodly horde would have its meal.

  The boy stiffened and fell limp in her grasp.

  The light in his eyes finally died. He fell sideways, and Vladisal saw the crossbow bolt embedded into the back of his head. More bodies fell as a curved sabre whirled among them with arcs of moonlight.

  Abildan.

  In utter silence, the assassin moved with such speed and grace it was hard to tell if she was fighting or dancing. So confident in her abilities, so sure of her surroundings, she carved a murderous circle around Vladisal like a deadly wind, a subtle firestorm among crops, scattering heads wherever it burned. And then, as quickly as she had arrived, Abildan was gone, leaving carnage in her wake.

  Vladisal scrambled to her feet and retrieved her sword just as Üban reached her. Dief and Luca were close behind. The entire company had cut a path through the enemy to reach their captain, but now the tree-demons surrounded them.

  I should have listened to Abildan, Vladisal thought. They were vastly outnumbered.

  But the monsters attacked no more.

  A stiff wind picked up and blew across the clearing. It brought sweeter and earthier scents, chasing away the reek of decay. The tree-demons lost interest in their prey. They began creeping back into the forest, disappearing among the trees, as if following some silent instruction borne on the wind.

  Some of the knights hacked down a few stragglers, but others made to follow the monsters and continue the battle.

  “Stand down!” Vladisal snapped.

  Her command was obeyed.

  In a few moments, the knights were alone in the clearing. Not a sound disturbed the forest.

  Astonished, the women of Boska surveyed the slaughter that lay at their feet, giving each other disbelieving looks.

  Luca swore, her honest face troubled. “They out-matched us six to a woman at least. They had us beat! Why leave?

  “Who can understand the reason of monsters?” Üban said. The old knight’s face was unreadable as she watched the tree line.

  Vladisal followed her line of sight and saw Abildan slip into the shadows of the forest.

  Three

  Higher Ground

  Death permeated the air. The remains of tree-demons were literally smeared across the battlefield. The magic which had animated these corpses, which had merged them with plant life, had died. Supernatural putrefaction had set in, liquefying flesh and bone, rotting wood to mulch. While Luca and Dief searched for fallen comrades among the foul-smelling mounds, Üban and the knights watched the trees for any sign of a fresh attack.

  Sir Vladisal stood alone, observing proceedings, her thoughts grim. Her gaze travelled up the slope to where the company had stood before the battle. Her five archers still lined the ridge, nervously guarding the clearing.

  She should never have led such a reckless charge against the enemy. Was it pride that had stood in the way of taking Abildan’s advice - a need to save face in front of her women?

  Vladisal felt her soul darken. These were desperate times indeed.

  Üban approached. The old knight carried a haunted look, and when she spoke, her voice was a low growl.

  “There’s nothing out there but trees. It’s as if the demons simply vanished.” She snorted. “And I see the feliwyrd is still missing. Perhaps she has deserted us for good this time.”

  Abildan had been absent since the battle’s conclusion. The bitterness in Üban’s voice was evident; she loathed the assassin, and not without good reason. But as contentious a presence as Abildan was, no one could deny that the Knights of Boska would be hopelessly lost in the Great Forest without her guidance.

  “I should have listened to Abildan, Üban. We should have kept the higher ground.”

  “What difference would it have made?” The bitterness in Üban’s tone grew deeper. “The battle was still won.”

  “No. We were Lucky. The Bone Shaker withdrew her army. You know that, old woman.”

  Üban gave a resigned sigh. “Tonight, I do not feel proud to be a Knight of Boska. These were humble village-folk we slew. The Mother has cursed us.”

  “No. These people were damned by magic long before they reached us. There is no shame in our actions. We simply acted as we had to, and gave them peace from torment.”

  “Then what of Elander?” Üban retorted. “What if that poor boy has already been…” She sighed again. “I do not think Duchess Mayland would see things as simple were her son to fall foul of the Bone Shaker’s magic.”

  Vladisal’s gut twisted. The older knight’s blunt manner was close to shattering an already fragile atmosphere, and a heated debate in front of the women would not help matters. Still, she had a point.

  The son of their duchess was the prisoner of a madwoman called Dun-Wyrd. Elander was an infectious youth, barely twelve summers old, full of life, full of kindness. Vladisal was his champion, his protector; and she already felt as though she had failed her charge. What horrors, what tortures, did that sweet child face in the clutches of a Bone Shaker and her dark magics?

  With a heavy voice, Vladisal said, “Abildan does not believe that Dun-Wyrd will add Elander to her dead army.”

  “Ah, the feliwyrd again.” Üban hawked and spat. “Then why does she think the Bone Shaker wants him?”

  Vladis
al looked to the ground. “She says she does not know.”

  Üban sucked air over her teeth. “If we are to trust in everything Abildan says, then surely Redheart would have returned with reinforcements by now.”

  “Have faith, old woman. Redheart will return. She will find the Forest Dwellers and bring them to our side.”

  “She has been gone two days already, Vladisal.”

  “And you think I don’t know that? We cannot change the situation as it is, Üban. We will continue our search for Elander. We will have faith that Redheart will return in time and that Abildan is not as untrustworthy as you believe.”

  “Aye, lass.” Üban’s tone lost its sharp edge. “I’ll pray for that.”

  Luca made her way over. She looked shaken, her face pale.

  “Damned tragic. Sir Theodora and Sir Brennik – both dead.” She took a deep breath and looked over the clearing. “I’ve ordered them prepared for burial.”

  Vladisal nodded sadly. “A grim night, but we have survived.”

  “And gained a frightening insight into the powers of our enemy.” Luca rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t understand it, Vlad. What manner of woman would turn simple folk into such ghouls?”

  “The ways of the Bone Shaker are not meant to be understood,” Üban answered, staring into the middle distance. “Dun-Wyrd is evil to the core.” She shivered off her reverie and found her mettle. “We should move from this place, and soon. Theodora and Brennik deserve rest in less foul grounds.”

  “If it suits your needs, I have found another clearing a small way from here.”

  The three knights wheeled around.

  “Abildan,” Vladisal said.

  How did she move so silently?

  Vladisal felt Üban and Luca bristle beside her.

  “Where have you been?

  “Observing.” Abildan’s yellow eyes and cat-like face were unreadable. “The tree-demons are returning to their master. They will trouble you no more tonight.” She turned to Üban, a quirked smile on her thin lips. “And you are quite correct to speak of the mysterious ways of the Bone Shaker, as you like to call her. Dun-Wyrd is an intelligent foe.”

  “She doesn’t seem so clever me,” Üban shot back. “Bone Shaker or not, Dun-Wyrd is nothing more than a stealer of children. Her monsters failed to kill us and she underestimates her enemy.”

  “Failed?” Abildan’s expression was filled with dark mirth. “Dun-Wyrd’s intent was not to kill you - at least, not on this night.”

  She offered no more explanation, and Üban’s eyes glared angrily. The old knight would not take much more goading before she drew her sword on the feliwyrd.

  “Speak plainly, Abildan,” Vladisal demanded. “Tell us what Dun-Wyrd wanted?”

  “Information. She senses she is being tracked. She merely wished to see whom by.”

  “She… she could see us?” Luca said.

  “Oh yes. Through the eyes of her army. And she had a good look at you, Sir Knight.”

  Luca waved the taunt away, but Vladisal could tell she was troubled by the notion of being watched through dead eyes. They all were.

  “And now that she has seen us, what will she do next?”

  “Nothing.” Abildan shrugged. “Oh, I realise you proud Knights of Boska believe you are something to be feared, but you do not pose the threat to Dun-Wyrd that you think you do. All she sees is a band of fools on a doomed quest to rescue the son of their duchess.”

  “As I said,” Üban growled. “She underestimates us.”

  “I think you are right,” Abildan said, nodding. “But not in the way you believe. Your famed sense of pride is perhaps your greatest ally. Dun-Wyrd would not have considered that you might have sent a messenger for reinforcements.” She chuckled. “She will think you too proud and stubborn to ask for help from others.”

  “But we have no help,” Vladisal said. “Redheart has been gone for two days. How long before she returns with aid?”

  “Hard to say. The Ulyyn are a fickle race, Sir Vladisal, dogged by code and ritual, more so than even the mighty Knights of Boska.”

  Vladisal exhaled an angry breath. “But the Forest Dwellers will come?”

  “Oh yes. Of that I have no doubt. The likes of Dun-Wyrd are a curse upon these lands. Once convinced of her presence, the Ulyyn will not stand to let her pass.”

  Dief joined the group. Her usually confident demeanour had been replaced by the same moribund mood that had infected all. She gripped her hammer menacingly, as if suspecting the tree-demons of trickery and a second attack was imminent.

  “Everyone is accounted for,” she reported miserably.

  “No one was injured?” Abildan asked.

  Dief looked the feliwyrd up and down as though she was something she had stepped in, before addressing Vladisal again. “Theodora and Brennik are ready for burial – the Mother save their souls.”

  “Then there is no point in lingering,” Vladisal said. “Assemble the women, Dief. We will bury our dead in better ground.”

  Without a word, Dief walked back towards the small crowd of knights and archers. With a nod to Vladisal, Luca followed her.

  Abildan watched them leave with an appraising air.

  “Sir Vladisal,” she said, her expression curious. “I do not wish to insult your sensibilities any more than is necessary, but I have a question. Why are you wasting time burying your dead? It would be easier to simply burn their remains.”

  “Are you mad?” Üban erupted. “Theodora and Brennik are women of Boska!”

  Abildan’s smile was cruel. “I’m afraid I don’t see your point.”

  Üban’s huge frame towered over the assassin. “You are a piece of work, feliwyrd, and I’ve had it with your sick jokes.”

  “I make no joke, Sir Üban.” Abildan’s eyes flashed. “And your threats mean nothing to me.”

  “Enough,” Vladisal said tiredly. “Abildan, you will lead us to the next clearing.” She stood between Üban and the feliwyrd. “And we bury our dead the Boskan way.”

  “As you wish.”

  Abildan gave a mock bow, and then walked away to stand at the edge of the clearing, where she waited to lead the knights through the forest once again.

  Üban’s eyes were furious, her lips clamped tightly shut. She stared at Vladisal for a moment, and then stormed off in a different direction to Abildan.

  Vladisal looked up at the sky. The star-filled blackness had lightened with a tinge of blue. Dawn was approaching, and it would be good to see the sun again.

  “Where are you, Redheart?”

  Four

  Redheart

  The first rays of morning filtered through the trees. Redheart’s mood lightened and fatigue lifted.

  The deeper into the Great Forest she travelled, the more the woodlands became touched by spring. Above, a canopy of new leaves decorated the trees. The damp floor smelled fresh and wholesome. Flowers bloomed, rich and yellow. The forest was alive with buzzing insects and wildlife scurrying through the undergrowth.

  Redheart had travelled through most of the previous day and night, stopping to rest only for two or maybe three hours. Her mind was too troubled for sleep. The unfamiliarity of the territory kept her alert, the nature of her mission constantly needled her thoughts, especially when she thought of those back home in Boska. The Duchy of Mayland lay four days ride to the south of the Great Forest, and it was filled with anxious folk. Not least of all Duchess Mayland, who waited for the safe return of her son Elander.

  Amidst the tranquillity of the forest, it was hard to recall the desperation that had gripped Mayland Castle a week ago. Elander had gone riding with his entourage, as he often did. There was nothing unusual about the day whatsoever, no reason to suspect that any ill was afoot. It had been a desperate farmer who came to the castle with news that the dead bodies of Elander’s entourage had been found. Elander had been seen alive but draped over a horse that was being ridden hard northward by a cloaked figure.

  Vl
adisal had been beside herself, outraged and shamed that she, Elander’s Champion, had not been there to prevent the abduction. The vow she swore to the Duchess to see her son returned unharmed was echoed by her friends – Redheart, Luca and Dief, too; and no one would have dared try to stop old Üban joining the rescue party. And so it had been. Led by Vladisal, a band of loyal knights, flying the banner of Duchess Mayland, had headed north in search of Elander.

  Driven but tired and hungry, Redheart stopped to break her fast.

  She sat upon the thick roots of a tree, resting her back against the sturdy trunk. Since leaving Vladisal, she had been carrying a talisman, which she laid on the ground before opening her pack, from which she took a hard oatcake and a few dried fruits. She ate while surrounded by the peace of birdsong and the ever-warming sun.

  To be suited in armour, to carry a sword at her side, seemed almost an insult to the tranquillity. Up through the canopy of new leaves, she could see the sky was clear and blue. It would be a glorious day.

  If any of them had thought that the abductor’s plan was to hold Elander to ransom then they had been sorely mistaken. Later, it would be Abildan who revealed that their enemy was named Dun-Wyrd, and Dun-Wyrd had no interest in gold and jewels. Necromancer to some, Bone Shaker to others, she had an evil, sorcerous soul, and Redheart didn’t dare to guess her reasons for taking Elander.

  The trail had led the company further and further north. Along the way, they had passed three villages. Each had been deserted. There were no signs of struggles; fields and livestock were left untended, and not one single man, woman or child could be found. For all intents and purposes, the villagers had simply vanished - as had Elander’s trail when it led to the northern border of Boska and the southern edge of the Great Forest.

  Her breakfast finished, Redheart drank a little water from a skin, and then picked up the talisman. She studied it and ran a finger along its grooves.

  Made from pale wood, the talisman was a thin and decorative piece, carved to resemble a leaf, small enough to rest in Redheart’s palm. The detail in its craftsmanship was immaculate. It almost looked as though it had been plucked straight from a tree. Yet the attention to detail was not its most astounding attribute.