by Dante King
Bone Lord (Book 4)
Dante King
Copyright © 2020 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
v001
Free harem books!
Join my email newsletter to receive a free ebook of the epic fantasy novel, Dragon Atlas.
Like audiobooks? Sign up to my newsletter for a free audiobook of Immortal Swordslinger #1.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Want More Stories?
About the Author
Chapter One
The Church of Light Crusader Army attacked us an hour before dawn on the third day after I’d killed Rodrick and destroyed his Temple of Blood. The Crusaders thought we were stumbling into their ambush.
But they were marching straight into mine.
They must have thought I’d been weakened in my battle against Rodrick and the forces of the Blood God. Possibly true, but they hadn’t anticipated how quickly a god could recover.
The slaves I’d saved from being sacrificed by Rodrick and his oblates had recuperated much of my power. Then there was the energy coming from all over Prand. Fresh temples and shrines of the Temple of Necrosis—the new church dedicated to my worship—established by my faithful disciples Grast, the driver of the Wagon of Death, and Cranton, my first priest. Thousands of people, disillusioned and angry with the aloof, uncaring Church of Light were flocking to my banner, praying in my name. And they weren’t the only ones. Warriors and mercenaries were killing in my name, my golden Death Coins in their pockets granting me the souls of their slain enemies.
The first hint I’d picked up that there was another army in the region came a few hours after I’d left the smoldering ruins of the Temple of Blood. I sent Talon, my undead harpy, out on a reconnaissance flight, just to make sure that none of Rodrick’s troops remained.
I circled the army camp for a day and a night in my harpy’s body, staying just above the clouds, waiting for an opportunity to strike. One came in the early hours when a sentry, posted far from the main force, took a careless piss. I dived out of the clouds and snatched him up from the ground, like an eagle pouncing on a hapless hare.
I didn’t kill him, though—I had some use for him first. I flew him back to my camp, less than a day’s march from the enemy’s. Controlling Talon as easily as if her body was my own, I landed her right at my feet, with the screaming enemy soldier gripped tightly in her talons.
“I’m the one you’re waiting for, aren’t I?” I asked the shivering sentry.
He looked up at me and my gleaming full-plate armor, the color of midnight. He promptly pissed his pants.
“Vance Chauzec, the G—”
“God of Death, yes, that’s who you’re looking at,” I interrupted him. “Now, pull yourself together.”
He stared up at me with wide eyes, and his bottom lip trembled. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Yes,” I answered. “My question to you is, should it be quick and merciful, or drawn-out and agonizing?”
“Give me a swift death, Lord Chauzec.”
“Then answer my questions truthfully.” I squatted down next to the prostrate enemy soldier, who was squirming in the firm grip of Talon’s claws.
The man stank of piss and sour sweat.
“So, who do you fight for, soldier?” I asked him.
“We’re a small contingent, mustered by the commanders of the Splendorous Army of the Church of Light.”
“Why is a Crusader Army coming to stir shit with me?”
“A crusade has been called against you, by the Seraphim.”
“Elandriel,” I muttered.
So that motherfucker still had it in for me. His “prophecy” that I’d end up a greasy beggar on the streets of Luminescent Spires had turned out to be a steaming heap of bullshit. He couldn’t be happy that more or less the reverse had happened. Was he bitter enough to launch a crusade against me? Or maybe this wasn’t so personal. Maybe the Church of Light was starting to feel their coffers lighten after so many of their faithful had converted to my Temple of Necrosis.
“Why aren’t you wearing any Church insignia?” I asked the man. “I suspect it’s not solely for the purposes of camouflage.”
“We were ordered to not wear anything identifying. Our Commander was under strict orders to keep our identity secret, along with everything about the crusade.”
The man seemed far too terrified to lie to me, so I figured he was telling the truth. Of course, grunts like these weren’t privy to military secrets. Still, I remained curious about this crusade. Such endeavors were normally launched with a huge amount of publicity by the Church of Light. What could be the point of a secret crusade?
“When were you planning on attacking us?” I asked. “Have you been following our movements?”
“Some expert mountaineers have been spying on you,” he answered. “Based on your movements, they estimated that you’d go through the valley just before dawn in two days. That was perfect timing for us; you’d be walking through the dark, into our trap.”
“One last question. Did the commanders of your little army really think you could defeat me—I mean, look around you—with an ambush like this?”
“Our main task was to slow you down. Maybe kill you if we got lucky. At least take down some of your party’s core members. But the Commanders knew we probably wouldn’t defeat you. Seraphim Elandriel blessed every one of us for our courage in fighting a battle that we would likely lose. You can kill me and my friends, but our souls have been saved. We don’t fear death.”
I chuckled softly and shook my head. I couldn’t help but appreciate this soldier’s bravery. Still, it was poorly placed.
“Everyone says that they don’t fear Death”--I drew Grave Oath from its sheath--“until my blade pierces their flesh.”
His eyes bulged with fear as they took in the sight of the enchanted blade. Its razor-sharp tip was the last thing he saw before I plunged the dagger through his right eyeball into his skull. He gasped and shuddered as the magic blade sucked his soul out and made his head shrivel like an apple rotting to a withered, dehydrated husk.
Rollar, one of the first members of my camp to awaken, walked over to me. He stretched his heavy limbs and stared at the fresh corpse of the sentry.
“Who’s he?” he asked. “A straggler from Rodrick’s Army?”
“Nope,” I said. “I didn’t think it would be happening so soon, but we’re going to be fighting another battle.”
“How soon?”
“Maybe 24 hours. This time, against an entirely new set of opponents.”
I briefed Rollar, and did the same with the others when they woke. The Crusader Army planned to catch
us in the darkest hour before dawn the next day, so we would strike right before. It would work better if the enemy thought we were walking straight into their ambush. They wanted to use darkness as an ally, did they? Well, I was about to make the darkest hour a whole lot darker.
I told my plan to my party members, a simple point-by-point outline that involved Rami’s Wind powers as well as the assistance of my harpy, Talon. As soon as I finished and everyone understood, we set off.
I led those who served me through the steep, perilous mountain passage.
Rami-Xayon, sexy and deadly enjarta and Goddess of Wind. Rollar, my second-in-command, the northern barbarian who rode a direbear into battle, wielding the God of Thunder’s massive warhammer. My other northern barbarian, Drok the berserker, a tornado in battle who dual-wielded battle-axes, drank enough booze from the skulls of his enemies to kill a draft horse, and smelled like a downtown latrine. My Northern beauty, the platinum blond, tattooed wise woman Friya, with breasts like two ripe melons and a magic cloak that allowed her to shift into a werewolf. Elyse, the gorgeous Bishop of Erst, who commanded the power of Light and holy fire, a virtuous and highly educated cleric on the surface but a ravenous vixen between the sheets. Then there was Anna, the slim and sultry raven-haired tomboy-turned-beauty-goddess from my hometown, into whose sensual figure I’d resurrected the spirit of the dead Charm Goddess, bringing the total of living goddesses who served under me to a healthy two. Another beauty, of course, had very recently joined my party: the supreme strategist, dangerously attractive, violence-loving Layna, Webmaven of Aith, the cursed city of the Arachne, doomed to live in that web-choked place as half-spider, half-human beings forever. She had ventured out of her city and met us on the road after I’d defeated my uncle. She couldn’t remain outside of Aith for long, but she had wanted to see me again, and I couldn’t argue against that.
Finally, there was my first and oldest ally, Isu, the former goddess who’d been with me from the beginning. She had given up more than anyone to be with me: lost her divinity and forsaken her immortality to become a necromancer who served me. It was her magic dagger, Grave Oath, that had started this epic quest, allowing me to become a necromancer instead of just a crypt-diving assassin, then finally the living God of Death.
Oh, and not to forget, my faithful steed Fang, the undead lizard the size of a wine wagon who enjoyed using enemy troops as chew toys.
Two hours before dawn, I took Rami-Xayon aside so she could begin the first stage of my plan.
“Can you do it?” I asked her.
The Yengish warrior-turned-Wind goddess flashed a devilish grin at me. “Oh yes,” she said as a sudden breeze whipped her silky black hair across her beautiful face. “Using the power of the Wind never ceases to inspire me.”
Closing her eyes and clasping her hands together, she began to whisper an incantation that would call up a windstorm. These lifeless mountains were full of one thing, one thing that would work perfectly to our advantage when combined with wind: dust.
I ordered the others to wrap cloths around their faces to protect themselves from the dust storm that was now whipping through the mountain passes. The already dark night was now so pitch black that a person could barely see their hands in front of their faces.
Of course, this wasn’t a problem for my undead troops, the skeletons and zombies I’d resurrected from my uncle’s army. They didn’t need to breathe, and they didn’t need light to see. They had other senses, senses the living didn’t possess.
We pressed onward, making good time through the raging dust-storm. We needed to arrive at a spot close to the ambush point an hour or so earlier than the Crusaders were expecting us. Despite the dust storm and the darkness of night, I harnessed the senses of my undead troops to guide us.
Finally, we arrived at the small valley that preceded the main valley, around half a mile away, where the Crusader army was waiting to spring their trap on us.
I walked over to Fang and looked up through the howling dust at the figure mounted on the saddle, where I’d usually be sitting. It was uncanny to see exactly what my enemies would see moments before they died: seated on the giant lizard was me, in my full plate armor, looking pretty fucking resplendent.
“Damn, I look awesome,” I said with a grin.
The “me” on Fang was, of course, not actually me. It was Isu, dressed in my full plate armor. She’d fit into the armor easily enough, being smaller than me, but she kept complaining about the fact that her breasts were being painfully squashed inside the breastplate. They were a big pair, of course, and the breastplate was molded for a male chest, but she could put up with some discomfort for an hour or two. I’d chosen her to sit in as my double since she was a necromancer, and Fang would accept commands from her.
“Please don’t take too long, Vance,” Isu said. “This armor is truly crushing my mammaries.”
“Don’t worry, this battle will be over before you know it,” I said before I walked over to the others.
“Everyone ready for their… hmm, what should I even call this?” I asked.
“Airlift?” Elyse suggested. “I don’t know why, but that word just popped into my head.”
“Airlift. Sure, let’s call it that. A new word for a new era of military tactics.”
Rami-Xayon, Rollar, and Drok—my most skilled hand-to-hand fighters—would be airlifted with me. They all nodded, grim-faced and ready for battle.
“Good,” I said. “Rami-Xayon and Rollar, start counting down from a thousand.” They needed to do this so that our movements would be synchronized. “Everyone else ready to play your parts in the battle?” I asked the rest of them.
They nodded, their expressions as stony as those who would be airlifted.
Controlling my harpy, I picked myself up in her claws and flew through the dust-storm in the dark. When I reached the largest outcrop, I dropped myself off at the end. Nearby, the enemy archers and crossbowmen were getting into position for the ambush. I remained hidden from their sight by the dust storm Rami-Xayon had conjured. The Crusader troops could barely see or hear each other, and if their comrades were more than a yard or two away, they were practically invisible.
I waited, hiding behind a boulder while the Church of Light soldiers positioned themselves for the coming ambush. I sent the harpy down to grab Rami-Xayon, whom I dropped at the other end of the outcrop. She landed silently on the ground and took position behind a lone tree. I picked up Rollar and placed him at one end of the main outcrop on the opposite side of the valley. Drok I saved for last because he couldn’t count to a higher number than the amount of fingers he possessed. My instructions to him were simply to start his attack the moment the harpy set him down on the outcrop. I’d made him promise not to make a sound, and he’d begrudgingly agreed. I positioned him downwind of the soldiers so they wouldn’t catch a whiff of his reek.
I slipped swiftly and silently through the blackness of the dust-storm. I approached an archer who was oiling his crossbow’s rail. He cursed his frozen fingers, and he didn’t see me coming when I slipped Grave Oath between his ribs and into his heart. He barely had the chance to gasp before his soul was mine.
I moved on to his companion, who was standing on the edge of the outcrop about two yards away while he attempted to peer through the sandstorm.
“Fucking barren north,” he cursed under his breath. “Who the fuck sends us on a damned crusade up here? There’s nothing here except sand and rocks.”
I crept up behind him, not needing to be particularly stealthy because of the howling wind. I slammed Grave Oath into his ear, killing him instantly and drinking in another soul.
My companions and I moved along the outcrops, killing off the archers and crossbowmen one by one. I met Rami-Xayon in the middle of the outcrop and ordered Talon to pick up Drok and Rollar. Now that there were no archers who could rain death from above, we were ready to walk into what was intended to be an ambush.
But there was something else I needed to do fi
rst.
I closed my eyes and resurrected all of the enemy archers and crossbowmen as zombies. They lurched to their feet, their eyes glowing an ethereal green. Despite their cut throats, disemboweled stomachs, and snapped necks, they were fully capable of fighting.
On my side now.
I could control them like two dozen puppets on the end of thousands of invisible interconnected strings.
This ambush was going exactly as planned. Well, according to my plan. Those Church of Light assholes were in for a deadly surprise.
Chapter Two
I blasted my spirit into Talon’s body and flew her through the dust storm to the rest of my army. My zombies and skeletons were led by Rollar, Anna-Lucielle, Isu, Layna, and Elyse. Once they saw Talon land in front of them, they knew it was time to march, which they did, walking into the ambush with open eyes.
I then flew Talon across the valley to Rami-Xayon on the opposite outcrop. As soon as my harpy landed next to Rami-Xayon, she called off the storm. As fast as the storm had come, the wind turned to still, clear air. We could breathe again, but the inky, moonless night still didn’t allow for much visibility.
Crouched behind the boulder at the end of the outcrop, with a bow in my hands that I’d taken from one of the archers I’d killed, I waited for my force to come around the corner and emerge from the gap between the towering cliffs.
They did, at just the right time.
