“Let me go, you… you…” Koll didn’t have room to wind up with his bone. He could only bounce it off the ogre’s head. “Let me go!”
The ogre just grunted and threw Koll to the ground. The monster lifted his massive foot, clearly intent on stomping him, but Koll rolled out of the way. He grabbed another long bone and stood with his two weapons.
Using bones as weapons. The thought sickened him, but what choice did Koll have?
An even worse thought came to mind. What if the ogre had killed other people who came here? What if he ate those people? The bones had been picked clean of any kind of muscle or meat.
The thought alone caused his stomach to churn so much he feared he would be sick, and he struggled not to retch.
Another roar sounded from the beast, and Koll flinched. If there were any other monsters lurking about, they were going to hear the ogre and come running. Koll had to be long gone before that happened.
With a yell of his own, Koll launched himself toward the ogre. When he was within range of the ogre’s club, Koll altered his course to the right, jumped onto a boulder, and leapt into the air. The femur struck the ogre in the side of the head, the other bone striking against his shoulder.
Koll landed and shifted his feet so his back wouldn’t be to the beast. The ogre grunted and blinked a few times. For the most part, the foe was unfazed by the attack.
A sigh forced Koll’s lips to part. How in the world would he be able to kill the beast?
Wait. Did he even need to? Where was Promise?
He looked around wildly, trying to both watch the ogre and survey his surroundings. The horse was nowhere to be seen.
“Coward,” Koll muttered.
He didn’t blame the horse one bit. Promise hadn’t signed up for this. Koll wasn’t entirely certain he had either, but it had been his brilliant idea to come here in the first place.
“Remind me to ignore my next brilliant idea,” Koll grumbled to himself.
With a start, he realized the ogre wasn’t paying him any attention anymore. Koll watched the ogre lumber forward. It was heading for a boulder. At least, it appeared to be a boulder. If it was another ogre in hiding…
But it wasn’t.
It was far worse.
The ogre lunged forward, moving much swifter now. He grabbed something and yanked it out.
Promise!
“No!” Koll yelled.
He raced over, but the ogre had dropped his club and was already lifting Promise toward his mouth.
“He’s not a snack!” Koll shouted.
His bones struck against the ogre’s backside, but the foe ignored him. Promise neighed and kicked his legs in mid-air.
In desperation, Koll shifted to face the ogre’s profile and threw the femur. It struck the ogre in the nose.
The foe grunted and licked his lips, still bringing Promise ever closer to his mouth.
Koll threw the other bone and then scrambled to grab anything and everything he could. He threw rocks and some kind of root that was the only thing growing in this barren, desolate place. The bones were too far away, unfortunately, but Koll snatched up the two he had already thrown and launched them both at the ogre's head.
The ogre didn’t care what Koll did, but at least the ogre was more fat than muscle. He was struggling to lift Promise all the way to his mouth.
Koll was desperate now, so desperate he grabbed the femur for the third time, rushed around to the ogre's front, and jabbed the bone right against the ogre's knee. Of course, knees aren't supposed to go backward, and the ogre had no choice but to sit down. The foe did just that, falling backward so fast that he landed on his rump. Promise fell on top of the ogre and scrambled to get up. He walked over the ogre's chest, which caused a loud cracking sound, and rushed away again.
“Go, Promise! Run back to the mountain!” Koll called.
The ogre grunted and groaned, holding his chest. He rolled to one side and the other.
Promise had hurt the ogre! Maybe even broken some of his ribs!
That horse deserved anything he wanted for the rest of his life.
Still holding the femur, Koll rushed over to the ogre’s face. No. Instead of bashing the face in while standing on the ground, Koll climbed onto the massive chest. The pale pink flesh between the lines of war paint was a much brighter red now. Was he bleeding beneath his skin? Koll hoped so.
He lifted the bone far above his head. The ogre slowly reached for him, but Koll managed to bash his nose and underneath his eye before the ogre snatched him. With agonizing slowness, the ogre brought Koll closer to his cavernous mouth.
Koll waited and waited and waited. Just as the ogre opened his mouth, Koll butted the ogre's teeth with the bone. The teeth shattered, and the ogre roared. The teeth fell to the back of his mouth, and the ogre coughed and gagged. Before Koll's eyes, the ogre's face turned purple, and Koll wriggled free from his grasp. The ogre clawed at his throat and then turned over onto all fours. He coughed, his colossal body shuddering and shaking. His arms collapsed, and he thudded to the ground.
Koll waited for a few long moments, but the ogre didn’t appear to move.
It also didn’t appear to be breathing.
Was it dead? Koll hoped so, but how? Had the ogre choked to death on his broken teeth? The broken ribs and the internal bleeding? Had the ribs punctured the ogre’s heart?
Whichever the case, Koll was just glad that ogre was dead.
He reached for the ogre’s club and tried to pick it up. Even with both hands, the weapon was too heavy, so Koll ignored it and picked up the femur and another long bone just in case.
“Promise?” he called softly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He rushed off in the direction the horse had run away and rounded a massive mound.
The sight before Koll had him falling to his knees.
Chapter 7
Someone dressed in armor was hunched over Promise. The horse was reclined on his side, his body moving in time with the hunched-over guard. Even more disturbing than the sight was the noise coming from them.
The distinct sound of slurping and munching.
The man—or woman, he supposed—wasn’t… he or she wasn’t eating Promise, was he or she?
“Get away from him!” Koll shouted.
His voice cracked as he released a bellow and raced toward the two. He slammed the femur against the back of the person’s head. A sickening crunch pierced the air and echoed in Koll’s mind.
The head dipped a second and then slowly turned around to look at Koll. Not over the shoulder. The head just rotated completely backward.
Inside the mostly open-faced helmet wasn’t a face. It was a skull that somehow still had eyes, red eyes surrounded by black. Unnatural eyes.
Undead eyes.
Belonging to an undead warrior.
The teeth that remained in the jaws were stained with blood.
Promise’s blood.
Koll’s face twisted with rage, and he strove to strike the warrior in the face again, but he twisted his body around and stood, his arm coming around to catch Koll’s wrist before the warrior could be hit.
“You can’t—”
The warrior lifted his arm, bringing Koll up, his feet dangling, no longer touching the ground. He snapped his teeth together, and Koll jerked.
The skull’s mouth opened, and his body jerked slightly as if he were laughing. No sound came out.
Koll gritted his teeth. He couldn’t yank his wrist free from the undead warrior’s grasp, but he wasn’t about to stop fighting. The other bone struck the undead warrior in the mouth. A clatter sounded on impact. Koll repeated the blow, and the undead warrior opened his mouth before Koll could make contact. The mouth shut. The undead warrior had just taken a huge bite out of the bone!
Frantic with worry now, Koll squirmed even more, kicking and hitting the armor everywhere he could. He made a few dents, but the undead warrior, much like the ogre before him, didn't seem to care at all. He opened his mout
h, and the stench of rot and rancid meat overwhelmed Koll. The ten-year-old gagged.
The undead warrior plucked the bone in Koll’s free hand and tossed it aside before throwing Koll. He landed hard on the packed dark red soil.
Only now, from this angle, could Koll see Promise. His side had a large chunk taken out of it. Just like the ogre, the horse wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, wasn't alive.
Koll choked back a sob. No. Not Promise. No! He had promised he wouldn't abandon the horse for his dragon, but that was a promise he had broken. He didn't even have a dragon yet. Just the quest to potentially gain one had cost the horse his life.
Tears blurred his vision, but Koll angrily blinked them away. He gripped the femur with both hands, raised it high above his head, and raced toward the undead warrior, who was slowly lowering onto his knees to continue eating the horse.
“Leave my horse alone!” Koll shrieked.
He brought the bone down so that it struck the slight portion of bone visible beneath the helmet and above the chest plate.
The undead warrior twisted his head around again and stared Koll down. The thing could not blink his eyes, which made him even more terrifying to look at.
Koll used both hands and pivoted his hips to put as much power as he could into the blow. The strike hit the undead warrior’s helmet so hard that the helmet was dislodged. Koll yanked it off the warrior’s head and went to strike again, but the warrior somehow twisted his body around to face Koll without standing and yanked the femur out of Koll’s hand. Instead of tossing it aside as he had the other bone, the undead warrior struck the side of Koll’s head.
Bright, colorful specks dotted Koll's vision before everything went dark for only a moment. He struggled to stand and fell onto his rump. Wait. Why did he need to stand? He had been standing a moment ago.
Koll touched the side of his pounding head. His palm was wet and sticky, and he didn't have to look to know it was covered in blood. How in the world was he to survive against an undead warrior? Through the haze that was his vision now, Koll realized there was a hole in the back of the warrior's breastplate. As near as Koll could guess, a spear had ended the warrior's first life, but what had brought him back? A necromancer? Could necromancy bring back a person as a skeleton and not as a true human again with flesh and blood? Koll didn't know, and right now wasn't exactly the time for wandering thoughts.
Slowly, he lumbered to his feet. He took one step and bent over to vomit. For some reason, his stomach couldn't handle his walking. Koll felt so very dizzy and off-balanced. What was going on? Why did he feel like this? Why did it seem as if there were two undead warriors now? And two Promises and… He was holding up two fingers, but he saw four.
Just how was he supposed to kill someone who had already died? Turning around and fleeing for the safety of the mountains wasn’t an option. First, the undead warrior wouldn’t let him leave, and two, Koll knew he wouldn’t be able to drag Promise up and down the other side of the mountain, but he still wanted to make certain that no one, not the ogre or any other creature to traverse this accursed, dismal, bleak place, would dare to bother Promise.
This was the last promise Koll could make for his horse, and he would succeed in that regard where he had failed in his others.
“I’m so sorry, Promise,” Koll whispered.
Chapter 8
Koll's head ached as he rushed away to find more bones to serve as weapons. He had to pause to try to recover his bearings. The wound on the side of his head was bleeding so severely that part of his vision was red, the blood flowing too close to his eye. In frustration, he ripped off a portion of his sleeve and wiped away the blood. A bandage would be better, but he didn't have time to fashion one, not if he wished to keep the undead warrior away from his friend.
His friend. Promise.
Tear prickled his eyes, but Koll wrinkled his nose. Now was the time for fury and rage and anger, not depression and despair.
Koll located bones that would best serve as weapons, and he stomped on the edges until both broke slightly. The ends were jagged but not quite as sharp as his whittled stick. Still, it would have to suffice. There weren't a lot of options here.
Unless… the undead warrior had a sword somewhere. He would’ve fought with one, right? His armor had survived from whenever he had died. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that his sword would have as well?
Koll had to turn his body to look in each direction. Turning just his head caused his stomach to churn too much. Both his stomach and his head were upset.
Hmm. From the deep impressions on the dark red soil, the undead warrior had come from beyond that ridge to the northwest. Maybe he had left his sword behind. Koll didn't like the idea of letting the foe eat more from Promise, but if he could kill the foe… The bones might not be enough, even with the broken edges.
Koll moved as quickly as his aching head would allow. He crossed the ridge and followed the heavy footprints to a land cave. Inside, he found not just a sword but a shield. Both were somewhat tarnished, especially compared to the glint and shine of the undead warrior's nearly perfect armor, outside of the dents Koll had added to it as well as the one puncture in the back.
Time for Koll to make use of the puncture.
Koll tucked one of the bones onto his back, where his stick would have gone. After placing the other bone in his left hand, he claimed the sword with his right. Would it be better to use the shield instead of the second bone weapon? No, he shouldn't. Koll hadn't trained with a shield at all, and he already was having issues with his balance. The sword was heavy and growing heavier with every passing second.
Although he couldn’t move quickly, Koll made his way back to the undead warrior. He slipped behind the foe, who was so busy eating Promise again that the undead warrior did not seem to notice Koll’s approach.
With shaking hands, trying not to listen to the sound of the undead warrior slurping, Koll lined up the sword with the puncture.
A piercing wail had Koll jerking backward. The abrupt movement churned his stomach so badly he had to turn his head to the side and be sick. With the back of his hand, he wiped his mouth. What in the world had made that sound?
A short woman, at least a foot shorter than Koll, stood on a nearby boulder. Her eyes were red, her hair black, long, and straggly. Her hair clung to her bony frame. Whoever she was, her pale skin made her look like a ghost.
She opened her mouth and released another piercing wail. This cry was even louder than the first, and Koll dropped the sword and the bone so he could cover his ears. His palms grew wet—both palms, not just the one from the side of his head wound. His ears were bleeding from her cry. How could that be?
Wait. Koll had heard stories about a wailing woman. She was said to be a fairy who could predict death. A banshee! Yes, that was the name for the woman who cried and wailed and screamed.
Was she trying to warn Koll that he would die if he continued to engage the undead warrior? Or was she wailing because of Promise? Or someone else entirely?
But his ears… Maybe she wanted to predict Koll’s death and fulfill it.
He gulped. So far, at least, the banshee remained on her perch, and Koll did his best to ignore her. Although she continued to wail, and he could feel blood trickle from his ears, he picked up the sword and lined it up again with the puncture in the undead warrior's armor.
With all of his might, despite his throbbing head, ignoring his churning stomach, Koll drove the sword forward. It hit against bone, the blade snapping apart, but Koll moved forward and shifted his wrist, trying to get the blade to go between the ribs to reach the undead warrior’s heart.
If he still has one.
As before, the undead warrior merely turned his head around. His jaw was open, his body shaking as if he were laughing.
Koll yanked out the sword, what remained of it. He shoved two fingers into the hole where a nose would be in the skull and jerked upward to expose the neck bones. As forcefully as he could, he brought the
sword’s hilt up to his ear before stabbing the bare neck. The broken blade sliced right through the little bit of tendons still there. To Koll’s shock, the neck snapped. Broken?
No. Not yet at least.
Koll backed up, thought about trying to kick the head off since the undead warrior was still on his knees, but he reconsidered. Instead, he jabbed the hilt straight at the skull precisely where the ear would have been.
The head flew off.
At last, the undead warrior was dead again!
Or… maybe not.
Koll watched in horror as the headless undead warrior stood.
What was it going to take to kill this guy?
Chapter 9
The ten-year-old backed up. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. Koll was absolutely terrified as the undead warrior stalked toward him. He kept retreating, his gaze fixed on the undead warrior's lack of a head, and gulped.
Think, Koll! Think!
Without warning, the banshee shrilled again. The fairy woman had ceased her weeping for a measure, but now, she continued to wail and cry and scream. The noise only worsened Koll’s headache, and he thought he might be sick again.
Desperation had Koll swinging the broken-bladed sword, brandishing the weapon to keep the undead warrior back. The worst thing that could happen would be for him to lose his footing now.
Of course, that was precisely what happened. Koll tripped over something and landed hard. Immediately, the undead warrior knelt, getting into the same position he always did when eating Promise.
But the foe had no head. Koll couldn’t be eaten. With a wail of his own, he kicked the undead warrior in the chest. The foe flew backward, and Koll scrambled to his feet.
The wailing from the banshee sounded again, this time far louder than ever before. Koll glanced over his shoulder to see that the banshee stood directly behind him. She opened her mouth. This cry was so very loud that Koll was jerked back. Blood gushed from his ears, and he could hardly hear anything at all except for a nagging ringing sound.
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