The Bone Shaker

by Edward Cox

  Why Abildan should be so open in her approach to Vladisal troubled Üban. Sure enough they shared a common enemy, but Mya-Siad was five hundred leagues to the east of the Great Forest; and Mya-Siad, with its plans to dominate Earth, had started no war for over three decades.

  Why was Dun-Wyrd so far from home? What had she done that could compel the Wyrd to send an assassin to kill one of their own? There was more to this situation than Abildan was saying. The bastard was up to something, something none of them could yet see.

  Dief snorted loudly in her sleep, rolled over, but did not wake.

  Luca shook her head. “Only she could sleep at a time like this.”

  Üban nodded. “You know, I once knew a guard who could sleep standing up, anytime, anywhere.” She took two oatcakes from a sack of provisions. “I lost count of how many times she was flogged for napping on sentry duty.”

  Luca frowned. “Is this true, or another of your tall tales, old woman?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes.” Üban winked as she bit into an oatcake. “We called her Forty Lashes.”

  Luca chuckled. It was a good sound and it lifted the mood.

  Dief woke. She sat up and stared around, bleary-eyed. She took a moment to remember where she was and her expression fell.

  “And did the princess sleep well?” Luca asked.

  Dief rubbed a hand over her head and shivered. “Damned cold,” she grumbled. “All this sun and still I feel no warmth. It’s as if last night has put ice in my veins.”

  “Aye, lass,” said Üban. “We all feel that.” She threw the sack to Dief. “Here, eat something.”

  But she shook her head and passed the sack to Luca. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Well there’s a first,” Luca said, taking a handful of dried fruits for herself. “Considering you think through your stomach, you could say I’m flabbergasted.”

  Dief ignored the quip. “Where’s Vlad?”

  Üban nodded to the solitary figure standing beside the graves.

  “She should come and join us,” Luca said.

  “Leave her be. She needs to be alone with her thoughts a while.”

  “Ah, she’ll be right enough once Elander is with us,” Dief said. “You know Vlad - there’s always hope.” The big knight stood up and stamped her feet. “I need to piss,” she announced.

  Taking her hammer with her, Dief disappeared into the trees. Üban and Luca ate their bland breakfast in silence.

  Inwardly, Üban feared for her brave comrades, these good women that she had come to love as friends. Luca had been born the daughter of minor nobility. She was an intelligent girl, well-educated, a lover of poetry and history, and a firm favourite among the bachelors of Mayland. Of all the people Luca would fashion a friendship with, the colossal daughter of a common farmer was the most unlikely, yet she and Dief were as thick as thieves. The same could be said of Vladisal and Redheart, two daughters following in the footsteps of their mothers, of their grandmothers, and friends since infancy.

  At the academy, these four had formed a band of foolish dreamers. Üban had been serving with them all since they were first knighted, had stood witness when they swore fealty to House Mayland. Often had been the time when the old knight berated them for their high-jinx escapades, yet inwardly she had enjoyed their spiritedness, the passion of their youth. She had come to think of herself as the teacher who helped a quartet of fools grow into honourable women.

  There had been no bitterness when Vladisal rose above her friends, above Üban, to become a captain of knights and Elander’s champion. It had surprised no one; Vladisal always stuck out from the pack, a thoughtful and logical woman, dedicated to good and honest ways. But now, unbeknownst to Luca and Dief, Vladisal was lost.

  “Why do you think Dun-Wyrd wants Elander?” Luca said as she settled back in the sunshine. “I have read of the Wyrd’s evil nature, but also that they are calculating, that their cruelty is never for cruelty’s sake alone.”

  “You’ve read right.” Üban scratched her head. “I wonder at Dun-Wyrd’s purpose myself. But I remain as mystified as you, Luca.”

  “It makes no sense. What possible reason could an innocent child serve a Bone Shaker?”

  “Let us hope that we do not find out. And trust to Redheart. All will be well when she returns.”

  The uncertainty on Luca’s face mirrored that which Üban was hiding.

  “I wonder how Redheart’s faring,” Luca said. “She’s been gone an awful long time. Too long for my liking.”

  Dief returned and sat down heavily beside the fire. She picked up the water-skin and drank deeply.

  “Can’t stomach food,” she muttered, wiping her mouth, “but I have a thirst that even an ocean could not slake.” She stoppered the skin and threw it to Luca.

  “Perhaps you’re ailing.” Luca smiled. “Maybe you’ve caught a dose of the sniffles.”

  “Don’t be an idiot! I’m as strong as an ox.”

  Luca shrugged and drank.

  Dief looked around. “So, what do we plan next?”

  “We wait.” Üban’s expression grew dark. “Until Abildan points us in the right direction again.”

  Dief made a noise not unlike a growl and pointed to where Abildan’s sabre and crossbow lay against the fallen tree. “I see its belongings, but not the monster itself.”

  “Some of the women saw her move off into the trees an hour or so ago,” Luca said. “I tell you, Üban, they do not like her presence. They wonder if she has placed some spell over Vlad.”

  Dief slapped the head of her hammer, as though patting a dog. “She’ll do no harm to us, not while I have this in my hand,” she promised.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Üban warned. “There is no spell upon Vladisal, at least none of the feliwyrd’s casting. There is sense in using Abildan’s guidance, but Vlad is blinded to the assassin’s nature. I fear to think what it would do to her if Abildan turns against us and Elander perishes.”

  “Then we will stay on our guard at all times,” Dief said.

  “After last night, I don’t think any woman here would dream of doing any different.” Luca pursed her lips. “Abildan’s a handy sort to have around in a fight, though. Did you see her last night?” She gave a low whistle. “I thought I was quick with a sabre, but she was something else.”

  “She’s certainly that, lass,” Üban said sourly. She nodded towards the tree line. “Look…”

  Abildan had returned. She walked across the camp wearing her usual supercilious expression, paying no mind to the glares from the women around her. Over her shoulder, she carried a bulging cloth sack that looked heavy.

  “Where’s she been all this time?” Dief wondered.

  Abildan reached the fallen log where she had left her belongings. She dumped the sack on the ground, sat upon the log, and then produced a small and slim box of dark wood from beneath her shirt. She opened it and studied its contents.

  “See that box she holds?” Luca said. “I’ve seen her looking at it before. I wonder what’s inside.”

  “Perhaps we should ask her,” Dief said menacingly. “My hammer will get some straight answers.”

  Luca, so often the voice of reason to Dief’s hot-headedness, agreed with her friend this time. “That’s not a bad idea,” she said, looking at Üban. “You know, I have read much about the Great Forest and the Ulyyn, and the more I think upon it, the less Abildan is making sense. What do you think, old woman? It can’t hurt to ask a few questions.”

  “Wait,” Üban said softly.

  Across the camp, Vladisal had turned from the graves, and was staring at Abildan. She then strode towards the assassin purposefully.

  “Let Vlad have her turn first.” The old knight gazed across the fire at Luca. “For the meantime, tell me what you have read about the Forest Dwellers.”

  Eight

  Hidden Lands

  The morning wore on, the sun climbed higher in the sky, and Redheart became aware that the warmth of the talisman wa
s now accompanied by a faint vibration that tingled against her palm.

  She hoped this was a sign that her destination was close. The sameness of the forest made her feel lost, and if she did not keep faith in the talisman’s magic, then she would swear she walked in circles.

  Redheart marched on, eating as she walked. She couldn’t afford to waste time resting again, no matter how fatigued she felt.

  Soon, the forest began to thicken. The canopy of leaves grew so dense that sunlight barely filtered through. Here, in this shade, the air grew decidedly cooler. Beneath her armour, Redheart’s sweating body found welcome relief from the drop in temperature.

  In the distance, a woodpecker hammered upon a tree. The vibrations of the leaf talisman seemed in tune with the sound.

  The Ulyyn were such a mysterious race. It was said they were the last of the Elder Born - the first children who the Mother God birthed onto Her Earth. Yet no one had seen the Ulyyn in many years, not during Redheart’s lifetime, nor her mother’s. Some believed they had died out; others that they had become clandestine creatures who preferred to live isolated in their woodland sanctum. Either way, the domain of the Ulyyn lay somewhere inside the Great Forest, and its name was in Uljah - a great and fabled city without compare, legend said. And Redheart, on the word of a feliwyrd, was trying to find it.

  She had to keep faith that this wooden artefact, so intricately carved into the likeness of a leaf, was steering her towards the city of the Forest Dwellers.

  Redheart stopped in her tracks.

  A short way ahead, the forest became so thick that it was hard to see a path through. Trees stood closer together; the undergrowth and bracken grew higher and denser, filling the space between the trees like a solid weave knitted from sharp thorns and twisting vines. The blockade continued to the left and right without end as far as Redheart could see, as sturdy-looking as a wall of Mayland Castle.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  The way was blocked. The forest had placed a dead end before her, and she suspected that an entire company of foresters armed with keen axes would need days to cut a path through to the other side. But there was so little time to spare as it was. Who knew how long it would take her to walk around this impassable area? For all she knew, it might stretch all the way through the Great Forest.

  Daunted, Redheart sighed and turned away from the wall. Immediately, the leaf talisman grew cooler and stopped vibrating. Only when she faced straight on to the dense foliage did the talisman’s warmth return and its vibrations resume.

  With a frown, Redheart stepped closer to the forest wall. The talisman approved. She peered into the thickness. There was little light inside the area, only enough to offer slight hues of deep green and dark brown. Perhaps there was a way through after all; maybe the talisman was telling her of some hidden path that she could not yet see.

  Treading sideways, Redheart moved a little to her right. The talisman’s magic grew faint in her hand. Three steps to the left, and the magic grew strong again - and stronger still with every step.

  She kept moving until the talisman vibrated so fiercely it stung her skin. Just at the point where she thought its heat would burn her, there came a sudden rustling within the foliage that made her flinch. She stepped back and watched in amazement.

  A section of the forest parted, as though drapes were being dragged open by thorny fingers to be tied off with tight ropes of vine. To Redheart’s astonishment, a circular tunnel was revealed, leading into impassable area.

  “What magic is this?” she whispered.

  The talisman had ceased vibrating. Its heat had become a gentle warmth that pulsed against Redheart’s palm as though egging her onward with its rhythm. The opening beckoned.

  Was this the entrance to Uljah?

  Gingerly, she stepped into the tunnel. Its height was shorter than an average woman, and she had to stoop as she walked. Light came from luminous fungus growing in clusters upon the wall. Dusty cobwebs hanging thick and silvery stroked her face. With one hand clutching the talisman, Redheart gripped the pommel of her sword with the other.

  The path sloped downward until it surely burrowed beneath the forest floor. A cool breeze came from somewhere ahead, bringing with it lush and sweet scents. Before long, the tunnel’s end came into sight, a circular opening bright with glorious sunshine.

  Redheart froze. Her heartbeat quickened.

  A figure had appeared at the opening, limned by sunshine. It stood still for a moment, staring down the tunnel at the Boskan knight, before rushing away.

  “Wait!” Redheart called.

  She gave chase.

  Reaching the end of the tunnel, she tripped and stumbled into some kind of depression that served as a bowl-like clearing. The floor was covered in soft, green moss, decorated by fallen leaves of many hues and colours. High above, the tree line swept around to encircle the clearing.

  Redheart’s eyes found the one she chased.

  It stood several paces away, but what manner of creature it was Redheart could only guess.

  A clear head and shoulders taller than most women, it was painfully thin yet powerful looking. Its skin had the texture of smooth bark, and its wide hands ended in long and pointed fingers, like sharpened sticks. Patches of moss acted as hair on its head and a beard on a face that had no ears, no nose, but a mouth that hung open like a woody hollow. And its eyes - eyes that stared at Redheart so dispassionately - were tawny orbs that never blinked.

  Was this one of the Ulyyn?

  “I am Sir Redheart of House Mayland.” She showed the creature the leaf talisman. “I’m on a mission of mercy.”

  A noise came from the creature’s mouth, like the moaning of the wind. Two vines unfurled from its back, rising high like snakes writhing in the air.

  Redheart knew a threat when she saw one. Her hand moved to her sword. “I mean you no harm,” she warned.

  The creature sprang forward.

  Before Redheart could draw her weapon, one of the vines lashed out with dazzling quickness. She yelled in pain as its tip whipped across her face. Fire spread through her veins with such speed and agony that she fell onto her back. The world spun into darkness.

  Nine

  Trust

  Her mood delicately poised between despair and fury, Vladisal strode towards Abildan. The feliwyrd sat on a fallen log, studying the contents of a small box. As soon as the knight’s shadow fell across her, she snapped the box shut and placed it beneath her shirt.

  “Sir Vladisal.” The assassin didn’t look up. “Something is troubling you?”

  Vladisal’s eyes fixed on the hemp cloth sack sitting on the ground. It was tied at the neck and obviously well stuffed. “What’s that?” she demanded.

  Abildan looked up. “A sack.”

  Vladisal bristled. “What’s in it?”

  “Something dead.”

  Although her tone didn’t hold any mockery, Abildan’s expression remained indifferent, uncaring, as though the disdain she incurred from the women of Boska meant nothing to her.

  Vladisal scoffed and looked over the camp. “How long before you find the Bone Shaker’s lair?”

  “I already have. It’s no more than three hours walk from here.”

  Vladisal was taken aback. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “Calm yourself, Sir Knight.”

  “No.” Vladisal’s anger rose. “If Dun-Wyrd is truly within a few hours walk, then we leave now and both our quests can come to an end.”

  “Without reinforcements at our side?” Abildan clucked her tongue. “Not your best idea, Sir Vladisal. Look around you. Your women are tired and frightened. They need rest.”

  Vladisal swallowed her anger. Most knights were indeed trying to rest. Some watched their captain’s exchange with Abildan - most notably Üban, Luca and Dief.

  “Your friend Redheart must be given every chance to bring the Ulyyn to us,” Abildan said. “And please understand - Dun-Wyrd does not perceive you as a threat. But like a
ll her kind, she is ever the pragmatist. She will no doubt see an opportunity to add you and your knights to her army. And she is quite content waiting for you to come to her.”

  “Then what of you?” Vladisal said with a tired and resigned edge. “What kind of threat does a Bone Shaker perceive in a feliwyrd?”

  Abildan’s yellow eyes glinted. “It would have given us an advantage had Dun-Wyrd not known I was among you. But I have no doubt that she saw me during the battle last night, through the eyes of her tree-demons. Had you not acted so rashly, Sir Vladisal, I might have remained your secret weapon.”

  Vladisal averted her gaze, feeling a momentary pang of shame. No, she should never have led such a reckless charge, but what was done was done, and she would learn by her mistake. She would not be haunted by it.

  Abildan was looking past Vladisal, to the graves of Theodora and Brennik, her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “The disease of Dun-Wyrd’s magic shows no mercy.”

  Crouching, Vladisal picked up two stones and rattled them in a loose fist. “I want your word, Abildan. I want your word that when the time comes, you will do all you can to help us save Elander.”

  “I will give you no such thing,” Abildan replied with a chuckle. “My duty is to ensure that Dun-Wyrd ceases to breathe. The son of Duchess Mayland is your responsibility. He means nothing to me. Do not ever doubt it.”

  Vladisal stopped rattling the stones and glared at the feliwyrd.

  Abildan raised a hand for calm, and when she spoke, her tone was exasperated. “When we first met, you had no idea that you pursued a Wyrd. You had lost Elander and did not know how to proceed. You decided that this alliance was the best way forward, Vladisal, and you had no need to hear my promises back then.”

  “Back then we were not fighting tree-demons!”

  Abildan threw her head back and laughed heartily, revealing pointed canines. “And you blame me for this? No, no, Sir Knight, I explained what manner of enemy you faced before you agreed to an alliance. And you knew what kind of animal I was. If you hoped that your chivalrous virtues would rub off on me, then I am happy to disappoint. All I have given you is a chance to save Elander. How you use that chance is entirely up to you.”