“You’re not wrong,” replied Conon. “Trolls aren’t really the arcane-y type.”
“You think these markings are runes?” I asked, looking up from the skull.
There had been a few books about magic at the museum’s library but I’d never studied it properly. Anything that talked magical theory had always descended into a mass of jargon I couldn’t identify, and quickly became unintelligible. As a result, it was one of the few areas I had no real knowledge at all.
“Ah, runes are complicated,” said Conon, rubbing the back of his head. “There’s thousands of the bloody things, and they can all mean different things in different contexts. Does my head in.”
“What do you think those gems are worth?” asked Harmon, who’d followed me up to the altar.
“Leave it!”
“Hands off!”
Conon and Skeever had spoken almost in unison, their raised voices echoing in the stone chamber. Harmon had been reaching for the giant skull, but snatched his hand back at their shouts.
“What? Why?”
I spoke: “I don’t think we should be disturbing a spiritual location like this.” I could almost hear Risk’s opinion on the subject being muttered into my ear: don’t go putting your hands on some ancient crap you don’t know what it is or does. “Even if there’s no one here anymore, it feels disrespectful.”
“And dangerous,” said Conon. “You don’t know who used to be here, or if they’re really gone.”
“So keep your mitts to yourself,” finished Skeever.
Harmon clearly wasn’t happy about being ordered around, especially by Conon. Skeever’s agreement made him hesitate, but a moment later, his brow furrowed and he turned back to the altar.
“I’m not a coward,” he said. “It’s just a rock.”
He reached for the skull and grabbed one of the eye gems, which slid free from its bone housing with ease. Harmon stood triumphantly for a moment, holding the stone up to the light. The now one-eyed skull shuddered on the altar.
A thick white mist started to seep from the skull’s mouth and empty eye socket, swirling and coalescing above the altar. The apparition that eventually formed held the appearance of some kind of androgynous humanoid with a sharp hourglass figure, though it didn’t seem to have any obvious secondary sexual characteristics. It had long hair, which floated ethereally as though the ghostly being was underwater, and atop its head sat a large pair of wolf ears. The body of the apparition ended at its hips, trailing off into a wispy tail of light.
It floated silently above the altar for several long moments, before a pair of glowing eyes snapped open and swept the room. The apparition’s gaze passed over every one of us in turn, and made me feel as though I was being scanned at a level far deeper than physical, before settling on Harmon.
Identify yourself.
Harmon’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to figure out what to say. In desperation, he looked back at the others, his eyes wide and pleading for help.
“Our ship ran aground in the bay,” said Conon stepping forward. “We came looking for help, and supplies—”
You take what is not yours.
“I didn’t know it belonged to anyone!” Harmon protested. “No one was here—”
Just because you cannot see something’s owner, does not mean it is free for you.
“Look, just put it back,” ordered Conon.
“Why should I?” he snapped. “What’s a ghost need it for, huh? Ship repairs aren’t cheap, and we’re going to need a lot of them when we get to the Territories.”
“Don’t piss me off,” said Conon. “You’re practically creaming your pants with the thought of how much gold it’ll get you.”
“So what if I am? I’m in charge, so—”
“In what realm?” mocked Conon.
Harmon glared at Conon, and stabbed a finger at his chest. “I’m your chief—”
Conon grabbed the pointing hand and squeezed. Harmon yelped in pain, and dropped the gem. It hit the ground with a heavy thunk and rolled away. His now-empty hand went to Conon’s wrist to try and free himself, tugging furiously.
“You’re not my anything,” snarled the black-haired minotaur. “But I am your head of security, and you will—”
Enough!
The temple trembled beneath our feet.
You have desecrated the resting place of my mortal remains. And now you shall pay the price.
Around us, the piles of bones began to shift, and a loud rattling sound filled the air. A collection of bones on top of the nearest pile was slowly standing up, revealing the skeleton of a large wolf. It rattled, like a dice cup, shaking like a dog fresh out of a bath, and a great cascade of dust and dirt fell from polished, clean-picked bone. Its movements were shaky as it took a step towards them, like the magic that was animating it wasn’t quite as strong as real flesh and blood.
The bone wolf shuddered, its chest jerking back and forth in time with the opening of its mouth. I realised the creature was trying to bark, but without lungs or vocal cords, all it could do was mime. Its body arched suddenly in a perfect crescent, its nose pointed to the ceiling. A howl.
Conon pulled Harmon away from the altar, and we backed up against the temple wall.
The rattling was growing louder as more skeletal dogs pulled themselves free of the bone piles. Some limped forward with missing paws, their heads not quite on straight, or their tails missing joints. One dragged itself forward, only a torso and front legs, not having enough of a spine to reach what was left of its pelvis. The hungry looks in their magically-glowing eye sockets sent a chill up my spine. The teeth in all those jaws were still sharp, and ready to tear flesh, even if the creatures’ stomachs were long gone.
In a flash of leathery tail and a shower of masonry, Skeever was up the stone wall and away from the approaching pack.
“Coward!” snapped Harmon.
“I’m not staying here to get torn apart by those creatures!” the rat man snarled as he clambered across the vine strewn ceiling. “You’re supposed to be the big chief man, not me!”
With that, he scrambled through a hole in the deteriorating roof and vanished.
“Come back here!” Harmon roared at the ceiling.
The apparition had vanished as soon as the skeletons had started moving, but the white mist was still swirling around the altar. It coalesced on the skull, sticking to it, and solidifying as it formed a translucent body that shone with an eerie light. The remaining crystal had started to glow in its socket; the empty one burning with a white fire. Slowly, the massive wolf skull raised itself off the altar, supported by the misty body. With a crack, the jaw fell open, baring two rows of pristine teeth.
Feed, my children!
One of the nearest skeletons lunged, aiming unnaturally-wide jaws at me. Conon stepped up and drove a clenched fist into the wolf’s maw. The old bone splintering under the force, and the floor was scattered with white chips. The remains of the wolf’s head hung on, its fangs digging deep into Conon’s wrist. He growled in pain and ripped the skull away with his free hand. He threw it aside and it rolled away, its broken jaw still trying to snap and bite.
Blood oozed from the puncture wounds on Conon’s wrist, dripping sluggishly down his arm and onto the temple’s stone floor. I gasped in horror. My instinct was to immediately go to his side, but a firm look stilled me. Now was not the time.
The wolves were closing in again, the bulk of their number between us and the hall’s exit. There would be no easy escape from the temple. My gaze swept the room looking for alternative exits. There was no way we would be able to follow in Skeever’s footsteps, but the front entrance wasn’t the only way out. There was the balcony behind the altar, of course, but I didn’t really feel like throwing myself off the side of a mountain right now, even if we didn’t have to try and get past the giant spirit wolf to do it.
On either side of the room, between the columns, there were two open doorways. If they’d had door
s at any point in the past, the wood had long since rotted away, leaving the bare archways behind. From where I was standing, I couldn’t see very far down either hall, but as the one on the right currently had fewer wolves in front of it, that seemed to be the right choice.
I nudged Conon in the side with my elbow, and subtly jerked my head in its direction. He nodded and grabbed both Harmon and I by the arm. Not wanting to announce his intention or waste time with an argument, he took off across the room towards his chosen exit. “Come on!”
“But—” Harmon immediately tried to argue.
“Don’t talk!” Conon roared, before the other minotaur even had the entirety of the first syllable out of his mouth. “Just MOVE!”
The skeletons tried to swarm us again, with the altar spirit barking at them to not let the intruders get away. Conon struck out with a hooved foot, catching the nearest dog on the nose and stomping the creature’s head into the floor. The fragile skull exploded into pieces, and the rest of the skeleton went limp.
Seeing one of their brethren go down and not get back up again seemed to make the rest of the wolves hesitate. Whether it was fear, if the skeletons could even feel such a thing, or something else, Conon didn’t seem to care; there was an opening and he was going to take it.
I stumbled as I was all but dragged past the pack of skeletons and out of the front hall. A long corridor greeted us on the other side, thin windows on the left wall awarding sporadic views of the jungle and mountain as we ran.
Suddenly, the entire temple shook, dust and other detritus raining down from the ancient ceiling. We stumbled, and Conon was forced to release his hold on us so we could regain our balance.
“What was—”
But the question was barely out of Harmon’s mouth before a tremendous howl echoed through the halls of the temple. The building trembled again, and I turned to see the pursuing wolves, running three abreast, their long jaws snapping and silently snarling.
My eyes darted around, trying to find something, anything to use as a weapon. My gaze landed on a jagged crack on the halls inside wall, which was slowly climbing towards the ceiling with every tremor.
Next to me, Conon lunged forward and drove his fist into the crumbling mortar, roaring in pain when the temple stone turned out to be a bit stronger than the bones of his hand. He punched again and again, aiming for where the crack looked the worst. The crack grew, dropping fragments of rock at our feet as it forked across the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, horrified. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”
“Stay back,” growled Conon, his voice thick with pain.
The bone wolves were almost upon us now, so Conon rammed his shoulder into the wall with all his strength. There was a great groan of stone grinding against stone as the ceiling came apart in an explosive shower of dust and debris. He turned, tackling Harmon and I, driving us further up the hall and away from the collapse.
When the dust cleared, the corridor was completely blocked to the shattered ceiling with rubble.
“Come on,” he said, dragging us both back to our feet. “There’s no telling how long that will stop them. We have to move.”
Chapter 17:
The Courtyard
The interior of the temple was a maze of corridors and empty rooms, most with multiple exits leading to even more corridors. The knowledge of the bone wolves presence somewhere in the temple kept me running, the desire to get out of there ever present in my mind. Eventually though, I had to stop, legs burning and heart pounding. I slumped against a wall and slid down to sit on the floor.
“I have to rest,” I panted, hand pressed tight to the stitch in my side.
“We don’t have time,” growled Conon, reaching down to haul me back to my feet.
I fell against him with a gasp of pain. “Please, I just need, a minute.”
He sighed and released me, letting me drop back to the ground.
“Tch, whipped,” sneered Harmon, though he too was breathing hard from our marathon.
“If you’ve got enough energy to speak,” said Conon slowly, a dangerous tint to his voice, “how about you go and search for some way out of this place.”
Harmon gave him a sarcastic salute, “Whatever you say, Toro,” before wandering off down one of the corridors.
Silence descended between us, Conon standing stiffly, not quite facing me. The tenseness of his shoulders and the grit of his jaw suggested there were a great many things he wished to say at that moment that he was ruthlessly squashing.
“Toro?” I ventured hesitantly.
His hands clenching into fists. “Never call me that.”
“The rest of the crew call you that,” I stammered, afraid of his sudden anger. “Is that not your real name?”
“No.”
“Then,” I hesitated again, but pressed boldly on. Now felt like the only time I’d get my questions answered. “Why do they call you that?”
“It’s the name you give someone who has no name,” he replied. Though he spoke matter-of-factly, there was a bitterness to his words. “Humans call unidentified bodies John Doe, it’s like that.”
“But you’re not dead.”
“No.”
I gave a frustrated exhale. “You said you would eventually tell me your name.”
“I said I might,” he replied stiffly. “Not that I would.”
I let my gaze wander the empty room we’d stopped in, even as a light tremor shook the building again. Though we’d run pretty far from the front hall, the quakes had never let up, striking periodically, and threatening to further collapse the walls around us.
“We could die here and I’d never—”
“Don’t you dare!” snarled Conon, whirling around to face me again, his eyes flashing with fury. “Don’t you try to use this situation as a tool to get what you want from me!”
I shrank back against the wall, immediately cowed by his sudden explosion of rage. I’d seen frustration and irritation from him before, but never anger like this, and especially not directed at me. He’d never raised a hand against me in earnest, but the way he towered over me, fists clenched, had my heart in my throat.
His eyes were redder than I’d ever seen them, a blood red colour almost completely taking over any remaining orange. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to throttle me, only the slimmest thread of sanity staying his hand.
“I’m sorry.”
He turned away from me again. “I knew this was a bad idea. Knew I should have put my foot down.” He reached up to run a frustrated hand over his head. “What was Skeever thinking?”
“Are you mad that Mr Skeever ran away?” I asked. “Because I really don’t know what he would have been able to do against those things if he’d stayed. To tell you the truth, I don’t really know why he decided to come alo—”
The sound of Conon’s hoof hitting the ground sounded like a gavel falling to my ears, and silenced me immediately.
“I don’t care about him. It’s YOU who shouldn’t be here!” he snarled. “I told you to stay back at camp. But you just had to team up with that rat and overrule me!”
“It was just supposed to be a hike—”
“It doesn’t matter, it was for your safety! Why couldn’t you have just listened to me and done as you were told? For once!”
My mouth worked without sound for a moment, before I exploded with indignation.
“I can’t be expected to predict that we were going to be attack by trolls, of all things. I’m not a Seer you know. I can’t—”
“That’s not the point! We already knew this island was dangerous. If it wasn’t the trolls, it could have been that monster lizard again, or that beast that ran through the camp. Any number of other horrors could have been lurking in those trees. You think the boys went out armed to the teeth for fun? At no point should you have been among them!” he sighed deeply and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if you’d never gotten on
our ship. Then at least you would be safe from this mess.”
“But, then we wouldn’t have met.”
And without Risk being with me, the ship and everyone on it would have been eaten by the serpent.
“Yeah, well, maybe that would have been better too.”
I felt like someone had reaching into my chest, gripped my heart and squeezed. My eyes felt hot, and I knew tears were threatening to fall.
“I’m sorry… ”
I’m sorry I’ve been a burden. I’m sorry I’ve put people in danger. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you.
I couldn’t say it. Shaking my head, I tried to force the tears away. It was stupid really, to feel like this. What was I even thinking?
Not even a week had passed since I’d met this man, how much did I really even know about him? Was I misreading his earlier affection and concern for me as something more? He’d certainly acted like he’d cared for me.
A few kisses, and some small talk about history and culture over tea, that’s all we had. They hadn’t even been my first kisses, but they’d certainly felt like my only real ones. The more time we spent together, the more I’d felt, given the opportunity to cultivate it, we could have made something of each other.
Had I been a fool to expect more from a minotaur? Had all this really been nothing but a ploy to eventually get in my pants, as Skeever had suggested?
I sighed wetly, fighting to keep my tears at bay.
Conon seemed to force a smile. “Don’t worry, alright? We’re not dying yet. Not like this.”
I frowned. That wasn’t why. But before I could properly voice my feelings, the sound of scratching overhead grabbed my attention.
In the corner of the room, dust and fragments of masonry were falling from around the edges of one of the large stone bricks. As I watched, it shifted, one corner pushing out until the entire cube fell free of the ceiling and landed with a shattering crash.
There was a long tense silence as Conon and I watched the dark space left behind by the fallen stone with bated breath. The scratching noise hadn’t stopped with the stone’s fall, as more dust and debris started to fall around the edges surrounding its neighbour.
The Island of Wolves Page 17
