Stronger than Bone

by Sidney Wood

  When he followed the footman into the house, he realized that his first impression was not strong enough. Ego didn’t quite cover it. The twelve foot tall portrait over the fireplace, and the busts in the foyer and study were grossly embellished likenesses of the old man Lynn had met at the castle. He almost laughed out loud at the exaggerated codpiece in the portrait.

  The footman saw Lynn’s expression and simply shrugged and smiled. Narcissistic or not, he seemed to be well liked by the people who served him. Lynn decided to keep that in mind as he formulated an opinion of the man.

  After a few minutes, the rest of the serving staff gathered and were introduced to Lynn. He took note that the guards stayed outside, and wondered if they were there as protection or as keepers. He was a little unsure how to take all of this, but he did his best to simply endure it graciously until Kelly could join him and explain what was going on.

  Lynn accepted an offer from the footman to take a tour of the house and grounds before supper. He put his pack in the large and luxurious room he was assigned, and met the man down in the foyer for the tour. He kept his sword buckled about his waist. There was no reason to get complacent.

  The house was no surprise. It was big, decorated with gaudy items to impress the materialistic or the simple minded, but clean and efficiently maintained. There were many “themed” bedrooms that Lynn surmised served one purpose.

  The grounds were not as Lynn expected. There were training rings, obstacle courses, strength training stations, and a full livery and stables. Most notable was an impressive garden hidden from view by a row of decorative shrubs atop a small hill. It was beautiful by any standard, complete with a babbling brook and exotic trees. Among the budding flowers, trimmed hedges, and brook-side benches, were small statues of woodland creatures, beautiful figures dancing and singing, and children playing innocently. Lynn immediately thought of Joszette when he saw the statues. He wondered if any of them were made by her, and he pictured her hands forming the amazing figures in front of him. He thought of her smile and her soft lips.

  “Eh hmm. Uh Sir?” said Gerard, his footman. “Supper will be served soon. We should go back to the house.”

  Lynn snapped back from the distraction and nodded. He followed Gerard back to the house, taking a closer look at the training areas as they passed.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  (Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

  Captain Martin and Lieutenant Brente rode at the head of the column. Their horses kicked up dust and clods of dirt as they galloped down the country road toward the capital. They rode on a hunch that Sergeant Hayes was also on his way there to find Kelly Turner.

  As they rode they stopped at each village to inquire about recent trouble, and to Corvis’ chagrin, blood magic and giants. But even he had to admit there was something to all of this. There were several sightings in the woods of a pale and gaunt looking giant, racing in the general direction of the capital. All of the sightings were at night, and each of the witnesses seemed genuinely frightened by the experience. More disturbing was that every eye witness also described the giant as wearing something hideous or disgusting on his head.

  After two days of hard travel, they were within sight of the city walls, and the column slowed to a trot. Chase took a deep breath and leaned back in his saddle. He was exhausted. They all were. He turned and looked at the column. All of the men looked grim. They were dirty and road weary and they needed rest. He turned back to the front and focused on getting inside the city gates.

  Corvis’ back was aching. He leaned forward and twisted for the hundredth time to try and relieve the pain. No luck. He sighed and rode on. They were almost to the city gates, and relief waited inside. He knew his men felt the same.

  Complaining and irritability had increased recently, and focus was slipping. They needed to rest and regroup. He hoped they would get a chance to do that here in the capital. He leaned forward again and patted his horse on the neck before sitting back up straighter than before. “We’re entering the capital, men. Look sharp!” he called back.

  As tired and worn out as they were, each man straightened his back and raised his head. The Captain, riding in front did the same. “Thank you for that Corvis,” Chase called back, just loud enough for him to hear. As they approached the gate, he slowed them to a walk. With his head held high and eyes focused straight ahead, he led the troop into the capital city.

  They made straight for the stables of the King’s Royal Guard, at the castle in the center of the city. The streets cleared to the sounds of armor and weapons clanking, and so many horse hooves striking the cobbles as the troop passed through.

  “Captain Chase Martin, I’ll need quarters for my men and stables for our horses,” he said to the Sergeant of the Guard when they passed through the castle gate. “And send word that the Lieutenant and I have urgent need to speak with the Master of Swords.”

  “Yes sir,” the Sergeant said. “You and your men can leave your horses in the stable, and there are open bunks in the barracks. I’ll send word at once that you need to speak with the Master of Swords.”

  Chase nodded to the Sergeant and they headed to the stables. From there they split up. The next hour was spent speaking with castle stuff and castle guards to glean any helpful information.

  “Kelly’s gone. We missed him,” said Chase. “He left in a hurry yesterday, and no one is quite sure where he was off to.”

  “Perfect. Well, a guard told me that a man matching Sergeant Hayes’ description was looking for him the day before. No one saw him leave though.”

  “Somebody has to know where Kelly was going, and you can bet Lynn is headed to the same place. I’ll keep asking around with the guards. You check the servants, and be careful what you say Corvis. I’ve heard from several of the guards that our new King is as crooked as the last, and he has spies everywhere.”

  “Got it,” said Corvis. He slapped Chase on the shoulder and headed off to ask some questions.

  Three hours later, they met at the stables with the rest of their troop.

  “Kelly has a private estate just west of here. The general consensus is that he and Sergeant Hayes are there, so that’s where we are going,” Chase informed the group.

  “Gather your gear and be ready to ride in fifteen minutes,” ordered Corvis. “Talk to no one.”

  The men hurried off to prepare for movement, and Chase and Corvis walked into the stables. They secured their gear to their mounts in silence. Neither of them was looking forward to traveling again so soon, but they were on a mission. Rest and recovery would have to wait.

  Soon they were on the road again, moving at a trot. Chase led one column up the left side of the road while Corvis led a column up the right. The dirty and tired troop of mounted soldiers rode somberly toward the estate of the King’s Master of Swords.

  That morning, Lynn was outside in the ring sparring with the guards. The guards were taking turns, as Lynn pushed himself harder and harder. The guard on standby, shouted encouragement at his mate as Lynn delivered another sound thrashing with the wooden practice swords Kelly kept for such training. He was sweating profusely and felt more in control and sharper than he had in many weeks.

  Lynn laughed with the men and helped his opponent up. “What do you boys say we try out some of the strength training stations?” he asked as the other man caught his breath and nursed his bruised arms.

  “Seriously?” the other guard laughed. “How come it feels like we are the old men here?” he asked. The two guards were no more than twenty five, and they were struggling to keep up.

  “Yes, seriously,” Lynn chuckled. “Hard work is the only sure way to good fortune,” he said as he tossed his practice sword to the man and jogged toward the first station.

  The guards looked at each other and shrugged. This was a hell of a lot better than standing guard duty. Patting his buddy on the back and making him wince, the second guard trotted off to join Lynn.

  Soon all three of the
m were taking turns dragging the huge log across the uneven ground by a large rope that was wrapped around one end. It was a hell of a work out, and fun to watch. Many of the servants had come out to cheer them on, or laugh when they fell.

  The next station was a tree with a rope attached to a stout limb about thirty feet in the air. There was another rope attached to a limb on the other side of the tree. This time it was a speed competition as well as strength. Gasps escaped from several of the servants as Lynn and the first guard raced to the top of their ropes. They were both tired from the morning of exercise, and a fall could be dangerous if not fatal from the height they were climbing. Never the less, they gave it everything they had and pulled hand over hand, letting the rope swing free below them rather than locking it in with their feet. Cheers erupted as Lynn reached up and tapped the limb above his head before descending. The guard laughed and continued up anyway, slapping the branch above his own head before descending.

  Lynn nodded at the other guard and gestured at the other rope. He stood ready to climb again, chest heaving and a huge smile across his face.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to rest old man?” the guard called as he stepped up to the rope.

  In answer, Lynn jumped and caught his rope and began another ascent. He grunted and pulled, and fought his way up even faster than the last time.

  The younger man cursed and leapt up, grabbing his own rope. He pulled and grabbed as he struggled to catch up and pass Lynn.

  The servants laughed and shouted encouragement to both.

  Lynn’s muscles bulged, and his veins stood out as he worked. Seconds later he reached up and slapped the branch to the cheers of the servants. He laughed as he heard the guard on the other side of the tree curse again.

  The next station was two sets of poles with a bar between each. The bars were a few inches higher than the reach of a tall man so that one had to jump to grab hold. Lynn jumped up and grabbed hold of the bar with both hands. He walked his hands apart until they were a little wider than his shoulders. Then he pulled himself up so that his chin was above the bar. He lowered himself down and did it again. He repeated it over and over, at least twenty times before dropping down to rest.

  The second guard jumped up and grabbed the bar. He nearly lost his grip, but managed to hang on. The servants held their breath. He set his hands shoulder width apart, and began pulling himself up. His arms quivered and shook and his upward momentum stopped. His face was deep red and the veins in his forehead looked ready to burst. He struggled on for a few more seconds, not making any further movement upward. He suddenly let go and dropped. “What are you made of?” he asked Lynn and laughed at his own failure. The servants laughed and cheered his effort anyway.

  The first guard took his turn and got to five before he couldn’t do any more.

  Lynn jumped back up and knocked out another fifteen before dropping. The servants and both guards clapped and cheered him on and then congratulated him when he was finished.

  “I’m impressed sir,” said the first guard. “Remind me never to underestimate an opponent because of his age.”

  “Or his origins,” called Kelly as he approached the training area. “Guards, please retrieve your clothing and weapons and resume your duties. Mr. Hayes and I have some business to attend to.”

  Lynn pulled his shirt down over his head and took a drink of water from the water bucket a servant brought out. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think your boys could take much more,” he chuckled.

  Kelly smiled and swept his hand toward the house in invitation. Lynn nodded and the men walked inside together.

  When they entered the study Kelly closed the doors behind them. He turned to Lynn and pointed at a comfortable chair. “Have a seat Mr. Hayes,” he said. “I have a story to tell you, and you’ll want to be seated when you hear it.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  (Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

  Guy opened his eyes and groaned. His was in terrible pain. “Where am I?” he thought. He tried to raise his head and immediately stopped. His torso felt like it was ripping open with the strain of the slightest movement. “What the? Oh yeah,” he thought as he remembered the attack. “Am I alive?”

  He rolled his head to the side and tried to look down his torso. He could see his arm held against his body, and his left boot sticking out beyond that. He clenched his jaw and pushed himself up with his other arm. He yelled out in pain as his wounds opened and his flesh tore again. “Yep! I’m alive! Holy crap that hurts!” He tried to breathe through the pain. He gingerly moved his arm away from his chest and took a look down his torso.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” he whispered when he saw the gore. His side was ripped open just below his chest, and he could see two of his ribs clearly. His wrist was also open to the bone and he could see some of his tendons were severed.

  Before he passed out again he would need to dress the wounds. He looked around and saw nothing suitable to use. Only dry needles and pine boughs, dirt and twigs were within reach. He looked at his own clothing and sighed. “I really like this shirt.”

  It took him several minutes to get the shirt off of his body. Every movement was torture, and he was paranoid of getting anything near his open wounds. Once he got the shirt off his back, he tore one sleeve off and wrapped it around his butchered wrist. He laughed at himself for shedding actual tears from the pain. “Don’t you make fun of me Gretchen,” he thought. He smiled for a moment and then it clouded over as he remembered why she was no longer there to talk to in person. He took the remaining fabric and folded it into a pad just larger than the wound on his side.

  “Slap your sister!” he shouted as he realized he had nothing to tie the bandage to his torso with. He sat and thought about it for a minute. Sighing again, he leaned forward and grasped his pant leg. “Nghh!” he groaned. It hurt like hell, and he could feel himself getting dizzy. Thankful for the worn and frayed hem, he easily tore the fabric into long strips.

  He tied the torn strips together making two long strips and laid them behind him the best he could. Then, with a lot of grunting and gritting of teeth, he lay back on the ground. He took a moment to rest and breathe, and placed the shirt bandage over the wound and tied it to his torso with the two strips. He tied one at the top, and one at the bottom, trying to keep either from pressing too hard on the wound itself.

  “Whew! Haha, this sucks!” he chuckled as he lay there. Seconds later he was unconscious again.

  Guy woke to something tapping on his side. Sharp pain accompanied each tap, and his eyes shot open. He scrambled upright to a seated position and the crow that had been pecking at his bandage cawed in surprise and flew away in a flurry of feathers and pine needles. Guy growled in anger and leapt after it, nearly catching it by the tail before it flapped away into the sky. Suddenly he realized what he had just done and he quickly looked down to see how badly he had re-injured himself.

  “Slap your sister!” he hissed as peeled away the bandage and looked at where the gaping wound had been. It was nearly healed!

  “But how?” he wondered. He pulled the bandage off of his wrist and stared in disbelief at the mostly restored wound. “Haha!” he laughed aloud. “Yes!” he shouted.

  A sobering thought crossed his mind and he quickly checked his boot and his leg for the stashed coins. “Still there,” he said and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Guy stood up and checked himself over thoroughly. Aside from the miraculous healing, he was unchanged. All of the appropriate bits and pieces were there, and he felt better than ever. He looked up at the heavens and said, “Thank you!”

  With a smile, he set off at a brisk pace. He had plenty of energy to make his journey, but her was ravenously hungry. No matter, he would feast like a king at the first home or village he reached.

  Feeling renewed and more than a little lucky, he quickened his pace and hurried toward his new life.

  It was five hours later when Guy smelled food cooking with
in the farmhouse up ahead. He closed his eyes and let the aroma fill his nostrils. He stood still and savored it for two very slow and very deep breaths before opening his eyes and resuming his walk forward.

  “Hey to the house!” he called as he walked through the underbrush and into the clearing in front of the farmhouse. “Is anyone home?”

  He stopped there and waited for someone to acknowledge him. After a moment he called out again. “I haven’t eaten in a couple of days, and I think I may have been attacked by a bear or something.”

  The front door cracked open and he could see someone peeking out at him.

  “Hi there!” Guy said. “I’m sorry to impose, but do you have any food to spare? Maybe a piece of bread, or a little bit of your left overs? I can pay you.”

  “Got nothin’ fer you. Git on now!” said a voice from inside and the door slammed shut.

  Guy stood there for a moment feeling disappointment. Then suddenly, his disappointment turned to anger. In the span of a few seconds Guy’s blood began to boil. “That selfish jerk!” he thought. “How dare he tell me to go! I bet he has plenty! He doesn’t need all of that food!”

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Open the door and give me some food!”

  There was no response.

  Guy pounded on the door with his fists.

  “Ye best git yer arse off me porch! I’ll be skinnin’ yer crippled hide!” the voice inside yelled.

  “SLAP YOUR SISTER! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” Guy screamed as he pounded and kicked at the door.

  Suddenly the door opened and the point of a very long knife appeared just under his chin.

  Guy froze, but he didn’t calm down or back off. His anger increased beyond measure. Guy’s world descended into a red and black tornado of barely discernible shapes and distant sounds until there was no Guy. There was only fury, a prime-evil emotion sparked from anger that exploded into uncontrollable rage.