Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel (An Epic Fantasy Adventure For Any Family)

by Chris Salisbury

  The magician couldn’t help the smile that spread from one pointed ear to the other. As Elbane continued his tirade of threats against Cordale, Korwin bowed. “I am at your service, mighty king. But I have been to Cordale. Their armies are large, and their walls high. It will take magic, powerful magic to defeat them.”

  Elbane was a little confused. “That is why you are now my champion. You will call upon the flames and strike them down, yes?”

  “Indeed I can… and will for you, mighty king. But what if Gundir has a wizard of his own?”

  The ruler stopped and grunted. “Hmm.” This was not a scenario he had considered. “You think this is possible, little elf?”

  Now I’ve got him! thought Korwin. “No, my king, it is certain. Cordale has taken much from your people; now they wish to take it all. But they have not beaten you yet. Magic is only way, and King Gundir knows it.”

  The king’s confidence was fading fast as he contemplated the reality of this new threat. He shook his head. “No, the gods would never allow such a thing,” he said, trying to reaffirm his faith.

  “Are you sure?” asked Korwin. “The gods allowed Cordale to take your lands, to steal away your little ones. Perhaps the gods are waiting for you to act… or perhaps they wish to wait and watch the destruction of Draghone.”

  The veins in Elbane’s neck pulsed as he clenched his teeth. “No! My people will fight to the death before we let Cordale step into our lands!” The onlookers nodded in agreement. “I will die before I see my people in chains.”

  “Very well. I am your servant,” said Korwin. “What is your command, King of Draghone?”

  “This wizard of Cordale, can you defeat him?” asked Elbane.

  “I can… but…” Korwin paused as he baited the trap.

  “What is it, Elf?”

  “I will need a powerful magic, an ancient and forgotten magic. I will need your help to find what I seek. Only then can I defeat the wizard. Only then can I help you protect your people from Cordale.”

  “You will have it! Whatever you require is yours! I will see Cordale fall!”

  The beast is snared, thought Korwin as he smiled and then gave King Draghone a deep and long bow.

  ****

  In a strange way, the pit was a pleasant change of scenery for Kelor. When the sun was directly overhead he could feel the warmth of its rays and bask in the temporary flood of light. Even if it was a momentary pleasure, it was something denied him while imprisoned inside the holding tent.

  The wounded Minotaur had barely moved since joining the panther a few days ago. Dox sat with his back up against the side of the mud wall, blankly staring at nothing.

  Kelor couldn’t tell if the beast-man could even see him. One of the creature’s eyes had swollen shut, an injury sustained from his fall into the pit. The cat could hear Dox’s heavy breathing and an occasional cough, but the beast-man did not say a single word. If the panther’s former captor was faking his condition, it was a world class attempt, because Kelor was amazed the beast was even alive.

  Taking the Minotaur’s life would be so easy, perhaps even merciful, but all Kelor could think of was his family and his part in their deaths. And then he shifted his anger from Dox to the source of his captivity and contributor to his family’s demise… the Warden. That human was the cause of all this; Kelor had no doubt. Not only did he imprison us, he could have done more to save them! He should have done more! He let them perish, thought Kelor as he dropped his head on top of his paws and closed his eyes.

  The panther then dozed, visualizing his new prey and then, exposing both fangs and claws, he pounced upon the Warden. But just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, he heard a voice.

  “Kelor.” He heard the soft, female voice. “Kelor,” it repeated, but now the cat recognized it as a human voice.

  Walking through the dark haze of the pit was a beautiful human female, tall and slender with long brown hair. She had delicate features, but her green eyes were as fierce in color as the deepest of forests.

  How did she get down here? Kelor asked. And why would she?

  “A fair question,” the woman answered, much to Kelor’s surprise. “I’ve come to speak with you, of course. As your goddess it was time we met.”

  My goddess? I know of no such thing, he thought. My mother made no mention of a goddess.

  “Ah, your mother. Do you miss her?” asked the deity.

  This time Kelor spoke aloud. “Yes. My brothers, too.”

  The woman walked closer to Kelor, and with her delicate hands, she carefully stroked the fur on the side of the panther’s face and then moved to his chin. “What happened to them was wrong. I wept for them, Kelor, you must know that,” she said.

  “Why do you care? You’re human,” answered the cat.

  “This form you see may look human, but I assure you, I am anything but. I am known as Narisa. I live with the rest of the gods. What happened to you and your family was a tragedy. But it does not have to be so.” She circled the panther.

  Kelor looked over and saw himself, lying asleep on the floor of the pit across from the Minotaur. He was dreaming. He had to be.

  “How are such things so? Everyone who meant anything to me perished in the fire. I saw it all. Everything in the tent is gone. There’s nothing that can be done,” said Kelor.

  The woman looked at the sleeping cat as well, and then turned to the dreaming Kelor. “Don’t be so sure. There are some things that can be undone. But to do so requires power, more power than you possess.”

  The cat was intrigued. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  The goddess paused and looked up toward the heavens. Her eyes scanned the sky as if she looked for something. When she looked back, their eyes met. “I foresee much sorrow and suffering during your mortal journey, Kelor. The loss of your family is only the beginning. But as I said, it does not have to be that way.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the young cat. He had no idea what she was talking about or where the conversation was leading.

  The goddess circled back near his head and spoke directly to him. “From the moment you were born, you have been a captive, an item for sale, and a victim. If you wish to change this you must seek power. And real power is not given, Kelor; it is seized, won, taken through sacrifice and sometimes through death.”

  “What is it you want?” Kelor asked.

  “It’s not what I want, but what you want, Kelor. There will come a time when you must choose. There is no if, but when. It is a certainty. The time will come. Only the answer, your choice yet remains.”

  “How… I… don’t know. What choice do you speak of?” asked Kelor. “I’m a prisoner in this pit. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Don’t worry about the moment, Kelor. You will recognize it as clear as that sun shines overhead. Will you take it and fulfill your destiny, or avoid it and live the remainder of your life in misery?” asked the goddess.

  The cat grew agitated. “How can I be ready when the moment comes?”

  The goddess smiled. “Ah, I was hoping you would ask such a question.” She leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Learn all you can, from friends and foes, good and evil, the living and the dead. Then when the moment is right, you’ll be ready and power, incredible power, will be yours. I promise you that.”

  “I will,” said Kelor, still unsure of what the promise and his answer truly meant.

  The woman slowly faded away, disappearing into the shadows, but before she vanished she offered one final comment. “Some things can be undone, Kelor, if you have the courage to do what you must.” And then she was gone, only the loud snoring of the Minotaur sounded in the depths of the pit.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Magnus! Magnus!” shouted Adolphus as he cupped his hands to his mouth to help his voice carry. “Where is he?” he asked himself. The barbarian boy stood atop the watchtower, one of his favorite places, and scanned the forest looking for his canine friend.

  Adol
phus descended the ladder and upon reaching the ground he turned to find his father waiting for him.

  “What’s the matter, son?” asked Thayne.

  The boy was agitated. “It’s Magnus. He’s not answering my call,” said the young barbarian. He could barely stand still.

  “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s not a pup anymore, Adolphus,” said the village chief. “Remember, Son, he’s a wolf. He has his pack and you have your tribe. There are more important things that require his attention… and yours.”

  “No, this is different. He always comes when I call. I haven’t seen him in almost a week. Something’s wrong, I know it. What if he’s in trouble; what if he needs my help?”

  Thayne was growing impatient. Though the village was at peace, there had been recent sightings of Ghast Gorilla along the southern shore of the River of Ash, close enough to warrant the leader’s attention. The chief was concerned that his people had become too complacent in their forest sanctuary. Worrying about the wolves right now was low on his list of worries.

  “That’s enough. Now tend to your chores before I add a few more,” Thayne said, hoping the threat of more work would jog his son. It didn’t work; the boy couldn’t take his eyes from the forest.

  “The Shade Wolves are a strong and loyal race. His father is a fearsome warrior, and his brothers and sisters will protect him if necessary. Magnus is fine, Son.”

  The boy looked at his father. “He’s not just a wolf. He’s my friend,” the boy said. “If something happened to me, I know he’d help.”

  The chief could see that the stubborn Draghone heir would not be persuaded easily. A different tactic was needed. “Very well. If he does not return by the end of the next day, we will go to Thornmount and speak with the wolves. Does that suit you?”

  Adolphus nodded.

  “Now get to your chores; there is work to be done,” the chief ordered.

  The boy walked off without another word.

  You’ll learn. It’s not easy to be the son of the chief. You have to grow up much faster than the others. You’ll learn, thought Thayne Draghone.

  Later that night, long after the rest of his family slept, Adolphus lay on his back and stared up at the wooden ceiling of his log home. This just isn’t right, he thought as he listened carefully to the noises of the night.

  Insects and other nocturnal creatures sang their symphony of clicks and chirps in the forest, but one familiar sound was missing. The wolves. Their voices were silent.

  While the howls and barks of the Shade Wolves worried other children of Thornmount Village, Adolphus took great comfort to hear their calls. He felt safe knowing they were out there. The invisible protectors, his friends, were shielding the boy and his family from danger.

  Many nights he listened closely, trying to pick Magnus’s voice from the rest of the pack. There he is, he would affirm as he drifted off to his dreams. But on this night he could not hear his friend, and sleep would not come.

  Finally, Adolphus abandoned the fight to sleep, and he crept through the house. He tossed a few biscuits, pieces of fruit, and a hide of water into his pack. Last, he “borrowed” one of his father’s finest daggers and tucked it into his belt.

  “I’m coming, Magnus,” he whispered to himself. The door creaked shut louder than he wanted. The boy paused a moment, his ear to the door, but he heard nothing.

  He snuck along the house and then darted across the village, careful to avoid the night watchmen patrolling high atop the wooden towers. The boy knew their routines well after accompanying his father and his uncles during their assigned turns at the towers.

  They won’t see me, he thought. They never look in at the village anyway, always out to the forest. He and a few other children knew of a few loose logs in the perimeter fence that provided a secret way to leave the village instead of risking an encounter with the guards at one of the main gates. Still, he had to be careful once he was outside the barrier.

  I don’t want an arrow in my backside, he thought as he crawled through heavy brush.

  Once the torchlight from the towers was nothing more than a glimmer, he relaxed and walked upright. It was hard to see in the darkness, but Adolphus felt comfortable in the forest. He had made several trips to the wolves’ lair at the base of Thornmount with his father, and a few without his parent’s knowledge. None of those trips, however, had occurred during the thick darkness of night.

  The young explorer lit his torch to gather his bearings. He spotted a path leading deeper into the forest. “That looks about right,” he said aloud. “As long as I’m headed uphill I should be fine.”

  Adolphus trudged up the hill, his lone torch providing a limited range of light to make his way. He’d never wandered this far from the village at night, but his friend needed him, and that’s all he could think about. Magnus would do the same for me, he kept thinking.

  He followed the trail through the night. It was the warm season, but in higher elevations it was cool, but still pleasant. The boy could hear the sounds of the forest and occasionally spot the disappearing image of an owl or other creature, but the light of his torch, the noise of his footsteps, and the scent of his body gave away his presence.

  “I should be getting close by now,” he said as the darkness slipped away from the approaching sun. But as he crested the next ridge none of the terrain looked familiar. He turned, and yet no landmarks appeared.

  Maybe I’ve already passed it. That’s possible. I didn’t stop once, he wondered.

  He decided to backtrack and scaled down a small gulch, which lead to another and another. Adolphus was lost.

  “Oh no,” he gasped at the realization.

  The boy had no idea which direction to go. Panic started to set in, but he fought to remain calm. He had been so engrossed in his trek that he had forgotten the food he brought. His hands shook as he took a bite of fruit. The natural sugars acted quickly and soothed his nervous mind and stomach. He squatted as he downed a biscuit and took a few healthy gulps of water.

  Then Adolphus heard a sound as he swallowed the last sip. He listened closely until he could determine the direction.

  “Water?” he asked. His head perked up as he looked down the hillside. He repacked the remaining food and slung his pack over his shoulder.

  Scrambling down the hill, he felt his heart race. He slid down the embankment until the unmistakable rush of water echoed just behind the next hill. As he crested the mound he realized he had come to the Southern edge of the Mythik Forest and was staring at the River of Ash. He must have traveled miles upon miles in the dark… all in the opposite direction of where he needed to go.

  To make things worse, no one in the village, including his father and chief, had any idea he had left. Adolphus was an early riser and often played at the outskirts of the village in the early rays of the sun. Sometimes no one noticed his absence until mid-meal. And this river was the last place they’d look.

  For the moment, the young barbarian was on his own. So he did the only thing he could think of, he walked down to the water’s edge and followed the banks East, in the direction of the rising sun hoping he would run into someone… someone friendly to Draghone.

  ****

  Dain was at the front, as he always insisted, leading the patrol. Magnus and Asher were not far behind. The wolves, now a winter and spring season older, were much larger now. The oldest of the pups, Dain was a great physical specimen - big shoulders and chest, a thick neck and strong jaw, and a fur coat as black as the darkest shadow.

  The young wolves had been in patrols before, quite a few in fact. The pack depended on them to do their part, and Dain intended to precisely follow in his father’s footsteps. This assignment, however, had taken them far from the safety of Thornmount and the rest of the wolves. Still, it was important. Ghast Gorillas had been spotted encroaching near the River of Ash, and many, including Ataris, were sure they were trespassing on Northern shores and in the Mythik Forest itself.

  The Ghast hate
d the water, but with enough motivation they had been known to cross the river at shallow and narrow points. Jiro, one of Ataris’ brothers, was the last to patrol the river and had not been seen since the first snowfall. Even worse, his body had never been recovered.

  “Please, father, let me patrol the River this time. I am ready. I am fit,” Dain had pleaded. Knowing the length of the journey, the youth of his son, and the recent tragedy in those lands, the alpha wolf was hesitant to grant Dain’s request. But Dain had been so persistent that Ataris finally relented, insisting upon one condition.

  “All right, you may patrol the Northern shore only. Under no circumstance do you cross the waters to the South. Do you understand?” the wolf leader asked his son.

  Dain sat tall; proud his request had finally been approved. “Yes, father. I do.”

  “Good. And one other thing. Take your brothers with you. You are responsible for their safety, and they yours,” he added before Dain could hurry off.

  What? Magnus and Asher? What for? asked the wolf in his mind. I can do this on my own; I don’t need to babysit those two whelps. They’ll only slow me down.

  “I can do this myself, Father, I don’t need them,” he protested.

  Ataris knew better, and he knew Dain. This was not an incidental request. His oldest son was brash, a trait he had hoped the young wolf would have outgrown by now. Requiring Magnus and Asher to tag along would make Dain think twice before charging headlong into trouble… or so the alpha wolf hoped. Besides, Magnus had shown a knack for keeping a cool head during heated moments. Now that’s the sign of a true leader, thought Ataris.

  “I agree, you could, but they need the experience as well. And there is strength in numbers. It is not a request, but an order. Understand, Son?”

  Dain’s proud posture slumped a bit. “Very well. I’ll take them, but they better keep up.”