Bones of Doom

by Mark Cheverton

  Mapper moved close and stared at the enchanted weapon, looking closely at the markings along its length.

  “We need more information about all these enchanted relics.” Cleric glanced at his old friend. “Do you recognize it?”

  Mapper seemed uncertain. “I remember reading something about a split wand, but can’t recall. I’ll have to do some reading when we have a chance.”

  “This is great and all,” Blaster said. “But let’s focus on where we need to go next.”

  “To the east.” Mapper’s voice was scratched and aged, but filled with confidence.

  “What’s to the east?” Cutter asked.

  “The book that gave us the location of this temple also talked about a great treasure that lies beneath the ocean on the other side of what it called the Creeper’s Jungle,” Mapper said. “That’s the next closest relic. If the skeletons know about this place, then they likely know about the ocean as well.”

  “Right, let’s get out of here and move as fast as we can to the east.” Cutter bent down and picked up the bones that littered the passage. “Don’t leave any evidence to let the skeletons know what happened here. Pick up every bone and gather the last arrow. We leave this place clean.”

  The other villagers snapped into action, scouring the passage.

  “Come on.” Blaster led the way out of the temple, putting on bright green armor as he ran up the stairs.

  Watcher followed the last of the NPCs, thinking about the battle. He had totally frozen in the middle of the conflict, and his hesitation had gotten some of the villagers killed. His fear of the skeletons was almost too much to bear. But something about his fear seemed ancient, not just related to that terrible prank when he was younger. His fear went back further, from long before he was born. It made no sense.

  It’s like they’re my enemy from ages ago, for some reason. Watcher pondered the thought. But I’ve never really tangled with the skeletons before, so how could that be?

  It was confusing, but for some reason, this feud between him and the skeletons felt like it had been going on for hundreds of years … and that seemed ridiculous. It was as if he was remembering someone else’s life, and that life was filled with great violence and destruction, much of it focused at him.

  Watcher shuddered and shook his head, trying to dislodge the feelings, then followed the rest of his companions out of the temple.

  CHAPTER 12

  General Rusak gazed across the savannah landscape and toward the desert biome. He’d sent his fastest scouts ahead of the main force in hopes of catching the villagers by surprise. It was unlikely those monsters survived, but his goal had not been to destroy the NPCs; it had been just a delaying tactic. In the distance, the desert temple was just barely visible through the darkness, but a couple of the idiotic villagers carried torches as they exited the structure, making them easy to see.

  “The fools, they fear the dark, but have no idea why.” The skeleton chuckled, his jaw clicking together. “The skeletons will teach the villagers what they fear … soon, very soon.”

  “What did you say, general?” Captain Ratlan asked.

  “Nothing.” Rusak turned to his subordinate. “Did any of the advanced party return?”

  “No sir,” the captain replied. “I expect them back soon.”

  “Did you see those three villagers leave the temple?”

  Captain Ratlan nodded.

  “They’re scouts for the villager army. They aren’t retreating, they’re getting ready to head toward their next destination.” Rusak turned away from the desert temple and stared down at Ratlan. “Your advance party is likely destroyed.”

  “But that was twenty of our fastest skeletons,” the captain protested.

  “Not anymore,” the general said. He turned and pointed at a group of monsters. “Bring in the scouts. I want everyone ready to leave at sunup.”

  The pale soldiers saluted, then ran off.

  The general turned back to the temple.

  “Do you think the villagers found anything in there?” the captain asked.

  Rusak shrugged. “It was marked on our map, and Krael said there were powerful weapons at each of these ancient sites, and so far he hasn’t been wrong. Krael’s map led the skeleton warlord straight to the great Fossil Bow of Destruction. I’m sure we’ll find more artifacts as we search these sites.”

  Ratlan nodded, showing his understanding, but the general doubted the skeleton really understood the significance of these ancient weapons.

  “Eventually, the villagers are going to attack the monsters of the Far Lands.” Rusak paused as another skeleton placed a chest at his feet. The general opened the wooden box and pulled out a handful of bones. Stuffing one or two into his mouth, Rusak chewed the bones, gaining nourishment and HP. “They’ve done it multiple times throughout history. Some say a great war raged across the Overworld, but with the Far Lands being so far away, we remained untouched by the conflict.” More soldiers came close and listened. The general stuffed another bone into his mouth; he figured it was from a chicken or pig, and chewed noisily. “Eventually, the NPCs will find a strong enough leader to give them the courage and direction needed to attack … and then they’ll try to invade our lands, destroy us and our families, try to exterminate the other monsters … they’ll annihilate everything. That’s all villagers can do … take and destroy.”

  Another skeleton reached into the chest and took a handful of bones. It munched on the dry bones, crunching them with its blunt teeth.

  “Who do you think their leader will be?” Captain Ratlan asked. “Maybe the huge warrior I saw at the Wizard’s temple who wears the enchanted iron armor?”

  Rusak shook his head.

  “Maybe one of the older villagers,” another skeleton suggested. “Perhaps the NPCs value age and wisdom over strength and courage.”

  Again, Rusak shook his head.

  “They’re coming out,” a monster shouted.

  The general quickly turned and peered over the top of the hill that hid his skeleton army from any observers. Laying on his stomach, he crawled his way to the top of the hill, and peered down at the sandstone temple in the distance. A long string of villagers ran from the desert structure and into the night. It looked as if they were heading to the east, sprinting across the arid plains.

  And then at the end of the column, a lone boy stepped out of the temple, a girl with long, blond hair at his side. The girl pulled out a torch and held it high in the air; it seemed she was checking to make sure there were not stragglers. In the flickering light, Rusak caught sight of the boy’s hair. It was a reddish brown and cropped short. In his hand, he held an enchanted bow, an arrow already notched to the string. Even from the great distance, the general could see the villager held the bow like an expert, as if he’d been trained to do this for hundreds of years.

  “There’s their leader.” Rusak’s jaw clicked and he scowled in annoyance. “The boy with the bow is a descendant of the wizards.”

  “He’s the one I saw at the Tower,” Ratlan confirmed.

  The general nodded. “We must not let that wizard beat us to any of the enchanted artifacts hidden away by the wizards and warlocks. Everything depends on us being faster and smarter than him.”

  “But what about the wizard … what do we do about him?” Ratlan’s voice was hushed with uncertainty, and a little fear.

  “When we get the chance, we attack him with everything we have.” Rusak moved back from the top of the hill, then stood. “When any of you have a shot at that boy, you take it and you don’t miss. We’ll get only one opportunity. Likely he’s incredibly brave and is already in charge of the army. That will mean he’ll sacrifice the rest of the villagers to protect himself; we must be ready for that.” His voice grew stern and the skeleton general scowled. “We show that wizard no mercy.”

  “No mercy,” the other skeletons replied as if on cue.

  “Everyone finish eating,” Rusak commanded. “Eat as much bone as you c
an. We move out in five minutes and there will be no rest until we are victorious. Now eat … and prepare yourselves for war.”

  CHAPTER 13

  At night, he thought the desert would have been cooler, but, like the guilt still burning within him over freezing in battle, the parched terrain continued to blast him with its relentless, scorching fist. Watcher wiped his forehead, again, trying to keep the square beads of sweat from his eyes … it didn’t help. The salty moisture stung when it trickled past his unibrow and found his blue eyes.

  Many of the villagers around him ran without armor, the metallic coatings still too hot to wear in the sweltering climate. Watcher kept his chain mail on as he ran, but not for the sake of being a good example for others; rather, it was fear that drove his actions; he was terrified a monster would leap out at him any minute.

  “How are you doing, son?” Cleric ran next to him, his usually pristine white smock now stained with dust and sweat.

  “Well … okay, I guess.”

  “You still bothered by that battle in the tunnels?”

  Watcher nodded.

  Ahead, Er-Lan glanced over his shoulder, stopped and waited for the young boy to catch up with him, then continued running at Watcher’s side.

  “Er-Lan knows the battle was terrifying, but Watcher did everything correctly.” The zombie spoke as if sharing some universal truth.

  “How can you know I did everything right?” Watcher’s eyes grew sad. “I froze in the middle of battle. I didn’t give the command to attack when I should have. Villagers lost their lives because of me.”

  “Squawk.” The multicolored parrot on Watcher’s shoulder fluttered its wings.

  Er-Lan nodded to the creature, then watched as the bird leapt into the air and flew in a wide circle around the army of villagers.

  “Well … Er-Lan can …” The zombie lowered his gaze to the ground and his posture slumped; he was clearly uncomfortable discussing the topic.

  “It’s okay,” Cleric said in a soothing voice. “You can tell us.”

  Er-Lan sighed. “The other zombies think Er-Lan makes this up to get out of work, or think Er-Lan is crazy.”

  Winger moved to the zombie’s side and put a reassuring arm around the monster’s shoulders.

  “We don’t think you’re crazy,” Watcher said. “You’re part of our family. If you have a problem, then we have a problem. We’re always there for each other, and that includes you too.”

  Raising his head, Er-Lan glanced at Watcher, then gave a strained smile.

  “It started a long time ago, when Er-Lan was very young. At first, they were thought to just be strange dreams. But when the dreams started coming true, Er-Lan knew they were something else.”

  “Your dreams come true?” Winger asked. “Cool …”

  The zombie nodded and looked at her, then shook his head. “But not just dreams … something more. Er-Lan can see them when awake.” He glanced at Watcher again. “Er-Lan knew Watcher would hesitate, but also knew the battle would be successful.”

  “But a couple of villagers died in that battle,” Watcher protested. “How can you call that successful? Maybe they died because of my hesitation.” A frown spread across his square face. “You should have told me.”

  Er-Lan lowered his gaze to the ground again. “Watcher sounds just like Er-Lan’s brother, Ko-Lan.”

  “What do you mean?” Cleric asked the creature.

  “Er-Lan told of mother’s death, remember?” the zombie said.

  Watcher nodded. “You told me when we were chasing the zombie warlord a few months ago.”

  Er-Lan nodded.

  “I didn’t know about your mother, Er-Lan, I’m sorry.” Cleric moved around to walk on the other side of the zombie. He placed a hand on his green shoulder. “Losing a mother can be difficult.”

  “Ko-Lan blamed Er-Lan for her death.” The zombie closed his eyes as if reliving the painful moment in his mind. “It was when the spiders were feuding with the zombies, a few years ago. A large group of spiders were attacking.”

  “You mean they were trying to destroy your zombie-town?” Watcher asked.

  Er-Lan shook his scarred head. “Not destroy, but take over. The spiders wanted to use it as their lair to hatch many eggs. Fresh water ran through the cavern, with good air supply and lots of room … it was perfect for zombies, and spiders.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The spiders attacked the entrance to zombie-town. During the fighting, Ko-Lan accidently destroyed a stone block.” The little zombie stopped speaking for a moment as his whole body tensed with anger. “It caused the ceiling to fall in, dumping sand and gravel across the entrance. Many zombies were trapped as well as the spiders, but a handful of the enemy made it into zombie-town.” He grew quiet for a moment and frowned, the painful memory playing through his mind. A low growl sounded from deep in the monster’s throat. “Zombies, like Er-Lan’s mother, were defenseless.”

  The sky before them grew bright with an angry red glow as the sun slowly peeked over the eastern horizon. The crimson light seemed to add an additional fury to Er-Lan’s words.

  “Er-Lan’s mother was killed in that attack.” He looked up into the sky as if trying to commune with her spirit. When he lowered his head, small square tears tumbled from the corners of his eyes. “Many zombies blamed Er-Lan for not warning the others about the spiders, with Ko-Lan the loudest of the accusers.”

  “You can’t be held responsible for what the spiders did,” Cleric said. “You didn’t kill your mother or those other zombies.”

  “But Er-Lan failed to act when it was possible to help,” the zombie snapped.

  “Did you know when the spiders were going to attack?” the old man asked.

  The zombie shook his head no.

  “Could you have stopped the spiders from attacking?” Watcher asked.

  Again, the zombie shook his head.

  “Then how could the other zombies hold you responsible?”

  “Er-Lan saw the cave-in happen in a vision.” The zombie paused to take a deep, wheezing breath. The expression on his face was that of incredible grief. “Er-Lan knew Ko-Lan would cause the cave-in, yet nothing was said.”

  “And the other zombies thought it was your fault?” Cleric’s sympathetic voice did little to ease the zombie’s grief.

  “Ko-Lan was the first to point the claw of blame.” The zombie’s voice grew soft. “Ko-Lan said Er-Lan could have warned the zombies and saved everyone … saved mother.” He sniffled and clenched his fists, trying to control his emotions. “Ko-Lan had said zombies that don’t fight are more than useless; they are a threat to the zombie community. Er-Lan was said to be proof of that.”

  “That’s not true, Er-Lan,” Watcher said. “You and I both know fighting is not always the answer.”

  “Fighting might have saved mother, but instead, Er-Lan did nothing.” The monster slowed his pace until he was barely walking, his clawed feet dragging through the sand.

  “Why didn’t you say anything about the attack?” Cleric asked.

  The zombie looked up at the old man. “Just because Er-Lan can see a thing, it does not mean Er-Lan knows when that thing will happen. If warning would have been given, zombies could have done something to make matters worse. Changing the present has uncertain effects on the future. Sometimes, the current future is good enough.”

  “Even if you know your mother will die?” Watcher asked.

  “What if warning would have caused all zombies to be destroyed?” Er-Lan asked. “Changing the present can have uncertain effects to the future, and once those changes are in place, they cannot be taken back. The present instantly becomes the past as time ticks by, and then it’s too late to undo what has been done.”

  The zombie grew quiet for a moment. Watcher could tell a battle raged within the monster’s mind, a battle between responsibility and guilt … something he understood quite well.

  “Er-Lan, you cannot take responsibility for the future.”
He glanced up at the sun as it rose above the eastern horizon before them. The sky was painted with beautiful shades of red and orange. “That’s too much for anyone. Sometimes, we must be responsible for our own actions. You didn’t cause the avalanche, your brother did. You didn’t kill your mother, the spiders did. Just because you think you can see the future, it doesn’t make you the caretaker of the future.”

  “Having sight into the future can be painful.” The zombie sighed. “Knowing a friend will die long before it happens brings much grief.”

  “Have you seen one of us in your visions?” Watcher asked.

  Er-Lan lowered his gaze.

  “You have to tell us if you see something like that.”

  “Visions of the distant future are difficult to see. Much is uncertain and the images are fuzzy and out of focus. Only when the event comes nearer do the premonitions grow clearer.” Er-Lan looked up at Watcher with a single tear tumbling down his green cheek.

  “You have seen something, haven’t you?” the boy asked.

  Er-Lan nodded.

  “What is it? Who is it?” Watcher grabbed him by the shoulder and shook the zombie as if trying to dislodge the answer.

  Er-Lan put a hand on the archer’s shoulder, calming him.

  “It is not certain; the image is unclear. Many people will be underwater. They might drown, or they might not … their fate is still uncertain.”

  “Why can’t you tell what’s going to happen?” Winger asked.

  “When those linked to the event are uncertain of their choices, then the future is uncertain.” The zombie glanced at Winger, then back to Watcher and closed his eyes. “I see many outcomes, all at the same time. It is very confusing … and disturbing.”

  “We understand,” Cleric said softly.

  “No, we don’t!” Watcher snapped. “I need to know what’s gonna happen. Who among us is gonna drown? What can I do to stop it?”