Of Armor And Bone

by Sean Clark

“If they had unearthed… whatever it was, don’t you think they’d be celebrating? Or at least scrambling to do something with it?” Kensley postured.

  A loud, short war-cry suddenly echoed from the outside, tickling the walls of the cave. Scarborough jumped, scraping his armor against the wall of the tunnel loudly. Kensley yanked at the squirming man’s arm, while Mandabus pushed ahead.

  “There, that is that sound of a proper force.” Bently turned his head towards the captain.

  “I’ve heard louder.” Mandabus scoffed. “Even from Tulefore.”

  “Even if Tulefore has disengaged some of its forces…” Bently pondered aloud as he readjusted the strap on his scabbard to hide his unease, “…is it really the wisest decision to engage if we will certainly be outnumbered?”

  Mandabus gave him a dark glance to the side. “Do you really think numbers count against us while we wield weapons imbued with such power? And covered with impenetrable plates of iron?” He drummed on his chest plate with his knuckles, releasing a solid crack.

  “Even so…” Bently offered, “…we were ordered to avoid causing a commotion, only to scout out their encampment.”

  “These suits have yet to even see battle, either.” Scarborough added.

  “You are correct, Bently, but if we find them in possession of the remnant, we should do what we must to take it for Xiandol.” Kensley stated sternly.

  “One of several possibilities.” Mandabus muttered. “Come along. We’re wasting time.” His loud footsteps pushed ahead into the tunnels, the others trailing behind.

  The wind blew louder and rougher. Above their heads, intermittent timbers spanned across the ceiling, being held up by posts driven into the ground in roughly dug holes. Old dusty footprints littered the ground. The smell of wood-fueled fires entered their nostrils.

  Past an abandoned mine cart atop a rusty track heading back deeper into the mountain, an exit loomed. Double file, Bently and Mandabus led the way. The night sky shined bright with a full moon that illuminated the fringes of the clouds sitting still in the air above. The torches around the mine entrance were sparse, mostly having not been lit for the night. Beyond the piles of rubble and small buildings sat a wall of tall, bare timbers having been driven into the dirt. Even farther, larger buildings sat, their dark silhouettes encroaching on the horizon. That which remained of the forest far from the town sat aglow, bathed in the light of the moon. The light of a bonfire cast an orange glow upon the walls and gables of buildings deeper into the settlement.

  Bently crouched down to the ground and ran his hand over the dirt, erasing one of the old footprints from the soft, dark mud. “How long ago did the energy disappear?”

  “A few days, the mage said.” Mandabus grumbled. “It’s a shame this equipment took so long to come here from Xiandolia.”

  Kensley scanned the dim horizon. “Tulefore city is not far, I’ve heard. It could be there by then.”

  “Hold up.” Bently announced softly, his head scanning the surroundings. “It rained two nights ago, just a bit. If there were workers attempting to remove something from the diggings here, there would have been much more signs of traffic, a mire underfoot.”

  “Perhaps they work quickly?” Scarborough hummed, looking around at the empty buildings in the vicinity.

  “Who cares how they did it?” Mandabus grunted, nudging Bently with the tip of his boot. “I imagine we’ll have to find someone to interrogate.”

  Kensley groaned. He grabbed at the chin of the helmet and pushed it up and down to scratch the back of his head. As he adjusted it back in place, the glow of a torch caught his eye. Stumbling along into the fenced-off area, a man holding a torch had begun to wander. He fiddled with the string on the front on his pants, holding the torch with the other hand up and out of his face. Tiredly, he glanced towards the group before his gaze wandered back, looking for a location to urinate. Realizing what he had seen, his eyes quickly turned back to the group of four. The man’s head jerked back for a moment in surprise, before uttering a single warning. “Intruders!”

  Mandabus’ eyes instinctively found the same target as Kensley. Before the villager could utter another word, Mandabus had dashed towards him, sword having been drawn before he had even covered a quarter of the distance. The long, wide blade dangled behind him before he quickly shifted it to a two-handed grip. The tip pierced the man’s abdomen without resistance, and the cross guard above the grip eventually met with his flesh, bearing the full impact of Mandabus running at him.

  The torch fell from the man’s hand onto the ground with a dull thump and a burst of glowing cinders. Shifting his right foot back, Mandabus quickly extracted the sword that held the man’s limp body up, dropping it to the ground. With a quick swing backwards, the blade shed its fine layer of blood. In the distance, a commotion had already arisen.

  The captain quickly looked back at the other men who had barely yet to react. Bently orderly rose to his feet and began scanning the distance. Lights of torches had begun moving around the town, looking for the source of the cry. Kensley jogged up to where Mandabus had made his attack.

  “I guess we forfeited any chance of a surprise attack.” Kensley scoffed, kicking at the limp body of the man.

  “Now we have some fun on our hands.” Mandabus laughed viciously. Beyond the fence, men carrying lit torches began to approach.

  Chapter Three: The Emperor

  The warm glow of the sun had just begun to creep over the tall buildings of Tulefore City. The red tile roofs shined bright from the morning dew that had been left behind by the dissolving fog. The first few shoppers had begun to make their way out to the market streets to browse the day’s goods. Along the waterfront, the smell of smoked fish intertwined with that of the sea. Farther down the cobbled stone embankment, the fishing ships had begun to unload their early morning’s catches. The tanned seamen climbed up and down the mast and rigging, grasping tight as the waves slowly rocked their boats back and forth inside the moorings.

  A cacophony of loud horseshoes striking the compacted earth of the streets broke the calm silence of the dawn. The sound of a young woman shrieking in surprise radiated through the upper borough as she dodged a reckless rider. Terren yanked his reigns to urge the horse to a hasty stop. With a sharp click of his heel, the horse lurched back to the street where the group of other riders had stopped. With a menacing glance, he targeted the offending member of his platoon. The man timidly placed his head down and slid off the back of his horse. The soldier quickly made eye contact with the woman who glared at him. He hurriedly approached her to offer an apology.

  Terren forced his horse back along the path, having confirmed his soldier’s action. The remainder of the group hurried after him, their horses climbing the incline up to the castle atop the seaside outcropping. The tall, dark stone spires glowed with the light of the sun glaring on them from behind. The cold shadows of the buildings crept up on the steep road. The horses slowed to a trot as their horseshoes clacked and clunked against the hard paving stones of the road up to the courtyard.

  Terren glanced at the unmoving guards at the side of the archway leading into the castle grounds. Inside the courtyard, the ranking officer slid off the back of his horse. The animal snorted loudly, causing a bird perched in the tree at the center of the space to flutter away. With a gentle movement, Terren approached his animal’s mane and stroked with as the other members of the group pulled up beside him.

  “Be quick if you wish to refresh yourselves.” The officer said as he looked back at his men. They had just begun to unmount their own horses and stretch their arms and legs. “I don’t know if the Emperor or my father will send us off again.”

  “Sir.” One said with a nod.

  Terren adjusted the green-embroidered cape at his back to rest neatly against the back of his cuirass. The leather and brass buckles jabbed at the sides of his ribs, and the weight of his greaves returned to his tired feet. He forced his composure and began a proud stride towards th
e front entranceway of the castle.

  The guards at each side of the door sat in pristine armor that looked as if it had seen no time on a battlefield, let alone a dispute that would cause one to lift a sword. Terren approached righteously, hardly giving the two men a second look. Without a word, they shifted from their normal unmoving stances to push the door open. The large, weathered planks of wood making up the structure rubbed together as the hinges held on with all their might.

  The front of the throne sat still hiding in the building’s dim light, the window behind it glowing in the morning sun. Terren looked out on across the water, calm, with hardly a cloud hovering above. He met eyes with the Emperor who sat up sluggishly to meet his gaze.

  “Sir Terren, is it not?” The ruler remarked with a hint of anticipation in his voice. “I take it you must arrive with good news. In fact, I expect it.” He added demandingly.

  “I’m afraid that’s not the case, Emperor Manek, Your Highness.” Terren announced, unfazed as he stepped up the intricate, disheveled carpet. The emperor sat back on his bloated body with a sigh.

  “Well then, it can’t be helped.” The emperor wheezed. With a wave of his hand, he called over one of the servants to bring him his plate of food; a greasy and charred fish sitting bare upon a silver dish. “Spit it out then.” He requested as he dug his fingers into the rich looking meat freshly sat upon his armrest.

  “The magical force we had been digging for… it’s disappeared.” Terren asserted before he had a second chance to think over his words.

  Manek forcefully shoved a mouthful of fish over his lips with the base of his palm. After swallowing and grunting loudly, he smeared his fingers on his gown and turned his face up once again to Terren.

  “Xiandol has it then?” He conjured.

  “We have not been able to confirm such a thing, Your Highness.” Terren responded cautiously.

  “Why not?” Manek uttered slowly as he prodded at the roasted fish’s head with his greasy fingers.

  “After our mage sensed its disappearance, we have sent men up upon the mountain to look upon Xiandol’s settlement. As I left, any reconnaissance being carried out gave us no evidence that they had obtained anything. It is likely should they have gotten their hands on it… they would have quickly moved to hide or transport it away.” Terren reported assuredly.

  “Disappeared, has it?” Manek sighed. “Unlikely, but if so, it is a shame.”

  “Zethurus has told us that such a power is likely unstable. A shame, it is, indeed.”

  “I was not finished.” The large man cleared his throat. The emperor slumped back in his chair, placing the half-eaten dish on the fat armrest of the throne. “If Xiandol does not have it, then they must now assume it is in our grasp.” He stated earnestly, licking his lips.

  Outside, a lone gull cawed loudly. The sun had begun to creep farther in across the carpet, up to Terren’s feet. “Despite what our people may believe, the Xiandolans are hardly brainless barbarians.” The officer perked up. “I’m sure they do not wish to return to the bloodshed of the years past.”

  “Are you questioning me!?” The emperor spat. Bits of food flew out of his mouth as he sprayed the air before him. “Do you take me for some fat fool? Do you think I would also wish for more of our forces to fall unnecessarily at the hands of those moss-eaters?”

  Terran stood his ground, unspeaking.

  “One does not sit on a throne for years and years listening to drivel about war and strategy without being able to develop a sense for the enemy and how they think.” Manek raved. His thick neck and face turned a pale crimson as the collar dug at his skin. With a deep breath, he returned to his normal tone, “Even if they are not fools, their people have want for much more than we could ever. To us, that power was trivial at least. But to them…”

  “I understand.” Terren nodded humbly.

  “How many men are still there, able to fight?”

  Terren bit at his lip and tugged on the pale strands of his thin reddish beard uneasily. “Some soldiers, Lady Kiaren has been keeping them on their feet, vigilant. A few other able-bodied men. Some of the civilians are returning to their homes at this time to be safe.”

  “I won’t have to implore you to return at once, I assume?” Manek ordered, pointing out towards the opposite horizon. “Return to your commander. Tell her that one of the platoons from across the sea has just returned, and should be able to arrive there within a few days, should you need it.”

  “I will go at once.” Terren quickly turned on his heel and marched out of the long chamber. The emperor retrieved his plate of food, now cold, off the armrest. With grubby fingers, he plucked more of the meat from the fish and shoved it into his mouth, scowling as he chewed it down.

  The horses in the courtyard had begun drinking down water from the puddles in the depressions of the courtyard. “The old bastard still kicking?” One of the soldiers joked as they tore into a harden chunk of bread from their pack. Terren marched toward his horse and plucked the reins off the metal railing bordering a terrace.

  “More than a little bit.” The officer scoffed. “Gather up the others, we must return at once.”

  Chapter Four: The Winds of Death

  The lights of torches moved about the pathways beyond the fences of the mining outcropping. The calls of patrolling soldiers echoed between the buildings as they searched for the sound of the scream. The sun had just begun to cast its first glow upon the horizon of the Tuleforian highlands to the east.

  “Damn.” Kensley muttered while rolling his shoulders. “We must have lost track of time down in the tunnels.”

  “It’s not that.” Bently said with a shake of his head. “The daylight that we arise under takes its time to break free from the shadow of the mountain.”

  Mandabus stood at the gate of the area and looked out into the darkness of the road meandering down the slope that held onto the town with a light grasp. “We must waste no more time.” He ordered. As he glanced backwards, he studied Scarborough’s features, his helmet removed. The thin man’s eyes held onto dark bags.

  With his sword still dangling from his hand, the captain turned quickly and marched up to Scarborough who had begun trembling in the suit of armor. “You cold?” Mandabus growled a quick demand.

  “No, sir.” Scarborough shook his head.

  Mandabus grabbed Scarborough’s hand that was wrapped around the grip of his sword. The captain forced the thin man’s hands tighter upon the pommel, forcing the withdrawal of the blade. “You shall not be afraid to kill this night, even if the man stares you in the eyes, is that clear?” He interrogated, fixated on Scarborough’s own eyes.

  “No, sir… yes, sir!” Scarborough muttered as he stood rigidly. The shouting of men outside grew louder. He carefully shoved the helm back atop his head.

  “Who is that?” A call came from behind Mandabus. “You, in the armor!”

  As the captain turned around to face the newly arrived men, Kensley’s sword came free of his scabbard with a rough slashing sound. “Hold it.” Mandabus ordered, resting the tip of his sword in the dirt. “Scarborough, you will lead us.”

  The captain released his grip on the thin man’s hand and pushed beside him. With a tap at his back, Scarborough let out a shill yell before taking off through the soft, dark dirt. He quickly shoved the blade out in front of him.

  The first man dropped the torch from his hand in an attempt to dodge the attack. By the time the flames had met with the gray pile of straw at their feet, he had been toppled to the ground with a spewing gash to the axillary artery on his arm from his attempt to block the attack. Kensley rushed beside him to cut the second man down.

  “Split up!” Mandabus called out. His voice echoed in the cold air. The flames began to lick across the ground, smoldering in the damp material. “Let each of them know of our arrival.”

  Bently drew the long, straight sword off his back and marched heavily out of the gate and past the other two. The captain adjusted h
is grip on the sword and followed quickly out of the confined area.

  The worn road ensnared Bently in sticky mud. With each trudging step, he seemed to sink deeper into the ground. The calls of men surrounded him. The tiny alleys among the buildings swarmed with the sounds of voices and stamping feet from every direction. A second call of ‘Intruders!’ sounded, and he felt a quick slash of a blade glance off the shielding of his chest plate. As the second slash came, he caught the sword and pulled the user in towards him. The man stumbled into the mud after his weapon, and Bently quickly changed his grasp to grab at the man’s bare face. With a wide swing, he sent the man down into the mire with a dull splash. With a swift jab downward at the ground, he finished the job.

  Others appeared from the side street baring weapons Bently’s direction. As they began to pile towards him, he used the fresh body to leverage himself out of the mud and plow through the men, pushing many to the ground.

  “Be ready!” Kensley alerted Scarborough as he propped his shoulder against the dull wooden door. The lieutenant backed up a few steps before he rammed the door with his body weight. The flimsy construction shattered with a loud clash from his armor, and the thinner man slipped in the door hurriedly after. In the grainy darkness of the room, a few men had already sprung out of their bunks out of terror.

  Scarborough took to jabbing at anything that had managed to catch his eye in the low light. Kensley smashed through more of the furniture as he swung the long, heavy sword through the air in an attempt to decimate anyone who wasn’t able to react quickly enough. In the dim light creeping though the busted doorway, the splatter of blood could be seen taking purchase upon the men’s glowing armor.

  Mandabus marched through the back street along the rear wall. He came across a smoldering torch sitting upon the ground, abandoned. With a direct toss, he threw it up to the flimsy-looking roof of one of the smaller buildings. The torch sputtered and smoked against the cold dew that coated the wood. Eventually the flame caught once again to start licking at the wooden structure.