David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Ayela!” Trajan shouted from below.

“Where to now?” Isabel asked.

“This way,” Ayela said, leading her through a door into another hidden passage. Several minutes and many turns later, Ayela stopped and motioned for silence as she peered through a tiny hole in the wall. Satisfied, she pulled a lever and a secret panel popped open.

“This is my room,” Ayela said. “I just need to get my things before we leave.” She started loading her pack.

“Why were they coming for me?” Isabel asked.

“I warned them about the attack,” Ayela said. “Your husband appeared before me and told me your plan. At first I thought I was losing my mind, but he knew things he couldn’t have known, things that only you could have told him, so I listened, though I don’t pretend to understand how he could do such a thing.

“He told me of your plan. I know the legend of the Goiri but never truly believed it existed, much less that it can help us now. When he told me of the coming attack, I went straight to Trajan to warn him. I begged him not to tell the Sin’Rath, but that was the very first thing he did.

“I came for you as quickly as I could. They’ll kill you for revealing their location to Phane.”

“Let’s not give them the chance,” Isabel said, motioning for Ayela to hurry.

She buckled her belt and cinched down the straps of her pack, then hoisted it over her shoulders. She handed Isabel a dagger and said, “The hidden passages can take us to one of the entry halls, but none leads out of the fortress. We’ll have to escape from one of the guarded entrances.”

“That could be complicated,” Isabel said.

“I have a few things that might help,” Ayela said, patting her belt pouch. “Once we’re out, then what?”

“I have friends waiting for me,” Isabel said. “We’ll meet up with them and head for the Goiri’s crypt.”

Ayela followed a confusing maze of passages until they reached a small room where she motioned for silence, pointing to a peephole in the wall. Isabel looked through into a large entry hall filled with soldiers of Karth. Among them was one of the witches, a hideous creature with clawed hands, pale white skin, and thin black hair that barely covered her scalp. She stood amid the soldiers facing the door as the first thud of a battering ram slammed home.

Phane’s forces had arrived.

Alexander appeared and motioned for Isabel to follow him back into the passage, far enough away from the soldiers so they could talk without fear of being discovered.

“Hector and Horace are in the jungle waiting for you,” he said. “Once Phane’s people breach the defenses and enter the fortress, you should face minimal resistance.”

“What about my father and brother?” Ayela asked.

“As long as they’re under the influence of the Sin’Rath, I can’t help them,” Alexander said.

“Phane’s people will kill them,” Ayela said. “They’re all that’s left of my family.”

“The Sin’Rath have a secret way out of this fortress,” Alexander said. “They’ve already begun retreating and your father’s with them.”

“How can you know this? How can I trust you?” Ayela said.

“It’s a little late now, Ayela,” Isabel said. “If the witches catch you now, they’ll kill you. Besides, your family will always be at their mercy unless we destroy them.”

“And you think the legend of the Goiri is true?” Ayela said. “What if you’re wrong? What if we go into the gloaming swamp and find nothing but death?”

“We don’t have much choice, do we? Remember, you came to me,” Isabel said. “And the truth is, we need each other. You know this jungle better than I ever will. Help me and I promise I will help you.”

Ayela seemed torn, struggling to reconcile her decision to help Isabel with her loyalty to her family, flinching with each rhythmic thud of the battering ram pounding on the heavy fortress door.

“Once we go, there’ll be no turning back,” Isabel said. “I need to know if you’ll see this through.”

Ayela nodded tightly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I’ll help you free your family of the Sin’Rath,” Isabel said, putting her hand on Ayela’s arm and looking her in the eye, “but this isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know,” Ayela said.

A terrible splitting sound followed by battle cries and the ring of steel signaled the breach of the doors.

“It’ll be time soon,” Alexander said. “I’ll be back when I have information you need.” He smiled at Isabel as he vanished from sight.

“How does he do that?” Ayela asked.

Isabel shrugged. “I’m not sure he even really understands it. I know I don’t, but the how doesn’t matter. He’s watching over us, he’ll guide us and protect us any way he can.”

“Wait, why would you have left him?” Ayela asked.

Isabel smiled sadly and shook her head. “That’s a story for another time.” She didn’t give Ayela a chance to ask another question, instead quietly heading back up the passage into the room with the peephole.

She carefully peered through just in time to see the witch unleash a terrible spell. A jet of thick green gas erupted from her outstretched hands, shooting forth in a billowing cloud into the breached door, pouring through into the space beyond. Screams of agony followed. One of Phane’s female warriors stumbled out of the side of the cloud of green gas, her face and one arm almost melted away. She took a few aimless steps until the flesh of her shoulder dissolved and her arm thudded to the ground in a sickening mass. A look of realization ghosted across what was left of her face as she fell to the ground, dead.

The attack faltered in the face of such a horrific display of power, but the Regency retreated for only a few minutes, allowing the corrosive gas to dissipate, revealing a gaping hole in the door where before there had only been a splintered crack wide enough for a single person to pass through at a time. While frighteningly effective, the witch’s spell allowed the regrouped soldiers of Phane’s female brigade to form a front line and attack with renewed energy and organization.

They came through in a wedge, shields raised against the crossbow bolts and blow darts assailing them. On command, as one, the front line went to a knee and the second line loosed a volley of arrows from short bows. Several defenders fell. An arrow grazed the shoulder of the witch. She snarled in rage before she began chanting in guttural, almost animalistic tones.

Another volley of arrows took a few more of the defenders before the witch’s next spell was unleashed. A wave of darkness, a smudge in the air, radiated from her hand toward the wedge of attackers, widening as it moved toward them with inescapable speed. It passed through them and into the tunnel beyond for several feet. For a moment nothing happened, almost as if the spell had no effect, but then the metal weapons and armor carried by Phane’s soldiers simply dissolved into rust and fell to the floor in reddish powder, leaving their front line completely defenseless against the onslaught of blow darts and crossbow bolts that followed. Dozens died in moments.

Then a man appeared in the midst of Karth’s defending soldiers, black wisps of smoke swirling around him as he casually stabbed a surprised solider in the throat, vanishing again an instant later.

Isabel stopped breathing, willing her heart to beat more quietly, lest the wraithkin hear her.

He appeared in front of the witch, smiling cruelly, casually slashing her throat, spilling a gout of black blood onto the floor, then vanishing again. The soldiers of Karth were stunned by the sudden turn of events, but even more unnerved at the sudden realization of the Sin’Rath witch’s true form, her charms losing their hold in death.