David Wells - Cursed Bones

The darkness surrounding them was alight with the terrifying little insects-there must have been hundreds, lightning arcing between their wings as they buzzed around their would-be prey.

“Will they follow us tomorrow?” Isabel asked.

“Doubtful,” Ayela said. “They’re somewhat territorial, rarely venturing too far from the area where they were born.”

After the first hot meal in days, Isabel went to work cooking the deathwalker root down into a rudimentary healing salve. Ayela watched with interest while she carefully cut each flower sac and emptied the contents into a small jar she’d produced from the bag she carried over her shoulder.

“I have a friend you’d like,” Isabel said. “He’s very knowledgeable about the uses of plants. He taught me how to do this.”

“Knowledge of the jungle is valuable to my people,” Ayela said. “It’s a source of many poisons but also many medicines. The most respected person in any tribe is almost always the person with the greatest knowledge of the jungle, even more than the warriors.”

“Lucky would love to see this place. He’d have a thousand questions for you. In fact, I suspect the only way you’d get him to stop asking you questions would be to hand him something to eat.”

“You must miss your friends and your family,” Ayela said.

“I do,” Isabel said, “very much.”

“Then why come here, so far away from them, and all alone?” Ayela asked.

“It’s complicated,” Isabel said, shaking her head.

“Perhaps, when you trust me more, you will tell me the truth of your situation,” Ayela said.

“I do trust you, Ayela,” Isabel said. “I wouldn’t be out here with you if I didn’t.”

“Then tell me your reasons for coming to my country when reason itself argues against you being here,” Ayela said.

Hector and Horace remained silent but shared a look.

Isabel sighed. “I guess you have a right to know. Phane summoned a very powerful demon named Azugorath. She’s touched me and is trying to subvert my free will, trying to turn me away from the light and to the darkness so that I will serve Phane. Because of this demon’s influence, I nearly killed my husband. I left him that very night because that was the only way I knew to protect him.”

“Should I fear you?” Ayela asked, a slight tremor running through her voice.

“I don’t know,” Isabel whispered. “So far I’ve been able to control what Azugorath is doing to me, but she keeps pushing against my will, trying to find a way in. I fear that one day, I won’t be able to stop her.”

Ayela stared into the fire for several minutes without saying a word.

“That must be a horrible burden to bear,” she said, finally.

Isabel nodded.

“It seems we have something in common,” Ayela said. “Our loved ones are being held hostage by evil and the only way to get them back is to destroy the evil.”

“Exactly,” Isabel said.

Hector woke Isabel quietly just before dawn. The darkness surrounding them was still crackling with lightning flies, but Hector was far more concerned about something else. He pointed silently into the jungle.

Isabel had to look carefully before she saw it-the light of a torch, then another. She motioned for Hector to wake Ayela, then she roused Shadowfang with her mind while she strapped on her boots and sword.

“We’re going to have to fight,” she said. “We can’t risk the jungle with all of these lightning flies.”

“So how did they manage to travel through the night without being eaten alive?” Horace asked.

“Their torches would have kept the lightning flies at bay … mostly, anyway,” Ayela said. “I’m sure they’ve been bitten more than a few times.”

She drew her dagger and fished a vial of thick black liquid from her pouch. Carefully, she drizzled her blade with the liquid, then held her dagger over the fire until it dried, forming a coating on her blade.

“What’s that?” Horace asked.

“Poison,” Ayela said.

“Oh,” Horace said, inching away from her.

The jungle started to lighten and the torches grew closer.

“Spread out and hide,” Isabel said. “We don’t want to let them take us with crossbows. Attack when you see my light-lance.”

Hector and Horace nodded, disappearing into the jungle just outside the clearing. The lightning flies seemed to sense the coming dawn and had almost completely disappeared by the time the soldiers approached the camp.

Isabel waited until they were close before she cast her shield spell, but then held her place, waiting for just the right moment to strike. Six women slipped into the camp, warily looking around as they approached the fire, inspecting the ground for any sign of where their quarry had gone. Isabel started to whisper the words of her light-lance spell, allowing her anger to boil into tightly controlled rage.

The wraithkin appeared in the midst of the women. Isabel smiled fiercely as she unleashed her spell, burning a hole through the side of his head the size of an apple. Hector and Horace swept into the six women a moment later, dual short swords drawn and flashing in the firelight.

Four of the women immediately formed a battle line, raising shields and swords to face the attack, while the other two faced away from the line, searching the jungle for any sign of additional enemy.

Hector and Horace split, each targeting a soldier on the outside of the line. Hector raced toward the soldiers recklessly as if he was going to crash into the shields and expose himself to their blades, but at the last moment he transformed into vapor and slipped through the line, solidifying a moment later behind them and stabbing the surprised woman in the back before rolling around the outside of her dying body and facing the next soldier in the line.

Horace skirted around the edge of the line, forcing his opponent to turn to face him before lunging toward her with his leading blade. When she stepped back to brace herself, she tripped over Horace’s invisible servant, falling into her companion and knocking her over as well. Horace darted in and stabbed her in the lower leg, then backed off, circling around toward the front of the now broken line, looking for his next opportunity to strike.

The woman screamed in pain from the leg wound. At the same time, one of the two soldiers guarding the rear of their hasty formation screamed in fear. Shadowfang lunged at her, swatting her shield aside and going for her throat. With three of their number wounded or dead in seconds, the remaining three women of the Regency Army chose to flee. The first ran straight into Ayela, who stepped into view too late for the woman to stop, crouched down low to avoid a shield smash and stabbed her in the leg before rolling to the side. The woman stumbled, whipping her sword around in a clumsy strike that was several feet too high before stopping suddenly, realization slowly spreading across her face.

“You poisoned me,” she said, falling to the ground.

The soldier that had fallen under Horace’s opponent scrambled to her feet and looked at Hector and Horace wildly, trying to watch them both as they positioned themselves to split her focus. She lunged at Horace, exposing her back to Hector. When Horace blocked, Hector struck, stabbing her in the base of the skull just under her helmet and killing her almost instantly.

The last remaining soldier was nearly to the edge of the clearing when Isabel burned a hole through her, leaving only the wounded soldier left, her leg bleeding profusely, her face already pasty white.

“Hector, Horace, search the fallen for anything of use,” Isabel said, linking her mind with Slyder. A quick survey of the area told her that the bulk of the Regency force was still a half a day behind.