David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Why would he do that?”

“Because it was the right thing to do. Because there was horrible suffering being inflicted on innocent people and he had the power to make it stop … so he did.”

The soldier slumped down against the wall and put his head in his hands. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Abigail said. “I’m going to let you go.”

Anatoly looked at her with a questioning frown.

“Why would you do that?” the soldier asked, looking up at her.

“So you can tell your brothers-in-arms the truth,” Abigail said. “Once you do that, I’m quite sure they’ll kill you for treason. Just make sure to deliver this message for me before they do: If they come near this cave, my dragon friend here will feast.”

The soldier looked from her to Ixabrax and back again.

“They’ll never believe me, but you’re right about one thing, they will kill me.”

Abigail shrugged. “So run away instead. Find a village where you can make a life for yourself. Leave your companions ignorant of the threat they face if they come to attack us. It’s up to you. Take the honorable path and give your fellow soldiers a chance to survive or run away like a coward, your choice. Just be certain of one thing, if you return here, you will die. Now take your cloak and your sword, but leave your armor and go.”

Haltingly, the soldier strapped on his sword from the pile of gear they’d collected and pulled a cloak over his shoulders. He stopped at the mouth of the cave and turned back, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t understand you.”

“What’s your name?” Abigail asked.

“Haldir.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Haldir. Now get out of here and don’t come back.”

Several minutes passed without a word, both of them content to stare into the fire crackling in the growing darkness of late evening.

“I’m not sure if that was mercy or vengeance,” Anatoly said.

“Maybe a little of both. Or maybe I just wanted to give Haldir the chance to exercise his free will informed by all of the facts.”

“He’ll probably lead them right to us,” Anatoly said.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Zuhl’s soldiers have come to revere and fear the dragons, even if under false pretenses. I doubt Haldir wants to meet Ixabrax ever again.”

“Either way, we should be vigilant tonight,” Anatoly said.

Abigail nodded. “Why should tonight be any different?”

They kept the fire low and built up a screen to diminish the soft glow it cast from the mouth of the cave, but the soldiers didn’t come. The next morning, Abigail watched the sun rise over the sparsely wooded slope of the mountain, expecting to see troops marching toward her, but there was no sign of them.

Magda’s fever broke that morning and the infection in her wound started to diminish with each successive application of Old Man’s Beard. While the infection was no longer a danger, the wound was still serious and debilitating.

“You should go without me,” she said after listening to them recount the events that had transpired since she’d become delirious with fever.

“Not a chance,” Abigail said.

“I won’t be fit to fight for weeks. You can’t afford to wait that long. Zuhl’s already sent soldiers after us. When they fail to produce results, he’ll send something else, or he’ll come himself.”

“We’re not leaving you here alone,” Abigail said flatly.

“She’s right,” Anatoly said. “You’re not strong enough to feed the fire, let alone hunt and we don’t have enough food to last you until you heal. We’re staying.”

“Then we need to figure out how to help me heal faster,” Magda said. “Has Alexander visited lately?”

“A few days ago,” Abigail said.

“Apparently, Isabel is still in a bit of trouble, so I suspect he’s trying to help her,” Anatoly said.

It was several days before Alexander returned. Abigail was starting to get restless, but Magda’s wound was still too serious for her to travel, let alone fight. Abigail was pacing outside the entrance to the cave when Alexander appeared.

She stopped and glared at him. “You really should check in more often.”

“Sorry. Isabel was captured and I couldn’t find her. I’ve been spending every moment trying to get past the magical defenses surrounding the place where she’s being held.”

“Is she all right?” Abigail asked, suddenly worried.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know who has her or why.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. Sometimes I forget how much you’re tying to manage all at once.”

Magda smiled from her bedroll as Alexander and Abigail entered the cave.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Much better, though not well enough,” Magda said. “I fear that Zuhl will find us before I’ve healed sufficiently to travel.”

“What can I do?”

“Consult with Master Alabrand,” Magda said. “Perhaps he’s aware of some medicinal herbs native to this part of the world that would speed my healing.”

“I was just going to pay him a visit. I’ll see what he knows.”

“How’s everything else going?” Anatoly asked.

“Aside from Isabel, mostly the same. Dad’s building up his line in Buckwold. Blackstone’s magic has failed, so the wizards have relocated to Glen Morillian. Mom and Emma have gone with them. All that’s left in the Keep are Rangers and a few Sky Knights. Phane is working day and night to build ships, both in Karth and Andalia, but he seems content to wait out the winter before making his move. Bianca has secured the northern fortress island and is running patrols into Fellenden. Cassandra is busy with her wyvern-breeding program and training new Sky Knights; she’s already increased her ranks by fifty. My leg is stiff and sore but healing, and Jack is going stir-crazy.”

Abigail smiled. “I know how he feels.”

“He misses you, by the way.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll be back with Lucky’s advice in a few minutes.”

He faded into the firmament, reappearing in Lucky’s workshop in a blink. Lucky was sipping a cup of tea, reading and listening to the sputtering and bubbling from several tables filled with glassware.

“Ah, Alexander, there you are. I’ve acquired the ingredients to make a quart of aqua regia. I’ve been eagerly awaiting the next step in the process.”

“Excellent, but I need some more advice for Magda first. The Old Man’s Beard eliminated her infection, but her wound is still pretty serious. Any suggestions?”

“There are a number of healing herbs that grow in colder climates but most are rare.” He got up and went to a bookshelf, searching briefly before selecting a tome and flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He laid the book open on the nearest table.

“This is called snowbell … it’s similar to deathwalker root in its healing properties, but it’s hard to find, growing almost exclusively on rocky outcroppings high in the mountains.”

It looked like a creeper vine that covered the rock it lived on without actually putting down roots. The leaves were small and very dark green, and tiny white, bell-shaped flowers grew in clusters on the end of long stems.

“What part of it do I need?”

“The vine itself,” Lucky said. “The flowers are useless except for decoration, but the vine can be prepared just like deathwalker root to make a healing salve.”

“How quickly does it work?”

“Depending on the severity of the wound, days or weeks, but generally much more quickly than the natural healing process.”

“If I can’t find any, is there anything else that might work?”