David Wells - Cursed Bones

“These might be useful,” Isabel said. “This one is a charm spell and this one is a shapeshift spell.”

“Take them both,” Alexander said. “Do you see any others you can read?”

Isabel shook her head, scanning the remaining titles on the shelf before turning her attention to the book resting on the desk and flipping it open to a random page toward the end. It was blank. She flipped forward until she found writing.

“I think this is her journal,” Isabel said, scanning the latest entry. “It seems we rushed her plans.” She flipped forward to the next page. “Doesn’t say why, but she’s pretty excited to have Hector and Horace. Wait. Oh Dear Maker … she plans to sacrifice them! We have to catch up to her before she reaches the mountain!”

“What’s she going to sacrifice them to?” Alexander asked.

“She calls it a ghidora,” Isabel said, flipping forward several pages. “Listen to this. ‘With the transference complete, I will have both my youth and my rightful place in the House of Karth once again.’ What do you think that means?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it’s good,” Alexander said. “Take that, too … it might offer some useful insight.”

Isabel went to work packing the books and potions before carefully storing the jars of powder in her pouch. Except for the poison, since she didn’t understand how it was administered and didn’t want to accidentally poison herself.

“Anything else look useful?” she asked, scanning the room.

“One of those glowing jars of lichen,” Alexander said.

Once back in the cottage, she took what food she could carry and a length of sturdy rope, then filled her waterskin. Finally, she built a fire in the hearth and prepared a hot meal which she ate while cooking blackwort onto the blade of her dagger and boot knife. Finally, she tossed several burning logs into the corners of the cottage, then waited until the place was fully ablaze before heading for the exit to the hidden valley. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that Alexander was right. Hazel’s actions were those of an enemy … so war it was. She resolved to kill the old witch on sight lest she gain the upper hand yet again.

Isabel wasn’t anxious to be back in the swamp, especially alone, but she was in a hurry. It didn’t take long to pick up Hazel’s trail, in spite of the multitude of tracks left by the soldiers. The mud made for easy tracking and since the soldiers had left days ago, her friends’ tracks were fresh by comparison, which allowed her to make good time while still being alert to potential dangers and avoiding the water.

Alexander appeared at random intervals, sometimes just to keep her company, other times to warn her of some potential danger ahead. Even when he wasn’t visible, Isabel knew he was watching over her, a fact that was no small comfort in the dreariness and desolation of the swamp.

By the time she’d left the hidden valley, Hazel and her friends had several hours lead on her, but Isabel was fit and strong, driven by purpose and anger, while Hazel was old and frail. Isabel could make out the witch’s footprints amongst her friends, her stride was short and her gait was uneven, she could only be slowing them down.

“You’re gaining on them,” Alexander said, appearing next to her. “Unfortunately, they’re headed for a boathouse on the edge of deeper water. I doubt you can reach them before they get there.”

“And, of course, there’s only one boat,” Isabel said.

“I’m afraid so, but the boathouse is made of evenly cut timbers you can use to build a raft.”

“How far across the water?” Isabel asked.

“Couple of days,” Alexander said. “The foothills of the mountain are on the other side.”

“That’s going to put me at least a day behind them, and that’s without any unforeseen delays. I just hope I can catch up before Hazel gets where she’s going.”

“Me too,” Alexander said, fading from sight with a helpless shrug.

Isabel pressed on. The water became deeper, claiming more area, but she was able to stay on solid ground by following the trail Hazel and her friends had made. The old witch seemed to know exactly where she was going, a fact that made Isabel wonder even more about the mountain that once housed Siavrax Karth’s most secret laboratory. Clearly, Hazel knew much more about the place than she’d let on. Isabel only hoped her assertions about the Goiri were either wrong or just lies. The more she thought about it, the more she reasoned that Hazel would have felt threatened by the bones. After all, she was an old woman. Without her magic, she was helpless. If the stories were true, the Goiri’s bones were nothing but a threat to her.

This part of the swamp was nearly as dead as the parts covered by deeper water, except for the birds living in the treetops. From the sound of it, the trees were teeming with them, probably all of the variety that ate insects, which were becoming quite abundant.

When Isabel came across a different set of footprints, she stopped to examine them. A closer look told her that it was two men, walking in each other’s prints. Soldiers from Karth had found her friends’ trail and were following them. She wondered at the meaning of it. Were they lost or were they scouts? Did they have some means of communicating with the bulk of their forces? And how close were the Sin’Rath witches? Isabel was far more concerned about running into them than she was about the soldiers. Her shield spell made her all but invulnerable to normal weapons, but the witches were something else altogether.

She slowed her pace, taking more time to stop and listen for the enemy in the mist, but the fog had a dampening effect, muffling sound and limiting visibility. After some time, she decided the dampening effect worked both ways and started moving more quickly again, still stopping to examine the trail from time to time, but not as often.

Before long, she thought she heard a voice up ahead. She froze, listening intently, caution mixing with trepidation. She heard it again and started moving, swiftly but quietly closing with the soldiers.

“We’re lost,” one man said.

“All we have to do is follow these tracks and they’ll lead us right to the rest of the men,” another said.

Isabel could just make out their forms in the fog ahead. She stopped, crouching down behind a stump, and considered her options. They were soldiers of Karth, either controlled by the Sin’Rath or acting on orders from someone who was. Ultimately, they were innocent, undeserving of the swift death that Isabel could have easily delivered. But that inconvenient fact presented a dilemma. While they were innocent, they were still after her. What’s more, they were going to wind up at the boathouse just ahead of her and discover that they were following the wrong set of footprints. Lost and alone in the swamp, it was hard to say how they would react to her arrival.

She had to subdue them or lead them astray … but how? She decided to follow at a distance, even though they were traveling slower than she would have liked, while she waited for Alexander to check in on her. She didn’t have to wait long.

“How long have you been following them?” he asked quietly, appearing next to her.

“Half an hour,” she whispered. “I don’t want to kill them, but I need them out of my way.”

He smiled at her and winked before vanishing. She crouched in the mist, waiting. A few moments later she heard them shouting.

“Stop!”

“You’re our prisoner!”

Then she heard running, muffled by distance and fog. She waited until Alexander returned.

“They should be off chasing ghosts for a while,” he said. “You can get ahead of them for now.”