Michael Mathias - The Wizard and the Warlord

The smaller creatures had to know where Borg traveled. Sometimes he shared the company of King Aldar’s great wolves. They were servants of the Giant Kingdom, but they were predators as well. Knowing this, the white ram was hesitant to linger along Borg’s trail. He didn’t want to become dinner for one of the huge beasts. He found a snow owl sitting in an ice-laden fir tree and headed to tell her Hyden Hawk’s words. He hoped she would hang around until Borg passed. The scent of great wolves was heavy in the air and his instinct wouldn’t allow him to linger.

“Wise owl,” the white ram said in a way that only animals could understand.

“What is it, curved-horn?” she asked, twisting her gray-flecked head at an odd angle to look down at him. “You’re far away from the rocky heights you call home.” The owl’s coin-sized amber eyes snapped open and shut.

“I have words for the giant man, Borg.”

“Who… who… who spoke these words?” the owl asked.

“Hyden Hawk spoke them.”

The owl nodded. “They must be important words.”

“They are,” the ram replied, prancing nervously in place. The scent of wolf was strong, and the ram couldn’t help the way it made him feel. “Will you hear these words and speak them to the giant when he passes?”

“Who… who?” The owl fluttered down to a lower branch on the fir tree, sending a shower of collected snow cascading down onto the icy ground.

“The giant,” the ram answered, wondering if the owl had really been asking.

“I know who… who?” the owl said. “Tell me the words and I’ll tell the giant.”

“Hyden Hawk’s herd is moving north to the Cairn of Loudin. He wishes Borg to join them, and aid them.”

“Who?” the owl said.

“Who what?” the ram said in frustration. “Hyden’s herd is moving north toward the Cairn of Loudin. He wishes Borg to join them and aid them.”

“I heard you the first time,” the owl said defensively.

“Then why did you ask, ‘who?’” the ram growled just before charging the trunk of the tree and butting it with his horns. An explosion of snow and ice came piling down on top of him.

The owl fluttered back up to her original perch and chuckled. The ram shivered the snow off of himself and stepped back so he could see the owl again.

“I am an owl,” the bird said informatively. “I say ‘who’ because it is my nature, just like it is yours to butt heads or even trees when you get frustrated.”

“Will you give Borg the message?” the ram finally asked.

“Who?” the owl said.

The ram started to grow angry again, but stopped himself. Instead, he snorted and bounded off into the trees.

The owl laughed at the hard-headed animal again before taking to the air. Owls were wise, and this one knew exactly what part of the trail Borg was traveling. The owl also knew instinctually that any message from nature’s human counterpart was of the utmost importance. She wasted no time. Before the sun went down, the Southern Guardian was in the owl’s sight.

Sadly, Petar and his four companion’s bodies were found mauled and covered by a blanket of carrion birds. They were in a copse of trees outside Kastia Valley. Commander Lyle had returned to Dreen with more orders, but the High King hadn’t left any for him. Cresson suggested that he take his trackers and ride to O’Dakahn to help search for the mysterious skeleton crews.

Several Dakaneese troops had patrolled the banks of the Leif Greyn River as King Mikahl ordered. Skeletal footprints were found between Owask and Svion. Now the marsh witches and magi who catered to the superstitious sailors and bargemen along the river were saying that some dark evil was growing out in the swamp near Nahka.

Cresson thought that Commander Lyle should be the one in charge of investigating these things, but already a man from O’Dakahn had been placed in position. The commander’s experience outside of Xway made him the most informed man in the realm on the matter. Cresson was so confident in that reasoning that he made a sending to O’Dakahn telling them that once Commander Lyle arrived, he would take charge. He gave Lyle papers, resupplied his men, and assigned him more than the coin necessary to establish an office in Nahka.

Gerard’s-the Warlord’s-orders for the Choska had been vague. The bat-like demon had to ensure that all the skeletons that answered his summons were destroyed during the attack on O’Dakahn. Being a demon, the Choska fed on terror and pain as much as actual food. It decided that it could create quite a meal for itself if it planned well. With its evil magic, the Choska enlisted the aid of a dabbling sorcerer in Nahka. The man bartered the goods the skeletons pirated, and brought them back swords, hooded robes, and torches.

The city of O’Dakahn was vast and wild. Though sections of the wealthy metropolis were well guarded and protected from the unsavory, most of the massive port was considered a cesspool of raw human nature. Pungent tobaccos and herbal potions of the most stimulating nature could be found, sexual fantasies were bought and sold, and a wager could be placed on almost anything at any time of the day or night. It wasn’t hard for the four dozen hooded skeletons to get into the underbelly of O’Dakahn where the streets stayed crowded through the night, and even the city guards tended to look away.

The gatehouse that led from this rough and tumbled part of O’Dakahn to the mercantile district stayed closed and barred at night. It was manned by reputable guardsmen, the incorruptible sort who hoped to rise in the ranks by protecting the merchants and lesser nobles who resided beyond their post. The gate guards were well trained and stayed in practice with their weapons by drilling responses to ways in which their posts might be compromised. As often as they went through these rigorous defensive maneuvers, none of them could defend what was coming this night.

The Choska demon swept down out of the darkened sky and sent a series of streaking crimson rays into the gate. The heavy planked doors didn’t explode apart, but they burst into flames that were so hot the hinges and metal bands that held them together began to glow cherry red. Slowly, the metalwork grew malleable and dripped away, causing sparks to fountain up as the hot drips hit the cool hardpack.

Dogs barked in fear and anger. The guards sounded the alarm as the ember-eyed demon came back around. Crossbows thrummed and arrows shot forth, some striking the Choska as it came on again. The arrows did little more than enrage the thick-skinned creature. It let out a shrieking cry that dropped men to their knees. The clank of weapons hitting the cobbles echoed, as hands were pressed protectively over their ears.

Huge, clawed feet latched on top of the gate and tore the planks away from the melting metal. Then from out of the shadows, the robed skeletons came swarming. In a matter of seconds, the guards were overrun.

Torches flared to life, lit from the burning gates, and like maddened fireflies, small bands of undead spread out through the streets, shattering glass and setting curtains and thatch aflame. Soon a dressmaker’s shop was so consumed in fire that a whole portion of the city was illuminated. Another shop burst into flames down the way, and in the distance, as the sound of clanging steel rang out, a horrible scream cut through the night.

The Choska demon circled high above, shrieking and reveling as the horror and shock of O’Dakahn's residents wafted up into the night. Soon the ample city guard would be diverted from another part of the city to come and rescue the merchants, but until then the Choska basked in the horrific glory of the people’s terror.

To further the mayhem, the Choska swept by low a few times, rupturing eardrums and spreading panic with its horrible, piercing call. It watched as guardsmen came rushing in from several different places. They held their lanterns high and their swords flashed brightly. One by one the skeletons were cut down and trampled apart by city men.