Oathkeeper (18 page)

Some stinking Zaur has it
, Teru thought.

So it would seem.

What? You think something else has it? Snagged on an animal?

It would not be unheard of . . .

No
, Teru shook his head,
there was no meat on the bones this time. It has to have been something of Kholster's that New Bones had with her.

You could always ask her.

The day I need to bother the First of One Hundred with—
Teru rounded a sharp turn, surprising a squad of reptiles. Twelve Zaur, bellies low to the ground, Skreel blades in their forepaws, drew up short. Their Sri'Zaur squad leader hissed a challenge.

<> Whaar pounded in Zaurtol with No Surrender's pommel against the wall of the tunnel as he drew up next to Teru.

No Escape's crystalline eyes sparked red in the dark, punctuating his occupant's message with a threat of his own. Crimson light painted the unsullied portions of his pearlescent bone-metal surface the shade of spilt human blood. The axe-like blade that ran from the crown of No Escape's knobby brow to the base of his helm cast even darker shadows on the wall.

<> Teru tapped with Last Kiss, creating the sounds with alternating slaps of the double-bladed axe's cheeks on the stone.

Teru's warsuit, Bonestripper, bore a thick layer of congealed blackish Zaur blood from the base of his heels to the tips of the small sharp horns mounted over the vertical eye slits of his skull-inspired helm.

The leader, the Sri'Zaur, tapped something back in Zaurtol, but Teru didn't quite follow it.

What are they going on about?
he thought at his armor.

They say they will steal your bone metal and—

“Engaging the idiots,” Teru shouted, smiling as Whaar charged in only a beat behind him. Working in tandem, the two Bone Finders cut through three of the twelve, stopped, turned, and tapped out their message again.

<>

The Sri'Zaur charged.

His soldiers did not.

*

Less than a candlemark later, the two Bone Finders turned down yet another side tunnel. The closer they got, the more clearly Teru could see the missing bone metal in his mind. Something small. Round. A circle.

A ring?

We could ask kholster Rae'en if she knows exactly what we're looking for
, Bonestripper suggested.

Teru did not dignify that with a response.

They moved past an area that still smelled of jun powder.

“Why did First Bones make a ring?” Whaar wondered aloud.

“A gift for New Bones?” Teru answered. “A more interesting question is why she left it behind.”

“She knew we'd come get it back for her?”

Teru laughed. “I hope not.” He jerked his head to the west following a sudden change of direction made by his quarry—it was certainly being carried. “Zhan was upset enough when Kholster sent us seeking New Bones without knowing whether or not her bones truly needed collecting yet. You saw her at Oot after First Bones went into the water. She was dismissive of the Ossuary then, but we were all pretty shaken so—”

Zhan requests an update
, Bonestripper said in Teru's mind.

First Bones is still in the wind
, Teru shot back.
We're following it, but the relic is on the move.

And you want me to tell him that?

Tell him to come find it himself if he wants it faster. He may have noticed there is a war on. We keep getting interrupted.

End Song is connecting him now.

I don't want the Ossuarian in my blasted head—

I enjoy it no more than you
, came Zhan's voice, his words echoing as if he called to Teru from a hundred feet or so farther down the tunnel,
and yet here I am.

Teru knew the other Aern, the soldiers of the Aernese army who were not Bone Finders of the Ossuary, were in each others' heads from dusk til dawn and all through the night. They seemed to like it well enough, not having a moment's privacy even in their own skulls, but to Teru, the increased level of communication was the single largest drawback to being Armored.

“Are you sending what we're seeing and hearing?” Teru snapped.

“No, Maker,” Bonestripper intoned. “Never without express permission—”

“Good.”

“I should warn you, however, that Whaar is having No Escape transmit everything.”

No Escape, covered in a similar gore, waggled its helm at him, the axe-like blade that ran from the crown of its knobby brow to the base of its helm catching the light of Bonestripper's eyes as it did so.

“What the hells, Whaar?”

“He asked.” Whaar shrugged, the movement matched by No Escape to make sure the other Aern caught it. “Dark or white, it's all meat to me whether he wants to look through my eyes and hear with my ears. It's his headache.”

Yes, it is
, Zhan thought at Teru.
So . . . no progress to report?

Don't dull your blade, Zhan
, Teru thought back.
We have this dinner skinned.

Teru walked on as they conversed, trying to track the best route to follow the ring.

That is exactly what she said you would say.
Teru felt more than heard the sigh that Zhan broadcast following those words.

She?
Teru cursed. Zhan, the Bone Harvest doesn't need to—

She is kholstering this recovery now, Teru.
Zhan's voice trailed off, as he ended both sentence and connection at once.

“He's sending Alysaundra?” Whaar asked.

Teru nodded, and it was Whaar's turn to curse.

“He didn't have to bother her with this.” Whaar punched the wall.

The Bone Harvest is requesting a link
, Bonestripper whispered softly in Teru's mind.

Now you ask permission first?

Nope
, laughed a sultry feminine voice in his head.
He put me right through. Same old Bonestripper.

“Bone,” Teru hissed at his warsuit. “When we get done with this mission, you and I are going to have a very long talk about—”

She is your kholster, Teru.
Bonestripper gave him a mental shrug.

Stop worrying that gristle and pay attention to the spoor on your boots, sweetmeat
, Alysaundra thought.
You need to quit messing about and get after the ring.

You know it's a ring?

Of course
, Alysaundra thought.
A ring of bone-steel silver alloy. The exterior of the band bears a stylized representation of Kholster's scars. On the band's interior, there is an inscription which reads: Daughter, of you I am proud. And before you ask, I know that because I asked kholster Rae'en if she would send me an image of her father's missing bone metal. She was quite happy to do so and to point out (as if I hadn't noticed) that it was the final piece ever forged by Kholster.

Oh.
Teru blanched.

So what is your plan? And it had better be something other than running through the tunnels like Kilke's own Armored scarecrows waiting until you come upon a group of Zaur so you can feel like the Lord of the Tunnels when you tap <> at them.

We haven't—

Please remember to whom you are lying, sweetmeat.
Alysaundra's laughter rang out in his mind.
I've been married to both of you. You are playing around.

I track you there
, she continued.
It's fun. I'm just as much an Aern as you two, and I know you haven't gotten to play with Zaur for centuries. But now you have had your happy time, and the last work of First Bones is in the wind. Get aboveground. Run through the forest until you find the spot where the blasted Zaur is and then get the ring even if it means you have to follow it for a hundred jun to find an air vent.

“I think we passed an air vent a little ways back,” Whaar offered.

Sighing deeply, Teru turned and ran for the vent. He remembered it, too. He tried to pretend that somewhere Alysaundra wasn't shaking her head in disgust at both of them.

*

Lurching through the lightless tunnels in a four-legged lope, his shadow-black belly scales a kiss from the stone, Lieutenant Kreej heard the bragging stomp of the Armored Bone Finders behind him and hissed at the sound. Such arrogance to tread so loudly without purpose, without message and to do so along His passageways, Xasti'Kaur—the Shadow Road. . . .

Cursed scarbacks!

It warmed the blood with rage and hate. Resisting the urge to hiss, Kreej found himself having to double back all the way to the area where Captain Dryga had insisted they hold the prisoners. The air was still burnt and stinking like an alchemist's crèche from the jun powder blast the human, Tyree, had unleashed. Kreej clawed over the mass of charred and cut bodies.

Keep going
, a voice seemed to hiss in his mind,
you're almost there.

A few more turns took him back to the supply storage where the prisoner's equipment—what of it they hadn't reclaimed—lay interred beneath the bodies of another dead Zaur. He pulled the bloated stinking body of the dead guard out of the way and looked through the detritus.

The guard's Skreel blade was better than his own, so Kreej stopped to swap it out. As he ate the remainder of the guard's lunch, dried bugs that didn't exactly go stale with any sense of urgency, he pawed through the equipment. Not much of use. The Eldrennai's armor was no help. It wouldn't make much of a prize even if he managed to haul it all the way back to the warlord.

He took a canteen but tossed it away after a sniff. The mouth of the thing smelled like
jallek
root, its acrid scent stinging his nostrils.

Finding the ring seemed an afterthought. He snagged the tunnel rat who'd become entangled in the broken silver chain to which it was attached, silencing it with an envenomed bite and stowed it (ring, chain, and all) in a pouch for later.

How dare Captain Dryga abandon him this way. General Tsan's forces had already blocked off every direct route with which Kreej was familiar. It felt like he was going around in circles.

Now
, the voice seemed to whisper,
this way to the air vent and cut over to one of the main transport tunnels
.

And then the cloud was lifted, and he know how to get out. There was an air vent. Yes, close by. Maybe the one the prisoners themselves had used to—

Two scarback warsuits dropped through the air vent as he approached it, like nightmares come to life, covered in Zaur blood and death scent.

<> they declared in heavily accented Zaurtol.

It doesn't matter
, the voice whispered.
You're useless to me now. Die well. Unless you don't. Now, if you survive . . .

“What bones?” Kreej coughed in the Trade Tongue. He backed away from them, trying to think up another escape route.

“It's a ring,” one of them said. “Give it to us and you can go.”

“Whaar?” the other shouted. “Just kill it and get the ring.”

“We aren't here to kill Zaur, Teru,” the one called Whaar answered. “Or do we want another visit from the Bone Harvest?”

“True.” The other scarback threw its hands up in some strange gesture the other understood, but Kreej didn't.

“This?” Kreej reached into his pouch and pulled out the rat, letting the whole mass of dead vermin, chain, and ring fall to the tunnel floor. He scrambled back from the items as if they might explode or strike him dead at any moment. “Take it. I just want to go home.”

“Thank you.” Whaar reached down and reverently unwrapped the chain and ring, depositing both of them gently in one of the satchels he had strapped to his thighs. “Do you want your rat back?”

“Yes?” Kreej stood perfectly still. He barely had the presence of mind to catch the rat when the scarback tossed it to him.

“So,” Teru cleared his throat. “Have fun with your rat. We're going now. Attack us and die . . . all that.”

“Um . . . yes.” Whaar coughed. “Good luck with the rat.”

Kreej said nothing, watching them closely, ready for the deathblow he felt sure was coming.
We're staring at one another
, he thought,
because no one knows how to handle this. Should I say something?

“Thank you for returning my dinner,” Kreej started. The scarbacks were still standing there. “I am not going to attack you . . . you head to where you were going and I'll wait here and go a different way. Yes?”

“You aren't going to try to follow us or anything crazy?” Teru asked.

“You are heading to where there are more scarbacks?” Kreej dropped down on his haunches, scratching at his shoulder with his hind paws.

“Yes.” Whaar's gauntleted hand dropped back to his sword hilt.

“Then I am headed away from there.”

“Good,” one of the scarbacks said.

“Are you Named?” The one with the axe-bladed helm studied him, eyes glowing in the dark.

“Lieutenant Kreej,” he answered evenly. “You are Whaar . . . ?” He let the name trail on, not wanting to show disrespect by lacking the scarback's other name. All the ones in armor had two names at least: Kholster Bloodmane, Vander Eyes of Vengeance . . . Kreej did not understand how one with four names could report to one with only two, but he assumed the scarbacks could keep track of their own confusing system.

“You want my name as well as my occupant's?” a voice intoned deeply from within the axe-bladed helm. “I am No Escape.”

Three names? Kreej discounted the talking armor's foolishness, of course. He could not see what the scarbacks gained by such strange lies, but armor, even that as fine as the armor worn by the scarbacks, could not talk. But if it made the thrice-named happy to taunt him . . .

“Whaar No Escape.” Kreej nodded. “How many of those names did you pick? I can't tell from your scent.” He flinched away despite his attempt at bravery.