Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel (12 page)

“Let them go. I’m the one you want,” Kelor said.

The weight of Kelor’s paws pressed down on the Warden, making it difficult for him to breathe. The captor struggled to speak.

“Get off me or we all perish today.”

An explosion rocked the tent as flames spread across the canvas dwelling.

“Swear it. I let you go, and you set them free.” Kelor’s head hovered over the Warden’s face.

The Warden coughed. “Yes, I swear it.”

Kelor released the Warden, stepping off his shoulders and moving a few paces away. The human gagged and coughed as air filled his lungs again.

“Get the cats! Hurry!” he shouted to a handful of servants. He struggled to his knees and stumbled forward until he was back on his feet.

The Warden rushed into the burning tent. A few moments later he along with the servants emerged with armfuls of items, but the panthers were nowhere to be seen.

“Get back in there!” shouted the Warden at one of the servants.

“The cage door, its jammed shut, we need something to pry them free!” answered the servant.

All Kelor could do was watch, his fear of the flames growing as quickly as the blaze. Try as he might, he couldn’t will his feet to take him into the burning tent. It was up to the humans to save his family. His fear of the fire beast was too much.

The men ran to a nearby pile of goods, boxes, and assorted wares. They tossed boxes, rummaged through sacks and barrels, looking for anything to release the door. Finally the Warden grabbed a metal pole and a small hammer then turned to run back to the tent… but it was too late.

Kelor roared as another explosion rocked the main holding tent. He watched in terror as the tent turned into an inferno of smoke, flames, and destruction. Suppressing his fear, the cat raced to the firestorm, but the searing heat stopped him. The fire creature taunted him with its rage and color. It roiled, surged, and hissed at him in a grotesque language. He didn’t understand it, but it was more powerful than he was, and it had just ripped his family from him and sent them into the afterlife in agony.

The panther slumped to the ground as he waited for the creature to burn itself out.

In the aftermath, Kelor learned that even the steel bars of the cage had yielded to the fire beast; they were melted or warped. And there was no sign of his family; their bones were ash along with the rest of the contents of the tent.

When the Warden slapped on the spiked leather collar, Kelor did not resist.

“I am a man of my word, Cat, I would have released them,” said the Warden.

The words stung.
It wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I was not strong enough,
thought Kelor.

“Most unfortunate. But like you said, you are the one I want,” said the Warden.

Dor’van and Sindas, General Kitra’s men came running up. “The panther cub, is he unharmed?” asked Sindas, unconcerned about the devastation all around.

The Warden nodded. “You may tell your mistress her investment is secured.”

“We do not approve. Your carelessness could have cost us dearly,” said Dor’van.

The captor shrugged off the implied accusation. “Not to worry. As it turns out, this unexpected event has made things much easier. Now we only have one panther to feed, not four. True, they could have fetched a handsome sum on the open market, but I was losing money on corgan meat.”

“I will send a full report of this day’s events. General Kitra will be displeased,” Sindas said. “Remember your contract, Warden. Failure to do so and all of Cordale will be your enemy.”

“I appreciate the reminder. Please, tell your mistress we are still on schedule, in fact, ahead of schedule in regards to her wishes of the beast,” the Warden said, smiling coolly.

“Very well,” said Dor’van and the two men left.

Kelor only stared at the ashes and the orange-red glow of the embers.

The Warden inserted a small oblong canister into a receptacle on the back of Kelor’s collar.

“This is a Swamp Siren collar,” said the Warden.

The panther looked at his captor with confusion.

“Should you try to repeat your actions of this day and feel the need to leave this camp, you should know something first. The vial I placed in the collar is made of a very special glass. It’s nearly unbreakable except with this,” he said as he held up an odd looking device. It resembled a pair of blunt scissors with wooden handles, and a coil spring separated two silver tong ends.

“See, it’s easy. I squeeze these together and the metal tongs rub together making a unique sound, a sound capable of cracking the vial. A sound capable of traveling great distances. The poison enters your blood and you’ll perish before the next sunrise. Get it?” He knelt next to Kelor.

“Your family’s demise was your doing, Cat. You’ve cost me a great deal today, and I will be repaid in full. Down to every last Copper coin, and your repayment starts today.”

“Throw him in the pit. Keep him there until we can build another cage,” ordered the Warden. Several servants attached a long leash to Kelor’s collar and lead him to the center of camp. As the panther slowly walked along, he looked over his shoulder at the Warden. Another new emotion filled his heart… hate.

Dox was finally back on his feet, but was holding his injured side. His breathing was erratic and shallow. The Blood Dream had faded, thanks to the tremendous pain now surging through his body and mind. As the Warden approached, Dox attempted to stand as tall, but it was very difficult.

“Master. My apologies. The panther escaped. He attacked me in the tent as I prepared the midday meal,” Dox offered before the Warden could say anything.

The Warden said nothing as both he and the Minotaur watched Kelor, trussed in a heavy ropes and leather straps, being lowered into the pit, a crater some thirty paces deep.

“How did he escape exactly, Dox?” the Warden interrogated.

The caretaker wheezed. “I do not know… somehow the lock, the lock on the cage was…,” he started to explain.

“Was what, Dox? Gone, missing, disappeared? Don’t give me excuses, you dumb animal. I don’t want to hear excuses!”

The beast-man tried to keep his poise, but the pain clouded his thoughts and weakened his resolve. “Master, what I meant to say was…”

The Warden suddenly changed his tone. “What’s done is done. What should we do with the beast now,” the captor asked.

Dox paused a moment, wanting to say something but hesitant.

“Well, speak, or did the cat wound your tongue as well?”

The Minotaur took another deep breath. “I think we should let Kelor go. He has caused us nothing but harm, and I fear to cage him again will only bring more of the same upon us. His strength grows with each passing moment.”

The Warden showed no emotion as he stared into the pit. Then he looked straight into the beast-man’s eyes. “Let him go. That’s your idea? What are you, a Minotaur or a corgan?”

The insult hit home and the Warden knew it. He watched as Dox’s back stiffened. “When I found you, you were a heartbeat away from the afterlife. I saved you, restored your health, gave you shelter and food, and this is how you repay me?” he thundered. “Let him go… and take a total loss? Have you learned nothing?”

The Warden reared up and delivered a kick to Dox’s wounded torso. The Minotaur fell head over heels and disappeared into the pit.

The nearby servants stood shocked into silence. Dox had been part of the Warden’s entourage for years, and for the most part, the Minotaur had served as his right hand. If the mighty Dox was to be cast aside so quickly, then no one was safe. The beast-man had failed though, and the coinage lost as a result of the fire and the cats was far too much to go unpunished. Someone had to pay and this time the blame landed squarely on Dox.

The Warden caught the servants’ stares. “What?” he roared. “If he lives he can fight the panther for a way out of the pit. If not… we just saved more money on feed. Now get back to work or I’ll look for more ways to cut expenses!”

The servants hurried off in different directions to complete their tasks and to distance themselves from their leader’s wrath.

“Let the cat go free,” the Warden mumbled to himself. He looked into the pit. He could see Kelor in one corner, licking his wounds, but the beast-man was hidden in the shadows. “See, Dox, profits or perish!”

There was no response from the pit. The Warden shook his head and stomped off, rubbing his sore shoulders.

Down in the pit, Kelor watched and waited for Dox to get up and continue their battle, but the Minotaur barely moved. Even though it was dark at the bottom of the large hole, Kelor’s keen eyesight revealed the beast-man was still alive. Small plumes of dust kicked up as the wounded Minotaur exhaled each labored breath.

Now you’re like me,
thought Kelor.
No freedom, no escape, you are nothing now.
But as he stared at his enemy he began to see Dox differently. The creature was beaten, broken.
I should hate you for what you did to me and my family. But… I don’t. Actually, I never did, you were just in the way, beast. Now all I feel is sorrow… for both of us.

Kelor laid his head down on the ground, the putrid smell of the burnt tent still filling his nostrils.
Like it or not, beast, you’re stuck with me.
He closed his eyes, and in a way hoped they would never reopen.

CHAPTER 10

In the Lands of the North

The journey from Cordale to the lands of Draghone had taken far longer than Korwin had expected. News of his failed attempt to sway King Gundir had traveled swiftly throughout the territory. Armed patrols cluttered the major trade routes and cities, and since he was the only known elf in all of Illyia, he stuck out in the worst of ways. Still, the promise of unlocking ancient magic fueled his desire to keep going.

Along with some basic clothes and wares, he bought a small cloak with a hood to hide his elfin ears. His previous guise drew too much attention and as much as it pained him to revert to his less impressive appearance, it served a purpose. Korwin lapsed into one of the things he hated most… he became a nobody again.

The Storm Elf kept to the outskirts of small towns and homesteads, asking for a handful of food here, or stealing a loaf of bread there. For a brief moment he marveled at how easy it was to do things he had never considered doing. Swiping a handful of fruit, a pair of boots, and a hide of ale didn’t create a second thought now or the slightest sting of remorse.

If he could have paid for passage on a flying Hippogriff or their magnificent cousins, the Griffins, the trek would easily be completed in a week. But traveling by foot or in a farmer’s cart slowed him down, and it had been nearly a season before he reached the disputed territories of the barbarian clans of Draghone.

Korwin wasn’t exactly sure where he was going as few residents of Cordale had more than a surface knowledge, mostly hearsay, of what lay in the lands of the North. All he could piece together was the lawless land served as home to heathens, dark and evil creatures, and cannibals obsessed with murder and chaos.
Even if half of that is true, I’ll take my chances. Besides, there’s no going back to Cordale… or home. It’ll work this time, I know it,
he thought as he trudged along.

He had only been hiking through the vast Draghone territory for a few days when a barbarian scouting party spotted him. They attacked without hesitation, but luckily they discovered his pointed ears and elfin features before hacking him to pieces with their heavy swords. While a few in the party were not convinced the stranger was not a Cordale spy, their curiosity of the first elf any had seen won out. They bound his hands and did the only thing they could agree upon - take him before Elbane Draghone, the ruler of the territory, and let him decide the odd creature’s fate.

Not exactly how I saw this happening. They were far more hospitable in Cordale… well, until they all tried to kill me,
he thought as entered the city gates of Draghone.

The barbarian capital city was far larger than Korwin had imagined. His first impressions, based on their rugged clothing and manners, led him to believe the peoples of the North lived up to their name as savages and barbarians. But after spending several weeks in their company as they traveled, and through observing the residents of the great city, he formed a much clearer picture.

Yes, they were rougher than their enemies to the South, but they were a determined and hard working people. Talk often referenced family, clans, tribes, and other ties, and these concerns were highly spoken of, revealing their high regard and value. There was also another prevailing quality he validated: their hate for the people of the South, specifically of Cordale.

While few bluntly admitted it, there was an undercurrent of betrayal and loss… all at the hands of Cordale. A great injustice had been done to this people, and malevolence was brewing, festering in the hearts and minds of nearly every clan and tribe. Korwin was unsure exactly what had occurred, but he surmised its significance even though it happened ages ago.