Bone lord 2, p.1
Bone Lord 2, page 1
Bone Lord (Book 2)
Dante King
Copyright © 2019 by Dante King
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
v003
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Want More Bone Lord?
About the Author
Chapter One
Threads of Fate. The gods’ gift to men to make them something more than human.
In my case, I didn’t need any Fate Threads. Not anymore. I was a fucking death god now. A minor one, sure, but I planned on ascending to the peak of divinity.
First, I needed to take back the things that were stolen from me. At the top of the list was Brakith. My land. I was stripped of my title and exiled by Uncle Rodrick, who had taken my place as Lord of Brakith.
We’d left Erst two days ago and traveled north through the countryside. The night before, we’d entered the Myrwood bordering the outskirts of Erst. Brakith was still three days' journey by oxen-hauled wagon.
Even though it was midmorning, Grast was snoring, his beard peppered with spilled wine and the reins hanging loosely from an open palm. The merchant had been all too pleased to transport us, and I’d promised him a job as Brakith’s chief wineseller. But the potential employment hadn’t been what persuaded him. It was the prospect of traveling alongside me, the famed Soultaker, that had convinced him to leave his home and travel north.
Cranton, the historian with a penchant for greenfoil, sat with his head between his knees, nursing a headache. He’d remained mercifully quiet on the journey, only piping up a handful of times to bemoan his sad state of affairs.
Elyse, the recently reinstalled bishop of Erst, sat to my left, her brow furrowed as she pored over a large tome that covered most of her legs. The trees on either side of the road cast large shadows, and the little light filtering through their leaves wasn’t enough to illuminate the book’s pages, so she used the ring she’d taken from Nabu to produce a small glow.
Despite her misgivings about her new attire, she was still wearing the form-fitting white dress we’d found in the cathedral’s sacristy. Every time she ventured from the wagon to stretch her legs, I received a lovely view of her ass and shapely thighs. It was the small things in life that made you appreciate waking up in the morning.
“So many ministerial errors,” Elyse muttered. “How will I ever restore Erst when no one has kept any records? I don’t know who owes what to whom, or how many alms any particular person has given.”
“Why does it matter?” I asked. “You could always leave it up to someone else. Delegate, Elyse. Delegate.”
“That’s the reason why Erst is in this mess in the first place. Someone has to take responsibility.”
The wagon jolted when it hit a bump in the road, and Cranton groaned from my right.
“I need my medicine, man,” he said as he massaged his temples with green-tinged fingers.
Despite his withdrawals, he was already starting to look less like a herb-fiend and more like a normal man. There wasn’t much he could do about his missing teeth or scarred face, nor could he set his wayward eyes straight. But a few more days without greenfoil, and he might be half useful.
“Maybe I could have a hold of Grave Oath?” Cranton glanced at the dagger at my side with hungry eyes.
“No,” I stated plainly. “You’d probably use it to put yourself out of your misery, and I’m afraid your soul is far too shriveled for the God of Death.”
Cranton chuckled, a dry rasp like grating bones. He let out a long wheeze that might have been a sigh. “Too many days without my precious herbs, and I’ll be no use to nobody.”
Elyse looked up from the tome she was reading. “You made a promise. You were only allowed to join us because you swore an oath. You’ll not touch that vile herb again.”
“If only Bertha were here,” Cranton said wistfully. “She could give me a good rub down. Nothing like someone to massage your cock when you’re laying off the ‘foil.”
“Elyse?” I asked. “Care to offer our friend an act of charity?”
Cranton looked hopeful while Elyse glared at me and flicked her head in disdain. I didn’t actually think she’d do it, but I enjoyed teasing her whenever the chance arose.
“You never explained what happened to Bertha,” Elyse said, ignoring me. “She simply let you leave?”
“I didn’t get the chance to ask her. She wasn’t at home when I returned, and she’d taken the children with her. I figure she went to my brother’s place. He’s always been so kind to her. Letting her stay there when I’m chasing the green serpent. Apparently, he has some real good fertility ‘shrooms. Every time Bertha returns, we get together, and she ends up pregnant. Half the time, I’m unconscious before we even get started, but Bertha works her magic, and somehow, we end up with child.”
I shared a look with Elyse. “Sounds like your brother takes care of her, all right,” I said.
“That he does.” Oblivious, Cranton smiled, closed his eyes, and hung his head back to rest it on the railing behind him. A skeletal hand reached out from inside the wagon to grab him. It palmed his head, fingers stretching down his face. His eyes widened, and he yelped before pulling himself free of the skeleton’s grasp.
I chuckled. “Better keep your wits about you, buddy.”
I sent an order to my skellies in the back of the wagon so that they wouldn’t decide to tear him apart if he got close again. I couldn’t blame them if they tried; it was probably very boring being stowed away back there. And tight. With Fang, my undead monster lizard, in there with them, they’d have little room to move. Thankfully, the undead didn’t need to eat or shit, so they could remain there until the end of the journey. I wasn’t pleased with having to hide my little army, but a squad of skeletons and a zombie lizard would attract the wrong kind of attention. The sooner we reached Brakith, the better.
Still, I had my zombie Crusaders. I’d grown accustomed to the steady stomps of iron-clad feet marching behind us. The Crusaders still mostly looked the part, although their plate armor was battered and bloodied. We’d returned to the cathedral to retrieve the items, and the zombies had been unable to activate the shields’ magical abilities like they had in life, but the spikes and blades would still be useful. They were even half-decent with their longswords and maces, as I’d seen when they’d executed the slavers in Erst’s marketplace. Great helms obscured the rotting flesh of their faces, but the festering stench was unmistakable.
As long as fellow travelers didn’t get too close, it would look like a merchant wagon was being escorted by elite soldiers in the Lord of Light’s army. It was enough to ensure no one asked stupid questions, even if they had to smother their noses in their garments to ward off the fetid miasma.
Grast mumbled something before he awoke with a start. He seized the wineskin from beneath his feet and swigged. “How long have I been out?”
“A few hours,” I said. “You haven’t missed much. A few merchants and pilgrims heading to Esrt.”
“Where’s the enjarta and the horned woman?” he asked after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and letting out a rumbling belch.
“Rami and Isu are scouting ahead.”
“I hope they find something. I wouldn’t mind seeing the new God of Death in action.” Grast took a long gulp from his wineskin and grinned.
I’d told him how I’d killed Isu with Grave Oath and become the new death god. He’d listened in rapt attention while I recounted the event, another tall tale to add to the antics of Vance Chauzec, Soultaker and God of Death. No doubt Grast would spread these tales like a fishwife’s gossip, and I figured that was a good thing. People needed to know that the Soultaker was no longer a simple assassin, nor was my magic that of a mere necromancer anymore. The people of Prand would soon discover that a new god had awoken.
“As much as I’d like more souls,” I replied to our driver, “obstacles in our path will only slow us down.”
“Vance Chauzec, God of Death, doesn’t want to fight?” Elyse’s mouth curled into a sly smile. “This is a rather surprising turn of events.”
I laughed. “Well, I suppose we could do a little fighting. If I know my uncle—which, unfortunately, I do—then he’ll be a perfect bastard to deal with. More souls can only help.”
“That might be a lot of fighting, Soultaker,” Grast said. “ Word among travelers is that there’s been trouble on these roads. All sorts of dangers, they say. Aye, strange rumors are doing the rounds, stories of half-eaten corpses littering the roadside in places, or other travelers simply disappearing into the woods and never being heard of again. Creatures appearing that haven’t been seen in decades, centuries even. The road to Brakith is a perilous one, these days.”
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear in taverns,” I said. “Unless it’s about me, of course.”
Elyse rolled her eyes. “Someone’s a bit full of himself today,” she said, but there was a mischievous grin on her face. “How do you know that they’re saying good things about you in taverns?”
I grinned. “Who would have anything bad to say about me?”
“Would you like me to make a list?”
We both chuckled but stopped when two familiar figures emerged from the woods ahead. It seemed that Isu, the former Goddess of Death, and Rami, our exotic enjarta companion from Yeng, had finished their scouting mission. They walked to the wagon, keeping a respectful distance from one another. I‘d forced them to tolerate each other’s presence, but the truce between them was an uneasy one.
“There’s no sign of anyone ahead,” Rami announced as she sprang nimbly onto the back of the wagon. “Although there’s a lot of smoke rising from a place that looks to be about a half day’s travel north.”
“Smoke?” I asked.
She nodded. “From a village, I believe.”
“Bandits.” Elyse’s knuckles turned white as she gripped her flanged mace.
“Or perhaps something else.” Isu fired a quick sidelong glance at Rami. “We’d know exactly what it was if someone hadn’t been too afraid to scout further and—”
“We had orders to stay within a certain distance from the wagon,” Rami interjected as she spun around, hands balled into tight fists at her sides.
To her credit, she didn’t go for any of her weapons, and instead of trying to attack Isu, she simply glared at her with white-hot wrath bubbling in her dark eyes. Anger made her even sexier than she already was, and I was almost tempted to let the two of them argue a little more. As fun as it could have been, I didn’t need my women directing their aggression at each other. A difficult battle lay ahead, and I needed everyone on the same page.
“Isu, Rami’s right,” I said. “I told you not to go further, and she obeyed me.”
I made sure I emphasized the word “obey.” I stared intently at the former death goddess as I awaited her reply. Anger seethed like broiling acid in her pupil-less eyes, and every muscle in her jaw contracted.
“Fine,” she eventually said. She began to remove the cowl I’d made her put over her head.
“Who said you could take that off?” I asked.
“I’m getting into the damn wagon!” she snapped. “You said—”
“I said once you’re completely inside the wagon, you can take it off. You’re not inside yet.”
“There’s nobody around!”
“These woods have eyes, Isu,” I said firmly, “and most of them are unfriendly. If anyone sees a horned woman hanging around this wagon, it’ll draw enemies as quickly as a pile of steaming troll shit draws flies on a hot day. If you’re anywhere but inside the wagon, totally hidden from the outside, that cowl stays on your head.”
She clearly wanted to wring my neck but was utterly powerless to do so. Elyse had warned me before about ordering Isu around too much, and she still didn’t trust the former death goddess. I didn’t entirely trust her either, but I needed her around to help me adjust into my new role.
“I’d cut your throat if you weren’t so…” Isu’s gaze became hungry, as though she might prefer fucking me to death rather than slicing my throat. She drew in a sharp, subtle breath as she stared at me and bit her lower lip.
I flashed her a grin. “You were saying?”
“Ugh!” She scrambled onto the wagon, as angry with herself now as she had been with me. I smiled as she clambered into the back, making a show of getting away from the rest of us.
“I think our resident necromancer needs some alone time,” I said.
“Permanent alone time,” Rami muttered and scowled.
“Enough of that now,” I said. “I want to hear about the smoke you saw.”
“It’ll be visible when we get over the top of the next hill and the trees stop blocking out the sky. It’s no forest fire. I’m certain it’s a settlement that’s burning.”
“I doubt it’s just bandits if a whole village has been burned down,” I said. “Perhaps Sergeant Rollar’s army has finally taken my bait and caught up with us.”
“And what are you going to do if they have?” Elyse asked as the oxen tugged the wagon toward the hill.
“I’m willing to make a little detour for that ogre sphincter Rollar.”
“Of course you are,” Grast said with a grin. “It’s about time the God of Death made an appearance again!” He clapped Cranton on the back, and the other man simply groaned.
The wagon rumbled over the top of the hill, and I spotted a massive pillar of black smoke darkening the horizon. Something big was burning, perhaps something even larger than a mere village. With so much smoke in the air, a whole town could be on fire. If this was the work of Rollar and his thugs, they had grown a lot more powerful since I’d last encountered them. Rollar had always sought ancient religious artifacts. Was it possible he’d found something truly powerful?
Our wagon descended the other side of the hill, and soon, the sight of the sky was blocked by the tall trees bunched close together on either side of the road again.
“What do you want to do, Vance?” Elyse asked. “Make a detour and investigate, or keep going?”
“Keep going,” Grast said. “At least, that’s my opinion. We have a God of Death on our side. Who can stand against us?”
Elyse ignored our driver as he pumped his fists in the air. “For what it’s worth, I think we should have a look,” she said. “There could very well be injured people there. Women and children who might need help.”
The prospect of helping innocents was heavily bolstered by the opportunity for more souls. I felt a smile pull at my lips.
“Onward!” I clapped Grast on the back, and he let out a belly laugh.
“What part of Prand is this, anyway?” Rami asked as the wagon rolled forward. “We’re not still in Erst, are we?”
“No,” Elyse answered. “We left the borders of Erst long ago. This is Sturn.”
“Sturn covers a huge area,” I said to Rami. “Most of it is wild, and the people are mostly farmers. I’ve never taken jobs up here because anyone who wants someone dead usually does it themselves.”
Grast took a hefty swig of grog before he chimed in. “Some of their faces may look like goblins’ backsides,” he grunted, “and it’s true that most have more fingers on one hand than teeth in their mouths, but I’ll be damned if backwoods Sturnians can’t play the finest dueling lutes in all of Prand.”
“If we hear any dueling lutes,” Rami said with a look of distaste on her pretty face, “I’d rather we give them a wide berth.”
Isu snickered. “Are you afraid, enjarta?”
“My people do not know fear.”
“Uh. . .” Cranton interrupted.
“What?” I asked.
“Well, er, going deeper into Sturn like this,” Cranton said nervously, his eyes darting from side to side, “that’s where most of the stories have been coming from. Tales of unearthly creatures, and savage bandits, and dismembered corpses and such like.”
I chuckled and punched him playfully on the arm. “C’mon, Craton, surely you know me better than that by now. When I see danger, I turn toward it, not away from it.”
