Trail of Bones: A Young Adult Fantasy Novel (24 page)

Perhaps the winds will carry my voice. Father will hear me. I know it,
he thought as he continued his cry for help.

None came.

The sun at midday was blazing and the heat was literally cooking the mound of corpses. The smell was so potent Magnus rubbed his nose in the dirt to dull the odor. He was asleep under the sliver of shade provided by the tree when the scavengers arrived.

The wanderers picked through the pile of bodies and trash before noticing the restrained wolf. One of the scavengers, the tallest of the group, walked over to Magnus with no fear whatsoever.

“Will you look at this? He’s still alive, this one,” said the man. He poked and prodded at Magnus with a long stick, even lifting up one of the wolf’s lips to get a better look at his fangs.

“What should we do with him?” asked one of the others.

“I’ll wager we can get a few coins for his hide, maybe his teeth,” the tall one answered.

“What if no one wants him?” the other replied.

“We eat him. Don’t want nothing goin’ to waste, now do we boys?” said the tall one as the rest of the scavengers all laughed, picking and foraging through the bodies.

It had only been two days before Magnus was bartered away. And another three before he changed hands again. Each had their own reasons for acquiring the canine, but the burden of feeding and caging the wolf was ample reason to sell him and turn a profit.

Magnus floated southeast on the Draghone River on a large trash trawler when he smelled the town of Dravenclaw. The pungent stench, even more powerful than the ship’s cargo, announced the presence of the community long before the town came into view.

The town was unlike any human settlement he had seen. It had been built in the swamps where the Draghone River ended. Here, the large waterway split into a river heading east, known as Cordale River, and one due south, known as the Mudborn River.

Dravenclaw was a series of docks, walkways, and buildings all erected on poles, elevated stones, and floating platforms. The town’s prevailing style, if it had one, was a mishmash of practically every culture and creed on Southern Illyia. Whatever charm the town once offered had faded or was hidden beneath layers of crud, scum and sleaze.

A handful of eager traders wanting a first look at the cargo greeted the trash barge. Magnus, along with a pile of manure, were the first items sold.

Before he knew it, Magnus was being led to the outskirts of town. The only parts of the conversation he could piece together included a few names and places.

His new owner was simply known as ‘The Warden’.

****

Jiro crawled from of the mouth of the cave, his belly scraping the dirt. His jagged bones seemed ready to break at any moment and from any amount of exertion. The wolf gritted his teeth as pain racked his frail body.

“No, not again!” he exclaimed as the muscles in his shoulders contracted. He stumbled forward as both pain and power surged through his chest and neck. His jaw hit the ground as his front legs lost their strength and control. The wolf rolled to his side, as waves of convulsions consumed his body.

Jiro’s legs shot out straight and stiff, he gasped for breath, “No!” He tried to get up, but something else was controlling his body, hijacking the signals from his brain to his limbs. He let out a ghastly howl, more of a screech, and then his jaws relaxed and his pink tongue dangled from his mouth.

He struggled to his feet, wobbling and wavering once he was back on all fours. He could feel the next sensation, the next pulses of pain coming. Jiro looked around for something, anything, to stop it. He zeroed in on the biggest tree trunks he could find and ran at full speed toward it.

His sprint was jerky and forced, but he was still capable of gaining speed, even on his wrecked legs. He hit the tree with full force, his skull bashing into the bark, but it was too late.

Arcs and surges of blue light and energy emerged from his dark hide and encircled his body, and then reentered the wolf. His eyes transformed from a placid yellow to a fiery blue.

The den was relatively quiet. Most of the pack was asleep in the various caves while a few wolves wandered in the nearby forest hunting for food.

The peace and tranquility of Thornmount was shattered by the piercing and haunting howl of Jiro. The terrible sound reverberated through the den, echoing deep into each and every cave.

Two young wolves darted in the direction of the sound only to find a blue, spectral wolf, panting and waiting for them.

Jiro sprang from his feet, his jaws open, as lighting charged and danced between his fangs.

****

Kelor was snoring in his cage when Dox kicked a bar with his hoof. The Minotaur was handcuffed and chained to one of the main tent poles. If he stretched out, he was close enough to touch the panther’s cage, but far enough away that he could do little else.

“Leave me alone, Dox. Unless they are bringing more food I have no interest,” said Kelor, his eyes still shut as he rolled over.

Dox tapped the cage again. “Look, here comes the latest catch,” said the beast-man as the tent flaps opened.

Kelor rolled back onto his belly and stretched. He yawned, exposing his long fangs and sharp teeth, providing the ideal picture to welcome the new guests to the holding tent.

“Let’s see what the Warden scraped from the gutter,” said the cat as he watched the procession enter.

First was a grizzly bear, perhaps one season old, and a good eight hundred pounds. Two handlers, holding long metal staves connected to a steel collar led the creature to the far end of the tent where another cage was waiting.

Next were a half dozen humans, most likely thieves, murderers or criminals of some ilk. They were huddled together, their eyes wide and the mouths pursed and shut. A few were so scrawny that Kelor wondered how the chains didn’t slide off their wrists and ankles.

One of the humans, however, looked fit and healthy. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck, and well defined biceps.

Ah, a fighter! It’s about time. The rest won’t survive the night
, thought Kelor as he watched the prisoners shuffle by. The healthy human looked straight at him with no fear. Then he gave Kelor a grin and a wink.

Who do you think you are?
thought Kelor. He let out a long and deep growl just as the human passed his cage, but that only drew a bigger smile from the man.

“Humph,” said Kelor. “There’s a fool in every
bunch.”

A few more creatures, none of any significance followed the humans and were lead to various spots within the tent.

Last was a young wolf. His head hung low as a single servant led him into the tent. His dark fur coat was matted, stained and ragged. He looked weak as if his feet barely had the strength to move his body along.

Pathetic!

The servant led the wolf to the cage closest to Kelor.

No, no, no, not there! Uh… I hate dogs. I’ve never met one, but I know I hate them,
thought Kelor as he watched the servant open the cage door and unhook the leash. The wolf entered without a fight, without a scratch, without the smallest hint of resistance.

Pathetic,
thought Kelor once again.
It would be better if the wretch perished during the night. Easier that way.

“Hey, dog, what’s your name?” asked Kelor as his curiosity grew.

The wolf looked over at the panther with his green eyes but said nothing. He paced along the perimeter of the cage, then walked to the middle, did a few circles and lay down. His head was facing away from Kelor.

“You got a name?” asked the cat again. He waited for a response but didn’t receive one. “Or should I call you dog… mutt? Perhaps you’re the Warden’s new house pet? I could call you that?”

Kelor watched to see if his insults would elicit a reaction.

“My name is Magnus, and I’m not a dog. I’m a Shade Wolf,” said the canine without turning around.

“Never heard of one of those,” said Kelor as he examined the wolf, his head careening forward until his face was up against the bars. “Welcome to paradise, Magnus. Good luck.”

CHAPTER 19

“Hey, dog. Mutt, you awake?” pestered Kelor. It was mid-morning and the panther was growing impatient. The wolf hadn’t moved or made a sound. “Magnus, you still alive?”

“Leave him alone,” barked Dox.

The wolf stirred. Magnus couldn’t remember the last restful night sleep. Even though he was in a cage, he actually felt better for the first occasion in many days.

“Why do you care?” responded Magnus. Then he shook his whole body, fluffing out his furry coat.

“Actually I don’t. But since there’s nothing else to do…” answered Kelor with a grin. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d make it through the night. You were whimpering and whining. It was really annoying. So now it’s my turn to annoy you.”

“It’s working already,” the wolf said as he licked his chops. He was hungry, and that was a good thing.

“So what’s your problem?” asked Kelor, determined to keep up the harassment.

Before Magnus could answer the tent flap opened and the Warden strode in, accompanied by several servants.

Each one carried baskets, buckets and assorted containers of food, but they waited for instructions from their master before offering any to the captives.

The Warden stopped at Magnus’s cage first. “Well, let’s see how we did,” he said as he took a closer look. He approached the cage, crouched down and gave Magnus the once over. “Not bad. He looks a bit malnourished, but we can fix that. I want him healthy and fit as soon as possible. Double his rations for the next week.”

The servants nodded, pulled out several helpings of various cuts of meat and tossed them into the wolf’s cage.

“A good catch,” he said as he admired the Shade Wolf. “He’s a bit young, but I think he’ll do just fine.”

The Warden moved on, his servants still following behind. He came to Dox next and looked down at the Minotaur. “Still with us, I see?”

“I am,” answered the beast-man.

“Well, not for long. I’ve seen to that. I’ll get some coin for your worthless hide one way or another.

“Let him lap it up,” he said as he knocked the bowl of porridge from the servant’s arms, spilling the contents onto the ground in front of Dox.

It was humiliating, but the Minotaur was hungry and he needed the food for strength. First he tried to scoop the liquid nourishment up with his hands, but that proved ineffective at best. So instead, he bent over, got to his hands and knees and started licking the meal from the dirt.

Kelor watched, as did Magnus. Both felt the Minotaur’s shame, though they refused to acknowledge it. Now was not the time for that.

The Warden walked past Dox, purposely kicking up some dust into the beast-man’s face. He approached Kelor as the cat licked its right front paw.

“Your moment has come my friend. Let’s see what you’re made of,” said the Warden.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Kelor, still cleaning his leg.

The tone of the Warden’s voice changed. “You don’t think I keep you around just to eat all my food… and my profits. Do you?” he asked as he glared at the cat. “Sleeping; doing nothing? That’s about to change.”

Kelor stopped licking his paw and looked at the Warden, waiting for more.

“I’m going to let you do what you were meant to do, what you were born to do,” said the human.

“And what’s that? What am I?” answered Kelor sarcastically.

The captor leaned in so the cat could hear him. “A killer. Down to the bone. And by the end of the night, this whole wretched, glorious dung heap of a town will know it too.”

“If I refuse?”

“Ask Dox over there how I feel about failure,” threatened the Warden as he looked over at the Minotaur still lapping up his meal with his long, pink-brown tongue.

“Like it or not, you need me. I know that much,” answered Kelor.

The Warden’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.

“Careful, beast. I still hold the key to your freedom, and unless you do exactly as I say I will devote every waking moment of this day, every day, to turn your existence into a nightmare of misery.”

Kelor wasn’t impressed. “Go ahead. I’ll do the same to you.”

The Warden laughed.
Arrogant but foolish. I can work with that. Indeed I can!
he thought. “You challenge me, Kelor, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The human stepped even closer to assure his next comment hit home. “When I’m through with you, you’ll curse the day you were born. You’ll hate me like no other. Even the mention of my name will cause the rage in your heart to burn. My demise will be the only goal that matters to you. But in the end, beast, you’ll do as your told. I promise you that.”

The panther took the bait. His ears flattened back against his head, and he hissed at the man who stood up and backed away.

“No food for the panther. Let’s see if an empty stomach changes his mood,” said the Warden as he left the tent.