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Tree of Bones
- Verna McKinnon
Two Curses
A Curse of Darkness... Deep within the Thill forest, stands a tree made of human bones, crowned in black leaves and red thorns.
A Curse of Light... Beneath the Wastelands of Skarros, a crystal imprisons a dark, immortal queen.
The Sorceress, Runa, is tormented by horrific images of this tree of bones in a distant, lifeless forest. Even as the visions debilitate her, Mellypip, her beloved familiar, also experiences these sinister dreams, bound by the same dream seer magic as his mistress. The tree of bones summons Runa, and she must risk madness and death as obsession drives her on. What she finds reveals a devastating truth.
Koll the Sorcerer awaits trial for his crimes. His familiar, Xabral, searches for allies to free him. Driven by his own dreams of dark prophecy, Koll seeks to free Obsydia, the Bloodstone Queen, from her prison. Determined to let nothing stop him, Koll will commit any evil to achieve his goal.
Runa and Mellypip’s newest journey reveals truths behind ancient secrets, as Koll’s obsessive hunt for a fallen queen threatens to doom the world forever. Runa and Koll, bound by opposing magical destinies of Light and Dark, will ultimately face frightening revelations and unimagined consequences.
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Chapter One
Runa huddled in her cloak against the night’s chill, her sleepless vigil broken by glimpses of a wily fox or a shy deer rushing past in the gloom. Beams of moonlight filtered through twisted ghost-pale birch trees and the wind touched leaves whispered a night song. She craved sleep, but sinister dreams plagued her the last few nights, snatching precious slumber away. The crackling fire dimmed. Runa ignited the flames with a spark of magic. Warmth restored, she sighed and returned to her empty bedroll a few feet away. Mellypip had been sleeping there only moments ago.
Concerned, Runa called through the bonding, Melly, where are you?
I’m over here, Runa! Mellypip replied, poking his head up from behind the food packs.
What are you doing? Runa asked.
Searching for yummy treats! The furry wampu scratched his enormous round ears, and then resumed his hunt for a snack.
Don’t wander off like that, she scolded.
But we’re surrounded by mighty sorcerers and warriors, Mellypip protested, sniffing a bruised apple. The apples are pulpy. Not magnificent at all! He discarded it to hunt for more succulent goodies.
Our mighty band is asleep, except for those guarding Koll, Runa reminded him.
Mellypip chose a slice of round flat bread from the food sacks. He offered her some bread, but Runa shook her head.
“I’m not hungry, but thanks,” she whispered.
“You’re not sleeping again?” Mellypip asked, joining her and nestling next to her for warmth. “Need sleep to make magnificent magic.”
“How come you’re awake so early?” Runa asked.
“Hard to sleep when my sorceress is troubled.”
“I’m not troubled,” Runa insisted. “It’s just that my dreams are filled with weird images.”
“You cannot fib to your familiar. Perhaps it was something you ate,” Mellypip suggested. “Our food stores are dull. We don’t even have cookies or drobba.” Mellypip sighed and looked at his bland piece of bread. “I miss drobba. And jam. Bread is boring without jam. Do they make drobba jam? That would be magnificent!” Mellypip nodded, his furry cheeks puffed out as he chewed. “We’re dream bonded. That’s what Belwyn calls it. I see your dreams. They’re strange, but all I remember is fragments. Then I wake up so hungry! I thought if I had some nibbles, I would get drowsy again.”
Runa opened her silver locket and gazed at the tiny portraits of her mother and grandmother. Mellypip waddled over to her and rested his head on her arm. The firelight cast amber shadows on the tiny pictures of Runa’s mother and grandmother. “They were so pretty. You look a lot like them too, Runa, well except for the lack of pointy ears. Yllia and Rualla! They had magnificent names too!”
“Magnificent is quite a big word you’re fond of lately,” Runa observed with suspicion, scratching Melly’s head. “What is going on?”
“Belwyn gives me a new word every day for my vocabulary lessons. Yesterday it was ‘magnificent.’ I haven’t received a new one yet, so I am making good use of it now. I never escape the schoolroom, even in the wilderness.”
Caliste stirred and stretched. “Runa, why are you up so early?”
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Runa apologized. “Go back to sleep.”
Caliste draped her blanket around her shoulders and sat down next to Runa by the fire. “You didn’t, really. The rocky ground is a misery. At least we’re out of that damned desert. I’m still brushing sand out of my hair.” Runa’s locket glowed in the light of the campfire. Caliste’s eyes misted when she looked at the pictures, her voice wistful with memory. “I remember when they had those portraits painted as a special gift for Cathal’s birthday. They wanted to include me, but I thought it would be nice for Cathal to have a special portrait of just them.”
“Which birthday was it?” Runa asked with a grin.
“He never confessed. You know, I was about your age when Cathal and Belwyn told Rualla and me of their adventures during the Bloodstone Age. Cathal was scarcely older than you are now,” Caliste whispered. “Cathal and Yllia had some very exciting adventures. Belwyn is especially good at relating their tales into thrilling stories.”
“We haven’t had much time for stories since my birthday,” Runa said.
Caliste brushed back a wisp of Runa’s short hair, and smiled, “We’ve been quite busy, haven’t we, sweetheart?”
Runa grinned. “Battling evil mages and scary wraiths is very time consuming.”
“Don’t forget Opaline turning the slimy mage Gorvanus into a troll,” Mellypip added.
“I wish I could have seen it,” Caliste said, grinning.
“It’s a marvelous tale,” Mellypip agreed with a vigorous nod. “I’ll write it all down when I can spell better. I wish we were home. The journey is taking so long because we have to—” Mellypip paused, looked around then whispered, “keep the nasty one chained up.”
Runa cuddled Mellypip in her arms. “I know it’s terrible having Koll here.”
“We’ll be rid of him soon,” Caliste assured him. “That’s why we came to Thill.”
Runa glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping figures of Iona and Panthara. “I still can’t accept Panthara is my half-sister. Yet, I cannot deny we share the same blood though my father.”
Runa leaned against Caliste’s shoulder. She gently stroked Runa’s short hair. “I know it’s hard. I suspect Panthara received little love growing up, judging by what we witnessed of her mad mother. Koll certainly wasn’t a good influence. To her credit, Panthara chose to stop the ritual.”
“At least Iona and Amun will look after her,” Runa said. “And her familiar, Azmadu, is still devoted to her.”
“That bond will never break,” Caliste affirmed.
On silent wings, Belwyn landed next to the fire; irate, golden eyes chastised Runa. “Humans must sleep, else they go mad, you know.”
“So do sarcastic owls,” Runa replied. “Can’t you rest either?”
“No—well, at least I’m supposed to be nocturnal,” Belwyn replied. “Also, dragging Koll across the continent is making me twitchy.”
“Koll makes everyone twitch,” Runa agreed.
Runa looked at the end of the camp where Koll sat cross-legged in the constrictive iron-barred cage. Hands and feet bound with chains to prevent his escape through mortal means and a collar of sorcerer bane locked around his neck to prohibit magical escape. She sensed Koll’s stare as he sat stony-eyed.
Belwyn looked at him suspiciously. “Koll hasn’t spoken since we captured him. He just sits there and stares like the village idiot, except I know how dangerous his mind is. He refuses food and drink yet hasn’t had the courtesy to die from it. His slimy familiar, Xabral, is still free. It all reeks, I say. Just a question of time before Koll attempts something vile. I feel it in my bones.”
Sanura, Caliste’s bronze-colored cat, lifted her head. “It’s not even sunrise, please keep it down to a purr,” she groused.
“Sorry, my sweet,” Caliste apologized.
“Why did Grandfather choose to take Koll to Thill? I thought we were supposed to deliver Koll to Tarsicius?” Runa asked.
Belwyn shook his head. “Thill is closer for one, plus we have old friends there. We lived here for a long time. It’s too dangerous with Koll in tow to risk the long journey across the bloody continent. Koll has too many dark allies who would attempt to free him. There’s strife in the Ivory Kingdoms now that Levandius is in exile. I also detest the way Tarsicius treated poor Opaline after she risked everything to save his pompous life. The Emperor can go rot! Many nations have a bounty on Koll, but Thill has a strong and legitimate claim. The evil bugger slaughtered thousands in Thill with dark magic during the Sorcerer War. Time to pay with his bloody wicked head, I say!”
Runa clutched the locket in her hand. “Koll’s soul is black with the murder. My father, mother, grandmother, and even Striker, my mother’s familiar, are dead because of Koll. If Striker had not rescued me, I would be dead too. The seed of our all my family’s misery is Koll!”
A grey and white owl flew down by Runa’s feet. The owl shimmered into Cathal, his flinty grey eyes stern. “Young lady, why aren’t you asleep?”
“Sorry Grandpa. What about you? Where did you go?”
“With Koll in our midst, sleeping is a dangerous luxury. We have guests coming to relieve that torment,” Cathal assured her. “King Caladynn of Thill is meeting us here. I met him down the road. Caladynn is bringing an escort of soldiers to welcome us—and take him into custody.”
“Can’t wait to unload the annoying dark mage?” Belwyn asked.
“You know me so well, Belwyn,” Cathal replied.
“They can take Koll with my blessings,” Belwyn said. “I’m sick of babysitting the evil one.”
“Perhaps we wake everyone up, so we can properly greet them,” Cathal suggested.
“Quite a magnificent occasion,” Mellypip agreed.
Cathal raised an eyebrow. “Vocabulary exercises again, Belwyn?”
Belwyn chuckled. “Sorry. I must confer to Furball the sin of repetition.”
Cathal grimaced. “Pick another word, Belwyn. He’s used magnificent hundreds of times since yesterday. Even Dabiro’s belching was magnificent!”
Belwyn chuckled. “Well, the old badger is pretty vocal.”
“I heard that, you musty old feather duster!” Dabiro grunted as he waddled by.
“Your manners aren’t exactly resplendent, you mangy flea-ridden rodent!” Belwyn retorted.
Dabiro responded with a thunderous belch, and then resumed waddling to the shallow stream.
“Well isn’t that bloody charming!” Belwyn called after him.
News of the king coming roused the camp. Broda and Talwyn brewed fresh coffee. Runa longed for cream and sugar, but drank down the strong, bitter coffee to combat her fatigue. Mellypip clung to Runa’s shoulder to avoid getting trampled in the early morning hubbub as they crowded around Broda and Talwyn for the precious coffee. Runa grabbed a bucket in one hand and Mellypip in the other to walk to the stream to fetch water.
“Fair morning, Runa,” Ryen said when she joined him at the water’s edge. “Girl, you look tired.”
“Morning, Ryen. I think everyone’s spent,” Runa commented and filled a bucket with fresh water. Mellypip jumped down and drank his fill.
“Runa! Runa!” Rono the gryphon cried out happily, bobbing back and forth.
“I have fresh water for you. Hungry?” Runa asked, smiling.
The gentle black gryphon had been adopted by everyone. Runa was glad the perytons helped look after the gryphon, who though loving, was often confused.
“After breakfast, then we fly?” Rono asked with bright and eager eyes.
“Maybe later,” Runa said with a laugh, rubbing his head. After feeding him, they went back to the group, Mellypip following with a drippy muzzle and soaked paws.
Everyone was rushing to prepare for King Caladynn’s arrival, except Jiana. She and her tiger hare, Jasper, refused to wake up and remained snuggled in her sleeping bag until they smelled Hinkleburr toasting bread.
Only Panthara was silent. Azmadu, her crill lizard familiar, whimpered for her to play with him. She was a placid statue as Iona combed out her beautiful black hair.
Overwhelmed by a surge of pity, Runa was tempted to go to Panthara; but the pain was still too tender yet. Runa turned away.
Then Jadon walked by with Darkleaf, his peryton. “Morning, Runa,” he said with a grin.
Runa smiled but lost the capacity to speak in his presence.
“Perhaps you need some vocabulary lessons,’ Mellypip suggested after Jadon had walked by.
Sirah and her white wolf familiar, Arial, were warming themselves by the fire. Opaline yawned as she joined them and leaned against her mother for support.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Sirah said with a laugh, putting her arm around Opaline.
“If it’s morning, where’s the sun?” Opaline moaned, rubbing her eyes. “And it’s so damn cold. I almost miss the desert, except for the sunburn.”
Myrsalian joined them, his elf owl, Felisia, perched on his shoulder, both looking tired.
“Morning.” Sirah nodded. “You two didn’t sleep well either?”
“No,” Felisia replied, sharp and cranky.
“I don’t think anyone has lately,” Myrsalian replied.
Broda and Talwyn passed out cups of coffee to everyone. Opaline accepted hers and sipped it, eyes half-closed. Liat and Dabiro took their turn to watch Koll, relieving Darcus for some much-needed rest. Ulan handed Darcus a tin cup of black coffee, which he downed in one gulp. Only Riva and his sloth familiar, Buzzy, were calm, floating in the air for their morning meditation.
Runa accepted another cup and drank it, hoping it would revive her. Dawn’s light brightened the sky, and the fresh feel of morning felt good on her skin.
The thunder of iron-shod hooves beating the earth proclaimed the coming of the Thill King. Everyone’s attention was on the fifty green cloaked warriors riding into their camp. The horse’s flared nostrils issued steamy breath as they stomped the earth in triumph and circled them. These warhorses were immense, indeed giants among the equine clans.
“I’ve never seen horses so big!” Mellypip gulped.
“The Thills are famous for their warhorses,” Runa whispered back. “Now I know why. Pictures in books do them no justice.”
The massive warhorses were larger than the sleek steeds of Tarsicius’ stables in the west. Thill horses had powerful, thick bodies; silky hair fringed the large hooves; long manes and tails trailed almost to the ground. The horses pawed the earth with giant hooves and shook their heavy manes with pride.
The King of Thill urged his mount forward and dismounted. Dressed in the royal red leather armor, tall and broad; his girth was more muscle than fat. He removed his polished golden helmet to reveal a vital middle-aged man; long earthy brown hair streamed down his back and his short beard was flecked with gray. He was the essence of potent manhood. He needed no crown. Each powerful stride proclaimed his kingship.
Cathal bowed. “Welcome, King Caladynn.”
Caladynn marched toward Cathal with open arms. “Cathal, you old mage, I’ve missed you! Welcome to Thill.”
“A magnificent king,” Mellypip commented.
“Find a new word, Melly,” Runa suggested in a pained voice.
“But I like magnificent!” Mellypip protested.
“Get over it,” Belwyn snapped.