Bone War (30 page)

Within the branches of the great tree hung small houses and what looked like giant beehives, all connected by catwalks constructed of wood and vines. Elven army officers in bronze armor tromped along the catwalks with swords and spears, and more elves and fairies had set up camp beneath the tree and along the bank of the river. Sprites darted among the tree's branches, trailing light as they went. The dank shadow of the tree loomed over all. The Fae preferred to live in trees—the elves in houses, and the fairies in the beehive structures—but Talfi couldn't imagine wanting to live in
this
tree.

The ground camp extended beyond the tree's shade. Tents and thatched shelters made of elven ivy stood in orderly rows that stretched all the way to the horizon. Flocks of sprites skimmed overhead. Gaggles of fairies
scuttled about on errands. More armored elves saw to their weapons. And waiting among them all were the flesh golems. More and more flesh golems, all looking just like Talfi.

The main trunk of the tree swarmed with yet more fairies. They skittered up and down the bark like great spiders, their sail-like ears quivering and swiveling as they worked. Three of them were massaging a knot in the bark together. Even as Talfi watched, the knot bulged and grew larger and larger until it was the size of a cartwheel. The bark thinned like skin and finally split with a wet, peeling sound. Out spilled the smell of rotting meat and a great deal of greenish yellow fluid. The fairies reached into the hole and together pulled out a naked Talfi. His skin was stretched and smooth as the left half of Other Talfi's face had once been, and he had no hair. Talfi's stomach roiled with horror and he tasted bile again. The air itself weighed him down as the fairies dragged the dazed flesh golem to the river and flung him in with a splash. When he burst to the surface, some of his scars had already healed, and curly brown hair was growing atop his head. He waded ashore, where the fairies tossed him an old cloak and a ragged red tunic. Meanwhile, another trio of fairies massaged another spot of bark.

“Lovely, is it not?” said a familiar musical voice. Gwylph, queen of the Fae, stood only a few steps away, and when Talfi caught sight of her, he dropped to his knees in dread and awe. Her flawless, golden beauty was woven of sapphires and sunshine. Thrilling, gleaming light trailed her every graceful movement. She wore battle armor of gleaming bronze links guarded with more bronze on her gauntlets and greaves. Her soft, braided hair begged Talfi to stroke it, even as he called himself a blasphemer for wanting to put his filthy human hands on her. On her back she wore a quiver of arrows slung with a slender silvery bow. In her hand, she held a white sword. The pale, paper-thin blade winked translucent as an ivory shadow in the
shaded light. Runes scrawled down the blade and met more runes inscribed on the heavy cross-guard. A ruby shone red as blood in the pommel.

Talfi's heart jerked. “The Bone Sword,” he whispered in wonder. Gwylph must have stolen it from the trolls somehow. He felt even better. It was right and proper that Queen Gwylph should liberate the Bone Sword from lowborn Stane. No one else in the world could wield the Sword's power with more wisdom, more greatness, than she.

The Bone Sword quivered in the queen's hand, and Talfi felt a similar quiver in his left leg, a faint vibration that twisted his gut into a hard knot. For a moment, Gwylph looked less beautiful. Then the quiver halted, and her perfection rolled over him again.

“The tree is my own creation,” Gwylph continued. “If I cannot be a Gardener, I will create my own garden.”

Her voice was cold and icy, but it slid over Talfi like melted love. Other Talfi looked rapt as well. Ranadar touched the back of Talfi's neck and leaned down to breathe in his ear.

“Rise,
Talashka
,” he whispered. “She has no power over you.”

And with his breath, the glamour vanished. The love turned to chilly slush, and the twitch in his leg put a strange, coppery taste in his mouth. He looked at Gwylph and saw a middle-aged elven woman in creaky bronze armor. The armor needed polishing. Ranadar touched Other Talfi, whose face also cleared.

Sharyl stepped in front of Ranadar and Talfi with a stiff bow. “My queen,” she said, “I have brought your son.”

“Good work, Lieutenant,” Gwylph said. “You may return to your patrol.”

Sharyl said hesitantly, “Your Highness, may I request—”

Gwylph waved an absent hand, and Sharyl vanished into a Twist. From the ground came a small thump and a clatter. Gwylph looked down, and an expression of distaste crossed her face. “The Nine!”

Lying on the ground was Sharyl's right hand, still in its armored gauntlet. Thin smoke rose from the cauterized stump, and the smell of singed flesh hung in the air. A fairy scampered over, snatched up the hand, and rushed away with it. The tree that shaded everything shuddered, and a few leaves drifted to the ground.

“Mother!” Ranadar said, aghast. “That was . . . you should have—”

“She's just a
mal rishal
lieutenant, Ranadar,” Gwylph said absently. “If she were worth something, she would be at court.”

Now that the queen's glamour had vanished, the Bone Sword at Gwylph's belt was calling to Talfi. He wanted to touch it, run his hands down the blade, and feel his flesh quiver while he did so. It was a hunger he couldn't describe, and it overwhelmed the horror he would have felt at Sharyl's mutilation.

Ranadar pursed his lips, then held out his arms. “Mother!”

“My son!” Gwylph embraced him and genuine tears slipped down her cheeks like little gems. Her armor clinked, and the arrows in her quiver jumped about. “How much I have missed you! Look at you.” She took his chin in her hands, then turned his head to examine it critically. “Your hair! What has your body slave done to it? You must have him whipped! I have found the flesh golems are a wonder with a lash.”

“It is fine, Mother,” Ranadar said. “I have no body slave.”

Talfi couldn't pull his eyes from the Bone Sword at Gwylph's waist. What would happen if he snatched it from her belt and sprinted for the tree? It wasn't more than fifty yards away. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and shot a sideways glance at the heavily armed elves and fairies and sprites moving in troops and crowds under the tree's shade, along the banks of the river, and in the endless camp that stretched beyond. He wouldn't make
five feet. Sure, he'd come back to life, but Queen Gwylph would be on her guard. Did Gwylph even know the Bone Sword could release Pendra from the tree? She must. Why else would she have gone through the effort to steal it from Vesha?

Unless there was some other reason she wanted the Sword.

The sounds of the endless camp clattered and clanged behind them. Smells of smoke and cooking food drifted on the air. The fairies pulled three more Talfis from the tree with a wet sliding noise and threw them into the river.

“My poor prince.” Queen Gwylph couldn't seem to keep her hands off Ranadar's face. She touched it or patted his hair with a maternal thrill on her face. It made Talfi a little ill. “How did you stand it? Filthy humans and their filthy iron. You must have been miserable! But you are home now. We will hold your coronation immediately!”

Ranadar cocked his head. “Coronation?”

“Of course. Now that your father is . . . no more, you will be king beside me. Or rather, beneath me.” She grinned, a little too wide. “You will be such an asset,
Ranadka
, when we wake the flesh golems and crush Balsia. And we must invade Xaron again. The orcs should not be allowed to rally, and it is such fun to hear the wyrms pop on the end of a sword.”

Talfi's gut tightened further, and Ranadar went pale. “Mother, you swore that you would never again invade Kin land if I came home. I am home. You must keep up your end.”

“Oh, my son.” She reached out to touch his cheek again. “Living among the Kin has addled your brain. I promised to do as you asked. You
asked
me to free Talfi and the other flesh golems. This I did. You only said you
wanted
me never to invade again. You never asked.”

“No.” Ranadar's voice was shaky. “Mother, I came home for you. You cannot—”

The elf queen seized Ranadar by the throat with one
gauntleted hand and lifted him bodily off the ground. He choked and his feet swung like a hanged man's. Ranadar clawed at his mother's arm, but he might as well have clawed at a stone. Talfi was so shocked he couldn't move. Gwylph's voice became deep and harsh. “Do not tell me what I cannot do, boy. You will sit on the throne while you obey my every command. You will rule the world while I rule Ashkame, or you will spend your days begging for Death to ram her knitting needles through your skull!”

A shout rang from under the tree. Other Talfi burst forward and, with a speed Talfi knew as his own, snatched the Bone Sword from the queen's belt. Surprise riveted her. She gave a tiny gasp as Other Talfi plunged the blade through her armor and into her chest.

A soft moment passed. Ranadar froze in his mother's grip. Gwylph looked down at the sword hilt sticking out of her chest. Her body quivered. With a small sound, she released Ranadar. He dropped panting to the ground. Talfi gaped, rooted to the spot. Other Talfi backed up a step with a wild look in his blue eyes.

“Never touch Ran!” he shouted. “Never!”

A number of other Fae had noticed what was happening, and they rushed toward their queen. With a tilt of her head, the queen seized the Bone Sword hilt and drew it carefully out of her chest. It made a quiet sound, like a leaf dragging across dead flesh. The wound left no blood behind. Talfi felt the world turn inside out.

“Vik!” he breathed.

“No,” whispered Other Talfi, still standing before her.

“Mother!” Ranadar choked, one hand on his throat. “What have you done to yourself?”

The queen swept the blade in an ivory arc and sliced off Other Talfi's head. His head dropped to the ground and rolled away. There was little blood. Other Talfi's body collapsed to its knees just behind Ranadar, who scrambled out of the way.

Queen Gwylph swung the sword again before the body
could fall farther. She cleaved Other Talfi in two from neck to groin. Again and again the queen swung, and the Bone Sword slipped through pink flesh, yellow bone, and glistening organs like paper, reducing Other Talfi to a pile of inert flesh. The raw smell of it tinted the air.

The queen finished with a flourish. Talfi couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. A moment ago, Other Talfi had been walking and talking and alive—yes, alive! He had memories and he liked the color red and he helped dig Talfi out of the earthquake rubble. The queen had butchered him like a cow.

The other Fae arrived, but the queen waved them off with the Bone Sword. They retreated, but only a few yards.

“How could you?” Talfi said in a near whisper. He wanted to fling himself at the queen, but the Bone Sword and the other Fae kept him from it.

“That was so sweet,” the queen cooed. “The flesh golem loved you,
Ranadka.
I made them better than I thought. Do all of them feel that way? Or just the ones you have pierced?”

Tears streamed down Talfi's face. “He was alive,” he said, and even though he had never said the words before, he knew he believed them now. “He had a right to live, just like anyone else.”

“That must be an awkward position for you to take,” said the queen affably. “If you believe the flesh golems are alive, and if they all feel the same animal lust for my son that you do, then you must feel they all have the same right to his . . . love that you do. I would love to see bedtime.”

“Mother.” Ranadar coughed and pushed himself to his feet. “I have never heard you speak this way or act this way. Your body has changed.
You
have changed. How?”

She turned the full brunt of her smile on him, but although Talfi could see the glamour, it had no effect on him. It was like eating with his nose pinched shut—all texture and no taste. It didn't affect Ranadar, either.

“I am more myself than ever before, son,” she said.
“The Bone Sword removed my heart and released my true self. So liberating! Like breathing for the first time. Like drinking seawater all my life and then tasting wine. I could show you.”

“The Bone Sword should have killed you,” Ranadar said.

She waved the pale blade in a hypnotic pattern. Shadows fell across the runes and etched them deep into the ivory. “The Bone Sword cannot kill me, darling,” she countered. “Not when it saved me.”

Ranadar rubbed his throat. “I do not understand, Mother.”

“You were always simple, just like your father.” Gwylph slid the Bone Sword back into her belt and pulled on her hauberk. The chain mail was cut where Other Talfi had sliced it with the Bone Sword, and the links parted just far enough to show Gwylph's sternum. The bloodless wound Other Talfi had dealt her was already vanishing, and beneath it was a longer scar, pink and shiny as a baby mouse.

“You see?” she said. “I felt the Sword's presence in the world the moment that hairy-twatted ogre Vesha created it, and I have been trying to lay hands on it ever since. A means eluded me until Pendra's power gave me a deeper understanding of the Twist, and I found the box Vesha gave that troll's boy. That was a good day. So much screaming. Like music.”

Talfi barely heard. The Bone Sword was calling to him again. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers down the deliciously thin edge, even let it cut him just a little, to see what it felt like.

“The Bone Sword cannot kill me,” the queen finished. “Nothing can. I have the power of a Gardener trapped in that tree, and I have become immortal. Soon, I will conquer this world and take my rightful place as a Fate. And you will help me.”

An awful understanding crossed Ranadar's face. “You cut your own heart out and put it into the ash tree with
Pendra. It stops you from dying and connects you to Pendra so you can use her power,” he said hoarsely. “Oh, Mother. I cannot help you. I do not think anyone can.”