Bone Lord (Book 4)
Dante King
Copyright © 2020 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.
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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
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Chapter One
The Church of Light Crusader Army attacked us an hour before dawn on the third day after I’d killed Rodrick and destroyed his Temple of Blood. The Crusaders thought we were stumbling into their ambush.
But they were marching straight into mine.
They must have thought I’d been weakened in my battle against Rodrick and the forces of the Blood God. Possibly true, but they hadn’t anticipated how quickly a god could recover.
The slaves I’d saved from being sacrificed by Rodrick and his oblates had recuperated much of my power. Then there was the energy coming from all over Prand. Fresh temples and shrines of the Temple of Necrosis—the new church dedicated to my worship—established by my faithful disciples Grast, the driver of the Wagon of Death, and Cranton, my first priest. Thousands of people, disillusioned and angry with the aloof, uncaring Church of Light were flocking to my banner, praying in my name. And they weren’t the only ones. Warriors and mercenaries were killing in my name, my golden Death Coins in their pockets granting me the souls of their slain enemies.
The first hint I’d picked up that there was another army in the region came a few hours after I’d left the smoldering ruins of the Temple of Blood. I sent Talon, my undead harpy, out on a reconnaissance flight, just to make sure that none of Rodrick’s troops remained.
I circled the army camp for a day and a night in my harpy’s body, staying just above the clouds, waiting for an opportunity to strike. One came in the early hours when a sentry, posted far from the main force, took a careless piss. I dived out of the clouds and snatched him up from the ground, like an eagle pouncing on a hapless hare.
I didn’t kill him, though—I had some use for him first. I flew him back to my camp, less than a day’s march from the enemy’s. Controlling Talon as easily as if her body was my own, I landed her right at my feet, with the screaming enemy soldier gripped tightly in her talons.
“I’m the one you’re waiting for, aren’t I?” I asked the shivering sentry.
He looked up at me and my gleaming full-plate armor, the color of midnight. He promptly pissed his pants.
“Vance Chauzec, the G—”
“God of Death, yes, that’s who you’re looking at,” I interrupted him. “Now, pull yourself together.”
He stared up at me with wide eyes, and his bottom lip trembled. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Yes,” I answered. “My question to you is, should it be quick and merciful, or drawn-out and agonizing?”
“Give me a swift death, Lord Chauzec.”
“Then answer my questions truthfully.” I squatted down next to the prostrate enemy soldier, who was squirming in the firm grip of Talon’s claws.
The man stank of piss and sour sweat.
“So, who do you fight for, soldier?” I asked him.
“We’re a small contingent, mustered by the commanders of the Splendorous Army of the Church of Light.”
“Why is a Crusader Army coming to stir shit with me?”
“A crusade has been called against you, by the Seraphim.”
“Elandriel,” I muttered.
So that motherfucker still had it in for me. His “prophecy” that I’d end up a greasy beggar on the streets of Luminescent Spires had turned out to be a steaming heap of bullshit. He couldn’t be happy that more or less the reverse had happened. Was he bitter enough to launch a crusade against me? Or maybe this wasn’t so personal. Maybe the Church of Light was starting to feel their coffers lighten after so many of their faithful had converted to my Temple of Necrosis.
“Why aren’t you wearing any Church insignia?” I asked the man. “I suspect it’s not solely for the purposes of camouflage.”
“We were ordered to not wear anything identifying. Our Commander was under strict orders to keep our identity secret, along with everything about the crusade.”
The man seemed far too terrified to lie to me, so I figured he was telling the truth. Of course, grunts like these weren’t privy to military secrets. Still, I remained curious about this crusade. Such endeavors were normally launched with a huge amount of publicity by the Church of Light. What could be the point of a secret crusade?
“When were you planning on attacking us?” I asked. “Have you been following our movements?”
“Some expert mountaineers have been spying on you,” he answered. “Based on your movements, they estimated that you’d go through the valley just before dawn in two days. That was perfect timing for us; you’d be walking through the dark, into our trap.”
“One last question. Did the commanders of your little army really think you could defeat me—I mean, look around you—with an ambush like this?”
“Our main task was to slow you down. Maybe kill you if we got lucky. At least take down some of your party’s core members. But the Commanders knew we probably wouldn’t defeat you. Seraphim Elandriel blessed every one of us for our courage in fighting a battle that we would likely lose. You can kill me and my friends, but our souls have been saved. We don’t fear death.”
I chuckled softly and shook my head. I
