The Grave Robbers

With great trepidation, here's a sample chapter from my first novel titled On The Backs of Dragons.  Not really sure where the title came from, but it sounded good at the time and has kind of stuck. Dragons are not a particularly big part of the book, but big enough to justify the name I think.

Anyway, this is a section that I've placed around the middle of the book- much like JRR Tolkien split the three Lord of the Rings books in half I've chosen to do the same in order to kind of reset the stage at this point and properly introduce our antagonist, Maldazor, who only looms in the shadows for most of the story. Oh, and that will be the last time I compare myself in any way to Tolkien in basically any fashion..... Hopefully this section makes sense to any who read it- it's a tough decision deciding a proper entry point. For now I am calling it an interlude until a better way to phrase it comes along. If it ever comes along... (Note: I don't really care for the format this blog displays in for something like this, but it is what it is! Feel free to let me know your thoughts, all criticisms/critiques welcome.)

Interlude: Maldazor

Fritz tapped lightly on the door though he hoped that his knocking would go unheard. They had traveled a long way to meet the person behind said door- never uncertain that their plan would work- yet now that they were here his confidence had wavered. There would be a rich reward if the plan came off, but a voice inside Fritz kept reminding him that there were more important things than money- and he was starting to believe it. There were much more important things. 

Like breathing, for example.

However, the voice next to him, which belonged to his partner Frederick, had been telling Fritz throughout their entire journey that money was the only thing that mattered, and thus they had to see this through. Fritz had been convinced, yet noticed that he was the one carrying the bundle of bones and small treasures removed from the grave atop Cemetery Hill, not Frederick, and more, he was carrying them at Frederick’s insistence.

Fritz looked towards his co-conspirator as the door remained closed and unanswered, hoping that they could turn around and leave. Instead Frederick gestured at him with his hand in a fist, air motioning for Fritz to knock again. “Harder this time,” he whispered, his face wrapped in a nervous mask. It didn't help Fritz's unease to see that Frederick was as nervous as he was- and pretending not to be. 

Nonetheless Fritz sighed, shrugged his shoulders slightly, and rapped the door again- harder this time, as instructed. The sound echoed back off the stone walls behind them, reverberating throughout what seemed to be the entire castle. Too hard.

But there was no question that this knock would be answered as they could now hear shuffling noises in the room behind the door. Fritz felt his hand shaking violently as they silently waited, his senses lessened as his breathing rate increased. It was all he could do to not drop the bundle, turn, and run. In fact, he might consider it if Frederick had not been gripping the bottom of his shirt, a safeguard against just such an action.

 

“It’s not going to work,” Fritz whispered to Frederick. His slender body rocked back and forth while his dark eyes bounced across the hallway that they stood at the end of, honing in on a tapestry designed and hung to mark the reign of the current King.

“We've been over this, Fritz- it will work. Just leave it all to me,” Frederick replied, then added sternly. “But hold on to that bag until I say so.” Fritz looked over at Frederick and noted the sudden calmness in his voice and body, but with an underlying edge to it. Suddenly Fritz had the faint notion that what might be good for Frederick would not be so good for himself- yet he continued to resist the urge to flee.

Finally the door swung open, creaking on its hinges as it did so. Standing in the doorway was a man around the age of fifty, a handsome man if Fritz could be honest. His beard was trim and immaculately groomed, with dark hair pulled straight back into a pony tail, and he was in impressive physical condition, slim and fit, the contrast to his slovenly older brother Wilhelm.

It was Maldazor, King of Azoria. And he did not appear to be in a particularly good mood, though his visage softened slightly when he saw who it was that had been knocking.

“Aw Frederick, and, um,” he said.

“Fri....fri...Fritz, sir,” he said, then bowed. “Your highness.”

“Yes, Frederick and Fri...fri...Fritz,” he said, imitating Fritz's stuttering, then laughed, heartily and richly. 

“Please, come in, come in.” He held open the door and quickly shut it behind them as they entered, taking good care to ensure they were not watched as he did so. “Do you have the, well,” he paused as if what he was saying was wrong, then dropped the act. “No sense in being proper about things now. We're among friends. Do you have the bones and such? Or what's left of them?”

Frederick stood up tall and proud. “We do, sir. Course we do. Fritz, out with it.”

In his nervousness Fritz almost tripped over the bag while he drug it over to Maldazor, then dumped the contents right at the King's feet. A cloud of dust puffed up, then disappeared to reveal a scrambled assortment of bones and trinkets on the floor, though to Fritz's embarrassment the skull rolled away. Maldazor stooped over and picked it up mid-roll, stared at it for a brief second, and placed it back in the pile. He the fished out an ornate dagger from among the pile and ran his finger along the edge of the blade.

“Still sharp,” he said, holding his finger up to reveal a tiny cut at the end of it. “As sharp as the day our family presented it to Osirah. And as sharp as it was on the day we buried Osirah with it.”

Fritz gulped at the emphasis on the name Osirah while Frederick outwardly remained the image of calm. “No, your majesty, those are the bones of Akari, just as you requested,” he said. “Fritz here removed them himself.”

“Is that so?” Maldazor quizzed, turning to Fritz and looking him in the eye. The nervous man tried to return his gaze but failed, and stared at the floor, but managed to spit out a reply. 

 

“It's so,” Fritz said. 

 

“Your highness,” Frederick said. “May I ask you a question?”

“You may,” the King replied curtly.

Frederick assumed the posture of one who wants to pretend that he is in control of a situation when he is anything but, hoping they could bluff their way through. “Does it really matter whose bones are in that bag? I mean, either way they belong to a great warrior and a former chief Knight, and I daresay you are planning on resurrecting a Chief Knight, since the ones you've had over the years have all been worthless. Am I correct?”

Fritz waited for Maldazor to explode, but strangely the King seemed to be curious rather than angry. “Whatever gave you such an idea, Frederick?” he asked. 

“Well, I've mostly pieced it together through some of the things you said along with what you've had us do,” Frederick said casually while Fritz resisted the urge to shout him down. He was acting the fool and cocky to boot, and surely Maldazor would be displeased. Yet his partner continued in the same tone. “I know much of such things. You don't end up in my business of grave robbing without learning a thing or two.

“And well, your majesty, when we opened up Akari's tomb, the truth is it was empty. Now anyone else would've come back here with naught but an empty bag- and poor Fritz was ready to- but I said 'now hold on, we've got a full graveyard here we can pick from. And none would be better than old Osirah, the most feared Chief Knight we've ever had. That's who we need, Fritz, and won't Maldazor be pleased?' So that's what we did, your highness.”

Maldazor looked slightly annoyed as he twirled the dagger between his fingers, mulling over Frederick's words. Fritz felt his heart leap as he had the notion that Maldazor seemed to be agreeing with what he had said. Finally, he shook his head, agreeing with all that the grave-robber had said. “That's good. Solid reasoning all around, and I salute you for it, Frederick. You've done well. Now you say Akari's grave was empty? Not a sign of anyone or anything? You're certain of this?”

“Not a thing,” Frederick replied. “Right, Fritz?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fritz stammered. “Nothing at all.”

Maldazor looked distracted as he mumbled to himself, though loud enough to be heard by the grave-robbers. “Strange. Explains a lot though. But still, this is most unexpected. A new Chief Knight....” His voice trailed off without completing the thought out loud, then he raised his eyebrows and spoke louder, directly to Fritz and Frederick. “Very good then- Osirah it is. The twists of Fate can be a winding road indeed- but never question them. Osirah would be perfect.” He smiled broadly, then turned to Fritz and Frederick, speaking even louder now. “Gather up the bones again, with all of his personal effects, and put them back into the burlap sack.”

They did as instructed and Maldazor continued. “Good. Now Frederick, if you could lean in there and place this all the way at the bottom of the sack, underneath the bones and such.” He undid the stopper on a vial filled with a green liquid which caused smoke to pour out and handed it to Frederick. “Just pour it on in there, all the way to the bottom now.”

Frederick leaned into the bag and soon Fritz could hear liquid pouring into the bag, then watched as a bit of green smoke arose from the bag.

Maldazor nodded with satisfaction, then acted as though he had missed an important detail “Oh. I almost forgot. It won't work if we don't put this in there,” Maldazor said, holding the dagger up high. Fritz could see the King's eyes in reflection on the dagger and jumped back. They were manic, the eyes of a crazed man, and Fritz wanted no part of it. He ran to the door but it was locked, and somehow Fritz was unable to unlock it though he tried his hardest to do so.

There was no escape, so Fritz turned and watched on as Maldazor took the dagger and stabbed Frederick directly in the back, driving it down deep, swiftly and with great force. Frederick was unable to see Fritz's face as it was concealed by the bag but heard him gurgle in pain, then shake and die, his last words choking off unsaid in his throat. Maldazor then shoved the entire body in to the bag with the dagger still stuck in between his ribs.

“I thought I mentioned this before when we spoke. Maybe you forgot Frederick, or maybe you thought I wanted you to bring someone else.” At that he nodded at Fritz with a twinkle in his eye, an evil expression that gave him the chills. “The secret of resurrecting a life is that you have to give one to bring one back. There's just no way around it!” He then tied off the bag with a rope and shoved it in the corner, where it lay motionless. He peered over at Fritz, who was frozen in place, stunned. “Course, I've never done it with a human before- just rats. So we'll see how it goes.

“Now just relax, Fritz. If I had wanted to kill you then I would have done so. But I like you. You were smart enough to know that you couldn't outsmart me- unlike your friend here- and there's something to be said for such a man.”

Fritz said nothing as he knew not what to say, but then the bag started to twitch, lightly at first then violently, which averted Maldazor's attention- much to Fritz's relief. Suddenly the bag ripped, with the dagger tearing through the canvas while a man stepped out from the tattered rags left behind. Any trace of Fritz was gone while standing before them was a fierce looking man with a bushy black beard and unkempt eyebrows that jutted out over his brow. His eyes were all white with no pupils to find and his skin was ashen, giving every appearance that he had not recently spent many days among the living. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he gave up to look around the room confused, though Fritz was not sure if he could actually see.

But Maldazor, on the whole, looked quite pleased. “It''ll take him a few days to sort things out if he's anything like the rats- but I am happy to announce that I have a new General for my army! I will inform Chief Knight Gobie that his services are no longer required.” He then turned back to Fritz. “See, this is all working out rather nicely after all, Fritz. I'll see to it that you get your reward.” With that the King grabbed him by the arm and ushered him towards the door, taking a moment to properly unlock it.

“There is one last thing. I want you to tell everyone you come across one thing You see, I have some business to attend to down south and I need someone in charge here. I couldn't have asked for a better man then this. So I want you to tell them- tell them all now- that Osirah is back.” At this Osirah seemed to recognize his name and let out a nasty, guttural growl.

“Now, now big fellow,” Maldazor counseled. “No need to get excited. Not yet anyway- there will be plenty of time for that.” He turned again to Fritz. “Like I said, spread the word and let the world know that Osirah is back.” He snickered. “That ought to keep things in line here while I attend to Ambrosia. You see, before the week is through I shall be named King of Ambrosia, and finally I will rule two-thirds of the kingdom that properly belongs to me.

“But Fritz, don't tell them all yet. Just the bit about Osirah should be quite enough for now.”