Page 104 of A Crown of Lies

They filed in, taking their usual places around the table, before Rowan looked up with a frown. “Where’s Ewan? He should be here.”

Ewan was angry with him, but that didn’t mean he should be excluded from strategy meetings. It wasn’t like Ewan to miss them, either.

Ieduin shook his head. “I haven’t seen him. I’ll send a runner to find him.” Ieduin went to the door, speaking with one of the Crow guards in the hall briefly before returning.

“There will be two battles,” Tofi reported. “First, fight Trinta and the bandits. Then, the living will fight the dead.”

A chill ran through Rowan at Tofi’s words. “Is there nothing we can do to stop that from happening?”

“Nothing,” Tofi confirmed, “but kill the necromancer. If they survive, then it will be a battle of speed and power. Tofi will raise who Tofi can, putting them under Tofi’s control, but Tofi’s power has limits. Better Tofi control some than the enemy control all.”

Rowan frowned, studying the necromancer. “Have you done this before?”

Tofi sprouted a wry smile. “There once was a lovely coastal city of Pelius. Many humans lived there. Elves, you know, once lived and died performing yearly coastal raids to gain slaves and goods. The year we came to Pelius, they fought. They had superior numbers, so that even when many died, they outnumbered us. Pelius thought they had won when only a thousand remained. They demanded our surrender. They did not realize they had given Tofi an army of dead men. Pelius is now a ruin.”

“You could’ve just said yes,” Ieduin grumbled. “So, how do we kill the undead?”

“Fire doesn’t work,” Rowan reported, remembering his fight at Dagh Cairn.

“And how do you know that?” Ieduin folded his arms.

Rowan cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Well, you have heard right, King,” Tofi said, coming to his rescue. “Most magic will not affect them, nor will most weapons, but Tofi knows of one thing.” He lifted a pouch from his belt and dropped it on the center of the table with a loud thud. “Bone dust. It is difficult to make, and I have only limited quantities, but it does not take much. We could make a paste to coat some weapons, but there will not be enough to go around, and there is not nearly enough time to make more, though I could produce some more with extra ingredients.”

Rowan sighed. “What do you need?”

“Human or elven bones,” said Tofi, counting on his fingers. “Thyme, the bark of a yew tree, and a very hot stone furnace.”

Ieduin uncrossed his arms. “Rowan, I know your people don’t like to disturb the dead—”

“There is an old cairn on the way,” Rowan said, cutting him off. “It hasn’t been used for some time, long enough that bones should be all that’s left. If you go under cover of darkness once we make camp, and if word of what you are collecting does not leave this room, then it can be done. As for the yew, there’s a yew tree just outside the castle gates. Take whatever you need. Thyme should be easy to acquire. Just ask the cooks. As for the furnace, we’ll have to craft one once we stop. Shouldn’t be hard if we have the right stones.”

Tofi nodded once. “Thank you. Tofi will be as respectful as possible.”

The king looked at Ieduin, eager to get all of this done. He had a terrible feeling in his stomach that something else was about to go horribly wrong. “How many troops did your scouts report this morning?”

Ieduin sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Eighteen hundred in the main force. Six to seven hundred bandits, give or take. That doesn’t account for the undead.”

Silence stretched around the table. Even against the eighteen hundred, they would have been outnumbered. There were roughly twelve hundred Crows, and Greymark only had three hundred men ready to fight. Trinta had a thousand more men on their side, plus the dead.

“We have the terrain,” Ieduin said, as if that would be some reassurance. “And we’re getting there first to set things up. They’ll be tired from a forced march. Defending armies almost always have the advantage.” He gripped Rowan’s shoulder. “Crows don’t take fights they can’t win, and I’m still a Crow. We can win this, Rowan.”

“But at what cost?” the king replied.

How many would die in those woods? How many more would be changed forever by what they saw? The price of Greymark’s freedom went up every day. How much blood and bone should they give forhiswar?

The doors to the library suddenly slammed open, and an exhausted Liam McGovern staggered in, Peter on his arm. Peter’s face was blackened with ash, and there were several gashes running down his face, arm, and neck with dried blood all around them. His eye was swollen nearly shut. Liam didn’t look much better, his shoulder length hair all tangled, and his front stained with blood.

“It’s Da,” Liam said, his voice tight.

Rowan’s heart stuttered, and he knew whatever words followed, he wasn’t going to like them.

Liam swallowed. “They have him.”

“Slow down,” Ieduin said, pushing away from the table. “Who has him?”

“Trinta,” Liam said. “The fucking bandits.” He turned to Rowan. “I know you said not to go, but he was insistent. Said we had to ride out or they would stop taking us seriously after Dagh Cairn. We went east, but there were too many. We barely got out, but Da… They caught him. The one with the whip. He told us to run, but they chased us. Took us a whole day to lose them in the fields.”

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