The Weekend Warriors Chronicles - Piles of Bones - Part 3

The skeletons advanced on Claymore, swords raised, teeth clacking, eyeless sockets somehow looking menacing. Claymore raised his own weapon in response, a mighty battle cry issuing forth from his powerful lungs. He brought his heavy sword through one of the skeleton's skulls, closing his eyes for a brief moment as tiny bone shards showered his face.

The skeleton fell in a heap, as Claymore twisted his body gracefully to land a powerful blow on the skeleton behind him, an instant before the creature sliced through Claymore's back. Several ribs were broken as Claymore slashed across the creature's skeletal chest in a diagonal fashion. The rib bones fell to the ground and the rest of the skeleton followed suit two seconds later.

Claymore felt a sharp rap on his right shoulder, and knew instantly that one of the skeletons had tried to unsuccessfully stab him. His attention was turned to the skeleton on his immediate right, that had made a small slice in Claymore's armor, but the cut was not deep enough to penetrate the skin. That skeleton didn't even have time to bring his blade back for another swipe before it found Claymore's sword severing its skull. The skull flew several feet, bounced multiple times as it landed, and finally rolled to a stop half way across the graveyard. The first skeleton that had been decimated was now reassembling itself. Within just a few seconds it stood whole and joined its bony companions in the fight.

Two of the remaining skeletons attacked. One of the skeletons managed to pierce Claymore's armor at his abdomen, causing the warrior to first grunt in surprise, then angrily swipe back it, severing its arm at the wrist. A second later, that skeleton was dismembered, bones flying in all directions. One of the bones hit another skeleton on the head, creating a hollow thunking sound that carried through the small yard. Another of the defeated skeletons pulled itself together and rejoined the fray.

"Cobblers?" Shyael asked.

"Yep," Astral answered.

"I really hate Cobblers," Taurnil grumbled. "No wonder the priests couldn't turn them and keep them away. They didn't properly exorcise them."

"Um, excuse me," Claymore called from across the yard as he obliterated another skeleton. "What are Cobblers?"

Aranel sneered. "Cobble. To make or put together roughly or hastily. To mend or patch coursely."

Claymore dodged just in time as one of the skeletons stabbed at his chest. Instead the blow glanced uselessly off his armor. In one powerful slice, the warrior cut it in half, severing the skeleton's backbone. Two more of the skeletons had reassembled, and Claymore was still surrounded.

"So...how do I kill them? This doesn't seem to be working."

"He's more observant than I gave him credit for," Aranel said.

"Well? A little assistance, please?" Claymore asked.

"Alright, Aranel," Astral said. "Why don't you lend our fearless warrior a hand?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The mage chanted quietly while moving his hands in a circular fashion. The chanting gradually grew louder over the course of a few minutes, while the air in front of him began to churn and swirl. It developed an orangeish tint, and grew in size along with Aranel's voice. Soon it was very large, and as Aranel yelled the last words of his spell, he pushed his arms forward, sending his fireball into the middle of the fighting group.

The fireball exploded, setting everything in its midst on fire, including Claymore. The warrior screamed as the fire burned his skin. The skeletons crumbled into heaps of ash within seconds, and Claymore threw himself on the ground, rolling his body away from the flames.

Astral raised her eyebrows at Aranel quizzically.

The fighter extinguished himself, jumped up, and spun toward the fireball, just as it was starting to sputter. Then it was out, and all that was left were eight piles of steaming ash that used to be the skeletons.

"Well, that'll do it," Taurnil said. "I just need to go say a quick prayer over each one."

Claymore ran up to the mage, getting right in his face and snarling like a rabid animal. "I could have been killed! What were you thinking?"

"Well I was thinking that a fireball would take out all eight skeletons with one quick, easy spell. And it did."

"Did you happen to notice that I was right in the middle of them?"

"Of course."

"And you cast it, anyway?"

"Undoubtedly," Aranel sneered at the puffed up warrior. "I knew you would survive, especially being the big, tough warrior you claim to be."

"If I hadn't reacted right away, I could have been barbequed!"

"Well. It's a good thing you have such quick reflexes."

Claymore fumed at the mage, while Aranel smiled back at him.

Meanwhile, Taurnil stooped beside each pile of ash and said a small prayer. When he finished, he rejoined the group. He looked at Claymore. "Are you alright? Do you require healing?"

Claymore, still seething at the mage, gruffly replied, "I'm just fine. No damage done."

"Nice job, Aranel," Astral said to the mage. "And you didn't do too badly, Claymore, for a first job. Let's head back to Father Jon."

The group retraced their steps through the tight tunnel and up through the basement. They found Father Jon at his podium, preparing his sermon. "The skeletons have been eradicated. Your sanctuary is safe once again."

"You're...you're completely sure?"

"Positive," Aranel snorted. "Did you realize they were cobblers?"

"Cobblers...that explains why they were back the next night. In my fright I didn't even think about that. They were properly exorcised, then?"

"Yes," Taurnil answered. "You have nothing left to worry about."

"But where did they come from? How did they appear in the basement?"

"I found a secret passage behind one of the barrels," Claymore proudly exclaimed. "It led to an abandoned cemetary."

Father Jon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Abandoned cemetary? I don't recall an abandoned cemetary." He scratched his head in confusion. "Abandoned cemetary...abandoned cemetary..."

"Well, whatever the case may be, your problems are over and you can preach to Aldonnistyl's followers once again. Call us if you need anything else."

"Please take this small token of our gratitude," Father Jon handed Astral a small burlap pouch. "It's not much, but I want you to have it."

"Thank you, Father." Turning to her comrades, she said, "Alright, group, mission complete. Let's head back to The Orc's Fork for a small celebration."

The group filed out of the abbey. Claymore was practically bouncing in place while he walked. "So. What's in the pouch? Gold? Precious gems?"

"I seriously doubt it, followers of Aldonnistyl don't have much to spare," Taurnil answered.

"Open the pouch, Astral, I want to see what's inside," Claymore said excitedly.

Astral gave him a sidelong glance.

"Please?" he said.

"Alright." She stopped and dumped the contents of the pouch onto her palm. The tinkling of metal could be heard as a handful of silver coins fell out. Astral quickly counted them. "Thirty-five," she announced.

"That's it? We only get...um...a few silver pieces each?" Claymore complained.

"I guess barbarians aren't good at math," Aranel rolled his eyes. "We each get seven."

"I knew that. And I'm not a barbarian. But seven silver pieces? That's it? It seemed like that job was worth more than that."

"I already told you," Astral said as she divvied out the coinage, "some people have little or nothing to give. But that's not why we help them."

"There's not much I can do with seven silver pieces, though."

"It's enough to pay for a few tankards of ale," Taurnil said longingly.

"Actually," Astral said as she dumped fourteen silvers back in the pouch and hung it on her belt, "you're not getting any of it because you owe me for the armor. Now you only owe forty-four gold pieces and three silvers. You'll get there eventually."

Claymore looked dejected. "That stinks. But that means I'm a full member of the group. Right?"

"At least until you've paid off your debt. Then we'll make our final decision."

The group walked on silently through the rest of the day. As they did before, they camped in the woods overnight, and reached the inn by midday the following day. They sat at the same table as before, with a round of drinks before them. Taurnil drank his greedily, while the others sipped thoughtfully.

"So, what happens now?" Claymore asked.

"Well, now we all go home. If I hear any news of work, I'll contact you all and we'll set up a meeting here."

"...home?" Claymore echoed.

"You do have a residence, don't you?" Astral inquired.

"Um..."

"Don't worry," Aranel paused in his studying to say drily, "I'm sure the barmaid would be happy to put you up. Unless she's otherwise engaged."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she may have someone else occupying her...time."

He looked at the warrior's blank face for a moment, waiting for his comment to register. When it didn't seem like it was going to, he added, "You didn't think you were the only one, did you? Brigadette gets around quite a bit."

"No. Of course I didn't think I was the only one. I mean, pfaw, I see other people, too. As soon as I meet some, that is."

"Claymore, do you have a place to stay?" Astral asked.

"Uh..."

"What did you do, breeze in out of the wilderness and come straight here instead of looking for a place to live?" Aranel asked snottily.

"Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, there were notices posted around the countryside and I answered them. I didn't really have time to look around first."

Aranel looked back to his book, shaking his head.

Shyael watched the conversation with interest.

Taurnil downed his third mug of ale.

Astral sighed. "My friend Claudette may be able to help you."

Taurnil let out a loud laugh, hiccuped, and hailed Brigadette for a fourth mug.

Shyael snickered behind her hand.

Aranel did not look up from his book, though there was no mistaking the smile that crept across his face.

"What's so funny?" Claymore asked.

"Nothing!" the three said in unison.

Astral rose from the table and looked at her group. "Good job, group. Until next time."

Claymore followed her obediently out the door toward the town square. The sounds of the busy marketplace soon filled the air around them; vendors hawking their wares, horses neighing, children laughing and squealing to and fro.

"What, um, what were they all laughing about?" Claymore inquired.

"Who knows."

They stopped in front of a vendor selling pottery. She was a lovely maiden, with coppery waves framing her face and trailing down her back. Her smooth, pale skin was flawless, and her dark blue eyes sparkled like tiny stars.

Claymore was instantly smitten, and smiled stupidly at her.

"Hello, Astral," she said in a rich, velvet voice. "Who's your friend?" she gazed at Claymore, sending shivers up his spine. He met her gaze, stupid smile still present.

"This is Claymore. He's our new fighter...temporarily. Claymore, this is..."

"Let me guess. You're Claudette, right?" he said, lowering his voice and batting his eyes at the young girl.

She giggled.

"This is Miranda," Astral said.

"Miranda..." drool was starting to dribble down Claymore's chin.

Astral leaned in close to the fighter. "For Aldonnistyl's sake, man, wipe your face. You look like an idiot. I mean, even more than usual."

Claymore hastily wiped his face, but didn't lose the stupid smile.

Astral rolled her eyes.

"He's only with you temporarily?" Miranda asked. "That's a shame..."

"Actually, we need to speak to Claudette. Do you know where she might be?"

"I sure do. She's at home this time of day."

"I bet Claudette is your twin, isn't she?" Claymore asked dopily.

Miranda giggled at him, but didn't answer. Astral glared at him.

"What?" Claymore asked, beginning to feel self conscious. "It's a common question."

Astral shook her head and walked away. Claymore shrugged at Miranda, who waved flirtatiously back at him. He followed Astral toward a small cottage in a quiet corner of the marketplace. She knocked firmly on the door and the two waited.

A minute or so later, the door was answered by a quite scary elderly woman. Deep lines were etched in her leathery face, and she hastily wiped something from the corner of her mouth. Blue-green eyes regarded the ranger and fighter curiously. Though her visage was haggard, she seemed pleasant. "Ah, what a vision to these old eyes."

"Hi, Claudette. You daughter told us we could find you here."

"Astral! It's been ages since I've seen you. You look well." She shot Claymore an apprasing glance. "And who is this gorgeous man? Is he your new love?"

"Hardly. This is Claymore. He'll be traveling with the group for awhile."

"And where are you from, scrumptious?" She asked while smacking her lips at him.

Claymore could feel Claudette's eyes roaming all over his body approvingly. He felt like he was naked and on display. He was tempted to hide behind the ranger to escape the old woman's gaze.

"Er..."

"The strong silent type, eh? I like 'em quiet," she cackled. The shrill sound traveled up Claymore's spine and lodged itself in his head, where it seemed to magnify a thousand times. He thought his ears would burst from the hideous noise. Her horrid eyes bore into his.

"Anyway," Astral interjected. "I was wondering if you still had any houses available?"

"Hmm. I think Zachariah just took the last one."

"Claymore is looking for a place to stay. Any suggestions?"

"I'd be happy to share mine with him. It's quite large, and he would have his own room." Claudette looked at him hungrily.

Claymore gulped. "Uh, can I speak to you a moment, Astral?" He grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of earshot of the woman. "I can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"That woman is...is...she keeps looking at me like she wants me for dinner...or dessert."

"And that's a problem because...?"

"Well, she just...didn't you see the way she was looking at me? She, well, you know..."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"She wants me," he said in a voice above a whisper.

"She wants you for what?"

"You know, she desires me."

"Wow. You're really full of yourself, aren't you? Or do you just assume that every female wants you?"

"Well, most of them do, but with the way she was looking at me, I can just tell. I can't stay here. It would make me uncomfortable."

Astral shrugged. "Whatever. You'll just have to go tell her you're not interested. And then you'll have to find your own place to stay."

"Why can't I just stay with you?"

"Because I don't take in strays. And you annoy me."

Claymore cast a glance back at Claudette who was waiting outside the small cottage. A chill crept over him and he shivered slightly.

"I won't be a bother, honest. I'll even sleep in the barn with the horses."

"Sorry, no deal."

Claymore sighed and headed back toward the old woman. She grinned widely at his approach.

"I'm very grateful for the offer, Claudette, but I can't stay here."

Her face fell in disappointment. "Aw, what a pity. Oh well. I guess Miranda and I will only have each other to talk to."

"Miranda?"

"Yes, you've already met her, haven't you? It's just the two of us in this cottage. It may seem small, but it can get rather lonesome. We take turns running the stall. Whichever one of us stays home gets pretty lonely, sometimes. Why, the hours just seem to stretch on and on and on..."

Claymore's eyes lit up. "Miranda lives here, too?"

Claudette looked at Claymore for a moment, then at Astral. "He's a quick one, isn't he?" she said with a wink.

"You have no idea," Astral grumbled.

"Claudette," Claymore announced in an official sounding voice. "I've decided I'd be delighted to stay with you and Miranda."

The old woman's face lit up in a grin. "Splendid. I'll go put the pot on the stove and then show you to your room. We're having goat stomach stew for dinner tonight."

"Uh...goat stomach stew?"

"You bet. With some other innards thrown in for flavor."

"I'm not really that hungry..."

"Nonsense. You'll love it."

Claymore turned toward Astral, who was smiling back at him. "I'll send word when I need you."

And with that, she turned and left him to get acquainted in his new place.