A Place Called Skull: Book II of The Walking Gods Trilogy

By Ty Johnston

A city lies in ruins. A wizard walks into the desert, a weapon of magic in his hands. The gods themselves begin to gather. The stakes might very well be the very existence of humankind.

To one place do all travel, the desert ruins known as Skull thousands upon thousands of years in the forgotten past.

Within those ruins lie secrets and answers. Perhaps more importantly and more deadly, also there lies the remains of the ancient Zarroc, a race that existed before men, a race which enslaved mankind and created the gods themselves.

But some gods are already there and waiting, scheming and railing.

Lines are drawn, alliances formed, the sides sometimes shifting with events and emotions. Other weapons of magic are called forth, the wizard hatching his own plans while the gods work against one another.

Decided here will be the next step along the journey of the gods, and of humanity. Here is a stepping stone to what will come, even for thousands of years into the future, for no one can escape the past, not even the gods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ty Johnston
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310015885

Ty Johnston

Originally from Kentucky, Ty Johnston is a former newspaper journalist. He lives in North Carolina with loving memories of his late wife.Blog: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sergeant!

The call came too late. The giant cat sprang from the morning mists and landed among the soldiers, black claws flashing, tearing through garb and bronzed armor alike.

Swords flashed, most of the blades sliding along midnight fur as if hardened leather. The mighty cat snarled and snapped with its jaws, ripping a man’s throat away with a spray of gore. A head toppled and screams went up, the remaining soldiers panicking, their sandaled feet scurrying back from the terror among them.

Luck returned to the men, however, as the cat showed no signs of further attack. It hunkered down with its meal, licking at the blood pouring forth from the trunk of a body.

Forming into a line across the mountain path and within sight of the beast, the armored figures got a good look at their foe.

By the gods, it’s as large as a horse, a man uttered.

And as ugly as a carcass, said another.

Both were right. As the cat chewed and slurped upon the stump that had until recent been a man’s neck, its eyes darted to the soldiers left. The beast’s right eye appeared normal, though large and black as a marble, but the other orb stood out, bloodshot and the size of a small plate, the surrounding fur torn away to leave fresh scars of dripping, seeping flesh, a wound not caused by the mens’ swords.

As the thing ate and the soldiers shuffled in their fear, other features of the creature became apparent as the rising sun burned away the high fog. Long and sleek and black, the cat showed signs of a great fight, and perhaps of disease. Large swaths of its black fur appeared to have been flayed from its sides, one sizable region of missing flesh showing bare ribs held together by mottled muscles. From the monster’s snarling mouth dripped a foamed substance not unlike venom, hissing upon touching the ground.

That thing’s not alive, a soldier nearly shouted, pointing with his sword.

Of course it is, you idiots.

The new voice came from behind, from the direction the soldiers had been marching. Standing half a head taller than the tallest man among them, she pushed her way through, her bronzed breastplate and scaled kilt adding to her weight and girth, her iron-headed spear prodding aside those too slow or too stupid to move out of her way.

She did not halt at the front of the small group, but bound forward, the head of her weapon leading the way.

The cat grew vicious once more. The animal reared back on its haunches, screaming out, ready to spring, but the black end of the spear was too fast, the wielder too strong. The pointed weapon shot forward, stabbing into the creature’s side. The cat howled out in pain as the iron sank deep, and it curled up around the end of the spear, its claws flashing out and raking the wooden shaft protruding from its side.

The armored woman did not let up, but pushed her weapon deeper, grunting as she did so. Somebody get up here and help me with this thing before it gets loose!

As in response, the cat let out another growl, then one of its heavy paws snapped down upon the spear’s shaft, cracking the wood.

Too late it would be to save the beast.

The soldiers sprang forward, emboldened by the big woman among them. Their short swords stabbed again and again. The cat fought, clawing and biting, but it no longer had the element of surprise. With the animal’s dying cries, the swords soon turned from stabbing to chopping, and the heavy meaty sounds of sharp iron falling upon flesh stretched along the mountain path, soon followed by the coppery scent of blood.

After some little while the men moved back to survey their kill, each of them breathing heavy. The large woman now stood behind them, her broken spear tossed away, a long sword of iron gripped in her hands and ready should the great cat not be dead.

But it was dead. It did not move, but lay there in its own gore and that of the man it had killed.

Glad you could join us, sergeant, a man said to the woman.

Stow it, Fuddle, she said, her voice harsh as she eyed the dead animal across their path. The beast must have been starving for it had showed no signs of relinquishing its meal even when surrounded.

The corporal, she said, staring at the remains of the dead man beneath the cat’s maw.

A snicker came from behind. It’s always the corporal, someone said.

The sergeant almost spun to give reprimand, but instead Djevi returned her sword to its scabbard on her belt. She had to admit, the speaker had been right. Three days of battle, and this would be the fourth corporal they had lost.

Instead of growing angry, she smiled and glanced over a shoulder. Well, Fuddle, I guess that means you’ve been promoted.

Shit, the man said with a snarl, followed by chuckles from the others.

Sergeant Djevi turned back to the big cat’s remains. We should dispose of this thing before it draws another predator.

Fuddle stepped forward, rubbing at his beard as he stared down at the dead beast. What the hell was wrong with this thing? Looked like it had been through a fight before it ever got to us.

Djevi joined him, the others crowding around behind them. She frowned as she stared down. It’s a leper cat.

Leper cat? a soldier asked. Never heard of ’em.

You wouldn’t have, the sergeant said. They’re extinct. Probably hasn’t been one around here for thousands of years. They’re supposed to look that way. Something about their blood being bad.

The soldiers glanced at one another. Sometimes the sergeant could get a bit weird, say things that none of them understood. They had grown used to it and rarely questioned, but she still managed to surprise them.

Today, though, Fuddle would question. How the hell do you know all that?

Djevi did not answer. Instead, she stared longer and harder at the cat. Can’t be, she said barely above a whisper, speaking to herself instead of the others.

What’s that, sergeant? Fuddle asked.

Ignoring him for the moment, Sergeant Djevi swung around a leather sack from her back and began rummaging through it. Then, Corporal, do a head count.

Done, Fuddle said.

Djevi looked up at him. That fast?

Don’t need to count, Fuddle said, nodding at the circle of men around them. Counting you and me, sergeant, there’s only six of us left.

The days of fighting the Pursians had not been kind. Djevi glanced around at the soldiers. Fuddle was right. There were only six of them now. Their squad was down by half. She should have been aware of that, would have been aware, but the cat, it had made her think of ...

She went back to rummaging, thrusting both hands into the sack, frantic in a search.

What the hell’s with her? one of the men whispered.

As if to answer him, Djevi tugged a wrapped item free of the sack, then she began to unwind the rags. Soon revealed was a curved dagger with a jeweled, golden handle, the blade snug in a scabbard of hard wood almost entirely covered in steel bands.

Oh, that thing, Fuddle said.

Djevi glanced at him, her gaze harsh. "Yes, that thing."

Four helmeted heads craned forward, four sets of heavy eyes looking upon the item in the sergeant’s hands.

What is it? someone asked.

A knife, Fuddle said.

Djevi went back to ignoring the others. She slid the knife free of its home and stared at the silvered blade.

"Is that steel?" a soldier asked.

Yes, indeedy, Fuddle said with a laugh.

Someone whistled. Sergeants must be paid a hell of a lot better than the rest of us.

Fuddle continued another laugh. You’d have to ask her. She’s had it with her the whole time I’ve known her.

Outside of the conversation, Djevi continued to stare down at the curved blade. It can’t be, she whispered.

The words were still heard. What was that? Fuddle asked.

Djevi looked to the corporal. Her gaze was not pleasant. Nothing, she said, shoving the knife back into the scabbard, then sliding it into her belt.

The largest of the other four stepped forward. What’s going on here?

Hold your horses, Klineaus, Fuddle said with a dark look.

We’ve lost half our men before we even get to the other side of these mountains and you tell me to hold on? Klineaus asked, growling behind his beard. If something is going on, I think it’s high time the rest of us knew about it.

Nodding heads all around.

Djevi thrust her pack around to her back once more, then spun to face the men. You want to know what’s going on? Is that it?

Heads no longer nodded. No one said a word. The heat in the sergeant’s eyes frightened them nearly as much as the leper cat had.

Well, I’ll tell you, you bunch of ingrates, she continued. What’s going on is we’re marching to the other side of this range in order to ambush Pursian supply wagons. That’s our orders. Anyone have a problem following through with them?

Again there were no words.

Finally, Fuddle opened his mouth. Look, Djevi, they didn’t mean --

She cut him off. "I don’t give a damn what they meant. We’ve got orders and we’re expected to follow through with them no matter what happens, especially if something happens. Sure, yeah, we’ve lost half the squad, but we took our chances, didn’t we? It was either this or be on the front lines facing off against Lord Verkanus’s troops. I figure we got the better end of the deal. Half our squad? Hell, I bet those boys out front would trade places with us right about now. Not only are they trying to hold back the largest army ever put together, but there’s a mage at the head of that army. Yet they’re there and we’re here, and we’re grumbling while their lives are on the lines to protect our homes and our families."

Her eyes grew narrow and she glared from man to man. We should be ashamed of ourselves.

Not a look matched her own. All the men stared at their toes sticking out of their sandals.

Huffing, Djevi spun away to face the dead cat and the headless former corporal. Now let’s move these bodies and get the hell out of here.

No one argued with her, and the work went fast, quiet and fast. Soon the giant cat had been pulled to the side of the path and dumped between two large boulders, while the dead man was placed nearby and covered with a thick layer of stones.

When they finished and had rested for a few moments, Sergeant Djevi stood from a crouch and motioned ahead along the path of packed earth curving between rising stones.

Let’s get on with it, she said. We’ve got a lot of traveling yet to do.

No one contested her words, and they marched forward.

Chapter 2

The rest of the trip through the mountains went uneventful, which was a surprise to the soldiers. Their first days along the old trail had been fraught with combat, copper-skinned Pursians springing from one hiding place or another, and then that wild, giant cat attacking.

The morning fog burned away quickly, which was a relief, but the lifting sun added to the heat, which brought no cheer to the six marching in bronze plates and kilts, swords and daggers on their belts, heavy packs on their backs.

Despite the sun there was little to see for the longest while. The trail seemed to meander around, almost shifting back upon itself more than once with crags and boulders rising all around. Eventually the path turned downward and the view opened before them to reveal a wide valley, another mountain range upon the other side though there was something odd about those mountains.

At first it was difficult to tell what was strange about the view, but as the soldiers continued along, each could better see what was before them.

That other range of mountains, it appeared stunted, almost as if broken off at the tops. The ridges themselves seemed to rise to heights little more than hills, yet there was all that gray and brown stone to show these were more than that.

Then there was the floor of the valley. It appeared higher than the lands to the south, reaching partway up between the two mountain ranges and stretching north where it gradually lowered to green fields. Odder yet, that floor was nowhere near flat. A flat path through a valley was not in itself mandatory, but this ground was made of stones of all shapes and sizes and colors, all packed upon one another and covered in much gray dust. This view stretched for miles. It was as if part of the mountains themselves had broken apart and tumbled down.

That thought brought more than a few nervous glances to the soldiers, yet they never voiced their concerns nor slowed their momentum.

Eventually their trek came to an end at a narrow plateau. The trail finished itself at an abrupt line. One step further led to a long drop to the valley of broken stones below.

The sergeant in the front, the soldiers came to a halt and stared out over the expanse.

Sulla, you’ve got the best eyes, Djevi said. Get yourself up here.

The shortest of the lot came forward next to his sergeant. He reached up and pulled off his bronze helmet, his eyes scanning the view before them.

Right away, he said, This happened recent.

What do you mean? Corporal Fuddle asked.

Sulla waved a hand over the drop in front of them. All this, it happened just in the last day or two. All this rock, it’s fresh, pulled up from underground or some such.

Looks more like an avalanche, Djevi pointed out.

Sure, it could be that, too, Sulla said.

What else do you see? the sergeant asked.

For a moment the soldier with good eyes said nothing, then his look snapped to their left.

What is it? Fuddle asked.

Movement.

Hairs bristled on the back of arms and necks. Scabbards smacked against iron-scaled kilts. Sandals shuffled back and forth.

Can you make out who it is, soldier? Djevi asked.

Not well. Dark hair, tanned skin.

Sounds like a Pursian to me, one of the others said.

Could be, Djevi said, then stared in the direction Sulla continued to look. The only way to find out is to get closer.

Groans went up from the group.

The sergeant glared over her shoulder. Who wants to volunteer to lead the way?

Moving to the edge of the drop, Fuddle glanced down. We’ll have to climb it.

More groans.

Djevi grinned. Torus, you just volunteered.

Me? How’d I volunteer?

You didn’t complain as loud as the others.

Well, I’m taking Bilius with me, then, Torus said, grabbing the man at his side and pulling him towards the ledge. Bilius struggled for a moment, but upon seeing the hard stare of the sergeant he gave up and plopped down to sit with his legs hanging over the drop.

Think you can do it without rope? Fuddle asked,