Darleen’s neck turned red.
“You better get out of here now if you don’t want to leave in pieces,” she warned.
“Is that so?” He unhooked his arm. “Where’s Kam, Otter Face?”
Darleen ripped her knife out.
“Kill him!”
Ozark and Dasan’s blades flashed through the air.
The man caught them by the wrists and jerked their heads together. In an instant, he was on his feet. He smashed Ozark’s face into the table. Doubled Ozark over with a sock in the gut.
“Oof!”
The man snatched Dasan up in his arms like a child and slung him at Darleen. She dived. Dasan crashed through, knocking over tables and chairs. Darleen looked just in time to see Ozark get his teeth busted out. The big rangy man stormed over with brows buckled over angry eyes. She lunged with her knife. He swatted it out of her hand, grabbed her by the collar and lifted her to her tiptoes.
“Where’s—”
A big form crashed into the man, knocking him to the floor. It was Brak. The two men thrashed over the floor, knocking everything over.
Brak locked his elbow around the man’s neck and held him on the ground.
Darleen howled.
“Get him, Brak!”
The warrior snorted and twisted free. Darleen had never seen a man his size move so fast before. Brak’s fist crashed into the man’s face. The man snarled, scooped him up in his powerful arms and slammed Brak through the table. Pinned him down. Clasped his strong fingers around his throat and started to squeeze.
The stranger yelled.
“Where’s Kam!”
Brak’s eyes rolled up in his head, the whites showing clearly. He snarled in response.
CHAPTER 22
Downcast, Georgio sauntered through the stables behind the Magi Roost with a bucket in each hand. Nothing seemed right. No one talked or laughed anymore. They were supposed to come back to the City of Three so things would be better, but they had only gotten worse.
He dropped the buckets, opened up a burlap sack of oats, and filled them up.
“What a life,” he groaned, picking them back up. He’d spent most of his natural lifetime working in the stables in Bone. Now he was doing it again, for less pay and more trouble. He made his rounds, stable after stable, back and forth, filling and refilling until he got to the last one. He swung the gate open while holding a bucket in one hand with the other handle in his mouth. He stepped inside and filled a small trough against the wall. There Quickster waited in silence. The grayish Quick Pony stood on all fours with his ears perked up.
“Well, look who’s up? Hungry are we?” he said, filling his hands with oats and feeding them to Quickster. He scratched Quickster’s ears. “You’re about the only one I can talk to these days and you don’t talk. You just eat and fart.”
Quickster headed for the trough and started eating.
Georgio grabbed a stool, sat down and rubbed Quickster’s shaggy belly. His own belly groaned.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a bucket full of oats—”
A sharp blade bit into his throat. Another arm held him fast. Georgio sat up straight as an arrow.
“Don’t move,” a voice whispered in his ear.
Georgio jabbed his elbow back with all his power.
“Gah!” the man said.
Georgio scrambled through the straw and grabbed a rake from the wall and turned. What he saw stunned him.
“Me?”
“Melegal,” the thief said, dusting the straw from his cloak. “Why did you feed Quickster last, Fatty? He should be first, not last. I knew you wouldn’t care for him. I ought to bust your fat arse.”
Georgio tossed the rake down. “You couldn’t do that if you tried. You can’t kill me, Melegal. I’m a healer.”
Melegal’s steely eyes were cold as ice.
“Is that so?”
Georgio wasn’t scared of Melegal anymore. He wasn’t much scared of anything except Scorch. He lifted his chin up. “Yes, and just so you know, Quickster gets double what the others get. He’s as fit as he’s ever been.”
“He shows more ribs than me,” Melegal said, swiping his cloak behind his back and petting Quickster’s nose. “I missed you, Boy.”
“Really?”
“Not you,” Melegal snapped back, “Quickster.”
Still, Georgio couldn’t have been happier to see the man. He walked up and tried to put his arms around him.
“What are you doing?” Melegal said, shoving him back.
“I just, well, I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re here is all.”
Melegal tucked his dimpled chin into his chest and gave Georgio a look. He extended his hand.
“Here, then.”
Surprised, Georgio grabbed it. A jolt like lightening shot through him. He fell to his knees with plate-sized eyes.
Melegal whispered in his ear saying, “Maybe I can’t kill you but I can always make you piss yourself.”
Georgio felt a damp warm spot in his trousers.
“Let’s go, Tinkle Trousers. I want to see what this Roost is all about. I’m thirsty.”
Georgio shut the gate and caught up to Melegal.
“Slow up.”
Melegal didn’t slow his stride.
“Why?”
“Just,” Georgio paused, “let me lead you in there. It’s not what it’s been lately, and it’s morning.”
“Since when do taverns have problems with business at first light?” Melegal said, rubbing the long scraggly hairs on his chin.
Georgio had never seen him so gruff and dusty before. Melegal’s sharp eyes were cracked with red. Small puffy grey sacks had appeared under them. His easy gait was stiff. Almost a limp.
Melegal swatted him in the head.
“Well, out with it, Georgio. What is the problem?”
“It’s just the people that run it aren’t very … uh … amiable?”
Melegal showed the slightest smile.
“I see. Let’s just go. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Melegal sucked his teeth and rolled his tongue under his split lip. “I’m not keen on any more trouble.”
Georgio led Melegal out of the barn and around the front. The streets were getting busy. Merchants called. Customers shoved and pushed. The time of Festival had begun. It was the best time of the year, except this year. This year things were different. He felt a little glimmer of hope inside him. If anyone could handle the likes of Darleen, it would be Melegal. Scorch and Sidebor were another matter entirely. If only Venir were here.
A brisk wind rattled The Magi Roost sign above the door. Melegal was looking at it. Magi had been scratched out. The skinny thief looked at him and said, “Trouble within, eh?”
Georgio nodded.
“I think the trouble is only beginning.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I just have a feeling.”
Georgio shook his head and reached for the door. Stopped. He was dying to ask if Melegal knew anything about Venir. Just ask. He won’t bite. “Me, have you heard from—”
A clamor erupted inside. Darleen screamed. Wood cracked like mighty timbers.
Crash!
The frame of a huge man busted through the glass window pane and bounced off the street. Startled people screamed. The bearded man jumped to his feet. His blue eyes were wild with fury. He tore a hunk of glass out of his shoulder.
“Slat,” Melegal said.
Georgio gawped.
“Vee?”
Venir snarled and pounced right back through the window. Crashes and roars followed.
Georgio dashed through the front door. Melegal beat him through it.
The Magi Roost was in chaos.
Darleen stood on the bar stomping and screaming.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”
It would have been easier to stop a hurricane.
“Savages!” she wailed.
Brak’s white eyes were glazed over. His face berserk. He had Veni
r hoisted over his head.
“No Brak!”
Brak slammed Venir into the mantle over the fire place.
Venir slugged him in the face. Kicked him in the guts.
Brak slung Venir crashing through the tables and chairs.
Georgio started forward.
Melegal stayed him with his arm.
“Let this play out!”
Venir pounced like a tiger, barreling Brak over. They tumbled over the floor. Punching, snarling, kicking. Venir’s big fists struck like heavy stones. Brak flailed like a windstorm. The titans broke everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor. Venir lowered his shoulder. Charging like a mintaur, he screamed. He drove Brak through the support beam that held the balcony up. A mighty crack followed. The balcony buckled.
“Stop them, Georgio!” Darleen screamed. “They’re tearing my place apart!”
Georgio started again.
Melegal stayed him.
“One might kill the other,” Georgio said.
“Let them punch it out. It’ll be good for them,” Melegal said, sidestepping a flying chair.
Venir got Brak in a bear hug. His ape-like arms filled with purple veins. Brak screamed.
Georgio covered his ears.
Brak and Venir rocked and reeled. Brak grabbed Venir’s fingers and started peeling them away. Venir slammed him into the ground, busting the planks.
“NO!” Darleen yelled. She slung a bottle of wine that struck Venir in the head.
Brak pulled him to the ground and started wailing away.
“What in Bish is going on?” someone shouted. It was Billip. Eyes wide, Joline, Nikkel and Jubilee were with him. “We’ve got to get them apart!”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Melegal warned, taking a seat on a stool.
“No,” Billip said, “You wouldn’t. But I’m not going to stand here and watch them kill each other.”
Billip closed in. Brak rose from the floor, glaring at him. He snapped a leg off a table.
“Enough, Brak,” Billip said, backing away.
Brak turned his attention back to Venir. He brought the leg down with all his might.
Venir caught his wrists. Jammed his feet into his gut and launched him over his head. Brak crashed into the last support beam below the balcony. The entire thing crashed down.
Venir sprang to his feet, brandishing the table leg, brawny shoulders heaving up and down. His face was swollen. He spat a bloody tooth on the cracked floor.
The tavern fell silent.
Venir staggered through the piles of smashed tables toward the balcony. There was no sign of Brak. Venir cocked his head to the side.
Something moved in the rubble. The balcony started to rise. The wood in it popped and cracked. Brak heaved hundreds of pounds of busted wood and railing on his chest. His face was beet red, his short, mighty arms shaking. Roaring, he stretched groaning wood up toward the sky. His white eyes turned blue again.
“Get those beams under it,” Billip ordered. “Hurry!”
Georgio and Nikkel moved.
Brak’s arms shook like leaves. His eyes were locked on Venir’s.
They got one beam up. Then two.
“Brak! Brak!” Jubilee yelled. She snapped her fingers at him. “Are you back?”
He nodded and sagged to the ground, trembling.
Melegal walked over to Venir, slapped him on the back, and said, “Brute Father, meet Brute Son. That monster’s yours.”
Venir wiggled his jaw, stepped over to Brak and extended his hand. A moment of pride filled him.
“You punch like a mule kicks ... Son.”
Brak took his hand in his.
Venir pulled him to his feet. They were almost eye to eye.
“Good to meet you too,” Brak said, rubbing the bruise on his jaw.
Georgio sighed. The inside of the tavern looked like it had exploded. Exhausted, he grabbed a chair off the floor and sat down. The chair collapsed underneath him.
Everyone laughed except Darleen. Her ears were red when she screamed.
“You’ll die for this! All of you! SCORCH!”
STRIDER
CHAPTER 23
Fogle struggled in his bonds. His numb hands had been tied behind his back for hours. Boon was in the same predicament, but he didn’t appear to be nearly as agitated as he should be. He winked at Fogle.
“This is your idea of raising an army?” Fogle said with a sneer. “Getting captured? What are they, anyway?”
Boon shrugged and said, “Four-armed men with bug faces.”
“Do they have a name?”
“Why? You planning on sending them an invitation for coffee? Sssssh,” Boon said, “keep your voice down. They can be unpredictable at times.”
“I can’t imagine!” Fogle whispered.
They were in a village of very tall huts made from mud, stone and tall grasses. Fogle didn’t even notice them at first when they were marched right to them. The huts blended right into the landscape, not easily noticed until you were right on top of them. Fogle looked over one shoulder and another. Their captors were gone, leaving them alone in the sandy wind.
“I’m getting out of here. I’m not going to get eaten.” He squirmed in his seat, teetered over, and fell head first to the ground. He spat the dirt from his mouth.
“Bone!”
Strong hands lifted him off the ground and set him on his feet.
“Gad!”
Fogle stepped on his robes and fell back again.
“Get away from me!”
“Fogle!” Boon warned.
A strange creature towered over him. Four arms. Two were crossed over its chest and the other two carried spears. It was built like a man, but had a face like a praying mantis. Its legs were the longest he’d ever seen on a biped, with two sets of knees.
It reached for Fogle, spears ready.
He kicked at it. Screamed.
“Get ahold of yourself!” Boon yelled.
The strider poked his shoulder with its spear. It hissed and clicked its mandibles.
Fogle bit his lip.
The creature grabbed him by the hair, pulled him up, and shoved him toward the village.
Another did the same with Boon. They marched them toward the largest hut in the center. It was the size of ten huts in one. Maybe more. Like a giant mushroom in a rocky forest. More striders appeared. Some carried baskets. Others knives. Small ones dashed all over like children, making clacking sounds. Fogle had never seen anything on two legs move so fast before. They ran like deer or horses.
A great canvas flap of leather hung at the hut’s opening. Two striders stood on either side with strange white markings on their arms. They looked more like statues. Hard. Stoic. Like bugs. A strange odor from within filled Fogle’s nostrils.
He glared back at Boon.
“Smells like they’re cooking something.”
Boon shook his head.
“Just hope it’s not us.”
Fogle wanted to scream.
The Outland is no place for wizards!
CHAPTER 24
Creed sat with his back against the cold stone wall, staring at the ceiling. A tiny beam of light shone through a cracked tile in the ceiling. He suspected it was sunlight, or at least he hoped it was. A crack in Castle Bloodhound’s exterior wall. Two days had passed already. At least he thought it was two days. It felt like ten.
He grabbed a bucket of water and took a sip. At least it was fresh. The food, though not a banquet, held him over, but his stomach still rumbled.
Across from him, the old man with wiry hair sucked on a chicken bone.
“Delicious ... Eh. Eh. Delicious.”
He sucked the grease off his fingers for the hundredth time. Creed still had no idea who the man was, but he didn’t figure him for his uncle. He didn’t care if it was. When the man wasn’t asleep or eating, he was staring at him like a buzzard stares at the weak and dying.
He set the bucket down and wiped his chin, trying to ignore the holl
owness that filled him.
“You are a good fortune … Eh. Bring good eats. Good eats indeed ... Eh.”
It was the first time the older man had spoken in over a day.
“Good eats I had … Eh. When they threw me in ... Eh. Treated me like a family prisoner … Eh. Forgot, they did.” He sucked his fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then belched. “They forgot … Eh. The guards don’t care. Lord Grom will only care … Eh. Little while … Eh. Not forever.”
Creed banged his head on the stone wall. Grunted.
“Enjoy … Eh. While it lasts. Suck. Suck. Enjoy ... Eh.”
“Eh!” Creed yelled. “Choke on a chicken bone, will you!”
The older prisoner froze for a long moment.
“Eh?”
“Bone!”
***
Katherine lay alone in Creed’s bed with a tear in her eye. She couldn’t remember the last time she ever cried. Maybe when she was a young girl. Maybe. Her son, Tonio was dead. Her husband, Lord Almen, had perished, and that didn’t include all the rest of her family that had been wiped out by the underlings. A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it off on her silk gown and stared at the hardware in the bedroom corner. There were many swords of all sorts and some other pieces for combat too.
She slid out from under the sheets and walked over.
Creed’s swords and scabbard were propped against the wall. The bracers hung on the pommels. They were finely crafted, compared to the rest. Strange in design. She touched the shroud that lay crumpled there, an empty vessel. She picked it up and held it to her cheek. Smelling him on it, she sobbed.
She’d grown fond of Creed. Though rugged for a Royal, he was honest. Noble. At least he tried anyway. He was a tall man like Lord Almen, but softer in the eyes. She liked his boyish charm and wavy auburn hair. She’d gotten used to the attention he’d give her. She sniffed again.
I’m sorry, Creed. He’d been all she had. Now, he was gone. What have I done?
She’d told Lord Grom about the sack in confidence. Admitted she didn’t know what it was, but that it had something to do with the underlings, she thought. But she was smart enough to not give any of the pieces of the armament up. She’d kept that to herself. Lord Grom hadn’t inquired about it either.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 11
