One darted in, sword licking out.
Georgio whirled and batted the blade away.
Clang!
The underling sprang back, chittering and mocking. The others joined in, jabbing at his arms and legs, skipping away from the swings of his longsword.
“Come on, fiends! Scared to get too close?” he said, huffing for breath. Georgio might be strong, but he was exhausted. Running wasn’t his thing. He knew their goal was to wear him down, like jackals do a lion. “Come on!”
A green-eyed underling advanced, chopping at his legs.
Georgio’s longsword, the sword of Tonio, flashed and cut through its throat.
It gurgled to the ground.
“Chitter now, Underling!”
The remaining eleven underlings howled. Faces filled with fury, they converged.
Georgio swung left and right in broad, decapitating swings. He cut through armor. Sawed through bone. And paid for it.
“Argh!”
Dark steel lanced his leg. Down he went to one knee. Sharp pain bit into his shoulder. A large needle bit into his arm.
“Curse you!”
Gathering his strength, he cut the legs out from under one of them and caught another in the arm.
An underling with braided hair pounced onto his arm and bit his wrist.
Georgio’s blade fell from his grip.
A rope slipped around his neck, snaring his throat and choking him. Georgio turned, grabbed the rope and jerked the underling to the ground. The cat-sized spiders shot webs at his feet. Georgio stomped down into green-black goo. He stomped with fever.
“Get off me!’
From the corner of his eye, he saw an underling’s sword poised for his belly. It drew its arms back to strike.
A great shadow rose up behind it. Dark lightning came down.
Slice!
The ruby eyes of the underling widened, and then they separated, and its body fell in twain. Black blood went everywhere.
The other underlings froze. One remarked in surprise.
Slice!
Its head popped off its shoulders.
The underlings abandoned Georgio and surged toward the big man in a frenzy.
The warrior’s axe whistled up and whistled down. Blood and underling pieces went hither and yon.
Gritting his teeth, heart pumping with new blood, Georgio lunged for his sword.
A spider rested on the hilt, spewing webbing in his face.
“Son of a Bish!”
He grabbed the spider by the back and smashed it into the ground, peeled the sticky webbing from his eyes, and screamed.
“I hate this stuff!”
Finally, he wrapped his hand around his sword’s hilt and got back to his feet.
Venir was covered in underlings.
Clatch-Zip!
A crossbow bolt rocketed through the trees and pinned an underling to a tree.
Twang!
Twang!
Arrows ripped through the air. Feathery shafts erupted in the chests of two underlings.
Georgio half limped and half charged to aide Venir. He plunged his sword into an underling’s back, drawing forth a howl. The gorge filled with screams and fury. Seconds later, it was over. Only twisted limbs and dead underling flesh remained.
Covered in both red and black blood, Georgio was gasping for breath and grimacing in pain.
“Where were you guys?”
Billip emerged from the brush. He slid his arrows into his quiver, slung his bow over his back, and cracked his knuckles.
Nikkel came right after him with a wide smile on his face. He walked up to the underling hanging from the tree, and with his sinewy arm, he ripped his bolt out. He wiped the blood off with a rag and cranked the string back on Bolt Thrower again.
Georgio gawped at them.
“Well, where were you? I almost got killed, you know!” He looked up at Venir.
The man was a sight. Metal and skin were equally coated in underling gore. He slung his helmet off and jabbed Brool tip-first into the ground. His blue eyes were blazing.
“You were supposed to go right,” Venir said, poking him in the chest. “You went left. The wrong path. I was very specific about that. We all were. Don’t you know your right from your left yet? Slat! You could have gotten any of us killed.” Venir craned his neck around. “Where’s Brak?”
Billip and Nikkel each caught the other’s eye, then looked at Venir and shrugged.
“Well that’s just great! Just great!” he reached for his helmet.
Georgio swallowed hard and said, “Sorry, Vee.”
“Don’t apologize. Let’s go find him.” He snatched his axe out of the ground. “And his heart had better still be beating. Bone!”
Georgio, head down, started along behind Venir. An underling burst from underneath the pile of flesh and darted up the gorge.
“Get after him!” Venir said.
The underling leered at them, lips curled back over its sharp teeth. Its ruby eyes flashed. Its feet turned into a blur and whizzed up the path.
Georgio’s thoughts drifted to Lefty.
How do they do that?
“Blast my hide, underling magic!”
The underling almost cleared the gorge and faded into the woods. There was a flash.
Boom!
Something exploded in its path.
They all jogged up to see what happened.
Brak greeted them. He wore a buckskin jerkin and matching boots. He towered over all of them, near seven feet tall. He dragged the underling over the ground with one hand and had the glowing white cudgel, Spine Breaker, slung over his other shoulder.
Venir started laughing when Brak said, “I might be slow, but I deliver.”
***
A campfire crackled, its warm glow lighting the faces of all the weary men. It had been over a year since Venir returned to the Magi Roost, and they’d been back in the hunt ever since. He watched Brak skin a rabbit, gut it, run a stick though it, and set in on the spit with the others. Barely sixteen, the man-child was a stack of hard muscles.
“There should be bigger rabbits,” Georgio said, holding his groaning belly. “And trees should grow meat on them. And cheese.”
“And bread,” Brak frowned.
Brak’s sullen eyes glanced at Venir and then away. They’d gotten to know each other better, but it was odd. Venir felt guilt about the loss of his boy’s mother, Vorla. It angered him. He leaned his heavy shoulders back against the tree and glanced over at Nikkel. The thought of not seeing Mikkel again didn’t sit well either. The big man had always been there for him. Venir hadn’t been there for them, but that was Bish. That was Bone. It didn’t used to bother him so.
“You misfits get some rest,” Venir said. “I’ll take the first watch.”
“You always take the first watch, and end up staying up all night,” Georgio said, tearing off a piece of rabbit. “You get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Venir said. He banged on Helm with his knuckle. “The two of us can handle it.”
Georgio shrugged.
“If you say so.”
A few minutes passed, and things began to settle. Above, the sky was clear. One moon was bloody, the other a bright light. An hour went by, and the young men were all fast asleep. No blankets. No pillows. No anything.
Billip slipped over and sat down beside Venir.
“They’ve adapted well,” the archer said, rubbing the hair on his chin. “Better than I’d given them credit for. They mind you. Well, I’m not sure if it’s you they mind, or that get-up you put on. I’m glad you’ve got it back, though. Takes me back to times when.”
“Aye,” Venir said. He rubbed his calloused hand up and down Brool’s hardwood handle. The moment he had reached into the sack those many months ago, its warmth had brought him back. The aches, pains, and doubts were gone. His worn-down self had been renewed. Oh, his fingers and ear were still missing. The black scars from this bat
tle with the Vicious still burned from time to time. And the hitch in his step and aching shoulder weren’t gone. But he was 100% better. “Aye.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we headed back? It’s quite a bounty of skulls we’ve collected.” Billip popped his knuckles. “And I’m a bit tired of creek water. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I’m sure Joline misses you, too.”
Billip pulled his shoulders back and said with a grin, “And why wouldn’t she.” He huffed a quick laugh. “It’s not just that though. I worry. I worry about ‘you know who’ coming back. He said he would.”
Bish already had its problems. Dealing with the likes of Scorch only made it worse. Underling forces amassed all over. They pressed north now. They had become a menace south of the City of Three, but unlike at Bone, the leadership of Three had responded. Venir had responded as well. For over a year, he and his comrades had kept the underlings at bay. But how much longer could they hold it together. The royals were a dysfunctional mess. Venir wouldn’t deal with them or their armies. The way they ran things, it wouldn’t be long before they ran out of men, if they didn’t get their act together.
“We’ll head back tomorrow.”
Billip brightened.
“Really?”
Venir glanced over at the boys.
“I’m tired of hearing all those tummies rumbling. They’ve almost gotten us killed more than once.”
“Ha,” Billip said, “I know.” He patted Venir on the shoulder, moved over to his spot, and closed his eyes. “See you in the morning.”
Venir sat a little longer, staring into the fire. He didn’t want to go back to the City of Three. Not because of Kam. He missed her warm body at his side, her soft lips pressed against his. Her fiery moments, he could do without. Well, some of them. He smiled. Erin, his daughter, seemed to double in size every time he returned. He looked forward to that. Every time he went back, it became harder to leave. But the Outlands called to him. The winds whispered in his ears. Come back, Warrior. Come back. The Outlands was his mistress. He had to defend her.
As soon as Billip’s breath eased, Venir grabbed the armament and slipped into the darkness. The stark Outland horizon greeted him. The wind whistled by Brool’s blade, making a low eerie howl. He slung the shield over his shoulders and buckled Helm over his head. Venir’s senses came to life. An awakening. Underlings were out there. He knew he should stay close to the camp, but Helm’s hunger overtook him.
Let’s go hunting.
CHAPTER 2
Melegal strolled through the streets with Quickster in tow. The City of Three was an adjustment, but not a difficult one. Its pleasantries were far better than those in the City of Bone. There were more flowers and colorful banners dancing in the wind. The people spoke more often to one another, and there were many races: mostly men, but also dwarves, halflings, and the odd-looking mintaurs. There were some others of repute. Soldiers of fortune. Brigands. Mercenaries and thieves with half-orcs among them. Those were the ones Melegal enjoyed watching most.
They think they’re so clever.
Flipping Quickster’s reins over a post, Melegal watched a carriage rumble by. After a couple of minutes, he eased his way in between a pair of fruit stands and fingered the produce of the vines. The merchant haggled with a pair of elderly women over the price of gourds. They held no interest for him, but a rough-looking bunch of sell-swords did. They walked through the streets swinging their broad shoulders and giving the women heavy looks. They smiled, bowed their heads, and asked for directions. They’d been hard at it the past few days, pestering the locals.
Melegal took a pear in hand and began peeling it with a fine knife resting his narrow shoulder against the store post.
“Pardon me, ladies,” the storekeeper said, glaring at Melegal. He rolled up his sleeves and stormed over. “That’s not free.”
Melegal produced a small silver coin and stuffed it in the man’s meaty hand.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I could not contain myself. One for me and one for my pony.”
“Take it, and take it now, then,” the store keeper shot back, wiping his hands on his dark green apron. “And don’t be loitering. I’ve had enough of that. I’ll call the Watch.”
“Do I look like a loiterer to you?” Melegal said, brushing his hand down the front of his clothes. This Three garb was tighter than the loose-fitting clothes he was used to. He could still conceal things, but it was more difficult. The fabric was also more refined. Kam and Joline had insisted. It had taken some convincing, but he had finally accepted that the best way to maintain his anonymity was to look like everyone else.
“No, but you’re a stranger.”
“I’m a customer now, am I not?”
The old women in big hats started calling after the storekeeper. His shoulders sagged, but his head tilted up and back. Shaking his finger at Melegal, he said, “My customers shop here more than once. Feed your hairy mule and go.” He marched back to the ladies, with a forced smile on his face.
Melegal grabbed another red pear and walked over to give it to Quickster. He scratched Quickster’s ears.
“Can you believe he called you a mule?” He sneered at the storekeeper. “He looks more like a mule than you do. Fuzzy headed—”
Quickster nickered.
“You said it,” Melegal said. He leaned over Quickster’s saddle and continued peeling his pear, chewing up sliver after sliver. The sweet and succulent fruit was something he’d gotten accustomed to. The orchards in the City of Three were amazing. Great fields, miles of them, stretched into the lands beyond the Three Water Falls as far as the eye could see. Not only did it make for wonderful fruit, but excellent wine as well. “I think we’ll get a drink next. But first, we’ll see how this plays out.”
A woman in a dazzling dress walked by, staring at him.
“My pony requires special attention,” Melegal said, tipping his cap.
She turned her nose away and marched on.
“I might need to discontinue our conversations, Quickster,” he said, watching her walk away.
An image of Octopus formed in his head. He figured the blind eight-clawed cat would be fine, but he did miss its company. Getting reacquainted with Quickster over the past year had been good for him. Quickster, quiet and resilient, neither argued nor pestered. He just breathed, ate, dumped, and did what he was told. It made him a lot more tolerable than most people.
Melegal reached down and rubbed his pony’s shaggy black belly.
“You’re a true friend …” he noticed another woman—fishing through the fruits close by— staring at him. He tipped his cap. One that listens and doesn’t judge.
Not many had much appreciation for Quickster, nor for Melegal’s fondness for him. Quickster was a pony that looked more like a mule. He ran as fast as a horse, but looked slow. The shaggy grey-black gelding had lazy eyes and bent ears. His furriness made him look fat, which said ‘slow’ to most people. Melegal liked that deception about the creature.
In reality, Quickster was even faster than Chongo. He ate like a horse and kicked like a mule. The kick had gotten Melegal out of a jam or two. He chuckled and kept scratching Quickster’s ears.
Stupid Billip.
Years ago, when he and Venir first arrived in Two-Ten City, Melegal had needed a mount. Billip was the one who sold it to him, not realizing Quickster’s full value. Melegal hadn’t known a thing about ponies, either, but Billip hadn’t seemed interested in parting with any more horses, and Melegal hadn’t wanted to part with any more silver. The two of them haggled for over an hour, finally settling on twenty coins of silver. Billip departed the stables cracking his knuckles. He had chuckled until a few days later.
Bish is full of surprises. You were certainly one of them.
Melegal, Venir, Billip and Mikkel had taken on a small mission delivering rare spices to a smaller city leagues away. This was long before Venir had the armament. Underlings ambushed them. Quickster kicked one in the c
hest and trampled another. Outnumbered five to one, they fled, back toward Two Ten City. Melegal had never been on anything so fast before. Quickster and Melegal were the first ones back. The others caught up almost an hour later. The underlings never came beyond the edge of the city. Venir was furious they fled. But Billip was the angriest of all. His horse, a great brown, died from a wound tainted with underling poison. Quickster had the same wound as well, but nothing happened. Ever since then, Billip had been trying to take Quickster back, but no matter how much he offered, Melegal never parted with him.
“Alright, move along, will you?” the storekeeper said, sweeping his porch and eyeing him good.
Melegal tossed the pear core on the porch and said, “It was good, but there are better ones down the street.” He took Quickster by the reins and moved on, following a group of rough necked men in light arms and weapons. They had a woman hemmed in with their helpful comments. They reminded him of the thug named Jeb, back in the Drunken Octopus. He clenched his fists, and his slender face ached a little. He and Quickster rubbed past them.
“Watch where you’re going,” the tallest one said. He had a longsword strapped over his back and tattoos all over his bare arms and hands. The rest were about the same. Buckskin boots and tanned leather armor. Chains and jewelry about their greasy necks.
“Could any of you tell me where the nearest winery is?” Melegal said, eyeing them all, “I’ve a package to pick up and deliver, and I fear that I’m quite late.”
“I can show you,” the woman said in a nervous voice. Her eyes were pretty, her skin soft and light as her cotton knit clothing. She had a lithe frame like Haze. “It’s near.”
“That would be splendid.”
The men crowded around her, shoving themselves between him and her.
“It’s down there,” the tallest said. “Now get moving.”
“Down where?” Melegal said, looking around. “You didn’t show me anything. You just said, ‘Down there’. Down where?”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 16
