The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces

by Craig Halloran

  “Alright, I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To finish the mission,” Boon said, standing up.

  “Which is?”

  “Getting more allies. We need the giants.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Wait!” Billip warned the over-sized brigand on the over-sized horse, stretching the bowstring back along his cheek. “You might want to reconsider that. I’m an outstanding shot with this thing.”

  The large figure’s chuckle was like a rumble of thunder. He pulled back the shroud that covered his head. The moon-shaped face of an ogre rested on great shoulders, and his skin was dark and gray.

  “Go ahead; take your best shot, Archer.”

  Twang!

  The arrow skipped off the ogre’s skull. His body was like a stone statue.

  Slat!

  Billip loaded another arrow and fired.

  Twang!

  It skipped off the ogre’s cheek.

  “Your little sticks can’t hurt me. Nothing can. I am Gondoon Stoneskin.” He stepped off his horse and advanced. He was much taller and broader than Brak. Two men in one. All ogre. “After I break your necks, I’ll feast on the hearts in your chests.”

  Billip’s blood raced. He’d never seen such a creature before. He had led his friends to their deaths.

  Should have stayed in bed.

  “Why don’t we just give you our gear?” Billip said, shouldering his bow. “There’s no need for bloodshed, Gondoon.”

  “As I said, I hate humans.” He nodded to his men. They dropped their hoods, exposing their faces. Ugly, ruddy-skinned and coarse-haired, it was a brood of orcs, full-blooded orcs. They practically worshiped ogres, back in Two-Ten City. Were enthralled by them. “Tell the others to lower their weapons, and we might give you a quick death.”

  Billip cracked his knuckles.

  Buy time. Buy time.

  “We don’t die easily, and we aren’t that good to eat.” He made a quick scan of the surrounding area. “And there are more of us than what you see.”

  Gondoon snorted the air and peered around.

  “I don’t think so. Kill th—”

  Clatch-Zip!

  Nikkel’s crossbow bolt rocketed through the air into the ogre’s gaping mouth. Its neck recoiled back, and it roared a horrible sound. It ripped the bolt from its mouth and shouted a bloody order.

  “Kill them!”

  The brigand orcs converged.

  ***

  Nikkel fired, dropped Bolt Thrower, and side-stepped a jabbing spear. He unloosed his father’s club, Skull Basher, from its sling and brought it around full force.

  Crack!

  Hard wood filled with metal studs shattered the orc brigand’s arms. Nikkel whirled in time to catch two orcs charging at him. He twisted away from one jabbing spear, but the other spear clipped his shoulder. Nikkel’s sinewy arms rose up, and the club came down.

  Whack!

  The orc’s skull cracked like porcelain.

  He swung and missed the other one.

  The orc tripped him with its spear and jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground with its greater weight. It wrapped both hands around his neck and squeezed.

  ***

  “Argh!”

  Georgio caught a spear in the leg. With his sword, he hacked into the spear shaft, cutting it in half. He reversed his swing and cut the orc’s neck out.

  The next orc advanced, snarling and ramming a spearhead at his chest.

  Georgio sheared through the shaft.

  The orc’s eyes widened, and its hairy hand went for its dagger.

  Georgio swung again, severing its arm from the wrist.

  It cried out, waving its arm and spraying blood everywhere, including Georgio’s eyes.

  “Idiot orc!” he said, dashing the blood from his eyes. He swung wildly at the orcs that crowded in. “Get back!”

  Jab!

  A spear tore through one side of Georgio’s flesh and out the other.

  “Aaaaaaaah!” he cried out and sagged to his knees.

  The orc brigands kept coming.

  ***

  Nikkel’s crossbow fired, and Brak swung. The white cudgel exploded into the nearest brigand’s chest. Brak felt its chest cave under his blow and watched it sag to the ground. He stepped into the path of the next one that made a bead for Billip.

  The big orc took a poke at him.

  Brak snatched the spear by the shaft and jerked it from the orc’s hands.

  It slugged him in the jaw.

  Brak slugged it back in the face.

  Whop!

  The orc shook its ugly face, bared its teeth, jumped, and grabbed his legs.

  “Skewer him!” the orc yelled toward the others.

  The skirmish had exploded around them. Every man and orc for himself. It seemed the orcs went after the smaller men first, avoiding the tall brute with the large ash cudgel.

  Brak reached down, picked the orc up, and drove it down on its head.

  Its neck cracked on impact, and its body went limp.

  Huffing for breath, Brak searched for his comrades. Nikkel was buried in a throng of orcen meat. Georgio was blanched like a skewered pig. And the stone ogre Gondoon was squeezing Billip like a child in its arms. They locked eyes. Billip screamed, but his words made no sound.

  “Do something, Brak!” Georgio yelled.

  Brak surged into the action. In three great strides, he flanked Gondoon’s rear and swung Spine Breaker into his back. Bright white light exploded.

  Scrakk!

  The ogre’s arms loosened around Billip, and the archer kicked free.

  Gondoon staggered forward and onto a knee.

  “Hold him off,” Billip said, picking up his bow. “I’ll help the others.”

  Brak reared the white ash cudgel back, barring Gondoon’s path to the fracas. The ogre straightened his back and leered down at him with angry yellow eyes.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Gondoon said, cracking his head from side to side. “Now I’m going to rip the beating heart from your chest. The weaponless ogre hunkered down and rested his knuckles on the ground. He was unlike anything Brak had ever seen before, almost eight feet tall and maybe six-hundred pounds. Brak felt small by comparison. Gondoon rubbed one of his shoulders. “Not sure what you hit me with, but I felt it.” He eyed the softly glowing cudgel gripped in Brak’s hands. “Magic tools are for women. Are you a woman or a warrior?”

  Brak dropped the cudgel to the ground, raised his fists and gritted his teeth.

  “I’m a warrior.”

  Gondoon rose up to his full height, towering over Brak, and said, “No, you’re a dead warrior.”

  ***

  “Nikkel!” Billip yelled. The young man was underneath a vicious assault of orcs. He whipped a shaft out of his quiver and took a point-blank shot.

  Thwack!

  The arrow punched through the orc’s skull, putting a third eye in its head. Billip ripped out another shaft and fired into the mass of tangled bodies.

  Thwack!

  An orc brigand lurched up with an arrow through the neck, leaving one orc, which tangled with Nikkel. The pair writhed on the ground. The bigger foe wailed on Nikkel with hammer-like blows. Billip went for another arrow. The orc lurched up, holding a dagger that had been driven into its gut.

  Nikkel shoved the dying orc off him and ripped his dagger free. His dark skin was coated with blood. He wiped the blood from his eyes and picked up Skull Basher. Up and down it went, finishing off the orc. “Bone, those things stink.”

  Georgio shouted at them.

  “A little help please!”

  With a spear jutting through his side, the curly-headed warrior swung his sword like a wild man, keeping the orcs at bay.

  Twang!

  Billip’s arrow buried itself in one orc’s chest.

  Nikkel charged another, going in swinging hard.

  Bones broke. Living flesh screamed. Arrows whizzed through the night. In
seconds, the remaining orcs had fallen. The ground soaked up their blood.

  “Pull this thing out of me,” Georgio said, grimacing. He glared at Nikkel. “Do it now!”

  Nikkel wrapped his hands around the bloody shaft.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Stop smiling! Yes I’m ready!”

  “I’m not smiling,” Nikkel said. “On two.”

  Georgio nodded.

  “One …

  Yank!

  Georgio fell backward screaming.

  Billip and Nikkel looked at each other.

  Billip shrugged, saying, “He’ll be fine.”

  That’s when someone else started screaming. It was Brak.

  ***

  Fists up like mighty hammers, Gondoon Stoneskin came straight at Brak and attacked. His punches were fast and heavy.

  Pow! Pow! Whop! Pow!

  Brak covered up. His arms and shoulders absorbed the heavy force, but every bone was shaken. He struck back. Busted the ogre in the nose.

  Crack!

  Nose bleeding, it smiled back. Half of its teeth were missing.

  “You picked a bad night to start a fight, Man.” Gondoon lowered his shoulders, closed in, and threw everything at him.

  Brak blocked, punched, and dodged.

  Gondoon hammered, hammered, and hammered.

  Brak’s teeth clattered. His chest rattled. His knees wobbled and hit the dirt. Bleeding and reeling, he fought his way back to his feet.

  Gondoon snorted.

  “Big and tough for a man. Small and weak to an ogre.”

  Brak was dazed. His vision clouded.

  Gondoon walloped him in the gut, lifting him from his feet.

  Brak collapsed on the ground, face first in the dirt.

  “Stupid man can’t hurt Gondoon. No man can hurt an ogre.” He spat on Brak. Grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his knees. “First I break your back, and then I rip it out.” He hoisted Brak high over his head with his arms. “Enjoy the view. It’s your last one.”

  Brak’s head cleared just in time to see the frightened looks on his friends’ faces.

  Billip fired an arrow that skipped off the ogre’s forearm.

  “Help!” Brak yelled.

  Gondoon brought him down on his knee with ram-like force.

  Crack!

  Brak couldn’t feel a thing.

  ***

  “Flank him!” Billip ordered.

  He, Georgio, and Nikkel fanned out, weapons ready.

  The ogre laughed at them, pumping his arms over his head and saying, “I can break backs all night, little people.”

  Billip’s blood charged. Brak lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, unmoving. The ogre lorded over him with a triumphant look on his horrible face. The beast was a man-killer. He’d dealt with them plenty in Two-Ten City. Cruel. Cunning. He’d watched Venir battle two part-ogres in the Pit, but never a full-blooded one. He’d never heard of one with stone-like skin either.

  “Steady, men,” he said to the others. Nikkel’s pale eyes shone bright in the night. Georgio clutched at his belly with one hand and held his shaking sword in a bloody grip.

  Gondoon stared over them. He grunted and said, “You’ve killed all my orcs.” His eyes narrowed under his protruding brow. “Those were good orcs.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Billip said. He drew another arrow and nocked it. The arrow head’s tip had a soft blue hue. “Let’s see how that stony skin handles this.”

  The ogre’s eyes widened. His massive forearms shielded his face.

  Billip stretched the string along his cheek and aimed for its belly. Crying out “Ack!” he loosed the shaft, missing the ogre. A spear had pierced his thigh from an orc gasping its last breath. Billip fell to the ground in blinding pain. He pulled the spear out and screamed.

  “Biiiiiiiish!”

  ***

  Georgio charged. Still reeling from the spear, he made a halfhearted swing.

  The ogre blocked the blow with its forearm and roared.

  Tonio’s sword sliced through its stone skin to the bone.

  Gondoon reared back. “What kind of steel is that!”

  Nikkel rushed in with Spine Breaker in his hands.

  Scrakk!

  The ogre lunged.

  Nikkel was quicker. The mystic cudgel of Leezir the Slerg exploded into the ogre’s back.

  It roared.

  Georgio thrusted.

  Glitch!

  His blade sank deep into the ogre’s leg.

  Gondoon made an angry sound. Spit frothed on his lips.

  Nikkel and Georgio readied their weapons to strike again.

  The seasoned ogre struck. His long arms lashed out and locked on each of their wrists. “Now I have you!” As if they were children, he slammed them head-first into each other.

  Georgio saw spots, groaned, rose up again and started swinging like a wild man.

  The ogre limped away toward his great horse, climbed on, and rode into the night and out of sight.

  Georgio fell back down, huffing for breath.

  “Why did he run?” he said, helping up Nikkel.

  The young black man shrugged and smiled.

  “Don’t know, but I’m glad he did.”

  “You hurting him be the cause, I’d say,” Billip said. He sat on the ground with Brak’s head in his lap. “Ogres are cowards like that, but we’re fortunate to live. Well, the three of us are, that is. Brak lives, but his back is broken.”

  ***

  Venir arrived on the gory scene hours later. His blood was rushing. Dead orc bodies soaked the ground with blood. His friends were crafting a stretcher. Brak lay on the ground, unmoving. His heart stopped in his chest. He rushed over.

  “What happened? Who did this?”

  Billip glared at him.

  “You left us. An ogre ambushed us. That’s what happened.”

  “I can track him.”

  “And abandon us again, along with your injured son? Why don’t you just kill us, already.”

  Stone-faced, Venir kneeled by his son. “Be still,” he said, placing Helm on Brak’s head.

  Help him, he urged.

  All the men kneeled around the fallen warrior.

  Several minutes passed before Venir removed Helm from his son’s head and shook his own. Looking into Brak’s horrified eyes, he could barely form words.

  “I’m sorry.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Melegal’s fingertips tingled. It wasn’t the height of the great ivory tower that bothered him. It was the fact that he had no idea how to get down from there.

  I could jump to my death if need be. I wonder if I would bounce.

  He could see everything for miles. Maybe a league. The Three Falls, the grand vineyards, the complete outline of the city. The people looked like ants, the horses and carriages like beetles. There were high towers in the City of Bone that he’d climbed before, but nothing quite like this. He walked along the great stretch of window. The tiles were like black glass beneath his feet.

  Is that pure onyx?

  He pulled his jerkin tight around his chest and walked the perimeter of the tower. It was round, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. The furnishings were sparse, but fanciful. The sofas were tanned leather, a deep red and lake blue in color. Cabinets made from something that was not wood. Hard. Shiny. Smooth. Dark velvety curtains that hung without rods. Fires burned and warmed the room without fireplaces or chimneys. A huge, soft, green rug with intricate patterns and designs was beneath it all. There were no doors, just one continuous window that encircled the entire room. Melegal’s spine knotted.

  What does the little witch want with me?

  Melegal’s eyes darted all over the room. His heartbeat quickened. An avenue for escape avoided him. And he’d heard plenty about the wizards, their powers and their towers. From the sky, the locals said, they can see everything and do anything. Still, Melegal hadn’t seen much of anything from them. Not until today. He gazed back out the window. T
he strange fires crackled and popped behind his back. Sweet soothing scents were in the air.

  I could get used to this. The city always has some kind of stink I could do without.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” a soft voice said.

  It was her, the woman he’d chatted with in the street. He turned on his heel to face her. She’d changed clothes. A low-cut belt strung with green silken sashes sometimes covered her sensuous hips and legs, except when she moved, which was often. And she wore a high dark bodice that just covered her breasts. A diamond sparkled in the exposed button of her midriff. Her grey eyes were engaging and playful. She combed her fingers through her cinnamon-colored hair, which rested over one shoulder. She looked young and enchanting, but there was something more mature about the way she carried herself.

  Ah, the bewitching women of this city. You never know what you’re getting until you wake up the next morning.

  “Certainly,” Melegal said, removing his cap. “I can only imagine it’s as exquisite as this tower.”

  She allowed herself a smile and opened one of the nearby cabinets. It was alabaster, trimmed in gold. Inside were crystal carafes of many different sorts of wine. She poured a plum-colored one into a crystal glass, walked over with her eyes locked on his, and handed it to him.

  “Drink,” she said. “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on it.”

  He took the glass and sniffed the bouquet. Took a small sip.

  Gentle. Full. A little sweet. Exquisite.

  “It’s divine,” he said, taking another sip.

  She strolled over to the couch, took a seat near a hovering fire, and said, “That’s interesting, because it’s the worst wine we have.”

  “Oh,” Melegal said, eyeing the glass, “well, I’ve never deserved the best. Seems you’re a good judge of character.”

  She giggled and patted the cushion beside her.

  “I’m only jesting. Now sit with me. Let the fire warm you.”

  “Not without a proper introduction,” he said. It was best to assume she was a royal, and he knew their customs all too well. He made a gentle bow and swooped his hat behind his back. “I am Melegal of Bone.” He slipped his cap back on his head.

  She nodded and said, “I am Jaen of Three. Now come and share more wine with me. There is business to talk about.”