Jasper emerged from nowhere. Whispered in Zoc’s ear, eyeing Melegal.
The merchant-thief’s eyes brightened. “Hold,” he said, holding up his hand.
The underlings seized Melegal.
Zoc said, “It seems your friend has stirred much—”
Chok! Chok! Chok!
The hollow chopping sound came from the ceiling above. Everyone looked and stayed looking.
Chok!
A glimmer of light winked through a hole above.
Chok! Chok! Chok!
A large piece of the dark oak-wood floor fell through, leaving a gaping hole.
“What in the world of Bish is going on!” Zoc jumped up and exclaimed.
A dark hulk dropped through the ceiling, holding a massive axe. Angry eyes gleamed out the eyelets of the dark metal helmet.
The underlings chittered in rage.
“Your allies are about to become dog food,” Melegal said.
***
Jasper stood in stark silence. Here again was the man she’d seen make quick work of the men above. He was something else. A destroyer in dark metal armor.
The underlings screeched. Rage filled their faces.
Her fingernails dug into Zoc’s meaty arm.
In two great strides, the man in the spiked helmet crossed the room and struck. The great blade sang with a sharp howl in the air. The yellow-eyed head of the underling Urku flew through the air, leaving a trail of black blood behind it. The second underling darted in, stabbed. A savage chop split its body in half.
Jasper gasped. She’d never seen black blood.
Twing! Twing!
The third underling, the one that held Melegal, howled and hopped, plucking at the darts in its toes. Melegal skewered its back in a lightning-quick lunge. The underling slipped dead from his blade.
So fast. So fast. So fast. Her lips trembled. Her jaw sagged. She couldn’t even summon a protective spell. Who in Bish are these men?
That’s when the other rogues closed in. All short weapons. No armor.
Slice!
Two men fell at once. Top Hat and Catcher were their names. Humans bleeding to death. Eyes wide with horror and desperation.
Twing! Twing!
The other two men caught darts in their throats. Desperate fingers clutched at their necks. The war axe finished them off in two strokes of lightning.
The halfling ran.
Twing! Twing!
Darts filled his legs, and he crashed to the floor.
The dwarf tried to bowl the helmed warrior over.
Glitch!
The attempt was fatal.
Only one rogue escaped: the halfling, full of darts but crawling on the floor. All the underlings were dead, which left only Jasper and Zoc, standing in horror. So much blood in so little time.
The wiry thief yelled at the gore-dripping slayer.
“You idiot! My bargaining was done!”
The man in the helmet scanned the room. Face eerie. Voice smoky.
“There are more.”
“I don’t want more. I want to leave,” Melegal said, straightening his cap. “I’m going.” He turned his head to Zoc. “Are we finished here?”
Zoc nodded his sweat-covered face. Swallowed hard.
“I just hope your comrade is finished here.”
The tip of Venir’s axe appeared underneath Zoc’s chin. He said, “How do I get to them?”
Zoc swallowed again. Blinking rapidly. Jasper backed away. Heart thundering.
“Who?” Zoc said.
Venir pushed the spike a little harder. The heavy man blanched.
“I wouldn’t play games with him,” Melegal said to Zoc. “He really has issues with underlings.” He pointed at Jasper. “You. Lead me out of here. Not that I couldn’t find my way, but I wouldn’t be caught leaving this snake pit without a decent-looking woman on my arm.”
Jasper perked up. She was drawn to the man’s smooth words.
“Which way to them?” Venir growled at Zoc.
Blood dripped down Zoc’s chin. He pointed toward the dark curtains that hung to the right side of the cold stone fireplace.
Venir jerked back his blade and nodded at Melegal. In a few steps, he vanished behind the curtain.
Zoc exhaled and mopped the sweat from his eyes. He scanned the horrific surroundings.
“How did this happen? He killed almost everybody.”
“Simple. You did something stupid,” Melegal said. He stuck out his elbow. Jasper took it.
“Oh,” Zoc said, rubbing his head. “The underlings will be furious with what your friend did. But he shouldn’t be a problem for long. Not where he goes. Not even my best fighting men dare venture down there.”
“Who?” Melegal said, looking at the dead. “Those guys?”
“Let’s go,” Jasper said, pulling on Melegal’s arm.
He followed her lead.
Zoc said one last thing.
“There’s more than underlings below. Other terrible things.”
“And I’m sure my friend can’t wait to meet them.”
CHAPTER 25
Fogle’s stomach sank. Wind rushed by his ears.
Where am I!
He clawed and twisted in the air, listening to the rapid rustling of his robes. The wind tore at his eyes, but he could see the bright sky surrounding him.
Splash!
He heard the sound. Submersion followed. The entirety of his body juttered. Water rushed into his lungs, and though he flailed like a wild man, he was sinking. Breathless, frantic and disoriented.
A strong arm grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up toward the glaring suns. He emerged, gasping for air.
“Can’t you swim, Grandson?”
Fogle coughed and hacked, treading water, but his robes felt like heavy armor. He smoothed his soaked hair back over his head. A creature swam by, calico and hairy, its tail gliding its small frame through the water. An Otter Cat.
“Come on,” Boon said in his ear. “Let’s get you to shore.”
He could feel his grandfather’s strong arms take hold of him, and the man’s legs churning in the waters below.
“You need to help some,” Boon gasped. “You weigh a ton.”
Fogle tried. His exhausted limbs were noodles. He kicked all he could, but nothing was left in him. He’d hurled everything at the underlings, but he lived. They made it to the shoreline. The sandy shores washed up over his robes. He squeezed the soft sands beneath his fingers.
Ah! I made it. But where exactly did I make it to?
He started coughing again.
Boon’s firm hand patted his back.
“Its fine now, Grandson. Just fine.”
Fogle barely heard him over the torrential sound of water crashing into water. He looked beyond. People splashed. Otter cats were everywhere. Others gawked and stared at the strider, Tarcot, emerging. And beyond all that was something else. His eyes lit up like flares.
“The Three Great Falls?”
“Aye,” Boon said. “This was the safest place to land on short notice.”
Fogle’s head whipped around. He forced his tired body to his feet.
“Can it be?”
Towers. Dozens. Spires bright and brilliant jutting like giant jeweled fingertips stretching into the sky-blue air.
“Tell me this is real, Grandfather.”
“It is,” Boon said. “It is.”
“Why here?” He asked. Not that he cared, but because he was curious. Of all the times Boon had surprised him, this was the biggest one of all.
“It must have raced through my thoughts at the last second.” Boon rose up and stood at his side, peering at the towers. “It’s a sight I’ve longed to see as well, it seems, somewhere deep inside me. It’s good to be home again. I’d almost given up on it.”
“Me too,” Fogle said. “Me too.”
CHAPTER 26
“You can release my arm now,” Melegal said to Jasper.
They’d crossed a few st
reets. Melegal’s temper festered with every step.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Quite nice, actually.”
He shoved her into the next alley and pinned her to a wall, with his forearm on her throat.
“Listen, Jasper, I want to know more about the goings on with things. And I want to know now. How many underlings are in this city?”
Her stark white cheeks turned rosy. The dark violet shadow on her eyelids fluttered. Her fingers tickled at his belly.
“Ah!”
He withdrew his arm and watched her stand there, coughing. She was a young woman, but full-grown despite her girlish frame. Her dark silk dress accented her sensuous curves. Her perfume drew him into her darkness.
“I don’t know that much,” she said, rubbing her throat.
“You know plenty,” Melegal said. “Do you think I’ve never dallied with a deceitful wench before? I’ve known women that spun lies like fine tapestries, and I still have my head for it. Now tell me, what kind of fools dicker with underlings?”
“Don’t rise so high, Melegal,” she said, fixing her midnight hair. “Underlings are just people.”
Smack!
“Don’t be a fool, Girl.”
Her eyes bore into him like daggers. Her fingertips sparked. She struck.
Smack!
Melegal sent her into the wall. The fires in her eyes and fingers went out.
“Listen, Girl. Consider this lesson a life saver. The underlings will have your throat torn out one day. They’ll take every tower to the ground. We are at war with them to kill them, not to make merry with them. They’re evil. And evil has no friends.”
Jasper leaned back against the wall, eyes wide and blinking. Perhaps he’d take some of his aggravations out on her. His nails dug into his hands. Everything had been under control until Venir barged in. Now, the man was gone. Hunting underlings in a city that didn’t have underlings. Quickster was gone. His life once again was out of his control.
He extended his hand to Jasper.
She glared at him.
“Take it.”
She didn’t move.
“I said ‘Take it’!”
She reached out, and he pulled her up to her feet.
He looked in her eyes and nodded.
“Don’t ever slap me again,” she said.
“You call that a slap?” he laughed. “Just don’t make chummy underling talk then.”
“Fine,” she said, glancing around. “Now what?”
Melegal led her back into the street and said, “I have no idea.”
“Are you worried about your friend?”
“Him?” Melegal said, shrugging. “He’ll be all right.”
He had better be all right, because I’m not going after him.
“Let’s go spend some of this gold.” They took two more steps, and the world changed. He was on his hands and knees, spitting bile on the floor. His head felt like hammer had hit it. When he looked up, there was Jaen, lording over him with an angry look on her face.
“What have you done!”
***
Running his free hand along the wall, Venir followed the stairs down. He could sense them. Feel them. Smell them. The decay-like scent of underlings. The creatures that took as much joy in death as they did in life. He hated them. So through the blackness he went, head throbbing. Heart pounding. Veins charging.
He must have gone more than fifty feet down when he bottomed out on a plank platform. Through Helm, he could make out the outlines of walls and a door, cracked open. He eased it inward with one hand, Brool ready in the other.
What’s this?
Stairs and catwalks traversed a large open cavern lit by smokeless green-and-yellow torches. Glowing rocks above traced the ceiling. The dampness of water in the air cooled his face. He crept forward like a white ape and hunkered down on the next platform. Bodies were in motion below.
There was a lake of sorts. Or a river, he couldn’t tell which. A series of small docks along the sandy shore. Crates. Small barges. A company of men carrying crates over the planks and stacking them up in neat rows. Other men cracking open the wooden boxes with pry bars and taking turns sampling the goods.
Netherland Port.
A screeching chatter arose, freezing the stern-faced rogues. A pack of underlings emerged from the shadows of the docks. One of them snatched the bottle from the men and stuffed it back inside the box.
Venir’s blood ran hot. Helm urged him onward. His knuckles whitened on Brool’s handle.
Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.
He slunk back a little farther into the shadows and held his position. He removed Helm from his head. His breathing eased.
What in bloody Bish are they doing!
Venir never thought he’d see the day when men bartered openly with underlings. The fiends had corrupted the City of Bone and now penetrated the City of Three’s underworld. It seemed they were buying the royals off. Poisoning the streets. Weakening the structure from within. Someone had to be responsible for all of this madness. Someone high up had given in.
I need to find out who’s doing all of this and put an end to them.
He stared at Helm. The eyelets were like a reflection staring right back at him. Hot. Angry. He ran his thumb along the brassy edges of the metal eyelets.
I see no reason why we can’t put an end to the ones down there right now.
He started to put Helm on and stopped. How many times had he rushed into the thick of things and paid for it? How many others had suffered because he let Helm lead?
From the shadows, he glared down at the underlings. Could he tolerate them long enough to try and find more help? He watched the underlings order the rogues around, strutting along in their dark armor. There weren’t that many.
He could see Helm looking back at him, saying, Take them.
But Venir was older now.
Time to be wiser.
He observed a little longer.
The men labored back and forth, unloading one barge after the other. There were barrels. Boxes. Sacks with the clinking of coins. The rattle of precious stones. A hoard of treasures fit only for royals.
Venir’s thoughts raced. Every city had its thieves and dirty dealings. Were the rogues behind it? The wizard-royals? Perhaps Kam would have insight to these questions. If only she would talk to him now. His thoughts drifted to Brak. Which was more important: killing underlings, or seeing his wounded son?
Time to go. He looked at Helm. No more today. He readied the sack and stuffed Helm inside.
The soft sound of sobbing echoed from the cavern below.
What was that?
Another barge eased its way through the waters on the other side of the docks. Dozens of half-naked women and children were huddled in the center. The sobbing and crying became louder as they found the cold glittering stares of the underlings. Desperate pleas and cries for mercy came forth. The rogues silenced them with hard strokes of the lash and dragged them kicking and screaming from one barge to another.
Venir drew forth the shield from the sack and buckled on Helm.
“Aw, Bish no.”
CHAPTER 27
The Gruell. It wasn’t so much a prison but a series of cages and pits lined up along a carved-out hillside. Each wrought with filth and decay. Bugs and vermin scurried about, gnawing at what was left of once-alive things.
The wart-nosed dwarves had strange ways of dealing with people from the city of Holm. The Gruell was one of those ways. Kidnappers they were. Smugglers. Thieves. They never hesitated to seize a prosperous opportunity.
Lefty stood over the rim of a pit, looking down within. A man’s body rotted there, fine clothes in tatters. Skin eaten away by bugs and vermin. He sighed. The man’s family either didn’t have the ransom the dwarves wanted or they didn’t care. So the man had died. Had taken his last breath months ago. Lefty wiped a tear from his eye. He’d forgotten about the man in all his troubles.
“Get that hole cleaned out yet?
” Hoknar said, shoving Lefty and almost knocking him into the pit. He spat inside. “People don’t care so much about one another as you’d think.” He grunted. “They didn’t even dicker. Now get down there and clean out that hole.”
Lefty nodded, tied a rope to a nearby cage, and lowered himself into the hole, coughing. The stench was suffocating. He wandered into the cave, tied the rope around the body, and climbed out. Hand over hand, he hauled it up. Everything made it up but the head.
Hoknar scratched the warts on his nose and said, “Get back down in there, stupid.”
Rubbing his aching shoulders, Lefty sighed.
“Now!”
He’d started to untie the rope from the dead body when Hoknar walked over, laid his hand on his shoulder, and stopped him.
“I’ll get that. You hop in there and toss up that head. I’ll toss the rope in. Time’s pressing.”
“But…”
“Now!”
Lefty slouched and walked over to the pit with his shackles rattling around his ankles. Now, he hated the shackles more than anything. At first, he had thought he deserved them. But now, he had made up his mind to try and get away. And they’d worn his ankles raw.
Gazing into the pit, he sighed. It was twelve feet down. He could handle that. Getting out was another problem. Hoknar probably wouldn’t help at all. He glanced back and saw Hoknar combing his fingers through his beard and shooing him onward.
He jumped in, landing noisily when the chains rattled, and picked the gory head up. He tossed it out of the hole and waited. Nothing happened. All he could see was the dark rocky cave ceiling above. Bugs scurrying into holes below.
“Hoknar!” he yelled.
No answer.
“Hoknar! You’ve given me much to do. The sooner you let me out of here, the better.” He swallowed hard. “Hoknar, please?”
He sighed.
He’s gone. I know he’s gone. He always does this to me.
It was either jump in the hole when told, or be beaten. And Lefty was starting to get the feeling that Hoknar might be growing tired of him. That this latest trip into a pit might be his last. The wart-nosed clans had started to wear out their welcome in Hohm City. The royals had begun to show an interest in them, and Lefty saw signs that said they might be moving on. A handful had ventured into the city and never made it back.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 27
