She nodded. Jubilee was turning into a pretty little woman, a girl grown up too soon. Her once-full face had become slender and distinguished. There was an air of nobility about her, but the feistiness in her eyes was still there too.
“That was a brave thing you did. At least now I can take a swing at them before I die.”
“I know you can do more than that,” she said. There was a smile in her eyes. “That’s why I came.”
“Really?”
“Shush.” She peeked around the tree and slid back. “One comes.” She slapped Fogle’s knee with the back of her hand. “Do your thing, Fogle, and do it quick.”
Fogle stuck his hands in the dirt and mentally ran through some incantations. Jubilee’s hunch was right—he still had magic within.
A good wizard always has something stored inside. A great wizard always has more than you think.
His body drew new magical energy from the dirt. His dormant confidence surged.
Jubilee stood, put her hands up, and stepped out from behind the tree. “I surrender,” she said. She backpedaled and turned and ran.
The underling charged past the tree where Fogle huddled and bore down on the girl.
Fogle gestured, and the shrubbery came to life and seized the underling’s feet, coiled around its legs, and wrapped around its arms.
The underling opened its mouth and started to chitter for help.
Jubilee flicked her knife into its throat.
Gurk!
Getting up, Fogle said, “Nice throw.”
“Nice trick, wizard who has no magic.” She pulled the knife out of the underling’s throat. The shrubbery continued to consume its body until it was seen no more. She lifted her chin. “It got awfully quiet all of a sudden.”
The raging ruckus of the fighting and wounded was gone. The woodland had settled into an eerie silence.
Fogle noted soft chitters not so far away. “Why do I get the feeling we’re the only humans left alive?”
She flipped her blade over in her hand. “We should find Brak and run while we can.”
Fogle pulled his shoulders back. “I’m a Boon. We don’t run from underlings. Especially when my spellbook is nearby. And I will find it.” He headed toward the sound of the underling chitters with his fingers twitching at his sides.
Jubilee slipped in behind him and tugged at his robes. “Are you crazy? You’re going right at them.”
“That’s right.” Fogle pushed the branches aside and stepped into a clearing.
More than a dozen underlings surrounded Jarla. Her horse appeared to be dead. Her face was marred with sweat and reddish-black blood. Her eyes found his.
Fogle stretched his hands out. “Pardon me, fiends.”
The underlings faced him. Their faces grinned with evil. They were wolves ready to prey on the lambs. One underling wearing a shirt of black chain mail and brandishing a sword with jagged edges chittered a command.
“Watch this,” Fogle said to Jubilee. With a single syllable, Fogle loosed his power. His arms glowed like geysers of silver. Lightning shot from both hands, striking the closest pair of underlings. The cords of silver ripped through their dark bodies and punched into the next nearest one. The chain of lightning tore through each and every underling, to the left and right, one at a time.
Ssrazz! Ssrazz! Sssrazz!
Their bodies twisted and convulsed. Their eye sockets lit up with bright flames. The two strands of lightning collided back together inside the lead underling behind Jarla, unleashing a powerful explosion.
Boom!
Chunks of fiery and scorched flesh scattered into the trees. The other underlings fell over with burn holes in their chests. Their lithe and agile bodies became bloodless husks of char.
Jubilee plugged her nose and said in awe, “It smells awful, but I liked it!” She hugged Fogle from behind.
Jarla stuck a sword in one of the underling bodies. Its brittle flesh drifted away. She scanned the surroundings. “We need to make sure that’s all of them.”
“It is,” Fogle said, dusting off the mystical wisps of energy dancing on his fingertips. “Trust me.”
“Trust you? You deceived me, wizard.” Jarla sheathed her sword. “I thought there wasn’t any magic left within you.”
“I found some untapped reserves. Now, with my hands and mouth free, I can go back to doing just about anything.” He blew the mystic tendrils from his fingers. “Anything.”
Jarla kneeled down by her horse and rubbed its neck. “I will have to bind you again, then.”
What? I must have misheard her. Best clarify.
“After I just saved your life? That’s how you would reward me?”
“Hah! I could have handled this pack of underlings.” Nightmare stirred and rose up onto his hooves. Jarla climbed into the saddle. Sitting tall and proud, she said, “You need to remember who’s in charge. Jubilee, find some rope and bind him.”
Brak let out an awful moan. The huge man was latched onto a tree, holding on for dear life and staring at Nightmare.
Jarla doesn’t have a handle on the situation at all. But she’s haughty enough that what she knows is free for the asking.
“What’s wrong with him?” Fogle asked her.
“It’s the underling poison. The wicked little things have many tricks. Their juice can turn men against one another. The brute slugged my horse. He’ll have to pay for that.” Nightmare trotted up to Fogle and snorted in his face. “Jubilee, don’t make me tell you again. Bind him.”
Jubilee looked up at Fogle and swallowed. She slinked into the woods and returned moments later with some cords. Close behind him, she whispered, “Do something!”
Jarla’s a good fighter, and we’ll need every one of them we can get in this war against the underlings.
“Can we not have a truce, Jarla?” asked Fogle. “I’ve not committed any offense against you. And by the looks of things, you don’t have any brigands left but the three of us. I’ve just shown what I’m capable of. Wherever you want to go, you’ll need me. It appears this world is filled with underlings.”
“I don’t need anybody! Jubilee, bind this man, or I’ll slit you from head to toe!”
Fogle sighed. “I tire of this.” Behind his back, he grabbed the cords from Jubilee and flung them at Jarla.
The cords came to life and ensnared the woman, making her drop her sword.
Astonished, Jarla yelled, “Don’t you dare—”
The cords secured her mouth.
Fogle smiled pleasantly at the imprisoned woman. “You’re not in charge. I am.”
CHAPTER 10
The bickering. The murmuring. The grumbling. Elypsa lay in a cot inside her cell within earshot of all of the humans. A smile played on her lips. She wasn’t out of danger yet, but things were working in her favor.
They are foolish not to kill one such as me.
It had all started with the compassion of the dwarves. The beast’s kick had done plenty of damage to her. Its hooves had jostled all her guts and broken some bones. It had knocked her out cold, but her spine had not been broken as the men suspected, so once she awoke, she had played along. She was still playing along. The longer she appeared harmless, the easier it would be. People didn’t have any idea what to do with a female underling. She lay back on her hands.
Fools.
The females of the bearded ones were excellent healers. They knew the secrets of Bishen soil. It had rejuvenated Elypsa more than they suspected.
Moreover, when the opportunity presented itself, Elypsa had worked with the dwarves’s vials and jars to come up with her own concoctions. Like most underling women, she’d been encouraged to spend decades dabbling in potions and mixtures. It had bored her, but now she was seeing the benefits.
It’s only a matter of time.
Her abilities had gained her influence over Mood. A single touch had put him under her spell. She could learn much from him. She had learned much already. All she needed to do was convince him hi
s friends had betrayed him. And this was quite possible, because she hadn’t killed the dwarvesses. The tiniest smile touched her lips at the memory of watching it happen.
I’m not the only one these fools need to worry about.
CHAPTER 11
Sinway stood in the courtyard of Castle Kling. All of the once-beautiful gardens were dead. Weeds and thorn bushes had taken over. The servants and gardeners who had cared for the castle were long dead too. The few Royals who yet lived had to do all the work themselves. Including meeting the needs of the underlings.
Several items played through Sinway’s mind.
The escape of Elypsa and his father, Sidebor, plagued him the most. Sidebor was dead. He felt it like a tremor in his bones. He needed to confirm it, so he had sent a small host of underlings into the Outlands to find out what happened.
A wary look was in Sinway’s iron eyes.
Four men in soldier’s uniforms knelt before him with their hands bound behind their backs.
Along with four underling soldiers, Ebenezer stood behind the prisoners, dressed in the full décor of a Royal soldier. Tall and well built, he had a neatly trimmed beard. A broadsword hung on his hip. The underlings wore dark leather armor and carried curved short swords on their hips.
“These are the culprits?” Sinway said, eyeing the shaking men. “They don’t look like fighters who could take down a force of my underlings.”
“These are the ones we captured in the middle of the scuffle,” said Ebenezer. “They outnumbered a pair of your soldiers. There were six. The other two resisted capture and are dead.” He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I saw to it myself.”
Rubbing his chin, Sinway replied, “I see. So, a ragtag group of renegades is boldly slaughtering my underlings. What kind of weapons did they carry?”
“Knives and daggers. They used a net,” Ebenezer said. “There are many aspects to Bone that even I am not aware of. The citizens have been known to be fierce when they are pressed.”
“All of their spines should have been snapped by now!” Sinway looked at one of the prisoners and clenched his fist.
Crack!
The man’s spine snapped like a twig, and his body oozed onto the floor.
The other prisoners trembled and pleaded.
“Mercy, Lord Underling! Mercy!”
“Mercy. Pah.” Sinway eyed Ebenezer. The large warrior’s face had paled. “Where’s my catapult?”
Two royal soldiers wearing hauberks pushed a small catapult out of the castle’s armory and rolled it in front of Ebenezer. It was almost as tall as him.
He said to Sinway, “As you requested.”
Sinway’s eyes bore into Ebenezer.
The Royal bent over, picked up the dead body, and dropped it into a scoop that was barely big enough to hold it.
Sinway pointed at the wall. “Let’s see what happens.”
Ebenezer pulled back the handle.
The catapult launched the corpse head over heels. The body made a sickening smack when it hit the top of the wall.
The underling lord opened his arms into a grand gesture. “Please, continue the interrogation. I have to admit, this is mildly entertaining. The sound of them hitting the wall, it’s delightful. Now, let’s add some screams.”
***
Ebenezer looked at the man nearest the catapult. “Get in.”
The sad-faced man looked at Ebenezer and shook his head.
“Then tell me who put you up to the attacks on the underlings.”
Please, just say anybody.
The tiny part of Ebenezer that wasn’t terrified wanted to shake the men’s hands. They’d actually executed several underlings over the past few days. It had caught up with them. For every underling that went down, at least five people had been slain. But that tiny part of him yet held out hope. Someone somewhere was still fighting. “Out with it, man, and find mercy.”
“I’m an urchin. I fight for myself. All I want is what I wanted before. Scraps to feast on.”
“You’re no urchin, though you dress like a beggar.” Ebenezer grabbed the man’s hand and pushed his thumb into the calluses. “You’re a soldier. Who do you fight for?”
“My house is lost. I’m a survivor.”
“What house?”
“Almen.”
Ebenezer stepped back and looked at Sinway. “He comes from the collapsed castle. It’s quite possible there are many such renegades. We’ll root them out.” He eyed the two other Royal soldiers. “Ready the catapult.”
Rolling the catapult’s crank, the pair of men wound the scoop back and locked it into place.
“Stick him in,” Ebenezer said to his men.
“What?” the prisoner objected.
The soldiers dragged him up into the scoop.
“I told you what you wanted. I expected mercy. Please. I still have family.”
Ebenezer positioned himself by the catapult lever. “This is mercy.”
Wide-eyed and facing the wall, the man squirmed in his bonds. “But—”
The soldiers held him fast.
Ebenezer yanked back the lever.
The scoop was sprung, launching the man high in the air.
“Aiiiiieeeee!” the prisoner screamed. In a second, his body splatted and stained the inner castle wall with blood and toppled out of sight into the dead garden.
Rubbing his gauntlets together, Ebenezer nodded at his men. They cranked the scoop back once more. He didn’t enjoy what was happening, but he didn’t despise it. He did what he had to do to survive. He had to play this game carefully. He had seen what Sinway could do.
The fiend snapped a man’s spine with thought. Do whatever he wants.
“Load in the next man.”
Sinway held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. Two sand spiders emerged. “Ah yes, my pets, feast.” He pointed to the spot on the wall where the bodies had fallen.
The spiders crept away and vanished into the dead plants. A sickening sucking sound started within the hidden bushes. A man’s voice screamed.
“Ah, it seems one man still lives,” Sinway said.
Ebenezer’s stomach knotted.
I hate spiders.
The second to last prisoner shook uncontrollably when the soldiers put him in the scoop.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself? Who rallies these men to fight?” Ebenezer poked the man between the eyes. “Look at me. Tell me something useful. Where are they?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He spat in Ebenezer’s face. “This is your fault! You Royals betrayed all of us to the under―”
In a flash, Ebenezer’s dagger snaked out of the scabbard and plunged into the man’s chest. He fired the catapult a moment later, nailing the top of the wall with the body, which collided with another sickening smack.
Sinway chuckled.
Ebenezer wiped the spit from his beard and stuffed his dagger back in the scabbard. He dragged the last prisoner by the collar toward the sound of the bloodsucking spiders. “Where are the rebels? Tell me!”
Kicking, the man screamed, “Castle Bloodhound! Castle Bloodhound!”
CHAPTER 12
On the stone cell bench next to Venir, Melegal said, “I think it’s high time we got out of here. It’s been three days.”
Billip and Nikkel were asleep on the floor, and there weren’t any signs of the women across from them in the other cell. It was just him and Melegal. The skinny thief had seen more than his fair share of danger in his company.
Venir scooped out some bucket water with a ladle and took a sip. “Now that’s some good water. Dwarven. The best.”
“Please stop with the nonsense,” Melegal replied. “Ram yourself through those bars or something.”
Venir leaned back against the cool surface of the stone wall. “Has it occurred to you we’re all safer in here than we’d be in the Outlands?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Think about it,” Venir said. “As soon as we step outsi
de Dwarven Hole, we’ll be up to our elbows in blood and guts.”
“You, maybe. I never wanted to get into a fight with anything. Well, maybe a feisty woman from time to time.” Melegal eyeballed the other cell. “You know what I mean. All this fighting, it’s not for me. I just want a cozy room and enough coin to buy some decent wine.”
“You should have joined the man-urchins.”
“I think you killed them all.” Melegal put his face down in his hands. “Oh, Venir, the things you get me into.”
“You mean the things I get you out of―and let’s not start this again. I thought we were past it.”
“We are, but I have to remind you of all your flaws. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.”
They sat in silence for a long while.
Venir had already counted all the cracks in the stone ceiling. On a small table, there were some dwarven cards none of them had figured out how to play. Billip, Nikkel, and Melegal had practiced tossing the cards into an empty bucket until they’d had a disagreement on how this should be done. They argued until the women screamed for them to be silent. That was yesterday. What would tomorrow bring?
Venir stood up and stretched out his arms until they touched the ceiling.
“You’re longer limbed than you look,” Melegal said to him. “Which is odd for a man built like an orc.”
“I’m not built like an orc.” Venir rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “It’s starting to get cramped in here, and it’s been awhile since we saw the jailer.”
Chin on his fist, Melegal replied, “At least they didn’t put Chongo in here.”
“Or Quickster. That donkey makes a large place as rank as a small one.”
“He’s not a donkey.” Melegal huffed. “You make me think of that boy.”
“Yeah, I know.” The thought of Georgio and Lefty tugged at Venir’s heart. He missed them both. He’d failed them. It made him wonder how Brak was doing. He grabbed the bars and started to tug on them. The steel was thicker than most. He didn’t think he could bend them even on his best day. He pressed his face to the metal and searched for the jailer. “Youuuuuuuuhoo.”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 74
