Catching his breath, Hoff said, “You killed them all?” He gaped at the dead bodies. Arrows filled the faces and chests of many of them.
“Not all. I had some help.” Venir tossed the sword aside. “We better move.”
Out of the darkness, Billip and Nikkel came in long strides. Melegal and Jasper were right behind them.
Melegal pointed at a man running away from them. He was waving his arms and screaming. “I thought stealth was the goal. Oh, never mind.” He pushed away some overhanging dry brush that covered the cave entrance. “You first, Venir. I’m certain the welcome committee inside will be even worse than the one out here.”
Venir entered the cave. A small lantern burned just inside the secret door. “Bish. It’s open.” He took off his pack, opened up the flap, and took out his helm. He put it on and buckled the strap. He took the axe from the armament sack.
“Are you expecting those fiends on the other side?” Melegal said, snaking out a short sword.
“Possibly. One thing is for sure.” Venir started moving into the secret tunnel. “They won’t be expecting me.”
CHAPTER 18
“Rane, stop! Please stop,” Fogle pleaded. A part of his heart was torn with every page. Decades and endless hours of hard work were being destroyed right before his watering eyes. “I beg of you.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. Beg, Fogle! Beg!” Rane tore a page out and ripped it in half. “Hahahaha! I love to see you squirm. It’s delicious.”
Fogle tried to think of anything that he could do or say that would stop the man. He searched the words on the torn pages. Rane scooted them out of his line of sight.
Wagging his fingers in his face, Rane said, “Oh, no, no, no. I’ll not let that crafty mind of yours find the slightest snippet. No, that will not happen.”
He is deranged! Tearing apart a spell book was insanity. Spell books were cherished. Revered. Destroying knowledge of the arts was an abomination. The worst-case scenario for a wizard’s spell book was losing it in a battle or challenge to another wizard. That rarely happened. No mage ever wanted to part with a spell book.
“At least let me pass some of the knowledge on to you, Rane. Don’t destroy it all. I thought you wanted me to teach you every last spell.” He straightened his aching back. “Please preserve some of that knowledge. Let it serve you.”
Rane set the book aside. Face-to-face with Fogle, he said, “Do you take me for a fool again? Freeing your lips and fingers would be certain devastation.”
“Bind my lips and fingers. Then I can still aid you, but I can’t cast. It will take time, but in the end, you’ll be the most powerful forest mage of all.”
“I am at this moment.”
“But you will be challenged eventually. Leadership is always questioned.” Fogle scanned the others in the room. Under his breath, he said, “They salivate over the pages you destroy. Look at them.”
Rane shooed the others away with his hands and made a strange whistling sound. The forest magi vanished into their holes. Returning his attention back to Fogle, he said, “How can you show me this without using your lips and fingers?”
“I’ve learned much since you’ve been gone. I’ve learn to use this melon head of mine in different ways.” Fogle’s shoulders slumped. He breathed easily. “Like you, I have become an outcast and a survivor. I learned that I cannot rely on magic alone, and I picked up some other crafts.”
“I don’t care about your other crafts. I only care about magic.”
“Good. Then you will be the perfect pupil.” Fogle scanned the room one more time. “Just perfect. Go ahead—tether my lips, and we will begin.”
Rane reached for a coil of vine and faced Fogle.
Using all of his strength, Fogle head-butted Rane right between the nose and eyes. Crack!
Fogle pounced on the stunned mage. He locked his arms around the mage’s neck and fastened his legs around Rane’s body. He held the mage fast.
Rane thrashed. He was as big as Fogle and strong for a man his size.
Hands bound, Fogle locked his arm at the elbow beneath Rane’s chin and squeezed. He let his anger consume him. In a growl, he said, “You dare defile my book! My spell book! You are still a fool, Enar! All fools must pay!”
Rane scratched at Fogle’s arms. His legs kicked and jutted. He fought like a wild animal snared in a trap.
Fogle held on. He wasn’t the weakling mage from the city. He was a mage who’d survived the underlings and Outland time and again. He was a Boon. He spoke right into Rane’s ear. “No worm like you can ever take a true blood like me! Good night, Enar! I’m certain the grave will accept you.”
Enar choked. His fingernails dug into the flesh of Fogle’s arms. His flailing feet kicked the pages of the spell book. The sacrilegious act of desecrating his book deepened Fogle’s anger. He was going to kill Enar. He was going to kill all of them. He sucked in a quick breath. Deep inside, he summoned more strength. The surge that fed his limbs began to weaken. Enar fought with the strength of a wild animal in a trap.
No, Fogle. You can’t let him go. Think.
In a quick move, Fogle shifted his grip on the man’s head. He choked Enar while bending his head forward at the same time. It was something he’d learned in his travels with Venir and Billip—a desperate little trick.
Enar pounded on his arms. Then the pounding stopped. The tense muscles in the man’s body went slack. His head drooped.
Fogle held him a few more seconds. Lungs burning, he fought for his breath and let Enar go. Enar lay lifeless on the ground. Fogle didn’t check to see if the man still breathed or not. The hold he’d put him in wasn’t supposed to kill, but he didn’t care. He crawled over to his spell book, dusted off his hands, and fetched the torn pages with quavering limbs.
Don’t miss a single one of them!
He counted six pages. There should have been seven. With a heave, he rolled Enar over. The last page lay underneath the man’s torso. With his wrists still bound, Fogle scanned the words on the parchment.
This could be helpful.
He stuck the page on the ground where he could see it. His hands rummaged over Enar’s body. The man had a small dagger underneath his garb. Using his nimble fingers, Fogle turned the blade inward and began sawing at his cords. The vines gave a little.
Hurry up, Fogle! In the back of his mind, he didn’t doubt that at any moment the mages would start squirming out of those dirt holes. As he sawed, he read the page, moving his lips and committing every syllable to memory. Word after word, new strength began to feed the marrow in his bones. His blood raced with renewed magic.
That’s more like it!
A rustle inside the dirt walls caught his ear. He sawed faster. The vines gave. Fogle focused on the page, reading faster. The mystic words cemented themselves inside his mind.
Finally!
He wiped his lips across his sleeve. A mage popped out of one of the holes. His eyes fell on Rane’s prone form then widened on Fogle. The mage let out a whistle that was more of a sound of nature than one of man.
Great.
More mages popped out of the walls. The creepy men in dreary robes closed in.
“I’m getting really sick of you branch-kissers.” Scooting backward, Fogle bumped the clay pot filled with the fleeg bugs. “I think I’m going to need all of the power that I can get.” He flicked off the lid, stuck his hand in the jar, and tapped into his stolen magic. A second burst of energy turned his eyes into golden flames. The first syllable he whispered shook every speck of dirt in the room.
CHAPTER 19
Jubilee and Brak rode back into the Red Clay Forest. Slim took the lead, and the ogre brothers walked behind them. The healer seemed to have a lot more knowledge of the forest than he’d let on. For some reason, the paths of red clay were easy to navigate, and the brush became more forgiving.
They slunk underneath some white willow trees and emerged in a grove filled with huge mounds of earth covered in thick
layers of ivy. The mounds weren’t a natural part of the landscape but more like a creation of man. They were spread out in rings of circles.
“I’m guessing this is where the magi live.” Slim held a bright-yellow praying mantis on his hands. “At least, according to him it is.”
“You talk to the bugs?” Brak said.
“Sometimes. For the most part, I can comprehend what they are saying.” Slim’s light eyes widened. “I believe Fogle is in one of those mounds.”
Brak studied the creepy mounds covered in twisted vines and lush greenery. There were flowers among them and many thorns. They had an unsettling look. “I don’t see any way to get in.”
“I don’t either, so we’re just going to have to wait for someone to come out.” Slim gave a nod to Olg and Ugg. “Once we catch one, we’ll have the ogres squeeze the information out of them.”
“Or we’ll just get captured again,” Jubilee said.
“You wanted to come after him.” Brak dismounted and pulled his sword free. “It’s no time for second-guessing now.”
“That’s right. Besides, you’re the son of the Darkslayer.” Slim smiled. “I’m sure you can take them.”
Brak crept toward the mound. The ground trembled. The horses whinnied. In the second row from the front, the top of one mound exploded. Debris and vegetation flew high. Chunks of earth and ivy came down on the forest like rain. A yellow light glowed from the center of the mound that had become a crater. Voices were screaming. Men in raggedy robes floated out of the blasted open gap in a stream of fear and vanished into the forest.
Eyes fixed on the smoking crater, Brak watched a man in green robes shuffle to the top of the destroyed mound. Wisps of energy snaked around his hands and eyes. His appearance was fierce. Impatient.
“Fogle!” Jubilee shouted.
The wizard waved. He ambled down the mound, tearing his feet from the vines, cursing. He held his spell book tight to his chest. He met the party at ground level. “Let’s get the Bish out of here.”
CHAPTER 20
Boon sat on the ground with his head down between his knees. “Bish, my head hurts.”
“That’s because you’ve been dead and now you breathe.” Cass was glowering at Blackie. Acquainted with the strange and eerie as she was, she couldn’t fathom that Boon breathed. Worse yet, it seemed Blackie had something to do with it. The dragon lay on the ground with his snout hidden underneath his wing. “Don’t you try to avoid me.” Cass kicked him. “I’m getting fed up with your tricks.”
“Will you stop talking so loud? I haven’t adjusted to the living world yet.” Boon snorted in some air. “Ah, but it is good to breathe that hot desert air. Woo. But my head splits.”
“You sound like one of those city men that drinks all night and sweats all day with complaint.”
“That’s what I feel like.”
Boon’s blue robes had scorch marks all over them. His many age spots looked burned. The dusty man rocked back and forth.
Cass sighed. “Blackie, why did you come here? And Boon, why do you live? Did you cast some sort of hibernation spell?”
With both hands, Boon rubbed more of the grit from his eyes. He fixed his attention on Cass. A smile crossed his lips. “You have a figure worth dying again for.”
“That’s where your mind wanders after such a long slumber? My body?”
Boon gathered a knee underneath him with a groan. “Pretty much. After all, that is what most men live for.” He teetered where he stood. Spreading out his hands, he steadied himself. “Now, what were you complaining about again?”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
“I’m a druid, and I’m not a complainer.”
He reached out. “Druid or not, you’ll always be all women to me.”
Cass helped him up. “As much as I hate to ask it, will you please tell me what is going on? Blackie doesn’t speak so well. He tends to stiffen up when he’s in trouble.”
Boon shuffled around in a circle. His white eyebrows lifted up and down. “Ah, it’s starting to come back to me now. Is there another grave near mine?”
She shrugged.
Boon walked, searching for something. Scorch marks from the battle showed on the rocks. “Good. It hasn’t been so long, then.”
“Long for what?”
“I fought an underling here—Master Sidebor. His power was greater than mine, but I drained him enough for Venir to finish him off. It appears that Venir did that.” He faced Cass. Tapping his chest with his fingers, he said, “This body failed. My magic was drained. But I always leave something somewhere. It’s a spell I keep that I like to call the mystic possum. It’s very powerful, and only the dragon’s breath can awaken me. I created it when I was prisoner of the giants. I played many tricks on them. They caught on to it. Bound me up head to toe. Anyway, that’s why Blackie came. I used some of his parts to create the spell. Actually, he helped. He’s not that fond of the giants either, but he serves them.”
Cass cut him off with her hand. “We both serve them now. It’s the only way I can stay with him. We are the guardians of the Mist. No need to recite your history to me.” She gave Blackie an easy kick. “Time to depart.”
“What? No,” Boon objected. “You can’t leave me here. You need to tell me what is going on in this world.”
“We are going back to the Mist and the Under-Bish. I should take you back with us. I know the giants don’t like you. That’s the joy of having you back. For now, I’ll pretend this incident didn’t happen.” She climbed on the dragon’s back and sat on the small saddle she’d created to ride the dragon. “Good-bye, Boon. I hope this next venture among the living serves you better than the last.”
“No, you can at least give me a lift. I can’t just wander the wasteland. I hardly have the strength to walk from here to there. Besides, I need Blackie’s help.”
“He’s already helped you, has he not?”
“I learned something when I fought that underling. I found a weakness to exploit. But I need something.”
Sighing, she said, “What is it that you need?”
“My spell book.”
CHAPTER 21
Fogle kept the spell book locked between his elbow and side in a viselike grip as he ambled out of the Red Clay Forest. He snorted in the dry, hot air of the wasteland. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun’s bright light with his hands. He snorted. Ah, I never would have imagined I’d have missed this bone-rotting heat. He cast a glance behind him.
Brak and Jubilee were side by side, fighting their way out of the bushy border of the forest. Brak knelt and kissed the sand.
Jubilee flopped on her back. She practically squealed. “I hope I never wind up in that sweltering bug trap again.” She rubbed gritty dirt on the bug bites that peppered her arms in small red lumps. “Oh, it itches.”
“I told you not to cut through that patch of brush.” Brak’s big face opened into a scary yawn that could swallow a melon whole. “You should have stayed on the horse with me. I warned you.”
“Don’t start. I’m just happy to be out of there, itchy or not.”
Slim, accompanied by the ogre twins, pushed through a webbing of heavy branches with a cheerful smile on his face. “We made it.”
“Yes, it only took us a day longer than it needed to,” Jubilee fired back. “How can it be quicker to get in than get out?” She got up, dusting off her elbows. “We came the same way.”
“Bish happens.” Slim waved his odd, spidery fingers at Fogle. “So where to now, fearless leader?”
He was ready to suggest the City of Three as he stared into the glaring dustbowl that welcomed them like a sand wolf ready to devour a rabbit. He thought of the wizard towers that pierced the sky with their gilded tops of gold and silver. He missed his home with its comforts and luxuries. Even though Bish’s rugged terrain had hardened him, Fogle felt the need for a break. But that would be a long time coming. He sensed some
thing—an end for him or his companions. He took a seat in the dust, set the spell book in his lap, and opened it up. He leafed through the pages that were torn. Rage simmered inside his gut. Rane was a fool. Idiot! His nimble fingers unfolded a sheet of mystic parchment cupped in the palm of his hand. He matched up the tear with the torn binding of the book. At least I saved one page.
Everyone gathered around Fogle. They covered him in shadows.
“Well?” Jubilee asked.
“I’ve got some learning to do. See to it that I’m not disturbed,” he said.
“And then what?”
“We shall stay the course. All roads lead to Bone, it seems.”
CHAPTER 22
Venir led the way into the secret tunnel. The pitch black didn’t affect him. It never had. He’d been in the tunnel so many times that he could navigate it with or without the helmet. The tunnel descended in a half-mile straightway. It bottomed out at a large, slab-metal grate. Water rushed through the ground far below.
“There’s a river beneath us,” Hoff said. The royal soldier was the loudest of the five adventurers. His armor, though well maintained, made a rubbing sound with every move he made.
“It either leads to the Everwells, or it’s something else. I’ve never had a need to find out.” Venir peered into the deeper depths below. The faintest throb started in his helm the longer he stared. “Let’s keep moving.”
“That pot’s not starting to burn on your head, now, is it?” said Melegal.
“No.” The feeling subsided. Venir lengthened his stride, strengthened by the homecoming. Whenever he returned from the Outlands, the cool air of the tunnel refreshed him. There were plenty of fond memories of Bone that stirred inside him. The good and bad both gave him a lifting feeling. “You aren’t going to get misty eyed when we enter, are you, Melegal?”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 89
