Melegal gave him a bitter face. “It better be. I still say you can’t trust Altan Rey, but he’ll be thrilled with your decision.”
“Unless you can transform into an underling, we don’t have another choice.”
Melegal shrugged his skinny shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. But put it on the record: I said this is another foolish idea of yours. I’m sure I’ll land on my feet. As for you, probably on your arse.”
***
“This is what you’re fighting for?” Elizabeth said. She spoke of the tiny apartment on the top floor of the Drunken Octopus tavern that Melegal and Venir had used for years. The furnishings hadn’t changed. Two cots were on the floor. Venir, Melegal, and Jasper sat behind a small round table in the cramped quarters. “This little slat hole?”
“Elizabeth, please!” Rayal was brewing coffee on a small potbelly stove. She walked over to the table with the kettle and topped off Venir and Melegal’s clay mugs. “You’re a guest and should be thankful.”
The girl ran her finger over the dingy glass window pane. “For what? Even our servants live better than this, not that they deserve it. You act as if it’s a garden sanctuary.” She brushed debris from one of the cots where Octopus lay. The big, blind cat’s purring rumbled as she looked at Melegal. “This cat is mine now, you know.”
Melegal paid her no mind. His gaze was fixed on Rayal. He’d never met a woman so pleasant before, even for a royal. She was sweet, polite, and strong. Holding the warm mug in his bony hand, he sipped. The bitter coffee burned his lip. He set the mug down.
“Burn yourself?” Jasper blew on the rim of her mug. “Good.”
Rayal fixed herself a mug and took a seat beside Elizabeth. Fingernails tapping on her mug, she said, “I just want to thank all of you, again. I know I’ve said it before, but I just don’t think I’d have made it this far without you. Well, I know I wouldn’t have.”
“Will you stop rambling?” Elizabeth said. “It’s embarrassing. They’re just normal people.”
Rayal landed a backhand swat to her sister’s lips. “Don’t cross me again. Last warning.”
Yes, sweet and strong. I like her, Melegal thought. He gave Jasper’s knee a pinch. Jasper smirked at him.
Venir took a sip of the coffee, gave Melegal an approving glance, and set it back down. “You make very hot coffee, Rayal.”
“It’s not very good, is it?” she said.
“No, just hot. Coal burning is something you have to get used to.” Venir slung his arm over his chair and faced her. “I think you need to return to the royal castle. It will be safer there.”
“But there are just as many underlings within as without. I feel much safer here,” Rayal said.
“There won’t be anyone to protect you here. I can’t risk the underlings catching you. They’ll take anyone, for any reason.” Venir put his big paw on her knee. “You have to trust me.”
“How am I going to explain where I’ve been? The underlings will torture me. You know that,” she said. “This is as safe a place to hide as any.”
“I prefer the castles,” Elizabeth said. “Underling or no underling, it’s still better than this rank closet. Besides”—she buried her face in the cat’s fur—“Octopus will protect me.”
“Sorry,” Venir said, “but the decision has been made.”
CHAPTER 9
In the dead of night, Billip and Nikkel slipped out of the tunnel that ran from the stables to the outside of Bone. Keeping their weapons concealed under their travel cloaks, they slipped through vile ranks of the desperate people that were crammed into small camps outside Bone. Moving on soft feet and avoiding the weary eyed, they made it a mile away from the wall to where the land became black and barren. They were alone, except for the stench of the dead that burned in everlasting fires outside of Bone’s walls.
“That was easy.” Nikkel wiped the sweat from his forehead. His teeth shined in the night. “To the Columns it is then?” The broad-shouldered black youth headed west.
Somewhere in the dark, a horse nickered. Billip caught up to Nikkel, and both men sank to the ground and froze. “Slat,” Billip said. A small patrol on horseback bore down on their position at a slow walk. “Of all the bloody fortune. I count seven. You?”
“Eight.”
“Eight? I don’t see eight. You’re as blind as your father. Either that or you don’t count nearly as well.” Billip drew an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. Nikkel cranked back the string on Bolt Thrower and slid a bolt into the neck. “Don’t get all jumpy. They haven’t seen us yet.”
The horsemen came straight for them. No more than thirty yards away, the scout in the front lifted his hand, bringing the small company to a halt. Talking to the others in a low voice, the scout pointed at their location. The riders fanned out. The scout was in the middle, with three riders on each side. The one on the far left had a banner of a royal house mounted to his saddle. The moonlight shone off their dusty breastplate armor.
Billip licked his lips. He could take down two, perhaps three, but at least two riders would escape. They’d have a full army chasing them after that. He whispered to Nikkel, “I’ll do the talking.”
“I don’t think that’s going to do us any good.”
“Who goes there?” the scout in the middle shouted out in the dark. His long hair hung down as far as the moustache that passed his chin. “Come about, now.”
Billip rose to full height. So did Nikkel. They kept their weapons pointed toward the ground.
“You are armed, I see.” The royal scout’s voice was strong and confident. “I take it you’re hunting?”
“We are getting a jump on things, yes,” Billip agreed. “Desperate times.”
“And what are you hunting?”
“Snake. Jackrabbit. Anything that moves with some meat in it,” Billip replied.
The royal soldier chuckled with gruff laughter. “Interesting.” He eased his horse closer, and his heavy stare landed on Nikkel’s crossbow. “That’s a heavy crossbow. A fine weapon. Am I to believe you can hit a jackrabbit with that thing? It would be quite a feat.”
“I can hit anything,” Nikkel replied.
“Easy, hunter. Just making light conversation after another miserable night. We are knights from the House of Kord.” He spit tobacco on the ground. “Where do you hail from?”
“South,” Billip replied. “Far south, where the baked dirt turns to jungle. All we know is lost from way back when. It seems like forever ago. If you don’t mind, we’d like to move along and continue with the hunt. It’s important to get a good spot before light.”
“Yes, we do our best hunting just before the daylight as well.”
“Hunting what?”
“Deserters. Deceivers. Derelicts.” The scout shrugged. “It’s more or less a game with us.”
The other horsemen formed a half circle around Billip and Nikkel. Spear handles slid out of their leather quivers. Swords whisked out of their scabbards.
“We are none of those things.” Billip eased the string back on his bow. “We are enemies of the underlings.”
“Oh, well now, that changes everything,” the scout leader said. “Did you hear that, men? He says they are enemies of the underlings. Hah. That’s good. I imagine their heads will fetch us three times the normal price.” He drew his sword. “Kill them!”
Clatch-zip! Nikkel’s bolt rocketed into the scout leader’s chest. An arrow pierced his neck at the same time. The man fell from the saddle. The horse reared. “I got that arsehole first, Billip! Remember that!”
“Fool, you made me waste an arrow.” Billip shot an arrow at the horseman bearing down on him with a spear. The shaft sailed into the man’s forehead. The royal fell backward from the saddle with one foot stuck in the stirrup, and the horse galloped on.
Two men were dead, five remained. The royal soldiers galloped right at them. Billip dove away from thundering hooves. He rolled up to a knee and shot the rider in the back. A fourth horseman ro
de right over him. Bones cracked. Fire shot through his limbs. With his chest burning, he fought his way to one knee and pulled the bow string back. “Aargh! My shoulder’s busted.”
Nikkel yanked a rider from the saddle and clubbed the man in the face with the butt of his crossbow. A rider bore down on Nikkel with a spear poised at the big youth’s back.
“Nikkel, look out!”
The rider flipped the spear right between the youth’s broad shoulders. Nikkel flung his arms wide and gasped.
“No!” Billip yanked back the string. Muscle and sinew tore. Gritting his teeth, he let the arrow fly. The shaft lodged itself between the man’s ribs. The man rode on until he finally fell to the ground.
Nikkel lay face-first in the dirt. There were two riders left. Billip couldn’t move his arm. They lowered their spears and came right at him.
CHAPTER 10
Georgio stood ankle deep in the lake, eating red fruit. He devoured it to the core and flung it into the foamy green waters of the lake. The core skipped once and sank. He let out a long sigh. The sound carried through his strange surroundings. The garden was lush with shrubbery, pelted with a variety of colorful little flowers. The tree bore fruit that hung down from the sagging branches with leaves that cast soft light. Water poured out of the rocks that surrounded the grassy sanctuary.
Stepping onto the soft ground of the bank, he called out, “Lefty! Lefty!” His eyes squinted. “Great, he’s hiding again. Or exploring.” He walked underneath a tree that had white bark and plum-colored leaves. There was no sign of Lefty in the branches. Without any sun or moon to go by, Georgio had no idea how long he’d been where he was. “Lefty!”
Lefty sneaked in behind Georgio. “Oh, stop yelling. It’s not as if I have somewhere to go. This place isn’t that big.”
“Well, quit hiding all of the time, and I won’t have to yell for you,” Georgio replied.
“I wasn’t hiding.” Lefty rolled up his sleeves over the elbows of his little arms. “I was just looking around, like I always do. Nothing but mist, mist, mist. I’m sick of mist.”
Georgio plucked a fruit from the tree and threw it into the lake. “I’m sick of fruit. I need some meat, cheese, and biscuits!” He bumped his head into a thick branch. “I want real food with gravy on it,” he moaned.
“Yes, me too. I just wish I understood how in the world we wound up in this…place.” Lefty moved over to the lake and walked out on some smooth rocks that jutted out over the water. He dipped his toes in the water. Under the surface lay a large rock shaped like a man. Red moss coated the edges of the rocky formation. The head of the rock looked like the face of a man. He squinted. “I swear that is Pall. He had to have brought us here. I think he saved us somehow and turned into that rock.”
Georgio lumbered over with his heavy arms swinging. “What are you talking about?”
“That rock. It reminds me of Pall. Georgio, what do you remember before we got here?”
“I don’t know. There was a huge frog we were fighting. I was suffocating. I’m pretty much an empty slate after that.”
“You we’re an empty slate to begin with.” Lefty grinned. Georgio frowned. “You know I’m teasing. Georgio, I feel a nagging in my chest that I’m responsible for this. I’ll get us out. I swear.”
“You can’t blame yourself for everything. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’ll find a way out together.” The mist hung over the top of them like clouds. The rock walls that surrounded them were sheer but climbable. He and Lefty had climbed them before only to reach the top and find more of the endless mist. Goosebumps had broken out over both of them, so they’d climbed back down, eaten, and waited. “Soon, I hope. This is depressing.”
“Yes, we have everything we need to live but nothing to live for.” Lefty kicked some water. “I suppose this is the mist that Venir talked about. He survived it.”
“He can survive anything.” Georgio looked at his reflection in the rippling waters. His face had a beard coming in. Lefty had more scruff on him too. The little man’s eyes had hardened. “Do I look different to you?”
“Huh?” Lefty broke his gaze from the waters. “Oh, well, you look different, I suppose. More manly, I’d say. Like a veteran of a thousand battles.”
Georgio puffed up. “Really?”
“Yes. And me?”
“You used to look like you were about twelve, but now I’d say you could pass for thirteen.”
Lefty kicked water at him.
“Fine, eighteen, maybe twenty. I don’t guess it matters how we look now anyway.” He locked his meaty fingers into his curly locks. “I need a steak. Lefty, we need to get out of here. I don’t think I can stand it much more. It’s so boring.”
“Maybe we should build something.”
“Like what? With what? We don’t have any tools.”
“Yes we do. We have your sword and my dagger. A few other things.”
“So, you want to chop down these trees? For what? Firewood? We don’t need it.”
“Maybe we’ll build a bridge or a gazebo.”
Georgio rolled his eyes.
“You’re right. It’s a stupid idea, but we can’t sit around and do nothing.” Lefty looked up. “But I do like climbing those trees.”
“Climb away then. I prefer the ground myself.”
A stone bounced down from the rocky walls on the other side of the lake. Georgio and Lefty looked right at one another. Another stone clacked down the rock face. It bounced off a boulder and into the murky lake. Barely visible through the thin veil of mist, something big and bulky slowly climbed down the sheer walls.
Georgio and Lefty backed up. Georgio’s heart shot through his throat. Without even realizing it, he was climbing into the nearest branches of a tree. Up the branches he went. Lefty cruised upward twenty feet above him. The giant jumped from the rocks, hitting the ground so hard it shook the branches and sent waves through the lake water.
The giant creature took a long, slobbering snort.
Every hair rose on Georgio’s neck. He shot a glance up at Lefty. The halfling’s chin trembled.
A heavy, gusty sigh came from the monster. On heavy feet that pounded the ground, the monster came right at them and spoke in a voice that filled the sanctuary. “I smell something. I don’t like it.”
Georgio slipped. The leaves rustled.
Feet pounding the ground, the giant rushed over. Huge hands burst through the leaves and snagged Georgio in a powerful two-handed grip. Lefty screamed.
CHAPTER 11
Seconds from getting gored at the point of a spear, a great black mare thundered past Billip. The horse slipped between the spears like it was shot out of the night. The rider on the black horse swung, and the royal knight’s head leapt from his shoulders and hit the dusty ground.
The last royal knight sped by Billip and galloped toward the city. That was when Billip got a full look at his savior, Jarla the Brigand Queen. With a snap of her reins, she galloped after the last royal.
Panting, Billip got up and staggered over to Nikkel. The spear stuck deep into the meat of the young man’s shoulder, inches from the spine. “Do you breathe?”
“I told you there were eight riders.” Nikkel turned his limp neck Billip’s way. “Is the wound bad? The skies turn black.”
“It’s still night. But yes, the wound’s bad. You’re bleeding like a gutted cow.” Billip applied pressure with his hand. “You need to be stitched up fast. Don’t move.”
“How can I? I can’t feel my extremities.” Nikkel spit blood. He wheezed. “Why am I bleeding from my mouth if I was stabbed in the back?”
“I’d say your lung got popped.” Billip hustled off. A horse stood nearby. “Easy, fella. You need a rider. Don’t get itchy.” With his shoulder on fire, he snagged the reins. “Ah, good.”
Jarla rode back. She was stark and glorious in the saddle. “He lives?”
“For now.” Billip helped Nikkel to his feet. “Did you kill that last one?”
�
�Of course, but the slaying didn’t go unnoticed. They come.”
Billip peered toward Bone. A mob of riders was coming. “Slat!” He shoved Nikkel up into the saddle, mounted the horse, and stuffed his feet in the stirrups. “Hold on to your life, boy.”
“I’m a man.” Nikkel locked his arms around Billip’s waist. “But I feel as strong as a baby.”
“Where are you going?” Jarla asked.
“Black Columns. Yah!” The horse took off at a gallop. Jarla caught up, and together they raced through the night. Billip felt Nikkel’s grip loosening. “You can’t let go, Nikkel!” A quick glance back showed their pursuers were gaining. Jarla’s horse was big and fast, but Billip’s smaller horse was slowed by the weight of the two men. The horse labored and snorted with everything it had. “Yah! Yah! Yah!” Billip dug his heels into its ribs and screamed.
The Black Columns waited, huge and vast, but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer. They raced on, a mile, a league, with the wind rushing by their ears. The enemies’ horse hooves became louder. Their pursuers’ threatening voices were clear. There wasn’t ten horse lengths between them.
“You keep riding,” Jarla shouted. “I’ll handle them!”
“Don’t be mad. There must be ten of them,” he shouted back.
“When it comes to royals, I’m always mad.” Sword in hand, she pulled the reins and peeled back.
The clamor of horses colliding erupted behind Billip. With a quick twist of his neck, he saw Jarla swinging her steel into the stock of well-armed men. “She’s mad.”
“She’s Jarla,” Nikkel muttered.
No one else pursued Billip. He rode on for the black rock that seemed to yearn for the sky. A knot of dwarven soldiers greeted him just inside of a mile of the first rim of slate ledges. “Help my friend,” he shouted. “Jarla! She’s back there!” Knowing him, they waved him into the camp. By the time he stopped inside the rocks, Nikkel’s eyes had rolled up in his head. His hands were locked fast. “Help him! Help him!”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 99
