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

by Craig Halloran

  Melegal took a deep breath, tuned in with his cap, checked the ceiling one last time, and crept into the arena. It was about then that the humming started. Strange bugs flew in and attacked the spiders. The white arachnids dropped dead or paralyzed on the floor. He climbed into the stands.

  Webs divided the room, keeping the majority of the underlings on the opposite side. He caught his first glimpse of Elypsa standing by an underling with a presence like no other. He dominated the others in the room. Melegal knew it was Sinway, but he dared not think his name for fear of revealing himself. He’d seen what the powerful underlings could do. That’s when a citrine-eyed underling on the opposite side of Sinway let loose an outburst. The lightning flung from his fingertips silenced Venir and Brak.

  “No more! Master Sinway,” the underling mage said. “I beg you, can I kill them?”

  Sinway said, “Yes, Kuurn, you may.”

  Lightning streaked out of Kuurn’s fingers, striking into Venir and Brak. Both men flinched and quavered.

  Melegal weaved his way through the underlings, both dead and living. Only Brak, Venir, and Chongo could leave such a mess. He picked his way through the death-hungry lot. The underlings chittered with triumph while Venir and Brak’s skin smoked as they spasmed. He positioned himself behind Kuurn and raised the sword over the underling’s back for the fatal strike.

  I’ll certainly die after this. Any final words to yourself, Melegal? He kept hearing Venir and Brak singing the horrible fight or die song in his head. Sonuvabish! Not that! Think of the wine, the women. Images of Haze, Rayal, Jasper, and Kam raced through his mind. Ah, that’s better. I’ve had a rotten life, but it’s still been better than most. So long, Venir. I escape. You still suffer. Eh, but you deserve it. I, Melegal, lived, stole, fought, and died. Drink the purple wine in my memory.

  With all of the wroth force he could summon in his scrawny limbs, Melegal stabbed Kuurn. The blade went in the back clean, severing the spine, before exiting the chest.

  The lightning in the underling mage’s fingers went out. The rambunctious crowd was still cheering. It was a long moment before Kuurn’s body slipped from the sword. His head bounced off the bench seats in front of him with a sickening thud.

  Melegal’s reappearance slowly sank in. All of the gem-colored eyes in the stands fell on him. He found himself face-to-face with Master Sinway. The all-powerful underling was bigger in stature than Melegal. His fiery iron gaze burned Melegal’s eyes. The sword in Melegal’s hand became hot. He dropped it.

  Master Sinway said to Melegal, “Who are you?”

  “An uninvited guest just passing through. This is a marvelous ceremony, but this underling was in my seat, so I had to take action.”

  Elypsa shot out of her chair. “That was my betrothed.”

  “Good—” Melegal cleared his throat. “Good to see you, Elypsa.”

  “You know this man?” Sinway said to Elypsa.

  She nodded toward Venir, who was nothing but sagging limbs in the webbing. “He’s one of them.”

  “I see. They are proving difficult to kill, aren’t they? I suppose I must handle it.” The air around Sinway shimmered.

  Melegal was lifted from his feet. He twirled through the air in horizontal cartwheels, spinning faster and faster. He grabbed his cap before it slipped off his head. His body was flung face-first into the web. Gack!

  CHAPTER 22

  Jarla hadn’t been inside a royal castle since she was a royal soldier herself—back when she’d risen to the rank of commander, a rare honor for a woman. She had access to all of the pleasantries that a royal experienced, without being a royal. Times were good then, until the dark nature of men revealed itself. They took her against her will and left her for dead.

  “Come, my queen, come,” Pernsky said. He was hiding underneath the stairs, peeking around the corner. Underlings hustled by, racing up the stairs and searching door after door. Pernsky led them across the hall into one of the many living rooms. This one was decorated in scarlet tapestries and brass fixtures. The fresh flowers in the vases had dried up, and several bloodstains covered the carpet.

  Jarla’s lip curled. She had little compassion for royals. There were some good ones, but most of them were bad. They were pompous, self-indulgent, and only craved more power for themselves. Young, and lacking wisdom, she’d tried to impress them. Instead, they left an impression that stained her heart black. As Pernsky traipsed across the room, she caught him by the elbow. “I said take me to the arena. I don’t need a tour of the castle.”

  “No, trust Pernsky. Trust. The underlings, I know their ways. They search. We evade.” He showed a toothy smile full of missing teeth. “Believe me, I have mastered being unseen. The royals don’t like me.” He slipped behind the drapes, pushed the wall, and a concealed door popped open. “Come. Come.”

  Brool in hand, Jarla navigated the servants’ tunnels. She’d often wondered where they came from. It was rumored that the servants outnumbered the royals three to one. Each royal had many attendants, but you never saw more than a few together. They climbed a narrow set of stone stairs hidden behind the wall. There was an overlook, hidden above the foyer.

  In a whisper, Pernsky said, “We see them, they don’t see us. Look down.”

  Both underlings and royal soldiers had gathered in the grand foyer. The underlings were calling the shots. There were over twenty of them. One of the royal soldiers was describing the stitched-up sack. They split up into pairs.

  Pernsky’s drooping eyes hung on the sack that Jarla had tucked into her belt. “Don’t get any ideas, warted fool,” she said.

  “No, no, never, never,” he said, pawing at her. “You are my queen. I serve you now. We go, eh.” He gave her a funny look. “Will you please tell me your name?”

  “No.”

  “Queen No, I like it.”

  Jarla almost smiled. As grotesque as Pernsky was, he had an odd way that grew on her. “Lead the way.”

  Castle Kling had as many corridors inside the walls as it did outside. They were squeezing through the network when they ran into a fat servant. Sweaty and big-eyed, the man turned to run. His bulging belly got him wedged between the walls. He tried to suck it in with a quick breath. Realizing he couldn’t get away, he put a whistle to his lips and blew.

  Jarla smacked it out of the man’s mouth. He was the head servant, dressed in a dark-black uniform smock highlighted in red. She stuck Brool’s point underneath his sagging chins. “Whose side are you on, headmaster?”

  Stammering, he said, “I’m only following orders. That’s all. Please don’t kill me! If I don’t do my job, the underlings will hang me.”

  “There’s not a rope that could hold you,” she said. The gentle rattle of sword scabbards jangling on hips carried up the hidden hallway. Red gemstone eyes peeked around the corner. “Move it, fat man!”

  The overweight butler tried to turn. Pernsky shoved him. “Move your fat arse.”

  “There’s no time for this!” Jarla lowered Brool like a lance and charged the underlings. With the corridor so narrow, only one could attack at a time. It chopped its sword down just as she ran it through. The spike poked a clean hole in the underling’s chest. Jarla kept charging, pushing the skewered underling into the living one until she bowled it over. Putting her weight on the handle, she pushed Brool’s tip further through the underling to the other until they both were dead. She ripped it out.

  Tweeeep! Tweeeep! Tweeeep!

  She whipped her head around. Pernsky was blowing the whistle with all of his might. The head servant had squirted through the opening. Underlings appeared behind Pernsky. “You little traitor!”

  Pernsky shrugged. “I am not a traitor. I’ve always been on the side of the underlings! Good-bye, sacred queen. If they don’t kill you, perhaps I will visit you again in prison.” The underlings shoved by him. They were coming at Jarla from both directions. Trapped, she realized she’d only be able to fight against one side at a time. Brool was too big to figh
t effectively in the corridor.

  “Fine, fiends! Come and get me!” With hands filled with sharpened steel, the underlings crept toward her. “But I’m taking many of you down with me!”

  CHAPTER 23

  Something wriggled at Jarla’s hips. The sack bumped around like a wild animal was in it. The neck of the sack was trapped between her waist and belt. It slipped to the ground. The neck shoved open, and a one-eyed imp crawled out. It had tiny horns, a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, hands with three fingers like the talons of an eagle, and the wings of a bat. It floated up in front of Jarla.

  Flickering its forked tongue at Jarla, it said, “I am Eep. I come to play. I come to slay!” Eep turned his attention to the advancing enemy. “Underlingssss. Perfect.” Eep’s wings buzzed with the roar of a giant humming bird. He flew right at the underlings. A quick swing from an underling bounced off the hard knots on his skin. Eep ripped the underling’s throat out with his fingers. “Time to play! Time to slay!”

  Jarla picked up the sack and tucked it under her belt. She attacked in the opposite direction. Using Brool’s superior length, she forced the underlings back with quick steps and jabs. The underlings backpedaled. She gored them one at a time. Where five once stood, now they all lay dead. She checked the exit of the secret tunnel. More underlings were storming her way. She shut the door and bolted it.

  Eep hung in the air in front of her. His teeth, claws, and body were bloody. He grinned. All of the underlings behind him were dead. Pernsky’s body was pressed against the wall. Splattered in underling blood, he shook like a leaf. Cocking his head like a bird, Eep said, “Do I kill that one?”

  “No! No! Please!” Pernsky pleaded. “I am sorry, my queen!”

  Underlings pounded at the door she’d just closed. “Do what you want. I need to get this to Venir.” She ran up the corridor. She didn’t give Pernsky a look. There was a sickening glitch sound after Eep passed the wart-faced man.

  “He’s dead. I like dead,” Eep said. The oversized head servant was still pushing his way down the corridor. “Ah, a juicy one!”

  Blink!

  Eep reappeared on the other side of the head servant. The man jumped out of his sandals.

  Jarla shouted out, “You don’t have to—” Eep tore into the man like a ravenous wolverine. The head servant fell flat on his face. Jarla stepped by the man. “Kill him.”

  “Eep likes killing.”

  “I can see that.” Jarla kept moving. She’d relied on Pernsky to take her to the arena before, but it shouldn’t be that hard for her to figure out on her own. She’d just have to get out into the main hallways.

  “Where are you going?” Eep said.

  “To the arena.”

  “You are going the wrong way. Thisss way!” Blink! The imp vanished again. Blink! He reappeared. “Heh, that won’t work. Time is running out.”

  “Just lead me to the arena like you had legs like my own.”

  “No time for that.” Eep fastened his grip on Brool’s handle.

  “Let go!” Jarla said.

  Blink! Eep and the axe were gone.

  Jarla was still trapped in the secret corridor. She could hear more underlings coming. “Well slat the bed.” She unfurled the sack on her hip and stuck her hand inside. She pulled out Venir’s helmet.

  Blink! Eep appeared. “I’ll take that.” He fastened his claws on the helm. Blink! Eep and the helm were gone, leaving Jarla holding the bag.

  “Bloody Bish!”

  Blink! Eep grabbed the sack.

  Jarla jerked it away. “No you don’t!”

  Eep hissed. “Give me sack!”

  “No!”

  Blink! The imp was gone.

  Jarla searched for an exit. Blink! The sack vanished from the tight grip of her fingers. The underlings were coming. Jarla seethed. I hate Bish!

  ***

  Rolling his fingers, Sinway instructed the racked weapons in the arena to float into the air. Every edged weapon was pointed at the men and the beast caught in the web.

  Venir’s singed hair and clothing was still smoking. It felt like a fire inside him had just been put out. Ignoring the weapons, he said to Melegal who was cast in the web beside of him, “Glad you could make it.”

  “You know me,” the rogue managed to say with his lips partially stuck to the webbing, “I never like to miss a party.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Heh.”

  Blink! Eep appeared, hovering in the arena, holding Brool in his fingers. The underlings’ faces drew tight as their murmurings stopped. Elypsa was on her feet. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

  “Slay that thing!” Sinway said. With a flick of his wrist, he slung every hovering weapon at the imp.

  Eep tossed the axe at the web. He vanished the moment the weapons would have ripped through him. The barrage of weaponry clung to the webs.

  Venir’s eyes hung on the axe. The blades turned end over end. Time seemed to move in slow motion.

  “What’s happening?” Melegal murmured.

  Alongside Venir, Brool’s blades sliced into the webbing. The tacky web peeled away. Venir was falling. They all were. His eyes didn’t leave the handle of his axe. He grabbed hold of the haft. He hit the ground on his feet.

  Master Sinway screamed in underling.

  Blink! Eep reappeared above Venir. He jammed the helmet on Venir’s head. “Time to slay, Darkslayer!” Blink!

  Vitality raged through Venir’s limbs.

  Sinway’s lips curled back over his teeth. “Impossible! Kill him! Kill him now!”

  With their gemstone eyes aglow, the underling mages in the stands charged up their fingers with crackling energy. Shards of fire and lightning lanced through the air. Venir swung into the scintillating display with his axe. The mystic metal collided with dark magic. The explosion sent him head over heels.

  “That stung,” he said, pushing his face off the ground. His head was ringing like a warning bell. He rolled to his backside, helm sideways on his head. He buckled it. “Let’s try this again.”

  CHAPTER 24

  While the dwarven forces battled below, Mood watched from above. From a jagged pinnacle, with a spyglass to his eye, he observed the City of Bone. Aside from the thick walls of stone, and the desperate crowd in a heaving flux outside its western and southern gates, the foul city within appeared in order. That was his problem.

  Mood collapsed the tarnished black spyglass in his meaty hands and handed it down to a black beard dwarf. He puffed a ring of smoke. “Something needs to change soon, Aaluun.”

  “It will be a valorous stand either way, my king.”

  From his cigar, Mood sucked the soothing smoke into his lungs. He huffed it out. He’d hoped to see the white-and-red banners flying from the castle hours ago. That, or a sound blast from the dwarven horn that he’d given to Billip. He knew that odds were slim, but he had faith. The group he’d fought with lately was as stalwart as he’d been with, but even the best fell at some point in time.

  They’ve had quite a run.

  For centuries, Mood had either seen or fought everything living on Bish. Though he and the dwarves had sought peace, they’d fought in countless wars. This one was different. The underling menace had become a contaminating swarm. Everywhere they went, they tore down the entire civilization. Mood had seen what they were capable of. They would slaughter and kill everything that wasn’t underling. Even the races of giants, orcs, and ogres didn’t cross those lines. There was a natural order of things. Now, that delicate balance had been upset. If the underlings weren’t stopped, Mood feared they might consume everything.

  “What is your wish, King Mood?” the black beard said. He stood five feet tall, a stout child compared to Mood. His plate armor was stained from battle. The toe of his battle axe blade had busted off. The bare skin of his shoulder showed from where underling steel clipped him.

  “Do you have a suggestion, Aaluun?”

  “We are buying little time in the Blac
k Columns now. The underlings and their spiders are crawling over our defenses. I say we form a dwarven knot and head for the City of Bone. If your allies cannot open it, we’ll open it ourselves.”

  “I’ve always liked the way you think. I’m giving it consideration.” Mood puffed out a ring. He offered the cigar to Aaluun, who took it. He was waiting on more than seeing the gate come down. He’d hoped to have allies in the fearsome four-armed striders and the nomadic Jung warriors. There wasn’t a sign of them. Kark was the Jung leader, and Tarcot led the striders. He was confident they would come even though their numbers were small compared to the underlings, yet they hadn’t. “I figured some other allies might have shown by now. I made a mistake counting on others.”

  “If you are speaking of the Jung and the Striders, I say spit. They only fight in their own interests. They move with the land away from trouble. They don’t fight until trouble comes to them.”

  “Trouble comes to us all. They should know this by now. They have seen it.”

  Aaluun handed back the cigar as he sucked the vapors from his mouth into his nostrils. “They have seen the tens of thousands of underlings as well.”

  “There are a lot of them, aren’t there?”

  “More than the hairs in my beard, it seems.”

  Mood flicked the butt of his cigar over the ledge. “Keep the battle horns ready. Time to shave those fiends from the face of Bish.” He took his oversized hand axes from the sheaths on his brawny shoulders. “Two at a time.”

  They traversed the narrow ledge that wound down and around the pinnacle. The setting suns revealed the colorful luster in the dark rocks that were rich in minerals. The Black Columns offered them excellent protection, but it did little good against wall-climbing spiders. Dwarves clustered in war against the surge of underlings trying to overrun their positions and rousted them out. Across the chasm, an underling rode on the back of a spider. The arachnid was as big as a pony. Somehow, the fiend had slipped through the dwarven defenses. There was a wooden barrel on its back. Mood stopped.