The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals

by Craig Halloran

  He hoped they did. It was so long ago that he saved their village from a nasty brood of brigands. Trust was still hard to come by.

  “So, keep your silence boy, and we’ll come get you in a few weeks. If you don’t, you won’t see me or Chongo for a very long time.”

  “But Vee …” the boy’s large brown eyes filled with tears.

  “I said not a word.”

  “How am I s’posed to last that long? You know I can’t shut up forever.”

  He shook the boy saying, “You don’t have to—just a few weeks!”

  Georgio slid from the saddle and kicked up some dirt.

  “Okay …”

  Venir spoke a few moments with Georgio’s parents. Their wary looks turned to tear-filled eyes as they hugged their boy. The grizzly meat and pelt would take care of the family for weeks.

  “What a good influence you’ve been on Georgio,” they said. It was true, Venir knew, although not quite the way they thought; yet he took pride in the matter, and their comments warmed his battled-hardened heart.

  Venir said his goodbyes and headed out of the village with Melegal at his side. A few miles away they would catch up with Mood and the mounts.

  “So, what’s this about bloodthirsty brigands you saved the village from?”

  “Oh my, I wouldn’t want to take any time away from your complaining.”

  Melegal smiled.

  “Don’t worry, Vee, I’ll get my complaining in, all in due course.”

  “I think you already know that story anyway.”

  Venir felt heavy now and Melegal let it go. Venir’s and Georgio’s relationship’s was not born of sunshine and rainbows, but from tragedy and loss. That was why the big man cared for the boy and protected him from things he wasn’t yet ready to know. Venir carried this burden so that Georgio could remain happy and carefree.

  Venir was thinking back, to the time he’d been hired to track some bandits and had caught them pillaging Georgio’s village. Venir and his small force of mercenaries managed to run off those they had not slain. The skirmish was a one against superior numbers, and Venir’s leadership, battle tactics, and instincts had blossomed that day. His valiant efforts were never forgotten by the folks in the small village. Yet, the victory was not without its tragedies.

  Many of the brigands had escaped with captives before he arrived. Georgio’s teenage sister, Silvia, was among them. Georgio was just a toddler then. For his own good, his heartbroken parents never mentioned her to the boy. As far a Venir knew, Georgio no longer remembered her.

  Georgio’s parents had described her to Venir, and several years later he found her by chance, working in a tavern in the City of Bone. She had grown to be a comely woman with long locks of curly brown hair, and round chestnut eyes like her mother and Georgio. Venir spoke with her, but it did not go well. Shame and humiliation had hardened her, and she would not acknowledge any pleasant memories of family and home. Venir wound up walking away. He kept tabs on her for a while, but soon lost track of her. It was a memory he too wished he could leave behind ….

  It was nightfall when Venir came to a massive crevasse in the ground. Signs of a campfire were deep inside. Below, Mood had made a fire inside the steep, rocky gorge. From the dry plains the illumination was not visible at the upper rim of the gorge. The smoke was absorbed into the hazy night.

  The pair of men navigated into the crevasse and found Mood and Chongo on a large jutting crag. Venir knew this spot, as he and Mood had spent many nights here before. A few snakes and vermin ventured here from time to time, but most dangerous humanoids or predators were not likely to travel this terrain. It had been this way always, as far as he knew. Something in this chasm seemed to preserve this spot as a safe haven for select travelers.

  “Ah, in time for some chow,” said Mood as Chongo slobbered over Venir.

  “Watcha got for us, Mood?” Venir said.

  “We’re lucky. Snake, big green snake. The best. Chongo and I have had our share. You and yer little buddy help yerselves to the rest.”

  “Ooh, Melegal, you’re gonna like this!” Venir said, nudging his friend in the back.

  “Not if it isn’t cooked.”

  “It’s cooked. And better than anything you’ve ever had in Bone.”

  Venir took a big bite of snake meat that Mood had skewered on a stick.

  “Mmmm … now that’s good. I haven’t had this in years.”

  Melegal picked off a piece, his skinny face drawn tight, and nibbled at it. A look of curiosity crossed his brow, and he took a bigger bite. The meat was tender, juicy, and delicious.

  “Incredible!”

  “I told you it was good,” Venir answered, shaking his skewer.

  “Good? It’s great! Is it really snake?”

  “Yep.”

  “Bone!” Melegal exclaimed in a whisper, sinking into his succulent dinner from the wild.

  “So,” Mood said, “you never told me about this mess you’re in back at Bone, Venir. What exactly did Chongo do?”

  Venir made himself comfortable and said, “Well, Melegal and I skimmed a Royal brat. He somehow tracked me and got me thrown in the dungeons.”

  Mood chuckled.

  “In the dungeon, the fool boy decided to take a whip to me.”

  Venir’s lip turned up as his voice dropped down.

  “I didn’t really care for that, so I gave him the beating of his life.”

  Mood perched his brows.

  “Shouldn’t mess with ta’ Royals. Most er’ pretty bad company. Looks like you got a beating yerself—if that’s what happened to yer nose?”

  Venir rubbed his nose, frowning at Mood’s ho-ho chuckles.

  “Uh … I didn’t really think. I was too ticked off. I guess I shouldn’t have skimmed the fool, but we can never pass up a sucker—can we, Me?”

  Melegal gave him the thumbs up, still stuffing his face.

  Venir singed more of his meat on the fire.

  “So, I left the dungeon and decided it was time to get out of the city for a while. But this Royal shows up at the stable, with a loaded crossbow and tries to kill me. That’s when ol’ Chongo got hold of him.”

  He scratched Chongo’s heads affectionately.

  “Chewed him up good, but the stubborn boy was still breathing when we bolted. Bleedin’ pretty bad though.”

  The big dwarf lounged on his side, shaking his head. Venir knew what Mood was thinking. The dwarf warned him, but he knew. Mood had fought Royals before. Crafty, selfish, and sly they were. They ran Bish, despite the attempts of the underlings to subdue the surface.

  Good Royals were uncommon, and somehow the bad Royals ruled in unison with them. Whenever there was a threat to the humans on Bish, all Royals, good and bad, stuck together. They had the numbers and the resources and they had always ruled, as far back as anyone could remember.

  It was okay during the wars, when the Royals left everyone else alone. But when Bish wasn’t at war, the Royals didn’t have much to do. Then they were a pain in the neck. If you weren’t a Royal, the last thing you wanted was to be a part of their daily affairs. If you crossed one, you crossed the whole family and sometimes other families too. They wouldn’t let up until you were humiliated, punished, or in your grave. It was what the commoners called the Royal War Games.

  Mood grunted as his bushy eyebrows buckled. Venir unrolled his blanket between Chongo and the warm fire and lay down. The ravine was quiet. No crickets, no howls, just a whistling between the small crags and other outcroppings at the upper rim. It was neither a soothing nor a threatening sound, just eerie. The blackness crept in as the party slept and the coals began winking out. Venir’s eye’s drifted opened and closed ….

  Mood and Chongo snorted on occasion, sometimes in unison. Melegal slumbered, belly now filled with the wonderful green snake meat. Quickster slept at Melegal’s side, seemingly dead, but for the bursts of green snake gas that stirred the mount from time to time. All were at rest, but Venir. The mammoth man la
y quiet and still. Above him the two full moons, one white and one red, cast shadows that outlined the warriors form like a statue. The stress lines etched in his face seemed to deepen. His head was filled with anguish as nightmares seared his mind with images of death.

  Venir’s eyes snapped open. The moonlight shone a bluish hue in his burning gaze. He gathered his leather sack, stirring none at his passing. He crested the lip of the ravine, gathered his helm, shield, and Brool, without disturbing a thing.

  There he stood an onyx statue of man, a mighty two-bladed axe in one hand, and a fattened black shield in the other. The black spike atop his helm sparkled in the light. He murmured in fury. His eyes were like burning coals’ behind the iron eyelets. He could feel them … the underlings were near. He sprang into a quick stride, running along the plains of dirt and sand like an armored panther. This big cat would find his prey tonight. The underlings were the Darkslayer’s favorite gifts to death, and he was coming for them. A new hunt had begun ….

  *****

  Melegal’s fantastical, moonlit dream of a bosomy dwarven women came to an abrupt halt as Chongo let loose the barking of a dozen bloodhounds. He bolted upright, his once blissful face a knot of concern.

  “What in all of Bish?” he said, jumping up, fumbling to reach his shortsword. Quickster remained sound asleep at his back, bent legs up in the air.

  “Come on human,” Mood said, strapping on his axes, “… Venir’s gone.”

  Melegal rubbed his blurry eyes as he started snatching up whatever he thought would help.

  “What!?”

  “Just grab yer gear and get on that shaggy thing. Yer friend has his weapons, which means he’s huntin’ underlings. If we can catch up, things’ll be … well … you can just see for yerself.”

  Melegal was ready and on Quickster’s saddle in moments. Mood was on Chongo, leading them out of the ravine. The great two-headed dog charged southwards, following the scent of Venir, the Darkslayer.

  Melegal watched ahead as he followed behind the two tails of the ridiculous dog and the odd looking giant dwarf. He rubbed his eyes some more and shook his head. He was accustomed to many things, but not this. The warm night air confirmed to Melegal that he was indeed awake, as well as Mood’s bellowing voice.

  “Woohoo! Ride, Chongo, ride!”

  And ride they did, through the night, over the barren plain, beneath the bright white and red glow of the moons. Melegal was so caught up in the rush that he almost forgotten where they were going. Venir was hunting underlings and they were headed that way as well. He wanted no part of that. Underlings! Not me! He almost pulled back on the reigns, but where would he go.

  “Son of a Bish!” he yelled, whipping the reigns, catching up to Chongo in no time. He’s gonna owe me big.

  CHAPTER 42

  The strange moonlight on Bish hindered the movement of most inhabitants at night. The moons were sometimes white, red, orange or blue. Their colors changed, so it was, so it had always been. The light could come and go, sometimes hidden by clouds and other times disappearing altogether. Tonight a red moon sat on the edge of the world of Bish, offering little light and darker shadows.

  Only a few races could see at night, and humans were not among them. But at this particular moment, one human inhabitant on Bish was not hindered at all. No, Venir could see every bit as well as an underling at night. The mystic helm allowed for that. It was something he’d grown fond of over the years.

  The underlings used their night sight to take advantage of unsuspecting people. They could see the warmth of living bodies, sneak up on them and kill. It was one more tactic they used to instill terror on the surface world. Venir learned over the years how to turn the underlings own guerilla tactics against them. He thrived at it.

  Venir was far south of the ravine where he had left Melegal and Mood. A thick coat of sweat coated his armored body. A dream had awoken him, a sixth sense of sorts he couldn’t explain. Such dreams had become more frequent over the years and saved him a time or two as well.

  He stood inside the edge of a stagnant and foul-smelling marsh. Many dark groves such as this were scattered about, providing water on Bish’s open plains which, by a cruel twist of nature, was undrinkable for humans. It was refreshing for underlings however, and they often sought refuge in such places. Venir could feel their presence inside as his heart began thumping in his brain.

  The nervousness in his belly was choked down by his burning desire to kill. Venir the Darkslayer was compelled to venture into this nasty grove to put an end to the filthy inhabitants that sought its sanctuary. He pushed through the brush, boots sinking into the muddy waters, and merged deep into the shadows. It wasn’t long before he picked out several warm shapes huddled together, muttering their ratty chit-chat.

  Silent as a cat, he crept forward and counted as many as twenty underling hunters. The small humanoids wore cloaks and leather, armed with steel and shields. He could smell their rancid breathe and their chittering voices aggravated him. His head scanned around, but he did not feel the presence of any guards. Good. He knew this race that he hunted. No guards meant something else, a magic ward perhaps, if he ventured close enough. Magic—all underlings had magic. And underling hunters, though not powerful in magic, still had spells that would aid them. But, Venir thought, the Darkslayer was privy to most of it. He fought the urgings within the helm, crouched down and waited. His sweaty hands were squeezing the shaft of his axe. Patience!

  CHAPTER 43

  After minutes of hard riding, Mood and Melegal pulled their mounts to a stop. Ahead lay several groves scattered throughout the barren landscape. Chongo’s heads snorted the air, paws stammering in a certain direction. Mood hopped to the ground, pulling the dogs wet noses to the dirt.

  Mood said, “Sometimes smells gets mixed up in these areas. The acidic trees and marshes give off strong odors that kill a scent. It makes underlings hard to find.”

  The man-sized dwarf stuck his nose in the air and sniffed long and hard.

  “Chongo’s the ultimate tracker … noses ten times better than mine. But sometimes the two pooches heads clash. One wants one thing, one wants another. It happens” he said as he ran his sausage-like fingers through the dirt and pointed to a marsh ahead. “Dogs seem right … usually are.”

  “Why didn’t Venir take Chongo?” Melegal asked.

  “Have you ever gone with him at night?”

  “No.”

  “Underlings can see at night and Chongo’s so big he’d be spotted. It’s harder for them to see Venir. The underlings, like me, see the warmth we give off, but I don’t think they see Venir when he has that get-up on.”

  “I’ve never seen Vee fight underlings at night,” mused Melegal. “I’ve been out here and there with him, but never encountered much. But I have seen him in his scary outfit. It’s hard to believe they can’t see him!”

  Mood chuckled as he swung himself back up on Chongo’s saddle and pointed.

  “I think he’s in that grove ahead, if you can make it out. Go, Chongo!”

  Melegal could make out the foggy grove’s outline in the distance. Tall, ugly trees seemed to spike the sky, and the ever-changing glow of the moons cast an eerie haze over the strange marsh. Melegal hoped they wouldn’t have to enter it; the Red Clay Forest seemed far preferable to a swamp. But, for some silly reason, Melegal knew Quickster would enjoy it. What a strange pony, he thought.

  An abhorrent stench assaulted Melegal’s nose.

  “Oh slat, don’t tell me that’s the grove!” the thief muttered, pinching his nose. What’s with all these smells?

  But Mood and Chongo were galloping out of sight. He had no desire to be left alone and dug his heals into Quickster. The thought of fighting underlings terrified him, that and being left in the Outlands, alone.

  CHAPTER 44

  Venir watched as an underling hunter broke from the main group, coming his way. He choked the neck of his axe, knuckles white, head aching with fury. The underling’s eyes
sparkled, peering around as it began to piss into the murk, releasing a sound of relief. Finished, the underling headed back to his group, followed this time by a silent, axe-wielding shadow.

  Venir closed within five paces, mimicking the smaller underling’s movement’s step for step. He listened as the returning underling stood before the group and rambled something amusing. The group chattered in the odd way of the underlings. Venir had heard those twisted laughs before. He could no longer contain the savage cry within.

  As the underling before him giggled on, the laughter of the others came to a stop. There colorful eyes were transfixed, and their mouths dropped open as his great shadow rose up before them. The underling turned just in time to see Venir thrust down the double-bladed axe, splitting it from head to belly. Venir rushed between falling body parts before the first drop of blood hit the ground.

  The nearest underling stood stupefied as Brool exploded into its chest, spraying blood like a rainbow across the grove. Another underling’s neck was punctured from his backswing. Venir ripped out its throat and prepared his next swing. Three! The next underling turned to run as he swung Brool around his head and down onto the creature’s shoulder. The heavy blade crunched through the clavicle, severing the shoulder and arm from its body. Stepping onto the dying underling’s bloodied corpse, Venir moved forward for more kills. He could sense them if not see them, spreading out and preparing for action. The surprise was over, now the work was about to begin.