The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals

by Craig Halloran

  The remaining underlings had readied curved shortswords and hand axes and were chittering orders. Five of them, armed and ready, formed a semicircle before Venir, but it didn’t slow his coming.

  His voice was loud like an enraged animal as the words burst from his lips.

  “I’m gonna kill you dirty little vermin! I’ll rip the slat out of you!”

  The underlings didn’t quiver or turn; they dug in, spitting threats of their own.

  Venir dove into them, sweeping Brool left to right, keeping the five underlings at bay. His axe blade whistled, making an eerie sound that many underlings had come to know as the ‘last call’.

  Two flanking underlings charged Venir. He leapt forward, chopping through the head of the astonished center figure. The two beside the fallen underling swiped at his legs, striking a pain-filled gash and drawing blood. Venir slammed his shield edge into the head of one, cracking its skull. He was howling in bloodlust as he swept Brool into another underling’s side. It fell in a gurgling heap. Seven!

  The last two underlings cut into his shifting thighs. The hot blood oozing down his leg did little to slow him, but it burned. He fought back, Brool hacking from the right and the shield defending on the left. The underlings were skilled and patient, ducking and dodging under his swings. He could feel his blood seeping from his wounds. There was no time for these games. He knew they only wanted to wear him down and it wouldn’t be long before help arrived.

  In a blink between underling attacks, he whirled a hundred and eighty degrees, cutting one underling deep into the leg and shattering the other’s knee with his shield. Their howls of pain were cut off as Venir put them to death. Nine!

  The long run to the grove, the fury of his attack, and the loss of blood were taking a toll on Venir. It was the part he hated, the torture of being pushed on despite his agony. He couldn’t tell if it was in him or from the helm, but he would not quit until the underlings were all dead. He was like one possessed, all reason banished by his hatred and rage.

  His chest heaved and his lungs burned like fire as he slunk through the murk. Control it Vee! His heart pounded as he pressed himself into the thatches, fighting the drive that urged him forward. A voice deep in the back of his battle raged head reminded him that there were still many more.

  The red haze of battle began to subside in his thoughts. The marsh was filled with sounds of crickets, toads and squawking birds. Maybe they all fled. He sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes and focused. No, they were still out there. Venir cleared himself from the thatch when something caught his feet. Roots, vines, and grasses of the marsh began winding around his legs, pulling him down. He bit his tongue. Bone!

  The dark magic coiled around his thighs like tightened rope. He could feel them cutting into his torn skin. He chopped and tore at his tangled assailants, Brool’s honed edge slicing the cords away. The vines crawled up his back and around his face and mouth. If he didn’t escape he would be overcome and suffocated. Brool cut through the twisted foliage, his arm and elbow working like a saw. He was on his knees now, coughing and fighting to stay alive. He gave another gasp, wrenching at his bondage, tearing himself free.

  He pulled himself upright, spitting vegetation from his mouth, his legs held fast from below. Venir’s drained eyes shot up just as three more underlings encircled him. Heavy darts assailed his body, stinging like a nest of wasps, causing him to wriggle with pain.

  “Arghh!”

  “Curse you little maggots!” he said, roaring from behind his shield as the poison burned like fire in his straining biceps.

  Venir wiggled and sliced away at the vines that finally gave way, sinking back into the marsh. He was free now, free to destroy. A small robed underling turned on him, a foot long pipe protruding from its lips. Venir bashed its brain in with the edge of the shield.

  Another flurry of darts came from behind with several landing in the back of his legs. His knees buckled as pain raced into his chest. Poison! His anger blinded his mind from the pain as he whirled to attack. Both underlings fired from the left and right turning him into a human pin cushion.

  Venir hurled his spiked axe like a spear, impaling the chest of one. The other underling yanked out its sword, a hiss of triumph parting from its lips. Venir charged as the underling thrust at his thigh, but the blade bounced off of his shield with a clang that brought sparks. As the underling drew back for another attack, but Venir’s steel-toed boot crushed its ribs, collapsing its lungs. The underling sank to the ground as the edge of his shield dealt the death blow to its skull. Twelve is a good!

  Venir bounded after Brool, hobbled as he plunged further into the darkness of the marsh. Time was running short. His body burned like fire and his strength was ebbing. He knew he had to rest, but rest did not kill underlings, and he drove himself on in pursuit. The underlings were in hiding, planning another attack on him. He knew it. It was time to flush them out.

  He moved southward, quiet as a deer, when he spotted them. He saw three bulges of heat hunkered down in the murk. Their eyes were shifting back and forth, axes and swords gripped in their clawed hands. He could assault them all, chop them down one by one, but more were bound to come. Poison filled darts and all. No need for more of that.

  Like a shade, Venir moved behind their line, and crept back up on the one in the middle. He set his axe and his shield down. He slipped behind the hunkered down underling. He struck like a cobra, clutching the underling’s neck in his mighty hands, lifting the creature from the ground, and choking the life out of it. The underling’s feet dangled and twitched in the air. Venir fought the urge to snap its neck before setting the limp creature down. Good. The dead underling’s leg gave one last violent twitch, kicking the thicket.

  Two enraged underlings were charging at his sides. There Venir stood weaponless with their brethren dangling in his grip. Venir flipped the dead underling’s feet up into his hands and swung the underling like a sack of melons into the body of the closest attacker. Bowled over by the impact, the underling collapsed in a heap. Venir dropped the underling just in time to dodge the two-handed axe attacks of the other. Without a weapon or shield he was defenseless.

  The underling moved in, chopping in a flurry. Venir lashed out, catching the underling by one of it’s the wrists, restraining it like a toddler swinging a stick. The underling countered, swinging its free arm at his neck. Venir caught it in the same manner, now squeezing both wrists like a vice, causing the underling to drop his weapons. The underling released a high pitched wail that was silenced by a crotch-crunching kick, dropping the underling to its knees. Venir snatched one of the underling’s hand axes from the ground and slammed it deep into its brain. Now, the other underling was back on its feet charging full force, just in time to receive a flying hand axe between its eyes.

  Grimacing, Venir grabbed Brool and his shield and ran where he sensed more underlings lurking in the grove. His battle raged mind became sluggish and each step was filled with pain. Although his body was burning and weakening with every stride, he forced himself to find the last few before his body collapsed. The helm assisted in beckoning him on. He saw underlings were near, bodies warm and red in the blackness. He cut between two trees, closing the distance between him and them.

  “Bone!” he cried out.

  Venir was held fast by a giant spider web.

  “Slat!” he cried again, struggling to free himself.

  The cords stuck fast as he struggled, peeling off loose pieces of his skin. His mind was in a frenzy to escape. He needed to remain calm, but those thoughts were gone.

  Venir could see them coming. Two underlings strapped in leather with long blow pipes. He tried pushing through the web, but iron would have been easier to cross. His axe and arm were held fast, but he groaned while pulling Brool back and forth to cut through. The trees bent from his efforts. The blades cut through the tiny fibers, little by little, giving him more leeway by the second.

  Toowah! Toowha! Toowah!

&n
bsp; The barrage of bigger darts bit into him as his blood coursed like fire once more. He cut into the web as fast as he could, but the poison slowed him. Second by second, he felt his strength fade, the fire inside was consumed by life draining poison. He was numb from head to toe. Not now! Not now ….

  Relief entered a splinter of his mind. His pursuit was coming to an end. The cold dirt of a grave to lie in was welcoming to Venir. His lazy eyes looked up as the garbled sounds of the underlings chattered away. He still wanted to kill just a few more, but he would have to rest first. Venir’s blue eyes rolled up into his head and he no longer moved at all.

  CHAPTER 45

  Three haunting figures emerged from the grove.

  “Underlings!”

  Mood roared, spurring Chongo to attack.

  “He musta missed some!” the dwarf yelled back.

  Chongo growled and charged, all four eyes bearing down on the underlings that burst from the marsh. Two underlings broke away to the right, dashing away from the fearsome sight. Chongo closed in on the fleet footed pair, great jaws snapping at the heels of the one who was half a step behind the other.

  “Bite that vermin, Chongo!” Mood bellowed, axe shining in the light.

  The underling ducked, swerving away, but Chongo snatched up the underling in his massive jaws. The underling swung its sword, but Mood knocked it away with his axe. One head of Chongo crushed down on the underling, killing it. The other dog head led the pursuit of the underling that was still running away.

  The underling managed further separation as Chongo had slowed and dropped his prey. The open plain and its moons assisted Mood with keeping the underling in his line of sight. The dwarf spurred the beast onward.

  “Yo Ho!” Mood yelled as they closed the gap.

  The underling turned and kneeled, with a crossbow pointing their way.

  “Whoa!” screamed Mood, pulling at Chongo’s reigns, but the dog charged on.

  It was a short-range shot, and Mood saw in a split second that someone was going get hurt. The underling’s wicked smile danced in the moonlight as it squeezed the trigger.

  CHAPTER 46

  The underlings stared at the mass of flesh, prone as a possum, in a web. One launched another dart into his leg, but Venir did not react. They gave a loud whistle, a strange, inhuman sound that only underlings could make. The two underlings drew their swords as they approached their fallen foe.

  Avoiding the webs, one went behind Venir’s back. The other underling stepped in closer to get a better look at Venir’s face. The underling’s lips curled up in a merciless grin. If this were truly the Darkslayer, the scourge of the underlings, they would be honored and praised indeed.

  Venir could see and hear everything as if he was in a distant land. The figures, the sounds and smells were still there, vivid in his mind. Something ignited inside his head and raced down to his toes. The sluggishness was wearing off. His thickened blood began to thin and flow again. A fresh spring of life beat in his temples. He felt the nearby danger racing down his spine. Die doing something or die for nothing!

  As the underling’s rancid breath reached Venir’s nose his eyes popped open. The underling lurched back with a hiss. Venir punched Brool through the web, puncturing the underling’s neck. It dropped, gurgling to the marshy ground. The underling behind Venir drove its blade at Venir’s back, but it clanged off of his shield that he had pulled free. The webs were dissipating now that their caster was dead. The underling swung it’s blade in a high arcing swing.

  Venir stepped out of the blades way and chopped off the underlings head.

  “I hate webs,” he muttered as he tried to pull the tacky substance away. He spun slowly around.

  “Where are they?”

  He didn’t feel them close by, but the helmet wasn’t always right. He cracked his neck, side to side, and spat blood and saliva from his mouth. His arms and legs were aching and he coughed up blood. He gritted his teeth then started running towards the north end of the marsh.

  “Crap,” he muttered as he ran through the murk, not wanting to believe that the last few underlings had gotten away.

  CHAPTER 47

  A sudden whoosh-thunk erased the underling hunter’s grin as a sling bullet glanced off the back of its head. The underling shook off the blow, jerked up the tip of its crossbow, Chongo’s heart in sight.

  Whoosh-thunk!

  The underling’s head pitched forward, dropping it like a stone as the crossbow bolt sailed over Mood’s ducking head. Chongo tore into the helpless creature, both heads chomping and devouring bloody underling treat. The bone-crunching sounds turned Melegal’s stomach as he pulled along Mood’s side, dangling a sling.

  “Sorry about that first shot,” Melegal said with a sheepish look.

  “That’s okay. Where’s the other underling?” Mood said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Hard to say. He ran like he had a hive of angry bees up his arse. I never saw anything like it. He just ran faster and faster, then he was gone.”

  Melegal couldn’t have been more relieved. His heart stopped cold as that underling stopped in his path, muttered and buzzed away. The face of the foul creature sent shivers through him.

  “Hmm … those underlings have some sneaky magic,” Mood said. “That musta been their leader blinking out like that. No matter, just hunters by the looks of ’em. I don’t think there’ll be any more left in this party. Our friend musta taken care of the rest, seeing how they was run out of that grove ’n all.”

  Mood’s brow furrowed.

  “Let’s head over to where they came out; Venir should be coming our way anytime.”

  Mood waited a bit as Chongo gulped down the remains of the underlings while they made their way towards the grove’s edge. They waited as the mosquito’s hummed in their ears attempting to drink their blood. A rustle stirred not far from where they stood.

  Venir stepped into the clear. Muscle, sweat, blood and metal all combined into a horrifying sight: a great gory man that the world of Bish called the Darkslayer. He was splashed with mud and guts from head to toe. His muscled legs and arms bled from a dozen wounds. Darts were still embedded, leaving black and purple marks. His chainmail shirt glimmered in the moonlight. His eyes blazed like a blue inferno and his voice was as dry as a bone.

  “Any left?” he rasped.

  “Nope, one got away,” Mood answered.

  Venir approached with a bitter face, his tanned skin now ashen.

  “So, how many this time?” Mood asked of the warrior.

  “Fourteen.”

  His voice was almost inaudible as he removed his helm, revealing long sweaty locks of hair on a damp brow. Under his helmet his head had remained as clean as the rest of his face was filthy with grit. He spat more blood.

  “Fourteen?” Melegal was incredulous. “You killed fourteen underlings?”

  “Would’a been more if I hadn’t hit a spider web. Bone! Would’ve had them all.”

  He stretched his arms, grimacing. He added a small grin.

  “That was fun.”

  Venir began scratching Chongo, who started to lick the dirt off of him.

  “Your legs are purple!” Melegal said, looking on in concern.

  “Yep,” Mood said. “He’s been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” Melegal cried, appalled at Mood’s indifference. “We have to do something!”

  “We already did,” Venir replied.

  “We did? What?”

  “Ate green snake meat.”

  Melegal fell silent.

  “See, Melegal,” Venir said as he coughed and hacked, spitting more bile, “green snake meat does more than just taste good. It remedies poisons and such. It’s saved my hide more than once. It’s already taking the pain from my legs.”

  It wasn’t entirely true, they still burned, but he wasn’t complaining, he still lived.

  “But not many people know about it, so keep it to yourself.”

  Venir’s eyes fluttered, rolling u
p in his head as his body sagged towards the ground. Melegal leapt forward just in time to break his friend’s fall.

  “Never seen ’em do that before,” the big dwarf said, rushing along their side.

  “He’ll be all right with your snake meat, I trust?” the thief asked with some sarcasm.

  Mood shrugged.

  “Maybe so. Let’s get some water in ’em. If he ran all that way and then jumped all those underlings, he should ‘a been dead by now anyway. Them wounds are pretty bad, and I can’t say for sure green snake meat cures everything. No telling what those underlings shot him with.”

  Melegal returned with some water. Mood began applying first aid to the passed-out warrior whose breathing was very shallow for so robust a man. They plucked the poisoned darts from his body, revealing more ugly purple wounds. Blood and pus ran freely as Mood squeezed and drained them. It looked painful to Melegal, but his friend lay still as a corpse.

  Mood had done all that he could and now all they could do was wait. Melegal couldn’t sleep as he sat huddled at Venir’s side. Chongo lay alongside his master, eyes dropping and ears flicking up from time to time. Melegal couldn’t help but wonder what he would do if Venir didn’t make it. His best friend’s mortality never occurred to him. He drew a blanket over his shoulders as the aroma of Mood’s cigar lulled him back into a relaxing sleep, dreaming of green snake meat.