“Why are we heading this way, Venir?” Melegal was sitting sideways on his saddle. “Not that I mind heading back this way. I think the stench of the marsh has finally cleared my nose.”
There was a pause. He didn’t really have an answer. Venir replied in a somber voice, “I don’t think it makes much difference which way we go.”
Melegal cocked an eye as he fanned himself with his hat.
“Really? It’s barely a week since we left home, but if we’re going back, shouldn’t we go straight? Why northwest instead of north?” The thief turned forward in his saddle, spurring Quickster along his side. “Surely there are other northward paths we can take that aren’t the same as the one we took southward?”
“This way we’ll catch Mood and Chongo quicker. I have a feeling he’s gonna be this way. He won’t be expecting us so soon, so he’s unlikely to be at our original rendezvous. Besides, I need to try and track what I can. It’s not as easy to do without Chongo though. It’ll be harder to find them on our own.”
“Well that was a mouthful, considering you’re not drunk,” Melegal said. “That’s more words than you’ve said in over a day.”
Venir realized his friend was attempting to lighten the dour mood, but it did little. He was dead inside. Things hadn’t felt right since he had left Two-Ten City. He felt different; the weather had changed. Grimness had settled over him like a damp quilt. It was not an overwhelming feeling, but bad enough. Something was wrong. He kept scanning the sky; the small suns were burning like ghostly beacons behind a patch of rolling clouds ahead. The heat seemed to sizzle his neck, but there was something else.
Venir began jogging with determined footfalls crunching down a path in the tall grass.
“Eh …” Melegal said, watching him go and shaking his head, then trotting along from behind.
In the distance a wall of thickened forest lay ahead. Tall treetops bunched together for miles across from east to west. Dark clouds seemed to sit on the gray treetops with rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds, displaying bright splotches of green leaves here and there. Flocks of birds swooped by the hundreds, disappearing in and out of the clouds. Venir began to slow from his brisk pace. He could hear thunder in the distance.
“Something’s ahead. I can’t quite say what, but I feel it might be waiting for us. He pulled a canteen from Quickster’s saddle, bringing a soft neigh from the beast.
“Well, should we venture in, or find another way?” Melegal took the canteen Venir offered him and had a sip. “Do you think it’s Royals?”
Venir shook his head, twisting the cap back on the canteen.
“I think whatever it is will find us anyway. Maybe it already has, so let’s take the fight to it.”
“Or sneak past it.”
Venir could see Melegal didn’t like the idea. His friend was out of his element. Outdoor treks weren’t for everyone. They traveled a few miles further when Melegal asked, “Which forest is ahead of us, anyway?”
“That, my friend, is the Great Forest of Bish. Its trees are triple the girth and height of any other trees on Bish. It’s spectacular. It’s actually twice as far away as it appears. And those birds you see are pretty large too. Don’t get spooked though. Travelers make it through on the whole. Well, in most cases.” Venir allowed himself a slight smile.
“Man, one day nothing, then the next it’s talk, talk, talk.”
The sound of Melegal’s complaining voice began to make him feel better.
“Maybe you should write this stuff down. Of course, there isn’t enough paper in Bish once you get going—story teller,” Melegal said, snapping the reigns.
“Hey, I like that idea.”
“Uh … maybe you should start acting like the brute you are and stop blathering. That ogre must’ve squeezed something loose in you. Did he finally get the blood flowing in your thick skull?”
Maybe he did, thought Venir.
Melegal began checking his equipment. Encounters were something the thief fought hard to avoid. It would have bided him well over the years if he had more reservations like the thief, but that just wasn’t in him. He was always go, go, go.
Venir started his jog again, straight ahead towards the Great Forest of Bish. Action was better medicine than talking. But the great forest ahead left him uneasy, more so than the Red Clay Forest. At least there was shade in the trees, but the suns kept your enemies from creeping up on you.
CHAPTER 69
Lord Almen’s henchmen bore fruit. He watched the torture of another Royal family member from a discreet location far away from his palace walls. Two others also bore witness to the incarceration and torture of one man who had assisted in Tonio’s fall.
The tormentor was none other than Sefron. The flabby, half-naked cleric had just finished dripping drops of acid on the wailing man’s toes. The other witness was no newcomer to dispensing pain either. The mysterious man standing alongside Lord Almen was Teku. He was taller than the Royal Lord, olive skinned, and dressed from head to toe in loose, nondescript white robes that draped over his fingers. His brush-green eyes were intelligent and deep.
Lord Almen smiled at the man from time to time as they exchanged elegant words back and forth. Sefron sneered when they weren’t looking his way. Teku’s voice was deep and soft, his body as still as calm water. He smiled along with Lord Almen, and his sharpened white teeth shone like pearls in the torchlight.
The leather-bound prisoner was from the Slerg house, a once prominent house that had fallen from the ranks of the city’s hierarchy. Lord Almen knew their story quiet well, for it was he that led them to their fall. Now, the Royal Slerg’s vengeful tactics had caught up with him and he was to be another sacrifice of the Slerg family.
The tortured man’s name did not matter, and he laughed at the sight of Sefron opening another vial. He had already told them everything, almost.
“Curse you Almen’s!” the man said as spit dribbled down his chin. “Payback’s coming!”
Sefron’s sweaty face looked back, but Lord Almen remained stone-faced as he gave his final nod. The dying man’s own screams would be the last thing he would ever hear and they lasted long after Lord Almen was gone.
CHAPTER 70
Mood was resting underneath the leafy branches in the Great Forest of Bish. A steady breeze bristled his blood red beard as he wondered how his friends were doing. Chongo was sleeping, small snorting noises coming from his nostrils. Mood was leaned back against a tree wider than twenty bunched men, with his legs propped up on Chongo.
All the while, he was smoking a rolled-leaf cigar of the dwarven kind. The rare leaves burned slow around the tobacco that was harvested unseen in the caves of the dwarves back home. The smoke from his bearded lips was light blue and hung in the air like a ghost before the breeze took it away. Mood’s mouth opened wide as he yawned, the cigar was the only thing that caused that. A dwarf like him wasn’t accustomed to fatigue, especially when you’re the King of the Blood Rangers.
The forest was his escape from the massive holes that confined his pressing people. His kin always seemed to do well without him, so he roamed. Why not, he was the King. But today, neither the powerful narcotic of his dwarven cigar, nor the rich green mossy forest with its gentle plant life and blooms were able to take the edge from his mind. At length, the ears of the double-headed mastiff ears perked up; one pair anyway, while the other remained asleep. Mood’s blurry eyes showed a sliver of green beneath his brows, for he too sensed that something—maybe dangerous—was amiss.
Mood nudged the dog with his boot.
“Let’s go, Chongo.”
Chongo rolled up on all fours, one head still sagging down as the pair slipped through the forest like an apparition. Mood felt small as he negotiated the enormous forest. The plant life was gargantuan and a single leaf could shield you from the heavy rains. He almost liked it as much as the Red Clay Forest, where he was the most at home.
The Great Forest of Bish was open to all comers. It
wasn’t as particular as the others either. It seemed too big for the smaller matters of the life that surrounded it. But sometimes the wrong creature would bother the forest, intentionally or not, and the ramifications were often fatal.
Mood took a long sniff of the air. He had a feeling something was about to happen. He hoisted himself on Chongo’s back. There he sat in thick canvas-like clothes of brown and green, two giant-hand axes forming an X across his back, high, soft leather boots, and a large belt pouch containing various requirements. He blew half a dozen smoke rings in the air. He could feel the thick muscles of Chongo’s back shifting under his seat. Both necks rose on the dog, all four ears alert. Mood rubbed each thick neck and said, “Let’s go get ’em boy.”
CHAPTER 71
Georgio had stopped to pee inside the edge of the Great Forest of Bish.
“Run! Run! Run!”
Lefty Lightfoot was running his way at full speed.
“Wait! What’s going on?” Georgio hollered, struggling to stop in midstream and getting splashed as he turned into the voices direction.
“See what you’ve made me do … again!” he yelled, trying to pull up his britches as he ran.
Georgio could not keep up.
“What are we running from, Lefty? We need to keep westward.”
Lefty’s hands were in a frantic wave.
“No! Come, or we’ll be eaten!”
Georgio had already seen the little halfling panic several times over nothing. The poor little boy couldn’t sleep a wink. Georgio pitied him, but it was becoming annoying.
“Will you stop a second and tell me what you’re talking about?”
Any creature seemed to spook the halfling, but the curly-headed Georgio was beginning to gain Lefty’s trust that he could take care of him. Lefty stopped.
“It’s a gigantic two-headed beast with a huge red man-thing! Run!”
Lefty began tugging at Georgio’s wrist.
The poor halfling’s ashen face almost broke Georgio’s heart, and he had to bite his tongue to keep back the giggles that had offended Lefty earlier.
He stuck out his chest.
“I’ll handle the beast, don’t fear, Lefty. I’ll protect you!”
Georgio patted his shoulder, turned and pulled out his hand axe. Lefty stood frozen in his tracks. The past few days had left the poor halfling not knowing what to expect.
*****
Lefty let Georgio talk him into heading back towards where he came. Lefty thought the human was a fool, but the boy had been convincing. Now the prolonged wait began to cause further doubts. Lefty’s feet became clammy as his eyes darted all around. Was he wrong about what he had seen? Then he thought he heard something and his hairs stood on end.
Lefty was frozen with fear in his hiding place among the great trees. The forest seemed so still and quiet that his heartbeat was all that he heard. There Georgio stood in an opening. The boy’s broad shoulders were beginning to slouch. Georgio turned and began walking back toward him, his hand axe swinging back and forth at his side. The big boy had a look of disappointment on his face. It did little to comfort Lefty.
The further Georgio came towards him, the more Lefty knew something was about to happen. He imagined a pair of massive jaws jumping out to devour the boy at any moment. The bright day had dimmed, leaving the forest cast in an eerie darkness. What is the man doing, Lefty thought? We must run!
Salty sweat dripped into his eyes, then he dabbed it off with a handkerchief. Lefty bit his nails as he looked at the boy with horror. Here it comes! He wanted to scream for Georgio to run, but the boy kept walking, in circles now, his eyes to the ground. Oh, look up, stupid man!
He’s going to die and so am I, Lefty kept thinking. Georgio looked up and around and their eyes locked. Georgio smiled. Lefty felt a moment of relief. Georgio’s smile fell to the ground as the boy froze in his tracks. Lefty felt hot breath on the nape of his weensy neck and he couldn’t move as a warm gob splashed down his spine. Oh my! Somehow he turned.
Facing him were four huge eyes, two heads, and two massive sets of teeth and above these a giant hairy red man-thing. Lefty’s fleet feet were immobilized and he knew he would be dead soon enough.
Lefty squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to imagine the pain.
“Eat me,” said the stricken halfling. “Please get it over with.”
His fate came in the form of two soaking licks and an uproarious laugh. Certain that he was being consumed by a giant beast; it took the constant shaking of his shoulders by Georgio to get him to open his eyes.
“Are we dead, Georgio?” he said, shivering with a squeak.
“No, Lefty!” Georgio answered. “We’re saved!”
Lefty cracked open his eyes and saw the blood red beard in his face, then fainted before his new friends.
“Now ain’t that somethin’,” Mood said, scratching his head. “He sure is tiny, even for a halfling.”
“He is?” Georgio exclaimed.
Mood just shrugged and grabbed Georgio under his armpits, dropping him onto Chongo’s saddle.
“Hey! What’s the big idea? Where’s Vee?”
A big hand clamped over Georgio’s mouth.
“Hush boy.”
He hated it when people did that. He thought the better of taking a bite from Mood’s hand.
Mood looked upward and Georgio did too. Thunder was rolling over head, but he hadn’t noticed it before. The forest began to darken. Mood picked up the limp halfling and put him in Georgio’s arms. Something made Georgio shiver as he felt the halfling boy’s ice cold skin.
“Mood, I want to go home now. My friend needs help.”
“It’s too late for that boy.”
The Blood Ranger grabbed the reigns and led them deeper into the Great Forest of Bish. Georgio’s head kept twisting around, noticing many other odd sounds and movements coming from above them.
“I hope Vee’s in there,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 72
Venir moved ahead at a slow run as one setting sun had dipped below the horizon, while the other began to sink behind the treetops of the great forest. The man was only focused on what lay ahead. Melegal wasn’t so determined.
The incongruity in the distance made for a strange light. The treetops were thrice as high as normal, casting an early shadow over the grassy plain. Venir was running ahead and picking up his pace. Venir had emptied his arsenal from his sack, except the helm. The large iron-banded shield was now strapped to his back, and his menacing battle axe, Brool, whistled sharply as it cut the wind. Melegal followed on Quickster, staying close behind, careful of the distance he kept between him and the axe. Something about that blade always left him uncomfortable. Whenever it was out, death soon followed.
A nagging began creeping between Melegal’s narrow shoulders. His back was stiff from the long ride and he wanted to stop and stretch. A moment of relief came as Venir came to a halt and dropped to a knee, peering through the waist high grass.
Melegal pulled on Quickster’s reigns saying, “Whoa.”
Quickster’s legs continued on, whisking him onward and well past his friend.
“What the …?”
Gritting his teeth, Melegal yanked at the reins, but Quickster kept right on going. As the forest began to close in, dread overcame him. He tugged once more, snapping up Quickster’s bullish neck. Quickster didn’t slow.
“Bish!”
In a quick hop he abandoned the saddle. He watched Quickster go, faster and faster, now a speck against the tree line, and out of sight. He smoothed his floppy hat down along the side of his head. He stood dumbfounded and silent. Then he cursed at the top of his lungs.
With a sigh and a grimace, Melegal began marching back to where he had passed Venir. I’m sure the big lout will have another new humorous story to tell. Stupid mule! He didn’t hear the laughter he expected though. In the dimming light, his eyes caught Venir running towards the forest in full battle gear. He saw the spiked helm strapped to Venir’
s chin, his large shield on his back and Brool swinging in cadence from his right hand. The helm’s iron eyelets glowed with menace. He felt something cold inside and crouched down. Venir was not there. No, this was the Darkslayer, running as fleet and quiet as a forest stag. Not you too!
Melegal stood alone in the dusk before staring at the looming forest. Should he follow the Darkslayer or try to find Quickster? There was no time to waste. Deciding that Venir was the most capable of taking care of himself, he set off along Quickster’s path. I’ve got to get my gear. He began running as fast as he could. But the Great Forest of Bish was further than he had anticipated. How fast had his pony gone? He was out of breath before he was halfway there. All of his judgment was based on what he had learned in the City of Bone and that seemed wholly inadequate now. With great caution and misgiving, the thief jogged with anxiety as he entered the forest. Dimwitted animals.
CHAPTER 73
Oran’s spell was working. Their surprise attack was underway and soon his mission would be over. It would not be long before they could all go back home. Through the eye of Eep, Oran and McKnight viewed the swirling image of the Darkslayer and the pony rushing towards the Great Forest of Bish.
“I must say,” said McKnight, fighting the urge to slap the underling on the back, “I’m rather glad you and Tonio have chosen to tackle the big fellow. I can’t say I have any desire to be in your boots. He looks rather menacing. Good hunting to you.”
The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals Page 28
