“It should be you, in fact, human,” said Oran, without looking up from his mirage. “But I shall do what I must. Be thankful I have set you up with easy prey. In a few moments that animal will deliver into your lap the other resident of your tiresome city.”
“Rather a shame, really, to lose another fine citizen of Bone. I suspect we need every sneaky human we have to keep your underling lot under control,” McKnight said, pointing his finger at Oran.
McKnight didn’t want to let on about his past with Melegal as it was his opportunity to see his former apprentice undone. He dabbed some poison on his bolts and blades, then tucked them back under his cloak.
“Tsk, tsk—such decisions—which lives to take and which to let be!”
McKnight eyes perked up at his comments.
“I ought to make note of that, it sounds rather profound!” He turned as he left, saying, “I shall try to be quick and return to help you, underling. I rather think you may need it.”
Staring at the fading mystic image, Oran stroked his jaw with his long nailed fingers. The time had come to forever be rid of this impudent human. As the image died, Oran caught a faint glimpse of what was coming his way: a large man, armed like a war machine, eyes glowing black fire, and moving like the wind. Oran couldn’t contain his audible gasp.
“Tonio! Take your position … he comes!”
He closed his eyes with the imp hovering by his side.
“Eep, you know what to do!”
Eep turned on a nasty smile and buzzed away.
CHAPTER 74
Lord Catten and Lord Verbard arrived in the southwest corner of the Red Clay Forest, only to find themselves surrounded by an unwelcoming committee. Ten gangly robed figures floated around them now, making odd sounds, but not getting too close. Catten could feel the magic within the strange figures of the forest magi, and he knew they were drawn to his as well.
He and his brother didn’t bother to introduce themselves. A tall, brown robed figure ventured before Catten, hands motioning, then he froze.
Verbard let out a hissing chuckle.
The forest magi bent in a slight bow and began to back off. The rest began to do the same, slowly floating away. Catten could feel their earlier confidence turn into fear.
The air shimmered as Catten called the magic within him. Tendrils of lightning burst from Verbard’s clawed hand. The first bolt of chained lightning blasted into the nearest forest mage’s retreating form. Catten let loose his own bolt of energy, slamming into the one opposite the leader. The silver-blue bolts shot counter-clockwise, gaining speed, spinning like grinding stones and growing brighter and brighter as they passed through each of the forest magi. Catten and Verbard stood in the middle of the mayhem, faces filled with glee. There was one final brilliant flash—as they covered their eyes—and when they opened them just ten piles of ash remained.
“That felt good, but they didn’t even have time to even scream. I like it when they scream,” Catten said with disappointment.
Verbard continued his chuckle and said, “Me too.”
CHAPTER 75
Venir the Darkslayer charged into the Great Forest of Bish like a human juggernaut shot from a catapult. He grew angrier with every stride as the scent of an underling consumed him. He was wary of a trap, but he couldn’t fight the urge to take things head on. His battle instincts always served him best when he took the fight to them. But who was he trying to face?
His blue eyes flashed beneath his spiked helm as Brool slashed through any foliage that barricaded his path. The Great Forest of Bish had darkened a great deal since he had entered from the more open plains. It was of little concern as he knew the Great Forest as well as the rest. His quick feet carried him through the woodland as if it were daylight in the desert.
He was about two hundred yards inside when trouble appeared. Spider webs, giant spider webs, now engulfed the trees from the ground to as high as the eye could see. Underling magic. His helm simmered around his head. Great power awaited him somewhere ahead.
Venir slowed his pace as he began to weave his way past the webs. Not all of the gaps between trees were covered. The recesses of his raging mind, meanwhile, asked a question whose answer he already knew. For this reminded him of the fish traps he had set as a boy in the silver streams of Throhm. But this was a crueler version, designed by underling hunters to trap their prey.
The labyrinth of webs let you find your way through, but at the end, if you succeeded without getting stuck, you were boxed in and killed. He and Brool had dealt with the webs before. His spine tingled as he recalled the last time, but he trudged on.
The underling labyrinth opened into a cove laced with webs around all of its vast trees. There was no other way out, but back. Venir turned and watched as new webs grew along the trees, sealing off his path. Whoever it was, they were not far ahead. He could sense it, strong and evil.
He spat from his dry mouth.
“The Bone with this!”
Running straight, he had charged the webs ahead at full speed. Brool sliced a gap in the entanglement and the thick webs began to curl away and dissipate.
The forest had opened wide again, but darker still. Venir pressed his back along a massive tree and listened. He heard nothing. His helm ebbed around his skull. He began moving again as an odd sound came to his keen ears. It was a high buzzing noise, right on top of him. Pain raced up his arms as a hunk of skin was sheared away.
“Argh!” he cried as he slashed Brool high in the air.
He was on the defensive now. The buzzing sound seemed to come from all over the forest. Venir circled where he stood, scanning the high branches. He heard the wind rushing his way. He swung Brool up, as two talons skinned his neck, one nail nicking his throat. It burned and blood began to flow down on his chest. Whatever it was, it had Venir’s attention.
Eep zipped in and out, and his evil mocking bird-like sounds seemed to echo from all sides. More webs began to coat the trees and Venir became ever mindful of where he turned, lest he be stuck. The imp cut past the webs, but Venir chopped Brool in the imp’s path at every last second. Brool’s spike jabbed and poked at the imp as Venir tried to work his shield free from his back.
Brool cut through the spider webs, creating room to work, but the axe could only do so much as the imp came from every direction. Venir couldn’t tell how many of the creatures were out there, as he did all he could to contain the imp’s attacks. The imp rushed in and out, just beyond Brool’s metal, darting away in the nick of time. Venir had his shield ready now, but the chronic buzzing had gone away.
Silence fell as Venir labored for his breath. Somewhere an underling was waiting, that and something else he never encountered before, an imp. Go! His mind urged him onward as his shield arm drooped and blood dripped down his injured arm. He cut away at the thick webs, and headed for the beacon of evil deeper in the forest. The buzzing was back again, high above. It agitated him and his wounds seemed to grow worse at the sound. The smacks of flapping wings split through the air as the imp was flying in and out of his range. Venir stayed low. More silence came. The sweat rolled off Venir’s chiseled face in large drops. He waited.
A distant hum rattled in the high branches. Aggravation, pain and throbbing licked at his limbs. He wanted a good look at his assailant. It was cold and black all around him. He searched, but found no heat from the creature, only hearing its flapping wings and a ragged voice mocking him from above.
The brawny warrior pressed deeper through the forest at a trot. The webs continued to peel away as he cut through them. The underling presence ahead refueled his anger. He was getting closer. A beating of bat-like wings shrilled from behind as he felt thick claws rip into the chainmail on his back. He twisted away, striking back with his axe. Nothing was there. A gaping slash was torn in the chain along his back. Venir fought the urge to scream. What is it!?
He moved on, his mystic eyelets not sensing the cold shadow squatted like a stump as he passed by. Venir heard
something scuff the dirt behind him. He turned, raising his shield, and there was a bone-jarring sound.
CLANG!
Words raced through his mind. It cannot be!
CHAPTER 76
Melegal had more than enough of this misadventure. Both Venir and Quickster had frustrated him to his limit. He stomped through the Great Forest, peering about for Quickster’s tracks. Doing his best imitation of a ranger, he ran his hands through the dirt and leaves. He followed a straight line as best he could, trying to guess where a pony might go, but to no avail.
The darkness had settled in. Quickster had most of his gear and he was growing uneasy. The odd rustles, hoots and chirps of the forest only added to his growing discomfort. Muttering and cursing under his breath, he finally heard a familiar sound not far ahead: the soft neighs and munching sounds of his ever-hungry quick pony.
Relaxing a bit, Melegal strolled to the side of his shaggy mount. Sorely tempted to choke the stupid beast, he stroked his mane instead.
The tickle between his shoulders was still there. Something abnormal hung in the air. He gave out a faint sigh. Now he had to find Venir, in a forest bigger in size than Bone. Finding a man in the city was one thing, but in the forest was another. He checked all of his belongings. All there. It left him with little relief. Pony or no, he still felt awkward and alone. He stuck his boot in the stirrup.
“Whatever made you drag me into this cursed forest better have been worth it,” he huffed, glancing around. “Now let this be the end of it Quickster.”
“I should say it was worth it,” said a familiar voice.
The tickle in Melegal spine turned to a sheet of ice.
“… and this will be the end of it, for you, at any rate,” the voice said.
I can’t be! Here? Melegal let his foot back out of the stirrup and began to turn.
The sinister voice continued, “No sudden moves now. Just stay put, I’m pretty good with a crossbow at such close range … rat.”
The ice in his veins began to simmer. Rat! Melegal hated being called that. The characters chuckle was most disturbing indeed. It was a sound he wished he never would have heard again. Now he stood on flat feet, no idea where to run, and a long way from home. Melegal shook off his fears.
“I was figuring you’d swallowed your tongue, McKnight. In that wretched hat, I thought you’d be too embarrassed to open your mouth.”
“Hah! Fine guess, Melegal, but compared to that filthy sock on your head my hat is simply glorious.”
Melegal could hear the man’s feet shift in the dirt.
McKnight said, “My, my, but you’ve certainly grown since I last saw you living like a rat in Bone. You must be rather uncomfortable outside the city, I should think.”
“No more than you. It’s not the first time I’ve been here, and far from the last.”
Melegal stood with his arms wide, palms outward and in the air. McKnight came around in front of him. The two men from the City of Bone—the thief and the former thief turned detective—stood eye to eye, while between them Quickster continued to munch at a tuft of green grass. A few quiet seconds passed as Melegal’s mind raced with a hundred thoughts.
McKnight stood there, beady eyes shifting in the darkness. The man had been his friend and mentor once. McKnight taught him just about everything he knew at one time: Climbing, stealing, skimming, picking, throwing and fencing. The detective was like a bad father, big brother, or uncle that he trusted despite the abuse. Melegal betrayed the man, turned his back on his brethren, just when McKnight needed him most. Melegal had his reasons. He couldn’t stomach snatching children and stuffing them in the dungeons beneath the castles. Instead, he freed them. It was costly and McKnight had longed for his head ever since.
“Why exactly are you looking for me, McKnight?”
“Well, now,” McKnight mused, “it’s a funny thing. I could offer you an explanation, but I’d rather shoot this bolt through your eye socket and get paid. Hard feelings, of course.”
The detective took aim through his sight at Melegal’s eye socket. Die moving is better than not.
McKnight then eased off and continued.
“You knew you were being pursued by the Royals, which is why you and your large companion, the Darkslayer or whatever, fled Bone.”
McKnight kept his steady aim on him, as Melegal allowed a gentle bend in his knees. Keep talking, please.
“Myself … I’m merely the hired help of the Royal Almen House. This situation is rather unusual, in that it’s taken me out of the city. Somehow you fellows managed to tangle with that Royal Almen brat Tonio, who—you may wish to know before you die—is alive and at present with me.”
Melegal’s brows began to peak. How can that be? He watched as McKnight’s finger tighten on the trigger.
“As a matter of fact, he’s just preparing to dispatch your brutish friend once and for all, with some additional assistance from an underling and a foul magical creature called an imp.”
Very little of what McKnight said made sense at all. Why would humans be tangled with an underling? It was considered forbidden without anyone ever having to say so. Of course, he had known of it happening before. Melegal didn’t have time to sort it all out. Time to move.
“Boy, McKnight, all of this trouble over little ol’ us? It seems a bit much. So how much is this gig supposed to pay you? I’d hate to think you went to all of this effort for nothing. I mean … what if you don’t achieve your objective?”
Melegal caught McKnight staring at him eye to eye. Freeze. Freeze. Freeze, Melegal’s mind suggested to the detective. His floppy hat was warm, his mind glowing. Please work!
*****
McKnight thought he noticed a twinkling wink in Melegal’s eye. He felt dizzy and the image before him began to blur. Somewhat perplexed, he regained his composure and refocused his crossbow on Melegal’s eye.
“It’s the end of the road for you … rat.”
He squeezed the trigger.
Click.
No bolt fired. Alarmed, he pulled the second trigger.
Click.
The unexpected misfire of the crossbow sounded like breaking glass in the silence. McKnight’s narrow chin dropped. Before him, Melegal chuckled as he twirled the crossbow bolts in and out of his fingers in a blur.
“How!?” McKnight said, dropping his crossbow and reaching for his swords. They too, were missing. He tried to jump aside, but his paralyzed legs didn’t budge. A small dart was stuck in each of them. Bone, those are mine!
Two silvery flashes caught a dash of red moonlight as they sliced through the air and buried themselves into his chest. McKnight clutched at them, trying to remove his cherished daggers. The poison set fire to his veins. He tried to scream, but his tongue was thick and garbled. He tasted blood in his coughing mouth. His body teetered and fell. All of those people he killed, now he knew what it felt like.
His former protégé had turned the tables on him, again. Melegal strolled over with one of McKnight’s shortswords in each hand. McKnight begged through blood-splattered lips.
“How did you do that?”
“I could tell you, but somehow I don’t think that would make you feel any better.”
Melegal stood straight up and examined the fine craftsmanship of the shortswords. The blades shimmered in the night, edges sharp as a razor. McKnight watched Melegal’s eyes and hands caress the fine craftsmanship.
“Thanks, McKnight. Nice to have them back after all of these years.”
McKnight watched as Melegal gathered Quickster and departed. He lay on his back on the hard ground, staring at the sky between the treetops, and for a moment wondered what would happen when he died. His chest burned like a thousand fires, but his hatred for Melegal burned like a thousand more.
CHAPTER 77
More thunderous blows resounded in Venir’s ears. The fury of Tonio’s assault had his full attention as every jolt sent a wave of pain down his gashed arm. Tonio’s longsword would have shatter
ed any other shield as the deranged half-dead Royal swung heavy two-handed blows. It didn’t help that the man trying to carve a chunk out of him, should have been dead.
Tonio’s scarred faced was a twisted sneer, ashen with hatred. Venir hated the man’s face before, but now it had reached another level. Tonio’s flashing sword came down with the power of an ogre, almost driving him to his knees. His demented foe was one issue, but the buzzing imp was another.
Eep kept buzzing in, high and low, jabbing at Venir’s exposed limbs with thick, sharp talons. Venir shrugged off what he could as Brool’s spike did well to parry the swift imp. Fresh cuts began to litter his body now, and his helmet still ebbed in warning of the underling. An angry hiss rushed between his teeth as he strained to push back and deflect Tonio’s blows with his shield.
*****
Oran stood alone, biting his lip a short distance from the melee. He was fascinated that the human was somehow withstanding Tonio’s attacks, blow after blow. It was the first time Oran witnessed either man or underling withstand such heightened ferocity. He was beginning to understand why the Darkslayer was no mere man and why he had become the scourge of his kind.
As fast as Eep was, the imp had managed only a few good cuts to the sinewy arms and legs of the man. Oran watched for the final blow to be struck by the imp, but the axes tip would lick out like a snakes tongue, almost impaling the imp a time or two. The man was dripping in blood, but the fatal wounds had not landed. The whirling figure did not slow, it began to worry him.
Oran was wringing his rat-furred hands together. The longer his pawns went on struggling to dispose of the big warrior, the more likely they would miss their chance. Oran decided it was time to put an end to what should’ve long since ended. From his thin purplish lips, Oran began to mutter an incantation in a low, barely audible tone.
The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals Page 29
