The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals

by Craig Halloran

  Twelve Blood Rangers, dressed in leather and metal armor, squared up against the remaining Badoon Brigade. Six powerful dwarven warriors, wielding their renowned giant hand axes, chopped into the raging black masses. Six more rangers’ fired their heavy crossbow bolts at the underlings with bull’s-eye precision. The waves of underlings screamed, fell and recoiled. The Blood Rangers chopped down the underlings wounded and continued to press them back.

  Heavily armored dwarven women with stern faces were busy reloading the crossbows. Other small dwarven women mumbled as they prepared healing and protection spells. The female dwarfs wore chainmail dresses and small metal helmets over their long braided hair, framing their pleasant round faces. They worked with the intent and diligence as if fighting the battle themselves.

  Each Blood Ranger was accompanied by a handful of hardworking little women who were charged to always take care of him. The fortune of being a Blood Ranger was that the women outnumbered them by over a thousand to one. It gave them plenty to choose from. These sweet, yet hardened dwarven women took excellent care of their giant men-folk, and saw to it that they were prepared for days such as this.

  The underlings were repelled back, many lay in pieces on the ground, reddish-black blood sinking into the sand. The Blood Rangers, faces mired with blood and sweat, ignored their painful wounds. The underlings gathered back from the volley of the crossbows, missiles deflecting away by an unforeseen shield. The dwarfs stopped and waited. Six of the Blood Rangers stood facing the underlings, axes dripping wet, bushy beards caked in blood. Behind them on the higher ground, their brethren kneeled as loaded crossbows were set by their side.

  The underling’s razor sharp weapons glistened in the suns. Their mouths were snapping back and forth as they tightened the buckles on their armor and loaded small crossbows. The fine rat-like hair on their dark grey skin was as wet as rain. The Vicious were barking commands in their ears, faces twisted with rage. The underlings raised canteens to their lips, and drank. Their multi colored eyes shone with renewed vigor and with a single command they charged.

  The Blood Rangers stood their ground as the Badoon was fast approaching. Small bolts glanced off their hide thick leather armor. Four underlings to one dwarf surged ahead on fleet legs.

  Twenty steps away—Ten—Five.

  A giant wall of flame leapt eight feet into the air. The underlings screamed to a halt, crouching away. The barrier ran a hundred yards, north–south, bright orange and yellow flames licking in the air. The underling hunters came as close as they could, firing volley after volley through the flames.

  The infuriated Vicious ordered a small group running through the flames. A single Blood Ranger stood within the fire, unharmed, protected by the dwarven magic. With their swords drawn again, a dozen underlings charged into the flames, attacking the lone Blood Ranger. They drove him beyond the flames, singed and scorched, overwhelming him.

  He chopped hard with his axes, each hitting its mark and dropping underlings dead or back into the flames. The underlings’ discipline and hatred drove them on in the scorching inferno. Still his axes felled them one by one. The Blood Ranger was more than a match for several burning Badoon’s. The underlings own magic began to counter some of the fire’s effects, but the next wave of dark bodies began to slow down the ranger’s efforts.

  The powerful dwarf was cut and stabbed as the underlings pinned themselves to his arms. He could swing no more. He struggled to his feet, a yell bursting from his throat as he drug himself and the underlings into the flames where he fell and died.

  Screaming in glee at their triumph, the Badoon underlings turned to find more prey. They burst through the flames to the other side. The relentless fire of the rear rank of Blood Rangers cut them down with the repeating fire of heavy crossbow bolts. Scrambling to escape, the underlings turned to retreat through the flames. The silhouettes of the Vicious on the other side of the flames suggested something else. They turned ready to fight, but their hesitation cost them as heavy bolts pierced their temples, throats, eye-sockets, and black hearts. Falling, bleeding, and burning, another dozen underlings died quickly at the hands of the Blood Rangers.

  Over two dozen Badoons were now defeated, and less than four dozen more remained. The Warfield was quiet, but for the roaring wall of flame. The Vicious stood bold in front of the ranks, their hardened black bodies glistening under the two hot red suns. Long, clawed hands opened and closed in unison with the gnashing of their teeth. The savvy dwarven Blood Rangers ignored the provocation.

  The Blood Rangers stood confident within the flames, ready, with the underlings uncertain and defeated on the other. Two robed underlings were floating down from the sky. Dwarven bolts zipped toward them, but bounced harmlessly away. The Vicious and the underlings began to scream and cheer as the two magi lords landed alongside the Vicious. With little more than a whisper, Lord Catten extinguished the wall of flame.

  CHAPTER 84

  Venir still led the way, now on foot, shoulder to shoulder with Mood and Chongo in tow. Melegal found renewed strength to complain with every passing minute. Georgio giggled at his profanities, many of which the boy claimed he had never heard before. Lefty took mental note of all this, but his knowledge of the common language was not enough to follow most of the gutter-mouthed squalor that passed Melegal’s lips.

  Lefty tried asking Georgio the meanings, but the big boy just shrugged and giggled. Lefty took a keen interest, however, assuming that these strange words were some sort of thieves cant. But Melegal’s discontent was evident, and Lefty opted to cover his ears as he tried to think of other things. Melegal’s caustic mutterings were only making the trip seem longer, and finally Lefty could take no more.

  “Please, human,” he said raising his little voice, “Shut Up!”

  “You can walk if you like, halfling,” Melegal retorted.

  “Fine, I can keep up,” Lefty answered, hopping off.

  Lefty chose to catch up to Venir and Mood, leaving Georgio with his bad-tempered friend. Lefty came up beside Chongo, whose left head stared at him like a tiny morsel. Lefty was shaking as the right head tried to lick him.

  “Okay, big fella, don’t eat me and I’ll pet you,” he said, putting a tiny hand on the dogs wet nose. Chongo’s head began licking it. “Whew, can I ride you?”

  Chongo flopped down and Lefty climbed on. Chongo reared up and was on the move again. He shot a glance at the boy and thief behind him. Melegal’s scowl made him turn back away. Lefty found the big dog’s company much more pleasant than Melegal’s, and enjoyed scratching his four big floppy ears. Lefty Lightfoot had another new friend, and Chongo seemed just as pleased.

  Venir halted.

  Mood pulled his axes from his back.

  The sky above was a swirl of gray clouds. The big warrior jammed on his helmet. Venir turned back towards them, his eyelets glowing black as the night. His knuckles were white around the handle of his axe. Then Venir howled like a hundred warriors gone mad. In the next instant the man was sprinting away.

  Chongo was howling as well, but Mood held the dog tight by the reigns. Mood hopped up behind Lefty.

  “Who was that?” Lefty exclaimed.

  “That was Venir,” answered Mood, puzzled by the question.

  “It was? It didn’t look like him.”

  “I suppose not, but he’s on our side, you know.”

  “I’d hate not to be on his side.”

  “Me too.”

  “Melegal,” the dwarf shouted back, “what do you want to do? Follow Vee or keep going west?”

  “Follow Vee!” screamed Georgio like a battle cry, hoisting his new long sword high into the air and howling like his hero.

  Melegal averted his eyes at first, and with a huff he yelled back, “If I have to fight a hundred underlings to get home, so be it!”

  “Well, I hope you can keep up then! Yah!” Mood shouted as Chongo took off.

  “Now you’re ticking me off,” Melegal said, kicking his heels into Quic
kster.

  The shaggy mount darted away like a race horse. Georgio was clutching the thief’s sides and howling with glee. In a moment Quickster’s legs thundered alongside Chongo, and began edging past. Lefty hung onto Mood and closed his eyes, while Mood whipped at Chongo’s reigns.

  “Ye’ve made yer point, man,” Mood bellowed to Melegal. “Now let me lead so we don’t get lost.”

  As Melegal began to slow, Mood came up beside him. The city thief had a clever smile on his face. “Pretty fast, eh?” he said lifting his brows.

  “Guess so,” Mood answered in the gruff. “Now let’s get after him.”

  The party galloped over the plains, mile after mile, and Lefty expected to see Venir at any moment now, but the big man was gone like a ghost.

  “Did we lose him,” the halfling cried as he leaned back into the dwarf’s chest.

  “No, Chongo’s got the scent. But somehow the man’s moving much faster than we are.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  Mood said nothing as they all continued galloping away. Lefty’s feet seemed to tingle. He wished he could run that fast.

  CHAPTER 85

  Something in the universe was raging, but then again, there were always things raging in the universe. Time and again, chance or manipulation would cause such an event to occur. Scorch the meddler had manipulated Bish, as he had done elsewhere many times before. And now Bish was like a candle burning at both ends; but Trinos arrived.

  She was just in time to subdue the havoc Scorch had wrought. The damage had been done, however, to her tiny world of Bish. The ripple effects could not be reversed, for a door had been opened and innocence lost. Trinos implemented some hasty protection to her world to mend this catastrophe, and it would have to hold. Scorch had not stayed long enough to see his musing through. Her pet project seemed done for, though. She seethed inside, and it felt good. Why? It was a unique surprise. Such things should not bother her, yet it did. She turned her eye away from Bish and began to track down Scorch while the trail was hot. She would not stop until she had found him and held him accountable for his actions.

  CHAPTER 86

  As the wall of fire extinguished, the Blood Rangers repositioned themselves as if they had been in this same situation a dozen times before. The closest Badoon squadron was almost upon them as they retreated to the higher ground. Cries of alarm and shock when up as the underlings found themselves falling into a massive hidden pit. Thick dwarven bolts pierced the Badoon underlings trapped in the pit while the other underling’s fired back over the chasm.

  The Vicious stormed around in hulking fury, but Catten and Verbard cackled. Invigorated, the two magi lords began pushing back the Blood Rangers with their own brand of firepower. Bolts of energy shot like missiles from their hands, blasting their targets with devastating accuracy. The dwarven flesh was roasting as many were driven to their knees, only to rise again in retreat. The underling brothers laughed as there was little harm Blood Rangers could bring to them as the onslaught of crossbow bolts continued to glance away.

  Doom was upon all of the fighting giants of Dwarven Hole; they were cornered and overpowered with the arrival of the underling lords. The remaining eleven Blood Rangers circled their women and fought valiantly. The underlings attacked them at all points with spells, bolts, arrows, and swords. The intensity was indescribable.

  The long-bearded Blood Rangers began singing in thunderous voices in complete defiance of the siege now befalling them. Chopping axes carved deep into underling bone as more heavy bolts impaled underlings left and right. The sheer numbers of underling hunters and the superior magic of their underling lords began overwhelming the brave fighters. The dwarves sang as they bled from a hundred wounds. Magic rocked the ground beneath their boots, as tiny poisoned bolts stuck in their arms and faces. Again and again the Blood Rangers rose, regardless that they were weakened by the second,

  Their wonderful working women shouted encouragement and stayed within their men’s protective circle, casting spells of healing, strength, and vitality to help get them through each and every critical second. The Blood Rangers held their own as their blood and sweat formed pools on the rugged ground of the Warfield ….

  Elsewhere, from their crag not far away, the Nameless Two saw it all, and the battle they were witnessing was a beautiful thing to them; so beautiful that it spurred them to thoughts of action. But the two troublesome underling lords caused them to hesitate ….

  Verbard looked at Catten, and Catten looked back at Verbard.

  “Are we being watched?” said Verbard.

  “I believe so.” Catten agreed.

  “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know. Should we find out?”

  “I think so, Catten. Let us take the initiative. The Vicious will finish things off. These dwarfs won’t hold out much longer.”

  Verbard looked around. The dwarfs were surrounded by the underling hoard, mangled underling bodies littered the ground, but the Vicious pressed the Badoon forward. The rest of the Warfield was barren, plain and abandoned.

  “But I would have expected the Darkslayer to be here by now. I can’t bear the thought that he might have avoided us, yet it may be so. Now, let us go and see what lies inside that crag.”

  Catten nodded, and like two wraiths they sailed through the air towards the rocky hill in the distance. Verbard felt drawn towards the powerful source of magic inside the out-of-the-way landmark. It looked like a mountain, but was merely a rocky hill with a large cave mouth yawning wide open.

  Inside Verbard noted very little, but his glance showed the primitive comforts of occupancy. Catten was strolling around the room, hands out, golden eyes alert. Verbard paced about trying to find something, but the source of power was unrevealed. He stepped out of the cave mouth and looked out in wonder.

  “Brother, come quick! Do you see what I see?”

  By his side, Catten let out an excited hiss.

  “I see it all, my brother. This is new, completely fascinating. I can see the whole area for miles just as plain as the nose on your face. Stunning!”

  Verbard sucked in his breath as he too could see every detail of the events far away. He saw everything above, below and behind the mountain that he stood. From over a mile away he could clearly see the angered face of a dwarf, chopping a Badoon down where he stood.

  “Those stubborn dwarfs are still fighting and the Vicious have still not acted,” Verbard said.

  Catten’s eyes flashed with rage.

  “This whole thing should be over by now. I hate to think that we might have to go back to clean up when we could be enjoying the victory from here.”

  “Perhaps we can do what we must from here, if need be, brother,” Verbard said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “It’s certainly worth a try.”

  “Ooh … a good idea, indeed. Let’s wait and see what happens first. The suns will be setting soon and I like doing such things at night rather than in blazing sunlight.”

  “Certainly, assuming we can afford to wait … eh.”

  Verbard noticed something charging in the distance.

  “Do you see something coming from the south of the Warfield? It’s rather faint, but coming this way.”

  Catten leaned over the edge.

  “Hmm, I don’t see it, Verbard. Ah, now I do. Is this who I think it is? Finally?”

  Verbard watched in silence. Just as he and his brother planned, the Darkslayer came towards the trap. He had never relished the thought of possibly having to battle the scourge of the underlings himself, but he’d never felt so robust before. Verbard felt his brother stiffen at his side. Their hatred ran deep for this human who had managed to slay hundreds, possibly thousands, of underlings over the years to their great embarrassment.

  The toll had grown high over the years. The stories they had heard and the variety of descriptions of the man had never seemed believable until now. But as the Darkslayer approached, the more eager he felt to bury the man once and f
or all.

  Catten spoke up.

  “Let us see if we can take him out from here, right now, Verbard.”

  “What shall it be, then? I say as soon as he hits the clearing—we blast him into dust!”

  “No, we slow him down, smother him, or burn him alive with all means at our disposal. I am sure the Vicious can handle what is left. After which we walk down there, skin him, and take his head from his shoulders and march it to the Underland on a pike!”

  Verbard nodded. He stepped back and summoned forth energy. It grew inside him, something powerful and delicious, begging to be set free. He wanted to hold the intoxicating feeling a bit longer, the magic felt so good. Catten stood before him; his face a mask of concentration and limitless power. There was nothing to fear, nothing left but the urge to destroy one lone man. Verbard felt supreme, capable of leveling a city with the wave of his hand.

  His silver eyes became saucers, staring at their target closing the distance, barreling towards the Vicious and dwarves. Powerful energy surged between both of them now, unified in their thoughts of destroying the Darkslayer. It felt like it would take little more than a single word to wipe out the whole lot of them.