The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  “No,” he admitted.

  “And to think, you have far less experience in the wild than me. I’ve lived outside the cities most all of my years, yet, in less than one, you suppose to know more about survival than me.”

  “Ah … I didn’t suppose anything. I just thought protecting you was the right thing to do.”

  “Because you are a man?” she said, digging her nails into his side.

  He fought against his laugh as her fingers half hurt, half tickled. He squirmed in his saddle and replied, “No, because you're my woman.” Her fingers went still.

  As they trotted along, she didn’t say a word. Fogle was trying to be strong, to say the right thing, without pissing her off. But, so far as he could tell, his chances were usually half wrong and half right. Oh, Bish. She’s gonna hop off any moment now.

  “I don’t recall giving you any claim to me,” she said. “Did I mutter such a musing to you in my sleep?”

  “No, but for crying out loud, I like you is all. And you like me.”

  “I do? Since when, Fogle?”

  “Ah … never mind it then. I’m sure my grandfather or Barton could find better words to say than I. Perhaps I should mumble uncontrollably more,” he said, stiffening in the saddle.

  Cass wrapped her slender arms around his stomach and held tight. “Oh, don’t be so impossible. I’m just teasing you. And it’s not as if my wiles are so hard to come by. After all, I did deflower you the first day we met. Do you think I’d have done that if I didn’t like you already?”

  “Well, those Mountain Men, —”

  “Don’t mention them again if you know what’s good for you. They were protectors, nothing more, nothing less.”

  But what about the snow ogres? They were an evil brood according to Mood. It didn’t seem likely that someone as unique as Cass would take up with such a race. Yet she had, and that was a disturbing thing that stuck in Mood’s craw. Something about Cass was odd, dangerous, but he couldn’t help but be captivated by her. He knew he needed to be more careful, but it was hard. After all, she was the only woman he truly knew, and he should be wary of that. His memories flitted to Kam. I bet she’s not so complicated.

  “Are you still with me, Fogle? Has a nymph got your tongue?” Cass said.

  “No, I just—”

  Chongo’s ears perked up as the two-headed dog snorted the air and let out a rumbling growl. A split second later, the dog dashed ahead, plunging into a rocky gorge and out of sight. Cass jumped from the back of his saddle.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  Cass rubbed her hands together, muttering an incantation. She transformed into a large slender dog with a grey and white pelt that sped after Chongo’s trail.

  “Wait!” he shouted. But Cass and Chongo were gone. “What did she do that for?”

  Boon led his pony along his side and said, “That’s a woman for you: unpredictable.”

  “We’ll never catch them on these ponies if we don’t get going!”

  “Looks like a good place to have an ambush up there. I’d proceed with caution.”

  “Then you do that,” Fogle said, digging his heals into his mount. “YAH!”

  He could hear Boon say as he thundered ahead, “Barton, make sure you keep up.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “How are you feeling?” Venir asked.

  “Like my veins are filled with sewer,” Slim said.

  “Ah … you’re getting stronger then. Yesterday you smelled like a sewer, but now, look at you, a full seven feet of Bones and manure, living and breathing like a new born calf.”

  Slim let out a raspy grumble, reached out his hand, and said, “Help me to my feet, will you?”

  Slim was light as a feather as he pulled him up onto his sandaled feet. The man was pale as a wight and skinnier than a post, but he was alive. Venir was relieved for that. Adanna and her mother hadn’t made it, and he hadn’t told Slim that yet.

  Slim was leaning against his side when he said, “They didn’t make it, did they?”

  Chin down, Venir shook his head.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t think any of us would make it, but I could see it in your eyes. Your voice. Don’t blame yourself, Venir. The underlings did this, not you.” Slim patted him on the shoulder, his bird-like face peering around. “Say, where are we, anyway? And who are all these people?”

  “Royal Riders, remember?”

  Slim shook his head.

  “This forest seems oddly familiar. Are we?”

  Venir nodded. “Just south of Outpost 31.”

  Slim went into a fit of coughing and spit black bile. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, “Ech … tastes like a spider’s butt. Nasty things. I hate spiders. Never hated them before, but I hate them now.” Slim teetered up on his toes, stretching beyond his full height, stretching his fingers into the sunlight that peeked through the branches. “Ah … that feels good. The suns are like warm rainbows. Venir, I was so cold. Colder than I’d ever been before. I never would have imagined one could be so cold. Ah … those beams are a blessing. I’ll never complain about the heat again.”

  An older man, stout in frame but shorter than Venir, walked up and nodded.

  “You’re a survivor I see?” He extended his hand towards Slim. “Commander Jans. Uh … my, you are tall as a crane. How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” Slim said, then turned back into the light.

  Jans stroked his mustache and said, “Say, I understand you’re a healer.”

  Slim nodded.

  “I’ve got some men that are ailing. Do you think you could help out?”

  “Certainly, Jans, but I’m unable at the moment. That spider pretty much sucked out all the power I had left in me. I should be dead, you know.”

  Jans’s grunted.

  “So should we all. But today, we live.”

  “And tomorrow, if you stick around Venir much longer, we die,” Slim said, laughing.

  “And who gives a slat about tomorrow,” Venir added, taking a seat on a log. “I’m not going to give it consideration anymore.”

  Jans pulled up a log and sat beside him. “Certainly you don’t care, else you wouldn’t be running to your death at Outpost Thirty One.”

  Venir shot Jans a glance, but the older warrior shrugged.

  Slim frowned at him and said, “What? We’re going to the outpost?”

  “No, I’m going to the Outpost … alone.”

  “Of course you are. After all, that’s what you do: leave everyone behind.”

  “They need you here, Slim. And you are far from fit to travel. I’m not saying I wouldn’t let you come, either.”

  “Let me come!” Slim threw his lanky arms in the air, smacking them into a tree branch. “I’ve been here many lifetimes, and no one has ever let me do anything. I’ll come if I want, Brute. You need me.”

  The last thing Venir wanted to do was rile the man. He’d just sent him to his death once, and he didn’t care to see it happen again. Three had died: Hogan, his wife and Adanna, since he’d returned. It wasn’t his fault, according to Slim, Mood and many, but he couldn't help but feel that way. Still, it was their life, they could choose to do as they wished. And if they wanted to tag along, so be it.

  “Fine. Come along, then. I’d be glad to have you.”

  Slim eyed him.

  “Really?”

  Venir smiled. “Sure, if you want to do something as foolish as following me to a certain death, then who am I to stop you?”

  “Well,” Slim sputtered as he pulled his robes tighter, “I’d at least like to know the plan first.”

  Jans was laughing now.

  “Not so eager, are you now. Heh-Heh. You’d be wise to stay back here with us and await the signal … though I doubt it will ever come.” Jans tossed a wooden canister he had in his hand at Venir’s feet. “We’ll be able to see that for miles all around. But,” he pointed at Venir’s face, “don’t you dare use it if you don�
��t open that gate. We aren’t a rescue party. We’re a stronghold storming army, no thanks to you.”

  “Hold on,” Slim said, stretching his long arms in the faces of the two of them, “am I to understand that Venir is going to infiltrate the Outpost and open the gate from the inside?”

  “Yes,” Venir said as Jans’s nodded.

  “Venir, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “You’re the one who suggested I lead the fight against the underlings. Getting back that Outpost is the best place to start the battle.”

  “Venir, there may be thousands of them in there.”

  Venir stood back up and grabbed the canister.

  “And there might not be that many. Besides, they won’t be able to see me. If it’s not possible, I can always come back.”

  Jans stood up and said to Venir, “You better not waste any time with that, either. My men are exposed down here. We’ll need all the time we can get to gallop out of here if you fail and the entire underling army spills out. You’ve got a day. If not, we're gone.”

  Venir slung his pack over his shoulders.

  “I know.” He bumped arms with Jans, picked up his axe, and strapped the helm on.

  “What? You’re going right now?” Slim exclaimed.

  “Why let underlings live a second longer than they deserve to?”

  Slim's jaw dropped to the forest floor as Venir jogged into the woods and out of sight.

  ***

  The hunt. It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Venir had been on his own, hunting the underlings. As he passed through the brush, it didn’t matter if it was one or a thousand of his enemy. The only thing that mattered was that many more would soon be dead. He’d had enough of the underlings to last him a hundred lifetimes. He wanted them gone.

  He kneeled down, took a swig from his canteen, and checked his bearings. He was near the base of the hill, less than two miles from the actual fort, with no signs of underling activity or tracks for that matter, which was odd. The road that led to the southern gate was overgrown when he crossed over. It was strange. He was certain the terrain would be buzzing with underling activity, yet it was not. The metal on his helm didn’t even throb.

  He rubbed his bearded chin then renewed his journey up the hill, his mind focused on one thing: vengeance on the underlings. All his life they’d been a jagged thorn in his side. Now, he’d just as soon be rid of them once and for all. And now he was free. Unshackled. Unfettered. Simmering with inner fury. And it was good. Alone, in the woods, war-axe singing in his grip with only the remote sounds of nature filling his ears.

  He pressed his large form beside a tree. He heard a rustling sound. Brool was warm in his aching grip as he held it tight to his chest. There were other creatures in the forest that were as dangerous as underlings: razorback bears with claws as sharp as steel, forty foot snakes and ten foot lizards with poisoned bites and tails. Any one one of them could kill him if he didn’t strike first and fast. A drop of sweat fell from his nose into his beard as a ringed python as thick as his arm wound around the tree and over his toes. Venir shifted Brool’s shaft in his hand, point down, as the creature's crushing weight slithered over his boots.

  Hurry up! Ringed pythons, all black with bright yellow rings, unlike most of their kind, were not only fast, but fanged and poisonous. Venir knew the slightest tremor in his body could set the thing off. As the serpent slithered on, he noticed a bulk under its scales. The serpent's bloated belly dragged over the leaves, not slowed by the hump. I hope it was an underling. Venir exhaled through his lips as he watched the tail of the serpent disappear down the slope.

  He tugged at the buckle under his chin and resumed his trek. He noted he wasn’t so far from where he'd left the last time as he made his way into a ravine. The water that once trickled in the creek was gone, its surrounding greenery withering and dead. Over the past five years, the lush landscape had been forever changed, now darker and quieter. He tightened his grip on Brool. Underlings had to be near. They just had to be. Where are they?

  In the dim forest, Venir’s keen eyes could pick up what the average eye could not: deer droppings, animal impressions, and critters' burrows hidden within the ferns. He patted his palm on the helm. This has to be working. Yet not the slightest murmur came within his iron skull. Certainly the underlings would not have abandoned the Outpost? The Royals would have known about that.

  He huddled down in the brush at the sound of rustling in the trees. Spiders! He’d seen enough of them to last him a lifetime already. Peering up, he noticed two black squirrels, jumping from tree limb to tree limb. He grunted. Getting rusty. He crept up the ravine another half mile before he stopped again. The humidity had the sweat dripping from him like a waterfall. He took another drink. Eyeing. Listening. Smelling everything around him. Nothing. It was as if the hilltop was dead.

  Pressing through a row of man-sized ferns, he found himself alongside a patch of bright green, black and brown mushrooms as tall as his knees. They were unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Not even the Red Clay forest that was filled with wondrous plant life, or even what he’d seen in the Under-Bish. This is different. He’d scouted these forests all his life and wouldn’t have forgotten something like this. Backwards he retraced his steps and froze.

  The mushrooms began to warble with tiny tremors. Their tops sprouted with strange trunk-like mouths.

  Venir’s ears felt like they were about to split open as the mushrooms ripped out a howling whine. He pressed his palms over the metal of his ears. Slat! Madness this is! His knees buckled, and his stomach churned as he stumbled up the bank and crashed into a pit of mud. Trying to regain his wits, he crawled from the mud hole. The underlings would be here at any moment. On his hands and knees, he crawled up the hill at an agonizing pace. The shrieking sound was agonizing and distorting. His stomach churned as he spit up bile. That’s when he noticed movement above him. His enemies were coming, and he couldn’t hardly move.

  CHAPTER 33

  Palos’s apartment door closed shut, and for a change Palos was on the other side.

  Finally!

  Kam let out a sigh of relief and slumped her head down on the table. I thought he’d never leave. Quietly, she observed Thorn and Diller bringing in purses of coin and other treasure. Palos always moaned that it was never enough, each and every time. It was sickening. The man had more gold than most Royals and then some. To make matters worse, she’d had little time with Erin, despite every defiling attempt she'd allowed from him. Palos would not let the baby girl stay.

  “You aren’t broken yet, Princess,” he’d said.

  Now what? The room, despite its gaudy décor, was comfortable. The fire, warm and soothing with the slow burning Everlogs, was her only source of comfort most of the time. She stared at it for hours while Palos napped, conducted business and so forth . It was there that she planned, conspired and contemplated her next move. She flicked her fingers towards the fire. It roared with new life, hungry for air, the same as the mystic power in her belly. She released her magic, and the fire returned to normal.

  Diddling with her choker, she said, “It would be a deserving home for Palos in there.” Rising from her chair, she paced around the room. She wiggled the handle on the bedroom door, but it was locked. She couldn’t help but think that Palos would have a secret exit from there. After all, sometimes he appeared to be in there for hours, and she swore she never heard him make a sound. He couldn’t just be in there doing nothing.

  “Think, Woman! You must be smarter than these stupid men!” she whispered to herself. She shifted the gems in her fingers. Their power should help. It had to. She tucked them in a small pocket in her robe. Now that her anger had subsided, she found herself missing Lefty. And now was one of those times he would be quite resourceful. If there was a secret door in here, Lefty would find it. Another thought crept into her mind as well. What if Lefty was dead? She had not seen him in days, and she was worried. No one ever said a word about him, either.


  Another hour passed as she wandered around, contemplating her ideas. Her first imaginings were always of Palos dying: drowning him in the tub, choking him to death, casting him into the fire, running a snake of mystic energy through his groin and out his nose and ear holes. There were more passive options as well, such as an illusion that she was there when she wasn’t. Would that fool him? She shook her head and beat her hands on the table. She knew very little of what was behind the wall. She had to secure Erin first. I’ve got to save my baby!

  Once again, she found herself by the fireplace mantle, this time staring up at the great sword that hung above. It fascinated her. Its blade shone of the brightest steel, its pommel and hilt guard were worked with the most intricate metals. She knew little about weapons and combat, but she knew a fine piece of work when she saw it. Whoever forged the sword must have been as much an artist as a weaponsmith. She reached up, touching the blade.

  A flood of emotion washed over her.

  Free me!

  Gasping, she jerked her hand away. That’s not possible, Kam thought to herself as she watched her fingerprint disappear from the blade.

  “I must have imagined that,” she mumbled. “A trick of the thieves, maybe.”

  Her reflection in the sword's blade shimmered, contorted to an image of another person, then faded away. She blinked. Rubbed her eyes. Her reflection was now gone, as well as the other. That’s not possible. Not possible at all. Her teeth dug into her lip. She reached out to touch the blade one more time, trembling.

  Free me! the sword moaned, its eerie voice not discernible as a woman’s or a man’s.

  Kam jerked away. Her finger tips were ice cold, which didn’t seem possible from touching a metal object that hung over a mantle filled with burning wood.

  She combed her fingers through her hair, trying to decide if the voice was real or some kind of delusion. Why would a sword need to be freed? Perhaps it's one of Palos’s tricks.