The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  Her gut told her not to touch it again, but she leaned closer. Here we go. She took a quick glance over her shoulder, saw the door was secure, and grabbed the great sword by the hilt. A thousand thoughts and images assailed her, standing her hairs on end. The room spun around her. She thought she was screaming as she tried to tug her hand free, but the sword would not release her.

  ***

  The Quarter was the working quadrant of the Nest. It was there that the worst of rogues, urchins and smugglers hammered crates filled with stolen goods under the stern supervision of the Quarter Master.

  Crack!

  “Hammer those nails faster, else I’ll hammer them into you, Halfling!” said a full blooded orc, snapping his whip in the air for the hundredth time in a day.

  Lefty had never worked so hard before. All day and night he worked. His gentle hands were calloused, and his back was sore. So tired he was, he could barely lift a hammer, but he did anyway, somehow … someway. How did this happen? He paused to wipe the sweat from his eye.

  Crack!

  He didn’t even flinch.

  “Halfling! No break! You nail! Or I break you!”

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  He hammered. Both hands wielding the heavy hammer, shoulders aching. All the others, working near the end of the docks, hammered away with tools no bigger than his. Men, dwarves and mintaurs were there: all had failed Palos at some point, and this was part of the punishment. But all of them, excluding the enslaved urchins, left for the night when each day's labors were done. He sighed. He’d never sighed before in his life he didn’t think, until now. Now it was a habit.

  Don’t quit, Lefty! You’ve got to free Erin. You owe that to Kam! If he could only get some rest. Clear his head so he could think straight. He was given a few hours a day to sleep, but it always ended as soon as it started. And it was uncomfortable sleeping in these absidium chains he was bound with at all times. The more you moved, the more they constricted. He thought of Gillem. He missed his halfling mentor, who, though bad, had still been good to him, as best as could be expected, anyway. He sighed. He swore it was his fault that Gillem had died, too. He shook his little head. No! Palos is a madman. I’m going to get out of here.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Crack!

  “Work faster, you ugly toads!”

  Lefty snorted a laugh. The quartermaster was the ugliest person he’d ever seen. A warted toad was handsome by comparison. The orcen quarter master's face was pock-marked and lumpy. His skin was covered not only in warts but also in moles, and his teeth were half missing. Worst of all, he always scowled like he'd just eaten a basket full of lemons. The only thing the orc had going for him was a lash and the frame of two stout men in one. He’d seen the quartermaster snap a chain anchor off the deck. Every bit a s strong as he is ugly. I won’t ask what his parents looked like.

  Crack!

  “What are you looking at, Halfling?”

  “Nothing, Quarter Master. Nothing at all.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  His tummy rumbled. He never remembered ever being so hungry before, either. Had Georgio always felt this way? All he’d eaten the past few days was gruel, and unlike the rest, he wasn’t given any honey. He blinked the tears from his eyes. How can I help anyone if I can’t help myself? Ugh, somebody help me.

  CHAPTER 34

  Brak nibbled the last bit of meat from a ham bone and tossed it into the corner. His stomach still rumbled, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been a few days ago, in the arena. It was just him and Jubilee, basking in the feeble glow of a lantern tucked away beneath the streets of the city.

  “Brak,” Jubilee said, “You weren’t supposed to eat all that. Melegal will be mad. Again!”

  “He’s always mad,” he said, rubbing the hairs on his arms. It was always cool down in the sewers. He preferred the heat. He missed the suns. “And he looks like he has an aversion to food.”

  Jubilee giggled.

  “You’re funny, Brak. And 'aversion' is a good word. You’re learning,” she said, teetering around the dank little room, draped in a dirty blanket that barely covered her arms. “Here’s a new one to learn. Abhorrence: detestation, indisposition.”

  A long look formed on Brak’s big face.

  “Don’t worry, Brak, they all mean the same thing as aversion. Lot’s of different words mean that same thing. The more you know, the smarter you’ll be. That’s what Grandfather told me.”

  Jubilee had led them back to the exact same room he’d been brought to when they met. It was here he’d trained with Hagerdon, Leezir and the other men. It was little more than a moldy storage room with a few chairs and a table, but it was far better than the dungeon. It was the only home he’d known since his mother, Vorla, had departed. Every time he thought of her, the sadness within returned..

  “Abhorrence.” He paused. “Detestation.”

  Jubilee nodded, lips beginning to mouth the next word.

  “Indisposition.”

  “And," a cold voice interrupted, “don’t forget disinclination, disfavor, loathing and horror.” It was Melegal, scowling as he tossed a bundle on the floor. “For example, my disinclination festers as I return to a man who always hungers and a girl who cannot seal her tongue.”

  Jubilee crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue.

  “Bish, Brak!” Melegal gaped. “You’ve eaten the entire ham.” Melegal grabbed Jubilee by her shirt collar. “Teach the man what rationing means, you little Slerg. Allowance: apportionment, consignment, provender.” Melegal slung his cap against the wall. “Next time we need supplies, I’ll send you two dally wiggles to get them.”

  “A dally wiggle’s a ne’er-do-well, Brak,” Jubilee explained. “Or a wastrel or a loafer. I had many uncles with that quality.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Melegal said, taking a seat at the table, frowning as his steely eyes drifted away.

  Brak wasn’t fond of the man, but he didn’t dislike him, either. Despite the man's dour demeanor, he was always relieved when Melegal showed up. Especially since the rogue always promised he was leaving them. Plus, he brought the food.

  He reached down and unraveled the bundled sack. It was filled with bread loaves, hard biscuits and dried meat.

  Jubilee’s quick little hand snagged a baked apple tart that she quickly stuffed in her mouth.

  “Save a crumb for me, you brats,” Melegal sneered. “Food's not so easy to come by now, with or without money. Especially when this entire city is spooked.”

  Brak picked up the sack and stood. Bending his bullish neck down beneath the ceiling, he walked over towards Melegal and set all the food on the table.

  “Thank you,” he said, returning to his seat.

  Melegal waved his hand at him in a downward motion, lightly shaking his head.

  It was odd. Brak couldn’t tell if Melegal liked him or not, but he treated him better than the Slergs had.

  “Morning, youngins,” Haze said, entering the room and tossing a small sack at Brak’s feet. The woman was in much better shape than she had been a few days ago. Her black eye was no longer swollen, but the red in her eye remained. “That’s some good stuff there. I had to slip it away from Frigdah while she slept. You’d like her, Brak. She likes to eat as much as you do, but she evens it out with ale and all.” She placed her hands on her narrow hips. “Enjoy.”

  Melegal huffed.

  “What?” Haze said.

  “Melegal’s been lecturing us about rationing. Saying that Brak eats too much.”

  “Oh, well, I see his point.” She took a seat by Melegal and rubbed his arm. “Sorry.”

  Brak felt guilty. If anything, he ate even more than he used to. He just didn’t want to be so hungry, ever again. He rummaged through the bag. A cake of fruit and nuts was in there. He tore off a piece and stuffed it in his mouth. It was good. Not like the pies in the bakery he devoured, but better than dried meat and hard cheese, for now.

  “So, Me, have you come up with any bright ideas ye
t?” Haze asked.

  Melegal pulled his arm away.

  “No. But we can’t stay here much longer. If they're coming after us, which they are, it’s only a matter of time before they find us.”

  “I don’t know about that. It was you and me that found the Slergs the last time.”

  Jubilee glared at Haze.

  “And I don’t think they have the man power to pursue right now. If anything, they're more worried about underlings than you. Those castles are under full guard. Everywhere.”

  Melegal pulled out a knife and began cleaning his nails.

  “I know that. We can’t stay in Bone, however. They’ll catch us. The Royals always get their man.”

  “They never got your friend Venir, the fighting man.”

  Melegal shot Haze a look. He’d told her not to say anything.

  Brak jumped to his feet and banged his head on the ceiling.

  “Venir! You said you didn't know my father!”

  “Brilliant, Haze!” Melegal said, scooting back in his seat.

  The time for silence was gone. Melegal was a liar! And Brak was going to squeeze the truth from his throat.

  The last thing Melegal had wanted to do was trigger the rage within the young giant. Brak had almost killed him once already, and he wasn’t about to risk it again. But now, as with all things, the truth he’d been trying to hide, for Brak’s safety, had surfaced. Melegal found himself within the big man’s cross hairs. Big meaty hands and short powerful arms clutched at his throat.

  “Easy now, Brak!” Haze squeezed her narrow body in between them. “If Melegal isn’t telling you something, I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

  Brak pointed at him.

  “He told me my father was dead!”

  Slat, where’s my hat? It was out of reach. Soothing words. Be honest. Distract the beast. “I only said I thought he was dead.”

  “Well he isn’t,” Brak said, clenching his fist.

  “I’ve no way of knowing that.”

  Brak thumbed his chest, saying, “I do! I see him in my dreams. He’s fighting, fighting for his life, out there. Somewhere. He must be.”

  A silence fell in the small room that’s only illuminating source was the glow of a small lantern. Brak was convinced that Venir lived. Melegal could feel the truth of it in his bones. If anything, news that Venir lived gave him one thing nothing else could. Hope.

  Melegal showed a wry smile.

  “Is he fighting underlings?”

  Brak shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t know. But I must find him. I want to meet my father. My mother is gone,” Brak said, choking out the last word.

  Jubilee reached over, grabbed his meaty hand with her tiny ones, and said, “I’ll help you find him, Brak.

  Haze grabbed the other.

  “I’ll help you, too.”

  Brak’s head dipped into his chest as he started to sniffle.

  Both of the women were eyeing Melegal now.

  Melegal, tossing his hands out, said, “I don’t know where he is! And I’m not going to look for him. If he’s still out there, I’m certain he’ll show up here eventually. He always did before.”

  Haze added, “You always said he’d be wherever the underlings were, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Haze. I did. And right now, there’s thousands of underlings out there. And they're probably trying to kill him. What are you suggesting, we walk up to them and ask them if they’ve seen The Darkslayer?”

  “What’s The Darkslayer?” Jubilee asked.

  Brak’s face was a mask of curiosity.

  “Oh …” Melegal rubbed his head. “...I thought these days were over. That’s what the pig farmers call him. He’s their hero. He’s rousted as many underlings into beds of death as an entire army. The truth is: when’s he’s got that get-up on, that massive axe and helm, he becomes, oh, disturbing. Dangerous, but dismaying, foreboding, ominous—”

  “Vexing?” Jubilee piped in.

  “Well, that’s not the best word to describe him, but partly. It’s rather hard to explain. All I know is you’d better be on his side.” Melegal cleared his throat. “Brak, your father, despite his brutish and impulsive intellect … is a hero to many.”

  The small wooden chair groaned as Brak sat down.

  “The Slergs … they told me Venir was a fighter. My mother said he was good. A hero?” He looked up at Melegal.

  “Barring all of the ideal characteristics of a hero … yes.” Melegal leaned over, grabbed his hat, and put it back on his head. “It’s not something you hear very often in Bish, but your father tends to save as many lives as he takes. Which isn’t really a good thing, especially if you get it wrong. In his case, so far as I know, his bloodshed’s been on the right side of things. Though some sources might disagree.”

  “So, what happened the last time you saw him?”

  I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. To lie or not to lie. Still, everyone was looking at him.

  “His last trek was to the City of Three.”

  “Ooh … I’ve always wanted to go there,” Jubilee said. “They say it’s named after waterfalls as big as the mountains. And they have otter cats there. My grandfather said so.”

  Haze grabbed him by the vest.

  “I want to go there! Please, Melegal, take me!”

  Melegal huffed.

  “And separate you from your stupefying siblings? Your detachment would be overwhelming.” He pulled away and stood up. “I’m not entertaining any thoughts of traveling. The Outlands is far from ideal for traveling for a man like me. I need shelter.” He looked around. “And even this is better comfort than the Outlands.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Brak said, “It’s how I got here.”

  Of course. The young are always so hopeful.

  “With your mother's aid, I presume?”

  Brak started to rise from his seat.

  “Don’t be a child, Brak. At least you knew your mother. That’s far better than many of us.” As Brak sat back down, he added, “Besides, the last I heard, your father wasn’t there anymore. He’d gone on to Dwarven Hole. Never to be heard from again.”

  “Who told you that?” Jubilee piped in.

  Such a dreaded little girl. I’ll not be getting anything over on him with her around. At least Haze knows how to keep her mouth shut. He glanced over at Haze who nodded without even moving her head. At least she realizes I’m trying to protect them.

  “Men. Acquaintances. Associates. Colleagues. Comrades. Cohorts.”

  “I know what that means. When did you see them last? Perhaps they will be willing to help us,” Brak said.

  That’s actually a really good idea.

  “They wouldn’t want to fool with a little rodent like you. They’ve their own quests and charges.”

  Brak stood up and banged his head again.

  “Ow!” he rubbed it. “I want to meet these … cohorts … too.”

  “I’ve no idea where they are.” At this very moment. But I can find them. The Octopus.

  Haze opened up her mouth to ask a question when her tongue froze.

  “Haze?” he said, “Are you well?”

  That’s when he heard it. A faint hiss. A hiss he knew all too well. It cannot be!

  He turned his head the direction of his eyes. Two underlings, bright yellow-eyed, sharp weapons in their grasp, cut off the exit from the room. Melegal’s blood ran cold then froze as Jubilee let out a stone shattering scream.

  CHAPTER 35

  Seven keys. Does it even really matter?

  Verbard twitched his fingers together, igniting them in blue fire.

  “Nooo …," a human mumbled, head down inside his robes.

  Verbard touched his finger tip to the man’s head, searing the skin as the man cried out, his moans echoing through the caves.

  How many humans would he have to torment to find the man he sought? A man with skinny bones. Pale complexion. Salt and pepper hair. Moved like a ghost. So Kierway had said
. So, maybe Kierway had lied. For all he knew, there was no man, or keys, for that matter. But, he had to find out.

  “Human, is there such a man as I speak of?”

  The man, a Royal dragged against his will from the Almens' very castle, shook his head. He was a tough soldier, but human. He’d sent in some of his kindred to snatch the man out from the night. It was all part of the wave of terror he’d begun from beneath the city. Underlings, in pairs of two and groups of three and four, spread out in the sewers, striking quick and returning with reports. Above, the humans were in full panic, torn by whether to stay or go.

  “No …”

  Verbard jabbed his burning blue finger into the man’s cheek.

  Again the man cried out in pain.

  “You lie, Human. I can see it in your eyes, which you are about to lose.”

  The man’s eyes opened wide as Verbard waggled his burning finger close to them. He knew the man was lying; he could tell. But the man’s aversion for underlings was strong. Natural. He was loyal to the humans and a natural predator of the spawn of the underworld. Not all men were like that, but this one was.

  “Bring him,” he said, floating back through the cave until he found himself in a room with a pit.

  Two underling soldiers dragged the Royal soldier by the nooks of his armpits. Inside the deep pit, illuminated by the underlight, were two albino urchlings, fighting over a bone. A human one, still covered in sinew and flesh.

  “That,” he emphasized, “is the last human who did not cooperate. So, answer truthfully, or be eaten alive. And, just so you know, while one holds you down, the other starts devouring your toes.”

  The man sobbed, shaking his head, quivering from head to toe.

  “He is a Detective. Melegal is his name,” the man stammered. “That’s all I know.”

  Excellent. There is such a man. Kierway’s words are true. But how will I find the man? It's a very large city. Eep … to me!

  A buzz filled the air, and in a blink the imp appeared, hovering."Human, tell this creature what you know of this man. Every last detail, starting from the top of his head, down to his toe, and I’ll set you free. Maimed. But free.”