The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  At the moment, Venir didn’t have many options. Whoever was running the Outpost would be alerted to his presence soon enough. He seethed inside. His plan had been to slip past the underlings like a ghost. He'd assumed only underlings would be there, but there were humans and orcs, too, the occupants of the Outpost, men and underlings, and only Bish knew what else. The smart thing to do would be to abandon his plan, but then what would Jans’s Royal Riders do? It was times like this he could have used a mind like Melegal’s. He could hear the rogue’s voice in his mind, saying, Think first, Brute! Fight as the last resort. Fighting only increases your chances of getting killed. The gray matter is what counts, not the red meat that hides your bones.

  “First the terms. I win, you come quietly. You win, you go quietly,” the orc said.

  Venir countered, saying, “I win, I go in peace and you tell me all that I want to know about what lies within the fort. After that, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Huh,” the leader said. “Why you’d care to know is beyond me. Only death and misery are in there. Hmmmm … I think I see. You're looking for someone, aren’t you?”

  Venir didn’t reply.

  The leader added, “I’ll have my men keep an eye on things up the ravine. Far enough away to only use the whistle call. That way, you don’t need to be concerned with any interference. My word on that and my men’s as well. Men?”

  The other soldiers nodded.

  “It seems like a risk. Odd, foolish, even for an orc,” Venir said. “Makes me wonder if your situation is as precarious as you say.”

  “Heh … well, Stranger, the truth is I’m bored. We all are. Might as well make things as interesting as I can in the meantime. You win, it’s on us, or me rather. I win, I’m taking you up this hill to suffer with the rest of us.” The orc dropped his sword belt to the ground and pitched away a few knives. He unbuckled the straps of his leather hauberk and slipped it from his shoulders. The part-orc was knotted with muscle, but his ruddy skin was bare. He cracked his neck in his hands and smiled, a large canine popping up from the bottom of his mouth.

  “Don’t get his hopes up,” the leader said, leading the other soldiers away. “He’ll suffer far more greatly than us. He killed two underlings, remember. There will be a price for that. A leg for each perhaps, but maybe just his ears or eyes. One never knows with them. Fiends.”

  It was a surreal situation. A subtle churning in his gut made him think of his time in the mist, the unnatural atmosphere that had cloaked him like a blanket. At some point in the mist, he’d become used to what was expected, but now he wasn’t certain what to expect at all. I should just run. But where? There was nowhere to go, and a host of men depended on him, including Slim. He had to play things out, wait and see where they went. Isn’t that what Melegal would do? Perhaps when he won, he could get more information from them.

  He shuffled up the hill alongside the rocks, where he’d spied on the soldiers before.

  “Where are you going, Stranger?” the half-orc said, eyeing him with intent.

  Venir held his axe out and said, “Just disposing of my gear. You don’t want it too close. I might get tempted to jam it down your throat.”

  “Hah! Take that scale dress off, as well. What is that, Dwarven?”

  Venir nodded.

  “Hmmm,” the orc rubbed his chin, “looks like it’d fit me just fine. Can I have claim to it if you don’t survive… the hill?”

  Venir unbuckled the side straps, slid it off, and tossed it to the ground in front of the orc.

  “If I die this day, it’s yours.”

  The orc's eyes filled with glee as he eyed the scale like a mound of treasure. As he did, behind the rock and out of sight, Venir slipped his helm, axe and shield into the sack and stuffed it into his pack.

  When the orc turned his attention back to him, he grunted.

  “Not often do I see another as big as me, Stranger. Or one so ugly, either. That yellow hair of yours is considered a weakness among my race.”

  “And every aspect of your race, from your hair to your toes, is considered a weakness by ours,” Venir said, combing his fingers through his beard before he put his hands on his hips. “So, Orc, what will the challenge be, then?”

  The orcen soldier glanced up the ravine. The other soldiers were out of sight, but their rustlings could be heard. The orc held his long arms up and extended his fingers. They were a good bit longer than Venir’s.

  “I must say, I never thought I’d get another chance at this game. As soon as I saw you, I didn’t want to fight, I want to beat you in a game of Mercy.”

  Venir would have laughed normally, but this orc wasn’t going to be a push over. Besides, Mercy wasn’t a challenge he’d ever done before, and it seemed that this orc had, judging by the grin on his ugly face. He looked at the insides of his hands, then rubbed his palms together.

  “What are the rules?” he asked, stepping down the hill and coming face to face with the orc.“

  “Very simple. First one to cry Mercy loses.”

  Venir eyed the wrists on the orc, which seemed twice as thick as his. Not good. None of it was. He was fully exposed. His plan had washed down the gutter, and there weren’t any options available other than to fight or die. Of course, he hadn't had to volunteer to be there in the first place. What had he been thinking, "Do the right thing"? Preposterous! Yet, here he was.

  He asked one final question before they locked fingers.

  “Have you ever cried Mercy before, Orc?”

  “Heh-heh-heh … not even to an ogre.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap …

  Head down, shoulders aching, Lefty resigned himself to his duties. Jubbler had quieted, opting to pick the flecks of sawdust from his hair and eating it momentarily. The Quartermaster made his rounds back and forth, but at the moment he’d moved to the far end and was talking, having struck up a conversation with smugglers departing with goods from the dock.

  Any plans he had of helping Kam and Erin were abandoned. He had to find a way out of this jam first, and that wasn’t likely any time soon. Tapping with one hand, he toyed with the absidium chains that kept him shackled. He was the only one shackled on the dock. All the others were free. He wasn’t sure why they worried about him so much. He was hardly a threat.

  Rolling his wrist, he felt the metal bonds slip down past his wrist and onto his hand. He swore there was just enough room to slip his hand free. He jerked his elbow back. The chain constricted faster than thought, pinching deep into his hand, almost turning his fingers blue. His eyes started to water. It hurt.

  “Whatcha doin’? Huh. Huh. I saw. I saw that. Bad chains. Huh. Absurduim. Huh. Seen em’ squeeze a head off … huh … before.” Jubbler gawped at Lefty’s hands and patted his own hands together.

  “Go away, Jubbler,” Lefty said with all the venom he had in his voice.

  “Huh.”

  Whack! He crushed a nail head with his hammer. “I said … ah, never mind.” Whack! Whack! Whack!

  Perhaps that’s what they wanted. To make him crazy. Erode his mind like they’d clearly done to Jubbler.

  “Don’t despair. Huh. Listen to your elders. Huh. I’ve been here longer … Huh … than you’ve lived. Huh. Many lifetimes. I know where the smoke is. Fire makes smoke. Huh. Smoke, smokey smoke.” Jubbler diddled with his beard as his eyes drifted away. “Smoke. Smoke. Huh. Smoke. I like smoke. Huh. And chicken.”

  Lefty grabbed two nails and stuck them in his ear holes. It caught the eye of Jubbler, who cocked his head like a curious bird.

  “Huh. Why you do that? Huh. Nails don’t go there. Huh. Huh. Huh.”

  “Can you use a hammer, Jubbler?”

  “Huh. Yes. Huh.”

  Lefty handed the dwarf his hammer and said, bowing down, “Would you be kind enough to drive these nails into my ears, so I don’t have to listen to you anymore?”

  There was no reply. Not a mumble, a grumble, a huh or a sigh. Just silence among t
he resounding sounds of hammers hammering. Lefty closed his eyes. He envisioned the jabbering Jubbler taking him up on it and whacking him upside the head. I bet Melegal never would have thought of this.

  “Well,” Lefty started, “what are you waiting for, Jubbler? Tack them in.”

  He felt two gentle hands remove the nails from his ears and heard a soft soprano voice say, “Master Gillem was proud of you, Lefty. It would be a shame to waste your brain. You’re going to need it to save Erin and Kam.”

  ***

  “What is the meaning of this, Kam!” Palos’s paunchy face was filled with fury. “Have you found a new hobby, polishing swords?” In three quick steps, he came across the room and backhanded her in the mouth. She spiraled to the floor.

  “Apologies,” she said through her split and bloody lip. “Palos, I was only curious—”

  Smack!

  He hit her again.

  “Silence, you red-headed heifer! Do you take me for a fool?” He grabbed her under the chin and leered into her eyes. “I know you’ve been trying to escape. I know you plot in your mind. You aren’t the first whore to reject my musings.”

  “I’m sure I won’t be the last either—ulp!”

  Palos shoved her to the floor, both hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing her. She could have bit her tongue, but she couldn’t take it anymore. The abuse and humiliation had finally snapped her cord. She forced the words out. “Kill me then, Coward!”

  Palos’s face became darker.

  “Oh no, my pretty. You’ll not escape life so easily. Suffer you shall. Suffer you and your baby like you never suffered before! Thorn!”

  “Yes Prince Palos,” the tall man said, stepping into view.

  “I’m here as well, Prince,” Diller said, arriving on the other side. “The door is secured.”

  Kam couldn’t muster a spell. The pressure on her neck was too much. What had she gotten herself into? The sword. The sword of Zorth had caused this. Cursed thing! She strained against her captor.

  “She struggles. Always struggles. I tire of that.” Palos kept her pinned with one hand and brushed his hair from his eyes. “It seems she was not broken entirely, as I suspected. Too much fight in the lass.” His eyes drifted back towards the sword for a moment then back on her. A blank look came on his face. “What did you possibly think you could accomplish with that sword? Put her in the chair, men, and hold her still.”

  Diller grabbed her by the hair and jerked her up from the ground. Thorn stuffed the chair beneath her legs, bringing a sharp pain to the backs of her knees. Both men leered at her like hungry dogs as they held her down. Diller winked. Pig. But at least she could move her mouth now and wriggle her fingers, too. Concentrate.

  Palos kicked the sword along the floor with his toe, a milder tone in his voice.

  “It’s magic. The Sword of Zorth.” He looked back at her and smiled, hands clasped behind his back. “One of my most prized possessions, actually. Would you like to hear how I acquired it?”

  “No.” I want to kill you!

  Diller grabbed her hair and pulled her face up towards Palos.

  “It’s quite interesting, really.” Palos leaned back on the table. “And you might not believe this, but I came across it honestly.”

  “Pffht,” Kam stated. She wasn’t going to believe a word he said. Not that it mattered. She wanted to summon something, but his eyes were all over her. Stop looking at me. She only needed a few seconds was all. Why hadn’t she prepared a spell earlier?

  “It was given to me by my father, a gift. As the story goes, Zorth was the founder of the City of Three. Yes, it was he who led the battle against the giants. It was he who subdued them with this, his magic blade. They yielded to him and his army, and in exchange for their lives, they built this city, which would explain why the towers are so tall and unique.” Palos smacked his lips. “All of this talking has made me thirsty.” He nodded at Thorn.

  The man found a bottle and a half empty goblet, refilled it, and handed it over to Palos.

  “Mmmm … now, I must say, this wine is something. I could drink it all day.”

  Kam snarled, “You do drink it all day, Louse.”

  Palos wagged his finger at her.

  “Oh Kam, you’d be wise to show more interest, because once this story ends, the genuine suffering of you and your child begins.”

  Kam couldn’t fight the lump in her throat as her lips tightened. I can’t let this happen! He’s a madman!

  Palos looked at Thorn and Diller, saying, “You see? You just have to know the right words to keep a woman quiet, men. Now, oh yes, where was I?”

  Diller tugged at her hair.

  “The sword, the giants and the towers. So, the wizards and the Royals wanted the giants to look up to them, not down. But the ruins outside the city show a different thing. Many towers were felled there, busted, broken and overgrown. You didn't know about that, did you?”

  Diller and Thorn looked at one another, but Kam didn’t say a thing.

  “I’ve been there. Many secrets of the old ways lie hidden there as well as untold treasure, too. I’ve been there before and even spied a gem as big as the moons.” Palos' eyes glossed over, and his hands were reaching out to grab something that wasn't there.

  “What happened to the gem, Prince?” Diller asked.

  “What kind was it?” Thorn added.

  “A ruby as fiery as a dragon's breath. As bright as the daylight suns. Like an apparition, it appeared,” his fingers tickled the air, “and like the wind, it was gone.”

  A strange silence fell on the room. Even Kam found herself captivated by his words. She shook it off.

  “The Star of the Rising Suns,” Kam murmured. “A bedtime story told to children, the same as giants, dragons and magic swords. Do you dogs wag your tails at everything he says?”

  Diller cracked her in the mouth with his knuckles.

  She glared up at him and spat a bloody tooth out, saying, “You’ll pay for that!”

  Diller drew his hand back again.

  “Stop!” Palos held out his hand. “I’ve not finished my tale.”

  She’d had enough. There wasn’t much she could take of this anymore. She had to do something and do it now. Stay focused. You have to be smarter than these fools, Woman!

  “Oh, please do, Mighty Prince. I’ve nothing better to do, and your hounds are all ears. Perhaps you can add in the tale of the Dragon Clawed Throne or the Hive of Everwonder. Please spoil us with your tongue.”

  Diller pulled back on her hair, harder this time.

  “Is that all you have, Diller? My daughter's stronger than that.”

  Diller turned red-faced.

  “Palos, my Prince, must I stand for this?”

  Kam stretched her fingers toward the small pocket in her robes.

  “Be patient, Diller. You as well, Thorn. She’ll be all yours after my story is done.”

  “What?” Kam exclaimed.

  “You mean it, Prince?” Diller added.

  Palos drained and tossed the goblet on the table.

  “I’ve no need for a battered and toothless strumpet. I’ve a reputation to uphold. What would my men think if I was caught with her? But for you men, well, she’s quite a prize, being a Royal.”

  “Palos, you Bastard! You mangy dog! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

  He was laughing.

  “And just think of when her daughter is fully grown, if I let her live that long. Ha-Ha-Ha. Now, where was I?”

  Kam couldn’t take it. She wasn’t going to live with this a moment longer.

  Diller leaned down in her face saying, “I told you that you’d be mine.” He stroked her hair and tugged it, too.

  She cringed. Biting her tongue wasn’t an option anymore. She was going to get her fingers on those gems and let them have it. Just do it! Her fingertip touched the first stone.

  “ … so, you say the tales are not true, Kam, but I’ll have you know that I saw the very Star of the Rising Suns as well,
and I’ll make my trek back one day, much better prepared than last time. But that’s not where I was going, however. No, the sword,” he opened a drawer in the table, removed white cotton gloves, and put them on. “My father says it’s not to be touched by human hands, well, skin rather. It could burn you to the touch.”

  Her fingers wrapped around one of the gems.

  “Which I see is not the case,” he said, looking at her, “at least for a woman. But magic has its own mind, all the same. The important part I wanted to mention was that this gift, the Sword of Zorth Morgwaggyn, was a gift to me from my father Palzor, who received it for services rendered to …”

  Kam had both stones between her knuckles, the magic surge tickled her nose.

  “… your father, Lord Kamdroz.”

  “What?” she said as a glimmer of light twinkled inside her hands.

  “She’s got something!” Diller wrenched her wrist. Kam felt all her hope flee as the red stones clattered to the floor.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Is he dead?” Melegal asked.

  Jubilee had tears streaming down her face. The child had seen enough death in the past few days. It was amazing she kept it together at all.

  Haze wiped her bloody forearm across her head.

  “He breathes, but the bleeding is only staunched, not stopped. Just stitched, and poorly at that. If he’s bleeding inside as bad as he was on the outside, I don’t think he can make it much longer.”

  All eyes were on Melegal. What am I to do? I’m no healer … I’m a stealer. Melegal couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut, however. He had to do something. He didn’t want to, but felt compelled to. “Stop staring at me. I’m thinking.” He stepped over into the corner and sat down. He’d stitched his fair share of wounds in his time, but nothing quite like this. It was just one of those things where you gave a man some water and let him bleed out and die. Why me? I just want to leave this place.

  “You can make it, Brak,” Jubilee was saying, over and over again.