The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  “They won’t be near. Heh-heh. It don’t matter.”

  Venir took one last look over his shoulder. Hidden behind the rocks, in the sack inside his pack, the armament was safe. No one could get to it but him. But being without it was disconcerting. I don’t need it. Not for this. I never met an orc I couldn’t handle before. He raised his arms up and spread his fingers out.

  “Ready?”

  Venir nodded.

  He and Tuuth gripped hands. He felt the raw power behind the orc’s squeeze. Bish!

  “You make the count to three, Stranger.”

  Both man and orc braced their legs in the dirt, arms pressing, but holding back.

  “You strong for a man,” Tuuth muttered, showing an evil grin.

  “One,” Venir started.

  “Tuuth strong for an orc.”

  “Two.”

  “Very strong. Not too late to back out, Stranger.”

  Jaws clenched, eyes filled with fire, he said, “It’s not too late for you either, Orc. THREE!”

  Tuuth’s hands felt like dried leather and were as strong as vices. He pulled Venir’s hands up and drove him back. The pressure built quickly. Tuuth squeezed his fingers at the same time, pinching the bone. Sweat beads burst on Venir’s brow. Blast! What kind of orc is this!

  “Say the word, and I’ll make this easy,” Tuuth mocked, pushing him backward, crushing his hands.

  Venir wanted to tear his hands away, but held on. Fight, Venir! Tuuth dug his fingernails into the backs of his hands, drawing blood. Venir fought the urge to scream. He was losing. NO!

  Blocking out the pain, he shoved back. Tuuth grunted, muscles knotting up in cords. Venir squeezed back, fighting with everything he had. Tuuth’s feet slid back over the dirt. No, Mercy was not his game. Not in this case it wasn’t. Either Tuuth never sweated, or he hadn’t broken one.

  “Give up you, Stranger? Ha. Just ask for Mercy.”

  Venir couldn’t find the breath to respond. He put everything he had into forcing the orc’s wrist back.

  “Maybe if you had all your fingers it would help,” Tuuth huffed in his face.

  Venir couldn’t remember the last time he’d been mocked. It stoked the fires in his belly. Spit frothing from his lips doubled his efforts, legs surging and driving the orc backward. Tuuth's eyes widened as Venir began to bend his wrists backward.

  “Harrumph!” Tuuth exclaimed. He jerked Venir’s arms left then right. Bullish shoulder against bullish shoulder. The orc gave no more, his thick wrists again forcing Venir’s backwards.

  “Come on, Tuuth!” The leader said, appearing from the brush. “No man can beat you!”

  “What game is this?” Venir managed to spit out. “I’ll not be bushwhacked!”

  “Peace!” The leader said. “Battle on. My men can’t pass on a show like this. We’ll keep our distance. Our word, Stranger!”

  “Aye,” the soldier with the dogs said. “I’ve never seen Tuuth have a struggle before.”

  Venir blocked them out. The jeers and cheers had no meaning as he and Tuuth struggled back and forth. Keeping his breath and strength up was enough to worry about. Bone! What strength! His hands were killing him. It felt like they would break at any moment. A stone gargoyle didn’t have a mightier grip.

  “You tire, Stranger! Your chest heaves like an excited woman!”

  Venir’s wrists were back more than before.

  “Ye’ve got him, Tuuth! Now break him.”

  Fight, Venir, Fight!

  He fell to one knee.

  A chorus of triumph burst out.

  Tuuth towered over him, leering downward, powerful arms pulsating with life and vitality.

  “Say it, Stranger!”

  Melegal would kill me if he saw this. All the gold he would lose. Hang on! He must tire! He cannot be so strong!

  The soldiers said, “Cry mercy! He’ll cripple you! He will!”

  “Pride’s the doom of a man!”

  “Tuuth will show no mercy to the foolish.”

  Venir’s sweat-coated face was red and purple. His wrists were bent fully backward. The pain was becoming unbearable.

  “Slat!” he yelled.

  Tuuth’s hot breath was in his face.

  “Give in, Stranger! My patience runs out!”

  “NO!”

  Venir had suffered so many things. The Mist. The underlings. The Marsh. The Pit. A shallow grave. How could he not survive this? How could he be beaten? His heart was ready to explode in his chest. Big purple veins rose inside his temples. His nose bled, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Was it the armament? Fool! Was he weaker without it?

  “Do it, Tuuth! Break him!” the Leader cried.

  “Say the word!” Tuuth snorted.

  Venir knew that he had to hold on. Just a little longer. The orc was soon to tire, he was certain. Save your strength, Venir. He can’t keep this up. Certainly he’d have a second wind. He always had. But the orc shouldn’t.

  Tuuth shouted in his ear.

  “Last chance, Stranger!”

  “For you maybe,” Venir spit through his lips.

  Tuuth roared, wrenched downward and twisted.

  Snap!

  Venir’s wrist broke. His fingers bent back to the edge.

  “NOOOOOO!”

  The soldiers jumped and hollered.

  “Say it!”

  Venir's right wrist was folded up to his arm. He might as well have been stabbed in the gut. That much he could understand. This wasn’t possible. He screamed as the pain of a thousand fires shot up and down his arm. His stomach repulsed as he choked down the urge to vomit.

  Snap!

  Agony! His other wrist now shattered. How! He couldn’t take it anymore. Dazed and defeated, he looked up into Tuuth’s face. The orc’s chest was heaving as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Venir didn’t even realize his hands were freed. He couldn’t feel them. They hung limp as his sides. He couldn’t bear to look at them. Broken. Foolish. Ashamed.

  “I didn’t say mercy,” was all Venir could manage to say.

  Tuuth shook his fist, saying, “No, Stranger. I’ve no words for it. But you’ll wish that you did.” Tuuth then let out a cry of triumph to the cheers of his fellow soldiers.

  Venir closed his eyes. I can’t believe it. What happened?

  The dogs howled.

  The leader said, “Button it up, men.”

  Venir opened his eyes in time to see the small party scrambling around. Tuuth shoved him face first to the ground, held a knife to his throat, and said, “Keep silent, Stranger, if you want to live.”

  In all his life, Venir had never felt more helpless than when the underlings arrived.

  CHAPTER 55

  Did Jubbler just say that?

  No one else was around. Lefty removed the other nail from his ear. Jubbler picked at his beard and twitched his large nose.

  “Did you say something?” Lefty asked.

  “Huh.”

  Lefty huffed. He muttered. He cursed.

  “I see you’ve picked up a few words in the Nest, now haven’t you?” Jubbler said. The rugged dwarf's maniacal tone had turned around into something serene and wise.

  He looked over at the Quartermaster, who was still down the dock.

  “You did say that!” Lefty exclaimed, picking up his hammer. “Do you really know Gillem, or are you just acting crazy?”

  Jubbler reached over, took Lefty’s hand in his, and said, “I’m crazy because I want them to believe me to be. But I’m quite sane all the time. Now Lefty, pay attention. You don’t have much time.” It was Jubbler’s turn to peer around. “Keep tapping. I’ll start talking.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap ….

  Lefty didn’t know what to make of it, but the sound of a friendly voice energized him. Connecting with another living person elated him. All of his aches, pains and hunger subsided under a tide of hope.

  Jubbler cleared his throat and spoke in a low and rich tone, his comments quick and direct.


  “Master Gillem. Murdered. Let me say he was my friend and yours as well. But, he and I were doomed scoundrels from the start. Nothing but bad blood running through the both of us, most all the good parts long gone …” Jubbler drifted off and wiped his eyes.

  Lefty scooted away. Was this dwarf someone he should be listening to?

  “… but even the worst of us have some honor and loyalty. A code, you might say. A redeeming quality we can take to our deaths one day. Master Gillem served us all well, but he had enemies: Palos, Thorn and that dreadful Diller among them.” Jubbler punched his gnarled fist on the deck. “It wasn’t always this way in the guild. Palzor followed the code, but his deranged son does not. At least not anymore. It’s one thing for a thief to be greedy, but Palos has taken it to another level. Our tributes and contributions are outrageous, almost triple what they’d been. And the clientele above, the additional costs for their commodities, well, they aren’t so happy. Heh. Heh. Not happy at all. They ask for less for the smuggled goods, and Palos charges more.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap …

  Lefty was enthralled. His small body filled with new energy. I cannot believe the same person speaks. From roughshod and rambling, Jubbler was now a polished stone, poised and in control.

  “Us pick pockets are getting antsy, and with your arrival, the Royal woman and her baby, well, our bones were unsettled. Something must be done. The thin ice he’s put us on is about to break.” Jubbler clenched his hand and teeth. “Master Gillem was a friend, and many want him avenged.” He stuck his knotty finger at Lefty’s nose. “Most thieves come and go, their lives given as little consideration as their deaths. We’ve seen Palos snuff members out before. The man rules with an iron gauntlet. Cruel and unpredictable. But killing Gillem,” Jubbler wiped his eyes and cleared the lump from his throat, “that was wrong. Wrong as a dwarf mating with an orc.”

  Crack!

  The Quartermaster was coming back their way, eyes baring down on the both of them. Lefty picked up the pace.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap …

  “Do some work, Jubbler, you babbling runt!”

  Crack!

  Jubbler squealed as the lash licked across his back and shoulder.

  Lefty kept his head down and hammered away.

  Crack!

  “Ow!” Lefty cried out, the hammer slipping from his lashed wrist.

  The orcen man growled, “Pick it up, Halfling!”

  Tears streamed down Lefty’s face as he reached for the hammer.

  Crack!

  Fingers an inch from the hammer, the lash caught him across the fingertips.

  Blasted orc!

  “I said, 'Pick it up!'”

  Lefty snatched it like a snake strikes its prey.

  Crack!

  The Quartermaster missed.

  “You’ll pay for that, you blond-haired rodent.”

  Lefty balled up. Anchored down by the absidium chains, what else could he do?

  Splash!

  “What the!” the Quartermaster said, head and big shoulders whipping around. “You hooved fools. Clumsy as blind kobolds!”

  Toward the other end of the dock, a wooden crate of goods found its way into the lake. A small craft capsized. The Quartermaster stomped down the dock, saying, “Someone’s going to die for this!”

  “Are you well?” Jubbler said, rubbing his shoulder.

  Lefty shook his hand. Red and swollen, it hurt worse than it looked. He opened his fist in and out a few times. “I’m fine, but that hurt! What about you?”

  “Heh, nothing but a sting, is all. A dwarf's hide thickens as he gets older, but it's not as flexible.” Jubbler winked. “Just can’t stay out in the sun too long. It can dry you up like a seed. Now, we have the get you out of here. Plans are now in motion.”

  “What do you mean?” Lefty said. “What plans?”

  Jubbler snorted.

  “You don’t really think a bunch of cutthroats and smugglers accidentally dropped crates of goods into the lake, do you?”

  Lefty perched his eyebrows and said, “I suppose not.

  Jubbler grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a tug.

  “The Quartermaster, well, he's another Palos recruit. Not one to belong here. He’ll have his hands full for now. But we have to get you going and out of here. Once it starts rolling... we can’t stop it now.”

  Lefty had no idea what Jubbler was talking about, but he was willing to try anything to help Kam and Erin. Anything at all, he was ready. He held up the absidium chains that dangled in his fingers.

  “Ah, yes.” Jubbler rubbed his chin. “I never figured those out, not like Master Gillem. I was certain you would figure it out, however. Can you not do it, Boy? You have to be free if this plan’s to roll.”

  Lefty looked at his bleeding, swollen and throbbing hand.

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Little! Make haste. You can figure it out. Gillem said so.”

  Lefty began to fidget his fingers and tug at the bonds. The chains constricted like a living thing. “Why would you and Gillem talk about these chains? Seems odd. Did he foresee my incarceration?”

  “Ho-Ho. No, not at all. We had a bet, was all. He said you could, and I said you couldn’t. I’ve never seen another trick the chains before, but Gillem was like a magician. Juggled ten coins at once, he did.”

  “Really?” Lefty continued wrestling the chains, twisting and turning his tiny wrists all sorts of ways. The more he twisted, the deeper they dug. It was killing him.

  “I saw it for myself,” Jubbler said, a smile turning to a frown, “but I never seen my coins again, either.

  Lefty huffed out. “Blast! I can’t do this, Jubbler.”

  “Hurry, Boy,” Jubbler urged, motioning his finger in the air. “You have to trick it. That’s what Master Gillem said, but I could never figure it out.”

  Sweat glistened on Lefty’s face. Maybe Gillem broke them, but they’d said they were unbreakable. Oh no, I cannot do this. I cannot!

  “Hurry, Lefty, time is short! You must save the baby before they take her.”

  “Take her where? Ow!”

  Lefty’s hands were purple and red, both wrists bleeding now.

  “Palos has another deal. He’s ransoming the baby girl. It seems there are people above that want her. Much money they shall pay.”

  “Who? Don’t they want Kam?”

  “No, just the baby. Hurry now, there’s little time before they move her.”

  He had promised Kam he’d take care of Erin, first and foremost. But he couldn’t leave Kam behind. How was he supposed to get out of here? What if Jubbler lied? He didn’t know what to think or believe anymore. Think! Move! Act!

  “Did you see Gillem use anything?” Lefty asked. “Maybe he had a key hidden.”

  “Maybe a pick? But I didn’t see.” Jubbler reached inside his vest and produced a small key, similar to the one Diller used to lock the chains. “Perhaps this will work.”

  Lefty snatched it.

  “It’s too big! What’s that for, anyway? Drat! I’m undone. I … Am … Undone.”

  Jubbler tossed the key in the lake and sighed.

  “I don’t remember. An unfortunate thing this is, very unfortunate. Still, the plan moves forward. You must go, chains or not.”

  Lefty eyed the shackles on his wrists and feet. It wasn’t possible. He’d be seen. But what choice did he have at this point? He at least had to try and save Erin.

  “Jubbler, what do I do? How can I even get her out of here? It will be impossible to cross the lake unnoticed.” He held up his chains.

  “There is another way.” Jubbler eyed the giant smoke stack. “It’s dangerous, but if you can get the baby, you can take her up there.”

  Lefty looked up at the massive smoke stack, red brick marred by soot, smoke puffing from gaping holes in the brick. “You can’t mean that?”

  “I do. And you have to move. Your feet are forming a pool.”

&nb
sp; “Bone!” Lefty’s heart was pounding in his chest. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Kam and Erin both were in grave danger.

  CHAPTER 56

  “What have we here?” Diller said, shoving Kam to the ground.

  She cried out as Thorn twisted her arm and shoved his knee into her back.

  “Let go of me! Palos! Have you not treated me badly enough?”

  Palos’s soft eyes revealed something darker inside as Diller handed over the gems.

  “She’s turning into a thief, it seems,” Diller said, chuckling. “Perhaps we’re wearing off on the Royal wench.”

  Kam scraped her chin on the floor as she got a better view of Palos. The Prince of Thieves studied the gems in every detail, eyes dancing in the firelight. He kneeled down before her and spoke with a venomous tone.

  “Where did you get these? I’ve never seen the likes before.”

  She held her tongue.

  Thorn grabbed a handful of her hair and snapped her head back.

  “Stop doing that!” Kam said.

  “Answer the Prince.”

  “Certainly,” she said, spitting blood. “I took them from your own coffers, you sot. Not that you could ever keep track of every bauble in your hoard.” She laughed. “I thought you’d craft me a pair of earrings. I think I’ve earned them,” she batted her eyes, “dear Prince.”

  “Diller,” Palos ordered, “bring me that halfling. I’ll be having words with him.” Palos grabbed Kam’s face with his pudgy fingers. “I’ve a feeling you and the boy are conspirators, Kam. And when I discover the truth, I’ve a feeling another halfling will be dead.” He smacked her hard across the face. “Earrings, my arse. Though, they certainly have a unique twinkle to them. Perhaps they’ll make a fine gift for my next Royal conquest.” He snorted as he rose up. “One of your sisters, perhaps?”

  Kam remained silent as Thorn picked her up and slammed her into the chair. At least Palos hadn’t mentioned Erin again. But now Lefty was in danger. What a clumsy fool I am. I should have attacked when I had the chance. Now, things are worse than ever!

  Palos sat down at the table, placed an eye piece in his head, and held up the gems.

  “Fascinating. Hmmm …. The inner core sparkles like a piece of broken coal.” He let out a haggard moan. “The cut is unlike most stones. Polished. Oval.” He muttered and groaned, switching stones and studying every last detail.