The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

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The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands Page 31

by Craig Halloran


  I need those! I must get them back. She glanced at the sword. Had her father, Kamdroz, really given Palzor that? She didn’t have the best relationship with her father. He was a withdrawn and mysterious man who dabbled in politics and other powers she didn’t care for. And there were many things she never understood or cared about in the Castles and Towers where her family resided. People of all questionable backgrounds and character came and went in the night. Palos had revealed many things. The thieves were the main vein of supply for wizards' spell components. She had always wondered where the weird and rare items came from, and now she knew.

  “Tell me more about my father, Palos, and the sword. I don’t think you were finished with your story.”

  “Quiet!” Thorn said, pressing knife to her throat.

  Don’t push it. The last thing you need is a gag in your mouth. Think up a spell. Have it ready.

  “It’s quite alright, Thorn,” Palos said, still looking at the underling eyes, a softer tone in his voice. “This is quite a find. I’m possibly grateful. Huh, yes, your father and the sword.” Palos set the gems down on the table, locked his fingers on his chest, and teetered his chair on its back legs. “One doesn’t reach the top without playing dirty, you naïve woman. He’s had help, much help from the likes of me and my father. You might even say, to some degree, we’re Royals as well.”

  “You can fill your mind up with all the lies you want, but it still doesn’t change the lowly person you are and ever will be,” Kam remarked.

  “Said like a true Royal. Always justifying their position.” Palos laughed. “Perhaps you’d be more tolerable if you understood your own family’s history. As I recall, all in this city were beggars and thieves at one time. You’d do well to remember that.” Palos coughed. “My throat is dry, and it seems my last bottle is empty. Thorn, grab two more from the rack.”

  Thorn twirled his knife into his belt and lumbered away. Palos picked the gems back up, juggling them in one hand, eyeing them with glee. This is it, Kam. Do it now!

  Thorn returned, back towards her, blocking Palos's view. She whispered and muttered as Thorn refilled the goblet. A spring of mystic energy came forth. Remembering Palos’s words about the sword burning skin and also the sword's promise to help, she let her suggestion out. Thorn.

  The tall man stiffened, turning his chin her way.

  She had his attention. Eyeing the great sword, creating a perfect picture in her mind, she made a powerful suggestion.

  GRAB.

  Thorn turned, looking at her, his burned face a mask of confusion. Kam felt another level of exhaustion seep into her bones. She was almost spent. Her consciousness drifting. She needed those gems. The underling's eyes. Thorn bent over, hand reaching for the great blade.

  Palos stopped juggling, set the stones on the table, and said, “Thorn, what are you doing?” He glared at Kam. “What have you done, Witch? Thorn, don’t touch that blade, I COMMAND YOU!”

  Thorn wrapped his big hand around the hilt and lifted up the sword. A rush of energy filled the room, blowing the hair back from all their faces. Thorn turned, a dark look in his eyes, his mind no longer his own.

  “Drop that blade, Thorn! Drop it now!” Palos jumped on the table and drew his dagger. “What have you done to him, Kam? Make him stop now!”

  Swish!

  The heavy blade cut where Palo’s legs a moment earlier had been standing.

  “I am Zorth, an Avenger, a King, a Giant Slayer.” The voice was unnatural, strong, powerful. “You,” Thorn’s body pointed at Palos, “are a flea.”

  Kam had never seen fear in Palos’s eyes before, but it was there, real, his forehead crinkled.

  Palos lunged in, stabbed Thorn in the thigh, and jumped back.

  Slice!

  The blade licked out over Palos’s head, clipping his ear.

  “Bone!” Palos said, holding his bleeding ear. “Thorn, stop this madness!”

  Kam fought to rise on her weakened knees. The spell had taken a toll on her. She needed strength. Get the gems!

  The possessed Thorn jumped over the table and chopped.

  “The time has come, Rodent Prince. Your evils shall be undone.”

  Kam slipped behind Thorn and grabbed the stones. Yes!

  “No! Help! No, you witch! You cannot use magic! How did you do this?”

  Thorn, great sword of Zorth in hand, chopped and sliced, but Palos was quicker than a rabbit to his oppressor's charging bull. The prince of thieves evaded all of Thorn’s lethal blows, but they were getting closer.

  What does he have in his hand?

  Palos had a vial. He dove away from the next decapitating blow.

  Kkk-rang!

  The sword of Zorth chopped into the metal tub, hewing half way through the metal until it stuck. Thorn fought to free the blade.

  Kam rushed over to the front door. Where’s Palos? Scanning the room, the man had disappeared. No!

  “You cannot escape your evils!” the possessed Thorn yelled. “There is no escape for your kind. I shall purge this city once again.”

  She summoned the power in the gems. Clatch. Palo’s bedroom door locked shut. The front door was still sealed. Where is he? Her body turned clammy. She realized what had happened. The vial must have turned him invisible.

  Wham! Wham! Wham! Someone pounded on the front door.

  “Are you in there, Prince? We heard you shout!”

  “Death awaits you, fools! Come and greet him!” Thorn cried.

  A silence came from the other side of the door.

  Kam backed towards the corner, stones clenching in her fists, glowing like fire. Where are you, Bastard!

  “Er, Thorn, was that you? Let us in. We’ll sort it out,” a man said from the other side.

  The great blade slipped free of the tub, and the possessed man said, “A moment in life … a moment in death … comes the cold kiss of vengeance.” Thorn strode across the room to the door and shoved the sword through one side and out the other. Men wailed behind the doorway.

  Kam shivered. Oh my! Something grabbed her from behind by the neck and squeezed. No! It was Palos. She knew his grip, his scent, every vital detail.

  “Drop those gems, Witch! Drop them now!” he warned. One arm held her tight by the neck, the other held the dagger at her belly. “I’ll not waste another moment on you. I’ll gut you and let you watch your innards spill out!”

  She could feel his tongue on her ear. No! This was her last chance. There would not be another. It had to end here, one way or the other. I’m sorry, Erin!

  “Kill me then, you bastard!” Her hands became brilliant balls of energy as she summoned the power forth.

  “So be it, you crazy whore!”

  Palos choked her with all his strength and slid the dagger in her stomach. Her eyes popped open. The gem stones dangled in her grip. She clenched them one last time. Come, Snake! Come!

  A glimmering snake of green and yellow burst from the fireplace, eyes a brilliant white fire. It came fast, slithering over the planks like living fire and coiled itself around Palos and Kam.

  Palos screamed. His grip slackened, the dagger clattering on the floor. Kam fell to her knees, holding her belly, eyes watering. “No,” she murmured. “I can’t die.”

  Behind her, the snake struck and squeezed Palos, who she could now see, wailing and thrashing like an animal gone mad. Good!

  Thorn pulled his sword free of the door, the blade streaked red in blood.

  “Come! It’s time we free ourselves!”

  Kam was numb. Washed over with nausea. She was dying, she was certain this time. “You must take my...” she gasped, blood spitting from her mouth, “find my baby. Save her, Zorth. Save her …”

  “You’ll pay for that!” a man screamed from the other side of the door. “That was my brother!”

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  Something heavy hit the door.

  “Just pick the lock,” another cried.

  Straight and true, Zorth rammed the swo
rd through the door again.

  Zorth’s voice was hollow, loud, direct.

  “No evil shall escape. No power can stop my edge. I am Zorth.”

  The unseen force of Palos screamed for mercy. None came.

  Kam collapsed on the floor. Erin. I tried. I’m sorry.

  CHAPTER 57

  “A wanted man, you say?” Melegal said, righting his slouch and facing Rayal.

  Rayal smiled, her teeth white, her face as pretty as a rainbow.

  “Certainly wanted. However, I’ve heard nothing but the highest of comments from Lorda Almen. She’s very keen on you.” Rayal stepped over and pulled the blanket from his shoulders and straightened his cap. “And she is far from easy to please, Life Saver.”

  Why must they smell so good? Gives me the weak knees of a swooning woman, it does. How do they do that?

  “I only do what is expected of my service, Rayal,” he said with a slight nod. She does not know. A lift in fortune for one miniscule moment for the day. Still, persistent and nosy. Aren’t they all? Scars on my knuckles. Should’ve stuck them in a hog waller first.

  “Odd, Detective, seeing you in the barns, and going to great lengths to steal a pail of water … my bratty sister's at that.” She took a deep breath into her chest, straining the leather cords on her riding corset, and yawned. “I’d hoped Elizabeth’s enemies had the best of her. So, is this an investigation of some sort? And don’t be coy. The Lorda and I share many things.”

  Rayal’s escorts, one tall and lean, the other stocky and gruff, fingered the hilts of their long swords, eyes on Melegal. Between them, Rayal stood out like a sunflower planted between two beds of jagged rocks: hair and features dark, warm and mysterious. Was she not the one betrothed to Tonio? Such an odd situation that all their lives were intertwined. Clearly, beauty cannot compensate for good senses. He didn’t sense the same level of cunning Lorda Almen had, either. But it was clear Rayal was sharp. In another decade or so, she’ll have it down. For now, take advantage of what she lacks.

  “I’d rather not trouble you,” he said, switching the pail from one hand to the other, “but perhaps I can fill you in later.”

  “No. Now would be a good time. After all, trouble abounds from all corners with underlings about. They press from within and without. Many fear the great walls of Bone will come down. And I find it peculiar you are not within the walls of Castle Almen, affording protection.” Her escorts bristled as she tossed her hair and folded her arms over her chest.

  I don’t have time for this. Brak is dying. I must act. Do something!

  Melegal gave another slight bow. Added a nervous stammer and some desperation to his voice. “I-I apologize. As a commoner, I’ve my own troubles I’m trying to, oh how can I say it?” He grabbed his hat and wrung it, then placed it back on his head, “Rectify. I’m certain it would be frowned on by the Lorda, as it’s outside of my tasks. I’ve much to do and little time.”

  Rayal’s eyebrows perched.

  “Perhaps I can help? I insist.”

  Melegal let out a slight sigh.

  “A friend is injured. He lies in the stable bleeding and hot with fever.”

  Rayal’s hand fell over her heart as she gasped. “Take me to him. I can help.”

  “But, Rayal, I could not impose.”

  With a hot look in her eye, she grabbed him by the arm and said, “Ooh, those blasted Almens only care about themselves. Just take me to this friend of yours. I’ll help in spite of them.”

  “Eh,” Melegal said as she pulled him away.

  “I bet this is the barn, isn’t it?” She gasped. “That’s a lot of blood.”

  Large drops were just outside the door, but they weren’t noticeable to an untrained eye.

  “In here?”

  Melegal nodded. Play it through, and be ready to run.

  “Rayal,” one of the soldiers said, shoving past Melegal, “let me enter first.”

  The other soldier stood holding his arm out between Melegal and the door.

  “It’s clear,” the soldier yelled.

  Rayal stepped inside, followed by Melegal and the last soldier.

  Brak still lay in Jubilee’s lap, pale as a sheet, unmoving. Haze was holding a bloody rag on his belly. The smell of death was in the air.

  “Melegal,” Haze said, her voice cracking, “I don’t think.” She sobbed.

  Rayal looked at him and said, “Is this your family?”

  NO!

  He gestured.

  “So to speak.”

  Rayal kneeled down alongside Brak and pulled off the chain that was around her neck. Haze glared at Melegal. He shrugged. At the end of the chain was a locket of some sort. Rayal popped it open.

  “Let me see the wound,” Rayal ordered in a firm but pleasant tone.

  Haze revealed a gaping hole with blood seeping out.

  “Mother of Bish! And yet he still breathes,” Rayal dumped the contents of the locket, ground herbs of a strange pink and blue hue, on the wound. She rubbed it in and snapped the locket shut.

  “What was that?” Jubilee said, wiping her eyes. “Will it help him?”

  Rayal shook her head and sighed, “Not if I’m too late, Little One. I hope that I am not.”

  Brak’s body remained still. The sweat that once beaded his face was now gone. Silence crept into the stable. Everyone took a moment to look around at one another.

  Strange group. A stallion among the hounds.

  Rayal broke the silence.

  “Are you the Detective’s sister?” she said to Haze.

  Haze looked at Melegal, then back to Rayal and said, “No.”

  “Look,” Jubilee gasped, pointing at Brak’s stomach.

  The bleeding stopped.

  “So much blood lost, yet he mends,” Rayal said, incredulous.

  Brak’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes snapped open as he rose up.

  Melegal felt the sadness in his heart melt away with exhilaration. One life was saved today. Now what am I going to do with them?Rayal rose to her feet and said, “It seems you owe me now, Detective.” She smiled at him and looked down at Brak, who had Jubilee all over him. “What an odd looking fellow. I’ve never seen the likes of him. And he’s got blood all over him. Some of it black. Who did you battle?”

  “Underlings.” And Royals.

  Rayal made her way past him and said, “A moment outside, Detective. Ladies,” she looked at Haze and Jubilee, “I’ll just have him a moment.”

  Haze frowned while the soldiers followed him outside.

  Good thing Haze is not a lycan. She’d tear Rayal’s head off. Nothing like a jealous woman to tear the skin from your bones.

  “I’m grateful, Rayal. My friend's loss would have been quite difficult to bear, I’m afraid. And I’m not one to mourn.” He hated to say the next line, but he felt compelled to. “How can I repay you?”

  Rayal leaned against the stable door and twirled her fingers in her hair. She licked her tongue over her perfect apple-red lips, thinking. Melegal quickly glanced from her toes to her head. Riding clothes couldn’t be any more snug, from her long leather brown boots to the stitches in her leather breeches. He would have ridden with her anytime, anyplace, anywhere. No need to be smart if you don’t have to.

  “Tell me more about these friends of yours,” she said, looking him dead in the eye. “The girl, in particular. She has the mannerisms of a Royal, among other things.”

  Oh my, she’s one of those. Melegal knew the type. Rare, but honest. Rayal was proficient at discerning the truth from a lie. Slat. She’d caught every last detail up to this point. It wasn’t likely she would miss one now. Of course, Melegal was as good a liar as any, but why risk it now? It was time to gamble. He didn’t owe Jubilee anything, anyway.

  “Can we have more privacy?”

  “Give us some space.” Rayal ordered.

  The soldiers walked out of earshot.

  Melegal continued in a quieter tone.

  “Rayal, it may d
isturb you to know that my service with the Royal Almens is questionable.”

  He watched her eyes, but her expression remained unchanged.

  “There was an incident. A battle in the Royal Arena that went wrong.”

  Rayal clenched her fists, “Ooh, I hate those bloody games. Cruel it is. Savage! Am I to take it that man in there is a survivor?”

  “And the girl, but the woman, she is my friend.”

  Her brow perched over one eye.

  “I see. And then who are those …”

  Melegal held his finger up.

  “A moment, I’ve hardly finished. Underlings. They infiltrated the castle and attacked. Lord Almen fell, but his condition remains unknown. It seems no one has been accused of this infiltration but the Castle Cleric, Sefron.”

  Rayal's eyes drifted away from his as she looked at her guards.

  Get ready to run, Melegal!

  She returned her gaze back to him.

  “Oh, he’s a sickly one. Bulbous and perverted. I could wear ogre skin, and his bulging eyes would still strip me naked.” She slapped her hand on his shoulder. “Detective, the Almens are my allies, but they are not my favorite people. The Lorda, I enjoy: how could one not? She’s the most charming creature I’ve ever known.”

  The both of you, I’d say.

  “But, I only owe them one thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “My hand in marriage to her beloved Tonio. My beloved as well.”

  Melegal could feel the palpitations under his skin, but he kept his eyes on her. Can my shallow grave go any deeper? This woman betrothed to a murdering abomination. This world will not be rid of him soon enough. Slat if that impudent man isn’t what got us into this mess in the first place. Melegal cleared his dry throat and said, “I’ve a feeling I know what you’ll require of me, Rayal.”

  “So you can read minds, then?” She came closer. “Tell me what I ask for.”

  “You want to know what happened to Tonio.”

  Rayal combed his hair behind his ear, bringing an erotic shiver through his spine.

  It’s not fair. Not fair at all.

 

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