The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  She said, “I’ve had many conversations with Lorda Almen. She said if anyone could find him, you could.”

  I wonder if she told Rayal the brute almost killed her. That I saved her? So to speak. How can this woman notice every last detail, yet be fooled by Tonio?

  “Eh, did she say anything else?”

  She came closer, lips so close he could feel her breath on his ear.

  “She adores him as much as I do, but, I know of all the things rotten in his core, and if I am pledged to marry him, I’ll be a dutiful Almen. It will strengthen my family as well as theirs.” She reached over and ran a hand down his shoulder. “But if Tonio does not appear, our alliance will erode like a rotting log.”

  What is going on in that head of hers? She makes no sense at all.“I need you to find him, and both you and I will be served well,” she said, stepping away.

  Bah, I don’t need to play such games. She's more likely to marry a kobold than that butcher. I’ll not find the man! Not for Lorda. Not for her. Not for a thousand gold. Well, maybe.

  “So, Rayal, I’m not certain where we stand,” he said, frowning.

  “Check with me in a few days. You know where to find me,” she said, waving to her guards, walking away.

  Zip!

  Melegal ducked. Something very fast flew through the barn, stirring up hay and dust. An eerie fluttering of bat-like wings came from the rafters above.

  “What is that thing?” one of the soldiers said, drawing his sword and shielding Rayal.

  Melegal got his first look at the creature. The muscles in the small of his back knotted as his hands fell to his swords. Slat! He’d taken them off to complete his disguise. The eye, a single eye bigger than his fist, was fixated on him, blinking. A hulking little creature about three feet tall hissed, clutching its black-clawed fingers in and out. Whatever it was, it was evil, menacing, dreadful and from all appearances, more than capable of ripping him into shreds.

  “I’ve never seen such a thing!” one soldier exclaimed.

  “Is that an underling?” the other added.

  Something about the creature seemed both horrifying and familiar, as if Melegal had seen it somewhere before. Venir had mentioned such a thing during his battle at the great Forest of Bish. Melegal felt his bones turn cold as it licked its eye with its serpent tongue, pointed its clawed finger at him and hissed, “Time to eat!” Its red snake-like tongue whipped about as it patted its belly.

  CHAPTER 58

  “Who dares?” Verbard said, unable to shake the nervousness in his belly. What is Master Sinway up to now?

  Kierway crawled out from under the Vicious, gasping and wiping the blood and mud from his face. No one else moved, not one soldier, Juegen, albino urchling, or the other creatures that creeped and crawled.

  Stone-faced, Verbard dusted the debris that had fallen from his robes. A robed apparition floated his way, eyes gleaming in the darkness. The Vicious, hobbled, rose along his side. Strange, I’ve not ordered the Vicious to stop. Only one underling is superior in my command. Verbard squeezed the Orb of Imbibing, which pulsated in his hand. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if Master Sinway had shown up to execute him. Maybe killing his son wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  The closer the apparition came, the more solidified it was, robes black as night with intricate patterns of silver woven in, similar to his own. It floated past Kierway, who was stuffing his knives back into their sheaths.

  You only have one superior, Verbard, but you also have an equal …

  The underling pushed back his hood, revealing his golden eyes.

  Brother.

  Verbard let out an audible gasp. He’d experienced many things in his life. Shock. Amazement. Pain. Joy. Elation. Dismay. But what he felt now could not be explained. His brother, Catten, once cinder and ashes, now lived. There were no words for that. None at all.

  Kierway slogged his way from the mud, arms dangling at his sides, shaking his head. At Verbard's side, the Vicious stood like a mute, studying its missing fingers.

  Catten’s smile stretched from one side of his head to the other as he softly landed on Verbard’s throne.

  “Verbard, I can see you weren’t expecting my arrival, but here I am. And it would not have been so without you.” Catten motioned him over.

  Verbard remained where he was. Catten, yes, it was his voice, his eyes, but the body was not what it had been. The body was taller, thinner, the chin more knobby at the end. But there was no mistaking that the mind of Catten was within. It was eerie. It was his brother, yet it wasn’t.

  “Have you checked in with your family?” Verbard asked of his brother, smiling. “I’d be curious to know their reaction. I’d think they’d be even more overwhelmed than I.”

  Catten bounced his fingertips together and said, “Oh, that can wait, Verbard. I’ve a more important mission right now. And I don’t think Master Sinway restored me for the sake of reuniting me with my family, aside from you.”

  “Why are you here, then?” Kierway said, stuffing a knife back inside his bandolier.

  Catten spoke with a sinister look at Kierway.

  “To save your life for one thing, you fool! If your brain acted as fast as your swords, you’d be more useful, Kierway. Not only are you under my brother's command, but now mine as well.”

  Verbard came forward.

  “This is my command, Brother. Not yours. Your timely appearance garners you nothing without Master Sinway’s express authority.”

  “It will all be clarified soon enough, Verbard. Please, Brother, I’m here to offer my thanks and assistance.”

  “Yet you sit on my throne,” Verbard fired back. He didn’t like his brother's tone. There was a lack of sincerity about it, more so than even before. “That’s what almost got Kierway killed in the first place, until you interrupted.”

  They locked eyes. Gold glaring at silver. Silver at gold. Verbard felt Catten’s gentle knocking in his mind. He opened the door.

  Verbard, I cannot openly show my gratitude to you, my dearest brother. It would be construed as weakness. I am grateful. You saved me. Vanquished the Darkslayer without me. You did alone what we could not do together. I’m humbled, but still resourceful. This is your command, your charge, but I sense you need me, as I’ve needed you. You stand at the threshold of greatness, set to conquer the great City of Bone. You lead, I’ll follow. I know to trust your instincts now.

  Verbard was overwhelmed by the sincerity, but Catten was holding back. He knew it.

  And as time permits, I’ll explain more of what I know of Sinway. He revealed things to me I believe I was not meant to know. It might be just what we need. I need you. You need me.

  Verbard liked the cunning thoughts behind that.

  Now, let’s join armies and release the Underland’s greatest terrors on the world above!

  Verbard returned his own thoughts.

  I welcome you, Catten, but we still have much to talk about.

  There was nothing like family to give one new strength. For months, Verbard had felt alone and wayward. Now, his brother, best friend and confidante had returned. For most of their lives, each had been the right hand to the other. Cocky. Calculating. Condescending. Cruel. They did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Now, at the threshold of the most impossible mission of his life, he needed a friend he could count on. And if he could pick anyone in the world to see this through, it would be his brother, Catten.

  “My Lord,” Jottenhiem arrived at his side, “more barges of soldiers have arrived …” he noted Catten and grunted.

  “How many soldiers did you bring, Brother?”

  “Oh, enough to destroy a few castles or more.” He rose to his feet. “And what lies on the outside of those walls is enough to destroy the rest.

  “Even without the keys?” Verbard asked.

  “Master Sinway said, ‘What would be easier with them will still be done without them.’”

  Catten rose in the air and put his hands o
n Verbard's shoulders.

  “And, I’ve already sent a few terrors into the streets above. Consider it a gift. There’s nothing like a few rain drops before the storm.”

  Master!

  Verbard blinked his eyes. It was Eep.

  I’ve found the human! Kill?

  I need the keys, Eep! If he does not have them. Bring him to me. Alive!

  Then I eats?

  Verbard shook his head.

  Only then! Do not fail, Eep!

  “I see our little friend is still with you,” Catten said, “and he bears good news, eh? I can see it in your eyes. Well done, Brother.”

  Verbard nodded, but having Catten around was going to take some getting used to. He needed to re-established himself now.

  “Master Kierway, prepare your soldiers for the underground assault on Castle Almen. Commander Jottenhiem, prepare yours and my brother's reinforcements for the surface attack above.”

  Kierway dug his sword from the mud and said in a smug tone, “So, one moment you’re having me killed, and in the next, I’m taking back my command.”

  “Have you not learned your lesson, then?” Verbard said. The Vicious turned towards Kierway, teeth barred. “You can always pick up where you left off, but the mud will be deeper next time.”

  “Pah … Verbard, it bodes you well to know that I’d rather see human blood than yours.” He sneered at Catten, walking away. “The same goes for you.”

  “I like how you handled him, Brother,” Catten said. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”

  No doubt you really think you could have; I’m certain.

  CHAPTER 59

  “What is that thing?” Mikkel yelled.

  It was big, almost a story tall on its spider-like legs, a round horse-sized hairy circle with four fanged mouths above four hairy insect legs. A host of well-armed underlings now crawled out of the hole with it. It was the weirdest thing Mikkel had ever seen. There was nothing like the unknown to get your blood flowing. All his instincts told him to run. But the screams of the scattering people galvanized him to stay.

  Twang!

  Twang!

  Two arrows sunk into the black bulk, but it charged on, unfettered, its barbed tongues, as course as wire, licking out over the streets. It snatched one man by the leg and sucked him screaming into its fanged maw.

  “Find cover!” Billip ordered, stepping back. He sent two more shafts into an underling’s chest.

  Mikkel was on one side, Nikkel on the other, crossbows ready.

  Clatch-Zip!

  Clatch-Zip!

  Both bolts hit center of the monster's mass, but it didn’t slow. Its tendrils whipped out, killing one person after the other.

  “This is bad, Billip! Really bad! How can we stop that thing?” Mikkel said, taking cover behind the pile of stones Nikkel'd been working on before.

  The monster was having its way with the people. The underlings dashed over the cobble stone road, a swath of well organized devastation. Trinos’s sanctuary was coming undone.

  “Father, I’m scared!” Nikkel said, his eyes wide with horror as he struggled to reload his crossbow.

  Mikkel lowered himself beside his son, grabbed him by the neck, and bumped his head. “Listen to me. Find somewhere safe.”

  Nikkel, trembling, was shaking his head.

  “No! I’m staying with you. Like you said. I’ll live a fighter; I’ll die a fighter. I’m not leaving you!” Nikkel locked the string in place and loaded his bolt. “I’ll do the best I can.”

  Mikkel never had a prouder moment when he said, “Son, it’s better to fight scared than not fight at all, but if you see me running, you better run, too.”

  “Slat!”

  Twang!

  “That monster's snatching up people faster than I can load my bow,” Billip cried.

  The monster dashed left, right, backward, forward in short bursts of speed. Mikkel’d never seen anything so big move so fast. He kneeled down along Billip’s side. The tide of chaos and blood was rising. He was used to the sounds of battle, but not the sounds of slaughter. The people of District 27 didn’t stand a chance. One fell right after the other, some of them being devoured.

  “Run, you idiots!” Mikkel roared. “Where in Bish are they going?”

  Billip punched him in the shoulder.

  “Fool! Better them than us! Now listen. Go for the underlings first. There’s not so many. We’ll just have to figure out how to deal with the monster later.” He pulled the bow string along his cheek. Twang! An underling attacking a woman pitched forward, an arrow in the back of its head.

  Clatch-Zip!

  Another underling spun and fell.

  “Good shot, Nikkel!”

  Clatch-Zip!

  Bolt Thrower's missile cut though the neck of one underling and into the chest of another.

  Nikkel looked at his father and said, “Can I use that?”

  Mikkel grinned. “One day, Son. One day soon!”

  Twang!

  “That’s the last of them,” Billip said. “Now let’s get after that monster.”

  There it was, feeding on dead bodies. Its barbed tendrils swiped back and forth as its legs dashed left, right, back and forward, destroying everything in sight. Mikkel wasn’t sure what to do, so he reloaded. He’d rather fight a dozen underlings than fight it. He understood them, but this thing was bizarre.

  “What are we going to do?” Nikkel said, peeking over the wall. More than a dozen people were dead already, and at the rate that thing was going they’d all be dead soon enough. He looked at Billip.

  “Keep firing and hope it stops?”

  “Should we shoot the legs? The mouths? That’s all that thing's got!”

  Billip grunted a laugh and cracked his knuckles.

  “I’ll take the legs. The mouths are much bigger targets.”

  “Ten gold to the man who drops it, then,” Mikkel added.

  Twang!

  Twang!

  The creature wobbled, two arrows sticking in one leg.

  “Easy,” Billip said, “I shoot five to your one. I’ll have this beast down in no time.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Mikkel said, taking aim.

  Clatch-Zip!

  The bolt was true, sailing through the creature's teeth and into the back of its mouth. It lurched up, all mouths squealing in a high pitched frenzy.

  Clatch-Zip!

  Nikkel let it have another.

  It shuddered and charged their way.

  Twang!

  Twang!

  “Get of here, Mikkel! The both of you! We can’t stop this thing!” Billip yelled, reloading.

  Two tendrils whipped out, one wrapped around Billip’s waist, the other catching Nikkel by the leg.

  Nikkel screamed, sending a jolt of lighting through Mikkel’s spine as the monster began dragging the men towards its snapping maw. “Father, help!” Nikkel cried, fingers clawing at the ground.

  Mikkel snatched his club from the ground and charged, all concern for safety abandoned. He had to save his son. The first blow smacked the monster dead center over its mouth, jolting his arms. “Bish!”

  He swung again.

  WHAM!

  And again.

  WHAM!

  The creature slung Billip aside, skidding him hard over the road.

  “Look out, Father!” Nikkel warned.

  He could see his son still being dragged towards the mouth, the rows of sharp teeth snapping up and down.

  Skull Basher rose and fell, driving the body of the creature down. It hissed and recoiled.

  “Hang in there, Son!” he gasped out. “It’s almost—ulp!”

  A tendril coiled around his neck and squeezed. Mikkel could feel his eyes bulging from their sockets. He tried to yell for Nikkel, but could not. But he caught his eye. He could see his son being dragged to his death. NO! He had to stop that.

  He forced a smile and winked at his boy. I’ll live a fighting man! I’ll die a fighting man! But I will save
my son! He raised Skull Basher high over his head and brought it down with all his might.

  WHOP!

  The tendril released from Nikkel’s leg.

  WHOP!

  Billip was pulling Nikkel kicking and screaming away, fingers grasping wildly in the air. Mikkel’s club rose and fell two more times and fell no more.

  CHAPTER 60

  Friends of fire. What is that supposed to mean?

  Barton’s deep voice was still crying out with childlike fear. “Get them off me! Get them off!”

  More than a dozen underlings had the giant pinned down, piercing weapons poised to strike. Fogle’s boots slid down the bank, where he stopped and drew back his arms. There was no time to second guess himself, or Barton would be permanently blind.

  You better be right, Boon!

  He drew his arms out and summoned the power within. The air in the ravine rushed over him, swirling his robes. A spark ignited in front of his face, turning from a small flame into a fire, the air and his energy feeding it. Before his eyes, a ball as big as his fist grew to twice his own size. Fogle poured whatever he had left into it and let it loose. The fireball roared over the ground and slammed into the unsuspecting underlings and giant.

  KRA-BOOOM!

  The entire area was engulfed in flame. The small bodies were afire, scrambling and screaming. Fogle shielded his face in his robes. The fire was real now, no longer the magic power he could control. It hit. It touched. It burned.

  The underlings were decimated, dying, burning in a pyre of flesh. Somewhere beneath the flames lay Barton. Either alive or dead, he did not know which. The roar of the flames grew louder, and black smoke began to roll. The stench of burning underlings had returned to greet his nostrils.

  He held his nose. His eyes watered.

  “Ew!

  He fanned his hands in front of his face and coughed. The wind hadn’t done him any favors, and he was well aware that underlings still abounded in all directions. He couldn’t decide whether to shout or be still. Find Barton.

  Fogle had taken ten steps when he found himself face to face with a pair of underlings patting the splashes of flame from one another. Their emerald eyes sparked to life as they bared their claws and charged. Fogle ran, caught his foot on his robes, and tumbled to the ground. He screamed as a claw ripped open the back of his leg. He rolled and swatted. He needed another spell. He caught one in the nose with his heel. The other drove its fist into his face.