Georgio, Brak, and Nikkel burst out of the kitchen and headed straight for Venir’s table and took a seat.
“What’s going on?” Georgio said. He had a toothpick in his mouth.
Brak burped.
Nikkel was all smiles, patting his belly.
Joline stormed out of the kitchen, her eyes locked on Billip. She hollered, “Keep them out of here! Giant urchins!” She pointed. “You’re going back to the market first morning!”
“Me?” Billip said. “Make them go!”
“You all go!”
She ducked back into the kitchen.
“Fine job, boys. Fine job!” Billip cursed.
“Aw, don’t worry, Billip. We’ll go.” Georgio said, yawning. “It’s nothing.”
“Taking you to the market? Any of you?” Billip said. “Last time, half the supplies didn’t make it back. I’d trust an orc sooner than you overgrown bed-wetters.”
Venir let out a gusty laugh. Everyone followed. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard. There used to be more laughter in his life but now there was hardly any. It didn’t use to be this way.
Brak’s swollen face had a big round smile.
Nikkel’s teeth shone white.
Georgio’s curly hair bounced on top of his head.
Even Melegal couldn’t hide the grin on his face.
“Vee!” Georgio said. “I want to hear what all you did. How many more underlings are dead?”
It was a moment. Venir’s heart stopped in his chest. The mutterings of people. The smell of food. The taste of ale. A smoky room. Embers crackling in your ears.
This was home.
Venir laid his heavy arms on the table. All eyes were on him. Even Melegal stayed his withdrawal. Brak leaned in the farthest of them all. Eyes wide. Filled with wonder. Curiosity.
“I’m not even sure where to start,” Venir said, looking down at the table. “It’s been so long … I’m not sure I have the tongue for it anymore.” He cleared his throat. Pushed back from the table. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Brak grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Maybe there is no tomorrow.”
Their eyes locked. Venir shook his head and tried to pull away again. Brak held him fast.
“Tell us what happened to your fingers,” a sprite voice injected. “How’d they get cut off? It looks like an underling ate them.”
Venir saw a girl taking off an apron. She climbed up and sat cross-legged at the end of a table. It was Jubilee.
“Yeah,” Nikkel said. “I want to hear about the time you fought Farc too. I was there!”
“An imp ate them,” Venir said, holding out his hand. “The ugliest thing I ever saw, and I’ve seen a lot of ugly.”
“As ugly as Darleen?” Georgio said with laugh.
“Uglier.”
Everyone fell silent.
Before he realized it, Venir was talking. Telling. Arms flailed in the air. Stories rolled off his tongue like honey, one word after another. Every ache. Pain. Doubt. Regret. It fled. It went on for one hour. Then two.
Giants.
Dragons.
Imps.
Man-urchins.
Orcs.
Brigand Queens.
Mist.
Minotaurs.
Royals.
Ogres.
Wizards.
Oversized Insects.
Underlings.
Horror after horror. Fight after fight. Torment after torment.
He talked on and on from night till dawn. Every seat was filled when he suddenly felt compelled to stop. Took a breath and looked up. Kam was there, Erin in her arms, smiling the same as the first time he met her.
He smiled back and winked. “See, no blood this time. My stories don’t always hurt.”
The front door creaked open. Some of the sleepy faces at the table stirred.
Venir watched Kam’s green eyes grow wide. Erin fussed in her arms. Jubilee looked over her shoulder and gasped. All the young men’s faces went taut. Melegal looked at him and shrugged.
A man in dark robes entered the room with a hood over his head. Darleen, Ozark and Dasan came down the steps with triumphant looks in their eyes.
Billip whispered to Venir, “That’s Master Sidebor.”
The lights in the room grew dim. The air felt cold.
Venir’s hand fell to the knife on his hip. He eased it out. Eyed Melegal.
Jubilee hopped off the table and scurried out of sight.
Master Sidebor took her place and stood at the table’s end.
“It is my understanding that cooperation is no longer forthcoming from you,” he said, sliding the sleeves up his arms. He tapped his long black finger nail on the table. Tiny holes sizzled in the wood. “I think Scorch will be very unhappy to know that his warning was not heeded.”
“This Scorch is not welcome here,” Venir said, standing up, “and neither are you.”
Sidebor lifted his hooded head up. “Human, your mouth and your girth only give me more to torment … and I will enjoy it.”
Venir’s heart started thumping in his ears. This thing sounded like a man. Looked like a man. But something was different. Twisted. Wrong. He looked up at Kam. She was shaking her head. She started down the steps. Osark and Dasan barred her path.
“Get out of my way!” Kam demanded. “Sidebor! Leave them be! It’s me you want, not them. Let them go. I’ll stay.”
Sidebor chuckled. “Oh, it’s too late for that, I’m afraid,” he said, scratching patterns in the table. “Too late, much so. My patience is at an end. Scorch’s will be as well.”
Sidebor didn’t look so smug when the entire tavern shook.
Wood cracked and groaned. The floor buckled. Glass and pottery crashed to the floor.
“What in Bish was that?” Billip said, looking around, eyes wild. “I felt the entire world shake. I swear I did!”
Sidebor’s hood had fallen from his face. His ruby eyes flashed a startled look.
Venir’s blood turned red hot. His neck hairs rose. His veins pumped with fire.
Underling!
He launched himself—knife first—over the table.
Chapter
29
Creed sat inside his cell with his head between his knees. His wounds burned. His head hurt. The cold damp air made him shiver. He coughed.
Bone! What have I done to myself!
He thought of the armament. Such power he’d had in his hands. He should have used it to dispatch Lord Grom. That’s what he should have done. He never imagined his grandfather would punish him so. And for fighting underlings, of all things. Defending his home. His city against evil.
It’s upside down.
He leaned his head against the wall and started rubbing the callouses on his hands. They were thick and white, like hide armor. Since he’d been a child he’d swung steel like a duck treads water. Now, he felt naked as a babe. Helpless. Defenseless. In his own home, of all places.
I’ve got to get it back!
He thought much about Lorda. Her teardrop face, cat eyes, and long silky air. She’d betrayed him, but in a good way. She actually cared. Wanted him alive and not dead. He always did have a way with older women. He allowed himself a smile and fantasized some more.
She likes me.
“The woman pretty. The woman pretty ... Eh,” the other prisoner said. “Like a cat. Kit cat. Cat. Long since I see a woman.”
Creed put his head back down.
“Seen many women. Had wife. Children. Not pretty like that ... Eh. Eh. No, not pretty like that.” He licked his overgrown mustache and gestured with his hands. “So round ... Eh. Round. Curvy like flower vase ... Eh.”
C
reed still had no idea who the old man was and he didn’t care. He’d ruled out it being his uncle. Still, it bothered him that this stranger knew everyone in the castle. They were family in one way or another. Many of them. Hundreds. Some lived in and some lived out. But the Bloodhounds were thicker than thieves.
“Lord Grom takes what he likes ... Eh. Likes her. No other reason why you here ... Eh. Sad. True ... Eh. Sad.”
It felt true. Every bit of it. It made him wonder how many other things had happened that he didn’t know. It made him curious. What had happened to his father and mother? All he was ever told was there was a misfortunate incident with the Royals. No one had ever spoken of it since.
“How long have you been here?” Creed said, opening up without even thinking. He wasn’t even sure if he’d said it at first.
“Eh?”
“Never mind,” Creed said, dropping his head back between his knees.
“Gorgon.”
With his head still between his knees, Creed replied, “What?”
“My name … Eh. Gorgon. You should always introduce yourself ... Eh. Gorgon is my name.”
Creed took a closer look at the man in the adjacent cell. He was skin and bone in tattered clothes. Unkempt and dirty. His hair was coarse black with streaks of grey, and it hung in his eyes. The name seemed familiar.
“Gorgon, huh?” Creed said. “So, how long have you been here?”
“Eh … years I suppose. Don’t know me, do you? Eh. Look harder.”
“There are many Bloodhounds that come and go. I’ve never known them all. Why should I know you?”
“I suppose I’m a little thinner … Eh. Since the last time you saw me … Eh. Last time you sat upon my knee ... Eh, Creed?”
Creed lifted his head and took a closer look.
“You’re just making things up. And I don’t know a Gorgon.”
“Am I now?” Gorgon lifted his hair back, pressed his face to the bars. “Look closer at Gorgon.”
Creed peered into his eyes. They were round with dark circles. Pale green. Playful. Strong. His wrists that squeezed the bars were thick.
Gorgon started to mumble.
“Fire melts metal … Mold makes sword …”
Creed blinked and said, “… Steel separates blood from bones.” He gasped. “You’re the blacksmith?”
“Aye,” Gorgon said.
“Why are you here?” Creed asked.
Gorgon shrugged. “I’m not so sure I remember. It’s been so long ... Eh. But, I know things. Too many.”
“Then why doesn’t Grom just kill you?”
“Because he can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because—”
The dungeon shook. Metal groaned. Rock debris felt from above. The ground beneath them heaved up and down. The gap of light Creed had grown fond of split wider.
Creed yelled, heart racing. “What was that?”
Gorgon lay in his cell, unmoving. A chunk of ceiling had fallen on him and his secrets.
Chapter
30
Scorch squeezed. Probed. Dug.
Trinos twisted. Turned. Blocked.
Scorch was a ravenous dog hungry for power. Unrelenting. Vicious.
“You will not have it!”
“I WILL!”
Back and forth they went. Tugging and tumbling through the vast space of their power, buried in the center of Bish. A part of Trinos wanted to turn it over to him. Let him have it. Let it go. But his lies had revealed themselves. She could feel it. He wasn’t attached to this world like she was. He was in it for the amusement. He would destroy it. That might not have meant so much to her ages ago, but it was her world. If anyone was going to destroy it, it would be her. I’ll protect it! Trinos dug in.
She jammed her fingers inside his chest. Unleashed her power. Brilliant light exploded from her fingers. Scorch howled and spun away.
Hovering in the myriad of color, clutching his chest, Scorch’s handsome face turned ugly.
“You will not win this battle!”
Sharps of dark energy erupted from his hands.
Trinos caught it in her hands and flung it back.
“Bish is my world, Scorch, not yours!”
Balls of bright fire appeared in her hands. She slung one right after the other.
Voom! Voom! Voom!
Scorch flew head over heels. He swatted at the fires on his robes and patted them out.
“Give it up, Trinos,” he said, summoning great lances of fire. “You don’t have my experience. My knowledge. I’m more ancient than you. All of you. You know this is true.”
“A thousand days to my one matters not to me, Scorch. You will not have my creation! You shall die here just like the rest of us.”
She spread her fingers and arms, forming a bright radiant shield.
“Never!”
Lances of lightning flew from his hands, one right after the other.
Ssszram!
The first ricocheted.
Ssszram!
The second cracked her barrier.
Ssszram!
The third went straight through the shield and into her belly. Screaming, she drifted back with her jaw dropped. A lance stuck through one side and out the other, burning with dark mystic fires. How did he do that?
She raised her hand, sent a wave of energy forth, and howled. The lance inside burned with more ferocity. Scorch’s laughter echoed in her ears. He drifted toward her. His fingers, now tendrils, wrapped around her throat.
“Oh, ho, ho!” he said in a daunting voice. “Dear Trinos. You are one of those beings not so accustomed to fighting at all, aren’t you?”
Trinos tore at the tendrils around her neck. The grip was so strong, she couldn’t speak. The pain in her belly grew and throbbed. She was bleeding.
“You never considered that you might actually die here, did you?” Scorch said, lording over her. His eyes were glazed with power. “You thought yourself my equal. My superior, perhaps? I’ve never met such a one in the entire universe.”
Trinos felt the pressure inside her head building. The lance’s fire eroding her inner being.
“Perhaps you’ll be more willing to relinquish your power in exchange for your life.”
Gagging, Trinos fought to speak. She turned to thought instead.
You’ll have to kill me first, Scorch! I might die sooner, but you’ll eventually die with me!
Every particle of her body erupted in pain. Her mind exploded in painful lights.
“I can do this a very long time, Trinos. Turn the power over to me and I’ll let you go. You can finish your life on this world along with all the other insects. And I probably won’t notice you enough to squash you.”
No…
“Yes,” Scorch said, matter of factly. “And even if you do allow me to torture you to a degree where the minutes will feel like, oh say, a thousand years, I’ll most likely find a way to harness the power by then, and continue to punish you.”
Trinos fought the pain. Clutched at the tendrils. Held on.
Promise … Please …
“Out with it, Trinos. I’ll consider your wants.”
Leave the races be. Don’t wipe them out. They entertain me.
“Ah, well, I suppose I can leave them be, but they’ll still have their hands full contending with the underlings. Do we have an understanding?”
It was all Trinos could hope for. It bought her time. It bought Bish time as well.
Agreed.
The pain faded, but remained. The tendrils loosened around her neck. She connected herself to the orb. She felt Scorch tap in as well. His face filled with exhilaration.
“Ah, now that feels wonderful,” he sa
id, preparing to draw their power from the orb. “Like a hot bath on a chilly day. Tis sad for you though, Trinos. There is only enough power for one to come and go it seems, not two.”
The lance inside her stomach brightened. She screamed. Her eyes weakened. Her nose dripped blood. Vision faded. He was killing her.
No, she moaned. Not like this. I’m sorry, Bish.
A black shadow dropped from above. A black sphere of power surrounded all of them. Another life force entered the game. The iron-eyed underling, Master Sinway.
“What madness is this?” Scorch yelled.
Master Sinway stood among them in robes like black shadows.
“This power will be mine as well,” the underling hissed.
“You shall have your reward when I finish, Sinway,” Scorch roared.
“I shall have my reward NOW!”
Sinway blasted Scorch in the chest with black energy, disconnecting him from the orb.
Trinos’s neck was freed. She stood on her knees, coughing.
Scorch attacked. Tendrils wrapped around Sinway’s neck and squeezed.
The underling’s eyes blasted fire into Scorch’s face. He held on. Squeezed harder. Harder.
“You are a fool, Sinway! You are undone!”
The entire orb shook and warbled. Trinos rose to her feet and grabbed the barbed lance of energy inside her. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and ripped it out.
“GAH!”
Her mind filled with painful pulsations, but she lived.
Scorch’s back faced her. He had Sidebor covered in tendrils. The underling’s eyes blasted back one shot after another.
Scorch yelled with fury.
“You shall die, underling! Fool, you could have had everything!”
Huffing, Trinos summoned her anger. Her rage. She lowered the lance and filled it with her power. She shot through the air and rammed it into Scorch’s back.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 14
