“Venir has a weapon that can destroy him,” Rayal interjected. “He’s the scourge of the underlings. They cannot stop him.” Lorda Almen and Manamus both gave Rayal the big eye. “Sorry, but I thought that detail was worth mentioning.”
“The man I saw with Creed did not have a weapon on him,” Manamus said. “How is he going to acquire this weapon?”
Rayal got the funny feeling that she might have said too much, but she answered anyway. “Altan Rey has it. It’s a sack bound from leather. He stores this armament in it.”
“How does this armament work?” Manamus asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that. It’s an axe, helm, and shield working as one. I’ve seen him fight with it. The underlings go into a frenzy. The man becomes indestructible.”
Stroking Elizabeth’s hair, Manamus said, “I see.”
“I know of what she speaks,” Lorda Almen said to Manamus. “Creed possessed this armament as well. It nearly destroyed him. I’m not one to put my faith in these fabled items. They can be unreliable.”
“Magic often is when it is not properly wielded.” The elder woman seemed to go into deep thought for a moment. Her eyes slid side to side as if she were searching library shelves. “The Mantle of Power. There are rumors and stories of such an item. It chooses its bearer, serves a purpose, and moves on to another. So the necromancy soothsayers say. If things are as they say they are, I’ll keep an eye out for it. This has been helpful.” Manamus gently pushed Elizabeth aside and looked down on her. “Be wise. I’ll be back for you soon enough.”
“But Nanny Manamus…”
The air shimmered, and Manamus was gone.
With awe, Jasper said, “Your grandmother is very powerful, Rayal. That was incredible.”
“I know,” Rayal said.
Lorda stormed across the room and slapped Rayal hard in the face. “Don’t ever speak out of turn again, or I’ll feed you to the underlings.”
CHAPTER 30
Underling soldiers entered the jailhouse. With the ring of rattling keys, they unlocked some of the cages. They started near the front, where the exit of the building was. At the point of small spears, they herded several men out. The men, lacking in food and water, ambled out of the door, shielding their eyes from the hot sun as soon as they crossed the threshold.
Venir and Creed sat still. Their sweat glands were bone dry. Deep inside, Venir yearned to get out of the cage. He needed to stretch his limbs. Taste a moment of freedom.
A trio of underlings approached. They were stocky brutes, even for underlings. Their faces pinched, and their red eyes glowered between Venir and Creed’s cage and the one across from them. They opened the other cage. Two husky, hairy men were dragged out of the cage. The tall men stood a full foot higher than the barely five-foot-tall underlings. They forced the men down on their knees and walked them out. The exit door closed behind them.
“Curse those vomitus pisswillers,” Creed said in a cracked voice. “I’m so thirsty I think I could kiss an underling. I can’t believe I was happy to see them.”
Venir let out a short laugh. “Aye, and I’m so hungry I could eat one of those fiends.”
“Fools!” a man said who was curled up in a cage adjacent to Venir’s. His hair was brown but turning gray. His new beard was scruffy and the muscles in his forearm well defined. “When you leave, you don’t come back. It’s one way to death.”
“You’re telling us that none of those men will return?”
The man crawled to the ends of his cage and pressed his face against the bars. His olive eyes were penetrating. “None return.”
“Maybe they are being relocated?” Creed said.
“Or kept as pets,” Venir added.
A few prisoners sniggered.
Venir continued, “I hear many underlings and royals have become betrothed. They bear children with honey locks and gray rat skin and eyes black as coal.”
“You dare mock a royal!” the older man screeched. “You impudent sot! You will die next. I will see to it!”
“Your brood has already seen to the deaths of thousands of your own kind in this city.” Venir’s voice rose. “Your kind allied with the fiends like fools. Now, we all pay for it. Shut your face hole, old man, or I’ll rip out of these bars and kill you myself.”
The man crawled into the back of his cage and curled up with his back to Venir.
“I’m not sure which you hate more, the royals or the underlings,” Creed said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to find an underling’s black heart beating in a royal’s chest.”
“Aye, but men can still be wicked whether they are a royal or not. It’s just so hard to tell.”
Venir simmered in his thoughts. He’d grown up with the royals’ treachery. In truth, he never found that much good among them. It was a rare thing. Even most of the soldiers, who were practically slaves, were bad. They pretended to protect people, but in truth, they were only protecting themselves. He’d seen right through their royal games decades ago.
The door opened again, and the trio of underlings from before hustled over to Venir’s cage. Kazzar was with them. He chittered angrily at them, and they opened Venir’s cage. Creed crawled out. Venir followed. As soon as Creed stood, an underling cracked him in the back of the knees with a rod. Both men crawled out on their knees, across the courtyard, where Kazzar led them into the bowels of the castle. They were allowed to stand once they made it to the stairs.
There was a preparation room that was nothing more than wooden benches and cold stone walls. Venir had been in rooms like this before. It was where the contestants waited for the contests, ceremonies, and battles for the arena games inside the castles. The prisoners were gathered inside, male and female, and Castle Kling servants painted the men’s bodies. Some of their hair was cut, and some was dyed.
“What are they doing?” Creed whispered to Venir.
One of the hulking underlings drew back to strike Creed. Kazzar let out a sharp chitter. The underling stopped. The underlings put their hands on Venir and Creed’s backs and shoved them inside. Venir caught Kazzar’s eye as he was leaving. The mage gave him a quick nod and left.
Venir and Creed were escorted to separate wooden benches. Each had two underling guards on them with spears at their chests. Servant women set a bucket of black stain on the benches. The woman with Venir had black circles under her eyes, and her arms were stained black up to her elbows. Her stomach growled. Venir sought her eyes and gave her a wink. She tightened her lips, soaked a towel in the bucket, and started running it through Venir’s hair. The same was happening to Creed.
“I object to this treatment,” Creed said. “These are my locks, my precious red locks.”
“Would you rather they shaved it?” Venir said. He was looking at a man’s hair as bushy as his beard. The servants had shaved half of it off. “I think bald would suit you.”
An underling stuck a javelin in Venir’s face and chittered at him. Venir kept talking. “When the time comes, I’m going to shove that stick up your arse, you little black fiend.” The underling screamed in his face. Venir was a split second from head-butting the underling when Kazzar came back in. He took some of the underlings aside and spoke to them in a fierce tone. The underlings chittered back and forth with him before finally skulking away. The underling guard hung back against the walls. They eyed the prisoners with hatred.
Kazzar hung around. Strolling through the preparation room, with the hem of his dark robes dusting the ground, he said in Common, “Men, you are being honored. You will fight in front of the greatest underlings of all. Your rulers. For the citizens of Bone are conquered. Fight well and you will be rewarded. Food, water, possibly wine. And if you are not very formidable at all…” He touched a stocky man that was getting painted all over his body. The man shook like a leaf. His belly bulged from starvation. “Fight your best, for there is honor in your death.”
“And what if we refuse to fight?” the bushy-headed
man that was getting his head shaven asked.
Kazzar looked at him. “Refuse to fight and you will die an excruciating death.”
“Will you at least feed us before we fight?” the man pressed. “Let us be at our strongest.”
“Food and drink is your reward. Have I not made myself clear? We want you so hungry that you will kill for it.” Kazzar hissed at an underling servant dressed in a gray tunic with a slighter build than the others. It picked up a bucket and handed it to the man that was speaking. “You can eat that.”
The man reached into the bucket. All the prisoner’s eyes hung on him. He withdrew a handful of white grubs that wriggled between his fingers. “This is disgusting. I can’t eat this.”
“Yes, you can, and you will.” Kazzar uttered a chit. Underlings closed in on the man. “Now, start eating or die.”
Big eyed, the man stuffed the grubs into his mouth. He chewed, gagged, and swallowed. Coughing, he said, “There. I’m full.”
“No, the bucket is not empty. Keep eating. Eat or die.”
The man shoveled in the grubs handfuls at a time. Creed’s face soured. As the man ate, Kazzar didn’t seem to mind the quiet talking among the men. Venir said to Creed, “You are familiar with this, eh?”
“Yes, though I wasn’t a royal, I was brought to these arenas to train. I’ve seen plenty.” The woman ran her fingers through his hair, darkening it in streaks of black. “Will this wash out?” he said to her.
“I don’t think that matters,” she said.
“You, Venir? Have you trained in these pits?”
“When I was younger, I was brought into rooms such as this. I was an urchin,” Venir said. “The royal youth used to beat the Bish out of me for sport. But I learned. Since then, nothing has changed under the suns, but this paint is different.” The men were painted in distinct black patterns, from face to toe, trimmed with red and white accents. It gave them all an imposing look. He looked at the woman working on him. “Make me look really scary. I like scary.”
“Nothing’s going to scare them,” she said quietly.
“You haven’t seen me fight.”
“No, but I will see you die.”
CHAPTER 31
The hairs on the scruff of Chongo’s necks rose. His growl echoed down the chamber. The giant spider quickly crept toward them. It stood twelve feet tall.
Nikkel cranked back the string on his crossbow.
Nightmare nickered.
Fogle summoned a spell. Lightning shimmered on his fingers. Just as he was about to turn loose the spell that would turn the spider into goo and probably set the barn on fire, an old man dressed in rags rushed out in front of the spider.
“No, no, don’t attack. Don’t attack.” The old man waved his arms wide. “Please, Archibald won’t attack. I am your friend.” The old man put his hands on the spider’s eight-eyed face. “Stay back, Archibald. Stay back. I’m fine.”
Billip eased his bowstring. “Hold on. I know this old stableman. He’s helped us before.”
“Yes, yes, your friend I am. An ally against the evil.”
“That spider doesn’t look like something that we can trust, and neither does someone that makes pets of them,” Fogle said. His fingers still flickered with silvery fire.
“Don’t be so certain about that.” Slim moved away from Chongo. Cass hung by his side. “Insects are neutral creatures, but survivors. They can be trained to be as loyal as dogs.” He walked by the stableman, reached up, and touched the spider. The spider nuzzled his hand. “See, friendly, and these stiff little hairs aren’t as prickly as they seem. Kind of soft, really.”
Cass climbed up on Slim’s shoulders and onto the spider.
“I wouldn’t do that,” the stablehand said. “Archibald does not like riding.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s not a creature on Bish that doesn’t like being ridden by me,” Cass said.
Blushing, the stablehand said, “I can see that. Um,” he looked over at Billip, “where did she come from?”
“Never mind that. We need to stable our animals and find our friends. Any word from them?”
“The one that calls himself Hoff has been among the barns. He speaks to the royals. They await the signal.” The old man winked. “Castle Kling is where it’s at. The banners. They await the banners.”
“Banner or no banner, that gate has to come down, or the dwarves will be slaughtered. Where is Hoff?” Billip asked. “How long since you’ve seen him?”
“Yesterday. He’ll be where he should be, he says. But I don’t know where that is.”
“I do.” Billip looked at Fogle and Kam. “You two, come with me. The rest of you stay.”
“We aren’t standing around and waiting, Billip. I need to find Father,” Brak said.
“You can’t walk the streets by day. You stand out like a sore thumb. No, wait until night. We’ll be back.”
Kam handed Erin to Brak. “Take care of your sister, and don’t let her play with that spider, or Cass.”
Brak started to object. Fogle patted him on the elbow. “We’ll be back. I’ll send Inky to find Venir.”
“Make it quick,” Brak said as Erin squirmed in his arms. “Real quick. I’m not the best child sitter.”
Fogle hustled after Kam and Billip. Billip led them right into the streets. The City of Bone was unlike anything he’d imagined. It was much bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. The stretches of roadway were long, running from one end of the city to the other. Stone buildings lined the streets, two, three, and four stories tall. The castles could be seen from any angle. Their spires hung high above the wall but weren’t nearly as high as the wizard towers in the City of Three. Still, Bone dwarfed Three by comparison.
Kam looped her arm through Fogle’s. “It’s marvelous yet dreary.” She cast her eyes around. People hustled by with their heads down. Underling soldiers were positioned at every corner. They chittered at many that passed by. “I assume it wasn’t always this downtrodden.”
“It isn’t so much worse than it was,” Billip said. “But it’s not an improvement either. Keep your eyes down, and don’t lose sight of my feet.”
Fogle understood. The city had to operate, or it would quickly fall into ruin. The underlings didn’t want that to happen. But looking at an underling would cause unwanted attention or bring provocation. He understood why Brak had to stay back. As for them, they looked as much the worse for wear as anyone else. His and Kam’s robes were torn and tattered. Frayed threads dragged over the ground. His condition would be an embarrassment in the towers back in the City of Three.
A group of commoners barreled down the street in a wave. They pushed through Billip, jostling Fogle and Kam.
Kam shoved a man to the ground. “Keep your hands to yourself.” The man flattened himself on the street wailing.
Fogle felt a tug in his robes. Strong, dirty fingers grabbed hold of his spellbook that he’d tucked underneath his robes. He wrestled with the toothless man. “Let go, you fool!”
The man clung to the book as if his life depended on it. With desperation fueling the man’s strength, he ripped the book free and ran.
“Stop!” Fogle yelled. He felt the gemstone eyes of the underlings lock on him. He ran after the man, tripped on his robes, and landed hard on his knee. The man was getting away. Fogle’s eyes lit up. His fingers turned to lightning. Bolts shot from his hands. The thieves lit up like curtains parting in the daylight. Their bodies smoldered as they fell. Fogle raced for his spellbook. An underling soldier snatched it up.
Billip yelled, “Run! Run! Run!”
CHAPTER 32
Melegal labored behind a wheelbarrow. Two mutilated bodies, a man and woman, were dead, with their necks hanging over the rim and eyes open to the sky. He coughed through the scarf that wound around his face. The scarf didn’t do much for the stench, but it kept the buzzing flies off his lips and out of his mouth.
“Stay with me,” Frigdah said in her lazy, stupid-like
way.
There were three bodies in the wheelbarrow she pushed over the cobblestone road. The wooden wheel clocked over the potholes. One of the bodies fell out.
“Ah, drabbit!” She bent over, picked up the corpse—a man as big as she—and dropped the cadaver into the barrow. “Don’t you climb out of there again. Do you hear me?” She spoke to the dead like they were her children. She cast a glance up the streets. Underlings patrolled on foot and the backs of spiders. The city watch was helping them. “Bad behavior brings trouble.”
“Get moving, lard butt,” Melegal said. Frigdah shoved the rickety wheelbarrow along.
Very little made Melegal nervous, but stopping in the presence of underlings did. On the one hand, they were looking for him, and on the other, they were underlings. The underlings harassed anyone that didn’t move quickly in the city. They didn’t hesitate to cut people down or make an example of them in one cruel fashion or another.
Frigdah led them to the sweltering entrance to the furnaces that burned below the city. An orange glow quavered along the walls. The temperature inside the sweltering bay seemed to double the further they went down. Melegal wanted to cover his nose but couldn’t because of the wheelbarrow. He rubbed his itching nose on his shoulder.
This stench is awful.
The underlings that were stationed inside the furnace bay didn’t give them a glance. Frigdah stopped at the rim that overlooked the inferno that burned below. It was a huge vat of flame thirty feet wide. Below, flames seemed to climb the stone walls with hungry energy. Frigdah hefted up the first body and flung it down into the flames. The body splashed on the molten surface, caught on fire, and sank. She leaned over the rim, face drenched in sweat. “Do you think it hurts even if you’re dead?”
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 36
