The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures

by Craig Halloran

  “You choose your favorite sword, and I’ll choose mine.”

  “Your blades are identical. Perhaps I could try one of those.”

  Elypsa’s brows lifted. She smirked and tossed one over to him. He cast his blades aside and snatched the underling blade from the air while the underling audience groaned. Keeping his distance, he whipped the blade through the air several times. “This underling steel is astonishingly light.” He thumbed the edge of the blade. “The edge is keen enough to sliver my hair.” He grimaced. “Impressive.”

  “You are wounded?” she asked.

  “I’m still good for a fight, Elypsa, but I’d rather share a goblet of port with you.” She shook her head. “Another time then?”

  “There won’t be another time, human. You see, I know who you are—Creed the Bloodhound. You wield the armament like that man over there, Venir. With it, you slew my brothers, Catten and Verbard. Today, you will pay for it.”

  The announcement jolted his conscience. He’d all but forgotten about them. Now, in a weird twist of fate, he was facing a vengeful sister. He offered a smile, got into a sword fighter’s stance, and said, “Touché.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Still linked up to Inky, Fogle moved out of the stable. The sand spiders had immobilized the familiar, but so far as he could tell, the bird was pasted to the glass dome. It wasn’t ideal, but it offered an opportunity. He tucked the spellbook under his arm. Most of the crew were sitting or standing around. Their eyes fell on him as he approached. He said, “I’ve confirmed Venir’s whereabouts. He’s inside the pits of Castle Kling, as you planned.”

  Brak was the first one on his feet. “Is he alive?”

  Fogle nodded. “He’s fighting, or about to I think. He was painted in crimson, white, and black. His hair was dyed. Another man was with him.”

  Everyone gathered around. Chongo came out of the stable and huffed a bark.

  “Did he have the armament?” Brak asked.

  “No, I didn’t see it. No helmet, just painted brawn.”

  Kam, holding Erin’s little hand, walked up to Fogle. “Are you certain it was him?”

  “It was him. The arena seats were filled to the brim with underlings. I had an excellent view before the spiders came. They attacked Inky. The bird’s there, but useless. I can free the bird, but that will take some doing.” He patted his book with his fingers.

  “Was he wounded?” Kam said with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know. My gut says it was a bad situation. It was only a glimpse, but good enough.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My plan was to get Inky inside for a closer look. We could pop in from there.”

  “What do you mean, pop in?” Billip asked.

  “Like we did when we came here and moved throughout the city. I can create a portal, but we’ll land on top of the dome. I’m not so certain it will hold us, though it looked sturdy.”

  Brak stormed up to Fogle. His huge hands squeezed his cudgel. “Take us there! Now!”

  Fogle looked up at Brak. “I need time and we need a plan. If we go after him, we’ll need more than one doorway. I’ll need one in and one out. And those underlings, over a hundred of them, many wearing arcane robes, will be ready.”

  “I suggest you get after it,” Brak said.

  Brak had that hard look in his eye that Venir got when he was about to kill something. The young man’s nostrils flared. Jubilee hung on Brak’s hip, glaring at Fogle. He’d gotten to know them both pretty well. They were ready to die. He didn’t want that to happen. “Venir doesn’t have the armament. I suggest I go in and try to bring them out. Once that happens, if it happens, the underlings will be crawling all over the city looking for us. It doesn’t get the flags up or the gate open either.” He visualized what needed to be done in his head. They’d only have seconds to pop in and out. After that, it would be over, and they wouldn’t get another shot at Master Sinway again. He looked at Billip. “This isn’t part of Venir’s plan. Our intrusion could ruin everything.”

  Billip popped a few knuckles. “Aye, but I think we should do it. Perhaps we should all go and stick them through. One last glorious battle for Bone. All of us versus them.”

  Nikkel ambled into the knot of people. He had Bolt Thrower loaded and waiting. “Agreed, I say we give them a surprise they will never forget.” His white teeth shone. “Or the last thing they’ll ever remember.”

  In a strong voice that sounded very Venir-like, Brak said, “It’s settled then! Cast us away, wizard!”

  “The only thing that is settled is your doom,” Cass broke into the conversation. “Are you so eager to throw your lives away? You will be slain, one and all, if you drop into their pit. That is precisely what they want.”

  Fogle turned toward Cass. “You seem to have more intimate knowledge of the underlings than you have ever let on before. Care to explain?”

  Cass’s pretty face tightened. “There is nothing to explain. The underlings are cold-blooded killers.”

  “I thought they were just another race? No different than others,” he said.

  “Fine. Except them. Yes, I’ve crossed them more than once before, and everything that they’ve encountered dies. And”—she grabbed his arm—“that will include you. If this royal, Altan Rey, betrays Venir, then no doubt he’s betrayed all of your plans too. The underlings won’t be surprised when you show up. They expect the effort. They thrive on it. You showing up there will be exactly what they want.”

  Taking her little hands in his, he looked down into her eyes. “This is a now or never moment. I’m going to extract Venir. I hope that you will help.”

  Touching his face, Cass said, “You’ve grown so much.” She stepped away.

  “I can help with the portals, I believe.” Kam glanced at the spellbook.

  “No, I’ll handle the portals.” Fogle reached inside his robes and produced a polished stone orb. The black sphere filled his hand. Its surface shimmered with white and gold sparkles. “This is the Orb of Negation. I need you to familiarize yourself with it. It has great power that will be needed. Now, if you will all excuse me, I need some time.”

  “Make it quick, wizard,” Brak said. “Venir might not have that much time.”

  “He’ll just have to make it.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Creed had mastered every sword he’d ever touched. It was a thing with him. Whether it was double bladed or single edged, it quickly became a friend in his hand. He delighted in it. The underling blade he held was one of the finest pieces of work that he’d ever held. Only a few weapons he touched were ever better. The blades from the mystic sack were the best he’d touched. They were perfectly balanced for his style, fit, and frame. They were light but with hefty balance that cut through bone like butter. The underling blade, not so much.

  It’s going to take a few strokes to get used to it.

  The underling steel was a cruel tool, designed to take an opponent apart in slivers. A quick slash over the belly and a man’s guts would spill to the floor. Sharp notches edged the sword tip which would gouge skin and muscle like a bayonet. The blood would flow freely. It would be hard to stop.

  I will not die from bleeding.

  Once he settled into his stance, the odd raucous jeering of the underlings quieted. The only thing he felt was his heart pounding where the lizard master jabbed him with the rod. His eyes were drawn to Elypsa’s. Her violet eyes had a hypnotic effect. He blinked sweat from his eyes.

  Her smile turned up in the corner of her mouth. “Shall I go first, Creed?”

  “Ladies first is a custom of Castle Bloodhound.”

  She nodded. “So be it.” With a lightning step forward, she struck quicker than the tongue of a snake.

  Steel bit into Creed’s bicep. He flinched backward. Countless years of training honed his instincts enough to save him from a blow that almost gored his sword arm. He waved his sword side to side, putting new life in his steel. Slat, that was fast!

  Elypsa slipped away with a cold sm
irk on her face. She circled.

  He spun with her, feeling awkward. The underling was over a foot shorter than him, yet she was the aggressor. In the past, he’d devastated men that were shorter in stature with long, blinding strokes. He needed to do the same thing here.

  Let’s see what she’s made of.

  He shuffle-stepped and thrust. Steel clanged against steel. The courting ended, and the battle began. Creed thrust under her guard, aiming for the heart. She parried left with a ringing bang. He redoubled. She slid away. Back and forth they went in a dangerous dance. Elypsa’s defense didn’t give. Though small, she was strong and quick enough to slip his thrusts and reset her feet for the next attack.

  “You are as skilled as I hoped,” she said. “I might even sweat.”

  “I’d like to see that.”

  Elypsa thrust with stinging attacks. Creed swiped them side to side. Her sword moved with the speed of two striking snakes taking turns. Several strikes into it, his side began to burn.

  Block it out, Creed.

  As soon as she thrust to the left, Creed hopped right. He unleashed a lethal slash at her neck. She ducked. The blade cut off a small lock of hair that floated to the floor. She skipped away. “Now we’re dancing.”

  Creed blinked. Elypsa launched herself into an aerial logroll. The sword whipped downward like a living sickle. The strike took skin from Creed’s shoulder as he shuffled out of harm’s way. She landed, low to the ground, with her sword cocked behind her back like a prowler.

  Taking in a lungful of air, he said, “And I thought I’d seen everything.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Elypsa lofted her body into a series of acrobatic attacks.

  Creed labored to parry the uncanny flurry.

  ***

  Disarmed, Venir sat with his back against the wall. Underling soldiers kept an eye on him as the battle between Creed and Elypsa raged. It was as fine a sword fight as he’d ever seen before. Creed had all of the physical advantages: height, strength, and length. His skill and speed were unrivaled by man, but Elypsa was quick as a cat and lethal as a cobra. Fresh wounds bled freely from Creed.

  The collar on Venir’s neck was fastened to an iron ring mounted in the wall at neck height. Venir sat with his right shoulder beneath it. His strong fingers locked into the chain links that rested over his shoulder. He pulled it tight. An underling guard cast an ugly leer at his wriggling hands. Venir narrowed his eyes on it until it looked away.

  I’ll kill you first.

  Squaring his shoulders against the wall, he leaned forward with a gentle heave. The chain tightened in his grip. Venir had snapped thicker chains. Careful not to be noticed, he strained against the links whenever the underlings’ attention turned. Timing was everything. If Creed fell, and he was guessing the man would, he’d be next. It was clear he wasn’t going to get more than within earshot of Master Sinway unless he made it happen. He sought out the master underling.

  There you are. I’m going to cradle your scrawny neck between my fingers and snap it like a twig.

  Master Sinway sat forward on the edge of his seat, the sack clutched firmly in his fingers as his iron eyes settled on the action. All of the underlings were hungry for the Bloodhound’s death. Venir fought to set his concerns for the sack aside. He’d used it as a crutch for too long. It was bound to end. If he was going to finish the fight, he’d have to finish it himself.

  I might die today, but I’m taking more of you fiends with me.

  The crowd oohed and made delightful shrieks.

  Elypsa scored a slash across Creed’s thigh. He limped. He bled. His broad shoulders sagged.

  Venir shouted out, “Stop dancing and start fighting before we’re finished, Creed!”

  An underling solider popped him in the head with the pommel of its sword. Blood ran into Venir’s eyes. His chest heaved. The length of chain tightened. He put his back into it as soon as the underling turned away. Fight or die!

  CHAPTER 9

  Ebenezer watched the fight between Creed and Elypsa with his jaws clenched. His fingers dug into his knees. Sweat ran down his temple.

  What a marvelous display.

  He’d tested his steel again Elypsa before. He’d almost died for it. Now he watched Creed fighting for his life against the ultra-quick swordswoman. Swords flashed like lightning. The ring of steel jostled his own lust for battle. He wanted to jump in there and attack with Creed. He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill the raucous underlings.

  Manamus squeezed his hand. The touch from his mother was a shock. Warmth flowed through her fingers. Her grip was strong. He gave her a quick look. Her pupils were gone, the whites of her eyes showing. Suddenly, her pupils dropped back down. She made a wry smile.

  Turning his attention back to the fight, under his breath he said to her, “What is it?”

  “Something. Be ready.”

  Creed, a fluid and perfect fencer, started to stiffen. His steps became sluggish. His parries desperate. He hadn’t unleashed a riposte in over a dozen strokes. Elypsa was toying with him to the glee of the underlings. They shrieked for spilt blood.

  Venir called out. He balled up his fist.

  Do something, Creed! Do it!

  ***

  Venir’s voice renewed the strength in Creed’s fading limbs. He batted Elypsa’s thrust aside with a snap of his wrist. Steel banged on steel. They locked up arms. Face-to-face, he leaned on her.

  “Tired, Creed?”

  “No.” He panted. Sweat dripped from his chin. His long, sweat-drenched locks clung to his shoulders. “You?”

  “I don’t tire… ever.” She pushed away from him and cut her sword across the ground.

  He rolled his neck. The collar and chain weighed on him. His lower back burned. “Take this collar off me?”

  Keeping her distance, she nodded at the underling guards. One of them held a long spear on Creed while the other removed the collar and slung the chain aside.

  Rubbing his neck, Creed said, “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. It won’t make any difference. Your death will come quick. I’ll have vengeance for my brothers. Then we will kill Venir.”

  Creed loosened up. The chain was gone. He felt lighter on his feet already. It was time to change tactics. He had to act quickly before he bled to death. The nasty little wounds had taken a toll. He hadn’t put a mark on her. I can’t die like this. He held the sword in a two-handed grip, one hand over the other. “Let’s try this dance again.”

  “You lead,” she said.

  He rushed in. He struck downward in a powerful blow. She blocked. Clang! The blow jolted her arms. She grimaced as his blade slid off. She moved away. Creed kept coming. He delivered one high-hand chop over another. He cut at her with all of his strength and speed. Wear down, woman fiend!

  Elypsa parried and dodged the furious blows. There was no room for her to counter or riposte. She backpedaled.

  Creed pressed forward.

  Thrust! Strike! Slash! Thrust! Strike! Slash! No longer shackled, he had the freedom he needed to chase. The entire arena was his. Strike! Slash! Thrust! Thrust! Slash! Strike! Strike! He changed up his combinations. The sword in his hands took on a new life. Man and steel became one.

  Elypsa’s confident expression hardened. Her lips tightened. Creed put the full weight of his arms behind his blows. He didn’t aim for her. He aimed for her sword. He wanted to knock it free of her hands. He beat it down, running his sharp blade toward her sword guard. The heavy impact showed in her face.

  She skipped back and hid her sword behind her back. In anger, she said, “Are you fighting me, or my sword?”

  “I’m just doing whatever it takes to kill you.” He went after her. She slipped under his attack. With a flick of her wrist, her sword cut open his exposed left forearm. The underlings let out glee-filled howls. Creed dropped the wounded hand aside. It was his left arm that he’d been fighting with from the beginning, testing her skill against his own. He was stronger with his
right arm. Now he had to use it. Elypsa didn’t catch the switch. He jabbed through her guard. The tip of his sword caught her in the meat between the shoulder and chest.

  Elypsa jumped back and hissed. Her chest was heaving now. Blood ran freely from her wound. “You dare defile me!”

  “That’s the point, isn’t it?” He thumbed the blackish-red blood on the tip of his sword. “Pity, I was hoping that you only bled red. It seems you are only underling after all.”

  “And you will be urchling food!” She attacked in a brilliant display of acrobatic chops and slices. The sword cuts whistled through the air. Creed focused on the whirling blade. He knocked one blow aside. He tried to counter, but every time he tried to uncork a lethal strike, she was out of harm’s way.

  Impossible! No one moves that fast!

  In the back of his head, he knew better. The armament provided power that defied reason. He quickly surmised that he was fighting against more than flesh and blood. Elypsa had magic. They fought on. His stomach turned queasy. The blood loss was taking a toll on him. If she didn’t slow down, or he didn’t speed up, he was doomed.

  Elypsa attacked like a wild cat. Each strike inched between his guard. She struck his chest to the bone.

  “Argh!” Creed staggered back. The painful wound took more of the fight out of him. Elypsa’s own blood oozed down her chest to the waist. At least I got a piece of the dark little cheater. “I don’t suppose you want to call it a draw,” he said, gasping.

  “I won’t settle for anything less than your head on the end of my sword!”

  Shrugging, he lumbered forward. “If you say so.” He slashed at her waist.

  She spun into his body, away from his blade, and chopped down hard. The strike cut his right sword hand off at the wrist. Blood spurted from the wound.