Venir pondered the power of his gear sometimes. Living without it became starvation. Living with it was a feast. There was danger. His own humanity was at stake. He’d felt it before. There was a detachment from his friends. His reality didn’t measure up with theirs. He cared for them all, but when the suns finally set, it was all about the underlings. Venir’s excuse for the slaughter was keeping his friends safe. It was the lone thread that kept him together. It was either that or become a mindless automaton of destruction.
The hair on the back of Chongo’s neck rose. Venir dug his boots deeper into the stirrups. He tightened his grip on the reins. “Almost time, boy.”
For over ten years, Venir had hunted the underlings. He did it with and without Chongo and the armament. It all started back when he was child. The underlings took his family away. All of his friends had died. He survived. A hatred brewed inside the boy who had to grow up so quickly. For the longest time, it was all about survival. Everywhere he went, a new enemy would rise in the bleak world of Bish.
Mood was there from the beginning. He taught Venir how to hunt, trap, and kill. He became a skilled woodland man and a survivor of the Outlands. The harsh environment prepared him for life outside of civilization, but the life inside civilization was a different animal. He remembered a ballad a troubadour comrade once wrote:
The royal’s smile, so splendid and serene. Don’t close your eyes or blink.
Tantalizing features hide the wrathful nature of true deceit.
Eyes that wink, chins that nod, the moment you turn a cheek aside.
Stay of so far away from their treachery and games.
No escape. No escape.
A simple gamble offers little to gain when the vipers poison your back.
There is nothing to win and everything to lose the day you cross a royal.
During his youth, the royals turned the world he knew inside out. They were filled with greed and deviltry, lusting for more power no matter how far it was from their grasp. They sucked the vibrant marrow from a good man’s bones. Lives were ruined on their word. Venir developed another hatred for his own kind, a mistrust deeper than a well. Now, here he was, in the bed of another enemy, trying to save them from themselves. There would be no reward in it. If anything, there would be claims made against him. Still, he fought. The one thing they had that the underlings didn’t was that they were human.
They deserve what’s coming to them, save a few. That’s who I will fight for.
The doors bowed inward. The metal strained and flexed at the hinges. The hard wood popped and snapped.
Chongo growled. Helm throbbed. Mystic black smoke filtered from the eyelets. Venir felt the underlings’ rage. Their hatred could swallow a mountain whole. There wasn’t a mountain big enough to match Venir’s hate for them. It had built slowly over the years. He roamed the Outlands, a soldier, a brigand, a sword for hire. The innocent were slaughtered, buried, and mutilated. Children were burned alive. Women had been tortured. It was sickening. The underlings came in a river of evil washing everything good from the land. The royals sat on their hands, watching the current of death take the helpless away. They didn’t do anything to stop them. Venir did.
The doors gave. Weapons glistening, the underlings burst through. The emboldened fiends slowed the very slightest. The back rank bumped into the rear. Their armor and weapons collided. Their gem-speckled eyes were fixed on the terrifying beast and rider.
“Yah!” Venir yelled. Chongo lurched ahead. His huge paws buried two underlings beneath him. Venir chopped down into the sea of surging bodies. The underlings clawed and stabbed at his legs. He cut through them. Chongo rambled through the doors into the hall, biting and barking. “Feast, Chongo! Feast!”
A badoon underling warrior climbed up Chongo’s flank and latched onto Venir’s back. Hanging onto the shield, the underling stabbed at Venir’s back. With his free hand, Venir reached behind him. His fingers found a handful of hair. He ripped the underling from the shield and flung it into the crowd. A patch of underling hair fell from his fingers.
Venir chopped hard and quick. Chongo plowed through their ranks. Underlings were pulled apart by mighty jaws. Their bodies were pulverized by Brool the singing decimator. Fueled by the armament, Venir attacked the ranks with unmatched fervor. The underlings were nothing more than a horde of angry children throwing a tantrum against him. Every effort was in vain. Venir was invincible. “They fall like wheat! Ride, Chongo, ride! Yah!”
Helm throbbed with such force it staggered Venir in the saddle. At the end of the hall, a mage with emerald eyes stood with his hands aglow. Behind him, another mage, much the same as the first, lurked. They thrust their hands up and down. There was a loud crack. Venir glanced up. “Bish!”
The heavy stones in the ceiling cracked. The floor above them came crashing down on top of him.
CHAPTER 30
Using the servants’ tunnels, Melegal guided Brak, Creed, and Ebenezer through the bowels of the castle. Creed pushed his shoulder along the wall. Ebenezer half carried him. They popped out on the backside of the castle where the stables were located. Once thick with underling patrols, the castle had now become a ghost town. The problem was, the gates leading out were still secured by underlings.
“Ebenezer, if you know another way out of here, now is the time to reveal it,” Melegal said.
The royal shook his head. “I only know the front gate and the corridor.”
Creed panted heavily. “I know a way. We’ll take the front gate.”
“We just said those were secure.”
“You did?” Creed’s face was clammy and covered in perspiration. “Well, let’s take the front gate then.”
A bone-jarring crack erupted.
“What in Bish was that?” Ebenezer said. “It sounded like my castle split in half.”
Above, one of the castle turrets collapsed. The stones hit the ground. The underlings guarding the gate rushed to the scene.
“There’s your opening.” Melegal hustled into the stables. “Get on these horses.”
“I’ve never ridden a horse without a saddle,” Brak said.
“With your big arse, I don’t think it will make a difference. I’ll get that lane door open. Once you see it pop wide, ride like a demon to clear it.” Melegal twisted the vanishing ring. Staring at their blank looks, he said, “Get on with it, then.”
Castle Kling had a main gate with two narrow lanes on the side for pedestrians. With the underlings distracted, Melegal slid the bolt open to the door. As he did, Ebenezer and Creed appeared on horseback on the other side of the courtyard. Ebenezer’s hands gripped the chestnut steed by its brown mane. Melegal flung the door open wide. Ebenezer kicked the horse. The beast galloped straight for the gate, racing by the furious underlings. Melegal jumped out of the way. He shouted, “To the old barns!” as they thundered by. The underlings raced right by him, chittering angrily. Something was wrong.
Where is Brak?
He ran back to the stables. Brak was gone.
Horse slat!
Melegal searched the barn. An odd rustle came from one of the stables. The door was closed. He peeked over the top. Ice ran through his veins. A sand spider sucked on the neck of a horse that lay on the ground. Melegal glanced up. There were spiders and webs in the rafters but none as big as the one feeding on the horse. I hate underlings and all their creepy things.
Brak’s disappearance troubled him. Either the young man was hurt, or he went back for Venir. Where the greatest commotion was would be the best place to look for them. Melegal moved back into one of the small courtyards. The underling scramble had led them into the castle. The wave of a flag in the top spire caught his eye.
Do I need to raise a flag or not?
Assuming Ebenezer and Creed made it back to the barns to notify the others, he shouldn’t have to, but he wasn’t willing to take that chance. They might not be able to get the message to Mood by other means. Fogle had his ways with magic, and Billip had a d
warven horn that could be sounded. But what if they didn’t make it.
No, I better do it. Creed was bleeding to death, and you can’t ever trust a royal.
Melegal maneuvered into the castle, taking one flight of steps after the other. He slid into the main tower centered in the castle. Stone steps wound around the inner ring. He reached the top landing where a variety of flags hung by pegs on the wall. He spotted the red flag with a white star in the middle. The heavy fabric had never seen the harsh weather. The distress flag was used when one royal house overtook another, in a time of mourning, or after a travesty. Melegal had only seen them flown a handful of times in his lifetime.
This is the one. I couldn’t imagine there being a more appropriate time than this one.
He stepped outside the door onto the outer walkway that made a ring around the spire. The brisk winds from the high elevation almost took his cap off. Still invisible, Melegal stuffed it in his pocket. There were four metal flag poles, but the color banner of Castle Kling did not fly. Nothing did. From the spire’s roost, Melegal noted that none of the castles flew their banners.
I suppose this will be a first. Bound to garner myself much unwanted attention. Oh well, time to raise the banner and let chaos fly.
He attached the flag and hoisted it up the rope, hand over hand, until it reached the top. He tied the rope off. Placing his cap back on his head, he said out loud, “That should do it.”
Stepping back inside the spire’s doorway, he heard the pounding of feet. Six badoon underlings raced up the spiraling staircase. Leading them was a four-legged beast, a shaggy cave dog with gray fur and enlarged nostrils. It sniffed and snorted along the stairs and wall.
Bloody Bone! They’ve sniffed me out already.
CHAPTER 31
Over one thousand dwarves perished under the stones. Explosions rang through the Black Columns from all directions. Smoke, dust, and rubble filled the air. The underlings fought dirty. Cowardly. They sank to any low to win. “Mood, what do you require of me?” Aaluun said.
“Get some dwarves down into the rubble, and save who you can. Go now! Take the shield bearers with you,” Mood said. The fight had taken a turn for the worst. The dwarves’ backs were against the wall. Now, the wall had fallen on them. They were moments from being trapped in the Black Columns. The curtains would close once and for all soon after that. He let out a gusty sigh that ruffled the long ends on his blood-red moustache. “It’s fighting time.”
Mood trudged down the rocks where a fierce battle raged. The dwarves, outnumbered three to one, fought against a new current of underlings that swarmed in. Mood stood tall on a rocky outcropping, staring down at the melee twenty feet below. The underlings stabbed their cruelly designed weapons, ripping dwarven flesh. The dwarves, protected by hardened steel armor and helms, shoved their weapons into the underlings with devastating accuracy. It wouldn’t be enough. Mood banged his axes together. “Ready or not, underlings, here Mood comes!”
Axes spread out, he leapt from the ledge, hanging in the air like a great bird until he dropped into the ranks. He crushed underlings beneath him. His twin axes went to work. “Have at them, dwarves! Show them the dwarven machine’s power!”
With Mood in the lead, the dwarves’ ranks tightened. The fighting reached a new fervor. They belted out battle cries. Row by row, they pushed the underlings back. Marching forward with small metal shields, they called out in dwarven. “Shove! Thrust! Shove! Thrust! Shove! Thrust!”
“They are no match for us!” Mood shouted. His hacking axes slung blood like splattering paint. “No mercy! Huzzah!”
The underling ranks caved.
“Seize the moment, brethren!” Mood roared. “Seize the moment!”
Out of nowhere, a sand spider scurried amidst the dwarves with a black barrel attached to its back. Instantly, the underlings retreated. Mood bellowed, “Take cover!”
The barrel and spider exploded in an ear-jolting Ka-Boom!
Mood slammed into a rock wall. Dead dwarves fell beside him. His head pulsated. Blood covered his face. A dwarven warrior in a suit of chain mail twitched. Half of his face was missing. The stink of foul smoke from the mystic black powder and scorched flesh hung in the air. Mood kneeled down by his warrior and cradled the dwarf.
“Is it bad, my king?” the dwarf said. His only good eye was fixed on Mood. The other was gone. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
“It’s a fine wound. A fine one.”
“Worse than yours, I hope.”
“As bad as I’ve ever seen,” Mood said, offering a grim smile.
“I took fifteen of the fiends, my king. I want to take more.”
“I’ll take more for you,” Mood said. “You are valiant, Ecklun. I’m proud to be your king.”
“Honor to serve…” With a gasp, Ecklun died.
The hard-fighting sounds of battle echoed throughout the columns. The dwarves would fight until there was no fight left in them. Mood waded through the smoke. Dwarves were strewn all over the sands. He couldn’t take a step without seeing a fallen dwarf. He stepped into one of the passes where a loud commotion came from dwarves and underlings.
“Curse my eyes!”
A thirty-foot giant stood in the channel, swatting his great arms at everything that moved.
***
Georgio and Lefty were tied up and bound to large stakes in the ground. The striders piled wood around them all the way up to their knees.
“We are not your enemy!” Lefty screamed. “The underlings are our enemies. Please, tell your leader we are on his side. So we stretched the truth a little. We did what we had to do to survive.”
The striders went about their business, piling the sticks a little higher. A ring of striders had formed around them. The leader, Kocus, was present in body only. He stood on his knees, shouting at the sky in strider language.
“Save your breath,” Georgio said to Lefty.
“For what shall I save it?”
“Perhaps you can blow the flames out when they start.”
Lefty shot Georgio a look. “Are you trying to be humorous? Now? Of all times?” Two striders caught his attention. They were inspecting Lefty’s blue-bladed dagger. “That’s mine, mind you. But you can have it if you free me. It has a special power. But I have to be alive to share it with you.”
The striders tilted their heads. One of them spit black juice on the wood.
“I don’t think they are interested.” Georgio’s stomach growled. “I wish I didn’t have to die on an empty stomach.”
“Unlike me, you probably won’t die. You’ll probably burn and it will be mighty painful, but eventually, the flames will fizzle out and you will heal.”
“Do you really think so?”
Lefty gave a sad nod. “Yes, but it will most likely go on for hours. I’ll be long dead. Just remember me, Georgio. I honestly tried to be a true friend.”
“You are a true friend. One I would die for. Hopefully not more than once though.” His brows perched. The striders lit up a pair of torches. “I have an idea. Perhaps it will work. What did you say that strider’s name was?”
“Tarcot.” They had both brought up the name several times, but this tribe of striders didn’t know him.
“No, the other one.”
“Oh, that’s Kocus. It’s easy to remember because it rhymes with Locus.”
“I suppose I can remember that, not that I’ll need to remember much of anything much longer.” Georgio called out. “Kocus! Kocus!”
“What are you doing? Don’t interrupt him. They are very tribal people. They take these ceremonies very seriously.”
“Kocus! Kocus!” A strider walked over to Georgio and slapped him in the face, one at a time, with all four hands. His entire face stung.
“What are you planning?”
“You say they are a spiritual people. Perhaps we can convince them that we are special people.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m going to suggest
they burn me, before they burn you. If I live, it’s a sign and we both go free.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, but I wouldn’t expect you to do that for me. It’s too risky. I’d hate to see you perish on my account.”
Georgio eyed him. “You thought of this plan, didn’t you?”
“Who? Me?”
“I know you, Lefty. Just admit it.”
“Fine. It crossed my mind the moment we were tied to the stake. It was going to be a last-resort suggestion. You know I wouldn’t want you to die unless it was absolutely necessary, but we don’t have another way out.”
“That’s pretty sad that this is the only idea that either of us can come up with.”
“Indeed.”
Kocus rose up to full height and came toward Georgio.
“Eh, why don’t you let me do the talking, Georgio?” Lefty said.
Georgio managed a shrug.
With both sets of arms crossed over his chest, Kocus said, “You wish to speak. Speak.”
“Mighty, Kocus, I can prove that we are not your enemy. We are destined to be here and help fight our mutual enemy, the underlings.” He cleared his throat. “My comrade, Georgio, may burn, but he won’t die. If he can outlast your flames, then you set us both free.”
“You will be proven a liar once more, halfling man.” Kocus made some clicking sounds. “If it is as you say, the spirits of the sands and sky will make it so.” He motioned to the strider holding the torch. As the strider came forward, he said to Georgio, “You are willing to do this?”
“Even if I die, I hope you’ll consider setting my friend free despite his alleged treachery.”
Kocus leaned forward. “No.” He clapped his hands. “Now burn him.”
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 49
