The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night

by Craig Halloran

  Putting it out of his mind—for now—Georgio dashed up to his one of his favorite bakeries, startling the baker.

  “Oy!” the man said.

  The beefy man with short sleeves and hairy arms was removing a fresh batch of breads from the large stone oven. Georgio inhaled the fresh-baked aroma and let out a sigh. He rubbed his tummy, thinking about all that coffee he’d drunk.

  “Tis the likes o’ Georgio, I see. Back for more biscuits, might he be?” the man said, wiping his hands.

  “That’s right! Do you remember what I like on them?” Georgio asked.

  “Hah …” He tugged at his moustache. “I think I do remember. O’ course, yes, I do. I call it the Georgio.”

  “Wow … a biscuit that’s named after me!” Georgio said, now licking his lips.

  The baker smiled, reached over the counter, and tousled Georgio’s dark brown locks.

  “There’s only one Georgio biscuit, so how could I forget it? Now, let’s see …” he said.

  The baker removed the first batch and placed the pan underneath Georgio’s nose. The biscuits were the size of a man’s hand, golden and fluffy, warming his face like the morning sun.

  “Ah, yes. You’ll be wantin’ lots o’ golden cheese,” the man said.

  The boy nodded as the man sliced a biscuit open, let the steam escape, and lathered in the cheese.

  “And then a lot o’ bacon …”

  Georgio continued nodding.

  “Lots o’ butter, plenty o’ spicy sausage, lots o’ hot pepper, and, eh … what am I forgetting?”

  “Pickles and goat mustard!” Georgio said, clasping his hands.

  “That’s right! Now how many will you be wantin’ today, then? Two, might it be?” the baker asked.

  Georgio checked his pockets and pulled out three small silver coins.

  “Ah, you’ve enough for two biscuits, I see.”

  “And some milk, too?” Georgio asked with a shrug.

  “Well, okay, then. But then you’ll need to come by my bakery later and help clear out the trash, okay? Now take yourself a seat over there. I want to see you eat both o’ my biscuits, I do. I could barely eat one if I tried, ” the baker said, holding his stomach.

  “I want to keep one for later,” he said.

  “It won’t be as fresh later. ”

  Georgio was grinning as he held out his hands. “It won’t be that much later, just when I get back to the stable.”

  The baker chuckled. “You’re a lucky one, you are, Georgio. Not many lucky boys in this city. Here you go, then. Enjoy.”

  Georgio took a huge bite of his first biscuit and gulped down his milk. Two bites later, it was gone. He stretched his arms and patted his belly in satisfaction and burped. Then he thanked the baker and skipped off as the baker waved.

  “Don’t forget to come back, Georgio!”

  “I won’t,” he said, rounding the corner.

  The barns were still a long walk from the inner-city bakery, and the smell of his remaining biscuit was bound to attract starving urchlings. Georgio stopped, looked around, then pressed himself out of sight. Not long ago, Venir had once given him a special snakeskin parchment for wrapping up his leftovers. It had been a lifesaver on countless occasions, as it sealed in the freshness of his leftover food and kept the aromas from escaping and drawing attention. He wrapped up the biscuit and shoved it into his leather pouch.

  The suns had risen by the time he arrived at the stables. The massive brick-red barns loomed ahead. He headed along one side until he found his usual entrance for coming and going throughout the week as he did his chores. Not many traveled there. He had worked in the barns for years and they now felt like a second home to him. He even slept there from time to time.

  As he entered, he could hear a lot of stirring in the surrounding barns—they were busier than usual. Still, he thought, it was the time of day when the City Watch and Royal equestrian societies were about. Farmers were also busy with their cows, pigs, and various livestock. So, not giving it another thought, Georgio walked along, with no one paying much mind to him as he passed a few farmers on his way into the stables.

  But then he stopped and looked up and down the barn’s great hall. It was quiet and dreary, with only a few people in sight farther away. Georgio put his ear to the stable door. He shook his head at what he heard: nothing. He listened again. Still nothing.

  Where’s Quickster and Chongo?

  He started to worry. If they’d gotten out again, Melegal would have his hide. Georgio squatted to get through the small livestock door set into the stable gate. But then he stepped back instead. Something wasn’t right. He looked to both ends of the barn as he now noticed that a strange silence had descended on all the stalls. He slipped on the jacket he was carrying then pulled it tight—and waited. Finally he heard a snore. It was Quickster. Feeling relief, Georgio heard his stomach growling again. He figured he’d better eat his other biscuit—before Chongo and Quickster were all over him trying to get at the food.

  Georgio pulled the biscuit out of his leather pouch, unwrapped it from the snakeskin, and waved it above his head toward the stall door. This’ll wake them up. He tilted his ear upward, expecting begging or whining, but he shrugged as he only heard the pony snore.

  He rolled his eyes as he opened his mouth while a cloud blotted out the light from above, darkening the interior of the barn a bit. Even as he bit into his biscuit with vigor, he felt cold, almost like a shiver. After devouring the biscuit in almost a single bite, Georgio let out a loud burp, then he brushed the crumbs from his hands and licked his buttery fingers. Finally, shaking off the cold shivers, he headed through the small stable door.

  “Man, Chongo, I can’t believe you didn’t tear that gate down for my biscuit,” he said. “You—What!”

  There was no Chongo. Instead two men stood before him, one a slender individual in a broad black hat with matching black clothing. But Georgio’s blood went cold at the sight of the other man: the scariest man he’d ever seen.

  Georgio’s body turned taut as a bowstring as a thought struck him. The man clad in black reminded him of the detective in the stories he’d heard from Venir. Mc … McKnight? And if the slender man was McKnight, then the other man would have to be …

  Tonio …

  Staring at the monstrous man, Georgio indeed recognized Tonio as the same powerful warrior from an encounter months back. But now the ghoulish man was a menacing sight. Georgio’s mind raced, trying to comprehend why these men were here. They’re not dead? He tried to back out the small door through which he’d come.

  Tonio stepped forward and pulled Georgio up by the scruff of his neck.

  “Ow!” he cried.

  Tonio hoisted him with one arm and dangled him in front of McKnight.

  “What do you want with me?” Georgio asked, trying to control his panic and knowing he probably didn’t sound like it.

  From his elevated position, Georgio now noticed Quickster, the shaggy gray pony, still snoring in the corner.

  “I want you to give your big brother Venir a message, boy,” McKnight said.

  Georgio turned his face away, covering his nose.

  “Who’s Venir?” Georgio asked.

  Tonio squeezed his neck even harder, and Georgio could feel his face turning beet red.

  “Don’t play games with me, you fat little lout,” McKnight said, brandishing two steel daggers. “Any more crap and I’ll have Tonio snap your neck, if I don’t slash it first.”

  Georgio’s eyes widened. He’d had nightmares about that all too often. He was brave, but he knew he was still just a boy. He began to kick and flail to avoid the blade. McKnight stepped back, twisting the black hair of his goatee.

  “Drop him, Tonio. He isn’t going anywhere.”

  Tonio did so, and Georgio scrambled behind Quickster, peering at his captors over the pony. Quickster kept snoring. On the other side of the pony, McKnight began flipping his daggers in his hands like blinking lights.


  “Okay, boy, let’s start again. If you don’t want your throat cut, deliver this message to your friends …”

  No. No. No. Georgio clutched his throat behind the pony.

  “Tell Venir if he wants his canine returned alive, he has exactly two days to turn himself in at the Royal Almen House. Alone. Tonio will meet him outside the gates. I’m sure he’ll be surprised to see Tonio alive. And tell Melegal I’ve killed his filthy donkey, and that I’m coming to kill him. Got it?” the detective asked.

  Georgio nodded, peering over Quickster’s shaggy belly. Never before had he so hoped that Melegal would appear. And where was the big-time hero Venir when he needed him? But no one magically appeared. It was up to him to defend Quickster.

  Slipping his hand downward, Georgio felt for something under the hay behind him, up against the wall: the long sword he’d been given by Venir, which they’d agreed to keep hidden there in case of trouble … like this. Georgio looked up just as McKnight hurled a dagger straight at Quickster’s exposed belly. Without hesitation Georgio flung himself across the pony like a shield—and caught the blade square in his back. He screamed, pain burning in his back.

  It’s … only a dagger. But, Bone … it burns! Wait … Melegal … told me about this. Poison!

  Soon Georgio felt his throat swell shut as the stable around him turned black. He saw McKnight’s confused face coming his way, but he couldn’t move. And then he began to fade away into the darkness.

  *****

  What on Bish did he do that for?” McKnight said. “Sacrificing himself for a stupid donkey! Dumb boy!”

  McKnight looked at Tonio then shook his head.

  “I’m beginning to doubt the boy would have been able to remember my message,” McKnight said. “But who’s going to deliver it now? I’ll have to do this another way. Bone! The boy’s dead, Tonio. Dead! To save a donkey! Outrageous!”

  McKnight kicked the hay, then the pair stood there, uncertain what to do next. They had spent weeks spying and planning their revenge on Venir and Melegal. They had even managed to corral the Darkslayer’s mount. And now this … thwarted by a runt who thought more of a donkey than himself.

  “Drag the boy out of the way, Tonio—this Georgio, I think his name is—and kill that blasted donkey,” McKnight said. “We’ll think of something.”

  *****

  Keeping his eyes closed, Georgio could still hear everything—and he already felt better. Even with the dagger still embedded in his back, his blood had stopped burning, and his throat no longer felt swollen. His healing powers had kicked in.

  His head, though, still thundered inside, but he was clear enough to hear Tonio approaching. When Tonio’s footsteps stopped and Georgio felt a hand on his leg, he opened his eyes and smashed his boot heel into Tonio’s nose. He heard McKnight curse as Tonio stumbled back a few steps.

  Now what? Think!

  Georgio noticed Quickster stirring—finally. As McKnight approached and Tonio righted himself, an idea flashed in Georgio’s mind. He kicked Quickster right in his pony parts. The beast catapulted to his feet, bucking in a frenzy. Burying himself in a corner of the stall, Georgio watched as Quickster ricocheted around the stable as if on fire.

  The pony barreled through McKnight and smashed Tonio into the stable gate. Georgio’s hand shot out and he pulled his long sword from underneath the hay. Despite lingering pain, he charged at McKnight, who was scrambling to his feet and aiming a poisoned dagger at Quickster.

  “No!” Georgio yelled.

  Swinging his blade at McKnight’s back, Georgio saw the detective whirl at the last moment, deflecting the blow. But the blade still bit into McKnight’s left shoulder.

  “Bone!” McKnight shouted.

  As Georgio’s mind raced for what to do next, Quickster bolted toward the small door and squeezed through it. Without another thought, Georgio dashed after him. He was almost clear when he felt something powerful grip his leg and yank him back in.

  Tonio.

  Georgio whirled and brought his sword down with both hands, but McKnight caught his wrists and twisted the sword free. The blade fell to the ground. Tonio kicked Georgio in the belly, dropping him to both knees with an oomph. Georgio sucked for air, feeling the dagger still lodged in his back. He looked up at McKnight and frowned.

  *****

  The boy Georgio’s jacket was red, yet not soaked with blood as McKnight would have expected by now.

  Reaching down, McKnight tore Georgio’s clothes open around the blade then yanked the dagger out. Georgio screamed. McKnight could only gasp. The wound began closing as the detective watched.

  “Mmmy sssword!”

  McKnight jerked his head to the right to look at Tonio. Had he just spoken? The words were almost intelligible, but Tonio had indeed said something—indeed a rarity since the ravaging of his body. In his hand, Tonio held the boy’s long sword, and his split face had even managed a smile.

  “Mmmy sword!”

  McKnight watched as Tonio began to whip it through the air as if writing across the sky, his face looking more alive than ever. The tempered steel blade gleamed in the early light, its brass pommel glittering with jewels. McKnight knew the sword to be Tonio’s prized possession from his rite of passage in becoming a warrior. It was as fine a forged sword as could be found in the City of Bone. As McKnight saluted Tonio, he saw the boy struggling to his feet so he kicked him back to the floor.

  *****

  “What are you, boy?” McKnight demanded.

  When Georgio said nothing, McKnight took out a small knife and cut a small X into his back. Georgio could feel that the wound bled a little, then closed almost as quickly as it had opened. His back burned like fire as tears streamed down his eyes. He wanted to scream but could not.

  “What are you?” McKnight asked. “Magical? A wizard … or maybe a lycan? Tell me! Or I’ll slice your throat.”

  “I’m … I’m a … regener. I heal. It’s natural, no magic,” he cried then pinched his lips shut.

  Oh no!

  Melegal and Venir had always warned him to say nothing about his healing power. But then, he never imagined he’d face having his throat slit. He began to wail and covered his throat with a hand.

  “Ah … I see!” McKnight said. “You’ve had your throat cut before, haven’t you? And it didn’t kill you. But it scares you, doesn’t it? Probably hurts like hell. Hmm …”

  McKnight tipped his hat back, then began pacing about in the stall, doodling his chin. Georgio knew the man wanted to find out more. Why did I have to tell him that? Venir had always told him there was plenty on Bish that Georgio would have to learn about the hard way. Melegal had also told Georgio that his secret healing ability had value—so if McKnight figured that out … I’m in trouble.

  With a dagger in each hand, McKnight walked back over to him and knelt at his side.

  “Now I have the dog … and a healing boy as well. This will certainly get your big friend’s attention now, won’t it?”

  Georgio just looked away.

  “This will be more than just sweet revenge,” McKnight said. “I can profit from this as well. Oh, I can’t wait to see their faces, and I might just have to tell them myself.”

  Georgio swallowed as McKnight stood back up and clapped Tonio on the back.

  “Okay, Tonio, let’s take the boy with us, then. See if you can knock him out somehow.”

  “To … Castle Almen?” Tonio asked, sounding to Georgio almost like a child, except for the hoarse voice. “I have … sword.”

  “Yes, you do,” McKnight said. “But, no, Tonio, not to the castle yet … but soon. Let’s first complete our mission. Then the castle will be at our feet. I promise you that.”

  Georgio saw McKnight stick his daggers back into their sheaths. Then Tonio walked up to Georgio and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of Georgio’s head. Everything went black—again.

  CHAPTER 21

  Melegal was sound asleep in his bed when a shocking
clang caused one red eye to pop open. He stuffed his face back into his silk goose-feather pillow. Another clatter brought him up in his cot. I’m gonna kill the boy!

  “Sorry, Me,” Lefty said as he retrieved an iron skillet from the floor. “Did that disturb your eternal slumber?”

  Melegal sent one of his boots careening towards the halfling’s head. The tiny boy ducked beneath it. The aroma of eggs and the warmth of the burning coals had done nothing to mellow Melegal’s dour mood.

  “Okay, Lefty,” Melegal said, standing up and yawning. “You’re not stupid enough to wake me unless you needed something. You may be a loudmouth but you aren’t clumsy. What’s the deal?”

  Lefty said nothing as Melegal reached for the boot he’d thrown and then sat down and put them both on. Melegal considered that he and Lefty had gotten to know each other well enough over the past few months. No sense in beating around the bush. And he knew the look in Lefty’s wide blue eyes.

  “Well?” Melegal said.

  The boys hands shook. “Sorry, Me. I tried to wake you with the smell of breakfast, but you were pretty beat. I’ve never seen you sleep so deep before.”

  Melegal rubbed his eyes. “Humph. I guess I could sleep because Georgio and Venir aren’t around,” he said. “Have they come and gone already?”

  Again Lefty said nothing, so Melegal went over to the small table where a steaming plate of food awaited him. He sat down, grabbed a fork, and dug in.

  “It’s good, Lefty. Where’s yours?” he said through a mouthful of food.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m worried.”

  “Why? Where’s Georgio? At the stables? I can guess where Venir is,” he said.

  “Georgio left for the stables early this morning, before you got in. I figured Georgio would be back by now. He’s never missed Venir. You know how he gets about his big brother.”