Lefty felt nothing but glee as he watched them go. He helped Georgio from the road and back into an alley. Georgio sat down, his back against the wall, still groaning.
“Ow! Man, that hurts, Lefty! I wish you’d try it sometime.”
“I would, but I don't regenerate.”
Lefty counted the coins in his palm. It was a tidy sum, at least a week’s worth. It was almost too easy of a skim, at least for him anyway. The mere mention of the City Watch turned the men to ghosts. If the Watch arrived, the men would be tied up for hours, maybe a day, waiting for the Watch to decide whether or not they had to pay. If they were uncertain what to do, then they would have to see a magistrate and that could be costly. The traders and merchants made their living by staying on the move, no delays. They always decided it was better to pay up front rather than risk a whole day’s wage, or disgruntle your customers. Any missed shipments would allow another to take your customer away. The mercantile business was a cutthroat business.
Georgio pulled is shirt up to look at the wheel mark along his rib cage. The bruise was black and blue, but Lefty could see it beginning to fade. He could see the pain in Georgio’s grimacing face. Tears were running down his cheeks. He felt ashamed suddenly.
He sat down by his friend, patting him on his back.
“You feeling better?”
Georgio spit blood from his mouth.
“Yeah, a little. Ugh.”
“I’m sorry, Georgio. Next time, I’ll figure an easier skim.”
“You better.”
After a few quiet moments Georgio got back up.
“Gimme my money, Lefty. I’m hungry. And you’re buying my first round of biscuits.”
Crap, he remembered.
Lefty counted out the coins, placing them in Georgio’s beefy palm.
“This better be all of it.”
“It is.” It wasn’t.
Lefty didn’t even notice the man standing there when they turned to go.
“Well, well, you two have quite a skim running here,” the man said in a haunting voice.
Lefty and Georgio froze when they turned around and saw the man.
“I don’t think you should be skimming, unless you have permission from the Thieves Guild,” the man said in a voice like a sheet of ice.
Georgio wrapped his arm around Lefty, trying to back away with him, but there was nowhere to go. They were surrounded.
Chapter 17
His mouth tasted like bitter apples. Worse, his body felt like it had been trampled by a stampede. His stomach ached, but it was full and sustained. It was midday now, and Venir realized he had been asleep quite a while. The last thing he remembered was the giant’s attack. He didn’t recall drinking the drop of blood, but his ravenous hunger and thirst were gone now, and his battered mind was clear. He managed to stand up with a groan, but dark purple spots appeared in his eyes. He was woozy.
He found his backpack and gathered his gear, stuffing it inside. Brool was a comfort in his hand, and the helmet no longer throbbed. He walked over to the underling corpse on the ground. He could see the steel blade jutting from its chest, golden eyes affixed towards the sky. He rolled the dead mage over and grabbed the knife by the hilt. It was ice cold. He pulled his hand away. Suddenly wary, he looked around, in the sky and down both ends of the ravine. Sensing nothing living was anywhere near, he wrapped his big hand around the blade again. Goosebumps rose on his skin. Blast! There was still powerful magic working inside the underling. He let go. Uneasy now, he stood and circled the robed creature. He had heard of underlings rising from the dead before. This one was powerful. If the stories were true, certainly one like it would be the type to do so. He should chop the creature to bits, scatter its parts, and bury them. His hunt wasn’t over, though. One more was still out there. It would want revenge. Venir would need some bait, and maybe the corpse at his feet would be the advantage that he needed.
Grabbing the underling by the leg, he began dragging it through the ravine, following the giant’s massive tracks. He couldn’t help but be curious to see where the giant would go. The underling was light, like a child, but he had no desire to carry it. Touching the foul creature repulsed him. Besides, he had nothing but the greatest contempt for them, their magic and all.
He plodded over the ground for at least an hour, stopped and stood inside one of the giant’s footprints. He was astounded how he could fit ten of his footprints in one of the giant's. He’d actually seen a giant, fought one and lived. He couldn’t wait to tell a story in a tavern about that. That fantasy seemed like an impossibility now.
He doubled over and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach.
“Ugh!”
His burning belly reminded him of drinking the giant’s blood drop. His feet were aching too, swelling in his shoes. His scale armor tightened around his chest. The giant's blood was working some ill inside him. When he waved his hand in front of his face, it was like an illusion, there and not there, traipsing across his eyes. He strained his eyes, kicked at the ground, and screamed. He shook for a few more moments and lay still. The last thing he heard was the sound of thunder and rain. The last thing he felt was his fingers turning ice cold.
Chapter 18
He felt empty. Something inside of him was gone. His chest felt like it had a knife jammed inside it, but it was not there. It didn’t take Lord Verbard long to realize that his brother Catten was dead. Verbard had been staggering away on foot, after trying to kill the Darkslayer. The man had been in his clutches; beating heart and all … and he had failed. The failure was costly … now his brother was gone. He was alone. Wheezing, he fought to suck air between his teeth. His Warfield wound caused him agony. His cold skin was sweating, and his fine line of fur glistened with sweat. Now, for the first time, the suns above seemed to be baking him inside his dark cloak. It was something that had never bothered him before. He had been outside and playing in the dirt long enough. Now he wanted more than ever to go home, but he could not. Only death awaited him there.
Verbard kept hiking through the brush along the bottom of the hill. He had no strength or desire to climb, or find safety in the high ground. No, he would distance himself on foot as best as he could from the Darkslayer. His magic was drained. He had little means left to defend himself. It would take time before he had enough energy to pick up on the quest again, but did he want to?
He reached inside his cloak, pulled out a crystal vial, and drank.
“Ah ….”
He felt a burst of energy. Thank you, Brother. You always told me I would need that some day. He was still empty inside, though. His brother was gone, along with many of their future plans for the Underland.
Looking ahead, he saw little more than difficult terrain. His feet and legs were strained. He couldn’t remember walking so far or so fast in centuries. He couldn’t even remember if he ever had. He was feeble and vulnerable now, for the first time in his life. He was the brash one, bold and daring, the risk taker his brother was not. Now, he was reduced to scurrying over the ground of Bish like a rodent, fighting for a scrap of food to survive.
He was climbing down a steep slope when he slipped, fell, and rolled over and over like a log before stopping at the bottom. He sat up and noticed all the scrapes and cuts on his formerly smooth and pristine hands. His bony knees were skinned, too, and his feet were developing sores. His thick black finger nails had dirt caked under them, and his robes were dusty. He stood up, flapped his robes, and kicked the loose stones on the ground.
“Pah!”
He stood, robes billowing in the wind, wanting to cry out. But to who?
Now what, Verbard? Your brother is dead. The Darkslayer lives. You can’t go home. Now what!?
He screamed and walked onward. He knew the Darkslayer would be coming soon.
Chapter 19
Kam opted for peeling potatoes with Joline rather than drink for the rest of the morning. It wasn’t something that she normally did. This time in the morning she
would normally be up in her room getting ready for the day, but the thought of leaving Joline alone, with a scowling sword-bearing woman in the midst, didn’t sit well with her. She couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that hung in the air. It didn’t help that the morning seemed to be creeping by, either. It would be at least another hour before more help arrived.
She jumped when there was a knock at the back kitchen door.
Joline gave her a funny look.
“I’ll get it. It’s just a delivery.”
Kam decided to check on her only customer. She muttered something mystic, a protection spell. The hairs on her arms rose and fell, and she tingled from head to toe. After the magic passed through her she felt her anxiety begin to settle. She rubbed her shoulders. She could handle this. In all of the years of running the Magi Roost she had survived many unpleasant encounters. But, this time it was different. There wasn’t a room full of tavern dwellers she knew would watch her back—this time she was all alone.
She stepped out of the kitchen and slipped behind the bar. She grabbed a rag and began rubbing the glassy black surface. It was pointless; the black wood was spotless, without a single smudge. She eyed the woman in the corner. The woman sat there with her face cast in a shadow, but Kam could still feel the woman’s eyes burning into her. There was a presence in the air, cold and chilling, like the feeling she got before watching a public execution. It had been a long time since she had seen a man hung, but it was the same feeling nonetheless. The feeling of death was in the room.
Come on Kam, gut it up. This is your house. Get the woman away. She found herself wishing the boys were still around. Despite their behavior, she still adored them. They gave her comfort. She frowned. No, this morning she would have to face her fears alone. Taking a deep breath, she headed over to the woman in the corner, with the rag still in her hand.
“Don’t you have something to do?” the woman said, eyes down on her drink.
“Do you need anything else?” Kam replied.
The woman looked up at her with an icy blue gaze.
“What I have will do. When I need more, I’ll let you know.”
Kam fought the urge to walk away, but she held the woman’s glare. It was clear the woman was of a notorious ilk. The City of Three’s inhabitants were clearly defined by their language and demeanor. The travelers that came through were of the business lot and visiting sort. Hardened people of ill repute were not comfortable with all the pleasantries of this city. They preferred the darkness or very little light. This woman was a dark smudge on a sheet of crystal clear glass.
Kam placed her hands on the table’s edge and leaned over.
“There won’t be any more.”
“Is that so, Prissy?”
“It is.”
The woman held her cup with both hands and took a sip, then set it back down.
“I like it here,” she said.
Kam’s fingernails began digging into the table. Now what? She had the feeling that she may have just opened up something she could never close again. I should have just left her alone. She studied the sword on the table. It had the distinct markings of a Royal smith. Stolen or found.
The woman caressed the scabbard with her long fingers and said, “It was a gift, an honor. I used to be a soldier.”
Kam pulled back a chair and took a seat.
“Interesting, and who did you serve?”
The woman’s face darkened.
“I don’t serve anybody now! Get up from my table, I didn’t ask for company, just service!”
The black haired woman was making Kam angry, and it was clear the woman was getting angry as well. Kam was pretty sure she was outmatched, but something inside her didn’t care. She was going to stand her ground.
“It’s my table,” Kam said in a stern voice, “… and I want you to leave. You don’t belong.”
The woman began to draw up, like a cobra about to spring. Kam was certain the woman was going to reach across the table and rip her eyes from her head. The woman withdrew and tossed her booted feet on the table and leaned back in her chair.
Bone! Kam was furious now. Savage whore!
“I suppose you’re going to call the City Watch now, eh … Prissy?”
Kam had thought about it, but for what? The woman hadn’t done anything aside from being dirty and unpleasant. Calling the City Watch on such a frivolous matter would be an embarrassment. Perhaps she was the one being unpleasant.
The woman sat with a crooked smile breaking across her thin lips as Kam got up. When she turned and walked away, the woman’s eyes felt like daggers poised at her back. She went in the kitchen and returned with a plate of crackers, spreads and cheese, an onyx cup, and another bottle from the bar. She set it all down and sat, smiling as she refilled the woman’s cup along with hers.
“Let’s try this again. Welcome to the Magi Roost. My name is Kam, what is yours?”
The corner of the woman’s maroon lips turned up.
“It’s best I didn’t say.”
Kam got the feeling her idea wasn’t the best idea after all. She raised her glass anyway.
“To the woman with no name then?”
The woman raised her glass in return.
“I’ll drink to that ... after you.”
Bone!
Chapter 20
Venir awoke in a stream of water with a hard rain splashing in his face.
“Yes!” he yelled. Bish! He clutched at his busted ribs. The pain remained.
The sky was black with clouds, drenching him in hot rain. It felt great, being wet again. He scooped water from the stream he sat in and drank. He couldn't remember water ever tasting so good. The sour taste in his mouth was washed away as well, so that his belly was no longer ill. He sucked in another mouthful and slung off his backpack. He removed the canteens and refilled them, then stuffed them back in his pack and drank the fresh water again.
The dirt and blood on his skin and armor was washing away with the stream. The underling corpse was lying on the ground like a soaked sack of rags, water drops bouncing of its golden eyes. Venir gathered his pack, grabbed the underling by the foot, and started dragging it through the mud. The load was heavier now, but he was moving at a brisker pace than before. He had to keep on going; certainly the other underling was out there. Another hour passed before the rain stopped. The black clouds had moved farther north, and the blazing suns were back.
Ahead, the mist still waited, higher than the eye could see. It was impossible to tell how far away it actually was, but it was close. He could see the outlines of birds in the distance, cutting through the sky. He still followed the faint traces of the giant’s steps. Steam was rising off of his boots, and the leather was becoming tight and uncomfortable. Venir had an urge to take them off, but he knew his feet would be blistered after a few miles travel. He shifted inside the scale armor that Mood had given him. It was pinching his skin now. Blasted suns! Blasted land! He kept moving, trying to decide whether or not to shed it.
The hills he had climbed before were in the distance now as he looked back. The helmet was hot from the sun, but he didn't sense anything abnormal. He checked the sky, shook his head, and kept on going.
The terrain had changed; it was flat with bigger rocks and busted shale. The ground was cracked with baked mud, and insects now crawled the ground. He would have devoured those insects hours ago, but now he didn’t feel the need. Birds pecking for worms in the drying mud fluttered away at his approach. Shadows were being cast from the circling vultures above.
“Maybe this is my last day after all. So be it.”
He let go of the underling’s leg and stopped. He scanned the ground as he walked around. The giant’s tracks were gone, vanished. Venir retraced his steps over one hundred yards, running his hands over the dirt and crawling on the ground, but it was as if the giant had never existed.
“What in the world of Bish?” he said, tugging at his chin.
As the suns were beginning to dip i
n the distance, Venir decided this was the place he would make his stand. He went back to the underling and touched the hilt of the knife, but it was still ice cold, so he jerked his hand away.
“Blasted magic fiend!” Venir sat down and began tugging off his boots. It took some effort before he finally slung them off. His feet were raw, but they didn’t appear to be swollen or sickly. He figured the hot sun must have shrunk the leather. He wiggled his toes and sat in the quiet before he tugged his boots back on.
From around his neck, he pulled out the amulet that Fogle Boon had given him. He suspected his friends would be along any time now, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be found. He had caused them so much harm over the years that you would think they would learn to stay away. He took the amulet off and put it around the head of the underling. Finding a dead underling is safer than finding a living me.
Venir walked over to a stone half his size, bent over, wrapped his arms around it, and felt his girdle warm around his waist as he lifted it. He strained with the effort, but he pulled it off the ground like a stone half its size.
“Ha!” he said, strength coursing through him as he tossed the stone several feet to the side and watched it bounce off the ground before coming to a stop. It should have taken nothing smaller than an ogre to lift that rock, maybe two. He patted his girdle with new found appreciation and awe.
Venir wrapped up the underling in its cloak and set it in a rut, then gathered rocks from all around that were too heavy for a normal man to carry and piled them over the underling. A few hours later, the underling was buried under a cairn of huge stones. If it came back to life, it would have a hard time getting out. There were enough stones to bury a horse. Now, all Venir had to do was sit, rest, and think. He did regret leaving his grandfather's knife inside the underling corpse, though. He pulled a smaller blade from his sack, something he had been meaning for years to give to Melegal. It was half the size of his grandfather’s ancient blade. It’ll have to do.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 9
