Chaos At The Castle (Book Six)

by Craig Halloran

  “Fool!” A blade appeared in Corrin’s hands.

  Haze gathered herself alongside Melegal, a long knife in her hand.

  Words and expressions the likes of which Trinos never experienced before came forth.

  “Slat sucker!”

  “Orcen whore!”

  “Sweat from an ogre crotch!”

  “Your father bites the heads off chickens!

  “Vomitus Pisswiller!”

  Trinos didn’t know whether to be amused or offended. “Enough!” she said.

  They kept arguing. As if she wasn’t even there.

  She put a little more power behind it. “SILENCE!”

  Everyone stopped and turned to face her.

  “First, I am not a Royal. Second, I do command magic, much of it. Third, you don’t owe me any ‘Thank you’ that you don’t want to give. But, as surely as my suns rise and fall, you,” she pointed at Melegal, “would have perished without me.”

  Nikkel stepped forward. “Couldn’t you have saved us from that monster? Saved my father?” The young man’s eyes watered. “Where were you then, Trinos? One moment you were here, and then you left―and the underlings came!”

  “Mind your tongue, Boy.” Corrin said, “She doesn’t owe anyone here anything.”

  But Nikkel was right. She could have stopped it if she wanted. She couldn’t be there for everyone all the time, but in this case, she’d offered these people protection and then abandoned them, all just to see if she could let it happen. People were dying on Bish all the time. Some in the most horrible and violent of ways. Was that indeed how she wanted it? It was, wasn’t it? How cruel. I wonder how Scorch is doing.

  ***

  Melegal looked up into the bright lights of the sky.

  ‘My suns’? What a loon! Very pretty. Even smells nice despite the decay, but I’ve got things to do.

  As Trinos continued to enamor the crowd by the fountain, Melegal made his way into the shade behind the walls.

  What in Bish is going on?

  The last thing he remembered was fighting the imp. Ordering it to stop killing Haze, who now sat slack-jawed by the fountain, hanging on Trinos’s every word.

  She’s a scrappy one. I’ll give her that.

  Alone with his thoughts, he slid his back down along the wall and checked his pockets.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Excellent.

  The imp wanted the Keys for the underlings. The vile little monster was by far the most terrifying thing he’d ever faced. He wiggled his fingers and toes.

  All there.

  He took the hat off and rubbed his head. It still ached, but wasn’t anything so sore as before he blacked out. And he’d been blinded too.

  Slat. I’ve used it too much. Can I use it again?

  He placed it on his head.

  We’ll see.

  So much had happened over the past few days, he didn’t know where to start. Rayal, what happened to her? She wanted him to find Tonio. Lorda wanted him to find Tonio. Lord Almen, he didn’t know if that man was still alive or dead. But what had Rayal said on the matter?

  Nothing. I can only assume Lord Almen is alive.

  The image of the half-naked cleric emerged inside his mind.

  Kill Sefron!

  He’d almost pulled it off once already in Castle Almen’s arena, but the cleric still lived. He rubbed his dart launchers on his wrists.

  Perhaps it’s time I used poison.

  Closing off the sights and sounds of the other people, Melegal closed his eyes and mediated.

  Put it all together, Melegal. What to do next?

  The City of Bone was his home. He had no intentions of leaving it again, underlings or not. He had no desire to fight those nasty little creatures or that imp, but they were coming for him.

  Perhaps it’s time I slid out of here. I’m sure the City of Three would be nice.

  Rayal wanted him to find Tonio.

  Slat on that.

  But she might be his only protection if Castle Almen came after him.

  All Royals are the same.

  He fingered the Key that had taken him from the chamber below Almen’s study to the place he and Haze called home.

  Now that’s power.

  And where would all the other Keys lead? What could they do?

  I must know.

  He looked around the wall, watching the group still gathered around Trinos. Brak stood tallest of them all, thick arms folded over his chest. Melegal shook his head, ducking back behind the wall.

  Things were so much simpler with the big lout around. All I had to do was bail him out. Of course, he’s probably the reason I’m in this mess to begin with. But with all the underlings, you’d think he’d be here in the thick of it.

  Melegal contemplated many things: Haze. Brak. Trinos. The Almens. Rayal. Mikkel. Quickster. Georgio. The imp and the underlings. Hours later, he concluded his thoughts. Out of all those people, only one promise came to mind.

  Get on with it, Melegal. Kill Sefron. The Bone with everything else!

  ***

  The detail was horrifying. Trinos, despite her elegance, didn’t sugar coat what was going on in the world of Bish. Instead, she made it perfectly clear that everyone’s nightmare was coming to life. The underlings were taking over.

  It was the least of his worries, however. All Georgio wanted to do was find Venir.

  “Georgio, where are you going?” Billip took him by the nook of the elbow.

  Georgio jerked his arm away. “I’m going out. After my family. After Venir.”

  “Me too.” Brak stood behind Georgio.

  Over the past hour, everyone had come clean, thanks to Jubilee who’d blabbed to everybody about everything.

  “This is Melegal’s sister, Haze, wink, wink, and droopy face over here is Venir’s son.”

  Georgio, startled as he was by the statement, felt a connection. Brak had disclosed how he’d come to the city to begin with and lost his mother, Vorla, in the process. The big man who turned out to be no older than him had asked Georgio questions about his father, which Georgio had been more than happy to answer.

  Billip put his hands on his hips. “And where exactly do you two fools plan on going?”

  “South,” Brak said.

  Georgio nodded.

  “Did you not hear Trinos?” Billip motioned at the woman, who was busy assisting the wounded with Haze and Jubilee. “The south is covered with underlings. The west is too. You wouldn’t make it from here to the Red Clay Forest. If you’re smart, you’ll go north to The City of Three, Georgio. At least up there, Kam will look after you.”

  Georgio scowled. “I don’t need looking after, Billip.”

  “Ah, you’re still mad at Lefty, aren’t you? Why else would you not go there?”

  “Lefty who?”

  “Hah! ‘Lefty who’ my eyeballs. Sheesh, you haven’t been the same without him.” Billip thumbed through the feathered shafts in his quiver. “As for you, eh, Brak is it? Let me tell you something about your father. Venir, that is. He can take care of himself. And it might do you some good to go north and meet with your sister, or half-sister. Erin, that is. I’m sure Kam wouldn’t mind the help.”

  “What?” Brak scrunched up his face.

  Georgio hit Brak in the arm. “That’s right, you’ve got a little sister. Congratulations. Bone, Billip. How many urchins—”

  Brak walloped in in the shoulder.

  Georgio’s jaw dropped wide.

  “Oooooooow! I felt that!”

  Brak glared at Georgio. His father’s fire was in his eyes.

  “I’m not an urchin.”

  “Er … Sorry, Brak. But how many Venirs are scattered across Bish, do you think?” Georgio rubbed his arm and looked at Billip. “Are you a father too, Billip?”

  “I don’t think that’s something we need to concern ourselves with now, seeing how the entire city is coming down around us.” Billip rolled his shoulder. “Feels great. Strong. That woman Tr
inos did something to me. I feel ten years younger.” He grinned. “So, what will it be, boys? And make it quick, before the City Watch comes back with the Royals to recruit you.”

  The City Watch, henchmen of the Royals, had made their demands known. Any able bodied man was to be drafted into the ranks to battle the underlings. They’d be given weapons, possibly armor, and the great honor of defending their city.

  Billip and Corrin laughed out loud.

  “We’ll send the Royal soldiers back to get you,” one of the two Watchmen had warned. “And see to it you make it to the front of the ranks.”

  It wasn’t a laughing matter. No one, formidable as they might be, could overcome the Royals when they came for you. ‘Either fight the underlings, or fight the underlings and the Royals.’ Both Corrin and Billip had seemed torn, but after many minutes of heated deliberation, they had agreed that the Royals were still the lesser evil of the two. They had even spit on it.

  “North or South, Nikkel?” Georgio asked. “Or are you staying?”

  He shrugged and looked over at Billip.

  “He’s sticking with me, I guess.”

  “What do you think, Brak?”

  Jubilee jumped in. “He wants to go north, to the City of Three! Right, Brak?”

  Slowly, he nodded his head.

  “Aw, is everyone going?” Georgio whined.

  Billip slung his bow over his shoulder. “Before long, no one will be going anywhere, by what Trinos says. There’s enough underlings out there to surround this entire city. Georgio, get out now, while you can, else you might not ever be leaving.”

  Georgio rubbed his rumbling stomach. “Well, a bowl of Joline’s stew sounds awful good.”

  Brak’s stomach growled so loud that Jubilee jumped.

  “Whoa, and I thought my stomach was loud.” Georgio eyed Brak. “I bet you can’t out eat me.”

  A grim smile formed on the corner of Brak’s thin lips. “We’ll see.”

  “And what about you?” Georgio asked Billip.

  Tugging at his goatee, he smiled as Trinos approached, followed by Corrin.

  “I’ll be fighting alongside her.”

  “That’s sweet, Billip,” Trinos said, brushing her arm along his. “But I cannot guarantee your safety. The underlings are many, and they could overtake these walls any day now.”

  “They say no force can take this city. We have the walls. We have the Everwells. We just need to vanquish the scourge that is among us.”

  “Every city falls eventually, Brave Billip.”

  “Yes, Trinos,” Corrin agreed, “but no other place in Bish is as comforting to a wretch like me. I live here; I’ll die here.” His blades blinked in and out of his scabbards. “Just give me all the help you can give.”

  As Trinos, Billip, Nikkel and Corrin stood before him, an itch to fight overcame Georgio.

  “I’m staying as well.”

  Someone laughed.

  “Who’s laughing?” Georgio said.

  It was Melegal, leading Quickster his way and handing him the reins.

  “Get your fat arse out of here, Georgio,” the thief said, sliding a slender box from the saddle.

  KAAA-VOOOOSH!

  A burning building collapsed in the nearest district, sending up a tower of flames and grey smoke.

  “Go, find Venir,” Melegal continued, “and tell him when you see him, he’s doing a lousy arse job killing underlings.”

  ***

  As Georgio, Brak and Jubilee headed south towards the stables, Melegal felt some wetness in his eyes. I’ll probably never see Quickster again. Fat Arse better feed him.

  Haze wrapped her slender arm around his bony shoulders. “How are you?”

  “I’d be better if you went with them, Haze. You too, Billip. You need to take your knuckle cracking self with them as well. That boy can’t handle the Outlands on his own. You know that.”

  “I’m staying here, you thin-necked copper snatcher!”

  “Alright fine, Billip. I’ll let you win, just this once.”

  Go with Georgio.

  “You say you want to go with Georgio, fine. But he’d be much better off with me, and you know it.”

  Go with Georgio.

  “And don’t you forget it!” Billip blinked and stared at Melegal.

  Go … with … Georgio.

  Billip grabbed his gear and trotted after Georgio.

  Melegal pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Bone, that hurts!

  “What just happened?” Haze said.

  A confused looking Nikkel was chasing after Billip, strapping on his pack.

  “Interesting.” Trinos touched Melegal’s cheek.

  A tingling revitalization raced through his body. It felt wonderful. His headache was gone.

  “Are you shaking?” Haze scowled at Trinos. “What did you do to him?”

  Trinos grabbed Haze’s hand. The woman’s lithe frame gently collapsed to the ground.

  “Take her away, Corrin, and see to it she’s well cared for.”

  Melegal stretched his limbs. He felt better than he ever remembered feeling before.

  “How did you…”

  Trinos put her fingers to his lips. “What is it you want, Melegal?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Besides that.”

  “Can you get me inside Castle Almen? I have unfinished business.”

  His vest clanked when she patted it.

  “You already have a way in. Just find a door and go.”

  You smell so incredible.

  “I know.” She grabbed hold of his hand. “Be careful. The Keys go many places. Many people seek them. Seek you.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Perhaps I should destroy them.”

  “Perhaps.”

  KAAA-VOOOOSH!

  Another building crumbled and fell.

  A squadron of soldiers on horses could be heard galloping their way. Like a deer, Melegal took off running in long bouncing strides.

  Kill Sefron!

  ***

  The Royal soldiers on horseback thundered past Trinos, Corrin, and all of the other 21st District survivors, but none of them saw a living thing.

  “Did you do that?” Corrin said.

  “Certainly.”

  “So, what are we to do now, wage war on the underlings? If so, we could use more people.”

  Trinos took her seat on the bench by the fountain.

  “No. We’ll do what we have to when we have to, but I think I’ve done enough for now.” She stretched her arms out and dipped her toes in the water. An image of the lives on Bish formed.

  Corrin’s narrow eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “I would not deceive you. Besides, sometimes all you can do is sit back, watch, and hope for the best. You never know what is going to happen on a world like this.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Battle cries and howls of pain filled the air. Steel punched through bone and metal. Standing on the balcony of Castle Almen’s keep, Lorda Almen’s eyes were transfixed downward, in awe.

  “Kill them, you worthless curs! Kill them all!”

  The underlings had laid siege on Castle Almen, and Sefron, standing off to her side, could barely contain his glee.

  Oh, you’ll be mine soon, Lorda Almen.

  He licked his lips, gazing over her hips and legs.

  All mine and mine alone.

  Her sharp words interrupted his thoughts.

  “How many of those fiends are there, Sefron? It looks like hundreds at the wall!” She pointed. “What in Bish are those things?”

  “Spiders, and those pale little things, I’ve no idea.”

  “Insects!” She recoiled back into his arms.

  Oh my, so vibrant, alive … Delicious!

  His hands drifted down on her hips.

  Smack!

  “I should remove your hands, Sefron! You pervert!” She clasped the plunging neckline of her elaborate dress. “Throw him over!”


  “Apologies, Lorda, I only meant to comf—urk!”

  One Shadow Sentry seized him by the arms, the other by the legs, lifting him over the edge of the balcony.

  She means it!

  “Lorda, your husband, Lord Almen, needs me!”

  “Hold,” she said. “Hmmm … hang him over by the legs.”

  Sefron clung to the Shadow Sentry’s arm with desperation.

  The sentry whipped out a knife and jammed it in his hand.

  “Ow!” Sefron let go of the sentry’s arm and dangled over the edge, held by his feet. “Lorda, please, have mercy! You need me. Lord Almen needs me.”

  He tried to pull himself up, but he barely managed to lift his head.

  Lorda Almen wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her cat-eyes were focused on the raging battle below.

  Every soldier of Castle Almen was fighting along the wall, ramming their blades into the faces of every underling that tried to climb over the parapets. Spiders climbed over the walls and into the gardens, carrying small albino underlings with thick shoulders. The heavy crossbows from the towers rocked out, filling the spider and underling creatures with giant splinters.

  Sefron flinched.

  A dying creature’s maw opened and closed stories beneath him.

  The men shouted orders and screamed for help. It didn’t seem possible that the underlings could take over, not with one thousand, not with ten thousand, for Castle Almen was well defended. Between the towers, turrets and massive keep, the outer wall of the Castle could be defended from every angle. Archers and bowmen manned the towers and turrets, raining down death with deadly accuracy.

  Half a dozen underlings cleared the wall, only to be feathered with many shafts.

  “Lorda, let me up please. I’m sorry!”

  Outside the Castle walls, underlings came from all directions, filling the streets as far as the eye could see.

  Surely someone is doing something, Sefron thought.

  The blood rushing to his head had turned it purple. Gazing around, he noticed the bordering Castles firing into the hordes of underlings as well, but they weren’t falling, not as fast as they should be.

  Slat, this Castle will never fall if I don’t help the underlings.

  The arms of the sentry started to tremble.

  “Lorda, he’s going to drop me! Please,” he whined. “You need all the help you can get. At least let me check Lord Almen once again!”