Chaos At The Castle (Book Six)

by Craig Halloran

  Slice!

  Tonio cleaved through it in mid-air, sending a shower of dark blood everywhere.

  Over a dozen underling bodies were piled up, some twitching on the floor, behind them another dozen or so, when they backed off.

  Jarla wiped the blood from her eyes, trying to catch her breath. They needed an escape route, but the only way was to carve through them.

  “Think you can cut a path to the back through them?” she asked Tonio.

  “Certainly, but I haven’t the same need as you. I can fight them all day and all night if I have to,” he said. “But you won’t last that long, will you, Woman?”

  Chop! Chop! Chop!

  The underlings were still hewing at the door behind them, jostling Jarla’s indomitable shroud. She’d never quit a fight before, but at the moment, there wasn’t much fight left in her. She was exhausted, out of shape, and disappointed.

  How did I let myself get like this? Lazy over-drinking bitch!

  A twinkle caught her eye. She wiped the blood from the ring on her finger. It glowed a bright green color.

  “What is that?” Tonio said.

  Fool! How could I have forgotten!

  “A way out of here, maybe.” She darted for the front door, sliding over the blood-slicked floor. “Hold them off!”

  Tonio’s big frame stepped between her and the underlings, beckoning the underlings forward. “Come on, rodents. My blade thirsts for your blood!”

  Where’s the Key! Where’s the Key!

  Chop!

  The blade of an axe emerged through the door. A sparkling eye peeked inside.

  Glitch!

  She jammed a dagger in its eye, let go and grabbed the Key. She jammed it inside the lock.

  Chop!

  The Key popped out and fell to the ground. She fumbled for it, grabbing it in her sticky hands.

  Chop!

  The underlings on the other side kept hacking at the lock. Chunks of wood fell.

  Clatch-zip!

  Clatch-zip!

  Clatch-zip!

  Small bolts ripped across the room, burying themselves in the door.

  Tonio groaned. “Whatever you’re doing, Witch, you better hurry. Looks like the rodents are just getting started.”

  Thunk!

  A javelin juttered in the door frame.

  Jarla tried to force the Key into the deteriorating lock. It wouldn’t go.

  “Blast my eyes! Get! In! There!”

  The Key transformed, its head matching the lock. She shoved it in and turned.

  Clatch-zip!

  Clatch-zip!

  Clatch-zip!

  Bolts and spears filled the doorway. Over her shoulder, she could see Tonio was filled with them, still standing, snarling and chopping. She shoved the door forward and found herself in a black room. She stepped inside, huffing, then pushed the door shut.

  Almost.

  Fingers emerged on the door’s edge, pulling it open. Tonio’s blood-splattered face leered at her.

  “Not leaving the party without me, are you?”

  “Just get your dead arse in here and shut the blasted door!”

  “My pleasure.” He closed it on the small fingers of the underlings, crushing them in the frame.

  Jarla heard their angry screeches and howls cut short. Everything spun. She wanted to vomit. Her world twisted bloody and black.

  I hate this part.

  CHAPTER 35

  Everything in her life had been turned upside down. And now, she was home, back inside her own room, and once more a prisoner. Kam lowered her shoulder and pounded at the door.

  Wham!

  “Will you stop doing that, Kam?” Joline said. She was rocking baby Erin in her arms. “Can’t you just be thankful you are home, safe for the moment?”

  “That troll cut my hand off, Joline!”

  Wham!

  “And when I get a hold of her, I’m gonna shove my foot up her—”

  “KAM! Enough!” Joline said, setting Erin in her bassinette.

  The bassinette started to rock itself, and soothing music came forth, keeping Erin in a peaceful slumber.

  Kam rubbed her shoulder with her lone hand and fought the tears coming to her eyes. What in Bish was going on? She’d just escaped the unbearable, only to find herself at home, confronted with the inconceivable. She looked at her stump, stupefied. Less than an hour ago, she’d awoken in her bed, the wound dressed and cleaned. Joline had done that for her, saying the bleeding had stopped on its own and the flesh had mended itself.

  Who in Bish is Scorch?

  She gritted her teeth.

  Wham!

  Joline grabbed her by the arm, dragged her over to the sofa, and pulled her down. Softly, the woman said, “Dear, I don’t know what you’ve been through, and I can’t explain what we are going through now, but you are home.” Joline looked around and shrugged. “And safe as far as I know. You, me and Erin.” She patted her knee. “A family.”

  Her tears flowed like raindrops. Her body shuddered with every breath. Kam’s voice was a high pitched squeak. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. I was so happy to be home, and n-n-now I’m a handless prisoner. Where’s my hand, Joline? Why’d that woman do that?”

  Joline handed her a handkerchief and rubbed her back.

  She blew her nose and wiped her tears away.

  “The truth is, Kam, you look better now than when you first walked in here. You looked possessed. You weren’t yourself.”

  Serve and live.

  That voice. It would haunt her forever. It had possessed her, controlled her. Empowered her. What was it? Who was it?

  Kam had made a deal.

  It had saved her. The power in the stones. A being was in the stones, like one was in the sword, the great sword of Zorth, the Everblade. It was her father’s sword, and she was going to return it. Her father would have to answer to her about his dealings with Palos. She shivered. The thought of that man having his way with her. Pawing at her. Humiliating her. Almost killing her. What had happened to him? She’d left him mumbling in his own drool.

  I should have killed him!

  Joline squeezed her hand. “What is it, Kam? What are you thinking? There’s murder in those eyes! You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

  The question was like a slap in the face. Diller. Indeed, she had killed a man. Snapped his neck like a twig. And there had been others. In the alley. Broken. Lifeless. Had she killed them too? She looked at the hand that was no longer there. She swore she could still see it, feel it. And the dark energy from it still lingered within her.

  She shook her head, sucked in her breath, looked Joline in the eye, and said, “I did what I had to do to save Erin, Joline.” She blew her nose again. “And let me tell you, those bastards down below will think a hundred times before they ever come up here again.”

  Joline’s eyes widened.

  Kam got up, scooped her baby out of her bassinette with her one good arm and held her tight. “Nobody messes with me or my baby.”

  “Uh,” Joline stammered, “how about some hot tea?”

  “Got any Muckle Sap?”

  “No.” Joline pulled her shoulders back. “And I wouldn’t give you any if we did. You need to settle yourself, Woman. I don’t know what all you’ve been through, and you can tell me when you like, but now’s no time for drinking. Just rock your baby.”

  Kam strolled over to the window. The glass was clear, but she couldn’t see out. A busted three legged stool lay on the ground beside it. That window, whatever it was, was hard as stone. Kam couldn’t help but wonder if it was all an illusion. Was she really here or not? Joline and Erin were real. Of that much, she was certain, but of the rest she wasn’t so sure.

  Erin yawned and stretched, letting out a little squeak. For the first time in as long as she remembered, Kam felt herself smile on the inside and out. She had the most important thing in the world, Erin. She kissed her forehead and took
a seat in a rocking chair nearby.

  “That’s better.” Joline worked the kettle on the stove. “You’ve got your whole world now, Kam. Erin’s all that matters.”

  Tight as a drum, Kam yawned. Reflecting on everything she’d been through, she realized life would never be the same. Tortured and manipulated, she’d somehow survived. She was sore. Her face was swollen, and her gut hurt from where she’d been stabbed, but she lived. Erin lived. And even though they were prisoners, at least they were together. She rocked and rocked and rocked.

  Joline walked over, eyes tired, and handed her a mug of steaming coffee.

  “There you go. I put some Allybass in it. It always helps me relax. Are you hungry, Kam?”

  Kam nodded.

  “I’ll fix you something to eat, and how about I run you a tub?”

  “No tubs!”

  Joline jumped.

  “Sorry, just, I’ll wash myself off later.” Kam shuddered a sigh. “Hopefully, I can still cast a cantrip for it.”

  “Whatever you say, Kam.” Joline fixed herself a cup of coffee and took a seat on the couch, playing with her greying locks of hair. “I might need you to use a cantrip on me, too. I feel like I’ve been rolled in sow waller.”

  Kam let out a short giggle.

  It was followed by a long silence.

  Kam felt safe in her heart. Restless, but safe. And the loss of her hand had been a small price to pay for Erin’s life and her freedom. Perhaps Scorch, at least it would seem, had done her a favor. Shown her compassion, though a bit harsh, and merciless. Still, the image of that rough-cut woman chopping off her hand disturbed her. She’s a maniac.

  “Kam, I’m sorry to ask, but was Master Gillem a part of all this?”

  Kam closed her eyes. So much had happened that she hadn’t had time to take in. She blew a lock of hair from her face.

  “You could say that,” she said. “He poisoned the well. He seduced Lefty. But, I don’t think he had a choice. At least, it was either that or death.”

  “Oh.” Joline sat back. “I, I just really liked his company and the flowers he’d bring. He said the nicest things and told the most amazing stories. One time he told me…”

  Kam let her talk, but she wasn’t listening. There wasn’t any sense in spoiling Joline’s memories. ‘There’s good in everyone,’ her mother always said, ‘but it’s often harder to find in some than others.’ Of course, Kam used to believe that, but not anymore. There was no good in Palos. He was rotten to the core.

  “Joline?”

  “… and those fragrances he made. So… oh, sorry. Did you say something?”

  “What happened to Lefty?”

  “Well…” Joline looked around. “I, I don’t know. I just assumed he was… oh my.”

  “Oh my?” Kam leaned forward. “What do you mean, oh my?”

  “The last I saw him, he was kicking Scorch in the nose.” Joline clutched her chest. “You don’t think they cut his hand off too, do you?”

  “Why’d he kick him in the nose?”

  “He was mad. He was telling Scorch to fix your hand I think, then poof,” Joline fanned her fingers out, “here we were!”

  Kam’s chest tightened. What in Bish had happened to Lefty? An image of him stuffed in a pickle jar popped in her mind.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Kam and Joline lurched up, looking at each other.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “Uh… er… Do you want me to get that?”

  Kam handed her Erin. “No, I better do that.” She walked over to the door, grabbed the handle and looked back at Joline.

  The older woman mouthed the words, “Answer it.”

  Slowly, to her surprise, it pulled open. A familiar figure stood in the doorway.

  “You!”

  It was Darlene.

  “Look, Lady.” Darlene looked down into Kam’s eyes. “I’m sure you’re still upset about your hand and all, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Huh!” Kam was baffled.

  “But what Scorch says, I does.”

  “You are a Maniac!”

  “A what?” Darlene rubbed her sweaty neck.

  “Maniac! A crazy person! Out of your mind! Do you understand that, you featherless turkey!”

  Darlene put her hands up. “Easy now, Lady. I’m not a Mannyack or a Turkey. Hic. ‘Scuse me. Must be that last bottle of Muckle Sap. Anyhow, I’m a hunter, trapper, and a proud underling slayer. And, I’ll warn you once: don’t cross Scorch again. He did you a favor, and you know it.”

  Speechless, Kam tried to measure the woman’s words. Darlene still seemed amiable, though taller and formidable.

  “So,” Kam said, “what is it you want?”

  “First, sorry about your hand,” Darlene said. “I guess you’ll just have to learn to wipe with the other.” She winked, pushing her way inside. “Say, this is nice. Better than I imagined it.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Well.” Darlene grabbed Kam’s cup of coffee from the table and took a sip. “Mmmm… that’s fine coffee. Did you make that, uh…”

  “Joline,” Kam said.

  The rocker groaned when Darleen sat down.

  “Joline. Like Darlene. I like it.” She slurped another mouthful. “Mmmm, that’s good. Not like that Muckle Sap, but still plenty good.” She kicked her legs on the table.

  “What do you want, Darlene?”

  She scratched her brown hair, stirring the little flakes that fell out. “Things are getting busy downstairs. I need some help.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Serving the people.”

  “Customers?” Kam said.

  “Yes. You see, I don’t have much experience running a tavern. I’ve always wanted to, but I never had the money. But thanks to Scorch, I now own this one.”

  “This is my tavern!”

  Darlene got up and looked down at Kam. “Nope. It’s my tavern now. And you’re going to help me ruin it … hic. I mean, run it.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Blink!

  “Say!” A dwarf, black-haired and mangy, couldn’t hide his surprise. “Where’d ye come from?”

  Lefty tumbled onto his butt, shaking his head. “I-I don’t know.”

  The dwarf slammed his fist on the table.

  Lefty jumped.

  The surrounding men and dwarves erupted in laughter.

  Lefty shook his head.

  What has happened? Where am I?

  He was in a tavern. That much was clear by the layout, the drinking and eating that surrounded him. A fireplace sat cold at his back, and suspicious eyes drifted over him and onto the next patron. There was something else, something weird about where he was. It was misty.

  Gathering his thoughts, he looked to the dwarf, who now had his nose buried in a tankard of ale. “I’m from the City of Three, I think.”

  The dwarf eyed him from behind his tankard, gulping it down.

  Clonk!

  “Bring another and one more for my out-of-the-city friend here. Say!” The dwarf rubbed his beard. “You’re pretty small, even for a halfling. Humph. The City of Three, ye say. Well, that might explain your appearance. Are you one of those magi or wizards I hear about there? I didn’t think halflings could take to magic with such fashion.”

  Lefty crawled up on the chair and sat down. He wasn’t certain what to say or think at the moment. The last hours of his life had been incomprehensible enough.

  “Dwarf, uh, my name is Lefty Lightfoot, and I really have no idea where I am. Can you tell me?”

  The dwarf guffawed as the barmaid, heavyset but not uncomely, set down their tankards, laughing as well.

  “Can’t ye tell?”

  Lefty scanned the room. It wasn’t the City of Bone; there were no dwarves there. And it couldn’t be the City of Three; the distant roar of the falls didn’t catch his ears. And other than the few other places he’d been in his life, he didn’t really have any idea at all. It wasn’t a village or
a logged outpost. He shook his head.

  “Have a drink, Halfling,” the dwarf said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. “Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.”

  Being polite, Lefty took a sip, glancing around as he did so.

  There were women, some dressed in thick but scant clothing, and the men were of a dour but rugged sort. A pair of full orcs sat in the corner, quiet and unusual. At the next table over was a man that might have been half-gnoll with a heavy sword on his belt. Somewhere he couldn’t see, someone played a flute, another strings. A sad tune, a slow tune that settled over the room.

  “Are you going to make me guess… Apologies, but may I have your name?”

  “No, you might just ferget it. Dwarf will do, and no, I’m not telling you where you are.”

  “I could ask someone else, I suppose.”

  The dwarf’s bushy brown brows buckled, and his calloused hand reached under the table. Lefty heard a dagger or knife slip from his belt. The dwarf leaned inward.

  “Ye could, but I’d consider that rude. And I don’t like rude people. You aren’t rude, are you?”

  I might as well be. After all, I’m a thief, a liar, a disappointment, a failure, a lousy friend, and a wretched urchin. Why not be rude too?

  The dwarf, who appeared as rugged as they come, reminded him a little of Jubbler, just thicker. Besides, it didn’t look like Lefty had any friends in the world anymore. Maybe it was time he made a new one.

  “I’m sorry, Dwarf. The truth is, I’m not rude, just really confused. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know where I am. I-I—Sheesh, I guess it’s for the better!”

  “Ho-ho!” the Dwarf said, “Little one, yer frustration will do ye little good. Take a breath, a drink, and tell me a little about yerself, and if I’m satisfied with your tale, I’ll tell ye where ye is.” The dwarf winked.

  Over the planks of the room, Lefty noticed a creeping fog that swirled as the men and women passed through it.

  That’s odd.

  “Where should I start?” Lefty’s feet were sweating.

  “Wherever ye want, Lefty. Wherever ye want. I’ve got all the time in the world.” The dwarf lit up a cigar, leaned back, and kicked his heels up. “And just so you know, yer a long, long way from whence you come.”