There was a knock at the door.
She sucked in her breath.
Who at this hour?
The knock came again.
“Lorda Almen?”
It was Lord Grom.
No. Not now.
“Yes,” she said, making her way to the door. She took a breath and opened it.
Lord Grom filled the doorway. He had a blurry look in his eyes. Smelled like wine.
“Evening,” he said, eyeing her up and down, “I was just crossing back my way and thought I’d see how you were doing?”
She pinched the neck of her gown closed and offered a polite smile.
“I am well,” she said, “And how much longer until I will see Creed again? I so dearly want to visit him.”
Lord Grom’s hard face scowled.
“These are Bloodhound matters, Lorda,” he said politely, but with authority. “A few more days and all will be well.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to see if there was any other thing that I might be able to …” he swayed a little and ogled her “… help with?”
“Nothing at all,” she said, patting his arm and nudging him back into the hall. “Nothing at all. If I think of something, you’ll be the first to know. Good night, Lord Grom.”
“Er …”
She closed the door and locked it.
Please go! Please go! Please go!
A minute later, Lord Grom’s heavy steps started back down the hallway.
She let out a deep breath. I can’t keep this up much longer. He’ll get his paws on me yet. She headed back over to Creed’s armament and started digging for a dagger. She noticed something. The swords, bracers and shroud were gone.
“Sweet Mother of Bish!”
***
Haggie shuffled into her den, spry for an old woman with a hump in her back. She scratched a large mole on her neck and made her way alongside a large round table that stood on a single leg. The room was torch lit. Decorated in shelves, jars and cobwebs. A pair of yellow mangy dogs lay on the floor, gnawing on bones.
She hacked and spit on the floor. Licked her thin cracked lips with her grey tongue. She stretched out over the table and grabbed the stitched up leather sack. Sucked her teeth and licked her gums.
“More here than one sees,” she said, trying to dump it out. “One like me sees more.” She reached inside. It chilled the hairs on her arms. She pushed the bottom through the top and turned it inside out. Ran her fingers along the stitches. “Hmph.” It looked the same as before. “Not possible,” she said to her dogs. “But what isn’t possible in Bish?”
Haggie had seen and done plenty of strange things in her life, but the sack was the strangest of them all. It was completely ordinary. Completely extraordinary. Nearby, an oversized metal three legged pot stood on the floor. She tossed the sack in it and then soaked it with a flask of oil. She snatched a torch off the wall.
“Let’s see how the fire elements treat it.”
She set it on fire.
A whuff of smoke and fire went up, filling the room with dark smoke. She grabbed a lever on the wall and pulled it down. Above, part of the roof opened in her tower. She fanned the black smoke from for her face and coughed.
“Should have opened that first.” She cackled.
She grabbed some kindling from underneath a small stove and tossed it in. Added some lumps of coal as well. Dusted her fingers off on her raggedy robes. The orange blaze grew and the wood crackled. The dogs howled and woofed a little.
“What is it, boys?” she said, walking over and scratching their heads. They cringed. “Don’t like the smell, do you? Well, I don’t much like it either. It’ll go away.” She rubbed her back, basking in the fire glow on the wall. “Feels pretty good on the backside though.”
Whuff!
The orange glow went out. The warmth with it.
The dogs pinned their ears down and growled.
“What in …” she said, slowly turning. “Bone!”
All the flames were extinguished. Even the smoke in the air. Something stood in the pot. It was four feet tall. All muscle with hard ruddy knots on its skin. Three tiny horns on its head. A large eye took up most of its face, unblinking. Its leathery lips were curled.
“What have we here?” Haggie said with a cackle, getting closer. She never remembered being so excited before.
The imp folded its arms over its brawny chest. It squawked a little. Cocked its head.
“A guardian? An imp?” Haggie clapped her hands together. “Ah, this is going to be so exciting. So exciting!” She scurried to the shelves on the wall and grabbed some chalk. She drew a circle and mystic figures on the floor.
“Come, come,” she said.
The guardian of the sack hopped into the circle. Cocked its head back and forth like a bird.
Haggie summoned her magic. Power filled her. An incantation started and ended.
The guardian stood inside a glowing green circle. A little growl rattled in its throat.
“Ah, it’s alright, my pet. You are mine to keep now.” She stroked its head. Rubbed the knotty spines on its shoulders. “You are such a magnificent little creature. Ugly too.” She flashed her yellow teeth. “But ugly is the new beautiful.”
It showed a mouthful of short teeth colored like egg shells.
Haggie patted its head.
“Such a little charmer, aren’t you?”
It whacked her in the belly.
“Oof!”
She doubled over.
It clocked her in the jaw.
Haggie saw large white spots and everything faded black.
***
The guardian stepped out of the glowing circle and took the mystic sack out of the cauldron. It opened the mouth of the sack and stuffed her inside like rags, then walked over to the dogs and rubbed both their heads. The dogs licked the guardian imp up and down, drawing a fierce little smile. It reached inside the sack and pulled out large ham bones and tossed them on the floor with a clatter. They barked, lay down and started to gnaw.
With a grunt, the imp tossed the sack over his knotty shoulder, scaled the wall like a monkey and disappeared through the window.
CHAPTER 25
Venir sat on the sofa in Kam’s apartment. Baby Erin was nestled in his big arms. Sleeping. Silent.
“She’s so tiny,” he said. “Like a halfling.”
“She’s big for a girl. You’re just too big for a boy,” Kam said, offering a weak smile.
Venir grunted. The last few days had been the best he’d known since he left. Despite all the bruised and cracked bones, he felt better. Not his best by far, but better. It was Kam he worried about now. She looked gorgeous sitting in the rocker. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But her eyes were tired. Her demeanor dark.
“How does it feel to find out you’re a father?” She teetered forward in the rocker. “Of not only one, but two?”
“Well,” he said, shrugging his big shoulders. Erin stirred. “Easy now, little girl. Uh … well she’s far prettier and seems a little less temperamental.”
“You haven’t seen her hungry. She can be quite the handful. But you didn’t answer me.”
“Bish is full of surprises.” He offered a smile. “Brak and Erin are some of the better ones. I can say that.”
Kam went over to the window and stared outside. She was different. Unsure. Angry. Venir could feel it. It was also how he felt.
“I don’t have any plans, Kam, if that concerns you.”
She turned and huffed.
“Venir, I couldn’t be happier that you’re here, but given the circumstances, it might be best if you left again.”
“Will you quit saying that?”
“No,” Kam objected. “Darleen will—”
Venir let out a gusty laugh.
Erin’s eyes lit up and she giggled.
“Are you really worried about that oversized raccoon?” He got up and set Erin inside her cradle. “Hah! Melegal has a handle on her.”
“No Venir! She’s not the problem. It’s Scorch. And Master Sidebor. They will come. And when they do,” she shook her head. “It’ll be the end of all of us.” Her chin dropped. “You finally came, but you couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
Venir covered her shoulders with her hands.
“Then perhaps we should make the most of our time together before that time comes?”
Her head snapped around at him.
“What?”
He eyed the bed.
Her green eyes blazed. “Pig!”
“I’m no pig,” he said, holding down his voice. He’d wanted her from the moment he first saw her again, days ago. “I need you, Kam. I want you … now.”
She shoved him in the chest.
“Go try your charm on Critter Face. Get out of here, Venir!”
He stood his ground.
“You have not left my thoughts since the day I left.”
“And you have not left mine,” she said, twisting away from his clutches. “And that’s not a good thing!” She opened the door and beckoned him out. “Go!”
Venir headed for the door and went right out.
She slammed it behind him.
He caught it with his foot. “Sssssh … you’ll wake the baby.”
She shoved him back and quietly closed the door.
He heard her on the other side of the door, saying, “Men!”
“Wenches,” he said, heading for the stairs.
***
Melegal sat huddled in the corner alone at the Magi Roost. Despite the rough start, the tavern was more than palatable. The serving girls were pretty and friendly. The wine as good as it comes, not the cat piss he’d gotten used to in the Drunken Octopus.
He cleaned his last fingernail with a knife. Took a long sip of wine. Eyed a serving girl with swaggering hips and puffy red lips.
Looks better. Smells better. Must be better. Hmmm?
She made her way over to him with a warm smile on her face. Her blouse dangled open at the neck. Her eyes and nails were painted in soft colors and she smelled like freshly cut flowers.
“More wine?” she said, taking a seat. “Food or other delicacies?”
“Is that all you have to offer?”
“Now, now,” she said, patting his hand. “This isn’t that kind of tavern. I bet you’re from Bone, aren’t you?”
Melegal shrugged. “What gave it away?”
“Oh,” she said, twirling her hair, “you’re more direct down there. But, I like a man that’s straightforward.”
Melegal slid some coins across the table.
“And I like pretty girls that keep sweet wine coming.” He flashed a smile. “Bring me some stew as well.”
“Certainly,” she said, wiggling her hips out of the chair and walking away from the table.
With admiration, he watched her go. He held up his goblet.
To Haze. May your memory never fade so long as my loins can help it.
He shifted toward the fire. Tightened the cloak on his shoulders.
The Magi Roost was in good order now. All the broken furniture had been stitched together by a magic spells. Kam had done that, to the bewilderment of many. Beautiful and smart, a pressing advantage despite the missing hand. That was the eerie thing. The hand that drifted inside the oversized pickle jar. Who does such a thing? Melegal had gotten the entire story, thanks to Billip. It was disturbing, perhaps overblown. Let’s just see how it goes? If anyone draws trouble, it’ll be Venir. I’ve no quarrel with this Scorch or Sidebor.
Darleen stepped into his view. She rubbed her big chin and eyed him. Her goons that he’d come to know from earlier, Dasan and Ozark, accompanied her.
Lords, she’s like Sis and Frigdah in one. A Motley Girl ten times.
Ozark and Dasan took seats on either side of him. Their faces were busted and bruised. Darleen stood right in front of him, blocking his view.
“This is a scrawny one,” Darleen said, sucking her teeth, “and I can’t tell for sure if it’s a man or a woman.”
The goons chuckled.
“I’m not surprised,” Melegal said, “I don’t think giant vermin can discern that.”
“Oh ho!” Darleen said, slapping her knee. “He talks like a man. Let me ask you something, man-woman.”
“Ask away, uh, Darleen, isn’t it?”
“Yea.”
“Well, that is a pretty name, but something’s wrong with it.” He gave her a hard look.
She drew back and said, “What?”
“It’s just that the name and the face don’t match. I mean, I’m well-traveled and I’ve never met an orc named Darleen before. Perhaps you should try an orcen name. Durlith.” He rapped his fingers on the table. “That’s it, Durlith! Durlith … Yes, that fits your face like a gauntlet.”
Ozark and Dasan laughed.
Darleen shot them a look.
“Listen you!” She pointed right at Melegal. “Joke all you want, but when Scorch and Sidebor get here, I’m going to have them peel you apart from the inside out.”
“And if they don’t come?” Melegal said, checking his nails. “Then what will you do? Perhaps it is you who should go. After all, it is you who are not wanted.”
Darleen slammed her fists on the table. Her face and neck turned blood red.
Melegal eased back in his seat. She was big for a woman and her breath was bad. The whole lot of them smelled.
“You need to go! Your friends need to go with you!” she seethed. “It’s the only way Scorch will spare you. Consider this warning a kindness.”
“I didn’t realize livestock were capable of kindness.”
Dasan grabbed Melegal’s jerkin at the shoulder. Jerked him forward. “You better mind your manners,” Dasan said, drawing him in.
Melegal looked right into his eyes. “Let go.”
“Or what?” Dasan said with a jutting chin.
Melegal grabbed Dasan’s hand and wrenched his thumb.
Crack!
Dasan howled, jumping up from the table.
Whisk!
Melegal slipped a dagger under Ozark’s fat neck.
Blood dripped onto Ozark’s armor.
“I can draw more or I can draw less.”
Wide eyed, Ozark pulled his fat hands away from the daggers in his belt.
“Are we finished here,” Melegal said, “Durlith?”
“Not even close,” she said, slowly turning away. “Let’s go!”
Ozark eased his greasy neck away. Dasan sneered and moved on.
How did this place get mixed up with that woman? Critters burrow. She’ll never go.
He adjusted the cap on his head. Perhaps I can convince her.
He focused on Darleen’s mind. Eyed her feet. His head began to tingle.
She fell face-first into a table. Screamed. Bounced up to her feet with wine and food all over her. She punched Dasan in the arm.
“Why did you trip me for?”
“I didn’t!”
She punched him again, looked around and scurried out of the room.
Melegal tucked his dagger inside his cloak with a smile.
The barmaid came back with a carafe of wine and a large clay bowl of stew. “That was something,” she said, pouring his wine. “Are you alright?”
“Never better.”
She had a worried look about her.
“Is something wrong?” he said.
“Did they hit you?”
“No. Why?”
“Your nose is bleeding.”
Melegal touched his finger under his nose. The blood on his fingertips was warm.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Perhaps it’s this northern weather.” He slipped out a handkerchief and dabbed his nose with it. “There. Seem better?”
She nodded, reached over and rubbed his chin.
“You just whistle if you need me, Handsome.”
“I certainly will.�
��
His head started to ache.
Bone!
CHAPTER 26
“Underlings,” the strider chieftain said, gesturing with his two left arms. Up. Down. Out. “Many.” He jabbed his spear into the ground. Clicked his tiny sharp teeth. “Many. Many. Many.” He wore a headdress that hung over his head like a helmet with metal beads down to his neck. His chest was covered in plate mail that looked fit for a human. He was tall, taller than the rest.
Fogle had thought they were dead the moment they stepped inside the hut. Things couldn’t have been more contrary. Their bonds were cut and they were set down on high stools before the Chieftain, who stood, taller than all the others. With a wave of his hands, he’d cleared the room and said, “Welcome, Boon.”
“Yes,” Boon said, nodding, “there are many, many indeed, Tarcot. Beyond what I have seen before. You?”
Tarcot twinkled his fingers in the air. His speech was long and odd. “They move, a great black centipede of death. Destroyers. Reavers. Armored like men from within the high walls. They feed Bish much blood. Innocent blood.”
Fogle rubbed his wrists, eyeing the lone strider that stood like a statue before them. How does he speak? He has no tongue. No lips. Bugs cannot talk. He let out a little cough. The hut was filled with mist that spilled out of strange colorful urns that were scattered throughout the room. The mist felt like flower petals and the scent was uneasy, much unlike what he’d smelled before he entered.
“Any ideas, Tarcot? Your existence is vastly longer than mine,” Boon said.
Tarcot let out a long, low chuckle. “You want a fight, don’t you, Fiend Slayer? To see them skinned and burned.” He held his hard belly. “Ha. Ha.” He pointed to Fogle. “Your grandfather. He likes all kinds of ugly. Take staff and bring thunder from the skies, he did. Killed dozens at a time. He laugh. Thinks it’s funny. Hmph.” He crossed two arms over his chest. “I see no staff now, Fiend Slayer.”
Boon shrugged.
“It was just a stick with some magic in it, Tarcot,” Boon said in a serious tone. “We need to address this matter. Things are not right in this world. It’s different. Can you not feel it?”
Tarcot nodded. “I do.” He clapped his hands.
Fogle had listened to Boon talking about this before. The world changing. A shift. An imbalance. He didn’t feel it, but he did feel Boon’s concern. It was serious.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 12