The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces

by Craig Halloran

  She summoned her power and shoved the big goons away with her mystic force. Billip and Nikkel scrambled to their feet and sprang to attack.

  “No you don’t,” Darleen said, rushing up the stairs and driving her into the steps. She grabbed Kam by the hair.

  “I’ve had enough of your pretty face!”

  She busted it on the stairs. Kam’s limbs went numb.

  ***

  Georgio crawled from behind the bar on hands and knees. At the steps, Billip and Nikkel were fighting for their lives. Dasan and Ozark had them overpowered and pinned to the floor. The bigger men raised their fists and brought down one heavy blow after the other.

  Georgio rushed Dasan, screaming. The big man whirled at the last second and plunged a dagger in his belly. Georgio screamed and staggered back. It felt like an entire sword was shoved through him.

  “Wait a moment, Boy,” Dasan said, keeping Nikkel pinned down by the neck. “I need to kill this one first so I can watch you die next. Ha. Ha.”

  Georgio grabbed the dagger in is belly and ripped it out.

  Dasan’s eyes widened.

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Ha. Ha,” Georgio said, running over. He jumped on Dasan and rammed the dagger through his ribs.

  ***

  Brak gathered himself and peeked over the bar.

  Venir convulsed on the floor.

  Kam was crashed into the stairs.

  Everyone else who hadn’t fled was fighting for their lives.

  Master Sidebor, though smaller, seemed ten feet tall. His entirety radiated power. Invincibility.

  Do something, Brak!

  He needed a weapon. Something. This body can’t be killed by just anything, Sidebor had said. His cudgel. But that was hidden in the stables.

  “Psst!”

  Brak turned.

  Jubilee had snuk behind the bar. “Move your feet,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Just scoot back! Hurry!” she whispered. Her tiny fingers dug between the cracks in the planks and started to lift. A large compartment lay down there. Something lay there, long and shiny.

  “What is that?”

  “A sword, Dummy!”

  ***

  Melegal’s hands hung loose at his sides.

  Venir lay on the floor clutching his chest, covered in clammy sweat and purple like a beet.

  Master Sidebor, an underling in a man’s body, didn’t seem possible. Neither had a lot of things that happened over the past few weeks.

  Venir finds trouble all over this place. I should have stayed in Bone.

  He was sliding back toward the fireplace when Sidebor’s eyes locked on him.

  “Where are you going? Sit!” A chair dragged itself across the floor and slammed behind his knees. “It’s your turn to die next.”

  Underlings. Over the years, Melegal had taken pride in disagreeing with Venir. Mostly about trivial things, but on one thing in particular. Underlings. Venir found them to be the cause of most problems on Bish. Melegal found Venir to be the cause of most of the problems in his life. A memory of Haze flashed in his head. The City of Bone in siege and ruin. Underlings wreaking havoc inside Castle Almen and slitting every human throat. His eyes slid over to Venir. The man kicked tables and chairs. Bucked on the floor. They locked eyes. He saw Venir’s fire. His misery. I’ll let him be right, just this once.

  He glanced at Sidebor. Casually took aim. Summoned the energy in his cap. Be still. Be still. Be still.

  Master Sidebor gave him a curious look.

  Melegal flexed his wrists.

  Twing! Twing! Twing! Twing!

  Be still! Be still! Be still!

  Twing! Twing! Twing!

  Darts filled Sidebor’s face and neck. The mystic heart in his grip faded. Shock overtook his face. Then his black brows buckled.

  Blood dripped from Melegal’s mouth and onto his chest. His head was splitting.

  Venir gasped for air and his eyes had gone wild. He shot across the floor and into Sidebor. He locked his hulking arms around Sidebor’s neck and heaved. Veins rose on his bulging arms like snakes. Sidebor’s feet kicked and scraped over the ground. His gray face went white and his tongue juttered in his mouth.

  “I’m gonna rip your head off, underling!”

  Crack!

  ***

  Darleen grabbed Kam by the hair and dragged her up the steps.

  “That’s some pretty hair you have,” Darleen said, pulling out her knife. “I think I’ll take it for myself. Be more useful than your hand.”

  “No,” Kam muttered through her busted lips. Her arms and legs were jelly. She saw spots in her eyes. “Get off me.”

  “Say a goodbye, now,” Darleen said, sawing at her hair.

  Kam took a wild swing.

  Darleen rapped her head on the step.

  Clonk.

  “Quit squirming or I’ll kill you,” she said, raising the knife up.

  Kam swung again.

  “Fine,” Darleen said.

  Down came the knife.

  Glitch!

  Kam flinched. The knife stuck in a meaty hand.

  “What the?” Darleen said.

  Georgio pulled the knife out of his hand and threw it down the steps. He held out his hand and the flesh began to mend.

  Darleen gasped. “That’s not possible!” She stuffed her boot in Georgio’s chest and sent him sprawling down the steps.

  Kam summoned all the power she had.

  Darleen clutched at Kam.

  A glimmering green snake of energy burst from the floor. In an instant, it had encircled Darleen. It squeezed. The woman’s eyes bulged from her head. All she could do was scream.

  “Scorch!”

  CHAPTER 32

  “Do you feel it now?” Boon said, kneeling on the ground, shaking his head. “Do you feel it now, Grandson?”

  One minute they’d been trotting along on horseback, escorted by a dozen well-armed striders, and the next minute their horses had stopped, whined and nickered. They were miles outside the strider village, staring at an enormous series of cracks in the ground. They stretched out for hundreds of yards, maybe miles.

  Fogle ran his sleeve across his dripping forehead. Avoided the glare of the suns. “I felt the entire world move, and then some.”

  “Aye,” said Boon. Deep wrinkles showed in his forehead, “Aye, but is that all?”

  “No,” Fogle said. “I felt something else flow in and out of me as well. Power. A great gale whooshed into my mind, through my entirety, and passed. What was that?”

  “I can’t say,” Boon said, “but I can only assume it’s bad. This world’s changing, I fear. It’s changing for the bad. Becoming more unpredictable.”

  “Shouldn’t we be used to that by now?”

  “Ah … now that’s the spirit, Grandson. Indeed, that’s the spirit.” Boon swung himself up into his saddle. “And who knows, maybe this made things worse for the underlings as well.”

  “Do you think the underlings had something to do with this?” Fogle asked.

  “I can’t say. It was as if this world’s heart had a seizure.”

  “You think this world has a heart? Like a man?”

  “It travails. It must have something.” Boon motioned to the striders.

  One that stood as tall as Boon sitting in the saddle came over to them. It carried a great spear in two of its four hands.

  “To the Jungs,” Boon said.

  It patted Boon on the back, walked away and rallied its men. Six of them took off running, their long, long legs moving fast as a horse’s. Maybe faster. Fogle could not tell.

  “So, we continue to build this army?”

  Boon stroked his mustache. “Certainly. The underlings won’t stop building theirs. Of course, if you like, Grandson, you can wait for us back at the huts.” He lifted his brows. “Plenty of eager company back there.”

  Getting a four-handed rubdown by a bug-faced woman was one thing, but letting her be your conc
ubine was another. Fogle had to draw the line somewhere. I’m not a druid, after all. Still, anything else would be preferable to long days in the blazing heat riding on a hard saddle.

  “They liked you,” Boon added with a smile.

  “You’re a strange old man,” Fogle replied, riding away. They did like me, but did I kinda like them? Ew! He’s rubbing off on me.

  CHAPTER 33

  Sidebor squirmed in Venir’s arms.

  “Someone get a blade!” Venir yelled. “Melegal, pluck this fiend’s eyes out while I hold him down.”

  Sidebor’s neck hung to the side, but he fought on. Squirming like a snake.

  “You cannot take this body!” his thin lips moaned.

  Sidebor’s body started to glow.

  Venir felt his skin ripple. His bones bend. He lost his grip, slipped off and held on to the floor, fighting to stand. No one stood that he could see. Only Sidebor, who pushed his head back into place with a crackle. His hands filled with red power, his palms facing Venir. Bright light surged out.

  And then from across the room Venir heard something ridiculous.

  “I am Zorth! The Everblade! Evil dies on my blade!”

  Slice!

  Sidebor’s head left his shoulders and bounced off the floor. Black blood spurted from the neck.

  Brak stood with a great sword shining like diamonds in his hands. His eyes were rolled up in his head and he spoke again. It was loud and eerie.

  “I am Zorth! Destroyer of all evil! Vengeance on all things vile!” He eyed each and every one of them and marched through the door into the streets. “Evil must pay!”

  Venir snatched Sidebor’s head off the floor and tossed it into the fireplace.

  “Nooooo!” it yelled.

  The fireplace lit up with a whuff and crackled with bright green flames.

  Venir grabbed his hunting knife and pinned the body to the wooden planks.

  “That should do it.”

  He peered around the room. Everyone stood except Darleen and her goons.

  Melegal held a rag over his nose, looking up at him, shaking his head.

  “You are to underlings what flies are to a sow’s arse.”

  “I suppose,” Venir said, trembling. His entirety ached and he looked for a chair.

  Someone gasped. A silence covered the room.

  Venir’s eyes drifted over to Kam and read her lips.

  Scorch.

  A tall blond man in tattered white robes stood at the bar with bright blue angry eyes.

  Scorch shuffled over toward Venir, holding his belly. He eyed Sidebor’s corpse. “Who did this?”

  “That’s my blade in its chest,” Venir replied.

  Scorch looked Venir in the eye. “Do you know what a god is?”

  “No. Do you know what a Venir is?”

  “Huh,” Scorch said, wheezing. He looked around at everyone. “My, you people can’t be content, can you?” Scorch shuffled by Venir’s broad chest to the fireplace and reached inside. He pulled the flaming head and blew it out.

  “Put that back,” Venir warned, drawing back his fist.

  “No!” Scorch said. His voice shook the room.

  Brak burst back inside the front door with the great sword held high. He made a bead for Scorch.

  “I am Zorth! Avenger! Destroyer! All evil must die!”

  Scorch sneered. “This fight is beneath me. But this won’t be forgotten.”

  Brak closed in and swung the great blade in a mighty arc.

  Blink!

  The blade bit through the wooden planks and deep into the ground below.

  Scorch was gone. Sidebor’s head too. Leaving only them, Darleen and her goons.

  “Scorch! Don’t leave me! Please, don’t leave me!”

  EPILOGUE

  Venir stirred. Kam lay in bed beside him, snoring softly. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets back over her naked legs. He stretched his long limbs and got up. The last two weeks had been quiet. Almost peaceful. The Magi Roost was back to normal.

  He made his way over to Erin’s cradle. The moonlight shone on her pretty round face, but her eyes were opened wide. She lay there silent, eyes moving back and forth. Venir gently rocked the cradle.

  “You miss those bright spots your mother does,” he said. “I can’t do that. And she’s sleeping.”

  Erin blinked and yawned.

  Still she looked worried.

  Venir rubbed her tiny head with his thumb.

  He had two children now. One could handle himself, the other couldn’t.

  It had taken half a day to wrest the Sword of Zorth from Brak’s hands, but it had happened. Much to the thanks of Kam and her family. Wizards mostly. They’d taken the sword to better hands. Venir found relief in it. He didn’t want his son consumed by such a thing.

  Erin cooed and fidgeted.

  Venir picked her up and held her in his arms.

  “You’re safe, Little Girl.”

  He walked over to the window and basked in the shadows of the moon’s glow. Scorch’s threat didn’t sit well with him. But did they ever? There was always danger, it seemed.

  There isn’t any at the moment. Enjoy it.

  He could feel the lively sounds of the tavern in his bare feet. Some people were having a good time again. He’d had more sleep than he ever remembered, and Kam had allowed him to rekindle things. Many times.

  He still ached, but the tightness in his shoulders was still there too. He felt restless. Like a caged animal. A dog that needed turning loose to hunt.

  Riders approached from the southern entrance to the City of Three on horseback. A score of them in armor. Bows crossed their backs. Armor jangled in the saddles. Their heads were weighted down with heavy helmets. Venir knew that look. That formation. They were survivors. Silent. Defeated.

  He set Erin down in her cradle. Sat back on the ledge of the window. Opened his ears. Listened.

  They were part of a small battalion that left days ago. Over two hundred men. This was all that was left of them. Bloody bandages hung from their limbs. Dead bodies were draped over saddles. Venir’s heart in his chest stirred watching them ride by. His eyes narrowed. Underlings! Their forces were growing.

  Kam popped up in the bed, gasping. Eyes blinking.

  “What was that sound?” she said.

  Venir shrugged his shoulders.

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Something stirred somewhere in the apartment.

  Clank.

  Venir dashed out of the room. In front of the sofa something stirred. Venir took up his knife and said, “Out with you.” He peered in the darkness at a shadow that moved and was swallowed.

  Kam rushed to his side.

  Venir crept closer. Something lay on the table. A jolt went through him. A leather sack lay still. No, it can’t be. His fingers stretched for it. Rubbed the stitches. Why? He picked it up and reached inside. He felt lightning tickling his fingertips.

  “What is it?” Kam said, coming closer.

  He offered a savage smile.

  “Brool.”

  From the Author

  “Oh, the silence, the pain-filled silence.”

  What can I say? Ending Darkslayer 6 with a new Darkslayer didn’t sit well with plenty of readers. Well, it didn’t sit well with me either. I lost sleep over it, literally, lots of sleep. And I sleep well. But to be clear, it was never my intention to retire the likes of Venir, but rather to branch off to another story line and come back to him later. But the silence when I released DS6 was deafening. Stomach turning. I didn’t hear from readers I normally hear from and I could tell things did not bode well with them. Yet, despite the angst I felt, I felt something else as well.

  Joy!

  Aye, it did my heart good to know that readers loved Venir as much as I did. That he wasn’t some boorish hulking goon with an axe, but something more. The kind of friend you like to have around to slaughter evil in the night. This was my hope. After all, Clark Kent is the
only Superman, Peter Parker the only Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne the only Batman. No one ever loved it when the writers tinkered with these characters either. Hence, Venir is The Darkslayer. Again, I’m so glad you felt the way that I did. Plus, there’s clearly only one Melegal. You could never change him.

  In the beginning, my goal was to write a series of books where The Darkslayer changed over periods of time on Bish. It could be any one race, man or woman, depending on how the scales of Good and Evil tipped in the world. But for now, we’re just going to see how Venir and his crew handle things. Plus, I don’t outline my stories. I just fly by the seat of my trousers and write.

  Thanks for making your thoughts known. To those of you who complained, I appreciate your honesty. To those of you who said nothing at all, I heard you loud and clear. And to those of you who were still going to stick with me anyway, thank you.

  Fight or Die,

  Craig Halloran

  BOOK 2: BLACK BLOOD

  Prologue

  Underlings. A scourge upon the land …

  CHAPTER 1

  His legs churned. Lungs burned. Soaked in sweat, Georgio ran for his life, but the underlings were closing fast.

  Zip! Zip! Zip!

  Too-wha! Too-wha! Too-wha!

  Darts, needles, and sling stones whizzed by him, bouncing off his armor. Others struck, stinging his arms and legs. Georgio’s heavy feet thundered down the path, through the vine-heavy tree branches, and down into a gorge.

  He could hear their chitters. Cackling threats. The sounds of spiders scurrying through branches. He could hear Melegal mocking him in his head.

  Move faster, fat arse, faster!

  Knees pumping, boot-shod feet splashing through the creek, jumping rocks and fallen logs, he crashed to the ground, bounced up, and ripped out his sword.

  Underlings surrounded him. Malicious faces with bright gemstone eyes taunted him. Their small wiry-grey bodies were corded with muscle.

  Sword gripped in two hands, Georgio spun a slow circle.

  The underlings, a full squad of twelve, withdrew their jagged and arcane weapons: swords, daggers, axes and knives. They cut their weapons through the air. Graceful, quick strokes. They looked more effective at filleting people than killing them.