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

by Craig Halloran

  “You do know he’ll return,” Melegal said. “He always does. He’s like a fungus that keeps growing back on your foot.” He took a gulp. “Not that I would know.”

  “I know,” Fogle said, “and I like him, but … may I?” He gestured to the pitcher of wine.

  Melegal filled another goblet and slid it over.

  Fogle gulped it down. “As I was saying … well, never mind.”

  “You were going to say that you like him, but you hope he doesn’t come back.”

  Fogle’s eyes widened on his scholarly head.

  “Don’t feel bad,” Melegal continued. “I’ve felt that way plenty of times before.”

  “You’ve known him long.”

  “Since we were children, and if I had more friends like him, then I wouldn’t have any enemies.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Melegal laughed. “He’d kill them. That’s the kind of loyal friend he is when he’s around, and I’d say he’s pretty loyal to old Fire-top over there, too. And let’s not forget his daughter.”

  “Slat,” Boon said, sagging down. “She’s not even mentioned him, though.”

  “And you haven’t either, I’ve noticed.”

  Fogle laughed until tears rolled from his eyes.

  Melegal refilled his goblet.

  Fogle drank it down. “Am I a dog?”

  “No, you are a mangy cur.”

  “Well, how come I feel so much better?”

  “Because you’ve accepted the truth—and you’re drinking some pretty strong wine.”

  Chatting back and forth, they shared another goblet.

  Fogle opened up some more. “I tried to kill him once, in a mind grumble.” He pointed toward the bloodstain on the floor. “See that spot?”

  “I heard about it.”

  “Well, you’ve never heard this.” Fogle leaned forward. “He strolled in here, brawny and brazen, and Kam melted all over him. Jealousy enflamed me.”

  Melegal raised his eyebrows.

  Fogle nodded. “For years, I’d tried to garner her attention. Impress her with my mind, my powers. She was drawn to none of it. Then, this gigantic oaf comes in, Titanic—and full of slat.”

  Melegal laughed.

  Fogle filled the thief’s goblet. “Kam was enthralled by his boasts and empty words, and she wasn’t the only one, either. The crowd, my crowd—all of whom had challenged me and been defeated—took note of him as well.” He straightened up in his chair. “So I chose to make an example of him. A mistake that nearly cost me my life.” He eyed Melegal. “I’m a wicked arse, aren’t I?”

  “No, just an arse, like all the rest of us.”

  “Kam is not his kind,” Fogle said. “She’s my kind.” He shook his head. “And she notices me now, the way she didn’t back then. Why is that?”

  “Women like men who have been in dangerous places, is all I can say. Gives them a thrill, somehow.”

  “Do you feel that way about women who have been in dangerous places?”

  Melegal shrugged his brows and said, “Do you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Whack!

  The front doors slammed open, and Quickster stepped into full view.

  “What in Bish?” Melegal said.

  Fogle turned his shoulder.

  Joline screamed.

  “Get that beast out of here!” Kam yelled from behind the bar. Her expression froze a moment before another word came forth. “You!”

  Melegal was already on the move when Jaen stepped into full view. Her eyes were locked on Kam’s before they slid over to Melegal. She wore a dark red bodice, and a ruby gleamed in her exposed navel. Her long, cinnamon-colored hair was straightened.

  “I brought your ass back,” Jaen said, shrugging and shaking her head. “I’m surprised you survived. Shocked, actually. But when I received word of it, well, I found myself a bit relieved. You are charming company.”

  Melegal took Quickster by the reins, checked his teeth, and rubbed him behind the ears. Then he said to Jaen, “Even though I hoped to never see you again, I must admit, you are as enchanting as ever. I guess we are calling things even.” He gestured to Joline, who sighed heavily and took Quickster out to the stables.

  “Ha!” Jaen replied, checking her nails. “I didn’t come here bearing a gift. I have greater business in mind, business which requires your attention.” She turned her focus to Kam. “And your attention as well, half sister.”

  “I’ll have none of you, witch. Now get out of here.”

  Jaen didn’t look impressed. “Oh, Kam, will we ever get along?” She strolled through the tavern, eyeing everything. “My, what a quaint spot this is.” She stopped in front of a fireplace, tossed in a log, and dusted her hands off. “Rugged. It suits you, Kam. You always were a bit of an Outland girl, just like your mother.”

  “Don’t you speak of my mother, Jaen. At least I’m no spawn of a whore!”

  “Oh, please,” Jaen said, rolling her eyes. “Your father, my father, my mother, your mother, pfft, who cares? So long as I get what is mine.” Jaen noticed Fogle sitting at the table. “Oh my,” she gasped, “is that Fogle Boon?”

  Fogle broke out into a smile the likes of which Melegal had never seen. He stood up, pulled his shoulders back, and made a polite bow. “It is good to see you Jaen, eh.” His eyes drifted to Kam. “But I had no idea either of you had a sister.”

  “Kam is much older than me,” Jaen replied. “Much.” She draped her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. “You have changed, Fogle. There is something more mannish and rugged in that face and in those eyes.” Her voice became a purr. “I like it.”

  Fogle pulled out a chair and said, “Please, have a seat.”

  “Ah, well, I’m glad to see not all ground dwellers have lost their manners.”

  Kam stormed over. Her green eyes were wild, and her face was filled with fury.

  “Get OUT, Jaen! I won’t tell you again.”

  Melegal covered his smile with his slender hand, thinking, Perhaps I do like dangerous women. He touched the thin film of sweat on his head. Yep. And I never sweat, other than … He caught a twinkle in Fogle’s eyes as well, and he saw that the wizard’s lips could not hold back a smile.

  “Please, Kam, let me catch up with my old friend Fogle.” Jaen rested her hand on Fogle’s arm. “And while I’m doing that, you can get us some wine, because we are going to have a very long and important chat.” She winked at Fogle. “And you can stay too,” she said to Melegal. “I like a man with some bumps and bruises.”

  Kam balled up her fist. “I’m warning you, Jaen.”

  “Oh, please, what are you going to do,” Jaen said, sneering at her, “choke me with one hand?”

  Kam punched her in the face.

  Sock!

  Jaen crashed to the floor, but she bounced up in an instant and wiped the blood from her mouth. Her hands charged with deep red energy.

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  Kam’s one hand flared with green fire.

  “Make me pay, witch!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Cough. Cough. Hack.

  “Water,” Creed pleaded with a cracked voice, “water.”

  He lay on the floor of his cell with his face pressed against the cold metal bars, burning with fever. A bucket was knocked over by his feet. The slop they fed him was being devoured by rats. Perspiration dripped from his face.

  “Water.”

  Images haunted his mind: the tongueless man’s garbled cackle, the blacksmith from his youth who had been crushed by the falling ceiling. What was his name?

  Lorda Almen’s sensuous curves came and went.

  Underlings attacked in his dreams, stabbing him over and over again.

  He went back and forth from ice cold to burning hot, tossing and turning. The days felt like years. Rats nipped at his flesh when he slept.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t die in here. I can’t.

  His body convulsed and contorted.


  Cough. Cough. Cough. Hack. Hack. Hack.

  ***

  Corrin stood inside one of the turrets of Castle Bloodhound, eyeing the streets. From up here, he could see bloodhound sentries patrolling the upper wall. It was nighttime. The streets were dead. The only souls who ventured out at night were the City Watch and Royal Soldiers. Underlings ruled the streets at night.

  It’s never good to see those fiends.

  Down in the courtyard, a corpse swayed by the neck on a noose in the gentle breeze. Lord Grom was now swift to discipline his ranks. The man hanging had dared to question the overbearing man—and had died for it.

  Better him than me, but that’s what he gets for listening to Lorda. She’s a more effective murderer than I am. Never gets her hands dirty.

  Small blade in hand, he whittled a block of wood. At his feet, Creed’s dog Manx’s shaggy body lay still. Corrin had managed to befriend the brown-coated beast as well as some others in the kennels. He’d even gotten chummy with more of the bloodhounds. Now they trusted him to watch over some posts.

  Blend in and survive.

  He whittled down more on the block of wood. It was the half-finished figurine of a dog. He’d learned to whittle from his father when he was a boy but hadn’t fooled with it at all in the years gone by. Now it helped pass the time. It gave him clarity on how to murder Lord Grom.

  If I could leave, then I could score some poison.

  He and Creed had snuck out plenty of times before, but now that Bone was overrun by underlings, it was too risky. Everyone kept a close eye on everybody. The small castle was a prison, guarded by hundreds of dogs.

  He stuck the dagger in the window ledge and leaned forward, squinting. His stomach dropped.

  Dozens of underlings, some on foot, others on spiders, walked down the street, dragging the dead bodies of citizens behind them. Their glittering eyes and mocking chitters irritated his ears.

  Manx got up and stuck his large head out into the wind. Bared his teeth and growled.

  Sic ’em! I wish.

  They weren’t the only ones watching, either. Corrin could see several other bloodhounds watching. Their dogs’ ears were perched. Daggers slipped from scabbards. Leather gauntlets balled up into fists. The bloodhounds were a hard lot. Loyal to death. Rugged. They didn’t like what was happening to their city any more than Corrin did.

  The sound of a ballista caught his ear. Another group cranked back the strings of their crossbows. The tension in the air was as tight as those strings.

  The underlings sauntered by. Small, lithe forms in dark armor. Dark blades hung from their backs and belts. They glared up with fiendish looks on their faces. One strode in front of the bloodhounds’ front gate and took a piss on it.

  The bloodhounds began to murmur. Armor started to rustle.

  Corrin’s jaws tightened.

  Let loose, by Bone! Let loose!

  Several bloodhounds took aim.

  “Don’t you dare,” a heavy voice spoke out. Lord Grom’s large form lumbered down the top of the wall. “Lower your weapons. Sheath those blades. Don’t fall prey to their provocations.”

  Reluctantly, the bloodhounds did as he said. Steel slammed into sheaths.

  Lord Grom’s hulking visage glared over the wall. The standoff had stopped as quickly as it started, and the underlings walked on by, still dragging the bodies behind them. Lord Grom addressed his men.

  “Our time will come. Until then, no signs of aggression.”

  “Pardon, Lord Grom,” one bloodhound spoke up, “but the Royals do nothing while others are slaughtered in the streets. We can’t just stand by and wah—urk!”

  Lord Grom drove a blade into the man’s belly.

  Corrin stiffened.

  He is loony!

  Lord Grom’s heavy stare scanned the towers and turrets.

  Corrin stepped back into the shadows.

  But I don’t want him mad at me.

  ***

  Lorda Almen dabbed some perfume on her neck. She sat in front of her vanity, wearing a revealing turquoise robe made of silk. She could see Lord Grom’s reflection in the mirror. He lay on her bed, naked and belly down, eyes closed. Three huge dogs lay alongside the bed.

  Hairy pig bastard.

  She took a sharp hair pin and stared at it a moment.

  It would fit perfectly, jammed into his earhole.

  “Catherine,” he said, “I’m ready, and feeling a little impatient, too.”

  She began pinning her hair up. “The wait is always worth it. Is it not?” She rose from her chair with her robes half open.

  Lord Grom’s eyes opened up and took their fill of her breasts. “Mmmm,” he moaned, “You win, but can you be quick about it? It’s been a hard day.”

  She climbed on the bed, straddled his hairy back, and rubbed the thick muscles in his neck. The older man was a pack of hard muscle underneath that layer of fat.

  “What was so hard about your day?” she asked.

  He moaned again and turned his head, cracking his neck and glancing up at her before he closed his eyes again.

  “I had to gut another one of my soldiers. That’s two this week.”

  “Ah,” she said, smiling. Perfect. “And was he out of line?”

  “He wanted action. I can feel they all do. But this is not the bloodhounds’ fight.”

  She dug her thumbs deep into his back. “My, you are tight. Well, you can’t let your men get unhitched, Grom,” she said. “The underlings will slaughter all of us. I’ve told you that you are right. This is the Royals’ fight and not ours, er, yours.”

  “Ours, Catherine,” he said. “Ours, my dear.”

  “You are sweet,” she said. Pig. “What you do is the same as it was in my family and in my husband’s family. If one steps over the line, questioning your authority, the punishment must be swift.”

  “I could throw them in the dungeons,” he suggested.

  “Death is more merciful. Its message is swift, powerful.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, trying to flip over.

  “Ah ah ah,” Lorda said, forcing him back down. “Let me work that tension out first. You’re going to need to be loose for what I’m going to put you through.”

  Lord Grom cackled. “You are special, Catherine. There is no doubt about that.”

  You had better believe I am, you horny old fool. Mother was right—Bish rest her soul: the older men get, the easier they are to manipulate.

  She lowered her breasts onto his back, hugged him, and said, “Now tell me more of your troubles, and I’ll make those troubles go away.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Kam’s arm flashed up in a mystic shield of green.

  Jaen hurled a bolt of energy straight at her.

  Sazz! Zing!

  She deflected it and summoned her own lance of energy.

  “Stop it!” Fogle said, jumping between them.

  Kam let the bolt fly.

  Fogle leapt out of the way, crashing through the tables.

  Sazz! Zing!

  Her bolt ricocheted off Jaen’s shield.

  Her half sister licked the blood from her lips. “Old and slow as always, Kam. Temperamental as ever.” Small shield glowing on her wrist, Jaen beckoned Kam on. “Come on, then. Attack me, mother hen.”

  Kam’s nostrils flared. She hated Jaen, the spawn of one of her father’s sordid affairs. “You sleazy conniver!” Kam shouted. “Get your arse out of my tavern!” Her auburn hair stood on end, and her entire body crackled with energy. She let her fury fly. A whoosh of energy erupted from her arms and blasted straight for Jaen’s chest.

  Jaen produced a metal orb that sucked the energy up. “Ha!” Jaen said. “I came prepared for your tantrum.”

  Kam, exhausted, staggered back on her feet and fell into some chairs. Her magic wasn’t up to par with what it should have been. She’d just cleaned out all the energy she had left.

  Fogle tried to help her up.

  She shot him a look. “Get
off me!”

  Jaw dropping, he tried to speak.

  “Back off, Fogle,” she warned. She pushed herself off the floor and climbed into a chair, eyeing Jaen. “Get out.”

  “After this reunion? I think not,” Jaen said. “And they wouldn’t let me leave if I tried.”

  “Who?” Kam said, turning her head around.

  Big in frame, two men in plate mail stood at the front door. They bore the burning three-eyed tree insignia of her family.

  “What is this?”

  “Oh,” Jaen said, “there’s more.”

  A tall, fit man in refined clothing of the highest order entered. He was older, with a head of thick brown hair and pale green eyes. His movements were graceful and his cheekbones high.

  Two more soldiers fell in behind him.

  Kam gaped, heart jumping. Why is he here?

  “Hello, Kam,” he said in a soft but firm tone. “It’s been a long time. And I must say, you are just as pretty as ever.”

  Kam swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes flitting to Fogle and Melegal before falling back on the man. “You need to get out of here too.”

  “I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and leave.”

  “I didn’t either,” Jaen said.

  Kam tossed her head back and started laughing.

  Every eye in the room widened. Some faces filled with concern, others curiosity. Even the stone-faced Melegal’s.

  “Kam,” Joline said, appearing at her side, “are you all right?”

  Kam slapped her knee. “Oh, I’m great. Absolutely wonderful!”

  “Maybe you should go lie down,” Joline suggested.

  “At a time like this?” Kam slapped Joline on the rump. “Perish the thought! Muckle Sap for everyone. I can’t wait to hear what the father of that bastard Palos wants!”

  Joline gasped. “That’s Palzor? King of the—”

  Palzor’s index finger shot up. “There are certain titles I don’t care for, lovely lady.” He flashed a smile, and his hands fell on the pommels at his hips. “And many have died for uttering it. Palzor the Merchant King will suffice.”

  “Certainly,” Joline said with a bow.

  Kam shoved a chair toward him with her foot.

  Ripping out their swords, the soldiers jumped forward.