“No.” She started to crouch.
Back pressed against the wall, Slom said, “I can carry her.”
“You’ll have to guard our backside.” Melegal huffed, squatted down by Jasper, and said, “I’ll take her. Jasper, just keep your eyes closed and trust me.” He scooped her up, pushed up on his legs, keeping his back tight against the wall, and renewed his ascent. Jasper trembled in his arms.
“Move faster,” Slom said to him.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Melegal admitted.
“Go faster,” Slom said. “We have company.”
Melegal shifted his head to the other side of Jasper. The underlings surged through the door. The three of them were only a third of the way up the spirally wall that eased in a gentle slope around and around the stack. “Have they not any handholds going straight up?”
“A good thief can make the climb.”
“I’m not worried about me.”
“Oh.”
The underlings closed in on agile feet. Some stopped, firing dart after dart.
Jasper let out a painful cry and jerked. Melegal’s fingernails dug into the wall. “Be still, girl! You’re going to turn us into coal.”
“But…”
“They’re only darts! You’ll live!” Melegal pushed himself, stone after stone, up and up. He glanced up. It was a long way to go to the tiny portal at the top. I’ll suffocate before I get there. Every step was agony.
Clang!
“We have contact,” Slom said. He fought against the underlings that caught up.
Clang!
“I can swing steel forever! Rawr!”
An underling fell off the stairs and plunged into the furnace.
“One down,” Slom said, “too many to go.”
Melegal continued his climb. Each step took longer. His legs had started to burn. The heat was quickly draining his strength. Almost a dozen underlings were racing up the steps now. It was only a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, before they cut Slom down. That left only him to defend himself and Jasper. And the slightest imbalance would send them into the roaring flames.
“Jasper,” he said in her ear, still climbing, “if you have anything left, now is the time to use it.”
She squeezed him harder.
“Melegal,” Slom roared, “it’s been good. Alas, my steel can swing no more.”
“Then let your orcen side swing it for you, sissy! Do I have to swing it for you?”
“Har!” Slom chopped.
Another underling fell. More of the fiends swarmed. Hand over hand, they sent a long spear to the battlefront.
Grim. Such a very grim way to go.
“Yonder!” Slom yelled.
“What?” Melegal said.
“Down and across the chasm!”
A large man was making his way up the steps with a very long spear in his hands.
“It’s Zurth!” Slom yelled. “Kill ’em, you big bastard! Kill ’em all!”
Palzor’s former guard ran one underling through after the other and pitched them into the furnace.
The underlings screeched in horror, off guard.
Slom seized the spear they had sought to skewer him with and turned it against them. He impaled. He pitched. The two scoundrels weaved a path of death until they met in the middle. Together, they lanced the last underling, hoisted it high, and tossed it and the spears into the fire.
Fighting for his breath, Melegal wanted to scream but held it in. Don’t die now, Rat. We might have victory.
Minutes later, and unmolested by any more underlings, they all climbed into a chute at the top. On hands and knees, they squeezed through the crawlspace, panting for breath and dying for water. Melegal found a hatch and popped it open. The air was a cold blast against his skin.
One by one, they all exited into the dark of the red moons’ light. They were sweat-soaked and covered in soot. Now, they rested in the foul sanctuary of the Waste District. It was the place where all of the refuse of Three was dumped into the stack. Melegal had never given it much thought until now, never made the connection. What better place to hide than beneath piles of slat.
“We made it,” Slom said, coughing. His grin bore his canine teeth. He squeezed Zurth’s shoulder. “I thought you were a watery corpse?”
“You know me. I could always hold my breath longer than the others.” Zurth checked the wound in his side. “Can’t go much longer without stitches though.” His nostrils flared. “Don’t suppose there’s any healers around here.”
“Grog will suit you better,” Slom added.
“How is Jasper?” Melegal said to the sorceress, rubbing her knee.
She coughed. “Dirty.”
“Filthy is more like it.” He wiped some soot from her face. “That’s better.”
Out of nowhere, Scorch’s voice spoke. Golden haired and donning exquisite white-robed attire, Scorch stood with his hands on his hips. His blue eyes shone like moons, and his smile was brilliant white. “Ah, henchmen,” he said.
Melegal lifted his chin and swallowed. Out of the flames and into the slatter.
CHAPTER 25
“Right!” Lefty cried out. Steel banged against steel. Pall cut down another underling that was charging his blind spot. “Left!” the halfling yelled. The Blood Ranger whirled around, a powerful figure. The sound of his machete cutting to bone followed.
“Come on at me, ya black fiends!” He banged his blades together, showering Lefty and the ground with drops of black blood. “I’ll finish every last one of you!”
The underlings circled. Their bright eyes showed wariness. Anger. Fury. Their brethren were scattered all over the ground: dead, moaning, or bleeding. Pall’s onslaught was merciless. Skulls were cleaved. Arms severed. He sucked in deep draws of air. His gait was unsteady.
He’s wounded. Wounded bad, maybe. “Pall, are you—”
“Stay focused, halflin’” He let out a watery cough. “It’s far from over yet.”
Lefty tightened his grip on his bloodstained axe. He’d become proficient with it.
An underling darted right for him, jagged blade first, and pounced.
Lefty shifted out of its path, swung hard, and severed its fingers from its hand.
Pall’s broad stroke did the rest.
Glitch!
Wading through the bloody sands turned to a grave of underling bodies, Pall charged them down. “Huzzah!”
Lefty hollered as well. “Huzzah!” This was it. Fueled by the heat of battle, he was ready to make his last stand. Bish on the underlings! They might take me, but I’ll take more of them!
Steel rang against steel. Pain-filled cries were shouted. Destruction was in the air. Death followed.
“Huzzah!”
The underling warriors fell back. The underlings on the backs of the sand spiders closed in with javelins ready. The long, black darts ripped through the air.
“Jump!” Lefty said. “Duck!”
Glitch! Glitch! Glitch!
“Argh!” Lefty cried out. A javelin had lanced him through the shoulder.
Pall crashed down on his knee.
Wincing, Lefty grabbed the javelin and wrenched it out. “Ah!”
“Hang in there, halfling!” Pall growled. “Now they got my blood rising!” He ripped another javelin out of the back of his thigh and threw it through an underling’s neck. “Bull’s-eye!”
Cords of webbing shot out from the spiders.
Thwp! Thwp! Thwp!
The webbing stuck to Pall’s arms and legs. The underlings let out triumphant chitters. The bonds held the Blood Ranger fast. They started to reel the giant dwarf in.
“Har! So it’s a closer look you want, do ya! Well I’ll give it to you!” Pall wrapped his thick wrist around one set of the cords, set his feet, and gave them a powerful heave. The spider and rider left its insect legs. Pall brained the underling with the machete in his free hand and rammed his boot into the spider’s maw. It screeched. Pall stomped it into a pile of goo, leav
ing its legs twitching.
The air shimmered. Lefty’s eyes snapped upward. The underling mage was drifting back into the scene. His fingertips were brighter than candlelight, and Lefty’s hair stood on end. “Pall, watch out, he’s spellcasting again!”
Thwp! Thwp! Thwp!
Webbing spewed all over the both of them. Lefty’s hands were stuck to his chest. A bright flash erupted. Sssraz!
Lefty’s body exploded in a thousand darts of pain. His mouth tasted like metal, and the hair on his body smelled singed. He sagged inside the rucksack, yet the webbing kept his head up. He watched the underlings close in. He could not hear them, but he could see them screaming. He started to yell for Pall. The Blood Ranger swayed on his knees, shaking his bushy head. Fight, Pall! Fight! The dwarf wasn’t moving at all.
Through the webbing, Lefty saw Black Death with shiny steel blades closing in. Racked with pain, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel a thing. So long, lousy world. It’s about time. So long. His eyes flickered up toward the mage floating in the sky.
Its citrine eyes widened. Its mouth filled with sharp teeth dropped open. A shard of blue magic zipped through the air and buried itself inside its chest. It screeched. Its hands clawed at the flesh on its body. It exploded.
Boom!
Chunks of flesh, bone, and skin showered the sky and rained down on the evil brethren. The underlings froze in their tracks. Their heads scanned left, right, and all around.
Clatch-Zip!
A bolt tore through one underling’s chest and knocked it back into another. An arrow feathered the eyehole of another. Twang!
Pall stirred. On shaky legs, he rose to his feet and started swinging. A big man cut across Lefty’s path. His gleaming sword flashed down with such power that it split an underling in half. An underling blindsided the man, ramming a javelin into his back side. In a stroke of lightning, his sword tore its head clean off.
Slice!
Dark blood spurted from the neck. Its head rolled in the dust.
In pain, Lefty fought to keep his eyelids open. He was woozy. Bleeding. His vision darkening. He wanted to thank the men before he expired. Focusing, he concentrated on the brawny figure chopping down underlings with a javelin sticking out of his side. Lefty’s axe slipped from his grip. Underlings closed in.
The brawny man pulled out the javelin and jammed it into the nearest underling’s chest. The other, he strangled.
My, what a fighter!
The sky filled with white light, and the air cracked. A silver snake of deadly bolts tore through one underling and branched out into another and another. The underlings fell to the ground, smoking but dead. Pall’s body slowed. He took a knee and collapsed, with Lefty still stuck to his back.
“Pall!” Lefty tried to cry, but he could not find his breath. Pall.
“What did you do that for?” the voice of an agitated man said to another that Lefty could not see. He could barely make out anything now.
“Do what?” a strong voice fired back.
Lefty’s senses began to fade. No, not yet. Not yet.
“You know what! You killed them. You said you weren’t going to do that.”
“Aye,” said another man, his voice very deep. He sounded older. Wiser.
“Well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” the older man said. “Besides, I hate them more.”
“Do not!”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
“Will all of you shut up?” said another man. At least Lefty thought so. It had a familiar ring to it. “Just help these people, will you?”
Through the webbing, Lefty noted three silhouettes. Well-built men. He couldn’t make out their faces, since their backs were to the sunlight.
“This one has a baby on his back,” said the one with the really deep voice. “It’s all bloody and sticky. Too bad. I think it’s a dead baby. Uck.”
Lefty summoned his strength and kicked his feet.
“Look. That baby’s got awfully big feet.”
“I’d say.”
“Back away. Back away,” the older man said. He pointed at Lefty and murmured some very strange words, and his fingertip ignited with golden fire. He touched the webs, and they melted away.
Lefty rubbed his bleary eyes and managed to croak out the words, “Thank you.” He started to black out.
A big pie face topped off with long, blood-caked, curly locks looked him in the eye and said, “Lefty?”
He stretched out his feeble hand and touched the man’s cheek. Georgio! Blackness swam his consciousness away.
CHAPTER 26
Fogle twisted and turned in midair. Below, the ground rushed for him. He was moments from being nothing but splattered guts on the road. It can’t end this way. It can’t! You’re wasting time complaining. Cast something! He closed his eyes as the wind tore at his robes and ears.
The speed of thought could not be measured. Fogle’s were much faster than most. His mind opened doors to different channels and began pulling syllables together. A dozen yards above the terrified onlookers, he blurted it out.
“Osswatchem!”
His body became weightless. Righting himself, he softly landed on his feet, and the onlookers marveled. Head beaded in sweat, he said to them, “Show’s over, but I saw some underlings coming from around the corner.”
Startled gasps were followed by the footfalls of fleeing feet.
Fogle gazed up, squatted down, and leapt high into the air. His weightless body ascended high up toward the sky. His spell worked. It was one he had created long ago during his training. Most of the students wanted to master the free-fall spell, a slower version. In order to test them, school masters would take them on the top of the towers. Have them cast and jump. Every year, there were a few who didn’t make it. Fogle, however, had a better idea. Rather than a soft free fall, he created the reverse he called the upsurge. Instead of falling down, he fell up. It won him an accolade. He’d never used it again until today.
Thank Bish!
He was eyeing the tower from whence another figure was hurtled out of the window. Wide-eyed and still strapped to the chair, Ruut came rushing down.
Move, Fogle! Move!
Running in suspended animation, there was nothing he could do to get away in time. Ruut smacked right into him. Down the pair of them went, spinning around in the sky. The fall was slower than normal, but still it was fast enough to break bones once they hit. Clutching the man, he shifted his body around on top of Ruut. Just drop the worm, Fogle.
Ruut begged and pleaded behind his gag.
Fogle ripped it out and said, “Save yourself if you can, Ruut. It’s a better chance than you deserve.” He released the man and started back upward, while Ruut’s descent quickened. He turned his head away. I’m not even going to look. Up he went. The closer he got to cresting the ledge of the busted window, the more terrible sounds he could hear.
“Rrah!”
An entire desk sailed out of the portal, busting more glass and sprinkling Fogle with shards of the stained window. He hung onto the window sill, holding himself down from descending farther up.
Inside, Brak tore into everything. The berserk man picked up a bronze urn, crumbled it in his mitts like parchment, and slung it into the wall. He grabbed a built-in bookshelf and ripped it free of the wall. Eyes rolled up inside his head, chest heaving in fury, Brak was a force. Tall, brawny, and insanely angry, he picked a stone pedestal up off the floor and threw it from one side of the room to the other.
Heart in his throat, Fogle fought to keep his body held down. His toes kept trying to float upward. Gripping the edge, he cut his hand on the broken glass. “Ah!”
Brak whirled. Nostrils flaring, he stormed toward the window.
Can he see me? Fogle thought.
Brak’s lips curled up into a sneer. He glowered right down at Fogle. His muscles bulged. Great blue veins pulsated in his arms. He took a giant stride forward.
He can! Fogle summoned his last di
mension door.
Faster, Brak closed in, with his white eyes intent on destruction. When he was one stride away and gaining speed, the air shimmered between them. A black portal appeared. Enraged, Brak charged right into it, making an ear-splitting howl. It cut off a second after it started.
“Whew!” Fogle climbed inside the tower. Still floating up, he held his hands up to keep himself from hitting the ceiling. Heart racing, he looked down on the portal. “I’ll give it a few seconds,” he said, catching his breath. “Clever of you, Fogle. A bit impromptu, but clever, nonetheless.” He cancelled the upsurge spell and floated back toward the floor. On the way down, he noticed Ruut’s spellbook. Landing, he picked it up. “This will come in handy.”
With a word, he collapsed it down and tucked it into his robes. Eyeing the portal, he mentally ran through his catalogue of memorized spells. I’ll need that. And that. His fingers charged with fire. A thought struck him. Without thinking things through, he’d sent Brak to the Nexus Chamber. It would be a great surprise to them, but he’d forgotten all about the safety of Kam. Without further hesitation, he rushed into the portal. Oh no! I hope she’s safe from Brak.
CHAPTER 27
Venir kept the blade tight on Kavell’s neck. The man’s once-shaken body had regained its stiff composure. The shock in the wizard had worn off. Kavell was in his home. Venir was far from his element. Uncertainty in the warrior remained.
The room that held them moved and bumped, jostling his stomach. It went downward, Venir understood that much, and it was moving fast.
“She’s my daughter, you know,” Kavell said. “I’d never truly harm her.”
“Just imprison her.”
“You’re a man of the world, are you not? You understand how this works. You do what you have to do to survive.” He cleared his throat. “But in my case, I’m responsible for an entire city. Or at least mostly responsible, and the majority of my kind agree: it’s safer for all to work with the underlings than against them.”
“Foolish words from a foolish man.”
“Our actions will save this city.”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 52