Elypsa lay on the table where care had been given to her before. Her eyes searched out Melegal’s. “I am not responsible for this.”
“Then who is?” Melegal said to her. “You were here, were you not?”
“Something knocked me cold. The dwarvesses were dead when I woke up.”
Melegal laughed. “So you were hiding when I entered?”
“Yes, I feared for my life.”
Melegal eyed her. There was a bump on her head. “So you have full use of your limbs now? You’ve made a full recovery.”
“I am weak, but I can move my upper extremities, and I now feel my legs. I am grateful to those dwarvesses.”
“That’s quite a remarkable recovery!” Jasper said. “A busted spine to practically walking upright in days! She’s a black fiend, Melegal. Do not fall for her lies.”
“I’m far from that, dearie.” Melegal scanned the room. He’d seen the handiwork of the dwarvess healers before, at the Warfield. They’d done excellent things for him as well. Could they fix a broken back so fast?
I suppose anything is possible.
All about the room were bottles, vials, and jars of various concoctions. A cupboard had been knocked over and some clayware broken and spilled.
Perhaps Elypsa’s injuries were not as severe as they appeared to be. If she can move, she can certainly kill.
“You are the only one with motive, Elypsa.”
“It was not my desire to come here. I was brought against my will.” She curled up on her table. “I am certain everyone wants me dead. After all, I am what I am, an underling. I am here, and I’m here alone. I only did my master’s bidding, and he is dead now. I am relieved.”
“She almost killed all of us once, and she’s starting up again,” Jasper said. She shook her chains. “We should take her out now.”
“I’m sure dwarven justice will be swift,” Melegal said.
The wall of dwarven guards parted in front of the exit.
Mood and Venir entered. The King of the Blood Rangers went straight for the tub. He reached into the waters and one by one he picked the dwarvesses up and set them down. His face sagged. “This is my family. Only true justice can make amends.” He turned and faced everyone in the room. “Imprison all of the outsiders until we get to the bottom of this.”
“Outsiders?” Venir said. “Mood, you can’t possibly think my friends had anything to do with this.”
There was a strange gleam in Mood’s green eyes when he said to his men, “Take them all, I said.”
The dwarves surrounded Venir. Two more entered with shackles.
“Mood! You’re arresting me? I was with you!”
“I said all outsiders! That’s you!” He pointed at Venir and Jasper and Melegal and Elypsa. “All of you, the women too!”
CHAPTER 7
Fogle had made it about a hundred yards out into the grasslands when the tide turned. Jarla and Brak were galloping back toward the forest. She was barking orders to the brigands, who rallied to her side. All of them stormed his way.
He was still gagged and bound.
What in Bish are they running from?
In the distance, underlings popped up above the tall grasses and gave chase after the brigands. They hurled javelins and fired small bolts. Fogle made a quick count and gave up. There were dozens of them, chittering away.
Slat! I’ll be slaughtered!
Survival instincts kicking in, Fogle raced back into the forest. The two guards accompanying him charged toward the brigand queen. She was moving away from Fogle into another neck of the woods, not where they came from. He tried to spit out the rag that filled his mouth.
I need help! I need help! I need help!
Fogle never liked to rely on anyone, but he needed the brigands, anybody, now. He needed his limbs freed. At least then he could climb a tree and try to hide. He rammed his body through the brush and thistles and powered toward Jarla’s voice. He caught a glimpse of the brigands rushing through the trees.
Wait! Wait for me!
A clash rang out. Men screamed. Horses whined. Fogle froze in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more underlings advancing.
Where in Bish did they come from?
Fogle hunkered down and pressed his back against a tree below the brush.
I’m a dead mage. I’m a dead mage. I’m a dead mage.
A brigand in a leather breastplate dashed by Fogle looked over his shoulder and kept running. Two bare-chested underlings with coils of long black hair sliced through the woodland, cutting the distance quickly and pouncing on top of the man. The three tussled. The man screamed. Underling knives went up and down. Up and down. Red blood was flung in the air.
Heart pounding, Fogle flattened out on the ground and scooted deep into the brush.
Please don’t find me! I don’t want to die like this. I want to die fighting.
Chittering speech went back and forth. Soft footfalls came Fogle’s way. He could hear everything everywhere at once. Screams. Death throes. Skin being punctured and poked. He curled up into a ball and wiggled his fingers. It was instinct. Survival. Fogle did the best he could by his nature. None of it helped.
Chitter. Chitter. Chitter.
He could see their feet through the brush. The underlings had come to a stop several feet away.
They see me. They have to see me.
Fogle envisioned a javelin poised over his back, ready to pierce his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Take it like a man, and don’t surrender to these fiends. Goodbye, Bish. For the most part it’s been awful.
A scuffle in the thicket caught his ear. The underlings chittered and dashed away. Fogle opened his eyes. The underlings were gone, but the sounds of slaughter still abounded. He crawled over to the tree and rose up on his knees. Something grabbed his waist and pinned a knife against his throat.
***
Brak’s horse went down, and he went down with it. Face-first in the grass, he jumped back up to his feet with his sword in hand.
An underling rushed at him with a wavy short sword.
Striking out with his long arm, Brak split its head open.
Two more underlings crept at him with spears with strange razor-sharp heads.
Jarla, on horseback, charged out of the brush and trampled both of them. Bone cracked underneath Nightmare’s powerful hooves.
The underlings tremored and died.
Jarla shouted at Brak, “Stop gawking and fight, Commander!”
Tall and powerful, Brak waded into the tide of underlings surrounding the rugged brigands, who fought hard.
They screamed curses and oaths.
But the underlings were skilled and tactical fighters. They flanked every man with two or three and whittled them down into bloody ribbons.
Brak went up on his tiptoes. His back was aflame. It felt like fiery spikes were embedded in his back. He turned his brutish shoulders around and faced his attackers.
Two underlings the size of children in his eyes were spitting dart after dart at him. Another dart buried itself in his forearm. One dotted his forehead.
The blood in his veins turned to fire.
“Those bug bites won’t stop me!” He chased after the underlings.
The quick little fiends darted away and vanished into the trees.
Eyes narrowing, Brak surveyed the battleground.
A throng of underlings whittled down an orcen brigand with quick and precise chops. The orc died with his hands holding in his spilled guts.
Brak advanced on the underlings even as they reveled in their quick victory.
The black fiends faced off with Brak, swords and sharp teeth bared. One by one, they attacked.
Brak unloaded a windmill chop, taking the closest ruby-eyed underling’s arm off at the shoulder. He drove his boot into another one’s chest, lifted it from its feet, and kicked it into the grass. He paid for it.
The third underling sliced Brak’s upper arm.
“Argh!”
&n
bsp; Toowah! Toowah! Toowah!
More darts penetrated his back. A burning sensation coursed through his entire body.
He hacked at the underling, cut into its other arm.
The quick fiend dodged, countered, and stabbed. Its sword tip lanced the leather breastplate at Brak’s gut and bit through to the skin.
Brak’s free hand clamped down on the underling’s wrist. Brak hoisted the fiend up by the arm, lifting it from the ground and jamming his sword through its chest.
Toowah! Toowah! Toowah!
Still holding the underling by the wrist, Brak spun around and flung the dead body at his dart-spitting assailant. The underling corpse crashed into one underling and startled another. Full of anger, Brak flung his shoulder at the astonished underling. The pommel of the heavy blade hit the fiend square in the head. Brak went after his sword. The burning stopped. Numbness filled his limbs, and walking on his legs felt like he was walking on noodles.
What is happening?
He stretched his fingers out for his sword, which lay on the ground beside the underling. His fingers stretched out like wavy snakes. The tips of his fingers opened, tongues flicked out, and they began to hiss.
“Gah!”
He staggered backward, gawking at his living fingers.
What’s happening to me?
He bumped into something and turned to face it.
It was Jarla on Nightmare. The horse was huge and snorting fire. Jarla’s hair was a nest of black snakes alive on her head.
She was speaking. “You fool. What are you doing?”
Nightmare snorted in Brak’s face.
He punched the fiery-breathed horse in the snout.
Horse and rider were toppled and laid out on the ground.
Brak fought for his balance. He staggered toward a tree, grabbed it, and held on. Everything in the world was spinning but him.
“Make it stop!” He moaned. “Make it stop!”
***
Jarla jumped off the back of her horse and landed like a cat. Nightmare lay on the ground, not moving, and Brak was staggering around as if drunk. “You fool!” she said. “What are you doing?”
Brak was hanging onto a tree, screaming like a baying hound. His blood-soaked back was full of darts.
A hatchet-swinging underling charged into her path.
She aimed for the throat.
Slice!
The underling died, clutching at its neck. It didn’t matter. Jarla was surrounded by a dozen more underlings. She hovered over Nightmare. “The first one of you who hurts my horse will be dead.”
Chittering, the bright-eyed underlings moved in.
CHAPTER 8
“It’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Venir.” Melegal sat on a stone bench inside a dungeon cell. So far as he could tell, it had never been occupied before.
“Me?” Venir was in the same cell as Melegal. His fingers were locked around the steel bars. “I haven’t seen the woman since we’ve been here.”
“She’s not a woman,” Jasper said from the cell across from Venir’s. Her cheeks were the color of roses. “She―or it, rather―is an underling! You should have killed it in the Outland.”
“I agree,” Kam said. She, Joline, and Erin were in the same cell as Jasper. Venir, Melegal, Billip, and Nikkel were locked up in the other cell. “The only good underling is a dead underling, remember?”
“Underling or not, I’ve never slain a female,” Venir said.
“No doubt she would have slain you.” Billip cracked his knuckles. “What would a man such as us do if we were to face an army of women?”
“Lose,” Jasper said.
Kam and Joline chuckled, Kam bouncing Erin on her hip.
Nikkel started laughing out loud, pointing at Billip. “You would rush in without your trousers, singing ‘I surrender! Take me!’”
Billip locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the wall. “Perhaps. I’m sure they’d take me prisoner and subject me to a long and sweaty interrogation.”
All of the men chuckled, including Melegal. The women giggled a little too.
“Seriously, Venir,” said Melegal, “Mood has locked us up? Really? I thought he was our friend.”
The jovial spirit in the dungeon faded.
Venir had known Mood since he was a boy. The Blood Ranger had taught him most of what he knew. Their bond was deep. It didn’t make any sense that Mood would imprison him.
Of course, Mood was King of the Dwarves, and he needed to protect his people. The dwarves had to come first. And murder in Dwarven Hole, well, Venir could only imagine that was never heard of. The murder of two innocent dwarvesses at that. Caregivers. Their deaths stunk of the underlings.
“I’m sure we won’t be in here very long,” Venir said. “It’s just a precaution for the benefit of his people. We’ll be out in no time. Without a doubt they’ll put an end to the female underling.”
“The sooner, the better,” Jasper said. “I’m sure none of us but Melegal will miss her.”
“Oh, stop your brooding, woman.” Melegal smoothed over the cap on his head. “I’m honest enough to admit the female underling is beyond fetching.” He glanced over at Billip, Venir, and Nikkel. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
“She is a marvel,” Billip replied.
“I heard that,” Joline said.
“I can’t argue with it,” Nikkel said with a little smile. “But how can something so beautiful be so deadly?”
“You haven’t known many women,” Venir said. His thoughts drifted to Jarla. A tingle started in his lower back.
“Ahem,” Kam said, eyeballing Venir. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Naturally, I wasn’t talking about you.”
“I know that. I was more concerned about the many,” she said.
“Many would be an understatement,” Billip added. “Unless you were talking about a single night. Then it would be accurate.”
“Venir!” Kam yelled. “Is it true?”
“He’s jesting,” Venir said with a shrug. “You know Billip.”
“I’m sure Melegal can confirm it. All men are lust-filled hounds.”
Studying his nails, Melegal said, “I can only speak for myself, and a thief never tells. Besides, I don’t keep count.”
Nikkel got up from his seat, walked up to the cell bars, and said to the women, “I’m not a lust-filled hound. I’m a one-woman man.”
“Now you are. You haven’t seen enough seasons yet, but once you do, you’ll be much like your father.” Billip toyed with his goatee. “A one-woman man? One woman a day, more like.”
Bouncing Erin in her arms, Kam turned the little girl toward Venir. “See your father over there? He’s a pig.”
“No, he’s not a pig,” Jasper said. “He’s just a man.”
“What’s going on here?” Venir said. “Am I the enemy again?”
The dungeon quieted.
Melegal finally spoke up. “No, but you’re the easiest to blame.”
“Why is that?”
Nikkel patted him on the back. “I suppose because your shoulders are big enough to hold it. Just imagine what would happen if we dumped it all on Melegal. He’d be in a deep hole by now.”
Melegal looked at Jasper and replied, “I am in a deep hole right now.”
A pair of dwarven guards opened the iron doors protecting the entry into the dungeon. Mood came through. He was dressed in leather armor dyed a deep green. He stopped at the cell nearest the main doors and gazed inside. His meaty hands touched the bars.
It was the cell that held Elypsa. Venir couldn’t see her and hadn’t heard a peep out of her since she’d been inside.
What’s he doing?
A dark little hand appeared and touched Mood’s fingers for a moment and vanished again.
Venir’s neck hairs rose. “Mood!”
Mood shook his head and backed away. He walked over and stopped between the men and the women’s cells. “
An investigation is ongoing. A trial will be held. You’ll be confined until the investigation is completed and the culprit is brought to trial.”
Venir didn’t like the way Mood said it. There was something different in the dwarf’s tone, and Venir couldn’t find Mood’s eyes. They remained hidden beneath his bushy red brows. “Mood, you know we’re not guilty of such an atrocity. Let us out from behind these bars. You know the little black fiend did it.”
“Be patient,” Mood replied. His fingers clutched in and out. “This will be handled according to our laws and customs. We’ll find the blood shedder and shed their blood as well, but we must be right.”
“I agree,” Venir said, grabbing the bars. “And how long will this take? You can’t leave us in here like animals forever.”
“I’m bound by the custom, but you will be well cared for. All of you. Food. Drink.”
Venir searched for his friend’s eyes again, unsuccessfully. “Mood, how long are we talking about?”
“We have declared war. We march for Bone. The investigation will be ongoing, but the trial will be held when the war is over.”
“That’s madness!” Venir blurted out. “I thought I was going to lead!”
“It is the law.” Mood marched out of the room.
The iron doors closed behind him.
CHAPTER 9
“Be still,” whispered a harsh voice in Fogle’s ear. “And be quiet.” She pulled the gag out of his mouth.
“Oh, thank—”
Jubilee clamped her hand over his mouth and whispered, “What did you not understand about what I said? Shush.”
Fogle nodded and held up his bound wrists.
She sliced through the cords with her knife.
Fogle rubbed his wrists.
Oh, feels so good.
The battle still raged nearby. He peeked around the tree. A dozen yards away, two gem-eyed underlings gored a brigand with their javelins. One of the underlings turned and looked Fogle’s way.
He jerked his head back. “I think it saw me.”
“Be still and hope it didn’t.”
Fogle could feel his heart pounding in his temples. He found Jubilee’s eyes. “You came looking for me?”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 73