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

by Craig Halloran

  “The battle is over, then? Where are the blood rangers?” Venir said.

  “Over! Hah! They all die a little bit at a time, hemmed in like sheep awaiting the slaughter, but they do not cry out.”

  Venir’s tone darkened. “How did you get out and not them?”

  “Don’t take on a tone with me, Venir. We fled to preserve ourselves. Found a pass and ran free and clear before those fiends cut it off. The dwarves, they fight! They don’t flee—they just go! Mood has led them to their doom.”

  Venir ground his teeth. He had no doubt Elypsa had bewitched Mood. He glanced at Melegal. He could see a little guilt in the thief’s steely eyes. He felt some as well. He addressed Kark again. “I fear Mood has been ensorcelled by the underlings. I can’t sit in the saddle and watch the blood rangers and dwarves all be slaughtered. We will help them.”

  “You will die,” Kark said. “A handful of you is not enough against an underling army. I don’t care how big your axe is. The underlings are spread out all over the canyon rims like birds of prey. The canyons will fill with dwarven blood. The vultures will devour them.”

  Venir put Helm back on and buckled the chin strap. “It sounds to me like you can’t wait to get back in there, Kark.”

  “The jung are not going back, but I suppose we can help you out. We know the Badlands better than any. If your mind is as sharp as your axe, then perhaps we will come up with something.”

  “I’ve already come up with something,” Venir said. “I’m going to kill them all.”

  Holding his stomach with two of his four arms, Kark exploded into thunderous laughter. “That’s a good strategy. A deranged one, but I like it.”

  Melegal dug his heels into Quickster, and the pony went forward.

  Jasper said to him, “You don’t have any objection to this?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “I don’t think I have any say in the matter.”

  Kark let out a whistle and circled his fist over his head. The entire jung army turned back the way they had come. They did so with no murmuring and without complaint. “I don’t know why we follow you, but we will. Perhaps it’s the helmet.”

  “Perhaps you’re just as sick of the underlings as I am.” Venir extended his hand.

  Kark’s bug hand locked onto Venir’s forearm, and the nomad nodded.

  Venir said, “Fight or die.”

  Erin clapped her little hands together and repeated after her father in her toddler voice, “Fight o’ die.”

  CHAPTER 30

  A heavy knocking came at Fogle’s door. Jarla was up and on her feet, sliding her clothes on and taking away his final glimpse of her athletic figure. He rolled over onto one elbow and patted the quilt. “Ignore it. Come back to bed.”

  “I’ve had enough sleep,” she said, buckling on her armor.

  “Is that all you’ve had enough of?” he added.

  “It was better than expected, but I’m certain it will last me awhile.”

  The pounding at the door started again, harder this time than the last.

  Fogle swung his feet over to the floor, covered his yawn, and said, “Should I answer, or should you?”

  Jarla looked at him and said, “Are you worried what others might think? I’ve copulated with many. I’m not ashamed.”

  “Many as in roughly…”

  “It’s hard to say. Some were so big I would count them as two,” she replied. “Should I go on?”

  Fogle shook his head and grabbed his robes off the floor. He’d only been with two women now, and suddenly he felt foolish. Both of them were free spirits when it came to their relations, and he wasn’t as comfortable with that as they were. He peeked through the curtains. It was dark now. They’d slept a while. “No more details, thank you.”

  “I think you need to change your attire.” She bent over in front of him and slipped her boots on one by one. “Your clothes aren’t fit for travel. All they shout is ‘I’m a mage and a horrible lover.’”

  “Horrible?”

  She turned and patted his cheek. “I was only trying something new. Nothing more, nothing less. You did well, but it probably won’t happen again.” She tipped her head toward the door. “Will you get that?”

  I could have sworn I did better than ‘well.’

  Up on his feet, Fogle went to the door, unlatched the bolt, and opened it. “Gah!”

  One of the ogres, he couldn’t tell if it was Olg or Ugg, filled the entire hallway with his tremendous girth, a beastly creature of fat layered over muscle. He motioned with his hand for Fogle to follow, then turned and pushed down the hall.

  A strong smell like salt and manure wafted into Fogle’s nostrils. He pinched them closed. “That’s awful.”

  “You get used to it.” Jarla crawled up on the bed and peeked out the window. “I see company. “ She closed the curtain. “Grab your gear.”

  “What kind of company?”

  “Underlings.”

  “Many?” he asked.

  “Too many to see.” Jarla pushed by him and followed the ogre down the hallway, down the steps, into the kitchen, and through a concealed door behind the cupboards.

  Steps led down into a tunnel composed of rock, wooden beams, and dirt. They came to a stop inside an alcove big enough for a dozen people, despite the stored supplies. The other ogre was inside along with Brak, Jubilee, and Slim.

  “It seems our presence was announced to the underling authorities awful quickly,” Fogle said to Slim.

  “Like I said,” replied the lanky cleric, “you made enough of a ruckus to alert the entire city. I hoped to keep it under control, but the underlings have plenty of spies.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “And naturally I’ll be accused of harboring fugitives. I have enemies, you know. Especially Olg and Ugg’s parents. They’re out to get me since the two swore their loyalty to me.” He eyed Jarla and Fogle. “But at least you two enjoyed your stay.”

  Jubilee’s brow creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Fogle looked away from the girl’s disappointed expression.

  What do I have to be ashamed about? Well … I just diddled with the same woman as Brak and Venir. Doesn’t seem right, now that I think about it. I must be getting worse than my grandfather.

  He glanced at Jarla and said to Jubilee, “It’s nothing.”

  Jarla put her hand on Jubilee’s head. “You’re young, but the sooner you understand that men are swine, the better. Yes, your wizard friend took full advantage of my passions. Can we all move on now?”

  “Move being the key word,” Slim said. “The underlings will tear this place down trying to find us. These tunnels will take us to our horses. We’re loaded up with rations.”

  “Us?” Fogle said.

  “This party is over. My enemies will come for me now, but I think it’s meant to be. Oh, and Olg and Ugg are coming too. We’re going to need them.”

  “Where actually are we going?” Fogle asked. “If there isn’t any sanctuary here, then where is there any?”

  “For humans, it’s the Mist or death,” Slim said.

  A silence fell over the room. Fogle had heard enough about the Mist to know it was the last possible place they wanted to go. Only a fool would go where giants dwelt.

  Slim started laughing. “Only a jest, but the truth is, I’m almost all out of suggestions. I think traveling along the edge of the mist to the east is safe. Everyone still avoids it. Apparently a lot of creatures have been snatched out of there. Even underlings. Or perhaps we could go to the Red Clay Forest.”

  “What about the Outposts? Don’t the Royals have control of some of them now?”

  “Some, but they won’t let any strangers in.” Slim’s eyes drifted to Jarla. His brows creased a little. “Especially with the Snake of the South and a pair of ogres.”

  “Where did this ‘Snake of the South’ term come from?” Jarla asked. “I don’t recall it.”

  “Of course not. It’s what your brigands called you behind you
r back, Jarla.” Slim reached over to a storage shelf and grabbed a small saddlebag. “We need to go.” Slim led the way through the murk with a glow from the tip of his finger on his human hand.

  The tunnel was long. It must have been a mile at least, but it seemed longer to Fogle. He wasn’t sure what to make of Slim. The healer was strange.

  By the time they made it out of the tunnel, the moons, yellow and green, hung low in the sky. The forest was dark and creepy with all of the vines and moss hanging from the branches everywhere. The insects chirped, and Fogle slapped a mosquito on his arm.

  Great, we’re back in the green hive of insects again.

  Nearby, the horses nickered. They were all loaded up and ready to go. A dwarf was standing with them, a grey-bearded one with a hump in his back who hobbled on a bad leg.

  Slim spoke with the dwarf softly, and the old stump of a man vanished into the tunnel.

  “A friend. One of the true few,” Slim said, taking the reins of his horse.

  Olg and Ugg mounted up on a pair of huge brown burros.

  A long eerie hoot like that of an owl startled Fogle. “What was that?” he said, climbing into his saddle.

  “That was a warning,” Slim replied.

  “What kind of warning?” Jarla asked.

  “Well, we’re out of the city, but the underlings are still nearby.” Slim dug his heels in. “Ride, everyone. Ride!”

  On the impulsive suggestion, Fogle took off after Slim, and the others were already moving. He took a glance back. Ice froze up his veins. The glowing gemstone eyes of the underlings rushed through the dim brush of the forest. Like a pack of chittering wolves they came.

  CHAPTER 31

  Ebenezer Kling stood inside the banquet room. Far from being as vast or as tremendous as the one inside Castle Kling, this one had a roughly crafted dining table for twenty. The furnishings weren’t grand, but they were well built. The table had benches and not chairs, and there weren’t any decorations on the table. He gazed up at the huge wrought-iron chandelier. It was the only piece of value in the entire room.

  “This place smells like nothing but dogs,” said his mother, Manamus. Her robes weren’t fanciful, but they were of the finest craft and linen. The pale gray blended in with her long hair. Her lips were shriveled, but her pale-green eyes were strong. “I say let the underlings have it. The less stink, the better.”

  “Try to be polite, Mother,” Ebenezer said. He walked over and looked at a painting that hung over the marble mantel of a huge unlit fireplace. The central figure was an armored warrior with a dog’s head, surrounded by dogs with men’s heads in the field of battle. “Interesting perspective.”

  Hiding her wrinkled fingers inside her sleeves, she glanced at it. “It’s a perversion. Animals surrounded by animals.”

  “The Bloodhounds have history with all the houses. You know that.”

  “They are not Royals. They are hounds―nothing more, and possibly less.”

  Ebenezer walked away and paced around the table. His mother was difficult to be around. He couldn’t remember the last time she said anything good about anyone. She was just bitter. Unpleasant. Difficult. On the lighter side, she was one of the most powerful mages in Bone, if not the most powerful, and the time would come when he needed her power.

  “We should not be waiting!” Manamus said. “The Klings wait for no one.”

  Ebenezer removed his brown leather gauntlets and said, “I’m certain they are startled by our arrival. And mind you, we did come in secret.”

  “I am not some feeble old crone whose memory escapes her. Am I not the one who delivered us here?”

  “Certainly, Mother. Hence the surprise of our arrival.” Ebenezer reflected on what he had done. He and his mother had conspired against Sinway without saying a word. He could trust his mother. If anyone hated the underlings more than he did, it was her. Manamus could not stand the thought of anyone having more power than she did, and she didn’t like her way of life being interrupted. Now, after sending a message in secret to Castle Bloodhound, they had teleported inside its walls. Holding his jostled stomach, he said, “Do you have anything to untie the knots in my stomach?”

  “Drink some wine,” she said. She gave him a smile. “But I’d wait—the trip back will be worse.”

  Feeling a little green and light-headed, Ebenezer leaned against the wall in front of one of the stained-glass windows. He rubbed his stomach.

  A woman entered the room. Her hair was coal black down to her shoulders, her face a teardrop of sheer beauty, and her figure had an intoxicating allure, even in the rugged leather clothes she wore. She said, “Welcome to Castle Bloodhound, Ebenezer and Manamus Kling. We are honored.”

  Ebenezer pushed off the wall, gaped, gathered his thoughts, and said, “Lorda Almen? You live?” He walked over, took her hands in his, and kissed them. “It is a divine pleasure and surprise to see you.”

  She squeezed his hands and said, “You as well, Ebenezer. My journey has not been what I expected at this point in life.”

  “I think we all share your feelings.” He looked around. “Are you safe? I know Lord Grom is a hard man to deal with.”

  “He is dead. His grandson leads the Bloodhounds now, and we all are well.”

  “And where is this new Lord? Our time is precious, though there is never time enough in the company of your rare beauty.”

  “Lord Creed will be along shortly.”

  “Creed?” Ebenezer Kling let go of her hands. “He is your betrothed?”

  “No,” said a new voice. A man with red hair and a neatly trimmed red beard entered the room. He was as tall as Ebenezer, athletically built, and wearing leather armor. Two longswords hung from his hips along with a pair of daggers. His eyes were filled with the confidence of a swordsman. He stood eye to eye with Ebenezer. “I am the Lord of the Castle, though, not to mention the finest swordsman who ever lived.”

  “In this kennel, perhaps,” Ebenezer said. His voice became dangerous, and his hand fell onto his sword. “But at the moment I’m certain I hold that title.”

  “There is only one way to know for sure, saint of swords,” Creed replied, drawing his blade.

  “What nonsense is this?” Manamus said in her authoritative and agitated voice. “Step apart before I set you apart.”

  Snaking his blade out of his sheath, Ebenezer said, “Not before I teach this whelp a lesson.” One arm behind his back, he attacked.

  Back and forth the men fenced. They moved with the agility of cats and struck like snakes.

  Creed countered and attacked.

  Ebenezer slid from side to side. His longsword was a blur of motion. He matched Creed’s speed with skill and precision. “Your swordsmanship is excellent. You fight more like a soldier than a fencer. I can’t help but wonder why that is.”

  Creed’s face was coated in sweat, but the look in his eyes was confident and easy. He said, “Because while you Royals sit on your arses and do nothing, I stay busy killing underlings.”

  “So you admit it?” Ebenezer said.

  Creed made a move.

  Ebenezer countered.

  Their blades came to a stop at one another’s throats.

  Dripping with sweat, Creed said, “I’m happy to admit it.”

  Ebenezer lifted his chin and said, “And I’m glad to hear it, pupil.” He flicked his sword up and tucked it back into his sheath. “It seems you’ve learned what I could not teach you. Well done, Creed.”

  In her scratchy voice, Manamus said, “So you know this smelly whelp?”

  “When he was younger and smaller, yes. Creed caught my eye in the tournaments. He was a prodigy with a blade.” Ebenezer fanned his face. “And he still does not disappoint, which is great news. No wonder the underlings are agitated, but your time is running out.”

  Sheathing his blade, Creed said to Ebenezer, “Are you here to help me buy some time, or are you here to take it away?”

  “It’s a warning. They have your name. They kno
w your house. Certain annihilation is coming.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The Badlands was a stretch of land between Dwarven Hole and the Great Forest of Bish. Its rugged terrain wasn’t any better or worse than the Outlands. It was just filled with sinkholes and wind that howled through the canyons.

  Standing on the northern rim of one of the largest canyons, Venir noted the dry riverbed. It was a place he’d ventured through once with Mood long ago. He recalled all the strange rock formations that made the canyon a labyrinth.

  “Why in Bish did Mood go in there?” Venir said.

  Everyone was with him.

  Melegal was on his right with a spyglass at his eye. “I don’t see any taverns.”

  Venir took the pulsating helmet off. He didn’t want to dive headfirst into the canyon. Not at the moment. He took the spyglass from Melegal and put it to his own eye. “Kark, you’re certain there’s no other way out?”

  “The grave is the only way out. Mood charged right into it. His men are on the other side, where there’s no exit.” Kark coughed. “It was a trap. He thought to slaughter the underlings he chased in there. He took the bait and is paying the price.”

  The canyon was miles long. Far away on the other side, Venir could see the underlings on the tops of the rim, moving about like ants. “They’re after something, for certain. Mood can hold up for days in there, if not weeks. Keep your army back, Kark. When night falls, I’m going in.”

  “Alone?” Kam interjected. “You certainly are not.”

  “They won’t see me,” Venir said, shaking Helm. “Not when I have this on. I just have to make sure I can control myself once I get in there.”

  “What’s the point of it?” she said. The creases in her forehead deepened. “Getting yourself killed?”

  “Mood has done much for me,” he said. “I’ll do the same for him.”

  ***

  Despite Kam’s disapproval, Venir slipped into the canyon once night fell. It was just him again, alone with the armament. Brool, Helm, and the shield glistened with a dull sheen of metal that winked from time to time in the moonlight. Venir stuck to the shadows of the rock formations, moving with the padded feet of a quick, easy, and purposed hunter. Another night on the prowl, before the slaughter. Head to toe, he pulsated with energy.