Dwarves lowered Nikkel out of the saddle and hustled him off. Billip dismounted just as Kam rushed over to him. She wasn’t alone. Fogle, Brak, and Jubilee were there along with Mood. “Greetings,” he said, wincing. “Listen to me. Jarla is back there. We need to go after her.”
Mood marched over to Billip. “No one is going anywhere. The dwarves will handle it.”
“I don’t see anyone moving,” Billip argued. He tried climbing back in the saddle. Mood tugged him back. “Don’t you—”
Mood squeezed Billip’s wrist with the power of a vise. “I said, the dwarves will handle it.”
Billip jerked his arm. It sent more pain shooting through his wounded shoulder. Mood’s fingers were still fastened to his wrist. “Fine, handle it then, Mood, but you can’t expect me to stand here when my blood is up.”
Mood released him. “I’ll call for you when I’m ready. Get stitched up first.” He turned his back and left with a group of blood rangers walking step for step behind him.
“That seemed strange, even for him.” Billip rubbed his wrist as he searched the faces in the crowd. “I see Bish hasn’t managed to devour us all yet. Brak, Jubilee, good to see you. We’ll survive another day yet.”
They all exchanged greetings. He caught a glimpse of Slim jogging in the direction that Nikkel had been taken. Gathering around a small campfire, he answered many questions. Kam did most of the talking. Billip told them about Venir’s plan and the awful conditions in Bone. “Sonuvabish!” he said.
“What?” Kam asked.
“The House of Kord, my pursuers. Our alleged ally, Altan Rey, claims to be from that very house. They serve the underlings. We need to warn Venir. Fetch me my horse. I can ride back.”
“Look!” Jubilee pointed to a group of dwarves. They led the great mare, Nightmare, into the camp, her flanks covered in blood. The beast’s head was down, and she snorted.
A black-bearded dwarf led the horse over to them, and Brak took the reins. In a gruff voice, the dwarf said, “We searched but didn’t find her.”
“How far did you go?”
“As far as King Mood would allow. We had to come back or be cut off. The Black Ring has arrived.” The black beard gave a short nod and left.
“What’s the Black Ring?”
Kam made a large circle with her good hand and index finger up. “It’s our worst fears come to life. The underling army has encircled the Black Columns. You made it just in time, Billip. The battle begins tonight.”
CHAPTER 12
Elizabeth fanned her nose. “More room, but more stink. Well done, sister. Is there anything you do that is not completely stupid?”
Rayal sat on a bench behind a farm table in a small dining hall outside of the kitchen of Castle Bloodhound. The air was rife with the smell of dogs. The dogs were big and vicious looking in some cases. Some of their backs were as high as Rayal’s trim waist. Not a single one snarled at them. She fished her spoon from a bowl of stew.
Jubilee watched a short-haired black dog lumber by. “You have to admit, this place is a kennel.” She slid her eye toward Elizabeth and back to Rayal. “There is worse company to keep though.”
Rayal laughed. “True enough.” She pushed the bowl away. “Regardless, there are few protectors more loyal than dogs.”
“Yes, you should see Chongo. A huge dog, so big that you can ride him. He has two heads.”
Elizabeth jumped up. “That’s my dog!” Her eyes narrowed on Rayal. “She gave him away to a little vagrant!”
“It was a small dog, and it wasn’t your dog, either. You think everything is yours,” Rayal said.
“Everything I want is mine.” Elizabeth sat down hard. “Everything.”
“I’d hate to be the poor bastard that she ends up taking a shine too,” Rayal said.
“Did someone call my name?” Corrin slid into the room. His shirt was rolled up over his wiry forearms. His dark hair hung in his eyes a little. He had a dog with him that glared at Elizabeth with drool dripping from its mouth. She crouched beside Rayal. “This is Burk. He hates little girls. So, are your new quarters commendable?”
“We are grateful,” Rayal said.
“There’s not a safer spot in Bone if I had to say. Anyway, Burk will give his life for you. All of the hounds will.” Corrin snagged a hard roll from the table and fed it to Burk. “I’m not a bloodhound, but they took me in. A strange turn of events, as I was never one to be attached to anyone or anything.”
“You men need to get out of those pits in one piece.” Rayal squeezed his hand. “I demand it.”
“The only thing that matters is that our enemies wind up in as many pieces as we are by the time it’s over.” He laid his hand on his dagger’s pommel. The weapon’s blade blinked in and out in a flash. He stuffed it inside its scabbard in an instant. “This is an assassination. It was my trade before all of this happened.”
Elizabeth perked up. “You were paid to kill people?”
“Handsome fees.”
“If I were to ever work, I’d want that job. That’s a good one,” Elizabeth said.
Creed swung into the room with a stunning black-haired woman locked on his arm.
Rayal stood up so fast she banged her knee on the table. “Lorda Almen!”
The two women embraced. Lorda’s alluring beauty radiated in the room. She was dressed in leather and a cotton tunic that was heavily stitched in the hems. Her legs showed below the knees. It was a big transition from the silky linens she typically wore, but she looked excellent.
“Rayal, I am so delighted to be your host. It’s been too long, and frankly, I could really use some female company,” Lorda said. “There’s nothing but hounds and dogs in this place.”
Brimming, Rayal said, “The pleasure is mine. You remember Elizabeth.” Lorda nodded. “And this is Jasper, from the City of Three.”
Lorda extended her hand. “Welcome to Castle Bloodhound, Jasper. If there is anything you require, just speak of it.”
“Cat,” Creed said to Lorda. It drew Rayal’s eyes to him. “As much as I hate to depart your wonderful company, it is time to go.”
Lorda wrapped her arms around his waist and looked into his eyes. “I’ll only let you leave because I know that you’ll come back.” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him with soft, full lips. Breaking the embrace, she said, “Corrin, take care of him.”
“Yes, Lorda.”
Creed flashed them all a smile, bowed, and left. Corrin did the same without the smile.
“It’s quite a change of events,” Rayal said to Lorda. “You are Lorda of the Bloodhounds now?”
Lorda sat down on the bench with her back to the table. She patted the seat beside her. “I no longer have a house. My entire family has been slaughtered.”
“But you are of royal blood. I never thought that you would ever consort with a commoner.”
“Are you judging me?” Lorda said.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m surprised. You are the standard of standards. Creed appears to be a fine man, but he’s not royal.”
“No, but he’s a man. All man. The blood might not be royal in his veins, but it runs hot.” She made a playful smile. “Besides, it’s not as if we have been wed. I’m just doing what I have to do to be of service. I might as well enjoy myself while I’m doing it.”
“I see,” Rayal said with her jaw hanging a little. Royals were notorious for keeping the circles of their bloodline closed. Having a child out of the bloodline could be fatal for the mother and the child. “I’m sorry, Lorda. I’m confident you know what is best for yourself.”
Lorda said in an icy tone, “Rayal, sometimes you have to be able to do whatever it takes to survive.”
CHAPTER 13
Melegal and Venir sat at a table beside the cold fireplace at the Drunken Octopus. The big cat, Octopus, lay on the raised stone hearth, asleep. Venir stuffed the stitched-up sack that mystically stored the armament inside his rucksack on the table and buckled the st
raps.
“I really think this is a bad idea, Vee.” Melegal traced his finger around the rim of his goblet. “I say we slip in on our own. This plan with Altan Rey is shady.”
A smile cracked over Venir’s strong jaw. “I thought shady was right up your alley.”
“We hardly know the man. Why don’t you put on that getup and just go in there and kill them all?”
“Now you want to do things my way? Could you put that on a scroll for me?”
“Eh, I just realize there is no other way.”
“No, there isn’t, but we can’t scare the rats away before they strike either. The only way to get close enough is to gamble.”
“Hah,” Melegal said. “This isn’t a tavern skim. You are rolling the rocks on a man’s word that you don’t even know. How do you know that what he says is true? The underlings may be hosting fighting in the pits, and they may not.”
With his hand on his pack, Venir said, “I just have to take the chance that things will work out.” He patted the rucksack. “We’ll see.”
“You shouldn’t put your faith in that bag. It’s let you down before.”
“You don’t have to come. I wouldn’t blame you one bit.” Venir lifted a clay tumbler half filled with grog from the table. He drained it and set it rim down with a clank. “Fight or die.”
“Aye.” Melegal finished off his wine. “Fight or die, lout.”
An hour later, Creed and Corrin joined them. The tavern was very quiet. The usual carousing that lifted men’s spirits had fled the lively place months ago. The fraction of hard-faced people remaining talked very low or didn’t talk at all. Sam, the barkeep, wiped glasses out with a rag and loaded them underneath the bar. A drunkard at the bar drummed his fingers on the table. The tension was thick. Melegal didn’t understand why until the front tavern door opened, and underling soldiers strolled in. Three appeared at first. Then six.
The tavern dwellers practically sank beneath their tables. Their eyes were pinned to the floor.
“This is it.” Creed’s gaze drifted toward the underlings. “How hard do we need to sell it?”
“Altan Rey said not to overdo it,” Melegal said. “They’ll slit you for blinking too fast.” He spied Altan Rey disguised as an underling. The citrine eyes locked on Melegal’s, and he gave Melegal a wink and a nod toward the back. Melegal removed his cap and stuffed it into his trousers. “I say we see if we can excuse ourselves, quickly.”
They’d already laid out the plan with Altan Rey. He wanted the group to resist or run, depending on the circumstances. Altan Rey would secure their gear and take them to the royals’ castle dungeons where the pit fights would be hosted. Altan Rey would be available to let them out when the time to strike against Sinway and the underlings came.
“Them!” Altan Rey, posing as Kazzar, hissed. “I want them. Big men. That is what our pits desire.”
Corrin slid out of his seat first and headed toward the kitchen behind the bar. There was an exit leading to the alleys in back.
“You, take your seat!” Altan yelled at Corrin.
“Go! Go!” Venir said to Corrin and Melegal. Venir and Creed filled the planks between the underlings and the smaller men. Melegal and Corrin bolted.
Altan Rey’s fingers charged up with citrine light. Shards of diamond-shaped energy cut into the towering warriors and barred their path.
“Argh!” Venir dropped to a knee. An underling soldier came at him, swinging a club at his skull. Venir grabbed the underling by the arms, picked him up over his head, and hurled the little fiend like a child into the soldiers. He caught Creed by the arm and shoved him toward the kitchen. “Run!”
“Mercy! What did that devil shoot me with?” Creed wheeled around the bar. “It felt like hornets stinging me underneath my skin.”
“Just keep moving.” Venir slammed the kitchen door behind them.
Melegal and Corrin hung by the exit, waving them on. “Come on now!” Corrin flung the door open.
Venir and Creed rushed out of the exit and into the alley.
Melegal slammed the door shut as he stepped into the alley. He turned. Venir and Creed’s shoulders filled the narrow alley. They were stopped in their tracks. Their arms jerked up in front of their faces. Angry chitters and too-wah, too-wah, too-wah sounds erupted. The men’s arms were struck by long needles like splinters.
“Die, you fiends!” Venir charged the smaller men. He hit them like a clumsy ox, crushing a few underneath his muscle-bound frame as he fell.
The spitting continued. Melegal and Corrin ducked and dodged just as Creed fell. The kitchen door burst open. The underlings inside the tavern closed in on them. Melegal took a needle in the neck and another in the face.
Corrin, peppered head to toe in needles, collapsed like limp noodles.
Melegal’s legs went numb. He staggered backward with his eyes on Altan Rey. The man’s underling face spun round and round until the moonlit sky turned black. Melegal lay on a bed of black water, half aware that the underlings were carrying him away. When the jostling stopped, he wasn’t inside a castle. His lazy eyes stared at the gallows. Stupid lout. An underling stepped into his view and struck him in the head. He blacked out.
CHAPTER 14
Georgio tossed his head back. “Gah!” His ribs pinched into his lungs. The giant’s fingers had him wrapped tight. He was about the size of a stump of wood in the giant’s hands. The face of the humongous man was burned up and scarred. His shirt and trousers were ragged. A drooping eyeball stared at Georgio, unblinking.
“Please.” Georgio spit. “Let me go.”
“Noooo!” the giant said in an angry, childish voice. “You invaded my living space. You must die. You will be eaten.”
“Fine, just don’t squeeze me to death. Just swallow me whole.” Georgio’s free arms pushed against the giant’s massive fingers. “And spare my friend. He’s not big enough for you to eat.”
The shaggy-haired giant swung his gaze toward the tree and tilted his head. “Where’d he go?”
Puffing for breath, Georgio said, “You’re asking me?”
The giant cradled Georgio to his chest like a child’s stuffed animal. “Call to your friend.”
Georgio dipped his chin and shook his head. “He is the only friend I have left. His name is Lefty. He’s a halfling.”
“A whatling?” the giant asked.
“A halfling!” Georgio yelled. “They are little people. Like children. He’s harmless. Leave him alone.”
“I have to think about that.” The giant traipsed around the garden, searching high and low. He shoved the branches in the trees aside. “Is there more than one? I want to see these little people. I like little, though I am big, big. Come out, little people. I want to see you. Come out!”
Georgio fought against his captor’s embrace. The giant was three times as strong as an ogre. His own strength was like that of a toddler by comparison. He wormed and squirmed anyway.
“Stop wiggling, curly man,” the giant warned. “I’ll snap your bones like dry sticks.” The giant crushed Georgio into the dirty smoke of the shirt covering his chest.
“Aaah, stop that!” Georgio moaned. Then, as the giant applied more suffocating pressure, Georgio farted.
The giant lurched. His grip loosened. “What? What was that sound? Do it again?”
Red-faced by both suffocation and weird embarrassment, Georgio fired back, “I can’t just do that!” It wasn’t entirely true. Georgio had notorious control over his flatulence.
The giant pumped Georgio under his elbow like he was playing a bagpipe instrument. Georgio’s rear end erupted. The giant dropped Georgio and fell on his backside, filled with gusty laughter. “Bwah-haaha-haaaaa!”
Lying on the ground, gasping for his breath, Georgio started laughing. He laughed as hard as the giant, wincing and clutching his ribs as he did so. The childish antics of the giant were cracking him up.
“Do it again,” the giant said in his long, drawn-out, child-like voice
.
Georgio crawled over to the giant on his knees. The giant pulled his feet back into a cross-legged position and patted his hands together. Georgio batted one eye. “Here we go.” He turned loose a mighty toot.
The giant roared with laughter. Clapping, the giant said, “Do it again! Do it again!”
Georgio let out everything he had, goofing a different pose for each time he did so. The giant fell on his back in stitches. His feet stomped the ground, and his arms flailed wildly from side to side. Then, a rare memory hit Georgio like a lightning bolt from the sky. He said to the giant, “I know who you are. You are—”
Lefty’s little hands clamped over Georgio’s mouth. The halfling shushed him in his ear. “Don’t say it. Let me handle this,” Lefty said. “Introduce me.”
“Really?”
“Just do it.”
“Um, giant? Giant!” He shouted the second time. “I would like you to meet someone. This is my little friend, Lefty. The halfling.”
The giant sat up, rubbing the tears from his damaged eye. “Eww, you are a little one. I like little ones. Come here.”
Lefty cringed. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”
“No, no, I won’t hurt you. Can you make big sound from your behind like curly-head man?”
Lefty flipped his slender hands out. “Actually, halflings can’t do that.”
Georgio rolled his eyes.
Lefty climbed up on the giant’s knee, which was now in a cross-legged position again. Touching his chest, he announced, “I am Lefty, and your name is?”
The giant shook his head. “Oh, I can’t tell you that. It is my secret.”
Georgio caught Lefty looking at him. They were both thinking the same thing, or at least mostly. Venir spoke about a giant he encountered in the mist called Barton. Georgio didn’t remember much, but he did remember most of Venir’s stories. He was often fuzzy on the details. That was where Lefty came in. The halfling remembered everything.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 100