Her grip slacked a little. Purring in his ear, she said, “Better?”
“Indeed.” Melegal went to work tearing the seam that ran up the side of his trousers. He picked the little threads apart. A lock-picking tool—a narrow rod of metal with teeth on the end—rested inside the fold of the unique hem. He hid it inside his fist. “Heh-heh.”
“You feel good, darling. So small and gruesome,” Sanny said.
Melegal waited for everyone’s attention to turn. The underlings had all of the nooses filled. His fellow prisoners’ faces were pressed to the bars, fixed on the doom that awaited them. The underling guards fixed their gemstone eyes on the gallows. Melegal stuck his tool inside the keyhole. The rod of steel shifted the lock’s tumbler to the open position. Excellent.
“What are you doing, Gloomy?” Sanny asked.
“Will you loosen your grip a little? I want to stand and see what is about to befall me.”
“I cannot bear it.” She held fast as Melegal stood up, her face buried in his back. “Tell me when it’s over.”
The underling standing on top of the gallows pulled the lever. The trap door dropped. The bodies fell. Necks stretched and snapped.
Melegal tore out of Sanny’s arms. He pushed through the open door and jumped onto the street. No one even would have seen him go if Sanny didn’t scream out in an ear-splitting shriek, “Gloomy! Come back to me!”
The underling guards zeroed in on Melegal. An alarm went up. He ran full speed down the road and darted into the first alley. The underlings gave chase. Their spiders did too. The avenues of escape closed quickly with hairy bodies and black little soldiers filling in the seams. Melegal rounded corner after corner. Finally, his path was cut off by ruby-eyed underlings and more spiders. He held his hands up over his head. “Slat!”
CHAPTER 18
Creed was brought into a small arena. The bench seats in the stands were empty aside from a handful of underlings. One of them was Altan Rey, citrine eyed and wearing dark red robes with black. The other underlings, four in all, were in similar dress. Their eyes zeroed in on Creed as if he was a piece of chattel. The only other people were the underlings that brought him there.
The jailer pointed at the weapon racks. “You may choose for this contest.”
Several more underlings inside the arena were all fully armed with daggers and swords. All of them looked at him with murder in their eyes.
Creed grabbed a longsword from the rack. He cut it back and forth a few times. “This will do.”
The jailer nodded. With a flick of his hand, he waved one of the underling soldiers into the center of the arena. The fiend stood more than a foot shorter than Creed. “This is a proving ground, prisoner. You fight, you live, you fight more. But,” the jailer wagged his finger, “don’t kill my underlings.”
The underling facing off with Creed made an angry chitter at the jailer. The jailer chittered back.
“What was that?” Creed asked.
“My brother felt slighted by my comment. He promises to disembowel you and feed your entrails to me. He’s a spirited one.”
“I can see that.” Creed’s eyes slid up toward Altan Rey. The mage was talking to the other underlings. Creed set his attention on the ruby-eyed underling before him. “So, I can’t kill him, but he can kill me?”
“That’s the arrangement.” The jailer tapped his cane on Creed’s shoulder. “But Kazzar says you have promise. That would bode well. So far, the pit fights have been slaughterhouses, not that we don’t delight in seeing you meat bags bleed. We just prefer greater length.”
“So, you want a show?”
“Exactly.”
Creed nodded. “I’ll give you one.”
The jailer pushed Creed and the underling fighter several steps away from one another. He raised his cane and looked up to Kazzar. Kazzar gave a nod. The jailer said in Underling and Common, “Ready yourselves.”
The underling drew his sword from his sheath. The blade had a slight curve that ran the length of the blade and some wavy notches on the lower end. He hissed and wiggled his shoulders.
Brandishing the long sword in one hand, Creed opened his stance. He nodded.
The jailer thrust his cane down. “Fight!”
The underling darted in. His razor-edged blade flashed toward Creed’s stomach.
Quick as a wink, Creed brought his sword down like a hammer. The blade sank deep in the underling’s skull, killing it instantly. The underling’s blade fell from his fingers, several inches from Creed’s belly.
Creed looked at the dumbstruck jailer and said casually, “I had the reach…and the skill.”
The jailer screeched at him, “I said not to kill him! Meat bag! You will die for that!”
As the underling soldiers crowded him, Creed was a split second away from chopping the jailer down when Kazzar called out something in Underling. The underlings stopped their advance.
With a huff, the jailer said, “Drop your weapon.”
“So soon? I was just getting used to it.”
“Drop it. You have passed. No harm will come to you until you meet in the pit again.”
Creed tossed the weapon over to the rack. The underlings in the stands gave Kazzar approving nods. He wasn’t certain, but they appeared to be smiling. He’d never seen underlings smile before.
The underlings bound Creed’s arms and led him back to the dungeon. He was shoved inside the jail cell, and Venir was shoved out. “They don’t want you to kill them, but kill them anyway,” Creed said. The butt of an underling sword cracked him in the back of the head, and the lights went out.
***
The moment Venir spied Altan Rey in the stands of the castle arena, his blood stirred. Fingers clenching in and out, he resumed his focus on the task at hand. Near a score of underlings was inside the arena with him. They skulked along the lower arena wall, chittering back and forth with one another. Narrow eyes bored into Venir.
“You will not be given the privilege of steel that your comrade had.” The jailer handed Venir a wooden practice sword, the smooth oak notched up in many places. “This is your weapon. Show some skill with it, and our audience won’t let you die.”
Swinging, Venir said, “It’s a fine stick.” He looked at his underling opponents. They gripped underling blades in their little hands. “Can I have another?”
“No. Think of this as more of an exhibition.” The jailer waved two underlings over. Their leather armor clung tightly to their wiry bodies. They chomped their teeth together at Venir. “You’ll bleed, big warrior. They’ll want retribution for their fallen comrade.”
“If you expected me to dance around with this stick while they try to cut me to pieces, I tell you no, that won’t happen,” Venir said.
“You don’t have any choice in the matter. You’ll either die, bleed out, or just bleed. Try anything foolish, and the other underlings will carve you to bits.”
“Let’s give them a show then.”
The underling fighters stood across from Venir on the other side of the arena’s inner circle. The jailer stood on a black, blood-stained dot in the middle. He chittered to the two underlings. Their faces were stamped with black spider-like tattoos. One wore a necklace of bones, and the other had a pin through his nose. Each carried a single sword. They banged them together. The jailer dropped his cane and cracked it on the stone floor. “Fight.”
The underlings spread apart, flanking Venir. The underling left of Venir darted at his knees. Venir batted the blade aside. The underling on his right, sporting the necklace of bones, flew in, jabbing at Venir’s hip. Venir sprang backward, but not before the blade clipped the meat on his hip, drawing first blood. “Bone!”
The underlings shook their shoulders and hissed at him. The gloating fiends’ faces drew up in nasty sneers and came at him.
With his free hand, Venir snatched the sword arm of the underling wearing a necklace. He parried the underling with the nose pin’s sword away. In a counterattack, Venir b
usted his wooden sword into that underling’s wind pipe. The underling fell to his knees, clutching his neck. Holding the last standing underling’s sword, Venir beat the underling’s head until the wooden sword cracked on its skull. He stuck the sharp end of the broken stick through the underling’s neck. It gurgled on its own blood and died.
With hot blood surging through his veins, Venir turned on the last underling. The underling made his way to his knees. Venir kicked the underling in the face, and the underling’s neck snapped.
“Stop! You fool!” the jailer called the other underlings down on Venir. They formed a tight circle of steel around him. “Back off, warrior! One more step and we will gore you.”
Venir dropped the bloody stick. Without even breathing heavily, he said, “Is the audition over?”
The jailer sought a signal from the audience. Kazzar gave him a nod.
“Back to the cell.”
***
Venir and Creed were chained up in their dungeon cell. Corrin was gone.
“You bleed,” Creed said, eyeing the bloody gash on Venir’s hip. “A little slow on the draw?”
“There were two of them. Slippery devils got a nick, but I finished them for good.”
“Did you see Altan Rey?”
“Aye, I’m not so sure what to make of the situation.”
Creed drew one knee to his chest and leaned against the wall. “Having any doubts about this plan?”
“There’s always risk. This isn’t exactly my area of expertise. I was planning on Melegal for that. Now he’s gone. It’s an issue.”
“So, you think that you’ll get the axe back when the time comes, don’t you?”
Venir nodded.
“That’s quite a leap of faith. I’m not so sure I’d go that route.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Touché.”
Venir matted his hand over his wound as he gave Creed’s word some thought. He’d put faith in the armament and Melegal. Faith wasn’t his forte. He relied on himself. Now, his instincts were crying out that he’d made a mistake. He mulled it over a few more times and let it go. If one door closes, I’ll kick another one open.
About thirty minutes later, the dead silence in the dungeon was interrupted.
“Corrin returns,” Creed said with a smile.
One underling unlocked the cell, and another two underlings shuffled through the door. Between them they carried a carpet roll that was stuffed in the middle. They set the roll down, exited the cell, slammed the door shut, sniggered, and departed.
Creed’s eyes were bigger than saucers. The carpet was stained with fresh blood. He looked at Venir. Venir shook his head. Hand over hand, Creed unrolled the carpet. “Gah!”
Corrin’s head rolled over the stone floor. His limbs were severed. The body was gashed all over.
CHAPTER 19
Barton scooped up a stone and hurled it at Georgio. Georgio dove to the ground and scrambled behind the trunk of a tree.
“You cheated! You cheated!” Barton screamed. A rock smashed into the tree trunk, jarring Georgio’s body. Fruit rained down from the branches.
“You lost, Barton!” Georgio yelled back. “Now you’re cheating!”
Another boulder smote the tree.
“It is impossible! No one knows my name! Never, tiny people, never!” Barton’s footsteps shook the ground. He rushed the tree where Georgio sought cover. Branches snapped. With a heavy rustling sound, they were slung aside. “I will kill you, curly head. I will kill you and the squirrel man!”
Georgio took off at a dead sprint as far away from Barton as his legs would take him. There was no sign of Lefty in the grove. Where is he? Barton tore the tree down with his bare hands. Georgio spied a hiding spot among a large pile of moss-covered boulders. He crammed his body into a cleft where the rocks butted up with one another. His hips got stuck. “Donkey crap!” He spied Lefty burrowed deep in the cleft. “Lefty, help me!”
Lefty crawled over, grabbed Georgio’s arms, and pulled. “You have to push!”
“I am pushing!”
“You aren’t moving!”
“You aren’t pulling!” Georgio wriggled with all of his might.
Lefty’s expression strained. He puffed out and pulled.
“Ack!” Something clamped down on Georgio’s legs. “He’s got me, Lefty!” Their fingertips locked. “Don’t let go of me!”
Barton ripped Georgio out of Lefty’s grip and held him upside down by the ankles. “You lied. I kill you now!”
“I didn’t lie, you lost!” he shouted.
Barton slung Georgio into a pile of nearby boulders. Georgio hit the boulders with a sickening smack.
***
Lefty screamed. Georgio slid like wet mud down the rocks. The man’s face was bleeding. His eye socket was crushed. He didn’t move.
Barton fixed his good eye on Lefty. “You are next, cheater!”
“You are the cheater! I won fair! It’s true what they say! Giants are liars and murderers!”
Barton lunged at him.
Lefty darted into the hole.
The giant stuffed his hand inside. “Come here, squirrel man. Let me crush you in my fingers! Barton will eat good this night!”
CHAPTER 20
A battle raged between a battalion of dwarven soldiers and thrice the number of black fiends. The swarm of evil plowed into the everlasting steel of the durable dwarves that secured one of the necks leading deeper into the Columns. Dwarves fired into the underlings’ ranks from rocky ledges with crossbows and ballistae. Higher above, small catapults hurled rocks with deadly precision. A stone bigger than Brak turned four underlings and the spider they rode into mush. He let out a cheer.
Chongo’s nostrils flared as he snorted. Brak and the beast followed two blood rangers charging into the back right ranks, where the dwarven forces had thinned. Underlings riding the backs of spiders, and many scurrying on foot, scrambled up the face of the rocks and into the channel. They cut dwarves down from behind.
“Go, Chongo! Go! Yah!” Brak roared. The dog leapt forward. Chongo bore down on a spider as big as him with a pair of underling riders. The beast smashed into the spider full force. His jaws locked on the long, hairy spidery legs. He ripped them off.
Small crossbow bolts ricocheted off Brak’s breastplate. Something sharp skinned his face. He brought the cudgel down in a windmill chop. The underling’s sharp teeth busted out. Its skull cracked like an egg. Brains oozed out.
An underling leapt from the writhing spider’s back at Brak. Chongo’s right head snatched the underling out of the air. His crushing jaws cracked bones. The dog shook the underling like a rag doll and slung it aside.
Underlings and spiders scurried up the jagged rocks toward the dwarves, who fired volley after volley from above.
“There, Chongo! There!” Brak pointed. Chongo was already moving at full speed. The dog leapt onto a ledge in pursuit of the underling climbers. The dog’s claws dug into the stone, taking them higher and higher from one ledge to another. Brak clung fiercely to the saddle as Chongo scrambled up the side like a mad beast. Brak took a swing at an underling climber that didn’t see them until it was too late. The blow crushed the back of the underling’s neck. “Feel my fury!” Brak laughed wildly.
Chongo’s paw sank into the back flesh of an underling climber he’d overtaken. The body bounced down on the crushing rocks of death. A dwarven crossbowman fell from one of the higher ledges with a javelin sticking out of his neck. They scrambled up to the next ledge. Chongo engaged in a fierce fight with another massive spider. More underlings crested the rim. Brak swung at everything that moved that wasn’t a part of Chongo.
Underlings hacked at Brak with axes and knives. His cudgel collided with bone, and the underlings howled and screeched. Small crossbow bolts zinged off his armor. Brak couldn’t get his bearings on the smaller and quicker force. He got hit with everything, but the dwarven armor held.
“Come on, black fiends! Y
ou can’t hurt me!” he roared.
Rope lassoed his neck. Three wiry underlings with steel-strong muscles ripped Brak out of the saddle. He hit the ledge, coughing and choking. The trio of underlings jerked the rope on his neck hard. His eyes bulged. Another knot of the fiends pounced on him. Their steely knives jabbed between the gaps in his armor. One of them bit into his neck. “Gargh!”
Where did they all come from so fast?
The underlings clung to his arms and legs like leeches. The trio with the rope stretched his neck. The rope burned. Red blood splattered in his eyes. His blood. The underlings stabbed into him with all their strength. Brak rocked against them. “Get you’re arses off of me!” They kept jabbing and chittered with wicked glee.
CHAPTER 21
Melegal angled toward another alley. A steely-armed underling dove on his legs. Its claws dug into the backs of his thighs. He punched the underling on the top of its head. Another underling clubbed him in the side of the jaw. Melegal’s world wobbled. The club dashed him in the face and ribs several times.
I hate these things!
The underlings delivered several more bone-jarring lumps. Blinding pain shot though Melegal’s joints. His face swelled and bled. Melegal wasn’t used to bleeding. Ever. He avoided it, but now, he’d been consumed.
So close. Why are the women always so attracted to me?
Melegal had almost pulled off the perfect escape if not for the woman, Sanny. She had belted out his departure to the entire city.
I should have choked her out.
The underlings secured his hands behind his back and shoved him back down the alley. He limped along, leaning heavily on his good leg. His knee had cracked the cobblestones hard when he was tackled. He scanned the alley, searching the windows, doors, and storm grate. There had to be another way out.
The underlings poked into his back with the butts of their weapons. They chittered and spit on him. The knot of black fiends was a dozen strong. The other underling sentries and their spiders had crept out of sight, down the alleys, around the corners, up the walls, and onto the roof. Melegal spit blood from his busted mouth.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 102