CHAPTER 34
“Fogle! Forget about your book! We have to get out of here!” Billip yelled. Underling soldiers were bearing down on them. “Follow me!”
The underling had Fogle’s spellbook in one hand and a dagger with a wavy blade in the other. Its dark blue eyes locked on Fogle. It hissed. His single focus was getting the spellbook back. Losing it now, to the underlings, would be catastrophic. He rushed the underling. The underling struck fast. Fogle caught the underling’s wrist and drove the fiend to the ground.
“Give me my book!”
The underling head-butted Fogle in the chin with its forehead. Fogle held on to the little monster’s wrist. He put all his strength and weight on the underling’s wrist and banged it into the street. The underling lost its grip. Chittering with rage, it bit down on Fogle’s shoulder.
“Gah!” Fogle clawed at the spellbook. The underling slugged him hard in the jaw. Blue spots burst before his eyes. His body quavered, and he sank flat on his back. The underling snatched up the dagger. It raised the dagger over its head. Fogle’s fingers feebly stretched out for the book. I’m going to die without my spellbook. The dagger plunged down.
A living snake of emerald energy burst out of the underling’s chest. The underling’s eyes turned green. The snake weaved in and out of the underling’s body, and the spellbook fell to the ground. Fogle rolled over and picked it up.
“Will you move your arse!” Kam said. Her eyes were bright-green moons. She and Billip stood just inside a nearby alley. The green snake dipped in and out of the street, chasing after the underlings. “Now!”
Fogle labored to his feet on legs like noodles. His strength grew with every stride. He followed after Kam, passing Billip in the process.
“Way to get us all killed, mage.” Billip sprinted in front of them.
They cut through one alley after another. Underlings came at them with a howl. They scraped their weapons over the stone in dangerous pursuit, creating more terror. They fled down a narrow channel between the city blocks. There was only a dead end in sight. Billip spun around on his heel and backed toward the dead-end wall. “This is it.”
“No, keep running,” Fogle said.
“Run? Where?” Billip replied.
“Just do it!’
Fogle connected with Inky. The ebony hawk soared above. He commanded it to land on a rooftop as he summoned a spell, lips muttering in intricate perfection. A black doorway expanded from nothing at the end of the alley. He, Billip, and Kam jumped through it. They were on a rooftop where clothing hung on a line. Fogle turned to close the dimension door. Two underlings popped through as it collapsed. They bore down on Fogle, eyes filled with rage.
A green shard sharp as a razor zipped over Fogle’s shoulder. The shard tore through the nearest underling’s throat. Billip caught the other underling in the chest with the sharp end of a dagger. Both underlings died gurgling their own blood.
Billip wiped the blood from his dagger on the underling’s chest. “Slat, that was close.” He glanced at the spellbook gripped tightly in Fogle’s arms. “You’re getting pretty good with that.”
“I’ve always been good. I just needed more practice. Thanks, both of you. The truth is, without this book, we’d be dead. We need it.”
“I agree,” Kam said. “Where are we?”
“Middle of the city,” Billip said, pointing. “The castles are on the far wall, which is good. It’s not likely this strange landing will be spotted by the eyes in their towers. We’re a lot farther than where we left too. You did well, Fogle. I think.”
Kam inspected Fogle’s bloody shoulder. “That wound looks bad. We should get it looked at before you turn into an underling.”
“Ha-ha. I’ve had worse.”
“Let’s get going,” Billip said.
Kam took a cotton shirt hanging from the clothes line, stuffed it through Fogle’s collar, and pressed it on his shoulder. “Keep pressure on it. We don’t want your leaking to draw too much attention.”
Billip led them down into the streets, keeping back in the alley and narrow passageway. As he did so, Fogle stayed connected to Inky, who graced the sky among the flocks of pigeons. He could see if there was any trouble coming their way, and they could avoid it. The worst part was the giant spiders that prowled some of the rooftops. They gave Billip a chill every time he saw them. He couldn’t imagine living in a city where those things creeped along day or night. He didn’t care what Cass or Slim said: spiders, no matter the shape or size, were scary.
They covered countless blocks before Billip found a tavern tucked behind the main streets. Garbage was piled up along the alley walls in neck-high piles. Kam pinched her nose, her eyes watering. The door to the tavern was painted black. The boards on the porch step creaked as they went inside. The place was muggy. The thick smoke and incense were like a slap in the face, but it kept the garbage stink out.
Men hunkered over their round tables. Wary eyes gave the small party the once-over. Billip found a table at the end of the bar and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll fetch us some drinks.” He came back with a jug of wine and three clay goblets, set them on the table, and poured. “Let’s relax for a moment.” He took a seat. “Ah, that’s better.”
The tavern door opened. Two members of the city watch sauntered in wearing their brown caps with black bills. An underling was with them.
“Bish,” Kam said. “It never ends, does it?”
CHAPTER 35
The underlings shifted in their bench seats. Venir entered the arena, taking a long easy stride toward the middle. He stood where Gorth’s blood had stained the ground. Kazzar found his hard stare. The disguised mage blinked at him.
Kazzar started up a rousing speech to the underling audience. They chittered and pumped their fists. Many of them scooted to the edge of their seats. Unlike Gorth, Venir was bigger and layered with well-defined muscle. The underling soldiers in the arena looked more like toy soldiers compared to him.
The urchling hunkered down with its back against the wall. It bobbed its head in and out, nibbled at its fingertips, and hooted. It licked its bloody lips and bared its fangs.
Creed held the portal window bars with white-knuckled fingers. The urchling’s claws had been clipped, but there was still an edge on them. They could peel skin away like knives. And the fangs in its mouth would rip flesh from the bone. Venir was out there without any protection.
The underlings in the audience chittered at Kazzar. Kazzar stepped into the dugout, closed the door, and blew a metal whistle.
The urchling rushed Venir on all fours. It flung itself headlong at Venir’s broad chest. Venir snatched the foul beast out of the air by the arm. He slammed it face first into the ground. Its teeth cracked on the stone. It shrieked and clawed at Venir.
Muting the savage strength of the urchling with his own size and natural strength, Venir locked up both of its arms. He stuffed the urchling face first to the ground and planted his foot in its back. By the wrists, he yanked its arms behind its back. His face turned red as an apple. The veins in his arms popped out like blue snakes, and he let out his own savage growl.
Sinew in the urchling’s brawny shoulders tore. Rip! The sickening sounds continued. Bones popped out of the sockets. Flesh began to tear. Venir’s arms, bursting with strain, became machines of iron. The urchling’s arms were wrenched back in an unnatural position. The popping and tearing sounds filled the air.
The urchling’s wails and wriggling soured Creed’s stomach. “Great Bish,” he muttered.
There was a rip and tear-like sound. Venir pulled both arms out of the underling’s shoulder sockets. Black blood spilled out of the body like oil. Dripping in sweat, Venir flung one arm at the underlings’ dugout, where Kazzar stood. Blood droplets splatted in the mage’s face. He held the other arm high over his head. “Which one of you underlings is next?”
Creed had never seen an underling turn pale before, but they did today. Their chitters fell silent. Thei
r expressions were lost. The human had just torn their champion brute’s arms off in spectacular fashion.
The other prisoners chuckled. The air in their dugouts got hot. The fight sent new fire racing through their blood.
Venir flung the urchling’s arm into the stands. The underlings split apart before it hit them. They rose in their seats. Rage spread through them like wildfire. Angry speech spewed forth out of their jaws. They shouted at Kazzar. He gave Venir a disappointed look and opened the cage. Two more urchlings came out. Their fingers were tipped with the full-length claws.
Creed swallowed down the lump in his throat. The claws were as hard and sharp as steel knives. Venir didn’t bleed yet, but he would soon.
The urchlings prowled around Venir on all fours like monkeys from the wild. They clicked their sharp teeth, spat, and made unnerving hoots.
The underling audience was on their feet. Every visage was a mask of hatred for the man that had just insulted their brood. Creed didn’t speak Underling, but he understood their chitters demanded death.
Venir spun in a slow circle. In his strong voice, he said, “Come, dark little hounds. What are you waiting for? An invitation?”
With their legs coiled underneath them, they sprang from either side of Venir. With the ease of a jungle cat, Venir leaned backward. His big hands scooped the flying urchlings up from behind their heads. He brought them together with fierce impact. The creatures flopped on the ground. They rolled stupidly for a moment. Venir dropped in behind them. He caught them both by the neck in the nooks of his rippling forearms and squeezed.
The urchlings’ eyes bulged out of their sockets. Their toenails scraped over the floor.
Venir turned up the pressure. “Hurk!”
The urchlings’ sharp fingers tore through the flesh on his forearms. Blood dripped on the floor as they fought like wild animals.
Venir’s iron limbs crushed deeper into the savages’ necks. Their tongues flicked outside of their mouths. There was a loud crack and pop. The urchlings’ bodies went limp as fur pelts. He cast the broken fiends aside. With his blood dripping over his fists, he said, “Got any more?”
The underlings’ jeering fell silent. Creed wasn’t certain what was happening at first. He thought Venir was going to pick up an urchling and sling it into the crowd. He hoped for it anyway. But there was new activity in the stands.
A female underling entered the arena. Her long hair was white as gossamer, her dark skin as fair as a beautiful moonlit sky. Her body moved with sensuality and curves the likes of which he’d never seen. Her hips swayed, two fine swords clinging to them in finely crafted scabbards. Her perfect bosom was barely covered in a silk shirt and jiggled with her steps. Creed lost his breath.
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
“I’d die to put a kiss on the lips of that ravishing thing,” one prisoner said. The men were murmuring. They tried to sort out if it was an underling woman or not. “Perhaps not all is bad that the underlings have to offer,” another prisoner said.
Venir’s gaze froze on the woman. She was accompanied by another underling in robes, with a commanding presence. His eyes were citrine and hard like quartz. The other underlings bowed at the both of them. The newcomers sat in the spot sectioned off all by itself.
Kazzar signaled to the underling soldiers inside the arena. They hustled Venir back into the dugout and closed them inside.
“Who is that woman…thing?” Creed said. “You seemed to know her.”
“Yes,” Venir said. One of the prisoners started wrapping gauze over his bleeding forearms. “Her name is Elypsa. I don’t think she recognized me. Kazzar, rather Altan Rey, doesn’t know I know her. I want to keep it that way. Listen, Creed. If you fight in front of her, don’t show off.”
“Why?”
“She’ll kill you.”
“That little thing?”
“That little thing is the fastest thing with steel that I’ve ever seen.”
Creed’s brow arched. “Really? Faster than you?”
“I had the armament. She still almost killed me.”
CHAPTER 36
Melegal felt naked for the first time in a long time. The dart launchers no longer dressed his wrists. His floppy cap that kept his head cool on the hottest of days had been snatched. The ring that zapped his enemies so intently that they soiled their trousers no longer graced is delicate fingers. It was him, all him. That was all he ever needed. Until today.
Castle Kling was a fortress made from alabaster stone. The walls were high and sheer. There was only one way in from the front gate. Underlings and men stood in the ten-foot-high archway. The soldiers were everywhere that Melegal could see from the apartment window where he peeked out. Servants came and went in a timely fashion, pushing empty carts out and returning later to go back in.
Heh, I don’t think I can craft a disguise that would fool anybody.
Normally, he’d wait until nightfall. He’d wait for an opening in the patrolling ranks, scale the walls, and drop into the gardens. This was different. There were spiders crawling along the walls—many of which were bigger than him.
The things I do for things.
“Have you figured a way in yet?” Sis asked. She and Frigdah were chewing on strips of jerky and drinking coffee. A woman cowered on a sofa in the small apartment with her son. Sis glared at her. “Woman, we are on the same side. Stop quivering.”
“I don’t have any money,” the woman pleaded.
“We don’t care. We are just staying here a short time. Sheesh.” Sis set the coffee mug on a wooden table. “Do we look like underlings to you?”
“Evil takes many forms.” The woman covered her young son’s eyes with her hand. The boy pulled her fingers apart, peeking. “Stop that. Close your eyes, son. They will curse you.”
Sis shook her head. “I don’t understand people. I’m trying to help.”
“Some people just scare people. Consider it a gift.”
“I suppose.” She squeezed her body out the window. “Echt. Those spiders are icky. How are you going to get in?”
“I don’t know yet. Be quiet while I figure it out.”
In the past, Melegal had worked for Castle Almen. Behind the castles was another network where the supply trains ran from castle to castle. There was another entrance typically used for service that was shared by the neighboring castles. Now, these were sealed off but not abandoned. He was counting on using that avenue but not if it was a dead end.
Only one way in and one way out. There must be another way.
He pushed Sis aside. “Do you mind? I’m thinking.”
“I’m thinking too.”
“No, you’re breathing on me. Focus on breathing somewhere else. And not so loud. You wheeze from your nose sometimes. It really bothers me.”
“Eh.” Sis moved away.
About an hour later, two women wheeled a fairly big cart out of the gateway. The cart was empty. The underlings took a good look at the women’s faces. They hissed at the women, who grabbed the four-wheeled cart and hurried down the street.
“That’s it. Come with me, flea bags.” Melegal caught up with the women pulling the cart in the nearby markets. They hauled the cart over to the back of a small barn filled with hay and manure. Frigdah stood at his heels. She was breathing on his neck. “Do you mind?”
“Mind what?”
Melegal shook his head. “Listen to me.” He grabbed an old blanket lying on the ground underneath a vegetable stand when the owner wasn’t looking. “Listen closely. I’m getting in that cart while they fill it. Sis, you distract those women. Frigdah, as soon as I get in, you start shoveling whatever they are buying. Let them think you work there. Do you understand?”
They both nodded.
“When they push the cart back, the guards will thoroughly check the cart. Distract them. Do something clever, not dangerous, as soon as they check the cart.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Flash th
em your bosoms. Perhaps it will blind them.”
Sis got after the women hauling the cart. Melegal tucked himself under the blanket. Frigdah shoveled heaps of manure all over top of him. He left himself a tiny peephole overlooking the side. Several dozen shovelfuls later, the cart was moving down the streets and right back to Castle Kling.
Melegal pinched his nose. This stinks.
The cart rambled over the stone road, down the streets, back toward Castle Kling. The clack-clack-clack of the wheels was muffled but distinct enough that he could make out the surrounding sounds. He managed to cup his ear and give himself a little breathing room. The air was stuffy. Underneath the blanket was sweltering hot. He spied the main roadway that ran in front of Castle Kling. The cart came to a stop pointed toward the castle.
Ack.
There weren’t any signs of Sis or Frigdah in the streets. There wasn’t any commotion anywhere. Only the voices churned and harassed the lady servants. One of the castle sentries said, “Let’s give it a poke then. Hah, I need a longer spear. This pile smells fresh as the afternoon.”
Melegal saw the man from the chest down to his knees. He had a spear in hand. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like someone scuffled on the other side of the wagon. Something else was jabbing into the manure.
“No,” the sentry with the spear said. “You don’t jab at the top. You have to run it through until you punch the wood. Like this, see.” The spear dug into the wood at the foot opposite of Melegal. He was curled up in the fetal position at the front end where the handle was pulled. “See, jab it like that. I’ve shown you before. Do it right or the underlings will poke that stick through you. Got it?”
“Aye,” a younger-sounding sentry said. He started to vigorously stab into the manure. The jabs were coming closer to Melegal’s position. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” the older sentry said. “Just like this. Have some fun with it. We have little to look forward to.” The man stabbed down hard. The spear point punctured the blanket. It pierced Melegal’s forearm. It ripped out again. “Hmm, that sounded funny,” the older sentry said. “Dig into that spot, there. It felt odd.”
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 107