Barton twisted his neck toward Lefty. “Don’t call Barton dumb. Barton know the way out. You don’t.”
Looking down at Georgio, Lefty said, “Well, he does have a point.”
“I suppose.” Georgio pulled his sword out. “I’d like to give him a point.” He slammed the sword back into the scabbard. The walk was impossibly long, and his legs were aching. He thirsted and his stomach growled. The mist was insufferable. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy to be alive or not. Already, he missed the grove that had more than enough sustenance to fill him.
“Georgio, when we get back, what is the first thing you want to do?”
“I’m going to Bone and getting some biscuits. A wheelbarrow full of them.”
Lefty rolled his eyes. “I know, but aside from that.”
“Well, I guess it will be fun to get a look at everyone’s faces.” Georgio chuckled. “I bet Nikkel will piss his pants. We should have fun with it.”
“Yes.” Lefty’s eyes gleamed. “It will be fun to see our old friends again, assuming that they survived. What if the underlings have finally taken over?”
“Don’t say that. Venir won’t let that happen.”
“You really think he can stop the underlings all by himself, don’t you?”
Georgio shrugged. “I don’t see why not. He’s stopped all the ones he’s faced so far.”
“I suppose that’s true.” The strange howling started up again. “Barton,” Lefty said, “if that’s giants singing, what are they singing about?”
Barton kept walking.
“Barton?” Lefty asked again. He tugged on the giant’s earlobe. “Tell us what.”
In a dark and husky voice, Barton said, “Vengeance.”
Lefty shot Georgio a curious look then said back to the giant, “Vengeance for what?”
“I don’t know the answer to everything. Stop bothering me, little rabbit. I walk and all you do is talk. No talk. Just walk.”
Leaning over Barton’s shoulder, Lefty said, “I guess we’ll find out later.”
“Yeah, if you mean later as in forever. We’ll be dead then.”
“Don’t be so glum about it, Georgio. You can’t die.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Yawning, Georgio shuffled up to Barton. He snagged the back of the giant’s shirt and let the disfigured brute tug him along. He’d do anything to see the suns again. The soft glows of the moons. Birds in the sky. Anything that moved or brought some sort of illumination. Most of all, he missed his friends. He wanted to see them all again. Alive. He walked on until he couldn’t walk anymore. “Barton, we need to stop.” His lids were heavy. He fought to keep his eyes open. “We need to sleep.”
“Sleep is death in the Mist.” Barton turned around, picked Georgio up, and cradled the man in his arms like a child. Georgio gave in. Lefty crawled down onto Georgio’s chest. He sat with his back against Barton’s chest. “Good. Both of you be quiet now. Barton can think.”
“Don’t fall asleep, Lefty,” Georgio said. “He’s a giant who almost killed us once. We can’t trust him.”
“I won’t.” Lefty covered his yawn. “You rest now. I’ll rest later. Deal?”
“Deal.” Georgio fell asleep. Moments later Lefty did as well.
Barton chuckled.
CHAPTER 6
“I’m not going to sully my blade on helpless people,” Creed said to Altan Rey. “This is not entertainment. It’s senseless bloodshed!”
The underlings booed and hissed. The underling soldiers shoved the shaking men with hoods on their faces toward Venir. One of the ragtag men swung his sword at Venir. Venir clobbered the side of the man’s head with the flat of his battle axe, knocking the man out cold.
The underlings chortled in their own foul tongue. Venir cocked back his arm and considered launching the hatchet into the crowd. Possibly at Master Sinway. But the underling wouldn’t leave himself so exposed as that. The ragged men gathered among themselves. Their perspiration was filled with fear and desperation. Altogether, they bum-rushed Creed with slavering jaws and fingers clutching.
“Bone!” Venir grabbed a man by the hood and yanked it off. The man whirled around and took a stab at Venir. Venir parried. In that split second, Venir got a good look in the man’s eyes. There was a deranged yellow glow in them he’d seen before. The vagrant’s jaw was cockeyed. Drool oozed from his mouth. “Creed! They’re induced. Don’t hold back!”
Creed’s parrying blades took on a life of their own. Sharp tips of steel snaked through his attackers' wild swings. He opened a throat and pierced two hearts. The desperate vagrants kept chopping. The fear in their eyes was gone. He put one down after another.
Nearby, Venir went to work. The battle axe brought swift mercy, whistling down and splitting a vagrant’s skull. His hatchet hacked deep beneath the meat where the neck met the shoulder. The man crumbled onto the floor. Venir’s arms pumped like machines. Every stroke brought death. The vagrants would fight until the inducers wore off or until they were dead. They fought like crazed wild men.
“Gah!” Creed cried out. A hard stab from a hooded rogue pierced his thigh. Creed chopped his head off, deflected a blow, and killed another with a stab in the gut.
Back to back, the towering warriors slew the deranged men. Seconds later, it was over. The underlings cheered as men died at their feet. Venir and Creed sucked for air. The wounds were piling up.
“This is getting out of hand,” Venir growled. “They’re whittling us down one sliver at a time.”
“Perhaps we should storm the stands. Make one lasting show of it.” Creed flung the blood from his blades. “I don’t think the armament is going to be with us today. Or at least you. I couldn’t handle it.”
Venir’s eyes slid over Sinway. “I’m a fine aim with this hatchet.”
“Perhaps there will be an opening.” Creed groaned. He was holding his side. “Speaking of openings, this one is worse than I realized. That dig the underling took was nasty.”
“Is it lethal?”
“Only if I stop breathing.”
Altan Rey stepped out of the dugout. As the bodies were dragged away in bloody trails, he said, “Little by little, my friends. The more you suffer, the more thrilled the underlings are. But the warm-up is over now. The real fighting shall begin. A challenge has been made to you, Creed. Do you accept?”
Creed gave Altan Rey a funny look. “I didn’t realize that I had a choice. Who is my opponent? You, I hope.”
“Nay.” Altan turned. Elypsa moved down through the stands. The citrine-eyed mage, Kuurn, was with her. She hopped into the arena. “Elypsa admires your skill with a blade. She delights in a challenge of steel.”
Creed looked down at the woman. “I never imagined I’d be fighting a woman so fair. Perhaps she could put on one of those bloody garments. Her figure is distracting along with all of the rest of her. Can we cover her face with one of those hoods? As you can see, I am flesh and blood.”
Kuurn spread his fingers, palm out, in Venir’s direction. Venir lifted from his feet and slammed into the wall. His head cracked hard against the stones. Stars burst before his eyes. His shoulders sagged. When he lifted his head, Creed and Elypsa were squaring off. Altan Rey and Kuurn backed away. He yelled out to Creed, “Fight or die, Bloodhound! Fight or die!”
***
“I understand you’re a true saint with a sword,” Elypsa said to Creed.
“So, I take it you’ve heard of me in the Underland?” Creed smiled. “I must have a greater reputation than I thought.”
Circling him, she said, “You are a big man with a big ego. You’ll need all of that if you are going to entertain the likes of me.”
Even with razor-sharp steel in her hands, the underling woman was as radiant as ever. Her figure was intoxicating. Her soft lips perfect. Creed shook his head. He took a deep draw from his nose. Remember what Venir said. She almost killed him even with the armament on. “You have me at a disadvantage. Elypsa, is it?” She nodde
d. “These swords are not my customary fare. They are a bit on the heavy side. This one here,” he held up the left one, “has a bend in it.”
“You choose your favorite sword, and I’ll choose mine.”
“Your blades are identical. Perhaps I could try one of those.”
Elypsa’s brows lifted. She smirked and tossed one over to him. He cast his blades aside and snatched the underling blade from the air while the underling audience groaned. Keeping his distance, he whipped the blade through the air several times. “This underling steel is astonishingly light.” He thumbed the edge of the blade. “The edge is keen enough to sliver my hair.” He grimaced. “Impressive.”
“You are wounded?” she asked.
“I’m still good for a fight, Elypsa, but I’d rather share a goblet of port with you.” She shook her head. “Another time then?”
“There won’t be another time, human. You see, I know who you are—Creed the Bloodhound. You wield the armament like that man over there, Venir. With it, you slew my brothers, Catten and Verbard. Today, you will pay for it.”
The announcement jolted his conscience. He’d all but forgotten about them. Now, in a weird twist of fate, he was facing a vengeful sister. He offered a smile, got into a sword fighter’s stance, and said, “Touché.”
CHAPTER 7
Still linked up to Inky, Fogle moved out of the stable. The sand spiders had immobilized the familiar, but so far as he could tell, the bird was pasted to the glass dome. It wasn’t ideal, but it offered an opportunity. He tucked the spellbook under his arm. Most of the crew were sitting or standing around. Their eyes fell on him as he approached. He said, “I’ve confirmed Venir’s whereabouts. He’s inside the pits of Castle Kling, as you planned.”
Brak was the first one on his feet. “Is he alive?”
Fogle nodded. “He’s fighting, or about to I think. He was painted in crimson, white, and black. His hair was dyed. Another man was with him.”
Everyone gathered around. Chongo came out of the stable and huffed a bark.
“Did he have the armament?” Brak asked.
“No, I didn’t see it. No helmet, just painted brawn.”
Kam, holding Erin’s little hand, walked up to Fogle. “Are you certain it was him?”
“It was him. The arena seats were filled to the brim with underlings. I had an excellent view before the spiders came. They attacked Inky. The bird’s there, but useless. I can free the bird, but that will take some doing.” He patted his book with his fingers.
“Was he wounded?” Kam said with wide eyes.
“I don’t know. My gut says it was a bad situation. It was only a glimpse, but good enough.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My plan was to get Inky inside for a closer look. We could pop in from there.”
“What do you mean, pop in?” Billip asked.
“Like we did when we came here and moved throughout the city. I can create a portal, but we’ll land on top of the dome. I’m not so certain it will hold us, though it looked sturdy.”
Brak stormed up to Fogle. His huge hands squeezed his cudgel. “Take us there! Now!”
Fogle looked up at Brak. “I need time and we need a plan. If we go after him, we’ll need more than one doorway. I’ll need one in and one out. And those underlings, over a hundred of them, many wearing arcane robes, will be ready.”
“I suggest you get after it,” Brak said.
Brak had that hard look in his eye that Venir got when he was about to kill something. The young man’s nostrils flared. Jubilee hung on Brak’s hip, glaring at Fogle. He’d gotten to know them both pretty well. They were ready to die. He didn’t want that to happen. “Venir doesn’t have the armament. I suggest I go in and try to bring them out. Once that happens, if it happens, the underlings will be crawling all over the city looking for us. It doesn’t get the flags up or the gate open either.” He visualized what needed to be done in his head. They’d only have seconds to pop in and out. After that, it would be over, and they wouldn’t get another shot at Master Sinway again. He looked at Billip. “This isn’t part of Venir’s plan. Our intrusion could ruin everything.”
Billip popped a few knuckles. “Aye, but I think we should do it. Perhaps we should all go and stick them through. One last glorious battle for Bone. All of us versus them.”
Nikkel ambled into the knot of people. He had Bolt Thrower loaded and waiting. “Agreed, I say we give them a surprise they will never forget.” His white teeth shone. “Or the last thing they’ll ever remember.”
In a strong voice that sounded very Venir-like, Brak said, “It’s settled then! Cast us away, wizard!”
“The only thing that is settled is your doom,” Cass broke into the conversation. “Are you so eager to throw your lives away? You will be slain, one and all, if you drop into their pit. That is precisely what they want.”
Fogle turned toward Cass. “You seem to have more intimate knowledge of the underlings than you have ever let on before. Care to explain?”
Cass’s pretty face tightened. “There is nothing to explain. The underlings are cold-blooded killers.”
“I thought they were just another race? No different than others,” he said.
“Fine. Except them. Yes, I’ve crossed them more than once before, and everything that they’ve encountered dies. And”—she grabbed his arm—“that will include you. If this royal, Altan Rey, betrays Venir, then no doubt he’s betrayed all of your plans too. The underlings won’t be surprised when you show up. They expect the effort. They thrive on it. You showing up there will be exactly what they want.”
Taking her little hands in his, he looked down into her eyes. “This is a now or never moment. I’m going to extract Venir. I hope that you will help.”
Touching his face, Cass said, “You’ve grown so much.” She stepped away.
“I can help with the portals, I believe.” Kam glanced at the spellbook.
“No, I’ll handle the portals.” Fogle reached inside his robes and produced a polished stone orb. The black sphere filled his hand. Its surface shimmered with white and gold sparkles. “This is the Orb of Negation. I need you to familiarize yourself with it. It has great power that will be needed. Now, if you will all excuse me, I need some time.”
“Make it quick, wizard,” Brak said. “Venir might not have that much time.”
“He’ll just have to make it.”
CHAPTER 8
Creed had mastered every sword he’d ever touched. It was a thing with him. Whether it was double bladed or single edged, it quickly became a friend in his hand. He delighted in it. The underling blade he held was one of the finest pieces of work that he’d ever held. Only a few weapons he touched were ever better. The blades from the mystic sack were the best he’d touched. They were perfectly balanced for his style, fit, and frame. They were light but with hefty balance that cut through bone like butter. The underling blade, not so much.
It’s going to take a few strokes to get used to it.
The underling steel was a cruel tool, designed to take an opponent apart in slivers. A quick slash over the belly and a man’s guts would spill to the floor. Sharp notches edged the sword tip which would gouge skin and muscle like a bayonet. The blood would flow freely. It would be hard to stop.
I will not die from bleeding.
Once he settled into his stance, the odd raucous jeering of the underlings quieted. The only thing he felt was his heart pounding where the lizard master jabbed him with the rod. His eyes were drawn to Elypsa’s. Her violet eyes had a hypnotic effect. He blinked sweat from his eyes.
Her smile turned up in the corner of her mouth. “Shall I go first, Creed?”
“Ladies first is a custom of Castle Bloodhound.”
She nodded. “So be it.” With a lightning step forward, she struck quicker than the tongue of a snake.
Steel bit into Creed’s bicep. He flinched backward. Countless years of training honed his instincts enough to save him from a blow that almost gored his swo
rd arm. He waved his sword side to side, putting new life in his steel. Slat, that was fast!
Elypsa slipped away with a cold smirk on her face. She circled.
He spun with her, feeling awkward. The underling was over a foot shorter than him, yet she was the aggressor. In the past, he’d devastated men that were shorter in stature with long, blinding strokes. He needed to do the same thing here.
Let’s see what she’s made of.
He shuffle-stepped and thrust. Steel clanged against steel. The courting ended, and the battle began. Creed thrust under her guard, aiming for the heart. She parried left with a ringing bang. He redoubled. She slid away. Back and forth they went in a dangerous dance. Elypsa’s defense didn’t give. Though small, she was strong and quick enough to slip his thrusts and reset her feet for the next attack.
“You are as skilled as I hoped,” she said. “I might even sweat.”
“I’d like to see that.”
Elypsa thrust with stinging attacks. Creed swiped them side to side. Her sword moved with the speed of two striking snakes taking turns. Several strikes into it, his side began to burn.
Block it out, Creed.
As soon as she thrust to the left, Creed hopped right. He unleashed a lethal slash at her neck. She ducked. The blade cut off a small lock of hair that floated to the floor. She skipped away. “Now we’re dancing.”
Creed blinked. Elypsa launched herself into an aerial logroll. The sword whipped downward like a living sickle. The strike took skin from Creed’s shoulder as he shuffled out of harm’s way. She landed, low to the ground, with her sword cocked behind her back like a prowler.
Taking in a lungful of air, he said, “And I thought I’d seen everything.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Elypsa lofted her body into a series of acrobatic attacks.
Creed labored to parry the uncanny flurry.
***
Disarmed, Venir sat with his back against the wall. Underling soldiers kept an eye on him as the battle between Creed and Elypsa raged. It was as fine a sword fight as he’d ever seen before. Creed had all of the physical advantages: height, strength, and length. His skill and speed were unrivaled by man, but Elypsa was quick as a cat and lethal as a cobra. Fresh wounds bled freely from Creed.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 111