“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would.” Lefty stuck his hand underneath his armpits, muttering to himself.
“Say, perhaps you can put this venture in one of your tomes. What happened to all of those?”
“I’m not writing it down.”
“You wrote all of Venir’s. And many others. Why not mine?”
“I don’t want to. Leave me alone.”
Georgio shrugged. He wasn’t exactly sure why Lefty was mad at him. If anything, it should have been the other way around. The truth was, he’d never felt more alive. He’d been stabbed and burned all in one day. The pain was excruciating. He saw his own skin smoking. His blood boiled from the heat. Yet, he lived and laughed about it. For the longest time, he was terrified by the vicious underling that slashed his throat in the Warfield. Even knowing he could regenerate, the mere thought of it terrified him. Now, that fear had passed. He was ready for anything.
The columns of marching striders stirred. There was a commotion in the front. In a herd, all of the striders moved as one.
Georgio chased after them. Lefty sped in front of him. The striders encircled a giant. It was Barton. Running through the striders’ ranks and waving his arms over his head, Georgio shouted, “Don’t kill him. He’s a friend!”
Kocus barred his path. A dozen striders with spears did the same. “This giant is no friend. Giants are enemies of the striders.”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
“No! Giant will die!” Kocus raised a spear high in the air. “Hauk! Hauk! Hauk! Kill it!”
***
A brawny giant with shoulder muscles up to his ears slugged it out with a giant arachnid as big as him. Hard punches landed in the spider’s abdomen, shaking the underling rider off. The spider sank its venomous teeth in the giant’s shoulder. The teeth snapped off on the hard metal armor. The giant picked the arachnid up over his head. With a roar, he slammed the spider to the ground and stomped on it. Bug guts and goo squirted out.
Nearby, a second spider just as big as the last scurried toward the giant. Its spinnerets shot webbing into the giant’s face. The giant clawed at his eyes. The webbing held his hand fast. The spider covered the giant in webbing. The giant fought and strained. The huge man fell down, pitching forward on top of dwarves and underlings. The ones that didn’t dash out of his path in time were either crushed or stuck to the web.
The huge arachnid sank its teeth into the giant’s foot and began sucking the blood out.
“Get those torches lit!” Aaluun cried out to the dwarves. The huge spiders were spraying strands of webbing everywhere. The dwarves did their best to fight through the webs, but their efforts did little. Finally, the dwarves began passing burning torches through the ranks. The strands burned, but not as fast as they came. “Keep them coming!”
Back in the columns, Mood fought along with his brethren, keeping the underlings at bay in the western channel. Munitions for the ballistas and catapults in the rocks were getting low. The giants were a great help, but it wasn’t enough. The underlings were too many. It was only a matter of time before the underlings overtook them.
The giants cut, stomped, and chopped the underlings with huge swords. For every ten underlings that fell beneath the mighty sweeps, another dozen came. Mood couldn’t see an end to them.
Aaluun wiped the sweat from his brows on his forearm. “The giants’ ranks are thinning, it seems. Normally, I’d be happy about that.”
“Aye. Our ranks are thinning too. I never thought I’d live to see the day so desperate where dwarves and giants would fight together for their own survival.”
“It makes me want to regurgitate.”
The sound of an ancient dwarven horn echoed throughout the Black Columns. The dwarves, one and all, let out a shout.
Mood slapped both hands on Aaluun’s shoulders. Glee filled his voice. “It’s now or never. All dwarves to the western gate!”
CHAPTER 38
Billip stared at the dwarven horn. Its very sound jolted the city.
Nikkel had his fingers inside his ears. His smile was as wide as a bridge. “Do it again!”
“I don’t know about that.” Billip touched his tingling lips. They were vibrating.
“Just do it, Billip! How many times in your life are you going to be able to make a sound like that?”
Billip lifted his shoulders and said, “Why don’t you do it?”
Nikkel opened up his hands. “Gladly!” He took the curled horn, put it to his eager lips, and blew. The blaring sound sent every bird in Bone into the sky, blocking the suns like a sea of clouds.
Hoff, high in his saddle, led the royal knights down the streets. The galloping horses sounded like thunder. The further they rode, the more riders in full armor joined them. What started as little more than a score of men became a hundred. The men and women in the streets started to cheer. The small underling patrols were gored by lances and trampled over.
“Yee-hah!” Nikkel shouted. “I’m blowing it again!”
BAAAAAAH-WOOOOOOOOO!
The dwarven horn wasn’t some ordinary instrument. It had true mystic power that sent energy throughout the city. They rode down the streets, wind tearing at their faces. The blurry eyes of the citizens were wide open. The spark became a fire. The citizens attacked the underlings.
Barreling down the road, Billip regained his senses. “Nikkel! Put that horn away and get that crossbow ready! It’s not going to shoot itself!”
Still smiling, Nikkel looped the horn’s strap over his neck. He snatched up his crossbow that hung from the saddle. “I bet I kill an underling before you!”
Stringing his bow, Billip hollered back, “I bet you miss. Have you ever shot anything riding from horseback?”
“Of course I have! First one to take down an underling from the gates wins!”
The regiment of riders poured straight down the path toward the western gate. The underlings posted at the gate numbered in the hundreds. A small wave of the fiends advanced with fury in their eyes. Hoff’s lance skewered the first of them. A dozen more fell quickly after that. The western gate became a battlefield.
Clatch-zip!
Twang! Twang!
An underling standing in one of the gate’s guard towers clutched its chest. A heavy crossbow bolt tore through its head. Two arrows were buried feather deep in its chest.
“You idiot!” Billip said to Nikkel. “You shot the same one as me!”
“No, you shot the same one as me!” Nikkel loaded another bolt. His arm muscles flexed as he cranked back the string. “I shot first. I hit first!”
“No you didn’t!” From the rear rank, Billip fired a volley of arrows over the riders. The shafts sailed true. Underlings fell from the turrets positioned on both sides of the heavily fortified gate. “Bish, how are we going to get that thing open?”
The western gate had three doors. The inner door was made from wooden planks from the cedars of the Great Forest of Bish. Each door was a foot thick. They stood open. The underlings and royal soldiers who aligned themselves with the underlings started to close them. “Hoff! Hoff! Don’t let them close those doors!”
Hoff swung his sword around. “Keep that gate open, men!”
Inside the wooden gate was a middle gate made from inch-thick strips of iron. Teeth at the bottom of the gate were locked into the ground and secured by metal pins. Visible through that gate stood the final outer barrier. The outside gate was thirty feet of riveted steel. On the outside, the desperate outcast pounded at the gate day and night.
Three underling foot soldiers broke free of the horse riders. They fired hand crossbows. Billip’s horse took a shot in the neck. It reared up. He rolled off the back of the saddle, agile as an acrobat, and landed on his feet. He unleashed an arrow, striking an underling at point-blank range. As it fell, a second underling rushed past it and tackled Billip. The fiend’s claws dug into Billip’s neck. The slighter underling had the strength of a wild animal. It spit in Billip
’s face. Choking, he went for his dagger, fingers fumbling to find his scabbard.
Clatch-zip!
A bolt ripped through one side of the underling’s temple and stuck out of the other. Billip slung it aside, gasping for breath. Nikkel stood nearby with a smile on his face. Bolt Thrower was slung over one shoulder and Skull Basher was on the other. An underling with his face caved in lay at his feet. “You’re welcome, old man.”
Billip snatched his bow from the ground. He aimed at Nikkel, whose eyes were wide as moons, and fired. The arrow streaked by Nikkel’s shoulder into the neck of an underling. “You’re welcome, youth. Let’s figure out how to get that gate open.”
The enemies were more focused on the horse riders than the men standing in the street. Together, Billip and Nikkel picked their way through the surging knot of fighting. The riders wedged themselves between the wooden doors, preventing their closing. They’d gotten the upper hand, leaving an opening to get to the mechanism where the soldiers cranked open the gates.
Billip called out to Hoff. The royal knight’s hard sword strokes went from one side to another of his laboring horse. His long moustache flowed with every strike. Horse and rider were one, knocking, stabbing, and trampling underlings and soldiers on the wrong side. He caught Billip’s eye between heavy-handed blows. “I smell victory! Get those gates open!”
Starting to salute, Billip’s own smile faded. Out of nowhere, a royal knight with the banner of the House of Kord on his chest galloped toward Hoff.
“Hoff! Look out!” Billip pointed wildly as he yelled.
Hoff turned toward the oncoming assailant. He caught the full force of the lance in his chest. He tumbled out of the saddle with shock-filled, glassy eyes. He hit the ground and was trampled.
Billip swallowed.
Nikkel screamed, “Nooooooo!”
The royal riders turned one against the other. What would have been a victory turned into a slaughter. The ranks were broken. Half of the riders fled. The others died. As it turned out, only a handful of the royal riders were on Hoff’s side. Now, aided by the underlings, they turned on Billip and Nikkel.
“Got any ideas?” Billip said to his friend.
Nikkel patted his father’s metal skullcap that rested on his head. “Fight or die!”
CHAPTER 39
“Venir, what are we doing here?” Melegal said.
The group took to the streets after the riders, but a city block from the West Gate, Venir rode Chongo to the roofs of the buildings. Melegal, Brak, Ebenezer, and Creed were huffing and puffing when they caught up with him.
“I’m getting a bird’s-eye view of things,” Venir said. He and Chongo overlooked the battle surging in the streets. The underlings made his head simmer.
Ebenezer stood beside Chongo, catching his breath. “The royals fight!” he said. “I feared I might not see that day come again! My heart swells!” He jerked back. “No! What are you doing? You fools, no!”
The royal said it just as Venir watched Hoff go down.
“That’s why I hate the royals!” Jarla said.
A handful of riders fighting on the right side of things dropped their weapons. They raised their hands in surrender. Except for Billip and Nikkel. They stood with their backs to the iron gate, ready to fight to the end.
“This fight isn’t over yet! I’ll distract them. You get the gate open!” Venir gave Chongo a slap on the neck.
The huge dog barked. “RAAAAAW-UUUULF!”
The gate-front battleground fell silent. Heads whipped around. Necks, underling and man, twisted. Horses jumped.
Chongo’s paws were on the ledge of the building. He was poised like a great lion. From the top of his saddle, Venir called down to the quieted crowd, “Looking for me, arseholes!”
The underlings’ eyes attached to him. They slunk forward with itching fingers on their weapons.
Venir could see the hatred grow in their gem-speckled eyes. They hissed and chittered angrily. The royal riders tugged at the reins. Their horses' hooves stamped. Venir’s nostrils flared. He growled once more. “Get that gate open! Yah!”
Chongo leapt off the building into the gathering underlings. The fiends came at them from all directions. Brool came alive in Venir’s hand. He struck from one side of the saddle to the other like a man whipping a racing horse. Bone, muscle, and sinew gave before the lethal blade.
Hack! Chop! Slash!
If the underling didn’t die, it was mutilated. With reckless but lethal execution, Venir attacked. Chongo chomped. Venir fought the urge to let the battle consume him. As much as he wanted to kill, he needed a distraction.
“Ride, Chongo! Ride!”
With an underling clenched in each mouth, Chongo leapt away from the fray of battle and galloped down the street. Every underling that saw them followed.
***
“What’s everyone standing around with a slack jaw for?” Melegal said. “You heard the man; let’s get that gate open.”
“Even with the underlings gone, it won’t be so easy,” Ebenezer said. “There are over fifty riders and soldiers down there. And the gates need the strength of at least three men just to pull one side open.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid of risking your royal neck?” Creed propped himself up with a sword, swaying slightly. “We’re going in there!”
“Fine,” Ebenezer huffed. “The gates are pinned down at the bottom. You have to remove the links. All of them. It’s the same in the castles. It won’t be easy.”
“Don’t worry about me, Ebenezer. I know how to open a door.” Melegal started to twist the ring of vanishing.
Brak called out again. “Look there!”
Storming down the street, Jarla rode on the back of Nightmare. Fogle sat behind her, arms clinging to her waist. The horse had a purple aura. It galloped impossibly fast into the stunned royal knights. Jarla’s sword took a man’s helmet and head from his shoulders. The knights surged against her. Their weapons glanced off her body as if she was made of metal. Out of nowhere, the citizens poured out of the alleys and attacked the royal knights.
“Yes! Now’s our chance!” Brak led the men down to street level. With a thunderous battle cry, they engaged the enemy.
Melegal gave the ring a twist. Like a cat on the run, he made his way for the gates. He arrived in time to save Billip. The archer was a split second from being butchered by a knight’s sword. He got a hold of the man’s collar and gave him a shock. Billip turned. He had a bewildered expression.
Still invisible, Melegal said, “You can thank me later. Now go crack some heads instead of your knuckles so I can get these gates open.”
The iron gate was secured with metal pins that must have weighed five pounds each. They were hammered into a loop of iron. He’d need a hammer to knock the pins out. He glanced around. There was an alcove inside the archway. He snuck inside and grabbed the hammer. Gently, he started tapping the first of the three pins. It didn’t give. Melegal sucked through his teeth.
I’m going to have to hit harder. Bish! I’ll lose my cover.
With two hands, using all of his body weight, he swung into the pin. It popped out. He reappeared.
I knew it!
With all of the commotion going on, he kept at it. He knocked out the second pin in the middle ring. A royal soldier called out to their crossbowman and pointed at Melegal. “Kill him!”
Soldiers climbed down ladders from the top wall. They rushed Melegal. He fired the dart launchers into two men’s faces.
Twing! Twing! Twing! Twing! Twing! Twing!
The soldiers dropped to their knees, clawing at the darts in their faces.
The crossbowman fired. Melegal tried to shift out of the way. The crossbow bolt hit his neck. Arms flailing, neck bleeding, he fell to the ground.
CHAPTER 40
Mood heard the giant, Ogar, rumbling with deep laughter. The giant had just consumed an underling. The biggest of all the giants, Ogar was double in height than most. With underling flesh hang
ing from his teeth, he sought out Mood. “We have avenged ourselves. Now, we abandon you to your doom. May your brethren perish to the gray-skinned swill!”
“You won’t be missed!” Mood yelled.
Ogar lifted his chin skyward. Raising his hairy arms, he called to the sky. The sound he made was loud and unnatural, like the wind was crying. His body faded. The giants that lived shimmered into transparency and vanished.
The underlings’ chittering became chortles of triumph. New vigor overcame them.
The dwarves broke from the melee. By the thousands they gathered, forming a caterpillar of shields. Covered in shields on the outside and over the top, they marched toward the City of Bone.
Mood moved at the front of the formation with a shield of his own. “Huzzah, dwarves! Huzzah!”
The dwarves advanced step by step. The underlings hurtled their bodies against the shields. The dwarves in the center stabbed them with spears. The dwarven caterpillar bled dwarven red and underling black toward the hellish gates of Bone.
***
As hard as it was to do, Venir let Chongo run. They outdistanced the throng that chased them down the street. They collided with group after group of underlings. Venir hacked them down, urging Chongo onward before the regiment of underlings caught up with him. The cat-and-mouse game wasn’t easy to do with Helm. He’d done it before, however, and led many underlings to their doom.
A husky woman with coarse black hair waved her arms at him from one of the rooftops. There was a second woman with her. They both wore simple dark dresses that weren’t in the best of shape. Neither one of the women were in very good shape either. They waved him into an alley.
Sis? Frigdah?
Venir didn’t have any idea what they were up to, but he’d been down a hard road before with them. He gave them the benefit of the doubt. “Chongo! Left!”
Claws scraping over the pavement, the dog took a sudden turn. He stormed the alley, slowing to a trot at the halfway point between roads. Underlings filled the alley behind him. There was no turning back.
The Darkslayer: Bish and Bone Series Collector's Edition (Books 1-10): Sword and Sorcery Masterpieces Page 121