The slender thief took a solid slug of his second mug of delicious mead. Mikkel nodded, his blue eyes looking upward as he rubbed his silvery chin.
“So we thought we’d lay low awhile until this situation clears,” Venir piped up, scarfing down the pitcher of ale. He was plenty happy in present company, and didn’t feel a bit worried at the moment. The gratifying taste of Mikkel’s mead seemed to shave the past ten years off of his life.
The Broken Boar’s Bum was alive and kicking, and he began to unwind. He ate and drank like a Royal as they all talked far into the morning. Each had a story that marveled the other. But none could tell a story like Venir as one tale after another rolled off his drunken lips. The middling women, swooning at his words, became more tempting by the hour.
It took some time before Venir ran out of words and fell asleep at the table, alongside the rest. The day had passed from dawn and back and into the dusk before he stirred. After a belly full of steak, eggs, red potatoes and biscuits, Venir’s tongue was back up to speed. Stoking more stories with mead and grog, Venir continued to have one of the best times he had in years. It was good to be alive for a change. However, peaceful moments on Bish never lasted long.
There were many kinds of silence on Bish. There were silent nights, silent shadows, silent terrors, silent murders, and silent suffering. But this silence, the silence that fell now, was perhaps the most unnerving and unpleasant of them all. The band, the band of the Broken Boar’s Bum had fallen silent. The rest of the occupants gawped as if a spreading doom had crept upon the tavern. All were quiet, wide-eyed, and unmoving, as a menacing bulk overshadowed the room. All living creatures in the tavern were transfixed, hairs standing on end, except for one. Venir carried on as ever, finishing off another pitcher of mead.
He was sharing a compelling misadventure to the boy, Nikkel, whose head had turned away. He continued his rambling as loud and offensive as ever. Seldom was such talk even noticed in a place such as this. But when all went quiet his audience became as stiff as a wrought iron. Something about this voice seemed out of line, inappropriate. He hardly noticed his friend’s words.
“Oh no,” Mikkel breathed, “not again.”
The entire room darkened as a giant shadow had fallen over the massive shoulders of the ever-rowdy Venir.
“Hey, who turned the lights off and the stink on!?” demanded Venir, as he turned toward the source of disturbance.
He looked up and saw one of the biggest humanoids he had even seen. Much broader and far taller than himself, a rare half-ogre man loomed over him, arms crossed over a hairy, muscled chest. It was peering down at Venir through what appeared to be only one good eye. The ogre had thick black and brown hair, brown eyes and some canine teeth. There was little facial hair, and his arms and legs were covered with coarse black hair. This one in particular stood nearly seven feet tall, and must have weighed well over four hundred pounds. He seemed older than Venir.
“Ah … it’s Farc,” Venir slurred, peering up through one eye, trying to keep things from looking twice as bad. “I gather you haven’t taken a bath since I last saw you. You smell like crap!”
Farc sounded like ten voices in one.
“Venir—close mouth! Listen while Farc talk,” the glowering half-ogre said. “Farc not forget you smashing eye! Farc pay you back! Farc pay you now!”
Gasps filled the room, and those who had actually been around at the time the two had clashed before scattered to spread the news.
Venir slouched back in his chair and said, “And how do you plan to do that?” he said in a rising voice. “I crippled your career, Farc. And even you wouldn’t be stupid enough to fight me again, ’cause then your other eye will be useless, too!”
Farc leaned in and Venir could feel his fetid breathe on his face.
“You promise Farc another fight. Remember, human?”
Venir nodded.
“But, I not said you fight Farc, did I? I just said you fight. Right?”
“Yep,” Venir said, nodding again as he slurped the last of a mug of ale and wiped his mouth on the inside of his arm. Venir began waving his mug in the air.
“Hey Farc, why don’t you buy me another drink? I’m all empty.”
Farc slapped Venir’s mug across the room.
“You say anytime, anyplace, last time,” Farc growled. “Time now! Place the same! Me and my boy will be waiting!”
The half-ogre stormed through the dispersing crowd like a behemoth and disappeared.
Moments after he had left, Venir looked around and smiled.
“I bet he’s got one ugly boy, and I bet that boy has an ugly mother to boot. Poor lad!”
Melegal chuckled, but Mikkel’s face was grim.
Then Mikkel cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Venir, I think it’s his boy he wants you to fight. He’s been the champ for the last two years.”
Venir didn’t pay any notice to the tension in his friend’s voice.
”You might wanna stop drinking. This is gonna go down soon.”
“I thought you were the champ Mikkel,” Venir said, looking around for his mug.
“Not since Farc beat me. Then you beat him, and after you left it was wide open for a while. His boy’s better, Vee, much better and younger. Farc wasn’t the youngest, or even in his prime when you humiliated him. But his son! Well, he’s an abomination! He makes his ugly old man look like a halfling.”
The young Nikkel was just putting mugs of mead in front of Venir, when Mikkel grabbed them away.
“Gimme my drinks now, Mikkel!” Venir said in a slur, as his face began to redden.
“You better stop drinking and start thinking, Vee! You’re on in about an hour!”
Venir was brooding. He wanted to just walk away, grab a wench and go to bed. He could see the worried faces around him. Their expressions seemed to suggest that he might lose. It made him mad. Then he let out a loud sigh.
“Coffee, please ….”
CHAPTER 55
The Vicious and the Badoon Brigade moved fast, cutting through the southwestern part of Bish and leaving a trail of blood over hill and dale. Many unfortunate inhabitants that weren’t quick enough to flee died, their final moments filled with pain and anguish. The possibility of surviving a Vicious-led Badoon attachment was slim. Dozens of Bish’s more peaceful inhabitants had already perished, and dozens more would meet the same fate before the brigade caught up with the Darkslayer.
The two hulking Vicious led the trek through high and low landscapes, unhindered by rugged terrain, inclement weather, and natural hazards. Even the most senior and weathered elite underling hunters were pushed to keep pace with them. The best of the Badoons, as nasty as they were, felt some discomfort in the presence of the Vicious. For the Vicious, more evil than they, did such things to torture and mutilate their victims that even a hardened Badoon had never imagined. The word ‘cruel’ was inadequate in describing their deeds. The worst the soldiers could imagine was little more than a bad dream compared to what the Vicious would, could, and did do. Still, the Badoon soldiers found it inspiring.
Little of Bish had heard about the legendary Vicious, for none had lived to witness such events unfolding. Their appearances on the surface were rare at best. But now, from high in a tree perch, a rare yellow-haired halfling boy named Lefty Lightfoot had seen the Vicious in action.
Lefty had watched in numb dismay as the bodies of his family and friends were torn, shredded, bludgeoned, and strewn from one end of his village to the other. The muscle-laden Vicious were responsible for almost all of it. He saw many of the frightened halflings escape the clawed clutches of the Vicious only to be cut down by the crossbow bolts of the surrounding warriors. It had all happened so fast and then the underlings were all gone.
Lefty’s mind was seared with the nightmarish screams of his brothers and sisters, bigger and smaller, being bitten, broken, and eaten. He had witnessed their little heads squeezed to pulp or smashed together like pumpkins. He only wished he had not s
urvived to see such horrors befall his people. He wept until he could weep no more and then ran as fast and far as his speedy little legs would carry him.
CHAPTER 56
Oran had made haste returning underneath the belly of the City of Bone. The Current ran just below Castle Almen, as well as many other castles. The cavernous stone-cut chambers far below the castle, ancient beyond recorded history, could not possibly have been the handiwork of humans. Dwarfs possibly, but even dwarfs were not known for engineering feats as spectacular as this. In an eerie cave room, Lord Almen stood in the torch-lit semi-darkness with the resurrected Tonio, Sefron, and Detective McKnight.
“What information do you have for me, Oran?” Almen’s loud voice echoed through the large chamber.
“South, most positively. He will be found no matter where he goes. An underling Badoon is en route to dispose of him now.”
Lord Almen folded his arms across his golden-etched clothes.
“What is your point, Oran?” asked Lord Almen. “I thought the underlings could not handle this Darkslayer. So what makes you think he’ll be dispatched now?”
Oran kept his groan to himself as Lord Almen paced around him. Lord Almen’s shadow enveloped him, flickering in the torchlight. Oran felt no fear of this powerful Royal, however. He respected the man, but it was beneath an underling to fear a human.
“Lord Almen, my reliable sources leave me in no doubt that these are the final days of the Darkslayer pest. He has never been taken seriously by our people. But, over time, word got back to some of the upper echelons, so to speak, and they were not happy with these losses.”
At this, Lord Almen let out a deep chuckle.
“Ha, Oran! Yet you tell me that this man, this one man, has required the effort of a whole underling Badoon? My, what I wouldn’t do to have a fellow such as that on my side. This has to be the most astonishing news I’ve heard in over a decade!”
Lord Almen continued to chuckle drawing a sneer from Oran. He wanted to rip the man’s tongue out. He was an underling afterall, and human mockery wasn’t something he had ever experienced. Sefron laughed along, his naked belly jiggling, while McKnight stood fanning himself with his hat, grinning.
It became an awkward moment for him. Oran felt things sink in. He had been too busy to give the situation much thought. Struck now by the preposterousness of it, he felt somewhat embarrassed for his kind.
Even Tonio managed to muster a laugh.
“Huh ... huh.”
Once a loudmouthed braggart, Tonio was much quieter now. Oran stared at the young man. Since Tonio’s resurrection he was clearly not all there, but he was still a soldier to contend with. Just not one of Oran’s better jobs, something he kept to himself.
Oran shook it off.
“Lord Almen, you need no longer trouble yourself with this matter. I could try to recover the body of the Darkslayer for you, or a piece of it at least. It is unlikely even a shred will remain, but I will do my beh—urk!”
Tonio’s strong gray hands were squeezing his neck.
“Lead-s-s me to Vee-man,” the young warrior forced from his throat, “or d-die nnnow!”
In that instant, Tonio’s impulsive action decided the fate of Oran. He was flat footed. It was a human voice that saved his life.
“Drop him Tonio!” Sefron shouted.
The Royal son obeyed, dropping him to the ground, gasping for air.
Lord Almen continued, “This is prophetic. Oran will see to it this Darkslayer is dead. You can take my son with you on your journey.”
What! But Oran could not muster the words. He was only happy to breathe again as he watched Sefron calm his zombie-like attacker.
Lord Almen stepped over him and said, “Give me your word underling; you will take my boy to find the Darkslayer.”
Oran searched the eyes of the men that surrounded him. Hatred began to swell inside him. He didn’t feel as if he had much of a choice. At least, not at this very moment
“My word,” Oran agreed.
The cleric Sefron then added, “Perhaps McKnight can be of some assistance Lord Almen. He’s an excellent tracker.”
McKnight’s enlarged eyes shot arrows at Sefron’s insidious suggestion.
Lord Almen perched his brows.
“Good idea Sefron.”
McKnight’s jaw dropped.
A few words were exchanged as Almen clasped his son’s hands and gave him a final blessing.
“Kill him without mercy, son. Avenge yourself. Good hunting.”
*****
McKnight could not believe how quick his life had worsened. Sefron got him and got him good. It was all fun and games to him over the years, tormenting the perverted cleric. Now it seemed to have caught up with him. McKnight had exposed the cleric’s twisted behavior time and again at Castle Almen. He caught the cleric peeping on the ladies young and old. He returned the clerics small hoard of the misplaced castle jewels and other rare baubles. Some of which he still kept for himself. McKnight was always two steps ahead of the cleric until today.
Now he found himself smack in the center of a mess he would have done anything to avoid. He was now stuck with the Royal brat Tonio. At least he doesn’t talk much. McKnight knew nothing about underlings either. It was pitch black other than the lantern he carried. He was at the mercy of the foul looking underling and Tonio as well. It was an unlikely cadre of adventurers.
He heard Oran mutter something in underling, which he didn’t comprehend, but it meant, “I am an idiot.”
“What’s that, underling?” enquired McKnight, brandishing two long, silver-hilted daggers of a unique design.
“Oh, shut up!”
It was the last thing he heard Oran say. McKnight wasn’t used to travelling in total silence and darkness. He always felt darkness was his friend, but now it was like a drape that covered him that he couldn’t escape. He kept Oran and Tonio in sight before him, fingers toying with his daggers. The craft glided over the water, how he did not know. The cool wind wafted in his hair. It did little to ease his thoughts. For all he knew, they were headed for the Underland.
CHAPTER 57
After an entire pot of Nikkel’s strongest coffee, Venir’s head was only a little clearer. Things were beginning to annoy him as he contemplated how such a promising night had turned bad in a moment’s notice. And as if things couldn’t have been worse, he was now being harassed by things that should have been settled years ago.
“Ooh, honey, now don’t get beat up too bad,” a half-orcen woman cooed.
She stood before him, hands on hips, wearing a purple satin dress that was slit to reveal one of the most curvaceous bodies he had ever seen on Bish.
“I just love the rough and rowdy type, and I was counting on you the moment I saw you walk through that door.”
She winked at him and flashed him a promising smile.
“Don’t worry sister, you won’t be waitin’ long,” Venir said as he brushed into her body.
As the sexy part-orcen woman’s chest smashed into his, more testosterone pumped through his body. The woman’s muscular thighs and pumpkin round behind caught his attention as well. His lust addled mind was blind to her blonde pigtails, sweaty lips, crooked teeth, and piggish nose. After countless drinks, compounded by hard travel and no companionship, Venir’s particular’s no longer registered.
“See you later, big boy.”
She blew him a kiss and waved as Melegal and Mikkel pulled him away.
“Man, Vee, if you survive this, you might not survive that!” Melegal said with a wide open smile.
“You two guys are both sick!” Mikkel said, shaking his head. “She is bad news, trust me, I know. Win, lose, or don’t fight at all tonight, she’s still gonna try and tear your legs off!”
Venir responded with a foolish grin and a shameless comment. The boy Nikkel gagged as his father Mikkel covered his ears.
CHAPTER 58
Trinos found herself stymied from time to time. A degree of frustrati
on had even set in, which was odd to one who had the ability to do anything; yet it did.
More often than one would expect, created things would evolve into things that were not supposed to happen. Still, her endless universe offered some surprises for the omnipotent ones who seemed to roam and do whatever they pleased. Trinos would run across unique changes to worlds that had come and gone. She would be fascinated and begin to study them, looking for answers. It did not happen as often as she would have liked, but by her eternal frame of reference, that was still quite often.
Her world of Bish was safe, tucked away from the meddling eyes of others. The rules were in place to avoid a catastrophic change. And so, while she roamed, she had left the tiny world of Bish hidden deep in their universe, in a place impossible to find. But within the infinite, there still remains’ infinite possibilities.
Another being like herself had been lurking near her precious world. Scorch made his discovery of her odd world quite accidentally. He began to study it with divine interest. Its unique set-up gave him enjoyment. But, he thought to himself, it could be even better.
CHAPTER 59
A stairwell opened up in the back of the tavern and sloped down. It was wide and steep, flattening out deeper under the ground. Venir looked ahead at a large tunnel that was cut from rock and gleaming iron ore. A muffled roar was in the distance. Warmth filtered in the air with every step and the salt of sweating bodies’ flared his nostrils.
The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals Page 24