The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands

by Craig Halloran

  He helped the women up.

  “We need to go. Gather all the gear and supplies.”

  No one wasted any time.

  “I’ll get the food,” Brak said, while Melegal was gathering the rectangular case he’d taken from the corner of Lord Almen’s study.

  “Uh, you do that, Brak,” he said, turning around to look.

  The mangled underling remained pinned to the ceiling.

  Melegal sniffed a chuckle. “Seems you have some of your father in you after all, Brak. Well done.”

  Jubilee hugged Brak’s legs. “You saved us.”

  “All right, enough of that. Let’s go,” Melegal ordered. “As Venir used to say, Brak, 'Where there’s two underlings, there’s a dozen more waiting.'”

  “Slat,” Haze said.

  Melegal pulled his blade from the underling he'd killed. Its citrine eyes seemed more alive than dead. People always said it was best to burn them or cut their eyes out, but Venir said that wasn’t the case. ‘Just chop them up til they move no more, and you’ll be fine,’ Venir’d said. A bad feeling still hung with him, though. Bone was under attack, and for the first time in months he missed Venir.

  “Hurry, we need to leave,” he said, leading the way out the door.

  It was dark, but Melegal allowed a little light from the coin when needed. He cupped his ears, expecting sounds of underlings. Nothing but the scurry of rats and dripping water. Better make this fast.

  Jubilee's hiding spot beneath the city streets was adequate but not as far removed from the heart of the city as he’d like. Popping up into the streets now would leave them exposed to any soldiers or Watchmen who were looking for them. To be safe, they’d have to travel farther down below the city.

  “It stinks down here,” Haze commented, holding her shirt up over her nose.

  “Life stinks,” Melegal replied with a wry smile, reaching back and grabbing her hand, “you’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “I’m worried about my sisters, Me.” She was still shaking. “I’ve never seen anything as scary as an underling before. I’m scared, and my sisters are probably guarding that Everwell. They’ll die before they abandon that post.”

  “We can’t fret that at the moment. Let’s make it topside first. I’ve got another spot to roost. They’ll be fine until then, I’m certain,” he said, trying to reassure her.

  Bish! All I need is another big mouth to feed. Melegal and his family of big bellied urchins. What you won’t eat, they will.

  Twisting and turning, Melegal quietly led them through a half mile of tunnels and stood at the threshold of an abandoned door. There were stairways all over the city like this, all part of a long failed infrastructure filled with catacombs. Melegal had learned much about it as he chased down the Slergs. It was another world: dark, dank and lonely. Most tunnels were caved in by dirt or heavy rubble, making it impossible to move farther down. Whole families resided there, the most desperate citizens Bone had to offer. Still, despite the sanctuary, not as many people haunted the tunnels as one might expect. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the underlings or something else. He remembered the presence he'd sensed months earlier: powerful and evil, unlike anything he’d ever known. Perhaps that’s what kept it purged of more life.

  “Put on your cowls,” he said, making his way through the door and up the stairs.

  One by one, they went by him, up the stairs on heavy legs. Using the coin's light, Melegal took one last look down the tunnels. The bright beam cut through the muck and slime covered walls, giving it an odd radiant shine. He exhaled through his pursed lips. Ah …

  “Where are we going?” Jubilee asked, eyes bright and curious beneath her cowl.

  “Be quiet, and you’ll soon find out.”

  The southern part of the city was humming with activity. Crowds of people were pressed down the main street towards the gate. There was talk of nothing but underlings, unexplainable deaths and misery.

  Perfect.

  Melegal led them to the barn, taking the side entrance, avoiding all the traffic at the other barns where Royal soldiers were preparing horses. There was shouting, ordering and hollering from the barns next door, but this barn was still quiet and abandoned near the south entrance of the wall. He looked up into the rafters and saw the rope he’d used to kill McKnight. It was eerie.

  “You sure didn’t do a very good job avoiding the stink,” Haze said. “Why would you bring us here, anyway?”

  He opened the small door that was Quickster and Chongo’s stable and ducked inside. No Quickster. That wasn’t a good sign. The little bit of hope he had fled. Maybe they’d taken off.

  “Now what?” Jubilee said, plopping down in a bed of hay.

  “We wait,” he said, closing the small door.

  Jubilee and Haze both pulled the cowls from their faces, saying, “How long?”

  At least Brak was quiet. The big man moaned like a wounded cow and sank to his knees, holding his belly. His fingers were covered in blood. How had Melegal missed that wound?

  “Brak! Brak!” Jubilee jumped and pulled the cowl from his face. His face was grey and pasty, and his eyes fluttered up in his head.

  Melegal braced himself behind the man to keep him from falling.

  Brak was panting. “It’s all right, Jubilee. You … you’ll be better off without me. M-More food that way. S-so ssssad, dying and st-still being hungry.”

  “Don’t wail, Slerg,” Melegal hissed in warning, “or we'll all be dead as well.”

  He lowered Brak into the hay and ripped off the man’s dirty shirt. The wound was deep and fatal. How had the man made it this far? It didn’t seem possible. Brak might be a thick skinned slow bleeder, but time was running out. He looked at Haze, who only had a haunting look in her eyes as she shook her head. The son of Venir was a goner.

  CHAPTER 44

  “Venir calls his hand-and-a-half axe Brool. It’s the deadliest weapon of all. I saw him chop an underling in two with it… more than once. One time, he chopped off a forest mage's head and batted it down the path. It was the funniest thing I ever saw, in a weird sort of way. I’ll never forget that.” Georgio slapped his knee. “And those Forest Magi won't, either; I’m certain.”

  The young man kept rambling, and she let him go. I was good to be in the presence of someone more cheerful than dour for a change. But Trinos’s mind was racing, recalling what she knew about the sack, the tool she'd created to keep Bish balanced between good and evil. She rubbed her arms and shoulders. An unnatural chill was in the air, raising goosebumps on her arms as a stiff breeze tangled her hair.

  “And the helm. It can heal him. Brought him back from the dead—at least I think he was dead—at least once. I saw it for myself.”

  Trinos wouldn't have thought she'd let such an important detail slip her mind. But it had. In her own crude way, she’d put it upon one man, one person at a time, to use a mystic power that would sway the balance back and forth forever and ever. What a charge that would put a person through, handling such awesome power. Yet, it seemed to do its job. And here sat a young man who'd witnessed it in action.

  “Melegal was there. I swore he was crying over my almost dying, but he’d have sworn it was sweat. He’s still mean, though. Lefty was there, too, along with Mood and Chongo,” Georgio’s voice trailed off. He had a saddened look on his face.

  “What is it, Georgio? What's wrong?” she asked.

  “Ah … nothing.”

  “No, please tell me.”

  “My friend Lefty, the halfling I told you about, the one with sweaty feet.”

  She giggled and nodded. It was another one of the touches from her creation she’d forgotten about.

  “He caught up with another one named Master Gillem.” Georgio’s face bunched up. “Turned him rotten, that halfling did. Always lying and stealing. And no one said a thing about it but me. They were all stupid to it or something. Ah, he acts happy, but I know he’s not. Just a miserable
little halfling.”

  “You really care about your friends, don’t you?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Georgio, I care about people, too. Perhaps we can bring them all here, and I can help you keep them out of trouble.”

  Georgio looked around, frowning.

  “I don’t think Venir would like it here. He likes the Octopus and drinking the nasty tasting Grog. Lefty might like to come back, though, but I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Ahem,” a voice interrupted. It was Corrin, holding his hat to his chest.

  “Yes, Corrin?” she said.

  “Trinos, ah … well, the people are worried about the underlings. They think we need some … er … fortifications. Some are even talking about leaving, but I don’t let them. I tell them if they go, they can’t ever come back,” he finished with a firm nod.

  “Corrin, must you always be so harsh? They are just frightened.”

  “Yes, I fear I must be,” he said with a bow, “unless you say otherwise. And, those men, Mikkel and Billip, well, they're getting frisky with the women.”

  “And how do you know this?” she said, closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun.

  “I can’t find any of them, aside from the new boy, Nikkel. He’s working with the others, as well should be this one.” He tipped his chin at Georgio.

  Trinos huffed as she rose. There were many things to consider now that she’d become involved. The people needed protection. They also needed self-control. Georgio, who she liked very much, wanted to leave rather than stay within her sanctuary, and Corrin was nothing but a worry wart. It was a wonder that her world managed to keep it all together, yet it did, and somewhere on Bish, a man named Venir unknowingly had that responsibility now. It didn’t seem fair.

  “I must leave you momentarily. Get along and behave, Corrin. And Georgio, I hope you’re still here when I return.”

  ***

  Georgio was wiping his clammy hands on his trousers, admiring Trinos's beautiful face and tranquil speech, and then she was gone as if she wasn’t ever there.

  “Huh?”

  He looked at Corrin, and Corrin looked at him, both looking around. He’d never seen anyone disappear like that.

  “I’ll be. Not again!” Corrin said, wringing his hat. “Why did she just do that for?”

  “She said she’d be back,” Georgio added.

  “Sure, and the last time she did that she was gone more than a week. And that’s no picnic when these people have to survive without her. They get antsy. And with the talk of all the underlings, it’ll be much worse than the last time.”

  Georgio didn’t know what to say. It seemed Corrin had his hands full as he stomped his feet, hands on hips and twirled around. It couldn’t be that bad, though.

  “We can help, Corrin.”

  “Who, you and those leg chasing louts? I’d rather you didn’t bother. It’ll only make things worse. If anyone asks, you don’t know anything about Trinos. She often comes and goes. Pah!” Corrin spat on the ground and started walking away, “Just stay out of my way and keep your mouth closed. Blasted responsibility. It used to be so much easier: killing them rather than taking care of them.”

  All Georgio wanted to do was go and find Venir. He needed to find Billip and Mikkel and convince them it was time to go. As he walked around the District, the only person he could find was Nikkel, who was pushing a load of stones with a wheelbarrow.

  “Do you know where your father is?” Georgio asked.

  Nikkel shrugged his broad shoulders. It was clear he was growing into a sizable frame like his father. “No, why?”

  “I want to get out of here.”

  “So, go already,” Nikkel suggested. “You’re a man, aren’t you? You can do whatever you want to. Me, I have to do what my father says when he’s around, but not when he’s not.”

  Father! With all the commotion, Georgio had forgotten about his own family that resided south of the Red Clay Forest. He wanted to check on them as well.

  “Tell Mikkel and Billip I’m heading home, to the Red Clay Village.”

  “Don’t be stupid!” Nikkel said, tossing a large stone from the cart. “Underlings are as thick as a hive of bees out there. Besides, last I heard, the Red Clay Village was gone. Even if your family survived, they wouldn’t still be there now.”

  Georgio fell down on his butt. Nikkel’s words stunned him. In all these months, he’d given little thought to his family at all. And now, for all he knew they were dead. He’d given little consideration to them before. All this time, he’d been more worried about Venir than his own family. What kind of son did that?

  “You aren’t going to cry, are you?” Nikkel said, sitting down by his side. “Father says crying’s for women and scrawny little men. He also says ‘You’re safer dead than alive in this world.’"

  “What in Bish is that supposed to mean?” Georgio said, wiping his eyes.

  “I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to say about now,” Nikkel stretched back up and resumed unloading the wheel barrow. “Want to help?”

  Georgio missed his family. He wanted to see them so bad right now. He wanted to find Venir as well. Mikkel and Billip, as well meaning as they were, weren’t the most reliable. And Trinos, as captivating as she might be, could certainly handle herself. Venir had said, ‘If you want to be a man, act like a man. If you can’t take care of yourself, how do you expect to take care of others?’

  Georgio got up and said, “No. I’m getting out of Bone.”

  CHAPTER 45

  “Will you get down?” Darlene said as she settled her wide hips behind the rocks. “Please?”

  Scorch didn’t feel the need to do any such thing. Why would he bother to hide from anything? Still, he didn’t want to ruin all the woman’s excitement by not participating. As Darlene had told him on the trail, ‘It's not sportsmanlike.’ He huddled by her side, watching her beady eyes shift back and forth under her uni-brow.

  “Good,” she breathed through her puffy lips, “just be still and quiet while I sort this out.”

  Scorch locked his fingers behind his head, lay down and closed his eyes. He’d gotten used to this. Darlene was a devoted hunter. She’d killed a boar, a hawk, and a pair of rather large horned rabbits. She’d convinced him she was quite the fisherman, too. Her pale brown eyes were always filled with energy as she tirelessly skinned the bloody meat from the bones. She was truly content with her role in the world, even though the meat she cooked wasn’t particularly good.

  “Scorch,” she said in a harsh whisper as she nudged him.

  He popped open his eye and looked at her. It was hot, just like any other day, but Darlene’s head was always bone dry. Now, beads of sweat adorned it like rain, and her tanned cheeks were flushed. He rolled over to his belly and peeked over the rocks.

  “Hmmm …” he said.

  Over a hundred yards below their rocky perch, a squad of small, well-armed grey skinned people were digging holes in the outback ground. They weren’t human, but the frightened screams of their prisoners were. Scorch rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. He could feel Darlene’s uncertain rustlings at his side.

  “Er .. well … um … Scorch … uh, I think those are underlings. What do we do?”

  He could sense her heart pounding inside her chest and the fear of the unknown in her sweat. But that wasn’t all.

  He spoke in a calm and reassuring voice, saying, “We are safe here, Darlene. No worries at all. Just keep an eye on them, and when the moment is right, we will go.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she replied, her voice more steady than before.“You’re safe with me... Yet,” she said, sitting down beside him.

  He could feel the intensity of her eyes on him. He re-opened his eye.

  “Yet?”

  “Um … you see, I can’t just sit and watch those people die. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not!” She grabbed his cloth
es. “Underlings are evil. All they do is kill people. They torture and mutilate them. I can’t just sit here and not do anything. It wouldn’t be right.”

  He propped himself up on his elbows. “But what makes you think those people need saving, and why would you put yourself in peril? You’ve known bad people, like your husband and such sorts. What if they’re just as bad as them?”

  “It doesn’t matter if they're good or bad.” She pulled an arrow from her quiver and loaded her bow. “They’re men, not underlings.” She stepped over Scorch and took a step down the hill, looking back at Scorch with a smile. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to kill an underling before I die. If I don’t make it back, I’d appreciate it if you buried me instead of them.”

  Scorch found himself perplexed as he watched her go. The woman, durable and crafty as she might be, didn’t stand the remotest of chances. And the men and women prisoners, though not as bad as some people could be, he sensed were hardly worth saving at all. Still, the hearts of the underlings were unlike anything he’d ever encountered. The things they did and were capable of.

  Below, as silent as a deer, Darlene had closed within fifty yards of the underlings when she let the first arrow fly. It sailed true, catching a shoveling underling in the throat and knocking it into the grave. The next arrow caught an underling in the chest, piercing through its mailed armor. The black creatures scurried up the hill now, zeroing in on the doomed woman.

  Scorch rose to his feet, shaking his head. Darlene was terrified, but she kept on shooting when most people would have fled. Her next arrow buried itself in a tree, and the following in an underling skull. He had to admit she was pretty good with that bow, but her wisdom lacked the same accuracy.

  Now, the human prisoners were on the run. Good for them. She’s spared them momentarily from their agony. At least she’d given them a few more moments of freedom and the hope for escape. But Darlene’s daring was only seconds from coming to a chilling end. Once the underlings got a hold of her, they’d rip her to pieces.