“What do you mean, ‘accept what we have to do’? Don’t you mean what you have to do?”
“We’ll go back soon.” Boon lay back with his arms behind his head and rested beneath the suns. “Let’s just finish this mission. We need greater allies.”
“This mission’s taken more than a year. It might take more years, at the rate it’s going.”
“Not that mission. The mission we’re currently on. Don’t you pay attention?”
“What other mission?”
Boon didn’t reply. The old wizard began to snore softly.
Fogle chucked his stick away. Hate it when he does this. Hate it when he does anything. It had all started with the striders. Four armed, long-legged men with bug faces. Their war drums were beating now. The jungs were gathering their clans as well. The sun-browned, course-haired nomads with devilish beards had joined in. Boon had been very effective in convincing them the underlings were a threat to everyone on Bish.
Let’s see what Inky is up to. He closed his eyes and made the connection with his ebony hawk, which was a constant companion to the winds in the sky. Fly over the army. Fogle swore he could feel the wind rushing past his ears. When he flew with Inky, the gorges in the ground didn’t seem so deep and the mountains were not so high. The experience was exhilarating, being able to see mile after mile through the great ebony hawk’s eyes.
Don’t land, just circle.
He could see movement across the harsh landscape. Men were clustered here and there, and on the plains a small army formed: jungs, striders, men, and dwarves. Different patches of people from all over the north. Woodsmen, farmers, and soldiers from small cities. Dozens of them had become hundreds, and hundreds had become over a thousand. It was a force. But forming an army was one thing. Keeping them together was another. Boon had been appointed leader, to keep the order while he, Fogle, and sometimes others recruited.
Hardly enough to march against the underlings.
He and his ebony hawk-familiar had been keeping tabs on the underlings, who had armies of thousands spaced all over the northern Outlands, devouring everything in their path. Boon had acted swiftly and avoided them so far, but a growing army couldn’t stay hidden forever. Fogle couldn’t figure out if the underlings didn’t know about them or if they just didn’t consider them a threat.
They won’t ignore us forever. Keep scouting, Inky.
He allowed himself to enjoy the flight a little longer, then broke the connection. He and Inky had gotten so close, that his familiar could warn him of any danger. And yet, he didn’t sleep much better at night because of it. There was always something worrying him. Either something was cackling in the wind, or the quiet was just too quiet.
What did he mean by ‘we need greater allies’? What kind of allies does he have in mind?
There was something about the way the old man said it. It didn’t sound like he was talking about people. But what else? If Fogle had his pick, he’d like to see some Blood Rangers among them. He missed Mood and Eethum. Maybe Boon was talking about the wizards in the City of Three? Maybe there were other races he’d yet to see. All of the races that gathered and counseled didn’t have any good to say about the royals. The ruling class of Bish had let them down. No assistance. No encouraging words. Fogle never thought he’d see the day when men bowed to underlings, but apparently in Bone it had been happening.
They say it’s always been bad, but never this bad. Even Grandfather says so.
He reached over, grabbed his rucksack, and removed his spellbook. It fit in the palm of his hand. He opened and closed it from the middle. One. Two. Three. The spell book became bigger each time until it covered his lap. He leafed through all the pages, stopping on one or another to meditate. It took almost an hour.
I can only hope one of these comes in handy. Every time I memorize one thing, I find I should have learned another. It’s a good thing I have powers that work without the pages. But these spells are something.
He ran his finger over the text of a spell his grandfather Boon had written, called Raw Bones. The wizardship was fascinating.
It’s not my style, but why not? They’d do the same to me.
Boon popped up into sitting position and rubbed his eyes.
“Alright, I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To finish the mission,” Boon said, standing up.
“Which is?”
“Getting more allies. We need the giants.”
Chapter 8
“Wait!” Billip warned the over-sized brigand on the over-sized horse, stretching the bowstring back along his cheek. “You might want to reconsider that. I’m an outstanding shot with this thing.”
The large figure’s chuckle was like a rumble of thunder. He pulled back the shroud that covered his head. The moon-shaped face of an ogre rested on great shoulders, and his skin was dark and gray.
“Go ahead; take your best shot, Archer.”
Twang!
The arrow skipped off the ogre’s skull. His body was like a stone statue.
Slat!
Billip loaded another arrow and fired.
Twang!
It skipped off the ogre’s cheek.
“Your little sticks can’t hurt me. Nothing can. I am Gondoon Stoneskin.” He stepped off his horse and advanced. He was much taller and broader than Brak. Two men in one. All ogre. “After I break your necks, I’ll feast on the hearts in your chests.”
Billip’s blood raced. He’d never seen such a creature before. He had led his friends to their deaths.
Should have stayed in bed.
“Why don’t we just give you our gear?” Billip said, shouldering his bow. “There’s no need for bloodshed, Gondoon.”
“As I said, I hate humans.” He nodded to his men. They dropped their hoods, exposing their faces. Ugly, ruddy-skinned and coarse-haired, it was a brood of orcs, full-blooded orcs. They practically worshiped ogres, back in Two-Ten City. Were enthralled by them. “Tell the others to lower their weapons, and we might give you a quick death.”
Billip cracked his knuckles.
Buy time. Buy time.
“We don’t die easily, and we aren’t that good to eat.” He made a quick scan of the surrounding area. “And there are more of us than what you see.”
Gondoon snorted the air and peered around.
“I don’t think so. Kill th—”
Clatch-Zip!
Nikkel’s crossbow bolt rocketed through the air into the ogre’s gaping mouth. Its neck recoiled back, and it roared a horrible sound. It ripped the bolt from its mouth and shouted a bloody order.
“Kill them!”
The brigand orcs converged.
Nikkel fired, dropped Bolt Thrower, and side-stepped a jabbing spear. He unloosed his father’s club, Skull Basher, from its sling and brought it around full force.
Crack!
Hard wood filled with metal studs shattered the orc brigand’s arms. Nikkel whirled in time to catch two orcs charging at him. He twisted away from one jabbing spear, but the other spear clipped his shoulder. Nikkel’s sinewy arms rose up, and the club came down.
Whack!
The orc’s skull cracked like porcelain.
He swung and missed the other one.
The orc tripped him with its spear and jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground with its greater weight. It wrapped both hands around his neck and squeezed.
“Argh!”
Georgio caught a spear in the leg. With his sword, he hacked into the spear shaft, cutting it in half. He reversed his swing and cut the orc’s neck out.
The next orc advanced, snarling and ramming a spearhead at his chest.
Georgio sheared through the shaft.
The orc’s ey
es widened, and its hairy hand went for its dagger.
Georgio swung again, severing its arm from the wrist.
It cried out, waving its arm and spraying blood everywhere, including Georgio’s eyes.
“Idiot orc!” he said, dashing the blood from his eyes. He swung wildly at the orcs that crowded in. “Get back!”
Jab!
A spear tore through one side of Georgio’s flesh and out the other.
“Aaaaaaaah!” he cried out and sagged to his knees.
The orc brigands kept coming.
Nikkel’s crossbow fired, and Brak swung. The white cudgel exploded into the nearest brigand’s chest. Brak felt its chest cave under his blow and watched it sag to the ground. He stepped into the path of the next one that made a bead for Billip.
The big orc took a poke at him.
Brak snatched the spear by the shaft and jerked it from the orc’s hands.
It slugged him in the jaw.
Brak slugged it back in the face.
Whop!
The orc shook its ugly face, bared its teeth, jumped, and grabbed his legs.
“Skewer him!” the orc yelled toward the others.
The skirmish had exploded around them. Every man and orc for himself. It seemed the orcs went after the smaller men first, avoiding the tall brute with the large ash cudgel.
Brak reached down, picked the orc up, and drove it down on its head.
Its neck cracked on impact, and its body went limp.
Huffing for breath, Brak searched for his comrades. Nikkel was buried in a throng of orcen meat. Georgio was blanched like a skewered pig. And the stone ogre Gondoon was squeezing Billip like a child in its arms. They locked eyes. Billip screamed, but his words made no sound.
“Do something, Brak!” Georgio yelled.
Brak surged into the action. In three great strides, he flanked Gondoon’s rear and swung Spine Breaker into his back. Bright white light exploded.
Scrakk!
The ogre’s arms loosened around Billip, and the archer kicked free.
Gondoon staggered forward and onto a knee.
“Hold him off,” Billip said, picking up his bow. “I’ll help the others.”
Brak reared the white ash cudgel back, barring Gondoon’s path to the fracas. The ogre straightened his back and leered down at him with angry yellow eyes.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Gondoon said, cracking his head from side to side. “Now I’m going to rip the beating heart from your chest. The weaponless ogre hunkered down and rested his knuckles on the ground. He was unlike anything Brak had ever seen before, almost eight feet tall and maybe six-hundred pounds. Brak felt small by comparison. Gondoon rubbed one of his shoulders. “Not sure what you hit me with, but I felt it.” He eyed the softly glowing cudgel gripped in Brak’s hands. “Magic tools are for women. Are you a woman or a warrior?”
Brak dropped the cudgel to the ground, raised his fists and gritted his teeth.
“I’m a warrior.”
Gondoon rose up to his full height, towering over Brak, and said, “No, you’re a dead warrior.”
“Nikkel!” Billip yelled. The young man was underneath a vicious assault of orcs. He whipped a shaft out of his quiver and took a point-blank shot.
Thwack!
The arrow punched through the orc’s skull, putting a third eye in its head. Billip ripped out another shaft and fired into the mass of tangled bodies.
Thwack!
An orc brigand lurched up with an arrow through the neck, leaving one orc, which tangled with Nikkel. The pair writhed on the ground. The bigger foe wailed on Nikkel with hammer-like blows. Billip went for another arrow. The orc lurched up, holding a dagger that had been driven into its gut.
Nikkel shoved the dying orc off him and ripped his dagger free. His dark skin was coated with blood. He wiped the blood from his eyes and picked up Skull Basher. Up and down it went, finishing off the orc. “Bone, those things stink.”
Georgio shouted at them.
“A little help please!”
With a spear jutting through his side, the curly-headed warrior swung his sword like a wild man, keeping the orcs at bay.
Twang!
Billip’s arrow buried itself in one orc’s chest.
Nikkel charged another, going in swinging hard.
Bones broke. Living flesh screamed. Arrows whizzed through the night. In seconds, the remaining orcs had fallen. The ground soaked up their blood.
“Pull this thing out of me,” Georgio said, grimacing. He glared at Nikkel. “Do it now!”
Nikkel wrapped his hands around the bloody shaft.
“Are you ready?”
“Stop smiling! Yes I’m ready!”
“I’m not smiling,” Nikkel said. “On two.”
Georgio nodded.
“One …
Yank!
Georgio fell backward screaming.
Billip and Nikkel looked at each other.
Billip shrugged, saying, “He’ll be fine.”
That’s when someone else started screaming. It was Brak.
Fists up like mighty hammers, Gondoon Stoneskin came straight at Brak and attacked. His punches were fast and heavy.
Pow! Pow! Whop! Pow!
Brak covered up. His arms and shoulders absorbed the heavy force, but every bone was shaken. He struck back. Busted the ogre in the nose.
Crack!
Nose bleeding, it smiled back. Half of its teeth were missing.
“You picked a bad night to start a fight, Man.” Gondoon lowered his shoulders, closed in, and threw everything at him.
Brak blocked, punched, and dodged.
Gondoon hammered, hammered, and hammered.
Brak’s teeth clattered. His chest rattled. His knees wobbled and hit the dirt. Bleeding and reeling, he fought his way back to his feet.
Gondoon snorted.
“Big and tough for a man. Small and weak to an ogre.”
Brak was dazed. His vision clouded.
Gondoon walloped him in the gut, lifting him from his feet.
Brak collapsed on the ground, face first in the dirt.
“Stupid man can’t hurt Gondoon. No man can hurt an ogre.” He spat on Brak. Grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his knees. “First I break your back, and then I rip it out.” He hoisted Brak high over his head with his arms. “Enjoy the view. It’s your last one.”
Brak’s head cleared just in time to see the frightened looks on his friends’ faces.
Billip fired an arrow that skipped off the ogre’s forearm.
“Help!” Brak yelled.
Gondoon brought him down on his knee with ram-like force.
Crack!
Brak couldn’t feel a thing.
“Flank him!” Billip ordered.
He, Georgio, and Nikkel fanned out, weapons ready.
The ogre laughed at them, pumping his arms over his head and saying, “I can break backs all night, little people.”
Billip’s blood charged. Brak lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, unmoving. The ogre lorded over him with a triumphant look on his horrible face. The beast was a man-killer. He’d dealt with them plenty in Two-Ten City. Cruel. Cunning. He’d watched Venir battle two part-ogres in the Pit, but never a full-blooded one. He’d never heard of one with stone-like skin either.
“Steady, men,” he said to the others. Nikkel’s pale eyes shone bright in the night. Georgio clutched at his belly with one hand and held his shaking sword in a bloody grip.
Gondoon stared over them. He grunted and said, “You’ve killed all my orcs.” His eyes narrowed under his protruding brow. “Those were good orcs.”
“There�
�s no such thing,” Billip said. He drew another arrow and nocked it. The arrow head’s tip had a soft blue hue. “Let’s see how that stony skin handles this.”
The ogre’s eyes widened. His massive forearms shielded his face.
Billip stretched the string along his cheek and aimed for its belly. Crying out “Ack!” he loosed the shaft, missing the ogre. A spear had pierced his thigh from an orc gasping its last breath. Billip fell to the ground in blinding pain. He pulled the spear out and screamed.
“Biiiiiiiish!”
Georgio charged. Still reeling from the spear, he made a halfhearted swing.
The ogre blocked the blow with its forearm and roared.
Tonio’s sword sliced through its stone skin to the bone.
Gondoon reared back. “What kind of steel is that!”
Nikkel rushed in with Spine Breaker in his hands.
Scrakk!
The ogre lunged.
Nikkel was quicker. The mystic cudgel of Leezir the Slerg exploded into the ogre’s back.
It roared.
Georgio thrusted.
Glitch!
His blade sank deep into the ogre’s leg.
Gondoon made an angry sound. Spit frothed on his lips.
Nikkel and Georgio readied their weapons to strike again.
The seasoned ogre struck. His long arms lashed out and locked on each of their wrists. “Now I have you!” As if they were children, he slammed them head-first into each other.
Georgio saw spots, groaned, rose up again and started swinging like a wild man.
The ogre limped away toward his great horse, climbed on, and rode into the night and out of sight.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 19