“Son of a Bish!”
Venir gritted his teeth, blood racing with new life, and scurried for the door. It was too far.
Crash!
The troll ripped into the stairs and tore the posts asunder. Massive beams snapped like kindling. Stairs and railing were tossed like hay. Its monstrous hands—each big enough to crush a man—shredded through planks like wheat.
Venir, thirty feet high, felt the entire structure buckle and give. The troll, staring at him, roared again. Feeling the catwalks teeter beneath his feet, Venir roared back. He took a glance toward the door.
Too far.
Glaring at the troll that shook the post beneath him, he gripped Brool like a spear and leaped.
Fight or die.
Epilogue
Sitting at her vanity and staring into the mirror, Lorda Almen ran a brush through her hair. Tears ran down her once-delicate cheeks. A bruise shaded her eye. A blemish showed here and there, and one of her teeth was broken. She sobbed.
A snort startled her, took her breath. On her bed, Creed’s bed, Lord Grom snored like a grizzly. She’d just spent the better part of the evening fulfilling his wants. His depraved needs.
Lord Almen had never defiled her. Never humiliated her. He had cared for her. Respected her. A high-born knight compared to this animal.
She missed Creed. She needed Creed. Something about the young man could make things right in her world. Lord Grom feared him for some reason she had yet to discover. But her freedom and the freedom of all the Bloodhounds hinged on that one man. And she was surprised Lord Grom had not killed him. But she felt that time was short.
She eyed Creed’s weapons that leaned in the corner nearby. On cat’s feet, she made her way over, stopped and spied over her shoulder. Lord Grom snorted and rolled away from her.
I’ve got to end this. To Bish with what happens.
She eased a dagger, a fine poniard, from the scabbard of one belt.
A dog growled behind her shoulders, its throat a rumbling thunder. She eased the poniard back inside its sheath and slowly turned. The dog was bigger than her. Long-haired and shaggy. Grey, much like Lord Grom. She sighed, made her way back to the vanity, and started to sit down.
Lord Grom stirred.
“What’s going on over there?” he said, rolling over and blinking his bloodshot eyes.
“Nothing. I just think your hound is hungry,” she said, brushing her hair.
Lord Grom stretched his heavy arms, yawning and saying, “That makes two of us, but I’m feeling more spry than hungry at the moment.” He patted the bed. “Come, Catherine. Do what you did for me earlier, once more.”
Standing and letting her pink robes slide down her plump figure, she forced a smile.
“My pleasure, Lord Grom,” she said, easing her way over. She slowly crawled up on the bed. “Certainly,” you bearded pig!
Suddenly, life was better. The streets felt like gold beneath Fogle’s feet. He was happy. Happy as a swine in a mud hole. Side by side, he walked with Boon, practically swinging his arms. Behind him, Tarcot followed. The four-armed bug-faced warrior drew many stares, but little gawking. There had been striders in the City of Three before, just not many.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Boon said to him.
“Do what?”
“That,” Boon said, pointing to his lips. “You can smile. And it’s not half bad. You could draw women like bees to honey, smiling like that.”
Fogle clamped his lips and shook his head. He hated it when his grandfather said things like that. It made him uneasy. It made him think of Cass. He couldn’t help but wonder if that woman was still keeping house with a dragon, of all things.
“Ah,” Boon said, looking at him, then looking away, “I see you’re saving it. Good idea.” He chuckled. “You don’t want to overuse it.”
Does his tongue ever cease?
Fogle marched ahead, nodding greetings at the people he passed, oblivious to his tattered condition. He’d had an aversion to people before, but now he was glad to see them, despite their dour expressions. It felt like it had been forever since he’d been home. Never before had he experienced the feeling he felt now, being in the midst of people. The Outlands offered little human company other than his grandfather. He almost wanted to hug them all.
“Look!” Tarcot said, laying two hands on their shoulders and pointing skyward with the other two. “What is that?”
Two figures were falling from one of the great towers.
“Great Bish,” Fogle said, “it’s people.”
Those who fell were halfway down, headed for certain death. A burst of energy surged inside his head. He stretched his thoughts out and caught them with his mind. Less than a foot from the street, they stopped. Fogle, Boon and Tarcot ran for them.
“I’ll be,” Boon exclaimed.
It was Venir’s friend, the rogue, Melegal. His normally pale face was ghost white. Sweat beaded his brow. A woman Fogle didn’t recognize was with him. He lowered them.
The thief kissed the cobblestones, locked his eyes on him and said, “Did you just stop my untimely death?”
Fogle nodded.
“I don’t often say this, but thank you.”
Fogle nodded and stretched out his hand.
Melegal reached for it, but jerked his hand back, staring at Tarcot.
“Ugh … what is that?”
“A strider named Tarcot,” Fogle said.
“And he’s with you?”
He nodded and said, “He’s the one that spied you plunging to your death. You might want to thank him too.”
“No,” Melegal said, “one thank-you is enough for a lifetime. Does he drink?”
“Heavily.”
“I’ll work something out then.”
Boon stirred the woman on the ground. She started to wake up. Eyeing the tower,
he said to Melegal, “What in Bish were you doing up there?”
“Delivering flowers,” the thief sneered.
“Well,” Boon said, “I take it they didn’t like the arrangement. I’m surprised you’re still of sound mind and body. Those are dreadful people up there, you fool.”
Melegal smoothed his cap over the side of his head and said, “Everyone’s dreadful in one way or another. And I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”
“Seems about right,” Fogle said. “Is the Magi Roost in good order? How is Kam?” He swallowed.
“Huh,” Melegal said. “Let’s go see. It’s been awhile.”
Boon helped the woman to her feet. Her eyes were wide and blinking.
“Hello,” he said, “I’m Boon. And who might you be?”
“J-Jasper,” she said, looking up at the tower and shaking her head.
“Well Jasper,” Boon continued, smiling and leading her down the street, “You are a pretty little thing. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“No.”
Aiming for the troll’s skull, Venir plunged headlong toward it.
It swatted.
Venir drove Brool’s spike clean through its hand, drawing forth a shrieking howl.
It slung Venir to the ground, flattening him on his back.
He lost his grip on his axe and lost his breath.
The monster stomped forward.
Venir rolled away from the foot and flattened on his belly as a fist came down.
The troll busted its knuckles on his shield, clattering Venir’s teeth. It reared back and wailed, shaking its hand.
Venir scanned for Brool. The great weapon lay behind the troll.
Bone!
He rolled onto a knee and unslung his shield.
The troll pounced and hammered away at him.
Venir felt t
he jarring impact in every bone. His body trembled under the monster’s power. His iron muscles had never taken a tougher beating. The towering troll rose its fists over its head and prepared to bring them down again with monstrous fierceness, bellowing a sub-human roar.
Venir slung his shield inside its mouth, busting its teeth and wedging itself inside its jaws.
Urk!
It flayed like a maddened animal.
After hopping through the danger to snatch up Brool, Venir swung the great blade with ram-like force into the troll’s tree-trunk leg.
SLICE!
The razor-sharp edge passed clean through.
The monster toppled, screeched, and fell.
Thoom!
With lion-like ferocity, Venir pounced into attack.
Hack! Hack!
Chop! Chop!
Hack! Hack! Chop!
Chunks of troll went everywhere, coating the blood-mad warrior. Venir climbed over its back, all pain gone, and delivered several pulverizing blows to its skull.
The troll’s body shuddered, convulsed, and went slack.
Chest heaving and body coated in troll blood and guts, Venir half fell from the monster’s back to the sandy ground below. His head was still ringing. He spied the last underling he’d seen fleeing.
Helm’s urgings eased.
Gulping in a mouthful of air, he shuddered and moaned.
They’ll be back. A hundred next time. Better get moving.
The stairs and catwalks leading out were a pile of scrap wood. The cave wall surface was too sheer to climb.
Slat!
Spitting blood, he limped over and jerked his shield from the troll’s mouth.
“Ugly as an underling’s mother,” he said, heading for the dock. He looked down at his blood-soaked boot. It was bad, but he lived … still. He was making his way down the planks when something inside one of the half-open crates caught his eye. He tore the lid clear off and looked inside. It was filled with small leather purses. He pulled the drawstrings back and poured the contents into his hands.
“Bish!” he exclaimed.
Gold coins glittered in his palms, along with a few precious stones. He had stuffed half a dozen purses into his pack when he felt Helm throb again. He grabbed another, limp-scurried onto the barge, and pushed it free with the guiding rod. He put his shoulders into it, pushing harder. Faster. Away from the dock. Away from the slaughter. Down the dark river he went, in search of a way out from the subterranean world with one thought in mind.
I’d better live long enough to spend this gold.
Book 3
Chapter 1
Kam polished the waxy black surface of the bar and sniffled.
How many of his miscreants must I tolerate?
She rubbed harder, digging her teeth into her lip. Her stomach was queasy. She grabbed a goblet, filled it with Muckle Sap, eyed the glass, and sighed.
“Are you drinking again?” a peppy voice said from behind her.
Kam’s shoulders tightened. “Are you being a nosy little pest again, Jubilee?”
The tawny-headed girl hopped her butt up onto the bar with a spry look on her face. “Joline told me to keep an eye on you. She worries you’ll become a lush.”
“A lush!”
Jubilee shrugged. “Well, something like that.”
“Joline didn’t call me a lush,” Kam said, knocking back her drink. “Now get. Bus those tables over there.”
“It’ll keep,” Jubilee said. “Nikkel’s got it.”
Kam’s cheeks flushed. “You little—”
“You miss him, don’t you?” Jubilee cut in.
“What?”
“The big man, Vee. You kicked him out, he hasn’t come back, and now you regret it.” Jubilee’s feet dangled over the bar, swinging back and forth. “I can read you, Kam. Your insides are all over your face. Try smiling once in a while, like me. See?” She grinned, showing that a tooth in the back was missing.
Kam let out a brief giggle.
“That’s good! Feel a bit better, don’t you?”
“I think it’s the Muckle Sap that does that.”
Jubilee picked up the bottle and set it on the other side of her.
“Do you mind?”
“You’re on the job,” Jubilee said. There were plenty of people around, but it was quiet. It was often quiet on dreary days.
“It’s a bar,” Kam said, snapping the rag at Jubilee. “Now get. Get!”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“About Venir?” Kam swallowed a lump in her throat. It even hurt to say his name. He’d crashed back into her life, and she’d run him off. Why had she done that? “So I miss him,” she said, “but I hate him too.” She squeezed the rag. “And I’m not sure which is more.”
“Women really are messed up,” Jubilee said. “We let too many things bother us, while it seems that men don’t let anything bother them at all.” Her eyes found Nikkel’s, and she looked away.
Kam let out a smile. “Oh, so I see you have man problems. What did he do?”
“I caught him talking to Shirl so close that their lips almost touched. He’s a pig.” Jubilee looked Kam in the eye and added, excited, “Can you fire her?”
“I could, but I don’t think that would put an end to his flirtations. He’s got much of his father in him, and he’s at that age.”
Jubilee stuck her chest out and said, “I’m of age.”
“No,” Kam started, and then abandoned the idea. I’m tending to enough children that are not my own. “Let’s have this chat some other time, Jubilee.”
“All right,” the girl sighed, “Is Venir older than you, or are you older than him? I can’t tell how old he is on account of all the scars.”
“I have no idea.”
Jubilee bobbed her head.
They both fell silent.
Kam couldn’t shrug off the sense of dread inside her. Something felt horribly wrong about Venir being gone, horribly wrong everywhere, and her stomach was always queasy. Something caught her eye on the stairs.
Georgio was dragging Brak down from the balcony. He stopped at the edge of the stairs.
Kam gasped.
Jubilee’s head jerked around. “Georgio!” She jumped off the bar and raced up the stairs.
Kam rushed right behind her. “Have you any sense of decency?” Kam said. She took a knee alongside Brak.
“I’m all right, Kam,” the giant young man said.
“Let go of him, you idiot!” Jubilee kicked Georgio in the shin.
“Ow!” Georgio said. “He told me to. He needs to get out every once in a while, you know.”
Jubilee grabbed Georgio’s arm and bit down into it.
“Bone! Jubilee! Quit it!” He let go of Brak’s arms. Brak’s head clopped off the wooden floor.
“See what you did?” Jubilee said, shoving Georgio away.
“Me! You did that, Jubilee!”
Jubilee scooped Brak’s head up and into her lap and looked into his eyes.
It touched Kam, and she said, “Are you all right, Brak? Really?”
“I just wanted some air, was all.”
“Well, it’s raining.”
“Sounds nice to me.”
Brak’s face seemed pleasant. Almost serene. If there was one thing Kam did like about the young ones, it was that they stuck together, despite their differences.
“What were you going to do?” Jubilee said, shooting Georgio a look, “drag him down the stairs?”
Georgio shrugged and said, “He didn’t want me carrying him down the steps in my arms, said that would be weird.”
Kam giggled.
Jubilee did too. “I suppose it wo
uld,” Jubilee said. She hugged Brak’s big head. “Soon, you’ll be carrying me up and down these stairs again, Brak. I swear it.”
“Thanks, Jubilee.”
Kam brushed the mop of Brak’s blond hair from his eyes. “How about a trip in a wagon?”
“Anything outside would be great,” he said, “so long as it isn’t any trouble.”
Kam glanced up and down Brak’s mighty frame. His thick skin hid all his heavy muscle.
“Nikkel!” Kam yelled out over the balcony rail. “Get up here.”
“Oh, don’t bother him,” Jubilee said, “he’s probably busy kissing Shirl.”
“Good for him,” Georgio said.
“Shut it, Georgio!”
“You jealous little priss,” he said, chuckling. “You like Nikkel.”
“I am not jealous. I’m a Royal, you know,” she said, checking her carefully manicured nails. “Some barmaid can’t compete with me.”
“Sure. Royal,” Georgio said, rolling his eyes. “Last of the Slergs.”
“I’m going to stab you in the throat when you sleep, Georgio.”
Georgio gulped.
“Jubilee!” Kam exclaimed. “That’s enough.”
Nikkel appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a broad smile on his face. “Yes, Kam!” the young black man said.
“‘Yes, Kam’” Jubilee mocked under her breath.
“Come up here and help Georgio take Brak to the stables.”
Nikkel bounded up the stairs, taking four at a time.
“Sure thing,” he said. He looked at Jubilee. “I like your nails. Very pretty.”
Jubilee’s face lit up like the sky. “Oh, these.”
“Yuck,” Brak said. “Can we get moving, please?”
Georgio took him under the arms while Nikkel hoisted up his legs, “Up you go!” Nikkel said, and down the stairs they went.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 30