“Sure,” Lefty said, resuming his pace. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Hee hee.
Sniff. Sniff.
Eep filled his beak with air and rummaged through the cave. A soft green glow illuminated the cavern that rested along the water of the Current.
Find something? Trinos asked.
“Possibly.”
He hopped up on a large crimson velvet sofa and sniffed it. Oran’s scent still lingered on it. Verbard’s did as well, and some others. He hopped over to a large wooden table where several vials and jars rested. A halfling’s head was pickled in a jar on one end. A pair of orc hands was in another. He picked up the jar with the halfling head, shook it, and cackled.
Put that down and move on.
He checked the shelves full of many jars and faces. The cells in the caves, where he had killed and tormented so many, lay undisturbed and open. The smell of rotting flesh lingered in the air. Cave bugs, some as big as his clawed feet, picked the skeletons clean of flesh.
“Ah!” he said, walking over, picking up a squirming bug that screeched, and swallowing it down. He patted his hard belly and licked his mouth. “Mmmm—uuuurp!”
Disgusting. Move on, Eep.
“Yes. Yes, Mistress.”
Wringing his clawed hands, he buzzed out of the cell. He missed all the things he had done with Oran. All the torture and mutilation. The underling cleric had turned him loose on so many things and let him do what he was designed to do: tear flesh asunder.
He landed on the sandy shore and lay his claw down in some footprints. Another underling’s scent lingered, and someone else’s as well. He could feel power and see a lingering yellow outline of magic that passed through Bish into another dimension.
I can see it.
“You can?”
I have a discerning eye. I know what I’m looking for. Well done, Eep.
“Yesss, can I kill something now?”
Now that you’ve found the trail, can you find it again?
“Once I have it,” he said, wringing his hands, “I’ll never lose it.”
Hmmm … I need to see his face first. Once I’m convinced, I’ll turn you loose on a new enemy.
Eep’s wings buzzed to life. He zipped over the still water, creating ripples. Claws bared and tongue hanging out, he said, “I can’t wait to see him, myself.”
Scorch stared up at a towering onyx statue of an underling mage holding up severed heads from all the races but its own. Blood dripped from the necks, filling a red death pool below, and the heads were still screaming. The garden was filled with statues of this sort, some far more grotesque, others absolutely beautiful, but dark.
“Beauty is in the eye of the holder, I suppose,” Scorch said, walking away. He locked his arms behind his back and eyed the details of everything. “Your kind certainly has a very devilish way of looking at things. It leaves me … conflicted.”
“I see nothing conflicting about any of this.”
“Oh, I’m not conflicted about your kind. I’m conflicted about something else.”
“I see.”
Sidebor and Scorch had spent hours in the gardens now, talking about many things among handfuls of urchlings that tended to the gardens.
“Allies, Sidebor. I think it’s time we sought any you may have.”
“I’m certain they are all dead.”
“Perhaps, but the Underland is abandoned, the forces divided. Not all can be happy about this?”
“The underlings are united in their conquest. They’ll see things through, conquer, and begin the bickering later.”
“I see. So have the underlings ever conquered the surface before? After all, you have been around a long time.”
“We’ve had our moments.”
“But you couldn’t sustain them?”
Sidebor’s ruby eyes narrowed, and his claws dug into his palms. “Victory on Bish has never been sustainable.”
“How entertaining,” Scorch said, staring up at a statue of a great troll stuffing two muscular human warriors into its mouth. “It seems my grasp of things has been enlightened.”
“How so?” Sidebor took his gaze away from the statue and searched for Scorch, but Scorch was gone. Movement caught his eye. Underling soldiers in dark plate armor came his way. Underling magi in dark, velvety robes hemmed him in from above.
Inside his head, he heard Scorch laughing. “Ishfuhn!”
It was an underling curse.
A ring of silver fire dropped from above and encircled him with lightning-like bonds. He howled and screamed. The more he fought, the stronger the force became.
“Ishfuhn!”
Sidebor submitted and with a heavy head was marched to Sinway’s castle.
Chapter 34
Melegal lay flat on the tavern floor, bruised and bloody. His scrawny chest rose and fell. His fingers twitched, and his lips were curled up on one side.
“The bleeding stopped,” Joline said. She’d rubbed a magic salve on his neck that sealed the gaping wound. She adjusted the stained white bandage around his neck. “He’ll survive just fine, but we need to get that bolt out of his leg, too.”
“I’ll do it,” Venir said, stepping forward and kneeling alongside his friend. He’d hardly seen a scratch on Melegal before, not even when they were children. Now the resilient but bony man looked half dead. It disturbed him.
Joline rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll handle this. You men cause damage. Leave it to us women to stitch the wounds.” She shook her head. “Just scoot.”
Venir rose up and scowled at the men who had carried Melegal in. They had wounds of their own.
One man unbuckled his plate armor. He was well knit with the mannerisms of a soldier. The half orc was taller than Venir, but leaner. He’d shaven most of his face, unlike most orcs. He wrapped clothes around a gash in his hairy arm and tore it with his teeth. The other two were mintaurs. Scuffed up and bloody, they didn’t say a word or attempt to patch their wounds.
“What happened?”
The soldier stepped forward, extending his hand. “I’m Zurth. Your comrade hired me from Palzor.” He paused when Venir didn’t accept his hand. “Sort of.”
“I’m called Slom,” the half orc said. “Your comrade, very mischievous he is. Killed Palzor. Gutted him like an urchin.” He spit cloth out of his mouth. “I don’t like many men, but I like him.”
“Palzor’s dead?” Fogle said, rising up from his chair. “Are you certain?”
The orc let out a rough laugh. He reached for a sack they had dragged in and pulled something out and held it up. The women gasped. Slom held a man’s head by the hair.
“That him?” Venir said to Fogle.
“It is,” Fogle nodded. “Melegal cut his head off.”
“No, Melegal gutted him. I cut his head off. We needed the proof.”
“Put that away,” Joline said.
“Er,” Slom said, looking at the face, “I think he needs a drink. Brah-hahaha!” He stuffed the head back in the sack. “But I’ll have to do the drinking for him.” He eyed Venir. “You pay?”
Venir ignored him. “What else, Zurth?”
The soldier brushed his black hair out of his eyes. “I’ll talk better with a drink.”
“You’ll talk worse with my fist in your throat.”
Zurth sized him up. “I’m not that hungry.”
Venir leaned forward.
Zurth threw his hands up. “Nor thirsty.” He backed up to the bar and took a stool alongside Slom. The burly mintaurs made their way toward the nearest hearth.
“They aren’t much for conversation,” Zurth said. He fanned himself with his leather gauntlet and glanced at the decorative bottles behind the bar. “It’s awfully warm in here. Whe
w!” His light-colored eyes glanced around. “Nice place. Some of the troops were talking about it earlier, but I’d heard about the Roost before.”
Fogle stepped alongside Venir. “He’s one of Palzor’s guards. Melegal dropped him once when we were imprisoned. Doesn’t seem likely he’d befriend us now.”
“Hah!” Slom reached behind the bar, stretching his fingers toward a bottle of grog. “He’ll confirm it. He’d be dead otherwise. Ah!” He grabbed the bottle and lifted it to his lips. He teethed the cork off and poured. “Pah!” He slammed the jug down. “Empty.”
“For the sake of slat, can we have a drink, brawny man?” Zurth said. “Check your friend’s pockets. All is there. He’ll confirm our story.”
Melegal moaned.
Joline had him biting down on a dowel rod.
Jasper and Jubilee held him down.
Joline began to ease the bolt out.
Jubilee’s eyes widened.
Jasper looked away.
“Brak,” Venir said, “think you can fetch a barrel?”
“Sure,” Brak said. He stretched up out of his chair and lumbered back toward the kitchen, leaning on a plank crutch.
“Who is that man?” Slom said. He did a double take. “That’s one big giant-headed man.”
“Go ahead and confirm your story now, Zurth,” Venir said. “He’s liable to be out for a while, and my patience is often short.”
“Certainly,” Zurth said, hitching his elbow back on the bar. He relayed to Venir everything that Fogle had seen and continued from there. “Your friend captured Palzor and was digging around about those grey-skinned fiends. It was interesting. He wanted to know who was behind it all. He wanted to find out everything he could squeeze. When Palzor’s troops came, I thought the King of Thieves would slip free, but Melegal, he killed him. One of the most powerful men in Three, and he’s stone cold now. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’ve an odd amount of interest for a hired sword,” Venir said.
Brak returned with a barrel of ale and set it on the bar. He pulled the wooden plug out with his fingers and stuffed the tap in.
Eyeing Brak with astounded eyes, Slom elbowed Zurth.
“What?”
“Did you see that?”
Zurth shook his head and continued, “You see, we like your friend. He killed Palzor, and we killed all the rest of Palzor’s goons.”
“What is your interest in it?” Venir asked.
“Survival of the greediest,” Zurth smiled. “You see, the guild is divided. The Nest is at odds with the Royals. We don’t like the underlings, but the Royals have the fiends doing their dirty work.” He shrugged. “The Royals have long been the top employers of our services, but with Palzor out of the picture, things can change.”
Fogle stepped in and said, “How so?”
“Once word gets out that Palzor is a ghost, it will be complete chaos. Every cutthroat will want to take control. It’ll be months before The Nest declares a leader. Maybe years, with the underlings making a wreck of things. Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin. “And there’s always the possibility the underlings could seize hold of the world below, which feeds the world above. It would take time without Palzor’s direction. He was one of the masterminds behind it all.” He laughed. “Your scrawny friend sure fouled things up. And there will be Bish to pay for it, soon enough.”
Slom handed Zurth a tankard, and they clanked them together and drank.
Zurth wiped the froth from his mouth with his forearm. “That’s good ale.”
“That’s a good tale,” Venir said, dropping his hand to his knife.
“Listen, friend,” Zurth said, easing back, “your friend didn’t so much find us as we found him. Me, I should be dead. One of my comrades is dead. But the rest of this crew, they’ve been staying close to Palzor’s watch. We are the eyes and ears of The Nest. It’s how we survive. Your friend presented a unique opportunity. It’s strange fortune that we all lived, and I’m glad for it. I hate those underlings.”
“So I’m to believe the rogues are the only force left to defend this city?” Venir filled himself a tankard. “Ha! I’ve little faith in that.”
“We’re all part of the guild. Everything we say is true.” He and Slom laughed and clanked tankards again. “Well, in this case it’s true.”
“It’s true enough, lout,” a raspy voice said.
Venir looked down at Melegal. Joline was helping him up into a sitting position while Jubilee wrapped up his leg. Melegal’s reddened eyes glanced through the people. The thief tried to hide his discomfort but could not.
“It seems you’ve found some new company, Melegal.”
“Anything’s better than my old ones,” he said, rising to his feet. “Ack, that hurts. Of course, a lack thereof would be more preferable.” He shoved Joline away and limped over to a chair, touched his neck, and grimaced. “Where’s my hat?”
“On your head,” Venir said.
“Ah,” Melegal said, smoothing it. He sat back into his chair, and his steel-grey eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure why everyone is still here. Any moment now, we’re going to be covered in underlings and arseholes, present company excluded.”
Underling Mage
Chapter 35
Melegal’s eyes lifted toward the door. He sat at a small table in a dim room of a dingy apartment far away from the Magi Roost. They’d departed more than a week ago, leaving only Joline, Jasper, Jubilee, and Erin behind.
A figure cloaked in desert-colored wool entered the room from the pouring rain. The man stomped mud from his boots and dropped his hood. It was Venir.
“It’s there, all right,” he said, tossing the cloak onto a rack nearby. “A hive in the ground. Catwalks. Railcars. Everything.”
“How many?” Melegal said.
Venir shrugged his big shoulders. “Thirty fiends, maybe fifty. I didn’t venture into the tunnel.”
“What else did you see?” It was Fogle who spoke. He sat on the floor cross legged with his spellbook in his lap. A mintaur was there, and Slom was too. Slom rested on a cot. The mintaur’s back rested against the wall as he filed the tip of his pick axe.
They’d all been cooped up in the dingy, candlelit apartment too long. Venir had been more than happy to get out and do some scouting on his own. The room was rank with sweat, and there was only one small window.
He tore a cork off a bottle with his teeth and downed some grog. “Ah!” He put the cork in the bottle and set it back in the small cupboard.
“Why didn’t you kill them all?” Melegal said.
“Why didn’t you answer my question?” Fogle added.
Venir took a chair and sat down by Melegal, squeezed his shoulder, and said, “How’s the neck?”
“Better, oaf. Now out with it,” he said, cleaning his nails with a small knife. “However, I cannot seem to shake the pain in my behind.”
Venir smiled. “Some things just don’t go away so easily.”
“Indeed.”
“Say, where’s Brak?”
Melegal tilted his head toward a closed door.
“Ah, good, but I don’t hear him snoring.”
“I cured that,” Melegal said, waggling his dagger in his hand.
Venir cocked his head and glowered.
“He still breathes, just not so loudly. It’s a trick I learned.” Melegal rolled his shoulders. The tightness was back between the blades. Moments of relaxation were becoming hard to come by. The sweaty stuffiness of the room didn’t help much, either.
Zurth and Slom had tried to convince them to head to The Nest, but he didn’t like the idea of living beneath the streets. And the guild had enough confusion now that Palzor was gone. Slom had anonymously delivered Palzor’s head to them.
“A
caravan of soldiers and men escort underlings to the depot. I saw that slime Royal, Cappy, among them. That explains much. I don’t think many are hunting underlings these days.” His face darkened. “So, boxes, sacks, tarps go in; men, women and children go out.”
Slom sat up. “What?”
“It took all I had to refrain.”
“You’d be a fool to do otherwise.” Slom said. “What man can fight a score of underlings and survive?”
Fogle, Venir, and Melegal looked at Slom.
“What?”
“Still,” Venir continued, “I think there is an opportunity here, me. It must have taken them months to carve out that depot. If—”
“Do you think there are any more?” Fogle said, cutting Venir off.
“Mind your business, mage.”
Fogle closed his book, got up, and said, “This is my business.” He walked over to the table and looked down on Venir. “Do you think there are any more?”
Melegal eased back. He could feel the heat between them. The pair made the air ripe with tension.
Venir tilted his chair back on two legs. “Why don’t you go take a look for yourself?”
“Venir, can’t we cast our differences aside?”
“Differences?”
Fogle found a chair, dragged it over to the table, and sat down. “Fine, you talk; I’ll just listen.” Fogle folded his arms inside his robes. “And hope you don’t try to pull my ears off for it.”
Melegal eased back. Idiots. One too brawny, one too … not brawny.
Venir let Melegal do the talking.
Despite his aversion to Fogle, in truth he couldn’t blame the man for how he felt, but he didn’t have to accept it, either. At the moment, he was more intrigued by other things, Melegal in particular. He loathed underlings. He wanted to destroy them. It was one matter the three of them could agree on.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 44