The Current, a long series of stagnant rivers that did not flow, ran through enormous lakes and tunnels. At the moment the underling army drifted along the nearest bank. The creature, wherever it may be, could be down in the deep, how far Verbard did not know. He channeled his thoughts, pushing them forward, looking for any formidable life ahead. There were some trolls: stupid and hungry, their tiny minds having little purpose at all, but it was clear they did not like the invasion. Verbard released his spell. It was decision time.
Four albino urchlings appeared at his thought. Small and hulking, with large hollow nostrils and ears, they snorted and awaited his command. With a nod they dove one by one into the water, out of sight, leaving a trail of rippling waves above their path. Verbard watched as they emerged on the barricade of rocks, two crawling over the pile, disappearing over the other side. The others began pushing rocks out of the way.
Verbard let out a little grunt. Something was wrong. The normally quiet Current was even more so at the moment. He couldn’t afford to lose any more underlings, either.
“Ready the lanterns of the underlight,” he commanded.
Light. It wasn’t the enemy of the underlings, but it was of many other subterranean creatures. The underlings and other cavern dwellers tolerated each other because they were mindful of not disturbing one another, but in this case, it seemed, something else had already been disturbed.
A faint blue light warmed from at the bow and stern of the lead barge. The next barge illuminated to life as well, followed by the next and the next and so on. The underlings, each and every one, were staring abroad, their colorful gemstone eyes filled with a degree of uncertainty. The only things Verbard could hear were the cave dogs slobbering quietly on the troll bones. Irritation mixed with worry.
Scanning his surroundings, he got his first look in a lifetime at the ecosystem of the Current. Enormous stalactites jutted from the ceiling like teeth, smooth and round in some places, jagged in others. Verbard became anxious. One single formation falling would capsize a barge, not just one, either, but possibly all. It seemed too perfect not to be a trap.
The albino urchlings were moving the rocks from the corridor ahead, but their efforts would not be enough. Some of the boulders were huge, maybe over a ton, and it was going to take more than muscle to move it quickly. It would take magic, a great deal of it, too.
“Fetch the magi,” he commanded.
Suddenly, the barge pitched and rocked over the waters. Verbard watched the lake come to life, waves rolling and splashing into the barge. Something enormous emerged, rising higher and higher, towering twenty feet above the waters. Verbard hissed.
“Ready the harpoons!”
It was like nothing he’d ever seen: grotesque, humanoid, more fish than man, coated in weed and sludge. It stormed through the waters, a mindless juggernaut of fins and scales. Verbard summoned a protective spell. I hope it’s alone, he thought as the first barrage of bolts, arrows, spears, tridents and harpoons bounced harmlessly away.
Waves of water crashed over the bows, filling the barges, as the creature roared like a dozen trolls gone insane and smashed its arms into the ceiling. A stalactite fell, splintering wood and crushing underlings. Verbard shouted out another warning as more trolls spilled out from the mouths of the caves. They were trapped.
CHAPTER 36
Gone. Mikkel, Billip and Georgio had all departed with all the supplies they could handle in tow, helped by the shaggy pony, Quickster. That had been weeks ago, and Kam had barely been able to contain her emotions since.
She sat in her apartment above the Magi Roost, baby Erin propped up over her shoulder, as she patted the small of the baby girl’s back.
“Come on now, little girl, let it all out,” she said with a sniff as she rubbed her watering eyes on Erin’s pale blue blanket. She kept on patting, every minute seeming longer than the last. Baby Erin wouldn’t sleep without a thorough belch, which meant Kam wouldn’t get any sleep either, and sleep had been hard to come by since the underling invasion.
“Oh come on, Erin. I need rest; you need rest,” she said, patting harder.
Buuu-urp!
“Thank goodness,” she said, looking into Erin’s twinkling little eyes as she wiped her baby’s mouth. “That’s a big girl.”
Erin smiled with toothless delight, letting out the tiniest of giggles, melting Kam’s heart.
She hugged her little girl tight. She had never adored anything like her baby girl. Laying Erin down in her bassinet, she whispered a word and the gentle side to side rocking began. It was late in the day, the time between work and play, those precious moments before all of the worrisome patrons came to spread gossip and rumors.
Kam lay down on her sofa, pulled a blanket over her legs and closed her eyes, now too tired to cry.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Who dares! She swung her legs to the ground, hoisted herself to her feet and checked on Erin, who was fast asleep. Thank goodness. She swore under her breath as she wrapped a blanket around her barren shoulders. I’m gonna kill someone. Joline was the only friend she had left, and the older woman never would have bothered to knock, seeing as how she was the only one besides Kam who had a key.
“Who in Bish is it?” She tried not to yell.
A peppy voice from the other side of the heavy oak door responded by saying, “It’s just yer favorite halflings, Master Gillem and Lefty Lightfoot.”
She slapped her hand to her forehead. Gillem and Lefty had been hanging around more often now that the other men were gone. They were helpful, in an annoying and pestering way, offering to do things one normally wouldn’t want done or showing up during the most inappropriate times. Like right now.
“Go away,” she ordered them. “I’m taking my nap.”
There was an odd silence on the other side. She checked the lock. Just leave! Something about Gillem and Lefty was just plain odd.
“Kam,” Gillem said, “we don’t want to be any trouble, but we wanted to share a concern.”
“Blast,” she muttered under her breath. They were both full of concerns and suggestions, like two old hags who knew how to do everything but were too old to work. One day the food was served too hot, the next too cold. The flowers needed more water, and then they needed less. Dwarves should have their own section, outside, and men taller than six feet should always have to sit, not stand. She’d had enough.
“I don’t care. If you don’t like something, just go somewhere else that you do like, if that is at all possible, you two festering ear aches!”
That ought to do it. She leaned towards the door, brushing her hair behind her head as she did. Now, please go away.
Of course, insults only seemed to encourage the halflings to do better.
“Eh, Miss,” said Gillem, “ er Kam, we don’t mean any trouble. It’s just that … there’s a man, a strange looking fellow. He’s, well, he’s frightening.”
Ah yes, he’s probably seven feet tall and rides a rabbit the size of an ox. Little idiots.
“Have Joline take care of it. Now go away.”
“But, Joline went to the market.”
“Not this time of the day,” she argued.
“She ran out of onions,” Gillem said.
“And shrooms,” Lefty added.
Kam outstretched both of her arms on the door and fought the urge to slam her head into it.
“Why didn’t you go to market for her?” She asked through gritted teeth.
“She insisted,” they both replied.
Their voices were as reassuring as a grandfather’s hug.
“Just give me a minute.”
“Excellent, we’ll be right here.”
“No, I’ll meet you down there.”
“But I’d like to watch Baby Erin,” Lefty pleaded from the other side.
Kam shook her head. “Send up two of the girls.”
“But yer very short handed down stairs, it seems.”
“Get them now!” She said, kic
king the door.
***
Lefty felt like a nest of baby snakes were churning in his stomach as he and Gillem headed back down the stairs. The moment had come, despite all of his attempted delays. How did this happen? Why me?
Georgio, his best friend, was gone. He didn’t even get to say good-bye. Now, his best friend, who he had put up to so many devious tasks, had left him for the Outlands, leaving him with no one to turn to, not even Kam. His head was aching, and his heart was broken. All he had was Gillem.
He felt Gillem’s long fingers squeeze his shoulder, and he fought the urge to cringe. He’d suppressed many things, bottling them all up within, turning his core to stone. He was starting to understand that was what they wanted.
“Yer doing fine, Boy,” the halfling man said. “It’s almost over.”
Lefty nodded, but didn’t’ agree. If anything it was only the beginning of his career as a criminal, a hardened one, slavery without a personal cause. But he had to do it, so he thought, to protect Kam and his friends. Now they were all gone, and it was up to him. The lives of Kam and Erin now were solely in his hands. He wanted to save them, warn them, but visions of his own horrible watery death froze his tongue inside his head.
While making their way down the stairs and into the main floor, Lefty noticed The Magi Roost hosted few patrons, which was odd for this time of day. He sat down near the bar across from Gillem at a small table made for halflings, thanks to many pushy suggestions. Lefty hated that table, small chairs on long legs, surrounding a round table. Being small was bad enough, but sitting at a small table seemed ten times worse. But it had been just another distraction, not for him or Gillem, but for Kam and Joline. It was a devious game.
“Let’s have something to drink, shall we?” Gillem said.
No thanks!
“That would be good,” he said.
It was getting easier, the lying, cheating and stealing. His hands were steady, his mannerisms cool, and he swore he even had Gillem fooled. He rubbed his hands on his trousers and combed his fingers through his curly blond hair. Gillem’s eyebrow lifted the ever slightest. Good. He’d been practicing for days, adding a subtle move here and there, figuring Gillem would think he was nervous. That would be normal with so much at stake, but he could control it, turn it on or off as easily as sheathing a sword in a scabbard.
“We’ll get some cheese, too,” Gillem said quietly. “It will help settle our stomachs.”
Lefty nodded as Gillem motioned one of the girls over. The serving girl rolled her eyes before she made her way over, the sway in her hips gone. It was the one that had been quite fond of Georgio, and she was outwardly sad these days. As Gillem placed the order, Lefty cast a quick glance over his shoulder.
There was Thorn. Tall and leering, the man strolled throughout the tavern poking his crooked nose in everyone’s business. Several patrons, including a dwarf, had already left, and more were certain to follow as the dangerous looking man in sheepskin vest and trousers continued to tap his ringed fingers on the metal pommels of his swords. It was all part of the plan.
“That’ll be all, Dearie,” Gillem said, slapping the girl's rear as she turned to walk away.
In the passing weeks Lefty had been involved with the kidnapping plan that was designed to wear Kam down to a nub. He and Gillem had become the friendliest nuisances in the world of Bish, and it came so naturally. Lefty had even reached a point where he felt no shame in it at all. Kam, as strong and alluring as she was, now showed signs of exhaustion. It was a cold reminder of what he was up to, even though he tried to deny it. Deep down, he'd thought someone would arrive in time to prevent all this, but no help had come. Maybe Kam can save herself.
The waitress returned, set a pair of small jugs and a tray of cheese on the table and departed. Gillem tore off a hunk of cheese, dipped it in mustard and ate. Lefty followed suit with a smaller portion, and after many long minutes the entire tray was gone. The cheese did little to settle the gnawing feeling that was growing inside him. The jug of hot tea was of little comfort, either. Something was wrong.
Lefty looked over at Gillem and said, “Shouldn’t we send the girls up? Kam’s very impatient these days.”
“Give it a moment,” the halfling man responded, leaning back in his chair, long fingers drumming on the table.
Lefty didn’t like the way Gillem said it. There was something he didn’t know. It was at that moment he noticed something else: his feet were sweating. Oh no! Gillem gave him a funny smile. What in Bish? The older halfling looked under the table where his dripping feet were making a puddle on the floor. As Gillem’s eyes returned to his, a sliver of fear raced through him. What Gillem said next astounded him.
“You’ve done well, Lefty. A good student, one of the best, but now the real test begins.”
What is he talking about?
“We will go upstairs, you and me, and pick the lock. Inside we shall find Kam, bound and gagged by magic. Baby Erin will be long gone.”
Lefty could feel his thundering little heart collapsing inside his chest. No! How many days had there been to warn her? How many opportunities had he missed?
“She’ll never suspect us, Lefty. She’ll never suspect a thing thanks to yer damp feet. Thorn will take care of the rest.”
Gillem hopped down from his stool, and on numb legs, Lefty followed.
“Too late to warn your friend now, Lad,” Gillem said glumly. “Ye should’ve done that when you had the chance.”
CHAPTER 37
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk.
“What is that?”
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk.
Something was pecking on the exterior of Boon’s standing metal cocoon. The old wizard had ignored the first several minutes of the strange sound, assuming it to be another delusion of his imagination. But, the persistent sound remained.
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk …
“Am I some child's rattle? Another musing toy of a giant simpleton?”
He was talking to himself again. The giants kept a watchful eye on him these days, and he was happy that his lips remained free. His ramblings gave him company, but not freedom. No, the giants were privy to his tricks and his magic, which, for all purposes, was dormant. It had something to do with his cocoon, or sarcophagus; he didn’t know what to call it: an upright metal husk with three bars in front of a face hole.
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk.
“I’d curse right now if I remembered any curse words! And I know I used to know many!”
His prison didn’t sustain him. The giants did. They let him out every few days for a few hours, which he spent strolling around an abandoned study of sorts: no books, just musty furniture for people ten times bigger than him, and a cold fireplace big enough to burn a village. It was there he sat, ate and drank. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go. He didn’t even get out to toy with the latest captives, assuming there were any. He thought of Venir, on and off, wondering if the man ever escaped the Under Bish. Could he have made it back out of the Mist? It was of little curiosity to him now.
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk …
“This is obscene. I’ve truly gone mad!”
That’s when he heard the flapping and something bird-like landing near where he now rested, beside the fireplace's mantle. He squished his bearded face into the bars in front of him. He swore whatever it was had landed above him on the mantle. What is it? Boon shifted his weight on his aching feet, back and forth. His metal cocoon bumped against the stone hearth. It was torture, barely moving an inch inside, left to right, his energy within his frail body already spent. I must see it! He put what little weight his meager frame had into it. There was a scraping sound on stone as the cocoon teetered to the ground.
Thonk!
His feeble body paid for it, and his teeth cracked inside his mouth. Warm blood trickled over the wispy hairs on his mustache and into his mouth as his cocoon rolled and rolled before it came to a stop. Painful and nauseating. His eyes flitted open. There was a tiled floor, and the so
fa’s mahogany clawed foot could be seen from the corner of his eye. He was facing the wrong way.
He couldn’t muster the energy to speak. He lay still, mentally venting the maddening frustration, trying to block out the pain of his broken nose and cracked tooth. He wanted to know what had been making that noise. He had to find out before the giants came.
Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk-Tunk …
A sliver of the unexpected might just give him the advantage he needed. He might as well try to escape once more before he died. But for now, he wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER 38
“THREE!”
Baltor closed the distance in two quick steps, head down, fists up. Venir shuffled on his feet, keeping his shoulders square to his opponent's, eyes down toward his head.
Whap! Whap!
Baltor slugged two right crosses into his mid-section.
The crowd of people roared.
Venir winced as the heavy blows banged into his arm. His thick blood was beginning to burn.
He jerked back from a haymaker that clipped his chin and slid aside from another body blow, catching it on his back.
“Punch the lout in the groin, Baltor!”
“Make the giant fall!”
“Kill the loud-mouth story-telling liar, and drag his carcass back to the Mist where he can hump giants, dragons and such!”
Pop!
Baltor’s head rocked back on his thick neck, drawing an angry grunt. The man shook off the punch like a dog shedding water.
“Ha! That all you got?” Baltor spat blood. “I’ll have Adanna back in my sack in no time.”
There was something irritating about the man. Stupidity combined with arrogance. It reminded Venir of someone, but he couldn’t remember who.
“Take him to the ground, Baltor!” Another yelled. “Break his neck! You got the juice! Do it!”
Rolling in the dirt with the powerful man was a bad idea. With only one arm, it would be difficult to subdue Baltor. The man looked like he’d wrestled in the Pit before. Maybe the man had even battled in the Warfield. One thing was for sure: Baltor was as tough as he was mean.
The Darkslayer: Book 04 - Danger and the Druid Page 20