“RAH!” Venir cried, ramming Brool to his knuckles into the spider’s belly, then ripping it free with another bellow. An ear shattering screech followed. Spider guts coated him from head to toe, like spoiled milk or a toxic sewer. Something hit him hard, sprawling him to the ground, throwing spots before his eyes. He rolled onto his back as the spider crashed his way. Move! He screamed in pain as the spider fell down on his legs. He was pinned to the ground.
“Son of a Bish!” he yelled, drawing the bewildered gazes of the underlings. “Come on, you slat eaters! I’ve been waiting for this!” Venir raised his axe, chopping away at the spider’s flesh with fury, black and green chunks of the beast flying everywhere.
As if they had a single mind, the underlings jumped from their saddle, drew their edged weapons and attacked. Venir sat up, catching the ringing blows on his shield. He chopped the legs out from underneath one underling, dismembering it from the knee. It chittered in agony, crawling away. Venir tried to pull his legs free. Move quicker!
The helm beckoned a warning. The underlings were circling behind his back.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Venir fended off the nearest underling then shoved the edge of his shield in its mouth. Move! He flopped to the ground as a blade sliced over the top of his head. He cried out as something stabbed into his leg. He could hardly see from all the goo in his eyes, which also coated him from head to toe. He ripped his legs out from under the spider, rolled over one of the underlings and sprang to his feet.
The underling with a mouthful of busted teeth still fumbled for a weapon as the other three rushed him.
Chop!
One stopped to find its arm.
Stab! Rip!
One clutched at the gaping hole in its chest.
Slice!
The other fell to the ground, black-red blood burbling from its headless neck.
A sharp whistle caught his ears. The last underling, busted mouth and all, had managed a whistle. Brool shot from his arm like an arrow, cutting the underling's alarm short. Venir scanned the area as he wrenched his weapon free. He stepped away.
The spider’s spear-like tendril poked at his side. The creature lived, its red eyes full of an evil intent. He sliced away the tendril. Webbing shot from the front and rear of the dying creature as he tried to force its bulk up from the ground. One at a time, Venir cut its legs off. He jammed Brool’s spike in its skull.
“That’s for killing one of my underlings!”
He whirled at the sound of something he hadn't expected to hear: clapping.
There, among the grasses and the gore, stood Slim. He had the ears of a rabbit sticking up from his head.
“You can’t be serious,” Venir said.
Slim held his finger to his lips and said, “Sssh … not so loud.” The tall lanky man crinkled his bunny nose and added, “That smells horrible, and it’s all over you. We’ve got to find you a river, a big one.”
“Great idea,” Venir said, slinging the goo from himself. “We need to find some horses and our women, too. At least you survived. What happened?”
“What happened,” Slim said, his peaceful face showing a hint of anger, “is you left.”
Venir shook his head. More people were dead or abducted because of him, and he’d only been back in Bish a few days. In trying to prevent one bad thing he’d opened the door to another. He shook his head.
“Slim, it’s probably best you parted ways with me. Most people don’t fare so well in my company these days.”
“Bish happens, Venir. Get over it. Besides, I like you.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
Slim shrugged.
“Because you kill evil. You’re good at it.”
Venir took off his helm, surveyed the dead underlings and said with a smile, “I’d be lying if didn’t say that felt really good. Hmmm, I say we go and find some more." He chopped his axe in the air.
Slim’s ears perked up, and his nose began to twitch.
“I hate to say this, but I think more of those things,” he motioned towards the spider, “are coming.”
“Any chance you can turn into a horse so we can track these kidnapping fiends down?”
Slim’s ears shrunk and returned to normal. An older man, with long earlobes and calming blue eyes, remained. “Not today, but if we live till tomorrow maybe I’ll surprise you.”
In the distance Venir could see three large black things creeping over the landscape. Killing one spider was one thing, but three? Run or die. He looked over at Slim, but the lanky cleric was already running.
CHAPTER 49
A key. A key. A key.
He held the continual light coin in his mouth. It made what otherwise would be a very dark room quite bright. The small, tightly wrapped coin gave off quite the powerful beam of illumination. Melegal had become very fond of it. I wonder if McKnight knew about this key. Lighting a lantern or candle wasn’t an option. The smell of the burning oil or wick would linger and be a dead giveaway.
Melegal's hands ran up and down every nook and crevice of Lord Almen’s office. He’d been inside more than a dozen times over the past several months and noted every detail. He could have done it blindfolded if he had to, but why show off when your life was on the line.
Noting the thin layer of dust on the floor, his keen eyes followed a trail unseen to normal sight. The office, virtually dust free and dry as a husk of corn, still left many signs to his naked eye that was as sharp as a bird of prey's. Holding his chin in the nook between his finger and thumb, he bent down on one knee, eyeing a row of books and baubles on the bottom shelf of a book case.
“Hmmm. …”
Royal Lord Almen, when he was in his presence, rarely moved from his seat at the desk. Instead, the stoic man always remained in close proximity, never venturing far. In all likelihood, his most precious items were probably there. At the same time, it was likely the desk would be booby trapped. Setting a trap off was one thing, but resetting it was another. Melegal didn’t have time to risk it, so he chose to run his search from the outside in.
This is interesting.
He removed the coin from his mouth and fanned his hand up and down the shelf. Tiny particles of dust glittered in his coin's bright beam. Some floated; others remained affixed to their objects. There were golden dragon bookends, precious metal candle sticks, several finely crafted letter openers and so on, but dust coated each and every discarded object of appreciation.
What would the key look like?
Melegal aimed the beam high and low. Its brilliance identified other details that his own eyes in the dim lantern light had missed. Tonio’s sword, for example, was placed within a trove of weapons that appeared to have been discarded. The encrusted jewels on the pommel of the magnificent sword reflected with brilliance underneath the cloth Melegal had recovered it in. The murdering brat. The thought of the horrifying young man left his blood a little cold. What the monster had done to all of the sentries months back had been something he’d set up, the results more grisly than expected. But he lived.
The room itself, a five-hundred square-foot rectangle, seemed more vast than it first appeared as he shined the light around its edges. Another black case, somewhat ominous in its old mahogany finish, sat along the wall askew. The faintest of scratches could be seen at the corner of the case on the castle stone. A delicate breeze nibbled at his fingertips as he ran them along the back edges.
“Clever.”
Indeed. It was one of the better concealed passageways he’d ever encountered.
“And where might you go?” He pulled the case outward, not scraping, but gliding over the stone. A small door, less than his chin in height, greeted him. He pulled on a silk glove, reached down and grabbed the brass knob that jutted out just above his knees. He felt cold metal through his glove. Interesting. The mechanism’s springs pinged his ears as he twisted the knob and shoved it open. A whoosh of icy air nipped at his nose and ruffled his cloak. Chill bumps rose all over hi
s body.
He ducked down and crept inside. A tunnel, tall and wide as a large man, greeted him like a large mouth. Steps carved from the ground descended in a steep decline before dropping out of sight. His beam of light, not withstanding, reached less than thirty feet ahead. The air was musty, chilly and damp. He rubbed his burning nose. Melegal was accustomed to the tunnels beneath the vast City, but this was different.
What am I doing? Why would the key be down here? Fool, I don’t even know what the key looks like. Was this another one of Sefron’s games? He took a closer look at things. On the landing where he stood were a staff, a cloak and a pair of curved swords on belts and in scabbards. Cutlasses. Strange. Two torches hung on the wall, and there was a peg on the wall as well, and hanging from it was … A Key!
It was slender, a hollow head, a row of teeth, as long as his hand and made of dark steel. He wrapped his silk covered fingers around it and removed it from the peg. He checked the brass door knob and the key hole below it. Nope. Blast. This is either it, or it goes to something down there. He craned his neck above the steps and closed his eyes. Something was scratching against the stone. There was an ebb, something like breathing, and dripping water. I’m not going down there. He stepped back inside Lord Almen’s chamber and took a deep breath. His hand clutched at his heart.
No thank you.
He twirled the key in his fingers. It was different, certainly not like anything he’d ever come across before. A human locksmith could have made it, but the design wasn’t human. The teeth were more round than square, and the rivets weren’t smooth, but rough. How long would it be before Lord Almen missed it? Should he give it to Sefron? Draw a picture? Yes.
It was closing in on an hour, time to move. There was no telling how early Lord Almen actually came in. He made his way back through the small door and hung the key back on the peg. With relief he began to pull the door closed behind him.
A disturbance was coming from the other side of the main door in Lord Almen’s chamber room. No! He could hear voices on the other side. One of them was Lord Almen’s, and he was angry. He heard a thumb depressing the lever. SLAT! He began pulling the cabinet back into place. Ow! He pinched his fingers between the stone and wood from the effort.
“Remove that man’s head at dawn! See to it all the sentries are in the courtyard to bear witness. Outrageous! Find his superior and remove his right hand as well. Move, Imbecile!”
Melegal heard another sentry racing back up the steps just as he closed the small door. He could barely hear a thing on the other side. The little door seemed as thick as the stones that surrounded it. That’s when he closed his hand around the bright light of the coin. Bone! He felt for the key on the post and waited in the pitch black. What to do now.
He’ll post two guards for this. Even after he leaves, I’ll never get back out unnoticed. To make matters worse, he had a meeting with Lord Almen. He pressed his ear to the door. He thought he heard a muffled voice from within. It was hard to say. Lord Almen, more than likely, sat at his desk, plotted death and brooded.
I’m dead. He let his boots dangle over the first step. If you can’t go up, than you must go down. The only place I’m going is down.
CHAPTER 50
Cass’s slim, coated body was as stiff as driftwood.
“Somebody, do something!” Fogle cried.
The dwarven ladies removed Cass from his grasp and rolled her onto her stomach. Their strong little hands thumped all over the druid’s back while another dwarven woman wiped the goo from her mouth. Fogle brushed his gooey fingers through his hair.
She can’t die! She can’t!
Death wasn’t something he’d come to terms with. Ox the Mintaur had been the first friend he'd seen die, and that had been hard. Seeing this exotic woman—perfect in features and form—seeing her perish would be unfathomable.
“Do something, Mood!” he said, shooting the Blood Ranger a pleading look.
Mood stood, his solemn expression unchanged, unmoving.
Cough!
Cass’s body shook and shimmered. The dwarves lifted the woman into a sitting position and continued their heavy taps on her back. Fogle watched her fingers writhe and her arms sling. Her body lurched upright as her head heaved forward to retch. Something vile, muddy, brown and black gushed forth like a geyser from the druid's petite mouth. She stopped, gasped, then heaved again with more violent fury that before. The putrid smelly substance seemed unnatural and endless.
Ew!
Fogle turned his nose away. He glanced over and away again. Something about the exotic nature of their relationship had been damaged. At least he thought maybe it had. She lives. That’s all that matters. Well, I’m certain she’ll want to clean herself up. She’s puking again!
The retching and puking went on for another minute. The dwarven women had thin smiles growing on their chubby little faces. Cass had her legs wrapped beneath her, her body sagging into the arms of the women. She pulled her hair away and looked down at the massive pile of vomit she had created.
“That’s foul,” she said in a meek voice. “Burn it. Quickly.”
The women dragged her back. Mood dropped a torch into the bile. It burst into a roaring flame. The fire burned green and orange, the smoke shades of deep purple and pink, the heat not hot but cold. It hissed and squealed in anger, like a living thing in its last hideous moments of life. Fogle shielded his face with his hand from the strange beacon of flame. It was evil, vile and deadly. Whatever poison Chongo'd had in him should have killed him. He looked over at Cass. It should have killed her as well. He felt fortunate to be alive.
The fire let out a final vengeful groan and then extinguished as fast as it started, leaving nothing but silence and an unforgettable smell. Suddenly, Fogle Boon felt as weary as he’d ever been. He fought to keep his eyes open. It was a degree of guilt that kept them open. How much had Cass suffered for the dog, and how much had Chongo suffered for … Venir?
That’s when he heard Cass’s purring voice speaking in a raspy, not-so-seductive manner. His eyes latched onto hers, and he tried to make out the words coming from her grotesquely coated face. Somehow she was both beautiful and disgusting at the same time as she said, “Come, give your sweet a kiss.”
Something like a tiny mouse ran up and down his spine as he gaped. Then something huge shuffled at his side. Chongo rose to his feet. Fogle looked up and blinked, eyes growing as large as the moons at what happened before them. The dog’s thinning grey coat thickened and darkened to a deeper brown. Its tongues turned pink, its big eyes grew alert. Fogle scooted back as Chongo turned, swayed over to Cass and began to lick the entirety of the muck from her body. She giggled.
Mood’s big hand landed on his shoulder, and he could have sworn he saw the dwarf wipe something wet from his eyes. “Don’t get too cozy, Wizard.” The dwarf gave his shoulder a powerful squeeze. “The adventure has just begun.”
“No time to celebrate? I’ve not even gotten a chance to take my bath.”
“Better make it quick. Chongo’s waited long enough,” Mood said, pulling him up to his feet.
It can’t be time to go already. It can’t be.
Mood whispered something haunting in his ear.
“It won’t be long before ta’ underlings take Bish over. We must find Venir. The world's gonna need The Darkslayer.”
As if the last few months hadn't been difficult enough.
CHAPTER 51
The orange flames of a fireplace danced in her green eyes as she struggled against her bonds. Kam, a proud woman, a little more than thirty, for the first time in her life was helpless. The only thing keeping her mind from collapsing was her baby, an innocent creature even more helpless than her. What has he done with my baby?
The rogues had taken her up the steps and set her down inside a lavish chamber. There, she sat alongside a massive table, bonds biting into her wrists, gagged with a dish cloth. High back chairs of precious wood and velvet surrounded the ancient table. Piles o
f gold, silver and other precious metals were stacked up from one end to the other. There were jewels, goblets, fine china, tapestries, art and statues—the equivalent of a Royal throne room. A great sword hung over the fireplace mantle, shadows flickering on its ominous blade. There was something significant about it, a story perhaps, but she did not concern herself with that now.
Her belly groaned. Her leg burned, but the wound had been bandaged. Still, she had been sitting for more than an hour since the last man left. Her tight bonds had numbed her wrists, and the rag inside her mouth was dry. Her breasts ached. She coughed and sniffed. Where is she?
She had tried to move her chair, but the ropes were too secure and the chair too heavy. Instead, she sat there, chin dipping downward before rising against her straining neck. She heard heavy footsteps outside the door, the murmuring of voices. Come on! Then they were gone, and only the sound of the dying embers of the fire accompanied her. Her gaze moved to another door in the room, closed and filled with nothing but silence behind. What is he waiting for?
The hot flames kept the sweat running down her clothes. Every inch of her body was soaked with sweat. Every inch of her body had also been groped as the cutthroats took their time and turns, bringing her up the stairs. It seemed that all had taken a squeeze, a grope, a poke added with a few lip licking lusty glares. She’d never been violated in any manner before. She had a bad feeling the worst was yet to come.
Be strong, Kam. Be strong. You can survive this. You have to, for Erin.
Everything had been a disaster since Venir left, most particularly her. She’d been falling apart for months. She could not figure out if it was because or him or her. She was a woman that always knew what she wanted, but lately all she had been doing was second guessing herself. I’m a fool, and now my baby is going to die. She couldn’t help but think that was already a possibility. It was killing her inside. No! Her body shuddered and heaved against her painful bonds as fresh tears streamed down her rosy cheeks.
The Darkslayer: Book 04 - Danger and the Druid Page 25