In the center of the vast underground cavern was a gargantuan column where an ancient stalagmite and stalactite met. A trail wound around the natural formation, from the bottom of the city up to where the centers met. Stroking his moustache, Boon said, “I knew there would be a spot. There always is.”
They began the long trek up the stalagmite to the sound of dripping water. A few steps into it, ghastly women with spider-like bodies ascended from the blackness in the streets. Three times the size of a man, the vile creatures came at the dwarves. Boon knew what they were. He was one of the few that did. They were pregnant female underlings, who became fat, hairy, bulging monsters during their nine years of pregnancy. They redefined the meaning of scary.
From the darkness, a female latched her legs into a dwarf’s chest, bit deep into his neck, and sucked the blood from his body.
Boon raced up the winding stairs. The women scurried up the stalagmite in howling pursuit. They would defend their home, their nest, the Underland, with their very lives. A female blocked Boon’s assent. He cast an arc of energy into her body, knocking her from the column. Behind him, the dwarves fought valiantly, but they were severely outnumbered. The spider-like females came from all directions below.
“I told Mood I needed more men!” He released an arc of energy, knocking two more from the column. He had to save his energy. He’d need his full power to cast the quake. Finally, hundreds of feet above the streets below, he came to where the formations met. There was only him and a couple of dwarves. The black-beards struck out with deadly precision, but they’d perish soon.
Boon found a deep purchase in the cleft of the mineral rock. He took in a deep breath. “This is it. It’s time to finish the underlings forever!” Closing his eyes, he channeled his power into the rock. The magic of the spell’s power flowed from his heart into his shoulders and into his arms and hands. With mystic words he chanted, “I summon the quake!”
The rocks cracked. Fragments chipped away.
A female slung the last dwarf aside, crawled up, and latched onto Fogle’s back. She sunk her fangs into his neck, draining the life within his body.
Boon’s will would not be conquered. Pushing every ounce of magic out that was within him, he said, “You will not win! I WIN!”
The entire column split from the bottom to the top and fell away in massive chucks. The females screeched and scrambled. Huge hunks of rock splattered them into the cavern floor.
Being pulled away with the magic fading from his fingers and the blood being sucked from his body, Fogle descended into the darkness, laughing.
The subterranean floor from the mountains above cracked in all directions. Boulders rained down on the Underland and all that lived. Finally, in a world-jarring crash that could be heard in the above world for leagues, part of the mountain range came down on the entire Underland.
***
Three months later, Mood, riding on the back of Chongo, returned through the West Gate of the City of Bone. Every sign of underlings, be it flesh or metal, had been scraped from the city streets and burned in the furnaces, but the stench of their rotten flesh still lingered. With heavy shoulders, Mood dismounted Chongo and walked through the ravaged gates of Castle Kling, where a handful of dwarves were still working.
“Mood,” Kam said, rushing across the courtyard. She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed. Erin hugged the blood ranger’s leg then moved onto the back of Chongo. “I’m glad you have returned.”
“Aye, good to see you.”
All of Venir’s friends who had survived arrived in the courtyard as well to greet him. Brak had an ugly scar on his neck. Jubilee held his hand. Georgio’s hands had grown back. His eye was fine. Melegal and Lefty stood side by side, petting Chongo. Billip and Nikkel were as well as any. They stood by a cart of supplies and were eager to get moving. Fogle shook his hand. Ebenezer and Rayal waved from the back of the pack. Elizabeth held the cat Octopus in her arms.
Dejected, Mood said, “If Chongo and I can’t find him, no one can. His home, or tomb, is in the Mist now, and all of the underlings with him.”
“I can’t believe Chongo can’t find him.” Brak hugged the big dog’s thick necks. “That doesn’t sound possible.”
“He’d be able to find his scent if he was still living, I’m afraid.” Mood handed Venir’s long hunting knife over to Brak. “I found this.”
Brak’s eyes became misty.
Kam sucked in her breath.
“Pardon, Kam, I mean to say, living on this world. In the Mist, it’s hard to tell. But I think, wherever Venir went, he took the underlings with him. All of them, I suppose.”
“No underlings have been reported since the reckoning at the gate.” Melegal scratched Chongo behind the ears. “Bone was peaceful an entire three days before the royal bickering began. It’s a shame that Venir couldn’t take them with him, too.” He caught Rayal’s eyes. “Most of them.”
With a faint smile, she hooked her arm in his, and together they walked away.
Brak and Georgio joined Nikkel and Billip. Brak said to Kam, “We are heading out. I can’t help but want to take a look for myself. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”
Kam rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him, but Brak still had to bend down. “Be careful.” She hugged and kissed the other three too. “All of you. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” With eyes full of tears, she watched them go. She looked at Mood. “I take it you’re leaving?”
“Aye.”
“And Chongo?” she said. Erin had climbed up on the dog’s back and was playing with his tails.
“I think he’ll always be here to protect you.”
“Good-bye, Mood.”
After the dwarf left, she said to Fogle, “Are you still going back to Three?”
“It’s my home, and it’s your home, as well. Don’t forget to come and visit sometime.”
“Is everyone leaving at once?” Kam said. She noticed Jarla leading Nightmare out of the stables. She’d been surprised the woman stuck around so long.
“Jarla’s going to escort me. As if I need her protection,” he said with a smile. He wrapped his arms around her. “Good-bye, Kam. I hope Venir comes back someday. If not, you know where I am.”
“Yes, with me.” Jarla helped Fogle into the saddle. “Until we meet again, you red-headed witch.” She gave a quick wink and smile. “Yah!” She and Fogle rode out the gate.
Ebenezer offered his arm. “Shall we get something to eat, Kam?”
With a half-empty heart, she said, “I suppose.”
EPILOGUE
Venir labored through the Mist, an automaton of death. His assault on the underlings did not cease. There was no quit in their pursuit of him. Back and forth they went in a tangle of limbs and busted teeth. Bones were chopped clean through. Muscle was shredded. He did not sleep. He did not stop. He fought.
He shuffled over the dead. Many of the bodies that he came across had rotted to the bone. With vengeance serving as a fuel to avenge all of those whom the underlings murdered and mutilated in the night, Venir hacked his way through the Mist in a dreamlike state. The reality he knew was gone. It was just him, the Mist, and the underlings. Juegen, badoon, spiders, magi, and clerics, with all of their invasive magic and webbing, pursued him. He fought them all. Spears, swords, darts, and bolts coated in poison ravaged his skin. Struck his bones. It didn’t stop him.
Unlike before, when his time in the Mist consisted of a never-ending free fall, he had purpose. The armament led him to his enemies. It led his enemies to him. In a fatal cat-and-mouse game, they fought on. He descended on a camp of them where he caught them sleeping and slaughtered them all. His trek went on for leagues. The days could not be counted.
An underling burst into his unseen path. Brool flashed out like a striking snake. Its head flipped off its shoulders. Venir batted it midair into the Mist. With no end in sight, he kept whittling down their numbers. He delighted in it. He hated it. Pushing himself a hundred times past h
uman limits, he did not relent.
He died.
He rose.
It happened more times than he could remember. The pain was never the same. Always worse, but he’d come back together to fight and die again.
He weaved his way through a channel of rocks. His blood-soaked boots were covered in dust. Webs were cast all around. He sliced through them and came upon a graveyard of bones. Underling bones. Helm throbbed. He spun around. Brool shattered the blades of two underlings. Venir stuffed his shield into their mouths. The tip of Brool ripped their guts out. A juegen in full armor staggered out of a hiding spot. His swords were quick, but not quick enough. Venir busted open the hard metal armor that normal steel could not penetrate. The underling died, its final breath gurgling its own blood.
Helm’s throbbing ended. Venir’s limbs went numb. He stood, axe in hand, swaying. He didn’t sense a single underling living at all. Can it be? His stomach growled. On feet that felt like bags of sand, he walked and walked and walked. Finally, the Mist faded, replaced by bright burning suns in the sky. He kept going for a mile, dropped to his knees, unbuckled Helm, dropped it in the dirt, kissed the sun-cracked ground, and lay down with his eyes to the sky. Exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep.
Venir woke in the soft arms of a beautiful platinum-haired woman. Her eyes shone like the stars. “Hello, Venir, are you well?” she asked.
A part of him wanted to sit up, but he was too comfortable. “Trinos?”
“Yes.” She gently ran her elegant fingers over his face. “You’ve suffered greatly, Venir. I marvel at your endurance. You survived where any other I’ve ever known would have perished. You are a true champion, and I’m grateful. Frankly, I don’t think I’d have made another appearance in this world if you hadn’t. They got to me, those underlings, so vile and full of evil. I should’ve known better. But you’ve restored my faith in many things.”
“I’m hungry, Trinos. Did you bring anything to eat?”
She pointed to a blanket spread out on the ground with a platter of all sorts of food. There were stacks of meat, steaming biscuits, and fragrant cheeses. He rolled off her lap and crawled toward it. “Eat.”
“This isn’t a dream, is it?”
Trinos shook her head. The silvery gown she wore was as gorgeous as her. Her hourglass figure was perfection. She drew her knees to her chest and watched him eat. “What will you do now, Venir?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve slain all of the underlings, and without them your world will never be the same.”
“I’d think it would be better, unless that is too much to ask.”
“Venir, you could stay with me. There are other worlds that could use a spirit like yours. And, I want you with me.”
He drank from a clay jug. “This is wine. Do you have ale?”
Blink. Eep appeared with another colorful furnace-baked jug and set it down on the blanket. The imp glared at Venir.
Venir glared back. “Interesting company you keep.”
“He is my creation. Obedient to his master.”
Venir grunted. “I thought you couldn’t leave Bish?”
She scooted over and cozied up to him. “There is another way that I only recently discovered. You see worlds can be as big or small as you can imagine. I’d like to explore more of them with you.”
He made a gruff little laugh. “Underlings or no underlings, I belong here.” He finished off a big bite of roasted venison, stood back up, and sucked the grease from his fingertips. He helped Trinos to her feet. “Thanks for the food and the axe, but I’m better off on my own.”
Standing as tall as him, she gave him a full-bodied hug and a kiss that set his blood on fire. In his ear she said, “If you ever change your mind just whisper my name. I’ll come for you.” She backed away from him, and holding the sack in her hand, she reached inside. She pulled the bottom of the sack out of the top of the neck, creating a rift in time and space showing a sea of black with twinkling stars inlaid on its tapestry. “Are you certain, Venir? You might not like what you find when you return.”
He slung Brool over his shoulder and said, “I don’t care, lady. I’m going home.”
***
After several days of walking southwest, Venir came upon familiar caravan trails that led to the City of Bone. From over a mile away he caught his first glimpse of the city’s expansive walls. Royal banners billowed colorfully from the castles’ spires. Veering away from the main path that led to the North Gate where the flow of traffic was busy, he headed toward the southern wall. Royal soldiers guarded the walls behind the parapet and battlements. The flow of traffic was easy. No one begged outside the walls.
Not wanting to risk having his axe confiscated, Venir entered into the cave that concealed the secret tunnel. He dug away the dirt that collapsed around it. He found a key in the cleft, dusted out the lock, and entered. Closing the door behind him he walked through the cold darkness of the corridor back into the abandoned stable. The musty smell of barn wood, manure, and hay was welcoming. He buried the armament in the hay and ventured outside of the stable, locking it behind him.
The spiders that filled the rafters when the underlings controlled the city were gone. Now, the pigeons lined the giant skylight that ran from one end to the other. The old barn was as decrepit as ever. Still filthy as a pig in blood, Venir stole a moth-eaten cloak from the stable hand’s nook. It was snug over his shoulders, but it would do. He traveled the streets, not pausing to look at anyone. The foot traffic was much like it used to be. Merchants fought for spots along the road for their carts full of wares and merchandise. Blurry-eyed vagrants staggered through the streets. Small groups of the city watch trampled by on horses. They busted a man who dared to argue with them over the head with a straight club of wood.
Venir weaved his way through the filth-ridden alleys, angling for the Drunken Octopus. As the setting suns shadowed the city and the hot cobblestone streets began to cool, an odd feeling crept over him. Bone was his city, but it was not his city. Something was off. He recalled what Trinos said that he might not like what he found. What was she talking about? Determined to get cleaned up before he pursued Kam, somewhat fearful of what he might find, he stopped outside the Drunken Octopus. The sign that hung above him had a fresh coat of paint.
As soon as he pushed his way through the door, two goons zeroed in on him. “Get out of here, bum!” one man said. He had a chewed-up ear and wasn’t nearly as big as Venir. He shoved Venir in the chest. Venir picked the man up by the neck with one hand. He slugged the other man in the jaw with the other. The goon was out cold, possibly dead.
The one in his grip pleaded in a raspy voice, “Please don’t kill me. Please!”
Venir’s hood had fallen down over his shoulders, revealing his face. Sam, the barkeep, hustled over. With caution he said, “Let him down. He’s just doing his job. Sit, have a drink. It’s been a long time, stranger.”
He dropped the man and took a seat behind the table at the bar. He could feel every eye in the smoky room on his back. They weren’t the same kind of folk he was used to. Judging by their clothing, they were royals, a snickering and snobby ilk.
The pock-faced barkeep filled a tankard of ale to the rim and added a clay tumbler full of grog. “It’s on the house. As much as you want.” He looked over Venir’s shoulders at the men glaring at him from the table making crude remarks underneath their breath. “Just ignore those cackling hyenas. They don’t mean well, but they pay well.”
Venir gulped down the ale. “I need to get some clothes and get cleaned up.”
“I’ll set you up.”
Venir drank one after the other then staggered up the stairs. The chronic tension behind his eyes eased. For the first time in years he relaxed. Upstairs, a bath in an iron tub had been filled with steaming water. Fresh towels and suitable clothing were laid on the floor. He stripped everything off and took a seat in the hot water that sloshed over the rim onto the floor. He let out a long “Aaa
aaah!” All alone, he soaked for an hour. He clawed at his beard that was down to his chest. For the first time, he realized that he had more hair than he ever had. He hollered out, “I need a trim and a shave!”
A simple maiden entered. Dressed in drab clothing, she made quick work of his beard and hair. Clean-shaven, Venir dried off and dressed. His boots had been polished, but blood had still soaked into the leather. Refreshed, he made his way down the stairs. The tavern was empty, aside from two dozen royal soldiers in full suits of chainmail armor. His eyes drifted toward the barkeep, who said, “I had no choice.”
Weaponless, Venir raised his hands. “What am I wanted for? I just got here.”
“You struck a royal henchman,” the commander of the group said. He was a stocky man with a coarse head of blond hair. His chin had been split by a blade at some point. “Will you cooperate?”
“I suppose.”
With his arms shackled behind him, Venir was marched down the streets to the Royal Roadway. They passed the West Gate, which was heavily guarded but wide open. They moved on in front of where Castle Kling once stood and entered the courtyard. From there, Venir was led into the throne room. A man in the full array of garish royal clothing sat on a chair cast from pure silver and encrusted with pearls. His head was down. He stroked the fur of a huge black cat on his lap.
He waved his hand, and the soldiers unlocked Venir’s bonds and departed, leaving the two men in the vast throne room all alone.
Venir studied the man. The cat was Octopus. The smoky eyes of the feline made him certain. But the man who could be Melegal he wasn’t so sure about. His fingers were too pudgy and his hips too full for the seat. But the stringy hair that hung in the man’s eyes was salt and pepper. Breaking the silence, he said, “Melegal?”
The man stopped stroking the cat. Octopus hopped away and glided out of the room. The man’s steely gaze met Venir’s. His eyes widened. His jaw hung for a moment, and he said, “Finally, the prodigal lout returns! Where have you been?”
The Darkslayer: The Battle for Bone (Book 10 of 10) (Bish and Bone) Page 14