“Of course not. It’s what your brigands called you behind your back, Jarla.” Slim reached over to a storage shelf and grabbed a small saddlebag. “We need to go.” Slim led the way through the murk with a glow from the tip of his finger on his human hand.
The tunnel was long. It must have been a mile at least, but it seemed longer to Fogle. He wasn’t sure what to make of Slim. The healer was strange.
By the time they made it out of the tunnel, the moons, yellow and green, hung low in the sky. The forest was dark and creepy with all of the vines and moss hanging from the branches everywhere. The insects chirped, and Fogle slapped a mosquito on his arm.
Great, we’re back in the green hive of insects again.
Nearby, the horses nickered. They were all loaded up and ready to go. A dwarf was standing with them, a grey-bearded one with a hump in his back who hobbled on a bad leg.
Slim spoke with the dwarf softly, and the old stump of a man vanished into the tunnel.
“A friend. One of the true few,” Slim said, taking the reins of his horse.
Olg and Ugg mounted up on a pair of huge brown burros.
A long eerie hoot like that of an owl startled Fogle. “What was that?” he said, climbing into his saddle.
“That was a warning,” Slim replied.
“What kind of warning?” Jarla asked.
“Well, we’re out of the city, but the underlings are still nearby.” Slim dug his heels in. “Ride, everyone. Ride!”
On the impulsive suggestion, Fogle took off after Slim, and the others were already moving. He took a glance back. Ice froze up his veins. The glowing gemstone eyes of the underlings rushed through the dim brush of the forest. Like a pack of chittering wolves they came.
CHAPTER 31
Ebenezer Kling stood inside the banquet room. Far from being as vast or as tremendous as the one inside Castle Kling, this one had a roughly crafted dining table for twenty. The furnishings weren’t grand, but they were well built. The table had benches and not chairs, and there weren’t any decorations on the table. He gazed up at the huge wrought-iron chandelier. It was the only piece of value in the entire room.
“This place smells like nothing but dogs,” said his mother, Manamus. Her robes weren’t fanciful, but they were of the finest craft and linen. The pale gray blended in with her long hair. Her lips were shriveled, but her pale-green eyes were strong. “I say let the underlings have it. The less stink, the better.”
“Try to be polite, Mother,” Ebenezer said. He walked over and looked at a painting that hung over the marble mantel of a huge unlit fireplace. The central figure was an armored warrior with a dog’s head, surrounded by dogs with men’s heads in the field of battle. “Interesting perspective.”
Hiding her wrinkled fingers inside her sleeves, she glanced at it. “It’s a perversion. Animals surrounded by animals.”
“The Bloodhounds have history with all the houses. You know that.”
“They are not Royals. They are hounds―nothing more, and possibly less.”
Ebenezer walked away and paced around the table. His mother was difficult to be around. He couldn’t remember the last time she said anything good about anyone. She was just bitter. Unpleasant. Difficult. On the lighter side, she was one of the most powerful mages in Bone, if not the most powerful, and the time would come when he needed her power.
“We should not be waiting!” Manamus said. “The Klings wait for no one.”
Ebenezer removed his brown leather gauntlets and said, “I’m certain they are startled by our arrival. And mind you, we did come in secret.”
“I am not some feeble old crone whose memory escapes her. Am I not the one who delivered us here?”
“Certainly, Mother. Hence the surprise of our arrival.” Ebenezer reflected on what he had done. He and his mother had conspired against Sinway without saying a word. He could trust his mother. If anyone hated the underlings more than he did, it was her. Manamus could not stand the thought of anyone having more power than she did, and she didn’t like her way of life being interrupted. Now, after sending a message in secret to Castle Bloodhound, they had teleported inside its walls. Holding his jostled stomach, he said, “Do you have anything to untie the knots in my stomach?”
“Drink some wine,” she said. She gave him a smile. “But I’d wait—the trip back will be worse.”
Feeling a little green and light-headed, Ebenezer leaned against the wall in front of one of the stained-glass windows. He rubbed his stomach.
A woman entered the room. Her hair was coal black down to her shoulders, her face a teardrop of sheer beauty, and her figure had an intoxicating allure, even in the rugged leather clothes she wore. She said, “Welcome to Castle Bloodhound, Ebenezer and Manamus Kling. We are honored.”
Ebenezer pushed off the wall, gaped, gathered his thoughts, and said, “Lorda Almen? You live?” He walked over, took her hands in his, and kissed them. “It is a divine pleasure and surprise to see you.”
She squeezed his hands and said, “You as well, Ebenezer. My journey has not been what I expected at this point in life.”
“I think we all share your feelings.” He looked around. “Are you safe? I know Lord Grom is a hard man to deal with.”
“He is dead. His grandson leads the Bloodhounds now, and we all are well.”
“And where is this new Lord? Our time is precious, though there is never time enough in the company of your rare beauty.”
“Lord Creed will be along shortly.”
“Creed?” Ebenezer Kling let go of her hands. “He is your betrothed?”
“No,” said a new voice. A man with red hair and a neatly trimmed red beard entered the room. He was as tall as Ebenezer, athletically built, and wearing leather armor. Two longswords hung from his hips along with a pair of daggers. His eyes were filled with the confidence of a swordsman. He stood eye to eye with Ebenezer. “I am the Lord of the Castle, though, not to mention the finest swordsman who ever lived.”
“In this kennel, perhaps,” Ebenezer said. His voice became dangerous, and his hand fell onto his sword. “But at the moment I’m certain I hold that title.”
“There is only one way to know for sure, saint of swords,” Creed replied, drawing his blade.
“What nonsense is this?” Manamus said in her authoritative and agitated voice. “Step apart before I set you apart.”
Snaking his blade out of his sheath, Ebenezer said, “Not before I teach this whelp a lesson.” One arm behind his back, he attacked.
Back and forth the men fenced. They moved with the agility of cats and struck like snakes.
Creed countered and attacked.
Ebenezer slid from side to side. His longsword was a blur of motion. He matched Creed’s speed with skill and precision. “Your swordsmanship is excellent. You fight more like a soldier than a fencer. I can’t help but wonder why that is.”
Creed’s face was coated in sweat, but the look in his eyes was confident and easy. He said, “Because while you Royals sit on your arses and do nothing, I stay busy killing underlings.”
“So you admit it?” Ebenezer said.
Creed made a move.
Ebenezer countered.
Their blades came to a stop at one another’s throats.
Dripping with sweat, Creed said, “I’m happy to admit it.”
Ebenezer lifted his chin and said, “And I’m glad to hear it, pupil.” He flicked his sword up and tucked it back into his sheath. “It seems you’ve learned what I could not teach you. Well done, Creed.”
In her scratchy voice, Manamus said, “So you know this smelly whelp?”
“When he was younger and smaller, yes. Creed caught my eye in the tournaments. He was a prodigy with a blade.” Ebenezer fanned his face. “And he still does not disappoint, which is great news. No wonder the underlings are agitated, but your time is running out.”
Sheathing his blade, Creed said to Ebenezer, “Are you here to help me buy some time, or are you here to t
ake it away?”
“It’s a warning. They have your name. They know your house. Certain annihilation is coming.”
CHAPTER 33
The Badlands was a stretch of land between Dwarven Hole and the Great Forest of Bish. Its rugged terrain wasn’t any better or worse than the Outlands. It was just filled with sinkholes and wind that howled through the canyons.
Standing on the northern rim of one of the largest canyons, Venir noted the dry riverbed. It was a place he’d ventured through once with Mood long ago. He recalled all the strange rock formations that made the canyon a labyrinth.
“Why in Bish did Mood go in there?” Venir said.
Everyone was with him.
Melegal was on his right with a spyglass at his eye. “I don’t see any taverns.”
Venir took the pulsating helmet off. He didn’t want to dive headfirst into the canyon. Not at the moment. He took the spyglass from Melegal and put it to his own eye. “Kark, you’re certain there’s no other way out?”
“The grave is the only way out. Mood charged right into it. His men are on the other side, where there’s no exit.” Kark coughed. “It was a trap. He thought to slaughter the underlings he chased in there. He took the bait and is paying the price.”
The canyon was miles long. Far away on the other side, Venir could see the underlings on the tops of the rim, moving about like ants. “They’re after something, for certain. Mood can hold up for days in there, if not weeks. Keep your army back, Kark. When night falls, I’m going in.”
“Alone?” Kam interjected. “You certainly are not.”
“They won’t see me,” Venir said, shaking Helm. “Not when I have this on. I just have to make sure I can control myself once I get in there.”
“What’s the point of it?” she said. The creases in her forehead deepened. “Getting yourself killed?”
“Mood has done much for me,” he said. “I’ll do the same for him.”
***
Despite Kam’s disapproval, Venir slipped into the canyon once night fell. It was just him again, alone with the armament. Brool, Helm, and the shield glistened with a dull sheen of metal that winked from time to time in the moonlight. Venir stuck to the shadows of the rock formations, moving with the padded feet of a quick, easy, and purposed hunter. Another night on the prowl, before the slaughter. Head to toe, he pulsated with energy.
Alive. It’s good to feel alive.
He hated to leave Chongo behind, but not the others. They couldn’t do what he did by himself. The underlings couldn’t see him in the armament, so if he could control the urge to kill, he might slip by them unnoticed. The goal was simple. Get to Mood and bring the blood ranger back to his senses before the entire dwarven army was slaughtered.
I should have killed that female underling, but I let Melegal stop me―a mistake I need to correct.
Underling evil. It was a deceptive disease that poisoned the well quickly. Venir had never shown mercy on any of them. No, not one. He’d known better until Elypsa came into view. She was different. Even Helm seemed to have a different reaction to her.
Women … how easily the mighty fall captive to them.
Snugged up against the rocks, he navigated through the winding and towering rock formations toward the heated sounds of battle. The rocks were gigantic. Some were shaped like men in a natural sort of way, and others were obelisks stretching up into the night. Huge stones teetered on massive shelves carved by steady rustling wind.
Venir crept toward the clamoring sounds.
A mass of underlings had blockaded a narrow pass in the canyon. There were dozens. On the other side of the pass, the gruff voices of the blood rangers were barking orders. Battling bodies were surging against one another. Above, on the canyon’s rim, underlings were throwing javelins and spears and firing crossbow bolts into the night-black gap.
Helm was burning on Venir’s head. His knuckles were white on Brool’s grip. The fringes of his mind began to boil with rage. He wanted to charge right into the underlings and carve through them all.
No, Venir. Not yet.
He had to slip by the underlings, but from this point on, the fiends were everywhere. Even with the armament, he wasn’t sure he could slip by so many undetected. He could hear the dwarves. Stalwart. Strong. They were ready to fight for days. Death in battle was a great honor to them.
He pressed his body into cover and began climbing up a distinctive rock formation that stood alone inside the canyon. The jagged rocks scraped Venir’s limbs as he climbed his way up to the top. He was fifty feet off the ground and had a bird’s-eye view of things. Below, the underlings had wedged themselves inside the pass, preventing the dwarves from escaping out the other side. With the pass being so narrow and the underlings blocking all the passages in the canyon, Venir was amazed so many dwarves had managed to fit within the miles of canyon.
Those fiends can keep the dwarves holed up in there for days. We need to get them free.
There was only one plan he could think of to get the dwarves free of the bottleneck. Another army had to attack the underlings from the other side. The jung could do that, but there wouldn’t be any protection for them from the underlings on top of the rim.
There’s always more than one way to do something.
From his position, Venir stayed low and advanced over the rock shelf. The nearest underlings on the canyon rim were over a hundred feet away, launching their weapons into the pass. The pinnacles of rocks he traversed led him to a jagged overlook hanging over the back side of the underlings. Venir found a rock bigger than his head and rolled it up into his lap. It was more flat than round and with many rough edges.
Don’t throw it. Not yet, don’t throw it.
Having a higher angle, he searched for another way into the passage. Either side of it was walled off with stone, but there would be a way through on the other side if he could get to it. But the only way to do this was to take the journey across the canyon’s rim. He’d just have to fight through a wave of underlings.
I need to go back. Report. Convince the jung to do it my way. If we can free up the passage, the dwarves can pour through. The underlings won’t be able to stop them then.
His impulse to kill the underlings wasn’t subsiding—it was still growing. He lifted the rock over his head and flung it into the underlings. The stone crushed two. The other bewildered underlings looked up in astonishment, their gemstone eyes searching.
Venir started laughing. He tried to hold it in, but his laughter grew and carried through the canyon.
The underlings started pointing toward him, searching for the source of the sound. A small band of them was dispatched and began climbing up the rocks toward him.
Out of his mind with laughter, Venir hurled down more stones, bludgeoning the underlings with rock after rock.
Suddenly, the tide of the underlings turned. They came up after Venir by the dozens, chittering for blood.
CHAPTER 34
Pursued by the underlings, Brak and company chased after Jarla, who had taken the lead. Brak rode behind Jubilee, and the ogres, Olg and Ugg, were behind him on their massive burros. They moved quickly through the jungle, but they weren’t increasing their distance from the fleet-footed fiends. To make matters worse, something was crashing above them through the trees.
Looking over her shoulder, Jubilee yelled back at Brak. “What is that up there?”
Brak couldn’t tell. His skin crawled from it, though. “Don’t look back. Just keep after Jarla and Fogle.”
Jubilee clove to her horse. The company wasn’t at a full gallop, rather far from it. A brisk run was the best the horses could do in the rugged terrain.
“Head for the clearing. Head for the clearing!” yelled a voice from up ahead.
Brak saw Slim appear, only to vanish again. The horses were pushing themselves. They trailed each other in a jagged line. He had gotten better at handling the horses, but he wasn’t a master horseman. He ducked down the best he could, but the
branches still stung his face. His horse was snorting, cutting back and forth in a wild pattern. It followed after Jubilee and her mount. The girl and horse hopped a tree. Brak’s horse did the same, hitting hard and jostling him in the saddle. Fighting to straighten himself, he veered the horse off the path. Brak caught a branch with his head and rolled from his horse’s back and onto the ground.
“Ugh!” Instinct brought Brak to his feet with his sword in hand. His head throbbed, and there was blood in his eyes.
Olg and Ugg trampled right toward him and passed him by.
Underlings were right on the twin ogres’ tail. More underlings appeared. On fast feet, they converged on Brak.
He launched a clumsy two-handed chop, knocking the first underling’s sword from its fingers.
The second underling jabbed at Brak’s ribs, sticking him in the chest but not penetrating his armor.
Brak jerked the underling up by the arm and punched it with his sword pommel, crushing its face.
Something fell out of the trees and landed on Brak’s shoulder. A spider the size of a cat.
“Yug!” He smashed it with his fist, splattering it into goo. The goo held his fist fast. “No!”
Two more underlings with swords came at him. Their chops were fierce and precise.
Brak backpedaled and parried with his other hand.
The smaller agile fiends whacked at his knees.
Brak defended himself as well as he could.
The underlings drew blood. Opened a gash up in his thigh. Cut his wrists.
More spiders fell from the trees, dropping on Brak like huge hairy raindrops.
“Get off me!” He stabbed at the closest underling and fell down on one knee, exposed.
The underlings hemmed him in and chittered in triumph.
Brak could block one blade, but not two. He raised his steel for a final parry.
A horse and rider blasted out of the jungle. It was Jarla. Her sword licked out in an arc of death, decapitating one underling. Her horse, Nightmare, trampled the other red-eyed fiend.
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 12