“No thanks, I’ve heard it already.” Kam turned her attention back to Venir. “You know how Chongo’s changed—you just aren’t saying. I know you. Why?”
He grinned. “As you said, some things are beyond our understanding.”
“You really aren’t making a very strong case for us having some alone time later.”
“I don’t have a good answer. All I have is the silver fish. It’s something me and Chongo ate when we were boys.” He crinkled his nose. “It had a smell to it. I’ll never forget it. When Chongo grew so fast, he belched, and I smelled it again. Back in my village, my father and grandfather told tales about the silver fish. Its scales were pure silver. No man could catch it. Men perished from the effort.” His blue eyes sparkled. “I was a boy. The magnificent fish lured me into the waters. I thought I was catching it, but it was catching me. It lured me into an abyss as black as an underling’s heart.” He patted the long hunting knife on his hip. “But I got it before it got me. Chongo dragged me out of the water. Starving, we devoured it. I never tasted anything like that before.”
“Is that when Chongo changed?”
“No, that came later.”
Kam eyed him. “Well, please continue.”
“Yes, continue.” Jasper rode behind Melegal with her chin on his shoulder. “You have a soothing voice. It makes this hard saddle easier to ride.”
Melegal leaned back into her. “Don’t encourage him.”
Nikkel trotted up to him. The handsome young black man held his head and squinted. “Oh, this is the longest day.”
“It’s not even midday,” Venir replied. “So out with it.”
“Mood needs you. There are riders coming from the north.”
“Riders? What kind of riders?”
“Sorry, I meant striders.” Nikkel shook his head. Holding his cut, he added, “I feel like I’m going to puke again.”
Venir gave him a nod. He said to Kam, “Do you want to come along?”
“No, Erin and I will be fine. I trust you’ll fill me in on the details. Is there anything I should be worried about?”
“Eh, hard to say. Striders and dwarves don’t always get along.”
***
Kam watched Venir depart. Among the dwarves, he was a giant. His sun-bronzed skin amplified his chiseled build. He moved with the ease of a lion. Kam took a breath. She’d finally succumbed to what he was: a man of iron. He’d do anything to protect the ones he cared about. But she sensed something else. There was a tingling that never left her bones. The end was near.
“It’s hard to care for one so much, isn’t it?” Jasper said.
“What do you mean?” Kam said.
“Seeing them leave and never knowing if they’ll be back again.”
“Oh, he’ll be back.” Melegal scoffed. “Take my word for it. I’ve been trying to shake him for a decade. He’s like a bad garden weed. He just keeps popping back up.”
“I hope so,” Kam said.
“I wouldn’t,” Melegal said. “Weeds ruin a perfectly good garden.”
CHAPTER 7
The bug-faced strider stood tall. Both sets of his four arms were crossed over his chest. The mantis-like man said to Mood, “We will lead this attack.”
“No dwarf is following a bunch of bugs into war!” Mood poked his finger at Tarcot. “Don’t come into my army and tell me what I’m going to be doing. The dwarves will fare well without you.”
“You don’t have the numbers. Your entire race will be wiped out.” Tarcot’s mantis head spoke words that had a bubbling sound. He made clik-clik sounds before and after. “You follow us.”
“You’re mad. Venir, see if you can talk some sense into him. He comes with numbers but no sense. I don’t even think the striders have ever fought in any kind of war.”
“At least they are willing to engage,” Venir said. “It’s a start.”
“It’s your call, Venir. I’ll be here, listening.”
They stood out in the open plains, leagues from the City of Bone, where patches of grass showed green again. The long-limbed strider, over seven feet tall and with two sets of knees, hunkered down, eye to eye with Venir.
Tarcot reached out with one of his four arms and squeezed Venir’s shoulder. “Any one of us is a match for any three underlings. Their flesh is weak.”
“How many striders?” Venir gazed out into the field where the striders stood in rank and file like an army of man-sized praying mantises.
“Fifteen hundred.”
“The dwarves barely number ten thousand. There are at least fifty thousand underlings, and that army is building. They have magic. There is no telling what they can summon and keep at their disposal. We need to wait. Find more allies and build.”
“We’ve been waiting. Boon is supposed to bring an army, but it never comes,” Tarcot said.
“Boon is dead.”
Tarcot tilted his head to one side. Clik-clik. “What do you mean, dead?”
Venir scooped up some dirt. Sifting it through his fingers, he said, “He perished in battle. We buried him.”
“This is not possible. What enemy killed Boon?”
“An underling with ruby-red eyes. A very powerful wizard. Boon took it to the grave too. He paid the ultimate price. He saved many lives. All of our lives.”
Tarcot swatted the sand from Venir’s hand. “Boon will bring an army. He gave his word.”
Venir gave Mood a blank stare. The Blood Ranger shrugged.
“Are these all the fighters that you have, Tarcot?”
“It is all we need.”
“No, we need more. Mood, we need to gather Kark and the Jung again. The underlings don’t know the outlands better than we do. It’s time to put our heads together and unite.”
A black beard marched up to Mood and handed him a scroll. He unrolled it and read, “The underlings are on the march.”
“Which way?” Venir asked.
“Our way.”
“We aren’t going to turn tail, Venir,” Mood said. “There’s ample ground for us to make defense. We can hold out in the Black Columns for weeks if we need to.”
“Weeks are nothing to them. They’ll starve you out in months. Once you go into the Black Columns, there won’t be another way out.” Venir shook his head. When they’d left Dwarven Hole, he’d been confident that they could handle any underling army, but that had changed. The fiends spread like black fire that burnt the sand. He needed to gather more forces somehow. In the City of Bone, royals commanded more than enough forces to match the underlings. But so far, all efforts to engage their help had been met with silence.
“Mood,” Venir said, “perhaps you have the smaller army. Why not let them pursue? I’m curious to see how far they take it. Maybe the fiends don’t want us to take the south. Perhaps there are allies there who fear what we do. They have no aid on the other side. The royals boasted of thousands of riders that ruled the south.”
“And they could be wiped out,” Mood added. “I have several Blood Rangers scouting. It will be days before I gather any more reports.” He tapped his foot. “The land is quiet. It used to give aid, but its silence worries me. The ground is not what it used to be. The wind and leaves have changed.”
“Striders are excellent scouts. The best. Much faster than the dwarves. I’ll send my brethren out too.” Tarcot’s bug eyes blinked. “But I feel fighting the underlings head-on be for the best. They won’t expect it.”
Mood grunted. “Agreed. The sooner we knock a hole in them, the better.”
The dwarves would have been wiped out once already had Venir not intervened. There was nothing that Venir would rather do than take a fight straight to the underlings’ army, but there was more to a marching army than size and strength. They needed planning, effort, and a fallback plan in case things didn’t go their way. That wasn’t normally Venir’s way, but he needed more reassurance before he went headfirst into a situation that could lead to total annihilation.
“Mood, Tarcot,
keep our enemies at a league’s length. They move, we move. Let’s see where they go. Have some of your forces prepare Black Column. The rest will lead the chase.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“It’s time to get a glimpse of Bone. I’m curious to see what kind of shape it’s in since we departed.”
“We’d be better off if it fell to the ground. It’s a no-good stinking city.”
“True, but it’s my no-good stinking city.”
CHAPTER 8
Master Sinway sat inside the lavish throne room of Ebenezer Kling. The iron-eyed underling sat on the throne with a golden goblet of underling port in his hand.
Kuurn stood at his side. The citrine-eyed underling mage’s eyes were fixed on the woman Elypsa, whose long white hair covered her shoulders. She was dressed in the black-leather armor of an underling soldier. Her lavender eyes showed boredom. Aside from the occasional wheezing breath of the massive cave dogs gathered at Sinway’s feet, the grand room was quiet.
“So I am to believe that he perished,” Sinway said to Elypsa. “My father, Sidebor. The one who does not die. And at the hands of a mortal wizard?”
“There is no reason for deception, master,” she said. “Kuurn has the proof.”
Sinway turned his stare to Kuurn.
Kuurn pulled the ruby-red eye of Sidebor from his garish black robes and held it pinched between his thumb and index finger. “A gift, master.”
Sinway took Sidebor’s eye in hand. He let out a brief, mirthful sound.
Puckering a brow, Kuurn said, “You are pleased?”
Sinway tightened his grip on the eye. “No, I’m displeased. What manner of men are we dealing with? The Darkslayer still roams. He killed my father. Even I could not kill my own father, though I tried. By far, he was the most formidable underling that I ever met.” His eyes slid over to Elypsa. “Chopped up like kindling, you said? The man becomes a tornado of steel. He is not mortal as we understand it.” He slapped her hands, which rested on the hilts of her swords. “One axe against two steels? Nothing that big should be able to move that fast. You need to give me another chance to assassinate the slayer. I’ll be ready for him this time.”
Sinway sipped from his goblet. “Your brothers, Catten and Verbard, were every bit as confident as you. Kuurn, the best that I have left, could not even lift a finger to them.”
“I beg pardon,” Kuurn said.
Sinway ignored him. “Some things cannot be broken. Only time can take them away. This man, this troublesome slayer. He cannot live forever. No, this is a different battle. A battle of attrition. We are winning. We will remain patient.”
“As you wish, Master Sinway,” Kuurn said with a bow.
Elypsa shrugged. “So I’m to play like a human maiden in this castle? I prefer to join the ranks and fight.”
Sinway said, “You’re going back to the Underland.”
“What? Why?”
“You are going to wed Kuurn as promised. Certainly, you would rather do that in the homeland than here. Our people will be looking forward to the ceremony.”
She approached the throne. The cave dogs growled. “Master Sinway, am I truly to be promised to one that was considered to be no more than an apt pupil by my brothers? It is an insult. Catten and Verbard were your finest—”
Sinway’s voice rose. “They are dead. Kuurn lives.” The crystal on the chandeliers rattled. “Your brothers cannot fend off Kuurn’s advances toward you anymore. Is he not your liberator? He is as good a match as any. He named you decades ago, and you should have succumbed to him then. But now the time has come. You will wed. You will breed. Enjoy the experience.”
Grinding her teeth, Elypsa stepped away. Kuurn had done everything right. He’d discovered her name, which had been well hidden. He’d treated her with adulation. He was of a fine stock, and in the underling world, one could not do much better. Most underling women longed to marry into the house of the highest power. It was a competition. Elypsa couldn’t have cared less. She wanted to be the best soldier possible. As for Kuurn, she felt no affection for him at all. He might be powerful, but he was boring. “As you wish, Master Sinway.”
Kuurn brimmed with satisfaction.
“You say that as if you have a choice in the matter.” Sinway finished his goblet and set it down. An urchling appeared from the curtains, refilled the goblet, and slunk away. “Kuurn, be wise enough to keep your mate entertained. She’s far more valuable than the typical bauble.”
“Vastly,” Kuurn agreed. “I shall endeavor to please her as much as she pleases me.”
“It would please me just as much to wed here,” she said. “Why not have the first ceremony in a castle we have conquered? After all, we aren’t going anywhere, are we?”
Kuurn’s citrine eyes brightened. “I think that would be delightful.”
Ebenezer Kling stormed into the throne room. A pair of underling sentries barred his path. The formidable man pushed right through them. “Master Sinway, we have disorder!”
“How dare you, interloper?” Kuurn fired a yellow missile of energy at Ebenezer.
Cat quick, Ebenezer knocked it aside with his arm bracer. The deflected missile punched a hole through the window curtain. The urchling behind it dropped dead on the floor. Kuurn’s fingers charged up again.
“At ease, Kuurn,” Sinway said. “This is Lord Kling, the former ruler of this house. I trust him to speak openly. Ebenezer, I’ve warned you about that brazen tone of yours. You’ll die once I tire of it.”
“You promised to cut back on the death in the streets, yet the bodies continue to pile up. We can’t run this city if some sort of order is not maintained. It will fall into ruin.”
Parting his hands, Sinway said, “There is going to be an adjustment period. Besides, my kind really hates your kind. Tell your people to not upset them.”
“The royals have given you nothing but cooperation and allegiance. Yet you are still catapulting burning bodies over the walls. Innocent people are murdered in the streets.” Ebenezer’s cheeks reddened by his sideburns. “No one will work. Everyone hides. You might feel as if you conquered this city, but beware that this city will conquer you. It needs order and great care.”
Sinway nodded.
Ebenezer’s beard was neatly trimmed. His refined hair was going gray. He moved with the powerful grace of a natural athlete. His feet were set to strike. A broadsword of the finest craft hung on his hip. A matching dagger on the man’s sword belt was paired up with it.
Circling the tall royal, who eyed her with both wonder and suspicion, Elypsa said, “Kuurn, I would like to have my wedding present early.”
“Whatever is at my command you will have. What would you like?”
“I want to fight this man.”
CHAPTER 9
“He’s going to snap, Jarla. Quit goading him,” Jubilee said.
“Brak, you goat-fed bastard, you’ll never eat again if you keep sitting there.” Jarla fought against her bonds. “Get your big arse up and eat something!”
“No, Brak, don’t listen to her. Just stay calm.” Jubilee shot Jarla a look. In a hushed voice, she said, “You are insane. He will kill us all.”
“Or he will kill all of them.”
Brak mumbled and groaned. His wriggling became fiercer. Slim tried to scoot away from him. The ogre’s eyes were still wide.
“Brak, stay calm. Food is coming,” Jubilee whispered. “You have to trust me.”
Jarla rolled her eyes. “Pfft!”
Jubilee didn’t care. She would have thought the woman had enough sense to realize what Brak was capable of. He’d almost killed Jubilee more than once, not to mention many others. The last thing she wanted to do was take another chance once the man’s eyes glazed over.
“Well, on the bright side, at least Fogle won’t be eaten,” Slim said.
“He’s probably dead,” Jarla replied. “We’ll all probably be better off for it.”
“I swear I’m going to kill you o
ne day,” Jubilee said to her.
Jarla let out a delighted chuckle. “I’ve heard that so many times before. I even heard those very same words from Venir. Yet here I am.”
“I hope Brak eats you first.”
“I doubt that will happen, seeing as how you and Slim are the closest. No, I’m betting that he’ll eat you first. Once his belly is full of you and he figures out what he has done, I bet he’ll cry and cry and cry.”
“You’re sick.” Jubilee looked away. She hated Jarla more than she hated anything. The woman disgusted her. Deep inside the cave, something scuttled over the dirt. “Uh, what is that?”
Insects with many legs and hard shells came forward like a train of ants, each the size of a finger.
“Insects,” Slim said. “I summoned them.”
“They’ll free us?” Jarla said.
“No. As I stated, my powers are severely limited at the moment.” He wriggled his insect fingers. “But they will sustain us.”
“Sustain us how?” Jubilee said, watching the train of bugs started to crawl up Brak’s legs, onto his chest, and toward his mouth.
“Simple. All we have to do is eat them.” One climbed into his mouth. He started to chew. “They taste much better than they look. Crunchy like a nut and good for you.”
“Get those things away from me,” Jubilee said.
Brak started chomping them down one bug at a time.
“Disgusting,” Jarla said. “I’d rather die.”
“Ew! He’ll eat anything,” Jubilee said, turning her nose away. “Better the bugs than me.”
“So what’s going on in here?”
Every head turned toward the voice.
“Fogle!” Jubilee said.
The wizard appeared to be unharmed. Several of the forest magi were with him. Their hands were filled with fruit and vegetable-like roots. The food looked as though it had been cleaned and prepared.
“What’s going on?” Jubilee asked.
“I’ve made an arrangement.” Fogle’s eyes found Brak, who was eating the bugs. He pointed. “Feed that one. Please.”
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 16