The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures

by Craig Halloran

  “Ah, so I see the old Fogle still remembers. He’s just hidden underneath too much hair. At least it matches your mouth now.”

  “We were boys then, Enar.”

  “It’s Rane.”

  “Fine, Rane. Eh, so how did you wind up here? Were you kidnapped or something?”

  Rane’s expression darkened. “You still jest at my expense, I see.”

  “What is that supposed to mean, Enar—pardon me, Rane? You speak as if I had something to do with your situation.”

  “You had everything to do with my situation! You humiliated me!”

  “I humiliated everyone.”

  “You singled me out. You tormented me to no end. I could not cope with your harassment then. I shamed my family. My family lost its household.” He poked Fogle in the chest with his finger. “It was all because of you.”

  Fogle recalled every last detail. Enar had been awkward, desperate, and somewhat stupid. How the young man had managed to get into the Hall of Wizardry was beyond him. He was a cook and a chronic pain in the side who always sought Fogle’s help to the point of embarrassment. Rather than helping the needy young man, Fogle had humiliated him time and again.

  “Rane, that was long ago. I’ve changed. I apologize. I never would have foreseen such a demise for you.”

  “You called me the future sewer king. The lover of swine. The hog hugger.” Venom was behind Rane’s words. “Your pompous friends delighted in it as much as you did. You set me up for failure. A simple spell you helped me with went awry.” He pushed his robes up over his elbow. His arm was burned so badly Fogle could see black, charred skin stretched out over the muscle. “It hurts. It always hurts.”

  Fogle remembered the day that Enar had cast a water spell that set his arm on fire. Everyone burst out in laughter, but the mystic fire did not go out. Enar’s startled cries became horrified. A stench of burning skin and hair had permeated the room. Fogle could still smell it. It wasn’t entirely Fogle’s fault. Enar had managed to make it worse than it needed to be. He’d been a horrible student. Careless.

  “I know a healer.”

  Rane set the spell book on his lap. He traced the ridges of the spine. “I know healers too.” He leaned forward. “But I like the pain. It gave me strength. It fed my hunger for power. Cast out by my family, I set out to find my own way. This is where I came. Now I lead them.”

  “You?”

  “Don’t be so surprised, Fogle. There were many, but I am a survivor most of all. I conquered through attrition.”

  “I’d be curious as to how that happened.” Seeing the fires begin to glow in Rane’s eyes, he adjusted his tone. “Not because I don’t trust your word, but can I not assume that the forest magi are centuries old and that you’re relatively new to their order?”

  Rane’s expression cooled. “You might find it hard to believe, but I actually did benefit from my studies in the hall of wizardry. It gave me an edge. Heh.” He slung his head back, rattling the small bones entwined in his locks. “We’ve had many interlopers in the forest over the years. The magi, consumed in their lust for magic, crossed some that they should not have. A pair of underlings dropped in with so much power that the very trees shook. They wiped out a dozen with a single word, barely audible, that filled my kin with shards of lightning.” He pointed to some clay canisters along the walls. “Only their ashes remained.” He fished something out of his robes. “And this.”

  Fogle squinted. Rane held up a charred silver coin with an underling’s face on it. Fogle’s eyes widened. He knew that face as well as he knew his own. The silver-eyed underling was etched in his memory.

  “You are wise to fear the underlings,” Rane said. The coin vanished in his clothes. “I know they give pursuit, but the less powerful ones are not confident enough to come into the forest. We are safe from them here.”

  “No, Rane, you are not safe from the underlings anywhere. That’s why we came in here. If two of them invaded this forest before, it’s only a matter of time before we see more like them.”

  Rane’s dirty fingertips grazed the pages of the spell book around the middle of the spine.

  Fogle’s jaws clenched. He is still an idiot.

  In an aloof manner, Rane said, “I’m not concerned about the affairs of the rest of the world. That is not the way of my brood. But it seems that the Red Clay Forest has blessed me with a gift.” He ripped a page out of the spell book.

  “What are you doing?” Fogle exclaimed.

  “I’m hurting you where I know it will hurt the most.” He ripped out another page. “You will watch. You will suffer.” Rip. “One page at a time.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Disguised in traveling cloaks, Venir followed Melegal east, walking over a mile parallel to the City of Bone. Billip and Nikkel came too, as did Jasper. She stayed right at Melegal’s hip. The farther away from Bone, the better. Hoff had insisted on coming too. The renegade royal knight was hard jawed and persistent. He wore a vest of scale mail and stayed clean shaven with a razor-sharp knife.

  There were still knots of people spread out all over. Wary eyes searched the party when they passed. Melegal did a good job of avoiding unwanted attention as the end of the day neared and the campfires began. Watchful people guarded the small camps. When the people had fled the south, they’d taken what they needed. Weapons were a necessity along with good boots and a pack for storage.

  Just beyond a mile from the southeast corner of the city, Melegal came to a stop by a stone well in the remnants of a small village that had long ago decayed in Bish’s dust. It was a place of refuge where Venir and Melegal had met before.

  Hands on the stone rim of the well, Nikkel peered into it. “Hello?” His voice echoed.

  Billip pulled him back by the elbow. “Who are you saying hello to? The underlings? Sheesh.”

  “Just being friendly.”

  “It seems our secret place is no longer a secret,” Melegal said.

  Venir immediately saw what he was talking about. The landscape had patches of rocks and brush spread out and settled on the ground. Many of them were big enough to provide shelter from the sun. Some of them contained small caves ideal for a hermit or critters. All of his life, Venir had known them to be abandoned. But with all the fleeing people, the strange spots had been discovered. Worse yet, the cave that led to the secret tunnel back into the city was occupied.

  Venir sighed through his teeth. “Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”

  Standing at Venir’s shoulder, Billip said, “That’s quite a number.”

  As best as Venir could tell, about ten men had made camp around the cave. Not a single one of them was slight in build. They wore armor. Knives and swords were strapped to their belts. A quiver of arrows hung from one man’s back. A fire burned. The smell of cooked meat drifted into Venir’s nose. “Someone is eating well.”

  Rubbing his stomach, Nikkel said, “It makes my stomach growl.”

  “Those are soldiers,” Melegal said. “Royal soldiers.”

  “Let me go speak to them,” Hoff said. “It won’t take long for me to learn whose side they are on.” He pulled back his cloak, revealing his royal house’s insignia. “I can spin a fair enough story.” He started forward.

  Venir clamped his hand around the meat of the man’s arm. The stout knight tried to pull away. Venir held him fast. “Two would be safer than one.”

  “You’ll draw suspicion.”

  “Maybe, but two targets are harder to hit than one.”

  Looking Venir up and down, Hoff said, “You’ll certainly be easier to hit than me. Let’s go, then.”

  Behind Hoff, Venir gave Billip a glance. The archer nocked an arrow. Nikkel loaded a bolt.

  Venir and Hoff approached the royal soldiers’ camp slowly. Many sets of eyes locked on them as soon as they came within twenty yards of the soldiers. Hands up to his chest, Hoff said, “Brethren, I am Hoff of the banner of—”

  “I don’t care who you are.” Swords scraped out of thei
r scabbards. Venir and Hoff were closed inside a half circle of men. “Go away.”

  That man who’d spoken bore the royal marks of a captain. He wore chain mail and leathers. Built like an oak tree, the veteran made it clear he had better things to do.

  Hoff continued, “Soldier, I am a royal horseman. That’s nothing to trifle with. I seek refuge. You will honor it.”

  The leader snickered. “There are no laws out here aside from what I say. You and your friend best move on if you know what is good for you.” He gave his men a look. They crept in closer. The soldiers on the edges lowered spears on them. An archer stood on the rocks of the cave with an arrow pointed at Hoff.

  Hoff’s Adam’s apple rolled. His blinking became rapid. “But I’m a knight. A horseman. You cannot turn me aside.”

  “You won’t be the first. You won’t be the last. You’re just more wood for the underlings’ fires.”

  “What manner of soldier are you that serves the underlings?” Hoff asked. “I would die first.”

  “That can be arranged.” The leader lifted his hand.

  The bowstring from the archer on the rocks stretched.

  Venir burst into action. He punched Hoff in the shoulder with an open hand.

  Clatch—zip!

  Nikkel’s heavy crossbow bolt whistled through the air. An arrow buried itself in the archer’s head.

  Thunk! Thunk!

  Two arrows punctured the royal leader’s chest. The veteran gaped.

  Venir overwhelmed the nearest flat-footed soldier and sidestepped his spear. His fist collided with the man’s face. The spearman’s eye socket gave in. Venir filled his hands with a long piece of ash wood and impaled a charging soldier in the gut.

  ***

  Hoff rolled over the ground while snaking his sword from its sheath. He slipped underneath a soldier’s potentially decapitating swing and stabbed the man through the chest. The last spearman bore down on him. He swatted the point aside. With a counterswing, he cut the man’s foot out from underneath him. The solider collapsed and wailed in pain. Hoff pounced. He ended the man’s cries with a single stroke. Coming to his feet, he searched for his next adversary. Only Venir remained. The towering man ripped a blood-coated spear from a man’s side.

  Catching his breath, Hoff said, “You killed them all?” He gaped at the dead bodies. Arrows filled the faces and chests of many of them.

  “Not all. I had some help.” Venir tossed the sword aside. “We better move.”

  Out of the darkness, Billip and Nikkel came in long strides. Melegal and Jasper were right behind them.

  Melegal pointed at a man running away from them. He was waving his arms and screaming. “I thought stealth was the goal. Oh, never mind.” He pushed away some overhanging dry brush that covered the cave entrance. “You first, Venir. I’m certain the welcome committee inside will be even worse than the one out here.”

  Venir entered the cave. A small lantern burned just inside the secret door. “Bish. It’s open.” He took off his pack, opened up the flap, and took out his helm. He put it on and buckled the strap. He took the axe from the armament sack.

  “Are you expecting those fiends on the other side?” Melegal said, snaking out a short sword.

  “Possibly. One thing is for sure.” Venir started moving into the secret tunnel. “They won’t be expecting me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “Rane, stop! Please stop,” Fogle pleaded. A part of his heart was torn with every page. Decades and endless hours of hard work were being destroyed right before his watering eyes. “I beg of you.”

  “That’s exactly what I want you to do. Beg, Fogle! Beg!” Rane tore a page out and ripped it in half. “Hahahaha! I love to see you squirm. It’s delicious.”

  Fogle tried to think of anything that he could do or say that would stop the man. He searched the words on the torn pages. Rane scooted them out of his line of sight.

  Wagging his fingers in his face, Rane said, “Oh, no, no, no. I’ll not let that crafty mind of yours find the slightest snippet. No, that will not happen.”

  He is deranged! Tearing apart a spell book was insanity. Spell books were cherished. Revered. Destroying knowledge of the arts was an abomination. The worst-case scenario for a wizard’s spell book was losing it in a battle or challenge to another wizard. That rarely happened. No mage ever wanted to part with a spell book.

  “At least let me pass some of the knowledge on to you, Rane. Don’t destroy it all. I thought you wanted me to teach you every last spell.” He straightened his aching back. “Please preserve some of that knowledge. Let it serve you.”

  Rane set the book aside. Face-to-face with Fogle, he said, “Do you take me for a fool again? Freeing your lips and fingers would be certain devastation.”

  “Bind my lips and fingers. Then I can still aid you, but I can’t cast. It will take time, but in the end, you’ll be the most powerful forest mage of all.”

  “I am at this moment.”

  “But you will be challenged eventually. Leadership is always questioned.” Fogle scanned the others in the room. Under his breath, he said, “They salivate over the pages you destroy. Look at them.”

  Rane shooed the others away with his hands and made a strange whistling sound. The forest magi vanished into their holes. Returning his attention back to Fogle, he said, “How can you show me this without using your lips and fingers?”

  “I’ve learned much since you’ve been gone. I’ve learn to use this melon head of mine in different ways.” Fogle’s shoulders slumped. He breathed easily. “Like you, I have become an outcast and a survivor. I learned that I cannot rely on magic alone, and I picked up some other crafts.”

  “I don’t care about your other crafts. I only care about magic.”

  “Good. Then you will be the perfect pupil.” Fogle scanned the room one more time. “Just perfect. Go ahead—tether my lips, and we will begin.”

  Rane reached for a coil of vine and faced Fogle.

  Using all of his strength, Fogle head-butted Rane right between the nose and eyes. Crack!

  Fogle pounced on the stunned mage. He locked his arms around the mage’s neck and fastened his legs around Rane’s body. He held the mage fast.

  Rane thrashed. He was as big as Fogle and strong for a man his size.

  Hands bound, Fogle locked his arm at the elbow beneath Rane’s chin and squeezed. He let his anger consume him. In a growl, he said, “You dare defile my book! My spell book! You are still a fool, Enar! All fools must pay!”

  Rane scratched at Fogle’s arms. His legs kicked and jutted. He fought like a wild animal snared in a trap.

  Fogle held on. He wasn’t the weakling mage from the city. He was a mage who’d survived the underlings and Outland time and again. He was a Boon. He spoke right into Rane’s ear. “No worm like you can ever take a true blood like me! Good night, Enar! I’m certain the grave will accept you.”

  Enar choked. His fingernails dug into the flesh of Fogle’s arms. His flailing feet kicked the pages of the spell book. The sacrilegious act of desecrating his book deepened Fogle’s anger. He was going to kill Enar. He was going to kill all of them. He sucked in a quick breath. Deep inside, he summoned more strength. The surge that fed his limbs began to weaken. Enar fought with the strength of a wild animal in a trap.

  No, Fogle. You can’t let him go. Think.

  In a quick move, Fogle shifted his grip on the man’s head. He choked Enar while bending his head forward at the same time. It was something he’d learned in his travels with Venir and Billip—a desperate little trick.

  Enar pounded on his arms. Then the pounding stopped. The tense muscles in the man’s body went slack. His head drooped.

  Fogle held him a few more seconds. Lungs burning, he fought for his breath and let Enar go. Enar lay lifeless on the ground. Fogle didn’t check to see if the man still breathed or not. The hold he’d put him in wasn’t supposed to kill, but he didn’t care. He crawled over to his spell book, dusted off his hands, an
d fetched the torn pages with quavering limbs.

  Don’t miss a single one of them!

  He counted six pages. There should have been seven. With a heave, he rolled Enar over. The last page lay underneath the man’s torso. With his wrists still bound, Fogle scanned the words on the parchment.

  This could be helpful.

  He stuck the page on the ground where he could see it. His hands rummaged over Enar’s body. The man had a small dagger underneath his garb. Using his nimble fingers, Fogle turned the blade inward and began sawing at his cords. The vines gave a little.

  Hurry up, Fogle! In the back of his mind, he didn’t doubt that at any moment the mages would start squirming out of those dirt holes. As he sawed, he read the page, moving his lips and committing every syllable to memory. Word after word, new strength began to feed the marrow in his bones. His blood raced with renewed magic.

  That’s more like it!

  A rustle inside the dirt walls caught his ear. He sawed faster. The vines gave. Fogle focused on the page, reading faster. The mystic words cemented themselves inside his mind.

  Finally!

  He wiped his lips across his sleeve. A mage popped out of one of the holes. His eyes fell on Rane’s prone form then widened on Fogle. The mage let out a whistle that was more of a sound of nature than one of man.

  Great.

  More mages popped out of the walls. The creepy men in dreary robes closed in.

  “I’m getting really sick of you branch-kissers.” Scooting backward, Fogle bumped the clay pot filled with the fleeg bugs. “I think I’m going to need all of the power that I can get.” He flicked off the lid, stuck his hand in the jar, and tapped into his stolen magic. A second burst of energy turned his eyes into golden flames. The first syllable he whispered shook every speck of dirt in the room.

  CHAPTER 19

  Jubilee and Brak rode back into the Red Clay Forest. Slim took the lead, and the ogre brothers walked behind them. The healer seemed to have a lot more knowledge of the forest than he’d let on. For some reason, the paths of red clay were easy to navigate, and the brush became more forgiving.