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

by Craig Halloran

  Venir saw the underling at the table waving him over with a casual, humanlike flip of its hands. He ground his teeth.

  “It’s best that we go if you can’t handle this,” Melegal said.

  “This is bizarre.” Billip cracked his knuckles one by one. “What man dines with an underling?”

  “It’s becoming more common.” Sam made his way back behind the bar.

  “We call it ‘dine or die,’” Jeb said.

  “Who is this man?” Venir sneered.

  Billip said, “He’s the one Georgio thrashed in the game of hot blades. He wasn’t supposed to come back here anymore.”

  “Like it matters now.” Jeb held up his burned palms. “Like everyone else, I’ve got nothing left. Go ahead, have a drink with them. They can be friendly if they like you.”

  Venir had seen enough of the underlings in the City of Three to understand the kind of games they played. The same games were happening in Bone, but this time, the underlings walked the streets like men with the smell of burning flesh in the air. “And you say this is all of them?”

  “Different ones come and go,” Sam said.

  “I see.” Venir made his way over to the underlings. As he neared them, he unbuckled his knife and set it on a nearby table as Sam had suggested. He eyed the other men, and they did the same. Venir stood at the edge of the underlings’ table, looking them over.

  All in all, there were five underlings crowded by the table and the cold fireplace. The sharp nails on their lightly furred hands toyed with the pommels of the weapons they carried. Their eyes were fixed on Venir. Showing their sharp teeth, they chittered at one another.

  The underling in the finest armor made from links of blackened chain shoved a bottle of port across the table. Typically, soldiers on opposing sides shared a bottle once peace was made. Drinking from the bottle was a gesture of peace, but could also be taken for surrender.

  Venir picked up the bottle, put it to his lips, and paused.

  The underling’s eyes widened.

  With a flick of his wrist, Venir tossed the full bottle into the dormant fireplace. “I take it you speak Common Underling?”

  The amber-eyed underling glared at Venir. “I do.” His Common was broken, quick, but good enough. “Well enough to tell you that I’m going to cut your ears off and feed them to you.”

  Venir let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I like that. An underling with a sense of humor.”

  The underlings rose from the table. “You think I jest.”

  “I think you drink like a woman. Port is for girls.”

  Sharpened steel appeared in every underling’s hands. Their chittering became a clamor of angry hisses.

  Venir continued. “Real soldiers, true conquerors, drink grog.”

  The underling leader held out his hand, silencing the rest. “Tell me about this grog.”

  Venir reached over and grabbed the chain that tethered the barmaid by the neck. He pulled her to her feet. “Fetch us some, will you, girl?”

  The dark-haired maiden with sultry eyes gave him a nod and scurried away on bare feet.

  Venir pulled back a chair. “Find a chair, men.” He sat. The legs on the oaken chair creaked.

  With unease, the others took a seat nearby. The tension remained as tight as Billip’s bowstring. Hoff thumbed new sweat off of his nose. Nikkel’s pale-blue eyes were glued on one underling that stared him down.

  “I’m Venir.”

  “Kazzar is my name.” The underling leaned against the back of the chair. His eyes examined Venir’s body. “You have the mark of a warrior, but I don’t see the metal of a royal soldier on you. Why is that?”

  “I’m a former soldier. More or less a merchant of steel to the highest bidder. We were just about to depart Bone when the gates were closed.”

  “I see, Venir. Though I am curious that you and your men have survived the streets this long. You have a threatening demeanor about you.”

  “It’s a blessing in this harsh climate. A fierce stare ends many brawls.”

  The waitress returned with a tray carrying three clay bottles of grog. She loaded the table with glass tumblers and filled them one by one. Half the glasses were on one side and half on the other. Then she scooted away and out of sight.

  Venir passed the glasses back to the other men. Kazzar acted in similar fashion. The underlings, seated and standing, sniffed the stiff drink. “It’s very bitter but with a milky finish. It might turn those black ears of yours red, though.” He kicked the grog back and swallowed it. He clanked the tumbler on the table. “Ah, it’s been so, so long.”

  One by one, the men and the underlings drank the grog. Many of the underlings’ tight lips puckered. Every one of them set their glasses on the table. The waitress drifted in and refilled them.

  “They like it,” Kazzar said with a toast. “As bitter as cave bugs.” His nose crinkled. “There are many pleasantries in your city that I do so enjoy. All of you oversized blood bags aside, I admit you do take plenty of leisure enjoying things. You know, Venir, there is only one reason why you still live.”

  Venir knocked back another round. “And what is that?”

  “Because I could use the likes of you and maybe some of the others too. In the pits.”

  “I don’t follow. What pits?” Venir blinked. His lids became heavy.

  Kazzar’s face swirled. “You’ll know soon enough.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Brak sweated so much he didn’t pay attention to it anymore. Jubilee sat in the saddle in front of him, leaning into his chest. Her head bobbled as she half slept. It felt good having the young woman with him. Her soft hair brushed his chin from time to time. He held her steady with his hand on her tiny waist, watching Fogle, who led them on foot.

  Slim and the ogres lumbered behind him, arms swinging like elephant trunks. The ogres moaned to one another. They’d been walking for hours, but it didn’t seem as if they’d gotten anywhere at all.

  I don’t think he knows where he’s going.

  As Brak understood it, since they’d exited the Red Clay Forest at what he swore was the north side, the City of Bone should be northwest of that. But it was hard to say. The suns didn’t rise and fall in the same place, and some days were longer than others. This was one of those days. Time stood still. The crust over the dirt looked the same a mile ahead as it did behind. He took a breath and huffed it out.

  Jubilee stirred. Looking up into his face with a smile in her eyes, she said, “I was dreaming about you, Brak.”

  “You were? And you smile?”

  “Yes,” she said, clasping his arm in both of hers.

  “What happened?”

  “You were dead, but now I see you are still alive.”

  “Oh. That’s morbid.”

  Yawning, she said, “I’m just glad I woke. So where are we?”

  “I don’t think we know.”

  “Great.” She straightened up in the saddle but still leaned back comfortably into him. “This is Jarla’s fault.”

  “You know that we can’t count on her.”

  “No, but I just wish she was here so that I could tell her how much I hated her again.”

  Brak gave the horse a kick and trotted up alongside Fogle.

  The hard lines in the mage’s face had deepened. “What?”

  “Can’t you just cast a spell or something to guide us to where we need to be?” Jubilee said.

  “Slim is leading, not me.” He pointed at the ground. A column of ants bigger than a man’s finger marched several paces ahead. “See, I’m following insects.”

  “Why don’t you just have them draw us a map?” Brak let out a laugh. “That would be impressive.”

  “Honestly, I should be able to get us where we need to be, but I’m used to the west, not the east.”

  Slim caught up with them. “Don’t be so full of yourself. You’re a mage, not a tracker. Besides, the ants know where they’re going. I was very clear about our destination. I don’t think i
t could be that much farther.”

  Brak tilted his head, watching the line of ants. The red-and-black-bodied creatures moved with organized purpose. “How long have we been following ants?”

  “Since hours ago, when I realized Fogle was lost,” Slim said.

  Fogle twisted off a string that hung from the hem of his sleeve. “How hard can it be to find a city that is supposed to be that big? There should have been some sort of trail that we’d come across by now.”

  Aside from the tremendous cacti and bone trees along with occasional fire lizards, Brak didn’t see anything else, not even the Mist in the east. He focused on the ants. One by one, they disappeared into the mud-cracked earth. “Uh, Slim, you need to get our ants back.”

  In a long, easy stride, Slim headed over, smiling. “Huh.” He scratched his head with his spidery fingers. “That’s odd.”

  The ground trembled. The horses whinnied. Brak’s frightened steed reared up on its hind legs. The surface exploded underneath them, tossing horse and rider to the ground. Brak looked up in time to see a black scorpion. It stood a head taller than him. Its pincers, big enough to crush a man, clacked. A tail curled over the giant insect’s back, stinger wet with venom.

  Olg attacked.

  “No!” Slim screamed.

  The scorpion’s tail flicked out, puncturing the ogre’s chest. The ruddy luster of Olg’s coarse skin paled. His jaw dropped open, and his eyes rolled up into his head. Olg had died. Ugg went into a frenzy. The blood-maddened ogre charged at the scorpion, crashing into its side. The insect’s legs wobbled, and its husk crashed sideways into the sand. Wheeling around on its legs, the monster clamped Ugg’s waist with its pincers. The ogre pounded the scorpion’s body with anvil-like fists. Ugg smote the monster in the eyes. It reared back. Like a cracking whip, the barbed tail of the scorpion came down and spiked Ugg in the head. The ogre’s eyes turned a milky green. Poison oozed from Ugg’s hanging mouth.

  “Run, Jubilee, run!” Brak yelled.

  The girl hung behind him, backpedaling on shaky legs, eyes fixed on the monster that had gored the powerful ogres.

  The scorpion and Brak squared off. With his sword gripped in two hands, Brak eyed the dangerous, poison-dripping needle that was poised to strike from the scorpion’s back. His feet moved from side to side as his heart raced. He’d never seen a monster like that before. It was coated in black armor—mindless and merciless.

  It pinched through the ogre’s gut and tossed Ugg aside. Its tail licked out. Brak brought his sword down. The steel collided with the scorpion’s deadly weapon, cutting deep into the spike. Poison sprinkled from the stinger, peppering Brak’s arm. “Arrgh!”

  With his skin bubbling, the fighter inside Brak fully woke. He pressed his attack, chopping at the insect’s eyes, clipping it neatly in the head. The exoskeleton cracked beneath the power of the blade. Its pincer rounded from Brak’s blind side and clubbed him down to a knee. Brak struck back with his sword. The scorpion caught it with its pincers. As they wrestled, Brak held onto the pommel, remembering the lessons of Venir, Mikkel, and Billip. Never give up your weapon. Because of the insect’s boundless strength, Brak felt as though he was fighting a monster made of iron. The second pincer snapped at Brak. He punched at it.

  “Brak!” Jubilee screamed.

  He’d lost sight of everyone. Blood rushed through his ears. He fought, kicked, and pulled against the monster. Its tail smote right between his legs, just missing his knees. He lurched out of the way and lost his grip on the sword.

  The scorpion dropped the sword in the sand. As it rushed him, a bright missile ripped through the insect. The glowing green light popped holes in and out of the insect like a wild hornet.

  The scorpion reared up, screeching. Brak dashed over to his sword and scooped it up.

  The missile of energy must have poked a dozen holes in the scorpion. Fluid oozed from its wounds. Still, it lived, shifting back and forth on its legs with red eyes searching for the foreign enemy. Wobbly, stinger stabbing wildly, it turned and came face-to-face with Brak.

  In a powerful lunge, Brak gored its face. The blade slipped into the monster’s tiny brain all the way down to the pommel. The scorpion flopped to the ground, twitching but dead. Brak yanked the sword free. His chest heaved.

  Fogle appeared with an anguished look on his face. Wisps of energy emanated from his fingertips. “How are you?”

  Brak gave him an assuring nod.

  Nearby, someone wailed. He and Fogle turned together. Slim was on his knees beside Ugg, moaning. The skinny man’s face was wet with tears. Brak heard Jubilee say under her breath, “And then there were four.”

  “More like fourteen.” Fogle’s face was turned away.

  “Huh?” Brak followed Fogle’s stare. His blood went cold. They were surrounded by underlings.

  CHAPTER 29

  Venir’s tremendous body leaned back against the chair. Billip and Hoff teetered in their seats. Every man’s chin dipped. Their eyes became lazy.

  Venir played along, catching the gemstone eyes of the underlings opening with a hungry look. He’d only taken a taste of the grog. The strong fermented drink wasn’t his thing. He tasted the taint in the fluid, though. It numbed his tongue.

  Kazzar lifted a hand and studied the men as though waiting for a chopped-down tree to fall. He gave a single chit command. An underling soldier with two pierced eyes moved toward Jasper. She let out a frightened little sound as the other human patrons inside the tavern chairs scooted over the hardwood floor.

  Venir’s head popped up. The muscles in his neck were tight. He shoved the entire table into Kazzar’s chest, pinning the underling against the wall.

  Instantly, Melegal fired one of his dart launchers into the exposed neck of an underling. The underling recoiled, clutching at the big needle lodged in his neck. Venir pushed out of his chair. He clubbed the underling in the face, cracking its jaw.

  Melegal kept firing. His darts found mark after mark, striking eyes and necks. A flash of light lit up the room. An underling screeched. Melegal twisted around in his seat. The underling that charged after Jasper gaped at his arm that lay on the floor. His shoulder smoked and sizzled. Black blood oozed. Jasper flung another shard of light at the underling, tearing its head from its shoulders.

  Fighting like a trapped wild boar, Venir clobbered underlings with whatever he could find. A chair broke on an underling’s skull. A poker by the fireplace became a deadly weapon. Venir bent the metal around an underling’s neck so tight the creature choked to death.

  Melegal snaked out a weapon from a fallen foe. He slunk behind an underling caught up in the fracas and pounced like a cat, sliding the blade clean between the vertebrae. It sagged, but not so fast that Melegal didn’t strike again.

  The underlings became a wreckage of black flesh as Venir and Melegal picked them apart with savagery and quick steel. Melegal slid the blade from an underling’s ribs just in time to catch Venir with Kazzar pinned up against the wall.

  “What did you put in me?” Venir demanded.

  The choking Kazzar waved his hands in a frantic motion. He clawed at Venir’s unforgiving hands. His face shifted and contorted. Feet kicking at the empty air, Kazzar’s black skin turned pale. The features on his face became those of a man. His head was bald and round. A long moustache hung from his upper lip.

  “What in Bone is this?” Venir asked.

  Standing beside Venir, Melegal said, “It’s a trick of those black devils. Twist its head off.”

  “No, no…” The man in Venir’s clutches managed to croak with his tongue half out of his mouth. “I’m a royal. A royal.”

  Venir gave Melegal a glance.

  The thief said, “That’s an even better reason to let my temperamental friend crush your throat.”

  “Please,” the bald man groaned. “Let me explain.”

  Melegal took a quick glance around the room. Billip and Hoff lay on the floor. Jasper stood nearby. Sam was approaching. “Sam do you kno
w anything about this?”

  “Nay.”

  “What about our companions?” Melegal said, holding a dagger under the man’s eye. “What did you give them?” The man who had been Kazzar struggled to talk. Venir still had him pinned to the wall by one arm. The man’s head was turning beet red. He gave Venir a nod.

  The warrior’s grip eased. He lowered the man so that his toes hit the floor but still held him fast. “Out with it.”

  Coughing, the man known as Kazzar cleared his throat and said, “Your friends will be fine. It’s just knockout juice.” He eyed Venir. “Why you’re standing, I’ll never know. I’m really Altan Rey of the House of Kord.” The balding man was as slight of build as an underling and appeared to be in his fifties. “Not every royal house has buckled to these cave dwellers. I’m a spy.”

  Glancing at the fallen underlings, Venir said, “Are they spies too?”

  “No. I mastered their language and stole the identity of Kazzar. These minions come and go. None of them knew Kazzar well enough to tell the difference.” Venir released him. Altan Rey rubbed his neck. “They’re all sick bastards.”

  “So why poison us?” Melegal said.

  “It’s hardly a poison.” Altan Rey found the waitress that he kept chained by the neck and waved her over. She slunk toward him on nimble feet. He unlatched her collar and pecked her cheek. “Sorry, dear. As for the potion, well, it’s a bit of deceit. Any formidable man is taken to the arenas in the castles to fight. It’s a better life than burning in the furnaces. The underlings fight soldiers all the time for sport. True gladiators.”

  Melegal gave the woman a once-over. Though dressed in scanty linen, her figure was fine. Her eyes and hair were dark. He noticed a royal birthmark mostly hidden under the hair on the nape of her neck. He knew it well. Many of the royal women were marked at birth to keep them from being accidentally sold into slavery. “You’re both spies.”