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

by Craig Halloran

  Blackie buried his snout inside his wing.

  “Blackie!” Cass pounded on the dragon’s closed eyelid with her little fist. “I won’t be having any of this. I say it’s time to go, then it’s time to go. Besides, you’ll need feeding soon enough. I know you’re hungry.”

  The dragon’s lip curled back, revealing his great teeth. He growled.

  “What is with all of you men? Blackie, I’m not making any apologies. If anything, you are the one that should be apologizing to me for all of your inexcusable actions.”

  Brak and Jubilee gave each other surprised looks. The tiny woman arguing with a mammoth of a dragon was one of the oddest things they’d ever seen. Scratching the thick patch of blond hair on the top of his head, Brak said, “We can try later, Cass.”

  “No, don’t you go anywhere. I’m getting this sorted out right now.” The dragon’s earhole was about the size of Cass’s head. Rising up on her toes, she shouted into it. “Blackie, either you are my friend or you are not my friend. If you are my friend, who adores me as much as I adore you, you will follow my command. If not, then you should go and never come back. You know I don’t take kindly to being shunned by a man.”

  The dragon’s eyelid lifted, revealing an eye as bright as a yellow gemstone. His head pulled back out of his wing. Suspended by a muscular neck of coal-black scales, the dragon’s head passed over the top of all of them. Dragging his belly over the ground, he detached from the rocks he was hunkered in. He snorted a gust of hot air from his nostrils and spread his wings. With a sad roar, he pounded the air with his wings.

  Standing firm in the face of the gust, Brak caught Jubilee and Cass in his arms. Sand and grit stung his eyes as the dragon lifted off.

  Shielding her eyes, Cass yelled, “Don’t you dare, Blackie. Don’t you dare leave me!”

  The dragon rose up inside the sheer walls of the Columns, higher and higher. Blackie hovered at the top for a long moment, casting a backward glance as a shambling man in robes floated from the rocks onto the dragon’s back.

  “No!” Cass said.

  The darkened silhouette of Boon hung in the sky. The old wizard waved down at them. The dragon flew higher in the air, caught the wind under his wings, and faded from sight.

  Sobbing into her hands, Cass sank to her knees. “No, no, no, he abandoned me.”

  “Great, there goes our ride,” Jubilee said.

  Brak nudged her.

  “What? Bish is no place for crying.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Ebenezer Kling rapped his knuckles on the door to Manamus’s quarters. The door unlatched and swung inward. He entered the drab room whose stony walls didn’t have a single drape, framed picture, or any other sort of decoration. The fireplace was cold and the portal windows closed. Hundreds of candles lit the room, glowing with an unnatural green flame. The other furnishings were sparse. Manamus rocked back and forth on a black rocking chair, its narrow legs and spindles creaking as she knit with black and copper yarn. Her hands moved impossibly fast, the tips of her knitting needles clicking together with intricate precision. He closed the door behind him.

  “How are you, Mother?”

  “I miss Cletus.” The wrinkles around her lips hardened. “I never realized I cared for people until I saw them gored before my eyes. It gave me perspective.”

  Ebenezer sauntered over to the lone bed and sat down on the edge. There weren’t any other chairs, just a few chests and drawers and a wardrobe. “Yes, loyal soldiers are difficult to replace, especially when we’ve been breeding them for centuries. It’s not very likely that we will be replacing them anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter.”

  The clicking of the knitting needles stopped. “Losing your guts already?”

  Noting the flicker in his mother’s hard eye, he said, “Just making sure that you weren’t losing yours. I’m unaccustomed to my mother having a soft spot for servants.”

  “Cletus was more than a servant.”

  Ebenezer didn’t care to explore what she meant by the comment. His mother had her ways, wise, wooly, and wizardly. He never had a fancy for the dark arts that she draped herself in. He’d always disappointed her in that. “I’m most worried about Rayal. It’s been impossible getting word from the other houses. I can only assume that they’ve all been gutted the same as ours. Do you think that you could…find her?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Her knitting resumed.

  “What are you making?” He stretched his long arm out and lifted up the end of the woven cloth.

  “A noose.”

  “It’s a very nice noose.” He rubbed the soft fabric between his fingers. “I’m not here for a social visit. We are summoned to the arena, again.”

  “I’m almost finished,” she said, still rocking back and forth.

  “We need to be prompt.”

  “They can wait!” A spider scurried by her feet. She stopped rocking and stomped on it. She resumed her rocking and finished knitting a few minutes later. She hung the scarf over her neck and shoulders. Sticking the knitting needles in the arm of the rocker, she stood up. “Let’s go.”

  Standing, Ebenezer offered his arm.

  Manamus locked her cold hands around his elbow. “You were always a disappointment, but at least you’re tall and handsome.”

  “Thank you, Mother, but please, don’t soften me up with compliments.” The door opened and closed by an unseen force as they passed through. “I need to be harder than an anvil’s edge.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  ***

  Ebenezer and Manamus sat underneath the stained-glass dome framed in copper. A small arena with bench seats that could hold several hundred people encircled the pit. The pits were commonplace in the royal castles, where they held training, ceremonies, and tournaments. They sat in the lower rows with underling soldiers posted behind them. Master Sinway was present, along with Elypsa and her mate, Kuurn. They sat in the top rows behind Ebenezer’s left shoulder. His eyes sought after Elypsa more than once during the fights.

  “Stop staring at that succubus,” Manamus warned. “She’ll burn your eyes out.”

  “Stab them out is more likely,” he said, remembering the lone time he’d sparred with her. The sword mistress could have gutted him but didn’t. “She’s a marvel for such a small creature. Those sensuous arms are as strong as a man’s. Her strokes glide and sing. A truly amazing thing. I couldn’t perish to a more formidable opponent.”

  Manamus rolled her eyes and sighed.

  Inside the circle, a bare-chested man stood with a spear in hand. Young and strapping, he trembled as an underling came in through the tunnel entrance. The underling walked in with a swagger, carrying a spear. The wiry muscles in its bare chest bulged. The young man swallowed hard.

  “This is going to be a slaughter,” Manamus said. “Again.”

  The stone mosaic pit floor was stained in blood and covered with dirt and dust. Weapon racks stood along the rim. At floor level along the wall was a set of stairs that led down into a dugout ,where more men were lined up.

  An underling commander entered the ring from the tunnel wearing blackened plate-mail armor. His eyes burned ruby red. He stepped between the two contestants and inspected their weapons. With a nod, he faced Master Sinway and bowed. He turned, backed between the weapons racks, and let out a sharp chit.

  The underling and man touched spear heads, backed off, and circled. The wary-eyed human jabbed his spear in the underling’s direction with shaky arms. The quick-footed underling shook his shoulders, chittering in mockery. The strapping man shuffled a step, half jabbed, pulled back, and counterattacked. The underling slid his neck out of the way at the last split second. The underling sprang back and let out a vile hiss.

  The underling charged. He sidestepped his opponent’s striking tip and jabbed the man deep in the chest. The underling plunged the spear point into the dying man several times. Blood leaked onto the floor. Flinging blood from his spear, the underling fist tapped his ches
t a few times.

  Another man was ordered into the pit by the underling commander. The man hustled into the arena, grabbed the dead man by the arms, and dragged him away, leaving a swash of fresh blood on the floor.

  Elypsa came down the stairs and called the underling pit commander over. “You call this entertainment? These fights are horrible. I expect better for the grander games we will be hosting.”

  “You will have them,” the pit commander said. He glanced at Ebenezer. “Soon.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “You can’t be serious, Venir,” Melegal said. He was back inside the Drunken Octopus. The smoke haze lingered around the group. “You’ll be chopped to bits.”

  Venir’s chair groaned when he sat and rested his big forearms on the table. “I’m trusting my gut on this. If Altan Rey can get me into Castle Kling, as he says, I can get close enough to take down Sinway.”

  “Assuming that you can trust Altan Rey,” Melegal said. “And there is no guarantee that you won’t wind up at the gallows. There’s nothing the underlings wouldn’t like more than to see a big man like you swinging. They’ll dance and chitter in the streets.”

  “They’re looking for me, and it’s only a matter of time before they close in. They’ve busted open every door in Bish.” Venir finger tapped a knot of wood on the table. “They won’t be looking for me inside the castles. Besides, I can’t just let these people be slaughtered. It needs to end now.”

  “And the dwarves?” Creed asked.

  “We’re still going to let them in or die trying. Hoff will see to that. Just be ready to see those banners fly from the windows of Castle Kling’s towers. Melegal, you can take care of that?”

  “Me?”

  “You’re going in too.” Venir eyed his cap. “Your services will be needed in there.” He turned to Billip and Nikkel. “I need you two to return to the Black Columns. Let Mood know what we’ve planned. You can handle getting out again, can’t you?”

  Popping his knuckles one finger at a time, Billip said, “Need you ask?”

  “You see, Melegal, it’s all going to work out.” Venir quaffed down a mouthful of ale. “The Octopus will be free of underlings soon enough.”

  Melegal gave him a bitter face. “It better be. I still say you can’t trust Altan Rey, but he’ll be thrilled with your decision.”

  “Unless you can transform into an underling, we don’t have another choice.”

  Melegal shrugged his skinny shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. But put it on the record: I said this is another foolish idea of yours. I’m sure I’ll land on my feet. As for you, probably on your arse.”

  ***

  “This is what you’re fighting for?” Elizabeth said. She spoke of the tiny apartment on the top floor of the Drunken Octopus tavern that Melegal and Venir had used for years. The furnishings hadn’t changed. Two cots were on the floor. Venir, Melegal, and Jasper sat behind a small round table in the cramped quarters. “This little slat hole?”

  “Elizabeth, please!” Rayal was brewing coffee on a small potbelly stove. She walked over to the table with the kettle and topped off Venir and Melegal’s clay mugs. “You’re a guest and should be thankful.”

  The girl ran her finger over the dingy glass window pane. “For what? Even our servants live better than this, not that they deserve it. You act as if it’s a garden sanctuary.” She brushed debris from one of the cots where Octopus lay. The big, blind cat’s purring rumbled as she looked at Melegal. “This cat is mine now, you know.”

  Melegal paid her no mind. His gaze was fixed on Rayal. He’d never met a woman so pleasant before, even for a royal. She was sweet, polite, and strong. Holding the warm mug in his bony hand, he sipped. The bitter coffee burned his lip. He set the mug down.

  “Burn yourself?” Jasper blew on the rim of her mug. “Good.”

  Rayal fixed herself a mug and took a seat beside Elizabeth. Fingernails tapping on her mug, she said, “I just want to thank all of you, again. I know I’ve said it before, but I just don’t think I’d have made it this far without you. Well, I know I wouldn’t have.”

  “Will you stop rambling?” Elizabeth said. “It’s embarrassing. They’re just normal people.”

  Rayal landed a backhand swat to her sister’s lips. “Don’t cross me again. Last warning.”

  Yes, sweet and strong. I like her, Melegal thought. He gave Jasper’s knee a pinch. Jasper smirked at him.

  Venir took a sip of the coffee, gave Melegal an approving glance, and set it back down. “You make very hot coffee, Rayal.”

  “It’s not very good, is it?” she said.

  “No, just hot. Coal burning is something you have to get used to.” Venir slung his arm over his chair and faced her. “I think you need to return to the royal castle. It will be safer there.”

  “But there are just as many underlings within as without. I feel much safer here,” Rayal said.

  “There won’t be anyone to protect you here. I can’t risk the underlings catching you. They’ll take anyone, for any reason.” Venir put his big paw on her knee. “You have to trust me.”

  “How am I going to explain where I’ve been? The underlings will torture me. You know that,” she said. “This is as safe a place to hide as any.”

  “I prefer the castles,” Elizabeth said. “Underling or no underling, it’s still better than this rank closet. Besides”—she buried her face in the cat’s fur—“Octopus will protect me.”

  “Sorry,” Venir said, “but the decision has been made.”

  CHAPTER 9

  In the dead of night, Billip and Nikkel slipped out of the tunnel that ran from the stables to the outside of Bone. Keeping their weapons concealed under their travel cloaks, they slipped through vile ranks of the desperate people that were crammed into small camps outside Bone. Moving on soft feet and avoiding the weary eyed, they made it a mile away from the wall to where the land became black and barren. They were alone, except for the stench of the dead that burned in everlasting fires outside of Bone’s walls.

  “That was easy.” Nikkel wiped the sweat from his forehead. His teeth shined in the night. “To the Columns it is then?” The broad-shouldered black youth headed west.

  Somewhere in the dark, a horse nickered. Billip caught up to Nikkel, and both men sank to the ground and froze. “Slat,” Billip said. A small patrol on horseback bore down on their position at a slow walk. “Of all the bloody fortune. I count seven. You?”

  “Eight.”

  “Eight? I don’t see eight. You’re as blind as your father. Either that or you don’t count nearly as well.” Billip drew an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. Nikkel cranked back the string on Bolt Thrower and slid a bolt into the neck. “Don’t get all jumpy. They haven’t seen us yet.”

  The horsemen came straight for them. No more than thirty yards away, the scout in the front lifted his hand, bringing the small company to a halt. Talking to the others in a low voice, the scout pointed at their location. The riders fanned out. The scout was in the middle, with three riders on each side. The one on the far left had a banner of a royal house mounted to his saddle. The moonlight shone off their dusty breastplate armor.

  Billip licked his lips. He could take down two, perhaps three, but at least two riders would escape. They’d have a full army chasing them after that. He whispered to Nikkel, “I’ll do the talking.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to do us any good.”

  “Who goes there?” the scout in the middle shouted out in the dark. His long hair hung down as far as the moustache that passed his chin. “Come about, now.”

  Billip rose to full height. So did Nikkel. They kept their weapons pointed toward the ground.

  “You are armed, I see.” The royal scout’s voice was strong and confident. “I take it you’re hunting?”

  “We are getting a jump on things, yes,” Billip agreed. “Desperate times.”

  “And what are you hunting?”

  “Snake. Jackrabbit. Anything th
at moves with some meat in it,” Billip replied.

  The royal soldier chuckled with gruff laughter. “Interesting.” He eased his horse closer, and his heavy stare landed on Nikkel’s crossbow. “That’s a heavy crossbow. A fine weapon. Am I to believe you can hit a jackrabbit with that thing? It would be quite a feat.”

  “I can hit anything,” Nikkel replied.

  “Easy, hunter. Just making light conversation after another miserable night. We are knights from the House of Kord.” He spit tobacco on the ground. “Where do you hail from?”

  “South,” Billip replied. “Far south, where the baked dirt turns to jungle. All we know is lost from way back when. It seems like forever ago. If you don’t mind, we’d like to move along and continue with the hunt. It’s important to get a good spot before light.”

  “Yes, we do our best hunting just before the daylight as well.”

  “Hunting what?”

  “Deserters. Deceivers. Derelicts.” The scout shrugged. “It’s more or less a game with us.”

  The other horsemen formed a half circle around Billip and Nikkel. Spear handles slid out of their leather quivers. Swords whisked out of their scabbards.

  “We are none of those things.” Billip eased the string back on his bow. “We are enemies of the underlings.”

  “Oh, well now, that changes everything,” the scout leader said. “Did you hear that, men? He says they are enemies of the underlings. Hah. That’s good. I imagine their heads will fetch us three times the normal price.” He drew his sword. “Kill them!”

  Clatch-zip! Nikkel’s bolt rocketed into the scout leader’s chest. An arrow pierced his neck at the same time. The man fell from the saddle. The horse reared. “I got that arsehole first, Billip! Remember that!”

  “Fool, you made me waste an arrow.” Billip shot an arrow at the horseman bearing down on him with a spear. The shaft sailed into the man’s forehead. The royal fell backward from the saddle with one foot stuck in the stirrup, and the horse galloped on.