CHAPTER 26
Awareness. Helm amplified Venir’s intuition. He sensed, heard, felt the thoughts of the underlings bent on his destruction. It fed him. It fed Brool. His wounded body and seared mind came back to life. In a full sprint, he ran for the stands. Crossing the distance, he noticed Eep on the other end, tucked underneath the wall. The imp rolled his shield to him.
Flickering its tongue, the imp said, “Killsss them!”
Killing them was too kind a word for what Venir was going to do to them. He would wreak havoc. Mutilate. Destroy. The gushing hate-filled thoughts of the enemy fed his fury. He brought up the shield as another barrage of magic collided into him. He didn’t slow this time. The painted juggernaut leapt into the stands. Brool whistled through the air.
Slice!
Underling skull gave in to brain. Brain gave in to neck and chest. Two more underlings fell in seconds after the first. Setting the shield to his shoulder, Venir shoved against the heaving horde on one side. On the other side, Brool whistled death. Underlings fell to one full swing after the other. The axe was a living weapon in his hand. It sliced and stabbed. Arms, legs, and heads were detached. Fountains of black blood flowed. Venir let them have it! “Raaaaaah!”
Master Sinway backed up to the benches. His eyes were infernos. Fingers massaging the air, he flung red streams of energy at Venir. The radiant beams encircled Venir’s body. It sucked at the power propelling his limbs. Venir let out a barbaric laugh and hacked through a new enemy. The red energy dissipated. Sinway howled in underling. “Impossible!”
The fighting underlings became mindless. The presence of the Darkslayer drove them into an abnormal fury. They surged against the lone man, oblivious to everything around them. They wanted his blood. They were determined to bring him down once and for all.
Venir ascended the steps, leaving the wake of death beneath him. He fastened his attention on Master Sinway. The underlings recoiled. In vain, Elypsa fought through her brethren only to have Sinway pull her back. The master of all underlings was only two axe lengths away. “I’m going to kill you, Sinway! I’m going to kill you all!” Elypsa screamed.
Brool pierced a lung. The double blades split open chests, necks, and faces. The footing became slippery. The benches sloppy.
Almost there!
Venir swept aside a row of underlings with his axe. A gap opened between him and Sinway and Elypsa. “I’ve got you now!” He coiled his legs and sprung. Master Sinway and Elypsa faded. Brool passed through them both. Venir fought for his footing and wheeled around, swinging. Sinway and Elypsa were gone. He sensed it.
“Bone!”
Helmet throbbed angrily. Axe high, Venir unleashed his anger on the surging flock of underlings.
***
Melegal hit the ground on his feet. Magic erupted all around. The underlings were intent on slaying Venir. For a long second, Melegal considered fleeing into the bunkers. He changed his mind the moment an underling dropped from the stands and rushed him.
Chongo charged out of nowhere and crushed the underling in his jaws. Nearby, Brak fought his way to his knees. His clothing and hair were scorched. Ebenezer Kling made it to his feet, woozy and holding his head. He picked up a sword, stumbled forward, and fell down. Melegal helped the man up and shoved him toward the bunker. “Go!”
“Nay, I will fight.” Ebenezer’s face was haggard. The skin on the fingers of his sword hand had been chewed off. “It’s all the honor I have left.”
“Have it your way,” Melegal said. “Brak, can you stand?”
Brak nodded.
Melegal found the ash cudgel and handed it to Brak. “Can you swing?”
“I have a few more left in me.” Brak’s lazy eyes found Venir in the stands. His back straightened. His expression got mean. “Definitely, more.” Like a giant, he lumbered toward a knot of underlings. The cudgel’s head hanging in his hand glowed white. He slammed it into them. The blows made loud pops and cracks.
“Like lout, like lout.” Melegal noticed Creed scooting along the wall on his hindquarters. He was using a strip of clothing to clot the blood from his severed hand. Melegal hustled over to him. “Need a hand?”
With a little fire still burning behind his weak eyes, Creed said, “Funny. Can I borrow your belt?”
Melegal gave it some thought. “No, but I’ll fetch you one.” He picked his way through the dead until he found a suitable piece of rope that was used to secure prisoners. He tied off Creed’s arm at the elbow. “That will slow it, but you’ll probably still die. The world doesn’t need a one-armed swordsman anyway.”
“No, it doesn’t look like it.” Creed’s eyes were on the stands. Venir swung into underling after underling like a high-speed windmill. “So big. So fast. How does he control it?”
“Don’t give him all the credit. It’s that getup doing the work.”
“I know all about it. It takes more of a man than me to control it.” Creed grunted. “Help me up. I’m walking out of here if I can.”
Melegal hooked the man under the shoulder. “Ick. You’re slick with blood. Ack!” Eep appeared right in front of him. He took a stab at the imp. “Get away!”
“Eep your ally. You get away!” the imp said.
The imp had almost killed Melegal once before. The sight of Eep made his backside burn. Eyeing the hovering terror, he said, “You are my ally according to who?”
Eep flickered his tongue at Melegal and blinked away. He reappeared among the underlings. He tore the armorless men apart. Master Sinway sent the soldiers to search the castle. Now, only the mages remained. Unable to control their blind lust to kill Venir, they hurled their spells and bodies at him. Venir shrugged them off, sending them to their doom one double-bladed axe strike at a time. Chongo, Brak, and Eep joined him, attacking with berserk glee.
CHAPTER 27
“Creed. Ebenezer. I need you to secure these dugouts as far back as the preparation rooms,” Melegal said. His gut told him it was only a matter of time before every underling in the castle stormed the arena. “Do it now!”
Ebenezer lumbered into the one where Melegal fought the urchling. Creed followed after him. Melegal hooked his arm. “Not that way, that way!”
Pale as a ghost, Creed managed to amble into the dugout across the way.
Eyeing the battle in the stands, Melegal turned his ring. He vanished. Avoiding the fracas of battle, he traversed the stands until he made it to the top. There were four entrances. Paired-up underling soldiers burst through one of them. Melegal slipped out of their path, headed to that exit, closed the iron door, and bolted it shut. One down, three to go.
Moving clockwise, he managed to close the next two doors without incident. The last door was a problem. Underlings poured through it in a steady stream. Their eyes glazed over the moment they saw Venir. It sent them into a chittering frenzy. He waited for a break in the swarm. It didn’t come. Using the power of his cap, he shouted out, “Stop!”
The underlings froze in their tracks. Their momentum carried one into the other. One had fallen in the doorway. Melegal reappeared. Bish! It’s never easy! Taking advantage of the catatonic moment, he shoved the underling aside with his foot. Just as the fiend cleared the door, weapons came to life in the underlings’ hands. Melegal called out in underling again. “Stop!”
With the underlings frozen in their tracks, he shut the door and bolted it. Bright spots filled his eyes. Warm blood dripped from his nose. He started to strike an underling with its back to him. Instead, he teetered and fell. He cracked his head on the benches. When he looked up, three underlings came back to life. Bearing sharp weapons, they rushed toward him.
This is what I get for playing the hero. An untimely and unwanted death. With a terrible headache no less.
Chongo plowed into the underlings and tore them to shreds. He turned and licked Melegal in the face.
“Gack! Did you have to do that?” Melegal straightened his cap, wiped his nose, and headed down to the bottom of the arena stand
s. On the outside, the underlings were pounding on the doors. On the inside, Venir and Brak finished off the last of the underlings. Over a hundred lay dead. “Woohoo! Venir!” He flagged him down with his arms. “Take that helmet off and listen to me, lout!”
Ebenezer and Creed appeared from the dugout. They both gave him a thumbs-up.
Venir still murmured. His black eyelets sought out the enemy. He headed for the door.
“Brak! Stop your father.”
Brak reached out and swiped the helmet from Venir’s face. Venir was a split second from goring his son with the axe. His wild eyes settled. Chest heaving, he turned toward Melegal. “What?”
“As long as you are wearing that flower pot on your head, they are going to keep coming. We need to get out of here, now.” Melegal hopped the wall into the arena. He landed quiet as a cat. He staggered. Head still hurts. I hate that.
The underlings pounded at the doors. The echoing sound grew louder.
“We are trapped inside,” Brak said, handing the helmet back to his father. “We should keep fighting until they are all dead.”
“No, we should escape.”
Eep appeared, wringing his taloned hands. “So manysss outside. They gathered. Be here in moments. Yesss.” The imp shook the blood from his wings. “We kill all of them.”
“You can kill all that you want.” Melegal picked up the sack lying on the floor and tossed it to Venir. “I have a better idea.” He wandered over to a trap door in the floor, grabbed the metal ring on top, and with a heave, opened it up. “We can escape this way if we make haste.”
Venir peered in the hole while Chongo licked the blood and paint from him. “Chongo won’t fit down there.”
Melegal’s shoulders sagged. He looked up at the busted skylight. “I don’t suppose he can crawl up there?”
“No. But there isn’t any reason to stop any of you from going through. We need to raise the flags up and get the signal to Mood. You take care of that.”
“I’m staying with you, father,” Brak said.
“Sorry, son, but you are going too.”
“But—”
“It’s an order, Brak,” Venir said.
“And I suppose you are going to stay here and fight them off,” Melegal said. “You lose control, Venir.”
“I’m in control,” Venir replied.
“How do you know that?”
He put the helmet back on his head. “Because I have to be.” He turned to Brak and gave him a shoulder hug and slap on the back. “I’m proud of you, boy.”
“Touching,” Melegal said as he ushered Creed and Ebenezer through the trap floor. “I’ll get those flags up, Venir. What are you going to do if you make it out of here?”
Venir climbed into Chongo’s saddle. “I’ll meet you at the west gate.” Chongo rode toward the wall, leapt into the stands, and sauntered up the benches. Ears pinned back, he crouched down with Venir on his back, waiting for the doors to burst open.
Venir looked back one last time and smiled. “Too bad you won’t be here to see the fiends’ faces.”
“Let’s go, Brak.” Melegal prodded him along.
Step by step, Brak disappeared into the hole, his eyes fixed on Venir. Once he was down, Melegal entered with Eep hovering over top of him. “Don’t ever try to kill me again.”
“It depends on what my master says.”
“Who is your master?”
“Good-bye, bony one.” Eep disappeared.
Melegal secured the trap floor. The men moved down the corridor. He took the lead. Venir, you better make it.
CHAPTER 28
Georgio and Lefty were bound up by the striders. Hands tied behind their backs, they marched toward the campground they’d spied from the overlook. Barton was nowhere to be found. It was just them and hundreds of striders who set up camp in the middle of the Outlands. Rows of small tents with blankets lying in front of them were being packed up by female striders wearing desert robes.
“It seems we’re in familiar company,” Lefty said. “What was the name of the strider we fought with against the balfrog?”
“You’re asking me?” Georgio shuffled along behind the one strider while the other strider prodded him in the back with his spear. The striders talked back and forth with one another in a strange, broken speech. “You know I’m lousy with names.”
“True. I think the name was Tarcot. Does that seem familiar?”
“I guess.” Georgio licked his dry lips. “Say, strider, do you think I could get some water. We are on the same side, you know.”
The tall four-armed men with praying-mantis faces continued on in their long strides. They didn’t stop until they made it to the other side of the camp. A few thousand striders were gathered in a ring. The striders were so tall that even Georgio couldn’t see by them. Whoever spoke had the crowd hanging on every word. It wasn’t in underling, but the quick broken speech of their kind.
“I think that’s Tarcot,” Lefty said.
“How would you know? They all sound the same.” Georgio spit blood. Though he was healing up, it still hurt. His stomach began to rumble too. “If I don’t get something to eat soon, things are going to get ugly.”
“Sssh, be quiet. I’m listening to what he’s saying.”
“You don’t know what he’s saying.”
“I can figure it out. I have an ear for things.”
Georgio bent his head. The striders spoke back and forth. They seemed to be arguing, but he couldn’t tell. He looked to Lefty. “Well, what are they saying?”
“They are trying to decide if they should roast you or boil you before they eat you.”
His eyes popped. “We need to escape… wait a moment. You are just making that up.”
With a wide smile on his face, Lefty said, “Now why would I do that?”
“Because you are feeling yourself again, it seems.”
“I suppose that I am.”
“Too bad.”
Striders carried the underlings Georgio killed over their shoulders. The gathering parted. The striders, dead in tow, marched through the opening in the ranks. Georgio and Lefty’s captors followed after them. They hustled along. The blinking gazes of the striders hung on them. The striders laid the underlings on the ground. Another strider, the one Georgio believed was speaking, studied the bodies. His four hands were clasped together. Necklaces of bones and feathers hung over his neck.
“I think that’s Tarcot,” Lefty said.
“How can you tell? They all look the same.”
“I can tell.”
“Cannot.”
“Can too.” A strider poked Lefty in the backside. “Ow!”
The strider resumed his speech. His four arms gesticulated with vigor. The strength in his voice rose. His fists shook.
“He’s trying to talk the striders into fighting the underlings,” Lefty said. “They are uncertain about it. Interesting.”
“They probably want to hide. Everyone wants to hide from the underlings, except us.” Georgio noticed a strider drinking from a water skin. “Oh, I want a drink of that. I want a drink bad. You, bug-face! Give me a drink!” he said to his guardian.
The strider poked him in the ribs. “Ow! Will you quit hitting me? I’m just thirsty.”
The outburst caught the attention of the rest of the striders. The one that was speaking said in a common tongue, “Bring the humans forward so I may see them.”
The guards led Georgio and Lefty to the front. They were shoved to their knees. The strider that was speaking toyed with his many necklaces with his left pair of hands while one right hand was on his chin and the other on his hip. “You brought the foul-skinned into our lands. You seek to harm us. Why?”
“No,” Georgio said. “We killed them because they were trying to kill us.”
“Nay, nay, no,” the strider said. “As I understand, my striders killed the underlings. They saved you for judgment.”
Rankled, Georgio said, “That’s ludicrous! The underling
s were dead before they got there!”
“You are a deceiver! The hot lands are now full of many deceivers. We shall eradicate them.”
Face reddening, Georgio said, “Now you listen to me you bug-faced bast—”
“Georgio! Hush! Let me do the talking,” Lefty interjected. The striders had three spears pointed at each of their faces. He swallowed then cleared his throat. “Mighty protector of the Outland, may I address you properly?”
The strider’s head cocked side to side. A quick nod followed. A different strider, carrying no weapons, translated as Lefty spoke.
“I am Lefty Lightfoot. This man is my henchmen. He is an ignorant man that often speaks out of turn. He wields the tongue of the undisciplined. It shall take many more lashes to break him.” Georgio glared at him, but Lefty continued. “We are lost. Underlings raided our caravan. We escaped with our very lives only to be tracked down. Fortunately, your brethren, powerful and brave warriors, came to our aid. Now, we wish to thank you and hopefully return the favor.”
The strider put his right fists to his left chest and said, “Lefty Lightfoot, I am Kocus, leader of this tribe. Your words are all lies. I confirm this with my men. You fail the test. Hence, you will suffer the consequence.”
“And what might that be?” Lefty said.
Kocus turned his thumbs down. “Death.”
“Well done, Lefty,” Georgio said as they hauled him away. “Well done.”
CHAPTER 29
“Ready to fight, brutish one,” Eep said to Venir.
He nodded.
“Good.” The imp blinked his eye and vanished.
“Can’t even count on gruesome imps these days.” Venir fastened his shield onto his back. Chongo’s body rumbled. His low growling sent tremors into Venir’s body. He and the slavering dog were one. He and the helmet were one. All three entities fed off one another, each of them ever intent on the destruction of the underlings but for their own reasons.
The huge, dwarven setter would protect his master. Venir wanted vengeance not only for himself but for all mankind. Helm’s intentions were clear. It would aid Venir, feed him, and increase his consciousness. It was still a mystery to Venir, however. Was the helmet feeding off him or was he feeding off the helmet? Who would the armament serve if the underlings were beaten back into the caves that they came from?
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 6-10): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 48