The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 1-5): Sword and Sorcery Adventures

by Craig Halloran

  Creed found the door to his quarters and depressed the thumb handle.

  “Aw, not his again.”

  He knocked softly.

  “Lorda,” he said. “Lorda Almen? Will you please let me in?”

  A deadbolt scraped against the wood and metal on the other side and the door swung open.

  He had one foot in when a delicate hand shoved him in the chest.

  “No more dogs,” Lorda said.

  “But that’s Marnx. He protects—”

  “None,” she fired back.

  “Oh, alright then.” He looked down at the big dog. It had already lain down along the hall. “Good beast.”

  The room was large and well furnished, with a four-poster bed. The furniture was well crafted but nothing exquisite. Lorda Almen took a seat in front of a vanity. She started combing her silky black hair. She looked magnificent in her white cotton gown.

  Creed combed his fingers through his long reddish hair.

  “How has your evening been, Lorda Almen?”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “What?”

  “Lorda or Almen. Just call me Katherine,” she said, dabbing her wrists with perfume.

  “Oh,” he said, staggering forward. “I like that, Katherine.”

  She turned and held out her hand.

  He came closer.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to smell what you were wearing.”

  “Well, you smell like a sweaty dog.” She shooed him away. “And you look horrible. Like you’ve not slept in days. Get in the tub. The bath’s ready.”

  “Uh … alright.”

  Creed unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it to the floor. His trousers were caked in blood and the Shroud tucked under his arm. He looked inside the hood, shaking his head. What is this that I have? Can I not die now? He slipped the bracers off and tossed them in the corner.

  “Here,” Lorda said, tossing him a bar of soap. “Don’t be stingy with it either. This entire place needs burning down, it stinks so.”

  He made his way over to the tub, slipped out of his trousers, and in he went. The water was warm and smelled good.

  “Ah,” he moaned. He glanced at Lorda. He would call her Katherine, if that was what the lady wanted, but to him she would always be Lorda. Her back was still turned to him. He started scrubbing. For two weeks, he’d been in and out. When he was in, Lorda had barely noticed him. When he slept, he did it on the floor, not in his own bed. Exhausted and tipsy, he felt delighted she’d shown him this much attention. Everything about the woman was incredible. He wanted her. I think I’d die for a peek inside those robes. “My, this feels good, Lorda, er, I mean Katherine.”

  He rinsed his chest off with a jug of water. Fingered the white scars. Blast, that hurt! He eyed the armament lying on the floor. He’d been a killing machine for days. He’d blindsided dozens of underlings, but tonight he’d fallen in over his head. All his speed and skill hadn’t been enough to overcome their numbers, yet the shroud hadn’t allowed him to leave. It had scared him. I can’t let that happen again!

  A towel hit him in the face.

  “Have you finished cleansing yourself?” Lorda made her way over to the bed and sat down. She crossed her sensuous legs.

  “Er … well, yes, but I thought I’d soak awhile.”

  She had a hungry twinkle in her eye. “You can soak, or you can come over here and lie down. You look tired, Creed.” She patted the bed.

  Creed swallowed hard. He popped out of the tub, dried himself off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He made his way to her. Thirsting.

  “Lie down and keep silent.”

  He did as he was told.

  Lorda blew out most of the candles, crawled over the bed, straddled his waist, and disrobed.

  Creed’s heart thundered in his chest.

  “You are—”

  “Not a word,” she said. Her soft body shuddered with passion. “Not a word.”

  ***

  “I want you to stay in the castle, Creed,” Lord Grom said, stuffing steak and eggs in his mouth. “It’s too dangerous out there, with or without your gift. What if they cut your head off and ate it. Burned you on a stake. Scattered your ashes to the Four Winds of Bish, hm? You won’t be coming back from that now, will you.”

  Creed sat at the dining room table and tossed strips of steak fat to the dogs. Even after his silent night of passion with Lorda, he was as restless as a wild man. Still, his grandfather made a good point. Everyone dies and it’s always ugly when they do. His father had told him that.

  “We have to join the fight, Grandfather. We can’t be neutral about this. The underlings aren’t Royals. They’re a different kind of evil.”

  Lord Grom slurped milk from a wooden tankard and burped. He wiped his beard with his meaty forearm.

  “Maybe so, but Bloodhounds don’t rush into trouble. We do the Royals’ dirty work. We track, kidnap, murder, spy. We do what we’re paid to. We’re not paid to fight their war. Stay in. Stay on course. This house can’t afford to lose its finest warrior.” He thumped his chest with his fist and burped again. “The daylight is still ours.”

  “What?” Creed said. “They don’t fear the light, Grandfather! They take a piece of this city each and every night. Day will follow. You’ll see. What will we do then?”

  Lord Grom stood up and slammed his fist down.

  “Let the Royals handle it! You stay in, and that’s an order!”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Stay at my back!” Venir said as he sliced the dwarven axes back and forth, backing alongside Melegal. “I don’t know what to expect from these things.”

  The arachnamen came at them. Their faces were as fierce as rabid dogs.

  Venir advanced. Chopped his axe into the face of his first aggressor. Pulverized another one’s skull. Though fierce, the creatures were no match for his size and strength.

  “Taste my metal, bugs!”

  Glitch! Hack! Hack!

  Arms, legs, and guts filled the air. The dirt was sticky with blood. Venir hammered away at the strange monsters. Limbs fell from torsos. Blood streaked across the white sky.

  “Come on!” he beckoned.

  A small spear buried itself in Venir’s shoulder. He dropped one axe and ripped out the spear.

  “Yer gonna need a bigger toothpick!”

  Glitch!

  He pinned the little monster to the ground. Snatched up his axe and fought like a wild man.

  Towering over the part-men part-insects, Venir hewed into them with all his might. They reminded him of underlings. They stunk like evil things that scurried and snatched victims in the night. Venir roared. He crossed his axes over his chest and swung outward.

  Slice! Slice! Chop!

  An arachnaman’s head popped off its shoulders. Venir kicked. Stomped. Screamed. They stabbed and slashed. Venir batted away their attacks with his heavier blades. He was a great man among fiendish children.

  The hoots crescendoed and hit a high pitch. The ranks of the creatures scurried back and blew web bubbles that drifted through the air.

  Venir took a sharp breath and clutched the pain in his side. He was bleeding everywhere.

  “Melegal,” he said, turning around.

  The skinny thief shoved a dead monster off himself. His eyes were murder and steel.

  “I hope you killed all of them,” he managed to say. “Uck!” He rubbed the bloody goo off his hand in the dirt. Nearby, an arachnaman tried to run on four legs. Melegal jammed a blade in its back and ripped it out. He adjusted his cap with his scrawny chest heaving. “Nasty things.”

  The immediate area fell silent. Dozens of black eyes had them surrounded.

  Melegal stood shoulder to shoulder with Venir.

  “Did you scare them?”

  Venir grunted.

  Slowly, in step, he and Melegal backed away.

  The arachnamen began hooting a strange dreary chant.

  �
�Well, they sing better than you at least,” Melegal said.

  Ahead, the arachnamen parted, leaving a large gap.

  “Is that for us?” Melegal said, turning away. “I’m getting Haze.”

  The ground trembled.

  “Eh?”

  Venir watched the ground ahead of them sink into itself, leaving a hole in the dirt. Two black antennae popped up over the edge. The face of a giant arachnaman emerged. Crawling out of the hole, it towered over Venir and Melegal. So big it was, Venir could almost run beneath it.

  Melegal sucked in through his teeth and said, “Slat! What is that? You take him, can’t you?”

  The giant-sized arachnaman raised an enormous trident over its head and bellowed a long loud hoot at them. It wiggled the back of its tail that rattled. Its large black eyes shone with intelligence and cunning. The fangs in its mouth were like razors.

  Venir pulled back his shoulders. He’d killed big spiders before, but this was different. And he’d had the armament then.

  “Fight or die,” he mumbled.

  ***

  Go away! Go away! Go away!

  Melegal summoned the power in his cap. Nothing happened. The tired bones in his body that had ached now throbbed even more.

  Slat!

  He twisted the ring on his finger. The one from Sefron’s lair in Castle Almen. He shook his head. The giant monster was the ghastliest thing he’d ever seen. Hairy. Scary. I bet they were going to feed Haze to that thing.

  The smaller arachnamen closed the circle and scooted back, forming an arena and hooting bubbles.

  Evil things want a show!

  “Any ideas, Venir?”

  “Don’t let him stab you with the trident. It’ll probably kill you.”

  “Aside from that, Arsehole?”

  Venir shrugged his huge shoulders.

  “You go for the back, I’ll go for the belly.”

  “Whenever you’re—”

  Venir let out a fierce bellow, raised his axes and charged.

  Like that’s going to scare it!

  ***

  Rushing headlong, full speed, the monster brought down the trident in a flash. Venir skidded to a stop. The center tip of the trident jabbed the ground inches in front of his booted toe. Venir spun around the metal head and sprang at the nearest leg. He chopped into the hairy exoskeleton.

  Hack!

  The giant archnaman screeched. Its giant hand flattened Venir to the ground.

  “Oof!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the trident flash in the sunlight. Up it went. Down it came. He rolled left. Sprang right. Above him, the monster stabbed furiously at the ground. Venir hacked a piece of one foot off. Dug the dwarven metal deep behind the knee of another. The giant arachnaman snatched him up like a doll and slammed him into the ground. Dark spots formed in his eyes. His breath was gone from his chest. He took a wild swing.

  Swish!

  The giant arachnaman swung the trident into his side, skipping him across the dirt. Blinking grit from his eyes, Venir caught the gleam of the trident’s sharp tip in the sun. He sat up on his knees, axes hanging at his sides. Exhausted, he raised his chin up.

  “Go ahead,” he said, “stab me with your fork, Bug Eyes!”

  It hooted and grinned.

  ***

  Melegal stabbed the monster’s hide. Chopped into its girth. Slashed its legs. He barely skinned it.

  What’s this thing made of?

  He dashed between its legs and poked its belly.

  It must have a weakness. I’m no more than a flea to it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Venir kneeling on the ground. Yelling.

  Always has something to say, even on the worst of days. Slat! If he dies, I will as well.

  He dropped his swords, latched his fingers around one of the giant arachnaman’s legs, and summoned the power from Sefron’s ring.

  ***

  The monster’s eyes bulged from their sockets. The giant arachnaman jerked and contorted. Its trident fell from its grasp. It staggered in a circle on eight wobbly legs. The black hairs on its chest sizzled as it staggered.

  Venir scrambled over the dusty ground and picked up the over-sized trident. Grasping it in both hands, he summoned all the strength left in him. The monster staggered back into his path. Chest exposed. Reeling. Venir charged with everything he had.

  “AAAARGH!”

  He rammed the trident deep into the monster’s belly.

  GLITCH!

  Arms bulging, legs churning, he pushed it in deep and deeper.

  The monster rocked and reeled. It spewed bloody gobs of web from its mouth. Its eyes locked on Venir. Its big hand lashed out.

  Swat!

  Venir flipped head over heels into the dirt. He scrambled up to his knees. His chest was burning and pain filled his sight.

  “Die, Son of a Bish!”

  The monster ripped the trident from its belly and raised it high over its head. Furious, it slung it at Venir.

  “Bone!”

  He dove. The weapon scraped over his shoulders. Venir darted for his axes with the giant arachnaman bearing down on top of him. Its belly oozed and its lips spittled gobby goo. Venir swung hard into its outstretched arms, tearing a chunk off it. The creature squealed like a wild pig. Its legs gave out and it sank to the ground.

  Finish it!

  Venir climbed on its back and sank his axe brain deep in its head.

  Chok! Chok! Chok!

  It moved and twitched no more.

  He hopped off its back and searched for Melegal. The thief was covered in dirt and webs. All of the other arachnamen were gone.

  “I took care of them,” Melegal said, picking webs off his sword. He spat. “Bone! Spiders and their webbing.” He cleared his throat. “Glad to see that you came through on your part as well.”

  Venir grunted a laugh and ambled over. He knew Melegal had done no such thing.

  “Well then,” he said, “perhaps we should comb their holes for some treasure then.”

  Melegal stiffened. “I’m quite satisfied above the ground.”

  Venir saw him toying with the ring on his finger.

  “Since when did you start wearing jewelry?”

  “When did you find your humor again?” Melegal said. He ambled over to Haze. “I thought you lost it in Bone.”

  ***

  The grave was shallow. A pile of dirt with a rock marker behind the shade of some rocks.

  “Me …” Venir said, frowning.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Melegal said. “We all make choices that we live and die with. I just wish she would have gotten to see that city.” He looked at Venir and put his cap back on. “It had better be better than Bone.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Master Sinway’s heart was iron. His hatred molten steel. His clawed fingers dug into the metal on his throne. He ground the teeth inside his jaws. Two oversized cave dogs lay at his feet. Mangy and muscled. A pair of Vicious, black, hulking and cat-like, stood behind his throne. His powerful voice spoke.

  “Port!”

  An underling woman appeared from the nearest chamber. The grace of a gazelle. Supple and exotic figure between her gossamer robes. Long hair white as snow. She kneeled on the dais and held a full goblet of port above her head.

  Master Sinway took it to his lips and drank. With a chit, he dismissed her.

  “Hmmm,” he said. “I wonder what damage our women could reap on the surface world.”

  Master Sinway’s castle was huge. A marvel as big as the castles in Bone but carved out of stone. Pewter chandeliers hung more than fifty feet above. Green flames burned forever on their candles.

  Sinway drank and contemplated. The finest forces from the Underland had been turned loose on Bish. The success had been swift. Their path full of devastation. Still, the City of Bone bothered him. The keys were lost. The Chamber of Transportation gone. His finest servants had perished. Master Kierway, one of his finest sons, had fallen. Lor
ds Catten and Verbard, two of his greatest servants ever, had perished. And there was no word of The Darkslayer. It made him worry.

  He took a long swallow.

  The thorn in their side for years had all but disappeared. Yet something deadly still struck in the night. It gave the City of Bone but little hope. However, even the slightest thread of hope could be deadly. Can’t let the humans rally.

  Using the Current, he loaded ships with chests and barrels filled with gold, silver, gemstones and port. The underlings didn’t have the same kind of love for precious things as men did. They found a different sort of value in their baubles. Men would turn on one another for them. But if every man could be bribed, Master Sinway’s mission would be all too easy. More than enough of them could that it would slow the City of Bone’s defenses further.

  “Let them soak in tubs of port and shower in metal sprinkles. Soon the streets will be rich in their blood.” He finished his drink. “Once we have the city, we’ll control the Everwells and all of Bish will be mine.”

  “No,” a voice said, “it will be ours.”

  The cave dogs were up on their feet growling.

  The hulking Vicious swung to Sinway’s sides. Eyes alert. Claws barred.

  “Oh, it seems I have a visitor,” Master Sinway said, setting down his goblet. He smoothed back his black hair. Rubbed the rat-like hair on his arms. “Kill it.”

  Blink.

  The Vicious and Cave Dogs disappeared.

  Sinway rose from his throne.

  “You dare!” he hissed. His iron eyes burned with fire. His nails flared with red heat. “Human!”

  A tall man with long blond hair and blazing blue eyes stood in front of him with his arms crossed over his white robes. His smile was white as pearls.

  “I’m no human, Underling. I’m Scorch.”

  “You’re dead,” Sinway said, pointing his arms and summoning his power. Tendrils of red lightning exploded from his fingertips, blasting Scorch full force in the chest. The red lightning passed through and winked away without a sizzle.

  Scorch dusted his chest off and with anger in his eyes. “Have a seat, Master Sinway, if you want to live.”