“Just,” Georgio paused, “let me lead you in there. It’s not what it’s been lately, and it’s morning.”
“Since when do taverns have problems with business at first light?” Melegal said, rubbing the long scraggly hairs on his chin.
Georgio had never seen him so gruff and dusty before. Melegal’s sharp eyes were cracked with red. Small puffy grey sacks had appeared under them. His easy gait was stiff. Almost a limp.
Melegal swatted him in the head.
“Well, out with it, Georgio. What is the problem?”
“It’s just the people that run it aren’t very … uh … amiable?”
Melegal showed the slightest smile.
“I see. Let’s just go. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Melegal sucked his teeth and rolled his tongue under his split lip. “I’m not keen on any more trouble.”
Georgio led Melegal out of the barn and around the front. The streets were getting busy. Merchants called. Customers shoved and pushed. The time of Festival had begun. It was the best time of the year, except this year. This year things were different. He felt a little glimmer of hope inside him. If anyone could handle the likes of Darleen, it would be Melegal. Scorch and Sidebor were another matter entirely. If only Venir were here.
A brisk wind rattled The Magi Roost sign above the door. Melegal was looking at it. Magi had been scratched out. The skinny thief looked at him and said, “Trouble within, eh?”
Georgio nodded.
“I think the trouble is only beginning.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I just have a feeling.”
Georgio shook his head and reached for the door. Stopped. He was dying to ask if Melegal knew anything about Venir. Just ask. He won’t bite. “Me, have you heard from—”
A clamor erupted inside. Darleen screamed. Wood cracked like mighty timbers.
Crash!
The frame of a huge man busted through the glass window pane and bounced off the street. Startled people screamed. The bearded man jumped to his feet. His blue eyes were wild with fury. He tore a hunk of glass out of his shoulder.
“Slat,” Melegal said.
Georgio gawped.
“Vee?”
Venir snarled and pounced right back through the window. Crashes and roars followed.
Georgio dashed through the front door. Melegal beat him through it.
The Magi Roost was in chaos.
Darleen stood on the bar stomping and screaming.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”
It would have been easier to stop a hurricane.
“Savages!” she wailed.
Brak’s white eyes were glazed over. His face berserk. He had Venir hoisted over his head.
“No Brak!”
Brak slammed Venir into the mantle over the fire place.
Venir slugged him in the face. Kicked him in the guts.
Brak slung Venir crashing through the tables and chairs.
Georgio started forward.
Melegal stayed him with his arm.
“Let this play out!”
Venir pounced like a tiger, barreling Brak over. They tumbled over the floor. Punching, snarling, kicking. Venir’s big fists struck like heavy stones. Brak flailed like a windstorm. The titans broke everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor. Venir lowered his shoulder. Charging like a mintaur, he screamed. He drove Brak through the support beam that held the balcony up. A mighty crack followed. The balcony buckled.
“Stop them, Georgio!” Darleen screamed. “They’re tearing my place apart!”
Georgio started again.
Melegal stayed him.
“One might kill the other,” Georgio said.
“Let them punch it out. It’ll be good for them,” Melegal said, sidestepping a flying chair.
Venir got Brak in a bear hug. His ape-like arms filled with purple veins. Brak screamed.
Georgio covered his ears.
Brak and Venir rocked and reeled. Brak grabbed Venir’s fingers and started peeling them away. Venir slammed him into the ground, busting the planks.
“NO!” Darleen yelled. She slung a bottle of wine that struck Venir in the head.
Brak pulled him to the ground and started wailing away.
“What in Bish is going on?” someone shouted. It was Billip. Eyes wide, Joline, Nikkel and Jubilee were with him. “We’ve got to get them apart!”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Melegal warned, taking a seat on a stool.
“No,” Billip said, “You wouldn’t. But I’m not going to stand here and watch them kill each other.”
Billip closed in. Brak rose from the floor, glaring at him. He snapped a leg off a table.
“Enough, Brak,” Billip said, backing away.
Brak turned his attention back to Venir. He brought the leg down with all his might.
Venir caught his wrists. Jammed his feet into his gut and launched him over his head. Brak crashed into the last support beam below the balcony. The entire thing crashed down.
Venir sprang to his feet, brandishing the table leg, brawny shoulders heaving up and down. His face was swollen. He spat a bloody tooth on the cracked floor.
The tavern fell silent.
Venir staggered through the piles of smashed tables toward the balcony. There was no sign of Brak. Venir cocked his head to the side.
Something moved in the rubble. The balcony started to rise. The wood in it popped and cracked. Brak heaved hundreds of pounds of busted wood and railing on his chest. His face was beet red, his short, mighty arms shaking. Roaring, he stretched groaning wood up toward the sky. His white eyes turned blue again.
“Get those beams under it,” Billip ordered. “Hurry!”
Georgio and Nikkel moved.
Brak’s arms shook like leaves. His eyes were locked on Venir’s.
They got one beam up. Then two.
“Brak! Brak!” Jubilee yelled. She snapped her fingers at him. “Are you back?”
He nodded and sagged to the ground, trembling.
Melegal walked over to Venir, slapped him on the back, and said, “Brute Father, meet Brute Son. That monster’s yours.”
Venir wiggled his jaw, stepped over to Brak and extended his hand. A moment of pride filled him.
“You punch like a mule kicks ... Son.”
Brak took his hand in his.
Venir pulled him to his feet. They were almost eye to eye.
“Good to meet you too,” Brak said, rubbing the bruise on his jaw.
Georgio sighed. The inside of the tavern looked like it had exploded. Exhausted, he grabbed a chair off the floor and sat down. The chair collapsed underneath him.
Everyone laughed except Darleen. Her ears were red when she screamed.
“You’ll die for this! All of you! SCORCH!”
STRIDER
CHAPTER 23
Fogle struggled in his bonds. His numb hands had been tied behind his back for hours. Boon was in the same predicament, but he didn’t appear to be nearly as agitated as he should be. He winked at Fogle.
“This is your idea of raising an army?” Fogle said with a sneer. “Getting captured? What are they, anyway?”
Boon shrugged and said, “Four-armed men with bug faces.”
“Do they have a name?”
“Why? You planning on sending them an invitation for coffee? Sssssh,” Boon said, “keep your voice down. They can be unpredictable at times.”
“I can’t imagine!” Fogle whispered.
They were in a village of very tall huts made from mud, stone and tall grasses. Fogle didn’t even notice them at first when they were marched right to them. The huts blended right into the landscape, not easily noticed until you were right on top of them. Fogle looked over one shoulder and another. Their captors were gone, leaving them alone in the sandy wind.
“I’m getting out of here. I’m not going to get eaten.” He squirmed in his seat, teetered over, and fell head first to the ground. He spat the dirt from his mout
h.
“Bone!”
Strong hands lifted him off the ground and set him on his feet.
“Gad!”
Fogle stepped on his robes and fell back again.
“Get away from me!”
“Fogle!” Boon warned.
A strange creature towered over him. Four arms. Two were crossed over its chest and the other two carried spears. It was built like a man, but had a face like a praying mantis. Its legs were the longest he’d ever seen on a biped, with two sets of knees.
It reached for Fogle, spears ready.
He kicked at it. Screamed.
“Get ahold of yourself!” Boon yelled.
The strider poked his shoulder with its spear. It hissed and clicked its mandibles.
Fogle bit his lip.
The creature grabbed him by the hair, pulled him up, and shoved him toward the village.
Another did the same with Boon. They marched them toward the largest hut in the center. It was the size of ten huts in one. Maybe more. Like a giant mushroom in a rocky forest. More striders appeared. Some carried baskets. Others knives. Small ones dashed all over like children, making clacking sounds. Fogle had never seen anything on two legs move so fast before. They ran like deer or horses.
A great canvas flap of leather hung at the hut’s opening. Two striders stood on either side with strange white markings on their arms. They looked more like statues. Hard. Stoic. Like bugs. A strange odor from within filled Fogle’s nostrils.
He glared back at Boon.
“Smells like they’re cooking something.”
Boon shook his head.
“Just hope it’s not us.”
Fogle wanted to scream.
The Outland is no place for wizards!
CHAPTER 24
Creed sat with his back against the cold stone wall, staring at the ceiling. A tiny beam of light shone through a cracked tile in the ceiling. He suspected it was sunlight, or at least he hoped it was. A crack in Castle Bloodhound’s exterior wall. Two days had passed already. At least he thought it was two days. It felt like ten.
He grabbed a bucket of water and took a sip. At least it was fresh. The food, though not a banquet, held him over, but his stomach still rumbled.
Across from him, the old man with wiry hair sucked on a chicken bone.
“Delicious ... Eh. Eh. Delicious.”
He sucked the grease off his fingers for the hundredth time. Creed still had no idea who the man was, but he didn’t figure him for his uncle. He didn’t care if it was. When the man wasn’t asleep or eating, he was staring at him like a buzzard stares at the weak and dying.
He set the bucket down and wiped his chin, trying to ignore the hollowness that filled him.
“You are a good fortune … Eh. Bring good eats. Good eats indeed ... Eh.”
It was the first time the older man had spoken in over a day.
“Good eats I had … Eh. When they threw me in ... Eh. Treated me like a family prisoner … Eh. Forgot, they did.” He sucked his fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then belched. “They forgot … Eh. The guards don’t care. Lord Grom will only care … Eh. Little while … Eh. Not forever.”
Creed banged his head on the stone wall. Grunted.
“Enjoy … Eh. While it lasts. Suck. Suck. Enjoy ... Eh.”
“Eh!” Creed yelled. “Choke on a chicken bone, will you!”
The older prisoner froze for a long moment.
“Eh?”
“Bone!”
***
Katherine lay alone in Creed’s bed with a tear in her eye. She couldn’t remember the last time she ever cried. Maybe when she was a young girl. Maybe. Her son, Tonio was dead. Her husband, Lord Almen, had perished, and that didn’t include all the rest of her family that had been wiped out by the underlings. A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it off on her silk gown and stared at the hardware in the bedroom corner. There were many swords of all sorts and some other pieces for combat too.
She slid out from under the sheets and walked over.
Creed’s swords and scabbard were propped against the wall. The bracers hung on the pommels. They were finely crafted, compared to the rest. Strange in design. She touched the shroud that lay crumpled there, an empty vessel. She picked it up and held it to her cheek. Smelling him on it, she sobbed.
She’d grown fond of Creed. Though rugged for a Royal, he was honest. Noble. At least he tried anyway. He was a tall man like Lord Almen, but softer in the eyes. She liked his boyish charm and wavy auburn hair. She’d gotten used to the attention he’d give her. She sniffed again.
I’m sorry, Creed. He’d been all she had. Now, he was gone. What have I done?
She’d told Lord Grom about the sack in confidence. Admitted she didn’t know what it was, but that it had something to do with the underlings, she thought. But she was smart enough to not give any of the pieces of the armament up. She’d kept that to herself. Lord Grom hadn’t inquired about it either.
There was a knock at the door.
She sucked in her breath.
Who at this hour?
The knock came again.
“Lorda Almen?”
It was Lord Grom.
No. Not now.
“Yes,” she said, making her way to the door. She took a breath and opened it.
Lord Grom filled the doorway. He had a blurry look in his eyes. Smelled like wine.
“Evening,” he said, eyeing her up and down, “I was just crossing back my way and thought I’d see how you were doing?”
She pinched the neck of her gown closed and offered a polite smile.
“I am well,” she said, “And how much longer until I will see Creed again? I so dearly want to visit him.”
Lord Grom’s hard face scowled.
“These are Bloodhound matters, Lorda,” he said politely, but with authority. “A few more days and all will be well.” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to see if there was any other thing that I might be able to …” he swayed a little and ogled her “… help with?”
“Nothing at all,” she said, patting his arm and nudging him back into the hall. “Nothing at all. If I think of something, you’ll be the first to know. Good night, Lord Grom.”
“Er …”
She closed the door and locked it.
Please go! Please go! Please go!
A minute later, Lord Grom’s heavy steps started back down the hallway.
She let out a deep breath. I can’t keep this up much longer. He’ll get his paws on me yet. She headed back over to Creed’s armament and started digging for a dagger. She noticed something. The swords, bracers and shroud were gone.
“Sweet Mother of Bish!”
***
Haggie shuffled into her den, spry for an old woman with a hump in her back. She scratched a large mole on her neck and made her way alongside a large round table that stood on a single leg. The room was torch lit. Decorated in shelves, jars and cobwebs. A pair of yellow mangy dogs lay on the floor, gnawing on bones.
She hacked and spit on the floor. Licked her thin cracked lips with her grey tongue. She stretched out over the table and grabbed the stitched up leather sack. Sucked her teeth and licked her gums.
“More here than one sees,” she said, trying to dump it out. “One like me sees more.” She reached inside. It chilled the hairs on her arms. She pushed the bottom through the top and turned it inside out. Ran her fingers along the stitches. “Hmph.” It looked the same as before. “Not possible,” she said to her dogs. “But what isn’t possible in Bish?”
Haggie had seen and done plenty of strange things in her life, but the sack was the strangest of them all. It was completely ordinary. Completely extraordinary. Nearby, an oversized metal three legged pot stood on the floor. She tossed the sack in it and then soaked it with a flask of oil. She snatched a torch off the wall.
“Let’s see how the fire elements treat it.”
She set it on fire.
A whuff of smoke and
fire went up, filling the room with dark smoke. She grabbed a lever on the wall and pulled it down. Above, part of the roof opened in her tower. She fanned the black smoke from for her face and coughed.
“Should have opened that first.” She cackled.
She grabbed some kindling from underneath a small stove and tossed it in. Added some lumps of coal as well. Dusted her fingers off on her raggedy robes. The orange blaze grew and the wood crackled. The dogs howled and woofed a little.
“What is it, boys?” she said, walking over and scratching their heads. They cringed. “Don’t like the smell, do you? Well, I don’t much like it either. It’ll go away.” She rubbed her back, basking in the fire glow on the wall. “Feels pretty good on the backside though.”
Whuff!
The orange glow went out. The warmth with it.
The dogs pinned their ears down and growled.
“What in …” she said, slowly turning. “Bone!”
All the flames were extinguished. Even the smoke in the air. Something stood in the pot. It was four feet tall. All muscle with hard ruddy knots on its skin. Three tiny horns on its head. A large eye took up most of its face, unblinking. Its leathery lips were curled.
“What have we here?” Haggie said with a cackle, getting closer. She never remembered being so excited before.
The imp folded its arms over its brawny chest. It squawked a little. Cocked its head.
“A guardian? An imp?” Haggie clapped her hands together. “Ah, this is going to be so exciting. So exciting!” She scurried to the shelves on the wall and grabbed some chalk. She drew a circle and mystic figures on the floor.
“Come, come,” she said.
The guardian of the sack hopped into the circle. Cocked its head back and forth like a bird.
Haggie summoned her magic. Power filled her. An incantation started and ended.
The guardian stood inside a glowing green circle. A little growl rattled in its throat.
“Ah, it’s alright, my pet. You are mine to keep now.” She stroked its head. Rubbed the knotty spines on its shoulders. “You are such a magnificent little creature. Ugly too.” She flashed her yellow teeth. “But ugly is the new beautiful.”
It showed a mouthful of short teeth colored like egg shells.
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 1-5): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 11