Kam summoned all the power she had.
Darleen clutched at Kam.
A glimmering green snake of energy burst from the floor. In an instant, it had encircled Darleen. It squeezed. The woman’s eyes bulged from her head. All she could do was scream.
“Scorch!”
CHAPTER 32
“Do you feel it now?” Boon said, kneeling on the ground, shaking his head. “Do you feel it now, Grandson?”
One minute they’d been trotting along on horseback, escorted by a dozen well-armed striders, and the next minute their horses had stopped, whined and nickered. They were miles outside the strider village, staring at an enormous series of cracks in the ground. They stretched out for hundreds of yards, maybe miles.
Fogle ran his sleeve across his dripping forehead. Avoided the glare of the suns. “I felt the entire world move, and then some.”
“Aye,” said Boon. Deep wrinkles showed in his forehead, “Aye, but is that all?”
“No,” Fogle said. “I felt something else flow in and out of me as well. Power. A great gale whooshed into my mind, through my entirety, and passed. What was that?”
“I can’t say,” Boon said, “but I can only assume it’s bad. This world’s changing, I fear. It’s changing for the bad. Becoming more unpredictable.”
“Shouldn’t we be used to that by now?”
“Ah … now that’s the spirit, Grandson. Indeed, that’s the spirit.” Boon swung himself up into his saddle. “And who knows, maybe this made things worse for the underlings as well.”
“Do you think the underlings had something to do with this?” Fogle asked.
“I can’t say. It was as if this world’s heart had a seizure.”
“You think this world has a heart? Like a man?”
“It travails. It must have something.” Boon motioned to the striders.
One that stood as tall as Boon sitting in the saddle came over to them. It carried a great spear in two of its four hands.
“To the Jungs,” Boon said.
It patted Boon on the back, walked away and rallied its men. Six of them took off running, their long, long legs moving fast as a horse’s. Maybe faster. Fogle could not tell.
“So, we continue to build this army?”
Boon stroked his mustache. “Certainly. The underlings won’t stop building theirs. Of course, if you like, Grandson, you can wait for us back at the huts.” He lifted his brows. “Plenty of eager company back there.”
Getting a four-handed rubdown by a bug-faced woman was one thing, but letting her be your concubine was another. Fogle had to draw the line somewhere. I’m not a druid, after all. Still, anything else would be preferable to long days in the blazing heat riding on a hard saddle.
“They liked you,” Boon added with a smile.
“You’re a strange old man,” Fogle replied, riding away. They did like me, but did I kinda like them? Ew! He’s rubbing off on me.
CHAPTER 33
Sidebor squirmed in Venir’s arms.
“Someone get a blade!” Venir yelled. “Melegal, pluck this fiend’s eyes out while I hold him down.”
Sidebor’s neck hung to the side, but he fought on. Squirming like a snake.
“You cannot take this body!” his thin lips moaned.
Sidebor’s body started to glow.
Venir felt his skin ripple. His bones bend. He lost his grip, slipped off and held on to the floor, fighting to stand. No one stood that he could see. Only Sidebor, who pushed his head back into place with a crackle. His hands filled with red power, his palms facing Venir. Bright light surged out.
And then from across the room Venir heard something ridiculous.
“I am Zorth! The Everblade! Evil dies on my blade!”
Slice!
Sidebor’s head left his shoulders and bounced off the floor. Black blood spurted from the neck.
Brak stood with a great sword shining like diamonds in his hands. His eyes were rolled up in his head and he spoke again. It was loud and eerie.
“I am Zorth! Destroyer of all evil! Vengeance on all things vile!” He eyed each and every one of them and marched through the door into the streets. “Evil must pay!”
Venir snatched Sidebor’s head off the floor and tossed it into the fireplace.
“Nooooo!” it yelled.
The fireplace lit up with a whuff and crackled with bright green flames.
Venir grabbed his hunting knife and pinned the body to the wooden planks.
“That should do it.”
He peered around the room. Everyone stood except Darleen and her goons.
Melegal held a rag over his nose, looking up at him, shaking his head.
“You are to underlings what flies are to a sow’s arse.”
“I suppose,” Venir said, trembling. His entirety ached and he looked for a chair.
Someone gasped. A silence covered the room.
Venir’s eyes drifted over to Kam and read her lips.
Scorch.
A tall blond man in tattered white robes stood at the bar with bright blue angry eyes.
Scorch shuffled over toward Venir, holding his belly. He eyed Sidebor’s corpse. “Who did this?”
“That’s my blade in its chest,” Venir replied.
Scorch looked Venir in the eye. “Do you know what a god is?”
“No. Do you know what a Venir is?”
“Huh,” Scorch said, wheezing. He looked around at everyone. “My, you people can’t be content, can you?” Scorch shuffled by Venir’s broad chest to the fireplace and reached inside. He pulled the flaming head and blew it out.
“Put that back,” Venir warned, drawing back his fist.
“No!” Scorch said. His voice shook the room.
Brak burst back inside the front door with the great sword held high. He made a bead for Scorch.
“I am Zorth! Avenger! Destroyer! All evil must die!”
Scorch sneered. “This fight is beneath me. But this won’t be forgotten.”
Brak closed in and swung the great blade in a mighty arc.
Blink!
The blade bit through the wooden planks and deep into the ground below.
Scorch was gone. Sidebor’s head too. Leaving only them, Darleen and her goons.
“Scorch! Don’t leave me! Please, don’t leave me!”
EPILOGUE
Venir stirred. Kam lay in bed beside him, snoring softly. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets back over her naked legs. He stretched his long limbs and got up. The last two weeks had been quiet. Almost peaceful. The Magi Roost was back to normal.
He made his way over to Erin’s cradle. The moonlight shone on her pretty round face, but her eyes were opened wide. She lay there silent, eyes moving back and forth. Venir gently rocked the cradle.
“You miss those bright spots your mother does,” he said. “I can’t do that. And she’s sleeping.”
Erin blinked and yawned.
Still she looked worried.
Venir rubbed her tiny head with his thumb.
He had two children now. One could handle himself, the other couldn’t.
It had taken half a day to wrest the Sword of Zorth from Brak’s hands, but it had happened. Much to the thanks of Kam and her family. Wizards mostly. They’d taken the sword to better hands. Venir found relief in it. He didn’t want his son consumed by such a thing.
Erin cooed and fidgeted.
Venir picked her up and held her in his arms.
“You’re safe, Little Girl.”
He walked over to the window and basked in the shadows of the moon’s glow. Scorch’s threat didn’t sit well with him. But did they ever? There was always danger, it seemed.
There isn’t any at the moment. Enjoy it.
He could feel the lively sounds of the tavern in his bare feet. Some people were having a good time again. He’d had more sleep than he ever remembered, and Kam had allowed him to rekindle things. Many times.
He still ached, bu
t the tightness in his shoulders was still there too. He felt restless. Like a caged animal. A dog that needed turning loose to hunt.
Riders approached from the southern entrance to the City of Three on horseback. A score of them in armor. Bows crossed their backs. Armor jangled in the saddles. Their heads were weighted down with heavy helmets. Venir knew that look. That formation. They were survivors. Silent. Defeated.
He set Erin down in her cradle. Sat back on the ledge of the window. Opened his ears. Listened.
They were part of a small battalion that left days ago. Over two hundred men. This was all that was left of them. Bloody bandages hung from their limbs. Dead bodies were draped over saddles. Venir’s heart in his chest stirred watching them ride by. His eyes narrowed. Underlings! Their forces were growing.
Kam popped up in the bed, gasping. Eyes blinking.
“What was that sound?” she said.
Venir shrugged his shoulders.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Something stirred somewhere in the apartment.
Clank.
Venir dashed out of the room. In front of the sofa something stirred. Venir took up his knife and said, “Out with you.” He peered in the darkness at a shadow that moved and was swallowed.
Kam rushed to his side.
Venir crept closer. Something lay on the table. A jolt went through him. A leather sack lay still. No, it can’t be. His fingers stretched for it. Rubbed the stitches. Why? He picked it up and reached inside. He felt lightning tickling his fingertips.
“What is it?” Kam said, coming closer.
He offered a savage smile.
“Brool.”
From the Author
“Oh, the silence, the pain-filled silence.”
What can I say? Ending Darkslayer 6 with a new Darkslayer didn’t sit well with plenty of readers. Well, it didn’t sit well with me either. I lost sleep over it, literally, lots of sleep. And I sleep well. But to be clear, it was never my intention to retire the likes of Venir, but rather to branch off to another story line and come back to him later. But the silence when I released DS6 was deafening. Stomach turning. I didn’t hear from readers I normally hear from and I could tell things did not bode well with them. Yet, despite the angst I felt, I felt something else as well.
Joy!
Aye, it did my heart good to know that readers loved Venir as much as I did. That he wasn’t some boorish hulking goon with an axe, but something more. The kind of friend you like to have around to slaughter evil in the night. This was my hope. After all, Clark Kent is the only Superman, Peter Parker the only Spider-Man, Bruce Wayne the only Batman. No one ever loved it when the writers tinkered with these characters either. Hence, Venir is The Darkslayer. Again, I’m so glad you felt the way that I did. Plus, there’s clearly only one Melegal. You could never change him.
In the beginning, my goal was to write a series of books where The Darkslayer changed over periods of time on Bish. It could be any one race, man or woman, depending on how the scales of Good and Evil tipped in the world. But for now, we’re just going to see how Venir and his crew handle things. Plus, I don’t outline my stories. I just fly by the seat of my trousers and write.
Thanks for making your thoughts known. To those of you who complained, I appreciate your honesty. To those of you who said nothing at all, I heard you loud and clear. And to those of you who were still going to stick with me anyway, thank you.
Fight or Die,
Craig Halloran
BOOK 2: BLACK BLOOD
Prologue
Underlings. A scourge upon the land …
CHAPTER 1
His legs churned. Lungs burned. Soaked in sweat, Georgio ran for his life, but the underlings were closing fast.
Zip! Zip! Zip!
Too-wha! Too-wha! Too-wha!
Darts, needles, and sling stones whizzed by him, bouncing off his armor. Others struck, stinging his arms and legs. Georgio’s heavy feet thundered down the path, through the vine-heavy tree branches, and down into a gorge.
He could hear their chitters. Cackling threats. The sounds of spiders scurrying through branches. He could hear Melegal mocking him in his head.
Move faster, fat arse, faster!
Knees pumping, boot-shod feet splashing through the creek, jumping rocks and fallen logs, he crashed to the ground, bounced up, and ripped out his sword.
Underlings surrounded him. Malicious faces with bright gemstone eyes taunted him. Their small wiry-grey bodies were corded with muscle.
Sword gripped in two hands, Georgio spun a slow circle.
The underlings, a full squad of twelve, withdrew their jagged and arcane weapons: swords, daggers, axes and knives. They cut their weapons through the air. Graceful, quick strokes. They looked more effective at filleting people than killing them.
One darted in, sword licking out.
Georgio whirled and batted the blade away.
Clang!
The underling sprang back, chittering and mocking. The others joined in, jabbing at his arms and legs, skipping away from the swings of his longsword.
“Come on, fiends! Scared to get too close?” he said, huffing for breath. Georgio might be strong, but he was exhausted. Running wasn’t his thing. He knew their goal was to wear him down, like jackals do a lion. “Come on!”
A green-eyed underling advanced, chopping at his legs.
Georgio’s longsword, the sword of Tonio, flashed and cut through its throat.
It gurgled to the ground.
“Chitter now, Underling!”
The remaining eleven underlings howled. Faces filled with fury, they converged.
Georgio swung left and right in broad, decapitating swings. He cut through armor. Sawed through bone. And paid for it.
“Argh!”
Dark steel lanced his leg. Down he went to one knee. Sharp pain bit into his shoulder. A large needle bit into his arm.
“Curse you!”
Gathering his strength, he cut the legs out from under one of them and caught another in the arm.
An underling with braided hair pounced onto his arm and bit his wrist.
Georgio’s blade fell from his grip.
A rope slipped around his neck, snaring his throat and choking him. Georgio turned, grabbed the rope and jerked the underling to the ground. The cat-sized spiders shot webs at his feet. Georgio stomped down into green-black goo. He stomped with fever.
“Get off me!’
From the corner of his eye, he saw an underling’s sword poised for his belly. It drew its arms back to strike.
A great shadow rose up behind it. Dark lightning came down.
Slice!
The ruby eyes of the underling widened, and then they separated, and its body fell in twain. Black blood went everywhere.
The other underlings froze. One remarked in surprise.
Slice!
Its head popped off its shoulders.
The underlings abandoned Georgio and surged toward the big man in a frenzy.
The warrior’s axe whistled up and whistled down. Blood and underling pieces went hither and yon.
Gritting his teeth, heart pumping with new blood, Georgio lunged for his sword.
A spider rested on the hilt, spewing webbing in his face.
“Son of a Bish!”
He grabbed the spider by the back and smashed it into the ground, peeled the sticky webbing from his eyes, and screamed.
“I hate this stuff!”
Finally, he wrapped his hand around his sword’s hilt and got back to his feet.
Venir was covered in underlings.
Clatch-Zip!
A crossbow bolt rocketed through the trees and pinned an underling to a tree.
Twang!
Twang!
Arrows ripped through the air. Feathery shafts erupted in the chests of two underlings.
Georgio half limped and half charged to aide Venir. He plunged his sword into an underling’s back, drawing forth a howl. T
he gorge filled with screams and fury. Seconds later, it was over. Only twisted limbs and dead underling flesh remained.
Covered in both red and black blood, Georgio was gasping for breath and grimacing in pain.
“Where were you guys?”
Billip emerged from the brush. He slid his arrows into his quiver, slung his bow over his back, and cracked his knuckles.
Nikkel came right after him with a wide smile on his face. He walked up to the underling hanging from the tree, and with his sinewy arm, he ripped his bolt out. He wiped the blood off with a rag and cranked the string back on Bolt Thrower again.
Georgio gawped at them.
“Well, where were you? I almost got killed, you know!” He looked up at Venir.
The man was a sight. Metal and skin were equally coated in underling gore. He slung his helmet off and jabbed Brool tip-first into the ground. His blue eyes were blazing.
“You were supposed to go right,” Venir said, poking him in the chest. “You went left. The wrong path. I was very specific about that. We all were. Don’t you know your right from your left yet? Slat! You could have gotten any of us killed.” Venir craned his neck around. “Where’s Brak?”
Billip and Nikkel each caught the other’s eye, then looked at Venir and shrugged.
“Well that’s just great! Just great!” he reached for his helmet.
Georgio swallowed hard and said, “Sorry, Vee.”
“Don’t apologize. Let’s go find him.” He snatched his axe out of the ground. “And his heart had better still be beating. Bone!”
Georgio, head down, started along behind Venir. An underling burst from underneath the pile of flesh and darted up the gorge.
“Get after him!” Venir said.
The underling leered at them, lips curled back over its sharp teeth. Its ruby eyes flashed. Its feet turned into a blur and whizzed up the path.
Georgio’s thoughts drifted to Lefty.
How do they do that?
“Blast my hide, underling magic!”
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 1-5): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 15