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

by Craig Halloran

  Brak surged into the action. In three great strides, he flanked Gondoon’s rear and swung Spine Breaker into his back. Bright white light exploded.

  Scrakk!

  The ogre’s arms loosened around Billip, and the archer kicked free.

  Gondoon staggered forward and onto a knee.

  “Hold him off,” Billip said, picking up his bow. “I’ll help the others.”

  Brak reared the white ash cudgel back, barring Gondoon’s path to the fracas. The ogre straightened his back and leered down at him with angry yellow eyes.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Gondoon said, cracking his head from side to side. “Now I’m going to rip the beating heart from your chest. The weaponless ogre hunkered down and rested his knuckles on the ground. He was unlike anything Brak had ever seen before, almost eight feet tall and maybe six-hundred pounds. Brak felt small by comparison. Gondoon rubbed one of his shoulders. “Not sure what you hit me with, but I felt it.” He eyed the softly glowing cudgel gripped in Brak’s hands. “Magic tools are for women. Are you a woman or a warrior?”

  Brak dropped the cudgel to the ground, raised his fists and gritted his teeth.

  “I’m a warrior.”

  Gondoon rose up to his full height, towering over Brak, and said, “No, you’re a dead warrior.”

  ***

  “Nikkel!” Billip yelled. The young man was underneath a vicious assault of orcs. He whipped a shaft out of his quiver and took a point-blank shot.

  Thwack!

  The arrow punched through the orc’s skull, putting a third eye in its head. Billip ripped out another shaft and fired into the mass of tangled bodies.

  Thwack!

  An orc brigand lurched up with an arrow through the neck, leaving one orc, which tangled with Nikkel. The pair writhed on the ground. The bigger foe wailed on Nikkel with hammer-like blows. Billip went for another arrow. The orc lurched up, holding a dagger that had been driven into its gut.

  Nikkel shoved the dying orc off him and ripped his dagger free. His dark skin was coated with blood. He wiped the blood from his eyes and picked up Skull Basher. Up and down it went, finishing off the orc. “Bone, those things stink.”

  Georgio shouted at them.

  “A little help please!”

  With a spear jutting through his side, the curly-headed warrior swung his sword like a wild man, keeping the orcs at bay.

  Twang!

  Billip’s arrow buried itself in one orc’s chest.

  Nikkel charged another, going in swinging hard.

  Bones broke. Living flesh screamed. Arrows whizzed through the night. In seconds, the remaining orcs had fallen. The ground soaked up their blood.

  “Pull this thing out of me,” Georgio said, grimacing. He glared at Nikkel. “Do it now!”

  Nikkel wrapped his hands around the bloody shaft.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Stop smiling! Yes I’m ready!”

  “I’m not smiling,” Nikkel said. “On two.”

  Georgio nodded.

  “One …

  Yank!

  Georgio fell backward screaming.

  Billip and Nikkel looked at each other.

  Billip shrugged, saying, “He’ll be fine.”

  That’s when someone else started screaming. It was Brak.

  ***

  Fists up like mighty hammers, Gondoon Stoneskin came straight at Brak and attacked. His punches were fast and heavy.

  Pow! Pow! Whop! Pow!

  Brak covered up. His arms and shoulders absorbed the heavy force, but every bone was shaken. He struck back. Busted the ogre in the nose.

  Crack!

  Nose bleeding, it smiled back. Half of its teeth were missing.

  “You picked a bad night to start a fight, Man.” Gondoon lowered his shoulders, closed in, and threw everything at him.

  Brak blocked, punched, and dodged.

  Gondoon hammered, hammered, and hammered.

  Brak’s teeth clattered. His chest rattled. His knees wobbled and hit the dirt. Bleeding and reeling, he fought his way back to his feet.

  Gondoon snorted.

  “Big and tough for a man. Small and weak to an ogre.”

  Brak was dazed. His vision clouded.

  Gondoon walloped him in the gut, lifting him from his feet.

  Brak collapsed on the ground, face first in the dirt.

  “Stupid man can’t hurt Gondoon. No man can hurt an ogre.” He spat on Brak. Grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his knees. “First I break your back, and then I rip it out.” He hoisted Brak high over his head with his arms. “Enjoy the view. It’s your last one.”

  Brak’s head cleared just in time to see the frightened looks on his friends’ faces.

  Billip fired an arrow that skipped off the ogre’s forearm.

  “Help!” Brak yelled.

  Gondoon brought him down on his knee with ram-like force.

  Crack!

  Brak couldn’t feel a thing.

  ***

  “Flank him!” Billip ordered.

  He, Georgio, and Nikkel fanned out, weapons ready.

  The ogre laughed at them, pumping his arms over his head and saying, “I can break backs all night, little people.”

  Billip’s blood charged. Brak lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, unmoving. The ogre lorded over him with a triumphant look on his horrible face. The beast was a man-killer. He’d dealt with them plenty in Two-Ten City. Cruel. Cunning. He’d watched Venir battle two part-ogres in the Pit, but never a full-blooded one. He’d never heard of one with stone-like skin either.

  “Steady, men,” he said to the others. Nikkel’s pale eyes shone bright in the night. Georgio clutched at his belly with one hand and held his shaking sword in a bloody grip.

  Gondoon stared over them. He grunted and said, “You’ve killed all my orcs.” His eyes narrowed under his protruding brow. “Those were good orcs.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Billip said. He drew another arrow and nocked it. The arrow head’s tip had a soft blue hue. “Let’s see how that stony skin handles this.”

  The ogre’s eyes widened. His massive forearms shielded his face.

  Billip stretched the string along his cheek and aimed for its belly. Crying out “Ack!” he loosed the shaft, missing the ogre. A spear had pierced his thigh from an orc gasping its last breath. Billip fell to the ground in blinding pain. He pulled the spear out and screamed.

  “Biiiiiiiish!”

  ***

  Georgio charged. Still reeling from the spear, he made a halfhearted swing.

  The ogre blocked the blow with its forearm and roared.

  Tonio’s sword sliced through its stone skin to the bone.

  Gondoon reared back. “What kind of steel is that!”

  Nikkel rushed in with Spine Breaker in his hands.

  Scrakk!

  The ogre lunged.

  Nikkel was quicker. The mystic cudgel of Leezir the Slerg exploded into the ogre’s back.

  It roared.

  Georgio thrusted.

  Glitch!

  His blade sank deep into the ogre’s leg.

  Gondoon made an angry sound. Spit frothed on his lips.

  Nikkel and Georgio readied their weapons to strike again.

  The seasoned ogre struck. His long arms lashed out and locked on each of their wrists. “Now I have you!” As if they were children, he slammed them head-first into each other.

  Georgio saw spots, groaned, rose up again and started swinging like a wild man.

  The ogre limped away toward his great horse, climbed on, and rode into the night and out of sight.

  Georgio fell back down, huffing for breath.

  “Why did he run?” he said, helping up Nikkel.

  The young black man shrugged and smiled.

  “Don’t know, but I’m glad he did.”

  “You hurting him be the cause, I’d say,” Billip said. He sat on the ground with Brak’s head in his lap. “Ogres are cowards like t
hat, but we’re fortunate to live. Well, the three of us are, that is. Brak lives, but his back is broken.”

  ***

  Venir arrived on the gory scene hours later. His blood was rushing. Dead orc bodies soaked the ground with blood. His friends were crafting a stretcher. Brak lay on the ground, unmoving. His heart stopped in his chest. He rushed over.

  “What happened? Who did this?”

  Billip glared at him.

  “You left us. An ogre ambushed us. That’s what happened.”

  “I can track him.”

  “And abandon us again, along with your injured son? Why don’t you just kill us, already.”

  Stone-faced, Venir kneeled by his son. “Be still,” he said, placing Helm on Brak’s head.

  Help him, he urged.

  All the men kneeled around the fallen warrior.

  Several minutes passed before Venir removed Helm from his son’s head and shook his own. Looking into Brak’s horrified eyes, he could barely form words.

  “I’m sorry.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Melegal’s fingertips tingled. It wasn’t the height of the great ivory tower that bothered him. It was the fact that he had no idea how to get down from there.

  I could jump to my death if need be. I wonder if I would bounce.

  He could see everything for miles. Maybe a league. The Three Falls, the grand vineyards, the complete outline of the city. The people looked like ants, the horses and carriages like beetles. There were high towers in the City of Bone that he’d climbed before, but nothing quite like this. He walked along the great stretch of window. The tiles were like black glass beneath his feet.

  Is that pure onyx?

  He pulled his jerkin tight around his chest and walked the perimeter of the tower. It was round, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. The furnishings were sparse, but fanciful. The sofas were tanned leather, a deep red and lake blue in color. Cabinets made from something that was not wood. Hard. Shiny. Smooth. Dark velvety curtains that hung without rods. Fires burned and warmed the room without fireplaces or chimneys. A huge, soft, green rug with intricate patterns and designs was beneath it all. There were no doors, just one continuous window that encircled the entire room. Melegal’s spine knotted.

  What does the little witch want with me?

  Melegal’s eyes darted all over the room. His heartbeat quickened. An avenue for escape avoided him. And he’d heard plenty about the wizards, their powers and their towers. From the sky, the locals said, they can see everything and do anything. Still, Melegal hadn’t seen much of anything from them. Not until today. He gazed back out the window. The strange fires crackled and popped behind his back. Sweet soothing scents were in the air.

  I could get used to this. The city always has some kind of stink I could do without.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” a soft voice said.

  It was her, the woman he’d chatted with in the street. He turned on his heel to face her. She’d changed clothes. A low-cut belt strung with green silken sashes sometimes covered her sensuous hips and legs, except when she moved, which was often. And she wore a high dark bodice that just covered her breasts. A diamond sparkled in the exposed button of her midriff. Her grey eyes were engaging and playful. She combed her fingers through her cinnamon-colored hair, which rested over one shoulder. She looked young and enchanting, but there was something more mature about the way she carried herself.

  Ah, the bewitching women of this city. You never know what you’re getting until you wake up the next morning.

  “Certainly,” Melegal said, removing his cap. “I can only imagine it’s as exquisite as this tower.”

  She allowed herself a smile and opened one of the nearby cabinets. It was alabaster, trimmed in gold. Inside were crystal carafes of many different sorts of wine. She poured a plum-colored one into a crystal glass, walked over with her eyes locked on his, and handed it to him.

  “Drink,” she said. “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on it.”

  He took the glass and sniffed the bouquet. Took a small sip.

  Gentle. Full. A little sweet. Exquisite.

  “It’s divine,” he said, taking another sip.

  She strolled over to the couch, took a seat near a hovering fire, and said, “That’s interesting, because it’s the worst wine we have.”

  “Oh,” Melegal said, eyeing the glass, “well, I’ve never deserved the best. Seems you’re a good judge of character.”

  She giggled and patted the cushion beside her.

  “I’m only jesting. Now sit with me. Let the fire warm you.”

  “Not without a proper introduction,” he said. It was best to assume she was a royal, and he knew their customs all too well. He made a gentle bow and swooped his hat behind his back. “I am Melegal of Bone.” He slipped his cap back on his head.

  She nodded and said, “I am Jaen of Three. Now come and share more wine with me. There is business to talk about.”

  Jayne. I like the sound of that name.

  He smiled and said, “It seems my time is yours.”

  She took a sip. “For the moment. And please, don’t worry about your pet. It’s fine.”

  “Its name is Quickster.”

  “No matter, Melegal. You’ll be reunited soon enough, but first, I imagine you wonder why I have brought you into this tower?”

  He nodded, being careful to guard his thoughts.

  “The royals in this city are different. We live in towers instead of castles, and we refer to ourselves as wizards or magi, because that is what we are. Every tower is led by a grand wizard. Magic is our passion. Our namesake. And we like our privacy.” She took another sip and set the wine glass down on the table. “And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have an impact on the people that live below.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree.” He cleared his throat. “It’s certainly had an impact on me. So ….” He tapped his bony fingers on the wine glass. “What do you want with me?

  Slowly sweeping her hair from one shoulder to the other, she crossed her legs in a very sensual manner and smiled.

  Don’t think. Don’t think. Eyes on eyes, not on thighs.

  Her lips were as pretty as the smile they made. Her eyes were watching his.

  Melegal, still uncertain if she could read his mind or not, found it almost impossible to think of nothing. He was trying to be smart. Patient. To let her spill her thoughts, not him spill his.

  “You are interesting,” she said. “And that’s why you’re here. We’ve been watching you for some time.”

  “We?”

  “We watch everything we can. This is the Tower of Watchers, as they say in the streets below. Have you not heard that?”

  “I have. But they call them all that. That and by their royal names. In all truth, there is little talk about it. I believe the underlings receive more attention.”

  “And what are your thoughts on the underlings?” she said. “Do you think they pose a dire threat?”

  Only a fool wouldn’t think so. My, you are beautiful. Everything from your arse to your eyes. Will you remove your clothes so I may ravish you, one kiss at a time?

  Jaen’s eyes engaged him, but her expression did not change.

  Good. She can’t read my mind. I don’t think.

  “Underlings have always been a threat. Certainly that doesn’t escape your eyes and ears in your lofty tower,” he said. He finished off his wine.

  She poured him another.

  I could talk and drink all day. “Why ask me?”

  “Melegal,” she said, “why were you not overwhelmed when you were transported from the streets to this tower? I’m very curious about that.”

  “Bish is full of many surprises. Many I’ve encountered before.”

  She leaned forward.

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “Really.”

  “That’s powerful magic you’ve experienced. And you sit here unfazed by it.”

&nb
sp; He took a long swallow of wine. His limbs and tongue loosened. He felt a little giddy. His eyes glanced up and down her body.

  This wine is incredible. It goes well with your breasts. Lips. Hips. He blinked. Straighten up, Melegal. He set the glass down. Maybe too incredible. Get on track.

  “You were about to tell me why I was here?”

  “Was I?” she said, leaning back. “Well, I suppose I was. But not until I’m ready.”

  Melegal lay back in the soft leather of the couch and said, “Very well.” He closed his eyes. He felt so comfortable. Loose.

  “I should have warned you about the wine,” she said. “It’s very strong.”

  “Delicious,” Melegal said, yawning. “Intoxicating.”

  She put his wine goblet to his lips and said, “Go ahead. Finish it. Enjoy. Rest.”

  Every syllable she said was persuasive. Convincing.

  He took the goblet from her hand and spilled it down her chest.

  She gasped and jumped up from the sofa.

  He giggled.

  “Why did you do that? You’re not some clumsy oaf,” she said, grabbing a cloth napkin and wiping herself off.

  “You’re going to have to take that off now,” he said, “or it will stain.”

  What is wrong with me? He blinked his eyes and shook his head. I’m not normally this ornery. Am I?

  She stormed over to the cabinet and grabbed another carafe of wine, poured it into another goblet, and brought it to him. It was white. Shades lighter than apple juice.

  “Drink this,” she said.

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea after that last glass I had.”

  She stuck it in his face.

  “Drink.”

  He took it and drank. His mind sharpened, and he regained his focus. The intoxicating effects of the red wine were gone. He sat up straight and said, “What was that all about?”

  “A test.”

  “Really?” he said, rubbing his finger over his chin. “Did I pass?”

  She shrugged and said, “You did well enough.”

  He eyed her and said, “You magi are truly an odd lot. I suppose you’re just going to leave this encounter at that?”

  “No, you’ve earned a few answers.” She resumed her seat beside him. “Wine makes one susceptible to suggestion. That plum stuff makes you very susceptible. Most start to guzzle it down. Even when I urged you, you didn’t. Instead, you defended yourself. Set it down. Poured it on me.” She dabbed her chest. The stains faded away. “Impressive.”