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

by Craig Halloran

  “I feel I owe you an apology.” He started to set the white wine down on the table.

  “Finish it,” she said. “It’s truly good for your health.”

  He hesitated.

  “I promise,” she reassured him.

  Wine and women. Can’t trust one or the other, but you can have a good time with both.

  He took another sip. It was more than pleasant.

  “Seems I need to spend more time at the wineries.” He took another swallow. “I could do this all day, but I’ve a feeling you don’t want me hanging around here forever.” He leaned back into his sofa. “But I could get used to it.”

  “I’m looking for a go-between,” she said, placing the napkin down on the table. “A runner of sorts.”

  “An errand boy?”

  “You might call it that. A glorified one, of course. Many benefits come with the job.”

  It was an interesting proposition, but it was still employment with royals, and he’d been through more than enough of that already. Unfortunately, he was curious.

  “Why me?”

  “As I say, we keep watch on things, and many things have been happening at the Magi Roost. We’re glad things have calmed down. But the fact that you outlasted the threat is intriguing. You’re a survivor. Not many could survive a threat like that.”

  Well, I’m not so sure I’ve survived anything. It’s only a matter of time before he comes back.

  Scorch was part of the reason Melegal avoided the Magi Roost. The all-powerful being had left the impression that he’d be back, and that when he did return, things would be ugly. Billip, Brak, Georgio and Nikkel’s story of roasting like logs in mid-air still haunted him. The vision was still ingrained in his mind, just as his memory of snatching the eyes of the underling Sidebor from a fire like pieces of toast was still clear. And even the memory of Scorch’s voice held a power that shook Melegal to his core.

  “Sounds like a dangerous occupation,” he said. “Perhaps you need someone more formidable.”

  “No, it’s you I need,” she said, touching his knee. “Subtle. Private. Cunning. Being an outsider is helpful. You see things others have forgotten about seeing.”

  “I thought you saw everything. And that your eyes were everywhere.”

  “We let the people believe what they want to believe.” Her voice was soft. Persuasive. “And I believe in you.”

  He finished his wine and got back on his feet.

  “Not interested.” He set the wine glass down. “Now, can you show me out of here?”

  “What? I haven’t even told you what the job is. Or how much it pays.”

  “I’ve worked with royals before. You’re all the same. I’d just as soon keep my distance from you.” He offered a thin smile. “But I appreciate getting a look inside this tower. And at you as well. I’ll not forget it.”

  Jaen produced a small silk purse and poured it out on the table. Its contents glittered and sparkled. Gold, silver, and gems. Melegal’s mouth watered.

  That’s a lot of money. At least to me it is. But to her it’s probably nothing. I’m not nothing. I’m The Rat.

  “This is payment, not to you, but to one of our associates. He has a package for us. All you have to do is drop off the payment, pick up the package, and bring it back to us.” She toyed with the treasure. “And when you get back, you’ll receive a treasure such as this for yourself.”

  Who is us? He eyed the treasure on the table. It was a small fortune.

  “When do you need this delivered?” he asked.

  “Now,” Jaen said.

  “I’m not one to rush into things, so I’ll have to pass.” He looked around. The room seemed to be closing in. “Can you lead me out of here now?”

  Jaen sighed, shook her head, rose to her feet, sauntered over and wrapped her arm around his. Her soft skin and pleasant curves loosened his rigid resolve. Her lips brushed against his ear.

  “Do this for me, Melegal, please? I know your services are worth more than gold. But I need a man of your talents whom I can trust. An outsider with know-how.”

  “You can’t trust me,” he said. He tried to pull away, but his boots were frozen to the floor. He tried more honesty, saying, “And I’m sure I can’t trust you. I’ve been told many times since I’ve arrived, ‘Never make a deal with a mage. They’ll skewer you.’”

  She released his arm, stepped away, scooped the treasure back into the bag, and dangled it in front of him.

  “Then we won’t make a deal.” Her painted eyes narrowed. “We’ll just call it blackmail.”

  “Blackmail? Why blackmail?”

  “You adore your pony, ah, Quickster, is it? You are so fond of it. Well, make our delivery, pick up our package, and you can have your pony back.”

  “What? And what about that gold?”

  “The gold is off the table,” she said, putting the silk bag in his hand. She patted his cheek. “Now all you’ll get is another ride on your donkey. You should have taken the deal I offered you to begin with.” She scowled. “It was far better than you deserved.”

  Melegal squeezed the silk purse in his fist. His eyes narrowed. Dozens of profanities raced through his mind. So did another word: IDIOT! He stuffed the purse inside his jerkin.

  “Tell me what I must do.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Kam stood at the bottom of the stairs in the Magi Roost, watching Erin crawl up. Her heart pumped. She clutched her hand over her breast. Erin slipped down a step, and Kam lunged forward.

  “Give her a chance,” Joline ordered from the top of the steps. She shook a shiny rattle in her hand. “She’ll make it.”

  Kam pulled her outstretched arm back, dug her nails into her palm, and bit her lip.

  Erin pulled herself up one stair, then another, eyes fixed on the rattle.

  Joline kneeled down and said, “Come on, Pretty Girl. You’ve almost made it.”

  Kam’s temples pulsated. After all she’d been through, watching her daughter grow day by day was almost a horrific thing. Any time you took your eye off the little girl, she would move. She climbed out of her crib. Through doors. Tumbled down the steps and fell asleep hidden behind the bar. Kam had almost killed everyone the day that happened. Even Joline.

  Erin made it to the last step at the top and stretched her tiny hand up toward the rattle. A little bracelet was on her wrist, trimmed in tiny gemstones. Kam, with some help, had made it for her. It couldn’t be removed, and it made finding her easy. The little girl pushed her belly onto the last step, and Joline handed her the rattle. Erin stuck it straight in her mouth.

  “See?” the salt and peppered woman said, placing her hands on her hips, “I told you she would do just fine.”

  Kam marched up the stairs and picked up her baby. She kissed her on the forehead and smiled.

  “Of course she did. But don’t you ever let her take the stairs without me being here.”

  “Kam, she’s already been up and down these stairs several times. She crawls like a little spider.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  Joline blanched.

  “Sorry, poor choice of words. I meant more like a squirrel.”

  “My child is not a rodent! Nor an arachnid!”

  “Bish!” Joline said, storming down the stairs. “When did you get so sensitive?”

  “How dare y—”

  Joline shoved her way through the kitchen doors and disappeared. Seconds later, Jubilee came out, wiping her hands on her apron. The young royal girl had lost her boyish demeanor and begun to blossom into an attractive young woman. She was tall, her tawny hair longer and well-groomed.

  “What did you say to her now?” Jubilee said, removing her apron. “Let me guess. She tried to say something nice, and you took it the wrong way and lashed out at her.”

  “Uh,” Kam huffed, “I did no such thing. She called Erin a spider and said she’s like a rodent.”

  Jubilee crossed her arms over her chest and said, “And I guess it was in a
mean way. Because we all know how terrible and ruthless Joline is. So you snapped at her.”

  Kam raised a brow and said, “You had better watch yourself, little woman—”

  “Oh stop it. You just need Venir’s loins thrust between your legs.”

  “Jubilee!”

  The girl laughed and walked away. A few of the nearby patrons were laughing too, but avoiding Kam’s angry gaze. She huffed through her teeth. “Little witch.” Her eyes watered and became puffy. She sat down on the steps, rocking her toddler, who was still chewing on the rattle.

  “I swear I don’t know what is wrong with me,” she said to Erin. “I used to be such a strong woman. At least I think I was. I swear all these ignorant men have made me weak.”

  Everything had been upside down since Venir came back into her life. Along with all his friends, trouble seemed to follow him from one extreme to the other. Gillem Longfingers and Palos the Prince of thieves, not to mention Thorn and Diller. All of whom had plotted to kidnap Erin. Then came Scorch, Darleen, and Sidebor. They’d taken over the Magi Roost, only to see it almost destroyed. But Kam had survived. So had Erin. All Kam had lost was her hand.

  I’d like to cut off all their hands.

  She brushed her red locks from her eyes and surveyed the tavern. All the candles in the chandeliers were lit. Stony fireplaces blazed throughout the room. Voices chatted openly with one another, and her serving girls smiled once more. Best of all, the mages had returned in their gaudy hats, strangely styled beards, and decorative robes. Pipe smoke drifted through the air like fine mist, and the smell of many tobaccos was almost pleasant. It all left a cozy feeling in the room. It gave her a glad feeling inside.

  Perhaps I am too sensitive. I swear I didn’t use to be.

  The dwarves were back. Gruff and hard drinking. Halflings drifted between the tables. Women squealed and giggled. Men laughed and guffawed. She used to adore all these things, but it all seemed so temporary now. Scorch would be back; she could feel it. Could feel him and Sidebor all the way to her bones.

  “Are you getting sleepy, Little One?” she said to Erin, who yawned and stretched out her little arms. “I think it’s nap time.” She started to call for Joline. Her best friend often put Erin down for her naps while Kam worked the tavern. “Oops, forgot she’s mad at me. I guess I get the pleasure of putting you to sleep, but don’t be difficult and take an hour to start dreaming.”

  She started toward her room just as the front tavern door opened and some glum-faced figures entered. Hard men whose faces and cloaks were covered with dirt and dust. Metal rattled from their hips. Her eyes found theirs. She stopped. It was Billip and Nikkel and no one else. Nikkel’s broad smile was gone. Oh my! Jubilee ran up to greet them. They spoke words Kam could not hear except one.

  “No!” Jubilee said, dashing out the door.

  Kam rushed down the stairs and greeted them face to face.

  “What’s happened?” she said, heart pumping behind her breast. “Is everyone alright?”

  Neither spoke right away.

  She grabbed Billip by the collar of his cloak.

  “Is everyone still alive? Where’s Georgio? Where’s Venir? Brak?”

  Billip’s head was down when he said, “They live, but you had better come with me.”

  She choked a gasp.

  Joline came out of the kitchen tying an apron around her waist, and her eyes met Billip’s. He met her halfway and hugged her. She sobbed, hugging him back.

  “Where are they?” Kam said to Nikkel. “Where did Jubilee go?”

  “Come with me,” Nikkel said sheepishly. “They’re in the stables.”

  Kam turned to Joline and started to hand Erin to her.

  “Will you?”

  “Certainly,” Joline said, taking the little girl in her arms. “Do what you must do.”

  Kam followed Nikkel to the barn. Inside one of the stalls, all the others were gathered. Venir and Georgio were kneeled down on the straw-covered floor. Their faces were caked with dried blood and grit. Jubilee was on both knees, sobbing over Brak. The tall man lay flat on his back on a bed of straw, still as a corpse. Tears had washed away some of the grit on his big face. His eyes started to water again.

  Jubilee rubbed his head and whispered in his ear.

  Kam came closer and asked, “What happened to him?”

  Venir—still holding one of Brak’s hands in his—said, “His back is broken.”

  How? That was the first question that came to Kam’s mind. But did it matter? No good news came from the Outlands. But at least Brak was still alive.

  “Can’t the people here heal it?” Georgio asked her. “I remember when Lefty had the desert flu. They made him better.”

  “I’ve never heard of healing such a thing. Mending wounds and curing sickness maybe, but a broken back … I don’t know about that.” She felt horrible saying it. Brak’s eyes watered more. “Can he move his arms?”

  Venir slowly shook his head.

  Kam could feel her sorrow turn to anger. Her face flushed red. She was more than outspoken when it came to leading the young men into danger. Though he looked like a seasoned warrior, Brak was still no older than Georgio and Nikkel. They weren’t ready for this world.

  “Venir,” she said, through her teeth. “A word with you.”

  The big warrior patted Brak on the chest and said, “I’ll be back.”

  Kam led him far away from the others.

  “What did I tell you?” She slammed her fist into his chest. “What did I tell you!”

  Venir sighed. He tried to grab her hand, but she twisted away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Kam,” he said, “I told them not to come. They insisted. They aren’t boys. They’re men. They don’t want to stand and wash dishes.”

  “Don’t give me that, Venir!”

  He patted the air with his hands.

  “Keep it down if you don’t want them to hear.”

  She poked him in the chest.

  “I’ll speak as loudly as I want.

  “All right,” Venir agreed. His made a puzzled look. “How do they handle situations like this here? Is Brak safe?”

  “What? What do you mean, safe?”

  “Cripples are frowned upon where I come from.”

  “We don’t kill people in need. We care for them, even if it is extreme. No surprise you haven’t noticed. This isn’t Bone, you lout!”

  Kam’s green eyes flashed. Her hand charged up with fire, and she struck him square in the chest.

  Venir flew off his feet and skipped off the ground. His eyes were wide and glossy. He put his fist on the ground and pushed himself back up to his feet. His nostrils flared, and his brows buckled.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  “I’ll do whatever I want.” She poked at his chest. “This is my barn. My tavern. Go stay somewhere else. I want you out!”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Keep digging!”

  The voice was gruff. Always. Mean. Friendless. Lefty sneered and dug in. He’d been digging for more than two hours straight. There was no sun in the foggy lands of Hohm, but sweat ran down his cheeks and back. It ached. His fingers cramped.

  “I’ve had about enough of this,” he said under his breath.

  “What was that?” the wart-nosed dwarf said. “I didn’t say you could talk.”

  Lefty stopped, drew his forearm across his brow, looked up out of the hole, and said, “Almost finished. Plenty deep enough, isn’t it?”

  The dwarf lorded over the top of the hole with his stony hands on his hips. Broad-faced with a large hawkish nose, he wore buckskins, and dwarven hatchets hung from his belt. It was Hoknar, Gully’s brother. He spat black juice in the hole and said, “For a halfling, maybe. You digging your own grave? Humph. Now make it big enough for the both of you.”

  “What?” Lefty exclaimed. “This hole’s big enough for two of you and three of me.” Lefty threw the shovel down. “You dig it!”

  Hok
nar slung his hatchet at him.

  Lefty slid to the side, but the metal grazed his shoulder.

  “Ow,” he said, bleeding. “I can’t dig with one arm.”

  “Dig!” Hoknar said, brandishing another hatchet. “Next time, I swear I won’t miss.”

  Lefty snatched up the shovel.

  “Fine!”

  “Throw me up my hatchet,” the dwarf said, spitting in the hole again.

  “Gladly.” Lefty snatched the weapon up. “Are you ready?”

  Hoknar’s eyes widened in his saucer-like sockets.

  Lefty flung it up.

  Hoknar snatched it out of the air.

  “Keep digging, Halfling.”

  Lefty stabbed the spade into the dirt and slung dirt over his shoulder.

  “My name’s Lefty,” he said softly, but Hoknar had already walked away. “My name’s Lefty, but only friends know my name, and I don’t have any.” He rubbed the blond scruff on his chin. “I don’t deserve any.”

  He dug non-stop two more hours and threw the shovel out. He climbed out after it. Hoknar sat nearby on a rock with his broad back to him. Lefty picked up the shovel and crept forward. Hoknar turned his head a little.

  “Whatcha doing, Halfling?”

  Getting ready to drive this spade into that bald spot on your skull.

  “I’m finished.”

  “Is that so?” Hoknar said, turning away again. “I don’t recall saying you were finished.”

  If Lefty waited for Hoknar to tell him when he was finished, he’d be digging until tomorrow. Maybe longer. He had learned that the hard way, when the dwarf first put him to work. Had stitched their buckskin boots for three days straight.

  “You said to dig a hole big enough for me and him,” he said, looking at the corpse on the ground. It was a man. A merchant, judging by his clothes. Dead, thanks to a hatchet buried in his back. Lefty had witnessed the entire thing. The dwarves had slowed the merchant down and started a conversation, and then Hoknar had killed him with a look of satisfaction.