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

by Craig Halloran

  “Kam is much older than me,” Jaen replied. “Much.” She draped her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them. “You have changed, Fogle. There is something more mannish and rugged in that face and in those eyes.” Her voice became a purr. “I like it.”

  Fogle pulled out a chair and said, “Please, have a seat.”

  “Ah, well, I’m glad to see not all ground dwellers have lost their manners.”

  Kam stormed over. Her green eyes were wild, and her face was filled with fury.

  “Get OUT, Jaen! I won’t tell you again.”

  Melegal covered his smile with his slender hand, thinking, Perhaps I do like dangerous women. He touched the thin film of sweat on his head. Yep. And I never sweat, other than … He caught a twinkle in Fogle’s eyes as well, and he saw that the wizard’s lips could not hold back a smile.

  “Please, Kam, let me catch up with my old friend Fogle.” Jaen rested her hand on Fogle’s arm. “And while I’m doing that, you can get us some wine, because we are going to have a very long and important chat.” She winked at Fogle. “And you can stay too,” she said to Melegal. “I like a man with some bumps and bruises.”

  Kam balled up her fist. “I’m warning you, Jaen.”

  “Oh, please, what are you going to do,” Jaen said, sneering at her, “choke me with one hand?”

  Kam punched her in the face.

  Sock!

  Jaen crashed to the floor, but she bounced up in an instant and wiped the blood from her mouth. Her hands charged with deep red energy.

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  Kam’s one hand flared with green fire.

  “Make me pay, witch!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Cough. Cough. Hack.

  “Water,” Creed pleaded with a cracked voice, “water.”

  He lay on the floor of his cell with his face pressed against the cold metal bars, burning with fever. A bucket was knocked over by his feet. The slop they fed him was being devoured by rats. Perspiration dripped from his face.

  “Water.”

  Images haunted his mind: the tongueless man’s garbled cackle, the blacksmith from his youth who had been crushed by the falling ceiling. What was his name?

  Lorda Almen’s sensuous curves came and went.

  Underlings attacked in his dreams, stabbing him over and over again.

  He went back and forth from ice cold to burning hot, tossing and turning. The days felt like years. Rats nipped at his flesh when he slept.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t die in here. I can’t.

  His body convulsed and contorted.

  Cough. Cough. Cough. Hack. Hack. Hack.

  ***

  Corrin stood inside one of the turrets of Castle Bloodhound, eyeing the streets. From up here, he could see bloodhound sentries patrolling the upper wall. It was nighttime. The streets were dead. The only souls who ventured out at night were the City Watch and Royal Soldiers. Underlings ruled the streets at night.

  It’s never good to see those fiends.

  Down in the courtyard, a corpse swayed by the neck on a noose in the gentle breeze. Lord Grom was now swift to discipline his ranks. The man hanging had dared to question the overbearing man—and had died for it.

  Better him than me, but that’s what he gets for listening to Lorda. She’s a more effective murderer than I am. Never gets her hands dirty.

  Small blade in hand, he whittled a block of wood. At his feet, Creed’s dog Manx’s shaggy body lay still. Corrin had managed to befriend the brown-coated beast as well as some others in the kennels. He’d even gotten chummy with more of the bloodhounds. Now they trusted him to watch over some posts.

  Blend in and survive.

  He whittled down more on the block of wood. It was the half-finished figurine of a dog. He’d learned to whittle from his father when he was a boy but hadn’t fooled with it at all in the years gone by. Now it helped pass the time. It gave him clarity on how to murder Lord Grom.

  If I could leave, then I could score some poison.

  He and Creed had snuck out plenty of times before, but now that Bone was overrun by underlings, it was too risky. Everyone kept a close eye on everybody. The small castle was a prison, guarded by hundreds of dogs.

  He stuck the dagger in the window ledge and leaned forward, squinting. His stomach dropped.

  Dozens of underlings, some on foot, others on spiders, walked down the street, dragging the dead bodies of citizens behind them. Their glittering eyes and mocking chitters irritated his ears.

  Manx got up and stuck his large head out into the wind. Bared his teeth and growled.

  Sic ’em! I wish.

  They weren’t the only ones watching, either. Corrin could see several other bloodhounds watching. Their dogs’ ears were perched. Daggers slipped from scabbards. Leather gauntlets balled up into fists. The bloodhounds were a hard lot. Loyal to death. Rugged. They didn’t like what was happening to their city any more than Corrin did.

  The sound of a ballista caught his ear. Another group cranked back the strings of their crossbows. The tension in the air was as tight as those strings.

  The underlings sauntered by. Small, lithe forms in dark armor. Dark blades hung from their backs and belts. They glared up with fiendish looks on their faces. One strode in front of the bloodhounds’ front gate and took a piss on it.

  The bloodhounds began to murmur. Armor started to rustle.

  Corrin’s jaws tightened.

  Let loose, by Bone! Let loose!

  Several bloodhounds took aim.

  “Don’t you dare,” a heavy voice spoke out. Lord Grom’s large form lumbered down the top of the wall. “Lower your weapons. Sheath those blades. Don’t fall prey to their provocations.”

  Reluctantly, the bloodhounds did as he said. Steel slammed into sheaths.

  Lord Grom’s hulking visage glared over the wall. The standoff had stopped as quickly as it started, and the underlings walked on by, still dragging the bodies behind them. Lord Grom addressed his men.

  “Our time will come. Until then, no signs of aggression.”

  “Pardon, Lord Grom,” one bloodhound spoke up, “but the Royals do nothing while others are slaughtered in the streets. We can’t just stand by and wah—urk!”

  Lord Grom drove a blade into the man’s belly.

  Corrin stiffened.

  He is loony!

  Lord Grom’s heavy stare scanned the towers and turrets.

  Corrin stepped back into the shadows.

  But I don’t want him mad at me.

  ***

  Lorda Almen dabbed some perfume on her neck. She sat in front of her vanity, wearing a revealing turquoise robe made of silk. She could see Lord Grom’s reflection in the mirror. He lay on her bed, naked and belly down, eyes closed. Three huge dogs lay alongside the bed.

  Hairy pig bastard.

  She took a sharp hair pin and stared at it a moment.

  It would fit perfectly, jammed into his earhole.

  “Catherine,” he said, “I’m ready, and feeling a little impatient, too.”

  She began pinning her hair up. “The wait is always worth it. Is it not?” She rose from her chair with her robes half open.

  Lord Grom’s eyes opened up and took their fill of her breasts. “Mmmm,” he moaned, “You win, but can you be quick about it? It’s been a hard day.”

  She climbed on the bed, straddled his hairy back, and rubbed the thick muscles in his neck. The older man was a pack of hard muscle underneath that layer of fat.

  “What was so hard about your day?” she asked.

  He moaned again and turned his head, cracking his neck and glancing up at her before he closed his eyes again.

  “I had to gut another one of my soldiers. That’s two this week.”

  “Ah,” she said, smiling. Perfect. “And was he out of line?”

  “He wanted action. I can feel they all do. But this is not the bloodhounds’ fight.”

  She dug her thumbs deep into his back. �
��My, you are tight. Well, you can’t let your men get unhitched, Grom,” she said. “The underlings will slaughter all of us. I’ve told you that you are right. This is the Royals’ fight and not ours, er, yours.”

  “Ours, Catherine,” he said. “Ours, my dear.”

  “You are sweet,” she said. Pig. “What you do is the same as it was in my family and in my husband’s family. If one steps over the line, questioning your authority, the punishment must be swift.”

  “I could throw them in the dungeons,” he suggested.

  “Death is more merciful. Its message is swift, powerful.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said, trying to flip over.

  “Ah ah ah,” Lorda said, forcing him back down. “Let me work that tension out first. You’re going to need to be loose for what I’m going to put you through.”

  Lord Grom cackled. “You are special, Catherine. There is no doubt about that.”

  You had better believe I am, you horny old fool. Mother was right—Bish rest her soul: the older men get, the easier they are to manipulate.

  She lowered her breasts onto his back, hugged him, and said, “Now tell me more of your troubles, and I’ll make those troubles go away.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Kam’s arm flashed up in a mystic shield of green.

  Jaen hurled a bolt of energy straight at her.

  Sazz! Zing!

  She deflected it and summoned her own lance of energy.

  “Stop it!” Fogle said, jumping between them.

  Kam let the bolt fly.

  Fogle leapt out of the way, crashing through the tables.

  Sazz! Zing!

  Her bolt ricocheted off Jaen’s shield.

  Her half sister licked the blood from her lips. “Old and slow as always, Kam. Temperamental as ever.” Small shield glowing on her wrist, Jaen beckoned Kam on. “Come on, then. Attack me, mother hen.”

  Kam’s nostrils flared. She hated Jaen, the spawn of one of her father’s sordid affairs. “You sleazy conniver!” Kam shouted. “Get your arse out of my tavern!” Her auburn hair stood on end, and her entire body crackled with energy. She let her fury fly. A whoosh of energy erupted from her arms and blasted straight for Jaen’s chest.

  Jaen produced a metal orb that sucked the energy up. “Ha!” Jaen said. “I came prepared for your tantrum.”

  Kam, exhausted, staggered back on her feet and fell into some chairs. Her magic wasn’t up to par with what it should have been. She’d just cleaned out all the energy she had left.

  Fogle tried to help her up.

  She shot him a look. “Get off me!”

  Jaw dropping, he tried to speak.

  “Back off, Fogle,” she warned. She pushed herself off the floor and climbed into a chair, eyeing Jaen. “Get out.”

  “After this reunion? I think not,” Jaen said. “And they wouldn’t let me leave if I tried.”

  “Who?” Kam said, turning her head around.

  Big in frame, two men in plate mail stood at the front door. They bore the burning three-eyed tree insignia of her family.

  “What is this?”

  “Oh,” Jaen said, “there’s more.”

  A tall, fit man in refined clothing of the highest order entered. He was older, with a head of thick brown hair and pale green eyes. His movements were graceful and his cheekbones high.

  Two more soldiers fell in behind him.

  Kam gaped, heart jumping. Why is he here?

  “Hello, Kam,” he said in a soft but firm tone. “It’s been a long time. And I must say, you are just as pretty as ever.”

  Kam swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes flitting to Fogle and Melegal before falling back on the man. “You need to get out of here too.”

  “I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and leave.”

  “I didn’t either,” Jaen said.

  Kam tossed her head back and started laughing.

  Every eye in the room widened. Some faces filled with concern, others curiosity. Even the stone-faced Melegal’s.

  “Kam,” Joline said, appearing at her side, “are you all right?”

  Kam slapped her knee. “Oh, I’m great. Absolutely wonderful!”

  “Maybe you should go lie down,” Joline suggested.

  “At a time like this?” Kam slapped Joline on the rump. “Perish the thought! Muckle Sap for everyone. I can’t wait to hear what the father of that bastard Palos wants!”

  Joline gasped. “That’s Palzor? King of the—”

  Palzor’s index finger shot up. “There are certain titles I don’t care for, lovely lady.” He flashed a smile, and his hands fell on the pommels at his hips. “And many have died for uttering it. Palzor the Merchant King will suffice.”

  “Certainly,” Joline said with a bow.

  Kam shoved a chair toward him with her foot.

  Ripping out their swords, the soldiers jumped forward.

  “Easy,” Palzor said. “That was just a crude courtesy.” He picked the chair up, set it down beside Kam, and took a seat. “So, I now sit face to face with the fetching woman who turned my son into a babbling fool.”

  “He had worse than that coming,” she said with a sneer. “Much worse.”

  “Don’t we all?” Palzor said. “Including me and you? All of us here, I’d say.”

  “He kidnapped my daughter. He violated me.” She glanced at the door.

  “He’s not coming,” Palzor said. “My poor son has no idea where he is. And I’ve tried some things. How you did what you did to him is beyond me. But many strange things have been going on of late.” He glanced at her handless arm. “We’ve all suffered in one way or another.”

  “What do you want, Palzor?”

  “Some wine, perhaps.” He set a small stack of coins on the table. “I hear there is a good stash here ... for ground dwellers.”

  “Pah!” Kam said. “Everything tastes better here than up in those vile towers.”

  “It’s so dusty,” Jaen said, running her manicured finger over the table, “but I can see you are well acquainted with the grime.”

  “Joline,” Kam said, “would you be so kind? It seems these intruders aren’t going anywhere.” To Jaen she added, “Oh, and would you like to try some of our food?”

  “I’d rather not,” Jaen said.

  “Please, I’ve heard good things about your delicacies.” Palzor’s eyes glided over Kam’s body as he licked his teeth. “I’m sure it will be divine.”

  “All right, Palzor, now that the food’s been ordered, start talking.”

  Looking at Jaen, the King of the Thieves’ Guild turned briefly toward Melegal. “Him?”

  Without looking, Jaen nodded. “Have a seat, scarecrow. You’re a part of this too.”

  “I don’t see—”

  One of the soldiers pushed him forward, almost knocking him to the floor.

  Frowning, Melegal took a seat and folded his arms over his chest.

  “Anyone else you want to add to the party?” Kam said.

  Jaen nodded at Fogle.

  Palzor cocked his head at her.

  “He can be useful,” Jaen said.

  “If you say so,” Palzor said. “Pull up a chair, then.”

  Fogle dragged one over beside Melegal, and the pair of men now sat across from the two women.

  Still standing, Palzor focused his conversation on Kam. “It seems your companion is causing us trouble.”

  Kam’s eyes slid over to Fogle.

  “Not him,” Palzor said, laughing. “My, you are a seductress, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t take your meaning, you—”

  Palzor lifted his index finger. “Don’t trifle with me. I’m not concerned about your liaisons.”

  Joline returned and set a serving tray with two bottles of wine and several goblets on the table. She had a nervous look in her eye. “I’ll be back with the food.”

  Kam said, “I don’t take your meaning, Palzor.”

  “He’s talking about your b
aby’s father,” Jaen said. “Or are you uncertain who that is?”

  Feeling her cheeks turn red, Kam snatched a bottle of wine off the table and swung for Jaen’s head.

  CHAPTER 13

  Melegal caught Kam’s wrist and twisted the bottle from her hand without spilling a drop.

  Palzor started laughing. “Fast and sleek,” he said to Jaen, who was covering her face. “I like him.”

  “Don’t touch me again,” Kam said.

  Melegal poured the wine, one goblet at a time. “I won’t have to if you let him finish. Maybe you don’t care, but I’m curious what he has to say about Venir.”

  Kam slumped back in her chair.

  Finally, some cooperation … but for how long? Melegal thought.

  Palzor, King of the Thieves, was in his midst. The man was as refined as a Royal in Bone. His clothing and jewelry were exquisite. The man reminded Melegal of a more polite version of Royal Lord Almen. Every expression, every movement, was graceful.

  “It’s always nice to be in the company of level-headed minds. Women,” Palzor said, “are so emotional.”

  Kam slammed her fist on the table. “Just get on with it! My patience thins!”

  Palzor shrugged Melegal and Fogle’s way. Then he clasped his jeweled fingers together behind him and began to pace.

  “All right, then. Recently, the underling forces have become agitated. They blindside citizens all over the city. They create disruption. Chaos.” Palzor’s eyes narrowed. “Everything was fine up until a week ago…” His eyes fell on Melegal. “…when someone got a little carried away.”

  “Are you referring to me?” Melegal said. “I don’t have anything to do with this mess. I told Jaen only a fool would do business with them. What happens is on you, not me. Dealing with underlings? That is—”

  Palzor held up his jeweled hand. “Let me stop you—Melegal, is it?”

  The thief nodded.

  “You’ve made your whiny observations perfectly clear: you don’t want to dicker with underlings. However, it’s your brawny friend who I’m concerned about. He has been mucking things up with the underlings ever since you left him down there.”