Venir stepped closer. He could feel a force around Fogle. A shield of some sort, keeping him at bay. The wizard’s words were suggestive as well. Almost soothing. Venir felt his temper begin to cool.
“Let’s sit,” Fogle suggested. “And eat. And I’m even willing to confess my side of things.”
Venir looked away and started to turn. “I’ll grab some chairs.”
“I’ll snatch a bottle from the—”
Venir struck.
Whop!
His fist collided with Fogle’s chest, knocking the man off his feet and into the newly reconstructed bar.
The wizard clutched his chest, sucking for air.
“Don’t toy with me, Fogle. I won’t hold back next time.” He sat his big frame down at a table with two chairs near the fireplace. “And I don’t want wine. I want ale.”
Fogle dragged himself over to Venir’s table, chest sore and hot with anger. Even with a protective spell up, he had felt every bit of that jarring punch. “You didn’t have to do that,” he wheezed. “I was being reasonable.”
“Were you being reasonable when you moved in on Kam?”
Fogle sat down across from him, looked into his eyes, and said with sincerity, “She moved in on me.”
“I see.” Venir sat broad and stone faced.
Fogle couldn’t read him. “She riles the blood with a single look. I’d be lying …”
Venir held his palm out. “Don’t say anything else I don’t want to hear you say. Let’s talk about this inquisition, shall we?”
Nearby, Brak and Jubilee sat long faced and quiet.
Jasper brought a pitcher of ale and placed it on the table and took a seat.
Fogle eyed her.
“I’ve heard things,” she said. “I’d just never had them confirmed before. Have you witnessed an Inquisition?”
Fogle’s heart became heavy. He had. And he had enjoyed it. “I watched an older man be picked apart by a jury of peers. His mind melded to theirs. His grey matter twisted like entrails. All because he had a disagreement with a higher member in the Order. Accusations followed. It went on for weeks. One interrogation after the other with little rest. The man was never the same after that, but he wasn’t found guilty, either. He departed, body intact, mind desecrated. I can’t remember the man’s name, but he didn’t confess. He just shivered, mumbled, and walked away.”
“She didn’t do it,” Jubilee spoke up. “I did.”
“I know,” Fogle said, “but that doesn’t matter now. They want to make an example out of somebody, not nobody.”
“Excuse me?” Jubilee said.
“Don’t pout,” Fogle said, “unless you misinterpret my meaning.”
Jubilee scrunched her eyebrows.
“Consider yourself fortunate, for the moment,” Fogle added. “They’ll be coming back at some point, I imagine.”
“Do you think they’ll come back for us?” Jasper said.
“Possibly.”
“Great,” Jasper said. “I knew I should have gotten out of this place.”
***
Venir spun a coin on the table. Jubilee and Jasper bickered with Fogle. Brak shuffled out to the stables, where he could be heard splitting small logs into kindling. Venir had never seen the Magi Roost like this. Cold. Quiet. It was just them. He tried to pluck the coin off the table, and it splashed into his tankard of ale.
“Humph,” he grunted.
A warm fire on his back and a pitcher of ale couldn’t soothe his restlessness. Inside, he burned. The Royals here were just as callous as the Royals in Bone, it seemed. Turning a blind eye to the evil that manifested in the city. Making examples of citizens and not the enemy.
Disgusting.
He sat and drank for another hour, itching for a fight. He wanted to head to the Outland. Tear into the underlings. He wanted to climb the towers and toss the Royals out on their heads. He’d had his fill of the both of them. It seemed the entire world was against him.
Heavy knocks came at the door.
Knock knock knock knock!
“Should I get it?” Jubilee said, popping out of her chair. She rushed to the window. “I see some men, but it’s pretty dark outside. Why’s the lantern sign out, anyway? Brak, isn’t that your job? Oh, never mind.”
The pounding became harder.
“Let us in!”
Knock knock knock knock!
Hand on the hilt of his knife, Venir lumbered over. “I’ll handle it.” He lifted the bar from the doors and swung one inward.
A roughly cut bunch spilled inside.
“He said to bring him here,” one said. He was a half orc, pit faced and scarred. Bandages covered several wounds.
“I stopped the bleeding, but he’s still unsettled,” another man said. He wore the insignia of a Royal soldier and carried Melegal’s limp form in his arms. “But I don’t know if he has much time left in him. He lost a lot of blood. He’s almost gone.”
CHAPTER 33
“How do you like the view?” Pall said, puffing on a cigar.
From the lip of a crevice, Lefty gazed over the scorched Outland and swallowed. The heat of the blinding suns was exhilarating. Tears formed in his eyes. He had been in the mist and darkness so long that he’d almost forgotten the feeling of true light.
“It’s as beautiful as I ever saw.”
“Beautiful, this wasteland? Har. Hot, sandy, and no water for miles, leagues maybe. Days longer than nights. You’ve a funny way of interpreting things, halfling.”
“Perhaps,” Lefty said. He lengthened his stride and headed down into the cactus-filled valley. “But at least it’s full of light. Thanks for taking me out of there.” He didn’t glance back at the fog that covered Hohm’s marsh. Scorch had put him there, and he wouldn’t go there again. He wanted to be as far away as he could get from Hohm, the dreary city. And he hoped he never saw another wart again. “Thanks for the water,” he said, waving back and patting the skin that Pall had given him.
“Har! Where are you going? You can’t traverse the Outland alone.” He caught up with Lefty. “Fool of a half person, slow your pace. Reckon with me where yer going.”
Lefty pointed southeast and said, “That way.”
“And what is that way?”
Lefty shrugged. “I’ll find out when I get there.”
“Har!” Pall said, squinting his bushy brows and surveying the landscape. It was nothing but miles of mirages, sand, and thickets of bone-dry trees. “Looks to be as good a place to go as any. May I join you?”
“Sure,” Lefty said, resuming his pace. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Hee hee.
***
Sniff. Sniff.
Eep filled his beak with air and rummaged through the cave. A soft green glow illuminated the cavern that rested along the water of the Current.
Find something? Trinos asked.
“Possibly.”
He hopped up on a large crimson velvet sofa and sniffed it. Oran’s scent still lingered on it. Verbard’s did as well, and some others. He hopped over to a large wooden table where several vials and jars rested. A halfling’s head was pickled in a jar on one end. A pair of orc hands was in another. He picked up the jar with the halfling head, shook it, and cackled.
Put that down and move on.
He checked the shelves full of many jars and faces. The cells in the caves, where he had killed and tormented so many, lay undisturbed and open. The smell of rotting flesh lingered in the air. Cave bugs, some as big as his clawed feet, picked the skeletons clean of flesh.
“Ah!” he said, walking over, picking up a squirming bug that screeched, and swallowing it down. He patted his hard belly and licked his mouth. “Mmmm—uuuurp!”
Disgusting. Move on, Eep.
“Yes. Yes, Mistress.”
Wringing his clawed hands, he buzzed out of the cell. He missed all the things he had done with Oran. All the torture and mutilation. The underling cleric had turned him loose on so many things and let him do what he was
designed to do: tear flesh asunder.
He landed on the sandy shore and lay his claw down in some footprints. Another underling’s scent lingered, and someone else’s as well. He could feel power and see a lingering yellow outline of magic that passed through Bish into another dimension.
I can see it.
“You can?”
I have a discerning eye. I know what I’m looking for. Well done, Eep.
“Yesss, can I kill something now?”
Now that you’ve found the trail, can you find it again?
“Once I have it,” he said, wringing his hands, “I’ll never lose it.”
Hmmm … I need to see his face first. Once I’m convinced, I’ll turn you loose on a new enemy.
Eep’s wings buzzed to life. He zipped over the still water, creating ripples. Claws bared and tongue hanging out, he said, “I can’t wait to see him, myself.”
***
Scorch stared up at a towering onyx statue of an underling mage holding up severed heads from all the races but its own. Blood dripped from the necks, filling a red death pool below, and the heads were still screaming. The garden was filled with statues of this sort, some far more grotesque, others absolutely beautiful, but dark.
“Beauty is in the eye of the holder, I suppose,” Scorch said, walking away. He locked his arms behind his back and eyed the details of everything. “Your kind certainly has a very devilish way of looking at things. It leaves me … conflicted.”
“I see nothing conflicting about any of this.”
“Oh, I’m not conflicted about your kind. I’m conflicted about something else.”
“I see.”
Sidebor and Scorch had spent hours in the gardens now, talking about many things among handfuls of urchlings that tended to the gardens.
“Allies, Sidebor. I think it’s time we sought any you may have.”
“I’m certain they are all dead.”
“Perhaps, but the Underland is abandoned, the forces divided. Not all can be happy about this?”
“The underlings are united in their conquest. They’ll see things through, conquer, and begin the bickering later.”
“I see. So have the underlings ever conquered the surface before? After all, you have been around a long time.”
“We’ve had our moments.”
“But you couldn’t sustain them?”
Sidebor’s ruby eyes narrowed, and his claws dug into his palms. “Victory on Bish has never been sustainable.”
“How entertaining,” Scorch said, staring up at a statue of a great troll stuffing two muscular human warriors into its mouth. “It seems my grasp of things has been enlightened.”
“How so?” Sidebor took his gaze away from the statue and searched for Scorch, but Scorch was gone. Movement caught his eye. Underling soldiers in dark plate armor came his way. Underling magi in dark, velvety robes hemmed him in from above.
Inside his head, he heard Scorch laughing. “Ishfuhn!”
It was an underling curse.
A ring of silver fire dropped from above and encircled him with lightning-like bonds. He howled and screamed. The more he fought, the stronger the force became.
“Ishfuhn!”
Sidebor submitted and with a heavy head was marched to Sinway’s castle.
CHAPTER 34
Melegal lay flat on the tavern floor, bruised and bloody. His scrawny chest rose and fell. His fingers twitched, and his lips were curled up on one side.
“The bleeding stopped,” Joline said. She’d rubbed a magic salve on his neck that sealed the gaping wound. She adjusted the stained white bandage around his neck. “He’ll survive just fine, but we need to get that bolt out of his leg, too.”
“I’ll do it,” Venir said, stepping forward and kneeling alongside his friend. He’d hardly seen a scratch on Melegal before, not even when they were children. Now the resilient but bony man looked half dead. It disturbed him.
Joline rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll handle this. You men cause damage. Leave it to us women to stitch the wounds.” She shook her head. “Just scoot.”
Venir rose up and scowled at the men who had carried Melegal in. They had wounds of their own.
One man unbuckled his plate armor. He was well knit with the mannerisms of a soldier. The half orc was taller than Venir, but leaner. He’d shaven most of his face, unlike most orcs. He wrapped clothes around a gash in his hairy arm and tore it with his teeth. The other two were mintaurs. Scuffed up and bloody, they didn’t say a word or attempt to patch their wounds.
“What happened?”
The soldier stepped forward, extending his hand. “I’m Zurth. Your comrade hired me from Palzor.” He paused when Venir didn’t accept his hand. “Sort of.”
“I’m called Slom,” the half orc said. “Your comrade, very mischievous he is. Killed Palzor. Gutted him like an urchin.” He spit cloth out of his mouth. “I don’t like many men, but I like him.”
“Palzor’s dead?” Fogle said, rising up from his chair. “Are you certain?”
The orc let out a rough laugh. He reached for a sack they had dragged in and pulled something out and held it up. The women gasped. Slom held a man’s head by the hair.
“That him?” Venir said to Fogle.
“It is,” Fogle nodded. “Melegal cut his head off.”
“No, Melegal gutted him. I cut his head off. We needed the proof.”
“Put that away,” Joline said.
“Er,” Slom said, looking at the face, “I think he needs a drink. Brah-hahaha!” He stuffed the head back in the sack. “But I’ll have to do the drinking for him.” He eyed Venir. “You pay?”
Venir ignored him. “What else, Zurth?”
The soldier brushed his black hair out of his eyes. “I’ll talk better with a drink.”
“You’ll talk worse with my fist in your throat.”
Zurth sized him up. “I’m not that hungry.”
Venir leaned forward.
Zurth threw his hands up. “Nor thirsty.” He backed up to the bar and took a stool alongside Slom. The burly mintaurs made their way toward the nearest hearth.
“They aren’t much for conversation,” Zurth said. He fanned himself with his leather gauntlet and glanced at the decorative bottles behind the bar. “It’s awfully warm in here. Whew!” His light-colored eyes glanced around. “Nice place. Some of the troops were talking about it earlier, but I’d heard about the Roost before.”
Fogle stepped alongside Venir. “He’s one of Palzor’s guards. Melegal dropped him once when we were imprisoned. Doesn’t seem likely he’d befriend us now.”
“Hah!” Slom reached behind the bar, stretching his fingers toward a bottle of grog. “He’ll confirm it. He’d be dead otherwise. Ah!” He grabbed the bottle and lifted it to his lips. He teethed the cork off and poured. “Pah!” He slammed the jug down. “Empty.”
“For the sake of slat, can we have a drink, brawny man?” Zurth said. “Check your friend’s pockets. All is there. He’ll confirm our story.”
Melegal moaned.
Joline had him biting down on a dowel rod.
Jasper and Jubilee held him down.
Joline began to ease the bolt out.
Jubilee’s eyes widened.
Jasper looked away.
“Brak,” Venir said, “think you can fetch a barrel?”
“Sure,” Brak said. He stretched up out of his chair and lumbered back toward the kitchen, leaning on a plank crutch.
“Who is that man?” Slom said. He did a double take. “That’s one big giant-headed man.”
“Go ahead and confirm your story now, Zurth,” Venir said. “He’s liable to be out for a while, and my patience is often short.”
“Certainly,” Zurth said, hitching his elbow back on the bar. He relayed to Venir everything that Fogle had seen and continued from there. “Your friend captured Palzor and was digging around about those grey-skinned fiends. It was interesting. He wanted to know who was behind it all. He
wanted to find out everything he could squeeze. When Palzor’s troops came, I thought the King of Thieves would slip free, but Melegal, he killed him. One of the most powerful men in Three, and he’s stone cold now. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’ve an odd amount of interest for a hired sword,” Venir said.
Brak returned with a barrel of ale and set it on the bar. He pulled the wooden plug out with his fingers and stuffed the tap in.
Eyeing Brak with astounded eyes, Slom elbowed Zurth.
“What?”
“Did you see that?”
Zurth shook his head and continued, “You see, we like your friend. He killed Palzor, and we killed all the rest of Palzor’s goons.”
“What is your interest in it?” Venir asked.
“Survival of the greediest,” Zurth smiled. “You see, the guild is divided. The Nest is at odds with the Royals. We don’t like the underlings, but the Royals have the fiends doing their dirty work.” He shrugged. “The Royals have long been the top employers of our services, but with Palzor out of the picture, things can change.”
Fogle stepped in and said, “How so?”
“Once word gets out that Palzor is a ghost, it will be complete chaos. Every cutthroat will want to take control. It’ll be months before The Nest declares a leader. Maybe years, with the underlings making a wreck of things. Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin. “And there’s always the possibility the underlings could seize hold of the world below, which feeds the world above. It would take time without Palzor’s direction. He was one of the masterminds behind it all.” He laughed. “Your scrawny friend sure fouled things up. And there will be Bish to pay for it, soon enough.”
Slom handed Zurth a tankard, and they clanked them together and drank.
Zurth wiped the froth from his mouth with his forearm. “That’s good ale.”
“That’s a good tale,” Venir said, dropping his hand to his knife.
“Listen, friend,” Zurth said, easing back, “your friend didn’t so much find us as we found him. Me, I should be dead. One of my comrades is dead. But the rest of this crew, they’ve been staying close to Palzor’s watch. We are the eyes and ears of The Nest. It’s how we survive. Your friend presented a unique opportunity. It’s strange fortune that we all lived, and I’m glad for it. I hate those underlings.”
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 1-5): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 42