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

by Craig Halloran

  “Come on at me, ya black fiends!” He banged his blades together, showering Lefty and the ground with drops of black blood. “I’ll finish every last one of you!”

  The underlings circled. Their bright eyes showed wariness. Anger. Fury. Their brethren were scattered all over the ground: dead, moaning, or bleeding. Pall’s onslaught was merciless. Skulls were cleaved. Arms severed. He sucked in deep draws of air. His gait was unsteady.

  He’s wounded. Wounded bad, maybe. “Pall, are you—”

  “Stay focused, halflin’” He let out a watery cough. “It’s far from over yet.”

  Lefty tightened his grip on his bloodstained axe. He’d become proficient with it.

  An underling darted right for him, jagged blade first, and pounced.

  Lefty shifted out of its path, swung hard, and severed its fingers from its hand.

  Pall’s broad stroke did the rest.

  Glitch!

  Wading through the bloody sands turned to a grave of underling bodies, Pall charged them down. “Huzzah!”

  Lefty hollered as well. “Huzzah!” This was it. Fueled by the heat of battle, he was ready to make his last stand. Bish on the underlings! They might take me, but I’ll take more of them!

  Steel rang against steel. Pain-filled cries were shouted. Destruction was in the air. Death followed.

  “Huzzah!”

  The underling warriors fell back. The underlings on the backs of the sand spiders closed in with javelins ready. The long, black darts ripped through the air.

  “Jump!” Lefty said. “Duck!”

  Glitch! Glitch! Glitch!

  “Argh!” Lefty cried out. A javelin had lanced him through the shoulder.

  Pall crashed down on his knee.

  Wincing, Lefty grabbed the javelin and wrenched it out. “Ah!”

  “Hang in there, halfling!” Pall growled. “Now they got my blood rising!” He ripped another javelin out of the back of his thigh and threw it through an underling’s neck. “Bull’s-eye!”

  Cords of webbing shot out from the spiders.

  Thwp! Thwp! Thwp!

  The webbing stuck to Pall’s arms and legs. The underlings let out triumphant chitters. The bonds held the Blood Ranger fast. They started to reel the giant dwarf in.

  “Har! So it’s a closer look you want, do ya! Well I’ll give it to you!” Pall wrapped his thick wrist around one set of the cords, set his feet, and gave them a powerful heave. The spider and rider left its insect legs. Pall brained the underling with the machete in his free hand and rammed his boot into the spider’s maw. It screeched. Pall stomped it into a pile of goo, leaving its legs twitching.

  The air shimmered. Lefty’s eyes snapped upward. The underling mage was drifting back into the scene. His fingertips were brighter than candlelight, and Lefty’s hair stood on end. “Pall, watch out, he’s spellcasting again!”

  Thwp! Thwp! Thwp!

  Webbing spewed all over the both of them. Lefty’s hands were stuck to his chest. A bright flash erupted. Sssraz!

  Lefty’s body exploded in a thousand darts of pain. His mouth tasted like metal, and the hair on his body smelled singed. He sagged inside the rucksack, yet the webbing kept his head up. He watched the underlings close in. He could not hear them, but he could see them screaming. He started to yell for Pall. The Blood Ranger swayed on his knees, shaking his bushy head. Fight, Pall! Fight! The dwarf wasn’t moving at all.

  Through the webbing, Lefty saw Black Death with shiny steel blades closing in. Racked with pain, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel a thing. So long, lousy world. It’s about time. So long. His eyes flickered up toward the mage floating in the sky.

  Its citrine eyes widened. Its mouth filled with sharp teeth dropped open. A shard of blue magic zipped through the air and buried itself inside its chest. It screeched. Its hands clawed at the flesh on its body. It exploded.

  Boom!

  Chunks of flesh, bone, and skin showered the sky and rained down on the evil brethren. The underlings froze in their tracks. Their heads scanned left, right, and all around.

  Clatch-Zip!

  A bolt tore through one underling’s chest and knocked it back into another. An arrow feathered the eyehole of another. Twang!

  Pall stirred. On shaky legs, he rose to his feet and started swinging. A big man cut across Lefty’s path. His gleaming sword flashed down with such power that it split an underling in half. An underling blindsided the man, ramming a javelin into his back side. In a stroke of lightning, his sword tore its head clean off.

  Slice!

  Dark blood spurted from the neck. Its head rolled in the dust.

  In pain, Lefty fought to keep his eyelids open. He was woozy. Bleeding. His vision darkening. He wanted to thank the men before he expired. Focusing, he concentrated on the brawny figure chopping down underlings with a javelin sticking out of his side. Lefty’s axe slipped from his grip. Underlings closed in.

  The brawny man pulled out the javelin and jammed it into the nearest underling’s chest. The other, he strangled.

  My, what a fighter!

  The sky filled with white light, and the air cracked. A silver snake of deadly bolts tore through one underling and branched out into another and another. The underlings fell to the ground, smoking but dead. Pall’s body slowed. He took a knee and collapsed, with Lefty still stuck to his back.

  “Pall!” Lefty tried to cry, but he could not find his breath. Pall.

  “What did you do that for?” the voice of an agitated man said to another that Lefty could not see. He could barely make out anything now.

  “Do what?” a strong voice fired back.

  Lefty’s senses began to fade. No, not yet. Not yet.

  “You know what! You killed them. You said you weren’t going to do that.”

  “Aye,” said another man, his voice very deep. He sounded older. Wiser.

  “Well, I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” the older man said. “Besides, I hate them more.”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too!”

  “Do not!”

  “Will all of you shut up?” said another man. At least Lefty thought so. It had a familiar ring to it. “Just help these people, will you?”

  Through the webbing, Lefty noted three silhouettes. Well-built men. He couldn’t make out their faces, since their backs were to the sunlight.

  “This one has a baby on his back,” said the one with the really deep voice. “It’s all bloody and sticky. Too bad. I think it’s a dead baby. Uck.”

  Lefty summoned his strength and kicked his feet.

  “Look. That baby’s got awfully big feet.”

  “I’d say.”

  “Back away. Back away,” the older man said. He pointed at Lefty and murmured some very strange words, and his fingertip ignited with golden fire. He touched the webs, and they melted away.

  Lefty rubbed his bleary eyes and managed to croak out the words, “Thank you.” He started to black out.

  A big pie face topped off with long, blood-caked, curly locks looked him in the eye and said, “Lefty?”

  He stretched out his feeble hand and touched the man’s cheek. Georgio! Blackness swam his consciousness away.

  CHAPTER 26

  Fogle twisted and turned in midair. Below, the ground rushed for him. He was moments from being nothing but splattered guts on the road. It can’t end this way. It can’t! You’re wasting time complaining. Cast something! He closed his eyes as the wind tore at his robes and ears.

  The speed of thought could not be measured. Fogle’s were much faster than most. His mind opened doors to different channels and began pulling syllables together. A dozen yards above the terrified onlookers, he blurted it out.

  “Osswatchem!”

  His body became weightless. Righting himself, he softly landed on his feet, and the onlookers marveled. Head beaded in sweat, he said to them, “Show’s over, but I saw some underlings coming from around the corner.”

  Startled gasps were foll
owed by the footfalls of fleeing feet.

  Fogle gazed up, squatted down, and leapt high into the air. His weightless body ascended high up toward the sky. His spell worked. It was one he had created long ago during his training. Most of the students wanted to master the free-fall spell, a slower version. In order to test them, school masters would take them on the top of the towers. Have them cast and jump. Every year, there were a few who didn’t make it. Fogle, however, had a better idea. Rather than a soft free fall, he created the reverse he called the upsurge. Instead of falling down, he fell up. It won him an accolade. He’d never used it again until today.

  Thank Bish!

  He was eyeing the tower from whence another figure was hurtled out of the window. Wide-eyed and still strapped to the chair, Ruut came rushing down.

  Move, Fogle! Move!

  Running in suspended animation, there was nothing he could do to get away in time. Ruut smacked right into him. Down the pair of them went, spinning around in the sky. The fall was slower than normal, but still it was fast enough to break bones once they hit. Clutching the man, he shifted his body around on top of Ruut. Just drop the worm, Fogle.

  Ruut begged and pleaded behind his gag.

  Fogle ripped it out and said, “Save yourself if you can, Ruut. It’s a better chance than you deserve.” He released the man and started back upward, while Ruut’s descent quickened. He turned his head away. I’m not even going to look. Up he went. The closer he got to cresting the ledge of the busted window, the more terrible sounds he could hear.

  “Rrah!”

  An entire desk sailed out of the portal, busting more glass and sprinkling Fogle with shards of the stained window. He hung onto the window sill, holding himself down from descending farther up.

  Inside, Brak tore into everything. The berserk man picked up a bronze urn, crumbled it in his mitts like parchment, and slung it into the wall. He grabbed a built-in bookshelf and ripped it free of the wall. Eyes rolled up inside his head, chest heaving in fury, Brak was a force. Tall, brawny, and insanely angry, he picked a stone pedestal up off the floor and threw it from one side of the room to the other.

  Heart in his throat, Fogle fought to keep his body held down. His toes kept trying to float upward. Gripping the edge, he cut his hand on the broken glass. “Ah!”

  Brak whirled. Nostrils flaring, he stormed toward the window.

  Can he see me? Fogle thought.

  Brak’s lips curled up into a sneer. He glowered right down at Fogle. His muscles bulged. Great blue veins pulsated in his arms. He took a giant stride forward.

  He can! Fogle summoned his last dimension door.

  Faster, Brak closed in, with his white eyes intent on destruction. When he was one stride away and gaining speed, the air shimmered between them. A black portal appeared. Enraged, Brak charged right into it, making an ear-splitting howl. It cut off a second after it started.

  “Whew!” Fogle climbed inside the tower. Still floating up, he held his hands up to keep himself from hitting the ceiling. Heart racing, he looked down on the portal. “I’ll give it a few seconds,” he said, catching his breath. “Clever of you, Fogle. A bit impromptu, but clever, nonetheless.” He cancelled the upsurge spell and floated back toward the floor. On the way down, he noticed Ruut’s spellbook. Landing, he picked it up. “This will come in handy.”

  With a word, he collapsed it down and tucked it into his robes. Eyeing the portal, he mentally ran through his catalogue of memorized spells. I’ll need that. And that. His fingers charged with fire. A thought struck him. Without thinking things through, he’d sent Brak to the Nexus Chamber. It would be a great surprise to them, but he’d forgotten all about the safety of Kam. Without further hesitation, he rushed into the portal. Oh no! I hope she’s safe from Brak.

  CHAPTER 27

  Venir kept the blade tight on Kavell’s neck. The man’s once-shaken body had regained its stiff composure. The shock in the wizard had worn off. Kavell was in his home. Venir was far from his element. Uncertainty in the warrior remained.

  The room that held them moved and bumped, jostling his stomach. It went downward, Venir understood that much, and it was moving fast.

  “She’s my daughter, you know,” Kavell said. “I’d never truly harm her.”

  “Just imprison her.”

  “You’re a man of the world, are you not? You understand how this works. You do what you have to do to survive.” He cleared his throat. “But in my case, I’m responsible for an entire city. Or at least mostly responsible, and the majority of my kind agree: it’s safer for all to work with the underlings than against them.”

  “Foolish words from a foolish man.”

  “Our actions will save this city.”

  “Your lack of action has condemned it.” Venir felt the room come to a stop. He gave Kavell another squeeze and said, “Kam better be on the other side of those doors.”

  “She will be,” Kavell said coolly.

  Venir didn’t like it. He felt the man’s composure return. On the other side of the door could be anything. A trap was ready to be sprung. The doors split apart, revealing a corridor decorated in a kaleidoscope of colors and arcane symbols. The walls seemed to move.

  “It’s a strange place down here, Venir. It takes some getting used to.”

  “Walk,” Venir said.

  “As you wish.” Kavell eased into the corridor the best he could with Venir hanging over his shoulders. “It’s not a long walk, but there will be plenty of encounters. After all, this is a place of custody. If you notice those symbols on the wall, well, to put it simply, they are wards that keep transgressors from getting out. They take issue with getting in as well.”

  Underneath Helm, Venir’s eyes slipped over to the side. A pinwheel of colors seized his mind. His arms and legs loosened. His knees became jelly. His strong frame sagged, and the walls began to bend.

  “Come now, Venir. Keep up,” Kavell said. The sound of his voice became distorted, long and garbled. “We’re almost there.”

  When Kavell’s body separated from his, Venir took a stab at the man. His blade bent. The hallway twisted. No! He heard laughter. Arrogant. Mocking. Venir squeezed his eyes shut and let Helm take over. The floor beneath him righted itself. The sound of soft running footfalls caught his ear. The rustling of robes was shifting away from him. Venir flung his long-handled knife.

  “Gah!” Kavell cried out, flopping to the floor.

  Blind as a bat but just as aware, Venir caught up with the man, took him up in his strong arms, and head butted him in the face. “I warned you, Kavell!”

  “What manner of man are you?” the mage said in exasperation.

  “One that has no more patience.” Venir slugged Kavell in the belly, lifting him off of his feet. Whop! Upon opening his eyes, the hallway no longer moved. He pulled his knife out of Kavell’s leg and sheathed it. He put Kavell in a headlock next. “Where to?”

  Kavell pointed a shaking finger at a pair of separate doors at the end of the hall. “In there, on the left. That’s the Nexus Chamber.” His face was beet red. The imposing man was little more than a child in Venir’s ape-like arms. “I warn you. They won’t turn her over just because of my consent.” He coughed. “The council made the decision, and I’m certain they are already aware of our presence. They’ll be ready.”

  “You and your forked tongue,” Venir growled. “We’ll both see soon enough, won’t we?” He stopped in front of the two doors. Both were equal in height, about ten feet tall, and trimmed in polished black stone. The crimson doors were wooden, and no hinges showed. “What’s inside the one on the right?”

  “Observation of the Nexus Chamber.”

  A disturbing feeling overcame Venir. What kind of observation? What had they done to Kam? “Open it.”

  “But the chamber that holds her is in there.” He motioned to the left. “I swear it.”

  “Do as I say!”

  “But—urk!”

  To make a point, Venir butted Kavel
l’s head into the door on the right side. “This door.”

  The mage placed his hand on the door. Silently, it swung open. The chamber was built like a theater, with row after row of curved benches. It faced an enormous glass window. All of the seats were vacant. Venir dragged Kavell inside. The glass showed many pictures of people and strange creatures inside cold cells.

  “We observe all of the chambers from here. For the purpose of knowledge.” Kavell struggled against Venir’s frame. “I’m bleeding to death, man. Show some mercy.”

  Venir noted the wound in Kavell’s leg then fixed his eyes back on the glass. “You won’t die from that.”

  Inside one of the chambers was a distraught halfling plucking his hairs out. A mintaur banged his head against iron bars. A strider held its head, shaking like a leaf and huddled up in a corner. There were insects bigger than men, the likes Venir had never seen before. Even a pair of underlings shuddered together.

  “Where’s Kam?”

  “May I?” Kavell asked, stretching out his hand toward the glass images.

  Venir allowed it. Another image came into view. Venir’s heart jumped into his throat. Kam was tied down on a slab of stone. Her body was frail, her lustrous red hair thin and wispy. Eyes sunken. Surrounding her were more than a dozen mages. Men of all sorts. Tall, heavy, short. They had disturbing features about them. Scars, tattoos, and carvings in their skin. They carried an arsenal of staffs and wands made from dark hardwood. Gemstones glowed within the engravings.

  “You’ll never get through them,” Kavell said. “Not even with my help. The best thing is a compromise. Your life for hers perhaps. I can guarantee that.”

  “I say your life for hers instead,” Venir said.

  “Do you not understand, man? You charge in there, you might get through some, but one way or the other, they will kill you and her. And I guarantee that they’ll kill her before you get there.”

  “That’s your daughter!”

  “I have others, one of which she killed. And you know as well as I that I’m capable of making more.” Kavell coughed again. “I’m afraid the only way out of here, Venir, for you or her, is death.”