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

by Craig Halloran

  Venir fought the urge to snap the man’s neck. “Then I say we go meet death together.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “I’m no family to you,” Lord Grom said, leering down at his grandson.

  Creed rubbed his wrists and breathed deeply. Despite the dreadful situation, his environment was almost delightful. There was greenery. The smell of flowers. Colors in the courtyard and on the banner he never noticed before. His eyes found Lorda’s. Her bright blues were intent on his. Her invigorating look gave his weakened frame vitality. “So what will it be, Lord Grom? You must have let me out for some reason. I’d be happy to know what that is.”

  “It’s time you paid the penalty for your treason.”

  “I haven’t been doing that already?” He brushed his gritty locks of hair back out of his eyes. He glanced at the hammer on the ground. “Am I to bust rocks? I hear there are some as hard as your head.”

  Grom let out a throaty chuckle. “You are a fool, Creed. Let a brutal death end your mockery. Lunk! Arm yourself. ”

  Lunk reached down and lifted the other hammer off the ground with one hand. He twirled it around like a stick and grinned.

  “Creed, arm yourself,” Grom said with a nod. “Be glad I’m letting you die on your feet. That’s a greater honor than I’ve done for the others.”

  “Honor? Hah.” Creed spat on the ground. “You know nothing of it. What kind of man murders his own innocent flesh and blood?” He reached down and picked up the mallet. He groaned. Slat, it’s heavy! He had practiced with heavy blades for years and turned his arms to iron. He swung the weapon up onto his shoulder and lost his balance a little. “I don’t suppose I could have a little time to practice?” He glanced at Lunk. The huge man’s mallet looked like a child’s rattle in his meaty hands. “I think my opponent sports an unfair advantage.”

  “No,” Lord Grom said. “Bloodhounds, secure the circle.”

  The men of the castle withdrew their blades, resting them on their wrists and standing at the ready. If either contestant tried to flee, they’d be cut down. Creed eyed some of his brethren and said, “Don’t be hasty. It’s me, Creed.”

  “Just get in there and die,” one man said. His name was Malley, and he and Creed had never seen eye to eye on anything. “I’ll be sure to have Manx lick up what’s left of you. Huh-huh.”

  The air was rife with tension. Creed watched sweat begin to drip from the Bloodhounds’ faces. The excitement of battle lathered him up. He set the hammer down and tied his long hair back in a knot. That’s better. He spat in his hands, rubbed them together, and picked the mallet back up.

  Suddenly, Grom cried out, “Let the challenge begin!”

  Lunk rushed.

  Creed froze for a split second and twisted away.

  Wham! The hammer busted up the cobblestones. The Bloodhounds let out a raucous cheer. The fight was on.

  Sliding away from his aggressor, Creed sucked for air. His chest was heaving.

  Lunk charged again, swinging side to side in bludgeoning chops.

  With desperation, Creed drifted away from the assault. He watched Lunk’s feet. The shift in his shoulders. Creed’s battle-trained eye knew exactly what the man was going to do a split second before it happened.

  The hammer fell again.

  Wham!

  Stone chipped up from the ground.

  Creed darted away, slipped on the loose rock, and fought to regain his footing.

  Lunk crashed into him and knocked him from his feet.

  He hit hard.

  The crowd roared.

  Blast the clumsy fool I’ve become!

  The mallet came down, smashing in between Creed’s dodging legs.

  In a great effort, he rolled up to his feet and danced away again. His chest heaved. Sweat dripped in his face, and his lungs were on fire. I’ve hardly done a thing, and I feel like I’m dying.

  Lunk attacked. Creed evaded. The crowd grumbled. The huge man was tireless in his efforts. His swings were mechanical but accurate. Creed’s mind was sharp, but his body was fading. Got to take a shot. Make it count. Before he connects. One hit, and I’m a dead man. If I only had a sword, I could end this really quickly.

  “Stand still!” a voice from the crowd shouted out.

  “Take it like a man!”

  “Crush his skull, Lunk!”

  “Die, Creed, die!”

  He shuffled backward from a powerful swing.

  A blade poked into his back, drawing blood. “Watch yerself,” said Malley.

  Strength fading, Creed sidestepped away.

  Lunk’s blows got closer and closer.

  Swish! Swish! Swish!

  Creed slid on the gravel and tumbled flat on his back.

  The crowd gasped.

  “This is it, boys!”

  Lunk towered over him. The hammer went up, and the head came down.

  With both hands holding his mallet by the handle, Creed blocked it.

  Clack!

  His arms juddered to the shoulders. His hands exploded in pain. He screamed. “Yaargh!” He drove his heel into Lunk’s crotch.

  The mute managed a grim smile, readied, and swung.

  Exhausted, Creed summoned everything he had left. He sat up fast and busted Lunk in the knee with the head of his hammer.

  The big man let out a howl and hopped away. In a couple of seconds, Lunk regained his composure. Wary, he came back to finish the task.

  Creed stood on his knees, swaying. There was nothing left inside him. Fire burned, but his engine wasn’t running. Panting, he raised the hammer over his head one last time. “Have at me, you muted beast.”

  Lunk closed in, swung his shoulders back, set his feet, and put his hips into it.

  Clatch-Zip!

  Something rocketed through the air. Lorda Almen screamed. Lunk froze and stared up high. Creed turned.

  On the balcony, Lord Grom stared at the ballista bolt jutting from his chest. Blood spilled from his mouth down onto his beard. He staggered forward, teetered over the rail, and crashed head first into the courtyard and died.

  All Bish broke loose.

  CHAPTER 29

  As soon as he stepped through the portal, Fogle’s eyes fixed on Brak. The monster of a man stood within the tight confines of a grey corridor filled with many doors. Slavering at the mouth, Brak was pulling bars out of a door’s window one by one. Inside, someone was screaming.

  “Go away! Go away!”

  “Brak!” Fogle yelled. “Brak!”

  The monstrous young man didn’t respond.

  Fogle checked inside one of the rooms. A kobold sat on a bench, glassy eyed and drooling. There were dozens of doors, and Kam could be in any one of them. But there was Brak to contend with. And the guards he was certain would arrive at any moment. Mage guards. Well-armed with staves and wands that could blast a man’s innards inside out. Where are they?

  “Rawr!” Brak growled. He was shoving his arm through the portal. Doing so, his eyes set on Fogle. His berserk eyes widened like great white moons. He let out a ferocious howl and charged.

  Fogle backpedaled and bumped into the door that led directly into the Nexus Chamber. He swung it open and peered through. Kam! The woman was bound to a slab, surrounded by a throng of mage guards called the Savasons, men and women specially selected to carry out questionable deeds. Deranged students who were hungry for power were sought for those services. Fogle’s lip curled into a sneer.

  Have at them, Brak! I’ll have what’s left! Sickos!

  He recalled a spell and cast it on himself.

  Powerful neck-snapping fingers outstretched, Brak grasped for Fogle. He passed through the apparition of a man and let out an angry growl.

  Fogle, now a shade of himself, spoke right into Brak’s ear. “It’s not me you want.” He pointed at the room of Savasons. “It’s them!”

  Brak turned and faced the Nexus Chamber. A bloodcurdling battle cry burst from his lips. He hunkered down to spring.

  Crash!


  A robed man burst through the glass overlooking the disturbing chamber. Fogle knew the figure immediately. Kavell! The magi in the room softened his fall with their sorcery and formed a circle around the man.

  Above, glowering down on all, stood a juggernaut of a warrior. His helmet’s eyelets burned with black fire. His huge axe’s blades shined razor sharp.

  Oh my, this is perfect!

  Brak paused in his position, chin turned upward toward the menacing warrior. He let out an enraged howl and sprang.

  Great axe raised high in his powerful arms, the Darkslayer leapt high into the air. Down came fury. Down came wrath. He dropped into the throng, chopping and yelling. Two Savasons fell, cloven through shoulder and neck.

  Brak slammed into the next group. He held one man up by the neck and crushed the face of another with his fist.

  A bright shower of sparks lit up the room. Bright shards of powerful light blasted from staves and wands. Brak’s shoulder caught fire. He tracked down a lone mage that fired a bolt right into him. The angry giant snatched the wand from the wizard and stuffed it into the man’s throat.

  Venir, now under full assault, shrugged off missile after missile. He chopped through one man’s staff, only to be hit in the back by another. The charged staff made the sound of a clap of thunder. Kaboom! Venir dropped to his knees. Another blow smote him in the head.

  Bish! They’re going to knock his grey matter out, Fogle thought. He was an apparition now. He couldn’t cast anything to defend his friends until it faded. The Savasons had recovered from the initial onslaught. Now organized, they cast spell after spell, knocking Venir and Brak off balance. The monstrous men slipped and fell. They sprang up, only to be knocked down by another strike or a skin-searing missile. The mages were picking them apart.

  Focus, Fogle. He made his way to Kam. Just get her to safety. We all have to make sacrifices. He would want it that way.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Isn’t this nice?” Scorch said.

  He sat behind a grand table the likes of which Melegal had never seen before. The pitch-black slab was speckled with bright spots like the stars in the sky. Food was stacked up in piles. Wine flowed freely from its own fountain, and there was an extraordinary amount of cheese and pickles. Melegal didn’t respond.

  “It is, Master Scorch. It is.” Seated to Scorch’s left was a sluggard of a man. He had a warrior’s body underneath a thick layer of fat. His name was Cappy, and Melegal knew the name. Billip had mentioned him before. Cappy wiped his greasy hair back over his shoulder. Stuck his shiny chest plate out. “It’s poor manners to not accept when you are served,” he said, eyeing Melegal.

  “I’ll eat plenty when I’m ready.”

  Also at the table, Zurth and Slom sat and ate from large plates of food piled up to their chins. Both of them ate, drank, and giggled while Jasper chewed on wine-colored grapes bigger than her eyeballs. She winked at Melegal and patted the seat next to hers.

  He turned his back and peered out the window. They were in the top of one of the towers on the edge of the city. There was a spectacular view of the three great falls. Beautiful, but no thanks. He recalled his last encounter in the towers. Jaen had thrown him out, sending him plunging to his death. Thanks to some bizarre happenstance, the appearance of Fogle Boon had allowed him to avoid death once again.

  “Do not fret, henchmen,” Scorch said in a strong and soothing voice. “No harm will come to you so long as you execute my orders.”

  “Are we the only ones here?” Melegal said, eyeing the empty lakes that seemed impossibly far from where he stood.

  “Well, the humans are all gone.” Scorch bit down on a crunchy pickle, chewed it up, and swallowed. “The chambers below us are all filled with underlings now.”

  The grand room at the top of the spire fell silent. All eyes fell on Scorch.

  The powerful being lifted his golden brows and slapped his hand on the table. “Did I say filled? Mostly-filled would be more accurate. Now be at ease, my henchmen. They won’t harm you so long as you stay close to me.”

  Jasper set her grapes down and pushed her plate away. Cappy, Slom, and Zurth resumed their eating. Melegal made his way over to a brightly colored pillowy chair that sat next to a mystic green fire. He had a much better idea what Scorch was than the others did. They figured him to be some powerful Royal who had zapped them up into the tower. Scorch had even healed Zurth’s wound. Only Jasper showed signs of hesitation. Surely she’d never seen a wizard who could teleport six people at once.

  “Milord,” Cappy said, thumping his chest and letting out a belch. “Pardon. As I was about to say, these henchmen you’ve chosen. I’m not so sure they can be trusted. I have plenty of able men and women who would be highly honored to be at your service.”

  “Oh, shut up, Cappy,” Scorch said, waving him off. “I like these people. And the truth is, much to my disappointment, I’ve found you quite boring.”

  Zurth and Slom snickered.

  “Er… milord, I’ve hardly had time to make a lasting impression,” Cappy said. His head beaded in sweat. “Perhaps—”

  “Perhaps nothing, Cappy.” Scorch threw a pickle. It bounced off Cappy’s head.

  Slom and Zurth burst out in laughter. “Bwah-hahahaha!”

  Jasper erupted in giggles.

  Slack-jawed, Cappy’s face reddened. “Stop laughing at me, you fools!”

  Scorch hit him in the face with another pickle.

  Zurth’s fist started pounding the table. Slom held his belly.

  “Now, that’s more like it!” Scorch said. “My, I’d forgotten the joy that comes with the sound of laughter.” He chuckled. “It’s contagious.”

  “Now, Scorch,” Cappy said, wiping the pickle juice off his face. “I think that’s plenty of fun for now.”

  “Aw, don’t be such a humorless toad,” Slom said. He slung a turkey leg that glanced off Cappy’s head.

  Cappy jumped up from the table. “You dare!” His long sword scraped out of his sheath. “On your feet, you half-orc bastard!”

  Slom and Zurth both stood up. Hands fell on hilts. “Do you want a food fight or a sword fight, fool?” Zurth said.

  “I can take you both,” Cappy said. He tore his handkerchief off his neck and slung it to the floor.

  Melegal eased back into his chair and kept the dart launchers on his wrists pointed in the man’s general direction. Jasper crawled under the table. Melegal noted the delighted expression on Scorch’s face. Troublemaker.

  “Gentlemen,” Scorch intervened, “let’s not have blood sport over a few pickles. My, you should lighten up, Cappy. Sometimes you have to roll with it. Pick up one of those desserts and throw it back. Here, let me help you.” A custard pie floated up off the table and hung beneath Cappy’s chin. “Go ahead, take it. Have a little fun. You know, like when you were a kid and riding on a merry-go-round.”

  “A what?” Cappy said, reaching for the pie.

  Scorch flicked his finger. The pie splattered into Cappy’s face.

  Zurth and Slom fell to their knees, holding their bellies and bursting out in raucous laughter.

  “Shut up, you two!” Cappy dug the pastry out of his eyes, leapt onto the table, and started kicking away at the food. “Shut up!” He jumped off the table, sword arcing high and bearing down straight on Slom’s laughing face.

  The half-orc dove under the table.

  Zurth, half laughing, sprang up to his feet and delivered a solid punch into Cappy’s pie-encrusted face.

  The older soldier’s knees wobbled. Making a desperate cut, he clipped Zurth’s shoulder, drawing first blood.

  Zurth, the bigger man, ripped his sword out and said, “You really need to work on your sense of humor.” He parried the blow. Clang!

  “The only thing I need to work on is cutting you in two!”

  “That was a little funny,” Scorch said. He picked up another pickle and nibbled on the end. “But hardly good material.”

  Melegal locked his fingers
behind his head and watched the men try to carve their names in one another. Cappy’s skill with a blade was much more formidable than his appearance suggested. Zurth backed away, parrying blow after blow. Slat! Now I’m about to lose one of my henchmen!

  CHAPTER 31

  Sustaining blast after blast, Venir was flattened on the floor. Seared flesh. Rattled bones. It was all part of the battle. With Herculean effort, he fought on, rising to his feet. Brool licked out, clipping through a mage’s leg. A moment later he was lifted from his feet and suspended in the air. Across from him, floating above the throng of men, was Brak. His son’s face was savage. Inhuman.

  “Cowards!” Venir yelled.

  An odd chuckling arose from the wizards. The sordid lot of men pointed their fingers at him. Tiny glowing needles were flung and sticking to his skin.

  Venir smelled his own flesh burning. He bellowed in laughter at the pain. “Is that all you have?”

  The Nexus Chamber was now a bloody battlefield. Half of the mages were dead, face down in pools of blood on the floor. Blood smeared all of their robes. None were unscathed. Venir caught a subtle movement out of the corner of his eye. Fogle huddled near Kam, unseen by the others. The man locked eyes with him for a moment. Venir dipped his chin a hair. Get her out of here.

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you about this outcome, Venir.” It was Kavell. The High Wizard revealed himself, stepping out of his protective group. “And who is this madman we have over here? Your son, I presume?” Kavell stroked his chin. “Is he slobbering? Like father, like son, eh? I’d expect such behavior in your taverns, but we cannot have that in our towers. It’s”—he held his palm out, facing Brak as it charged with power—“uncouth.” He let loose a golden bolt, striking Brak square in the solar plexus. It blasted through one side and out the other. Brak’s chin sunk to his chest. His smoking body spasmed and quivered.