This is not good.
“That is good. Now McKnight was a loyal servant of mine for decades and his services will be greatly missed. I need a suitable replacement. That is why I brought you here. The replacement, assuming he or she is worthy and loyal, will have all of the pleasures and privileges that was typically bestowed on their predecessor. Do you understand everything that entails, Melegal?”
Are you serious?
He understood everything indeed. To have everything a Royal could have without being a Royal and being able to enjoy it all behind the scenes? Was this what McKnight had tried to prepare him for? And, if so, why him?
An inner struggle began to churn inside his thoughts, as Melegal hated the Royals and their cruel and twisted ways. His thoughts went to Venir and the boys, and he wondered if he would ever see them again. Certainly from this vantage point, it would benefit them all. He would be able to protect them. Then he considered the fine food, wine, and beautiful women he could indulge himself in from time to time. It was an offer he saw no reason to refuse, not a man of his ilk anyway. What kind of greedy thief would ever say no to this? he asked himself.
“Yes, I do indeed understand.“
“Then will you take my offer?”
There was only one answer to the question. Yes—or die. He would be bound to Almen or dead. A slave again. A slave with benefits. Lots of them. An offer from a Royal such as Almen was only made once. He knew what he was getting into. But he was getting older and he didn’t want to live off the streets forever. So he let his desires overtake his independence.
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
The Royal lord stood up and walked over to the door. Melegal was feeling relieved already.
“I shall have my guards unbind you then,” Almen said.
“No need,” Melegal said, standing up, hands unfettered.
“Impressive, Detective Melegal,” Almen said, walking over to the thief.
Almen was tall, looking down on Melegal’s head. So Melegal kept his eyes on the Royal lord’s chest. Now what does he want?
“I have another question of you.”
“Of course,” Melegal said, wiping his hat. He needed to have it washed.
“Have you seen my son Tonio?”
Again he didn’t want to call his Royal lord’s bluff. Lying to this man would not be a good idea.
“Yes,” Melegal said, fully wanting to lie.
But Tonio had not resurfaced since the last time Melegal had seen him. How much did this man already know? He met the Royal lord’s eyes, ready for the next question.
“There have been rumors that my son is near. I want to you see to it that those rumors disappear.”
“Of course, Lord Almen.”
“Indeed, now let’s get you cleaned up. Follow me.”
Melegal knew this was a bad deal, but what choice did he have? He thought of his friends and wondered about them. He had to play along. How hard would that be? Dread filled him with every step he took. He followed behind the Royal lord up into the warmth of the castle. Sefron was hanging around pestering the servants.. The men and women had been broken. A sick urchin was chained to the kitchen floor peeling potatoes. Death now seemed like a better choice.
Why did I do this?
CHAPTER 73
Catten simmered with rage for days. It was clear that the imp was gone, and along with it, so were his plans to a quick and easy path of destruction for the Darkslayer. His brother Verbard was nonetheless too happy, either, but his suggestions to return to Oran’s lair were preposterous.
Catten hissed, “We will not return to the lair!”
“Why not? We might find something else of aid! There is no need to be hasty! I don’t agree!”
Catten’s disdain for his brother had only increased after the imp’s sudden demise. He could have killed him, but he knew Verbard wasn’t to blame. Catten wanted to go home, but didn’t feel his brother did. The pair had exhausted themselves with scenarios about what happened with Eep, the leather sack, and the man, but ultimately there was only one way to find the truth. They had to track down the Darkslayer the old-fashioned way.
“Let’s just do this, brother. We can’t avoid this fight forever,” Catten said.
Verbard was silent, then his silver eyes popped open in receipt of the obvious and he sighed. “Agreed.”
Catten led the party of evil and headed north, avoiding eyes during the day and making haste during the night. It was a shame the Current didn’t run farther north. If it did, things would have been easier. Being on the surface bothered him. The Darkslayer would come for them. He hoped they could locate the troublesome man first, before it was too late.
CHAPTER 74
Fogle Boon trudged along, keeping the backs of Venir and Ox in his sight. Dwarven Hole must have been an eternity away. He was slowing them down. Ever since the imp had appeared and taken Venir’s sack, things had gotten worse. Fogle’s feet felt like they were on fire. Venir waited for him to catch up. He was embarrassed.
“Fogle, how are you feet?” Venir said with concern in his voice.
“See for yourself,” Fogle replied.
He flopped down, wincing as he pulled off his boots. Red sores and blisters covered his heels, pads, and even his toe tops. Venir grimaced. It only made him feel worse.
“Maybe I should cut them off,” Fogle said.
“You’ll live. We aren’t too far from Dwarven Hole—a few more days maybe. If we make it, the lady dwarves will patch you up right. You’ll like them; they are excellent with their care. A little fella like you will be like tending a babe, ” he said with a wink.
“I don’t share your enthusiasm,” he said, shaking sand from his bloody sock.
“You will when you meet them.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Well, stay put, because there are ways in this wasteland to heal those feet, but the streams and grass I need are scarce. I can lance those blisters, coat them in the stream’s clay and mud, let them sit over night and they callous quick … make your feet tough. Me and Ox will make a stretcher if need be, but we have to keep moving.”
Venir was sincere, but Fogle Boon still didn’t care for it.
“You try to put me on a stretcher then I might as well be dead and I am far from that,” Fogle said tugging his boots back on. It only made the pain worse.
“If you’re almost dead, we’ll just bury you. You did have Ox bring a shovel, didn’t you? Why do you think I told you to bring one? ”
He could hear Ox’s goat-like laughter.
A smile cracked over Fogle’s dry lips. “I did have him pack one and all along I thought it was to help you dig down to the Underland.”
Venir laughed, but Fogle Boon could see something dark behind the man’s eyes. He remembered the story of when the underlings had buried Venir as a boy. Fogle grew silent and sensed an awkwardness overcoming his burly comrade. He then laced up his boots as he watched the warrior walk away. Ox followed along as if something was amiss.
Fogle gathered himself. Staring into the furnace of nothing ahead, he wondered why he’d gotten into this. Only a fool would follow another into the wasteland. He’d left his life for this adventure. He shook his head, leaned on his staff, and shuffled ahead. They walked for hours when Venir finally stopped. Fogle stood beside the warrior, peering ahead.
“What is it?” Fogle asked.
“We are being watched.”
Fogle didn’t like that answer.
CHAPTER 75
Jarla, again worthy of the title “queen,” began carving through Bish to track down Venir. She had little idea where to start but she had means and knew where to call. She was a every bit the assassin that she was a soldier and she kept things that tied her to her prey. When Venir departed from her, he left his clothes and she retained them all these years.
It was nothing more than a leather jerkin she had kept, but it was enough. She took it to a female enchantress and bartered payment. The
enchantress spent hours inside her forested bungalow executing a spell that would locate the wearer. Jarla and her gang waited outside. She felt control again. Her confidence was growing.
When the red-haired enchantress emerged, she held a small globe before her and Venir appeared within the City of Three. Venir’s face caused Jarla to cackle. She took the fiery orange-globe from the flame-haired enchantress, who demanded payment. The brigand queen laughed in her face and nodded to her some of her brigands. They dragged the woman kicking and screaming back inside.
Jarla now possessed the small globe of magic. It was charged only with two more uses. She would see to it Venir that did not escape her again.
Another use of the globe several days later showed Venir leaving the City of Three with two companions. Then, after a few more days had passed, she used the last charge and saw her former lover traveling west with the same two companions. Venir, though, didn’t appear as she’d suspected he would.
Before it vanished into nothingness, the magic orb helped her get close enough to Venir’s current location to use her powerful spyglass. This was it. She was eager to see the man castrated by her sword once and for all.
She and her men waited in the distance of the rugged terrain. They rode light warhorses, armored in brigand leathers, equipped with swords and spears, made up of men, half-orcs, dog-faced gnolls, and a kobold. Her stomach knotted at the sight of Venir through her spyglass from over a mile away. She called to her men, who rode up alongside her. Then they began trotting toward Venir and his two friends.
CHAPTER 76
“Bish!” Venir exclaimed at the sound of hooves thundering in their direction.
A billow of smoke followed in the wake.
“What is it! Underlings?” Fogle cried.
Venir almost started to laugh. “No … underlings don’t ride horses, especially in broad daylight. We’ll know soon enough, but whoever it is knows we are here and there is nowhere to run without mounts. Whatever tricks you have up your sleeve, get them ready, Fogle. This is what you came for.”
Clutching at the small axe in one hand and the hunting knife in the other, Venir felt naked. Fogle’s eyes were wider than he had ever seen. The mage huddled behind him, crafting his spells. Ox stood at Venir’s side, axes bared for battle—giving Venir a little comfort.
The horses formed a line twenty paces away. Something was strange about the motley band. Brigands like them wouldn’t normally travel so far north. Then a helmeted figure trotted forward on a powerful dapple gray steed. The woman’s raven black hair billowed in the hot wind. He could see sweat rolling down her long tanned—and savory—legs. A scent wafted through the air.
Venir’s eyes blazed as he yelled, “Jarla!”
Fogle Boon stopped what he was doing and peered over Venir’s massive shoulder. The woman took off her helmet and dropped it to the ground. Venir heard Fogle suck in air between his teeth. Jarla didn’t dismount, but just gazed at Venir with hot blue eyes over her scarred cheekbones. He said nothing as she basked her bronzed figure under the sun a bit longer.
She was the last thing he expected to see. She was still a striking and powerful woman. He heard Fogle Boon whisper, “Sweet mother of Bish! What an amazing woman!” Venir lost himself for a moment. He returned her gaze. Her smile told it all. She had him. He didn’t like it.
“Looks like you are ready to die, witch!” Venir yelled.
Jarla laughed a bit. “No, blondie, I came here to kill you. And by the looks of things, it’s going to be easy.”
She pointed to Fogle and Ox.
“Oh … it won’t be easy,” Venir said. “Now come down off that horse and let’s finish this.”
“Return to me my armament, and I might let you live?”
Venir chuckled. “If I still had it, I wouldn’t be facing you with these pig stickers, now would I? It’s gone! Now move on or die, wench!”
Jarla’s face was stone, yet believing of his words, but he could see that had little effect on her plans for him. And the sound of her voice had also awakened all he hated about her.
“You should know better,” Jarla said. “I’ll carve you up with my blades. I was always the superior fighter. You are little more than a brute with a toy knife and axe—how pathetic.”
“By the looks of that rump of yours, it doesn’t look like you’ve been fighting anything other than a jug of wine,” Venir said, regaining his composure. He knew how much she despised his humor.
“Lout! I’m gonna cut you into ribbons.” She reared up on Nightmare. “No! We all are!”
He pressed on, hoping his taunts would buy the mage time.
“Well, if you wait any longer, the rest of your hair is likely to turn gray, so you better get after it, hag!”
Venir could have sworn one of the brigands snickered, but he wasn’t sure. He could see the rage building in her face. She wanted nothing more than to trample him, but she wouldn’t risk that horse of hers.
Jarla seemed to stammer for words: “Have it your way, you … you buffoon! Make a line, men, and let’s run them down like filthy curs. Then this blond dog will bark no more. Attack!”
The brigands turned their mounts and fanned out in two ranks, lining up one behind the other. Jarla stayed back behind her men, sword ready, awaiting the slaughter, her eyes gleaming with the look of victory. He knew what they were doing. He had done the same with the brigand army. The riders were prepared to run one right after the other over top of Fogle, Ox, and himself, grinding their crushed bones into the rock and sand. They would be easy pickings. Venir hoped the mage had something up his sleeve. He braced himself for the charge.
The brigands cried aloud as they spurred their horses. The sound of hooves galloping came their way from thirty lengths. This can’t be it. Twenty lengths. Take all you can. Ten lengths. I’m waiting.
He watched as the column of horse began to collapse. Nests of large rattlesnakes burst from the ground. Panic overtook the brigand men and beasts as the snakes struck everything moving that they could sink their fangs into. The riders tried to control their frenzied mounts. Many brigands were bucked to the ground, trampled, or snake struck.
Jarla yelled, “It’s an illusion, you fools! Regain yourselves!”
The words did little good . Venir moved into the fray. Fogle Boon stayed guarded behind the protection of Ox. Jarla noticed Venir coming her way and she gave order to a black-bearded brigand archer, still mounted, arrow nocked in hesitation.
“What are you waiting for? Shoot something, fool!” she screamed.
The wiry brigand was pointing his bow dead center on Venir, who was caught up in the skirmish on the ground. But the archer didn’t release on his clear shot, drawing Jarla’s fury further.
“Shoot that mangy dog of a man!”
Shifting his sight in a fluid motion, the brigand pointed his bow toward her and replied, “Okay!”
Thwack!
Jarla turned Nightmare in the nick of time. The arrow’s shaft bore down on her head but caught her horse between its saddle and hide. Nightmare bucked, throwing Jarla to the ground. Chaos consumed Jarla’s army now as yet another surly brigand turned on them. He was bald, dark-faced and bearded, as big as Venir and swinging a studded club like a stick. The brute smashed other brigands’ clavicles and broke thigh bones like toothpicks while singing a song of battle. The remaining men were of little match for the archer that lanced their throats and chests with unfailing accuracy while the big black brute crashed through them like they were children.
Fogle Boon watched from behind Ox, who was fending off other brigands. There must have been twenty in all. The mage pursed his lips together in an inaudible whisper and pointed toward a large dog-faced gnoll that broke free of the melee. It barreled over the sand straight toward the helpless man. A tiny red missile the size of a nail appeared before Fogle’s eyes and he flicked his hand, as if he was tossing a dart. The red missile hovered slowly toward the gnoll who broke off his charge and turned the other way.
The missile hovered before its wide eyes, blocking its path.
Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit!
The magic projectile zipped in and out of the gnoll’s body in rapid flashes of light, searing blood and bone, drawing a bloodcurdling scream from the helpless creature. It fell, smoking and as dead as the terrain beneath him. Fogle grinned.
Jarla regained herself and was sitting again on her bleeding mount, not having moved a muscle, waiting. She could have easily rode off, tried to trample them, and went, but instead she squared up her mount on Venir, who stood splattered in fresh gore before her. His battle lust still hot in his eyes, they stared at each other as he spoke:
“Get off your horse, witch!”
She dismounted. The other brigands backed off. Clearly a score was left to be settled between the two so no others needed to die.
“Clearly you have turned the tables on me again, Venir, but I see you are not as well equipped as when we last parted.”
Venir might no longer have had the magical armament of the sack that Jarla herself once possessed, but he did manage to gain a gleaming broadsword to complement his hunting knife. He shook the blood from both blades.
Jarla withdrew her long sword. It was polished, sleek, and of the high quality only the commanders of the Royal armies possessed. It was a superior weapon compared to his broadsword but that didn’t matter to him. He could see the scars and hard lines of time in her face. She had bested him long ago in bouts at the campsite. And he hadn’t swung a sword in years.
“Drop the knife,” Jarla said. “I have only one blade. You are smart to wish to face me with two blades, but no matter. I’ll carve you up either way.”
Venir sheathed the knife. The tension of the moment seemed to billow within the hot air. The woman seemed magnificent and powerful in their presence. Her charisma garnered his respect somehow. But she had betrayed him. Slaughtered his friends. Allied herself with underlings. For years, he’d sought revenge before giving up the chase. Now he could have his vengeance. His nerves began boiling over the painful memories. He was ready.
The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night Page 30