Chongo wagged his tails slowly in rhythm to the steady dwarven tones that beat in harmony in the massive canyon of the city. Venir was tired as he stared back at Mood’s bushy red-bearded face.
“I think I’ll be going soon,” Venir said. “It’s been weeks, and the storms have subsided. I have things to do.”
“Have you invited the others, or were you and Chongo planning on sneaking out like you always do?” Mood asked as he lit up a fat cigar
“Don’t know. I’d rather go it alone,” Venir said, frowning.
“You’re a stubborn man. Since these storms have started, the blooming world is agitated. The underlings are crawlin’ everywhere, like cockroaches,” Mood said, stomping an ugly bug under his boot. “They’re staying south, but there are some here, above us. You know, the ones we think are looking for you. Crafty that pair, and powerful. Methinks they are the same ones from the Warfield.”
Mood grabbed Venir by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Venir, though, struggled to meet the dwarf’s stern gaze. He didn’t want to hear it. It came nonetheless.
“You can’t handle them alone if that is what you’re thinking. Not now, and not without that bloomin’ axe, neither,” Mood said. “Wait it out. You can’t find them if we can’t. Not even with Chongo. Believe me, we have been trying. Best we can figure, they are waiting on someone—and that someone is you.”
It was quiet for a moment then Venir asked, “I’m making you dwarves edgy, aren’t I?’
Mood shrugged and handed Venir his lit cigar. “Well, maybe Billip and Mikkel are doing that on their own. Did you have to drag them in here? They’re wearing out their welcome. Our women adore those men, and my smaller brethren are gettin’ fed up with the hospitality. They can’t place nice forever. Settle those boys or it’s gonna be the catapults for them.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Venir said,
He took a long drag on Mood’s cigar. It made his head light. He started to grin. He knew full well that his friends were getting carried away with wine, romance, and the amply built little women. Even dwarves could get jealous, but you would never knew it until it was too late.
Mood snatched his cigar back. “Gimme that. It’ll make you blind.”
The two men peered up into the city. After weeks of hard rain, the water rushed liked waterfalls over top of them, and the suns blazed overhead, over a mile above. Venir felt guilty. Ever since he’d arrived, the dwarves became busier. Forges blazed, soldiers marched, and guards were doubled everywhere. It couldn’t all be on his account. Were the underlings about to invade Dwarven Hole or was it someone else?
“On top of that,” Mood said, “something has been running around the past few days. An intruder. We can’t find it. Can’t see it. But we smell it. It’s driving my men crazy. And my men are drivin’ me crazy.” Mood shook his head and scratched. “It’s been quiet whatever it is, hiding, but it’s foreign. Everyone thinks that you people have something to do with it.”
“Ahem,” Fogle Boon said, with Ox in tow.
They strolled in behind them and were tailed by Billip and Mikkel. They were all geared up.
“Don’t worry, Mood,” Fogle said. “He’s not leaving without us. Billip already caught him packing Chongo’s saddle. We’ve been watching, though this came on a bit more suddenly than we expected. Why is that, Venir?”
“Yeah, Vee! Why are you trying to roll on out again like that? Why you always got to do that?” Mikkel’s deep voice was filled with aggravation.
Venir shrugged a bit, palms open in wry guilt. “Follow me.”
They all headed back under the surface where they had been staying. Venir’s gear was laid out and he picked up his backpack, unbuckled its straps, and withdrew a familiar large leather sack. They all gasped in bewilderment.
“How long have you had that?” Mikkel asked with excitement.
“Since last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? Where did it come from? Did you open it?” Fogle asked, eyes wide with excitement.
“No,” Venir said. He clutched it in his grip. It was the sack. He ran his fingers along the sewn edges. “I have no idea where it came from, but maybe it had something to do with that intruder. What do you think, Mood?”
Mood sniffed the air. “Nope.” He sniffed again. “Maybe. Awww, I don’t know. Methinks maybe you’re right. Magic. That’d explain lots.”
“Why not open it?” Billip asked.
“If I do, I don’t know if I’ll end up running out of here like my head’s on fire. Besides, maybe one of you should try.”
Fogle took a step his way, then stepped back. “Clearly it sought you, as always. Now open it! The suspense is killing me.”
Venir almost did, as the tension filled the air with enthusiasm and even he couldn’t help but be filled with nervous excitement.
“Okay,” Venir said, “but first, in case something happens, I have to ask something of you all.”
All their shoulders sunk and jaws dropped in annoyance. They all motioned and said in their own way, “Get on with it and open the bag.”
“Mikkel and Billip,” Venir said. “You guys owe me. You can’t come with me. No matter what happens, I want you to stay close to the City of Three and check on the boys—but not Kam so much.”
“What! I’m not doing that! We are going after underlings like the good old days!” Mikkel said as he whirled his studded club Skull Basher around.
“No!” Venir said. “Give me your word on it. I gave you mine.”
“You already have our word, begrudgingly, but I’ll make sure Mikkel keeps it,” Billip said, cracking his knuckles.
Mikkel got in Venir’s face. “I’ll keep it. But you’re stupid for not taking me and Skull Basher. I don’t care what’s in that sack—you need us.”
“Now open the sack,” Fogle said.
Venir nodded. All eyes were on him as he pulled the strings loose on the sack. His skin became cold and clammy. What if it wasn’t in there? What if it was nothing? He took in a small breath and reached inside.
CHAPTER 81
Corpses of dwarven bodies were buried, face first and legs out, every one hundred yards from the Outlands and into the edge of northern edge of Hohm’s Marsh. Over two score of the hardy race were stretched and strewn across the expanse. They did not have the skill or size of their larger brethren the Blood Rangers, and they had never needed it more.
The albino urchlings did the tracking and digging while the Juegen took care of the slaughter. The magic of the underling lords was more than enough to give their bodyguards the surprise and edge that they needed. The dwarven warriors weren’t ready. The Juegen fighters’ twin blades carved and cut open the dwarves in the dead of night.
Magic concealed the attack, and before the dwarves knew what hit them, they were cut open and left for dead. Their armor and skills was no match for the underling steel forged by magic. The underlings lords were sending a message. Their deeds caused rumors of destruction to spread in all directions around them. It had been a long time since the underlings occupied the north and the cause for worry was great throughout the northern lands. It was what they wanted.
The City of Hohm was afflicted with fear. Its people felt as if an army lurked within the massive green reeds of the marsh and the caves that littered its landscape as well. As the days spread into weeks, the talk of war was increasing for the isolated city. Their people came and went through the marsh and its swamp-slickened roads, as they always did, only to see corpses of shredded residents here and there. Death invaded their peaceful solitude. They blamed the cities below them for what befell them, rather than take action themselves. It was their way and it played right into Verbard and Catten’s hands. They would do anything to draw the Darkslayer out.
“More dwarves will be coming for us soon enough, Catten. We can’t keep this up much longer, brother,” Verbard said as he watched his albino urchins shovel more dirt into the graves of misshapen dwarves.
“S
oon enough is what we want,” Catten said. “Let them come. The more dead dwarves the better, especially those Blood Rangers.”
Catten hated the Rangers. For centuries, they had been a thorn in his kind’s side. There were barely a hundred of them, but they always kept an ear on the underlings. Many plans had been foiled by their strange and brave kind. If they could take down more of them, as they did in the Warfield, it would be great.
“I only wish we would be around to see it. Our summoning was excellent,” Catten said.
Hohm’s Marsh was miles long and deep, filled with swampy waters and massive willow trees, tea green and golden. Enormous reptiles, slick with mud and scaled in blended colors, crawled here and there. It was the only way in or out of the northeastern City of Hohm.
Thousands of humans along with other races populated the foreign city. It was an intricate and self-sufficient city, but not accommodating most people’s standards. Its people and leaders were content to keep to themselves and they liked it that way. A single road, vast, rocky and wide, was the only dry stretch of land that curved through the marsh. Its waters were clean, not foul like most, and its creatures tranquil. The constant fog left it still and eerie always. Many travelers often disappeared there.
Still, great danger was deep in its belly, ancient and foul, as like anywhere else on Bish. Most people feared to take anything but the trail through. There were other ways. But why would any ever want to live beyond the marsh? Yet they did, as it was the perfect sanctuary for any who needed privacy and seclusion.
Catten’s head throbbed. He and his brother had spent days summoning something powerful from deep within the marsh. Catten looked up at the monster they’d dredged up, and his black heart filled with delight. It was massive, slimy, and capable of eating three men in a single bite. It was a simple creature, not unlike any other, just ten tons of it. He could image its enormous jaws swallowing dwarven men whole. This will keep the rodent dwarves entertained.
“If the man is with the dwarves, he’ll be flanking their line,” Catten said. “We’ve spent weeks setting wards, so he will have to cross them and we will strike.”
“If there are others with him, who takes whom? And what if he doesn’t come?” Verbard asked.
Catten rubbed his chin. He knew the Darkslayer was unpredictable and liable to show up where they least expected it. He was indeed dangerous, fearless, and willful. The man would come. He had to.
“Just focus on him. The rest are of no concern. We’ll bury them like the rest, if there’s anything left,” Catten said.
Verbard chittered in laughter beside him. Magic or no magic, the Darkslayer would not escape again.
CHAPTER 82
All eyes were wide as Venir reached deep into the weathered leather sack. He never knew which item would come out first, but he’d always known it as soon as he touched it. Something, though, was different within and his heart thundered. What is this? He let go, then grabbed again. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt before. Drawing his hand out from the bag’s mouth, he heard Mikkel sucking air in his teeth. He held it before his eyes. A girdle? Gilded around blackened leather, ornate copper and bronze markings crossed over the girdle’s unique centerpiece.
“That’s strange,” Venir said.
He glanced over at the others, who looked confused as well. It looked like any other girdle used in battle, broad in the front and buckling in the back. Venir ran his hand over it. It felt cold to the touch. Uncertainty crept in on the large man as he swung it over his shoulder.
“Put it on, big fella! Or else I will,” Mikkel said.
“Okay then.” Venir set down the sack and buckled on the girdle, then stood straight as he pulled his shoulders back. “There. Happy?”
“Feel any different?” Fogle asked.
They were all ears.
“Well … I think I do,” Venir said.
His belly began to warm. He felt good, better than he’d felt in weeks.
“Like how?” Billip asked.
“Like I can crush an underling’s head with my bare hands,” Venir said as he began clenching his massive fists and punching them into his hands.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The sound resonated with power more and more with each blow throughout the room.
“Pull out something else, man,” Mood said. “This is exciting!”
Venir shoved his meaty hand back into the sack and pulled out the next item.
“Helm,” he whispered.
Indeed, it was the same helm, but the metal was darker now, almost black, and the ornate markings, copper, and brass seemed to gleam brighter than before. The spike on top gleamed of bright steel. The helm’s patterns tied in with the girdles: a matching set. In comparison to its predecessor, the helm seemed more polished and refined. Something had changed. He couldn’t wait to put it on his head.
“Don’t put it on,” Fogle Boon warned.
“Yeah, I don’t want to see you running out of here like a flaming ogre as you usually do,” Mood said.
Venir felt himself smile. He could feel color filling his rugged cheeks, and he couldn’t wait to see if Brool awaited inside. He set down the helmet and reached inside. Everyone’s jaw dropped as he reached in and pulled out the final armament.
“Brool!” they all whispered loudly.
Venir held the mighty battle axe before his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. It was as if a long lost friend had come home.
It was the great battle-axe, the hand-and-a-half axe, as he liked to call it. But it had changed as well. The rich red oak shaft was now a deep ebony oak in color. The massive twin blades and spike were no longer the titanium dull gray burnished metal. The axe head now gleamed bright with steel like that of the finest forged in Bish. It no longer appeared as the rugged devastator that he swung with ease, but instead is was purified and refined, but every bit as menacing, if not more so. His burning blue eyes examined the length of the massive weapon from spike tip to shod as exhilaration filled his body.
“How’s it feel?” Mood asked, his green eyes wide.
“Stand back and we shall see!” Venir said.
The others moved out of the way as he began whirling away. The balance was as perfect as before. The heft seemed even lighter. A furnace inside him began to explode.
He tested his weapon with two-handed little chops and slices. A film of sweat gathered on his brow as he began to go into a trance. He burst into a furious motion, whirling the blade like a storm of lightning around his body. He felt his companions step farther back. He wanted to cut through something. He had to. The sound of the twin blades whistling through the air was all he could hear as he wove a pattern of destruction around his body. He couldn’t take it anymore. He rushed over to one of many thick posts supporting the room and with a single two-handed stroke he cut clean through it.
“You’re gonna fix that!” Mood shouted.
Mood’s booming voice jarred Venir from his haze.
“Sorry, Mood,” Venir said. “I just got carried away. I’ll fix it when I get back.”
“Is there anything else?” Fogle asked.
Venir had forgotten about the shield. He knelt down and reached inside. Nothing. He stepped back up.
“I guess the girdle will have to do,” Venir said.
“You leaving right now?’ Billip asked.
“Oh yeah … it’s time to slay the day!” Venir said. “I’m getting Chongo ready. Fogle Boon, it’s time to go. Meet me up top.”
Venir couldn’t wait to leave. Whatever awaited him, he was ready for it.
“Hold on!” Fogle said. “You aren’t running off anywhere without this.”
The mage produced a leather strap with an amber gemstone hanging from it. The small man was careful to step around Brool as he tied the strap around Venir’s neck.
“What’s this for?” Venir asked.
“In case you run off, I can find you, or we can,” Fogle said. “Who knows what will happen if you put on that helmet o
r even smell an underling? I can’t have you leaving me high and dry.”
“Yeah, Boon, you gotta watch him! He’s always running off in the middle of the night or even battle. That’s a good idea,” Mikkel said as he rubbed Venir on the head. “I’ll say this though, Vee, I hate to have to miss out on the next encounter. Skull Basher likes being in Brool’s company. Nothin’ but smashed underlings and dark blood. Carve the Bish out of them, brother!”
“Yep … you never know,” Billip said. “Anyhow, we’ll be on our way, after we say our good-byes … to the ladies.”
Mikkel and Billip grinned as they slapped Venir on the shoulder and headed out.
“Make it quick!” Mood bellowed down the hall after them. “As for you, Venir, you need some armor. You don’t even have a shield now—no way of protecting yourself. I’ll grab you a vest of dwarven scale and then we all will be on our way.”
Venir hadn’t expected Mood to come along. Then he remembered what the dwarf had told him: countless dwarves had been torn apart and stuffed into holes. The Blood Ranger would want to avenge them. Venir knew that he himself must have been the cause—something to draw him out into the open. How many more had suffered for him and the sack? Dread overshadowed his excitement. He had to get this over with. But he didn’t want them to come along.
CHAPTER 83
In the dawn, miles north of Dwarven Hole, the cadre of two men, a dwarf, and a mintaur traveled on the backs of horses and a giant two-headed dog. They managed to hold the warrior down long enough to gather supplies and come up with a plan. In some haste, they all left before Venir got away.
Wearing the magic girdle and clutching Brool—but keeping the helm in the sack for now—Venir was in the lead atop Chongo’s massive back. The big dog swayed with the rhythm of his twin tails as they headed past the City of Bone in the distant west. The party traveled close to the eastern edge of the world of Bish, where the great mists threatened to engulf them.
The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night Page 32