“Yee-ouch!” the man cried. “Get him, he’s on my leg!”
Lefty let go as another man dived on the bitten man’s legs. They crashed down the steps.
“Get off of me. He’s gone!”
Lefty tried the same tactic on another who let out a scream.
“Where is he?” said another.
Lefty crawled up the man’s back and wrapped his legs around the man’s throat.
“I’m right here, behind you, Fool!”
Smack!
A fist crashed into the man’s face whose shoulders he was on. He noticed something else, too; he could make out pale red shapes in the dark. I can see!? He could, just like his father had told him one day he would. It almost made him feel like hair on his chest had begun to grow. He leaped off of one man and kicked the face of another.
Swoosh!
A blade clipped his hair above his ear. He dashed under another man’s feet and jammed his heel on the toes. The man cursed, swatting at his feet, slicing his own dagger across his leg. Chaos began to erupt as the men crawled over one another.
“Someone get a light!”
Whap! Whap! Whap!
“Stop hitting me,” one man groaned.
Lefty watched from the top of the steps as the mass of men wrestled amongst each other. He rubbed his eyes. “Wait til’ I tell Georgio.” He slapped his hand over his mouth.
“Did you hear that?” one said.
They all stopped, the outline of red bodies turned on him.
“He’s up the top of the stairs!”
They came rushing up in a stampede, but Lefty was out the door and gone.
265-264-263-262-261 … 250 … turn … 243 … turn … 236 … 220 … turn …
It wasn’t long before he could hear the children playing and smell the ginger. He knew where he was. It was time to get back to the Magi Roost. 135 … 131. He shimmied a pole and climbed onto a store rooftop. The rooftops were littered with birds, clothes lines, and gardens. He ran along the edges, climbed down gutters and back over walls. Gotta tell Kam!
He was across the street from the Magi Roost, dusting himself and looking around. A woman with a scowling scarred face was trotting her big horse his way. He started to cross, staring at her angry face. Something seemed familiar about her, and he paused. She dug her spurs into the dapple gray beast and veered his way.
OH MY!
Lefty leapt out of the way, feeling the horse tail whip his face as they thundered past. He clutched his heart as the woman galloped away..
He was shaking now. Everything began to soak in. He wasn’t sure, but he felt like he had almost died, twice. He looked up and down the street. The coast was clear. No horses. Whew! He looked over to the Magi Roost and saw that the door was closed. Then he heard screaming voices coming from the inside.
Chapter 30
Fogle Boon’s confidence had been shaken once in his life. Now it was twice. Venir had been right in saying The Outlands was no place for him. Death was much easier to come by here, rather than in the City of Three. He was out of place in a strange land, following a dwarf that was built like a mountain. He felt captivated by the Blood Ranger’s composure, certain and fearless, as Mood cut out the eyes of the underling. The scene was eerie and disturbing. He wanted to withdraw, but could not. He knew those eyes, those golden eyes, from the battle of wills from days before.
Mood waved his hand, filled with the eyes, in front of Fogle's face. The golden eyes were brilliant and staring, with an unnatural glimmer deep inside.
“Tis the one you said ye battled?”
Although uneasiness settled over him, Fogle couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Why did you cut his eyes out?” he said, shaking his head.
Mood looked at the eyes, then back at him and said, “I’ve never seen ones that were gold before. That was one powerful underling. They’ll come looking for him. His eyes have magic and power inside.”
Mood squeezed the orbs in his hand, his face straining from the effort. Fogle turned his head half away, fully expecting the eyes to pop. Mood opened his hand again. The eyes were there, solid as stone, gleaming in the sun.
“Can you burn them?”
“No, not here, wizard. There is a place, hot like an inferno. Tis’ too far, though. It’s best I take them to Dwarven Hole and bury them.”
Fogle Boon swatted at a huge green-eyed fly that landed on his shoulder, and said, “Am I to take it that this underling is still alive? Can he still be brought back?”
“Yep,” Mood said. “Here, you take them?”
Fogle Boon reached out, and then pulled back his hand.
“They don’t bite. It’s dead. Take em’ . Dis’ way ye learn about yer enemies.”
Fogle took the underling eyes in his hand. They were smooth like pearl stones from a river, hard like marble, and cold like metal. They still looked alive in his hand; the black pupils were wide, trimmed in brilliant gold. They had the heft of a fortune in coin, rare and desirable. He knew there must be some power within. Still, he felt nothing. He studied them and nodded. If there was magic in them, it wasn't much, if anything at all.
“Here, you take them?”
“I think ye should swallow them.”
“What? I won’t do that.”
Mood laughed and took them back saying, “Suit yourself, Little Man.”
The Blood Ranger began dragging the corpse of Catten over ground, and then seemed to think better of it. The red-bearded dwarf sat down, took out a metal file and began sharpening his axes. He caught Fogle staring and shrugged.
“Might as well chop him up and burn him.”
Ox the Mintaur showed up with a stack of branches in his arms, dropping them to the ground. The ram-faced man was as expressionless as ever, barely a word spoken since the last battle. Fogle couldn’t have been gladder that he had brought Ox along. Ox was the only true friend he had kept, most of his life anyway.
Ox was striking a flint rock with a steel knife, but the wood was damp from the earlier rains.
Fogle walked over and said, “Let me help.”
Ox stepped away, handing him a branch. Fogle Boon reached inside his robes and pulled out a black satin pouch. He took a pinch of red shavings out, dusted the branch, and tossed it on the pile of wood.
He pushed the mintaur behind him and said, “Stand back.”
Ox took two hooves back, peering over his shoulder. Fogle picked up a rock, dusted it with the shavings as well, and tossed the rock on the pile.
Fffroosh!
The pile burst into a brilliant orange flame. It felt good having a fire that couldn’t be doused by the rain.
“Hrumph!” Mood snorted.
The timing couldn’t have been better. The suns had set, and a chill now hung in the air. The clouds above were black, and he knew it was going to rain. That last rain had already soaked him to the bone, and he never remembered being so wet and hungry.
Ox was pulling items from his big travel sack, preparing a small tent of sorts. He watched as the mintaur hammered stakes in the ground with his short powerful arms and stomped the final blows with his hoofed foot. Fogle stared up at the rising moons, each a pale yellow, with dark clouds passing by. He wondered about home, the City of Three, and how far he was from there. He was in another world now. He felt ashamed for having sheltered himself for so long.
Fogle chewed on some stiff strips of beef, peppered with lemon and lime. He washed it down with some water, but his scrawny belly was only a tad full. He pulled the amulet out that now hung around his neck. Maybe I should give it to Ox or the dwarf. The radiant green gem twinkled before his eyes. What was Venir thinking? Why did he leave it? Why not take it? He wanted to understand.
Venir was a grim man, not the man he locked horns with so many years ago, but something else. He looked out into the mist. The mist was smoky in the distance, a fog that never rolled in. He wanted to distance himself from it, fearing it would creep in and overtake them in the night. It seemed to
move, but never did. What was in there?
“Whatcha thinkn’ Little Man?”
Fogle tilted his big head up in Mood’s direction and said, “Do you think he’s after that other underling, or that maybe he’s in there?”
Mood turned all the way around, breathing in deeply through his nose. Fogle sniffed at the air, but caught only the smell of burning wood and his own sweat. Mood kept turning, searching the ground, and walking around the stone grave. What is he doing?
“I don’t know. Something’s not right here. There’s no tracks, not man er underling. I don’t smell nothin’. I should smell somethin’. Even the rain don’t kill a scent. It’s what ye human’s call peculiar, I’d say. Something’s been here; we know that. He was here, but left no tracks. Humph.”
“Could something have snatched him away?”
Mood gave him a worried look.
Fogle sat down and pulled his knees to his chin, facing the fire. Where was Venir? Should he search for the man, go home, or go elsewhere? Mood sat down on the other side of the fire, where his read beard blended in with the flames. Mood looked like something born of the ground of Bish, an element, a mystery. The Blood Ranger looked like he could dig a hole through a mountain side with his bare hands. How had he gotten crossed up with him, the King of the Blood Rangers? Fogle rubbed his once gentle hand over his face. It had a beard now that covered the side of his face, his chin and neck. He had never worn a beard before. He looked over at the dwarf again. I hope I don’t look like that.
Another whiff of smoke caught his nose. He lay on his back. Just when he thought Mood had forgotten their conversation about Venir, Mood continued his story.
“I’ve tracked about everything on Bish and found it, but I had a hard time finding Chongo, even though I took another dog with me. After a few weeks I found him in a village, a human village. Ho, Ho! I couldn’t believe me eyes. A dwarven setter with a man, a boy at that! Venir couldn’t have been even ten years old, but the dog, Chongo, was fine. He told me so. So, I let him be, and checked on them now and again.”
Mood stretched out his legs and spat a bit of cigar leaf in the fire. A blaze of green shot up, filling the air with a comforting smell.
“Venir was a good boy, but a different sort, not like the rest, taller and quicker than the others, acted like a hunter, a born one, fished like a king. He had a head full of that goldish hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Then something happened one day that I don’t care to admit.”
Fogle saw him looking right at him now, his lips no longer moving. What? Fogle just nodded.
“Ya see, I would just scout him, stay away and all. Dwarves like me don’t like to be seen. One day, Venir and Chongo snuck up on me.”
Mood was pointing his finger right at him.
“But dont’cha ever tell anyone I ever told that, er I’ll chop ya ta bits. Not even Venir; I made him forget.” Mood blew a pointed smoke ring in the air and winked.
Fogle nodded, the intent was perfectly clear. Mood leaned back again.
“Bish is full of a lot of strange things. No sense in trying to explain it all. It just is. But, when the boy found me I began to wander. It wasn’t long after that when the bad thing happened. Chongo called for me. It’s not a bark or yelp, just something else. If the pooch is in danger, I’ll know. By the time I made it to the village, I was too late. They were all gone: dead, smashed, buried. There was a couple of underlings left carrying shovels and digging them holes. Ya see, that’s how they frighten you men, burying you alive, face down, with legs sprouting out like weeds. That way when they're found, everyone is scared ta death. That and all the blood and limbs scattered about. I hate that smell, the smell of a child’s spilt blood.”
Fogle could feel a lump in his throat and a chill in his spine. Mood's voice made it seem all the more real. He had heard about the horror of the underlings before, but he had always figured it to be exaggerated, believing his intellect was more able to see through such exaggerated things. Now Mood had proved Fogle's stupendous intelligence was wrong.
“I brained both of those wicked creatures. The hairy little black fiends even saw me coming, I wanted em’ to. I found Chongo not long after that. The pooch had begun digging a hole where the legs of the boy were sticking up from the ground. I grabbed a shovel and started helping Chongo dig. It seemed to take forever; one shovel full after the other. The boy's legs were white, like all the rest of the legs were. I finally was able to drag him out. I listened to his chest, but there was no beat there, or so I thought. Then his chest heaved, and he coughed. I slapped him on the back a few times. He opened his eyes fer a moment and passed back out.”
Ox walked over and placed more wood on the fire. The mintaur sat down between Fogle and Mood and began brushing the metal shoe on his hoof. The rough brush Ox used made a rhythmic sound that seemed as natural as the fire. It was one of those things he hadn’t even noticed before, that his companion wore the same shoes as a horse. Fogle rubbed his calloused feet some more. Hooves, I could sure use those now. It gave him an idea.
“… I spent the day and night digging all of the others out. None of the rest survived. I spent two more days diggin’ all of their graves, proper like. Venir slept through the entire thing. I was glad, too. I didn’t want em’ to see what happened to his family. It was bad, Human. You ever saw what underlings do to others?”
Fogle shook his head.
“Hmph, well I’ve seen it all. I’ve only told ye a bit, not the whole horror. That ain’t nothin’ fer boys ta see. The next day he woke up, scared at first of me. But Chongo was there. I told em’ who I was, that I’d help him. We had a burial of sorts for his family, without the bodies of course. There wasn’t much left of em’ anyway. I expected him to cry, many men do at times like that, but he didn’t. Quiet he was. I knew he was thinkin’, about what I didn’t know. Then he told me. He says ‘Can you help me find them?’ and I said I could, but he better know how to use more than an old knife when we caught up with em’.
The moons were bright whenever they made their appearance through the clouds. Fogle thought he saw something else along the skyline, a figure, like a ghost. Mood looked over his shoulder, head turning the same way.
“Clouds can show ye funny things durin’ times like this. Pay em’ no mind.”
Mood’s words did little to qualm Fogle's worries. There was still an underling out there, or was there? When he looked back up, the clouds had moved on. Don’t go to sleep without a plan, Little Man.
Chapter 31
It took some time, but things began to sink in. The smells, the heat, the anger and discontent, all of these things she had created. It had never occurred to her how they might actually feel, living and breathing it every second of every day. Her mind became restless as a new wave of feelings washed over her every day. It was confusing at first, but Trinos enjoyed it. As she wandered more, the harsh world began to settle in. It wasn’t as pleasant as she expected, rather morbid in many cases—more darkness despite her bright lights.
Trinos wondered if Scorch felt the same. Was it wise to abandon their universe to live in this little world? What purpose would any of it serve? Was her creation better off as it was or in the world beyond? She did not know. Was she better off than she was before? What was different? Which was better, and which was worse?
“Get out of the way, Hag!” someone said as a wagon rushed by, splashing mud on her clothes.
Trinos wiped the muck from her face with a rag. She was pressed in with a throng of people that were begging to enter the City of Bone. Its high rock walls seemed enormous, which was an odd feeling for her. The portcullis was right in front of her, iron metal hammered out into gaping jaws. It reminded her of the Void. Whatever went in … didn’t come out.
She was being shoved forward now, dingy fingers pushing into her back and the smell of rotten mouths breathing on her neck. She could feel the desperation surrounding her, the coldness of Bish’s mankind.
“Come on you old bat,
move on. Bone ain’t got need for you,” a younger woman said, shoving her with an elbow.
Trinos got a good look at the young woman’s puffy face and frizzy brown hair. She didn’t like the brash behavior, or the craw wrought of foul language and disrespect. It would take little effort to destroy the girl, and the urge was there. A forceful shove knocked her sprawling to the ground. Muddied feet were stepping over and on top of her. She could taste dirt in her mouth and the tang of blood from a split lip. Perhaps she should have taken the form of a man, rather than a wizened old woman.
“GET OFF ME, YOU WRETCHED PEOPLE!”
The people stopped, looking down at the source of the noise. Trinos rose to her feet, dusting off her humble robes.
“Did that hag say that?”
“Who said that?”
“I’ve never heard anything like that!”
Some of the faces were staring at her in wonder, while the others were looking around. Trinos smiled. Then a pie of manure hit her in the face.
The buxom girl with frizzy hair was pointing at her and laughing.
“Get back on the dirt, Granny!”
They were all laughing at her now as she wiped the stink from her face. Be neutral. Don’t be involved. But the girl was slapping her knees, pointing and calling her more names.
“Granny! Granny! Granny! How’s that cow pie taste, you old bitty!”
They were all in on it, treating her like some animal for their entertainment. Trinos clenched her fists and stared the loud-mouth girl down.
“Well … it looks like Granny here wants a tussle. I’ve never beat up an old one before.” The girl spit in each of her hands.
Trinos had seen enough.
“THIS IS MY WORLD, FOOLS!”
The power of her voice blew the crowd back. Many dropped to their knees.
The boisterous girl’s hair stood straight up on all ends. Her stare was frozen in a gape at Trinos, who stood looking down on her. A tear ran down her cheek.
“Sorry … Ma’am …”Trinos fought the urge to end the girl’s existence right then and there. She clenched her fist and said, “Move away!”
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 13