The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge

by Craig Halloran

  Fogle Boon felt a great deal of sympathy for Venir. After all, his own father and mother still lived, and he had many brothers and sisters. He tried to picture them slaughtered or buried. It was something he had even joked about before. Now, it didn’t seem so funny. What a sheltered life he lived. He had it so much better at home than most people on Bish, but he never knew it. His brothers and sisters were the same. For the first time in his life, he now felt like he was truly living.

  Another thing entered his thoughts, a dream he had many nights ago; his grandfather Boon, a staff-wielding wizard, battling underlings by a cliff-side. He looked over and saw a piece of that staff jutting from the sack Ox carried for him. His grandfather, an old geezer by his standards, had given it to him several days before he disappeared. He had hardly known the man or paid him any mind. A rambling fool was all he was to him, who talked about nothing he ever cared to hear. The only ones Fogle ever listened to were his teachers and some of his friends. It was strange though, how his grandfather left. The family didn’t even seem to mind. Fogle remembered most everything, and the last thing his grandfather had said to him was still clear in his mind.

  ‘It’s more than just a stick. Don’t be an idiot and lose it.’

  Fogle had wanted to throw it away ever since, but every time he started to, the old man’s haunting words convinced him to keep it.

  Fogle rubbed his face; he was getting very tired now. He forced himself to his feet and headed for the tent that Ox had set. It was time to get ready for tomorrow. He rummaged through his sack and pulled out a small, leather-bound book that was not much bigger than his hand. He opened and closed it. One. The book got bigger. He did it again. Two. It grew one size bigger. He opened and closed it one more time. Three. The ancient book sat heavy in his lap, thousands of pages of knowledge within. Almost everything he had ever learned was inside the massive tome: spells, notes, ideas, strategies, colleagues, a family history, and more. This tome was his best friend.

  He opened it up, but was unable to see much with the firelight. He muttered a cantrip and his eyes filled with light that beamed down on the pages. That’s better. His hands ran over the tiny words and turned the pages like a pianist. He was looking for a spell, something that might give him hooves, or something similar. The truth was, there were hundreds of spells in the book, and he hadn’t tried them all, only a few. To his shame, it was his Grandfather Boon's book, and after all of his years of adding to it, he had never gone back and took so much as a look at what his grandfather had to say. He had time now, though.

  “I smell something,” said Mood, who had snuck up behind him. “Can you see anything else with them lantern eyes?”

  He looked up at Mood, lighting up his face. He could see the fibers in the blood-red beard, bound together like straw. He looked up in the sky, but the light from his eyes only went a dozen feet before it faded in the black night beyond.

  “No, I need a stronger spell for that. Maybe I can try one tomorrow.”

  “Be ready,” Mood mumbled, rubbing his face, as he went back to the fire.

  Ready? How could he possibly be ready for anything out here in the wasteland? Every day it was a challenge just knowing which spells to remember and which ones not. It was far easier to stick with the ones that you always used and lock them in for the next day. New ones took more time to memorize, and chewing up the morning and losing more sleep wasn’t something he wanted to do. His feet weren’t doing much better though, aching with every step. Why he couldn't ride his horse over the rocky palisades, he didn’t understand. Chongo would have been great to have. All of the walking was ridiculous. He needed to find a better way.

  He thought about the underlings floating across the air. Now that would be something. He thumbed over the pages, back toward the front for a change. The words were tiny, which he found odd because his grandfather had such a big hand. If you were a stranger to magic, the words would be something you could not read. Magic had a language of its own, filled with marks and signs, nothing close to the common course. It was a cumbersome task, but Fogle Boon thrived on it. It was his passion. Again his thoughts went to the underlings. From what he had been told, the underlings had no need to write any of their spells down. To them it was a discipline that came from the inside. He wondered how that could possibly be true.

  He rubbed his radiant eyes and yawned. He lay just outside of the tent and stared inside the canvas doorway, concentrating on locking in the spells he had already learned. That was easy, but he left out a few. He could always add the new ones on the morrow. He looked up in the sky once more, wondering if what Mood smelled was up there. He muttered something that made the light in his eyes go out and his spellbook begin to shrink. He pulled the broken staff of Boon from his pack to sleep with, and pulled a blanket over him. The sound of Mood and Ox sharpening their axes by the crackling fire put him to sleep.

  Chapter 37

  She had droned on for over an hour, chewing their ears off, spanking their behinds. Just when Georgio thought it was over she was in both of their faces, yelling, her cheeks flush red.

  “That man, that’s Palos … he’s the prince of Thieves around here! He says that I owe him! I OWE HIM! Do you know what that means? Do you, boys!?”

  Lefty shrugged his tiny shoulders.

  “You owe him?”

  Georgio couldn’t believe Lefty said that. He tried to shrink into the sofa.

  With her eyes blazing like the suns, she grabbed Lefty by his shirt, picked him up off the couch, and shook him like a doll.

  “Yes! Yes halfling, I owe him! What—I don’t know, but he’ll be back. Men like him always come back.”

  Lefty’s tears streamed down his face and she dropped him on the couch. Georgio was quiet by his side, eyes on the floor, crossing his feet back and forth.

  “Venir! That blasted bastard, it’s his fault!”

  The boys didn’t look up as she stormed away.

  SLAM!

  The entire room rattled as they both lurched upright and looked over at the entrance door. They heard Kam stomping down the steps.

  “Whew!” Lefty said, wiping his brow. “I never thought that was going to end. I’ve never seen her so mad before.”

  Georgio’s face was pale. He began biting his nails and shaking his head.

  “I’m never doing that again, Lefty. That guy, that Palos, he’s bad news. Are you all right; are you crying?”

  Lefty wiped his blue eyes and grinned saying, “Oh gosh no, but those tears always get Kam off my back. Women get melted when they see them. Melegal told me that.”

  “I need to try that.”

  Georgio had never felt so bad before. He had been through worse, but guilt wasn’t something he had ever suffered from. It had been one of those days, a bad one for sure. They got caught skimming, then robbed with a knife to Lefty's throat. His eyes began to water. He shouldn’t steal anymore; he would have to do more chores. His stomach growled. He was hungry, still hungry. He heard Lefty coughing by his side.

  Lefty was doubled over, his hand shoved in his mouth. Georgio ran over, slapping the gagging halfling on his back.

  “Lefty, what’s wrong? What’s wrong!?”

  Georgio pounded harder and harder, knocking the tiny boy from the couch onto the floor. Lefty was on all fours now, retching.

  “Stop hitting me Georgio,” Lefty said with a red face. “I’m all right.”

  Georgio was mortified as he backed away … Why was his friend eating his hand? He turned away as Lefty made a nasty sound.

  “Blecht!”

  Georgio looked back and saw stuff coming from Lefty’s mouth. He put his hand over his own mouth and tried to tear his eyes away, holding his stomach. It was horrifying; whatever was happening to his friend was hideously horrifying.

  Lefty had his hand out, hacking bile into it filled with shiny gobbets of silver and gold.

  Tink. Tink. Tink …

  Lefty’s purple face let out one more final retch and more c
oins spilled from his mouth. They lay on the floor and in his hand, coated with saliva. Lefty looked at him, and he looked at Lefty and the coins.

  “That was stupidness!”

  “No, stupendous,” Lefty corrected.

  “Oh, yeah, stupendous.”

  Lefty showed him a grim smile and said, “Could you please get me a towel, and a glass of water?”

  “Sure.”

  Georgio was back in a moment. Lefty gulped down the water, beat his chest, burped and drank some more. Georgio made a face as he tried to count the coins on the floor. They were bunched in a glob of saliva, but it looked like a lot, over a handful anyway. Lefty took the towel and began to wipe down the coins.

  “Want to help?” the halfling said.

  “I guess,” he said, sitting on the floor and crossing his legs.

  It was a hoard, a tiny hoard, but a hoard none the less.

  “Lefty, how’d you learn to do this?”

  The halfling gave him a look.

  “Ah … Melegal.”

  Georgio grabbed Lefty by the collar and squeezed his neck.

  “Ulp!”

  “I want my share, and I want my biscuits. You almost got me killed out there.”

  Lefty couldn’t hide his shock. The tiny boy wiped off a bunch of coins and placed them in Georgio’s hands.

  “I’m sorry, Georgio. I over did it, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

  Georgio was counting his coins, a glimmer in his eye. The metal felt good in his hands, and he could smell the honey biscuits already. He stuffed the coins in his pocket and patted it.

  “Ah, I guess I’ll be all right. I still want those biscuits you owe me, though. Kam probably won’t feed us again until tonight. She said we couldn’t leave, either. Boy, she sure was mad,” he said, running his fingers through his locks of hair.

  Lefty patted him on the back and said, “I’ll sneak down and get you something. It’s the least I can do. In the meantime, how about some coffee?”

  Georgio jumped up, “That’ll do. I’ll warm the stove.”

  “I’ll grab the pot.”

  “You grab the beans.”

  “I’ll grind them into dust.”

  The pair slapped hands, in a synchronized manner, singing a childhood song. Georgio rapped his hands on the table, while Lefty snapped the pot's lid open and closed to the rhythm.

  “Coffee pot, coffee pot, high on the hill.

  Coffee pot, coffee pot, I need a thrill!

  Up the hill we take it, Down the hill we go!

  Drink it! (clap)

  Don’t spill it! (clap clap)

  Sip it. (clap)

  Don’t gulp it! (clap clap)

  Coffee makes me grow strong.(clap clap clap)

  Coffee speeds you up (clap clap clap).

  All day long.(CLAP CLAP CLAP)

  An ogre can’t catch you and a bugbear too,

  But if you steal my coffee, I’ll ram my sword in you!”

  It wasn’t long before the smell of roasting beans filled the room. Georgio was fanning himself as Lefty watched the blue fire under the pot.

  “Keep your fingers away from that pot, Lefty. The last time you burned it, trying that magic and all,” Georgio commented.

  “Ah, but it’s such a simple spell. Kam does it all the time. She warms up the coffee pot and makes it just right. I’ve almost got it anyway; I just need a little more practice.”

  Georgio’s head peeked up from the sofa and he said, “You need to practice getting me something to eat downstairs. I’m about to eat my shoe.”

  “Why don’t you try your toe nails? They’re long enough.”

  Lefty ducked under a pillow that soared his way.

  “How many times do you have to miss before you stop?”

  “I don’t know. Hey Lefty, you never told me how you got away from those thieves. What happened, did they let you go?”

  Lefty hopped over onto the couch, his face a wide smile.

  “Georgio, they grabbed me, stuck a sack over my head, tied me up and carried me off. I was terrified,” the halfling said in a shrill voice.

  “Well, what happened then?”

  Lefty looked up at the ceiling, scratching his head, then he looked back a Georgio.

  “They said they were taking me to their Nest, and down the stairs I went, carried on this burly fella's shoulder. It smelled so horrible down there that I almost vomited in the bag that covered my face. I got my hands untied and bit the man on the ear. No wait … I poked him in the eyes. He dropped me into the pitch black.”

  Lefty became an animated puppet as he re-enacted his abduction and escape.

  Georgio stared at Lefty with his enlarged brown eyes and bit his nails, saying, “Keep going.”

  “I pressed myself along the wall, and they all came after me, but it was so dark they couldn’t find me. I really don’t know what I did to get way, but I did. I ran under their legs, up the stairs, back the way they had carried me, and I had found my way back here when I heard the screams and—”

  Lefty stopped and lurched upward.

  “Oh my!”

  “What? What is it, Lefty?”

  Lefty’s blue eyes were glazed over, giving his face a dumbfounded look..

  “That woman.”

  “What woman … Kam?”

  Lefty shook his head.

  “No, the woman that tried to trample me in the street, I think I know who she was!”

  “Lefty, what are you talking about? I didn’t see any woman but Kam and Joline.”

  Georgio knew that look in his friend's eye. It was a fearful look, but calculating as well. He asked his friend another question.

  “How are your feet?”

  Lefty pulled them up; his bare feet were covered with dried mud.

  “I should have noticed this before. It all happened so fast though, I didn’t think about it. Something was dangerous, or someone. Either those thieves, or that mean-looking woman on that terrible horse.”

  Georgio shoved the halfling, saying, “What woman?”

  Lefty was almost afraid to say it, but he did.

  “I swear that was Jarla, the Brigand Queen.”

  Georgio gasped.

  Lefty was fidgeting and drinking. He needed his tomes, the ones back in Bone. He hoped Melegal had taken care of them. He drummed his fingers on his head. Georgio was lying on the couch, his eyes opening and closing. Take a nap. He waited a little longer, and the boy was out like a light. The stew he had swiped from Joline’s kitchen, with Joline’s assistance, had hit his friend's spot. The busy morning had caught up with Georgio, but not with him. His day had just begun.

  The Brigand Queen. It was one of the first stories he had recorded. He remembered it well, as Venir tended to be very vivid about the details. It had caused Lefty to wince sometimes while he wrote. He had left some of those details out, though. Some of those things, people didn’t need to know. But the woman, the evil woman that betrayed Venir, he knew. In his mind, he could still see the words he had written.

  A beautiful face, marred by men, scarred by time, and filled with enough hatred to fill a lake. Silky hair as black as coal. Deeply tanned, perfect thighs, eyes as blue as an early night sky. Then the horse, Nightmare. A dapple gray snorting steed that trampled through armies with bloody hooves.

  He shivered as he finished off his coffee. Lefty was terrified of big beasts, except Chongo. Horses he avoided. He put a blanket over Georgio.

  Why is this woman here? Is she looking for Venir? The armament? Lefty had a lot to think about. Should he tell Kam? She's already upset enough for today. Of course, the Brigand Queen would have a price on her head, wouldn’t she?

  And what about the thief, Palos? Lefty had to admit, he was fascinated by him. Kam had told them to stay away from such people. The Prince of Thieves and the Brigand Queen, both in the same city. Despite the sweat between his toes, Lefty slipped out, leaving Georgio all alone.

  Chapter 38

  Melegal buckled his
pants while Haze caught her breath and pulled on her clothes. She was shaking a bit, looking back at him, her eyes seeking his, and then looking away. The rain began to subside. He pulled his hat from his pocket, pushed back his hair, and put it back on. He didn’t feel half bad having done what he did, until he noticed that glow in her eyes. He had the woman in the palm of his hand, but that could be troublesome.

  “Bring the sword to the Octopus tonight.”

  She straightened up, pulled back her hair and shoulders, and wiped her nose.

  “Thirty gold.”

  He waved her away.

  “You bring the sword. I’ll bring the gold. Now go!”

  She looked at him, hurt.

  “Ain’t you coming?”

  He laughed saying, “The suns are coming back out; I can’t be seen with you.”

  “Arsehole,” she said, darting away.

  “You got that right,” he said, watching her go.

  It was odd; the woman didn’t really bother him. He expected the regret to be there, but it wasn’t, he even considered giving her another go … one day … maybe. It’s gotta be dark, very dark. He turned toward the doorway. A flux of rain water was running down the stairwell. He headed down.

  The mold on the walls turned slick, and water drops plopped down from above. Earlier, the steps had been dry, but now they were damp with silt. He let his eyes adjust. The stairwell was still pitch black, but he detected the faintest of outlines. When he looked back up, the mouth at the top was gone, taken away by the spirally bend in the stairs. He felt like he was a mile down already. His rubbed his cold hands together. If that man, Tonio, still lived down here, could McKnight be alive, too? No! His mentor was dead, consumed by the swine. He had chopped the man up and fed the bits to the pigs. Still, anything could happen in Bone.

  On silent feet he headed down the winding rock stairs. Everything was as Haze had described when it bottomed out forty steps below. The sounds of dripping water echoed from everywhere. He cupped his ears with both hands and held his breath. Listen.