He couldn’t hold back the tears. His belly was full of fear as visions of his friends dying swamped his thoughts.
Palos' acidic voice was now as polished as stone as he spoke softly, “There, there, Lefty. You can make this all go away. I’m willing to make you a deal.”
Lefty heard the man’s words, but shook his head.
“Listen, this is going to be easy. An opportunity of a lifetime. I’m gonna let you work off your favors,” Palos said.
“Give em’ a moment, Palos,” Gillem said, patting him on the shoulders.
It took several moments before Lefty could pull himself together. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose.
“Feel better now, do you?” the halfling man said.
Lefty nodded and said, “What do I have to do?”
“You’ll work for Gillem.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes,” Palos said, handing him the wooden block that now showed the face of Kam. “And don’t tell her or your friend about us.”
“When do I start?”
“That’s up to Gillem.”
Lefty looked at Gillem and noticed a glimmer in the halfling’s eyes. It made him uneasy.
Gillem pulled him up and said, “Go home to your friends, Lefty. Not a word. I’ll be in contact. I think you’re gonna like the work I’ve set aside for you. Now go!”
He didn’t have to say it twice. Lefty bounded to another rooftop and out of sight.
Gillem and Palos watched him go.
“He’s a good one, that one,” Gillem said.
“Not for long,” Palos added with a chuckle.
*****
It had been one of the worst days Kam had in years, maybe ever. Even the busy tavern couldn’t keep her mind off all that took place in the morning. To make matters worse, Lefty had been missing all evening. Maybe she had yelled too much at him and Georgio. They were only boys, and they didn’t understand life all that well yet. Now, for some reason, she felt more determined than ever to keep a closer watch on them.
She had work to do, though. The Magi Roost was in full swing, and a couple of workers hadn't reported in for duty. She wondered if Palos had something to do with that, and with Lefty’s absence as well.
“Joline!” she yelled.
“What!?” the woman cried, nicking her finger with a knife. “Ow. What are you yelling for?”
“Lords, I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Kam said, taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, and making a quick mental count to ten. “Keep Georgio busy, and I don’t care if he peels a thousand potatoes. He doesn’t go anywhere without me, and that includes upstairs.”
Georgio whined, “But Kam, I’m already tired of these stupid potatoes. I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you started skimming people. Of all the stupid things.”
“Well, I eat a lot, and you don’t pay much for our chores.”
Kam drew back her hand. Georgio flinched. Joline did as well.
“Easy Kam!” Joline said, stepping in her way, holding a wet rag over her bleeding finger.
The looks on their faces shocked Kam. What am I doing? Georgio looked mortified as he picked up a big red potato and began peeling it as fast as he could. She felt the tears coming on again as Joline put her hands on her shoulders. She wanted to run and hide.
“I’m so sorry, Jo,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Georgio. I don’t know what’s come over me. That woman and Palos! Something about them just messed me up, and now Lefty’s gone. He’s probably run away, and it’s all because of me …”
Her world was upside down for some reason. Nothing so extraordinary had happened, but it seemed like it. Her thoughts seemed plagued with disaster. If she could just get away, just for a while, it might help.
“It’s all right, girl. Running a tavern and raising two boys isn’t easy. You go on now, go and get some rest. I can handle things out there. I’ll send someone out to round up more help. We’ll get a full staff tonight,” Joline said.
Kam was shaking her head.
“No, I can’t rest, not until Lefty is back. I’m just gonna have to work through it,” she said, her voice shaking. “Georgio, you don’t have peel all of those potatoes. Just a couple buckets more, to help Joline out.”
A wave of nausea overcame her. The room started to spin. Her knees wobbled.
“Oh my,” Joline cried.
Kam was sagging in the woman’s arms now.
“Georgio, bring her the stool!”
Kam could barely make out what the woman was saying. She felt hot and weak. She was sitting now, and Georgio was fanning her with a rag. Joline put a cold wet cloth on her neck and put her lips on her forehead.
“My, she’s burning with fever. All of the stress has given her the sweats. Come on, Georgio, we got to lay her down.”
“Is she gonna be all right? Why is she so pale?” the boy said.
“She’ll be fine as long as we act quick.”
Kam didn’t know where she was. Half a dozen faces surrounded her, but she didn’t recognize a single one. She was saying things, and she didn’t know what. She wanted to get up, but she couldn’t find the strength, and then she didn’t know if she was sitting up, standing or lying down. Whatever had befallen her, it was like she was in a miserable, strange nightmare without an end in sight. She could see distorted images of Georgio, Lefty and Venir. Palos and that foul woman were there, too. She moaned. Fogle Boon was there, and his head had swollen like a watermelon. It seemed like she was in a new world now, one where everything was wrong. She tried to open her eyes, anything to get the spinning nightmares to stop. Nothing helped. It just kept going on and on and on.
Chapter 41
“Mood, it’s gone!”
Fogle Boon was upright, scrambling in the light of the cracking dawn. He felt cold and lost, and his stomach filled with nausea. He thought about that imp; could the imp have returned and taken it?
“What is gone, Little Man?” Mood asked.
“My spellbook is gone! Disappeared. Did you see anything at all? Hear anything?”
He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice as he emptied his packs onto the ground. Ox was at his side, rummaging through the pile as well. That spellbook had everything he knew about life, and more for him to learn. It wasn’t possible that it had just slipped away. Someone or something had to have taken it. He went through the catalog of spells in his mind. They were ready, but not all. He grinded his teeth and dug his nails into his big head.
The two horses they rode began to snort and stamp their hooves. Mood was looking around, head turning side to side. Then he saw it, floating down from the sky, an underling, one of the two from before. Mood stepped out in front of them, a crossbow his hands.
“Stay behind me!”
Time seemed to stop until the underling landed. It hovered in the air, robes flapping in the wind, its face threatening and evil. Fogle had never seen one up close before. The creature was small, but scary, like a nightmare come to life. He could sense its power too, ancient and incomprehensible. Then the worst of all things happened. It spoke.
“Eyes, give me the eyes!”
It was a hiss of sorts, raspy and distorted, as well as suggestive.
Clatch-Zip!
Mood’s bolt sailed straight and true, then bounced away from the underling's unchanged face.
“Nothin’ for you, Underling! Death is certain though,” Mood said, snatching the axes from his back.
“A bargain, Ranger,” the underling said.
Mood shook his head.
Fogle stepped alongside him.
“What sort of bargain?”
“Your spellbook for the eyes and robes, and you can leave alive.”
It was a no-brainer for Fogle Boon. He would hand over anything for his spellbook, especially when it wasn’t his. He gave Mood a pleading look, but the stern-faced dwarf just shook his bearded head.
; “I have to have that that spellbook,” he whispered.
“Have you ever bartered with an underling before?”
“No, have you?”
Mood was silent. The underling stood there, calm, sinister, and quiet. Fogle weighed his options. An attack could lead to the destruction of his book. Losing the battle could mean his own death. And where was Venir; was he dead as well? Had the underling defeated him? Then there was the matter of the robes. He hadn’t even bothered to touch them, fearing a curse of sorts, but they must contain something valuable, something he could have used as well. It seemed like it was another one of those Fight or Die situations, as Venir would say. He didn’t want that.
Fogle found it hard to speak up in the midst of a dwarf that seemed to have over five hundred years of experience on him. Likely, the underling had at least that much as well. He felt small among the other races, almost like he was invited to a dinner because he was to be the entertainment or the main course. Yes, things were different in the land beyond the cities—harsh and uncivilized. Despite the knee-buckling tension in the air, there had to be room to reason. Fogle still had ample confidence in his capabilities to do so. Ox by his side, he turned to Mood, hand out and said, “Let me have the eyes.”
“I don’t know what yer up to, Mage, but it better be good,” Mood said, handing them over.
He was trying his best to hide his desperation, but his hand shook a bit when he took them. He nodded, sending Ox over to gather the robes of the dead underling, Catten. The black robes looked heavy and ordinary, but were very light when he received them. The material was foreign to the touch; a faint silver lining of arcane symbols could be made out, as well. He knew what he held would be worth a fortune in the City of Three. He noticed the silver begin to burn in the underling’s eyes as it shifted in the air, lips turning tight.
“What are you doing?” the underling demanded in its raspy voice.
“I’m just trying to decide which is more valuable, my spellbook, or these robes … or the eyes, for that matter. I’m sure it would all fetch quite a price where I come from.”
The underling chuckled.
“Heh, heh, heh … Fool, you would not be able to use the magic of an underling. It’s as worthless to you as your book is to me. Of course, if you prefer that I try to take it from you I’d be more than happy to remove your skin from your bones, just like your former comrade, the Darkslayer.”
“Let’s kill him,” Mood said, stepping forward.
Fogle held his hand out. As unsettling as the thought was, he wasn’t convinced. It was true that underling magic would be useless to him, but as for Venir, he needed to know more.
“Interesting, Underling, and what proof do you have of that? After all, we have the proof that your brother died, but you show us none that ours died. Can you prove that? I can only assume that you have a trophy of sorts? We at least have these eyes and robes.”
Fogle was almost in a trance now, the words flowing from his mouth like a dream with him being in a distant land. Standing face to face with an underling so powerful that its single thought could blow up a horse, he was bargaining with the creature, the vilest of them all, and he was holding his own. It seemed if he ever returned home, he would have a tale to tell that would shame them all, recounting the days he had mind-grumbled with one underling and bargained with another. His chest began to swell, until the underling spoke again.
“My patience is limited, Human. Each second puts you in graver danger. The eyes and the robes for the book. My offer will not remain much longer. The only other option is death.”
The underling’s hissing words weren’t perfectly clear, but the intent was. Standing around waiting to call the underling's bluff was not going to get him the results he needed. It didn’t matter if Venir was alive or dead. But still, he had to know … something.
“What are ye thinkin?” Mood said, the irritation rising in his voice.
Fogle kept his voice down and said, “There is nothing to gain at this time. I must have my book. It means much to me. The underling's items are worthless to us. Besides, these underlings are as susceptible to reason as are we. He has self-preservation to be concerned about, too. We make the deal, and we can all part ways freely.”
Mood shook his head, but said, “Get his word, then. Every race stays bound by its word.”
“You think that’s true with underlings?”
“It’s worth a try.”
Fogle took a few steps forward and the underling raised its arms. He rose his, motioning a sign in the air. The underling did the same. A truce was made for wizard kind. Fogle began to get that renewed sense of power from the underling he had sensed before. His stomach began to turn in knots, and his feet seemed to waver on the ground.
“Here is what we want, Underling.”
“My patience is oh so thin,” the underling said, clenching his hands. “Out with it, then.”
“First, tell us where the Darkslayer is.”
Fogle’s neck tightened like a bowstring as the underling hovered up a little higher; his silver eyes coming alive like lightning.
“You are impudent, Human! We will exchange, nothing else!”
“Surely you can guide us to his remains. If not, your word that you will take no aggression on us after the exchange.”
“I grow weary of your demands! Pah, but I agree. As for the man, you learn nothing from me!” Verbard said, waving Fogle's spellbook in his hand. The tips of the underling's fingers began to blaze like fire.
Fogle took in a sharp breath. There was nothing to gain here. He knew the underling would not budge. He could feel that he was only a few seconds from seeing his own book destroyed. He had to have his spellbook back. He summoned a bit of energy and let go of the eyes and robes. They hung suspended in the air, the eyes above the shape of the robes, floating like an apparition. Slowly, he let the objects drift the underling's way. His spellbook was floated his way as well. He kept his mystic grip tight on the items, his mind using tendrils that engulfed the objects. His book, he could see and feel, was the genuine thing, not a trick from the crafty fiend. He noted every crease, dings in the cornered brass, a smudge of spilled ink, and a darkening of leather from candle wax. It was his and his alone.
The underling reached out and grabbed the robes. Fogle could feel the power of the underling, tugging at his mind on the other side. He now held his spellbook in his grasp, and hugged it tight between his chest and arm. I will not let go! He felt the underling’s invisible tendrils still hanging on, the strength of the creature remained ready to rip it away. He felt the underling's claws, once burning bright, now cold and clutching at its items. He let go of them.
There was a tug at his chest, a pulling of the book, causing him to stubble forward and fall. In the next instant the force was gone. He looked up from the ground as the underling floated away, disappearing into the sky. He wasn’t sure if he heard a cackle or not. He didn’t care.
I have my book!
He rolled in the dirt, hugging his book, shouting with glee, and staring in wonder at it. He opened the book, scanning page after page. It was all there. Nothing had changed. He wiped a tear from his cheek. He had never felt joy that could make him cry before, only pain. He marveled at how much a single book meant to him, and vowed to never part with it again.
“Ye happy now, Little Man!”
Fogle looked up into Mood’s battle-hardened face. He could see the cracks hidden behind the red hair that surrounded his eyes. He didn’t understand why the dwarf seemed so unhappy.
“I have the book and we live. What is your problem with that?”
“I’m in no habit of letting underlings get away.”
“I’m in no habit of dying, or seeing the same happen to Ox or you. We are fortunate to have the book. It could have taken it all if it wanted.”
“Bah … you men don’t get it, do you? You can’t bargain with evil. Evil wins every time. The only way to beat it is to destroy it. Venir understood th
at. Didn’t he tell ya that?”
Indeed he had. Fogle remembered it well. He had heard the entire take no prisoners speech, finding it to be utterly ridiculous. He had been taught that reason and compromise would always serve him well. So far in his life they had. He followed Mood’s eyes up into the sky. All traces of the underling were gone. He got up, headed for his tent, and recited a spell. His spell book glowed and disappeared.
“Now what, Mood? Do you want to try and find Venir, or go after the underling?”
“Ho! Ho! Now the little man wants me to track an underling, too. Can ye cast a spell on us so we can fly after him?”
“Well, actually, yes. But that’s not what I had in mind. Remember that amulet I gave Venir?’
Mood nodded.
“It’s in the underling's robes.”
The smile that broke out on Mood's broad face was brief. Something beneath them began to shake. The ground started to crack open and something huge was emerging from the opening. Mood’s words ran through his thoughts again, with much more meaning this time than the last.
You cannot bargain with evil. Evil wins every time.
*****
Verbard was relieved. He had been relieved when he dispatched the Darkslayer, but now, with the return of his brother's eyes, he was even more satisfied. He could even return home if he so wished. Still, he was exhausted from the trek, and the impudent human had tested his patience. With the robes and eyes back in his possession there was no need to fool with them, but things had already been underway, before the bargaining had even begun.
He chuckled to himself. He had been ready to fight for what was his, but he didn’t like the risk. Before he set things in motion he had prepared something else. Removing a scroll from his robes, he had read off an ancient spell. The scroll had dissipated when he finished. If he timed everything right, the elemental would be arriving to destroy the man, mintaur and dwarf at any moment.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 18