He followed the striders' tracks on the ground. He turned the corner and could see another intersection. Following the tracks, he stopped just short of the corner and listened. Hooved feet trampled the ground on the other side of the wall. They seemed so close at one point, only to trail back off like distant thunder. Venir kneeled down and ran his fingers over the impressions in the dirt. They led to a dead end farther down the intersection. Maybe that’s where they were dropped in? He shook his head.
As he was facing the dead end, he noticed he could head straight to his left or his right. Nothing looked disturbed. There wasn’t even a rotting corpse. Maybe no others had made it this far. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t ready to fight a minotaur. It was something he had never faced before.
“Blasted beast is as big as an ogre,” he said.
Hugging the wall and even brushing its cool surface with his shoulder, he headed up the corridor on his right. His side was burning. He looked down and noticed it was dripping with blood. He pulled off his shirt, stretched it around his waist, and tied it off to try and staunch the bleeding. It’ll have to do. He headed forward, battle heat building with every step. Venir had a feeling this place was filled with booby traps. He heard something scurrying across the ground from somewhere ahead. It was coming faster, getting closer and louder. He froze.
A wave of rats—hundreds of them—were coming his way. The sea of black, white, and gray vermin filled the corridor. Most of them were as big as cats, if not bigger. Their high-pitched squeaking chilled his brains.
Seeing all the gray teeth gnashing below yellow eyes, Venir realized there was only one thing to do. He backtracked at full speed, the vermin nipping at his heels. He had seen rats devour men in dungeons before. It didn’t take them long to pick a man clean once they started. He felt the shivers behind his pumping knees down to his toes. Facing the minotaur seemed like a better way to go.
The rats were almost on him when he ran past the striders he defeated before. The pit, get to the pit. He sprinted past the walls, winding through the corridors, certain of where he was headed. One dead kobold was still on the ground. The pit loomed ahead, long and foreboding. He could hear the rats screaming for his flesh. He ran on, jamming the spear in the ground and using it to vault over the expanse. Pain jabbed into his ankle and his side as he landed at an awkward angle and tumbled hard to the ground. He looked up and watched the rats devour the kobolds. The rest of the frenzied hoard of vermin were spilling like water into the pit.
The rats weren’t alone, however. Something else had been following along their path. On the other side of the pit it stood. It was humanoid and wearing a gray cloak. Its face was hooded, but it wore boots and pants like a man. Its hands were gray and hairy, with long black claws. It reminded him of the Vicious, but it was a little different. A longsword was strapped along its back, where a pink, rat-like tail whipped back and forth. It pulled down its hood to reveal its face. Venir’s skin crawled at the sight of the were-rat, a female one at that. I wish Melegal was here.
Another sound shook him to his core.
“MAAH-ROOOOOO!!”
There it was, seven full feet of horns and brawn was coming his way. The minotaur's hooves shook the ground where he lay. Venir glanced over his shoulder. The were-rat stood with her arms across her furry chest, tail slashing back and forth. The screech of the hungry rats in the pit was like a nail being driven into his ear hole. Venir shook his head. Die fighting!
“So be it!”
He lowered his spear at the minotaur and charged.
Chapter 81
Pow-pow-pow …
Every blow shook his bones. Everything hurt from his lips to his toenails. The fight, or lack thereof on his part, seemed to last forever. All he could do was feel a heavy fist rise and fall on his face, and he was helpless to stop it. He wished his heart would give out, but he didn’t have one, didn’t need one, not to do his job. Right now, something was doing a better job than he ever had … on him.
… Pow-pow-pow …
The pounding stopped. He could see his tormentor moving away from behind the swollen lid of his eye. He wanted to tear the creature to shreds, but Eep the imp could not move … yet.
There was a gap, a tear in the fabric of the dimension. The burly imp, the guardian of the sack, was heading for this tear. The dimension was filled with stars and a network of crossroads. A thousand different colors of candle light painted the landscape. It was similar to Eep’s own magic realm, smaller but deeper. He wanted to explore, find a way out, but he had no wings or power here, just his flesh and bone.
Eep screeched, his tongue lashing out, as the guardian imp headed for the black tear in the sky. His rage burned and ignited fires in his limbs. He swam in the midst of the star-glazed sky. He was moving, willing himself toward the toes of his opponent. The guardian imp was moving faster toward the void, arms cutting through the eerie sky like it was a frog in water. Eep knew he could catch him, because he was the fastest thing he ever knew.
The bigger imp's knotted arms reached upward into the gap and began pulling it through the tear. Eep caught a glimpse of the world he knew, bathed in the glow of its decadent cruelty. He missed the world he hated so much. He swam hard through the sky, stretched to grab the guardian’s toes that disappeared into the brilliant blue sky above. The tear in the sky sealed.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
Chapter 82
Lies! Lies! Lies!
They had to come easy or else the Lorda would know — Melegal was sure of it. Her beautiful eyes penetrated his fabric like a flame catching cotton. He could feel whatever veil of protection his slippery tongue provided wouldn’t be enough. He expected joy and elation when he delivered the sword; instead he was assaulted with a barrage of probing questions. It was a mental inquisition of sorts. He felt his conviction of sharing the partial truth was what kept him alive. Now, he felt a great deal of respect for the ravishing Lorda Almen, who was every bit the complement of her husband. They’re meant for each other.
Melegal walked alongside a black carriage pulled by two black horses. His head felt as heavy as an anvil. Two heavily armed sentries adorned in decorative cuirasses and small ornate helms walked alongside as well. Two more were driving the horses.
“Stop here,” Melegal said. It was a sunny morning in the City of Bone, and the abandoned prison from the old ward didn’t’ seem as full of despair and gloom. He pointed to the archway that led down to the cell that held Tonio. The black alcove was the last place he wanted to go. Nothing but pure evil to be found down there, fools.
One of the sentries grabbed a small block of steps from the back of a carriage and set it down beneath the carriage door. The door swung open. The Lorda stepped down, dressed in a garish green cloak with the hood draped over a portion of her head. She spied the unpleasant surroundings and held a black silk handkerchief to her nose. The sentry bowed as he extended his hand. She was off the steps and on the street in two ginger steps. The man saluted and pulled the stool away.
Melegal bowed his head as she approached.
“Lorda,” he said, bowing.
His eyes lifted up to her eyes and over her shoulder. The steel springs of the carriage groaned. Who is this?
A leg of partial plate armor stepped out onto the street. The carriage door obstructed his vision of the behemoth that had emerged. Melegal could see the top of a man’s forehead. The big man closed the carriage door and stood like a statue. He was bald, blue-eyed, and big. He was an older man, maybe fifty, his face scarred and hard like a soldier of one hundred battles. The sight of the man left Melegal more restless than before. He felt small now, like he did when Venir and Mikkel were around. He’s bigger. The dark gray metal of the man’s partial-plate armor gave the illusion that he was as big as an ogre. The man’s hard stare caught Melegal off guard, forcing him to look away.
The sentry walked over, his shadow falling over him and Lorda, and said, “It seems dangerous. I prefer you stayed back at
the castle. Are you sure you want to do this, Lorda?”
The man’s polished and pleasant voice seemed out of place with his grim exterior. Melegal found something odd about the man.
“Absolutely, Gordin,” she said, brushing past Melegal and looking into the archway. “Is this the place?”
“Yes Lorda,” he said, avoiding the body guard's doubting gaze.
“Then lead the way,” she said.
Melegal hadn’t taken a full step when a powerful hand grabbed his cloak and pulled him up to his toes. “No tricks, Rogue, or I’ll break your neck, and if you survive that, it will be just the beginning.”
“If I live, I doubt I‘ll be feeling anything after that. Besides, I’m not the one you need to worry about. The one down there is where I’d place my concerns if I were you, Bodyguard.”
The man’s droopy eyes became more vibrant and alert as Gordin shoved him forward. Melegal stepped inside the archway and said, “Your hounds may want to bring some light along, Lorda.”
All eyes fell on her. Melegal stood his ground, watching her lips in reply.
“Mind your tongue, Detective. It’s as easy to fall out of my favor as into it.”
“Apologies, Lorda. I just wanted to get their blood up. It will be needed.”
She seemed to pale at the sound of his cold words. Good. But her curiosity over the demise of her son would not be deterred. I warned them.
Two sentries surrounded him, torches in hand. Their fires were lit, and Melegal stepped down into the stairwell in the brightened gloom. One sentry followed him from two steps behind. The Lorda followed the sentry. Gordin her bodyguard took her back, with the remaining sentry with the other torch in the rear. Their breathing seemed exceptionally loud to Melegal's ears. His own was hardly a vapor, but his heart was pounding in his chest. Stupid idea.
They all crowded on the landing now, the metal door locked and alone in their midst. Melegal could still envision the tormented face of the man, Tonio, behind the bars in the door. Of all men, this was the last one he ever wanted to see again. They all waited, heads cocked, as the torchlight flickered on their eager faces. The sentries all dripped with sweat; only the Lorda’s face was calm. Silence and their own heavy breath greeted them.
Her voice seemed uncomfortably loud when she said, “This is it, the cell where my son is held?”
“Yes,” he said. His hand trembled slightly as he slid open the portal window. No one seemed to notice but him.
“Is there a key?” Gordin said.
“I’m the key,” Melegal said, pulling out his tools. “Shall I unlock it?”
Lorda grabbed a torch from one of the sentries and held it to the barred window in the door. She pushed up on her toes, her head barely clearing the bottom of the small window. “I can’t see anything. Gordin, take a look.”
She handed the torch to Gordin. His face looked like an over-sized goblin in the orange light. He looked down inside the small window. Melegal inched back, palms rubbing the pommels of his daggers tucked in the back of his pants. Here goes.
“Hmmph …” the massive body guard said. “I see nothing.” Gordin peered deeper into the window. “Smells foul, like dungeon rot.”
Melegal felt Lorda’s heavy gaze fall on him.
“You’re sure he was alive, Detective,” she said in a shrill voice, “not dead?”
Melegal nodded. It’s a matter of interpretation, I suppose. Still, he should have heard a rustle or something by now, but the heavy breathing and the jangling gear was disrupting his skill. Amateurs.
Melegal almost gasped as Gordin stuck the torch through the bars. “I don’t see nothing Lorda, just some puddles and …” he took a deeper look inside, “… rats. Big ones, too. I wonder how—”
BANG!
Gordin’s arm was pulled inside up to the shoulder, his helmet slamming hard into the metal door. Everyone jumped back. The sentries fumbled for the swords in their sheaths.
“HEY!” Gordin yelled, fighting to pull his arm back through the portal.
The big man gave a grunt, his face darkening, spitting through his lips. A tug of war between the man and what was behind the door ensued. Melegal saw the light of the torch inside expire. Gordin’s face became a mask of anger and pain.
“Tonio! Tonio! Stop, my son! It is your mother!” Lorda cried, slamming her hands against the door.
The sentries stood at her sides, their weapons of little use in such close quarters.
“Blast you, Thief — open this door!”
A moment in time seemed to freeze as Melegal got a closer look at their horrified faces. Not a one of them had any idea what to do. They should have listened to him. Fools! His mind ran over a dozen scenarios. What was it Lord Almen had said? Be the hero or the goat. He put his slender hand on his cap and concentrated. A smile grew inside his head as his mind began to glow, tendrils of energy racing through a network of thoughts.
“Hurry up, Detective! Rrraahhh!” Gordin bellowed.
“Just one more moment!” he said.
“Tonio! Tonio! Tonio! Listen!” Lorda cried, pounding on the door.
Melegal let his suggestion go …
Chapter 83
Venir stopped inches short of a great sword ripping out his throat. The minotaur’s swing took a chunk out of the wall instead. He countered with the spear, jabbing at the creature's abdomen, tearing a piece of flesh from its side. The creature backed away, stamping its hooved feet on the ground. Venir poked at it, backing it farther down the corridor. It was as if the minotaur had never faced an experienced fighter before. It snorted, its massive arms knotting as it brandished its sword.
Swoosh!
The decapitating chop soared over his head like a stroke of lightening, forcing Venir to the ground, belly first. He rolled left. Debris burst from where the sword chopped into the ground. He rolled right, dodging the next powerful blow. Venir caught the minotaur in the belly with the butt of his spear. It was like hitting a wall, but the man-monster backed off, blowing snot from its nose. Venir was on his feet, winded and squaring up again. He blocked out the pain in his leg as he shuffled in a circle. The broad hairy chest of the minotaur rose and fell with normal effort. It was an elemental thing, a tireless beast bred for destruction. The spear and short sword were slippery in his grasp now, unlike the sure-handed grip he always felt on Brool. Boon had minutes earlier all but given his existence good-bye. That seemed likely now. He couldn’t remember the last day when it hadn't.
Go for the hands!
The minotaur chopped at him with short strokes, keeping him off balance and shifting away. The long blade of its sword could chop a pony in half. One cut could be fatal. Venir found himself being forced back toward the mouth of the spiked pit full of rats. From the corner of his eye, he saw the lycan mere-rat girl poised to spring across the pit.
Venir dashed forward to his left. His path was cut off by a resounding chop into the ground. Venir jumped over the blade and dashed farther down the corridor. He was almost back to where the journey had begun. He took a peek over his shoulder as the beast-man renewed his approach. He didn’t want to go too far. There was no telling what was around the next corner. The rat-woman still stood on the other side of the pit, sword now drawn, waiting with a pink glimmer in her eyes. He labored for his breath, braced himself, and decided to face his fate head on.
He beckoned with his sword and spear once more. The minotaur’s head reared up as it roared and charged. Venir braced himself; timing was everything. Twenty steps away, the creature lowered its sword level to his chest. He dropped the sword and lowered his spear, its unwavering tip steady, extended six feet before him. Venir eyed a bead on its heart as he braced himself for the impact. Ten steps—Five steps—
The minotaur's chest collided with the spear, it’s barbed tip right on.
SNAP!
The spear shaft shattered like a twig. The great sword still came down, cutting through the meat on Venir’s shoulder. Man and beast's bodies collided as
the minotaur bowled him over. Venir scrambled to crawl out from underneath five-hundred pounds of monster. It clutched at his legs. Venir kicked it in the face with his heel. The effect was minimal as it rose to its feet again. It clutched at its chest where the spear was buried. Red blood ran over its black-furred chest.
“MAH-ROOOOO!” it bellowed.
Venir couldn’t tell if he had hit a vital spot or not. It was not a man, but a beast. His own shoulder was on fire, and his left arm dangled at his side. His eyes roved for the short sword. It lay on the ground beneath its feet. He wiped his hair from his eyes and closed them for one second. Bone!
The minotaur charged, head down, horned head catching him full in the chest and driving him into the wall. Venir never would have guessed the thing could have moved so fast. The force knocked the breath from his lungs as he collapsed and slid down the wall. Things inside his body were broken. Pain was replaced by numbness. His head rang and dark purple spots were all over. He looked up just in time to see the beast raise its hoof to stomp the slat out of him.
Chapter 84
There was a way out. There always was. Eep had seen things in his mystic life that the common mind of mortal beings couldn’t comprehend. He just never gave it any thought. The complexities surrounding his life were beneath his desires: search and destroy. Still, he was a survivor, and if he were to continue his life of letting blood and onslaught, he would have to find a way out of this world.
He crossed one bridge only to find himself on another. He stopped and looked over its edge and saw himself looking down at himself. He sat down and bit at his black-taloned hands. He was in another world within a world. His own world, the dimension of magic from which he was summoned, was still another. He pondered this. Unlike his world, he could not see out of this one. All he could see within the space were bridges and roads, all of which seemed to go nowhere. One of them had to go somewhere.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 33