Venir came to heavy oak double doors. They were too big for a normal man to open. As a giant, he had no problem lifting the bar and pulling them back . Open fields greeted him as far as the eye could see.
“Drink from the river to stay awake,” she said. The rat-woman darted into the weeds, waved, and was gone.
It was strange, wherever he was. He was outside now, but lost. The ziggurat at his back must have been fifty man-stories tall. He looked back inside the fortress once more. The place was devoid of any pursuit, but certainly the giants would be coming. Move or die. He jogged along a road, hoping it would lead to the river, checking over his shoulder every so often. The suns were setting behind the giants' home. The need for rest and food began to overcome him. His wounds were clotted, but his body ached from every heavy step, and the battle heat was subsiding.
He wondered if Boon would survive; he could use some more magic assistance right now. And what of the rat-woman who had so quickly come and gone. Maybe he was better off without her. Those lycan girls were full of tricks, and leading him here might yet prove to be one. As he continued his trot down the path, he began to wonder if any of what he was doing was real at all. The cobbled road turned to stone and sand. It wasn’t long before the shape of the ziggurat was a speck behind him. The mist was even farther in the distance.
“There has to be somewhere else to go.”
His eyes roved over the landscape in all directions. It was all the same. There were sloping dales and abundant trees, but no other signs of life. He looked at his hands and could no longer tell if he was as big as a giant or normal sized. Everything was an unnatural mess.
Whump ... Whump... Whump ... Snort!
He crouched down. The skies had darkened, and the moonlight was hidden by the thick rolling clouds. He wondered if that dragon was looking for him. Bone. He waited, but no other sounds came. He continued down the path of the fading road, the short sword gripped tight in his right hand, his left arm almost dragging the ground. Sleep and exhaustion were settling over him as he trudged along. The last time he fell asleep he had awoken in a maze, the time before that in a dungeon. Keep going, Vee, or die.
Chapter 88
Faint. Faint. Faint.
Melegal repeated the suggestion in his mind. Lorda Almen’s knees gave out as she swooned and fell backward. One sentry dropped his torch as he caught her, while the other dropped to his knees and attended her.
“Blast you, Rogue, open the door now before my arm’s ripped off!” Gordin yelled back over his shoulder.
Melegal dropped his leather satchel of tools to the ground and withdrew something else. His bony hands were wrapped along the hilt of his two-handed dagger, the same one he had used to kill McKnight. He rose up on his toes as Gordin turned to yell at him once more. The struggling man’s face turned ashen.
Melegal raised his arms above his head, and the dim blade flashed red in the torchlight. Gordin’s big sweaty face turned white and he had a look of death in his eyes. Melegal plunged the dagger down into Gordin’s exposed neck. He could feel the sharp blade of the dagger sink deep into the muscle and into the spine. Gordin’s eyes rolled up in his head, his lids shut, and blood oozed from his mouth. The big body was lifeless and banging into the portal. Tonio seemed determined to pull the dead man through. Melegal stood captivated by the morbid scene.
He wrenched his blade free and knelt back down behind Gordin’s sagging legs. The guards were still attending to Lorda Almen, oblivious to the silent murder that just occurred. Melegal grabbed his tools and began picking at the ancient padlock. His mind was flowing with energy now, his body moving as fast as his thoughts. He had a superior feeling he could do anything he wished right now. The padlock popped open.
“Take her back to the carriage,” one of the guards instructed the other.
Melegal hurled the lock into the speaking man’s unsuspecting face. The other sentry turned on him in time to catch a blade in his throat. The man collapsed on the landing, blood flowing from the hole in his neck. Now the other man was ready, a longsword swinging through the dark. Melegal side-stepped the clumsy blow and slashed the man’s wrist.
“Gah!” the man’s sword clanged on the ground.
Melegal closed in, two daggers at the ready. Cut, cut, thrust! Cut, cut, thrust!
The sentry gawped as steels made a pin cushion out of him. Melegal continued to whittle the dying man down to a bloody stump. Something angry inside him pressed the torment on. In a moment it was over, and his chest was heaving.
Melegal looked around at the mess he had created. What madness is this? What have I done?
There was silence in the chamber now. A feeling of horror crept over him as Gordin’s body was released and sliding down the door. He slung Lorda over his shoulder, backed up a few stair steps, and surveyed the surroundings. It wasn’t his style, slaughtering men like hogs. He shrugged. So be it!
“Come on VENIR, let’s get out of here!” he shouted, racing up the stairs. He was over halfway up when he heard the door slam open.
Someone yelled from down below, “VEE-MAN!”
Come and get him, Tonio!
Melegal burst up the remaining stairs and charged through the archway. The bewildered sentries drew their swords.
“He’s killed them! He’s killed them all! I’ll put her in the carriage, you hold him off!”
“Hey! How do we know … ulp!”
Melegal wasn’t paying their comments any mind. He threw open the carriage door and tossed Lorda Almen inside.
“VEEMAN!”
A chill went down his spine. He had enough sense to grab the reins as the horses tried to bolt.
Tonio stood in the archway now, a ghastly sight. A jagged scar ran down from his head to his torso, and his eyes were a smoky evil yellow. The man looked even fouler than Melegal remembered. The once proud Royal warrior’s skin was caked with dry dead skin that cracked and drifted off in the wind. Melegal expected that at any moment the man’s body would fall apart. It didn’t. Instead, the man slammed into the first sentry and tried to tear his screaming head off. The other sentry chopped into Tonio’s side. Tonio turned on the sentry, twisted the sword from his hand like a child’s toy, and punched him in the face. Melegal didn’t stick around to see what happened next.
“Eee-yah!” Melegal cried, whipping the reins and driving the horse and carriage over the roadway. He dared another glance back over his shoulder. Tonio was dragging one of the men back through the archway. Poor bastards. His plan had been a bad one, but it had worked. Now he had Lorda Almen in his clutches. He had to decide what to do. Did he take her home or somewhere else?
Someone had lied. There was no Vee-man to be found. Tonio dragged all the bodies down the stairwell to the landing and stripped them down. He had been sure the big one was the Vee-Man, but when he pulled off the armor he only found a bloody back and no V-shaped tattoo. It made him angry, and he had an uncontrollable fit.
He didn’t remember doing it afterward. He remembered something else. Mother. Had that really been her calling for him? He had heard so many things inside that room he couldn’t tell what was real. An aroma drifted into his nose, the smell of tiger roses. It was what his mother liked and what he liked for her. Had she come for him? Did she still care for him? He peered up into the stairwell, watching for the suns to go down. The bright light blinded his eyes. He would venture above when the dark came out; it had become his bedfellow.
In the meantime, Tonio sat at the bottom steps and donned Gordin’s armor and bastard sword. He felt hungry, but not for food. There was little hunger in him after months of solitary confinement. Any pangs he had, the rats fulfilled. He could eat; he just didn’t have the desire to. He'd had nothing to live for before, feeling his mother had forgotten him. Now, it was clear she had come for him. He checked the gash in his side. It wasn’t bad, just a rip through the muscle to the bone. No blood was lost within him, and he was absent of pain.
He held the torch over his scaly
hands and started picking the dry flesh off. Smooth gray skin was still underneath his shell. He ran his fingers over the scar than ran a jagged course down his face. He held Gordin’s dismembered head in his hand and gave it study. The face was similar, but not the same.
“Venir,” he said in his raspy voice.
That was the man who had caused it all. He needed help. What was that other man’s name?
“McKnight,” he croaked out.
There was a carriage and a man on top. Was that McKnight or Venir? The image was blurry. Maybe Venir had his mother now. Someone had said Venir was here. He needed help getting his thoughts sorted out. McKnight could help with that, if he could find him, or should he go home?
He searched the sentries' clothing for money and loaded himself up with all the weapons he thought he needed. He had trouble deciding what to do. His mother could help him, would help him. He had to find her. He had to find Venir and kill him.
“Rrrr-ah!” he growled as he launched Gordin’s head into the wall with a nasty smack.
He watched the darkness blot out the light above and headed up the stairway. The clouds had rolled in overhead, and it began to rain. He stepped out into the street and wandered.
Chapter 89
When Kam awoke she felt feverish. Her white night gown was drenched, and the blankets on her goose feather bed were damp. She also felt like emptying her already empty stomach. She couldn’t recall the last time she had felt so ill before, but this had to be the worst.
“Lie down, Dear, lie down,” Joline said, stepping into the room, a fresh pitcher of water in her hand.
“No, I’m all right,” Kam croaked. “Just get me to my feet.”
Joline’s pleasant face was stern as she walked over, fluffed up her pillows and gently shoved her back into them. “Take a few drinks first.”
Kam ran her fingers through her matted hair and thought how dire her need was for a comb. How terrible she must look now. She had to get past Joline and find a mirror before anyone else saw her.
Joline pressed a crystal glass to her lips and said, “Drink this and I’ll fix the rest of you. Don’t you worry; no one’s been coming around to see you. Everyone’s got plenty to do, but lots of people are asking.”
Guilt was beginning to overtake her strange fever feelings. Her customers and workers depended on her, and she might as well have been dead to them, and what about Georgio and Lefty? Who was watching over them? The last thing she remembered was Lefty leading her out of the room by the hand. Something was wrong with that boy. He had seemed strange.
She drank. The cool liquid was more than a common glass of water, something Joline whipped up for customer hangovers. The taste of mint and other spices seemed to perk her up, but only a tad so.
She had a dozen questions on her mind, but she only had the strength to ask one.
“Where are the boys, and how long have I been out?”
Joline was keeping herself busy, straightening up the items in her bedroom.
“Joline,” she said with growing irritation, “Answer me!”
The woman turned around with a flustered look on her aging face. Joline was tired, too. Still, she answered, “Another week you been out, and the boys are just fine. Georgio is staying close, helping with the Roost, and Lefty is spending time at Master Gillem’s flower shop.”
“Master who?”
Joline seemed excited as she sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. Her friend added, “Yes, Gillem is a halfling that has taken to Lefty like a long lost uncle. The boy’s never been more accountable than since Gillem came along. I must tell you Kam, you would like him, and he’s full of the most pleasant stories and delivers the most beautiful bouquets of flowers.” Joline pointed toward the dresser. “See those over there? Those are from Master Gillem.”
Kam was more than impressed. The flowers were beautiful, and the vase was filled with many of her favorite kinds. She said, “They are wonderful. Did this Gillem bring them in here?”
“Oh, lords no, I’d never let a man see you looking like this.” Joline paused under her glare. “I … uh, well Lefty brought them up. He’s been looking in on you. He feels awfully bad about your sickness and all, acts like he’s the cause of it.”
Kam set the glass down on her nightstand and said, “Maybe he is.”
“What?”
“I tell you, something is strange with Lefty. This can’t be some coincidence. I’m smarter than that, and you should be, too.”
“Ah, I think you need more rest K—”
“No, I don’t need more rest! What I need is to find out is what is wrong with me! There’s that terrible woman, Palos, Lefty, and this Gillem. All of this is not ordinary. Things like this don’t just happen all at once.” She grabbed the glass off the table and took another swallow.
“Everyone goes through a rough patch, Kam. You’ve just never had so much to deal with before.”
Kam wanted to slap the woman. She was certainly smart enough to know better than most. Her family had taught her that much. Things happen for a reason. Something causes them. She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t about to let someone play her for a fool. Palos was behind this; she was sure of it.
“Get those flowers out of my room!” she yelled.
The look on Joline’s torn face began to sink into her heart. She had never screamed at Joline before. She felt ashamed and began to cry. She sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Joline. I just feel so bad.”
Joline squeezed her hand and said, “Dear, you’ve been sick a long time. It’s worn you down, and it’s a lot of stress. You’ve been going through something for the first time that a lot of women go through.”
Kam wiped her tears on her blanket and said, “What?”
“Dear girl, we are pretty sure why you have been sick, now.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Just me and your mother.”
“My mother's been here?”
“Of course, several times.”
Some relief began to flood over Kam. She hadn’t spoken with her mother in a long time, but it wasn’t because of a falling out. They were both just busy, independent women. She asked, “What did she say was wrong with me?”
Joline ran her hands over her belly and said with a pleasant smile, “You’re pregnant, Kam.”
She felt like her world had come to an end.
Chapter 90
“I cannot believe this! Why would you do something so foolish? Why didn’t you tell me? You could have been killed!” Lord Almen’s face was a mask of fury, and his voice was barely under control.
Lorda Almen stood her ground, stepping between the Royal Lord and Melegal. The detective had been listening to the argument go round and round for the past fifteen minutes. She knew Lord Almen was acting, but it didn’t feel like it.
“I’ll have you flogged, Detective! You had no business taking my wife on wild chases—“
“He is at my command as well!” Lorda yelled. “If I say go, he goes. What is yours is mine, Dearest, or has that changed?” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her husband.
Lord Almen stepped forward and gripped her shoulders.
“It changes when you have evidence of my son's return and you don’t inform me. It changes when you send this man on a quest without my knowledge. Our trust is sacred, but only when you don’t break our bond. Lorda, you can do what you will with your servants, but not mine!”
Melegal was helpless as the man shook the woman like a doll. He knew the Royal Lord wanted to do nothing more than snap her pretty neck,or did he? He’s convincing. I’ll give him that. He wondered how much abuse the woman had been through, if any at all. Her eyes blazed right back into his as she tore herself away. Lorda screeched as Lord Almen caught a handful of her hair and jerked her head back. A look of remorse appeared on his face and his tone softened.
“I cannot let you go, Gail, you know that. You are my life, my everything. I would rather suffer the lash my
self than see an ounce of harm come to you.” He ran his free hands over the rings on her fingers and the jewels across her chest. She bunched up and pulled away, but he held her tight, staring deep into her eyes. “Have I not gone to extreme measures to get you what you want? Have men and women not suffered at my hand in your tribute. Did I not kill—”
“Stop!” she interjected, easing back into his arms. “I know all you have done, but there are things a mother must do as well. It’s not something you would understand … you are a man.”
“I am your man.”
Lorda smiled and closed her eyes as he pulled her entirety into his arms.
“I know, but you must trust my instincts. After all, they led me into your arms.”
You gotta be kidding me. Ten seconds ago they were ready to kill one another. Melegal shifted on his feet, his eyes all over the secluded dining room, on everything but the two of them. It was a room he had never been in before, but Almen had brought them both there after she came around. The pleasant setting did little to quash the queasiness in his stomach. After Melegal had woken her up, he'd had time to tell her about his version of the slaughter by her son, Tonio. He had spun lie after lie, but felt he had been convincing enough. The hardest part had been explaining the blood on him and her. As careful as he had been with his cuts, he couldn’t control the spray. His agitation had cost him on the last man. He blamed the blood on the valiant sentries that fought Tonio as he carried her free of the skirmish. Her eyes were still lazy, her sharp mind not yet intact. He thought she had bought it.
He had sent word to Almen through a sentry and made sure her arrival was kept discreet. Lord Almen had arrived shortly after that and dragged them away from the back courtyard.
Melegal was counting the panes on the glass windows when Lord Almen caught his ear.
“My dear, did you not even see a glimpse of our son? Or hear his voice?”
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 35