Lorda gracefully twisted herself from under her husband’s grasp and said, “No.”
“Yet, you believe this man’s words? He seems to be the only witness.”
Melegal’s heart sped up a tad. Hero or goat. Who cares? I’m dead either way.
Lorda’s defiant voice was back. “I’m not some idiot! I am certain this man saved my life. What reason would he have to betray me? Betray us? It would be utterly fatal. His nuggets couldn’t possibly be that big.”
Hah. Thanks, Lady. It might behoove you to know that my nuggets are bigger than I even realized these days. Lord Almen’s eyes bore into him like a hawk. He had a look in his eye that unsettled Melegal in the core. He wasn’t sure how smart Lord Almen really thought he was, but he was certain Lord Almen knew he was much smarter than him. He was positive the man was a few steps ahead in all things, except today.
“It’s just suspicious. I have never known you to faint before.”
“Nor I of you, but it can still happen. If you saw the look of horror in Gordin’s face, you might have been spelled as well. It's the last thing I can remember.” She shivered as goose bumps rose along her slender arms. “Poor Gordin … he was ever so loyal.”
“Like a dog, that man. His loss will be honored, but maybe he is not lost at all. Maybe he survived. He was a most formidable fellow.”
No. He’s dead. All of your sorry arse bastard men are. And if I don’t pull this off, I’ll be joining them. Lord Almen’s brown eyes seemed to be trying to penetrate his skull. Lorda’s expression was pleasant, thankful and warm. I’ve fooled one, but can I fool two?
“Do you think it’s possible?” she asked.
“I’ve already sent men to secure the location and look for Tonio. My best men will be out there finding answers to your questions.”
“I want to go back. I must see for myself.”
Not good! Melegal was hoping to have more time to set the scene. Before returning to Lorda, he had contacted some urchins. The roving little bandits would pick the bodies clean and haul them off. There was a market for dead bodies in Bone; there was a market for anything, dead or living.
Melegal’s body went cold when Lord Almen replied, “Perhaps you are right, my dear. Finding our son should be something that we do together.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Get what you need and meet me at the carriage. I’ll gather some more guards and Sefron. If anyone can sort out what happened there, it’s him.”
Slat!
“Er … any objections, Detective?” Lord Almen asked, his hawkish face as penetrating as ever.
“None, Lord Almen, your wishes are mine,” he said with a slight bow.
“Good, because I want you to come along. I would like you to run us through what happened.”
I would like to run you through, too. Definitely the goat! Slat!
He pulled his fingernails out of his palms and escorted Lorda to the carriage.
Chapter 91
He fought to stay awake long enough to find a safe place to sleep. Venir couldn't remember ever feeling so tired before. He wanted nothing more than to fall into the cushions provided by the tall grass, and slumber. He knew that if he fell asleep, he would wind up back in the ziggurat. He didn’t want to go back. As bad as he wanted to escape the mist, he wanted even more to avoid the giants. This place, wherever it was, was not where he was meant to die.
The dull glow of the orange moons seemed to hang in the black sky forever. It was a soothing light that beckoned for him to sleep. He kept on going, even as each step seemed to make him more tired than the last. The eerie silence of the land only increased his desire for a long, undisturbed rest. It also increased his want to go home. Maybe vengeance had been his path all along. Maybe the destroyer of underlings was what he was meant to be. What kind of man had he become, that lived and did not hunt underlings? He wanted to sit down and think about things, but would not. He had to escape.
He traversed from meadow to meadow, and not a single living creature appeared. No crickets, no hoot owls or bugs crawling over the ground. He was starving, and his side and shoulder were aching, but his surroundings were devoid of anything fulfilling to staunch his hunger or pain. What had the lycan woman said? “Drink from the river to avoid the sleep.” He remembered seeing a bridge, a river, and a dragon, when he first emerged from the mist. The river was the biggest he had ever seen. It had to be somewhere nearby. He closed in on the mist, so he thought, but it seemed just as far away as before.
He looked over his shoulder from time to time. The giants had not come, but certainly something must be coming for him. He was used to being hunted now. The underlings had made a point of it. They sought his death. The silver-eyed one had finally managed his undoing. It had picked him up like a leaf and sent him sailing helpless into the mist. He should have died in there, but he had only survived to die at the hands of another tormenter, the giants. Now he had survived that, only to face dying in his sleep or inside a dragon.
The moons began to dip, and the suns began to rise. A wet breeze ruffled his hair. Venir ran his fingers through his beard. The blonde mat of hair hung inches below his chin. He hadn’t noticed it before. How long had he been down here? There was something damp in the air that made him pick up his agonizing pace. The landscape of rolling hills began to fade, and groves of small trees sprouted up in the distance. Venir could taste it now: something wet, something cold.
He ran for the gleaming stream of sparkling water ahead, thinking his thirst would be unquenchable. He ran and ran, but the distance didn’t seem to close. Keep going! He had a feeling he wasn’t a giant anymore. Everything was beyond what he imagined, like the Great Forest of Bish. What he wouldn’t do to be there, to see its massive leaves one more time. He spurred himself on; he had to be getting closer. A different garden of vegetation began to crop up here and there, filled with mushrooms, daffodils, ferns and dry gullies. Abundant life was here. It was real; he could smell it.
He fell down the bank, dropped his sword, and crawled on his hands and knees to the river, where he plunged his face in the water and drank. He reared up and laughed, splashing the water around. This moment of joy and triumph was something he had not felt in a long time. It felt good. His stomach began to rumble anew. His instincts ignited. There was something living in the river, close by. He could feel it.
“Fish!”
Chapter 92
Eep’s claws dug into the dark tapestry that was made of the sky. He was the only tangible thing he had felt other than the guardian that had been pummeling him in the face. He pushed his claws deep into the fabric, but it led to nowhere. There had been a rip; he had seen it before, one that the guardian passed through that led into the other sky. It led back into Bish, it had to.
The imp allowed his clawed feet to dig into the ceiling now. He walked along it, feeling for some kind of opening or hole. He knew he was inside the sack, and it had limitations, so he walked on, eye alert for the return of the guardian.
He hissed.
Something began to shudder underneath his clawed toes. He hissed again, tongue lashing out, his head swiveling back and forth on a muscular neck. His hands clutched open and closed. He opened his jaws wide and chomped his teeth. If he could only sink his teeth into the guardian, he could get free. Everything around him seemed to shake inside the void.
Eep gasped.
He watched as a hole opened again, far in the distance, and the guardian stepped back through, its eye immediately searching him.
“NO!” he screamed.
The tear in the sky was too far away. If he only had his wings he could have made it. The hole began to close again as the guardian began swimming his way. Something else within caught his eye. A train of objects were passing him from nearby. He couldn’t tell what they were, but they were moving toward the rift. He swam for them, arms and legs pumping in the air, like a frog in water.
“NO!” he shrieked.
The guardian was almost on him now. He could almost fee
l that other imp's fists of granite hammering into him. He caught hold of something and swore he would never let go. The guardian had hold of him now and began to flail away.
Chapter 93
The ancient prison ward wasn’t that far away, but the carriage ride was still long and miserable. It was midday, and the soft leather seats inside were more like sweating pillows. The rain had come and gone, and the humidity was unbearable. Lord Almen had insisted that both Melegal and Sefron accompany him and his wife inside the carriage.
Across from him, Sefron’s twisted stare was transfixed on him the entire trip. The cleric’s bald head was beaded with large drops of sweat that trickled over his scrawny naked chest. As the horses rumbled onward, all Melegal could think of was how badly he wanted to gouge those bulging eyes out. Sefron had set him up, forcing him to whip a delightful servant girl.
At Melegal’s side sat Lorda, proper and elegant in her changed clothes. She dabbed a handkerchief on her neck as the sweat rolled down her cheek and between her breasts. Lord Almen sat beside the foul cleric, saying few words. Melegal hated Almen now — his imposed liege — almost as much as Sefron. He had promised himself he would kill one, but the other he wasn’t so sure he could. Melegal wasn’t a killer, or was he? Three are dead by my hands just today. What has become of me?
He kept his gaze fixed outside the window. There were ten sentries in the company, all in chain mail, strapped with swords and some carrying halberds and pikes. The crest of the Almen house was nowhere to be seen. This mission would only draw the attention of the other Royal houses. Melegal could only wonder how much this little bit of information would be worth to him if he survived the day. At least they’ll be too slow to catch me.
He allowed his eyes to glance over at Sefron. The flabby man wheezed where he sat. Still, the cleric caught his eyes and a slight smile formed on his cross mouth. If Melegal had any reason to survive until tomorrow, it would be to kill Sefron. He wanted vengeance, and he also had a personal need to see someone so sick and perverted undone forever.
The carriage came to a halt, and Melegal was the first one outside. The hot suns were refreshing compared to the rolling sweat box he had just escaped. Lord Almen and Lorda made their way from the other side. As Sefron’s sandaled foot emerged from the carriage, Melegal closed the door.
“Ow!” the cleric said, recoiling back.
Melegal moved on, catching up to the Almens. Sefron exited from the other side of the carriage. The ragged breathing of the cleric was now accompanied by a limp. Melegal couldn’t help but notice Sefron grimacing with every step. Good!
Another half dozen sentries of the Almen house had already secured the area. Sixteen men and then some. Great! Melegal was regretting his impulsive fit of carnage.
Lord Almen engaged himself with one of the sergeant-at-arms.
“Any news to report?”
The sergeant-at-arms was grim, almost sick-looking in his weathered face.
“Lord, it is nothing the likes I have seen before.”
“Oh, I am sure that it couldn’t be much worse than the battlefield. Is there anything else that I should expect, other than some corpses?”
“It’s just that—”
“Let’s go! I must see!” Lorda Almen demanded, shoving her way past the sentry and through the archways.
“Lorda, wait!” Almen said, hustling after her. “Sefron — Detective — what are you waiting for? You,” he grabbed the sergeant-at-arms, “come with us!”
A long series of torches now illuminated the long and winding stairwell. It did little to comfort Melegal, who knew that he was pinned in. If any of them were able to figure that it was his blade that cut their throats, it was all over. He had many blades with him, most too small to notice, but one was rather long and difficult to conceal. A simple search of his person could easily reveal the truth.
Melegal took his time, staying behind Sefron for the duration of the downward trek. The cleric kept making nervous glances back over his hunched shoulders.
“Be careful not to slip,” Melegal said, “it’s a long hard fall.”
“Why don’t you go on ahead then,” Sefron said with a sneer.
“Oh, I’m in no hurry, and I would hate to break your fall.”
“I bet you wuh—”
A blood curdling scream resounded up the stairwell. It was Lorda. Melegal dashed past the cleric, shoving the man into the wall. Lord Almen was right on his heels. The pair, along with the sergeant-at-arms, was on the bottom landing in seconds. Lorda rushed into Lord Almen’s arms and buried her face in his chest, sobbing with hysteria.
“He couldn’t have done this! He couldn’t have.”
Another sentry at the bottom of the stairwell was pressed along the wall, his nervous face looking back and forth at everyone. He started to speak, “I tried to warn the Lorda, Sir—”
The sergeant-at-arms cut him off and began pushing the cell door closed. Melegal grabbed it with his hand and looked to Lord Almen. Sefron managed to huff his way to the bottom of the stairs. Melegal peeked inside the cell and felt himself turn green. Lord Almen and Sefron both caught the look in his eyes.
“Sergeant, escort the Lorda back atop.” He gathered her in his arms. Her face was a blank, her limbs without feeling as the sergeant managed to lead her back up the stairs. “Open the door, Detective.”
Melegal pushed the door open with a gentle bang into the other side of the wall. Sefron was the first through the doorway, followed by Lord Almen and himself. The entirety of the cell looked as if it had been painted with blood. Something had hacked up all of the bodies as if they were wood. Limbs looked like they had either been sheared or torn from their sockets. Fingers had been bitten off and bodies punctured over a dozen times. It looked as if someone had tried to chop the men in half, from head to hindquarters.
Melegal fought the urge to retch, and would have if he were not equally pleased with joy. No way they’ll be able to pin any of this on me. The expressions on Lord Almen and Sefron’s faces were once in a lifetime. Melegal would never forget their looks of astonishment and horror that could not be hidden. After a long moment of silence, Lord Almen gathered himself and stepped out of the cell.
“Come, Sefron,” he ordered.
“But your Lordship, I have an investigation to do.”
Melegal slipped out of the cell as well, intent on dissuading the cleric from finding the truth. He knew the cleric would do anything to find a way to pin it all on him. He knew, because he would do the same in the cleric's place.
Lord Almen added, “There is no need for that now. I have come to my conclusion. Detective Melegal, it seems you have saved my wife from the clutches of a monster. You will have my gratitude.”
Sefron gawped.
Melegal bowed his head a bit and said, “I only did what you would expect me to do, my Lord.”
Melegal didn’t look back as Almen said, “Come with me Melegal, we have much to discuss. Sefron, meet us up top and be quick about it. No diddling with the dead, either.”
He could feel Sefron’s raging eyes burning into his back. The vindication was delicious. If he could fool Lord Almen, could he fool them all. Lord Almen stopped him just over halfway up the stairwell with his large hand pinching the nape of his neck. His voice was almost an inaudible whisper.
“I had my doubts about you, but you have been vindicated. Enjoy all of the rewards my wife might offer, but do not forget who you serve. Do not slip.”
Melegal nodded.
“Are you certain that was the work of my son?”
“I only saw it unfold; I didn’t stick around for the results.”
Lord Almen’s next word was said with a slight bit of admiration.
“Remarkable …”
Lord Almen had been certain that Melegal had spun a tale, but all of the evidence proved him wrong. The man had indeed dragged his wife out of the killer’s den. That killer was his son, a monster that he didn’t understand. Tonio had been deranged when l
ast they parted, but now his child was living on the edge of madness. His son might have killed his own mother. It was unthinkable. The two adored each other more than he and the Lorda ever did. The bond between mother and son was something that he never cared for. Now, his son ran the streets of Bone, a butchering murderer. He had to find him and have him put down. The Lorda would also want that now.
“Sergeant, see to it the cleric doesn’t drag away any parts of the dead. Grab all of the men’s gear and bring it back to the castle. The bodies are to be burned, and no one is to know of this.”
“Yes, Lord.”
Melegal was thrilled. Less than fifteen minutes ago he had been certain that he would be caught. Now, Tonio of all people had become his salvation. Maybe this would garner a room in the castle. Maybe it would give him another week of life. For the first time in months he felt like he had something to look forward to, so long as the dead didn’t come back to life. In the back of his mind he knew anything was possible. Tonio had proved that.
He fought back the smile that wanted to rise on his face as he entered the carriage and sat beside Lorda. She placed her hand on his knee and told him thank you several times. Hero!
Sefron was furious. He had nothing; the thief had tripped him up. There wasn’t anything his desperate searching could do. The bodies were mangled and beyond use. It would take months to figure out what had happened. Still, he was fascinated that Tonio was on the loose. The deranged man had become something else, something evil that he admired. Perhaps he could turn that against Melegal. He hated detectives and their kind. They always were trying to get into his business, and he had to make sure no one ever figured out who he truly served.
Chapter 94
A sound started Venir from his slumber. He wasn’t sure what he heard. He was barely able to tell the difference between reality and his dreams. He had been dreaming of many things since he slept in the Under Bish, things that came and went.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 36