Brak had had many dreams lately, but he had kept that to himself. The face of Venir would come and go, screaming in pain and fury.
Leezir’s voice was cold.
“You aren’t ready for that yet, and you still owe me.”
Brak’s head dipped. He was certain he would always owe the Slerg.
Chapter 96
He had survived. He hoped Venir had, too, and wished he could have made an escape with him. Boon was proud, though, of having the guts to help the man stay alive. After the giant swatted him like a rodent he thought for sure he would die. He hadn't. A simple spell had afforded him a cushion that protected his body from a painful break. Still, the force of the landing had been enough to black him out. The cushioning spell had only lasted a couple of instants.
He blinked, but it made little difference since he had no light. Most of the time he couldn’t remember if his eyes were opened or closed, as if it mattered. It was frustrating; the man named Venir had become like family in the few moments he had spent with him. He and the warrior had something in common … the sack. Boon knew the sack might not free him, but it could give him power if it chose to do so. He longed for it. It was near; it had to be. It was the only way that Venir could have survived the mist, wasn't it?
Boon gave Venir’s prowess much thought. The man was strong, like a tiny-sized giant. And that tattoo … What was that tattoo all about? He had heard the giants murmuring about it, saying it was special, something about giants' blood. Maybe it wasn’t a tattoo after all, but a different mark of an ancient sort. Regardless, unlike the others that came and fell, Venir had make quite the impression. They wanted him dead or dragged back to be finished in the maze. Boon had a feeling, though: if any man could escape the Under Bish, Land of the Giants, it was Venir.
This is ridiculous! I cannot scratch a single thing! I can’t even scream for water … Blast!
He missed talking, but the giants had seen to it that he wouldn’t be talking to anybody anytime soon. Instead, Boon was immobilized in a metal cocoon. He couldn’t see or move a single appendage. All he had was a tiny nose hole within a body-tight steel sarcophagus. He tried to look on the bright side of things: at least he lived. He could smell and hear things, too.
The giants were restless, and had been for quite some time since the warrior left. It was good, good for him; he knew the man somehow lived. Maybe he had been wrong about his chances of leaving. Maybe his confidence had been lost long ago with the sack of mystical armament. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t tried very hard to escape before. Now, the brute warrior was doing something he hadn’t even bothered to dream about.
Boon wanted to escape now, more than anything. A fire had been ignited within him. It wasn’t possible, though. The giants kept him closely guarded. They liked having him around to be the delegate to the other races.
I’ll bide my time. It won’t be long before I slip their minds.
The giants made it clear that they weren’t going anywhere. Their breathing was heavy, and they smelled like drying leaves. Wherever they went, they carried him along, like a cherished figurine to decorate the mantle.
Boon wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.
Fie upon you, stupid giants!
Chapter 97
“IF YOU CAN SURVIVE THAT, YOU CAN SURVIVE ANYTHING!” the giant said, walking away.
Venir didn’t hear a word of it. The only thing he heard was his blood spilling on the ground. Everything hurt, and his body twitched with convulsions. His limbs felt twisted. Blood filled his mouth, drowning him. Fighting the agony, he tried to force himself on his side. He was doing it, but he didn’t know how he was. His mind rocked and reeled, and yet he couldn’t block his suffering out. It seemed to get worse with every raspy breath. A blood bubble burst outside his nostril.
His eyes were almost swollen shut, and his face was smashed. He turned his head and coughed reddened chunks onto the ground. It felt like an entire lung had been torn inside him. He couldn’t feel his legs, but they must have been dislocated or broken. In the back of Venir’s mind, all he could think about was the Warfield. It was the place he preferred to go, to fight and die and perish into the sands before a host of bloodthirsty warriors. Instead, he lay dying in a place of the unknown, lost and as forgettable as the first rain drop.
He could see the giant looking back over its shoulder, laughing as it strode away.
“LITTLE GNAT! HAH … HAH … HAH!”
The black dragon was by its giant master's side, like a scaly black dog whose tail whipped back and forth.
CHONGO! What bothered him most about dying was that he would never see his dog again. Chongo had never left his side, so why had he left Chongo? UNDERLINGS! The foul little black creatures had gotten what they wanted, separated this fool of a warrior from his dog and his world. His giant dog? He had failed his friend. Perhaps he deserved to die, alone, in a land that no one knew existed. Venir shuddered violently once more and lay still. Suffer and die.
FLASH!
The brilliant white light exploded in his skull, sending tendrils of cleansing white hot power coursing through every busted bone and torn fiber in his being, setting his veins on fire. He could feel and hear the crackling sounds of his bones mending. Energy washed over him, pouring from his helmet like a bucket filling from a waterfall. Venir had felt like slat for days, weeks, or even months, but now he felt like something entirely new. His eyelets burned with smoldering black light. He rose to his feet with Brool clutched fiercely in his grip. Let’s try this again!
Venir sprinted for the giant, face red with rage, heart exploding with fury. The dragon’s long neck twisted around, and when it saw him, it reared up and roared, lashing out with its tail as Venir closed in. As the tail swept over the ground, Venir hurtled over it to chop into the side of the giant’s knee.
“R-R-R-RAAAAHHHHHHHH!” the giant yelled.
Venir’s biceps worked his axe with bone-jarring ferocity.
CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!
The giant’s leg was dangling by skin and muscle just below the knee, spurting blood like a busted pipe spurting water, all over Venir, soaking him and gushing to the ground.
“NOOOOO!” the giant cried, falling to the ground. “NOOOOOO!”
Venir tried to wipe the blood from his eyes.
The black dragon’s tail lashed out.
SWAT!
Venir went skipping across the ground like a river stone.
“BONE!”
He was on his feet again, shield lowered and Brool ready. The dragon, Blackie, reared up on its hind legs, looming almost as tall as the giant, and then it roared and charged his way, shaking the ground.
“Come on, Snake!”
The dragon’s hands reached out, claws ripping at his head. Venir brought Brool down, clipping the back of its hand. Blackie roared again and began stomping its big clawed foot at him. He and Brool were smaller and quicker, the giant razor whirling and biting into the dragon's skin. Venir sheared off a section of meat and scales, igniting a frenzied roar from the beast. Another stroke of steel split the skin between the dragon’s toes.
WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! SNORT!
The dragon’s massive wings expanded, and it lifted off. Venir was unrelenting, cutting a nasty gash across its armored belly before it escaped into the sky. It sounded like the world was going to end when it roared. Now it hovered twenty feet over Venir’s head, eyes intent on his death. There he stood in the field, smoke from the burning grove rolling across his features, the wind of the wings drying his blood-soaked hair. Then it came, that sound that came as all of the air around him was sucked away.
This is it!
He thought of all the bodies he’d seen dropped in the furnace back in Bone.
He raised his shield just as the stream of fire came, and he screamed in defiance. His scream lasted a while, but the fire lasted longer. The heat was a hundred fold what he expected. The blast of fire rained down on his shield and splattered like molte
n lava onto the ground. It was agony. Venir swore his blood was boiling on the inside of his smoking skin. He couldn’t breathe; he could barely think. The fire stopped. Chill bumps rose all over his arms and legs as the daylight's hot air turned cold. Coated in wet giant blood, Venir was smoldering like a wet towel in the baking suns, but he was alive.
THOOM!
The black dragon dropped from the sky, its reptilian jaw open wide like a fanged door. Venir could see the beast no longer had the fire behind its bejeweled eyes. The magnificent dragon was reduced to little more than a flying lizard. Its head and tail rolled back and forth in contempt.
It hissed.
Venir laughed.
It charged.
It was fast for a cumbersome beast, but Venir was faster. Brool cut its striking tail. It recoiled. Venir whirled and drove a spike into its nose. It tried to pin Venir to the ground, only to lose a part of its toe.
The dragon’s armor was hard though, like a shield of stone. Venir’s muscular arms were jolted like a black smith hammering iron with every blow. Brool’s keen edge was digging in, chipping at the scaled armor like wood. The dragon recoiled and struck. Venir jumped and chopped. The dragon’s tail and snapping jaws both struck like frenzied snakes. Venir battled on, ducking, diving, and chopping like a man possessed.
The dragon swatted him to the ground like a rodent with its hand. Its jaws dove down where he lay, filling with a mouthful of dirt as Venir rolled away. He drove his axe's spike deep into the beast's shoulder. It recoiled back, roaring as if it had never been hurt before. Another roar came, so loud Venir felt his legs go numb.
SNORT! WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!
The proud beast rose from the ground again, its long neck sagging as it soared away, across the river and into the mist. Venir fell down to the ground, trembling and thirsty. His chest heaved. His body felt busted and broken again.
His instincts fired a warning. Where was the giant? His eyes followed the trail of blood that smeared a path in the tall grass.
The giant was propped up against the bank of the gully nearby, its head dipped into its chest. Its leg had detached and lay like a log, a bloody stump at one end. Venir limped over the giant’s way. The leather belt that held up the giant’s pants was strapped like a vise around its leg. One glazed eye opened up as Venir approached.
“COME … TO … FINISH ME … HAVE …YOU, … LITTLE GIANT?”
Venir could hardly talk.
“Not if you tell me how to get out of here. Otherwise, your other leg is coming off … and then some,” he said, waving his gory axe before the giant’s bloodshot eye.
The giant closed his eye and sighed.
Venir wondered if the giant man had expired all together. He poked Brool’s spike into its toe. The giant’s head rolled back like a lazy dog.
“THEY WILL BE HERE SOON.”
“Who,” he yelled.
“MY BRETHERN COME!”
Venir raised his axe.
“Well, then they will be coming to bury their dead brother.”
“NOOOO! STOP!” the giant tried to shout, but its voice was weak. It held out its giant hand while slowly its head swiveled around. “HUH … YOU CHASED OFF BLACKIE. HE’LL BE BACK WITH HIS BROTHERS. BETTER YOU HIDE, OR GO BACK TO OUR HOME. DRAGON WILL EAT YOU ALIVE. ONE PIECE AT A TIME. YUM.”
Venir sliced the skin beside the giant’s big toe.
“OWWW!”
Mood had told him about giant lies and tricks, but the thought of more dragons coming coiled fear along his spine. Venir walked over and stood alongside the giant’s head. His helmet’s spike was almost level to its shoulder. Venir never felt smaller as he rose up on his toes to speak.
“Last chance, Giant. Tell me how to get back to Bish, and I’ll let you live.” Venir’s eyes still burned like blue fires. “Anything else, and I’m going to chop you up one piece at a time!” he screamed into its ear.
“ALL RIGHT, I’LL TELL.”
“Give me your word on the truth.”
It sighed.
“YES.”
“Out with it,” he said, banging the flat of Brool’s blade on its chin.
“CROSS THE RIVER. STAY ON THE THAT SIDE, AND FOLLOW IT DOWN STREAM INTO THE MIST.”
Venir felt as if the sky was closing in on him. Not the mist again. His stomach fluttered. Still, if the mist was the only way in, then it had to be the only way out.
“I heard no river on my way in and smelled no water.”
The giant’s neck rolled over, its blood shot eye twitching back and forth.
“THE RIVER ONLY LEADS OUT, NOT BACK IN. STAY CLOSE TO THE RIVER.”
The giant groaned, sighed, and let its head slump down. Venir could see a stream of blood emptying from its stump and into the river. He looked at what remained of the fingers on his hand. He shrugged. It wasn’t so bad; they were only halfway gone. It wasn’t his drinking hand, anyway.
He was relieved to find the sack still wrapped around his arm. Scanning the sky, he took a deep breath and dropped the armament back into the sack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed into the river. He kicked along with the current until he made it to the other side, and then walked, checking the skies now and again as he made his way toward the mist. Taking one last look at the setting suns, he wondered what had happened to Boon and the rat-woman. As he stepped into the mist, certain to keep his toes wet, he walked on and on.
Before long, Venir wasn’t sure if any of his adventures in the Under Bish had ever really happened at all.
Epilogue
Kam looked down at the bump on her belly and watched it disappear. It was good, being a mage. Her magic made it easier to hide things. She pulled her auburn hair back in a bun, slipped on her clothes, and headed downstairs into the tavern. It was early; the light of the two suns was only just peeking in through the ruffled cracks of the curtained windows.
In the weeks it had been since Joline informed her of her pregnancy, her own resiliency had become stronger. Joline said her face radiated with energy, and the concerned patrons of the Magi Roost affirmed those opinions as well. No one knew she was pregnant, except her mother and Joline. What she did wasn’t any different than what most magi could do during a pregnancy. Some hid it for reasons of vanity, others for their own personal concerns.
A host of voices could be heard from down below. One was a baritone man, big, black and bald. He had arrived during Kam’s illness, a friend of Venir’s sent to keep tabs on the boys. Mikkel’s jovial voice and bright smile were just what everyone needed during some of the tavern’s darkest hours, the time when everyone had been anxious about Kam’s comatose state. She looked down over the rail onto Georgio’s wide-eyed face. The boy sat on a bar stool, his chin propped up on his elbows, hanging on Mikkel’s every word.
“… Boy, that ogre had over one hundred pounds on Vee, this much taller,” the man motioned with his arm raised high above his head. “Farc was like a living nightmare in flesh and brawn. I’ve seen Vee in a hundred scrapes before, but fighting an ogre with his bare hands was just stupid. But our man Vee would do anything for a fight. He just laughed at the beast …”
Kam leaned a little farther over the rail. She could see Georgio fidgeting in his seat as he drank from a tankard of ale. The boy wiped the white froth on his sleeve. What?
“GEORGIO! What are you drinking!?”
The boy began to shrink in his seat. Mikkel’s big hand was smooth as the tankard disappeared underneath the table.
“I can explain, Kam. Apologies! It’s just some of my recipe,” Mikkel reassured her.
Kam was storming down the stairs, Mikkel's admiring eyes intent on every one of her steps. Her belly wasn’t the only thing that got bigger. She pointed her finger up into Mikkel’s face.
“He’s a boy you idiot, not a customer!”
“He’s so big though; a little mead won’t hurt,” Mikkel said.
“It tasted good,” Georgio said.
Kam locked a mind grumble in on the boy. Georg
io’s face turned ash white. His words were as feeble as a baby's as he said, “I’m sorry … sniff ... never again.” She inlaid a suggestion before she let him go, and Georgio slumped over the table. His face was beaded with sweat.
Suddenly, Georgio scurried out the front door, yelling, “Lefty, where are you? We’ve got chores to do!”
She turned back on Mikkel, whose eyes were full of surprise as she poked his chest, and said, “Do that one more time, and I’ll crush your brain like a grape. Do you understand?”
“Yes Kam, yes Kam. Again, I-I apologize.”She had never felt so strong. It was like something grew inside of her that gave her more strength. She liked it.
She studied Mikkel’s perplexed face. She knew his intentions were harmless, but she had already seen enough evidence of Venir’s bad influence on the boy. Still, boys grew up fast in this world, and she couldn’t protect him forever.
“You hungry, Kam?” Mikkel asked, in all sincerity.
She hadn’t realized her hand had drifted down to her belly. Careful girl. She felt like she could eat a cow, however.
“Sure, but I’ll have Joline whip up something for me.”
Whack!
The front tavern door swung open, and Lefty, Gillem, and a stout wiry black-haired man named Billip entered, followed by Georgio.
“Ah … good morning Kam, it’s great to see you on this beautiful day,” Gillem Longfingers said.
“Aye … couldn’t agree more,” Billip responded, twisting his goatee.
“Absolutely,” added Lefty with a smile as wide as the room.
She paid no mind to Mikkel, who was shaking his head toward them as he stood by her side.
They all stopped a few feet inside the doorway.
The arrival of Mikkel and Billip couldn’t have come at a better time. The boys, especially Georgio, had taken a shine to them both. Billip and Mikkel were hardened men, cut from the same cloth as Venir, and they were men of their word. They had proved that much within a few days of their arrival. They knew all about running a tavern, too; she hadn't been busier in years. Without Venir around, the boys needed some type of men to look up to, and it was clear that Venir trusted these men.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 38