“Heh,” Venir said, wrapping his fingers around Brool’s shaft. He looked at the dead bodies of Slom and Zurth. “Sorry I killed your new friends.”
“Are you really?”
“Of course not.” Venir stood like a titan armored in dark steel. Powerful. Captivating. Deadly.
Kam had never seen him like that before. It was the man she’d often heard about but never known. The Darkslayer.
The storm of battle still thundered all around.
Drawn to Venir, Kam got closer to him. “What do we do?”
“What I always do,” Venir growled.
“Drink too much?” Melegal said.
Venir shook his head. “It’s time to take out whatever stands between me and the underlings.”
“Oh, the fight or die thing again,” Melegal added. “How thrilling.”
Trinos’s body crashed into the room, coming to a stop against the bar. She struggled to rise and slipped down again.
Scorch appeared, floating above them. He held the Nameless Two, one in each of his hands, like pieces of dead meat. He dropped them down onto the planks. Lip bleeding, he wiped his mouth and said with wroth anger, “I’ve had enough of this!”
CHAPTER 12
Glitch!
Georgio rammed his sword through the belly of an underling and turned on another.
Clashing with his, the blade sparked.
Georgio drove a boot into its gut, lifting it up off its feet and knocking it down. He pounced. He struck. His longsword went through the underling’s mail like a hot knife through butter.
The underling’s ruby eyes went out.
Glitch!
Georgio let out a roar of pain. A javelin had lanced through the back of his thigh, in one side and out the other. He turned into the vicious assault.
Two underlings bore him into the ground. Their quick hands, filled with daggers, started stabbing him all over.
***
“In the air!” Billip yelled. “In the air!”
“Aye!” Nikkel said. He aimed the heavy crossbow high. “I see them.”
Moments ago, Boon had blown up the sandcastle’s mirrored weapons. The old wizard had plummeted into the battle.
Billip had been fighting through the hordes, trying to find him. That was when it happened. Underlings drifted out of from behind the castle’s walls and started unleashing mystic missiles, lightning, and other weapons. Billip had a smoking hole in his leg to show for it. “I need a wall! A wall now!”
Striders circled around the pair of archers. The fierce bug fighters stabbed into every underling that surged at their wall. The strange four-armed men’s spears struck like snakes. Eyes, hearts, and bellies were gouged.
Billip nocked an arrow, raised up his bow, took aim on the closest floating underling, and let loose.
Twang!
The arrow whizzed through the air and smote the underling mage clean in the chest.
Feathered shaft protruding from him, the underling spiraled downward, slowly and tortuously.
The jung, hardy black bearded men, jumped up at the first opportunity. They yanked the underling from the sky and chopped him up into bits.
Billip loosed another shaft of death. This one dotted an underling’s forehead. Still, more underlings kept coming. “Nikkel! Are you going to take a shot or not?”
“I can’t load up as fast as you,” Nikkel said. Bolt-thrower hugged his cheek, and his eye was squeezed closed. “Just wait for it.”
Billip followed the young man’s aim.
Clatch-zip!
The bolt ripped through the sky. It lanced through one underling’s neck and stuck in the throat of another. Both of the shocked underlings choked on their black blood and started to drift into the horde bellow their feet.
The jung caught hold of them and finished them off.
“It’s two to two!” Nikkel said with a smile. He started reloading. “You won’t get a better quality shot than that.”
“You’re just like your father,” Billip said. He filled his string with two arrows. “But I’m the master of quality and quantity!”
Twang! Twang!
The arrows sailed straight for a sapphire-eyed underling mage. They bounced off an invisible barrier.
“Son of a Bish! I hate it when they do that.”
Nikkel lifted up his crossbow. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.”
Lightning blasted from the underling’s fingers. It ripped through the striders one after the other and forked off into the chest and belly of Billip and Nikkel.
“Argh!” Billip fell to the ground. His chest was smoking, and pain shot like thousands of hot needles through his body. Mind addled, he stared at his broken bow string. While he was starting to his knees, a strider fell on top of him, dead.
The air all around him was erupting. Screams of pain and chitters of delight filled the air. The ground shook. A shadow fell. Something big and nasty had emerged from the dirt.
***
His name was Tarcot, a strider. A warrior. Four arms. Four spears. His hands were filled with death. Every time an underling showed its chittering face, he filled it with pointy metal. “Hauk! Hauk!” he said, time and again. It was his battle cry. He squared up on another underling.
This one held a pair of one-handed crossbows and pointed the deadly bolts at him. The black fiend offered a nasty smile and fired. Two small bolts rocketed toward Tarcot’s chest.
The strider flattened on the ground. “Hauk!” A bolt lodged itself between the meat and bone of his shoulder. “Hauk!” He ripped it out, rose to his feet, and charged the underling. His uncanny long legs covered the distance in two strides.
The underling fighter went for his sword.
“Hauk!” Four spear tips struck at once, skewering from chest to back. Tarcot hoisted the underling like a stuck pig high in the air and screamed. “Hauk!”
More striders returned the word in kind. “Hauk!”
Black blood dripping down his spears, Tarcot slung the underling corpse aside. His eyes searched for the next foe.
The ground shook beneath him.
Nearby, an enormous beast erupted from the ground.
Underlings, jungs, and striders were toppled. Dusty smoke filled the air, and the roar of a hundred thunderstorms followed.
“Mah-Rooooooooo!”
Tarcot’s bug eyes blinked. His praying mantis-like face spoke. “Slat.”
CHAPTER 13
Axe in hand, Venir said, “Then leave.”
A blast of rays shot from Scorch’s eyes.
Venir jerked his shield up.
The blast hit it with ram-like force and knocked him over.
Like a cat, he was back on his feet again. Jaw set. Axe ready.
Blink!
Eep appeared behind Scorch and tore at his backside.
Venir barked out orders. “Kam, get Erin. You and Joline find safety.” He saw an argument in her emerald eyes. “Now!”
Kam took Joline by the hand, scooped Erin up, and muttered something. The three of them vanished.
“What about my safety?” Melegal said to him.
“Save your own skinny arse.” Breathing easier, Venir focused on Scorch.
He had Eep by the wings and had started to tear one of them off.
The imp let out a glass-shattering screech.
Trinos found her way to her feet. Her arms stretched out like mystic tentacles and wrapped around Scorch’s ankles. She jerked the man out of the air and into the planks with a crack. The bright blue tendrils encompassed Scorch’s body. His waist and neck were encircled. The bright tendrils started squeezing, and Scorch’s face turned purple.
“Kill him!” Trinos yelled to Venir. “Now!”
Brool hefted over his shoulder and poised to strike, Venir charged. In three giant strides he closed the gap and brought the devastating axe down like a sickle.
Scorch winked.
Blade inches from Scorch’s face, Venir’s limbs became stone. Bish! Fighting agains
t the unseen force, Venir’s muscles bulged and strained. Sweat dripped from his body. Blue veins rose up under his skin like snakes. He didn’t budge an inch. Noooo!
***
Scorch started to grow and squirm free. His face was anger and power entwined into a perverted and celestial being. “I said, I’ve had enough of this!”
Trinos’s face filled with strain and wrinkles. She held on, hoping someone could take Scorch down. It wasn’t happening. Scorch was clever. Hard fought. Far from soft like the other celestial beings she remembered. His will was iron. With a heave, she slammed him into the planks again, causing many to splinter.
“Give it up, Trinos!” he fired back. “I’ve been around so much longer. You have no power over me! Your will is weak!” His body turned to molten fire.
Trinos screamed again. “Aiiieeeeee!” Faltering, her tendrils faded, and she staggered back and away from the scorching flames. Mind numb from the excruciating force, she tapped into Bish’s power and summoned everything she could from its depths. Narrowing her eyes, she made an uncanny beam of power rip through Scorch and spin him around.
“Aargh!” Scorch cried out. Fingers clutching, he fell to his knees gaping at the wound that went straight through his chest. A clear hole was there. Small but significant. He poked his finger through it. “That’s just nasty.”
Trinos crossed the room and slugged him across the jaw.
Whap!
His head snapped back. Teetering forward he said, “Oh, a little salt in the wound, eh? So very unkind of you.”
Eep dropped from the rafters, one wing hanging, and chomped deep into Scorch’s shoulder.
The eternal being grimaced and said, “Now you’re just being annoying.”
Trinos drew back and punched him again.
Whack!
The blow broke his nose. Something like blood dripped out. “Oh come now, Trinos. You won’t kill me. It’s not in your nature.”
Whack! Whack!
“Will you stop hitting me! You aren’t going to kill me that way. Use a sword or something, not that it will do you any good!”
“I hate you!” She punched him again and again and again. Scorch had ruined everything. Her world. Her people. Yet he was right. She had doubt. He was mortal—all powerful, but still mortal. But did she have what it took to unleash the final blow?
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“You look tired,” Scorch said from his busted face. It was bruised and swollen. Blood dripped over his lip. “I say we take a break. Even better, I’ll declare that you won this bout. I have to admit, you did surprise me. It’s extremely rare that I’m caught off guard.” He coughed and sputtered. “It saddens me that you hate me so.”
“You destroy everything.”
“It’s in my nature to meddle.” He spat a tooth out. “I can’t leave, you know. You saw to that.”
The flames lit back up in her eyes.
“Easy now. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t your doing. But you have to admit, Trinos, this is just what you wanted. A world of endless entertainment. Have I not given you exactly what you wanted? Even more so?”
He made a good point. But what Scorch did wasn’t part of her plan. He was a curse. A plague. There was no way her world would survive with him in it. A mystic sword appeared in her hands. Its blade glowed like a hundred stars. “Your time is over, Scorch.”
“Please, Trinos, please,” he pleaded. “Have mercy on me!”
“No, I’ll show compassion and feel bad for what I’m about to do, but mercy will be ridding this world of you.” She raised the sword overhead. “Goodbye, Scorch.”
“Alas,” he replied with eyes hiding a smile, “Goodbye, Trinos.”
Starting into her swing, every fiber of her being tingled. Someone was behind her. She whirled around. Scorch stood before her, just as perfect as ever. A star-filled knife was in his hand. He rammed it through her belly.
“Ugh!”
Leering into her fading eyes, he said, “How’s that for Mercy?”
CHAPTER 14
They were tied up now. Baking in the sun. Waiting. Brak’s stomach growled like a hungry wolf.
“Eh, you might want to feed us while we wait,” Fogle suggested to the gnoll leader. “My big friend gets unsettled with his hunger.”
Chewing the meat off of a chicken bone, the gnoll tossed the greasy stick away. “There’s no hunger in the grave.” He got up, approached Brak, and slapped him on the shoulder. “It will be over for you all in about an hour.”
Brak shook his big head. He’d gotten better about controlling his hunger, but right now he was feeling confused.
Seated on the sand beside him, Jubilee said, “Stay calm, Brak. We can’t have you going berserk on us.”
Shifting around, he fought at the knots that bound his hands behind his back. His heavy shoulders ached. The rumbling in his stomach got worse.
The gnoll leader stopped and stared at him. “I’ve never heard such hunger before. Men, come!” More brigands with grimy teeth and dusty faces surrounded him. “Listen to this.”
Brak’s stomach let out a loud moan.
Mrrrrorbbb!
All of the brigands exploded in knee-slapping guffaws.
“I say we let this one starve to death,” one said.
Another added, “Let’s cut his belly out.”
“Hungry. Bish, I’m hungry too! I say we fill our bellies with him. He’s got a week’s worth of meat on him. Bah! Haw-hawhaw!”
“What is going on here?” a voice louder than all of the others said.
A tall wide shadow fell over Brak. The man that spoke was behind him.
All of the brigands, including the lead gnoll, shrunk back. Finally, the leader rose up. “Just poking fun at the prisoners, Lord.”
“Oh, we are here to have fun, are we?”
“No,” the gnoll said, averting his eyes, “but we’re brigands, and their demise, I’m confident, is certain.”
“I see.”
Brak couldn’t see the man behind him, but he saw Jubilee’s head twisted over her shoulder. Her eyes were fear-filled. She didn’t blink, just stared in silent horror.
He didn’t try to look around. He was so hungry that it didn’t matter. But he got the impression that whoever it was, was a big, big man. His nose twitched. A smell of salt and urine filled the air.
What is that?
“Carry on and keep me apprised,” the voice said. Heavy boots crunched over the dusty ground and faded away.
All of the brigands’ expressions eased. One half-orc with a missing nostril wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “He must be in a good mood today. I was certain somebody would be in for.”
“Aye, I remember the last time he was disturbed. He cut poor Milsap’s arm off and beat him to death with it.” The male brigand in full chain dress turned his back to Brak and said with arms wide, “Looks like we all live to laugh another day! Aye!”
A spear bigger than any Brak had ever seen ripped over his head and skewered the celebrating man through the back.
“Urk!”
Huge and thick, the eight-foot-long spear protruded evenly through the man’s body.
“What a throw!” one brigand praised.
“Quite the cast!” one said with trembling lips.
Another spear rocketed into the same man’s face.
Glitch!
The corpse teetered over and stuck half upright in the sand. Blood and gore oozed from his wounds.
The brigands let out a raucous cheer. “Gondoon! Gondoon Gondoon!”
“Fogle!” Jubilee shouted in a whisper. “We need to get out of here!”
The mage shrugged at her. His face was fixed on Brak’s.
The recesses of Brak’s mind recalled something familiar. It was that scent. It was that name. He knew it. Gondoon Stoneskin. That was the ogre who had broken his back.
***
“Brak!” Fogle said to him while the chanting continued. “Brak, don’t lose your mind. Not now. I
have a plan.”
Hunger, rage, and frustration fused together in the huge man’s face. Brak’s eyes started to flutter like beating wings.
Oh slat! He’s going to get us all killed!
“What’s your plan, Fogle?” Jubilee said, gawking at Brak.
On a good note, he did have a plan. There were a few serviceable spells on his lips, and the brigands hadn’t figured out he was a mage yet. They’d gone through his bag but hadn’t found the spellbook. It was mystically hidden.
On the other hand, Brak was ready to explode.
The moment Fogle heard the name Gondoon Stoneskin, he was certain the bowels of Bish would start erupting. Everyone in the Magi Roost remembered that battle. Detail after detail. The way Venir told it, the sound of Brak’s spine snapping could be heard for a mile. Venir snapped a heavy broom stick when he told it. It wasn’t one of Venir’s gusty and boisterous tales either. It was dark, sad, and with sympathy.
“Fogle! Do something!” Jubilee urged.
Brak started to grumble and mutter. His eyes rolled up in his head, and only the white with a red rim shone. The cords that bound him snapped. Brak was on his feet. He headed for the dead man with the huge spears sticking through his body. He ripped them both clean out of the corpse.
One of the brigands caught wind of the attack. “Aye, how did you get loose?” Suddenly the blood ran from the man’s face. He turned to run.
Brak skewered him like a pig. Using the spear, Brak hoisted the brigand up off the ground and skewered another and another.
Three men died on the end of one spear.
Brak chucked them aside and charged the others.
Fogle never saw men run so fast. They scattered in all directions.
Brak was like a giant tusked boar. Fierce and terrible. The berserker ran down the slowest, and using the spear he gored the brigand to death.
Captivated by the bloodcurdling scene, Fogle almost didn’t hear Jubilee screaming at him.
“You know, once they’re dead, he might kill us too!”
“I know. Give me a moment.” Fogle started recalling a spell. Nothing complicated. The short term was “rot.” It was something he’d thought up after talking to Melegal once. He summoned it, said the words, and let the magic do its work.
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