The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals (29 page)

The imp’s wings fluttered, rising him in the air as it said, “Deliver a message? To them? Can’t we go and kill people like we used to? Please?”

Oran took a long draw of his drink. His throat was dry and there was nothing like the fermented juices from underneath Bish to sooth it.

“Oh, quit begging, Eep! When you get back, I have some fresh meat ready for you to play with. My word. Now properly deliver the message to Lord Verbard and Lord Catten. I can’t have you killed like last time, either, so watch your tongue.”

The imp bunched up, its tongue rolling back in its mouth, and said, “Ooh, I hate those two. They had no business doing that. It was just for their pleasure–and it hurt. Nothing can hurt me usually, but they did.”

Eep paced back and forth, its orbish eye blinking.

“They’d better not kill me this time … no-no … Master Oran. If it happens it’s harder to come back. I think so, anyway; I can’t remember because it’s been so long.”

“Quiet, Eep,” said Oran with his palm out. “The news you shall deliver is positive news about the tracking of the Darkslayer. They will be pleased and we shall gain favor. I assure you, not even lords Verbard and Catten will want to tease you with their twisted musings.

Eep’s head was down saying, “If you say so master. What message am I to deliver?”

One moment, Eep the imp was running across the open plains of Bish faster than the fleetest deer, and in the next moment the little imp vanished in a blink. The mystic powers of the world came from a different dimension of Bish that few could tap. Creatures of magic that existed in those unseen dimensions could be summoned and Eep was one of those. He could view Bish from his own dimension and re-enter it in a different place from where he had left it. It made Eep faster than any other known creature and very powerful at that.

Eep knew his orders, no special stops on his way to the Underland. He soared through the air and buzzed over the plains, snorting his freedom. His bat-like wings flapped on his back as the air whistled through his ear holes. He spied a golden eagle miles in the distance. The bird was a beautiful and he hated such things.

He pictured the spot he wanted to go and blinked. He reappeared, smashing mid-air into the unsuspecting eagle. It shrieked as Eep tore the life out of it in a lustful frenzy. Its feathers and blood were scattering in the sky, sprinkling on the aghast faces of the farmer’s below. The noble bird struggled for its life as Eep was pulling them toward the ground in a gray streak. He was biting off the eagle’s leg when saw the ground rushing up from below.

“Eh!” Eep said as he crashed into the ground.

“Oooph!”

The great bird was dead, but Eep felt fine. Eep stood up; dusting off his elbows, and saw the terror stricken faces watching him. He wanted more. Eep showed them a mouthful of blood and feathers as he licked his lips. The farmers scattered like children running from a crack of thunder. Eep hovered off the ground, his leathery wings beating like a giant hummingbird, and then attacked.

Eep whizzed in and out, with blazing speed, spurred on by his murderous heart. He ripped out throats and pushed eyes deep into the people’s screaming heads. It was a bad day to be a farmer. Eep shook the blood from his talons and disappeared again in a blink of blood ….

*****

“Look who we have here, Catten,” said Verbard as he lounged on his pewter throne, “…a visitor. It is underling Oran’s little imp.”

Eep stood inside the magi lord’s audience hall, eye averted and wings still. The chamber was dark and ornate with sparse decorations other than two man-made thrones of pewter and encrusted jewels. The two brothers lounged atop puffy velvet cushions, wrapped up in their heavy robes. Eep felt their gold and silver eyes boring into him, picking at his mind. Eep was evil as they were evil, but there was a difference. The underling brothers had no respect for his kind, or his master Oran for the matter.

“Is he not dead, Verbard?” Catten inquired, shifting in his throne. “Did we not kill him?”

Eep tried not to cringe as they stepped from their seats and approached him.

“Ah, you know how these imps are,” Verbard sighed. “Kill them and they just come on back. I wonder how we can erase this weird little one for good. After all, we don’t really like Oran, nor his little pets.”

Eep’s urge to attack burned in his tiny mind, but he was shackled by magic he could not break. Instead, he stood like soldier, head bent down. He must do as commanded.

“Agreed,” Catten said, “… but perhaps the imp brings good news. Or something we can use, perhaps. A gift? What say you, imp? Have you some news to deliver?”

Eep almost didn’t hear the question. All he could think about was the last time he met with them. Eep, who hated all life on Bish, did not fear death from the lords, for they could only kill him temporarily on Bish. However, they could bring him a lot of pain and suffering during his stay. Eep sucked back his biting snake-like tongue. Too often his big, grinning mouth had got the better of him. The underlings liked to trick him, Oran warned, and then make him pay. Eep’s squat little figure dropped to one knee.

“Yes, Lord Catten, Lord Verbard, I do have a message of importance from the cleric, Oran. I have been sent to tell you about a human called the Darkslayer. It seems this man and his two-headed dog was in the City of Bone. He is now sought by a Royal House called Almen. This Darkslayer is believed to be heading south, the Red Clay Forest, at this time. Oran believes the man and beast are traveling towards Two-Ten City, or will hide deeper south of the Outlands.

Verbard and Catten looked at each other, and turned their eyes back on the imp.

“Impling, this news from Oran is of some regard. But it would be better if we knew
exactly
where he is. Tell your master that his message shall be remembered by us. In the meantime, give him this message.”

Eep felt a moment of relief.

“If he can deliver the precise location of the Darkslayer in the next two days, the chances are that our underling community could find a new place for him. If he cannot, I would suggest he never bother trying to be a part of this community again. Am I clear … wretched imp?”

“Yes! Yes Lord Catten … very clear,” Eep said in a hiss that revealed his excitement.

Eep’s fantasies of killing them both faded for a moment. He often thought about it, but was certain it wasn’t something he could accomplish. No creatures in all of his existence were as dangerous as Catten and Verbard. To think there was an underling more powerful was hard to believe. Eep was mindful of the power of Oran, but he felt their power alone was Oran’s multiplied. It made him resent them even more.

The imp stayed on one knee, listening for the next command. His head was still bowed and his eye grew tired of counting the pieces of grit on the cavern ground. As the underling lords were looming over him, he listened as Verbard recounted the previous time he spent with them. Catten and Verbard had severed his arms, wings, and legs from his body. Catten had held his severed head, while Verbard fed his parts to their starving cave dogs as he watched. Eep remembered the pain he felt in his mind as the dogs tore his muscle from the bone. It didn’t seem possible, but it was.

Their words bore into him as he was certain they would do it again. Verbard’s voice rose with more exciting ways to torment him. Oran was wrong, Eep thought. They would show him no mercy again. Eep heard a sharp whistle and the padding of cave dogs coming his way. His small body was yearning to bolt away, but Oran’s command held him fast. Eep wanted to look up at the dogs, but a glance at either of them could provoke them. If he left on his own, Oran would banish him again, somewhere else, until summoned again. Eep would rather be tortured than bored. He closed his eye and readied himself for the worst.

Several long and horrible minutes passed before Verbard broke off and said, “You may go, imp.”

Eep’s wings buzzed as he floated up, turned his back to the underling lords and flew through the winding caves as fast as he could. The imp felt a rush of joy and relief, if indeed he could feel such things. In a blink he would be back in Oran’s lair ….

Verbard and Catten sat back on their thrones as the mangy cave dogs lay at their feet.

“This is good timing, Verbard. We haven’t heard from Oran in years, and now this. Right when we have sent a Badoon Brigade after this human. Now we just need to get word to the Vicious and send them that way. We may finally catch the element we have always lacked—surprise!” Catten said, clutching his fist.

“Yes, brother, but I don’t wish to take chances. We should send the Vicious and the Badoon further east …
and
I think we should go as well. We can head him off in case he returns north.”

Lord Catten’s golden eyes darted towards his brother. Verbard’s head was cocked and his eyebrows were raised. The brothers preferred to operate from behind the scenes, pulling the strings.

Catten added, “Brother, if you think that is best, I have to agree. But if we are to go out, let us make the most of this trip. Let’s fill it with screams of human terror.”

“Well, let us not limit it to humans.”

Melegal woke at dawn to a stench as foul as anything he had known in the City of Bone. Shaking his head as he held his nose he peered toward a mysterious rustling. Venir was on his feet, packing his gear on Chongo.

“You are invincible, aren’t you! Well, fine, I guess if you can’t be killed then I don’t have bother myself worrying about you,” he said, snatching his blanket from the ground. “So hey, why don’t we just go kill all the underlings right now?”

He strutted over to Quickster and slapped the pony on its rear, startling it from its slumber.

“Hah!” Venir managed. “Would you rather I was dead then, Melegal? Then you’d have another reason to be miserable on this trip. Would that make you feel better?”

He folded his arms and said, “Maybe it would. I mean, look at you! Your legs were purple last night. Now they’re just plain scrawny and white.”

Melegal felt bad for saying it as he came closer and noticed that Venir’s battered appearance had been hidden by the mist. The man had a haggard expression, his torn body bandaged and scuffed as if he’d been drug by horses for several miles. Melegal didn’t understand how Venir endured all of the scrapes.
Well, he should know better by now.

“It’s the snake meat, Me. But, does it make you feel better to know I ache from head to toe? My stomach is nauseous and my head is dizzy!”

Melegal fought to contain a smile.

“A little … bit.”

He didn’t know why, but it actually did make him feel better than it should. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable in the wake of Venir and Mood.

“And besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me pass out a dozen of times before. Why are you so bothered this time?” Venir said as he took a draw from a waterskin.

“Sure … sure.”
I always do.

“Have you ladies finished squabbling over not being dead yet?” said Mood’s grizzly voice from close by. “I’m ready ta go.”

It took a full day’s travel before the company arrived a few miles north of Two-Ten City. Dusk was setting in, and the two blazing suns were melting down onto the burnt plains of Bish.

Unlike the City of Bone, Two-Ten City could not be seen as well from a distance. It had no giant wall enclosing it, only the open plains. Venir could see the few scattered lookout towers ahead, some with militia and others without. Two-Ten City was a community without civil care. All comers were welcome. Venir led the way along an older caravan trail leading into the rundown city.

Venir admired how the people of Two-Ten City lived without the fear of being overrun by hordes of underlings, or any other race for that matter. It had a motley army at best, that was made up of various races. Nobody cared if you were human, orc, half-orc, or dwarf, just as long as you weren’t an underling. This odd mixture of people made for the most unique culture on Bish. It was where all the misfits, adventurers, profiteers, and thieves came when their status as an outcast or criminal had all but banished them from elsewhere. For the most part, the races tended to stick with their own kind, but in this city, everyone was welcome.