The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals (32 page)

“Yep,” Venir said, nodding again as he slurped the last of a mug of ale and wiped his mouth on the inside of his arm. Venir began waving his mug in the air.

Then Mikkel cleared his throat and said, “Uh, Venir, I think it’s his boy he wants you to fight. He’s been the champ for the last two years.”

“Not since Farc beat me. Then you beat him, and after you left it was wide open for a while. His boy’s better, Vee, much better and younger. Farc wasn’t the youngest, or even in his prime when you humiliated him. But his son! Well, he’s an abomination! He makes his ugly old man look like a halfling.”

Venir was brooding. He wanted to just walk away, grab a wench and go to bed. He could see the worried faces around him. Their expressions seemed to suggest that he might lose. It made him mad. Then he let out a loud sigh.

“Coffee, please ….”

The Vicious and the Badoon Brigade moved fast, cutting through the southwestern part of Bish and leaving a trail of blood over hill and dale. Many unfortunate inhabitants that weren’t quick enough to flee died, their final moments filled with pain and anguish. The possibility of surviving a Vicious-led Badoon attachment was slim. Dozens of Bish’s more peaceful inhabitants had already perished, and dozens more would meet the same fate before the brigade caught up with the Darkslayer.

The two hulking Vicious led the trek through high and low landscapes, unhindered by rugged terrain, inclement weather, and natural hazards. Even the most senior and weathered elite underling hunters were pushed to keep pace with them. The best of the Badoons, as nasty as they were, felt some discomfort in the presence of the Vicious. For the Vicious, more evil than they, did such things to torture and mutilate their victims that even a hardened Badoon had never imagined. The word ‘cruel’ was inadequate in describing their deeds. The worst the soldiers could imagine was little more than a bad dream compared to what the Vicious would, could, and did do. Still, the Badoon soldiers found it inspiring.

Little of Bish had heard about the legendary Vicious, for none had lived to witness such events unfolding. Their appearances on the surface were rare at best. But now, from high in a tree perch, a rare yellow-haired halfling boy named Lefty Lightfoot had seen the Vicious in action.

Lefty had watched in numb dismay as the bodies of his family and friends were torn, shredded, bludgeoned, and strewn from one end of his village to the other. The muscle-laden Vicious were responsible for almost all of it. He saw many of the frightened halflings escape the clawed clutches of the Vicious only to be cut down by the crossbow bolts of the surrounding warriors. It had all happened so fast and then the underlings were all gone.

Lefty’s mind was seared with the nightmarish screams of his brothers and sisters, bigger and smaller, being bitten, broken, and eaten. He had witnessed their little heads squeezed to pulp or smashed together like pumpkins. He only wished he had not survived to see such horrors befall his people. He wept until he could weep no more and then ran as fast and far as his speedy little legs would carry him.

Oran had made haste returning underneath the belly of the City of Bone. The Current ran just below Castle Almen, as well as many other castles. The cavernous stone-cut chambers far below the castle, ancient beyond recorded history, could not possibly have been the handiwork of humans. Dwarfs possibly, but even dwarfs were not known for engineering feats as spectacular as this. In an eerie cave room, Lord Almen stood in the torch-lit semi-darkness with the resurrected Tonio, Sefron, and Detective McKnight.

“What is your point, Oran?” asked Lord Almen. “I thought the underlings could not handle this Darkslayer. So what makes you think he’ll be dispatched now?”

Oran kept his groan to himself as Lord Almen paced around him. Lord Almen’s shadow enveloped him, flickering in the torchlight. Oran felt no fear of this powerful Royal, however. He respected the man, but it was beneath an underling to fear a human.

“Lord Almen, my reliable sources leave me in no doubt that these are the final days of the Darkslayer pest. He has never been taken seriously by our people. But, over time, word got back to some of the upper echelons, so to speak, and they were not happy with these losses.”

At this, Lord Almen let out a deep chuckle.

“Ha, Oran! Yet you tell me that this man, this one man, has required the effort of a whole underling Badoon? My, what I wouldn’t do to have a fellow such as that on my side. This has to be the most astonishing news I’ve heard in over a decade!”

Lord Almen continued to chuckle drawing a sneer from Oran. He wanted to rip the man’s tongue out. He was an underling afterall, and human mockery wasn’t something he had ever experienced. Sefron laughed along, his naked belly jiggling, while McKnight stood fanning himself with his hat, grinning.

It became an awkward moment for him. Oran felt things sink in. He had been too busy to give the situation much thought. Struck now by the preposterousness of it, he felt somewhat embarrassed for his kind.

Even Tonio managed to muster a laugh.

“Huh ... huh.”

Once a loudmouthed braggart, Tonio was much quieter now. Oran stared at the young man. Since Tonio’s resurrection he was clearly not all there, but he was still a soldier to contend with. Just not one of Oran’s better jobs, something he kept to himself.

Oran shook it off.

“Lord Almen, you need no longer trouble yourself with this matter. I could try to recover the body of the Darkslayer for you, or a piece of it at least. It is unlikely even a shred will remain, but I will do my beh—
urk!
”

Tonio’s strong gray hands were squeezing his neck.

“Lead-s-s me to Vee-man,” the young warrior forced from his throat, “or d-die nnnow!”

In that instant, Tonio’s impulsive action decided the fate of Oran. He was flat footed. It was a human voice that saved his life.

“Drop him Tonio!” Sefron shouted.

The Royal son obeyed, dropping him to the ground, gasping for air.

Lord Almen continued, “This is prophetic. Oran will see to it this Darkslayer is dead. You can take my son with you on your journey.”

What!
But Oran could not muster the words. He was only happy to breathe again as he watched Sefron calm his zombie-like attacker.

Lord Almen stepped over him and said, “Give me your word underling; you will take my boy to find the Darkslayer.”

Oran searched the eyes of the men that surrounded him. Hatred began to swell inside him. He didn’t feel as if he had much of a choice. At least, not at this very moment

*****

McKnight could not believe how quick his life had worsened. Sefron got him and got him good. It was all fun and games to him over the years, tormenting the perverted cleric. Now it seemed to have caught up with him. McKnight had exposed the cleric’s twisted behavior time and again at Castle Almen. He caught the cleric peeping on the ladies young and old. He returned the clerics small hoard of the misplaced castle jewels and other rare baubles. Some of which he still kept for himself. McKnight was always two steps ahead of the cleric until today.

Now he found himself smack in the center of a mess he would have done anything to avoid. He was now stuck with the Royal brat Tonio.
At least he doesn’t talk much.
McKnight knew nothing about underlings either. It was pitch black other than the lantern he carried. He was at the mercy of the foul looking underling and Tonio as well. It was an unlikely cadre of adventurers.

It was the last thing he heard Oran say. McKnight wasn’t used to travelling in total silence and darkness. He always felt darkness was his friend, but now it was like a drape that covered him that he couldn’t escape. He kept Oran and Tonio in sight before him, fingers toying with his daggers. The craft glided over the water, how he did not know. The cool wind wafted in his hair. It did little to ease his thoughts. For all he knew, they were headed for the Underland.

After an entire pot of Nikkel’s strongest coffee, Venir’s head was only a little clearer. Things were beginning to annoy him as he contemplated how such a promising night had turned bad in a moment’s notice. And as if things couldn’t have been worse, he was now being harassed by things that should have been settled years ago.

“Ooh, honey, now don’t get beat up too bad,” a half-orcen woman cooed.

She stood before him, hands on hips, wearing a purple satin dress that was slit to reveal one of the most curvaceous bodies he had ever seen on Bish.

As the sexy part-orcen woman’s chest smashed into his, more testosterone pumped through his body. The woman’s muscular thighs and pumpkin round behind caught his attention as well. His lust addled mind was blind to her blonde pigtails, sweaty lips, crooked teeth, and piggish nose. After countless drinks, compounded by hard travel and no companionship, Venir’s particular’s no longer registered.

“You two guys are both sick!” Mikkel said, shaking his head. “She is bad news, trust me, I know. Win, lose, or don’t fight at all tonight, she’s still gonna try and tear your legs off!”

Venir responded with a foolish grin and a shameless comment. The boy Nikkel gagged as his father Mikkel covered his ears.

Trinos found herself stymied from time to time. A degree of frustration had even set in, which was odd to one who had the ability to do anything; yet it did.

More often than one would expect, created things would evolve into things that were not supposed to happen. Still, her endless universe offered some surprises for the omnipotent ones who seemed to roam and do whatever they pleased. Trinos would run across unique changes to worlds that had come and gone. She would be fascinated and begin to study them, looking for answers. It did not happen as often as she would have liked, but by her eternal frame of reference, that was still quite often.

Her world of Bish was safe, tucked away from the meddling eyes of others. The rules were in place to avoid a catastrophic change. And so, while she roamed, she had left the tiny world of Bish hidden deep in their universe, in a place impossible to find. But within the infinite, there still remains’ infinite possibilities.

Another being like herself had been lurking near her precious world. Scorch made his discovery of her odd world quite accidentally. He began to study it with divine interest. Its unique set-up gave him enjoyment. But, he thought to himself, it could be even better.