The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals (34 page)

Mikkel and Nikkel were jumping into the air as the ogre lay stunned on the floor.

Venir pounced on the ogre’s back, raining down punches as hard as he could into Son of Farc’s ribs and kidneys. Howling in pain and anger, Son of Farc tore himself away from the vicious onslaught. Venir lost his grip on the ogre’s head of hair, dropped down, crouching to the stone’s floor. He was exhausted, his leg’s felt wobbly and his lungs were bursting.

Son of Farc stood up before him, tall as a tree, clutching his side and spitting a mouthful of blood. One thing was for sure, Son of Farc was a lot tougher than his father. If Farc had not become overconfident, Venir might not have won that battle. It seemed Farc had certainly prepared his son well for this day.

Do something or die trying.
Venir back rushed in, throwing powerful haymakers and uppercuts into every vulnerable spot on the ogre’s body. The ogre returned in kind, and the apparent mismatch became a clash of titans. In a furious assault, Son of Farc struck, dodged, and countered. Venir was quicker and more precise, but the ogre was taking the pain and keeping up the pressure. Frustration settled on Son of Farc’s bewildered face as Venir’s hammering blows raised knots on his body.

Venir punched harder and harder, and his hands felt like they were about to break. The ogre’s big arms served well to absorb most of his powerful blows. Son of Farc’s massive fists swung all around as Venir dodged and ducked his head. His quickness and instincts saved him from punches that might have killed a lesser man. Stunned at what they were witnessing, the crowd squealed in delight.

Battered, bruised, and bloodied, the seconds began to feel like minutes. Venir was on the verge of collapse, his arms as heavy as lead. Son of Farc had worn him down with sheer weight and endless strength. The ogre broke it off and backed away.

He could see the ogre’s chest heaving while clutching at its sides. Blood was dripping in Venir’s eyes as the ogre’s clawed fingers had ripped open the skin on his skull.

Son of Farc charged with a thunderous roar. Venir tried to dodge, but was barreled over and crushed into the ground. Something inside of him cracked and he let out a yell of pain.

From beneath he tried to break free of the big ogre’s grapple and squirm away. The ogre’s powerful grip held him fast. Venir was determined to wrestle his way out. He didn’t hear Mikkel screaming the word, “NO!”

It was a fatal mistake. There was an old saying in Bish, “Don’t wrestle the ogre, wrestle the bear instead.”

Outmatched under the ogre’s weight, Venir’s wrestling was fruitless and something was stabbing inside his chest. He was as good a wrestler as any man on Bish—maybe one of the best—but humans weren’t the natural-born wrestlers that ogres were. Venir began countering as he tried in vain to grab ahold of something, or pull away to escape.

Son of Farc was relentless, countering every move as if he was one step ahead. Venir’s strength was sapped and his blood was dripping to the ground. He got turned with his belly to the ground.
Bone!
The ogre grabbed his long hair in his hand, jerking Venir’s head back with a painful snap. He cried out. The crowd went wild, screaming for his blood. He could see his friend’s shocked faces, now filled with internal anguish. Nikkel turned his head away.

Son of Farc wrapped his arms under Venir’s and locked his hands behind Venir’s head. Venir was in a full headlock by the strongest creature he had ever known. He forced his head backward against the growing pressure. The pressure in his neck kept building and his nerves were on fire. He struggled as his chin was bending down into his chest. He was turning red with rage, his veins bulging like purple snakes. Every ounce of his strength exhausted. He waited for the sound of his cracking neck. He wondered if that would be the final sound, or would it be the Son of Farc laughing in his ear. Blood streamed out his nose as his eyes rolled up in his head.
Better dying ….

McKnight couldn’t have been happier when the barged stopped. The dreadful journey that seemed to take an eon came to an end. The sound of rippling water and Tonio’s raspy breath had worn on McKnight like a festering earache. Just when he was contemplating stabbing his own dagger into his ears, they arrived.

McKnight was never more thankful for the ground below his feet as they climbed out of the barge and into a cave. The cool gritty dirt clutched in his fingers might as well have been gold as he crawled through it. The dark cave winded and twisted and there was light ahead, moonlight. Its orange light burned like sunshine to him. He enhanced his efforts, scraping over the shale and slime, welcoming the illumination.

The cave opened somewhere in the Outlands, but where exactly Detective McKnight could not be sure. It wasn’t the Underland and that was all that mattered. He studied the moon high above, calculating his position. It offered little comfort, but the terrain told him much more. Vegetation was not so sparse, trees and grass appeared near and more so in the distance. He surmised that they were far from the City of Bone. The detective basked in the light until a shadow blocked out the light.

“Let’s eat,” Tonio said in a raspy voice.

It was the first words the man had spoken since they departed. McKnight wanted nothing more than to feed the man his sword. The blank expression on Tonio’s torn face was almost as bad as the twisted grimace of the underling. Both men seemed unnatural to McKnight, but he kept his shudders to himself. He rubbed the pommel of his blade with his hand and watched their every move.

He shared a brief and tasteless meal of baked cornmeal and soured wine with Tonio, while the underling Oran stared unmoving at the sky. McKnight watched as Oran began moving away from them.

“And where are you trying to head off to, underling?” asked McKnight as his daggers glinted in the moonlight.

Oran hissed and said, “At ease human, I am not venturing out of sight. I have to call for some help to find the whereabouts of our … I mean, your prey … the Darkslayer. It would be wise to let me be, so that we can get this over with.”

McKnight brushed the crumbs from his chest, sucked in a swish of wine and ventured over by Oran’s side. His tone was threatening as he said, “I don’t trust you. What you have to do, you can do right here.”

“Pah! Surely even you must know that I have nothing to gain at this point. You clearly have the advantage.” Oran looked toward Tonio who was facing him as well, brandishing his longsword.

McKnight shook his head.
Ah yes, a mute swordsman that moves like a slug. How dangerous!
McKnight looked away from the Royal, pointing his dagger at the underling’s neck.

“What kind of help are you calling on, Oran,” he asked. “At least I need to know what to expect.”

“Since you insist, it is my familiar, an imp. You do know what an imp is?”

McKnight had not heard the word
imp
in decades. But he knew that imps were creatures mentioned in stories to scare children. It had never occurred to him that they might be real, but he was not going to let Oran know that.

“If an imp shows up here—underling—it had better not make any suspect moves, got it?” He flashed his dagger and shortsword before Oran’s eyes before stuffing them back into his sheathes.

He was nervous and curious now. The stories he remembered described imps as wretched creatures, dangerous and wild. He drew his daggers and leaned against a tree.
Maybe it will kill Tonio.

Oran sauntered off, but remained within his sight. McKnight could hear the chaotic chirping that made his stomach sour. After a minute Oran came back, head down, black eyes slack.

“Eep should be here any minute, flying or just appearing, I cannot tell, but certainly any minute.”

Tonio’s hard face scoured sky, clutching his sword, while McKnight’s eye stayed on the dark and frustrated underling.

*****

Eep, bored with killing forest vermin, was relieved to receive a tingling summons from Oran. His master wasn’t too far away for flying. Eep’s wings buzzed to a shriek as he spit out a squirrel head and flew like lightning towards his master. Finally, the imp thought, I can get this done and receive my due.

Eep flew low over the plains, grazing the cactus tops, in a straight bead of flight toward the underling. His leathery wings buzzed like a thousand bees, cutting the air with a zipping sound that could be heard from a hundred yards.

Eep saw a man as in his path, a large one holding out a sword. Why would a human—no, two humans—be with his master? Imps, for all their magic and power, were not known for complex thinking; they were impulsive creatures, creatures of action, which followed simple orders to attack and kill. Split-second thinking was not their forte; they relied on instinct, reflexes, and the urge to destroy life whenever and however they could.
Master’s in danger! Destroy!

Lord Almen had been busy pursuing an additional investigation of his son’s recent demise. He had already set things in motion to try and catch the person responsible for filling Tonio with inducers. He toyed with a garrote in his fists as he sat on the bed where Tonio had lay in recovery. How many men had died in his clutches on his rise to power? He remembered every face, castle and name. He was subtle and swift, an assassin of high pedigree. Killing had got him everything he wanted … almost.

Now others did his dirty work, but the urge to mangle and torture another man still struggled inside him. He needed someone to take out his frustrations on. He needed it soon. He tossed the garrote on the bed, folded his hands behind his back and headed back up the stairs. His emboldened enemies would have to pay.

He felt insulted by the attempt to eliminate his son. Indeed, nothing intimidated one who had raised his house from the lowliest of Royal rankings to almost the very top. More than anything, he was angered that the attempt appeared to have been made by an inferior house. The use of inducers was amateurish. Though rare and costly, they were child’s play for any upper ranking Royal family or assassin. Whoever used it was desperate.

Such evidence eliminated the houses ranked just ahead and behind his. But with almost unlimited resources at his disposal, Almen was confident of finding his answer soon. In the meantime, he played within his wondrous castle, entertaining people from near and far. The garden variety of guests came and went all hours of the day, some using different doors than others. Everyone was a suspect. Even in his own castle he had to be careful.

Eep zoomed into an attack ignoring Oran’s loud protests. Eep dove towards the lower legs of the larger human who was brandishing the gleaming longsword. Tonio’s downward thrust cut into the imp’s flight path, nearly cleaving the imp in two. Eep barrel rolled away, wings buzzing in the air, as the imp prepared another run. As Eep turned back towards Tonio, two daggers, hurled like streaks of lightning, caught him in mid-air. One dagger lodged in a wing, while the other found the imp’s large and now oozing eye. Eep fell to the ground screaming in anger.

Tonio leapt to finish off the imp.

“
Charlonock!
” Oran bellowed.

The grass and foliage burst from the ground, coiling around Tonio’s lower legs. The man let out a raging howl.

“Oran!” McKnight warned. “You had better not be double crossing me.” The detective’s sword tip was digging into the underlings back.

Oran waved his hands about his head.

“I’m not!” he yelled back over Tonio’s clamor. “Just don’t kill the stupid imp. He must have thought you were attacking me!”

A moment of silence fell as the two men watched the imp dislodge the dagger from its eye. McKnight shivered and gaped as the imp slid the other from its wing. Tonio just groaned with the vines that grew back as quick as they snapped. The imp took a confident step their way, mouth wide, red tongue flickering in the air. McKnight pressed his sword tip deeper into Oran’s back.

“Eep,” Oran commanded. “Stay still!”

The imp froze; not a muscle moved. Tonio was on the verge of cutting off his own legs, hacking at the roots and dirt. The man’s sword fell up and down. Oran looked over his shoulder at McKnight who shrugged. Oran chittered another word and the foliage slunk back under the dirt.

Tonio lunged with his blade at the imp who simply slipped through the air and away. It was perfect. McKnight wanted nothing more than to see the imp tear the man asunder.

“Call off your friend human,” Oran said with a snap. “The imp will not tolerate this aggression forever. They aren’t the smartest creatures. My control has limits on his rage.”

Whatever happens, happens,
McKnight thought. He watched as Tonio chopped into the air like a blind man as the imp would cackle and fly away. It went on for several agitating minutes, and then Tonio sheathed his sword and walked away.
Not the outcome I was hoping for.
However, with the immediate drama resolved, the natural tension among underling, imp, and humans resurfaced.

“I’ll be brief and maybe you will grasp it. Eep can travel from our dimension to his own, the magical dimension. But imps are not ordinary magical creatures. From their dimension they can see into ours, as if looking into a crystal ball.”

McKnight fanned himself with his hat.
Preposterous.
“So, are you are planning for the imp to find the people we’re tracking?” He grasped the situation, but had monumental doubts.