The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals (38 page)

“Mood, I want to go home now. My friend needs help.”

“It’s too late for that boy.”

The Blood Ranger grabbed the reigns and led them deeper into the Great Forest of Bish. Georgio’s head kept twisting around, noticing many other odd sounds and movements coming from above them.

“I hope Vee’s in there,” he whispered.

Venir moved ahead at a slow run as one setting sun had dipped below the horizon, while the other began to sink behind the treetops of the great forest. The man was only focused on what lay ahead. Melegal wasn’t so determined.

The incongruity in the distance made for a strange light. The treetops were thrice as high as normal, casting an early shadow over the grassy plain. Venir was running ahead and picking up his pace. Venir had emptied his arsenal from his sack, except the helm. The large iron-banded shield was now strapped to his back, and his menacing battle axe, Brool, whistled sharply as it cut the wind. Melegal followed on Quickster, staying close behind, careful of the distance he kept between him and the axe. Something about that blade always left him uncomfortable. Whenever it was out, death soon followed.

A nagging began creeping between Melegal’s narrow shoulders. His back was stiff from the long ride and he wanted to stop and stretch. A moment of relief came as Venir came to a halt and dropped to a knee, peering through the waist high grass.

Gritting his teeth, Melegal yanked at the reins, but Quickster kept right on going. As the forest began to close in, dread overcame him. He tugged once more, snapping up Quickster’s bullish neck. Quickster didn’t slow.

“Bish!”

In a quick hop he abandoned the saddle. He watched Quickster go, faster and faster, now a speck against the tree line, and out of sight. He smoothed his floppy hat down along the side of his head. He stood dumbfounded and silent. Then he cursed at the top of his lungs.

With a sigh and a grimace, Melegal began marching back to where he had passed Venir.
I’m sure the big lout will have another new humorous story to tell. Stupid mule!
He didn’t hear the laughter he expected though. In the dimming light, his eyes caught Venir running towards the forest in full battle gear. He saw the spiked helm strapped to Venir’s chin, his large shield on his back and Brool swinging in cadence from his right hand. The helm’s iron eyelets glowed with menace. He felt something cold inside and crouched down. Venir was not there. No, this was the Darkslayer, running as fleet and quiet as a forest stag.
Not you too!

Melegal stood alone in the dusk before staring at the looming forest. Should he follow the Darkslayer or try to find Quickster? There was no time to waste. Deciding that Venir was the most capable of taking care of himself, he set off along Quickster’s path.
I’ve got to get my gear.
He began running as fast as he could. But the Great Forest of Bish was further than he had anticipated. How fast had his pony gone? He was out of breath before he was halfway there. All of his judgment was based on what he had learned in the City of Bone and that seemed wholly inadequate now. With great caution and misgiving, the thief jogged with anxiety as he entered the forest.
Dimwitted animals.

Oran’s spell was working. Their surprise attack was underway and soon his mission would be over. It would not be long before they could all go back home. Through the eye of Eep, Oran and McKnight viewed the swirling image of the Darkslayer and the pony rushing towards the Great Forest of Bish.

“I must say,” said McKnight, fighting the urge to slap the underling on the back, “I’m rather glad you and Tonio have chosen to tackle the big fellow. I can’t say I have any desire to be in your boots. He looks rather menacing. Good hunting to you.”

“It should be you, in fact, human,” said Oran, without looking up from his mirage. “But I shall do what I must. Be thankful I have set you up with easy prey. In a few moments that animal will deliver into your lap the other resident of your tiresome city.”

“Rather a shame, really, to lose another fine citizen of Bone. I suspect we need every sneaky human we have to keep your underling lot under control,” McKnight said, pointing his finger at Oran.

McKnight didn’t want to let on about his past with Melegal as it was his opportunity to see his former apprentice undone. He dabbed some poison on his bolts and blades, then tucked them back under his cloak.

“Tsk, tsk—such decisions—which lives to take and which to let be!”

McKnight eyes perked up at his comments.

“I ought to make note of that, it sounds rather profound!” He turned as he left, saying, “I shall try to be quick and return to help you, underling. I rather think you may need it.”

Staring at the fading mystic image, Oran stroked his jaw with his long nailed fingers. The time had come to forever be rid of this impudent human. As the image died, Oran caught a faint glimpse of what was coming his way: a large man, armed like a war machine, eyes glowing black fire, and moving like the wind. Oran couldn’t contain his audible gasp.

Lord Catten and Lord Verbard arrived in the southwest corner of the Red Clay Forest, only to find themselves surrounded by an unwelcoming committee. Ten gangly robed figures floated around them now, making odd sounds, but not getting too close. Catten could feel the magic within the strange figures of the forest magi, and he knew they were drawn to his as well.

He and his brother didn’t bother to introduce themselves. A tall, brown robed figure ventured before Catten, hands motioning, then he froze.

Verbard let out a hissing chuckle.

The forest magi bent in a slight bow and began to back off. The rest began to do the same, slowly floating away. Catten could feel their earlier confidence turn into fear.

The air shimmered as Catten called the magic within him. Tendrils of lightning burst from Verbard’s clawed hand. The first bolt of chained lightning blasted into the nearest forest mage’s retreating form. Catten let loose his own bolt of energy, slamming into the one opposite the leader. The silver-blue bolts shot counter-clockwise, gaining speed, spinning like grinding stones and growing brighter and brighter as they passed through each of the forest magi. Catten and Verbard stood in the middle of the mayhem, faces filled with glee. There was one final brilliant flash—as they covered their eyes—and when they opened them just ten piles of ash remained.

“That felt good, but they didn’t even have time to even scream. I like it when they scream,” Catten said with disappointment.

Verbard continued his chuckle and said, “Me too.”

Venir the Darkslayer charged into the Great Forest of Bish like a human juggernaut shot from a catapult. He grew angrier with every stride as the scent of an underling consumed him. He was wary of a trap, but he couldn’t fight the urge to take things head on. His battle instincts always served him best when he took the fight to them. But who was he trying to face?

His blue eyes flashed beneath his spiked helm as Brool slashed through any foliage that barricaded his path. The Great Forest of Bish had darkened a great deal since he had entered from the more open plains. It was of little concern as he knew the Great Forest as well as the rest. His quick feet carried him through the woodland as if it were daylight in the desert.

He was about two hundred yards inside when trouble appeared. Spider webs, giant spider webs, now engulfed the trees from the ground to as high as the eye could see.
Underling magic.
His helm simmered around his head. Great power awaited him somewhere ahead.

Venir slowed his pace as he began to weave his way past the webs. Not all of the gaps between trees were covered. The recesses of his raging mind, meanwhile, asked a question whose answer he already knew. For this reminded him of the fish traps he had set as a boy in the silver streams of Throhm. But this was a crueler version, designed by underling hunters to trap their prey.

The labyrinth of webs let you find your way through, but at the end, if you succeeded without getting stuck, you were boxed in and killed. He and Brool had dealt with the webs before. His spine tingled as he recalled the last time, but he trudged on.

The underling labyrinth opened into a cove laced with webs around all of its vast trees. There was no other way out, but back. Venir turned and watched as new webs grew along the trees, sealing off his path. Whoever it was, they were not far ahead. He could sense it, strong and evil.

He spat from his dry mouth.

“The Bone with this!”

Running straight, he had charged the webs ahead at full speed. Brool sliced a gap in the entanglement and the thick webs began to curl away and dissipate.

The forest had opened wide again, but darker still. Venir pressed his back along a massive tree and listened. He heard nothing. His helm ebbed around his skull. He began moving again as an odd sound came to his keen ears. It was a high buzzing noise, right on top of him. Pain raced up his arms as a hunk of skin was sheared away.

“Argh!” he cried as he slashed Brool high in the air.

He was on the defensive now. The buzzing sound seemed to come from all over the forest. Venir circled where he stood, scanning the high branches. He heard the wind rushing his way. He swung Brool up, as two talons skinned his neck, one nail nicking his throat. It burned and blood began to flow down on his chest. Whatever it was, it had Venir’s attention.

Eep zipped in and out, and his evil mocking bird-like sounds seemed to echo from all sides. More webs began to coat the trees and Venir became ever mindful of where he turned, lest he be stuck. The imp cut past the webs, but Venir chopped Brool in the imp’s path at every last second. Brool’s spike jabbed and poked at the imp as Venir tried to work his shield free from his back.

Brool cut through the spider webs, creating room to work, but the axe could only do so much as the imp came from every direction. Venir couldn’t tell how many of the creatures were out there, as he did all he could to contain the imp’s attacks. The imp rushed in and out, just beyond Brool’s metal, darting away in the nick of time. Venir had his shield ready now, but the chronic buzzing had gone away.

Silence fell as Venir labored for his breath. Somewhere an underling was waiting, that and something else he never encountered before, an imp.
Go!
His mind urged him onward as his shield arm drooped and blood dripped down his injured arm. He cut away at the thick webs, and headed for the beacon of evil deeper in the forest. The buzzing was back again, high above. It agitated him and his wounds seemed to grow worse at the sound. The smacks of flapping wings split through the air as the imp was flying in and out of his range. Venir stayed low. More silence came. The sweat rolled off Venir’s chiseled face in large drops. He waited.

A distant hum rattled in the high branches. Aggravation, pain and throbbing licked at his limbs. He wanted a good look at his assailant. It was cold and black all around him. He searched, but found no heat from the creature, only hearing its flapping wings and a ragged voice mocking him from above.

The brawny warrior pressed deeper through the forest at a trot. The webs continued to peel away as he cut through them. The underling presence ahead refueled his anger. He was getting closer. A beating of bat-like wings shrilled from behind as he felt thick claws rip into the chainmail on his back. He twisted away, striking back with his axe. Nothing was there. A gaping slash was torn in the chain along his back. Venir fought the urge to scream.
What is it!?

He moved on, his mystic eyelets not sensing the cold shadow squatted like a stump as he passed by. Venir heard something scuff the dirt behind him. He turned, raising his shield, and there was a bone-jarring sound.

CLANG
!

Words raced through his mind.
It cannot be!

Melegal had more than enough of this misadventure. Both Venir and Quickster had frustrated him to his limit. He stomped through the Great Forest, peering about for Quickster’s tracks. Doing his best imitation of a ranger, he ran his hands through the dirt and leaves. He followed a straight line as best he could, trying to guess where a pony might go, but to no avail.

The darkness had settled in. Quickster had most of his gear and he was growing uneasy. The odd rustles, hoots and chirps of the forest only added to his growing discomfort. Muttering and cursing under his breath, he finally heard a familiar sound not far ahead: the soft neighs and munching sounds of his ever-hungry quick pony.

Relaxing a bit, Melegal strolled to the side of his shaggy mount. Sorely tempted to choke the stupid beast, he stroked his mane instead.

The tickle between his shoulders was still there. Something abnormal hung in the air. He gave out a faint sigh. Now he had to find Venir, in a forest bigger in size than Bone. Finding a man in the city was one thing, but in the forest was another. He checked all of his belongings.
All there.
It left him with little relief. Pony or no, he still felt awkward and alone. He stuck his boot in the stirrup.

“Whatever made you drag me into this cursed forest better have been worth it,” he huffed, glancing around. “Now let this be the end of it Quickster.”