The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (11 page)

“No
, Chongo! You’ll make it worse.”

Cord
s of webbing caught her by the waist. They tugged at her.

“Never Insects!” Magic swelled inside her chest. Fire burst from her hands
. She stroked the big dog and moaned. In an instant, both she and Chongo were consumed by flame. The webbing burned away. Chongo charged the nearest spider, jaws tearing off its legs and chomping the underling rider. Everything Chongo touched caught fire. The brush, the spiders, the underling soldiers. The beast tore into them with ferocious fury.

Hold on!

Her strength was already waning.

Two spiders and riders twitched
and burned in the creek. Chongo pounced on the third, slinging Cass to the ground. She hit her head on a stone.

“Ugh!”

The flames left Chongo, surrounding her and her alone. She regained her feet.

Focus Cass! Focus!
 

Thickt!

Thickt!

Thic
kt!

Cords of web shot all over the big dog
, sticking him to the ground. Chongo’s jaws remained locked on an underling. The two heads tore the screaming underling in two parts.

T
wo underlings on spiders closed in on the beast. They launched black lances into his side.

“NOOOO!” Cass yelled
. She dove onto one spider’s legs, spreading her fire all over it.

It pitched upward, bucking its rider and sending the underling to the ground
. She dove on top of it, wrapped her hands around its throat, and watched its flesh burn to the bone.

Too-wah
! Too-wah! Too-wah!

Arching her back, hands out, she felt
sharp things lodge deep inside her back and shoulders. Her flames went out. She couldn’t move.

What’s happened?

A forceful hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled her around. A pale blue-eyed underling in dark mail armor, holding a blow gun, stood over her, flashing a row of sharp teeth. He laughed and stepped away, clearing a view of Chongo.

Chongo was coated in webs so thick she could barely see him.

What have I done?

And the ravine, wh
ere they’d fled, was filled with the speckled eyes of underlings as far as she could see.

This can’t be happening!

T
here was nothing she could do.  The underling reached down, fondled her hair, and wrapped a rope around her neck. Chittering an order, another hulking albino underling, the likes of which she never imagined, grabbed the rope, jerked her stiff body to the ground and dragged her up the ravine through the creek.

She could feel everything.

CHAPTER 13

“Just tell me,” Boon said
.

They were doubled up on the horse
’s saddle, and Fogle had gotten tired of telling Boon no. It did feel good however to have his grandfather by the short hairs of his beard for a change. Still, he wasn’t going to tell his secret about how to find the underlings.

“
No!”

It felt good sa
ying it.

Ahead, Barton
led the way with great strides, swinging his heavy arms that almost dragged on the landscape. Fogle still had a difficult time wrapping his head around people being so big. It didn’t seem natural or possible, yet in the City of Three, there were three giant statues in the park he remembered seeing as a boy. The stone-faced figures seemed so real at the time, but as he got older he gave them little thought.

And all this time they said
the city was named after the great waterfalls. How many other lies have I been led to believe were true?

Boon hopped off the saddle, scowling.
“I’m tired of riding.”

“Good,” Fogle said
.

It was dark, overcast above, the clouds giving off a dull light from the moons.

“Tis a good way to travel, with the clouds out. The moons cast too many shadows, making it easier for things to hide,” Boon remarked.

“Well, what are you up to now?”

Boon was floating along his side, arms crossed over his chest, smiling.

“Are you using magic? I thought you told me to save my power for battles. In the book i
t says, and you wrote it yourself, ‘Not for frivolous use’.” Fogle’s brows were knitted.

“I didn’t write that for myself, but for you
. Besides, I have a great deal more power than you.”

“What?” Fogle began to object
.

B
ut Boon floated high in the air, stretching his arms out exclaiming, ‘Weeeeeeeeeeeeee’.”

Fogle huffed.

Madman!

As he watched his grandfather swoop up and down in the sky, he couldn’t help but be a little jealous. He wished he could be carefree and dangerous at the same time. He wished he had Boon’s fearless edge.

How did he get like that?

Barton stopped, eyeballing the floating wizard. He pointed his log of a finger at the man, looked back a
t Fogle, and giggled. “Barton wants to float like birdie too, Wizard. Can you send me up there? Hee hee!”

I’d love to send you both sailing away
. Nothing would delight me more.

Fogle
rode his horse alongside the giant, stared into Barton’s good eye, and smiled. “No.”

“Aw
.” Barton kicked up a chunk of dirt. “I’ve never flown before. If I could fly, I could beat that dragon!” He punched his fist into his hand. “Hate that dragon!”

Dragon?

“Barton?”

The giant was staring into the sky, looking for Boon, who’d disappeared.

“Barton!”

“Hmmm?” Barton still eyed the sky.

“What dragon are you talking about?”

“Blackie.” His fingers clutched in and out.

Whatever Blackie
is, Barton really doesn’t like it.

“Eh …
can you tell me more about Blackie?”

Barton yawned and started walking away,
watching the sky and craning his neck as he did so. “I can tell you about Blackie. Barton hate Blackie. Barton hides and Blackie always finds him. Picks him up and flies him home.”

“Picks you up? All of you?”

“Blackie’s big. Strong wings. Picks Barton up like a hawk and rodent. Hate Blackie. Hate him.”

Oh great. Giants, underlings, and dragons are after us. And all I have is this horse to ride on. B
ish! I wish Mood were here! What else is there in this world?

“Barton, tell me more about where you come from
. Are there many giants and dragons?”

“Oh yes. Many of both, but more giants.” He scratched his head. “I think so. Barton likes to hide in the Mist. Many things do.”

“Is this dragon, Blackie, coming after you now, you think?”

“Hmmmm … well, little man with axe said he chopped Blackie’s wings. Maybe, maybe not, but you’ll
know. ‘Whump. Whump. Whump.’ You’ll know. Hate that sound. ‘Whump. Whump. Whump.’”

All of his life, Fogle had seen many things named after dragons. Taverns. Streets. And so on. But he never knew anyone that admitted to seeing one until now.

I wonder if Mood has seen one? I wonder if it’s true.

Fogle dug h
is heels into his horse. It lurched forward and caught back up with Barton.

“What else can you tell me about where you
’re from? Is it just like this, but bigger?”

“I guess so. But, I’ve only seen little of this place. More water though. Much more water. Splash. Splash. I like the water. I like to drown Blackie in water. Yes! Yes! Drown Blackie!”

He’s demented.

“Are there people my size?”

“Yes. Many.”

“Are there underlings?”

“Those little black peoples that try to kill Barton?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Feeling a little
foolish, Fogle realized that if he ever got the time, perhaps it would do him some good to ask his grandfather more about where he’d been and what he’d seen. And to remember that Venir had been there too.

Barton stopped.

Fogle pulled on his reins. An eerie feeling fell over him as he watched the backs of Barton’s ears bend up and down with a life of their own. Thoughts of a giant black dragon dropping through the clouds raced through his mind.

“
Woof. Woof.”

“Blackie
?” Fogle said. He crouched down, eyeing the sky.

“No.
Woof. Woof. Like dog. Big one.”

“Like Chongo?” Fogle said, sitting up, excited.

Barton nodded and pointed.

“That way! Uh oh
.” His ears wiggled.

“What!”

Barton looked back at him, scratching his shoulder, sniffing the air. “I hear many of those little black things too.”

“How far
?”

“Pretty far
for you, not so far for me,” Barton said. He turned and jogged off.

Fogle snapped the reins. Inky, his
ebony hawk, swooped down from the clouds and soared above him. Focusing, his eyes and Inky’s became one.

Scout ahead.

Inky darted through the a
ir, a black streak in the night, soaring by Barton’s head and out of sight.

Cass!
Is she close?

“Slow down!” Boon
said. He dropped from the sky. “I can only float so fast!”

Fogle wasn’t listening.
He was galloping.

Come on! Come on! Cass
, where are you?

Inky
’s vision was different than a man’s. Where a man saw shadows and the dark shapes in the night, Inky saw pale illuminating lines that separated one object from another. Ahead, rocks and brush, typical of what they saw, but they weren’t heading south anymore. They were heading west, or so Fogle thought.

“Barton!
Slow down!”

The giant kept going. One mile became two, then three.

How far can he hear, anyway?

Inky, flying ahead, didn’t pick up anything extraordinary, but a series of jagged cliffs
was ahead. Fogle whipped the reins. He was right on Barton’s heels.

The giant labor
ed for breath, clutched his side, and slowed. He waded into a pool of water. He pointed towards the top of some cliffs, where a small stream of water gushed like a waterfall.

Fogle’s horse clomped into the water, bent its neck and began to drink.

“Hold on, Barton,” he said. He closed his eyes.

Inky soared
along the edge of the cliff, and Fogle could see everything.

Trees. Trees. Bushes. Creek. Is that a giant spider?
“Mother of Bish—Underlings!”

Speckled eyes were like bright dots in the forest as Inky sailed by. A series of crossbow bolts assailed the bird.

Fogle lurched in his saddle and toppled into the water.

“What happened? Barton
said. He helped him up.

“Slat happened! That’s what! The
y’re up there, Barton.” Fogle pointed. “I can feel it.”

Barton dug his hands into the ravine rock and began climbing up
. “I know.”

Fogle sent Inky into the fray above.

“I’ll be ready this time,” he said, wringing the water out of his robes.

Inky sailed above the top of the grove, dove down and landed high in the branches. He could see the pale figures of the underlings heading bac
k up the creek, dozens of them. And clumps of black hairy flesh on the ground were burning.

What is that?

Bringing up the rear, they were dragging something, something shaped like a—

Woman! Cass!

Grabbing the vines at the base of the cliff, he climbed. Ten feet up he went. Ten feet down he came.

Splash!

Wiping the water from his face, he yelled, “Come back and get me, Barton!”

But the giant was already halfway up a hundred foot scale.

“Save Cass!” he said. “Bone! I have to get up there qui—
ulp
!”

T
wo strong arms hoisted him for the pool and took him upward.

“You need a lift
, I see,” Boon said. “Prepare a chain of energy, Fogle.”

“No
! That will kill Cass! This is a rescue, not a battle!”

“How many, Fogle?”

“Dozens at least.” They floated alongside Barton. “And giant spiders too.”

Barton laughed.
“Many fun. Wizards make many fun.”