The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (17 page)

“When did this happen? Haven’t the City Watch come to ask questions? There will be a trial for this
! And who is Trinos?”

“The City Watch?” Scorch posed in thought. “Oh, I see. The men in the black billed hats that came
to conduct an investigation. Simply put, they showed up and didn’t see a thing.” He waved his hand over at the men at the table. “See?”

Glancing over her shoulder, the main floor of the Magi Roost was in perfect order. The tables were cleaned, the fire crackled
, and there was no proof of another living thing other than themselves. A chill went through her.

Bish
, he’s powerful!

“And I told a convincing tale about how the cause of the rumors and speculation most likely w
as those dreaded little underlings people have been talking about. I even procured several wild goose chases to keep the Watch of this fine city busy. It’ll be days if not weeks before they figure it out.”

“Goodness,” Joline
said. She was coming back down the steps with Erin’s bassinet in her arms. “Where did all of those horrid bodies…”

Scorch’s illusion dissipated. The bodies, flies and blood returned.

“… Oh.” She shook her head and set the bassinet down on the bar.

Kam held onto
Erin, keeping an eye on Scorch, fear creeping over her. The man wrapped a slice of cheese around a pickle and stuffed it in his mouth. It only made her situation all the more disconcerting.

Time to serve. Leave now.

“Can I at least change m
y clothes?” Kam said.

“O
f course you can,” Joline said. “Mercy, poor thing, as terrified as she is, laid some out on your bed. And is fixing you a bath. All the others left.”

Scorch
had finished his pickle. His eyes narrowed. “Who are you talking to, Kam?”

Leave now!

Slowly, Kam placed Erin in the bassinet and took a step towards the door. She fought it. Sweat burst on her brow. Her knees trembled.

Scorch rose from his seat, stepping into her path.

“Who said that?” he said, looking around. “I can feel it, hear it, smell it.”

“Maybe that little halfling is playing—
hic
—tricks. What’s its—
Buuurrp
—name, anyway?” Darlene clapped her hands and cooed again.

Kam
was exhausted, and as much as she wanted to fight, she could not hold the force back any longer. It had dug in deep. It was taking over.

“You should move, Scorch,” she said
.  She looked back at Erin. Joline was rocking and singing gently to her. She headed for the door.

“
Eh,” Joline said, “Where do you think you’re going, Kam? You get back here. You get back here right now!”

Tears streamed down
Kam’s cheek. “I can’t. I must go. I must pay my debt.”

Leave now!

Compelled, she stepped left.

Scorch was the
re.

She stepped
to the right.

He was there.

“Who are you speaking with, Kam? Show me.”

“Lords, help me
.” She tried to lift her hand, but it would not move. Her lips sealed. Her body lifted up off the floor.

Whatever was inside her had complete control over her now. Its magic me
lded with her mind, summoning magic and sending her over.

“What is that light from
?” Darlene turned around. “Uh! Look! Her hand! It’s as red as the suns!”

Kam rose higher in the air, her toes floating above Scorch
’s chin, her head almost touching the rafters.

He snatched her feet
, pulled her back to the floor, and shoved her in a chair.

Get away from him! Get away from him now!

The jewels in her hand flared with life. Her elbow cocked back.

Whack!

Power coursed through her arm. She punched Scorch in the face with all her might. His head rocked back. His nose broke. She waited for him to fall. It should have killed him. At least knocked him out. It didn’t. His nose didn’t even bleed.

“Darlene!”
Scorch said.

H
e snatched Kam’s arm and pinned her glowing hand to the table.

The wilderness woman yanked her
shortsword from her sheath.

Shing!

“NO! What are you doing! STOP!
”
Kam said in a voice that was not hers.

CHOP!

Her jewel-embedded hand was severed from her slender wrist.

Joline screamed.

Lefty screamed.

“Is all that blood
…

” Kam’s eyes rolled up in her head
.

M
ine?

CHAPTER 20

Outpost 31 was a hive of activity. Underlings, more than Venir had ever seen before, scurried over the complex, preparing for a full scale assault. Some were decked head to toe in armor; others’ chests were bare. They all checked weapons and buckles and stuffed small knives into their boots.  All he could do was watch. Above, they readied the ballistas on the towers and pulled large vats filled with burning pitch onto the massive catwalks. The smell of battle tickled his nose, raising the hairs on his neck.

“Hurk!”

The underling commander jerked the rope around his neck.

“Arsehole,” it
said. “Soon your people shall die. Soon you will follow.”

Face beet red, Venir
’s fingers fumbled at the coarse cord of rope around his neck that burned like fire.

The underling jerked it
.

Venir
fell to his knees. He groaned.

“Is it too tight, man with holes in his leg
? Arsehole.”

If he got the chance to kill one more underling, it would be him.
He hated that one. He’d never heard one talk so much before. He was going to rip its beady ruby eyes from its skull. “I’m going to kill you, Bastard,” he said, wiping the spit and blood from his mouth.

The underling
commander jerked the rope again. “Orc, what did this man say?”

Tuuth shrugged his big shoulders
. “Something about killing bastards, I think.” Tuuth glanced at Venir and turned away.

“Bastard? What is a bastard? Hmmm… arsehole
.” The underling paced around him. “A mighty tongue this one has.” It chittered, glared at Venir, shook its gauntlet in his face. It pointed to one of its bulging biceps, then the other. “Power, Arsehole. Which one has more power?”

Crack!

The underling struck him across the jaw.

“No more words from you, Arsehole.” It drew back the other arm.

Crack!

Venir’s nose caved in. Blood spurted down his chin and over his chest.

“So which one is it, Arsehole Bastard
? The one on the left?” It flexed. “Or the one on the right? I’ll point, you nod.”

Venir
balled up his better hand. Punched at the underling’s crotch.

It knocked the sluggish blow away with ease
with its boot and chittered. A form of cruel laughter. The underling gave Tuuth another order.

“Put him in the stockade
. We’ll whip what’s left of him when it’s over.” It eyed Venir, a smile forming on its jagged teeth. “Arsehole Bastard. Almost funny if it wasn’t coming from you.” It jerked the rope hard once more, lifting Venir from his knees and sprawling him onto the deck.

He
’d jammed his aching wrists again, and he was choking.

Bone!

His face felt purple. A pair of rugged hands loosened the rope on his neck, slightly, and pulled him up by the hair.

Venir moaned.

“You should be dead, Stranger. I’ve never seen a man survive so many wounds
.” Tuuth eased him into the stockade. “What is your name? It should at least be remembered if I ever make it out of this fort. Heh, never seen a man call an underling an arsehole or bastard and live to tell about it.”

Venir couldn’t speak. He was
beaten from head to toe. The stockade Tuuth shackled him to only added to the agony. Within moments, his back stiffened and burned. The rest of his body shuddered.

How in Bish did I get into this?

Nose dripping blood, he watched through swollen eyes everything and anything going on. Bish’s ultimate survivor had to find a way out of this jam, but in his bones he knew his chances were grim.

Tuuth took his spot against the rail, leaning against it, facing him
, grinning.

T
urning his head from Tuuth, Venir tried to find anything helpful. A familiar face. An unguarded exit. He could barely think. Everything hurt too much. His head ached, and his eyes were swollen. His hands were almost useless.

I could still strangle an underling if I
got the chance.

The platform was over two stories tall
. His view was as good as from anywhere but the towers, and there were dozens of those. The ballista alone would be more than enough to skewer a man to his horse.

Coughing,
he noticed the South Gate beginning to rise. It was a massive mouth of wood and steel, almost three stories tall and half as wide. It almost rivaled the main gate of the City of Bone. One by one, well organized underling soldiers spilled outside, armed with spears and small crossbows, disappearing into the green foliage of the woods.

“Won’t be long, Stranger
. Won’t be long at all. It should be a good fight for the Royal Riders, but it’ll be their last one. And it won’t last long after that.” Tuuth pointed at the catwalks. “Once they charge in here, they’re through.”

Hundreds of underlings manned the catwalks, peering
down, waiting. No force would be able to penetrate their superior position. But the underlings had, five years ago. Deceived by their own, the Royals had opened the gates, and the overwhelming numbers of the underlings, combined with the Brigand Army, had overtaken the fort. The battle had lasted longer than it should have, thanks to Venir, Billip and Mikkel’s arrival, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough. The powerful dark magic of the underlings had confused the well-trained soldiers, and they’d fallen.

Over five hundred men fell that day inside the fort, their bones ground into dust. Now, such men, a small force, only a few hundred at best
, were being baited into a return. And it was his idea, not that the Royal Riders had much of a choice. They’d survived in the Outland as long as they could. It was time for one last ride into glory.

Venir shuddered a sigh. He wished he could join them, but all he could do was watch. So long as he didn’t pass out.

The minutes passed like hours wh
ile the entire fort fell gradually silent.

Venir lifted his head.

Hooves. In the distance, like a machine, they pounded the ground.

The underling soldiers stirred.
Every weapon was in place. Every sharp object gleamed.

“They come
.” Tuuth gripped his weapon, an orcen Fang. “Stranger, let your last day be a long day. At least you’ll see more underlings trampled this day. But what they do to the men that survive?” He shook his head. “You won’t be ready for that. But if you want mercy, ask for mercy.” He held his blade’s tip under Venir’s chin. “Perhaps I’ll cut your head off before the underlings peel your living skin from you.”

Venir didn’t hear a thing. Just the thunder of hooves coming his way. His heavy head
wanted to sag. His fingers stretched and crackled. His heart pumped a little more blood. But his eyelids were heavy.

Stay awake, blast it! Stay awake!

CHAPTER 21

Chitters and short signals echoed through the spreading fog that was as thick as Boon
’s beard. He didn’t need to see the underlings to kill them, but they needed to see him. He squatted in the crooked arm of a moss-covered tree. Waiting. Biding his time to strike.

Come on
, black rodents. Your date with death is at hand.

An entire battalion scoured the grove now. Fogle Boon and company
had departed while Boon held the underlings off at the edge of the cliff. Clapping his hands together and screaming up a mighty force, he’d sent a shockwave through the creatures, blasting them into the foliage. Now he waited for them to come looking for him.

Below him,
a giant spider crawled, unhindered by the fog. Boon could almost make out the riders on its back. They still sensed he was near. He formed an O with is bearded lips and cast forth a soft popping sound. Somewhere, far away, a commotion stirred, sending the underlings away from his direction.