The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (19 page)

There
had been a time when Fogle took a great deal of pride in knowing everything. He knew all about the City of Three and its histories, its people, its place, the names of all the Royals and the wizards in the towers … But now, stranded in the Outland, he realized that he knew next to nothing. Torn, he didn’t know whether to be ashamed or fulfilled. It was as if he’d been reborn over the past several weeks, and he was uncertain whether he liked it or not. But, judging by the legs that hugged his hips, he was getting used to it.

She still smells amazing.

“Fogle,” she said, shaking his chin. “I asked you a question. Are you fantasizing about me?”

“No,” he said
, matter-of-factly.

She folde
d her arms under her splendid breasts, pushing them up a little.

“Oh really, so you are fantas
izing about someone else?”

“Uh
… no, never!”

Cass wrapped her arms around his neck, giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re always so serious, Fogle, aren’t you?”

One second Cass was expressing her concerns
about the danger, in the next she was teasing him. He didn’t know what to think.

She might be crazy
.

He squeezed her thigh.

She squeaked.

But I can get used to that.

“I’m serious about you,” he said.

She ran her finger under his chin.

“Oh, I like that, Fogle. I like that a lot.” She turned in the saddle. “But, I am concerned where we are headed. Do you have any idea?”

I’m not a Blood Ranger, you know
.

He wanted to say it, but held back. He was in charge now, and at worst, he needed to act like he knew something.

“My familiar is in the air, and whatever it can see, I can. If there’s any danger, I’ll know, but at the moment, things are clear.”

Clear as mud.

The terrain was virtually all the same
, miles in every direction. Rocky. Sandy. Sparsely vegetated. He didn’t let Inky scout too far ahead, for fear he’d lose him. Instead, he focused on the more immediate threats, particularly the underlings. In the back of his mind, something Barton had said worried him. What about the giants and the dragon?

“What can you see now
, Fogle? Are there any forests or streams near? I need to rest somewhere that thrives with life.” She shielded her face from the suns. “This is not good on my body.  I need water. Natural water.” She slumped back into him. “I tire again.”

The suns above seemed to be beating down on him all of a sudden, sucking his life through his tattered robes. Above, Inky was soaring west at a gentle southern angle. Soaring above the land,
he saw only bone trees and cacti scattered about, with little hope for water or natural vegetation in sight. For all Fogle knew, it might take over a week to traverse the Outlands to get where they were going. His stomach growled, and he thirsted.

She’s right. I need to find better shelter. We’ll never survive out here if it’s too long.

“
Follow the birdie,” Barton began to sing, eyeing the sky. “Go where the birdie goes and find the puppy. A two headed puppy. And find the man that stole Barton’s toys. And smash him.”

Cass’s head flopped over. Exhausted
, she slept.

It worried Fogle. What would happen if he didn’t find water or
shelter? What would happen if the underlings caught up with them? He sent Inky back for a look.

Barton stopped and turned.
“Say, where is the birdie going?”

“He’s just mak
ing sure no one is following us.”

Barton sat his big body on the ground and began rubbing his feet. “Tired of walking, Wizard. Barton wants to fly now.”

Inky was almost a mile away when he noticed something. The landscape hadn’t changed any, and none of their known pursuers were in sight, but something was coming, something dreadful. It was a swarm of some sort. Inky flew right into it. Whatever they were, they buzzed. Had tails, stingers and teeth.

Fogle turned his horse around.

“Get on your feet, Barton—it’s time to run!”

“Why?” he groaned.

Fogle was already galloping away.

“Run
, blast you! Run!”

A wall of
insect creatures was coming after them like a heavy rain.

CHAPTER 23

The Spire. It had as good a bird’s eye view of the City of Bone as one could get, at least within the district Melegal frequented. He climbed the worn stone steps to the top, scattering the pigeons as he did so. Brushing the cobwebs away, Melegal stepped inside the room and made his way to the opening, where the remnants of a window were still intact.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed since the last time he stood here, a place he came to often, for seclusion and fantasy. He envisioned a magnificent castle and family, relatives of his long past, towering over the streets. When he was young, he
’d convinced himself he was a Royal and played his own version of Royal games here. He’d commanded the street urchins from this roost for a while, but as time passed he’d grown out of it.

The wind bristled his clothes
. He crawled through the frame and gripped the lip of the tower top above him. Whatever that woman, Trinos, had done, he’d never felt better in years. Fingernails digging into the terracotta tiles, he inched his way another twenty feet upward. 

Bish, I haven’t considered this
since I was an urchin.

Tiles slipped under his boots.

Slat!

His fingers gripped the edges of the tile, holding on for dear life. Three tiles skittered of
f the roof and shattered on the decayed stone walls below.

There are far worse
ways to go
,
I suppose.

The high winds tearing at his clothes, he continued his ascent at an agonizing pace.  Near t
he top, he stretched out his skinny fingers. A long metal pole, once a place for a castle banner, jutted from the highest point of the tower.

Stretch,
you skinny bastard, stretch!

His fingers licked at the metal.
His boots scraped, sending more tiles careening off the tower and crashing on the ground.

Almost there, Rat.
He stretched.
Almost.
His fingers slid around the pole.
Got it!

He pulled himself up and coiled himself around the pole. The first time he
’d done that, long ago, he’d told himself he could do anything at all. But all he’d learned from it was that he could make an awfully hard climb to an awfully old pole. Still, he kissed it.

I’d like to see anyone else do th
is.

The viewpoint was unlike any other in the City of Bone. He could see the tops of the buildings and
all the way from one massive City wall to the other. None of the intact Royal Castles lined up against the Wall of Bone had as high a spire. How this one stood here so long as it had, while the old castle and everything else around it fell, he’d never know. His keen eyes scanned the chaos.

Smoke from the burning buildings rolled past and beneath him. The massive gates
in the four walls of the city were crowded with throngs of thousands of people. Soldiers patrolled the streets on foot and horseback, while squads of underlings darted in and out of the alleys and attacked. The entire city groaned in horror, despair and disbelief.

This place is going
to the slatter.

He turned his
keen eyes to Castle Almen. His jaw dropped open. Underlings, hundreds of them, surged the main wall. Every tower was lit with mystic illumination, and spiders the size of dogs and ponies scurried over the parapets, up the walls and towers. A chill raced down Melegal’s spine. How long could the Royals hold out? And why were the underlings attacking there? His hand drifted to the Keys.

Sefron wanted them. The underlings wanted them. A picture of the imp invaded his mind.
What if that thing shows up here?

Something was not right.

Think, Melegal. Think!

He squatted down
, flattened himself on his belly, and crept back down the steep tower, thinking all the way.

Sefron works for the underlings. Underlings want inside the castle.
Sefron is in the castle. Kill Sefron. Stop the underlings. Ridiculous.

As much as Melegal despised the Royals and all the
ir cruel and twisted games, he knew the underlings were a far greater threat. Venir had shown him at least that much. Catching the lip of the tower’s edge like a spider, Melegal crawled headfirst back inside.

Whew!

Alone in the tower, his thoughts went to his friends. He hadn’t seen Venir since that last time he was here, and despite his anger towards the man, he’d like to be with him now. If anyone knew how to deal with underlings, it was Venir.

I wonder how Lefty’s doing as well.

So far as he was concerned, ever since they all left, his life had been far from normal. If anything, it had gotten worse. He smoothed his cap over his head.

“Well,
I suppose if no one else is going to defend my home, I’ll just have to do it my―”

A small black
blur jumped through the outside window over the top of him. Melegal ducked and rolled, the sisters out and ready. A pair of pearl white eyes greeted him.

“Octopus!”

The big cat circled his ankles, lay down
and rumbled. Melegal couldn’t have been more glad to see his most reliable friend. He reached over and stroked the cat’s back.

“And to think
, I actually worried you might be underling food.”

Octopus stretched out his eight claws that twinkled in the night.

“I should have known better,” Melegal said, rubbing behind his ears, “because you have plenty of lives, don’t you?”

After the short reunion, thoughts heavy on his task ahead, Melegal made his way down the deteriorating steps. Octopus darted away when he reached the bottom.

Must be a big juicy rat somewhere. Besides me.

A
side from all the distant shouts of alarm and screams, the streets in this quadrant were barren for the most part. Even the urchins and thugs that frequented the remains of the abandoned castle had become ghosts.

May
be the underlings aren’t so bad after all. They’re keeping the stink out.

Down the
street he went, tugging and knocking on doors as he did so. Reaching inside his vest, he produced a Key. It was the same one he’d used before.

Hmmm
.
What did the woman at the fountain say? Just find a door and go?

From building to building he went
, searching for a key hole, but none were found.

Drat it.

With all the pickpockets, urchins and thieves about in Bone, using keys to secure common doors and entrances wasn’t always the securest way to go. Many shop keepers barred their doors from the inside because they lived there. Melegal imagined most were holed up inside right now. Of course, whenever a door was barred from the inside, it only meant someone must be home. Most citizens of Bone never, ever left their home or store empty.

Never cared to rob the places filled with the living
.

He
made his way farther up the street.

There must be a keyhole somewhere.

He stopped at the next block and stood in front of an entrance to a corner store
, where a big black keyhole forged with brass greeted him. Melegal bounced the ancient Key on his chin.

It’s not going to fit in there, is it?

Lowering the
Key towards the hole, he froze. His neck hair rose. He sniffed.

Smells like a wet dog.

Wapush!

A tail of black leather encircled his wrist and jerked the Key out of his hand.

Melegal twisted his wrist free.
Who in Bone?

Wapush!

The tail of the whip caught him by the leg and pulled him down.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

An oversized Rottweiler was snapping at his neck.

“Bloody Watchmen!” Melegal cried out. “Back off! I’m a Royal—”

Wapush!

Another whip wrapped around his throat.

“Watchmen! Ha! Hear that, men? This one thinks we’re part of the local brute squad.” A tall, limber man stepped into view. He was no Watchman. He was savvy. Buckled. Clean. A different breed.

The other two were stout
. Menacing. “Ha! Watchmen, and you were about to say you were a Royal! Eh, Melegal?”

He couldn’t answer. The whip choked his neck.