The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (21 page)

Knock! Knock! Knock!

She considered speaking. Saying hello. Sounding polite and customary, but such manners weren’t in her anymore. Over the years, she’d grown accustomed to taking what she wanted.

“Blasted cowards,” she murmured. She pressed her ear to the door again, closed her eyes and listened. Nothing. She was thinking maybe there was another way in when she heard more chittering. Closer this time. Coming her way. Her hand fell to her blade.

Now the little fiends show up.

Jarla didn’t fear the underlings as most people did
. She didn’t fear anything. Besides, she’d seen them bleed the same as anything else. She’d battled them by the dozens when she was a Royal Soldier and found out that their skulls split just as easily as men’s. She pressed her back against the doorway. The underlings, so far as she could hear, would be upon her any moment. And by the sounds of things, there were many of them, at least a dozen. If she only had her axes and the armament, she could have handled them.

Slat! I hate running!

Thump.

She heard a heavy footstep on the other side of the door, followed by the sound
of a bolt scraping over metal.

She turned just as the door swung open
. She took a sharp breath.

“Welcome,”
a man said. “Won’t you come in?”

The man that
filled the doorway spoke like his throat was full of broken glass. He looked and sounded like nothing she ever noted before. A hole dotted the center of his forehead. It was unnatural. She blinked and took a step back, hand still on her sword.

Neck cracking, the man bent his ear. “Seems company is coming
, huh, Little Lady.”

He
r eyes drifted to the jug of wine in his grip, then back to his face. His eyes were dark, almost black, and a thick scar parted the brown hair on his head and went down past his neck, stopping at the armor that covered his broad shoulders. Jarla felt something in her bones that she hadn’t felt in years. Fear.

“
Shall you stay or shall you go?”

She fanned her hand in front of her face. His breath was foul and unimaginable. Everything about him defied reason. Her keen eyes noted the
fresh blood stains all over his armor. Swords and long knives hung from his belt and behind his shoulders. His rotting smile turned her blood cold.

He shook his jug of wine
. “It’s been a long time since I drank with such a lovely lady.”

She pulled back her shoulders
. “And it’s been a long time since I drank with such a fine man.” She snatched the jug from his hand and stepped inside.

H
e closed the door behind her and slid the bolt back in place.

Taking a seat at the bar
, the first thing she noticed was what was left of the dead people on the floor. “I’m Jarla.” She tipped the bottle her lips.

The man bowed
. “And I’m Tonio.”

She almost spit all over herself. Something about the
half-dead man’s name was awfully familiar.

“
Bad wine?” He smirked.

Her eyes flittered towards the door.
Tonio stepped in the way, a haunting glimmer in his eye.

Slat! I should have snatched the jug and ran.

***

Staring at the wom
an, Tonio felt a degree of fascination. Her scarred face gave him comfort and solace. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this world. He grabbed the jug of wine she’d snatched and drank from it.

“Jarla,” he said
. It had a ring to it. There was something in a portion of his mind that clicked. “Jarla.”

Her eyes narrowed
, and her sword inched out of its sheath.

He chuckled. Even though his thinking had begun to clear, his memories were still scattered. “You can leave that where it is, Jarla. I have no reason to harm you.”

Scowling, she looked over at the people on the floor. “Is that what you told them?”

“Heh, heh, he
h… no, they would have died anyway. They were weak, but you,” he eyed her athletic frame up and down. It stirred something in him, “are strong.”

“You have better judgment than most men I know,” she
said. She pulled out a dagger and stuck it in the bar. “Just don’t get too close.”

Tonio
grabbed another bottle and poured it down his throat. It warmed his bones, made him feel alive. But in the back of his mind, the nagging continued.

Kill the Vee-Man.

The image of Venir was still as clear as a bell in his mind. The man
had mocked him in the jail cell, in front of his comrades. He could still see the man splitting him in half with that axe. The whistle of the blade woke him up whenever he drifted off. Only vengeance would give him rest.

“Kill the Vee-Man,” he
growled.

Jarla looked at him and said, “What?”

He slammed his fist into the bar. “Kill Vee-Man!”

Jarla jumped back, ripping her sword from her sheath
. “Keep silent, you three-eyed fool! There are underlings out there!”

Underlings, they meant nothing to Tonio. Or did they
? A memory came forth, the memory of the underling named Oran. Violet eyed. That underling had saved him after the giant dog’s chewing almost killed him. That underling had found the Vee-Man before. Maybe underling help was what he needed after all.

He headed toward the door.

“What are you doing?” Jarla jumped into his path and stuck her sword at his belly.

“The underlings will help me find the Vee-Man,” he said, coldly.

“Oh no they won’t!” She shoved her sword through his belly.

Tonio didn’t feel a thing.
He shook his finger at the wide-eyed woman. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jarla.”

Smack!

He back-handed her across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor. He pulled the sword from his belly and tossed it clattering by his side. Outside, he could hear the chittering of underlings gathering at the door.

Jarla
dove after her sword. A second later she was ready. “I can’t let you do that, you split-faced bastard!”

“I must find the Vee-Man
, and you can’t stop me.” He pulled a blade from the sheath.

Clang!

Metal crashed into metal. He knocked her swings away, parrying one after the other. With his other hand, he reached the bolt and started to pull it free.

“No!” Jarla
said. She poked at his eyes.

Tonio flinched
.

“Almost got me, Beautiful.”

Jarla gasped and turned away.

A
ngry churts erupted. Bright underling eyes, teeth bared, poured into the room, surrounding them.

“Didn’t you secure the door in the back
? You idiot!”

Tonio shrugged
at her and turned to the underlings. “Take me to the Vee-Man.”

One underling
chittered a series of orders; the rest bared their teeth, raised their weapons and charged.

CHAPTER 27

Outpost Thirty One was under attack. Rider after rider stormed through the gate: three horses wide, twenty horses deep. Their banners streamed in the air, bright and colorful, a symbol of hope among the despair.

His fires stoked inside
. Venir fought against the stockade.

The big orc
said, “Say anything, and I’ll cut your tongue out,” then turned his eyes on the burgeoning battle below.

At the front of the riders, Venir could see Commander Jans. His long auburn mustache whipped in the wind as he thundered in.

“Let the Havoc begin!” Jans cried.

Perched on the catwalks and in the towers, the underlings
fired. Crossbow bolts, spears, lances and ballista bolts ripped into the men. Hot pitch poured down on them.

Venir wanted to scream, “Turn back!”
but he didn’t have the throat or the breath for it.

The Riders kept charging, thundering through the giant courtyard, looking for an enemy to strike. On
e barrage after the next punched into the flesh of men, while other bolts were deflected by their heavy armor.

Venir grimaced
. Many men caught ballista bolts in the face. Tuuth pointed and laughed.

Ride out, Jans! Ride out!

Venir’s mind was racing. More Royal Riders stormed through the gate and inside. It was just what the underlings wanted. The riders thundered straight into the next assault. Crossbow bolts, heavy and small, ripped into them, separating horse and rider. One rider caught a bolt in the neck. Another was pinned to his horse. Pitch burned horses and riders alike. A dozen horses went down in an instant, and still the riders kept pouring in.

The well
-organized ranks of the riders turned to chaos. The underlings splintered the groups, sending them in all directions. Over a hundred warriors rode purposefully around the fort, looking for something to strike. Something to trample. Something to kill. Another volley cut them down.

Blast the
ir black hides!

Venir’s fists cl
enched beneath his broken wrists. He’d cut off his arm to get down to them. They needed help. They needed to get on those catwalks.

Men yelled. Cried out. Horses whined and buckled. The Royal Rider
s’ organized ranks had become chaos. Some circled the courtyard, while others tried to hide. But there was nowhere to go. The underlings fired from every angle, every corner. Venir felt helpless. Miserable. Standing there watching good men get slaughtered. 

Run, blast you, Run!

A dark cloud rolled overhead, blotting out the sun as the southern gate was lowered and sealed shut. The Royal Riders were trapped.

“Won’t be long now, Stranger. And once they’re all dead, it won’t be long for you either.”

Venir would have stabbed
him in in the throat if he could have. But he couldn’t do anything right now. He couldn’t even hold a weapon. He could barely walk or keep his eyes open. Through his hazy eyes, he caught something. Massive stone towers jutted up from every corner. Smaller towers lined the inner wall every thirty yards, linking catwalk to catwalk. At the bottom of each corner tower was a huge wooden door. The underlings cried out as one of these doors exploded. 

A tall lanky man appeared, waving the riders inside.

Slim!

Commander Jans and his steed disappeared inside
, appearing moments later on the catwalk.

“What’s this?” Tuuth
’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

Spears lowered, the Royal Riders galloped into the sea of underlings on the catwalk. Jans caught two on one spear with his first pass.

Venir wanted to jump for joy.
Yes, by Bish!

Underlings were trampled and gored. Men were pulled from their saddles. Underlings were hurled off the catwalks.

Boom! 

Somewhere, another door exploded.
Men surged into the tower and up onto the western catwalks.

The underlings were caught off guard. Flatfooted
, they scrambled for weapons, only to have their brains dashed into the wood. The Royal Riders cheered and charged, tearing into the underlings with everything they had. Somewhere someone shouted, “Take the towers!”

One by one, the underlings on the
catwalks fell under the heavy steel of the Royal Riders. The underling rout was over, but the battle had only just begun. The underlings were many. The Riders were already reduced to half the force they rode in with. The underlings, despite their losses, were somehow still at full strength.

Commander
Jans was at the other end of the Catwalk, beside the South Gate entrance, throwing an underling over the railing. He was shouting, but Venir couldn’t make out what he said. Were there still more Riders to come? Had Royal reinforcements finally arrived?

KA-CHOW!

An arc of energy struck Jans full in the chest, blasting him into the main wall. Above, a host of underling magi had appeared. Arms spread wide, fingertips aglow, they let the Royal Riders have it.

KA-CHOW!

KA-CHOW!

KA-CHOW!

“Nooooo!” Venir’s hoarse voice cried out.

Tuuth back
-handed him in the face. “Quiet, Fool!”

Men were knocked from the
ir horses. Bodies of animal and man exploded. The triumph of the Riders took a sharp turn into a dark tunnel. Venir turned just in time to catch Commander Jans rising back his feet. Blood coated his mustache. He kept shouting. Pointing at the towers.

Two ballistas swung in his direction
. An underling mage hung in the sky, guiding them. Venir’s heart sank. The underling pointed at Jans. The big warrior saw them and beat his chest, yelling.