The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (23 page)

“Now what, Cass? Now what?”

She didn’t stir.

If only Mood or Eethum were here.

He sat for a while, before he got back up. Nightfall would be coming soon.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the first watch.” He stretch
ed out his arms and yawned. “No, no, you two go ahead and rest. I’ll take the second one too.” Instinctively, he started to gather sticks and pile them up together. “What am I doing? I can’t build a fire now, can I?” He shook his head. “Am I talking out loud to myself? Am I?”

I can’t be. I can’t be. I can’t be.

He poked one of the nasty red stings on Barton’s arm with a stick. Nothing. Barton kept snoring. “Well, I won’t fall asleep with you around, that’s for sure. And we can’t have you drawing any underlings, giants, nasty bugs or dragons straight to us either.” With both hands, he tried to pinch Barton’s nose shut.

Barton snorted and started to roll
over.

“Not on top of me!”
he said, jumping to the side.

Barton lay on his stomach now, no longer snoring.

“Sheesh!” Fogle got up and dusted his tattered robes off. “Aw, what’s the point?” He snatched up the spellbook. “I need something else to keep watch in case I fall asleep,” he said, yawning.

Every scrap
e, bump, and bruise began to settle in on him, and he wondered if the Outland was making him tougher or deteriorating him faster.

I’m
no dwarf. That’s for sure.

Instead, he was a man. A lost man. A lam
b in the Outland waiting to be devoured by Bish.

“There’s always tomorrow if we live that long,” he said to Cass. Something strange howled in the wind.
He eyed the sky. “I really hope you wake back up by then, because, even though you’re small, I can’t carry you too far.”

Barton stirred and
farted.

“Ah!”
Fogle held his nose. “Hmmm… I think I have an idea. Did a fart inspire that?”

Stop talking to yourself!

Over the next hour
, he dove into the spellbook, eyes pouring over and committing to memory what he could. He muttered a cantrip after his final yawn. A Wizard’s Alarm should wake him if anything got too close. He needed rest. He had to risk it. Besides, he couldn’t wake them up anyway. “Forgive me, Cass.” After kissing her forehead, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, oblivious to a unique sound in the distance.

W
hump. Whump. Whump…

CHAPTER 30

Melegal squirmed. He was only a few seconds from being a cripple if he didn’t twist away.

“My, you’re
a shifty one. I’ll give you that,” the leader said. “Like a big fish in man’s clothing.”

Think of something
, Thief!

Melegal’
d been captured before, sometimes willing, sometimes not. But when being pinned down by a superior force there were a couple of ways you could play it. Fight with everything you had, or panic.

“Help!”
he screamed.

Or at least act like you
were panicking.

One of the Blood Hounds slugged him in the gut.

“Ooof!” Melegal groaned.

The one that hit him said, “His stomach’s harder than old leather,
Creed.”

“Is that so?”
Creed drew back and also socked him in the gut. “That ought to soften it some. Sorry, nothing personal. Just business, squirmy one.” He pinched Melegal’s face in his hand, grabbed his hat, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Any more of that, and your gonads will be dog food. Understand, Detective?”

Melegal blinked
twice.

“Good. Now, be peaceful abou
t this, or we’ll be forced to kill you.”

Melegal’s eyes widened.

“That’s right, but you’re wanted alive rather than dead. Good thing for you.”

One of the dogs snapped in his face
. He resisted less and began to turn over. He forced a hardy cough, spit out his hat, and screamed.

“Blast it! Just knock the man out
,” Creed said. His voice was refined. Confident. Patient. “Hand me your black jack. We’ve enough fooling with this. Underlings might be crawling all over us if we’re not more careful.”

Melegal coughed again, dodging.

He felt Creed’s hand rise up with the black jack.

Now
or die!

Slick as a snake, Melegal twisted free of all of them and took aim.

Zing! Zing! Zing!

“Aarggh!”

The dart launchers caught one man holding him in the face and Creed in the chin.

He rolled beneath another man’s
fist.

Zing! Zing! Zing!

The man wailed out, clutching at his eyes.

Zing!

One dog yelped.

Zing!

Another dog fled, dart protruding from its neck.

“
Yer gonna pay for that,” one said, ripping a heavy sword from his scabbard.

Melegal
slid out his swords, the Sisters, and faced off the goon.

“Nice trick, Detective,
” Creed said, plucking the dart from his beard, watching. “But hardly effective.”

Melegal shrugged
. “What the dart won’t do, the poison will?”

Creed
drew his longsword and smiled.

“Then you’ll be going down with us.”

Run!

It was the preferred resolution
for his survival, but there was a problem. His hat and case were on the ground, and he wasn’t willing to part with them yet.

‘
Greedy gets you killed,’ they say.

Melegal shifted his footing, gently bending his knees.

Creed nodded to his man. “Let’s see what the Detective is made of. Take him!”

The man took three quick steps and lunged.

Melegal sidestepped and stabbed.

Glitch!

The man’s sword clattered to the ground
, and he clutched at his chest. Melegal ripped his sword from the man’s heart. His own heart was pounding.

I did it!

He shifted his focus to
Creed. The tall man gawped while Melegal slung the blood off his sword.

“Impressive, Detective
, I must admit. I didn’t think you had that kind of fight in you. But I don’t think you’ll have the same fortune with me.” Creed smiled. It wasn’t an evil smile. Just a confident one.  A dangerous one. A ‘cat about to eat the rat’ kind of one. He drew forth another blade that shone brighter than the other.

Oh slat!
 

Melegal
could tell by Creed’s stance, his posture, he was …

“I’m a swordsman
. My comrade, not so much. Besides, I didn’t like him anyway. Slow and stupid, but a good grappler.” He sliced his blade through the air and twirled it with his wrist. “Hmmm… I’m feeling spry this day, and well, I don’t think that dart was poisoned after all.” He lifted his brow and smiled. “And, I think I can disarm you in six seconds. I can maim you in ten. But, it’s nothing personal. Just business.”

Melegal stood his ground.

Still time to run if you don’t think of something.

He renewed his stance: blades up, elbows down.

“Tell you what, Detective: come along quietly, and I won’t turn you into my dog’s dinner. Not all of you, anyway.”

Swish!

The sword flashed like a stroke of lightening.

Slat, he’s good.
Melegal narrowed his eyes.

He immediately recalled his battle with Teku in the alley months ago. It
had taken everything he had not to die then, and Teku had been just an assassin, not a master swordsman.

“So, you
’re taking me to the Almens, eh…”

“Creed, Royal Bloodhound Knight.”

“Oh please, you’re no Royal or Knight, but a scavenger.”

“Like you,” he smiled.

Melegal shrugged.

“Like me
, indeed then.”

Creed scoffed.
“I hardly think so. Sefron’s message was abundantly clear. You are little more than an overachieving urchin. I, however, am of Royal blood.”

Creed could pass for
a Royal, in some circles, but Melegal knew better. The Bloodhounds claimed to be a Royal house, but instead they were little more than a house of mercenaries and bounty hunters of the true Royal houses. But, because of their unique position and the secrets they kept, the Royals ignored their overstated positions.

It was Melegal’s turn to laugh.

“Sefron? You took a charge from Sefron? Ha! You might as well be taking charges from the urchins that scrub pots in the kitchen and clean the slat from the bird cages. Hah! Are you even sure I’m the one he really wants?”

Creed
’s eyes shifted, sword tips dipping a hair.

Melegal kept pressing.

“Creed, you are a fool. Have you not noticed that the underlings are storming Castle Almen? How do you suppose to get me in there? Collect your reward? It wouldn’t surprise me if Sefron was dead right now. Can you imagine him fighting an underling? Have you ever fought an underling? This City’s doomed, Creed. A smart man would save himself. Not carry out the charge of a fool when total destruction is about.”

Creed was thinking. Melegal could see it, the hardness in his eyes weakening.

“What are you thinking, Creed?”

“I’m thinking that a Bloodhound never gives up on a charge until he gets his man.”

“Is that so, then?”

Creed raised his blades, flashing a thin row of white teeth.

“So it is, and taking into account all you’ve said and done so far, I think it’s best for me if I take you in dead.”

Melegal raised his blades.

I’m dead if I don’t run. Think, Melegal. What did McKnight say long ago? ‘The mind is faster than the sword.’
He glanced at his hat on the ground.
If I can just squirm my way to it.

“Creed”
The man Melegal had shot in the eyes stumbled along the storefronts. “I can’t see, Creed, what do I do?”

“Silen
ce, Dolt! I’ll tend to you in a moment.”

Melegal started left and Creed started right, both men circling.

Good.

Creed stopped, lunged and chopped.

Clang!

The sound of clashing steel echoed through the alley and down the street. Melegal held back his grimace. Creed struck again.
Clang!
Again.
Clang!
Again.
Clang! Clang! Clang!

Creed pressed, Melegal parried. The man was a true swordsman. His moves perfect. His swing quick and powerful. Melegal’s hands were numb seconds into it.

“Not much of an offense, I see,” Creed said, backing away, cutting his swords through air. “But, you’ve an excellent defense; I’ll give you that, Detective. I underestimated you. Problem is, how long can those bony arms of yours hold out?”

Not long!

“Long enough to wear you down,” Melegal said.

Creed darted in, blades stabbing like striking snakes
. “I don’t think so.”

Melegal battle
d one blade away, only to shift and catch another.

Creed kept stabbing at his legs, a hungry grin behind his lips.

Slice!

Creed caught Melegal in the inner thigh. He felt every bit of it.

“Hah!” Creed said, jumping away. “First blood to me. Oh, that’s already staining your clothes.”

Run,
Melegal! It’s not worth it!

Behind him, the hat and
slender case lay unmolested on the ground, but he had no chance of getting them. Creed would pin him to the ground if he tried.

“My, your shoulders are already dipping,” Creed said,
cutting his longsword over the ground. “More of a fencer than a soldier, clearly. But, I think I’ve summed you up enough.” Creed sheathed one sword, left the other one that gleamed like the sun out, and shrugged. “I feel the need to challenge myself.” He motioned Melegal closer with his hand. “Come on, Detective. Attack.”

Melegal remained wary. Creed might be cock
y, but he wasn’t a fool either. Even though the odds had shifted more in his favor, he knew better. Creed had something up his sleeve.

“I’ll fight my way
; you fight yours. Come on then, Hound. I’m curious to see what you can do with a single sword to my two.”

Creed leapt and swung.

Melegal parried and struck.

Pour it on
, Rat!

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!