The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (30 page)

Perhaps she’s dead.

She had a Key and a ring. Her Key would open the doors and give him access and freedom if the underlings took over. And if the underlings had the other seven Keys, the Keys that they knew about, what would they do? They could strike day or night all over Bish if they wanted to. Just like he had. He couldn’t fight the smile on his lips.

The minutes passed
, leaving Lord Almen alone in his thoughts, his memories.

For years
Lord Almen had used the Keys, slipping into rival bedrooms and parlors, strangling or cutting their throats while they slept. Already a Master Assassin, the Keys had made his job all too easy. Castle Almen had moved up the ranks quickly on account of it. The ancient chamber was a recent discovery, come upon by accident by his father. Slowly over the years, they had abused the power of the ancient chamber, never truly understanding it. But he knew, he’d always known, someone would come after the power one day or another. And now it seemed that day had come.

He froze. Up the stairwell
echoed the sound of wood exploding into splinters. He shifted his stance. Readied his sword. Chitters and the clash of steel followed. A human cry of alarm went out. Silence fell. The room went cold.

Something clopped
down the stairs, rolling to a stop at the bottom. It was Virgil’s head. A clean cut through the neck. Blood spilled into the mosaic. A sucking sound followed. Lord Almen sheathed his sword.

The first pas
t the torches was an underling, copper eyed with a bandolier of knives around his chest. He was tall, over six feet, the tallest underling Lord Almen had ever seen. Blood dripped from the tip of his sword, and a fierce grin parted his lips. Behind him, others came: two, then four, then six. Some were in black plate armor that didn’t clank or rattle; the others wore little more than leather or a cloak. Blades of many kinds hung loose in their grips, and their eyes were bright with color.

Lord Almen rubbed the sweat
from his hands. So many adversaries were to be expected, but everyone else in the castle flooded his thoughts. It was entirely possible that his family were being wiped out one by one.
I hope they made the Keep at least.

Still, he stood tall, a statue by
comparison. “I am Royal Lord Almen, Liege of this castle, and I request a parlay.”

Coming closer,
the copper eyes of the first underling narrowed to slits, a sinister chuckle erupting in his throat. “Parlay,” he said, slipping his sword in the sheath in a wink of an eye. “I don’t see any need for a parlay, Human Lord. After all, we’ve seized your castle, within your city. I think there is little you can do to help us.”

About then, a wheezing sound caught his ear. Sefron the Cleric was huffing down the stairs,
oversized robes hanging from his body, his gnarled staff clacking on the steps. Lord Almen’s usual frown expanded when they locked eyes.
Traitor!
Lord Almen didn’t hide his rage as the underlings formed a tight circle around him.

“Sefron, you sickening slaggard! It was you that gave up the castle! I’ll cut open that fat belly o
f yours!”

Sefron groan
ed, straightening the bend in his back with a chuckle. He rubbed his saggy chin and blinked his bulging eye. “Master Kierway, may I have this one?”

“Fool,” Kierway said, “this man will prove to be a better resource than you, certainly.”

Sefron came closer, trying to push past the underlings, his hand reaching out.

Lord Almen recoiled back
the ever slightest. He knew Sefron’s secret and what the man was capable of. It was why he recruited him in the first place.

“Don’t you dare, Servant,” Almen said.

“Stay back, Sefron, you disgusting fool.” Kierway shook his head. “You bother me, but this man, he doesn’t bother me so much, other than being a human.” He scratched his cheek with his long black nails. “Tell me about this
parlay
, Lord Almen. I’m curious.”

Tearing his eyes away from Sefron, Lord Almen cleared his throat
. “I’ve a history with your kind, Master Kierway. It was I who aligned myself with you at Outpost Thirty-One.”

“So you are a traitor?”

“A survivor.” Lord Almen nodded. “A master planner. My family and my castle are what mean the most in life to me. I dare not guess what the underlings have in mind with my castle or this city, but I will assist you. I’m a man of many secrets. Tell me what you want, and I assure you that I can help.”

Kierway moved
with the ease of a cat, sauntering through the chamber, tugging on one door handle after the other. Standing in the alcove near the key posts, he said, “This architecture is strange, but similar to many chambers in the Underland. Hmmm, so, Lord Almen, tell me, where are the Keys?”

Lord Almen kept his relief concealed. He
’d lost track of much while he’d been down for several days. He eyed Sefron briefly. He could tell the cleric must have had something to do with that, or had he? The wound between his ribs should have been fatal, and he vaguely remembered Sefron coming to his aid, only to betray him now.

“Stolen,” Lord Almen said.

Kierway crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder over one of the doors. “So, you are waiting for the thief to return with them? Certainly that wouldn’t happen in the middle of a siege. Not unless the person with the Keys would have a reason to come back, and into that question you might have more insight than I.” He raised his eyebrows. “Of course, perhaps you are down here because you are expecting someone else. Seven pegs. Seven Keys. Six doors. Interesting opportunities.”

One of the most frustrating things that Lord Almen had encountered
about underlings was that they weren’t stupid. Every one he’d dealt with had a calculating mind and cunning demeanor. He admired that about them. And something else. Unlike men, they weren’t greedy, at least not in terms of material things. Instead, they thirsted for something else without distraction. Power.

“I can’t readily say, and I cannot refute the possibility either.”

There was a long pause. Surrounding him, standing like statues poised to strike, the breathing of the underlings was barely audible. Lord Almen glanced over at Sefron, who now sat wheezing on the stairs. He should have rid himself of the slaggard long ago, but Sefron was so resourceful when it came to digging information from his enemies. And there was another thing. Perhaps Sefron was still his ally. The man gave no sign of it.

One by one, Kierway slid
three throwing knives from his bandolier. He juggled them with one hand. The blades flashing in the air, hand moving in a blur. Kierway’s expression was lax and bored. “We wait, if need be, Lord Almen, but it might be a very long time. Of course, through our sources, we know where the Keys are. They are with a man, one of your own. What is his name, Sefron?”

“Melegal.”

Feigning surprise, Lord Almen said to Sefron, “And how do you know this?”

Sefron sat with his legs crossed and sighed. “He’s the last one we saw with them in here.” He pointed at his ruined eye. “Thanks to him I have this.”

Kierway snapped his wrist.

Thunk!

A knife jutted in the support beam by Sefron’s head, causing him to jump.

“No
.” Kierway’s eyes narrowed at Sefron. “Thanks to me you have that.” He turned to Almen. “This man, Melegal, created the ultimate dilemma. Acts like an underling, that one. Cool and cunning.” He resumed his juggling.

Inside of himself, Lord Almen was astounded. Melegal had found the
Keys! But how? And why?
Hmmm… I see. The underlings recruited Sefron to find the Keys, meaning they must have known they were here. But why now? Why after all these years? It seems they have even darker secrets than I.

“What’s this?”
Putting away his knives, Kierway drew a sword.

B
y the stairs, Sefron rose to his feet.

A
faint yellow glow outlined the door where Kierway was leaning. “Chit! Chit!” he said. Underlings moved into the shadows. Some in full armor, some little, others none. “You, stay with Lord Almen!” He pointed to one then to another. “You, stay with the other one.”

L
ord Almen was pushed back into the alcove, where on tenterhooks, he and two of the underlings waited.
Finally,
he thought.
For what little good it will do.

The yellow light disappeared
, and the ancient door swung open.

CHAPTER 40

“What is this place?” Creed fumbled through the dark.

“Silence, Creed
.” Melegal held his stomach.

You’d think I’d be used to this miserable feeling by now.

Creed moaned. “Slat, I feel like I’m hung over. What just happened?”

“You’ll see
.” Melegal searched the darkness for a handle or a knob. “Listen to me, Creed. When I open this door, we’re going to be in a chamber. People might be there, and underlings for all I know, so get your guts in order, and be ready for anything.”

Creed s
coffed. “I’m always ready for anything; just give me a moment.”

Melegal pressed his ear to the door. If anything was moving on the other side, he wouldn’t know. The door was as thick and hard as st
one―and magical, for all he knew. Still, he worried. He assumed the Key took him back to the chamber beneath Castle Almen, but maybe it didn’t. Maybe it took him somewhere else.

“What’s that
?” Creed huffed. “Did you feel something? Something’s in here.”

M
elegal, still frozen, felt a gentle brush between his legs. Looking down, he saw two pale white eyes. “Octopus,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t worry about it, Creed. Now listen to me. Do you want to go in hard and fast or quick and easy?”

Truth was, Melegal had to wonder what would happen if others were in there. Could he slip back in and seal the door? He hadn’t thought long enough about it
; he’d had no choice. And what if the underlings were inside? He straightened his cap.
Be ready for a nose bleed.

“I don’t
suppose there really is a fast and easy way, is there?”

“I don’t think we’ve much choice. Just be ready to fight…” Melegal
found the handle and started to pull.

“…or Die,” Creed finished.

Quick. Quick. Quick.

Melegal pressed the latch downward and shoved the door open. He darted straight forward, rolled
, and rose to his knees, swords ready.

Creed spun along the wall, blades whirling.

The massive chamber was silent, torches flickering, forcing a wavering light.

Narrowing his eyes
, Melegal noted the figures lined against the walls in the shadows. Their eyes were glimmering.
Bish! It’s underlings!

Whamp.
The door they came through shut.

Leaning against the wall with two swords crossed over his back was
an underling as tall as him. His copper eyes glowered at him.

“Ah… you must be the one called Melegal
.”

The other
underlings emerged from the shadows.

The tall underling continued.
“I just missed you the last time, it seems. You are the one Sefron calls The Rat.”

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
I should have taken my chances in the streets! One. Two. Three... Seven underlings. No crossbows. No darts. Two torches. Where to go? Where to go?

That’s when he caught the heavy star
e of Royal Lord Almen. A sword was pressed into the Vulture-like man’s back. Wary, Melegal turned in his spot. Sefron’s eyes were on him as well.

The cleric
shuffled, wheezed, and squirmed at the side of an underling that held a blade to his belly.

Melegal allowed a grin and returned his focus to the copper
-eyed underling.

“I am that rat
. And who might you be?”

“Master Kierway
.” The underling pushed himself off the wall.

“Oh, so you are the one that Sefron wanted me to get the
Keys for?”

Lord Almen shot Sefron a look, but the cleric remained silent.

“Indeed, and I assume you have those Keys?”

Slowly, Melegal nodded his head. There was no reason to lie now. All they would do was kill him and take them. He searched Lord Almen’s face and saw nothing of help. It seemed the Castle was at a loss. But even if the underlings didn’t kill him, he was certain Lord Almen would. Af
ter all, he’d tried to kill Lord Almen and failed.

How will you squeeze out of this one
, Rat?

He glanced at Creed. The man stood tall, eyes darting from one underling to another, ready to fight anything and everything.