The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (36 page)

“Just do what you can and go, Slim. It’s like you said,
‘Bish Happens.’”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Huh, that’s a good one.” He scurried over Venir’s shoulder and s
poke in his ear. “Now you just be still while I have the bugs stitch you up. And remember, keep your mouth closed tomorrow. You’re better off dying digging holes than being whipped to death, I’d figure. Of course, I’m a lot smarter than you.”

“Thanks, Slim—Yeouch!”

It felt like something crawled into his spine.

“Be still, I say! It’s going to hurt
, you know. Yesterday you slept right through it, leaving me wondering if you were getting better or worse.”

“Worse
.” Venir bit his lip. Helpless, he lay there listening to Slim guiding the creatures all over his back. “Don’t you have any of that blue ointment?”

“Heh,
the underlings would sniff me out in a second if I used that. I’ve got it hidden. Besides, I’m saving the good stuff for me.”

“Great…”
Venir said just before dozing off.

***

Slim the Healer kept his astonishment to himself. Venir should have been dead. The man’s back was a grotesque mat of blood and skin. The first time he saw it, he felt his own skin turn inside out. Yet somehow, Venir had prevailed.

The bugs scurried over Venir’s back
, attacking the puss that seeped through the pores.
If he gets the fever, he will be dead.
If he did, there was no way of helping the man, no way at all. Still, it was a mystery. What kept Venir together this long? One by one, the bugs pushed the flaps of skin back into place and sealed them up with a thick gummy spit.

“Aside
from all the blood, you don’t look half bad,” he said, dusting his insect hands off. “I can even see the tattoo. ‘V’. Hmmm, what did that drunken fool put it on there for? What was her name? Vorla? Ah, time to crawl back into my hole. Sleep well, Venir, and don’t run your mouth tomorrow.”

Venir snored.

“That might be a good thing.”

On his six insect leg
s, he made his way from Venir’s cell and followed the other bugs into a small hole they had bored into the interior of the fort’s wall. Squeezing through the dark and narrow path, he popped into a hollowed-out room inside the massive log from the Great Forest of Bish, big enough for several men. Exhausted, he reverted back to his normal form and stretched out in the dim green light provided by the Elga Bugs from the glowing sacks on their bellies.

Resting the best
he could, he couldn’t help but worry―as he had on all the previous nights―that Venir would not return alive.

“How much will the underlings put up with
, and how much more can he take?” Closing his eyes, he whisked his hand, and the Elga bug lights went dim.

If Venir’s no
longer The Darkslayer, then who is?

CHAPTER 48

Castle Almen was no longer under siege. It was overtaken. Lord Almen sat on the marbled tile floor, arms shackled behind his back, and sighed. A corpse of one of his prized Shadow Sentries lay dead at his side, his mesh mask melted to his face. The rest of the room, his throne room, was in good order. But now, where there had been one high-backed chair of mahogany wood trimmed in the finest metal and jewels sat two. Both were empty at the moment.

His stomach rumbled
as he shifted on the floor. He’d been fed, but very little, and he was stripped down to his shirt and trousers. All of his rings and baubles were gone. Closing his eyes and leaning back, the same thought raced through his mind.

How could I let this happen?

He rolled his shoulder and cracked his neck side to side. Something scurried out of the corner of the room. A spider, big as a dog and quick as a cat, on silent legs crawled over towards him. Another nearly his size dropped from the ceiling, jaws opening and closing. They were the underlings’ watch dogs. Creepy things. Hairy black creatures with white stripes and venomous teeth that he’d seen suck the marrow from his own nephew’s bones two days hence. The revolting sound still rang inside his head. The sucking. The screaming. The anguish. For the most part, Lord Almen delivered quick and silent deaths, but the underlings enjoyed the torment at another level. They delighted in the suffering of others.

He remained still, beads of sweat dripping from his nose on
to the floor. A minute passed, then two before the spiders backed away and curled up out of sight.

How did I let this happen?

Until now, t
here had never been a day when Lord Almen hadn’t felt in control, but other things had led to his fall. Melegal had undone him. Sefron had betrayed him. Most men dared not look him in the eye, nor did they have the courage to attack him. But Melegal had. As for Sefron, the man’s own lust and fear of the underlings clearly led to his betrayal. However, Lord Almen could not imagine why Melegal had tried to kill him. He raced through that day. What had happened before Melegal stabbed him? Had Melegal done it on his own? Certainly he’d wanted to. Or had Leezir the Slerg pulled off a suggestion?
Hmmm…
 

Lord Almen thought through
it until his lids became heavy and he drifted into sleep.

Clap!

His head snapped up.

“Almen,” a silver-eyed underling named Verbard said, “rise up.”

He nodded.

The underling sat on one of the throne
s, his golden-eyed brother, Catten, at his side. Between them stood another creature, a hulking black humanoid that reminded him of a panther. The underlings’ eyes pierced him as he rose up to stand tall. With a single word, he felt one or the other could destroy him. He’d dealt with underlings before, but not like this. The cleric Oran had been formidable, but the might of these two? Another scale. No, these two had made his finest magi look like carnival enchanters: leaving one in a pile of ashes, the other with a gaping hole in his chest.

“
The time has come to negotiate,” Verbard said.

“With?”
Almen replied.

Catten
tapped his fingernails on the arm rest, a callous look on his face.

Verbard took
a deep draw through his nose.

“Do you smell that
, Almen? The delicious scent, so pungent, so sweet? A dead child? A dead wife, perhaps?” Verbard rubbed the rat-like fur under his chin.

It wasn’t what Lord Almen smelled that bothered him so much as what h
e didn’t smell. His castle had always been filled with fresh flowers and the burning of scented candles, oils and such. Now, the beauty of his Castle―that he and Lorda took so much pride in―was gone. The gardens trampled and smeared in blood. Many of his men buried in them. As for Lorda, he had no idea if she lived or was dead, but the Keep had fallen a day later, after the rest of the castle fell. He could only presume she was dead. It was the best way to avoid manipulation.

“I smell death. Decay. What else is there?”

“More, much, much more.” Verbard floated off his chair and right past him. “Come. I’ll show you.”

Lord Almen glanced at Catten and the Vicious. The underling filled his goblet with a bottle of wine
, and the Vicious fell a half-step behind him and shoved him forward.  He limped but kept up as Verbard made his way through Castle Almen as if it were his. Underlings were posted throughout the castle, their countenances evil and alert.

Grimacing, he followed Verbard into the keep, taking the stairs that led onto the roof. He
was panting when he reached the top, rubbing the bandage on his leg where he’d been stabbed at the battle in the chamber.

Verbard floated still higher in the air,
robes billowing, turning towards him.
Can you see it? Can you smell it?

He heard it in his mind.

He did see it and smell it. Black smoke was rolling up over the great wall of the City of Bone, not on the inside but on the outside. Eyes watering, he covered his nose.

Play along, Almen. Play along.

Walking across the top of the keep
and stepping into a small tower that led to its highest point, he got his first glimpse over the wall in years.

Underlings
. Legions of them.

They
were everywhere. It wasn’t just underlings either, but giant spiders and strange creatures he’d never seen before, tossing one dead human onto one flaming pyre after the other. His fingertips went numb.

He looked Lord Verbard in the eye
. “Would you have me negotiate the terms of surrender for the City of Bone?”

“Serve us well, Lord Almen
. You and a select few of your choosing can be our liaisons.”

Lord Almen had made deals with the underlings before. He
’d supplied Oran with people for various poisons, potions and such. He’d even conspired with others to see the fall of Outpost Thirty-One. It had led to his rise from the 6
th
house in the City of Bone to the
3
rd
.  But now, in hindsight, it seemed that move might also have led to this.

“I welcome the opportunity
.” He bowed. “How may I assist?”

“We just need to know which Castles need to fall first. You see, with the
Keys, we can infiltrate any of them and slaughter them all. But ‘Which falls first?’ is the question.”

Lord Almen wanted to laugh.
I can send the underlings to do my bidding for me! But to what end?

“After that, you can negotiate with the weaker houses and on down.
Once we control them, then we control everything.”

“I see, Lord Verbard
. And once they surrender, what are your plans for them? Slaughter? Slavery? A mass exodus into the Outland?”

“Those are excellent suggestions and most likely a great deal for them all, but you shouldn’t worry about that. Not for your own sake.”

Verbard pointed at Almen’s chest and hissed.

“No, you should just worry about yourself.”

CHAPTER 49

The dungeons beneath Castle Almen hadn’t chang
ed any over the past few months, but the guards had. Now, they were underlings. Wiry with gem-speckled eyes that didn’t hesitate to punish if you so much as snored.

Melegal sat with his head between his bony knees, contemplating. Contemplating his next move. He’d been doing it for days, but he didn’t have
a next move.

Keys. Keys. The Keys. Wretched things got me into this mess. The wretched things could get me out.

Two underling guards in dark leather armor dragged a tall man in and shackled him inside an adjacent cell. Stripped down to his trousers, the man’s chest was bruised and knotted with painful lumps.

Melegal could feel the man’s gre
en eyes on him, but he kept his head down.

The underlings didn’t whip the quiet ones, but Creed, he couldn’t help himself.
You’d think someone of his ilk would know better.

“Ooof!”

An underling kicked Creed in the gut, locked the cell and walked away.

Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t speak.

Nearby were the rest of the survivors.

Jarla lay in her cell, facing the wall in the back. The Brigand Queen hadn’t acknowledged any of them since they’d been there
. Instead she, despite her condition, maintained her air of superiority somehow. Melegal wouldn’t be surprised if she was there as more than a prisoner, but a spy. After all, she had assisted the underlings in getting into Outpost Thirty One.

What are you going to do
, Rat? What?

Strip
ped down to his own trousers, Melegal might as well have been naked. His hat was gone. Worry gnawed at his stomach: that an underling had discovered its powers, powers that he himself had only recently begun to unlock. It had been long ago when he acquired it, and it had become a companion of sorts. He wasn’t comfortable without it. Not at all.

Get the hat, get the
Keys. Get the Keys, get the hat.

Hiding
his yawn, he couldn’t stop his stomach from rumbling.

One of the underling guards step
ped over and banged on his cage.

He kept his head down, but was unable to contain the next loud sound his stomach made.

The ruby-eyed underling, brandishing a black club, opened the door to his cage, stepped inside, and cracked him in the head, drawing bright spots in his eyes. The underling drew back again.

Slat on this!

In a single motion, Melegal swept its legs
out from under it, snatched its keys, scurried out, and slammed the door shut, locking the underling guard in his cell. He tossed the keys to Creed’s outstretched arm.

Slice!

The jagged teeth of the other underling’s sword ripped over his head.

Melegal leapt over a torment table
, snapped up a spear from the wall, and braced himself.  The creature, swift as a cat, batted the weapon away and lunged inside. Melegal twisted away, the underling’s blade slicing the skin on his back.

What am I doing? What am I doing!

He knew he couldn’t overpower the underling. They might be small and lithe, but their bodies were hardened like animals. He’d seen them rip overconfident men to pieces a time or two. The underling came at him, hard and fast. Melegal sidestepped again, pinned its sword arm on the table, and drove a long metal torture needle through its hand.

It screeched
, ruby eyes widening, and then back-handed Melegal in the jaw.

His knees swayed.

The underling pounced on him. Its clawed fingers wrapped around his neck and dug into his skin.

Melegal
’s eyes bulged.
At least I killed Sefron. I’d kill him again if I could.

Glitch!

The bloody tip of a sword burst through the underling’s chest.

It fell
over dead.

Creed stood tall, eyes
cold and dangerous.

“Now this is more like it
. Just what I’ve been saying all along.” He grabbed Melegal’s arm and pulled him up like a doll. “What’s the plan now?”

“Yes, what is the plan, Fool?
” Jarla pressed her angry face against the bars. “To get us all killed?”

“
’Die doing something, or die doing nothing.’ That’s how I saw it.” Melegal hunched over, catching his breath. “And I don’t recall making you part of any plan. Any of you, for that matter.”

Creed
gave him a look.

“No offense
. I needed you to kill that underling, but I didn’t figure it’d take you so long to operate a keyhole.”

“Why you sneaky little
scarecrow,” Creed was smiling. “I like it. But, I took a moment to kill that other underling first.” He pointed to Melegal’s cell.

T
he other underling lay back against the wall, a large gash in his head.

“At that point
, I wasn’t certain I needed you either.” He winked. “But you won’t be going anywhere without me.” He wagged the dripping sword in Melegal face. “At least not without my sword sticking through you.”

“Hah, hah, hah
.” Jarla was still sneering. “You don’t have any plan. Do you, Fool?”

Actually, I do. Just not a very good one.

Melegal
had learned many secrets about Castle Almen in his stay here, many thanks to Sefron. He knew of the secret rooms and corridors, not all, but some. He figured that should be enough to save himself.

“No, no I don’t
, but right about now, you’re in the cage, not me.”

Creed grabbed his shoulder and squeezed
it. “We’ll need all the strong arms we have if we’re to carve our way out of here.”

“Let out! Let out!”

It was Tonio’s voice, crying out from behind a wooden door with a closed-off portal.

Melegal hadn’t forgotten about the man, but he wished he had. The deranged m
an rattled even the underlings, who seemed to avoid him.

“We’re going to need that big fell
ow too, you know.” Creed was making his way around the room, gathering up weapons. “I don’t know what he is, but he swings a heavy piece of steel like a needle. Let the monster out.” Creed gazed at Jarla up and down. “Perhaps this raven-headed princess can control him.”

“You dare!
You, a misfit from the Royal hounds of the sewers?”

Creed
forced a laugh, shoulders dipping.

“You have the
cell keys, Creed. Do what you want.” Melegal made his way over to the iron door. It didn’t appear to be locked. He pressed his ear against it.

“Let out!
”
Wham!

Melegal shook his head. So far as he could tell,
the way past the iron door was clear, for now, but they needed to move fast.

Just lead them out, Melegal. Once they start swing
ing, you’ll disappear and be fleeing. Heh. Heh. Crafty as a serpent, I am.

“Let the monster out then,” he
said, looking at Jarla, “and Tonio too.”

I hope she dies first.

Sword ready, Creed unlocked Jarla’s cage.

“Idiot
.” She made her way across the room and sorted through the weapons on the table.

Melegal kept his eyes on her
.

Tall, dark and arrogant. A Queen of Brigands indeed.
Other than those hips and legs of hers, I’ll never understand what Venir saw in the evil hag.

“Your word: you won’t be stabbing any of us in the back, Jarla.”

Her smile
looked as dangerous as a viper. “Unlike you? No, I’ll not be giving you my word, you little ghoul of a man. As a matter of fact, I see no reason to follow you.” She came closer, sword ready. “For all I know, you’ll lead us into a trap.”

Creed stepped between them
. “The underlings are the enemy now, Jarla. Survive their invasion. We can settle our differences later. Now, I’ll give my word. You give yours, Jarla, and Detective, yours as well.”