The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (42 page)

If I only had my sword again.

The brute held him by the neck, pushed him up with its long arm like a child, and shook him like a doll.

Purple-face
d, he gulped for air.

Such a cowardly way to go!

He kicked at the Vicious again and again, but there was laughter in its evil eyes.

“
Blast you, fiend!” Bloody saliva flew from his mouth.

Creed felt his body closing down. The light dimmed. The pain subsided.

This is it, Bish.

The Vicious released him.

Creed fell to the ground, coughing and choking.

Tonio was there. Arms latched around the creature
’s neck in a headlock of some sort.

Crawling through
the dirt, Creed searched for a blade―a knife, anything.

“Perhaps I’ll get in one last swing.”

***

“Mother!” Tonio growled. “You hurt my mother!”

Strength versus strength. Power versus power. Two titans thrashed with one another. The Vicious, an underling abomination of magic brought to life in humanoid form. Tonio, a dead man revived, raging within like a forest fire.

He didn’t know what he was or how he came to be. He knew he should be dead but he lived, stitched up
by the spiderish arachna-men. Magic gave him life, and nothing could give him death. So he fought. His vengeance unfilled against the yellow-haired Vee-Man.

The Vicious twisted out of his choking grip and socked him in the face.

He staggered back.

T
he creature pounced on him. It punched and clawed at him, one blow as quick as the other.

His skin shredded. His bone exposed.
Tonio didn’t feel a thing.

The creature let out an angry howl.

Tonio punched his fist inside its mouth.

Its eyes
widened. It pushed away.

Tonio shook the spit from
his hand and flashed a split-faced grin. “You can’t hurt me!” He pounded his chest. “Nothing can!”

The Vicious leapt
. Kicked him in the chest. Knocked him to the ground.

Tonio laughed and rose to his feet.
The underling was quick. He matched it blow for blow. He slammed it into the wall.

It bit off
a part of his leg.

Tonio
hoisted it over his head. Slammed it into the ground. Stomped on its chest. It’s head.

Back and forth the
y went. Two monsters. Evil. Tireless. No quarter given. No hatred spared.

***

Underlings closed in.

M
elegal’s instincts took over. He reached into the sack, clutching for a weapon. Something. Anything. Bony fingertips stretching. Tingling. He felt something. Cold. Living.

What is that?

S
mack!

An underling cracked him over the head with the pommel of its sword, splitting his vision from two to four.

Spine like jelly, he slumped over the benches, the sack slipping from his grasp.

The
one underling grabbed him by the leg and dragged him. The other tossed the sack over the rail, into the arena.

Head bouncing off the benches
, Melegal stared at the broken glass dome above. The suns gleamed on the broken glass edges.

Venir, you lout, where are you
?

***

Creed crawled. Huffing. Bleeding. Busted inside and out. A rack of weapons awaited him against the way. And that wasn’t all.

“I’ll be,” he said
.

His sword lay
on the rack. Steel glimmering under the dust. Tonio and the other monster thrashed behind him.
Move, Creed!
He gathered his feet and stumbled over.

“I bet Pearl can poke a hole in that thing.”

He stretched out his fingers and grabbed the hilt.

“Bone! Ah!”
The sharp stabbing pain of broken ribs bit into him. Something fell over his head, blocking his sight.

What in Bish?

He tore it off his face and beheld a worn, stitched
-up sack of leather.

Where did this come from?

His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten in days.
A savage instinct overcame him.

Maybe there
’s a loaf or some cheese. I don’t fight well when hungry.

Ravenous and wild-eyed
, he set down his sword and reached inside.

***

Lorda Almen squatted along the wall at the top of the arena, hiding in a doorway, trembling. A boulder the size of a sofa had almost smashed her, and a creature as dark as night had shoved her down. Her home, her castle, had become a den of madness, and it had only just begun.

“Lorda, get out of there,” Lord Almen cried out, his long arm waving her over.

Underling soldiers were whisking him away, and two more were coming for her. She shook her head.

Down
on one side of the arena, her son Tonio smashed two underlings together. He attacked the hulking beast that had shoved her, and he was about to break the neck of another. On the other side, Melegal, a man she’d become fond of for some reason, was pinned in by the underlings, awaiting a certain death.

She tried to catch his eye, but a strong armed underling jerked her off the ground and hissed.

“Come with me, Woman. I can’t have my pets running loose, now can I?” It was Kierway. He looked over his shoulder. “I’ve got more pressing matters than watching humans die.”

“Unhand me
!” she said.

He
backhanded her.

Her legs
swayed.

“Speak to me like that
, and you’ll never speak again.”

CHAPTER 59

Could he be dead?

Slim the Healer crawled out of his hiding spot and scurried outside. Being king of the Elga bugs was getting old
. He needed to stretch his legs. Not the six he had now, but the two he preferred to walk on as a man.

This is tiresome.

Still, he would do whatever he had to do to keep his friend alive. Something had to happen. Something always did. But this time things didn’t seem right. His friend, Venir, was being whittled away, one chunk at a time.

Crawling up
one of the Outpost walls, he found a good spot, away from the soldiers.

Oh my!

A man the size of three men was inside the camp, talking like a loud child and fighting against his bonds.

A giant!

A dwarf was whipping his blood red hair in the air, screaming and yelling at an underling like an angry bugbear.

Mood!
And Black Beards? Captured? What in Bish is going on?

Bug eyes shifting back and for
th, he glossed over a man shoveling in the muck.

Ew!
But that’s what Brigands should be doing.

Still searching, he couldn’t find Venir, so he looked for the orc called Tuuth. The big orc was watching over the dwarves, arms crossed
over his chest. Fluttering his wings, Slim found another spot and started searching faces all around.

Venir?
Where is that brute?

The man was nowhere to be found. Turning back to the man in the muck pit
, he took a closer look. Earlier, he’d been looking for blond hair and muscles. But the markings of a ‘V’ tattoo still shown through the muck.
Venir!

A sinking feeling started inside his insect
belly. Doubt flooded his mind. Over the centuries, he’d seen many things, but he’d never witnessed such a dire scene before.

The underlings singled out one dwarf
and chained him to the wall. Above, in one of the fort’s turrets, a pair of underlings grabbed the winch and cranked back the draw string on a ballista. Then loaded a bolt as long as a man. The black beard looked up at the underling, set his chin and raised it high.

Slim closed his eyes.

***

B
allista bolt sticking out of his chest, the Black Beard let out his final gasp, “For the King!” His head dipped. His helmet fell to the ground.

The underlings let out a loud
raucous cheer. Venir had never witnessed underlings celebrating so. They danced and jumped. Loaded another ballista. Replaced the dead dwarf with a live one.

“Yer gonna pay for that!” Mood bellowed, fighting against his bonds.

Venir’s heart dipped. Mood’s rescue attempt was going to cost the lives of all his men, and then that of Mood, himself. This wasn’t how the giant dwarves were supposed to end. They should have known by now that his friendship only brought death.

“King of the Dwarves,” the underling
commander said, flexing his arms and pumping up his soldiers, “what is it like to see your subjects die? It is customary that we kill the leader first, but I like to watch your eyes. I want to make them water. Making a dwarf cry will be a first.” He pointed up at the fort tower and dropped his arm. “Fire!”

THWACK!

Another Black Beard fell. The bolt sticking out of his skull.

“That probably stung,
” the commander said, “but not for very long.”

The crowd chittered, sharp teeth gnashing in agreement.

“Two down, many more to go.”

Venir was used to people dying, but not when they weren’t in battle. Not without a fight. Watching the dwarves fall ate at him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. Hands white-knuckled on the shovel, he thought of Brool. The white hot power surging through his hands. A hollow feeling overcame him. An old friend lost. Lost forever. He had lived this long without it, but co
uld he live anymore? He was broken. What there anything else he could do to help this savage world?

“You?”

Barton’s hanging head tilted up and looked right at him. The giant sniffed the air.

“Ah-hah, you are hiding in the stink, Venir?”

Tuuth faced the giant. “What did you say, Giant?” He pointed at Venir. “Are you talking to him? Is he
Venir
?”

“Go away
, Orc! I do not like your stink!” Barton’s eye rolled back over to Venir. “Give me my toys!”

“Gag th
at giant!” Tuuth ordered his men.

“What
’s going on?” the Brigand Flaggon said.

“This man,
Commander, has a bounty on his head. A big one. This is Venir the Outlander, the one who destroyed the Brigand Army.”

Flaggon rubbed his chin
. “I thought there was something familiar about him.” He kneeled alongside the pit. “Your bounty is big, and the penalty is death. Get his shovel, men. Tuuth, clean him up a little before you cut off his head. We’ll want to bring it as a trophy, if we ever make it back to the Brigand City.”

Throughout the fort, e
veryone’s heads snapped up.

The sound of trees snapping like twigs echoed in the distance.

“What now?” Flaggon said.

Tuuth kept his eyes intent on Venir. “Get him out of there.”

The ground shook. Not like before, but worse.

Thoom!

It shook again. More trees snapped and cracked. Branches sounded as if they were being crushed into the ground.

Thoom!

Above, Venir glimpsed several robed underlings soaring above the walls, clawed hands filling with color.

Wumpf!

An uprooted tree soared over the wall, smacking into an underling mage and crashing them both into the ground.

“Oh No!” Barton said
. “They’ve come!”

The underling mag
i fired balls of energy over the wall.

The soldiers in the towers fired their ballistas.

Rocks bigger than men flew over the wall.

Men and underlings
scrambled.

A
rock smashed into a turret. Underlings fell to their deaths.

“They’re after the dwarves!” The underling
commander cried out. “Prepare for parlay! We’ll hand them over!”

“Hah!” Venir heard Mood say
. “If there’s anything giants hate more than dwarves, it’s the underlings!” Mood snapped his chains and punched the wide-eyed underling commander in the face. “But none hates more than I do, Fiend.” Mood let out a gusty word. “
SHARLABOTZ
!”

The leather and metal
that bound the Black Beards withered and snapped. The dwarves burst into action. In seconds, they were an armed force. Hacking and slashing into the off-guard underlings.

Venir sti
rred. A fire ignited within. He raised his shovel and brought it down on the back of Tuuth’s head.

Snarling, t
he orc turned, grabbed Venir by the hair, and slung him to the ground. The orc pinned him down. Wrapped his fingers around his neck and squeezed.

Venir couldn’t breath
e.

“You’re done for now, Venir
!” Tuuth pushed him towards the muck pit. “And your grave’s even ready. Your bones will be right where they belong, Outland Scum.”

CHAPTER 60

Thump.

Thump. Thump.

Boon’s heart still beat. His nose still breathed. But that was all he could to. Beat and breathe. Barely.
Is this all I have left?
The mystic cuffs tightened with every move. Biting into his wrists and burning at the same time. Inside, his own mystic fires still burned, but he could not summon them. His mouth was bound tight as well. Eyelids heavy, heart skipping and slowing, it was his magic that kept his fiber together. Without it, he would have died long ago.

Oh, t
o wield the armament one last time! I’d give these fiends a show.

Sagging on the ground, he was oblivious to the commotion
that stirred the camp. His mind was somewhere else, fighting to keep his body on this side of the threshold between life and death.

Fire fell from the sky
.

“Eh…”
He opened his eyes.

S
moke began.

The hairs on his arms and beard curled and singed.

Hot smoky air filled his nose and lungs.

A cry of Chaos went up.

A clamor spread through the underling camp
. Underlings barked orders. Flames spread from tent to tent.

Someone grabbed hold of him
. Pulled him to his feet. Cut his bonds and yanked the gag from his mouth.

“Eat this!” his rescuer said
. A fruit of some sort was stuffed in his mouth.

H
e sunk his teeth right in. Juice dripped down his beard.

“Come with me!”

He followed, blinking the dark smoke from his eyes. Flames surrounded them. Underlings screamed out. They burned. They burned alive. The sound of underlings suffering was music to his ears.

Is this real? Or am I dead?

“Grab this and get on!” the voice ordered, placing his hands on a rope.

“What?” he started to say, but was cut off.

Something huge lurched beneath him, stirring up a cloud of dust and fire. Off the ground they rose. Boon fought to hold on. He slipped, but a strong arm grabbed him and held him tight.

“Am I on what I think I’m on
?”

“Keep silent, and hold tight!”

CHAPTER 61

Creed’s fingertips touched leather. He dumped out
the contents of the sack. A sword belt. Different. Two pommels with a dull gray finish were shoved in short scabbards on it. Compelled, he strapped it on.
Two short blades are better than none.

“Food
! There must be something.” He reached back inside.

Behind him, Tonio and the Vicious were still having it out, but it didn’t matter to him if either one died, so long as it wasn’t him. “Just a morsel, eh
? Or maybe a skin of wine? Please?”

Instead,
the sack served up soft fabric.

“What’s this?”
Creed held a dark, intricately woven cowl, big enough to cover his head and shoulders.

The cowl
throbbed with a life of its own, telling him something.

He traced
the tiny swirling rows of stitches with his fingers. “Bish, what kind of garment is this?” Creed’s keen eye understood fine craftsmanship. He’d crafted his own blades with intricate designs. But what he now beheld was nothing short of marvelous in his eyes.

“
Huh, a bit much for keeping the rain off,” he said. He put it on. And forgot his hunger.

The
Cowl filled him with great awareness.

He jumped
from the ground. “Mother of Bone!”

The Vicious caught Tonio in the nose, rocking the half-dead
man, flattening him. It turned on Creed, jaws snapping, claws bared.

Tonio moved, but slowly.

Creed didn’t have a stitch of armor on him aside from The Cowl. He wasn’t worried. He felt thick. Tough. He sized up the monster.

Its arms were long
like an ape’s. Its skin tough, like black steel. The claws on its fingers were ten blades to his two.

Creed’s
hands fell to the steel pommels at his hips.
Maybe they can cut this thing.
He jerked them out. Steel. Dark. Razor sharp.

“Great
Bish!”

The blades were long
! And heavy, but light in his hands.

The
Vicious charged.

Quick as it was
, Creed was quicker. Like a cobra he struck.

Slice!

Slice!

One
monster hand fell, then the other.

The Vicious howled, fangs dripping with saliva.

Glitch!

The tip of one blade punctured its eye.

Glitch!

The other its throat.

The Vicious sagged to the ground, dead.

Creed looked at his blades. “I’ll be.” Spun them around. “I c
ould get used to this.”

His
head throbbed. Underlings were coming. His eyes glimmered. Two underlings surged down the steps and leapt into the arena. Behind them, Detective Melegal’s scrawny body was sprawled out on the benches, unmoving.

Creed smiled
. He twirled one sword in his hand. Held the other behind his back.

Flanking him, one underling came in low, the other high, cur
ved swords licking out like serpent tongues.

Creed
swatted their blades away.

They pressed.

He pressed back, laughing.
If the Royals could see me now! Hah. They’d never face me.

All his life, he’
d been training to fight. We wanted to be respected. Fight the Royals in their arenas. Be their champion. But they wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t their blood. They claimed he wasn’t worthy. Still, he continually perfected his skill and craft. Designing his own steel and other weapons. Now he wielded two as easily as sticks. He felt like he could swing forever.

“Hah!”

His steel flashed.

He clipped
through the nose of one.

Zitch!

He tore the lip from the other.

Bleeding, the underling
’s eyes were focused. Ready.

Creed folded his swords behind his back, stuck his chin out and shook his head.

Chittering, they came at him.

Creed lunged
. Stabbed both through the chest.

Their
swords fell. Their bodies right after.

“If only my
hounds could see this.”

He slung underling blood from his swords and scanned the arena. Only one underling was left
. Its eyes furrowed beneath its brow.

Creed waved him down.

“Time for a rematch, you copper-eyed roach.”

***

Tonio pushed himself off the ground, shaking his head. The black creature was fast. It confused him. Still, he would make it pay.

Turning to face his predator, he saw something he didn’t expect. The Vicious was face first in the dirt,
hands missing and dead. He had a sinking feeling when he looked over and saw the next thing.

A
faceless man battled the underlings. His swords were fast. Strokes of lightning.

A chill went through
Tonio. He looked at the scars on his arms and ran his hand down the split in his face. Something about that man distraught him. He had to get away.

“No,”
he said, recoiling. The black forest came to mind, the webs. He noticed a gleaming sword near the arena wall and took it. Then, he headed to the nearest door and ripped it open. His mother, Lorda, was screaming after him, but he didn’t hear her. He had to hide. He had to plan.

***

“Detective.”