The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (43 page)

Melegal groaned.

“Detective.” It was the soft voice of a woman. Her lips brushed his ear. “We must hurry.”

Melegal found himself gazing up into the beautiful eyes of Lorda Almen
. His heart thumped in his chest. He reached out and grasped her hand, feeling her breasts brush against his chin as she held him. He savored the moment.

“We must go,” she said, lifting his chin to face her.

A moment ago, he’d been ready to let his suffering in Bish end. He’d had enough of facing one bad day followed by another. But for now, he had a new purpose. He fought the pain and discomfort and wrapped his hand around her sensuous waist.
Fight and fondle
. He was going to help the Lorda.

“How many underlings?” he said,
coughing a little.

“Hundreds. They come and go. From where
, I don’t know. It’s an army.” She pushed her black hair from her eyes. “It’s madness, is what it is. We have to get out of here.” She pushed him. “Let’s go.”

Melegal started to go, then froze.

“Venir?”

In the arena, a
man in a dark cowl was squared off against the underling, Kierway.

The sight
sent chills through Melegal.

The man under the
cowl was tall and muscular, but not savage and brawny like Venir. His face was obscured a little. The man moved like a predator, dark blades whirling at the underlings like storms at small boats out at sea.

Melegal
then noticed the pants. Well-trimmed auburn hair around the mouth.

Creed?

Sadness fell over him. Despair filled his belly. If his friend was no longer The Darkslayer, then was his friend no more?

“Fool!” Lorda said, pulling him along. “You’re supposed to be saving me
; I’m not supposed to be saving you.”

They made their way to the door Melegal had tried to
approach earlier. He passed through it before her.

A corridor le
d around the arena toward many other exits. There was a clamor everywhere. Chandeliers fell. Vases were busted. Footsteps scrambled over the marble. Castle Almen was under attack, but the usurped were fighting back.

“C
’mon,” Melegal said. He took her hand. One corridor was blocked off by rubble. Another was overrun with underlings. “There should be more options in a castle so large.” Jogging back down the corridor by the arena, they took another path. Melegal had spent considerable time following Sefron and learning many secrets. Others, he’d discovered on his own. He eyed the framework of the wall. “Aw, where is it?”

“What?” Lord
a said.

Chitter. Chitter. Chitter.

Underling soldiers were prowling the halls, coming from both directions.

Dripping
with sweat, chest heaving, Lorda’s eyes locked with his.

Melegal
caught her voluptuous form in his arms and kissed her on the mouth.

She dug her nails into his back. Kiss
ing him back. Her soft lips were hungry. Passionate.

They finished, gasping.

“You know,
” Lorda said, “death is the penalty for that.”

Underlings cut them off at both ends.

“Obviously,” Melegal answered, pushing her behind him, “but it was worth it.”

CHAPTER 62

The Castles in the City of Bone were all lined up against the great wall: some looking over, some not as tall. On both sides of Castle Almen, the other two attacked. Small catapults hurled heavy stones, and piles of logs and ballista bolts crisscrossed.

Standing on top of the keep
, Lord Catten laughed.

“It seems the Royals have decided to engage,” he said to his brother, “but it’s a bit too late.”

Verbard knocked debris from his shoulders. “Or, perhaps it’s their way of taking down an enemy. Putting an end to the Almen house, which has betrayed so many.”

Lord Almen stood tall and stone-faced.
Nails digging into his palms. He would have done the same thing, but seeing it happen to himself and his people and family was a hard thing. “Spare your people, Lord Catten and Lord Verbard,” Almen said. “This isn’t a full assault, but rather a test of strength.”

“And how long
will this test go on?” Catten said.

“Several minutes at most,”
Almen said, giving a quick nod. “Perhaps after that I can begin a parlay with them. Certainly their eyes are on me.” He gestured at one of the other castle’s towers. “They’ll be expecting something.”

Floating inches above the roof of the Keep and staying half a head taller than Almen
, the molten eyes of the underlings bore into him.

“Mind your place, Human,” Verbard
said. “Your suggestions are annoying.”

“And your Castle is boring,” Catten added.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lord Almen glimpsed a missile coming his way. He ducked. The ballista bolt splintered on an invisible shield of magic.

“Such a fool,
Brother,” Verbard said. “Did you pick him out?”

“Nay,
Brother,” Catten said. “I believe it was you who suggested we keep him around, but I see little need for a man who flinches at such a feeble attack.”

Lord Almen regained his feet
. Eyed the attacking castle turret next door. They were reloading. He caught the glimmer of a spy glass turned on him.

“Interesting
, Brother,” Verbard said. “I don’t even think that attack was meant for us, but rather meant for him.”

“I agree, but there is only one way to find out.” Catten floated to Almen’s left.

Verbard nodded and took a place on his right.

“Stay right where you are, Lord Almen
. My brother and I have a wager of sorts.”

I
t was hot. Sweat dripped off Lord Almen’s brow and nose. In all truth, the underlings didn’t have any need for him. They had his Castle. Key sections of the City.

I
t would take a unified Royal force to prevail against the underlings.
Not likely.
His only sanctuary was knowledge, but he was certain the underlings would risk losing that. They could just learn it for themselves.

R
ocks and pitch-coated burning logs sailed overhead, slamming into the castle. Soldiers in the turret were winding the ballista winch back. The one with the spy glass had pointed right at him; he was certain.

“Any last words, Lord Almen
?” Catten asked, arms folded over his chest.

Lord Almen
took a silent draw through his nose.

“
If I die, kill all those bastards.”

“They’ll die anyway,
” Catten said, “but if it makes you feel better, you can believe we did it that way.”

Don’t blink. Don’t flinch. Don’t move.

Lord Almen didn’t have any idea if they kept their shield up or not, but certainly they’d protect themselves now, wouldn’t they?

Twack!

The bolt sailed. Lord Almen’s quick mind watched in slow motion. Closer. Closer.

Rip!

It tore straight though his leg. He spun to the ground. Three feet of wood jutted through his thigh.

“Hmmm…
Brother,” Verbard began, “it seems their aim isn’t very good. Not good at all. I can’t really say if they were aiming for him or us. It was such a bad shot.”

“Agreed,
Brother,” Catten said, turning away, “but I can’t fool around here all day. And I don’t think our enemies are interested in this human’s parlay. No, let us leave him up here and we’ll check back and see if they spared him or not.”

“Fair enough
. Besides,” Verbard said, “I think we need a better eye on our neighbors. I think our imp would be a much better ambassador.”

“Agreed.”

Lord Almen watched them walk away, a hard grimace on his face. Through the door they went, closing it behind them. Lord Almen and his Royal enemies were all alone.

The spy glass reflected in the suns.

He stood up, bit his lip, and searched for cover.
Get to the ledge.
He hopped as fast as he could. Another bolt ripped through his shoulder.

CHAPTER 63

Tuuth applied pressure to Venir’s throat. “I’m going to enjoy this, Outlander.” Saliva dripped off the orc’s canine teeth. “I want a clean-cut earless trophy.”

Venir’s kicks glanced off the big orc’s sides. He tried to speak.
Tuuth squeezed harder.

“No more words from you
r loud mouth,” Tuuth said. ”Perhaps it’s another challenge you want? Perhaps another insult towards my kind? If I had your ears, I’d stick them in your mouth.”

Venir
’s eyes rolled up in his head. Sound faded.

“N
OOO!”

WHAP!

An oversized hand sent Tuuth spinning away. There
stood Barton. Fists clenched at his sides. Chest heaving.

“Get my toys first!”

Venir gulped for air. Gasped. “I… I don’t have them.”

Barton slammed his fists into the ground.

“NO!”

“
Giant!” Tuuth beckoned with his finger, one hand still behind his back. “I know the toys you’re looking for. Stoop down, and I’ll tell you where they are.”

Barton grunted, leaned downward, cock
ing his head.

“Where
are they, Orc?”

Tuuth’s gauntlets flash
ed.

WHAM!

He struck Barton in the jaw.

Barton quavered
. His eye rolled up into his head. He collapsed.

Tuuth thumped his chest
.

“I just broke a giant’s jaw.
” He looked down on Venir. “Imagine what I’ll do to you.”

The ground shook.

Three giants jumped off the walls, crushing a dozen underlings.

“Can you knock them out too
?” Venir said.

“I’m not worried about them.”
Tuuth swung.

Venir blocked the punch
. His bones clattered. He fell in a heap.

“I can’t die like this,” he said, looking up.
“Not to an orc.”

Tuuth glowered at him
. “You can, and you will.” He kicked Venir in the gut.

Everywhere, underlings by the hundreds swarmed the giants
. Cutting, Stabbing, and screaming. They crawled over them like angry black ants.

There was another explosion.

The southern gate was shattered. A giant bigger than the other three, with brown hair tied in knots, stormed inside. He swung a hammer as big as an ogre. Dozens of underlings were crushed and swept aside. Their bones powdered on impact.

Tuuth snorted and gawped.

“Where in Bish did they come from?”

Something from the sky
fell at Venir’s feet. It was a long knife in a scabbard.

“Huh?” Tuuth said
.

Venir dove for it
.

Tuuth kick
ed it away.

“Nice try, Venir!”

The orc grabbed him by the hair and pounded his face and chest. Ribs cracked.

Venir lost his breath and collapsed.

Tuuth readied the underling’s knife and thumbed its edge.

“This is it for you.”

Venir groaned, struggling to rise. He couldn’t even open his eyes.

Tuuth pushed him down with his boot.

“No, you won’t die on your feet. You’ll die in the muck.”

Something growled.

Venir’s eye popped open.

Tuuth turned
.

There stood
a giant a two-headed dog. Fangs bared. Hair raised on its necks.

“What
the…”

Chongo
pounced. Sank one head’s teeth into Tuuth’s arm.

Tuuth punched the
giant dog’s other face.

Chongo
held on. Growling. Snarling. Shaking his heads.

“Let go of me!” Tuuth screamed, still punching
, his gauntlets charged with energy.

Venir crawled over to his knife. A new fire in his belly.
He closed his fingers around it.

Chong
o’s massive jaws crunched the bone in Tuuth’s arm.

Still,
the orc kept swinging.

Pow!

One head yelped. The other let go. Shaking, Chongo backed away. Sluggish, Growling. Teetering.