Chaos At The Castle (Book Six) Read online

  Ah, what is this?

  A breeze started to dissipate and lift the fog. Above, a pair of robed underling magi hung in the air nearby.

  As I suspected. Perfect timing.

  The wind pushed the fog down through the grove, down the ravine towards the falls.

  Boon summoned a word of power.

  The last tree he touched burst into flame, igniting the next one, and so on. The chain reaction was quick and devastating. The underling magi’s spell to rid the ravine of the fog only hastened the affect. The wind sent the flames jumping from tree to tree. In moments, the grove was a crackling bonfire of smoke, sealing off escape for the battalion of underlings.

  Laughing under his breath, Boon crept out of the grove. He could picture the underlings now, burning by fire or leaping from the ledge and plunging to their deaths.

  It’s a good start.

  Zzrcak! Zzrack!

  Two red balls of energy struck him in the chest, knocking him down. He rolled to his feet. Spit dirt from his mouth. The two underling magi stood before him. Yellow gem eyes boring into him.

  He grimaced, rubbed his chest, and coughed. “Is that all you have for me?”

  They flung their arms forward. Balls of bright energy shot out towards him.

  Boon caught one ball in one hand, one in the other, and shoved them together. “Amateurs!” He hurled the orb of energy into the nearest underling, catching it full in the chest.

  Boom!

  Flesh and robes scattered.

  “Perfect!” Boon said.

  Vines burst from the ground, entwining his legs, pulling him down.

  “Don’t you have anything new to offer?”

  The remaining underling let out a shrill whistle.

  “Calling for help won’t save you from me!”

  Boon shot a green dart of energy from the tip of his finger.

  Zing!

  It punched through its throat. The underling clutched at its neck and collapsed.

  “Blasted vines!” He reached down and ripped them away. “You’d think they’d have gotten more creative by now.”

  The grove was an inferno. Its smoke a black tower. There was no need for the one remaining underling mage to send a signal; the blaze would attract every underling for miles.

  What to do?

  Ahead, the barren landscape of the Outlands awaited. If he was smart, he’d try to catch up with Fogle and his friends, but something told him he needed to stick around. See what was going on. He had plenty of spells and energy left.

  One more strike, Boon. If you can take one battalion, you can take two, maybe three.

  It was his way. Trap and ambush. Trick and destroy. He’d drowned underlings in riverbeds. He’d suffocated them in their sleep. He’d burned them alive in fires. With magic, illusions and a crafty mind, he baited them. Fishing for underlings he enjoyed; killing them he relished.

  Boon narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon. He had no place to hide. He was exposed, but over a mile in the distance, another large grove of trees waited. Could he get there before the underlings saw him? And how much longer could he last on his own?

  “I swore if I ever got out of the Under-Bish, I’d take the fight back to the underlings again. Let’s go, old man, while your bones and muscles still bend.”

  Running, he headed straight for the grove, sandaled feet digging into the ground. Ahead, the trees weren’t tall, but they’d offer sanctuary, a place to burrow in and hide maybe. Rest. Recharge. Renew the fight on the morrow. He didn’t want to use all his spells either. He didn’t have the spellbook to renew them. The ones he’d memorized for a lifetime were few.

  A blur of black sped his way. Faster than the fleetest deer, it stopped twenty feet away. An underling hunter, armed in leathers, clawed fingers wrapped around the jagged blades of a dagger, barred his path.

  Boon sent a green missile its way. A foot from its face, it ricocheted away when two more underling magi appeared in the sky. Another underling sped into his path, followed by another, and another. The shock troops had arrived.

  Face grim, jaw set, Boon ground his feet into the dirt.

  “So be it then!” Boon muttered a spell.

  Arcs of light shot his way. The underling hunters closed in.

  Rocks exploded beneath his feet. He dove away and rolled up on one knee.

  “This is more like it!”

  His beard bristled in and out of a see-through suit of mystic armor, which shimmered bluely around him. A shield wavered in one hand, a black sword of energy in the other.

  They came at him. Fury and murder in their eyes. Armed and armored, they were the superior force. Experienced fighters. Killers one and all.

  Boon’s scintillating blade sheared through one’s leg at the knee, dropping it. He gutted the belly of another.

  Another stabbed its dagger at his chest, skipping off his chest plate.

  Boon caught it in the jaw with a back swing. He was a trained soldier, had been part of the old programs in the City of Bone, before he took to wizardry. He liked fighting, but it couldn’t destroy things as fast as he could with wizardry.

  Zzrcak! Zzrack! Zzrcak! Zzrack!

  Bursts of energy careened off his shield, his chest, his mystic helmet, chipping fragments of energy from it all.

  The underlings’ weapons gouged and cut. They were useless against his magic. Angry, they slung their weapons to the ground and jumped on top of him.

  Boon staggered back under the weight and crashed to the ground. His black sword was too long to stab. I’ll try this! Concentrating, he shrunk it into the size of a dagger and jammed it into an underling’s skull.

  An underling jumped on his arm, pinning it to the ground, while the other wrapped its arms around his legs.

  Zzrcak! Zzrack! Zzrcak! Zzrack!

  He jerked his shield up. Energy exploded out of it, cracking it apart. He kicked and flailed at his underling grapplers.

  “I’ll try this then, roaches!”

  His shield transformed into a dagger, his dagger a shield.

  He sunk the mystic blade into the underling’s skull and ripped it out.

  “No more chittering for you!”

  Reversing his grip, he slid it between the other underling’s ribs, drawing forth a howl. He extended the blade, shooting out the other side of the underling, cutting its breath short, jaws locking in the air.

  Vines exploded from the ground, entwining his legs.

  “Not again!” He cut them away. Huffing for breath, he rose back to his feet, ready. “Who’s … eh … next?”

  Gem speckled eyes, on the ground and off, had him surrounded. Rows and rows of them.

  He banged his mystic sword into his shield.

  “So be it then!”

  Bolts of lightning struck from all over, shattering his armor, pounding him into the ground. Everything tasted like metal, and his beard was smoking. Flat on his back, his eyes fluttered open just in time to see an iron net drop from the sky.

  CHAPTER 22

  Miles away, Fogle Boon could no longer see the smoke in the distance. All signs of his grandfather were faded and gone. In front of him, Cass’s limp figure was slumped against him in the saddle. His arm held her tight around the waist.

  “Cass,” he whispered in her ear, “can you hear me?”

  She hadn’t moved, but she breathed. Fogle felt a great deal of anger when he got a closer look at her face. It was scraped up, bruised and swollen. She looked awful. They’ll pay for this.

  “Where did Puppy go?” Barton said. Scratching his head, his arms were like tree trunks as he ambled forward. “I like the puppy. He has two heads. Hee. Hee.”

  It was a good question, but the answer was obvious.

  “He’s going after Venir,” Fogle said. He shifted in his saddle. His back was in knots already.

  Barton smashed his fist in his hand

  “The man with Barton’s toys! Get him, Puppy. Get him!” Barton stopped and leered back with his one good eye
. “Wizard, how are we going to find the doggy again?”

  Fogle pointed upward. Inky, his ebony hawk was circling in the sky.

  “Oh … that’s right. Good thinking.”

  It was good thinking, especially this time around. Taking no chances, Fogle had cut off a lock of Chongo’s mane while the beast was licking Cass, then fed it to the bird. The familiar should have no problem tracking Chongo, but he wasn’t so sure that the sliver of horn from Venir’s long hunting knife would allow Inky to find the man.

  We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

  Cass pressed her back into his chest. He could hear her smacking her lips. Reaching around, he put a canteen to her mouth and felt her delicate hands wrap around his wrists. A fire went through him as she sighed, drank, gulped and sighed.

  “Is that you, Fogle?” She reached back, nails gently scratching the stiff hairs on his cheek. “Did you save me?”

  Despite the weariness, he felt his chest swell.

  “You could say that,” he said in her ear, “but I wasn’t without any help.

  Without looking back, she gulped down more water from the canteen.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Barton heard Chongo barking, I believe.”

  Cass straightened her shoulder and leaned forward.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but I’m tracking him, see?” He pointed into the sky. “We’re going right after him.”

  “Hmmm… I’m impressed, Fogle Vir—, oh, sorry, Fogle Hero. Seems you’re getting a knack for this adventuring after all…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What? What is it, Cass?”

  “Where’s Boon?”

  Good question. Dead most likely.

  “He held the underlings off while we escaped.”

  “And you left him?” she said.

  “No, he could have come, Cass. But he didn’t want to, and I couldn’t make him, not with a hundred men.”

  It was the truth. The pair of them had prepared more than enough spells to bail them out in a pinch if need be, but Boon had made it clear. He’d rather save his energy to kill underlings.

  Cass turned her hips in the saddle and draped her sensuous legs over his. Her long-lashed pink eyes bore into his. “He’s a crazy old man, isn’t he?” She brought a smile to her battered lips.

  She understands. Thank goodness for that.

  He couldn’t help but smile back. Despite the bumps and bruises, she was still the most beautiful thing he ever saw. A sparkle was in her eye.

  “That might be a mild way of putting it.” He cleared his throat. “Cass, I’m glad you’re—mmrph!”

  Cass grabbed him by his thick locks of hair and kissed him. The long, hot wet kiss was beyond words.

  She gasped and sunk into his chest. “I’m glad you’re well too.”

  Fogle wanted to jump off the horse and have her right then and there. He pulled her in for another kiss.

  She pushed his chest back.

  “Control yourself,” she said, “We won’t have time for that until the danger is over. And that won’t be any time soon. So, do you have any idea where we are? I lost track leagues ago.”

  There had been a time when Fogle took a great deal of pride in knowing everything. He knew all about the City of Three and its histories, its people, its place, the names of all the Royals and the wizards in the towers … But now, stranded in the Outland, he realized that he knew next to nothing. Torn, he didn’t know whether to be ashamed or fulfilled. It was as if he’d been reborn over the past several weeks, and he was uncertain whether he liked it or not. But, judging by the legs that hugged his hips, he was getting used to it.

  She still smells amazing.

  “Fogle,” she said, shaking his chin. “I asked you a question. Are you fantasizing about me?”

  “No,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  She folded her arms under her splendid breasts, pushing them up a little.

  “Oh really, so you are fantasizing about someone else?”

  “Uh … no, never!”

  Cass wrapped her arms around his neck, giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You’re always so serious, Fogle, aren’t you?”

  One second Cass was expressing her concerns about the danger, in the next she was teasing him. He didn’t know what to think.

  She might be crazy.

  He squeezed her thigh.

  She squeaked.

  But I can get used to that.

  “I’m serious about you,” he said.

  She ran her finger under his chin.

  “Oh, I like that, Fogle. I like that a lot.” She turned in the saddle. “But, I am concerned where we are headed. Do you have any idea?”

  I’m not a Blood Ranger, you know.

  He wanted to say it, but held back. He was in charge now, and at worst, he needed to act like he knew something.

  “My familiar is in the air, and whatever it can see, I can. If there’s any danger, I’ll know, but at the moment, things are clear.”

  Clear as mud.

  The terrain was virtually all the same, miles in every direction. Rocky. Sandy. Sparsely vegetated. He didn’t let Inky scout too far ahead, for fear he’d lose him. Instead, he focused on the more immediate threats, particularly the underlings. In the back of his mind, something Barton had said worried him. What about the giants and the dragon?

  “What can you see now, Fogle? Are there any forests or streams near? I need to rest somewhere that thrives with life.” She shielded her face from the suns. “This is not good on my body. I need water. Natural water.” She slumped back into him. “I tire again.”

  The suns above seemed to be beating down on him all of a sudden, sucking his life through his tattered robes. Above, Inky was soaring west at a gentle southern angle. Soaring above the land, he saw only bone trees and cacti scattered about, with little hope for water or natural vegetation in sight. For all Fogle knew, it might take over a week to traverse the Outlands to get where they were going. His stomach growled, and he thirsted.

  She’s right. I need to find better shelter. We’ll never survive out here if it’s too long.

  “Follow the birdie,” Barton began to sing, eyeing the sky. “Go where the birdie goes and find the puppy. A two headed puppy. And find the man that stole Barton’s toys. And smash him.”

  Cass’s head flopped over. Exhausted, she slept.

  It worried Fogle. What would happen if he didn’t find water or shelter? What would happen if the underlings caught up with them? He sent Inky back for a look.

  Barton stopped and turned. “Say, where is the birdie going?”

  “He’s just making sure no one is following us.”

  Barton sat his big body on the ground and began rubbing his feet. “Tired of walking, Wizard. Barton wants to fly now.”

  Inky was almost a mile away when he noticed something. The landscape hadn’t changed any, and none of their known pursuers were in sight, but something was coming, something dreadful. It was a swarm of some sort. Inky flew right into it. Whatever they were, they buzzed. Had tails, stingers and teeth.

  Fogle turned his horse around.

  “Get on your feet, Barton—it’s time to run!”

  “Why?” he groaned.

  Fogle was already galloping away.

  “Run, blast you! Run!”

  A wall of insect creatures was coming after them like a heavy rain.

  CHAPTER 23

  The Spire. It had as good a bird’s eye view of the City of Bone as one could get, at least within the district Melegal frequented. He climbed the worn stone steps to the top, scattering the pigeons as he did so. Brushing the cobwebs away, Melegal stepped inside the room and made his way to the opening, where the remnants of a window were still intact.

  It seemed like a lifetime had passed since the last time he stood here, a place he came to often, for seclusion and fantasy. He envisioned a magnificent castle and family, relatives of his long p
ast, towering over the streets. When he was young, he’d convinced himself he was a Royal and played his own version of Royal games here. He’d commanded the street urchins from this roost for a while, but as time passed he’d grown out of it.

  The wind bristled his clothes. He crawled through the frame and gripped the lip of the tower top above him. Whatever that woman, Trinos, had done, he’d never felt better in years. Fingernails digging into the terracotta tiles, he inched his way another twenty feet upward.

  Bish, I haven’t considered this since I was an urchin.

  Tiles slipped under his boots.

  Slat!

  His fingers gripped the edges of the tile, holding on for dear life. Three tiles skittered off the roof and shattered on the decayed stone walls below.

  There are far worse ways to go, I suppose.

  The high winds tearing at his clothes, he continued his ascent at an agonizing pace. Near the top, he stretched out his skinny fingers. A long metal pole, once a place for a castle banner, jutted from the highest point of the tower.

  Stretch, you skinny bastard, stretch!

  His fingers licked at the metal. His boots scraped, sending more tiles careening off the tower and crashing on the ground.

  Almost there, Rat. He stretched. Almost. His fingers slid around the pole. Got it!

  He pulled himself up and coiled himself around the pole. The first time he’d done that, long ago, he’d told himself he could do anything at all. But all he’d learned from it was that he could make an awfully hard climb to an awfully old pole. Still, he kissed it.

  I’d like to see anyone else do this.

  The viewpoint was unlike any other in the City of Bone. He could see the tops of the buildings and all the way from one massive City wall to the other. None of the intact Royal Castles lined up against the Wall of Bone had as high a spire. How this one stood here so long as it had, while the old castle and everything else around it fell, he’d never know. His keen eyes scanned the chaos.

  Smoke from the burning buildings rolled past and beneath him. The massive gates in the four walls of the city were crowded with throngs of thousands of people. Soldiers patrolled the streets on foot and horseback, while squads of underlings darted in and out of the alleys and attacked. The entire city groaned in horror, despair and disbelief.