The Darkslayer: Book 05 - Outrage in the Outlands Page 14

  “Is that so?” How interesting for a little Slerg.

  “Hagerdon said Grandfather Leezir had gotten soft in his age, but I never thought of him as old, not for a man, anyway.”

  “Hmmm … an interesting observation for such a young person. I’ll tell you something else about your grandfather, Leezir. You are right. He wasn’t one of the worst, not when it comes to Royals. Not that he had a soft side, he didn’t, but, uh … how should I put it? He was reasonable and resourceful, just flawed.”

  Jubilee dusted the crumbs from her hands and hopped down on the ground.

  “Everyone is flawed. If they weren’t, then the world would be perfect. But if that were so, we’d be quite bored.”

  “You are smart for one so young.”

  “I know. Say, where’s everybody going?”

  “Why don’t you go ask them?”

  Jubilee didn’t say another word. She just stood and stared at the crowd.

  “My back hurts,” Brak said.

  Melegal turned and looked at the man’s grimacing face.

  Two feathered arrows still protruded from Braks’ back. Moving like a sloth, he made his way over and rested his arms on the bar.

  Melegal looked up into his big face with the thick tuft of hair that was marred with blood. “Are you sure the hurt is not your stomach? You just inhaled enough to fill two cows.”

  “No …”

  Brak's speech was a little garbled, low, and his pronunciations were long. It irritated Melegal.

  “… it’s in my back. It hurts. Did someone stab me? I can’t remember.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Seeing Hagerdon killed. Leezir getting shot and Jubilee screaming. The next thing I remember, my back was on fire, and I was following you through a castle.” He lifted his chin in repose. “Those paintings were wonderful. I'd never seen anything like them before.”

  A brute with an eye for art. Utterly ridiculous. But what isn’t these days?

  Jubilee wandered back over and gasped. “Brak! Your back! We have to do something!”

  Brak’s eyes narrowed on Melegal.

  “You said it was just a scratch.”

  “Well it is, in a manner of speaking.”

  “Take them out,” Jubilee demanded.

  “You’re the smart one; you take them out.”

  “Give me a knife, and I will.”

  “Pah … just get out of the way.” He removed Braks’ shackles and inspected his back, needling his fingers around the wounds. Though they were not well defined, he could feel the brutish muscles of an ox beneath the meaty skin.

  “If your arms were long enough, you could pull them out yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What?” Brak said, cocking his meaty neck.

  “Nothing.” He wrapped his fingers around the shafts. “Now be still. This shouldn’t hurt a bit.”

  Yank!

  Brak roared like a savage beast, sending everyone nearby scattering in all directions. Melegal was twirling the arrows through his fingers as Brak whirled on him, snorting with rage, fingers clutching in the air.

  Melegal took a step back and said, “You’ll be fine. Target arrows. See?” He banged the bloody tips together, showing that they were only pointed, not serrated. “It’s what they use to kill baby deer with.”

  “Or my grandfather!” Jubilee sniped, arms folded over her chest, frowning.

  Brak snatched the arrows from his hands and snapped them in front of his face.

  “Don’t ever do that again, or else I’ll break you in two.”

  “Sure. In the meantime, try not to get shot again. And with that, I think it’s time we went our separate ways.”

  “What?” said Brak.

  “What? No!” said Jubilee.

  Melegal tossed the girl a small purse of coins.

  “Get cleaned up and find a private place to live in this big city. I’ve got problems of my own. They’ll be coming for me.”

  “The Royals will find us and find you no matter where you go. It’s best we stick together. They’ll be after all of us now. You know that. You tracked us down.”

  Indeed, she was smart. Street smart to say the least. There would be no hiding Brak, however. He’d only get bigger and bigger. But it wasn’t his problem. And what about the Almens? Maybe none of them had survived. Was it possible the underlings had wiped them out? If Lorda Almen lived, she’d expect him, unless she assumed him dead. But without a body, what proof was there of that? He looked up. Dusk had begun. Where had the time gone? It was as if the last few hours had been lost. Where had the past few hours gone? If they did indeed come looking for him, they’d know where to look first. Then he took off in a run. Haze!

  CHAPTER 23

  Exhausted, Fogle Boon forged ahead, Cass’s screams giving him the energy he'd lacked a moment earlier. So far as he was concerned, she was his woman, as he’d never been with another, and as things would have it, he probably wouldn't live long enough to meet another. Instead, the impulse to rescue her overcame all reason. He ambled over a dusty hilltop on weary legs.

  Not again! It can’t be!

  But it was. Another giant. Cass kicked and screamed like a wild woman in the monster's clutches. But where was Chongo? He could hear the dog barking, the sound as powerful and carrying as a dwarven gong, but the two-headed beast was nowhere in sight.

  All around he looked. Nothing, but all he was truly concerned about was Cass.

  “Let go!” She yelled, kicking the side of the giant's nose.

  It sneezed, getting a spray of snot all over Fogle, as well as on Cass’s magnificent face.

  She shrieked in fury!

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” she yelled, her lungs recharged to their full power.

  Fogle stumbled down the hill, his mind racing, trying to figure out what the best course of action would be.

  “FOGLE!" Cass cried, "get me away from this behemoth! Now!”

  He closed in about thirty feet away, summoned all the energy he had left, and flung a small barrage of glowing missiles from his hand.

  The giant grunted and sneered when the missiles struck its leg, fizzled, and extinguished like drops of water being poured on a campfire.

  He caught the worried look in Cass’s eyes. I’ve failed. His shoulders sagged, and he could barely lift his chin up to face the inevitable death of his lover. Chongo. Mood. Where are you? We need help!

  Chongo’s barks were in full agitation, yet the beast was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he was trapped by more giants, but there was nothing nearby where the creatures could hide. He looked up at Cass, whose struggles were as futile as an infant’s in the arms of a man. She's going to be crushed. He tried to summon that well of energy he’d tapped before, but unable to find it, he stumbled forward on weak knees and pitched face first into the ground.

  Cass let out another blood curdling cry as he rose back to his feet into the blinding light of the setting suns.

  “FOGLE! SAVE ME!”

  He tried not to look. He didn’t want his last memory of Cass to be a picture of her head exploding. He fought the urge to plug his ears. The sickening sound of Ox the Mintaur’s bones being snapped and pulverized still rung there.

  Chongo was still barking, a little closer now than before.

  “Where are you, blasted beast?”

  He shielded his eyes from the suns with his hands.

  “What?”

  There was Chongo: a giant two-headed dog suspended forty feet in the sky, running in mid-air, but going nowhere.

  Who in Bish did that? Underlings!

  “Look out behind you, Fogle!”

  As he tried to twist around on his feeble limbs, something hard and painful cracked him in the back of his head. The lights of Bish went out.

  ***

  “Ow!”

  Fogle stirred. A throbbing headache greeted him. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but night had come, and it was dark, very dark. Unnaturally so. Where am I? He blin
ked and tried to wipe the grit from his eyes, quickly learning he could do no such thing. Slat! He was bound. Cass! There was nothing. Only his muffled efforts to speak could be heard. He struggled against his bonds once more, only to feel his strength fade from the effort as he slumped over and sucked for air.

  Think, Fogle. Use the over-sized clump of brain matter in that over-sized skull of yours. One of the main things Mood had taught him in their many months together was not to panic. When goininta the unknown, don’t ferget ta use yer udder senses, he could hear him say. Without having anything better to do and no other options that mattered, he rolled onto his back with a sigh.

  Blinking his eyes and staring upward, or at least what he thought was upward, he allowed his eyes to adjust. Black. Still black. Even blacker. He closed his eyes and slowly drew a long whiff of air in his nose. Dirt. Mud. Hmmm … a foul odor mixed with salt. Oh … it’s bad. Not the scent of an animal. A chill air drifted through his robes. Underlings! An unseen force coiled around him like a python and squeezed out all of his courage. The story came to mind of what underlings did to men way down below, under the ground. Why else would he be here in what must be a cave of some sort? He’d been dragged underground by the most deviant race of all. Mood had said that Bish was now crawling with them—and how easy it would have been to find him after all the commotion they'd caused, battling the giants. And now that they had not a single dwarf in tow, the underlings had struck the weakened party.

  He could feel his heart pounding in his ears now. A tide of panic was rising. It only made perfect sense that the underlings worked with the giants, sending monstrous men then springing the trap as the giants wore their prey down. Chongo was floating, and Cass was being crushed by the last giant. No! She's gone! He wanted to scream out. He wanted to say he was sorry that he had failed. Why me?

  A little fire ignited inside him suddenly as a vision of Cass’s light vibrant features, sharp and picturesque, drifted into his thoughts. Her slender hips, sensuous legs, pale lips and perky breasts had left a life-long impression in his mind. He swore he could almost smell her. The faint smell of flowers and a twinge of an exotic perfume mingled inside his nostrils. I'll kill anyone that hurt her! I just need out of here. He fought against his unseen bonds until, exhausted, he fought no more, slumping to the ground

  In the distance, something he hadn’t noticed before echoed. A muffled crunching sound like a dog chomping on a ham bone. All he could think of was the giant. He recalled seeing one stuff a dwarf in its mouth and bite down. He winced. Cass! He had to get out of there. He had to find her.

  He summoned his mystic power into his thoughts and reached out for the minds that held him prisoner. He jerked up off the ground. What? Something strong, very powerful, unlike anything he’d encountered before, now mingled with his thoughts. His invading powers surprised it and it was coming, coming for him right now. Merciless, unrelenting and formidable. He clutched at the dirt. A sharp stone or anything. Nothing. Nothing there to help him at all but the dark.

  “Who are you?” He sat up. “Where are my friends?”

  The presence remained. Strong and silent.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Nothing.

  He struggled within his bonds. The ropes that bound him did not seem natural.

  “Huh?”

  He could feel the presence growing impatient, and his wrists began to burn as he renewed his struggles.

  The mind intertwined with his let out a frustrated groan.

  In the distance, the chomping sounds became louder, like tree branches snapping in a storm. He shivered.

  Fogle muttered a quick series of words. Part of an old binding spell. His wrists and legs became undone.

  “About time,” a familiar scratchy voice commented.

  Fogle sat up. Can it really be?

  “Grandfather?” he said, pushing away a thin veil of cloth that was wrapped around his head. It dissipated like twinkling dust. He rubbed his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the dim light that filtered in through the mouth of the cave.

  Before him stood an older man with a long wispy white beard: tall and broad shouldered with forearms as stout and wiry as a pit fighter.

  “It is you!” he gasped.

  “Aye, Grandson.” Boon's eyes twinkled as he reached down and helped Fogle back to his feet.

  He gawped at his grandfather, whom he hadn’t seen in over a decade. The man seemed a little older, yet his grip was as strong as iron.

  “Where have you been?” Fogle asked. “Wait! The giant! Cass!” He began to shuffle around.

  “Ah … your woman. Yes, she is fine,” Boon reassured him. “Very fine, indeed. Fine like a crystal vase pouring chilled wine. Fine as the hairs on a baby’s head. Fine like the scintillating, titillating colors of a rainbow.” Boon smacked his lips. “Fine like a —”

  “Enough already, I know how fine she is,” Fogle said, irritated.

  Boon looked down and patted him on his head.

  “I’m sorry, Grandson. It’s just that I haven’t seen a woman in an awfully long time, and I’m certain the last one I saw didn’t look anything like her. She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  Fogle shoved his grandfather's hand away and said, “It’s Fogle. And she’s a druid.”

  “Interesting,” Boon said as he turned and teetered deeper into the cave. “Come on.”

  “But what about the giant?” he objected, looking around.

  “Come on,” Boon said, beckoning for him, moving more like a man of his wizened years as he shuffled over the loose footing, holding his deep blue robes up over his toes.

  Unreal. Unlikely. Weary from head to toe. Fogle tried his best to assess his situation, wondering if it was real. Then he threw his hands up and swung them down through the air. Just take what the adventure gives you. Trying to make sense of it is of little help, Mood had said. “Never mind.”

  “What was that? Did you say something?”

  “No.”

  Boon motioned for him. “Come along then.”

  The farther they traveled downward through the tunnels, the more Fogle noticed something. There was no source of light. No torch. No suns or moons. No candles or lanterns. Yet the walls were dimly lit with a soft blue hue. In three long strides, he caught up with his grandfather and grabbed him by the elbow.

  “Did you do this?”

  “Do what?” Boon said, this time a little irritation in is tone.

  “The light. What is making this light?”

  “Ah. That’s the underlight. Incredible, isn’t it?”

  “Do you mean under as in underling?”

  Boon looked at him as if he was stupid and said, “Of course. What else would the underlight be?” Boon jerked his elbow away. “Now come on. Your friends are down there.”

  Fogle didn’t move. He was in a cave, an underling cave, being led downward by his grandfather, who he hadn’t seen in well over a decade. Nothing tingled or raced down his spine like a trickle of lightening. His senses had heightened over the past few months, yet nothing told him anything was wrong, but something had to be, certainly. If anything, the moment seemed quite ordinary, and that’s what worried him most of all. And now the strange munching sound returned, echoing up the massive cavern which he was being led down. Boon was already moving on. Fogle looked back toward the mouth of the cave. It was gone.

  “You’ll be lost if you don’t follow,” Boon said. “Don’t be such a baby. You always did worry about everything that could possibly go wrong. You can’t control everything, just like that whack I gave you on the back of your head. You should know that by now.”

  Fogle rubbed the small knot on his skull. That was real. By why had his grandfather hit him and brought them all into this cave?

  “Your questions will be answered soon enough. Now come. You’re beginning to annoy me.”

  Fogle followed, one slow step at a time, through an enormous cave illuminated by the strange blue light. As the munching sound beca
me louder, the scent of vegetation and water wafted through the air. One second Boon was wandering up ahead, then the next second he dropped out of sight. Fogle rushed over and found himself standing on a ledge overlooking a strange garden. There were trees whose leaves glowed and bushes filled with bright red berries. A stream passed over glittering stones and disappeared from sight. Boon was traversing a narrow pathway that led into the garden more than twenty feet below. And that’s when he saw her. Cass!

  She was lounging alongside Chongo, a curious and happy expression on her face, watching a giant stuffing something that looked like bamboo reeds into his mouth.

  “Cass!” he yelled.

  She jerked her head up and waved, saying, “Come down, Fogle! This is the most amazing place.”

  “But,” he started to object, looking at the giant as he made his way down the path.

  “Come on! His name’s Barton. He won’t hurt you. He’s a friend.”

  He made it into the garden, dashed by Boon who’d taken a seat on an oversized mushroom, and embraced Cass. She was the real thing. Smelling like honey and roses as her pale eyes and lips seemed to glow in the underlight.

  “I-I thought,” he looked away, “I’d failed you.”

  She grabbed his chin and smiled, saying, “I thought so, too, but it seems fortune found us anyway.” She eyed Boon. “Hmmm … now I see where you get your striking looks. Your grandfather is quite … interesting, to say the least.”

  “I guess you could say that. So, are you well? Did that giant hurt you? I thought you were going to die.”

  Pulling Cass into an embrace, Fogle got his first hard look at the giant, Barton, who was ripping more of the bamboo reeds from the stream bank and stuffing them in his mouth. One of the giant’s eyes was disfigured, an impression of scarred flesh, while the other stared right at him, unblinking, a little deranged.

  “You burned Barton with magic. No-No. Barton not like that. Do that once more, Barton smash you good. Understand?” Barton said, balling up is meaty fist and snapping the bamboo within.

  “Er … yes,” Fogle said.

  “Grandfa—Boon,” he said, turned his attention aside, “where have—”

  “I been?” Boon responded less than a foot from his face.