Chaos At The Castle (Book Six) Read online

  He put his hand on Melegal’s back. The thief was so scrawny he could feel his bones. He’s breathing, I think? He shook him a little, but nothing happened. He knew what a light sleeper Melegal was. A dropped feather would wake him. I just need to get out of here! That’s what Me would do.

  Scratching his head, Georgio looked at Brak. “Don’t you have any ideas? You’re the oldest who’s awake. I just want to get out of here.”

  Brak leered over at him. Big faced. Unreadable. “I just want to find Venir.”

  “What? Why would you want to find Venir?”

  Jubilee started to chime in. “Because that’s his—”

  Georgio felt the muscles tighten behind his neck. Something creeped and crawled over the cobblestone road nearby. He ripped out his sword.

  “Underlings!”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Where’s my daughter, Palos!”

  It was Kam. Half naked. Bleeding. Green eyes blazing with mystic fury unlike anything Lefty had ever seen before. Earlier, she’d been dead; he was certain of it, but now she was alive. Alive as ever. Radiant. Powerful. But, one thing was different: the dark red gemstones glowing through her fist.

  Palos chuckled. A bubble of snot formed in his nose and busted. The man’s arms were tied behind his back where he sat on a high-backed chair alongside the roaring fire place. His ankles were bound to the chair legs. Sweat dripped down his paunchy face, and his hair was wet and matted on his head. Lefty had never seen the polished man so out of sorts before.

  “You won’t kill me, Kam.” He coughed. “You wouldn’t let the halfling kill me, nor would you. You are a good woman, unwilling to cross the line of evil.” He eyed her cleavage and licked his lips. “But, you certainly have some very wicked ways. Mmmm. Very wicked indeed.”

  Kam shoved her fist under his chin. “I’ll show you wicked, Palos.”

  “By all means—”

  She slung her arm back and punched him in the nose.

  Palos howled. “You broke my nose! You broke my nose, you—”

  Smack!

  Palos’s head rocked back into the chair. He fell silent.

  Kam shook her glowing fist in his face. “I’ll bust every bone in your face if I have to.”

  Lefty flinched. Kam was already mad enough at him for getting her into this mess. He’d tried to make it up by saving her daughter, and he’d failed at that. He eased back towards the door.

  Without even turning, Kam said, “Don’t you move, Lefty. I’m not finished with you either.”

  A chair slid across the floor and scooped his feet out from under him. “Sit!”

  His chin dipped down into his chest. “Y-Yesss, Kam.”

  Lefty had been nothing short of miserable for days, if not weeks. Palos had ruined his life. Even worse, he’d ruined Kam’s.

  But at that moment, Lefty felt a little sympathy for the Prince of Thieves. The man was rattled. His bloody nose dripped onto his chest, and his eyes watered in anguish. As much of a demented oddball as Palos had become, it seemed the man’s glory days were at end.

  Kam was going to find out what she wanted. Lefty was convinced. Even if she had to pull it out of the man one piece at a time. Something bad was going to happen. He sat still, his tiny feet dripping on the floor.

  “Kam, you cannot do this to me,” Palos said. “My father and your father are allies. Release me, and I’ll see no harm comes to you.” He shrugged. “Why, I’ll even see if we can’t somehow locate your daughter, or at least find one that bears a close resemblance to her.” He flashed a bloody smile. “Eh?”

  ***

  Palos was as disgusting a man as there ever was, but he was no fool. No, Kam knew he wouldn’t give any information up that might lead to his death. Still, she could feel the fear in the man, actually feel it. And that wasn’t all she could feel.

  Lefty’s heart pounded like a frightened rabbit’s where he sat frozen in his chair. And beyond the door she had sealed, a revolution was taking place. Palos’s loyalists were at odds with his usurpers. The Prince of Thieves was undone, unless reinforcement of some sort arrived.

  She grabbed a log poker and stuck it in the fireplace

  “What are you doing, Kam?” Palos said. He eyed her and the poker. “The fire is plenty hot from where I am sitting.”

  Kill him. I can find your daughter. Kill him. It’s time to serve. The gems were speaking to her. The force within had saved her. And now, whatever it was, she owed it service. But at what cost?

  Kam’s hand drifted to her stomach where the hole that almost took her life had been. It recoiled. Her stomach was in knots. Something bad was happening to her. But the power was so strong! So fulfilling. The gems gave her strength and a confidence that she’d never felt before.

  Not looking at him, she twisted the poker in the flames.

  “Where is my daughter, Palos? And before you offer a foolish response, I’ll remind you that I stuffed Thorn in a fireplace once and I’d have no reservations against doing the same to you.”

  Palos swallowed.

  “Kam, I’m not privy to that information after it reaches a certain point. I merely give the order. Collect the gold. Many other hands work under my directions. Eh, it’s a thief’s way of avoiding attachment.” He blinked the sweat from his eyes. “Ahem. For example, if I were to sell something or someone as precious as you, I wouldn’t want to be privy to where you went. I might be tempted to steal you back. And that would not be good for my business.”

  She jammed the poker deeper into the fire, scattering the coals.

  Her voice took a darker tone behind her clenched teeth. “Palos, where is my daughter?”

  “Uh … er … Kam, surely even you can sense that my father will not stand for this. I am—”

  “A wretch.” She jammed the poker into the coals.

  “A bastard.” Again she did it.

  “A swine,” she said, pulling it out and eyeing the glow of the red-hot tip.

  Kill him! I will find your daughter. Delay me further, and I will not aid. You serve.

  The urgings were strong, compelling, even forceful. She tried to open her fist, to release the gems. She didn’t need them now. Her fingers were locked around them like a vice. Blast. What have I done?

  Kill him! I have waited long. It is time to go.

  “Agreed, Kam,” Palos said. He groaned and shifted in his chair, “I am all those things and worse. But please consider: you can make plenty more children with those lovely loins of yours. As a matter of fact, I would be a bit surprised if a new seed was not sprouting inside you now.”

  Kam took the red hot poker and laid it on Palos’s seat between his knees and crotch. His eyes widened. His lips trembled.

  “And I assure you, Palos: if you don’t tell me where my daughter is, you’ll have no more seeds to spill.”

  “I admire your obsession with my nether region, Kam. It’s simply thrilling, even in my condition.”

  Slap!

  “Where’s my daughter, Palos?”

  “Do you ever get tired of repeating yourself, you milk-laden whore? I’ll tell you nothing!”

  Kam grabbed him by the hair on top of his head.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Twirling her fingers in the air, the leather cords that bound him groaned. His wrists and ankles turned blood red.

  “Stop this, you maddened wench! I’ll have your head for this!”

  “Lefty, find Diller! Bring him here!” she ordered.

  Lefty slid from his seat and looked around uncertainly. “But, how can I?”

  “How can you not, halfling fool that lost my daughter!”

  Quickly, Lefty made his way to the door, but it would not open.

  “Uh, K—”

  With a wave of her hand, the door flew open. “Hurry up, Halfling!”

  Lefty dashed out onto the balcony, peeking inside one last time. The door slammed shut.

  “As for you, Palos! Your misery has just begun if you don’t tell me w
hat I want to know.” She stepped behind him and drove her fingers into his temples. She muttered. Incanted. Locked her mind with his. “Where is my daughter, Palos?”

  Palos was a silver fox. Quick. Shifty. Darting through a dark forest laughing.

  She tracked him down with hounds.

  He evaded.

  Her hunters shot at him with arrows.

  He disappeared. One moment, Palos stood alone on a rocky hilltop, looking down on her, a fox with his eyes in his mouth. In the next moment he was standing behind her with a dagger at her throat.

  “Clever, Kam, but like the lactating fool you are, you’ve done just what I wanted,” he said, licking her ear.

  Once a woman of power and fury, she found herself under his will. Bound by his vile thoughts. Penetrating her inner weakness. Bringing her to her knees. Once again, she was helpless. His prisoner.

  “No, you shall not take me. You shall not take my baby!” she said, trying to yell back, but her voice was weak.

  Palos smote her to the ground. “I take whoever and whatever I please.” He grabbed her by the head and pulled her down into his suffocating darkness.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Finally!” Cass was panting.

  How long and how far the druid woman had been running after Chongo, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t have been more grateful that he stopped. Transforming from a large, slender white wolf, she returned back to her lithe form. She rolled from her hands and knees onto her back, still fighting for breath.

  Chongo, both tongues hanging out of his big mouths, panted over her.

  “I didn’t think such a big dog could run so far and so fast before.” She reached up and patted on of his cold wet snouts. “You really are a thing of beauty. Like a gallant stallion and mighty lion in one.”

  He sneezed all over her.

  “Uck! Yet lacking in their grace.” She giggled. Grabbed him by thick fur under his neck and pulled herself back to her feet. “Now, Chongo, what is it you finally stopped for? I was certain you wouldn’t stop unless I died. Maybe not even then.”

  Chongo moaned a little, noses sniffing in the air, tails stiffly wagging back and forth.

  The land had been barren for most of the length of the run, not that it mattered. Cass didn’t have the time to stop and smell the flowers, or rather the Thorn Brush Lilies and Bone Trees. At last, the landscape was becoming more accommodating. Tall fields of wheat grass were in the distance, and small trees and shrub groves were scattered over the valley. The brisk wind stirred her long white hair as she followed Chongo up the hill, toward the horizon of the setting suns.

  “Where are you taking me?” She looked back over her shoulder. “Lords of Life, how far have I chased you, anyway?”

  Nature gave Cass comfort everywhere she went, but there was still much on Bish that she’d yet to see. Behind her was nothing but the hot rugged landscape that was common in the Outlands, harsh and unyielding. Though she loved the warmth, there was little comfort to be found in it. She preferred the forest or the high mountains.

  “Not exactly the kind of terrain I’d care to settle in, Chongo. I need more streams, flowers and creatures to feel more comfortable.” She grabbed him by one of his tails and followed the big dog up the hill. “You’ll just keep on going, won’t you? I can barely move my legs. Oosh! I need some rest, Chongo.”

  One of the giant heads swung back. Drooping eyes gazing at her, tongues hanging from his mouths. Cass swore there was a smile in his big jaws. Chongo was more than a common animal. He had a deeper intelligence in his eyes. He was part of a race of his own.

  She gazed up at the hill’s peak. “Whew, I see we are almost there, wherever up there is. I must admit it seems strange, you leading me up here like this. Shouldn’t we be staying in the valleys?”

  Chongo turned away, lion-like feet padding up the steep slope, until they stopped at the crest. He snorted, yawned, and lay down on the ground.

  Cass lay on his back and draped her arms around his necks. “This better be spectacular.” She gazed over the edge. A stiff wind whipped her white locks of hair into her eyes. Pushing them aside, she held her fingers under her nose. “Such a foul and unnatural odor is about, Chongo. Ugh.” She spat. “What is—?”

  Her pink eyes widened into circles.

  Down in the plains, small black figures moved with purpose through the landscape.

  Cass dug her nails into Chongo’s furry mane. Underlings. She’d never seen so many before. They were a swarm of black ants moving through their fields. Tending to their macabre garden.

  “Are those …” she muttered.

  She cupped her hand behind her ear. What she heard made her stomach cringe.

  “Shovels?”

  Shovels. Spikes. Screams.

  Squinting her eyes, she couldn’t hide her disbelief.

  The underlings were chopping into bodies. Men, women, and children of all races. The blood watered their twisted version of a garden. They threw the dead bodies head first into their holes. Buried them head first. Legs jutting from the ground. Their tombstones were bloody heads on spikes. Row after row, the field went on and on.

  Cass’s hands turned clammy. She clutched at her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing rattled her … ever, but this did. This churned inside her core. All of her sympathies and compassion for all things living had changed. It was one thing to fight for your survival, but it was another when you were cruel. A vicious child that pulls the wings from a beautiful butterfly. She’d never dealt with the underlings. She’d always figured they had their reasons to do things, just like any other race. Until now. Maybe men weren’t so bad after all.

  “Chongo, we must go.” She tugged the fur on the back of his neck. She’d been weary before looking down there, but now she was exhausted. “This is too dangerous. We need to go back. We need to be with Fogle.”

  Fogle Boon. She hadn’t given him a single thought since she chased after Chongo. Suddenly, he was all she could think about. She liked him, but now she felt like she needed him. Not that she ever felt she needed anyone for anything, especially a man, but she wouldn’t mind having him around now. She felt like a fool. He must be days away now.

  “I hope he’s looking for me.”

  Chongo’s ears perked up. His necks growled.

  The hairs on Cass’s neck turned to icicles.

  Down the steep slope, a hoard of underlings armed with swords and shovels scurried up the hill. Their chitters meant death.

  CHAPTER 5

  The suns set over the southern horizon like two bloodshot eyes before collapsing into the mist. Fogle Boon lay flat on his back, his pillow a pile of dirt and stone.

  Barton picked at his skin and complained.

  “Barton wants to go find his toys now, Wizard. Why’s this take so long? Hmmm. I’m ready. Ready now.” He punched his fist into the dirt. “NOW! NOW!”

  Fogle coughed. He fanned the dust away from his face.

  “Will you stop that, Barton! You wouldn’t have to wait if you hadn’t crushed my familiar in the first place. And putting him back together is taking longer, no thanks to you.” He dusted off his hands as he stuffed many of his bottles into his traveling sack and groaned under his breath, “Dolt.”

  “What did you say?” Barton poked his finger at Fogle’s chest. “Dolt? What is dolt?”

  Fogle took a hard swallow, but he didn’t back away. Barton, a deformed monster-child, was one of the scariest things he’d ever seen. Barton had once held Cass in his grasp like a children’s doll. Fogle had seen the man smash and eat underlings like bugs. He swallowed again. Barton used to be that scary until they fought Tundoor. That giant was from another world. How they survived that, he’d never know.

  Fogle raked his finger over his sleepy eyes and replied in a complimenting manner. “A giant with a man’s brain.”

  Barton rubbed his chin, peering up in the sky. “Hmmm … Dolt. Like a smart man, right? Like the man who took my toys, right?”

  F
ogle shrugged. “You could say that.”

  “But I’m a bigger dolt, right? Stronger dolt than him, right?”

  “Oh, absolutely. There’s no doubt about that. He is a pretty big dolt, but not nearly as big as you, Barton.”

  Barton stuck out his chin and grinned.

  “Good. Barton is the biggest and strongest dolt of all.”

  Barton turned, thumped his chest with his fist, and walked away.

  Fogle let out a sigh and took a seat by the fire. His grandfather snored on his earthen cot without a care in the world while he stewed with doubt and worry. Cass was long gone. Underlings were cropping up everywhere. He’d almost died a dozen times since he left the City of Three and wasn’t so sure he’d live to tell anyone about it. I must see this through. He tightened his robes around his shoulders and rubbed his hands over the fire.

  “Bish,” he muttered, “I feel a hundred years old.”

  Alongside the fire, a small black figurine sizzled with mystic fire. It was his familiar, Inky, the ebony hawk he had made. Barton had crushed the bird days earlier, losing many of the key components.

  “This better work.” Fogle reached over and touched the object. The black bird was cold to the touch. “Ah, what am I missing?” He eyed the bird with his green eyes, scanning the ground. “Oh yes.” Reaching over, he picked up Venir’s hunting knife, and with a small scalpel-like dagger, he shaved off part of the carved horn from the hilt.

  “Son of a Bish!” he exclaimed as the knife slipped and he gashed his thumb. The blood dripped freely to the ground. “Just a scratch, Fogle. A tiny wound of the flesh.” He pulled the shaving from the hilt and pushed it into the figurine.

  He checked his thumb.

  “Still bleeding. Ugh. Stop bleeding.”

  Cass would be laughing at him if she saw the look on his face. He didn’t care for the sight of his own blood running down his arm. She’d probably laugh at me. That two-headed dog would, too. Toughen up, Fogle Boon. He scooped a pile of dirt up in his good hand.