The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals Page 22

  Eep’s head was down saying, “If you say so master. What message am I to deliver?”

  CHAPTER 51

  One moment, Eep the imp was running across the open plains of Bish faster than the fleetest deer, and in the next moment the little imp vanished in a blink. The mystic powers of the world came from a different dimension of Bish that few could tap. Creatures of magic that existed in those unseen dimensions could be summoned and Eep was one of those. He could view Bish from his own dimension and re-enter it in a different place from where he had left it. It made Eep faster than any other known creature and very powerful at that.

  Eep knew his orders, no special stops on his way to the Underland. He soared through the air and buzzed over the plains, snorting his freedom. His bat-like wings flapped on his back as the air whistled through his ear holes. He spied a golden eagle miles in the distance. The bird was a beautiful and he hated such things.

  He pictured the spot he wanted to go and blinked. He reappeared, smashing mid-air into the unsuspecting eagle. It shrieked as Eep tore the life out of it in a lustful frenzy. Its feathers and blood were scattering in the sky, sprinkling on the aghast faces of the farmer’s below. The noble bird struggled for its life as Eep was pulling them toward the ground in a gray streak. He was biting off the eagle’s leg when saw the ground rushing up from below.

  “Eh!” Eep said as he crashed into the ground.

  “Oooph!”

  The great bird was dead, but Eep felt fine. Eep stood up; dusting off his elbows, and saw the terror stricken faces watching him. He wanted more. Eep showed them a mouthful of blood and feathers as he licked his lips. The farmers scattered like children running from a crack of thunder. Eep hovered off the ground, his leathery wings beating like a giant hummingbird, and then attacked.

  Eep whizzed in and out, with blazing speed, spurred on by his murderous heart. He ripped out throats and pushed eyes deep into the people’s screaming heads. It was a bad day to be a farmer. Eep shook the blood from his talons and disappeared again in a blink of blood ….

  *****

  “Look who we have here, Catten,” said Verbard as he lounged on his pewter throne, “…a visitor. It is underling Oran’s little imp.”

  Eep stood inside the magi lord’s audience hall, eye averted and wings still. The chamber was dark and ornate with sparse decorations other than two man-made thrones of pewter and encrusted jewels. The two brothers lounged atop puffy velvet cushions, wrapped up in their heavy robes. Eep felt their gold and silver eyes boring into him, picking at his mind. Eep was evil as they were evil, but there was a difference. The underling brothers had no respect for his kind, or his master Oran for the matter.

  “Is he not dead, Verbard?” Catten inquired, shifting in his throne. “Did we not kill him?”

  Eep tried not to cringe as they stepped from their seats and approached him.

  “Ah, you know how these imps are,” Verbard sighed. “Kill them and they just come on back. I wonder how we can erase this weird little one for good. After all, we don’t really like Oran, nor his little pets.”

  Eep’s urge to attack burned in his tiny mind, but he was shackled by magic he could not break. Instead, he stood like soldier, head bent down. He must do as commanded.

  “Agreed,” Catten said, “… but perhaps the imp brings good news. Or something we can use, perhaps. A gift? What say you, imp? Have you some news to deliver?”

  Eep almost didn’t hear the question. All he could think about was the last time he met with them. Eep, who hated all life on Bish, did not fear death from the lords, for they could only kill him temporarily on Bish. However, they could bring him a lot of pain and suffering during his stay. Eep sucked back his biting snake-like tongue. Too often his big, grinning mouth had got the better of him. The underlings liked to trick him, Oran warned, and then make him pay. Eep’s squat little figure dropped to one knee.

  “Yes, Lord Catten, Lord Verbard, I do have a message of importance from the cleric, Oran. I have been sent to tell you about a human called the Darkslayer. It seems this man and his two-headed dog was in the City of Bone. He is now sought by a Royal House called Almen. This Darkslayer is believed to be heading south, the Red Clay Forest, at this time. Oran believes the man and beast are traveling towards Two-Ten City, or will hide deeper south of the Outlands.

  Verbard and Catten looked at each other, and turned their eyes back on the imp.

  “Impling, this news from Oran is of some regard. But it would be better if we knew exactly where he is. Tell your master that his message shall be remembered by us. In the meantime, give him this message.”

  Eep felt a moment of relief.

  “If he can deliver the precise location of the Darkslayer in the next two days, the chances are that our underling community could find a new place for him. If he cannot, I would suggest he never bother trying to be a part of this community again. Am I clear … wretched imp?”

  “Yes! Yes Lord Catten … very clear,” Eep said in a hiss that revealed his excitement.

  Eep’s fantasies of killing them both faded for a moment. He often thought about it, but was certain it wasn’t something he could accomplish. No creatures in all of his existence were as dangerous as Catten and Verbard. To think there was an underling more powerful was hard to believe. Eep was mindful of the power of Oran, but he felt their power alone was Oran’s multiplied. It made him resent them even more.

  The imp stayed on one knee, listening for the next command. His head was still bowed and his eye grew tired of counting the pieces of grit on the cavern ground. As the underling lords were looming over him, he listened as Verbard recounted the previous time he spent with them. Catten and Verbard had severed his arms, wings, and legs from his body. Catten had held his severed head, while Verbard fed his parts to their starving cave dogs as he watched. Eep remembered the pain he felt in his mind as the dogs tore his muscle from the bone. It didn’t seem possible, but it was.

  Their words bore into him as he was certain they would do it again. Verbard’s voice rose with more exciting ways to torment him. Oran was wrong, Eep thought. They would show him no mercy again. Eep heard a sharp whistle and the padding of cave dogs coming his way. His small body was yearning to bolt away, but Oran’s command held him fast. Eep wanted to look up at the dogs, but a glance at either of them could provoke them. If he left on his own, Oran would banish him again, somewhere else, until summoned again. Eep would rather be tortured than bored. He closed his eye and readied himself for the worst.

  Several long and horrible minutes passed before Verbard broke off and said, “You may go, imp.”

  Eep’s wings buzzed as he floated up, turned his back to the underling lords and flew through the winding caves as fast as he could. The imp felt a rush of joy and relief, if indeed he could feel such things. In a blink he would be back in Oran’s lair ….

  Verbard and Catten sat back on their thrones as the mangy cave dogs lay at their feet.

  “This is good timing, Verbard. We haven’t heard from Oran in years, and now this. Right when we have sent a Badoon Brigade after this human. Now we just need to get word to the Vicious and send them that way. We may finally catch the element we have always lacked—surprise!” Catten said, clutching his fist.

  “Yes, brother, but I don’t wish to take chances. We should send the Vicious and the Badoon further east … and I think we should go as well. We can head him off in case he returns north.”

  Lord Catten’s golden eyes darted towards his brother. Verbard’s head was cocked and his eyebrows were raised. The brothers preferred to operate from behind the scenes, pulling the strings.

  Catten added, “Brother, if you think that is best, I have to agree. But if we are to go out, let us make the most of this trip. Let’s fill it with screams of human terror.”

  “Well, let us not limit it to humans.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Melegal woke at dawn to a stench as foul as anything he had known in the City of Bone. Shaking
his head as he held his nose he peered toward a mysterious rustling. Venir was on his feet, packing his gear on Chongo.

  “Venir?”

  Melegal could not tell if this was a dream or a ghost in the strange morning mist rising from the marsh.

  “How are you?”

  “Doing good, Me,” Venir said, forcing a smile as he stretched the straps on Chongo’s saddle. “How ’bout you?”

  “You are?” Melegal looked around, rubbing his eyes. “Well, you were pretty nearly dead last night.”

  Venir cocked his pale face.

  “Really, I don’t recall seeing you last night.”

  “You don’t?”

  Melegal stood up and walked over to his friend.

  “You’re telling me you don’t remember coming out of that grimy, stinking marsh and telling me about green snake meat and all?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well—and there I was worried about you. Bone!”

  The thief kicked up some dirt.

  “You are invincible, aren’t you! Well, fine, I guess if you can’t be killed then I don’t have bother myself worrying about you,” he said, snatching his blanket from the ground. “So hey, why don’t we just go kill all the underlings right now?”

  He strutted over to Quickster and slapped the pony on its rear, startling it from its slumber.

  “Hah!” Venir managed. “Would you rather I was dead then, Melegal? Then you’d have another reason to be miserable on this trip. Would that make you feel better?”

  He folded his arms and said, “Maybe it would. I mean, look at you! Your legs were purple last night. Now they’re just plain scrawny and white.”

  Melegal felt bad for saying it as he came closer and noticed that Venir’s battered appearance had been hidden by the mist. The man had a haggard expression, his torn body bandaged and scuffed as if he’d been drug by horses for several miles. Melegal didn’t understand how Venir endured all of the scrapes. Well, he should know better by now.

  “It’s the snake meat, Me. But, does it make you feel better to know I ache from head to toe? My stomach is nauseous and my head is dizzy!”

  Melegal fought to contain a smile.

  “A little … bit.”

  He didn’t know why, but it actually did make him feel better than it should. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable in the wake of Venir and Mood.

  “And besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me pass out a dozen of times before. Why are you so bothered this time?” Venir said as he took a draw from a waterskin.

  “Uh … last night’s events kinda shook me up is all.”

  Melegal glanced at Venir’s gory helmet that lay beside the extinguished camp fire.

  “It’s disturbing.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  “Sure … sure.” I always do.

  “Have you ladies finished squabbling over not being dead yet?” said Mood’s grizzly voice from close by. “I’m ready ta go.”

  It took a full day’s travel before the company arrived a few miles north of Two-Ten City. Dusk was setting in, and the two blazing suns were melting down onto the burnt plains of Bish.

  Unlike the City of Bone, Two-Ten City could not be seen as well from a distance. It had no giant wall enclosing it, only the open plains. Venir could see the few scattered lookout towers ahead, some with militia and others without. Two-Ten City was a community without civil care. All comers were welcome. Venir led the way along an older caravan trail leading into the rundown city.

  Venir admired how the people of Two-Ten City lived without the fear of being overrun by hordes of underlings, or any other race for that matter. It had a motley army at best, that was made up of various races. Nobody cared if you were human, orc, half-orc, or dwarf, just as long as you weren’t an underling. This odd mixture of people made for the most unique culture on Bish. It was where all the misfits, adventurers, profiteers, and thieves came when their status as an outcast or criminal had all but banished them from elsewhere. For the most part, the races tended to stick with their own kind, but in this city, everyone was welcome.

  “Well, this is close enough for me, Venir,” Mood said under his bushy beard, green eyes following along the disused trail. “The smell of city, ooh, it’s as bad as the marsh. I’ll take care of Chongo and the pony if you like, while you two dogs go into that hole and do what you gotta do.”

  “I figure it’ll take us some time to get settled in,” Venir said as he hopped off Chongo and started gathering his necessities. “If we decide to lay low here, you may have to keep Chongo with you longer.”

  Venir began rubbing the big dog’s floppy ears.

  “I don’t know how persistent those Royals will be. They may look here, but they won’t get much help. The Royals here aren’t like the ones in Bone. But they’ll get other help, I’m sure.”

  “They won’t find us in this city, Vee,” said Melegal straightening his hat. “And as long as we’re here, I plan on enjoying myself. Oh, and I’m keeping Quickster with me. I’m not gonna walk anymore than I have too, especially drunk.”

  Melegal scratched the black mane of the shaggy mount.

  “That’s one thing I like about Two-Ten. Nobody messes with Quickster.”

  “Fine, keep your stinkin’ pony, stick man,” Mood said with a gruff laugh. “I’m sure as slat nobody will want to eat or steal that smelly beast, not even an orc. Ha!”

  Mood slapped Venir on the shoulder, and hoisted himself on Chongo. Venir watched them go, then turned and followed Melegal into the city.

  Venir’s body throbbed with every step. The green snake meat did its part countering the poison, but his body was far from one hundred percent. When he awoke earlier in the morning he wished he was dead, but the survivalist in him kept him going. It always did. He could see Melegal’s sharp and shaven face was now wooly and haggard. Guilt settled in his thoughts, so he tried to lighten the mood.

  “Ah, Melegal, it’s good to be back into Two-Ten City. I can smell the ale, grog and cheap perfume already. And some of Bish’s best-kept secrets are in Two-Ten. There’s always something new every time I come.”

  “Well, Vee, you got that right. It’s been years and I can’t believe I’ve been in Bone so long. I used to like it here.”

  Venir could see the thief’s grey eyes begin to dance.

  “I wonder if our old tavern’s still standing. Wasn’t it almost destroyed the last time we were here together?” Melegal said.

  Venir began to smile and said, “Yep, I’m pretty sure.”

  The truth was he couldn’t remember a thing about the last time. It seemed strange.

  It wasn’t long before the neglected trail had led them toward the bustling activity on the outskirts of the city. Every type of commerce could be found scattered around the borders of the city as well as within. Merchants and farmers fought for space to sell their baubles or their food. The worst of the harlots aggressively foisted their wares in the faces of the two adventurers. Their lucid tongues promised indecent favors. Their expressive seduction added a bounce in Venir’s step as he watched a thin smile cross Melegal’s lips as he brushed the women away.

  There was something about Two-Ten City that represented the high life he enjoyed most in Bish. Maybe it was the oddity of it all. The prostitutes were not just human, but orc, dwarf, and even halfling. They were all jostling to try to find seekers of their tricks, each race offering its own specialties. The open fondness of the different races was not represented in the City of Bone. The Royals there considered it something of a crime to intermingle with other races within its walls. But the Royals of Two-Ten cared not, for they too, were of different races.

  It wasn’t long after the first wave of jobbers that the ragtag urchins, faces wrought with filth, swarmed around the men. Venir shoved them away with a growl, sending them in a scurry, but for one who made his way to Melegal.

  “Lord, shall I find you a stable for your jackass?” asked an ugly orc boy with blonde hair, snaggled
teeth and a slimy pig nose.

  “No,” Melegal answered in a gruff tone, tugging Quickster along.

  The orc boy grabbed Quickster’s reigns.

  “It will only cost a few coppers, skinny man, and I shall groom and feed him,” the orc boy said.

  “What?” Melegal snatched the reigns away. “Go away, stupid boy, and don’t call me skinny man again!”

  Venir watched as the persistent boy blocked Melegal’s path saying, “Sorry Miss. I didn’t realize you were just an ugly woman.”

  Venir coughed a laugh. He had almost forgotten how ignorant and smart-alecky orcs were by nature. Melegal came to a stop. The thief waved his finger across the orc boy’s watching eyes.

  “Leave me and my pony be, orcling, or I shall be forced to use this.”

  “Whatcha gonna do with that finger Miss?”

  Venir covered his mouth.

  Melegal’s frown turned upward. He poked his finger in the boy’s throat, like a striking snake. The orc dropped to his knees, clutching his neck, kicking at the air.

  Melegal bent over the misfortunate boy whispering in his ear.

  “That’s what I’m gonna a do. And if I ever see you again, I’ll be the last thing you ever see. Got it?”

  The orc boy was turning purple as he began to pee himself. The boy’s growing eyes blinked over and over. A small crowd started to gather. Melegal looked around and then poked the orc boy’s throat again. The orc gasped, looking back at Melegal, screamed and ran clumsily away and out of sight. The laughing crowd began to disperse.