The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals Read online

  I hope they make it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mikkel’s forehead was beaded with sweat as he prowled their campsite. Where is he? Dawn was breaking and Billip had been gone hours. Waiting was agonizing; he felt like a dead duck among the now awakening army. Chongo’s ears kept perking up and flattening back down.

  “Bad deal,” he muttered.

  At least he had killed some kobolds. If things didn’t go his way he might have a chance to kill more. The big brown dog sniffed and snuffled at his side, enhancing his frustration. He was ready though. He didn’t know what for, but if a fight was coming, he was ready. He had packed their gear, and loaded the mounts. The horses gave soft neighs. The beasts were well-trained, and ready to be ridden out of camp at a second’s notice. That second wouldn’t come soon enough.

  He paced around the tent, countless times, chanting an old war song.

  Come, come ye dire dogs,

  It’s time to taste my wrath.

  The bow is strong,

  The battle long,

  As we embrace the throng.

  Come, come ye dire dogs, come!

  “Where is he, Chongo? He should be back by now!”

  He clenched his teeth as he tightened the leather cords around his burgeoning biceps. Smears of dark grey paint coated his cheeks and lips. It burned, with a strong scent, arousing his senses and warming his blood. He couldn’t contain himself.

  Wait or flee? Fight? Bone! Billip’s probably in a fort full of women by now. Dog!

  Chongo looked up at him, giving only a low yelp. He began to figure that his friend was already done for. If Venir took much longer, he would have to leave without him. The thought was disturbing, but no more so than the thought of what might be happening to Venir in Jarla’s tent.

  Come on big guy!

  CHAPTER 11

  He awakened, refreshed from his slumber, inside the brigand queen’s tent as he had many times before. It’s good to be me. She wasn’t there though, so maybe it wasn’t going to be such a good start after all. Most times she was always up, busy with all the tasks of maintaining command of her army, or her ‘hapless horde’ as he liked to call them. Venir never understood how she kept company with such an assortment rather than the company of her own; but if she could live with it, so could he, for now anyway.

  He knew she was capable enough to command any army, so why she chose this one he could not figure. In the meantime, he made the most of it. He was confident that he had a good handle on his situation and it would not be long before he gained her total trust. Today is the day.

  He sat up, rubbing the thick cords of his forearms, shaking an unusual chill. Combing his fingers through his thick hair, he spied himself in a tall mirror on the other side of the bed. He ran his fingers over his pale stubble. Time to shave.

  He flexed his sinewy arms over his head as he yawned, noting the recent scabs and bandages from the recent slaughters won. His handsome face was lean and chiseled. His chest and shoulders were broader than most fighters his age. He stretched.

  He touched the heavy scratches that littered his tan skin. Those might go away. He didn’t like the scars and healed patches of torn skin that cropped up over his athletic physique over the years, but there was little choice in it. Each one meant he survived and he enjoyed the questions women asked about them. It was the ones they couldn’t see that were the ones he never talked about. He rinsed his face off in a porcelain basin. Where is she? He wanted her.

  There was no sound of the usual activity in the tent. He was used to Jarla muttering like a hermit to herself, but not this morning. He was searching for his trousers and knife when he decided to look beyond the curtained quarters and see if she was there. The heavy tent began to brighten from the rising suns. The candles were expired and the odd quiet was his only companion. Strange.

  Jarla was very thorough with the details of her business. The tent was the same as always, yet something seemed amiss. There was a nagging in his gut and his head began to ache like he drank too much the night before. How late had he slept? Why were there no plans on the tables? Where’s my food? The familiar smell of coffee was not there. Hmmm. But he wasn’t one to be paranoid and he was sure that whatever might be going on had nothing to do with him. After all, she was rather fond of his prowess—both on and off the battlefield—and he had the marks on his back to prove it. If anything important was up, he’d be the first to know.

  He wandered back towards the bed and snatched his shirt and trousers. He heard footsteps approaching the tent’s entrance, so he went back. In she came and he greeted her with a welcoming smile. Clothed in her typical attire, she shot back a rueful smile, nodding as she looked his unclothed body up and down. He responded, ready to crush her in his arms when two gnoll commanders, Throk and Keel, entered behind her, fully armed for battle. Brazen though he was, he was embarrassed.

  Venir shouted at the gnolls.

  “Don’t you two ever enter the Jarla’s tent uninvited! Now get out of here!”

  Throk and Keel chuckled like jackals, their yellow eyes full of mockery. Venir looked at Jarla, but she did nothing but smile. There was an awkward moment before he turned back toward the two gnolls, regaining his composure.

  “So, I guess you two want a closer look at the best looking man, and I emphasize man, in the camp?” He stood, head high with arms wide. “Well, here I am.” Again, there were surly chuckles and he started to feel uneasy.

  “Jarla, what in Bish are these two doing in here? What’s going on?” he said.

  “They’re here to help me take care of some business,” she said, in a soft unpleasant voice. Another chill ran the course of his spine.

  “I’m sure I can help. Let me get some clothes on,” he said, turning back towards the bed.

  “No—” she almost shouted, “stay right there, my pet. I like you as you are.”

  Venir’s dander started to rise. He looked her square in the eyes.

  “Pet? I am not your pet, Jarla.”

  “Pah! You’ve been my pet all along, buffoon!” Her voice was a sharp as a dagger. “You’re no different from all the other fools I’ve had before. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. But I’ll give you credit; you were one of the best.”

  He stepped back, not expecting such words. The sugar and spice had turned to salt and mud. He felt himself sinking into the ground. What? The uneasiness that had crept in earlier turned into something he had never dealt with before … uncertainty. Her beautiful eyes burned with hate now, her features twisted into a persona he had never encountered. This was not the woman he thought he knew. She looked at him like he was just another man, among a hundred, who had wronged or spurned her in some horrible way. The tent began to shrink around him and he felt as helpless as a babe.

  He swallowed hard and said, “What are your plans for me then? Am I to be expelled from your army? I wouldn’t miss it. I’d be happy to leave.”

  “It’s not that simple, yellow hair. No man who shares my bed lives long enough to tell about it,” she said, stepping back between the sneering gnolls.

  His body went cold and his mind numb at the heartlessness of her statement. He knew she meant it and was prepared to end his life with a single command. He felt like a fool as he stood flat-footed with no means to defend himself. He was about to be slaughtered and he felt the sweat break on his brow. The gnolls hairy hands dropped onto their sword hilts. He wanted to scream, but who would come. Think!

  “Are you going to at least give me a fighting chance?” he blurted out, unable to mask the defeat in his voice.

  She laughed.

  “No. I’ve seen you fight. Giving you a chance is too dangerous.”

  Venir broke out in a cold sweat and his voice trembled.

  “So what then?” he shrugged, fighting the urge to vomit.

  “Throk and Keel normally eliminate my pets while they’re sleeping, or sometimes as they try to escape. They’ve been begging to kill you and your men as
payback for the loss of their comrades and one of my best commanders, Durn. But that’s in the past.”

  Venir was agape. Billip and Mikkel! Were they dead as well? A wave of guilt swept over his fear now. He ignored their warnings. He was a fool whose folly would lead to the death of two good friends as well. Yet, despite the news she had shared with him, he still found her magnificent. To her surprise, he even managed a grin. Smile, no matter how bad it seems. Who told him that?

  “Well, that’s a first, a fool grinning in the face of the death. You are something, I’ll give you that,” she said, almost smiling herself.

  “Oh, I know you think at least that much of me, and more,” he answered, managing a wink.

  Throk and Keel chuckled. Jarla slapped Keel in the back. She continued with the bad news.

  “But in your case, my pet, there’s a pretty steep bounty on your head,” she added.

  “What bounty?” A bounty from who?

  “The one my outside supporters have put on you, fool.”

  “You have me at a loss, again, it seems. Who is this outside interest, witch?” he asked.

  Jarla sneered.

  “Actually, I’ll tell you. I was careful not to disclose anything to you before, because I know how you feel about them. But there’s been a war going on for a long time … a secret war.”

  Deep creases crossed her forehead as she stroked her silky hair.

  “I’m part of it—a distraction for the most part—but I’m very well paid, as we all are. And I don’t mind carving into the supporters and forces of the Royals who lead the humans. They put me through great pain long ago, so it satisfies my thirst for revenge. The truth is, I don’t feel much for any race, I just enjoy what I do.”

  She licked her upper lip.

  “I could do it for either side in this war. But right now, I’m on the side that’s gaining on the humans.”

  Venir’s neck hairs rose up. Was she about to say something he never would have believed? She mustn’t. He simply could not believe it to be true, and that he too, may have become a part of it.

  “The bottom line is … it doesn’t matter to me who wins or loses. But when it comes to tendering for my services, the underlings pay far better.”

  Rage exploded inside Venir’s chest, flushing his cheeks with fire. He had been sharing a bed with this traitor for months. She had been in league with his most despised enemies, had even known how he felt, and had used him anyway. The betrayal was as enlightening as it was overwhelming. It was a cruel twist, but an awakening as well.

  Still helpless and almost shaking, he gathered his thoughts.

  “I’ll make you pay, Jarla! You’d better kill me now if you ever want to sleep again! I will hunt you down!”

  Her scoffing laugh doused his fire.

  “I’ve survived bigger threats. Don’t worry yellow hair; the underlings have agreed to let me be present when they put you through. Apparently, some of the underlings you’ve allowed to escape would like to apply your own methods to you. We’re going to watch them put your head on a spike. They’re even going to let you lead their army as we take Outpost Thirty-One. Won’t that be an honor, you leading the march on the Royals?”

  He didn’t wince at her words. He stared at her with growing hatred. His mouth was dry as he choked out his next words.

  “They won’t take me alive! You’ll have to kill me! I won’t give you a choice!”

  “I assure you, that won’t happen. Give yourself up, man. You’re unarmed and the whole tent is surrounded. It won’t be hard to wrestle you down. Be good, and I’ll try to make your suffering quick.”

  His lust and pride had made him a fool. He didn’t know who he hated more, her, the underlings or himself. Perhaps he deserved to die, but not his friends. Not Chongo! With the desperation of a cornered tiger, he eyed his surroundings for a weapon of some sort. The only object close to him was the large worn leather sack, lying on the map table. He had looked in the sack several times before, unbeknown to her, and never found a thing. He knew it was futile to try it again, but he felt compelled to—he had nothing to lose.

  “Well?” she said. “What’s it going to be? Do you give yourself up or do my men wrestle you down like a child?”

  He sprang like a deer, grabbing the leather sack off of the table and reaching down deep inside it.

  Throk, Keel, and Jarla laughed with vigor.

  “They do that every time,” Jarla sneered, patting Throk on the back. “These poor brutes just can’t come up with anything better.”

  Venir turned to face them; straw hair hanging over his face, shoulders slumped.

  “Now, put my sack down, Venir. It’s time to end this game.”

  There was a pause, all eyes intent on him, seeing him for a fool. Throk and Keel took a half step forward and then stopped.

  A smile cracked under Venir’s nose.

  “Why would I do that … when I have this?”

  The gnolls looked at one another and Jarla’s face froze. He pulled out an object and watched their eyes widen, none more than Jarla’s. For she was not gazing upon either of her twin battle axes, but a much larger one that looked like both of hers put together. Venir felt something incredible and powerful in his grip.

  “Bone!” Venir said.

  Jarla’s dark eyes locked on his for a moment and returned to the great axe he now wielded.

  “Put that back, Venir! Put that back in the sack now! Do it, Venir!” she began to scream in rage. “Do it! Do it! Do it now!”

  He had never seen a woman so angry in his life, and he had seen plenty. Her frenzy almost persuaded him, but he caught himself, realizing that he no longer cared for her anymore than a marsh witch. He flashed them all a hardy grimace.

  “I think— I might just cut you all down instead!”

  Jarla dashed from the tent, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Kill him! Kill him!”

  Throk and Keel drew their bastard swords in time to parry his attack, but Venir was all over them like lightning in a rainstorm. Shattering their blades and their bones stroke after stroke they were dead the ground. His new weapon felt alive in his hands and power seemed to course through his body. It felt good, very good indeed. The sight of the bloody gnolls bulky bodies blocking the entry caused the soldiers to hesitate.

  Venir yanked out a helmet and put it on. A wave of awareness overwhelmed him. He could sense everything. Then he pulled out a round shield. Great Bish! He then prepared himself for a stand. He felt like he could fight the entire army. It suddenly struck him that the back of Jarla’s tent faced the entrance to the ravine and the path back to his tent. He grabbed his gear. He at least had time to warn Billip and Mikkel. As the guards charged in, he slit open the tent canvas and slipped through it as fast as he could.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mikkel had been agonizing on tenterhooks for what felt like an eternity. Through a small spyglass he had been surveying the rear of Jarla’s tent. He had watched her leave it, and saw brigand soldiers surround it and watched her re-enter it with the two heavily armed gnoll commanders. Son of a Bish! He knew that he was about to witness the assassination of his old friend. No one seemed to have noticed Billip’s departure, and no one seemed concerned with him either, so he waited, keeping watch for a few more minutes.

  He was about to pack it in and go when he saw Jarla bolt around from the front of her tent and start barking commands. All of the guards converged on her tent’s entrance. The camp was still in a slumber, but many were now alert and sounding the alarm. Then he saw a figure emerge through a slit in the back of the tent; a naked man with a great axe, a shield, and what looked like the brigand queen’s helmet came running out of the opening, straight in Mikkel’s direction. Two orc brigands intercepted his path and the naked warrior cut one in the neck and punched another down. Mikkel saw a big V-shaped tattoo on the big man’s broad back. He snapped his spyglass shut.

  “Man, its Vee!”

  Chongo bolted to his ma
ster’s aid while Mikkel jumped on his horse and led the other mount into his friend’s path. Two more brigand soldiers cut off Venir, but Mikkel shot one clean through his skull and Venir almost severed the other in two with a wide swipe through its belly.

  “Come Vee! Let’s go!”

  Jarla’s men were coming, shouting in alarm. The whole brigand army seemed to be awake and on the move, but Mikkel and Venir had the jump on them. Venir leapt onto Billip’s readied horse and they raced down the hillside and into the ravine. Chongo lead the way. Hard and fast they rode, and to their surprise nothing seemed to stand in their way.

  Billip did it!, Mikkel thought.

  They even passed clear of the Ravine Watch at the end of the pass. Billip must have led them all on a fox hunt.

  As they galloped clear of the ravine, he shouted to Venir, “Good thing Billip left his horse for you!”

  “Why?”

  “There’s no way I’d let you ride with me looking like that!”

  Venir had forgotten all about his nakedness.

  “We’d better get you into some of clothes. If Billip or anyone else sees us now, we’ll never live it down! ”

  “I’m just happy to be alive, either way!” Venir yelled.

  “I heard that!” he said.

  They rode hard toward Outpost Thirty-One with a large portion of the brigand army in heated pursuit.

  CHAPTER 13