The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (28 page)

Venir said nothing. He wasn’t even sure himself, so long it had been since he’d even thought about it.
Slowly, he trudged forward, joining the surviving Royal Riders, all twelve of them. All busted and broken in one way or the other.

“Stranger, does it stand for Vanquished?”

He looked up at Tuuth through his swollen eyes and said nothing.

“
Villain? Vile? Vulgar? Vain? Victorious? Ha! Ha! Ha!”

It
happened long ago. Venir couldn’t remember if he was drunk when he’d done it or if someone had done did it to him when he was drunk. Melegal used to say it meant Vociferous and claim that he’d done it, but in truth, even Melegal didn’t know when he got it. It was almost as if it just happened.

“Start digging, Stranger.”

Wuhpash!

“You three, dig as well.”

Venir sank the nose of his shovel into the dirt, thinking of all the bodies that would be stuck in the ground. For all he knew, he’d be buried alive again, and suffocated. His thoughts were interrupted when the underling commander showed up.

“Arsehole
Bastard can’t dig, you stupid orc!” The commander extended his hand towards Tuuth.

Wuhpash!

The underling cracked Tuuth across the arms, watering the orc’s eyes.

“Next time you do something so stupid, you’ll be digging a hole for yourself. We don’t have any need for you
, Orc, or any of those men. I’m tired of looking at humans. I’m tired of you all.” He held his nose. “And you stink so bad when you burn!” The underling spat on Venir’s chest then slugged him in the gut, dropping him to his knees. “I don’t like this one, but I like to see him suffer.”

Head downcast, Venir listened to the sound of shovels digging into the ground. He hated that sound. It made him think of the day the underlings overtook his village.
Groaning, he rose back to his feet.

“Strong, stupid and stubborn, this man is,” the underling commander said. “Like an orc.” He hissed and chittered to himself. “Let him watch these men shovel until they die. Let him watch us strip the armor from the
ir dead bodies. Let this stubborn man watch it all while you whip him.” The underling reached up, grabbed Venir’s chin and looked him in the eye. “And if he passes out, wake him up and whip him some more.” The underling shoved the whip in Tuuth’s chest. “Maybe he’ll die before your arm gets too tired, Orc.”

“Yes, Commander,” Tuuth said.

Venir locked eyes with Tuuth when the commander walked off.

“Men,” Tuuth said to some of the brigand army soldiers, “hitch him to the lashing post.” He cracked the whip. “Normally, I’d enjoy this, Stranger. But, in your case, I feel a bit sorry for you and your stupid
tattoo.”

Wuhpash!

CHAPTER 38

Threep! Threep! Threep! Threep!

Fogle’s eyes snapped open.

Threep! Threep! Threep! Threep!

Sluggish, he rolled onto his knees, yawning.

Threep! Threep! Thr—

With a simple thought, he shut off the Wizard’s Alarm he’d set it in his mind. It was an awareness, like a familiar, a piece of him outside himself.
Careful, Fogle.
He scanned the harsh Outland. Anything could be coming, be it flesh-eating bugs, giants or underlings. Squinting his eyes, he didn’t see anything, but the sore muscles between his shoulders told him something was wrong.
Never felt that before.

Dust Devils swirled over the landscape
. Nearby, covered in a thin layer of dust, Barton snored, flat on his face.

“Am I the only real adventurer left around here
?” Fogle said to himself, brushing off his robes. “Ah! Why do I continue to bother with that?” He took a deep breath, scanning in every direction. “There has to be something; why else would my alarm go off?”

He nudged Cass’s curl
ed-up form. She looked innocent, at peace. He pushed her white hair back over her ear and whispered into it.

“Cass.”

She stirred.

“Cass?” he said
, shaking her some more. He was getting tired of being the only one awake. “Cass!”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?
Who are you yelling at? Not me, are you?”

Elated, he couldn’t’ help but hug her.

Feebly, she hugged him back. “Fogle, where are we?”

H
e helped her up to her feet.

“And is Barton dead?”

Disappointed with what he had to share, Fogle caught her up, explaining to her what little had happened since she fell asleep. Well, little aside from the swarm of flesh-eating bugs killing their horse and weakening Barton.

She made a shivering face when she saw the remains of the horse.
“So, you protected me, did you?” She smiled a little and grabbed his hand. “My big-headed hero.” She kissed him on the cheek. “But, if you had some water, now, that I’d be more than willing to give you a kiss for. Oh, and my lips would be so much moister.”

Fogle felt his dry mouth begin to water as she turned away, hips swaying as she walked up
to Barton. He could make water if he wanted to, but she’d made it clear before that his kind would not help. “I’m sure there is some nearby, but Cass, I’ve lost my familiar, and the truth is, I’m not the best at determining the direction in the Outlands. But, we were headed that way, east, I believe.”

Cass fingered one of the red welts on Barton.
“Stingers and teeth?” She continued her inspection, eyes wide with fascination. “Even I’ve never seen such a thing. Strange.”

“How are you feeling, Cass?”
He wasn’t certain how long they’d slept, but it must have been a few hours at least. He felt a bit better than before, anyway.

“Mmm… not so bad, just stiff
.” She rolled her neck. “How are feeling, Fogle the Brave?”

“Never better now that I know you’re well
.” He was unable to contain his grin.

“Oh, is that so
?” Cass came closer, her busted lip and bruised face all smiles. “And how well am I, exactly?”

Drat! I had one good remark
. I wasn’t expecting to need two!
“As well as a soldier in a tavern full of whores?”

“What!”

“Er … Better than a dwarf on stilts?”

She folded her arms over her chest.

“Like a cat in a room full of rats?”

She shook her head
. “You need to know when to be silent, Fogle Fool. Now—”

Suddenly, Barton jerked up into
a sitting position, eye alert, craning his neck.

Fogle could see the muscles tense in the giant
’s back. Something was amiss.

“What is it?” Cass said.

Barton’s hand covered her chest and face.

“He
ar that?” Barton said, his voice a low rumble.

“Only the wind in my ears
,” Fogle said.

Barton’s head turned towards the cloudy sky. His jaw jutted out
, and he grinded his teeth. “We must go,” Barton said. He reached for Cass.

“What are you doing?” she said
.

“We must hide,”
Barton said. “Can you not hear that? Can you not hear that, Wizard?”

Fogle, eyeing the sky, shook his head
. “I don’t hear anything.” Still, he grabbed Cass and held her tight. “Barton, what is it? Giants?”

Barton took a stiff breath through his nose and shook his head.
“Not giants. Blackie. Barton hate Blackie.”

That’s when Fogle heard it. Distant.
Foreboding. Massive.

W
hump. Whump. Whump.

***

“A net,” Boon grumbled to himself. “Of all things, I fell to a net.”

Mile after mile Boon was marched, barefoot o
n the hot land. His bleeding and blistered feet burned like fire with every step.

Surrounding him, underling soldiers marched at his side, on
e holding a rope around his neck, jerking it hard from time to time.

Boon glanced over at it. Its red eyes glared back
like beacons of death.

“I’ll kill you first, you black roach,” Boon spat. He looked at another. “Then you.” And another. “And you.” He was certain they didn’t understand a word he said, but he understood them.

They hadn’t killed him, but he was fairly certain he wished they had. No, they would torture him. Mutilate him. Cut his tongue off and feed it to him maybe. Of all the races on Bish, it was the underlings that delighted abnormally in peeling the flesh from the bones. The single thought of it disgusted Boon. Everything they did, he despised. He remembered the first time he saw them kill a man, a friend of his. They took pleasure in it. It stirred Boon. It made him sick.

“Ooof!”

Underlings shoved him to the ground, chittering with diabolical laugher.

His body wanted to stay down, but he wouldn’t let it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “Kill me now,
fiends, before it’s too late,” he said. Rising, his legs trembled beneath him.

Still, they laughed in their own sick way, his threats as meaningless as the ants
that scurried beneath his toes. Chests out, sharp teeth bared, the soldiers marched him over the dusty ground, pushing, pulling and jerking him by the neck mile after mile, one agonizing step after the other.
Walk or die, Old Man. Walk or Die.

***

Before Fogle realized what was happening, Barton had snatched him and Cass up and started running.

“We must hide! Barton must hide! I won’t let Blackie take me again
. I won’t!”

Over Barton’s shoulder, Cass was screaming in the giant’s ear.
“Put me down!”

Fogle wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the breath. Barton had him pressed over his shoulder to
o tight.
The dragon might want you,
he thought,
but I don’t think he wants us!
Reassuring himself, he patted the spellbook in the pocket of his robe.

Barton’s feet sounded like giant mallets pounding over the landscape, clattering Fogle’s teeth and jostling his senses.

A dragon.

A black one.

Watching the clouds above, Fogle tried to imagine what to expect. There was a wizard’s tower in the City of Three with a great hall filled with the most wondrous and colorful pictures. Battles. Cities. Ancient people of Long Ago. Men and dwarves battled orcs, ogres, gnolls and minotaurs. Wizards fought harpies, chimera, dark sorcerers. So many monsters roamed Bish, yet so few were ever seen, but one picture came to mind. A dragon: beastly, monstrous, little bigger than a horse attacking a host of men. It was a terrifying creature, scales a deep red, but other than that, it looked to only be a big lizard.

“Barton!” he
said, “you don’t even know where you’re going!”

“I don’t hear any dragons!” Cass screamed over at him, then look
ed to the air.

W
hump! Whump! Whump!

Their eyes locked on one another’s. Cass’s widened with uncertainty.

Barton picked up the pace. “NOOOOOO!”

Fogle craned his neck, searching in all directions. Above him, a massive black shadow darted through the clouds.

Whump! Whump! Whump!

A powerful gust of air sent a chill right through him

Barton’s running came to a sudden stop.

W
HUMP!

Ahead, the sound of something heavy hit the dirt
, followed by a roar so long Fogle felt his ears splitting. He stuck his fingers in them.
This is it!
Another roar followed, louder than the last.
I’m going to die.

Barton lowered both h
im and Cass to the ground, setting them behind him.

“BARTON HATE YOU
, BLACKIE! YOU WON’T TAKE BARTON HOME TODAY!”

There was a loud snort and a blast of furnace
-hot air.

Fogle could smell sulfur and brimstone
. He opened his eyes and looked.
Oh slat!
His knees warbled. His stomach recoiled. His warm blood went cold.

Blackie wasn’t
only taller than a horse; he was taller than five horses, maybe ten. His scales were black as coal. Hard as iron. His citrine eyes burned with life. Intelligent. Crafty. Teeth tall as a dwarf and sharper than spears. A great tail swiping back and forth like a preying cat. His giant claws dug into the hardened ground like it was mud.

“RAAAH-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOR!”

The sound was maddening. Without realizing it, Fogle found Cass’s arms wrapped around him, eyes shut, trembling.

“Please don’t roar again,” she said
. “Please don’t roar again.”