The Darkslayer: Chaos at the Castle (Book 6) (44 page)

Arm limp on one side, Tuuth shook his glowing fist.

“I’m going to kill you, dog.”

Venir stepped between them, knife behind his back, swaying.

“You have to kill me first,” he said, “and you haven’t done that yet, orc.”

“I’m going to rip your head from your shoulders,
Venir.” Tuuth came at him.

Venir brac
ed his feet.

Quick. Quick. Quick.

Tuuth drew back. Gauntlet glowing. Everything was in his swing. The big fist came.

L
ike a panther, Venir leapt up out of the muck pit and struck. Venir cut through armor. Muscle. Bone.

“Urk!”

The orc’s yellow eyes widened.  Blood filled his mouth. Tuuth punched.

Venir
held on. Driving the knife deeper, he drove Tuuth to the ground. Twisting the blade one last time.

“I hate you, Out—”

Tuuth died.

Shaking, Chongo came by his side
and lay down. Both heads licked the muck off of him.

Venir grabbed his mane
. “You’re too good to me, Boy.”

A black bearded dwarf sailed high ov
erhead, slamming into one of the ballista on the towers.

“No time to rest now,” Slim said
.

“What?”

Slim appeared from behind a wall of cornmeal barrels. “This party just started. They’ll need your help. Ew, Chongo! Oh well. Now grab some weapons and gear, Venir. You’ve got underlings to slay.”

“I’ve got a knife
, Slim. I can barely lift it. The armament is gone, Slim. It’s gone.”

***

Snap!

With two underlings on his back, Mood
continued to pummel the underling commander into submission.

Crack!

“Ye little underlings think yer a match for a Blood Ranger? Their king at that? I’ll make a greasy smear of all of you.”

Face broken, the underling
commander jammed a dagger in Mood’s side.

“Ho! Poking me with a tooth pick, now that’s just
insulting, stabbing me with anything smaller than a sword.”

He brough
t his ham-sized fist down like a mallet into the underling commander’s face, knocking it out cold. He tore the other two underlings off his shoulders and threw them to the ground.

Black Beards hacked them down.

Mood yanked the dagger from his shoulder and sunk it in the underling commander’s heart.

A Black Beard
, grisly from beard to toe, handed him his axes.

“By the beard
ed goats,” he said, assessing the chaos, “we’ve got work to do!”

Underlings swarmed from all directions, their focus on the giants
―the dwarves an afterthought. All the Black Beards huddled in a battle circle, striking with planning and precision, but they weren’t here to roust the underlings. They were here to save Venir. The giants were just a distraction. A good one. But Mood had led them here.

They might be big, but they ain’t so smart.
They’ll be after us soon enough.

One giant, with black hair down to his back
, was scooping up underlings and throwing them over the wall. Another, heavyset as an ogre, stuffed the black fiends in his mouth like roaches, crunching bone and metal like canes of sugar.

“Get along the walls! Away from the giants!” Mood commanded
. He swung, splitting an underling’s face in half.

It was a battle. It was war.

I should’ve brought more dwarves.

A
giant swinging an axe stepped into the fort through the southern gate. He was chopping up the catwalks like kindling when a blast of magic caught him in the face, sending him reeling into a store house. The giant’s twin followed, helping his brother up before jumping up and destroying a fort tower with a lethal strike.

Underlings were dying
. By dozens now. It was a great thing.

“Black Beards! Find m
y friend!” Mood said. “We need to get our wrinkled hides out of here!”

Days earlier,
Mood and the Black Beards had tracked down a lone giant and killed it. That was what they did. Now, the giants were not only after their kin, Barton, but they had vengeance on their minds as well. Mood would deal with them when he had to. He never imagined Barton would lead them to Outpost Thirty One. They’d let themselves be captured. It couldn’t have worked out better. The giants caught right up with them. He couldn’t have asked for a bigger distraction.

“Hurry, Dwarves!”

A shadow fell over them. A giant with a gore-splatted club in his hand attacked. The first swing crushed two dwarves.

***

Fogle sat on the back of Eethum’s horse, grinding his teeth.

The jungle erupted. Trees snapped
, and footsteps shook the ground.

“Giants?” he asked.

Eethum shook his head yes.

“Aye, let’s just hope they’re not too late. Come.”

“Late?”

“
Hold tight, Wizard, and have your craft ready. Ee-Yah!”

Less than a mile away, the
y galloped up the mountainous slope. Fogle readied a pair of spells on his lips, squeezed his eyes shut, and summoned his powers. He was used to fighting underlings now. For a change, he’d be prepared.

“What are we supposed to do when we get there
?” he shouted in Eethum’s ear.

The big dwarf was silent, long red beard whipping in the wind.

Bloody dwarves are nothing but secrets.

Something big crashed into the branches above them and fell to the ground
. Two underlings lay dead, one with a broken branch stuck in his eye. Fogle smiled.

Good.
But what in Bish did that?

The horse burst through the trees and onto the road, hooves thundering over the path.

“Yah!” Eethum whipped the reins. A giant wearing a one horned helmet stepped in their path.

Fogle’s neck stretched
upward.

The giant
was as tall as the oaks. Three underlings floated in the sky, surrounding it, shooting lighting from their hands.

Zzzraam!

Zzzraam!

Zzzraam!

The giant roared, swinging blindly, covering its eyes with its arms.

The underling
magi pressed their attack, shooting out the lightning that coiled up and down their arms.

“I’ll show them,” Fogle said
.

He pointed and shot a bright green missile from the tip of his finger.

Zing!

It pierced one underling skull and entered another before blowing out the other side and into the third one
’s mouth. It gagged, hissed and swallowed a moment before it exploded. All three forms fell from the sky and thudded to the ground. The giant stomped each and every one of them, grinding them into the ground before moving onward.

Eethum stopped the horse, turned and eyed him.

“Don’t do that again.”

“What, kill underlings?”

“We’re not here to kill underlings. We’re here to save your friend―and my king, if need be. Protect yourself and your friend. When the time comes, you’ll know.”

“Killing underlings does protect us
,” Fogle said. “Killing giants does too, for that matter. And since when do you dwarves decide when killing is and isn’t allowed? I say we go in there, kill them all, and sort it out later.”

Eethum flashed his teeth and harrumphed.

“Aw, I like the way you think, Wizard Warrior,” the Blood Ranger said.

Did I just say what I thought I
said? I must be going mad.

Fogle
thought of the image of his grandfather’s blazing eyes and wispy white beard.
The man enjoyed killing underlings more than anything else.
I’m not like that.
He glanced back at the giant footprints of underling goo and laughed.
Well, maybe I am a little.
He jumped off the horse.

“What are you doing?” Eethum growled, grabbing him by the cloak.

Fogle twisted away.

“Why wait to kill the evil bastards later when you can kill them now
? I’m going in.”

Eethum jumped off his horse and slapped it on the rear. Whipping out his
axes, he said, “Mood was right, as always.”

“About what?”

“The best wizards are the crazy ones.”

CHAPTER 64

Master Kierway entered the arena, head high. The underling’s eyes were more curious than they were fearful.

Creed’s confidence dipped.

The Cowl on his head urged him forward.

B
lood charging through him like a rushing river, Creed faced Kierway for the second time. Chill bumps ran down his arms.

“Fool, no man
nor underling can best me, no matter the steel he swings.” Kierway eased his swords from the sheaths on his back. “Your death was only delayed by circumstance.” He shifted his stance. Circling.

The underling
grandmaster of the sword was the fastest he’d ever seen. When they battled in the chamber, it had taken all of Creed’s skill just to parry.
I’m faster now. Better now. Aren’t I?

The
Cowl assured him he was. The swords in his hands said they were parts of him now. Like a snake’s head and tail.

“I beg to differ
,” Creed said, “It was your death that was delayed.”

Creed lunged.

Kierway spun out of reach.

Stabbing a fly would have been just as easy.

“Blast!”

“So, you grumble already, Human. Good.”

Eyes flashing, Kierway attacked.

Ching! Ching! Ching!

Creed was on the defensive. Parrying the lightning fast blows. He’d never seen anyone move so fast before. It was astounding.

Rolling his wrists
like a human windmill, he batted the attacks away.

T
he underling’s blades were unrelenting.

Rip!

Kierway clipped him under the ribs.

Rip!

Across the thigh.

“
Bone! You can’t be so fast,” Creed said, jumping away.

Kierway twirled his blades and laughed.

“Maybe you should stop talking and start fighting. You’ve swung once to my twenty,” Kierway said. “Still, it’s entertaining.” He pressed forward.

Creed backed away. It was embarrassing.
He’d been taught everything there was to know about the sword. Offense. Defense. Counters and strokes. But in seconds, the underling had negated all of it with superior speed and power.

‘
Loosen up, Bloodhound,’ his mentor once said. ‘Being too stiff will kill you. All the skill in the world won’t save you when your instincts fail. Trust in them.’

Creed always had good instincts. He could size up an opponent quick
ly. A dipped shoulder. A slouched posture. Too much weight on one leg. Short arms. Long arms. Everyone had a weakness to exploit. Not this one.

Holding one sword behind his back, Kierway swung.

Clang!

“There. I’m making it easy for you. Swing back.”

He wanted to swing.

The
Cowl on his head wanted him to swing.

B
ut one mistake would be fatal. He almost died the last time. He didn’t want to die today.

Clang!
Clang!

Kierway swung.

Creed parried. Backward he went. Stepping around dead bodies.

“Are you going to bleed to death?” Kierway said, eyeing his wo
unds. “I thought you wanted to fight. Give me a challenge, Human. Give me a fight of some sort before you die like the coward you are.”

“Coward?” Creed said, his voice a little less mortal.
It made him mad. His mind surged. “You―whose kind strikes at women and children in the darkness―are calling me a coward?”

“Yes
, a soft one. A coward and a shoddy swordsman.”

Torn between caution and rage, Creed had to choose.
Sometimes you have to trust your instincts and let loose.
He lowered his chin.
Swish. Swish.
“Let’s finish this.”

He attacked
.

The
Cowl rejoiced.

B
ut Kierway was already spinning away. He’d seen the move before it happened.

Slice!