The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (16 page)

Reaching down, McKnight tore Georgio’s clothes open around the blade then yanked the dagger out. Georgio screamed. McKnight could only gasp. The wound began closing as the detective watched.

“
Mmmy sssword!”

McKnight jerked his head to the right to look at Tonio. Had he just spoken? The words were almost intelligible, but Tonio had indeed said something—indeed a rarity since the ravaging of his body. In his hand, Tonio held the boy’s long sword, and his split face had even managed a smile.

“
Mmmy sword!”

McKnight watched as Tonio began to whip it through the air as if writing across the sky, his face looking more alive than ever. The tempered steel blade gleamed in the early light, its brass pommel glittering with jewels. McKnight knew the sword to be Tonio’s prized possession from his rite of passage in becoming a warrior. It was as fine a forged sword as could be found in the City of Bone. As McKnight saluted Tonio, he saw the boy struggling to his feet so he kicked him back to the floor.

*****

“
What
are
you, boy?” McKnight demanded.

When Georgio said nothing, McKnight took out a small knife and cut a small X into his back. Georgio could feel that the wound bled a little, then closed almost as quickly as it had opened. His back burned like fire as tears streamed down his eyes. He wanted to scream but could not.

“
What
are
you?” McKnight asked. “Magical? A wizard … or maybe a lycan? Tell me! Or I’ll slice your throat.”

“
I’m … I’m a … regener. I heal. It’s natural, no magic,” he cried then pinched his lips shut.

Oh no!

Melegal and Venir had always warned him to say nothing about his healing power. But then, he never imagined he’d face having his throat slit. He began to wail and covered his throat with a hand.

“
Ah … I see!” McKnight said. “You’ve had your throat cut before, haven’t you? And it didn’t kill you. But it scares you, doesn’t it? Probably hurts like hell. Hmm …”

McKnight tipped his hat back, then began pacing about in the stall, doodling his chin. Georgio knew the man wanted to find out more.
Why did I have to tell him that?
Venir had always told him there was plenty on Bish that Georgio would have to learn about the hard way. Melegal had also told Georgio that his secret healing ability had value—so if McKnight figured that out …
I’m in trouble.

With a dagger in each hand, McKnight walked back over to him and knelt at his side.

“
Now I have the dog … and a healing boy as well. This will certainly get your big friend’s attention now, won’t it?”

Georgio just looked away.

“
This will be more than just sweet revenge,” McKnight said. “I can profit from this as well. Oh, I can’t wait to see their faces, and I might just have to tell them myself.”

Georgio swallowed as McKnight stood back up and clapped Tonio on the back.

“
Okay, Tonio, let’s take the boy with us, then. See if you can knock him out somehow.”

“
To … Castle Almen?” Tonio asked, sounding to Georgio almost like a child, except for the hoarse voice. “I have … sword.”

“
Yes, you do,” McKnight said. “But, no, Tonio, not to the castle yet … but soon. Let’s first complete our mission. Then the castle will be at our feet. I promise you that.”

Georgio saw McKnight stick his daggers back into their sheaths. Then Tonio walked up to Georgio and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of Georgio’s head. Everything went black—again.

Melegal was sound asleep in his bed when a shocking clang caused one red eye to pop open. He stuffed his face back into his silk goose-feather pillow. Another clatter brought him up in his cot.
I’m gonna kill the boy!

“
Sorry, Me,” Lefty said as he retrieved an iron skillet from the floor. “Did that disturb your eternal slumber?”

Melegal sent one of his boots careening towards the halfling’s head. The tiny boy ducked beneath it. The aroma of eggs and the warmth of the burning coals had done nothing to mellow Melegal’s dour mood.

“
Okay, Lefty,” Melegal said, standing up and yawning. “You’re not stupid enough to wake me unless you needed something. You may be a loudmouth but you aren’t clumsy. What’s the deal?”

Lefty said nothing as Melegal reached for the boot he’d thrown and then sat down and put them both on. Melegal considered that he and Lefty had gotten to know each other well enough over the past few months. No sense in beating around the bush. And he knew the look in Lefty’s wide blue eyes.

“
Well?” Melegal said.

The boys hands shook. “Sorry, Me. I tried to wake you with the smell of breakfast, but you were pretty beat. I’ve never seen you sleep so deep before.”

Melegal rubbed his eyes. “Humph. I guess I could sleep because Georgio and Venir aren’t around,” he said. “Have they come and gone already?”

Again Lefty said nothing, so Melegal went over to the small table where a steaming plate of food awaited him. He sat down, grabbed a fork, and dug in.

“
It’s good, Lefty. Where’s yours?” he said through a mouthful of food.

“
I’m not hungry. I’m worried.”

“
Why? Where’s Georgio? At the stables? I can guess where Venir is,” he said.

“
Georgio left for the stables early this morning
, before you got in. I figured Georgio would be back by now. He’s never missed Venir. You know how he gets about his big brother.”

Melegal rolled his eyes as he chewed. “I know, I know. So he’s been gone little more than half of today while I’ve been asleep. He’s been gone a lot longer than that before.”

“
I know. But something’s wrong, Me. Really wrong.”

“
What makes you so sure?”

Lefty jumped onto the table, disturbing nothing, and then pointed to his feet. The thief could see small damp pools spreading around them.

“
Ugh! Get them off the table!” Melegal said, then picked up his plate. ”Is that sweat, or did you step in something?”

“
I’m a halfling, see?”

Lefty stood on one foot and held the other.

“
My feet always tell me when something’s wrong. They’re sweating so much that something must
really
be wrong. I’m not playing you, Me, I swear.”

Lefty held up his tiny hands in surrender. The thief studied the boy’s feet. They were disproportionate in length, smooth and slender, with thick pads underneath like stuffed leather. Even he had trouble hearing the tiny boy’s footfalls—being so light that the old wooden floor never creaked beneath his feet. But as enviable as the thief found many of the halfling’s characteristics, he had no desire to be a halfling.

“
How long have they been sweating, Lefty?” he said.

“
Since just after you got in.”

“
Do you think it could mean Venir’s in danger?” Melegal asked, pushing the empty plate aside.

Lefty looked perplexed. It was no doubt hard for the boy to imagine Venir in danger.

“
I guess so,” Lefty finally said. “Though it seems pretty unlikely.”

“
Oh, it’s likely. Venir gets into trouble plenty. Haven’t you paid any attention to the stories you’ve been recording?”

Melegal saw the boy’s eyes light up like flames while combing his tiny fingers through his thick yellow hair. He understood that the boy had difficulty facing fear or dealing with bad news. It always made him withdraw. Even when writing down many of the things he was told, Lefty often had to take a break when his innocent mind became overwhelmed.

Reaching out, Melegal gripped the boy’s shoulder.

“
It’s probably not as bad as it seems,” Melegal said. “Take a deep breath. We’ll go look for them and ease your little mind.”

“
Okay,” Lefty said.

He jumped off the table and scurried for his gear. Melegal washed down the last crumbs with a swig of coffee and rose.

“
Tell you what, Lefty, to save time, you go to the stables. You have a better idea of how Georgio does his rounds.
First
make sure Quickster is okay—and he’d better be. I’ll see what I can find out about Venir. I doubt he’s far, but he could be in jail. Sound good?”

“
Yes!” the boy answered, pulling on his cloak.

Melegal waved as the boy jumped out of the little window and descended the bare wall like a spider. Lefty vanished in the streets before Melegal shut the window. The thief shrugged, poured the last of the coffee into his mug, and drank it down before he walked out, locking the apartment behind him as he left. He had no intention of going anywhere to find his friend, but he would at least make some inquiries downstairs if needed. The halfling had been convincing enough.

Quickster better be okay. Eh … Georgio probably choked on one of those biscuits he’s always eating.
Then Melegal chuckled.
Venir must be with a woman—maybe one of those Motley Girls.
It wouldn’t surprise me a bit.
Either way, Melegal wasn’t going to let that spoil his day.

As he headed downstairs, Melegal noticed that is was almost evening. He took a seat in a corner near a crackling fireplace and let his new day begin on Bish. He had a feeling it would be a great day, Lefty’s portents of evil aside.

Jarla, the former Brigand Queen, hadn’t sleep well last night—and had not for years. She was tormented by her own hatred and anger, but guilt was not something she knew. She sat alone in her memories alongside a sandy bank between the trees of the Lush Lakes of Bish. A breeze blew her long silken black hair over her scarred and haggard face. Her body, once spectacular and shapely, had succumbed to the ravages of stress and time, and now felt weighted down and soft. Her eyes, though, remained bitter blazing blue gems beneath a furrowed brow that creased deeply between her eyes and up her forehead. Many who had known her as the powerful Brigand Queen would not recognize her today. Even those who had known her as Jarla their royal captain would not know her now.

Not long after the fall of the Outpost Thirty-One, Jarla had inflicted merciless vengeance on those who had wronged her. She had trusted those men. She’d fought along their side for years. They gorged themselves in blood-filled battles and were showered with glory. But they were not the men she thought them to be. She had saved them many times with instinct and skills they did not have. Yet they became jealous—and her good character did not see it coming. And they took her one day. Her own trusted inner circle of men had pinned her down and defiled her. They beat her. They broke her. Then they laughed at her. She crawled away from Outpost Thirty-One, stunned, heartbroken, and humiliated. She never cried, but she survived, disappearing from the clutches of the outpost.

Soon enough, though, Jarla showed up again, with her horde and the underlings—and they mutilated every single living man at Outpost Thirty-One, good and evil, beyond recognition. She enjoyed every bit of it. She even found some of her former tormentors and castrated them. She laughed as they were dragged away by the underlings.

Her revenge only darkened her heart, and her problems had only begun anew. She was yet without her armaments contained in the mystic sack—her precious bracers, axes, and helmet. With those armaments, Jarla’s power had reached its zenith. But then they were taken from her by another man.

Venir …

He was brash, handsome, and cunning. She had melted in his iron arms. He was like no other she’d met before. But when it all ended because of her betrayal, he swore that he would kill her. She knew he would. It was only a matter of time.

Bringing herself back to the present, Jarla used some cloths to wipe down her burnished bronze armor near the lake. Wearing only a long white shirt, she waded waist deep into the soothing waters of the Lush Lakes deep in southern Bish. She pulled off the shirt and began to scrub the sweat and filth from it. She then let it soak and watched the shining waters settle around her. She could see herself in the water. Jarla looked hard at her figure, which was fuller, her chest more prominent but less appealing—and her scarred faced sunken and worn. She was once a beautiful and proud woman that was the envy of them all, but the hazards of Bish had taken that from her. For a moment in those waters, she saw herself younger and happy, but the image faded. She began smacking the water and cursing, then grabbed up her armor and shirt and stormed naked up the beach and into the forest to her fire.

There she sat again, uncertain what to do. She always came here to wander. It was here that she had come years ago and found the large leather sack on the forest floor. She remembered that
clank
the moment she’d picked it up then emptied its contents—to be reborn as someone else. That power had consumed her. She remembered the years that she terrorized the south with exploits of daring and wonder using the armaments of the sack. Piece by piece, she took back from men what they had taken from her. She turned her small band of brigands into an army and destroyed Outpost Thirty-One—the most powerful outpost in Bish—only to be running scared for years from Venir, who now wore her mystic mantle.