The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (19 page)

“
Chongo can do that?” Lefty said. “He must have a really loud bark. I didn’t hear it.”

The dwarf chuckled. “It’s no bark, just a connection I has with the pooch. See, Chongo is a special breed that is reared by us dwarves,” he said, poking the boy with his finger.

“
Do they all have two heads like Chongo?”

“
No, just Chongo. How he got two heads is another story, but you can ask our friend Venir about that. Something ’bout a silver fish.”

Lefty shook his head, as he didn’t recollect the silver fish in any of Venir’s wondrous tales. Of course, no one believed in legends of the giant dwarven Blood Rangers, yet here their king stood.

“
You listen,” Mood said. “I need you to help me. We’ll go rescue Chongo and I can’t do it alone. Dwarves ain’t liked here, and giant ones are no exception. Pah!” He spat in disgust.

“
What did you do that for?”

Lefty could see Mood’s face darken as the Blood Ranger answered: “I always do. Dwarves built this city like all the rest. Long time ago it was, but we know the ins and outs here. We let the humans live here. We don’t like this life. But the Royals like control, showin’ no gratitude. Don’t like us around. City of Bone’s the worst, while the rest ain’t bad, just run by ornery men.”

“
So what do you want me to do?”

Lefty realized his tiny fists were balled up as he asked the question.

“
You help me get Chongo. I’ll guide you. We’ll get the pony out of here too. Whoever is behind all this, they’re dangerous. Chongo’s in much danger. Will you help?” Mood said, clamping his massive hands on Lefty’s tiny shoulders.

Feeling a strength stir within, Lefty knew he would do anything to help. He nodded.

“
What about Georgio? Where is he? We have to find him!”

“
One thing atta time, boy,” Mood said, rising. “We get Chongo, then I think we get the boy, too—at least that what I be feelin’. Someone’s after Venir, I’d say. Very bad. They tryin’ to trap him. Maybe the boy is with Chongo. We’ll see.”

Lefty had never felt so nervous, but he was willing do anything to save his friend. He could feel the big dwarf’s gaze, heavy on him. Something in bushy man’s voice let him know he could do it. His best friend was in peril, so Lefty had to do something.

“
Are you ready?” Mood asked.

Lefty took a deep breath and lifted up his chin. “I am.”

The timing of the Motley Girls’ appearance couldn’t have been any worse, at least in Melegal’s opinion. The sight of the sisters only darkened his already distraught demeanor. He was out of his comfort zone within his usual comfort zone and now he had to deal with Sis, Haze, and Frigdah?

“
What on Bish do you three trolls want of me now?” he asked.

The women smirked at him from where they stood at the bar—clearly unable to see Luke’s corpse or Georgio’s fingers lying on the table in front of Melegal.

“
We know something,” Haze said.

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine that the three of you actually
know
something. Please, delight me with what that might be.”

“
Okay, smart pants,” Sis said, her pimpled face turning red. “If you’re too dumb to see we have something important you need to know, then we won’t tell you.”

“
Hmph!” Frigdah muttered, standing next to Sis, arms crossing her big chest as she nodded like an imbecile.

Melegal was losing his patience, so he started to get up. But Haze walked forward and tossed something onto the table. His eyes widened.

Venir’s hunting knife …

“
Where did you get this?” Melegal said.

Sis wagged her finger at him. “Oh, so now you want to hear what we have to say, do you? Well, it’s gonna cost you, smart pants.”

“
Yeah, smart pants!” Frigdah shouted as she sauntered over and picked up the bottle of wine.

Melegal watched her take a big swig, look down at the table, then spit out the wine. She jumped back, tripped, and smashed into a table. That’s when Sis and Haze walked up and noticed Luke’s stiff body and the pudgy fingers scattered on the table. The two sisters pulled their daggers out as they looked at the table in terror.

“
Why’d you kill the lute player?” Sis asked.

“
And cut off his fingers too!” Haze yelled.

He couldn’t believe how stupid they were, but it did give him an opportunity.

“
Oh, him,” Melegal said. “I asked him where my friend Venir was and he wouldn’t tell me.”

They stared back at him, eyes wide. Looking at one another in confusion, they began shifting back and forth on their feet.

“
Now can you tell me where he is?” Melegal said, even louder.

Sis and Haze’s faces looked aghast, no doubt uncertain of his claim of killing Luke, but their fear didn’t overcome their lips.

“
He’s in Castle Slerg!” Frigdah shouted.

Then the big woman rushed through the tavern, bottle of wine in hand, and out the door.

Melegal folded his arms over his chest. “Is that true? Remember, your life depends on it.” He nodded toward the body of Luke.

Haze rubbed her bandaged hand, staring at the fingers on the table.

“
I don’t think you killed him,” Sis said.

“
Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Now tell me what you know of Venir.”

The two remaining sisters looked at each other. His voice, he knew, was convincing. Plus he knew they were in over their heads—but he needed help, and if it cost him some coin, so be it. Still, they seemed to want to help, and he had no idea why. They had a tough exterior, but they were women, and something under their greasy hair and ragged clothes seemed to compel them to help him. Their shared past intrigued him as well.

Sis sighed and elbowed Haze.

“
Tell him,” Sis said.

After Melegal had the corpse of Luke the lute player removed, the atmosphere of the Drunken Octopus seemed more back to normal. The two women sat and relayed the details of Venir’s battle in Death Hall. Melegal believed them, as they weren’t smart enough to tell such a detailed lie. It wasn’t very common to have such assistance in the City of Bone, but the Motley Girls, despite their unpolished exterior, seemed to be good people.

Of course, the news about Venir did not help matters; it only made them worse. Georgio was still missing, as was Chongo. His mount Quickster, he believed to be dead. Men he thought that were once dead now lived again. The key to saving them all was Venir, and he had been taken prisoner for an unknown reason. He pondered all this information for a long moment. Haze and Sis sat before him, eyes wide, lips shut, waiting.

“
Do you still have friends inside the Slerg House?” Melegal finally asked them.

“
Yes,” they said in unison.

“
Will you go and find out what you can? I will pay. I need to know something fast, so if you aren’t up to it, let me know. I can only give you a few hours at best.”

Sis got up. “If we help you and your friend, you better not be mean to my sister anymore. You owe her for what you did to her hand. We shouldn’t be helping you out anyway, but we owe you. You don’t know it but we do.”

Melegal raised an eyebrow at her. He had no idea what she meant.

“
Tell me all about it later then,” Melegal said. “And Haze …”

She looked at him, waiting to hear his apology. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He looked down at the table and then back up at her. His eyes must have told her that he didn’t mean the harm he caused her. Haze smiled a big toothy smile and then got up to follow Sis out of the tavern. Melegal couldn’t believe how desperate he had become.
Where in Bish is Vee?

His brain pounded all the way into his ears like some stampede. Venir remembered a blinding flash when he was mere moments from breaking free. Now he was in yet another cell, much larger than last one. This time, though, he was restrained in a different fashion: his head was surrounded by sand, and it appeared that the rest of him was buried in it. He couldn’t believe it. He was in the manbox.

And this time, Venir knew, he wouldn’t be going anywhere without help, as he knew all too well about the manbox. Long ago, while cleaning dungeons for the Royals, he had seen prisoners buried in the manbox. It was a clever contraption. Little more than a large, rectangular crate, it was used not only to secure prisoners but to interrogate them. The prisoner was strapped to an upright plank inside the crate while a massive iron vat filled with sand was raised overhead on chains and pulleys. Then the sand was poured over the prisoner, making any movement below the neck impossible. The captors would then use vermin and/or poisonous or flesh-eating bugs to torment their prisoners or interrogate them.

Venir recalled stinger gnats consuming wailing faces, crimson scorpions popping cherry-sized welts onto cheeks, and onyx woodpeckers drilling holes straight through ears, eye sockets, and even skulls.

He felt his stomach knot. His body was completely immobilized; he was helpless to defend himself.

No. No. No!

All he could do was try to talk himself out of his situation. He’d been a prisoner before, but this situation was extreme. His body ached from the gritty sand rubbing into his wounds. He shuddered as he thought about his face being mutilated beyond recognition. He blocked it out and waited.

The dungeons were quiet. No other moaning or breathing or voices could be heard. The sound of dripping water and scurrying rats was it. He was alone in the dimness. As the minutes passed into hours, he catnapped off and on while his keen senses remained on alert.

He had no idea how long he had been there. Maybe a day or more. The faces of the busted man-urchins filled his thoughts. Then something else. He finally fell into a deep sleep filled with long-buried memories …

She stood before him as she had so many times. She was unlike any other woman on Bish. Dark, radiant, and seductive, her hair draped itself like a pelt of black silk over her broad shoulders, framing high cheekbones scarred from a strange twist in her life. Her smile was playful, rueful, and vengeful as her azure eyes bore into his body, weakening his knees.

Taller than most men, her tanned, athletic body was extraordinarily raw and powerful. She was the Brigand Queen whom he had sworn he would kill and had not. She had been his greatest lover and then had become his ultimate betrayer.

He had yet to overcome her power over him. Every so often, something would remind him of her: a fleeting gesture, a moment on a battlefield, a hint of perfume, the shift of a shapely shadow.

Fighting side by side, they devastated their enemies. It fueled their insatiable passion for one another, which had found expression on countless nights in her tented quarters.

He had been the brave young warrior. But he had lacked the foresight of a wiser man. She was not who he imagined her to be. She was fascinating, but also evil, damaged, hateful, and merciless.

Despite the clear signs of danger, Venir remained blinded by her allure. His pride had almost cost him his life, but he had survived. Yet so long as she lived, she would haunt him. He could not shake it, though he had sworn he would get her one day.

He stood before his enemies as the Darkslayer, Brool in hand, the eyelets of his iron-banded helmet glowing. He rushed headlong through clutches of orcs, ogres, goblins, and kobolds that guarded their Brigand Queen. Blood covered the ground like rainwater as Brool carved into his enemies, blow after blow. Bones were shattered, bellies gutted, skulls crushed under his boot in a sea of rage and fury that the brigand army could not resist. Limbs, heads, and bowels lay scattered across the ground, yet still he could not kill her.

All around him was death, but never hers. He could not catch her. Whenever he got close, the underlings were there, distracting him from his mission. The underlings that he had spent a lifetime pursuing and destroying, chunk by chunk, kept him at bay, kept him always from obliterating his one last haunting memory.

Jarla …

His eyes popped open. Venir heard something. A dungeon door screeched open and clanged against the stone wall. A pair of hard-soled boots echoed his way. He feigned slumber. He could hear light breathing now, and sense a steady gaze upon him.
Jarla?

“
Come now, Venir. I know you’re awake,” said a familiar voice. “You always were a light sleeper.”

It was not her. It was not a female at all. Venir forced his mind to awaken from the effects of the dream. His thoughts raced to put a face to the voice.

“
I don’t have endless patience, Venir. Shall I send in Creighton and Hagerdon?”

“
Leezir!” Venir snarled, his eyes still closed.

“
Ah, you remember me. Or us, shall I say. It’s been fifteen years, maybe more. And my, but you’ve grown! From urchin to warrior in the blink of an eye. Quite impressive.”

He could feel Leezir’s breath on his face. Finally Venir opened his eyes and stared into Leezir’s pudgy pitted face.

“
Are the Slergs now in the business of enslaving overgrown orphans?” Venir asked. “I have no quarrel with you, Leezir, so what is it you want?”