The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (42 page)

When the red-haired enchantress emerged, she held a small globe before her and Venir appeared within the City of Three. Venir’s face caused Jarla to cackle. She took the fiery orange-globe from the flame-haired enchantress, who demanded payment. The brigand queen laughed in her face and nodded to her some of her brigands. They dragged the woman kicking and screaming back inside.

Jarla now possessed the small globe of magic. It was charged only with two more uses. She would see to it Venir that did not escape her again.

Another use of the globe several days later showed Venir leaving the City of Three with two companions. Then, after a few more days had passed, she used the last charge and saw her former lover traveling west with the same two companions. Venir, though, didn’t appear as she’d suspected he would.

Before it vanished into nothingness, the magic orb helped her get close enough to Venir’s current location to use her powerful spyglass. This was it. She was eager to see the man castrated by her sword once and for all.

She and her men waited in the distance of the rugged terrain. They rode light warhorses, armored in brigand leathers, equipped with swords and spears, made up of men, half-orcs, dog-faced gnolls, and a kobold. Her stomach knotted at the sight of Venir through her spyglass from over a mile away. She called to her men, who rode up alongside her. Then they began trotting toward Venir and his two friends.

“
Bish!” Venir exclaimed at the sound of hooves thundering in their direction.

A billow of smoke followed in the wake.

“
What is it! Underlings?” Fogle cried.

Venir almost started to laugh. “No … underlings don’t ride horses, especially in broad daylight. We’ll know soon enough, but whoever it is knows we are here and there is nowhere to run without mounts. Whatever tricks you have up your sleeve, get them ready, Fogle. This is what you came for.”

Clutching at the small axe in one hand and the hunting knife in the other, Venir felt naked. Fogle’s eyes were wider than he had ever seen. The mage huddled behind him, crafting his spells. Ox stood at Venir’s side, axes bared for battle—giving Venir a little comfort.

The horses formed a line twenty paces away. Something was strange about the motley band. Brigands like them wouldn’t normally travel so far north. Then a helmeted figure trotted forward on a powerful dapple gray steed. The woman’s raven black hair billowed in the hot wind. He could see sweat rolling down her long tanned—and savory—legs. A scent wafted through the air.

Venir’s eyes blazed as he yelled, “Jarla!”

Fogle Boon stopped what he was doing and peered over Venir’s massive shoulder. The woman took off her helmet and dropped it to the ground. Venir heard Fogle suck in air between his teeth. Jarla didn’t dismount, but just gazed at Venir with hot blue eyes over her scarred cheekbones. He said nothing as she basked her bronzed figure under the sun a bit longer.

She was the last thing he expected to see. She was still a striking and powerful woman. He heard Fogle Boon whisper, “Sweet mother of Bish! What an amazing woman!” Venir lost himself for a moment. He returned her gaze. Her smile told it all. She had him. He didn’t like it.

“
Looks like you are ready to die, witch!” Venir yelled.

Jarla laughed a bit. “No, blondie, I came here to kill you. And by the looks of things, it’s going to be easy.”

She pointed to Fogle and Ox.

“
Oh … it won’t be easy,” Venir said. “Now come down off that horse and let’s finish this.”

“
Return to me my armament, and I might let you live?”

Venir chuckled. “If I still had it, I wouldn’t be facing you with these pig stickers, now would I? It’s gone! Now move on or die, wench!”

Jarla’s face was stone, yet believing of his words, but he could see that had little effect on her plans for him. And the sound of her voice had also awakened all he hated about her.

“
You should know better,” Jarla said. “I’ll carve you up with my blades. I was always the superior fighter. You are little more than a brute with a toy knife and axe—how pathetic.”

“
By the looks of that rump of yours, it doesn’t look like you’ve been fighting anything other than a jug of wine,” Venir said, regaining his composure. He knew how much she despised his humor.

“
Lout! I’m gonna cut you into ribbons.” She reared up on Nightmare. “No! We all are!”

He pressed on, hoping his taunts would buy the mage time.

“
Well, if you wait any longer, the rest of your hair is likely to turn gray, so you better get after it, hag!”

Venir could have sworn one of the brigands snickered, but he wasn’t sure. He could see the rage building in her face. She wanted nothing more than to trample him, but she wouldn’t risk that horse of hers.

Jarla seemed to stammer for words: “Have it your way, you … you buffoon! Make a line, men, and let’s run them down like filthy curs. Then this blond dog will bark no more. Attack!”

The brigands turned their mounts and fanned out in two ranks, lining up one behind the other. Jarla stayed back behind her men, sword ready, awaiting the slaughter, her eyes gleaming with the look of victory. He knew what they were doing. He had done the same with the brigand army. The riders were prepared to run one right after the other over top of Fogle, Ox, and himself, grinding their crushed bones into the rock and sand. They would be easy pickings. Venir hoped the mage had something up his sleeve. He braced himself for the charge.

The brigands cried aloud as they spurred their horses. The sound of hooves galloping came their way from thirty lengths.
This can’t be it.
Twenty lengths.
Take all you can.
Ten lengths.
I’m waiting.

He watched as the column of horse began to collapse. Nests of large rattlesnakes burst from the ground. Panic overtook the brigand men and beasts as the snakes struck everything moving that they could sink their fangs into. The riders tried to control their frenzied mounts. Many brigands were bucked to the ground, trampled, or snake struck.

Jarla yelled, “It’s an illusion, you fools! Regain yourselves!”

The words did little good . Venir moved into the fray. Fogle Boon stayed guarded behind the protection of Ox. Jarla noticed Venir coming her way and she gave order to a black-bearded brigand archer, still mounted, arrow nocked in hesitation.

“
What are you waiting for? Shoot something, fool!” she screamed.

The wiry brigand was pointing his bow dead center on Venir, who was caught up in the skirmish on the ground. But the archer didn’t release on his clear shot, drawing Jarla’s fury further.

“
Shoot that mangy dog of a man!”

Shifting his sight in a fluid motion, the brigand pointed his bow toward her and replied, “Okay!”

Thwack!

Jarla turned Nightmare in the nick of time. The arrow’s shaft bore down on her head but caught her horse between its saddle and hide. Nightmare bucked, throwing Jarla to the ground. Chaos consumed Jarla’s army now as yet another surly brigand turned on them. He was bald, dark-faced and bearded, as big as Venir and swinging a studded club like a stick. The brute smashed other brigands’ clavicles and broke thigh bones like toothpicks while singing a song of battle. The remaining men were of little match for the archer that lanced their throats and chests with unfailing accuracy while the big black brute crashed through them like they were children.

Fogle Boon watched from behind Ox, who was fending off other brigands. There must have been twenty in all. The mage pursed his lips together in an inaudible whisper and pointed toward a large dog-faced gnoll that broke free of the melee. It barreled over the sand straight toward the helpless man. A tiny red missile the size of a nail appeared before Fogle’s eyes and he flicked his hand, as if he was tossing a dart. The red missile hovered slowly toward the gnoll who broke off his charge and turned the other way. The missile hovered before its wide eyes, blocking its path.

Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit! Zzzzzit!

The magic projectile zipped in and out of the gnoll’s body in rapid flashes of light, searing blood and bone, drawing a bloodcurdling scream from the helpless creature. It fell, smoking and as dead as the terrain beneath him. Fogle grinned.

Jarla regained herself and was sitting again on her bleeding mount, not having moved a muscle, waiting. She could have easily rode off, tried to trample them, and went, but instead she squared up her mount on Venir, who stood splattered in fresh gore before her. His battle lust still hot in his eyes, they stared at each other as he spoke:

“
Get off your horse, witch!”

She dismounted. The other brigands backed off. Clearly a score was left to be settled between the two so no others needed to die.

“
Clearly you have turned the tables on me again, Venir, but I see you are not as well equipped as when we last parted.”

Venir might no longer have had the magical armament of the sack that Jarla herself once possessed, but he did manage to gain a gleaming broadsword to complement his hunting knife. He shook the blood from both blades.

Jarla withdrew her long sword. It was polished, sleek, and of the high quality only the commanders of the Royal armies possessed. It was a superior weapon compared to his broadsword but that didn’t matter to him. He could see the scars and hard lines of time in her face. She had bested him long ago in bouts at the campsite. And he hadn’t swung a sword in years.

“
Drop the knife,” Jarla said. “I have only one blade. You are smart to wish to face me with two blades, but no matter. I’ll carve you up either way.”

Venir sheathed the knife. The tension of the moment seemed to billow within the hot air. The woman seemed magnificent and powerful in their presence. Her charisma garnered his respect somehow. But she had betrayed him. Slaughtered his friends. Allied herself with underlings. For years, he’d sought revenge before giving up the chase. Now he could have his vengeance. His nerves began boiling over the painful memories. He was ready.

Jarla moved in and began cutting and slashing with the precision of a seasoned fighter. He parried her efforts blow after blow. Steel rang aloud as the two shuffled back and forth. The men and brigands formed a circle around them. Jarla’s long sword would lick out time after time, faster and faster, only to be countered by his reflexes and instincts.

She’s still quick.

Her strong sword arm did not fatigue from the assault. Her thrusts came faster and closer. He swiped his heavy blade back and forth, batting her efforts away. She broke it off. It surprised him.

“
I see you are too scared to attack me, blondie. You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she said, winded.

He watched her breasts heave up and down.

Clear your head, man! She’s trying to kill you.

“
You don’t know what to do without your big axe, do you, lout?” she said. “Now come on! Be a man and fight me. I’ll cut you down quick, I promise. I might even save your humorous tongue and hang it from my neck.” She ran a finger her down her neck. “As a memento.”

Truth was ringing from her lips. He did not feel the same without Brool, but he knew all he needed of her. He beckoned her forward with his blades and grinned.

“
Come now, that wasn’t your best was it, Jarla? I think that chicken fat under your arms is slowing you down. Sit down, take a drink of some wine—”

She clipped his ear as he ducked under her blade and it flashed over his head. He spun away, then caught her with the flat side of his blade, stinging her rump and bringing a yelp from her lips.

“
Man, this is gettin’ good!” one of the brigands said.

Even Ox’s eyes were enthralled by the battle.

Jarla came at him again, slice after slice. The audience had trouble watching the moves, but the banging blades helped them keep track of the attacks. It was clear she wanted to take off his head. He didn’t know why she hated him so much.
She
was the one that betrayed him. Why would she come all this way to kill him?

She’s crazy!

His corded arm was pressed to match her speed, it seemed, but his sword was weightless in his powerful arm, unfailing and getting faster. The rust was coming off. He was feeling it. Venir then began parrying her thrusts with ease, one after the other, he seemed to become quicker. He turned the tables.
Thrust. Stab. Cut. Thrust. Stab. Cut.
She parried and ducked in desperation. He pressed on. She was running out of breath as he banged away.

Clang!

Knocking her sword clean from her grasp, Venir closed in and punched her hard in the stomach. She dropped to her knees, head down, defeated. It was as if his punch had knocked both the wind and will from her. After several gasping moments, she managed to speak. He held the sword at her neck.

“
Kill me, Vee. I have nothing to live for. You win. Kill me,” she croaked.

He paused and stepped back, wary of a trick, then stuck his sword in the ground. She sobbed.

She rolled to the ground and wailed, “Please just kill me!”

“
Kill her, Vee! Wha’cha waitin’ for? She’s evil,” the big bearded black man said.