The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (43 page)

“
You ever kill a woman, Mikkel?” Venir said.

“
No,” he answered.

“
Neither have I, and I won’t today.”

“
Kill me, you coward!” Jarla screamed. “I can’t live with the thought of yet another man humiliating me!”

Jarla sounded hysterical, broken, and lost. All of the men could see it, and it made even their hardened spirits uncomfortable. She had no purpose. It was kill Venir and live, fail and die. Now she was failing to do either.

“
Venir, just leave her to rot in the sand. She doesn’t even deserve that,” Billip added from beneath his black beard, bow and arrow poised to strike her.

“
You!” she blurted. “You shot my horse! I’ll cut you to pieces if you do it again. I’ll slice your—”

“
Shut up, foul woman! Your horse is fine—and I was aiming for you,” the wiry archer snapped back. “I’ve had enough of your mouth all the way up on this trek. I’ll have no more else or I will kill you myself … woman or witch.”

The brigand queen seemed to gather herself among the men, then stood up, tall and prominent, and carefully went to check on Nightmare, who stood close by. She stroked her the steed’s mane.

“
Billip and Mikkel …” Venir said. “How did you manage to make it up here and not be noticed?”

“
I guess cause we weren’t as memorable as you, stud,” Mikkel said, laughing.

Billip laughed too and added, “She didn’t have any idea who we were; she just showed up at the tavern and ordered us to follow. It shocked us that she was alive, and when we asked her where we were going, she said we’ll know when we get there. Her other men filled us in on the details, though, and seeing as how she did not know or remember us, we figured we’d better be around to bail you out.”

“
Yeah … bail
you
out!” Mikkel agreed.

Venir wondered what his next move was with Jarla. All the hatred he had for her was gone. Something felt … bigger inside of him. It wasn’t compassion or mercy. He didn’t know what it was. He thought maybe Fogle could give some insight.

“
What do you think about the woman, Fogle?” Venir said. “What should we do with her?”

Fogle’s face showed careful thought before he made his reply and they all, including Jarla, seemed to have his attention.

“
She is broken, Venir. I see it in her eyes. I know it. She is a threat no more. You have won.”

Jarla’s hot eyes burned over the mage as they all looked back at her. She looked at Venir.

“
You won long ago, Venir,” Jarla said. “I just could not admit it, not to a man, and I hate you for it. The scrawny man is right: I am a husk, nothing more. On my word, I have no fight left for you.”

Her words were true, as even wicked warriors kept oaths such as these on Bish.

“
But the rest of you dogs will taste my steel if you
ever
cross me,” Jarla shouted. “Don’t even look my way if our paths cross again. Understand?”

“
Don’t worry, we won’t,” Billip fired back.

“
Get on your horse and go—and hope you don’t cross our path, woman,” Mikkel said while motioning with his club.

Jarla mounted Nightmare and Venir tossed her sword up to her.

“
You’ll need that again soon enough to defend that attitude of yours,” he said. “If I ever see you again, it will be too soon.”

Jarla spurred Nightmare away without hesitation and began to disappear over the horizon to the south along with the men she had remaining.

“
Man, Vee, she might be mean, but she is a fox,” said Mikkel.

“
I have to agree,” Fogle said.

Billip shrugged in unity as well.

“
Still, Vee,” Mikkel said, “I am surprised you let her go after her alliance with the underlings and Outpost Thirty-One. How can you just let her go? She’s dangerous.”

“
She has enough to worry about now. The Royals won’t ever forget her transgressions. She’ll have to lay low as long as she doesn’t raise an army. She’s a renegade, nothing more, but she’s a survivor, too. This world is full of surprises. Now we’ve got mounts and more weapons. You guys want to head to Dwarven Hole with us?”

As he said it, Venir watched Jarla gallop away. The warrior felt some relief as he watched her go, knowing her image would no longer haunt his memories. Still, deep in his gut, he knew it wasn’t ever over. They both shared something no one else ever had—the mystical armaments—and somehow it would keep them bonded forever.

“
Why not?” Mikkel said. “It’s been a while since I tussled with the dwarven ladies. I remember that last time I went there—“

“
We aren’t going
there,
Mikkel,” Billip said. “That’s all I heard about up here: you and this woman, and you and that woman. Can’t you think of anything else to talk about?”

“
Nope, can you?” Mikkel said.

All the men had a chuckle.

“
What do you say, Ox?” Venir said. “Awfully quiet over there.”

Ox the mintaur had no words, as always, but his eyes were fixed south where unusual storms seemed to be gathering and coming from Jarla’s way. The sky was blackening over them, the winds were picking up.

“
What on Bish is that!” Fogle shouted above the increasing wind.

Massive tornados twirled in the distance. Lightning lanced over the sky. Thunder cracked the likes they never heard before. A sea of darkness swirled before them and it was coming their way.

“
Let’s ride to Dwarven Hole! Else that storm will take us!” Venir yelled.

They all mounted up and charged away.

Trinos and Scorch had landed. The world of Bish trembled from beneath its chaotic surface. The wake of world’s newest arrivals sent tremors of change throughout the lands. Trinos had no intent to molest the world she’d created and now occupied. Her presence had ramifications, though subtle, and change still came. Scorch’s intents were no different. The infinite pair resigned themselves to another fate: a life on Bish and it alone.

They agreed to be neutral in their perspective dealings with life on Bish. They also agreed to limit their power as well and they stored most of it deep beneath the surface, where only the two of them together could ever acquire it again. Still, they were the most powerful beings on Bish.

Trinos was overcome with compassion for her creation and its creatures. She did not realize what she had inflicted on others for her own entertainment. She was moved to try and teach them to somehow survive amiably with one another. She challenged herself to bring something better to the world with her power, charisma, and beauty. She would change her form to blend in with whichever race or creature she was trying to sway. She found a new purpose in her life and she moved on.

Scorch was overcome with power and guilt. His exhilaration came from the feeling of having great power at his disposal that he could use for his own purpose and not be judged by another equal. He had little care for the affairs of life on Bish. He saw no need to make it worse than he already had. Instead he seemed content to meddle whenever and with whomever he deemed fit, and he planned to enjoy it.

The unique pair agreed to meet from time to time, and when the time was right, they would depart again. The world of Bish that they now claimed as home, also claimed them as well. It would not be long before its harsh elements beset them, little by little, day by day, and they, too, would be changed forever.

They were flesh and blood now, mortal—yet as invulnerable as they desired. They had powers and intelligence beyond what the rest of the realm had. They would be challenged with the willful and self-serving fiber of the relentless world and its demanding races. Bish indeed was unique within the universe, and they would soon find out how unique Trinos’ creation had become. Their new lives would not be what they expected, as nothing ever was.

The storms that besieged the land made travel slow for the men after they departed from their encounter with Jarla. It was rare—the rain, whipping winds, and thunderstorms slowed the trek to Dwarven Hole to the pace of a walk. Ox the mintaur guided the mounted men for the point ahead, checked the unstable grounds for sinkholes, and led them through slippery rock passages prone to flooding and avalanches that were known to drown and crush even the most experienced of travelers.

The weather was indeed rare: sudden and odd in appearance to the extreme. Venir felt out of his element. The grim faces of the other men told him he wasn’t alone. He struggled with more than that, though. He wondered if his time as the Darkslayer had come and gone forever. The others seemed to avoid him, not sure what to say. He felt changed.

They chatted among themselves, behind his broad back, with uncertainty of their mission. He was determined to get to Dwarven Hole and they were with him. There was no other direction to go. The rain and wind was endless as it beat on the men day in and out. Anywhere with a ceiling would be better. He just needed to get out of the rain. Maybe some warm dwarven ale would help. Maybe that would ease his spirits and loosen his tongue.

The weeklong journey seemed to take months, but they finally made it. The weather had returned to normal—hot and barren—a full day before they arrived at the home of the dwarves. Relief filled the men’s voices. They rode toward a canyon in the distance. It grew larger with the trot of every hoof. Coming along its edge, all peered down and across the massive natural barrier, like an inverted volcano. Venir watched as Fogle cleared his eyes, staring into the deep chasm.

It was one of many holes that housed the dwarven cities, over a mile long. Looking downward, it seemed as deep as it was wide. The inner walls were carved-out stone homes, roads, and aqueducts, all of modern accord. Massive bridges of iron ore and rock crisscrossed at every level, defying reason. Busy bodies of thick men and women moved in harmony along its roadways like hairy ants. The sight was spectacular every time Venir saw it. It was organized, yet unexplainable by words. It was something only the dwarves could do.

“
Well, boys,” Mikkel said, breaking the silence, “I am ready for a hot bath and a dwarven massage! You coming, or am I getting it all to myself?”

“
I can’t believe it,” Fogle said. “I have heard about this, but never seen it. Impressive, indeed. Tell me more about those dwarven women, Mikkel?”

“
You’re in for a treat, mage,” he replied.

The pair was the first to disappear in pursuit of indulgence over the steep edge that spiraled down along the walls into the city. There were no guards posted; there was no need. If they didn’t like you, dispatching of you was not an issue. Only a fool would rattle the anger of a city of dwarves. Their catapults were always available for dispatching any nuisance that came their way. Venir had seen many unwelcome guests launched from deep below and over a hundred yards clear through the air onto the Bish terrain. Some survived, while most didn’t, but it sure was a sight to see. He followed the men down below. He didn’t feel any better.

“
What is it, brother?” Verbard said.

The unknown force had them both reeling. Catten took a knee, feeling sick.

“
Remember the change we felt before the Warfield?” Catten said, steadying himself on one knee. “I have felt it again.”

Verbard was quiet for a moment, round silver eyes unblinking, then he hissed as underlings do.

“
I have felt something similar. It makes my aura seemed to ebb in and out, as if it isn’t reliable. The last time, I felt complete control, but now not so much. I feel uncertain. You?”

Catten nodded. “It’s more physical than mental, still unstable, but very faint. It is as if something is changing in the landscape that we cannot see.”

He took a deep breath and groaned as he got back on his feet. The weird feeling passed. Catten put his hands on his head, then nodded. It was all there.

Underlings were intuitive creatures that relied on the magic from Bish more than any other race. Most underlings probably did not noticed a thing, but Catten felt like a chunk of power had come and gone, only to come again. He summoned energy that surged in his belly. It was his and his alone. He let the moment pass.

The underlings began their trek over the landscape between Dwarven Hole and Hohm’s Marsh. The wet and treacherous storms didn’t bother Catten. He delighted in them. His brother drew his robes tight and cast a spell that deflected the cutting rain.
Spoiled and soft
. He concluded that even though Eep had come to a great demise, Catten still had the same mission: seek out and destroy the Darkslayer once and for all. He wanted the man’s head.

He did not come this far to fail. He wanted more power. The sack he must have. It drove him onward. The tome told him all he needed to know about the man. The Darkslayer was just a man. His skin and bones would be seared alive. Catten had the hunter’s edge.

After days beneath the lashing storms, Verbard spoke again: “We can be patient and wait, or we can draw him out. We know this man hunts us with or without the magic armaments. I say we try to draw him here if we don’t find any evidence soon.”