The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (6 page)

Returning his thoughts to the present, he headed far off the beaten trail up a barren hillside. He started to feel good about returning back to civilization and his friends, good food, strong drink, and feisty women.

Venir entered a cave opening hidden by thick bushes. It was just big enough to get a small horse through. Inside, it fanned out in a variety of directions, and he walked ahead a hundred feet or so. The caves were neither deep nor dangerous, but those who came across them were invariably too scared to enter for fear that underlings were nearby. And Venir liked them to think this, and he would even litter the cave paths with old bones of various animals—and sometimes even underling skulls.

Now he took several turns in total darkness, then found a door. He felt around in the rock for the keyhole, inserted a key, and gave it a turn. The door swung open.

Inside was a stone tunnel, taller than a man, sloping down toward the distant sound of rushing water. He approached the source of the noise: a large storm drain with an old steel grate, beneath which water rushed some fifty feet below. As soon as he had passed over it, the corridor began to slope upward again. By the time he reached the end of the tunnel, Venir had risen again to ground level. There, a large ancient wall loomed before him. He tripped a simple latch and the low ceiling roof dropped downward, revealing a large opening. He walked up a massive plank, tripped another hidden mechanism, and the floor raised back up, sealing the secret opening.

He was now in a hay-filled stall inside the great stables of the City of Bone. Only he and a few others knew of this long-neglected secret passageway. He stepped out of the stall into a barn of massive proportions. Hundreds of stalls and stables lined two rows north to south, illuminated by a massive hole in the roof, its rim streaked with gray and white pigeon litter. Venir welcomed the strong smells of hay and manure after the barren Outlands he had just jogged across in the sweltering heat. In the distance, he could see some activity in the northern stalls, but the southern stalls seemed mostly vacant. This barn had always been the least active of the six giant buildings that housed mounts for Bone’s City Watch and the Royal families. He peered over the stable gate to see if anyone was in the immediate area, then treaded out. He hadn’t taken two steps before he heard a yell.

“
Vee!”

Georgio came running toward him from a mere twenty paces away, causing an unwanted commotion.

“
Vee, you’re back!”

“
Hush!” Venir said with a wave of his arm.

Georgio covered his mouth and ran on tiptoes, stumbled to the ground, then scrambled back up again, sending pigeons fluttering. No one seemed to be around. Venir hugged the husky farm boy who smiled and nodded in return.

“
Man, I’m so glad you’re back, Vee!” Georgio whispered.

“
It’s been little more than a week, Georgio. You act like I’ve been gone a year.” He rubbed the big boy’s head. “So how’s it been going?” He regretted the question as it left his lips.

“
Melegal’s grouchy all the time. Lefty keeps writing. I get bored. It’s no fun when you aren’t around. They won’t play with me. Melegal and Lefty play games but they say I’m not smart enough. I tell them I am, but they still don’t let me play. And after I come to take care of Chongo and Quickster, Melegal asks fifty questions about Quickster and I tell him to go check himself. Then he starts cursing and lecturing. He gives me a headache with all his yakking. It’s better when you’re here.”

Georgio sighed, shaking his brown curls. Then his eyes grew round with excitement, and Venir already knew what he was going to ask.

“
So how many underlings did you kill? Tell me!” he blurted. “Ten? Twenty? Tell me, tell me!”

“
Six,” Venir responded.

“
Six?” Georgio shook his head again. “That’s it?” Then his eyes lit up again and he snapped his fingers. “Wait! You killed them all! Only six were left on Bish?”

“
No,” Venir said.

Georgio frowned.

“
I didn’t have much luck tracking them down,” Venir said. “It happens. Besides, there were enormous sand spiders, too.”

Georgio perked up again. “I’ve heard about them. How many did you kill?”

Venir knew that just one wasn’t going to impress the boy. Lefty would want all the details, plus Venir was eager to hit the town, so he opted for the truth—at least this once.

“
I fought two, but I only had to kill one. See what the spider spit did to my legs.”

The boy’s eyes grew at the sight of the thick red burns healing on his hero’s leg. “Wow! That’s nasty.”

“
I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s see how Chongo’s doing. Where is he?” he asked.

“
I moved him over this way,” the boy said.

Venir followed the boy deeper into the southern end of the barn. Chongo occupied a variety of different stables in case anyone became too curious about the unique animal. Georgio did a fine job of relocating him regularly and making sure no one messed with Venir’s favorite pet, mount, and friend. Soon Georgio stopped before an old, worn stable gate. Unlike the others, it was over six feet high, so one could not see over it. Set into it was a smaller door that latched from the inside.

The boy climbed over, followed by Venir. He was set upon by two large, wet tongues of black and pink. Two lion-sized paws pinned him to the wall as the two-headed Chongo licked him up and down. Venir laughed and scratched one of Chongo’s heads and then the other, noticing that Chongo’s two stiff tails snapped back and forth like cattails.

“
Oww!”

Georgio shrieked as a tail whipped across his cheek, leaving a red welt.

Venir gave a little frown, but then smiled at Chongo again. The bull mastiff—known also as a dwarven setter—was the size of a small horse. Chongo’s heavy coat, unusual for a mastiff, was deep brown and red, and as soft a retriever’s. And his two snouts made him an excellent bloodhound, able to pick up a scent for miles, maybe even leagues. Chongo had been with Venir on and off since his boyhood. They had always managed to find one another again, despite the odds against survival on Bish.

As soon as both of Chongo’s heads had calmed down, Georgio passed Venir a rag to wipe off his coating of saliva. After drying himself off, Venir looked around the oversized stall, noting that it was layered with clean hay and that the food and water troughs were freshly filled.

Venir noticed that another beast lay snoring in the corner. It was Melegal’s gray pony, Quickster, who looked more like a mule than a pony—except for his furry black underbelly. Venir laughed again, thinking about how it always annoyed Melegal that everyone called Quickster a mule or donkey, though the beast himself didn’t seem to mind. As usual, he just lay there on his back in his own world, hooves dangling below bent knees, oblivious to the presence of Venir and Georgio.

“
Why does Melegal keep that silly donkey, Vee?” Georgio asked, rolling his eyes.

“
Don’t start, Georgio, or I’ll tell Melegal he looks hungry.”

Georgio grunted. “But that’s the dumbest animal I’ve ever seen! All he ever does is eat, sleep, and fart. He even tried to eat a live chicken. Ever seen a donkey chase a chicken, Vee?”

“
Shut up, Georgio. I just got back. Save your words for Melegal.”

Georgio pouted and muttered and finished up his chores in the stall. Venir watched the boy as he scratched Chongo’s ears and belly. Despite the boy’s endless questions and pointless comments, Venir was glad to be home and to see Georgio.

Venir had taken care of Georgio over the years like a kid brother—ever since rescuing him from the Red Clay village, south of the forest, when Georgio was just a toddler. Now about twelve years old, Georgio reminded Venir of himself at that age: full of energy and a thirst for adventure. Georgio had remained cheerful despite his circumstances, and had grown on the hardened warrior. Truly, the boy gave Venir another purpose besides slaughtering underlings.

“
Things look to be in good order, Georgio,” Venir finally said. “Let’s head back so I can wash. On the way, I’ll take you by the market and get you some of the fruits you like, for your fine work. How’s that sound?’

“
About time! I’m starving. Quickster eats better than me. Oops … sorry. I didn’t say that. Uh, so, can I get some jerky, too?”

Venir squeezed the boy’s thick shoulder. “Sure, all you can eat.”

“
Man, all the jerky I can eat?”

Brimming with joy, Georgio skipped out through the small door in the gate.

As the two of them stepped out into the seductive grasp of the City of Bone, an old stable hand emerged from an adjoining stall. He hobbled across the barn and out of the main entrance. Wide-eyed, he kept muttering over and over to himself, “I
must
tell him. I
must
tell him.”

Catten’s thoughts were heavy as he made haste from the Underland. He had been banished from his seclusion, power, and comfort of the cave lands. It was unsettling. His mind played countless scenarios of the task ahead. The destruction of the Darkslayer was a challenging assignment and his only way back home.

He blamed himself for their failure less so than his brother. Verbard had been careless and cocky the last time. Catten didn’t doubt that his twin blamed him for the failure, either. His brother never found the fault with himself. Neither did he, for that matter. The truth was, failure was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It disturbed him.

A fifteen-foot-long barge made of black wood glided over an underworld river called the Current. The Current was a black stream of ice-cold water that didn’t flow. Few creatures lived in the waters that ran through a catacomb of cave tunnels. The tunnels were narrow and low to enormous and high, but one could little tell the difference in the sheer blackness if you were not an underling. The water of the Current had a foul sulfur-like smell. Even the underlings could not drink it, but they found its waters cleansing, and some life thrived within the murky deep.

A steady breeze billowed Catten’s robes as he stood at the fore. He and his brother were not unaccompanied, either. They traveled with new companions, just as the clever and silver-eyed Verbard had promised. Catten preferred to rely on his scrolls as well as some other unique oddities to accompany him. Still, he’d also brought some added security for himself.

As Catten stood at the bow of the rudderless barge, two other underlings stood behind him. They were not hunter warriors such as the elite Badoon that had failed them before. Instead they were armed with flexible black-plated armor, bracers, closed-face helms, and twin scimitar-like swords on their hips. They were Catten’s personal bodyguards that had protected him for over a hundred years. Their skills in battle were rivaled by few in the Underland. They were called the Juegen, and as long as he had them with him, he was confident he would stay alive.

Farther behind him, he could hear the heavy breathing of his brother’s escorts. They were the opposite of his perfect guards: armorless, filthy, stupid, and savage. All six
of the disturbing creatures huddled in the back, smacking their twisted lips and growling at one another. Catten kept his distance, glaring at his brother, who stood in the middle of the barge cleaning his nails. Catten didn’t know which disgusted him more: Verbard’s nonchalant attitude or their other escorts.

The others who accompanied them were urchlings, but much different from the rest of their kind. Whereas typical urchlings were smaller, hunchbacked, and hairy, these were a taller, stocky, corded, and an albino version of their kind. They had four nostrils on their bat-like faces and could track like a bloodhound. Their claws hands were that of a ferocious wolverine and their tiny brains followed simple orders to perfection: hunt and destroy. His brother had spent generations breeding their kind for occasions such as these. But this group had never hunted with the underling lords before.
He better have control of them.

After countless hours of whisking over the black water, Verbard asked, “So, brother, I can’t help but let my curiosity overcome me, but where exactly are you taking us?”

Catten turned and faced his brother. “Oran’s lair.”

Verbard nodded. “That was my suspicion. Of course, you never are one for surprises, now are you?”

“
Would you have made a different choice, Verbard?”

“
No, I am just saying if I made the choice, it wouldn’t have been so obvious,” Verbard said.

“
Then why did you ask me?”

The twin didn’t reply. Instead he tossed a scrap of human flesh to his pet urchlings, who tore into it—and each other—with vigor. Catten didn’t like the sound of his brother’s voice. It irritated him. He hoped Verbard would say nothing else.

Catten turned forward again, straddling the bow. His brother’s behavior had been an increasing agitation. It never bothered him this much before, though. As a matter of fact, Catten often looked forward to his brother’s clever ideas and daring. Now, though, it had become tiresome. He huffed.

And then Catten heard his brother again at his back: “I couldn’t think of anything else worth asking … brother. So how much longer will this trek to Oran’s be? The scenery on the Current is becoming dreadful.”

Catten remained silent.