Torment and Terror (3 page)

CHAPTER 5

Staring into a mirror, Master Sidebor clutched the gaping hole where his right eyeball had been.

At least it’s healing well. Ugly, but healing.

Confined to a guest room inside his son Master Sinway’s castle, he resumed his pacing around the small bed. Sinway had been gone for days, and things inside the castle had been nothing short of quiet. Sitting down, Sidebor took a nibble of food from a plate on the nightstand.

“So exquisite,” he said, chomping down on the diced-up fruit. “My, won’t this sustain me for days.” He chuckled.

For centuries he’d been trapped inside his own gemstone eyes, longing for vengeance. For some strange reason the thirst for vengeance had been supplanted by a thirst for freedom. As ancient as he was, he was even more patient now. He could afford to not take risks. To let his son, Sinway, take them all.

“But I must admit, I’m fond of my child. His lust for power has even surpassed mine.” He scratched his chest with his sharp fingernails. “Yet I itch. I hunger.” With a thought, his fingernails became flames. Furnaces for mitts.

“I really do need to destroy something.”

He blew his hands out and sighed. “How many months or years will it take before my child turns me loose?” This thought had raced through his mind a hundred times. “What would I do?” He came to the same conclusion. “I wouldn’t let me out either.”

He closed his eyes and visualized all that had happened since he’d been back. The intercession with Scorch had been most delightful. He’d learned so much about a power that was vastly greater than anything he’d ever known. It was the power to create worlds. Entire races of people. And it was there. There for the taking. Sidebor’s hands clutched in and out. “So close. So close. So close.”

He squeezed his good eye shut and continued to concentrate. He tuned in with the world. Its flowing power. Bish was alive. It was sucking up all of the power that was buried deep in its belly. Sidebor needed to tap into that power. Suck up every bit he could and wait until the time was right to strike. Little by little, hour by hour, he grew stronger and became more familiar with a new kind of power.

Interesting.

While Sinway made his march of conquest, he may have missed the bigger picture. He wanted the world beneath his feet. But Sidebor believed it was the other way around.

Heh heh.

A soft knocking came on his door.

His eyelid popped open. He sat up on the edge of his bed and heard the knocking again. His jailers, the Vicious, never bothered to knock. They just swung the door open and slid in the food.

“Strange,” he mumbled, rubbing his chin. He planted his feet on the floor and stood.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

With a curious eye, he shuffled over. It was odd that someone would knock, seeing how the door was bolted shut from the outside. He opened his mouth to speak.

“What kind of fool knocks on a prisoner’s door?”

The deadbolt on the outside of the door scraped over metal and wood.

Sidebor stepped back.

Slowly the door started to swing in.

Sidebor’s scowl turned into an inverted smile.

“I didn’t want to startle you.” It was an underling woman. White haired, delicately clothed, and glorious from head to toe. Her eyes were the palest purple. “May I come in?”

“Why?”

She eased in with cat-like grace and offered a playful smile. “Let’s just say I’m one last thrill before he kills you.”

***

Master Sinway stood in the window of a castle turret that overlooked the City of Bone. It was daytime. Hot suns beat down city streets filled with the stench of death. The last few days had been full of execution. Alone in the tower, the heavy door swung open and banged into the stone wall.

A man, mature and beginning to grey, adorned in a warrior’s ceremonial garb, stormed in. His squared jaw had a sneer above it. A heavy broad sword hung on his belt. His knuckles were white on the pommel. “This has got to stop, Master Sinway. This is a far cry from what we agreed to.”

“Oh, is it now?” Sinway turned to face him. Dressed in pitch black robes, his eyes were like molten iron. “You feel that I’ve overstepped my boundaries, do you?”

Towering over Sinway, the proud warrior, Lord of the house of Kling, got ever closer, looking down on Sinway. “We agreed you would kill my enemies, not every wretch that works the streets.” He made his way to the window and pointed down at the cobblestoned road. “The rats feast. There’s blood all over the roads. Sickness and disease have started to spread. Who do you expect to clean this disaster up when all of those sorry bastards are dead?”

“It’s no concern of mine.” Sinway drifted up higher and looked down into Ebenezer Kling’s eyes. “I’m certain you’ll get used to it. And I don’t plan on spending too much time inside this city.”

“This is absurd!” Lord Kling’s sword started to ease out.

“Absurd!” Sinway’s voice shook the pigeons out of the rafters. His fingertips glowed with a radiant blue fire. “Perhaps things wouldn’t seem so absurd if you were dead. And let’s not mention your family, right, Ebenezer! We could disembowel them and let sand spiders devour their entrails like we did to your enemies!” His voice cooled. “Would that be too absurd for you to stomach? It didn’t seem so then.”

Ebenezer’s sword clicked back in its sheath. Face withdrawn, eyes blinking, he swallowed before he spoke. “No need to be so nasty. I’ll just start having them throw the dead back over the wall. But please, don’t kill any more men. We need them.”

“Fine, but that’s going to be awfully hard on your women and children.”

CHAPTER 6

It was on. Three men. Three blades. A dozen ways to die. Melegal’s soft boots dug into planks beneath his feet. His face was taut. Joline still sobbed. Erin began to stir and cry.

Pushing tables aside, Slom and Zurth fanned out. Their fine steel glimmered with death.

Venir stooped down, knife ready, eyes sliding from side to side between his flanking opponents.

Melegal could visualize the battle. The moves. The options.

These are horrible odds.

He’d seen all of the men fight before. It was another one of those things his mind probed for. Weakness. Everybody had one, even Venir.

It will take more than all that brawn and muscle to win this fight.

“Come,” Slom beckoned, cutting his sword from side to side. “Fight, before my legs grow weary from standing here all day. I don’t want my knees to ache while pleasure awaits.” He eyed Kam again and licked his lips. “But know this, outlander: I’ll give her far more pleasure than any man.”

Zurth chuckled. “Aye, we’ll double it for sure.”

“Talk all you want, dogs. Neither of you will make it within ten feet of her.”

Melegal cast a glance at Kam.

Her face was red with fury. Her fingers were stretched out, and an emerald fire lit in her eyes. She cocked her elbow back. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and drifted over toward Scorch. Her fires extinguished, and she slumped back in her chair. She reached for Erin, took her from Joline, and held her tight.

“My, the tension is killing me,” Scorch said with a yawn. “Will someone please swing something?” He looked at the back of his wrist. “I don’t want to be late for my doctor’s appointment.”

What?

Melegal focused back on the battle. Slom and Zurth, though doing little, were lathered up in sweat. Venir’s muscular arms were lathered up as well. The backs of his ears and neck were red.

Come on, Venir. Kill them.

“He’ll be dead soon enough,” Slom said, “let me enjoy it.”

I sure know how to pick them.

Melegal liked Slom and Zurth. They were far from innocent. Killers that worked for the like of Palzor. Each a murderer of some sort in their own right. Loyal to the highest bidder. Now, through him, they stood poised to cut down the most upright of all four men.

And to think of those times that I wanted you dead. I never saw it ending like this. I’m sorry, Venir.

Finally, jaws set, hulking body set to spring, Venir said, “I’m waiting, ladies.”

Bodies poised behind their shields, sword tips pointed toward Venir, Slom and Zurth eased in a little closer.

Melegal knew one man would have to make a mistake. Slip. Misstep. Fall. But Slom and Zurth were nothing short of sure-footed. Survivors. Desperate and fierce fighters. If Venir launched on one, the other would run their needle through his back. He probed for weakness. A wide stance, a sagging shoulder.

Find an edge, Venir. Find an edge
.

Slom took in a deep draw of air through his wide nostrils. “Don’t worry, Venir. I’ll be an excellent father to your baby.”

Venir sprang to life. He charged for Slom.

The half orc swung his sword, striking like a deadly steel snake.

Venir feinted out of the sword tip’s reach, changed direction, and pounced on Zurth.

Zurth’s sword bit into Venir’s shoulder.

Battle raged, Venir crashed into Zurth with his full weight and drove the big man hard into the ground. With a snarl, Venir ripped the man’s sword aside, plunged his knife into the man’s heart, and ripped it out.

Slom moved in with the speed of a slithering snake.

Melegal’s mind screamed,
Noooooo
!

Venir turned his massive shoulders.

Slom’s sword sunk deep into his chest.

Glitch!

The half-orc’s blade went in one side and out the other.

Scorch started laughing.

Kam and Joline were screaming.

Melegal’s horrified eyes were frozen on Venir.

The long hunting knife clattered on the floor.

“Hah!” Slom said, dropping his shield. “I guess that’s that. Grog and ale for everybody.”

Spitting blood, Venir’s wide eyes narrowed. His face darkened. His iron jaw set. With his two great hands, he grabbed the pommel of the sword stuck inside him and wrenched it out.

Slom’s jaw dropped. His eyes screamed
impossible
.

Venir unleashed all his fury in heavy two-handed swings.

Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop!

Slom died on the first swing.

Venir dropped to his knees. The blade slipped free of his grasp. He lifted up his sweat-soaked and blood-covered face and said to Scorch, “We had a deal.” Face first, he collapsed.

“Well, I must admit, I didn’t see that coming.” Scorch rubbed his robed elbows. “Does anyone else feel chilly?”

Kam was with Venir, pushing him over on his side. “Joline, get some rags. Something. He’s still breathing.”

“Not for long,” Scorch said with a sigh.

“The deal, Scorch,” Melegal said, rising to his feet. He pointed to his eyes. “The deal.”

“This is more of a draw, so I’m not so certain that the deal can be honored.”

“We were hardly a threat before. How can we be any worse now?” Melegal glanced at Venir. Blood was spilling everywhere. “Give the man’s death some honor.”

“You don’t seem so concerned about his death.”

“That’s because I’m thinking about myself.”

Wagging his finger, Scorch said, “I always liked that about you. So be it then. I’ll honor the agreement. He killed them both and to grand effect. You might want to hold onto your seat.”

“Why’s that–AAAAUGH!” Slowly, the needles started to pull out. Melegal fell to the floor kicking and screaming.

Someone else was screaming as well. It was Jasper, in misery, somewhere nearby.

Covered in sweat, chest heaving, Melegal found himself on his knees.

Kam and Joline were huddled over Venir. They had rags covering his back and chest.

Tears mixed with blood to keep him blinking and wiping his eyes so that Melegal’s vision was a blur. His eyes ached as well. He crawled up into a chair. He could see Scorch sitting on his barstool, nonchalant and laughing.

“Oh, how I like a good drama. See, isn’t this so much more exciting than watching the elderly die of old age?”

Blink!

CHAPTER 7

Lefty spat out a mouthful of dirt. There were spots in his eyes. The stench of burning skin was in the air. Men were screaming. Bellowing. Horrible sounds. Strong hands pulled him up to his feet.

“How are you, Lefty?” Georgio said. The pie-faced young man’s face was singed. “Lefty?”

“I’m fine. Just shaken a little. Did you see that?”

“No, but I felt it. It was like a sun dropped out of the sky on us.”

The army of jung fighters and striders shored up their formation. A battle horn filled the air with its bellowing call. The ranks were formed in seconds, and the small army marched onward toward the sandcastle ahead.

“Come on,” Georgio said, drawing his sword. “And stay close. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Lefty couldn’t help but smile. However, as he walked by the first rank of the dead, his smile turned upside down. Men and striders lay in heaps of smoking and burning flesh. A jung still lived, his face burned down to the skull. His screams were ear-splitting. Lefty covered his ears, still looking. Another jung walked up and ran a sword clean through the dying man.

Mercy me.

“Billip,” Georgio said, “we’re marching straight into another blast. Certainly they know that?”

Bow and arrow ready, Billip replied, “Boon says he’ll take care of that, but if you see a third sun winking in the sky, you better bury your arse in the sand. But we’re going in. There won’t be any more backing away from the underlings. Not today. Not ever.” He found Nikkel standing alongside him. “Let’s see how good you really are with that thing compared to your father.”

“Oh, I’ll make him proud,” Nikkel said. There was a serious look in his eye. “You’ll see.”

The pair of archers ran for the front of the ranks.

Georgio’s face showed some disappointment.

“Georgio,” Lefty said up to him, “You don’t have to hold back on my account. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have anything to protect you.”

“I’ve got my quick feet. Let me be a shadow by your side.”

“No.” Georgio scanned the area. “There. Just take cover over there.”

The unforgiving land provided little shelter, but there was some definition to the terrain. Rocks, hills, cacti and sparsely vegetated trees. It was an elevated position. “I don’t know. I don’t feel right not fighting.”

“You’ll know when we need you.” Georgio started shoving Lefty along. “I’ll holler for you.” 

“But,” Lefty said, starting to object.

Georgio was in full stride, curly hair waving like a banner behind his head.

With Georgio out of the way, the jung and striders trotted onward, almost trampling Lefty.

“Oh, don’t let me get in the way,” he said, deftly weaving outside of the ranks. “Go, fight that battle. I’ll be right here waiting for you.” He kicked at the dirt and took an easy gait toward the place the Georgio had pointed out. It was one of those issues, being a halfling. Most weren’t very fit for battle. He was good with a sling at least but lousy with a sword.

Let the bigger people handle this.

Being a halfling was great, except at times like this. In times of war it was useless. He took out his sling and unloaded a few stones. He found a foothold and climbed a tree. The view wasn’t too bad, but having the suns beating down on his face was miserable.

Does it always have to be so hot?

Seconds later, man and underling collided in a nasty clash of battle.

Lefty winced.

The first jung’s head had just left its shoulders.

I wonder if Georgio’s head will grow back if it gets chopped off.

Another bright light shined from the great sandcastle. Three great orbs filled with light seemed to drain the sun from the sky. An underling pointed a ray of light at the army from the parapet. Such close range would be nothing short of fatal.

Suddenly, Boon floated up between the castle and the army. The beam was pointed straight at him.

Oh no, what is he doing?

***

Boon rose up from the ground, arms wide, blue robes billowing in the winds. “Come on, underlings! Fire! Fire on me now!”

The underling aiming the great beam paid Boon little notice, keeping the beam focused on the army. The great mirrors charged with bright light and began to throb with more power. They all fed the tower in the middle. Any second they would turn loose the ray of heat that would level at least half the army.

“Shoot me, underlings! Shoot me!” He floated in between where the apparatus was pointed and his army. “Shoot me, now!”

A great beam of yellow and green light shot out and plowed full force into Boon’s body.

“Ah!” Arms and legs spread wide, he shook underneath the awesome force. Teeth clattering, he let the beam that should have disintegrated him in an instant fill him. He was a conduit. A sponge. An angry underling-hating mage. Eyes filled with bright raging fire, he turned the power that fed him against the enemy. “Enjoy the heat, underlings!”

Boon’s arms laced up with bolts of lightning that shot forth with scorching force. He unleashed the power on the apparatus that created it. Each mirror exploded into crystalline shards.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Rays of light shooting from his arms, he turned it loose on every underling, on every parapet, and on every turret.

They turned to flame. They screamed. Faces were on fire. They burned. Black skin bubbled and boiled. They tumbled over the walls of the sandy towers and screamed all the way down to their deaths.

Power exhausted, weak of limb, eyes rolling up into his head, Boon said, “That was excellent.” His body and mind faltered. Floating above the fray, he plummeted into the raging battle below.