The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (40 page)

Knock-knock-knock!

His door shook from the blows. Melegal waited, knowing full well whoever was on the other side had no idea whether he was inside or not.
Probably the City Watch harassing folks,
he told himself. He turned to open the window.

CRASH!

Melegal turned as the door splintered before his eyes.
Who on Bish is that?
He turned to dash through the window. He knew he was in grave danger. Something hit his body and shocked him from head to toe. He writhed in pain as he screamed. The apartment dimmed. More pain lanced through his core.
This is it. Agony … forever.
Darkness came as he collapsed to the floor.

Soon enough, Verbard was elated as he watched Eep snatch the large leather sack from Venir’s camp.
Yes!
Everything was working. A return home was near. Still, he couldn’t wait to get the sack and see what power lay inside, even without the mystic armaments.
Well done, imp!

Just beyond the passage taken from the ogre camp, he and his brother looked into the spectrum of magic. Eep’s eye showed them much. The old worn leather sack, stitched up with thick cords, hung tight in the imp’s claws. Catten stood shoulder to shoulder with Verbard, a loose expression on his face.

“
What now? Kill the man? Leave?” Verbard asked.

“
You still want the man dead, don’t you?”

“
Absolutely,” Verbard said.

There was nothing he would rather have. He was glad his brother was still on board. A
delicious victory was at hand.

Verbard watched as the imp’s eye soared like an eagle across the blazing sky. A thrill went through him. He could almost feel the wind rushing past his ears as Eep sang some happy song. Verbard savored every flap of wings as his eyes beheld the rough terrain rushing past him below. The imp’s flight was smooth and soundless, almost serene.

But then the scene became erratic, as it seemed like Eep was doing something with the sack. Then the imp screamed and began jerking back and forth. The picture soon spiraled before Verbard’s eyes and the ground began to rush up from below. Nausea overcame his belly as he watched in confusion. Something had befallen the imp.

“
What is happening!” Catten shouted.

Verbard tried to steady himself before the swirling image. His knees weakened.

The imp made no reply as it seemed to be struggling for its very life. Something stirred in the mirage. Verbard and Catten jumped clear out of the way. As Verbard looked up again, the image had faded.

Eep was gone.

“
What was that, brother?” Verbard said.

“
I don’t know, but it wasn’t human. Find out!” Catten said.

Verbard scowled. He wasn’t happy, either, but he didn’t need his brother breathing down his neck. Verbard made preparations and tried to summon the imp’s eye. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing.

Catten howled in fury.

The suns burned like furnaces above as Venir walked alongside his companions. He held Brool tight in his grip. Underlings had to be near. They must have been behind the imp’s thievery. Still, he opted to continue on toward Dwarven Hole. Over the sand and rock they went with nothing being said. The silence was as agonizing as the sun when Fogle Boon gasped.

“
Venir!” Fogle said.

“
What, Fogle?”

Fogle just stood there, staring at him.

And that’s when Venir realized that his right hand was an empty fist. The axe, helm, and shield were gone. So comfortable to him they had become that he hadn’t even noticed their disappearance.

“
Bone!” Venir said.

The hulking man stood with nothing more that his chain shirt, trousers, boots, and his grandfather’s long hunting knife. He felt both worry and relief, but his first instinct was to find another formidable weapon. He gripped his long hunting knife by its carved bone hilt in slight relief, then looked at Fogle Boon and Ox and shrugged. He couldn’t let them know the panic he was in. If indeed underlings were near, he had no way of knowing now.

“
Can you handle these ventures without that gear?” Fogle asked. “The odds don’t seem to be as favorable as before. How do you expect to scare the orcs off with that knife and … well … me?”

Venir smiled. “Well … I guess we’ll just have to be more careful.”

Ox walked over and offered him one of his three hand axes.

Venir took it, tested its blade, and said, “It’ll have to do.”

Eep the imp was buzzing toward the horizon in victory. He sang an ancient imp song that shattered the eardrums of the wilderness creatures below. Oh, how pleased Lords Catten and Verbard were going to be when he returned. Still … he hated them both, but at least Verbard let him have some fun.

Eep wanted to able to just blink himself there, but could not as he was tethered to the physical realm by the leather sack he carried in his short muscular arms. As he flew farther away from the men, though, the bag grew heavier. Maybe the flight was longer than he’d anticipated.

He studied the thick sewn seams that pulled the sack together. As far as he could tell, it was an ordinary sack. But his arms and wings began to strain from the weight. He had carried men before and dropped them to their death. Why was this sack so heavy? He pressed on.

Eep knew his curiosity was getting the better of him. He ignored his orders and opted for a peek inside. He switched the sack from claw to claw, loosening the neck as he did so. His shoulders began to ache under its weight when he heard a
clank
inside. The bag rustled. He looked up and away as he reached inside. His short arm searched all boundaries of the sack. He could feel the bag’s interior. Everything seemed to be as it appeared: a simple, overly large leather sack that was empty.

Grunting in frustration, he rasped, “Stupid heavy bag.” He began to withdraw his arm from the neck of the bag but it held fast. Pain seized his clawed fingers as something began to bite them. Something had hold of his hand and it was chomping off one of his clawed fingers. Screaming in shock and rage, Eep began tearing his hand free, and with a howling yank, he withdrew his bloodied now two-fingered hand. A bloody stump was in the middle.

Hissing in rage and shock, he thrust his other arm in the sack. Something grabbed hold of his arm and began trying to pull him inside. Eep pulled back. Whatever was holding him let go, freeing Eep’s arm. He hissed again and shook the sack. Nothing fell out. He looked back in. A ruddy knuckled fist smashed into his eye, causing him to howl. He let loose of the sack and began tumbling out of the sky.

Thud!

Eep rolled over on the ground. Standing up, he popped his shoulder back into place and fluttered his wings. He rubbed his throbbing eye. He was angry now. Whatever hit him had hurt him. He was going to hurt it back. He clenched his empty claws.

“
No!” he rasped.

The sack was gone. He began looking for it. Twenty yards away, the sack lay on the ground before him, but it was not alone. He recoiled. Another imp was standing over the sack and waiting for him. The imp was almost the same three feet of height as Eep, but built like a man, corded with muscle, thick ruddy brown skin, oversized hands and feet, a large mouth, a single large eye, and a row of small horns above his brow.

The imp was different from Eep in many ways, as it had a face like a man, was without wings, and seemed to be layered with hard flat patches of thick stone-like skin here and there. Jealousy rose in Eep’s gut. He hated it, even respected it, but he did not fear it. He was going to kill it. He knew he was the most powerful imp of all.

The other imp made no sound as it stood pounding its hardened fist into its hand over and over. Eep attacked without hesitation. Zooming in flight with a buzz, Eep headed straight for his enemy and blinked away before he got there. The other imp’s eye widened in puzzlement and then howled in astonishment. Eep reappeared behind his back and ripped his claws into its backside. A pale thick blood began to the surface.

The somewhat smaller imp whirled in attack and hammered Eep’s body with a rapid succession of blows that staggered him. Each painful blow had the force of a mallet. He could feel his ribs cracking as he spit dark blood. He writhed under the blows, then tore himself away and flew into the sky.

There he hovered over his nearly unscathed assailant. Now Eep had a busted nose to go along with his missing finger. He shook it off. Verbard and Catten had put him through worse many times before. He drove straight into the fray again.

Eep ripped and slashed the small man-like imp with speed and cunning that overwhelmed it. It fought back like a seasoned fighter and counter-punched blow after blow. Oily blood seethed from both bodies until they were covered in it The smaller imp was grimacing in pain as small chunks of his flesh had been torn and bitten from his body—and Eep knew it was weakening.

Exhausted himself, Eep knew he had the edge. The other imp became slow as it gathered itself off the grimy ground over and over again. It rasped from its small mouth and raised its fists up to its chin and waited for the next attack. Eep felt his prey was done. Flying high, he dove down, and blinked away. The small imp looked around and saw nothing. Moments passed.

Eep appeared behind the imp, then grabbed and pulled it defenseless into the air. It tried to wrench itself free but it wasn’t quick enough. Eep dropped it over one thousand feet onto the jagged rocks below. The fall didn’t kill it, though. It busted its arms and legs so that it could no longer walk or raise its arms. Eep hovered over it and spat on it. He hissed. Burning with rage, he dropped beside it and tore the helpless creature into pieces.

It was over. He tossed one of its legs away and shook off the flesh and blood of the other imp. He clasped his bloody claws together and licked his lips. He hovered over to the sack. He picked it up and opened it up. Peered inside again and saw nothing.
Yes. Mission completed.
Something shined deep down inside the bag.
Treasure?
A thrill went through him.

Mesmerized, he looked deeper into the sack.

Urk!

A large hand grasped his neck, choking him. He fought for his freedom but could not escape its powerful grip. An identical imp from moments before—just way bigger—now grasped Eep, squeezing his neck, nearly popping his eye out.

The imp—what Eep figured to be some sort of guardian of the sack—stepped outside the bag. It was twice as big as the other imp and every bit of six feet tall. Without hesitation, it began punching Eep in the face over and over again. He could hear the wet painful smacks in his ear holes. He was helpless as it pounded him into the ground. The cracking sounds of his bones burst in his ears as he screeched in greater pain.

Eep groaned as he looked up at his brethren.

“
You can’t kill me forever, brother,” Eep mumbled. “I will heal and have vengeance,”

The guardian imp stepped on his back and grasped his wings.
Oh no, not that!
Then the guardian roared in triumph as it ripped off Eep’s bat-like wings. Eep howled in pain and horror, not knowing which present pain was worse. The giant imp then dragged Eep’s broken body along with itself back inside of the sack. The greatest horror on Bish was gone.

A bucket of cold water brought Melegal to his senses. He felt numb from head to toe. His skull ached. He tugged at the cords that had his hands bound behind him to a chair. He squinted as he made out his surroundings. The chamber appeared to be a library of sorts, no longer in use for anything more than common storage of unwanted baubles and artifacts.

Large colorful candles burned bright, bringing an eerie illumination to the room. A dozen or so candles sat scattered along bookshelves and walls. It was all familiar. Melegal had spent many hours in similar chambers as a child, scribing and delivering meals to those who made plans and kept their secrets within such concealed confines. Other things had happened as well. A chill entered him.

He closed his eyes as he ascertained his predicament. A hundred faces raced through his mind as he began trying to piece together everything. He thought of everyone he’d seen in the hours and days before he was captured.
McKnight? No, can’t be!

And who had awoken him? Why was he even there? He had to escape.

Melegal could hear his captor still behind him, now whistling an annoying tune. He could smell sweat and hear the naked footsteps of a heavy-set man that seemed winded from only a little exertion. Almost a minute passed as the character finally appeared before him. The man—obviously a cleric—was pale, flabby, and disturbing, wearing only a tiny breech of cloth around his waist, as well as Melegal’s own floppy dark gray hat on his head.

“
My name is Sefron,” the man said while licking his lips.

Sefron wiped the sweat from his big bulging eyes with the floppy hat. The creepy man with pasty white skin then wrung his sweaty hands.