Torment and Terror

THE DARKSLAYER

Torment and Terror

Bish and Bone: Series 2, Book 5

CRAIG HALLORAN

THE DARKSLAYER: Torment and Terror (Bish and Bone: Series 2, Book 5)

By Craig Halloran

Copyright © September 2015 by Craig Halloran

Amazon Edition

TWO-TEN BOOK PRESS

P.O. Box 4215, Charleston, WV 25364

ISBN eBook:   978-1-941208-22-9

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-941208-23-6

THE DARKSLAYER is a registered trademark, #77670850

http://www.thedarkslayer.net

Cover Illustration by David Chen

Edited by
Cherise Kelley

Map by Gillis Bjork

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Publisher's Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE DARKSLAYER: Torment and Terror

Bish and Bone: Series 2, Book 5

CHAPTER 1

“Please, you’re being too shy, much too shy. Come in. And don’t be so surprised. I told you I’d be back.”

Muscles ready to spring, Venir eased his big frame inside the main door of the Magi Roost. He knew that voice. Confident. Condescending. It was the galvanized blue eyes of the omnipotent man that he found first. Melegal’s hat on top of Scorch’s cascading blond locks was the next observation. Venir’s hand slid over to his hunting knife. His hair stood up on his arms.
Great Bish.

“Oh please, don’t bother with that crude device.” Scorch peeked over Venir’s shoulder. “Ah, bring the women in. Come on now. After all, this place belongs to the one called Kam. They should all know their way around.” He eyed the fallen staircase and sagging roof. “Though it’s a bit of a fixer upper now.”

Venir wasn’t sure how the Magi Roost was being held together. Several of the main support beams were broken or cracked. Pottery and plates were smashed all over the floor. The main bar was rent in half.

“What have you done!” Kam yelled. She stormed into her tavern and slowly spun around with her jaw dropped. She glared at Scorch. “You did this! Why?”

Cleaning his nails with a thumb blade, Scorch didn’t even look at her. “It would have been destroyed anyway. I preserved it. Thoughtfully, I might add.” His eyes found Joline, who was holding Erin. “Looks like help has arrived. You girls have some cleaning to do. After all, I want this, eh, establishment in tip top shape.” He spread his arms wide. “But for now, pickles and Muckle Sap for everyone.”

Kam’s eyes were locked on Venir’s, searching for answers.

He had none. Only horror filled his gut. He’d seen Scorch unleash his power before. One wink of an eye, and all their lives could be over. Staying close to the women and his child, he led them to one of the still-standing tables, where they all sat down.

Under the table, Kam’s hand found his.

“Ah, that’s much better. Much, much better. I honestly can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am that you are actually cooperating.” A crescent moon-shaped bottle of Muckle Sap floated over to the table. A bottle of grog followed. “It’s been a long journey. Drink. Drink a lot. It will probably make all I am about to reveal to you much easier to swallow.”

Hand trembling, Joline reached for the bottle. Her soft eyes were filled with terror. She drank straight from the jug in one big long gulp.

“Joline!” Kam gasped. “I’ve never seen this side of you!”

With a half-bitter face, Joline replied in little more than a whisper, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” She leaned back in her chair and held Erin tight. The little girl was sleeping.

“So glad that little one is quiet. I think you can take that as a testament to my character. But if she gets whiny, rub a little grog on her gums.” Scorch tapped his chest and burped. “Excuse me. I think I overdid it on the pickles. Oh, would you like some?” He flashed his impossibly perfect white teeth. “My, of course you would. Pickles and cheese for everybody!” A little silver bell appeared in front of his eyes, rang a few times, and disappeared.

Eyeing Melegal’s cap, Venir tried to keep his concerns buried.

Melegal must be dead
.

How his friend had gotten himself entangled with Scorch, Venir could not imagine, but even the clever thief’s survival didn’t seem likely. It was the first time in his life Venir felt as if he’d never see Melegal again.

The swinging door to the kitchen creaked open, and a woman holding a tray of food emerged. It was the gothic sorceress, Jasper. Eyes down, she shuffled toward the table and set the tray down. Her eyes didn’t meet any of theirs, and she began to back away.

“Her wrists,” Joline whispered to Kam with wide-eyed horror. 

On both of Jasper’s wrists, a long needle poked through one side to another. The points of exit and entry were red and swollen.

Venir rested his thick forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Jasper, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she said softly, backing away. Her eyes stayed averted, and she vanished into the kitchen.

“Oh, don’t let that bother you,” Scorch said. “It’s just a little decorating tip I picked up from the underlings.” He eyed Kam. “And it prevents any spell casting. It’s a bit twisted, but effective. I tell you, those underlings have a cleverness to their thoughts. Night and day, all they think about is destroying the likes of your kind. It’s absolutely fascinating.”

“Unless you’re on the other end of it,” Venir replied.

“The way I see it, you all die one way or another anyway. At least this way it’s entertaining.” The silver bell appeared again, started ringing, and vanished. “All of you look famished. How about some stew?”

The kitchen doors swung open. The two fighters, Slom the half-orc and Zurth the man, sauntered through in greasy aprons. Slom had a steaming pot and no potholders. Zurth carried a large metal ladle and a handful of bowls. They moved slowly. Sweat dripped from their brows. Needles adorned their arms. In one side and out the other.

“Sweet Mother of Bish,” Kam said. Her face was aghast.

Gently, Zurth set down the bowls. His movements were stiff, his face a mask of pain. Slom, doing little better, set down the pot of steaming stew. His palms and inner forearms were red. Brown hair soaked in sweat, Zurth filled three bowls of stew. He banged the ladle inside the metal pot, wiped it on his apron, and walked away. Without a word, Slom followed. The downtrodden pair vanished into the kitchen.

“Oh please, the looks on your faces are downright horrifying.” Scorch chuckled. “Actually, it would make for a great picture. Is any of you an established photographer?” He started laughing again. “Sorry, wrong world. Anyhow, don’t look so disappointed in me. It’s just my way of maintaining an order to things. All of your friends’ thoughts are so darn dangerous. Besides, it wasn’t my idea anyway. One of them suggested it.” The silver bell appeared, rang again, and vanished.

The doors groaned open.

Venir leaned back as jaws dropped around the table.

Melegal emerged, empty handed, with two needles in one of his eyes.

CHAPTER 2

War drums. A soft but distinct cadence drove the small but growing force forward over Bish’s glaring hot landscape. The jung—coarse-haired men—and the striders—fierce but strange bug people—led the way. It was a tight-knit group of slaughterers. Every survivor carried dripping steel from the remains of a band of underlings that had crossed the wrong path.

“That was more like it,” Lefty said. He was sitting on top of Georgio’s shoulders.

The big teen marched along, eating on a fistful of bread in one hand and carrying a gore-covered sword with the other.

“Your fighting skills are wonderful, Georgio.”

“I’m getting better at it. I’ll say that much. Those underling skulls were more fun than chopping melon in the markets. Did you see that one whose eyeball popped out?”

“Did I!” Lefty said, excited. “And then that strider ate it like an hors d’oeuvre!” He giggled. “It was sick, but I have to admit, I liked it. I even caught one in the gonads I think. Inhuman things. I didn’t think they had a pair.”

“Ah, I missed that,” Georgio said. “I love cheap shots like that.”

Squinting at the miles of wasteland ahead, Lefty said, “Me too.” Taking a moment to realize where he was, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He had his friend back. His best friend Georgio.

In a way,
I think I have the underlings to thank for that.

War, it had a way of keeping people together. It had a way of tearing them apart. Today, the battle behind them was a good thing.

“Either of you thirsty?” Billip had the everwater flask in his hand. “That was some good fighting the both of you did.”

“Ye all fight like women.” Pall the blood ranger spat on the ground and stroked the white in his blood-red beard. “I did most of the fighting. Aye. Saved your fragile hides more than one time. All of you. I counted at least fifty of ‘em.”

“There were only twenty,” Billip reminded the man. He took a drink from the everlasting flask. There was a new scar that stretched from his cheek to his chin. His eyes were hard and restless. “Besides, I think our newfound brethren wanted to see what we could do in a scrap.” He was eyeing the striders and jung. “I’m thinking it’s a job well done. There’s been a lot less scowling today.”

“Har! I could have taken them all.” Pall marched off, machetes jangling on his back.

Nikkel showed up with a broad smile on his face. Bolt Thrower was caressed in his ebony and sinewy arms. “I could do that all day.” His nostrils flared. “But the stench of death I could do without. Toss me that water, Billip. My mouth’s as dry as this sand.”

Behind them, upwind, burned a pyre of underling bodies. Boon, the old wizard, had tried to talk the jung out of it, but the fierce nomads would have none of it.

“Let the underlings smell their stink,” they said. “They need to get used to it. More stink is on the way.”

Family. After months of isolation, Lefty had one again. There were the smiles he had thought he’d never see again. His own tight lips had unleashed his own smile. There were smiles in the hot miserable wind. The kind that only come from fools who laugh at death.

If I were to die today, I think I’d die happy.

Still, something was missing that he longed to see. Venir and Melegal. This army needed Venir. Lefty could feel it, the element that was missing. Though entertaining, Boon was a bit too zealous. Almost foolish. His hunger to kill underlings seemed without limit. Reckless.

The small army slowed. The rattle of metal and creak of armor fell silent as they came to a stop.

“What’s going on?” Georgio wiped the sand from his eyes. “What did we stop for? Lefty, can you see anything?”

They were standing deep in the middle of the small army of about one hundred soldiers. The tall and lean four-armed striders blocked his view. On ginger feet, Lefty stood up on Georgio’s thick shoulders. Not satisfied, he perched himself on top of Georgio’s head.

“Hey, cut that out,” Georgio complained. “I don’t want sand in my hair.”

“Your hair’s already dirtier than a tavern mop,” Lefty replied.

“Well …” Georgio’s face strained to find the words to say. Finally he blurted out, “Yours is dirtier than mine.”

“Heh heh,” Billip laughed.

Nikkel chuckled. “A fine insult, Georgio. One of the best.”

“So what do you see, Lefty?” Billip asked, looking up at him.

Lefty tried to block the stiff blasts of sand that stung his eyes. Still squinting, he made out a formation in the distance.

Standing against the stark setting suns was a great fortress made from the sand and rock beneath it. Rocks jutted all over it like knives. There were bodies moving along the parapets that were natural in design. A bright gleam of light winked at them with the suns’ burning light.

“I think it’s a castle of underlings,” Lefty said. “Who has the spy scope?”

Nikkel tossed a tube up to him.

Lefty stretched out the spy glass and put his eye to the eyepiece. “It’s underlings. I can see them. Bish, that place is pretty big.” He noted a mirror that continued to wink at them. “That’s really strange.”

The jung and striders began to shuffle and murmur. All of them started to gaze with fascination.

Suddenly, Boon’s thunderous voice came to life. “Stop gawking, you fools! That’s not for fascination. It’s for destruction. Take cover! Move!”

A flash of light erupted from the great sandcastle’s tower. It cut straight through their ranks with devastating effect.

Booooooom!