The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (17 page)

Venir and his men kept her on the run for days and months. The man had been relentless. He and his comrades chopped her brigand army into bits and pieces all over southern Bish. Jarla rode her beloved Nightmare, the dapple gray warhorse, to the brink of death one day as Venir and his men closed in on her and the few of her army that remained. Those remaining few sacrificed themselves for her as she hid deep beyond the Outlaws Hide. She waited for her certain death to pass. It never came. And Venir never caught up with her, so her inevitable death by his mighty axe had been delayed. She never knew what happened. He’d abandoned her to herself. Just like a man. She couldn’t even count on one to kill her.

On the brink of starvation, she had staggered into Outlaws Hide, her life without purpose. She gave into its simple pleasures. She carried on without shame, and for years her induced state allowed her to survive. During those tainted years, she cared for no one but herself—until a startling dream woke her from her intoxicated slumber, causing her to run out of town screaming in terror. Venir was near, so she’d thought. Her paranoia would not let her rest. The dreams sobered her. She had to face him. She was a big girl, and facing her fears was better than dying from them. Deep down, she hoped she would wrest the armaments once again. So now she set out alone, armed and ugly with strife, determined for one last glorious battle with her former lover Venir, the Darkslayer.

The thief’s corner in the Drunken Octopus was cozy and discreet this time of day. The dingy windows and shabby curtains curtailed the blaze of Bish’s late-afternoon suns. The stone fireplace blazing beside Melegal added warmth in the damp corner. He liked the seclusion; it gave him a feeling of solitude that he craved amidst constant activity.

Sipping wine and cleaning his nails with a tiny knife, Melegal sat in thought.
The halfling boy worries too much.
He was glad to have peace of mind away from the rest of the group for a change. He was even glad that Venir was out for a spell—though he found it odd that the man had not yet returned.

The past several weeks had begun to take their toll on Melegal. Sharing a cramped room with a big man, a big boy, and a tiny one exhausted him. It was far from the dreams he’d envisioned for himself at this stage of his life. He scratched his dimpled chin, wondering what it would be like if none of them ever returned at all. He finished his wine and chuckled.

The past few weeks had taught him more patience but it had tested it as well. The last thing he needed to do was going on a wild-goose chase. He told himself he was going to spend the day making good use of the booty they had scored. A half-empty plate of potatoes and roast, along with two bottles of decent wine, were a good start. Even with his roommates gone, Melegal was not without companionship, either.

He stroked the thick fur of the massive black cat sitting on the table. The cat was as big as a wilderness bobcat and just as mean. Thousands of cats ran the streets of the City of Bone, but none like this. It was the king of cats if there ever was one. Melegal could feel the table shake as the cat’s belly rumbled like a tiny thunderstorm. The animal was a mystery to him. The cat seemed to have come with the tavern and had been there as long as anyone could remember. As far as the owner and the patrons knew, the Drunken Octopus was named after the powerful feline. Indeed, Octopus could eat and drink just about anything, including the cheap grog.

Out of everyone that ever came in the tavern, Octopus only let Melegal touch him. Now Melegal watched the cat sprawl across the table. As it yawned, it stretched out and flexed its four fat paws, all the size of a normal cat’s head. Each black-padded paw had eight long pearl-colored claws that looked like they could cut glass.

Smiling, Melegal remembered the time when a City Watchman had come in with his canine companion, a rottweiler. Octopus tore the dog’s skin with his thick claws and deep into the bone, leaving the once-proud dog in a mangled mess on the floor. No dog had ever entered the tavern since.

The feline rolled onto his back. Melegal studied another of its odd features. The feline’s eyes were milky white, almost the color of its claws. The thief could see only a faint outline of its pupils and irises within, but as best as he could tell, the cat was blind.

“
You are one mean, crazy kitty, Octopus,” Melegal said, dropping some chunks of beef and cheese into its gaping mouth. “But you know what I like about you most? You can’t talk.”

Melegal was enjoying the peaceful moment—until more patrons began filling the tavern. The sound and smoke started building anew as the locals began to unwind from their daily labors. Many appeared to have just woken up from the previous night’s lecherous behavior. Melegal sat, eyes alert, with his floppy gray hat hanging over the side of his face. But then a scowl began to emerge on his lips. He knew Octopus would be gone soon and so would the best part of the day.

Cats certainly weren’t the most popular creatures in the City of Bone, but they kept the rats away. Most people treated them with disdain, as they tended to overrun things as well from time to time. He heard tavern customers sometimes complain about the cat, but it was to no avail. None had ever been able to capture the beast.

Octopus was smart, fast, and dangerous, and when he left, people stepped out of his way. A single scratch from one of his claws could puff a man up like a pillow for days. Melegal had seen the happen a time or two.

Luke the lute player sauntered in the tavern now and began making small talk as he peered around, looking for familiar faces.

Oh no,
Melegal thought.
It’s “Mister Happy.”

Luke always appeared to be bright and refreshed, dressed in white and beige colored clothes that were more exquisite than those of the typical brethren in the tavern. The curly blond-haired man was charming to all. People knew him to be quite the entertainer and liked his company, which was odd since Luke wasn’t a true local from this part of town. The lute player, though, took full advantage of his popularity.

Melegal scrunched down at his table, pulling his hat farther over his face.
Please don’t come over here and blather about something meaningless.
He figured if he was unpleasant and terse, the young man might go away, but he often didn’t. Melegal didn’t mind the man trying to make a living off him, as long as he got his. He just didn’t like the small talk. Out of the corner of his eye, Melegal saw the red and maroon painted lute in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other making its way over.

Great, free drinks at least,
Melegal thought as he sat up and pushed his hat back
.

“
Hello, Melegal,” Luke said in a soothing voice as polished as a Royal diplomat. “Do you care if I join you?”

Melegal opened his hand over the sleeping cat. The man eased out a chair from across the table. Octopus’s eyes opened then slowly closed. Melegal continued to rub the cat’s furry belly. The handsome musician sat down in the armless heavy wooden chair and set his lute down on the table. Melegal watched as Luke scooted his chair back, clearing his view of the room’s entrance again.

“
That was quite a time last night
,” Luke said. “A very nice score I might say, and I thank you for including me. Melegal, I have never seen a man move like that before. I mean, how on Bish did you do that?” The lute player stretched his arms out wide. “That skinny freak you took was baffled. I was baffled. I still am, actually.”

Melegal smiled at the thought of the hand stabs contest. It certainly was one of his better moments. He found himself wishing that Billip would have been around to see that one. Billip would have had a fit if he bet against Melegal that night.

“
A drunk thief never tells, Luke,” Melegal said. “Now let’s fill these glasses while we still have the coin to enjoy.”

The man obliged, pushing a fresh glass goblet into Melegal’s awaiting palm. As Melegal warmed up, he began discussing some details of other skims he’d pulled off. Luke was all ears.

As he talked, Melegal studied Luke. He enjoyed testing one’s powers of observation and quickly learned his lute-playing friend was great at reading other people. He found Luke’s presence relaxing, as the young man always agreed with what he said. The young man appeared to be a good guy who grew up in the seedier side of some town. Even Melegal didn’t know where the man was from, but you could bet good coin that he knew where everyone else was from. The man could just tell. Melegal liked that quality; they had that much in common.

“
So, Melegal, where is Venir?” Luke said, craning his neck about. “Usually you can hear him roaring about some ridiculous adventure this time of day. Do you think he was able to track down the raven-haired beauty or did he run off with those Motley Girls for a tussle?”

“
Probably with those wretched gals, knowing him,” Melegal replied, leaning back in his chair.

“
If that’s true, then that’s an adventure I don’t want to hear about. Hah!” Luke said, slapping his knee. “Seriously, though, is he going to be coming around? No offense, but it’s just not the same without him here. His stories are what draw me back here to begin with. They make for good ballads and I wanted to play some of them tonight.”

Melegal could tell by Luke’s wide blue eyes that the young man was sincere, but he didn’t have anything to offer him. Melegal was at a bit of a loss as well, as the hours that passed without Venir, Georgio, and Lefty began to feel ominous. But he just shrugged.

“
I’m sure he will be here soon,” Luke said, tuning his lute. “You know he can’t go a full day without taking an opportunity to talk about himself.”

After another hour of small talk, the Drunken Octopus was burgeoning with activity. Melegal noticed a disruption beginning near the entrance.
Must be Venir.
Whoever it was seemed to be rubbing the locals the wrong way.

Curses and shouts of outrage came forth as many were pushed back toward the fireplace. Chairs toppled over in the process. The usual patrons didn’t take to strangers of any kind, so whoever it was had made quite an impression. Melegal knew that if you hadn’t been around the tavern, you wouldn’t be sticking around. He couldn’t wait to see who was causing the commotion. Strangers were among them tonight, that much was clear.

Not Vee. Would have heard him by now and no one would be making such a ruckus about him.

Maybe the city guards—but they never came this deep into Bone.

Things grew quiet.

A path opened, leading to the room where Melegal’s table sat. He caught sight of two men removing heavy dark gray cloaks and tossing them toward the fire’s hearth. One of the men donned a wide-brimmed black hat—and the other man, a tall stone-faced individual, appeared to have been split in two and sewn back together again. As Melegal’s heart sunk, he heard Luke gasp at the sight of the monstrous man.

It can’t be!

“
It’s good to see you so soon again, Melegal,” McKnight said, tipping his hat.

Melegal swallowed his shock and maintained his cool composure.

“
I wish I could say the same, McKnight.”

Luke cocked his head, eyes wide. Melegal hoped that Luke recognized McKnight’s name from Venir’s stories and had sense enough to leave. Instead the bard could only stare at the stone-cold face of the man behind McKnight.

Melegal cast another glance at the golem-like presence of Tonio. The ashen man was positive proof that Venir had indeed split him in half.
So why is he still alive?
How Tonio still lived, Melegal did not know, and he had no desire to find out, either. He pushed his foot out until it hit Luke’s leg. Luke, though, seemed to be captivated and failed to catch the subtle nudge to run.

Yes, the tales are true, Luke. Now go!

But the lute player went nowhere. He just hunched down to avoid Tonio’s hollow stare.

McKnight poured himself a glass of wine. The cat’s eyes opened toward the two strangers and the fur raised on it back. It sounded like a tiger growling, and soon the ferocious cat coiled back on its haunches. The puffed-up feline looked as big as a dog, eyes glowing at Tonio. Its white claws dug into the table and it hissed loud. But the seemingly half-dead Royal with the contorted face paid no mind to the black ball of fury. The gaunt brown eyes remained fixed on Melegal.

As the detective set the bottle down, the cat sprang between the looming men. The bard flinched as the cat disappeared from the room.
At least the cat will live.
Melegal could see his friend Luke shifting in his seat.