Free The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals by Craig Halloran Page B

remembered the moment she was about to kill him. He smiled a tad. The shock and fury he saw on her face when the mystic arsenal came to his aid. Grasping the weapon, he almost laughed as he felt the power surge through his hands.
    Someone tapped him again, snapping him out of his thoughts. The count was now ten.
    “Better put on your helmet,” Mikkel said, putting on his own metal skullcap that sloped down the back of his neck.
    The warriors didn’t like to wear armor unless they anticipated a skirmish—or full battle, as in this case—and then still opted for lighter armor than most of the Royals around the fort. Venir hadn’t yet bothered to extract his helmet from the sack since acquiring it. He felt no need for it and feared it would obstruct his vision. And so far the situation hadn’t been too risky.
    Twenty underlings!
    The archer’s fingers and elbows were frantic.
    Fifty paces. Moving fast . Now what?
    The sudden change of circumstances demanded a decision. Venir had been setting up ambushes by letting small underling squad’s move between them, but this was no small group. It seemed that the underlings had become privy to their tricks and the larger numbers now made that impossible. That tactic would cut off Billip, leaving the archer overwhelmed without an escape route. Indecision began to churn in Venir’s belly. He had to decide whether they should retreat while there was time. They could make time to alert the rest of the fort as well, or fight. He wanted to fight, but wisdom prevailed.
    Run , Venir signaled Billip .
    Hit and run? Billip returned.
    When facing a larger force, scouts needing to buy time would drop the point men of the enemy’s frontline with bolts or arrows. This slowed the enemy and made them more cautious until they could ascertain the strength of their assailants. It also provided critical extra time for a hasty retreat. But twenty was a large group of underlings. Venir didn’t want to alert them to their presence and there could still be more underlings as well.
    His keen eyes detected several dark silhouettes in the distance as Billip was signaling again for a reply. The underlings were armed with small round shields and curved swords, similar to the bulkier tulwar swords of men. It was a heavier force, and judging by their additional weapons and armor, a full scale assault was underway. He could feel the axe burning in his grasp as the underlings approached, but he made his decision and signaled back.
    Run!
    Venir could make out Billip and Chongo creeping back up the ravine, the archer’s arrow was knocked along the shaft of his new bow.
    Clatch—Zoop—Thunk!
    Mikkel’s heavy bolt ripped through the air, clean through the neck of an underling and imbedding into the chest of another.
    “What are you doing?” Venir said, shoving Mikkels crossbow down. “I said run! ”
    “Sorry Vee. I must have missed that,” Mikkel shrugged. “I thought it was hit and run.”
    Venir knew better. Mikkel wanted the first kill, and Billip was moments from releasing a few arrows as well. The pair couldn’t have cared less about the risk as their passion to kill underlings took over reason. All three were guilty of this affliction.
    Billip began his own onslaught, and two more underlings found their throats punctured with feathered shafts, their warnings gurgling in dark blood. He watched as the assault proved a fatal mistake. The underlings scrambled up the ravine like hungry wolves, and thick webs began to form, spreading over the trees, surrounding them from behind and cutting off their escape. In an instant they were trapped.
    “Helmet on,” Mikkel reminded Venir, as he picked up his club, Skull Basher.
    Venir felt foolish for a moment as the webs had grown further up the edges of the ravine, trapping the archer and his dog below. He groaned. The underlings had the jump on them.
    Venir opened the leather sack and pulled out his helmet. Its eyelets had an eerie glow as an unsettled