Free Clash of Heroes: Nath Dragon meets The Darkslayer by Craig Halloran Page A

with that one.”
    “Well played for a lout.” Melegal started cleaning his nails with a tiny razor-sharp thumb knife. “But judging by the current company in this room, it falls far short of astonishment. And your bouncing woman, I don’t think she can even count all the digits on her fingers.”
    “Don’t you mean the digits on her hand?”
    Melegal frowned.
    Venir continued, “Besides, I don’t need her to count.”
    “Simple favors for simple minds.”
    “Hah! Don’t give me that, Melegal. Where’s the woman you’ve been keeping company with? Is she out howling at the moons tonight?”
    Melegal slumped over the table. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
    “Oh, don’t pout. You’re just mad that Billip and Mikkel and I made a nice score.”
    “In what, underling metal? That’s hardly a catch. Besides, I’ll wager Billip’s share right out of him sooner than later.” Melegal’s eyes glided over the room. “Where are your bumpkins, anyway?”
    “They needed a nap. Ha.”
    “And you don’t? You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Melegal’s eyes made a closer study. “Make that months.”
    “I get plenty of winks. Those two whiners are the ones who dragged me back into this city. I was quite at home in the bush.”
    “It must be wonderful being so restless all the time.”
    Venir tilted his head toward Melegal. “Restless? I’m as at ease as I ever was.”
    “Which would be never.”
    “You jest.” Yawning, Venir stretched his long sinewy arms out and put them behind his head. “See what you made me do? Bone, everything was fine until you showed up and began your griping. You spoil the mood.”
    “Speaking of Bone, I think it’s time we returned back there.” An orc bumped into Melegal’s shoulder, and a dram of ale splashed on his tunic. The wry rogue gave a shove back. “Watch it, pig swill!”
    The orc, brazen and hairy, turned, glared down at Melegal with yellow in his eyes. “What was that, human?”
    “He said, ‘Watch it, pig swill,’” Venir replied.
    The orc caught Venir’s deadly gaze, blinked a few times, turned, and walked away.
    Melegal rested his elbows on the table. “We need to get back to the City of Bone, Venir. I’ve had all the stink I can handle. No matter where I go here, it’s like living in a stable. I can’t stand another day of a place where the people stink worse than the animals.”
    “I’ve got unfinished business still. And my blood still boils at the thought of those bloodsucking Royals,” Venir said. He craned his neck. “Say, where is that woman and our ale?”
    Melegal shrugged his scrawny shoulders. His steely eyes surveyed the room. “I can’t imagine she abandoned you to consort with more favorable company.”
    The bubbling woman was nowhere to be found. Not at the bar. Not anywhere that could be seen from where Venir sat with this back to the wall. A few minutes passed. “By Bish, do I have to fetch my own swill in this place?”
    “Says the man who cannot stand the Royals,” Melegal said. “Please, Venir, don’t exert those tender muscles and strain that fragile mind. Allow me to fetch the swill for you.” Melegal scooted his chair away from the table and departed.
    “Such a wisearse,” Venir said.
    The grump returned with a pair of jugs and set them down on the table. He had a rare grin on his face and twisted delight in his eyes.
    “What is it?” Venir asked.
    Sitting down, the thief touched his chest. “It seems that I was wrong.”
    “Wrong about what?’
    Pouring himself a goblet of purple wine, Melegal said, “It seems there is more favorable company after all.”
    Venir’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
    “Your woman, that hefty wench that filled your lap, she consorts with another as we speak. Seems it’s a good thing you have good old Melegal the Rat around to fetch your drinks.”
    Venir got up. “Where?”
    “Back against the wall, where the deep cauldron burns.” Melegal took a