Read The Darkslayer: Book 01 - Wrath of the Royals for Free Online Page B

it, walked back over and lay back down with a yawn.
    Mikkel said, “Chongo, get your master out of here.” The dog’s ears perked up and flatted back down with a human-like sigh ….
    It was early in the morning when Billip began to snoop around. The cloudless sky left the campground pitch black, except for the flicker from dozens of burning campfire embers. Any mercenaries who were not sleeping were drinking and not paying much attention to anything else. Boredom was the most dangerous element in the brigand camp, but the commanders kept it under control with swift and painful punishment. Billip scuffed himself up and sauntered through the camp, offering slurred tidings and shuffling along.
    His goal was to reach the center of the camp where Jarla’s tent was surrounded by the four smaller tents of her commanders. As far as he knew, only she and Venir occupied her tent most nights, but Venir did not always get the comfort of her quarters. He chuckled at the thought of his pouting friend being kicked out from one of Jarla’s searing moods.
    Billip spent several nights within range of these tents, watching the commanders—gnoll, human, and orc—come and go. They would meet late evening or early morning at one of the four tents, and Jarla would attend from time to time, but always without Venir. If he’d gained her trust he’d be in by now. Like a night owl, he would watch the armored guards, with spears, standing at both the entrance and the rear of each commander’s tent. During the meetings one was stationed at each side of the tent.
    Late one evening he watched Venir stroll into her tent, and not long afterwards the army commanders gathered, one at a time, in the tent behind Jarla’s. It seemed sudden and uncharacteristic, and in their haste they had not doubled the guards, leaving the right and left sides unguarded. Billip saw an opportunity. Nervousness set in, turning his hands clammy. What are they doing? It was his only opening after days of recon and he had to take it. Being a gambler, he did.
    The red moon was casting a shadow over the right side of the tent, leaving it pitch black, even to his keen eyes. He crept into its shadow and lay flat on his back. His heart was pounding in his temples so that he could hear almost nothing else. He took slow breaths until he began to focus to listen in. He watched small groups of dark clouds pass over, as tiny insects began to crawl over his warm body and sweat dripped over his brow, burning his eyes. Get on with it fools. He fought the urge to pee.
    The orc guarding the front of the tent stepped into view and mumbled something in orcen.
    Slat!
    Thereafter, the other orc guarding the rear stepped around. He closed his eyes, lest the whites of his give him away. He listened. They were whispering in orcen, but not moving any closer. If they saw him, he would have to run and try to blend in elsewhere.
    They’ll interrogate the whole camp. We’ll be first!
    He heard the foot of the guard in front, crunch over the grass. Another step came his way, followed by another. The one in the rear continued his chat, stepping further from the tent corner. Regret flooded through Billip’s mind.
    I should have gotten out of this camp long ago!
    He felt his heart was thumping so hard that he was certain the guards would hear it.
    Get ready!
    He thought about where he would run first and waited for the alarm to sound at any moment.
    Then another loud orcen voice sounded from within the tent; someone was on his way out. The guards trotted back to their posts and he overheard the front guard being reprimanded. In defense, the guard pointed out to his commander that the tent was not properly secured with the additional guards at the sides. That only complicated Billip’s problem, for now the commander took it upon himself to check both sides, peering with intent around the corners. After many long seconds, Billip squinted, raising his head just a few inches. He thought he saw the