The Gift of Volkeye Read Free Page A

burden yourself with that servant’s tasks when there are other things you need to focus on!”
    Highly irritated, Murlach began treading the steps to the deep of the castle, leaving the master to his rage. Meanwhile, Phyllamon tromped on the corpse once more, furious at Murlach’s wisdom.
    He was always right!
    Someone who’s so often right about everything shouldn’t be such a bloody disappointment when it comes to assisting my pursuit! After all, he’s the brain between us, and if he can’t do it—
    Phyllamon stormed down the hallway, leaving the corpse behind to be defiled by the vermin slithering about the dark corners of the castle. His anger abated slightly, as he dismissed thoughts of his traitorous servants and further contemplated ideas to draw out his enemy. These plans that would greatly accelerate the next day upon his son crawling into the castle, bleeding.
    2
    Murlach made it to the dungeon, dragging a very heavy bag that left a trail of slick, viscous blood behind. He’d stopped off at the kitchen, which housed a storage room filled with thick cuts of meaty flesh, mostly human parts from castle slaves who were no longer useful (the remains of the peon in the hallway would soon be added). This was a treat to coax his creatures into doing a slightly better job than usual with the assignment he was to give them.
    Though he was an excellent breeder, Murlach hadn’t had much luck with creating great thinkers. In fact, some of the beasts were downright stupid! If this were not the case, they were either too big and bulky to ever be let out of their cells in the dungeon, or so vicious that they knew naught but how to kill. The really troublesome ones were a combination of both.
    Murlach could hear them stir as he approached the cages. Next, from both sides of the corridor, there were hands and tentacles reaching outside the bars of the overcrowded cells, desperately pleading for a morsel or two.
    “Master, have you brought us food?”
    “No,” Murlach said, rolling his eyes, knowing the oaf had already seen the bloody sack at his side. He hated stupid questions.
    “Come now, Master, starve us no longer…we’ve had nothing since yesterday!” a heavy voice said from somewhere deep in the opposite cell.
    “Yeah, and we shouldn’t even be in here with the like o’ some o’ these creatures,” said another that climbed to the shoulders of a friend, so he could see. “So why we gots to be sharing food with them?” He pointed in the distance to the pitch-black corner of the cell where they could all hear the bustling about of a pack of snarling, invisible things.
    A small army of large and hairy, spider-like creatures with human sized eyes, three each, raced forward on the ceiling. They were followed by a spike-studded tentacle, which whipped in and out of sight along the ceiling, nearly scalping those below. The restless noise from the opposite end of the cell doubled as the creatures’ hunger lured them forward.
    “My Lord, you lettin’ us outta’ here today, ain’t ya?” a hunchbacked peon asked nervously as he squeezed his way through the crowd, looking into the darkness with unease.
    “That depends on whether or not you exhibit your normal buffoonish behaviour, or if you will actually make an effort not to throw your excrement up against the castle walls just for fun and games! If you’ll not rip each other’s limbs off while rough housing, or send boulders flying through the castle walls while playing ‘kick ball.’ …And if you could please not embarrass me by making spectacles of yourselves while performing the simplest task I’ve asked of you all in a long while, I would greatly appreciate it!”
    He unlocked the gate and, with some difficulty (even for his size), squeezed into the cell. Just as he made his way to the center, a bone-chilling cry echoed throughout the chamber. Murlach discovered he was wet, and there was a pungent taste in his mouth. When he looked up, he saw that