Barf the Barbarian in Red Nail (The Chronicles of Barf the Barbarian Book 2) Read online

  MICHAEL WHITE

  Copyright © 2016 by Michael White / EDP. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or carrying a hammer and a bag of nails for no discernible reason whatsoever is completely coincidental.

  The author can be contacted via the links below.

  Website: www.mikewhiteauthor.co.uk

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @mikewhiteauthor

  Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B006Y7JHCK

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  Into the Light

  Book Two: The Road of the Sun

  Back to The Light

  Book One: The Shadow Lords of Old

  A Bad Case of Sigbins

  Bee’s Knees

  The Adventures of Victoria Neaves and Romney:

  Book One: Victoriana

  Book Two: The Strange Case of the Denwick Beauchamp Fairies

  Book Three: The Vanished Man

  Book Four: The Clockwork Thief of Crickenden Broadwick

  Book Five: Romney’s Day Off (June 2016)

  Book Six: The Abbot Bowthorpe Dependables (July 2016)

  The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney

  Scrapbook

  The Waiting Room

  Overboard!

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  Six for Hallowe’en

  Mysterious Tales

  Six of the Best

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  An Unremarkable Man

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  Vallum Aelium

  Barf the Barbarian in

  The Tower of the

  Anas Platyrhynchos

  Montague, Hetty & Boo In

  The Mystery of the

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  Tales from under the lightning tree: Spring

  (The Artisan Cook’s Tale)

  Tales from under the lightning tree: Summer

  (The Minstrel’s Tale)

  COMING SOON:

  Genesis Space Book One:

  Ascent to Heaven: The Church of Man

  Know, O prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Hairyass, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars - Hyperbolea and Bongia with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Styngia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore mantles of silk and gold.* But the proudest Kingdom of the world was Aquaviti, reigning supreme in the dreaming west.

  Hither staggered Barf the Barbarian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, intellectually challenged and usually totally out of it. He was known to hold his magical sword, Humdinger,** in hand, and was often accompanied by the female warrior known only as the Red Sonja***. She followed him partly as he was a thief, a reaver, a slayer, yet she mostly accompanied him more out of curiosity than anything, for he was a man with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, and of him the prophecies all said that one day, o prince, he would tread the jewelled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.****

  *The Hyrkanian raiders were extremely fashion conscious, but also equally lazy. They would not get out of bed unless there was an outfit neatly pressed nearby for them to climb into, as long as the outfit did not have to be pressed by them.

  ** Trademark of Styngian blades New Nemours Inc. ™ applies worldwide.

  *** Real name Sandra. It just didn’t go with the sword.

  **** The prophecies don’t actually say UNDER as such. In fact, it is reported in “The history of feats and Majics of Hyperbolea” More as a health and safety incident. It is of course often said that the Aquavitins were nothing if not ones for embellishing a tale.

  RED NAIL

  The woman on the horse reined in her weary steed, bringing it to a halt. It was apparent to her that the horse would have stopped moving shortly anyway, for it stood wide braced, its head drooping as if each tired step was to be its last. It staggered to the small pool of water as if it found even the weight of the silver tasselled and dark blue saddle and bridle too heavy, never mind the woman who sat on its back. She drew a white booted foot out of the silver stirrup and swung down from the gilt-worked saddle. Tying the reins to the branch of a protruding sapling she turned about, hands on hips, to survey her surroundings.

  They were not inviting. Giant trees hemmed in the small pool where her horse was currently drinking. Thick clumps of undergrowth limited her vision all around as she stood beneath the lofty arches of intertwining branches from trees that rose all around her, seeming to form a twilight darkness of leaf and wood. The woman shivered, twitched her shoulders and then cursed both loudly and profanely.

  “Oh, Moonshine!” she spat, looking forlornly at the horse who stood drinking deeply and ignoring her completely, “Why did I ever run away from the circus?” The horse did not even stop drinking, so desperate was its thirst, and the woman cursed again. She was tall and large limbed, her whole figure giving a sense of subtle strength. Yet she was dressed strangely, a fact that seemed incongruous with her current surroundings. She wore a bright white skirt that fell just an inch short above her knees. She also wore a deep blue silken blouse that seemed to definitely have a great number of buttons missing, so open was it at the front, and at her waist she wore a wide silken sash. On one hip, she wore a straight double edged sword, and on the other a long dirk. Her unruly blonde hair was tied back by a band of deepest blue silk.

  Against the backdrop of the sombre and primitive forest she seemed bizarre; out of place. She turned her gaze upwards and strove to pierce the green sullen roof of the arched branches by tugging at them, but presently gave it up with yet another muttered oath. She looked around and finding no cease in the curtain of the knotted branches she strode off to the west, looking back to the pool, where her horse stood tethered as if to fix its bearings in her mind.

  The silence of the forest was over-bearing. No birds sang in the trees, nor were there any rustling sounds from the undergrowth that would betray the presence of small animals. She began to realise as she strode further into the tangled forest that it had been many a league since she had heard any noises other than those made by her or her horse. She looked about through the trees as she walked, searching for fruit to eat, as having slaked her thirst at the pool she now found herself hungry.

  Ahead of her, presently, she saw an outcrop of dark, glint-like rock that sloped upward into what could possibly be a small rugged crag. The summit of the crag was was lost to a view amidst the encircling leaves. She thought that it was possible that the crag would look over the trees and so she could see what lay beyond this apparently endless forest through which she had already ridden for so many days.

  A natural ramp led steeply up the face of the crag. After she had scrambled up a good fifty feet or so she came to a belt of leaves that surrounded the rock. The trunks of th
e trees did not crowd close to the crag, but the lower branches did, veiling it with their thick, tangled foliage. She moved upward, pushing the leaves from her path as she did so, unable to now see either above or below her. Eventually however she saw a patch of blue sky above, and a moment later she rose from the forest into the warmth of the sun and a clear blue sky overhead. She drew in a breath as she saw the roof of the forest stretching away beneath her feet.

  She took stock of her bearings and saw that she was on a naturally made narrow ridge that was as good as even, with the roof of the forest below. From the ridge rose a thin narrow spire of rock that was the apex of the peak in the crag she had climbed. She looked up at it a good twenty feet above her and as she did so she accidentally kicked something that had been concealed by the carpet of leaves underfoot. Looking down she was shocked to find a whole skeleton lying at her feet, the bones bleached dry by the strong sun overhead. She ran a quick eye across the skeleton. It was of a man she suspected, as the frame was tall, the bones broad shouldered, hinting at a muscular frame. There also did not appear to be any sign of damage to the wasted remains at all. The skull was intact, and as far as she could tell, all of the bones were in place as well. She reasoned that the man - whosoever he was - had died a natural death, though why he would have climbed the crag as she had done to simply expire at its top she could not imagine.

  She scrambled to the base of the spire of rock and then scrambling up the ten feet or so of its height she looked towards the horizon, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand as she did so. From here the floor of the forest that she had just climbed from was as impenetrable from here as the apex of the rock on which she stood was from below. The leaves of the trees below her were like a carpet or a roof, through which she could not see. She glanced northward, the direction she had come from, and could see nothing but the green of the forest for as far as she could see. On the horizon, she could just make out the range of hills she had crossed several days since, before she had descended into the forest in which she now found herself.

  To both the west and to the east the view was the same, though the hill line was absent in either of those directions. When she looked to the south however she stiffened and caught her breath, for no more than a mile in the at direction the forest thinned out and then ceased abruptly, giving way to a cactus dotted plain. In the midst of that plain rose the walls and towers of what looked to be a large and majestic city. The woman swore in amazement. This was beyond belief! Had she not climbed the crag she would not have seen the city at all! It was not expected. There were always gossip laden rumours of wild tribes in the area, flesh-eaters and worse of course, but a whole huge and what looked like artistically built city? She was completely startled.

  Tiring from clinging to the spire of sharp grey rock she let herself back down to the top of the crag, frowning in indecision. It had been on impulse that she had fled from the circus, bringing Moonshine the Wonder Horse, her faithful companion with her, and her flight had been blind, into a country of which she was wholly ignorant. Now she found herself torn between two paths. One was to ride directly to the city in the plain and seek refuge there, and the other path urged caution and prompted her to skirt her way around the city and avoid it altogether. As she stood contemplating what to do she was startled by the loud rustling of leaves below her. She wheeled, cat-like to face the direction of the noise and then she stood motionless, wide-eyed as a man emerged from the greenery below her.

  He was almost a giant in stature, muscles rippling as he looked first at her and then up at the hot sun beating down upon them both. A broadsword hung from his waist, a thick leather belt holding his shorts and the sword in place. He wore nothing on is top at all, and his hair was thick and long, and as black as the darkest night.

  “Barf the Barbarian!” exclaimed the woman, “I will tell you here and now that under no circumstances am I going to return to the foul clutches of Bungo-Hop’s Circus! I would rather die first!”

  He grinned at her, his bright blue eyes burning with a light that any wandering circus performer could not help but find disconcerting and looked her up and down, admiring her circus uniform and gleaming silver tassels.

  “Bungo-Hop is a very concerned man.” said Barf, “He has offered to pay whoever finds his missing performing horse act a tidy sum. Crowns were mentioned.” He paused, looking down at the floor of greenery below them, “Gold ones too.”

  “You do know that Bungo-Hop has a history of not paying his debts?” she smiled, a sarcastic grin forming on her face, “Many a man has found a knife in his gullet rather than a coin in his purse I hear.”

  “I am willing to take my chances with that. When I heard of the reward for your safe return I made haste and tracked you easily. My horse is tethered next to yours at the pool below.” smiled Barf, and he looked down and popped open a small pouch on his sword belt. Instantly a new voice spoke.

  “Gee, thanks boss.” said the voice, “Pretty hot in there, you know.”

  “You still have the magic talking sword, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Barf nodded.

  “Humdinger, please meet Valerie, the most talented horse performer this side of the coastal plains of Cornucopia.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” said Humdinger slowly, “Just one question though. Why are you dressed like an Assmanian dancing girl?”

  “I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Valerie, her mouth dropping open in disbelief, and she took a step back and pulled her sword from her belt and held it out in front of her, her weight balanced on her feet as she stood waving the sword at Barf, an angry look upon her face.

  “Come, now!” laughed Barf, holding his hands very slowly up in front of him, “Put that thing down. Someone might get hurt!”

  “Someone very well might get hurt.” she snarled. “And I will have you know that I know perfectly well what I am doing with a blade. The renowned circus sword swallower, “El Pingo” himself, taught me how to use a sword!”

  “Is that the one with the drink problem?”

  Valerie sniffed loudly. “He has no drink problem, I will have you know. That is to say none other than the leaks.”

  “The way I heard it, every drink he has just pours out of him like water from a fisherman’s net.”

  “Well that may be the case. I will leave you to discover the effectiveness of his training by teaching you a lesson you will never forget.”

  “I can’t help but feel that I shouldn’t have mentioned Assmanian dancing girls.” said Humdinger. Barf grunted.

  “And now you think that you shall drag me back to Bungo-Hop’s camp like a child who has slipped its mother’s leash?” she sneered, the sword continuing to float in front of Barf.

  The stand-off however was brought to an abrupt conclusion as the sound of a loud commotion rose from the forest floor below them.

  “What was that?” exclaimed Valerie as she startled violently and turned to face the direction of the loud noises that were coming from the forest floor below them. Barf wheeled like a cat, Humdinger flashing into his hand in a flash, for below in the forest an appalling medley of screams burst forth, the screams of horses crying out in terror and agony. Mingled with the equine shrieks of horror also came the sound of splintering bones.

  “Moonshine!” cried Valerie, “Lions are slaying the horses!”

  “Lions, nothing!” snorted Barf, his eyes blazing. “When did you ever hear a lion roar like that? You should know, what with being from the circus and everything! When did you ever hear bones snap like that? No lion could make that much noise killing a horse!”

  He rushed down the ramp with Valerie in pursuit, their discussion forgotten as they raced to save the horses. The screams had ceased however when they had begun to work their way back down through the green veil of leaves that covered the rock.

  “Our horses are both tied together over there.” whispered Barf. They had emerged from the the belt of leaves, and now stared down into the lower reaches of the forest. Ab
ove them the green roof of foliage once again spread its dusky canopy, whilst below the sunlight filtered in just enough light to make a jade tinted twilight. The trunks of the trees nearby looked dim and ghostly as their eyes adjusted to the green light of the forest floor once again, the sun shining above the canopy of leaves high above them now nothing but a memory.

  “The horses should be beyond that thicket over there.” whispered Barf, and Valerie watched as he began to move slowly and without any noise at all in that direction. No longer did she wonder how easily he had surprised her up in the crag a few moments ago. “Listen!” he hissed, and came to a dead stop. Instinctively, she froze. As she listened a chill crept across her, for beyond the thicket came the sound of a noisy crunching of bones and the loud rending of flesh, together with the grinding, slobbering sounds of a terrible feast. “Lions would not make that noise.” he whispered. “Something is eating our horses, but it is not a lion!”

  “Oh I do hope it’s your horse being eaten and not Moonshine.” cried Valerie. “No offence of course, but my horse has taken years of careful training. The bucket of oats trick alone took five years for him to get right.” Barf stared at her, his mouth agape, for the sound of the horrible feast had stopped. Barf swore softly. A sudden breeze was blowing towards them directly from the spot where the unseen beast was hidden.

  “Here it comes.” muttered Barf, half lifting Humdinger. The thicket before them shook wildly. Valerie knew that no beast she had ever encountered - circus or not - could have shaken the tall brush in such a manner as that. “It must be the size of an Elephant.”