Chapter 6: Malice

Naomi opened her eyes, the distant battle snapping her back to reality as the sound of trolls screaming and the clang of weapons clashing against each other resumed their cacophonous symphony all around her.

She looked down at the staff in front of her. The severed troll hand relaxed as the staff rested in the palm of the previous owner. The orb that previously glowed with the familiar green flames of Cindara’s power now lay dormant and black. Any familiar energy from the demon that once resided in the orb was gone, and the connection Naomi felt drawn towards had been severed.

Looking above her, she saw the cause of her fall. Near the top, arrows were biting into the wooden post. Frayed strands of rope lulled lifelessly just above the arrowheads. Next to her post were the remaining captives, still frozen in fear as they hung from their ropes that remained undamaged from the volley of arrows that freed her.

Several arrow shafts sprouted from the chest and legs of the blonde girl that was next to Naomi during their arrival to the troll village. Blood wept from the new punctures along her legs and abdomen, lifeless eyes staring into the dirt below her.

Anger boiled in the pit of Naomi’s stomach. Heated rage flowed at the sight of the limp body of the dead blonde she barely knew. There was no familiarity between the two, no bond that she was aware of aside from both being human, but she still felt the pain of losing a loved one as she took in the sight of her.

She looked to her left arm, feeling the power that she had been promised before by Cindara. Purple runes began to glow along her forearm beneath her sleeve. She pulled the sleeve back to confirm that the glow was intensifying and held her left hand up, focusing all her pain and emotion into the center of her palm.

She closed her eyes as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Using her right hand for balance, she began to stand. Power flowed into her left palm as she stood, and she opened her eyes to face the ongoing battle.

More. She thought.

More runes appeared on her arm, answering her command.

More!

A small ball of dark energy manifested into her hand.

If I’m going to die tonight, I want to take as many of these beasts with me as I can. I know I can do it. I know I can do MORE GOD DAMMIT!

The dark sphere of energy expanded from the size of a grape to the size of a tennis ball.

Her eyes stared into the ball of energy she conjured and acknowledged that it must be enough for what she needed to do.

She raised her gaze to what was before her, seeking her first target among the mix of trolls and other new humanoids that fought around her. Discerning who was who was the last thing on her mind. They were all from this world that took her away from home, and they can all burn for all she cared.

A lone troll stood next to the bonfire facing the tree line opposite the posts that held her and the other captives. His back was to her as it brandished a spear facing the battle unfolding ahead of them in the trees and along the border of the village. He was shaking as he stared, taking short breaths out of fear while trying to keep his grip on his weapon.

Perfect.

Naomi raised her hand, and instinctively pointed the ball of energy outwards towards the lone troll. She poured her rage, malice, sense of loss into the palm of her hand and focused it all on the back of the troll.

In the blink of an eye, purple flames began to manifest on the center of the back of the troll. Small at first, then erupting into a bouquet of flames along the length its spine. The troll turned its head to see what was causing its pain and screamed. It threw its spear into the dirt and began slapping the flames along its back to no avail. The flames began to climb onto its shoulder blades, and then to its neck as time went on.

As the troll dropped to the ground and began rolling to put the pain to an end, Naomi watched in both shock and satisfaction. She knew that the suffering that the troll was enduring was because of her, and she liked it. A sense of morbid elation overcame her as she watched the leather straps along the troll’s back and chest begin to fuse to its body while the flames ignored its attempts to extinguish the pain.

The next few seconds felt like hours as she watched the flames consume the entirety of the troll. In an instant after, the flames receded and snuffed out. The charred corpse of the troll smoldered in the ground; skin blackened by her ethereal flames. Patches of pale skin along its legs and stomach remained untouched, while the upper torso looked as though it had been roasted on the village bonfire next to the troll for hours.

That’s one. Who’s next?

She scanned the area around her, looking past the bonfire and huts in the village center. A lone figure stood out among the blur of movement around the trees past the village border. The silver of the plate armor of the person reflected in the light of the bonfire. The large hammer in the warrior’s hand hung limply as it stared at Naomi.

The warrior appeared tall, not nearly the height of the trolls that captured her, but still large by normal standards. Above the chest plate of the warrior was a pale face with shocked eyes staring at her. Short blonde hair topped her scalp, muddled by viscera, and sweat of the battle. On either side of its face jutted out long pointed ears that ran past the top of her head and ended in a pointed tip. Androgenous features mapped along their face, twisted into a shocked expression as it held its gaze at the corpse of the dead troll in front of Naomi.

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A shout distracted Naomi, as she turned away from the plated warrior and turned to the source. The troll elder was barking orders at three of his warriors, all while holding a bleeding stump where his arm used to be.

Naomi looked down and saw the trail of blood left behind as he made his escape to find shelter from the fight. Her brow furrowed at the sight of him, remembering what his intention was with her and the other humans they captured.

The trolls he was ordering around turned and ran towards the fight, and the elder winced in pain while holding his stump. He looked up and scanned the immediate area around him, and eventually came to see Naomi staring right back at him.

Anger filled his eyes, and then they widened in horror as he saw the dark orb in her hand. He looked from the staff where his hand was and back to her as realization hit him. He snarled at her, and ran inside the hut behind him, pushing aside the hanging cloth that acted as a door to the entrance.

Naomi found her new quarry.

She began taking steps towards the hut across the village center. Weaving between trolls as they ran around her either away from the fight in the trees or towards the clash. None paid her any attention as she moved, either because they saw her and thought her to be inconsequential or due to the distraction of battle. She eventually came to the entrance of the hut where the elder hid.

Brushing aside the cloth door, she entered the hut. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, revealing the wide interior with sparse furnishings. A round wooden table stood in the center of the hut with four matching wooden stools around it. The back corner had a bed of straw and a large woven blanket on it. A spear was leaning next to the bed, most likely a last line of defense against intruders or invaders of the village.

She scanned around the back of the hut and saw a wooden-planked door opposite to the hut entrance. Droplets of dark blood painted a trail to where the elder chose to hide. Naomi raised her left hand, conjuring the orb from before and pointed it at the door. She made her will manifest as a large purple tendril of ethereal magic shot out from the orb towards the door.

The tendril punched a hole in the center of the wooden planks and pulled the door from its frame. Inside was the elder, sitting on a knee-high portion of the clay material that the hut was made from. His remaining hand in front of his face shook in fear. He looked towards her as she threw the door aside and began walking towards him.

She stopped a few feet away from him. The cowering form of the elder that had determined her fate seemed like a different creature entirely from the one she knew only a short time ago. All confidence had drained from his face, replaced with a pleading expression silently begging for mercy.

“What was it you said we were? Brood mares?” Naomi said.

The elder stared shaking at her, unblinking and unresponsive.

“Answer me!”

The troll lowered his arm slowly as he regarded her. “I…you… were a gift. From the gods. We have every right to use you as we please. Through rites of the gate being in our lands, you were the field in which our tribe would sow and grow once more. We…need to grow.” The elder whispered between shallow gasps.

“She told me we would grow powerful. That I would lead the tribe to salvation with her as my patron.” He looked down at her hand and then at his own. “Clearly, she has a new favorite now.” He muttered.

Naomi stared impassively at the cowering troll. Her arm was outstretched, the ethereal tendril writhing from the orb in her palm, eagerly awaiting her command to strike.

The elder, sensing his imminent demise, closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to stare at Naomi with a newfound defiance, his fear replaced by a primal, seething anger. "You think yourself strong now? That she will keep you in her favor forever? You have her gifts, truly, but know this - you are just another fleeting amusement in her grand scheme. She'll discard you, just like she did me," he sneered.

With a trembling hand, he tore at the necklace around his neck, his eyes burning with a mix of triumph and madness. "Do what you will, witch. My end changes nothing. I have indulged in pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings, claimed more flesh than any of my kin. My seed has sown countless offspring. My legacy endures, while you... You are but a temporary aberration, a momentary blight that will fade into obscurity."

The raw spite in his voice was palpable, his words dripping with the sickening pride of his vile conquests. Naomi felt a wave of disgust, but her expression remained cold, unyielding.

"Your legacy is a path of ruin," Naomi replied, her voice steady and cold. "And it ends here."

The tendril in Naomi's palm lashed out with ferocious speed, coiling around the elder like a serpent of pure malice. It wrapped tightly around his arms, constricting him with unyielding force, then spiraled down to his legs, entangling his entire body in its ethereal embrace.

As Naomi stepped backward, dragging the elder out of his hiding place, his body convulsed in a futile struggle against the relentless grip of the tendril. His eyes, wide with terror and desperation, flickered frantically, searching for any possibility of escape.

Naomi's gaze was unflinching, her eyes locked onto his. With a cold, unspoken command, she willed the tendril to constrict. It responded instantly, its grip tightening mercilessly. The elder's eyes bulged, his face contorting in agony as the pressure intensified.

The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed in the hut as the tendril crushed him with relentless force. His skin began to split under the strain, dark blood oozing from the fissures. The elder's muffled screams were grotesque, a haunting symphony of pain and despair.

With each passing second, the tendril's grip grew tighter, warping his body into a grotesque caricature of its former self. Organs burst, spewing visceral matter, as the elder's body was compressed to its breaking point. His eyes, now filled with a horrifying realization of his imminent death, met Naomi's one last time before they too were crushed in the vice-like grip of the tendril.

Finally, with a gruesome crescendo, the elder's body gave way entirely. The tendril, now drenched in blood and viscera, uncoiled, and retracted back into Naomi's palm, leaving behind the mangled, unrecognizable remains of the troll elder.

Naomi stood over the elder's ruined form, her expression a mix of triumph and horror at the sheer devastation she had wrought. But even as she reveled in her victory, a wave of weakness swept over her.

Naomi placed her hand on her head, feeling light-headed. The sounds outside grew muffled as she began to walk towards the exit of the hut. The last thing she needed was to pass out in this situation to be left to the will of the remaining trolls, or even the attacking soldiers. She needed to get to the other women outside and to help them escape. She pulled back the cloth door and tried to peer outside to gauge the battle and see if she had a clear path to the others.

Her vision blurred, legs buckled, and she collapsed to the ground at the entrance of the hut, the world fading to black as she succumbed to unconsciousness.