It was already late in the day by the time we’d gotten everything loaded. Jurger had bitched and moaned, trying to get me to let him raise the dead soldier to help. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would lose his head if I saw so much as a spark on his fingers. That’d ended the griping fairly quickly. The sled had food, his few valuables, the camping supplies, and the dead soldier loaded on it. I guessed we’d loaded it for about three hundred pounds. That had been another cause of complaints. I hadn’t let him load any of his book collection. I’d taken his research journals, various sheets and reports detailing his experiments, and put them into my own ruck while he was sleeping.
If we’d put even a quarter of his books on the sled, it would have gone up to five hundred pounds easily. He’d been even more angry when we’d left the next day. I’d told him I was going to do one last look over everything, and poured out half the jug of lamp oil on his book cases. Maybe they were harmless, maybe they were tomes about summoning demons and all sorts of horrible monsters. Regardless, everything that we didn’t take was burnt.
“You absolute barbarian! Do you realize how valuable those tomes were? Most of them weren’t even about necromancy! They were conjuring tomes, history, poetry! I spent my almost my entire inheritance on that library!” It had gone like that for the first few minutes, then I’d leveled the pole axe at him and yelled ‘Mush doggy!’
Jurger had been tied to the front of the sled, he’d pull it while I pushed. It kept him where I could see him, and let me control how tired he would get. Three slow days of walking would probably make for five glacial days sledding to Winterhold. The name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it in my mind. The skill alerts, levels, and strange status bars that had popped up occasionally were driving me mad. I knew what they were, but had no idea why they were there, where they were coming from. Jurger hadn’t given any indication of seeing the same kinds of things, so I kept it to my self. It wouldn’t do for him to think I was any crazier than I’d put forward. It was easy enough to ignore the strange alerts and dings after the first few hours. There was no time to sit down or look them over with a dangerous prisoner and deadly landscape.
“We’ll call it here for tonight. Let’s get the sled put in around that rock outcropping, we’ll put a tent up and layer the snow on top for cover.” The camp was set a little while later, with a small fire on the stone. I’d chopped up a dozen empty boxes to use as firewood, with a handful of starter logs that’d soaked in lamp oil. An old cauldron, it looked like a stew pot to me, served as the firepit. The metal would stay hot for a while after the fire burned down, coals smoldering at the base.
“Don’t suppose these ropes are coming off?” Jurger asked.
“Not a chance. Eat up.” I held out a sandwich I’d made for him. It smelled like venison to me, with a bit of cheese and some onions I’d gotten in my bag. Jurger was too tired to argue. After I’d finished feeding him, he got comfortable on his bed roll and was snoring soon after. It was a testament to how he’d lived his life that he didn’t wake up when I tied his feet together. Heavy sleepers ended up dead more often than not.
I found my own way to sleep a short while later, and all too quickly the morning sun was coming down on my eyes through a gap in the tent fabric. The rest of the tent was dark, Jurger was still snoring. I got the fire started up again, just enough to make breakfast. I untied his feet, again he didn’t wake up.
“Jurger. Time to eat. Necromancer, wake up.” I nudged him with my boot. The ice cold plate against his hand did the trick.
“I’m up, up master… Oh. I was hoping all this had been a bad dream.” Jurger’s sleepy voice fell.
“Nope, this is real. You are in fact tied to a dog sled, like the good boy you are. If you sit quietly while I cook, you may even get a treat!” I chuckled. We’d eaten breakfast and had the tent put away before the sun had risen a man over the horizon. Without a watch, relatives were the best way to track time. If the sun behaved the same way here as it did in my last life, I knew it was still very early in the day. There’d been no sign that it was stranger than the star I knew, but the moons were unsettling. Moons, plural. Magic hadn’t surprised me much, it seemed like I’d expected it somehow. Two moons scratched me the wrong way.
It was the third day before anything interesting happened. We’d been walking across rugged foothills, around rocky ravines and deathly crevasses in the ice. I could see the ocean to our north, a dreary expanse of ice packed sea. The necromancer had called it the Sea of Ghosts. To our south and southwest was a long line of jagged mountains. Near as I could tell, the traversable land was choking the farther west we went. Jurger was stronger than he looked, plowing through the snowdrifts and up the steady elevation. It was a particularly tricky slope that proved itself a fatal funnel.
“Jurger, try moving up the left side, see if you can get a grip on the rocks. If we can get the sled to put some weight on the rock I’ll－ HIT THE DIRT!” My shouted warning wasn’t understood at first, till Jurger saw me pulling my axe off the sled. He still hadn’t seen what I had, but he didn’t wait. He jumped down the slope, being narrowly missed by a great white maw. The troll had crept along the snow capped stones, angling for a perfect position. They were beasts, but they were cunning when they needed to be it seemed.
The troll had missed its mark with the opening pounce, slipping a ways down the slope. Rather than slide all the way down, the troll’s eyes locked onto the rope that was following behind Jurger. We’d let out about thirty feet from the front of the sled, so that he could find a way up the slope. The troll’s paw struck out, grabbing hold of the rope. Jurger’s line went taut a few feet before he’d have made it to the bottom. Axe in hand, there was a split second to figure out what to do. The troll was a head shorter than I was, with a build like a gorilla. Tough boney plates were layered all over, I didn’t like the idea of tangling with it in melee.
I’d gotten very lucky with Bonehead and Jurger, neither had been in a position to fight back, but this troll had gotten the jump on us. Jurger’s yelling cemented my play. The troll had started trying to pull him back up the hill, but seemed to struggle with the idea that the sled was attached on the other side.
“Jurger! Roll over!” I shouted to him as I ran up the slope. He did as I asked. Steel flashed as it came down on the rope, cutting him loose from the sled. There were still two more knots binding his hands behind his back, one around his arms, the other around his wrists. I hauled him up to his feet and slid my right hand up the axe head.
“Hold still damn it! You want to get cut loose or not?” Jurger tried to start running as the troll looked curiously down at the rope, not quite sure what it had done to make the weight go away. I cut the wrist bindings, and took the loop around his arms.
“Jump on three. One, two, three!” I yanked the loop down as hard as I could when he jumped, freeing his left arm. He howled when it came loose, I’d nearly pulled his shoulder out of socket.
“Drop those ropes and your robe. HEY! YOU UGLY FUCK! COME DOWN HERE AND FIGHT ME YOU SNAGGLETOOTHED BASTARD!” I moved to the right, hoping that Jurger would be fast. The troll didn’t take kindly to my boisterous taunts, dropping the rope and moving far to the right side rocks. The thing could climb, that was for sure. It was moving to put it self in position to leap down at me, buying precious seconds for Jurger to get loose. The troll disappeared over the lip of the rocks for a few moments. My eyes tracked to all the little cracks and crevices, the damn thing was going to sneak around to one of them.
“Where’d it go?” Jurger ran up to me, divested of his robes. He was over eager, stepping towards the rocks.
“Jurger don’t!” I yanked him back and started retreating. Just in time too, the troll leapt out of hiding a moment later. It landed where Jurger had been standing, snarling with bloody intent. The top spike of my pole axe thrust out, glancing off the boney ridge that protected the thing’s eyes. My one free shot wasted, I drew back, ready to dodge what was sure to be a sledgehammer of a strike in return. The troll roared, rearing up to its full height before lunging. The lunge never came, as searing hot fire whipped past my head. The bolt struck the beast in the chest with a flash of steam and the stink of burnt flesh.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Keep it away from me, they’re vulnerable to fire!” Jurger spoke as another firebolt sizzled through the air. The troll was expecting it, and ducked to the side. I raised my axe high and swung it down for the troll’s arm. The troll saw that one coming too, stumbling away from the swift follow up. It ran out of options as it backed into the stone, and caught another firebolt to the knee. It was a good, crippling strike. Perfect for giving us the advantage in a straight fight like this. The problem was that now this was a straight fight, the troll couldn’t climb away. The troll wobbled on its wounded limb, not putting too much weight on it.
Now you’ve gone and done it Jurger.
The troll must have realized the same thing as I did, because it surged forwards, ignoring a third firebolt that slapped into its armored shoulder. There was no question of tanking the charge. I dove to the left, slashing out feintly with my axe. The troll slapped it away before turning to round on Jurger. The mage was furiously casting firebolts with both hands as he backpedaled, one, two, three, four, five hits in quick succession. A sixth bolt fizzled in his hand as the troll was brought to its knees. The snow was hard to move in, especially with thirty pounds of iron armor on, but I managed to find my feet before the troll did. The chance for a kill shot was perfect, the troll had its back to me.
The thick bone growths on the troll protected the neck extremely well, and the skull looked like it’d do a fine job as a wrecking ball. My usual headhunting strategy probably wouldn’t work too well, but it didn’t need to. My axe bit into the thickly muscled right arm of the troll, sinking six inches, eight inches, a foot into the appendage before it stopped in the bone. I’d hoped to remove it entirely, but shattered was close enough. A bloodflood poured down, the poison on my axe would see to it that it kept bleeding. A problem arose when I tried to yank the axe back out, and it wouldn’t give. The next problem, was the troll’s furious black eyes turning towards me.
Oh shit…
I let go of the axe before the troll spun, right hand reaching for the belt I’d lifted from the dead soldier and the mace held on it. I ducked the first swipe of mail rending talons, only to hear the awful noise of shrieking metal as the troll lashed out with its wounded arm. It felt like I’d been charged by an angry bull as the breastplate gave out, not punctured, but dented. The world started spinning, and then there was a crash of metal and splintering wood as I hit the sled.
Jurgur was to my right, digging through a box of potions. The mace had disappeared somewhere during my flight, and the troll still had my axe in its arm. The monster was trying to pull it out, but the awkward angle of the haft made that difficult. I tried to sit up, only to feel an agonizing flare of pain across the entire left side of my ribcage. I shouldn’t have looked down.
Oh, that’s really, really bad.
The thought had crossed my mind just as a strangled cough spluttered out of my lips, spraying blood all over Jurger. His frantic eyes turned to me, then to the troll fist dent in my armor. He had a blue potion in his hands, magic juice. I tried to tell him to run for it, but only painted the sled in blood with another hacking cough. The mage gulped down the vial, and turned to face the troll. A vortex of black and purple appeared, followed soon by an etheral howl. It hurt to look, but I saw a translucent wolf emerge, barreling towards the troll.
Conjure Familiar, A loyal hound for sixty seconds.
It burned into my mind, I’d used that spell before. It was weak, the familiar would never stand a chance against a troll at full strength. It would buy enough time for me to pull my ruck open and find a vial of unfuck-me-juice. More flames were bursting on the troll as I coughed, cursed, and cried my way towards the ruck at the rear of the sled. Jurger was head hunting now, two bolts landed back to back on the troll’s face. With any luck it’d be blind.
The familiar was digging into its leg, taking a major beating for the effort. I turned away from the fighting as the ruck came within reach, my right hand searching the inside pocket for vials. I came away with a small red one, hoping it was enough to fix the broken ribs. Drinking it was horribly painful, swallowing with a shattered diaphram was about as pleasant as eating shards of glass. The bones started to heal, it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be, but it wasn’t painless either. The potion ran its course, leaving me still feeling sore, and spikes with every movement. Apparently minor healing did not go up to or include multiple broken bones.
“Jurger!” It hurt to yell, but the mage had ceased his barrage of firebolts for a moment. He turned to me after he’d downed a second blue vial.
“The big red bottle in the chest. Drink two gulps.” He already knew what I wanted. The troll let out a bellow as I spun around to dig for another potion, it had pounded the familiar out of existence, but it was dead already. The half-blind monster was stumbling towards Jurger, the mage had some spell or another building between his hands. It became clear what it was a moment later, as a tremendous bolt of lightning struck the troll square in the chest. It dropped face first into the snow just as I got the big potion open.
A few minutes passed before I was back to feeling somewhat intact. The large potion had been one brewed to heal over a longer time, rather than all at once. Jurger came and sat by me after he’d summoned another ghostly wolf.
“That was a close one. I must have hit the thing twenty times.” Jurger breathed out with a long, slow sigh.
“Never realized those damned trolls were so hard to kill. The fire kept it from healing itself too much though. You have to immolate them to stop it completely. Do you know the spell for a stream of fire? Flames?” I sat up slowly from my place on the sled.
“No, I never learned it. Come to think, that’d be pretty useful in a place like this. I didn’t know that you had to light a troll on fire to stop its healing either. What were you before Bonehead found you?” Jurger asked, the excitement of the fight draining away.
“My memory is pretty spotty ever since I collapsed in the snow. I don’t remember much of anything before that day. The blow to the head probably didn’t help. The way I tied you up, the things I think, I must’ve been some sort of man hunter. I tied you up to bring you in for a bounty. I figured there’d be one on necromancers, a prize for whoever brought in the monster responsible for a bunch of disappearances. I don’t think I’m going to do that now. Don’t think I could, really.” I looked over to Jurger as I stood up and put my hand out. He smirked.
“Not in the state you’re in. Did the troll knock some manners into you?”
“Sorry for all that. Neither of us would have made it far out here by ourselves. Troll country ain’t the place to be lonesome. Let me introduce my self the right way this time.” Jurger seemed to be weighing something in his mind.
“You did what you had to, I wouldn’t trust a mage with an ice cave full of corpses either. Jurger of Windhelm, at your service.” He took my hand for a shake.
“Johannes, of fuck know’s where. Come on, let’s take that thing’s head and get a move on. Sorry for ruining your robes, I’ve got a spare cloak in my bag if you need it.” I made for the still smoking troll. It took a good few minutes, and some knife work to get my axe loose. The troll grumbled when it came free, but it was still in some sort of coma. Rather than let it regenerate, I took its head after three swings.
“Why’d you take the head?” Jurger asked as we rigged the familiar to pull the sled.
“This is the only good pass we saw for miles to either side, the slope was only hard because it was two idiots pulling a sled meant for four dogs. If that thing’s been attacking people on the road, the local law man will have put a bounty on it. What were the bits you cut off of it?” Jurger had taken the time to cut a bit more than just the head off. There were a few empty jars and vials from what we’d eaten of the rations and the potions we’d used, now full of troll fat.
“The fat is useful for resisting poisons. I’m not much of an alchemist, but I can make some things.” Jurger explained. No out of place knowledge appeared to confirm or deny that.
“Useful. What are your plans once we get to Winterhold?” I finished the rope harness on the familiar.
“Well, you’ve destroyed all of my research, my entire library, and you’re holding on to the little bit of coin I had left. I’ll probably look for a job and head somewhere else.” He struggled to keep his face even. When he put it like that, I had kind of upended his entire life. I reached over to my ruck, and pulled out the coin pouch I’d taken from him. It had a few hundred pieces in it.
“Take it. We’ll split whatever bounty there might be for the troll head, then you can go on your way.” There was a little bit of remorse in my voice. Not much, but some.
“We can talk about that later. If we’re quick, we can reach Winterhold by midday tomorrow.” There wasn’t much else to talk about for the rest of the day, mention of my misdeeds had put a damper on the brief comradery. Jurger was right about the timing though, we made it to the outskirts of Winterhold before the sun reached its zenith the next day.