Only partly due to his condition, they had to stop frequently for breaks. The three maidens simply had more stamina than Abe did even though they were carrying much more. During these rest periods, there were opportunities to discuss things, although some topics were more sensitive than others.

Aril gave him a short summary of the various demi-humans that populated the land. To his ears, they resembled ones he had heard before, though once again with some variations. They called the demi-human races the “Fay” or something with that pronunciation. Apparently this word crossed into more than one language although the accents were different. The people he considered elves were called the “Shay” which matched up with his recollections of similar bestiaries of the fantastic. And the trolls were also known as the lesser Shay, for they are all related despite the range of appearance, although Aril’s people called them Hobs. Humans could interbreed with them, but men were not considered native to this land but interlopers. In the Confederation of Akkan, from which the maidens hailed, they worshiped the Fay as elder gods, and gave sacrifices to them although few remained in their lands. The marriage pilgrimage was a tradition going back into antiquity, as the totem of their particular people was the Troll King. An effigy of the personage was apparently kept in the home of most of the Akkan people.

Abe rested on a rock, legs aching, as Aril imparted this information to him.

“Where I am from, they are but creatures of myth, usually told to children in tales. We also no longer sacrifice people to the gods. It’s considered somewhat backward at least, and an actual crime by most.”

Mariken had been listening. She cut into the conversation, “That makes no sense. How do the people treat with their gods? Do they not grow angry and not share their favor of rain and good crops? Or have the gods grown so weak, being abandoned? In which case, are those people not lost to wander alone without guidance or mercy? If so, the danger our elders have warned about is indeed real, the people of this world are doomed, as man has emboldened himself to the detriment of all. It is good we are on this journey, as the power of the Troll King has waned. We must replenish him.”

“Obviously, monotheism hasn’t taken root in these lands. I’m not Moses, and I’m tired so you’ll have to ask someone else to bring the tablets down from the mountain,” Abe said obliquely.

Mariken pressed, “What is this monotheism?”

Abe hesitated, not wanting to muddy the waters further, but he always had a loose tongue. He explained, “It is the belief that there is only one, higher, god amongst all gods. Usually a male one, though I am not sure why, honestly. I skipped sociology class.”

Karil blurted, “But that sounds like the Black Lord, or at least that is what his followers say.”

Mariken paled, “Do not speak of that!” Aril had a pained look on her face as well. Karil blithely continued, “But it sounds like what they say about…him, that he is their one and only king, and that all others are false.”

Mariken shouted, “Quiet!” She looked around, as if the mere mention of this personage was enough to summon him, like some kind of demon.

Abe realized that he was not going to overcome their ingrained superstition, so he did not press the matter. They continued on, however, it was clear that he had no idea where to go. He pretended that their current direction was the correct one. Either way, he wished he’d picked a downward sloping path, but it was too late to turn back now. Afraid that they would call him out, he kept up the ruse, wondering what story he’d make up once it was obvious that he had led them astray.

Aril sidled up to him as the other two went up ahead in the direction he had pointed. She whispered, “I will tell you more of the demon emperor. Mariken is more fearful than I.” Her tone was firm, but cautious, as if she too worried that even discussing the matter cast an ill spell. She said, quickly and softly as she could, “There was once a kingdom called Artemisia, ruled by their female matriarchs for thousands of years. It lies far to the west of here on another continent, but it was conquered by a vicious warlord not long ago. He killed the matriarchs and put their heads on pikes to adorn the walls of his palace. I don’t know much else, but stories. His evil has spurred the movement of many men, many of whom have come to our shores to make their fortunes. It is said that the influence of his supporters are behind the troubles that have increased in our lands.”

“Sounds familiar enough,” Abe whistled. “So he’s purging the Fay?”

She shook her head, “No, the ones in his land have joined him. They consider him their new ruler, the one that was promised to take over the whole world. His followers believe that he is destined to rule both man and Fay, and any who stand in his way will be crushed. The men on this continent fear him, but hate the Fay more for now. The conflict here has gone on for much longer than the demon Lord has ruled, but his reign of terror only has made things worse. There have been rumors of war, and our kingdom, Akkan, is too weak to stand in opposition to any of them. Some wish to band together, while others use the opportunity to make their own gains here.”

When Mariken looked back suspiciously, Aril stepped away, trying to look innocent. Abe would have to leave his questions for later. He was curious about this Black Lord. Perhaps he was another man like himself? He grumbled, “This guy sounds like he’s not one for sharing the title of a chosen one.” It may have been unhealthily foolish to brag about possibly being a lord himself, even if he had been doing so in jest, to the wrong people.

They stopped for a quick meal. Mariken noted, “These are the last of the cakes. Hopefully, we will reach the home of the Hob King soon.” Abe didn’t remark that the area seemed trackless. He remembered the desperate flight and the hunger since they had been much less prepared than the traveling maidens. The cakes were robust and quite filling. They were more like dry cornbread mixed with a protein bar.

After washing down some of the crumbly cake with water, he asked, “How long have you been traveling again? Must have been a tough road.”

Mariken answered, “It’s been more than thirty days since we left our home. We resupplied at a lodge a few days ago, and we have been trapping game. It is much harder at home. There is much hunger there.”

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Karil wiped her eyes, sniffling. Aril put her arm around her sister. Abe realized they probably felt guilty, for they had been well fed on the journey while their relatives may have been starving. They weren’t the types to complain about their circumstance. Still, they were essentially religious fanatics from his perspective. If this Troll King had been a dragon, would they have as happily thrown themselves into its maw? Was it that far removed from praying to a sky fairy?

Abe looked at his hands, wishing he had some greater power. He wondered about what he was trying to achieve. So far, he had just been living day by day, pretending to be something he knew he was not. He was about to confess that he was merely a pretender when Abe noticed something.

He stood up and walked to the stone marker. It was worn and inscribed with some ancient lettering but it was clearly pointing out a trail head, ancient and weathered but still clearly visible through the underbrush. Dumbly, he said, “I think this is the way we should be going. We picked a perfect spot to take our break.”

The women gathered up their belongings, hopeful, but also full of trepidation about the end of their journey.

Before stepping onto the trail, he asked, “So, what exactly happens when you meet your king?

Karil replied quickly, as if reciting an old story, “Why, we hold court with the Fae, in the great hidden palace, and feast on magical delights as we attend to our lord, the great King who will shower us with his affections once we are wed, and the guests will bring fabulous gifts, too many to recount. I’m sure you don’t want the details of how the wedding will be consummated, but I hear the endowment of the King is held in great regard.”

“Okay, I don’t need to hear that, you are right,” Abe laughed at the whimsy of the fable. He just hoped it wasn’t describing the afterlife. His hopes were partially dashed when Karil added, “Oh, and in the other stories, the Fae court feeds on the brides after the consummation, but one will always be spared to bear progeny.”

Aril joked, “It definitely won’t be you, Karil. You’re too plump and tender.”

Abe almost stopped, but for some reason his feet kept moving on the trail despite the feeling of horror seeping up into his gut. It was as if something ahead was magnetically pulling him, and the three young women, toward some lair. Perhaps, like life itself, he thought, we must toil our way to our own eventual doom.

It was a steep trail with many, many switchbacks. If it had been hard before, the trek was even more arduous as they rapidly climbed in elevation. Once again, Abe saw that they had left the tree-line below them. Abe stopped, panting, in order to catch his breath.

Aril offered to carry him, half-jokingly.

Abe gulped down more water, hoping they had enough to last until they found another spring. He wondered where the trolls he had seen had gone. The trail looked barely touched in an age. Surely, they had not come this way. It was the only clear route left, so he’d have to follow it to wherever it led.

They stopped to make camp for the night in a crook in the mountain. There were only a few thin plants and the air was much cooler, frost was on some of the rocks, and Abe could see that there was snow on the crags not too far above them. Supper was a cold meal, as they did not have enough fuel to last the night while the moss scraped from the rocks made for a poor fire. The maidens didn’t seem worried, and Abe saw why when Mariken took out a little stove. He didn’t know what type of oil it ran on but it provided some heat and light as they huddled against the rapidly declining temperature. Aril warmed up some cubes of broth with a small metal pan on the stove, and they shared a warming drink before settling in to sleep. Once again, Abe found himself in a cozy nest.

He said, “I really could make this a habit.” If they felt any impropriety with him, they did not show it. The people of this world were far too practical for such worries. He also realized that their implicit trust in him motivated him to not despoil their current comradery. He dreamt of Piro again, remembering the look in her eyes when he had put his hands on her. She had accepted him readily then, but he had wondered what it had meant in this strange place, and if it would mean anything more in the future. He shook his head, half-wakening, driving the doubt from his mind. What did it matter?

If the night wind answered, it did not speak to him

Abe’s aches didn’t improve the next morning. Blearily, he stepped back on the trail without any enthusiasm. He said, “Every day is leg day, now.”

The trail ended abruptly on a narrow flat space above the snow line. The last section had been precarious, especially since they did not have the correct winter gear. Going further up without mountaineering equipment was not practical. Abe realized that it seemed to be a dead end. Disappointed, he wearily poked around the flattened area. It was not natural, so there must have been a purpose for the spot. Someone had gone to great effort to carve the ledge out of the mountain, which in his world would have probably meant explosives of some sort. Yet, the far end just stopped into empty space. He peered over the precipice to see that it was a sheer fall to rocks below. His legs trembled from the sudden vertigo.

Mariken furrowed her brow, “Is this the place where you made camp? I see no signs. It looks like it has been abandoned for many years. There are no marks of a fire, or even droppings of any animals or people.”

“Well, our camp was way down there somewhere,” he waved a finger to one of the crags downslope. “But I could have sworn, they came from up here.” His lying was terrible but the Mariken didn’t press him.

She said, “We will burn incense here, perhaps it will call down the Troll King from his abode.” The women began setting up again as Abe scratched his head. He kept looking around for a clue, as they circled a small burner, chanting in their home tongue. It seemed like superstitious claptrap, but he noticed something on the rock face after all.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t require a secret rune to unlock, but I think this is a door,” he announced. Abe wondered if he had just not noticed the seams or if they were new. He pushed the stone door, and it swung open, as if on oiled hinges.

Delighted, the women packed up again. Mariken seemed pleased as she handed him an oil lamp. Inside, away from the wind, she lit the wick for him with a spark tool. He held it up, revealing a passageway that led into the interior of the mountain. As if on cue, the door swung closed by itself. Abe hid his feeling of dread, not wanting to alarm the maidens. Their eyes glinted in the flickering lamp light.

After only a short walk, they found themselves in some kind of antechamber carved out of rock. There were unlit lamps on the walls, and the interior was strewn with what appeared to be ancient junk. None of it gave any clues of anything useful, so they continued on.

Aril said, “There is a light, ahead.”

Nervous, and wishing he had a weapon, Abe pushed forward into the spectral light being given off from the ceiling of the passageway. The next room had signs of habitation, including comfortable looking chairs that almost seemed modern to Abe’s eyes. There was a table, with utensils, and the remains of a dinner, still relatively fresh. Someone was living here.

Out of the shadows, an old troll, wearing tattered robes, with long, grey hair walked out. He said, “Ah, you’ve arrived. Have a seat, I will boil some tea for you.” He leered at the maidens, saying, “And tasty treats too, very nice.” He smacked his lips as if he was happily imagining the moment he sucked the flesh from their bones. Abe tensed, curling a fist. Surely, there was something he could use as a weapon, but the old troll shuffled like someone who could be pushed over by a feather.

Karil asked, meekly, “Are you the Troll King?”

The old man looked surprised, opening his mouth with a gapped tooth grin, “Oh, gods, no. He’s down the hall. Have some tea first. No need to rush, he’s been waiting there quite a while.”

With that the old troll turned away to head to, presumably, the kitchen of the underground haven.