Chapter 12
Together Again
Vallen led the pack as they rode along the main road bound for Sabline. He traveled with pride in his horses, his family emblem of the blue rose with a sword through it, and with happiness in his heart. The young nobleman enjoyed having friends… well, friends besides Zane. The forest sat to their left and the hills to their right. Sitting atop his pristine white mare, Shield, he trod the path with his head held high. The handsome nobleman looked the part of the vanguard for some mission of import. Shield pranced as if she knew they looked good. Behind him was Reena since she was tethered to him. The girl clung to her slender horse for dear life. Stench sat with her half asleep and half awake, occasionally requiring the girl to catch him and pull him back onto the saddle before he slid off. Next came Tamaran and Farrah riding side by side in conversation much of the way. Bringing up the rear of the procession was Bronwick. The big man on his big horse cut an imposing figure that most would just assume avoid if possible. Like the ever-vigilant mercenary he was, Bronwick kept a close eye on the hills and the trees for signs of danger. They figured he would be the best deterrent to bandits or the like trying to sneak up on them from behind. Like it or not the roads were not always safe even this close to the Manique Estate. This part of Villinsk on the northwestern fringes was scattered with each settlement more or less governing itself. The King ruled the land, but his presence remained near the heart of the country and the larger metropolis. Villinsk was an expansive country. It did not help any that the true King died recently from illness and his son now sat upon the throne, a boy of barely fifteen years. The great nation struggled to recover from the unexpected loss. This area of Villinsk was known as the fringes. The stretches between the villages, towns and cities remained long and wild in this region. Most who populated the area came here to settle for that very reason.
It was midday by the time they decided to stop and water the horses. The clouds kept the sun from wearing them thin and they made good time with the cooling breeze to their faces. The sight of a stream running parallel to the road coaxed them into a welcomed break. It seemed the perfect stopping point and they wouldn’t even have to stray far from the path. The horses had begun to build hints of a lather and were ready for the rest. Vallen made it his duty to water all the horses and make sure they were fed. His mother always loved horses and every time he tended them, he thought of her. This would be his tiny tribute to the woman. He seemed focused on taking care of this procession to the best of his ability. In his mind, this was his offer to take them and his duty to protect them. He needed to do the Manique name justice with his actions. His father would expect nothing less. He made sure the emblem of their house, the sword through the blue rose, remained prominently displayed. That was his small offering in the effort of furthering their presence among their protectorate lands.
Reena hopped down and crumbled to the ground. Her backside was numb, and her legs ached. Riding was not as easy as it looked. She was certain her entire body would hurt for a week after this experience. She fell to rest lying on the grass next to her horse and was happy to be there, still. Stench jumped to land on her back, using the girl as a cushion for his fall, and then headed to the stream for a drink. She reached out to trip him, but he deftly avoided her grasp. Bronwick took the chance to stretch his legs and get in some practice swings with his beloved sword. Maggie needed some loving. The barbarian rarely went so long without training. Rest made you weak, or so his mother often said. He spotted the young girl sprawled in the grass and approached with concern.
“Why are you sleeping? I thought we only stopped for a quick break. Are you well?”
Reena gazed up at him and rolled her eyes. “I just thought this looked like sleeping grass,” she replied sarcastically.
Bronwick seemed confused and then a little concerned. “What is sleeping grass?” He took a step back, making sure his toes were not in the lush carpet of greenery. “That looks just as any other grass…”
Realizing she could not tease the simple man like that she explained in an agitated voice. “That was a joke. I’m tired, that’s why I’m laying down. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a terrible rider. I can’t imagine if anything were to happen while we’re riding. It’s taking everything I have to just stay on that damn horse! If I tried to raise my knife I’d surely fall off and be left in the dust for the coyotes.”
Bronwick grinned. “You don’t have to worry about fighting. I’m here to protect you.” The big man flashed his tusks and lifted his huge sword for her to see. “Maggie will keep you both safe. And I wouldn’t leave you behind in the dust for the coyotes.” The girl rolled her eyes but nodded appreciatively. She desperately wanted a minute of relaxation and quiet. It did not seem as though the half-orc would give her that time.
Tamaran took the opportunity to crawl across the stream and locate a good spot for stretching and meditation. It had become a regular practice over the last couple of years, but he found little opportunity here in these new lands. He feared all this laxness might hinder his growth towards his goals. How could he ever become a proper Psi-Knight if he neglected his meditations? He wandered along as he sought the perfect location for meditation. He had ignored that piece of his training for far too long. The gurgle of the stream under the cloud-filled sky with the soft breeze on his face felt like a good place to rekindle his meditative spirit. After having hours on end in conversation with the beautiful healer, he was feeling revived. He skipped from rock to rock while taking in the natural sights. The hills and trees rolled gently down to form the bank at the water’s edge. The entire location was quite picturesque. He loved beautiful scenery. These were the sights he longed for when originally coming to this new land. Everything looked so different from the desert lands. His homeland held incredible natural beauty, but this was new. He continued to walk and search and take in the sights.
Farrah remained full of energy and moved to check on Reena after she assisted with feeding the horses. She gave the girl an herb to chew that would help with her soreness. All in all, everyone used the time wisely. Vallen could not help but sit back looking at his new friends in admiration. They had been through so much in these last days yet here they were, on the road, as if nothing had happened. He was thankful to be part of this and glad he made the offer, even if it was one of his least thought-out events in life. That only helped to make the point that sometimes one needed to fly by the seat of their pants and do what felt right in the moment. That was not something he did very often. Zane encouraged him to do that, and it appeared the man was right. Perhaps he should try to do such things more frequently. He could just hear his friend’s voice now. It was one of those moments Zane liked to call “idiot moments”. Vallen suddenly missed his best friend. They had spent more time apart in these last few days than in the last few years combined. It was strange not having his scruffy face around with some crude or derogatory comment at the ready. He wondered what Zane was doing right now.
Eventually, they all gathered for a quick meal before hitting the trail again. Farrah prepared a simple combination of their packed food plus some herbs she gathered from the immediate area. Somehow the woman managed to make travel rations taste good. A meal of dried rations and fresh stream water was just what they needed to recharge before another long ride. The only one missing was Tamaran.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tamaran sat on a flat patch of stone covered in bright green moss. It hung precariously out over the stream offering him the best place to sit with his legs folded while meditating. The soft gurgle of the water relaxed him. He could scarcely imagine a better spot to rekindle his meditative trances. This spot was perfect! Meditation was when one expanded their minds and extended their energy to feel the world around them. It was also the time when the mind turned inward to search one’s feelings. His teachers at the school impressed that point upon him. Meditation is where the mind grows both inward and outward, they would say. Unfortunately, Tamaran never had an easy time with meditation. His thoughts resisted going inward and flailed outward. Since meditation remained the core of the Idosian teachings, he forced himself to try harder. There was no good reason for his struggle. He just did not meditate easily. When he tried, more often than not he would end up running away with some daydream instead of clearing his mind as was intended. This time he would make it work. He headed for Sabline and the new school. Having his techniques under control seemed important. What would he do if they turned him away? He sat with his eyes closed and his body in a state of pure relaxation. He needed to guide his mind to the same state. How could he put aside thoughts of those that might be following him, his missing father and uncle, the loss of his school, or even the terrible beast from the forest and the death it brought? Suddenly, Farrah popped into his mind’s eye. The beautiful young woman with her thick golden locks, reflective golden eyes and that perfect smile soothed him instantly. She was his muse, his focal point. Her pleasant laughter and smooth golden tan skin filled his thoughts. The sounds of the gurgling stream helped to further put his thoughts at ease. From there his mind calmed and expanded with meditative relaxation.
Tamaran began to feel that familiar tickle of energy running from his head down his spine. This time instead of flowing out to his fingertips as it normally did, it flowed into his heart. The strange sensation was not unpleasant. Images began to flash through his mind. He saw random people. They meandered about a village setting. He then saw men and women in thick hooded robes of gray. There were dozens of them, and they all wore amulets around their necks. The amulets held a strange triangular symbol he could barely make out. The people gathered in a circle about what must have been a village. They all lit candles and chanted. He could not quite hear the words, but he could feel something growing, power of some sort. Blue smoke filled his vision. Something was off. His strange vision began to feel wrong, dangerous, dark. Then he saw a pair of large red eyes, like those of the beast only much, much larger. Darker, blood-red veins covered those eyes like the roots of a tree eventually fading to black at the edges of the large round spheres. They were watching him, peering into his soul. Tamaran realized it was more than one set. Were there three eyes or five or something else altogether? It was hard to tell as they shifted about the darkness. He heard words whispered into his mind. “I want you. You are mine.” He saw another image. More of the robed figures stood on this very rock overlooking the stream. They carried shackles and chains and were searching for something… the young? A massive man with wild brown hair and beard to match, a barbaric presence, led them. The word death jumped to the forefront. His visions ended abruptly with monstrous screams ringing in his mind.
Tamaran woke from his trance in a sweat. His eyes flashed open, and he jerked with a start. The cool breeze on his face felt good, but his heart was racing. He felt a spark and his fingertips flashed with violet light. What was that about? His gifts did not manifest in any outward way besides his shift in eye color. This was something new, only it frightened him. His body felt jumpy and flush, energetic and anxious. What did it all mean? He stood and shook the pins and needles feeling from his hands. He leaned down and washed his face in the stream. Those visions were both surreal and too real. The cool water felt incredible on his flushed cheeks. He spotted something caught on a branch at the water’s edge. Stretching to reach it he retrieved some sort of amulet. It was the same amulet the figures wore in his visions. The triangular shape held swirling designs within its sharp borders like spikes or thorns. Some of those designs looked like runes but he could not be certain. The amulet was attached to a broken chain. It looked as if something stained it. How did this get here? Was that blood on the chain? A reflection in the water of a dark shape moving behind him caught his attention. Without thinking, he rolled aside. A large, clawed, green hand slammed into the rock next to him. The force and power behind that blow shook the rock and the long claws left a mark.
Tamaran rolled back to his feet and drew his scimitar. He bounced from foot to foot with weapon in hand edging away from the water. Before him stood a creature he almost recognized. Roughly nine feet tall with wart-covered green skin and black eyes, this creature promised death with its glare and jagged teeth. It looked like the sand trolls of the desert only it was green instead of white and slightly smaller, wirier. The large creature moved like an animal but stood on two legs like a man. No, not a man, this was more like an ogre or a great ape. He was still in that meditative state of mind and his gifts were overactive. Without trying, he reached out with his senses to read the creature. That was a mistake. It was filled with hunger and dark thoughts on how to kill and eat him. There was anger about its young being taken. It also had thoughts about its pack. Tamaran suddenly knew without a doubt there were more nearby.
It leapt at him, intending to tackle him to the ground and shred him with its nasty claws and teeth. In his mind, he saw the move coming. Tamaran dodged the clumsy attack and kicked it in the rump causing the troll to tumble headlong into the stream with a loud shriek. Knowing this would likely turn against him quickly he raced along the shore of the water calling for the others. The troll recovered and lumbered growling after him. It paused to shake away the water like a dog. He had a lead, but the troll was faster. He heard other growls and watched in horror as two more of the creatures crawled from a dark hole of a cavern in the hill face. A pair of large bushes concealed the entrance from the casual observer. Leave it to him to meditate in front of a troll’s den. The two newcomers were in front of him, blocking his retreat. The second troll to crawl from the cave howled something in their guttural language. Tamaran could hear more grunts and hoots from inside the den. This was about to get very ugly. He raised his scimitar at the pair, but they only laughed at him. He turned and ran straight for the stream. It was wider at this point than where he originally crossed. He estimated he would land somewhere in the middle, but he was a strong swimmer. It was his best option. Tamaran prayed the water would slow them enough for him to escape. He felt his body tingling as he raced towards the creek. Fear spurred his steps. The trolls closed in from both directions. With a mighty leap, Tamaran landed on the bank on the opposite side of the stream. He did not pause to debate how he managed the long jump. It was too far. Adrenalin must have taken hold. The splashing sounds of trolls entering the water behind him carried him on to a dead run for the others. Luckily the current was strong here and they had to fight against it to cross. He needed help. Tamaran began to realize he had wandered much farther away than he intended. He cursed his tendency to daydream. The road was no longer in sight. He spotted movement ahead in the distance. A large man raced in his direction waving a massive sword and followed closely by others. Bronwick had never looked so good to him.
“Over here!” he shouted desperately. He could hear the trolls behind him gaining ground. More howls sounded in the distance, echoing off the hills.
* * * * * * * * * *
They were busy arranging a simple lunch break by the stream. Bronwick leaned down to collect water in his water skin when he heard the first faint shout for help. The big man’s ears perked up and he reached for his huge sword.
“Did anyone else hear that?” The half-orc turned to his companions. His gray eyes grew hard, determined.
“Yell for help? Yep, yep!” Stench grinned up at him and then returned to his meal as if nothing happened. The gremlin’s big ears adjusted, and he added, “Sounds like desert man.”
Reena smacked the tiny gremlin in the head knocking the food from his mouth and glared. “If you hear someone calling for help, tell us you turd! We must go to him. That means Tamaran is in trouble!” The young girl brandished her knife and searched for the quickest route to reach the growing cries. Stench shrugged and fell into step behind her. He still wanted to eat.
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Loud growls and hoots sounded in the distance. That did not belong to any common animals. Vallen and Farrah exchanged glances and broke into a run towards the commotion. This could not be good. The woman began to take the lead in her sprint but out of nowhere Bronwick sailed between them, knocking them both aside. The man was grunting and held that crazed look in his eyes as he barreled through the trees mirroring the stream and into the lightly wooded area with his sword, Maggie, raised high in reckless abandon. The grunting man bounded forward like a bull on the charge. His long, powerful legs thrust him forward rapidly. Bronwick crested the rise and spotted Tamaran running towards him shouting for help. But his eyes shot past the fleeing man and locked onto his targets. The enraged barbarian was in battle mode. Three large trolls lumbered after the slender man. The creatures were in their own wild rage. The trolls were fully committed to the excitement of the hunt. They gained ground on the desert lander fast. They moved like ravenous dogs shifting from running on two legs to all fours on hands and feet. Their long arms reached the ground easily enough. Wicked grins plastered to their green faces.
Realizing he could not outrun them, Tamaran threw his back to a tree and turned to face his pursuers. His scimitar leapt from hand to hand, and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Come for me if you dare!” He challenged them though he prayed they wouldn’t take him up on the bluff.
In a flash the lumbering beasts were upon him. The nearest troll lashed out with a claw and Tamaran dodged aside to slash it with his sword drawing forth its dark blood. The creature grunted and pulled back a step while its companions drew up at its sides. The wound sealed before his eyes as if it were never there. These things were like the sand trolls of his homeland. They regenerated quickly. That made them very difficult to kill. Knowing for certain he could not challenge them alone; Tamaran focused his efforts on fighting defensively until his allies arrived. Keeping the tree at his back, he used his sword to deflect the next claw swipe and dodged the following two swipes. The next one caught him in the arm and tore a nasty gash, ripping his shirt in the process. He grimaced against the pain but continued to dodge and parry the flurry of attacks. He cut twice more with his blade, but those wounds were already sealing closed again. His efforts proved a losing battle. The beasts worked together, timing their attacks. Trolls were not so smart, but they were cunning predators. Another targeted slap from the first troll took his legs from beneath him. Down he went. Tamaran landed hard on his side. Like a pack of rabid dogs, the trolls dove for the kill. One grabbed his ankles and drug him closer. It just might have saved his life as it pulled him clear of another’s hungry bites. Tamaran flailed wildly trying to find a grip on anything. He heard a deep grunt followed by another and blood sprayed across his face. He knew he was dead. Then he realized that blood was not his. Bronwick stood toe to toe with the trolls, swinging his massive sword in a full spin. A pair of them faced off against the barbarian. He clipped the arm from one creature in his battle rage. Having seen it before changed nothing. The sight of the barbarian in his element was awe-inspiring. That troll stumbled away with a howl to grab his twitching arm from the ground nearby. The limb began to slowly reattach when he pressed the bloody ends together. The original troll raced away from the battle with Tamaran in tow. It held one of his ankles and dragged him along as it fled.
The third troll tackled Bronwick and both hit the ground in a roll. Bronwick was a huge man, but the troll stood easily a head and half taller than him and outweighed him by hundreds of pounds. They traded claws, bites and punches. Bronwick bit the troll back, tearing chunks of flesh away with his tusks then spitting them out. The creature tasted foul. The troll wrestling with Bronwick had the advantage. Between its claws, strength, sheer size and regenerative ability it kept the man off balance. The half-orc could take a beating, though. When the troll took a staff to the face it found its advantage lessened. Farrah smacked it again and again with her staff, poking it with the carved end. She tried to keep at a distance, so it had trouble reaching her without releasing Bronwick. Her tactic was working as it had to divide its attention between them. The woman’s reflexes were good. She avoided its claws as she continued to poke it in the face tauntingly. She really had no idea what she was doing. This felt like madness. Combat was not her forte, she was a healer. Farrah continued to beat the troll in the face to keep it from shredding Bronwick.
Tamaran bounced along the ground desperately trying to grab anything to slow their pace. Kicking at its hand had little effect. He sat up and lashed again with his sword, slicing the troll’s forearm as it dragged him behind it. He was amazed he managed to keep hold of the weapon in the chaos. That seemed to get its attention. The troll decided it was far enough away from the others now to begin its gory feast. It did not want to share its succulent prize. This was the original troll he encountered at the stream. It already claimed him as its meal. On closer inspection, this one was female. That was not good news. If these green trolls were anything like white desert trolls the females were the larger, dominant members of the species. She lifted and then slammed him into the ground, knocking his breath away. The troll raised her long arms high and howled in triumph. Three arrows thudded into her chest staggering her back a step. She howled again with rage.
“Release him at once you foul beast!” Vallen stood about twenty paces away with his bow in hand. He was already knocking another arrow as he spoke. He panted from the run.
Tamaran lay there with his vision swimming, gasping for breath. He wasn’t going anywhere. The troll switched its focus to the new threat. She ripped two of the arrows from her body, tossing them away as she charged for the ranger. Vallen could not help but notice those arrow holes closing mid stride. He knew of trolls and had spotted their tracks in the area before, but he had no firsthand experience with them. He did know that these creatures were nothing to take lightly. Trolls were known as one of the biggest threats of the wilds in this area. They sat at the pinnacle of the food chain. Seeing one up close solidified that concept. The nobleman thought he’d rather encounter a grizzly. He planted another series of arrows in her body in rapid succession. Vallen spaced out his aim, placing one in a leg, another in her arm and a third in her gut. The man hoped to slow her down at the least. He was a master archer but had to discard the bow in favor of his sword when the troll drew near. Nothing seemed to slow her. Good thing he was a master swordsman, too.
“I am Vallen Manique. I have trained under the finest swordsmen in the land. You will find no easy meal here on this day. Come and test my mettle, beast!”
The handsome man locked gazes with the troll and they began circling one another in that dance of death, searching for the first opening to strike. She towered over him by almost three feet. This matron troll was huge, nearly ten feet tall with solid corded muscles.
Across the battlefield Bronwick planted a boot against the troll’s gut and kicked it off him. Being able to lift and shove the large beast from his body was testament to the big man’s raw strength. It tumbled aside, raking him with its claws as it did. The big man then rolled away to regain his footing. Many claw marks and a few bites covered his chest, neck, arms and legs. He bled profusely but hardly seemed to notice his injuries as he grabbed his sword and charged back into the fray with a loud grunt, his gray eyes wild with rage.
While Bronwick got back on his feet, the troll went for the weaker target. Farrah backed away with her staff before her. She was beginning to rethink the many jabs to its face. It looked furious. She screamed and turned to flee. The troll leapt for her. It planned to tackle her to the ground just as it had the barbarian. The woman would not survive such an assault. As Farrah turned away, she accidentally dropped her staff. The stick spun in place before leaning backwards. The troll soared through the air at the screaming woman with her back to him. As the large beast descended on her, she slipped on loose leaves and staggered forward. That stagger caused her head to dip at just the right moment so that its claw swiped above her, missing her completely. The tips of her golden tresses slid between its fingers. The creature’s body landed on top of the spinning staff. This staff was carved of magnon wood, one of the strongest in the realms. The weight of the troll caused the sturdy staff to act like a dull spear, its carved head punching a hole through the beast’s chest exiting the other side through its back. Dark blood sprayed into the air. It landed howling in pain, impaled on Farrah’s staff. The wound could not heal with the weapon embedded. As the troll struggled to pull itself from the staff, Farrah raced away and Bronwick pounced, hacking both arms and then its head off in three neat swipes. Seeing it down and twitching in several pieces, Farrah returned to claim her weapon. She had to wrench it free of the thrashing body. Why wouldn’t it die? Bronwick shouted for her to burn it and then ran to engage the other troll as its arm was just about fully reattached. Coming from the wildlands, the half-orc had met these things before. Trolls were a natural enemy of the Boar Clan. He knew fire was their weakness and they could not be left alone for long, or all damage would be erased. Trolls were worthy opponents, respected by his mother and father.
Tamaran slowly regained his wits and staggered to a stance. His wounds hurt but were mostly superficial. He watched as Vallen spun and hacked, sliced and jabbed with his sword in an impressive display of skill. The nobleman was not simply boasting. He truly was a master swordsman. The she-troll had trouble getting a grip on the man. He was too quick. In a desperate grab, the troll caught one of Vallen’s arms and the fight shifted instantly. His agility was his advantage. The troll was much bigger and much stronger. It pulled him from his feet and dragged him close to bite his shoulder. Vallen cried out in pain, punching her face with the pummel of his sword. Tamaran had no more time to recover. He could see the others involved in their own struggles in the distance. He swung his scimitar into the troll’s back, slashing a dark red line. The troll dropped Vallen and spun to deliver a backhanded swipe that caught Tamaran under the chin and hurled him backwards from his feet. The ground rose to meet him with a heavy impact. Blood flowed from his nose and filled his mouth. These things were strong! As Tamaran shook away the stars from his vision, he could hear the growls and howls of more trolls coming from the direction of the stream. Others were on their way and would arrive soon. There were many more trolls coming by the sounds of it. He recalled that knowledge leaping to his mind’s eye.
“More coming!” he shouted. He immediately regretted that. It hurt to shout. He clutched his jaw in pain.
The troll returned its focus to Vallen as Tamaran could barely move and was no threat. That meal would keep. “You is mine for eat!” she growled at the nobleman. The use of the common tongue surprised Vallen and Tamaran both. Most trolls only spoke their native tongue, a grunting language used among the more savage creatures. Her beady eyes brightened, and her mouth spread into an evil grin. She did that on purpose.
A wicked howl sounded from the decapitated troll as Farrah lit it with flint and steel on a dry leaf setting a spark to the creature’s severed head. The flames took to its flesh like dry parchment. It burned away quickly. The regeneration process ended abruptly, and its wriggling body parts stopped trying to crawl back together. That troll was dead. The woman surveyed the battlefield to see where she might be of best use. Combat was not her specialty. She had no wish to try fighting one of these things again. She got lucky last time. Seeing Tamaran down she raced to his side. Her skills as a healer were much more reliable. She immediately began helping him back to his feet while checking his wounds. Vallen fought valiantly nearby. He was hurt but holding his ground. His troll had lost a few fingers to the fight. Those clawed digits wormed around on the ground, trying to crawl back to the main body to reattach.
Bronwick faced off against his second troll. The large barbarian grunted and hacked a leg from beneath the beast. His massive blade cut the leg clean off at the calf causing it to tumble over backwards and slam its head against a tree trunk. It lay there in a daze. It was an odd feeling as its severed leg kicked a few paces away. From behind the tree leapt Reena from one side and Stench from the other. They worked in tandem. Reena drove her knife into its right eye and Stench bit its left eye. They both sprang away after striking. The troll howled and flailed blindly. Bronwick grinned and took the advantage without hesitation. Maggie fell to cleave its head from its shoulders.
“Burn it!” he growled as he charged to help Vallen next.
Reena and Stench used the flames from the other troll to light a big leaf and set the new troll’s head alight. Its empty eye sockets opened wide when it heard and smelled the fire coming its way. It tried to blow out the leaf and then shrieked as the fire touched its skin and spread instantly.
“That’s what you get when you challenge the wrong people you big green bastard,” the girl spat as she torched him and kicked the burning head towards the rest of its body. The flaming ball rolled into the body and soon it was burning as well. “Two down,” she grinned innocently. “Fighting is fun!”
“Yep, yep!” Stench added as he did a little dance and stuck out his tongue at the screaming troll head. The gremlin’s eyes grew huge. He grabbed Reena’s leg pointing towards the others. “Look, no good! Nope, nope! We run?”
When the girl gazed that way, she screamed. “Ummm… we might want to leave now.” No one noticed her warning, so she ran closer. “I said, we might want to leave now! Look over there!” She shouted this time and both Farrah and Tamaran looked where she pointed. Tamaran gasped and Farrah yelped.
“Reena might be right, gentlemen,” Tamaran addressed Vallen and Bronwick. Farrah was already helping the violet-eyed man retreat. He needed support to walk.
The nobleman and the barbarian had just skewered the matron troll from both sides with their blades. She dropped to the ground from the sheer number of injuries, but her wounds were already knitting together. She would be back in the fight shortly. Reena came running to join them with a burning leaf and tossed it to the she-troll’s body. The matron went up in a whoosh of flames and howls. Stench raced along behind her. From the direction of the stream came at least seven more trolls. Their hoots and growls echoed across the clearing. One bigger troll seemed to be leading the advance and was almost to them.
Vallen sighed heavily. “I’m not sure we can take that many…” He paused to check the injury on his shoulder. It looked bad and it hurt something fierce. He prayed there was no additional infection.
“I’m pretty sure you can’t, fancy training or not,” Reena grumbled. “Let’s run!”
“Maybe it is best we get back to the horses and leave this place,” Tamaran added as he backed away with Farrah’s arm around his waist for support.
“I agree. We have a lot of injuries to tend already.” Farrah chimed in nervously.
Bronwick grunted and raised his sword high. “I say we cleave them into pieces and burn their bones to ash! All of them!”
“We don’t have time to… Too much talking,” Tamaran winced as the leading troll reached them.
It howled with excitement at the sight of the party. There were so many tender morsels just waiting to be eaten. As it lunged forward a hawk swooped in and gouged its eyes. The bird plucked them both from its skull. The bird then flew to land in a nearby tree as the troll flailed about blindly. It would need a minute for those to grow back. The other trolls were still racing towards them. Most of the party were surprised by the bird attack. Did all animals hate these things, too? Bronwick stepped up and cut the troll’s legs off at the knees, dumping it to the ground. That tactic seemed to work well on these. Without delay, Stench grabbed a leaf to transfer the fire from the burning she-troll to the new arrival. He liked this game of burn-a-troll. It went up in a shriek as the fire consumed it. The burning troll still flailed about wildly but without legs or eyes it had no clear targets and posed no threat. It died quickly.
Tamaran, Vallen and Farrah pulled back, but Bronwick looked as if he might charge the troll pack. His eyes held that battle madness. Maggie rested easily in his hands, dripping with gore. Reena moved to the big man to calm him.
“Bronwick, you said you’d protect me. Well, I’m going to run and if you stay you can’t protect me, right?” The girl offered up one of her practiced innocent looks.
Bronwick seemed to be mulling this logic over when the trees, grass, and bushes all came alive around the approaching trolls. The plants began to twist and grab like a thousand hands entwining about the beasts and slowing if not stopping them completely. Everyone watched in shocked amazement at the incredible sight. The forest came alive. It proved both mesmerizing and horrifying.
“Are we going to stand around gawking until they break free, or are we going to use this time I bought us to escape?” A cheerful voice asked the question.
Vallen spun to see Daffonil. The elf sat astride a large elk of some sort with peaches in her arm. The skunk huffed irritably. The elf waved at the nobleman with a bright smile. It took a second for the others to process the unexpected image.
“My prayers will only hold them so long,” she giggled. She then looked to the hawk and thanked him for guiding her here. Arthell took to the air and soared away with a screech.
“You heard the elf, people. Get your asses moving before we all become troll food!” Reena scooped up Stench and raced for the horses. She knew she’d need extra time to get on the damn thing.
The entire group, including Bronwick, ran for their steeds. The harrowing sight of the woods coming alive to grapple the trolls deterred the barbarian’s eagerness to charge after them. Daffonil paused to whisper a prayer before following.
Her eyes closed tightly, and her fist rested on her chest then rose into the air where she spread her fingers skyward. “By the blessing of the sky may we quell the angry flames.” A small raincloud formed. It hovered over the burning troll’s remains, extinguishing the flames. It slowly drifted to each of the other open flames, gently putting them out before they found a chance to spread unchecked in the wilderness. She added a prayer to return the dead trolls to the flow.
Daffonil guided her elk after the others, bringing up the rear. She could see the trolls were already tearing free of her entanglement magic. The creatures were strong. It was past time to depart. Her steed moved swiftly, bouncing after her allies and she was ready and waiting on them as they collected their things and mounted for the ride. In a matter of moments, the party pulled away to continue down the road with the new addition of Daffonil on her elk at Vallen’s side. They left the howls and hoots behind to fade in the distance. The nobleman was very happy to see the elf again so soon. He planned to seek her out after guiding the others to the city, but this was even better. She came to him. Daffonil was likewise happy to see them all, especially Vallen. She had much to share with her friends and they all had much to discuss after recent revelations.