by Aaron Oster
If he’d expected the troll to back away that easily, he’d have been disappointed. Luckily for him, he was counting on the troll pushing back even harder, which he did.
“Why don’t you take a look around?” the troll said with an ugly smile. “Notice how everyone in here is averting their eyes? No one sees anything. Now, you’re going to get up and come with me, or I can leave you here to bleed out. Your choice.”
“Fine,” Morgan said, moving to get up. “I just got these clothes, and I wouldn’t want to ruin them.”
He felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder, and the dagger was jammed harder to his side. Of course, Morgan very much doubted the knife could even break his skin, but he let the troll keep thinking that he was the one in charge.
It was quite a bit darker when the two of them exited the bar, but just as with the trolls inside, the people loitering about in the front made themselves scarce as soon as they left.
The arm on his shoulder pushed him forward, steering him into the alley beside the bar. As the light from the street lanterns receded, Morgan began to feel oddly excited. Here was a chance for him to get information in the way he preferred, and since a bunch of well-known thugs had been seen leading him into this alley, everyone would ignore any screams of pain that might be heard.
“Keep moving,” the troll said, giving him a hard shove as they reached the back of the alley and turned right.
Another building, this one looking far less clean, stood before them. As he was shoved inside, he heard the door close and a lock slide shut.
Even better, Morgan thought, taking stock of the room and its inhabitants.
There were six of them, all big and thuggish, lounging around a table and playing cards, while a seventh moved to guard the door. There didn’t seem to be any escape hatches or even another way out, which was a bit careless on their part. All outlaws needed a back exit, and the fact that these thugs didn’t have one proved that they were as overconfident as they were stupid.
“Whatchya got there?” one of them grunted as Morgan was shoved into the center of the room.
“A sneaky little pipsqueak beastman who’s looking for the Wells of Eternity,” the troll who’d brought him in here said.
The other trolls roared with laughter at that, pounding the table and spilling their beer everywhere. Well, all but one, Morgan noticed. That troll’s eyes narrowed slightly, immediately giving away that he knew something. Still, seeing as Morgan had been invited in and had some frustrations to work out, he may as well have some fun and return the hospitality.
“You looking for the flying trollicorn, too?” one of the trolls asked as they all rose to surround him.
This earned another round of uproarious laughter.
“Yeah. You want to know where the endless well of beer is?” another asked, earning even more laughter.
Another clapped him on the shoulder, and his hand accidentally brushed against the spear he’d been keeping hidden beneath the cloak.
“Ooh, what’s this?” he asked, grabbing the back of his cloak and sweeping it aside.
There was a collective gasp from the group as the dingy room was lit in a soft silvery light as the spear was revealed.
“You really brought us a good one this time!” one of them roared after they’d all been staring for a few silent moments.
“What’s a dingy beastman doing with something like this anyway?” another asked, reaching for the spear.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Morgan said calmly.
“Eh? What’d you say, beastman?”
“Did you not hear me the first time?” Morgan said, half-tuning to glare at the troll from under his hood. “I said, I wouldn’t even think about laying my grubby, disgusting hands on my spear if I were you.”
The troll gawked at him in shock, then his face turned a dark shade of green as an expression of rage overtook him.
“You’ve got some nerve talking to me like that!” the troll roared, reaching down and ripping his hood out of the way.
At the same moment, another troll reached out and grabbed the spear. Of course, she didn’t like that and made her displeasure known by lashing out.
The troll who’d attempted to grab the spear let out a scream of agony as his hand was shredded to bloody chunks. The others all reacted differently. Some staggered back in shock, while others still drew cudgels or knives from their belts. The only one who didn’t was the one directly in front of him, the one who’d removed Morgan’s hood.
“Wait a minute,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You don’t look like any beastman I’ve ever…ack!”
His voice was cut off as Morgan reached out, his fingers curling around the troll’s neck and squeezing down tight.
“Figured me out, have you?” he asked, giving the troll a flat stare.
The troll’s eyes bulged as he squeezed a bit harder, exerting far more pressure than they’d believed possible.
“Let go of Grump, you filthy beastman!” one of the trolls yelled, swinging his cudgel at the back of Morgan’s head.
Morgan didn’t feel the impact, but he did hear the splintering crack as the weapon shattered against his skull. The recoil of that blow sent the troll staggering forward, howling in pain and clutching at his broken wrist.
That was the thing about hitting people that no one ever seemed to get. You might think that since they’re just people, you couldn’t hurt yourself. But what that troll had done was the equivalent of hitting a stone wall with all the force he could muster. Had Morgan been moved by the attack, nothing too serious would have happened. Since the troll had been too weak to budge him, all of the force had been transferred back up to the troll, and now, he was paying for it.
“Do you know anything about any of the three Wells?” Morgan asked, keeping his gaze fixed on the troll whose neck he was squeezing.
The troll’s eyes continued to bug out, growing larger and larger. Morgan kept squeezing.
“What was that?” Morgan asked, turning his head to the side. “I couldn’t hear you.”
The troll obviously couldn’t answer, as Morgan was cutting off his air supply, but he didn’t need a verbal confirmation.
The troll nodded his head quickly, which was exactly what Morgan had predicted would happen. He let go, allowing the troll to fall to the ground, clutching at his throat and coughing loudly. The others, understandably, didn’t move in to do anything.
There was clear confusion written on their faces. After all, how could someone so small cause so much damage without even doing anything?
“Well, I’m waiting,” Morgan said, crossing his arms and staring down at the troll.
The troll glared up at him, then reached down to his waist and pulled a wavy dagger from his belt.
“I’ll kill you!” he yelled, leaping to his feet and lunging with the knife.
Morgan allowed the blade to hit him, the dagger piercing through his shirt and getting stopped by his skin. The force of the momentum continued to drive the troll forward, and Morgan just stepped to the side, allowing the troll to dash past him into another of the gang members. This left no one to guard the door, but Morgan wasn’t going to use the opportunity to leave. He’d just needed to make sure that none of them could escape.
Now that he’d turned around to face them, the other trolls got a good look at him, and without the hood obscuring his features, it was obvious that he was human.
“What’s a human doing here?” asked the troll who’d dragged him in here.
“Well, seeing as you’re the one who brought me here, I’d say I’m here because of you,” Morgan said, happy to get the troll’s friends to be mad at him. “All I need is to have my question answered. Then, I’ll be on my way.”
There was a roar of rage, and the troll who’d shredded his hand on the spear threw himself forward, his only good hand glowing with a sickly green light.
It seemed like they weren’t in a talking mood just yet, but Morgan was going to rectify that s
oon enough.
22
Seeing as he didn’t want to risk discovery, Morgan didn’t dare use any skills of his own. What people often forgot was that he’d trained for nearly his entire life in unarmed combat, and he was one of the most accomplished fighters in the Five Kingdoms — even without his skills.
Knowing that it was likely to get torn, Morgan threw his cloak to the side, then met the charging troll head-on. The troll swung for his head, the glowing fist giving off an ominous, sickly feeling as it approached, but he was hardly afraid of a skill that weak.
His hand flashed out, connecting with the troll’s wrist and knocking it off-course. Having completely missed his target, the troll staggered forward, and Morgan drove his knee into the taller man’s groin, dropping him in an instant. The troll howled in pain, clutching at his crotch and rolling on the ground as Morgan looked between the remaining trolls.
“All I want to know is where I might find the next Well. All you have to do is tell me, and I’ll leave.”
The trolls, of course, didn’t listen. Though Morgan took note that the one he’d spotted before, the one who’d reacted differently than the rest, had begun backing toward the far corner. It was clear that he was trying to work his way around to the exit, and Morgan was more than happy to allow him to try.
Two more trolls rushed in, both of their fists giving off the same, sickly green energy, which struck him as being quite odd. While there were many similar abilities, there were none that were exactly alike, at least as far as he knew. Yet here were a whole bunch of trolls, all exhibiting the same skills.
Morgan ducked under a punch, then swiveled his hips to the side and avoided another dagger. His left hand crashed into the jaw of the first, shattering the bone and knocking him out cold. At the same time, Morgan snagged the wrist of the second, standing and twisting viciously. The bones in his hand and wrist snapped with several sharp cracks, leaving the troll howling in pain as the dagger clattered to the ground.
Thus far, Morgan had avoided killing any of them, only inflicting painful injuries – just in case they knew anything — but as soon as he got the information he needed, he knew his blows would need to turn more lethal. That didn’t bother him in the slightest. These thugs had probably killed dozens of travelers, and while he didn’t care one bit about avenging the dead, he wouldn’t feel too guilty killing these trolls.
Two more trolls came at him, one carrying a club and another wielding a sword. Had they been smart, they would have tried a flanking maneuver, but instead, they came at him one after the other. Morgan just caught the club, jerked it free of the troll’s hand, and conked him over the head.
Morgan hit the troll hard enough to stun, but not so hard that he’d shatter the club. He used it to break the sword hand of the second troll, leaving him to fall to his knees and join the others in their pained screams. This left only two still standing — the one who’d brought him here and the one who was currently trying to sneak out.
“So, which one of you can tell me about the Wells?” Morgan asked again, looking between the one still standing and the one halfway to the door.
“Filthy human. I’ll never tell you anything,” spat the troll who’d dragged him in here.
Then, he lunged, leading with his dagger and attempting to take Morgan through the eye. The other troll, by contrast, broke into a run, making a mad dash for the door. Morgan leaned in, snagging the troll’s dagger hand and twisting it to the side. He then reached down, plucking the knife from his fingers, and hurled it behind him.
There was a scream of pain as the dagger pierced the escaping troll’s ear, pinning him to the wall.
“Last chance,” Morgan said, glaring up at the troll who’d started all of this. “Do you know anything about the Wells?”
The troll’s hand glowed green in reply, and with a sigh, Morgan punched the troll in the face. This wasn’t a light tap, and when someone like Morgan didn’t pull a punch, the results were messy.
There was an explosion of gore as the troll’s head exploded, his skull shattering into a thousand pieces and splattering over the rest of his gang. Morgan turned back to the pinned troll then, allowing the headless corpse to fall to the ground.
“Now, you seem to know something about the Wells,” Morgan said, walking over the troll. “Care to tell me?”
Unlike the others, this one cringed in fear as Morgan reached out and yanked the dagger from the wall.
“Well?” Morgan asked, toying with the dagger.
“P-Promise not to kill me, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” the troll said quickly.
The troll’s eyes flicked up momentarily as he spoke, betraying the idiot trying to sneak up behind Morgan.
“I’ll think about it,” Morgan said.
He then whirled in place and buried the dagger into the chest of the troll whose arms were raised in preparation to bring a club down on the back of Morgan’s head.
The dagger sank in deep, and Morgan tore it down and to the side, viciously ripping the troll wide open. The dagger blade snapped off as he tore it free, and as the troll went down, howling in pain, Morgan reversed it, slamming the pommel through the troll’s eye and into his brain. The troll hit the ground, very much dead, with his insides spilling out.
“Now, you were saying?” Morgan asked, turning back to face the other troll.
A glowing green fist slammed into his face, driving him back half a step. Reaching up, Morgan calmy seized the arm and twisted it away, forcing the troll to his knees.
“I’ve been nothing but nice since I walked in here, but for some reason, you all just keep attacking me. So, I’m going to make you a deal,” he said, reaching out and grabbing one of the fingers.
“I’m going to ask you a question. If you answer truthfully, we’ll go on to the next.”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed then, and his grip on the troll’s finger tightened until he felt the bones beginning to strain.
“Lie, and I won’t just break your fingers. I’ll rip them off one at a time.”
The troll whimpered but nodded quickly, not wishing to have his appendages removed.
“What do you know about the Wells?” Morgan asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I don’t really know a lot about all three, but I do know who you can talk to about one of them,” the troll said quickly.
There was a roar from behind them, and Morgan sighed, wondering just how brain-damaged these trolls had to be to keep attacking him after the power he’d displayed. At this point, he just felt guilty when he turned and crushed the charging troll’s windpipe, leaving him to die on the ground.
“Who can tell me about one of the wells, and where can I find them?” he asked, turning back to the troll he was interrogating as though nothing had happened.
The troll gulped nervously, looking past him to where half of his friends were already dead, while the other half slowly dragged themselves upright, likely planning their next move.
“He doesn’t have a name, only a title given to him by the Head Chief. He’s called the Great Shaman, and you can find him in Spirit Town.”
“And where might that be?” he asked.
“About a hundred miles southwest of here,” the troll said, wincing as Morgan squeezed down on his fingers just a bit harder.
Morgan stared at the troll for a few more seconds, just to make him sweat. He knew the man was being truthful, as he was always able to detect lies by now. Still, after what they’d tried to do to him – and were still trying to do – Morgan felt he owed them.
“One last question,” he said, seeing the other three advancing on him out of the corner of his eye. “How is it that all of you have the exact same skills?”
The troll’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
“That’s not an answer,” Morgan said, squeezing tighter.
The troll winced but still refused to speak. This told Morgan that whatever the secret was, this man was more afraid of giving it
up than he was of losing his fingers. Seeing this, Morgan decided to try another tactic.
“Tell me, or I’ll kill you,” he said, leaning in a bit closer and grabbing the troll by the throat.
“I…I can’t!” the troll yelled. He then tore his hand free from Morgan’s grip and grabbed him by the neck as well. “Now!”
Morgan sighed, then grabbed the troll’s arm and pulled. At the same time, his other hand came up from underneath, and in a single, vicious motion, Morgan tore the troll’s arm clean off. He whirled in place, ignoring the howls of pain from the troll, and proceeded to use the appropriated limb to beat the other three to death.
Letting out a sound of disgust, he tossed the arm aside, heading toward the door. On his way, he made sure to stomp on the skull of the still-screaming troll, putting an end to the treacherous bastard. Then, he headed out of the dingy shack, closing the door behind him.
No one was in the alleyway, of course, leaving him free to make his escape without being detected. He used his Gravity Rift to escape the town using short-range teleportation and only stopped moving when he was positive that they could no longer see him. Then, he floated up into the night sky to stay above the influence of the odd mist that hung over the area. He stared at the town in the distance, feeling oddly troubled.
What he’d just done, torturing those weaker than him for information, was not something Sarah would have approved of. In fact, it wasn’t something he felt particularly proud of, either. This was something the strong back home had once done, and somehow, he had done exactly the same, despite hating those people with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t push the blame onto the Beast King, as the creature had not stirred even once.
This was a chilling reminder of what the Gatekeeper in the Soul Well had told him. The Beast King was part of him, whether he liked it or not, and if he was capable of doing something like this without that monster’s influence, then how was he any better?
Morgan shook himself, dismissing those morose thoughts.
He had a mission to complete, and time was of the essence. Those trolls had had vital information and were trying to keep it from him. He’d done what he’d had to in order to get it. Still, as he took off toward Spirit Town, he couldn’t help but wonder about that strange gang and what could terrify them so much that they would rather die than give it up.