Someone suddenly burst out onto the trail in front of us, startling the horses, not to mention us. The man was dressed in poor cloth, with brown hair and beard, and he had a fresh cut on his left forearm.
“Stop, please!” He yelled, waving his arms around frantically. “Stop, you have to help us!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we have business elsewhere—” I began, but Derrick cut me off.
“Are you serious, Aidan? Can you not see he’s hurt?” Derrick moved his horse next to mine and spoke to the man. “What’s the problem, sir?”
“A mountain troll, sir knight!” The man said, obviously terrified. “It’s attacking our village!”
“Let’s go!” Derrick said to the others.
“We can’t!” Tam yelled. “We have to go to Longchester!”
“Shut up!” Kirra yelled at him.
The others galloped off, but I hesitated.
Derrick saw that I hadn’t moved. “What are you doing, Aidan? Come on, we have to save them!”
Still, I hesitated.
Derrick’s expression changed to one of realization. “I know, Aidan—I understand. But ask yourself this—would Mirabelle want you to abandon an entire village of people?”
I knew right away he was right. But still …
Mirabelle …
And then I was angry … angry at Marion, angry at Norvin, angry at the gods for throwing this obstacle in my way.
I was still frozen in place, my head darting back and forth between the trail ahead and the path to the village. Mirabelle … my friends … the people …
“Don’t even think about running!” Derrick screamed. “Don’t think for a moment that I won’t track you down!”
Rage boiled inside me.
I hope that troll knows what’s coming to him …
“Yah!” I yelled to the horse, snapping the reins fiercely, and as I yelled gutturally, the horse galloped after the others. I could hear Derrick following behind me.
CHAPTER 15
When I caught up to the others on the edge of the tiny village, they had already dismounted from their horses and were charging toward the giant monstrosity, which was clearly intent on tearing the small village apart. I drew my shortswords and hurried in after them. The ground was littered with dead bodies, but I could still hear people screaming in the distance.
An enormous mountain troll, huge, ugly, and hairy. Standing over ten feet tall, and thickly muscled, with sharp fangs and huge claws, the mountain troll is the bigger, smarter brother of an ordinary troll. To make things worse, mountain trolls are generally hungrier—food is pretty scarce in the mountains.
The mountain troll roared, and its breath smelled like an entire butcher’s shops’ worth of rotting meat. It immediately grabbed Iskandor—still injured and mostly helpless in his human form—and started to shake him violently. Still angry at this interruption on my path to save Mirabelle, I reacted right away, racing toward the troll with all of my enhanced speed. As soon as I got there, I jammed both of my swords into the troll’s right thigh. The troll howled in pain and dropped Iskandor, who scrambled for safety.
The troll came at me with a downward swipe of his claws, intending to slice me in half—or possibly quarters, as the case may be. I dove right at the troll’s feet, and then had to dodge again, as the troll brought up its foot and tried to squash me underneath it. I quickly sprang up to my feet and swung a backward slash that connected to the side of the troll’s knee. The troll yelped in pain, but the blow did otherwise little damage.
Not too far away from me, I could hear Timor chanting, and small bursts of magic were flying in the troll’s direction. Ceiridwen and Aurora joined the fray (Aurora stayed at a safe distance), but the troll shook off the magical attacks with little pain incurred. Kirra was firing her bow, but her arrows too were dealing little damage. Derrick was attempting to stay behind the troll, taking potshots with his broadsword every chance he got.
The troll came at me and swung its claw, a low horizontal swing. I used my enhanced jumping ability—without thinking—to avoid it, jumping high enough to see clearly into the troll’s eyes—green and angry—and landed just in time to see the troll’s other hand coming down on me from overhead. Reacting instinctively, I stabbed upward with both swords as hard as I could—and was rewarded with a scream of fury from the troll, and splatters of troll blood all over myself.
Now the troll was really mad.
The troll ran over to the mountainside, grabbed a small boulder, and hurled it in my direction. That’s just not fair, I thought, but I dodged nimbly out of the way anyway. The troll grabbed another boulder, and as it did, I spared a look in Iskandor’s direction … he seemed alright, but in no condition to fight. He was sitting on the ground against a rock wall, holding his left arm, seemingly trying to remain out of sight.
I dodged a couple more boulders, trying to work my way toward the troll as I did so—the closer I got, the less likely it’d be able to throw more parts of the mountain at me. When I finally got close enough, the troll let out another roar and another horizontal claw swipe. As fast as I could, I dove in between the troll’s legs, came up on the other side, and stabbed with my right hand sword right behind the thigh.
Another yelp of pain, but again, no significant result.
The troll whipped around and tried to come down with both claws. I dove away from the mountainside and ended up about thirty feet away. The troll followed—thank the gods—and swung yet another horizontal swipe, this time swinging for my head, I ducked low, came up, and stabbed with both swords high and hard, jamming them into the troll’s ribcage.
I yanked my swords free, thinking I had finally won—
—but I hadn’t.
WHAM!
The troll struck me a blow that sent me flying across the clearing and crashing into the mountainside, then tumbling down to the ground. I could feel my powers pulse harshly as I collided with the unyielding stone.
My head was ringing, but I could vaguely hear Timor yell, “Aidan!” And then he was next to me, trying to help me.
“Aidan! Are you alright?” I heard him say. Miraculously, or perhaps not, given my “gifts,” I seemed to have full use of my limbs, though they weren’t responding very well at that moment. A blow like I had just taken and the resulting crash into the mountainside would have shattered the bones of a normal human being, but as it seemed, it had merely knocked me for a loop.
“Yeah,” I responded groggily, “I’m okay.” I struggled to sit up and find the troll, only to see that it was headed right for us, intent on finishing me off. My swords weren’t far away, but far enough away that, in my groggy state, I wasn’t going to get to them in time, and it probably wouldn’t have done much good anyway.
“Timor, get away!” I breathed, and I pushed him away with as much strength as I could manage.
The troll stood over me, and let out a low growl. It was going to get a lot of satisfaction over this kill.
The troll started to bend to pick me up—
Behind the troll, I could hear my friends yelling and screaming, trying to get the troll’s attention. The attacks of magic and bow came at a much more rapid pace. It worked—the troll turned from me and headed back toward them.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Timor rushed back over to me. “Aidan! By the gods, I thought you were going to die!”
“Not yet,” I mumbled, struggling to pull myself up. I was regaining strength with each passing second. “I’m fine,” I told Timor. “Go check on Iskandor.” Timor nodded and took off in Iskandor’s direction, down the mountain wall to my right.
No more time to waste. Holding my swords underhand, I sprinted straight at the troll, covering the distance in only a few seconds. I leapt high into the air and into the troll, plunging my swords right underneath both of the troll’s collarbones. It was a tactic I wouldn’t have been able to try earlier; the troll would have just swatted me right out of the air—but now, distracted by my friends, the tro
ll’s attention was diverted enough for me to try such an insane tactic.
The troll let out a long bellow, a combination of anguish and fury. I hung on for dear life; I wasn’t going to rest easy this time—I would rest when the troll was lying dead on the ground.
The troll stumbled a little, showed signs of weakening—then it looked me in the eyes, pulled me off of its chest, and threw me back where I came from like a child’s ball.
The troll still wasn’t dead.
I flipped and tumbled through the air, landing hard on the ground between the mountain wall and the forest, about thirty feet away from the battle. My powers pulsed again, protecting me from what would have surely been a crippling collision with the ground. This crash landing hurt a lot less than my previous one; I was able to pull myself together much more quickly than before. I moved to a kneeling position, and then realized something very disheartening—my swords were still stuck in the troll’s chest.
Now what am I going to do?
Then, I could faintly hear Iskandor shouting my name. He must think I’m hurt, I thought. I waved both my arms at him for a second, to let him know I was okay—but for some reason, despite the ongoing attack from my companions, Iskandor’s shouts got the troll’s attention—and it turned toward Iskandor.
Oh, no.
I only had a few seconds to act, and I had no weapons. Kirra had run out of arrows and had her daggers drawn, but it was clear that she knew any attack with those would be worthless. Derrick was still getting in attacks on the legs, but they weren’t dealing enough damage.
I don’t know what to do—
“Aidan! Use your power! Focus!”
Of course! Not the option I would have preferred, but I had no others.
I lowered my stance, balled my hands into fists, keeping them close to my body, and began to focus with all of my will. I could feel the power building inside of me, and the feeling was a rush like I’d never felt before … more powerful and exhilarating than the rush of flying through the air. The power built stronger and stronger, and I focused on lightning—then I could feel it surging through my body …
And then … a single thought broke through … Iskandor … did the troll reach him yet? Is he still alive?
I opened my eyes, and threw my arms out toward the troll, palms facing outward, intending to unleash lightning fury on it—but the lightning crackled and died on my fingertips.
Dammit!
I glanced at Timor for a split second, saw the disheartened slump of his shoulders, and then saw that the troll was about to close in on them. Not knowing what else to do, I once again ran straight at the troll. Before I could close the distance by half, it took a swing at Iskandor, who was yanked out of the way by Timor. The troll’s fist disappeared into the rock wall, sending dust and rock debris flying everywhere. But out of that big swing by the troll came a big break for the rest of us—it had gotten its fist stuck in the rock wall.
I leapt for the troll’s back, noticing as I did that there were at least a couple of dozen arrows sticking out of it, spread out across the entire back. But I didn’t care—I landed with my arms around the troll’s neck, not noticing the arrow shafts ramming into my legs.
If the troll was mad before, it was downright enraged now—it began to shake its head back and forth violently, attempting to shake itself free of my grip. I hung on for dear life, thanks to two handfuls of the troll’s long, wooly hair.
I knew that I couldn’t hang on the troll’s neck forever; my only move was to go for my swords, still stuck in the troll’s upper chest, near the collarbones. I started to maneuver myself toward the troll’s right shoulder, using the arrows stuck in the troll’s back for added support. The troll, torn between trying to deal with me and trying to fend off Derrick, who was really beginning to do a great deal of damage to the troll’s legs by this point, made one desperate swipe at Derrick, which gave me the opening that I needed.
The sword was easily within reach … I grabbed it and began to remove it from the troll’s chest …
Just then, the troll let out a great bellow and began to wobble, struggling to stay on its feet. Not knowing which way it might fall, I sprung up to its shoulder in one motion (once again, using the arrows in its back) and leapt off to the side, rolling safely away.
The troll’s legs, now a bloody mass of slashes and bruises, could no longer support the troll’s massive frame, and the enormous monster crashed to the ground. However, though it couldn’t stand, the beast continued to fight, slashing wildly with its claws. Everyone backed away and surrounded the troll, and then finally, Derrick stepped in while the beast’s head was turned the other way and swung a mighty blow with his broadsword, hitting the troll in its throat.
The troll’s eyes went wide, and blood poured from the wound, as well as from its mouth—before long, the mountain troll was dead, and the long, grueling battle was over.
I sat up and exhaled a long, deep breath, and took a second to absorb what had just happened … but only a second. In the next, my concern for Iskandor took over, and I pulled myself up and staggered off in his and Timor’s direction.
Iskandor was on his feet, leaning against the rock wall with one hand and holding his rib cage with the other. Timor was standing close by, ready to help if needed. He turned his head to look at me as I approached. “Are you alright, Aidan?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
He took a short breath. “I’ll be fine … when the troll grabbed me initially, its grip was crushing. After you forced it to let me go, I was too shaken to be able to shape shift and help you … I apologize.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to—”
“Oh, hell,” Derrick breathed, and I looked up to see what had him spooked.
A large group of torches appeared in the distance, approaching slowly. As they emerged from the darkness, their purpose became clear—bandits, here to pillage the remains of the village. It was likely that they were planning to do their own invasion, but the troll beat them to it. They were probably waiting for the troll to leave so they could pick at the remains.
Now the troll was dead, and the only thing standing in their way was us—a weary, beaten down crew that had just barely survived a battle with a mountain troll.
I sighed heavily and tried to pull myself up; it required a little too much effort. I glanced at Iskandor and saw that he was even worse than I was—no dragon shape-shifting here.
I climbed on top of the troll and yanked my shortswords out of its chest, then joined the group as we staggered out to face the unusually large group of bandits, who were all smiling and clearly salivating at the idea of disposing of us and claiming their spoils. Every one of us was exhausted, barely able to stand. For us to win this battle, we would have to dig really deep …
I could barely stand. Timor collapsed into Derrick, who fell to his knees.
I stared down the bandits, ready to fight for my life …
A little girl was standing in front of us, facing the bandits.
Aurora.
I was incredulous. “Aurora! What are you doing? Get back!”
The young girl turned to look at me, and for the first time, I saw fire in her eyes—a raging inferno that would destroy anything and everything in its path. And in that instant, I remembered why—the fact that her parents were killed in a bandit raid.
I had faced down unnatural demons, all-powerful evil sorcerers, and now a giant mountain troll, but one look from those wide, angry eyes, and I recoiled.
Aurora turned and began to walk toward the bandits.
“Aurora!” Kirra yelled, but she too was ignored.
Across from us, the bandits laughed—they would have no issues at all in dealing with this little girl first.
After walking a short distance, Aurora stopped—and slowly, she lifted her arms.
Purple mist swirled around her—some kind of magical energy—and then began to slowly spread out across the village. I heard Auro
ra’s voice for the first time—almost a growl that got louder and louder the farther the purple mist spread, until it became a guttural yell of determination and anguish. The mist began to lower toward the ground in various places.
And the dead began to rise.
Over a very wide radius, the dead villagers began to—almost float—to their feet. Upon seeing this, the bandits’ expressions quickly changed from greedy and eager to amazed and horrified. They started to back up a few steps.
If I’m being honest, so did we.
Once the dead were all upright, Aurora began to walk slowly toward the bandits, her arms still outstretched.
The dead followed.
It was truly a fearsome sight.
What kind of power does this child have …
The bandits had seen enough. Screaming, they turned and ran for their lives.
Once they were gone, Aurora dropped her hands, and the dead collapsed back to the ground. And then, she collapsed.
“Aurora!” Kirra yelled, and she and Derrick ran to her. I watched as they tried to tend to her, then they came back, Derrick carrying the child in his massive arms.
“Will she be alright?” Kirra asked, directing the question at me although I have no idea how she thought I would know the answer.
Timor, however, was right there to respond. “I believe she’ll be fine. Casting magic taxes your energy, and that was quite a powerful spell she just cast, especially for a child. She should recover after she gets some rest.”
Kirra and Derrick nodded and walked off with Aurora, and the villager who stopped us on the road stepped to the front of the crowd to face us. “Thank you all, so much,” he breathed, and then he went off, presumably to find his family, if they were even still alive.
I looked back at the village, where the inhabitants who were left alive were beginning to file back in. Many were crying, wracked with grief over the destruction of their homes and families. My heart went out to them, but I was too exhausted to do much more than stare.
The Treachery Of A Weasel Page 16