Trolls and Tribulations

by Kevin Partner

  “Come now, my love,” he whispered.

  #

  The door reappeared in the laboratory with an audible pop.

  Negstimeaboi spun around, throwing Humunculus off so that he landed in a heap. She pushed Aligvok away and sprinted for the open door but, just as she reached for it, she felt her feet being taken out from under her and she sprawled at the threshold. As she looked up, she saw the heels of Aligvok disappear into the void.

  #

  “My love, are you okay?” Ambler said as the young woman’s body lurched into animation. He caught her as the straps withdrew, and she fell into his arms.

  “My love,” he said, looking into crystal blue eyes that seemed to stare back in abject horror, “do not be afraid, it is me, Ambler.”

  The young woman pushed at Ambler and succeeded only in spinning out of his arms and falling to the floor. He knelt down beside her and gently turned her over. The eyes that looked up at him now were cold and hard. “My love?”

  “You stupid fool, this is a woman’s body!” Aligvok screamed in rage, “I didn’t spend half an eternity coaxing that idiot faerie into helping me reincorporate only to do so as a female! I mean, what’s the point of that? I’d be better off back in the staff, dead!”

  Ambler leapt to his feet. “What happened, wizard? My love was to follow me!”

  “That ox? It was easy enough to fool her!” sneered Aligvok. “I tripped her and took her place.”

  “Which makes you the genius who is now in a maid’s body,” Ambler replied, before leaping back to his feet and running across to the four remaining bodies, all of which were men.

  “How do you open the others?” Ambler asked Bently who was helping Aligvok to his feet wearing a smirk.

  “First, one of you must tell me how my master is to be released,” Bently said, his patience wearing thin.

  Aligvok swept his blonde curls away from his stunning blue eyes. “I am not saying anything until someone kills me with the staff.”

  “What?” Bently said, unsure he’d heard correctly.

  “I am not going to remain trapped in the feeble body of a woman,” Aligvok simpered, “and I simply demand that you use the staff to kill me and then reincorporate me into one of the other bodies.”

  Bently shook his head. “Not until my master is released, now how is that achieved?”

  There was a scraping sound behind him and Bently turned to see Ambler wrenching the cover loose. “Aha, and it’s a girl! I think,” he said, before pulling the lever beneath it.

  “No!” screamed Aligvok, the orb’s energy is almost exhausted!

  #

  In Humunculus’s spectral room, the Faerie King and the giant maiden of the Steppes sat side by side, their quarrel at an end.

  “Trapped,” Negstimeaboi sobbed, “and bad wizard in body meant for me.”

  Humunculus chuckled, “Indeed, that is a delicious compensation. Imagine that oaf in a woman’s body!”

  Negstimeaboi nudged him with her elbow so hard he fell sideways. “Not funny. You think door come back?”

  The Faerie King shrugged. “I don’t know, fair maiden. I have tried calling Bently but he’s not picking up, I must admit to becoming somewhat annoyed at his lack of commitment. He’s under strict instructions to contact me when it is my turn so, if a door appears, it’s all yours, my dear.”

  The red door popped into existence and, with a quick look at the smiling King, Negstimeaboi got up and ran through it.

  As Humunculus watched the portal disappear, an unfamiliar sensation rose from his stomach into his throat. So, this is what fear feels like, he thought.

  #

  “It’s here!” Bill shouted. He was standing beside a rock face, high in the mountainous flanks of Cake Pass. The map he’d been given by Marcello was very accurate but, even so, with a scale so tiny, the point of the arrow he was aiming for could have been anywhere in a five mile line.

  As it happened, when they’d arrived they’d found an ancient track-way which they followed for lack of a reason not to, as it ascended. Although it looked as though the desert was slowly eating up the path, it had clearly been used at least once recently as they’d found a couple of discarded water canteens lying beside it. Bill could imagine a hunched figure with clawlike hands throwing them away when they’d outlived their usefulness. It was scant evidence but Bill felt certain that the Faerie King’s servant had, indeed, come this way. Which meant he was up ahead somewhere.

  They’d followed the pathway up the mountainside that morning, glad they’d had the chance to refill their drinks bottles and packs at the wayside market stall they’d found last night. Brianna had insisted on leaving a couple of coins beneath the tabletop in payment, although she deducted a little for poor service.

  Despite their plentiful water and food, the trek had been hard on them both. They were used to long walks in cold weather on the more-or-less flat. Here, the temperature, even in winter, was close to unbearable, the air arid, and they’d been walking up the side of a mountain. They’d taken a short break halfway up, but Bill had been desperate to carry on as soon as possible despite his aching limbs. Something told him that, unless he moved quickly, there would be little point in arriving at all.

  As they’d neared the point where they’d have to start searching, the path ran out and so they’d split and each headed off on a different vector. Bill watched as Brianna jogged nimbly towards him.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Bill smiled. “Always the doubt,” he said, pointing at the rock face. A thin rectangular groove could be seen clearly, as if someone had carved an impression of a door frame out of the rock.

  “Oh, yes, that does look like a door. Well spotted.”

  “And now, the sarcasm,” Bill said as she ran her finger along the groove, seeking out any evidence of a gap.

  “Well, there’s no sign that it’s been opened, but this must be it. How d’you think we get in?” she asked, putting her shoulder against the door and pushing.

  Bill joined her at the wall, looking all around the frame for any sign of a handle or lock.

  “No, I can’t see any way in,” he said, leaning against the door with her, “but I can’t imagine we’d have been sent —”

  “Bill!” Brianna screamed as he disappeared through the suddenly opening door and into the darkness beyond.

  #

  “Watch out!”

  Chortley dodged as another spider launched itself out of the wall. There was no room in this confined space to swing a sword so he was reduced to using his knife to spear the little bastards. Little compared to a horse, that is - these spiders were a perfect white colour and covered in downy hair that would have made most creatures look cute but had the effect, in these arachnids, of increasing the horror quotient past eleven.

  He, Thun, McGuff and Minissun had been trapped in here when a block of stone had slid from the roof behind them as they tried to interpret the riddle cut into the rock beside a gate. Once they’d entered it, the labyrinth had rapidly narrowed so that only two could walk abreast unless one of those was Thun, so their spearhead had been reduced to one neuron-depleted barbarian. It had been a relief when the corridor had opened up to allow room for Chortley to join Minissun as she read the riddle. Thun had merely backed away as if nervous of the letters. With good reason as it turned out.

  A flash from the corner of his eye and Chortley ducked beneath Thun’s swishing blade. “Put it away, you idiot!” he screamed.

  Minissun splatted a spider she’d managed to stun. “Use knife or fist, Thun.”

  Chortley felt a spider land on his head as he stood back up. He let out a scream and brought his hand up reflexively and then crumpled beneath Thun’s massive fist.

  He wiped arachnid juices from the top of this head and managed, just in time, to stem a little river as it began running down his forehead. He looked around. Spiders were pouring out of the wall containing the message by the dozen. However quickly they stamped, sta
bbed or splatted them they would soon be overwhelmed.

  “Captain, can you hear me?”

  The voice came from behind the rocks that had walled them in. Thank the gods, he’d feared the others had been crushed.

  “Yes!” he screamed, before backhanding a flying spider and pinning it against the wall with his knife. Minissun was whirling as she tried to get the things off her but it was only a matter of time before she was bitten and Chortley had little doubt that these little white bastards were venomous.

  “What does the inscription say?” The muffled voice of Clegg said.

  Chortley looked across at the words on the wall. “With silver chains it catches prey,

  And eats it all before it dies,” he shouted before kicking away at the spider that was now trying to climb up his boot. Another was half way up his leg as he swept his dagger downwards.

  “And what did you answer?” Clegg called

  “Minissun said it sounded like the Lesser Manacled Grymworm,” called Chortley.

  “It has silver nets on its front legs that lacerate its victims, and it eats them in one bite,” Minissun shouted,

  Chortley imagined a disappointed sigh from the other side of the wall, but then his attention was taken by a sudden increase in the number of spiders pouring out of the wall. “Hurry!”

  Somehow, Clegg managed to transmit self-satisfaction through a stone wall. “The answer is ‘spider’, commander,” he said.

  “Spider?” Minissun said. “Are you serious? What sort of riddle has as simple an answer as spider?”

  “Look!” Chortley pointed to the wall. The little tunnels the spiders had been crawling through had closed and the last of the invaders was crawling down the wall. A groove appeared, cutting a rectangular shape into the centre of the rock and, with a sound like a sarcophagus lid dropping off, the stone panel that had sealed their escape slid smoothly upwards.

  McGuff leapt into the room with a roar that quickly became a scream of terror. “I bloody ‘ate spiders!”

  Mother Hemlock set about squashing the remaining spiders with her big hobnail boots as Private Epocrypha tried repeatedly to trap one under his helmet. “They’re so dotey,” he said, “and I bet they fry up lovely.”

  Thun roared with frustration as he tried to swing his sword in the now wider space, causing the rest of the company to huddle together in the small area outside his killing range.

  “Thun, spiders all dead!” Minissun called as Clegg brought his boot down on the last one with a look of utter disgust on his face.

  “Well done, lad,” McGuff said, his hands shaking, “maybe you ain’t as lah-de-dah as I thought.”

  Clegg gave a small smile. “Oh, I’m lad-de-dah alright, sergeant, but sometimes that’s exactly what is needed.”

  McGuff looked, for a moment, as if his relief at having been saved from the spiders was giving way to his instinctive annoyance at anyone with half a brain, but he was interrupted by his commanding officer.

  “Are we all uninjured?” Chortley asked, carrying out, as he did so, a check of his own extremities.

  “Commander!” The call had come from Velicity, who had caught Minissun as she fell (admittedly, not very far).

  “Ah, it’s just a scratch,” moaned the dwarf, her face white with a hint of green, her eyes closed.

  Chortley knelt by her side feeling the unfamiliar sensation of actually giving a toss about one of his soldiers. He made a mental note to deal with that particular weakness as soon as possible.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and Mother Hemlock appeared next to him. “Quick, ‘ave you got any alcohol?”

  “Certainly not!” Chortley retorted.

  Mother Hemlock looked up at the others gathered around her, her eyes lingering on McGuff. “Anyone?” she said, “It’s the only way.”

  McGuff rummaged in his tunic and pulled out a small flask which he handed down to her, his face flushed red.

  “Sergeant!” Chortley barked.

  McGuff looked away. “Sorry sir,” he mumbled.

  Minissun choked but Mother Hemlock slammed her hand over the dwarf’s face. “Drink it!” she said, her voice echoing around the tunnel.

  Minissun’s eyes bulged, and she swallowed, causing her eyes to bulge again. Moments later she was asleep and Mother Hemlock laid her down gently.

  “Is she going to be alright?” Chortley asked.

  The witch pointed at the squashed remains. “Them’s the Bravado Spider - looks scary and its bite will kill you in minutes unless you knows that dutch courage is the cure.”

  Chortley sat with his back to the tunnel wall and sighed. “We’ve barely begun and one of us is down - and she was the best fighter of the lot of them.”

  “Don’t fret, lad,” said Mother Hemlock, “just remember that, however bad things seem, they’re probably actually worse.”

  “Thanks a lot!”

  There was the sound of vigorous sizzling.

  “And every crowd has a silver lining,” Mother Hemlock said, as Private Epocrypha approached, frying pan in hand.

  “Nice, crispy spider,” he said, flipping the caramelised arachnid expertly, “I saved some for you, sir.”

  Chortley looked at the white blob on the pan. His stomach, on receiving the images relayed by his eyes, decided to take a nice holiday and attempted to exit through the nearest available orifice.

  “Please yourself,” said Epocrypha with a chuckle. He stabbed his knife into the fried spider and turned to leave, nibbling a leg.

  Chapter 19

  The body twitched, sucked in a lungful of the dusty air, coughed and fell.

  Ambler knelt beside it, feeling its cold, linen-shrouded back for signs of life.

  “My love, is it you?”

  The back heaved again, an arm bent and, with a groan, pushed against the floor.

  Stroking the face tenderly, Ambler cradled it in his hands, feeling life return as stubbly cheeks tickled his palms.

  “You are alive,” he said, his eyes filling with tears, “and you are magnificent.”

  There was a snort from the shadows.

  “Magnificent? She was a knuckle-brained oaf in her first life and she’s a knuckle-brained oaf in this one.”

  Ambler leapt up so suddenly that his hand was at Aligvok’s porcelain-skinned throat before the wizard/girl could move. His face was contorted with rage as he pushed his powerful fingers up under Aligvok’s chin.

  “My love?”

  The hand dropped and Ambler sped across the floor to kneel again beside the slowly animating body.

  “You are…you?” he said, holding her calloused hand in his.

  She smiled. “It is me,” she said, “am I all that you want? Am I beautiful?”

  Ambler nodded and helped Negstimeaboi to sit up.

  “I think the wizard saved me from a grievous error, for the body I selected was no match for you. You are perfect.”

  And so she was. If your definition of “perfect” includes a physique that would not be out of place in the famous harem of the Emperor of Xoo.36

  She had the sort of thighs that seemed ready to explode at any moment and her white cotton shift hid nothing of the sleek, muscled, topography of her torso. Her face, while it would never launch a thousand ships, could certain sink a few. Square, strong and with a tan that suggested long hours in the gladiator pits, it was set off with a monobrow that mirrored the light moustache under her nose.

  Negstimaboi heaved herself upwards, leaning heavily on Ambler. She gazed at the orb and squinted as her reflection came into focus. There was a moment’s silence before she turned to her lover.

  “I am beautiful!” she cried, slapping Ambler’s shoulder.

  The ranger straightened himself up again, wincing, as he smiled. “You are a warrior goddess, my love.” He drew her into a warm, powerful and somewhat painful embrace.

  After a few moments, Ambler became aware of a presence behind him. Without letting go of his Amazonian lover, he twisted his head to
look down. There was Bently, gazing up at them, his red eyes wide.

  “I must say, sir,” he whispered, “I have seen many people in my journey and have yearned for companionship from none of them. That feeble female,” he said, jabbing a thumb in the general direction of Aligvok, “is, I believe, an example of what you humans call a perfect beauty, and yet she is of no more interest to me than a goat or a sheep.”

  Ambler raised his eyebrows.

  “But this human,” continued Bently, approaching his point with passion, “she is truly magnificent. And I absolutely would.”

  Withdrawing from the suffocating embrace, Ambler grabbed Bently’s tunic and pulled him upwards.

  “Would what?”

  Bently, suddenly aware of his peril, shook his head. “Oh, please forgive me. I meant I would worship her as a goddess, of course. Though I have been alone for such a long time.”

  “Well, keep away from her. If anyone is going to prostrate himself before the altar of her magnificence, it will be me. You have your own master to worship.”

  Breathing in again as Ambler released him, Bently staggered away, his face a mixture of anger and surprise. “By the gods, my master! We must release him now!”

  “I don’t think so,” said Bill.

  Brianna and Bill had spent the past few minutes lurking outside the lab’s open door, listening and occasionally peering around the door frame, if only to give credence to what their ears insisted they were hearing. Bill had recognised Bently immediately, though, in his memory, the servant seemed somewhat rounder and less gaunt. The other voices were unknown, but the penny had dropped when the handsome one had stepped away from the oddly masculine blonde girl and pulled a lever next to what looked like a coffin. A pulse of blue light had run along the floor from where the staff stood, half buried in a dimly pulsating globe. The moment the light reached the foot of the coffin, the body inside retched and fell to the floor.