Awaken: Book 1 (Chronicles of Ghost Company)

by Shawn Muller

  Man, what a shit-out session, I’ve had some bad ones before, but none this bad. I almost began to feel sorry for them all. Almost.

  “But no, I see your errors in judgement, and if you do not like the idea of peace with the trolls, then I will accept your dismissal with immediate effect. Those that stay will obey me without question on this. Choose now, make it quick.”

  I could see a few commanders looking very embarrassed, Jeroch included. Two commanders actually did hand in their commission and left, clearly not happy with the idea of peace with the trolls.

  “Right, those that are left, you will listen to Captain Bob. He will be in command for the next few days, until the peace is secured. You will obey him as you obey me. Any and I mean any sign of disobedience and I will personally charge you with treason and you will be made an example of is that understood?” Prince Marcus warned his remaining commanders who nodded their agreement. “Bob, I expect Jeroch to be you second in command. Keep me informed of all your developments.”

  With that Prince Marcus left the room to head back to his keep.

  “Okay, we don’t have much time. We need to be ready within a day for this meeting and there is still a lot of work to be done,” I said sitting at the table Prince Marcus had just vacated.

  Two days later we were ready for the historic meeting between the King of the Trolls and Prince Marcus. Well at least I hoped that the king would accept Prince Marcus there and not deal with me directly. Workers had set up a huge pavilion on the exact spot where the envoy had stood a few days before, the flag still left on the standard where it had been planted.

  Perfect sunny weather was prevalent for the next two days, which allowed us to complete the work on schedule, the troll shamans’ powerful magic at work as promised. Small, niggley details like who would be present at the meeting were all that were left to sort out. It was finally decided that besides Fremod and I, Prince Marcus, Jeroch, Max, Smoothie and Sizakel would attend the main pavilion. Any other nobles and commanders who wanted to be so close to the trolls could stand a respectable distance away in a clearly demarcated area.

  My platoon, as well as the original company of heavy infantry, would provide guard duty. The infantry was fully dressed and armed once again with their spears forming a cordon around the entire pavilion. My men would be inside the open-walled tent itself, dressed in our new armour Hioki had been working on these past few months. It consisted of full chest and back plate, individually made to fit each member of the company perfectly like a second skin. It was made from a mixture of metals of which only the dwarves had knowledge, making it ultra-light, but also damn strong. It was capable of stopping most types of arrows fired from most types of bows, except crossbow bolts fired from virtually point blank range. But then again that’s like trying to expect a bullet proof vest to stop an armoured piercing round fired by an LMG - not gonna happen. The beauty of this chest protector was we could wear it under our clothing, just like a bullet-proof vest, or over our clothes. It would form the backbone for all our armour, whether light armour or heavy. Interchangeable pieces of armour could be attached to it to add to our needs as we saw fit.

  For today we wore it over thick leather jackets that were lined with wool to keep out the chill in the air. Attached to the armour were shoulder guards that had a raised lip to add extra protection to our neck and sides of our heads. Hanging from this were thick treated leather upper arm protector, allowing for easy movement for the arm, and this led to a simple elbow protector similar in design to skateboarding protectors, except each individual soldier was allowed to personalise theirs. Some had small spikes welded on, others blades running the length of theirs, others just some fancy engraving. Me, I preferred to have a slightly thicker, heavier one, I tended to use my elbows a lot when I fought.

  The lower arms and wrists were protected by thin-looking chainmail, which was deceptive because I saw first-hand how that chainmail stopped Pebble’s axe from cutting a log. Sure you may end up with a broken arm, but at least you still had a hand. The chainmail was a better design I felt than the standard metal bands others used. For one it was much lighter in design, but the main thing for me was that fact that the metal bands bent inwards after a blow, which may have prevented the blade from cutting you, but the bent metal cause as much damage by cutting off your blood flow. The one thing I did insist on was for proper protection for my men’s hands. I encouraged them to use their hands in any fight no matter what they were fighting with. There was no such thing as a fair fight. If jabbing your fingers in a guy’s eyes saved your life, or grabbing his family jewels while he was trying to stab you, then so be it. Who am I to say otherwise? I taught them that. So the gloves used were a hybrid of soft leather on the palm reinforced with a thin chainmail to add strength and protection, but making it soft and subtle enough to use on any weapon’s handle. The back of the glove was made from treated leather sewn together in sections to allow for flexibility over the knuckles, but it allowed for different armour types to be attached. For today’s mission we had heavy scale armour attached. Again each man could personalise theirs to a certain degree, some adding spikes on the knuckles, or blades again, or simply big heavy bumps of metal on the knuckles to add a bit of extra weight behind a closed fist.

  The chest plates had the capability of attaching extra armour onto it, turning it into extra heavy armour by adding thicker plates, or by adding scale armour to it. I had Hioki make up various designs for experimentation, and man did she love the challenge. She had to hire two additional dwarven smiths as humans could not match their skill in blacksmithing. The bottom of the chest armour had clips where the protection of the abdomen could be added. Mostly it would be in the form of flexible leather strips held together by the same thin chainmail we used on the arms which formed a leather skirt. This allowed us to be very manoeuvrable in our fighting skills. But once again we could add other armour types to it. This made our armour modular in design, allowing us to mix and match as the missions dictated.

  Our upper legs were mainly chainmail with strips of hardened leather running down the length to the knee, where the knee was protected also by pads similar to a skater’s. Our shins were covered by a thin, body moulding metal plate, padded by soft leather. I found in all my years of combat that I tended to hurt my shins more than anything else and wanted to try prevent it happening further. We all wore combat boots based on the earth design, but obviously made from local materials and a steel toe cap riveted to the outside of the boot. Even Fremod wore his boots for today, even though trolls seemed to hate wearing any kind of shoe, but he wanted to show solidarity with his new brotherhood.

  I contemplated whether we should wear helmets today, not for ceremonial purposes, but for protection. I mean, if a troll swung anything at a human’s head, a helmet wouldn’t offer any protection. In the end, Titanius reasoned that something was better than nothing. So we wore simple open-faced helmets with chainmail hanging down our back to offer protection to the neck, and we carried detachable face shields on our sides just in case they was needed.

  Weapons were the general mix and match of what each member felt comfortable fighting with. The dwarves and Carl had their ugly-looking axes. Max his sword and shield. Titanius a massive double-handed sword strapped to his back. Deez carried pair of curved swords reminiscent of the Japanese katana blades. And I had my broadsword strapped to my left side, my short sword strapped to my right side and new weapon type I was working on, a wooden shaft with a fairly long straight double-edged blade on each end.

  I was doing my final rounds of inspections when a cry went up from a lookout. The trolls had been spotted marching this way. A second alarm went out at the size of the approaching troll group - the size of a small army. The tension and fear was thick in the air as this news quickly spread amongst the nobles and citizens who had gathered to witness this historic occasion. I could hear the trolls marching, a rumble like thunder approaching us. Barks of deep-voiced commands could be heard from the
approaching host. The rumble became a perfectly timed march as thousands of trolls began to march in step with each other in parade ground perfection. Commands rang out again, followed by a single shout from the army in obedience as the whole arm stopped dead with thousands of feet brought up and stamped down as one, the noise like a crack of thunder, the ground shaking under our feet. I was sure the ice on the lake would have cracked under that, but it held firm. Before us, not more than five hundred metre away stood the troll army of King Rodic.

  At least a thousand King Trolls dressed in long chainmail which reached to their knees, stood ramrod straight. They carried huge two-metre tall tower shields, now resting on the ground in front of them and held up by their left hands, while in their right hands were spears about four metres in length all held out at a precise angle, not one wavering. They wore a bright yellow legging with what looked like red flames sewed into them running up from their ankles to just below their knees. Not one troll wore any form of foot wear. The trolls’ shaggy body hair was all neatly oiled back, their facial hairs neatly combed into even spikes all along their jaw lines, their high conical helmets polished to a high sheen, causing the sun to reflect brightly off of them and onto us.

  Standing in formation on either side of the huge King Trolls, were about two thousand Mountain Trolls. These long-armed, ape-like trolls wore heavy plate mail armour, with helmets only covering half their faces, the lower half missing to allow their bottom jutting jaws and lower canines to stick out unimpeded. All were armed with a simple hide-covered round shield and massive warhammers that they easily held in one hand. If this small army were to attack us, Castle Doorengaan would fall within a day.

  It was an impressive show of force, whether it was intended to cower us or to serve as a warning, we never knew. A single troll broke rank and stepped forward holding a large trumpet. Once it was half way between us and the impressive troll ranks, he put the trumpet to his lips and blew a long, hard and extremely loud note which seemed to last forever. The middle rank of trolls neatly opened up a large walkways within. Soon a column of trolls emerged from within the troll ranks, led by an enormous troll. He easily stood close to four metres in height, and was as broad across the shoulders as he was tall. The closer he got, the more I could see his true size. His arm muscles were as big as my waist, his chest was rippling with muscles underneath a plain sky-blue coloured doublet. One could see his age, though. The muscles weren’t as firm as before and a belly was starting to hang over his belt. He led an entourage of about ten trolls, all variously dressed in either armour, leather jerkins or rich satin styled clothes.

  Besides the surprise at the sophistication of the troll dress sense, the sight of Ambassador Granitetooth and an elf walking with him drew sharp gasps from the Prince Marcus and his entourage.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Prince Marcus asked Sizakel and Jeroch.

  Both shook their heads at this, not sure of what the significance of two of the prince’s allies walking with the troll king. The herald walked in front of the king, and before stepping onto the raised pavilion, the herald stopped and announced:

  “Behold! I present to you, the king of all trolls, the ruler of all he sees and wants, the powerful and long lived…”

  “Ah shut up and move out the way,” King Rodic said as he pushed the herald out the way who, in turn, looked hurt.

  “They always try to make me look better than I really am,” King Rodic explained as the rest of his retinue also walked up the short steps onto the platform.

  Prince Marcus and his retinue visibly paled at being so close to such a large number of trolls, especially as dominating one as King Rodic seemed to be.

  “Fremod the Bastard, good to see you again son,” King Rodic greeted his son.

  “Father, it is always a pleasure to be in your presence. May I present to you Captain Bob, the one whom has shown himself worthy of this great, historic meeting.”

  “Bob the Great they are calling you back home already. Well met,” King Rodic slapped my back and almost broke a rib.

  “Good to meet you too, sir,” was all I could say, winded.

  “Also, may I introduce Prince Marcus, the ruler of this land.”

  “I suppose I must yes,” King Rodic said with a smile. “Ah I’m only pulling your leg. At long last we meet Prince Marcus. It has taken far too long for this to happen.”

  “The honour is all mine, your majesty” Prince Marcus said bowing before the king.

  “Bah! Enough with this crap. Rodic! Tell that useless cook to bring lunch. I’m so starved I could eat a troll!” King Rodic shouted back down the line of retainers.

  “Of course, you humans don’t eat Plains Trolls I’ve heard. Never fear, we raided a few farms on the other side of the mountains for a few southern delicacies from other lands. I’ll keep the Plains Troll for last,” he said, winking at Fremod.

  The two retinues were introduced to each other while a flurry of activity at the base of the pavilion indicated that lunch would be served soon. The king and prince stood off to one side with the dwarven and elven ambassadors, deep in conversation.

  “Bastard, huh?” Max asked Fremod.

  “Yes, in a way I am. My father does not believe in marriage, much to the disgust of all our nobles and other rulers. He thought he would be clever and have a harem, filled with beautiful troll maidens for his pleasure. Turned out, the seven concubines he gathered, my mother included, decided they never liked that idea so they only produced one son each, and summarily refused to see him any further until he married all seven of them. Since then he hasn’t spent three nights in a row at his royal palace, instead moving from city to city and leading raids on our enemies himself. He considered declaring war on some human empire farther south to us to keep himself permanently away from the Royal Harem, but the humans are allied with strange ox-like men who weren’t too happy with that idea. But I suspect once my brother Rodic has been successfully declared the next king, he will give in and finally marry them all,” Fremod concluded, while we looked on, gaping at this story.

  “Bob, get over here. I came to negotiate with you, not your prince,” King Rodic said.

  I took a deep breath and walked over to where a fuming Prince Marcus stood with King Rodic.

  “Sir, with all due respect, I am only a captain in the employment of Prince Marcus, a mercenary. I only did what he commanded me to do.”

  “Nonsense, I have my reports about you. You may be working for the prince here, but I know better. Our prophecies are never wrong. But fine, I will negotiate with the prince himself, but I demand you sit with us. I want only myself, Prince Marcus, Granitetooth and Bruniks the Elf here with us. Everybody else can piss off,” King Rodic said with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder to indicate that those not mentioned must leave.

  Jeroch was red-faced and livid, while Rodic walked off dejected with the other trolls. Both parties left the pavilion and stood opposite each other, eyeing each other with distrust. I motioned to Max to take over leadership of the platoon, who quickly closed ranks around the pavilion while we made ourselves comfortable in the middle around a table piled with delicious-looking foods.

  “Right, here’s the long and short of it. Now listen carefully to me Marcus,” a surprisingly deep-voiced Bruniks said.

  He was, I suppose, a normal-looking elf to me - the long, pointy ears, long brown hair hanging loose on his shoulders. His build was small like a human woman’s, the same height and physique, small facial features. But his eyes said it all. Those almond-coloured slightly slanted eyes - those were the eyes of a stone cold killer if I ever saw one. His skin was a pale white, but now and then I could have sworn I saw it ripple with colour. Something I needed to find out. These elves weren’t the same I always read about.

  “We’ve known each other for a very long time, and the alliance between elves and humans dates back to your father’s time. But our alliance with the trolls dates back even further, before mankind came to this continent.
Yes, your kind has forgotten your roots. We are all long lived, except humans. Our differences have been sorted out long before humans walked on two legs. We have fought our wars between each other while you were learning to make fire. And our alliance runs for longer than you have learnt to forge metals. In other words, don’t be a fool and not agree to this peace treaty. This alliance between the trolls, dwarves, elves and now humans will be very beneficial to us all. The orcs have been approached many times before, but Queen Canderson has politely refused until humans are part of it. And you know why that is Marcus.”

  “Bruniks is right my friend. You have no idea how isolated you really are over here. Only your brother Owyne knows the truth, and he has made an alliance with us a few years back already. He also had attacks by trolls remember, from the mountains in the north? Rodic sent word to inform the trolls there led by his brother to make peace while we try to do the same here. You do not know of the threats beyond the mountains. You all live very secluded and safe here, nestled between the massive mountain ranges to the far north and those to the south,” Granitetooth said with deep concern.