Sentenced to Troll

by S. L. Rowland

  How could we be so careless not to check her body? “She’s not dead!” I repeat, louder this time. I hold Ismora’s hand in mine, but I’m not sure what else to do. She’s still alive for now, but that could change at any moment. Should I lift her head or will that just make her bleed out more? I don’t know how she survived and frankly, I don’t care, but we need to figure out how to get her help fast.

  Our group surrounds me. I’m so focused on Ismora that I didn’t even notice them approaching. “Yashi, can you make us more potions?”

  “I don’t have the ingredients.” Urgency coats her voice.

  “Can you not find them?” I say it as more of an accusation than I mean to.

  Yashi flinches at the harshness of my words.

  “Maybe, but I could also spend all day searching and not find anything. I don’t know this area. We need to get her back to the village. If we can stop the bleeding, then her natural healing will take over enough for us to travel.”

  I hope that’s true. She’s lost so much blood already that it pools around my knees.

  I use Ismora’s cloak to try and stop the bloodflow, but it does little more than soak it up. It looks like the knife missed its intended target. Her throat is intact, but a gash runs down the side of her neck. That will mean little if she bleeds out.

  “Limery, I need you to cauterize the wound. Can you do that?”

  “What’s that means?” he asks me with wide eyes.

  “Burn her skin until it closes the gash. It’s the only way to stop the bleeding.”

  He nods at me apprehensively and moves in close. A tiny fireball crackles in his palm and he molds it until it is a thin layer of flat, radiating heat that fits him like a glove.

  Limery presses his hand to her neck and the blood sizzles. The smell of cooked meat fills the air and something primal in me causes my mouth to salivate uncontrollably. Ismora thrashes for a moment before falling still once again. When Limery removes his hand, a white handprint is burned into Ismora’s skin. If she makes it through this, she will carry Limery’s mark for the rest of her life.

  “Reach in my bag, there should be a strip of leather. I need you to hand it to me.”

  The satchel on my back shuffles and then a strip of leather dangles in front of me. Tormara takes hold of Ismora’s hand. I rip off a piece of her cloak and fold it. Placing the cloth against her wound, I tie it securely around her neck.

  She lays there unmoving.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “I think it is time we cut our journey short, Chod.” Tormara’s face is strained. “The undying ones know we have bonded with the wyrms. They will be coming for us. We must warn the village and do what we can to prepare. We still have two more wyrms that we started with and if we save Ismora, I will count us as truly blessed.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right.

  “Okay. Gord, chop us some wood. I’m going to build a stretcher to carry Ismora on.”

  A few minutes later, Gord returns with two branches about eight feet long. Using some of the leftover leather, I strap it across the two pieces of wood. With my nails, I poke several holes and run small strips of leather to secure it in place. When it’s finished, we have a primitive stretcher. Lightweight, but strong enough to hold her body.

  Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill ‘Inventor.’ You are now a level 1 Inventor (Novice). Increase your skill and learn techniques for advanced inventions by finding an advanced inventor (Apprentice or above). Ranks: Novice, Apprentice, Journeyman, Expert, Artisan, Master, Grandmaster.

  I focus the notification away. The last thing I care about right now is leveling up my skills.

  “Help me move her onto here.” Gord grabs Ismora by her feet and I take her underneath her armpits and we lift her from the blood-soaked earth and onto the stretcher. “Now, let’s get moving.”

  It’s already evening as we set out towards the village. Judging by the map, it will take us nearly two days to get there. I fear Ismora doesn’t have that much time. She’s still unconscious and her health has not started to replenish at all. Could the weapon she was attacked with have been poisoned? I would give her my Tiger’s Eye Pendant to remove any potential poison she may have, but she has to be awake to use it. Right now, our only hope is to get her back to the village so that she can be healed.

  We walk with purpose, constantly on alert. Without Ismora to scout ahead, Yashi keeps her bow strung with an arrow and Tormara has a dagger in both hands. Gord and I march as fast as we can without jostling Ismora, until eventually, night descends upon the land.

  Our night vision kicks in, allowing us to see for miles under the starry sky. No one mentions taking a break and we continue well past dusk.

  Eventually, I’m hit with a notification telling me it’s time to rest.

  Warning! Your body needs rest. If you do not sleep within the next two hours, your stamina, strength, and health regeneration will be greatly reduced. Recommended sleep: 6 hours.

  Two hours comes and goes.

  Warning! Your body needs rest. Your stamina, strength, and health regeneration have been reduced until you sleep. The longer you go without rest, the more depleted you will become.

  My Strength and Constitution reduce by nearly a quarter and I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath. I just lost the equivalent of four levels of stats and I feel it in my bones. I can tell Gord is experiencing the same thing by the way he readjusts his grip on the stretcher’s handles. It seems heavier and my body feels weaker.

  “We must push through.” No one argues.

  I shrug off the fatigue and we continue. Each step comes with increased effort and I can’t help but notice the heavy breathing of everyone as we walk. Everyone except for Limery and the wyrms. I have a feeling the imp could go all night without sleep and not miss a beat.

  By morning, my stats have decreased by fifty percent. Every step is a slog as the sun rises. We stop briefly to eat, but it does nothing to raise our stats. Not until we sleep.

  I lose myself again in my own thoughts, robotically putting one foot in front of another. It’s the only thing that keeps me going as I wonder how I got myself into this situation. A few weeks ago, I didn’t really care about anyone. My parents were practically non-existent, and the only joy I got was from belittling strangers on the internet. Now, here I am, voluntarily going through hell to try to save someone I barely know.

  It’s interesting… I viewed my sentence to play this game as a bit of a joke at first. Just another challenge to overcome or castle to beat. The judge said it wasn’t a punishment though, but a new form of behavioral therapy. Looking back on my actions, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s true. Has this game influenced my actions or has this always been the person I am when I have people depending on me?

  Kind of a chicken or the egg scenario since I’ve never had anyone depending on me.

  Before I know it, we cross into the forest. Only a few more hours until we arrive at the village. Ismora hasn’t stirred in a while, but each time Tormara presses the back of her hand against Ismora’s forehead, it’s still warm.

  Our stats continue to drop, forcing Gord to leave his shield and the rest of us to strip down to our bare essentials. I leave a mark on the map so that we can return to claim our items at another time.

  With nothing but pure determination, we push forward, nearing exhaustion. Some of the creatures sense our weakness and try to attack. Limery and the two wyrms defend us from what would be certain death multiple times over.

  “It’s okays, Chods. We’s almost there.” He offers encouragement and once again, I’m thankful for the little guy. I’m thankful for all of this.

  We burst through the magical barrier of the village, and I’ve never been so happy to see the translucent bodies of guardian trolls in the distance. They rush to our aid, sounding roars of alarm throughout the forest.

  “Ismora needs healing,” I manage to say before collapsing.

  36. The Calm before
the Storm

  Incense fills my lungs when I wake. Somewhere nearby, birds chirp, welcoming in the morning. I open my eyes and the familiar living roof of the troll hut calms me. Good to know they didn’t just leave me lying in the forest. I sit up, fully expecting the fatigue from the journey to hit me like a ton of bricks, but I feel fine. My stats have returned to normal, and I am none the worse for the wear.

  The hut I’m in is mostly empty but for a few pieces of furniture and a bowl of smoking incense. I’m pretty sure it’s the same hut I stayed in on the first night, all traces of the previous inhabitant gone. A couple of notifications beg for my attention.

  Regional Event Alert! Tommy Sullivan has slain a mana-infused wyrm. 11/20 remaining. 8 days remaining.

  Regional Event Alert! Troy Malloy has slain a mana-infused wyrm. 10/20 remaining. 7 days remaining.

  Seven days remaining? How long was I out?

  I step out into the courtyard and receive several warm smiles as trolls move to and fro on their morning routines. Several children hit a stone ball with a club across the ground. The action stirs some laden thought inside of me.

  Ismora!

  “Excuse me.” I pull one of the children aside and his eyes go as wide as saucers. “Have you seen Ismora? Where have they taken her?” I’ll search out the others later, but for now, I need to find her first. She has to be alive.

  “She is with Jira and Chief Rizza.” The small troll points at another hut on the other side of the courtyard, and I spot Chief Rizza’s wyrm coiled up around the entrance.

  The wyrm allows me to pass without incident and I find Jira sitting on the floor, legs crossed, as he chants and waves a burning piece of brush over Ismora’s face. Ismora’s forehead and cheeks are covered in ash.

  “What is he doing?” I ask.

  Chief Rizza signals for me to be quiet and motions me over.

  “Ismora was injured with a cursed blade,” she whispers, her face grave. “You were right to bring her here. She would not have survived for much longer had you not.”

  I can’t quite place the look on her face. Is it worry or something else entirely?

  “What kind of curse is it? Will she be okay?”

  “Jira is doing all he can to remove the curse, but it is not so simple. Every bit of health she regenerates is being absorbed by the curse.” Jira’s white-tipped dreads sway back and forth as smoke rises from the burning herb.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “For now, all we can do is wait. I would like to have a council meeting once the others return. Bring Gord with you this time, I think he has earned it.” She smiles.

  “What do you mean return? Where’s Limery and the others?” I would have thought he would be right by my side when I woke.

  “The imp left, something about his mother. He seemed to be in a frenzy. I’m sorry, I wish I knew more. As for the others, they woke yesterday and mentioned something about gathering gear.”

  “Yesterday? Wait, exactly how long was I out for?” It must have been some time if Limery left and the others went back for our weapons. The little guy has stuck by my side like glue since I met him.

  “This is the second day.” Two entire days of sleep for depleting my stamina. Is it possible the game forced me unconscious after going so long without rest or was that the punishment for completely depleting my stamina? If it was the second, then why were the others not affected the same way? “We will talk more when the others return.” Her dismissal is firm. There’s not much that I can do here anyway.

  What the hell am I supposed to do while I wait for the others to come back? And why could Limery possibly need to see his mother at a time like this? Maybe I’ll go for a swim in the lake or take a walk in the forest. On second thought, I think I’ve walked enough.

  The cold water of the lake is calming. It’s a strange feeling, being able to actually relax for once. I don’t think I have truly taken a moment just to breathe since entering this world. It all started with an angry ogre, then an angry troll, then an even angrier wyrm and her demon-spawned babies. Sprinkle in a couple human interactions and attempted kidnapping by tiny blue trolls and it has been quite the adventure. More excitement than I’ve had playing a game in my entire life. I’m kind of sad to know it is all going to come to an end. I just hope I can really help the trolls before my time comes.

  After a dip in the lake, I make my way around the village and attempt to learn more about the people who actually live there. I meet Kea, who always has a pot of soup boiling, and then Makali, who boils the leather and uses it to make clothing and whatever else the village needs. Bunu and Tayo nurse the youngest trolls today, but all females help raise them, or even feed them if need be. Zelia has filled in for Ismora while she has been away, teaching the children in the ways of combat. Jojin, Watu, and Malak guard the southern side of the village.

  There are so many more that I don’t have the opportunity to talk with. Each with their own lives, their own personalities. I burn their names into my chest as I try to envision what’s next. War is coming to the village. To the other heroes, we aren’t people. We’re monsters, and they are doing the righteous thing by destroying us. For all I know, they think that we are bonding with the wyrms to try and sabotage the rest of the island.

  When I meet with the council, I need to have some sort of plan. Honestly, I don’t know what to do other than wait. We can reinforce the boundaries, setting up spikes and defensive measures, but we can’t go on the offensive. We don’t have the numbers, and marching away from the village leaves it at risk for attack.

  Maybe the others will have better ideas at the council meeting.

  I’m talking with some of the villagers, telling them of how we battled our way through Paltras Ruins, when I hear a cavernous voice calling to me.

  “About time he woke up.”

  “Don’t pretend you weren’t worried about him, Gord,” teases Tormara. She hands me my satchel and staff. “We weren’t sure when you would wake so we went out for our items. Gord couldn’t bear to go another day without Peacemaker.”

  “Thank you. Really, thank you all. There’s no way we could have saved Ismora unless we all pushed through. And both of you, too.” I reach out and pet the top of both wyrms’ heads and they nuzzle against me.

  “We’re not quite out of the woods yet.” Yashi twists her braid between her fingers. “The weapon that cut Ismora was cursed.”

  “I know, I’ve already spoken with the chief. Jira is doing the best he can, and she wants to have a council meeting this evening, Gord included.” I can’t help but smile at the look of surprise and then pride that crosses his face. “How much does she know about what happened?”

  “We’ve filled her in on just about everything,” says Tormara.

  A half an hour later, we gather at the council area. Chief Rizza, Tormara, Guilda, Kina, Sonji, and I take our seats while Yashi and Gord stand before us. With the three wyrms coiled up at the feet of half of our council, the area is beginning to feel a little crowded.

  “Jira will not be joining us this evening. His talents are needed elsewhere.” She pauses and her wyrm lifts up to touch her fingertips. “I have called this meeting to discuss our future. Based on your reports and interactions with the humans, I fear an attack is imminent. We do not yet know if all of the undying ones are working together. There could be one massive attack or several small ones, but we need to be prepared. I welcome advice on how we should proceed. Those of you who have dealt with them have an advantage over the rest of us, which is why you are here as well.” She motions to Gord and Yashi before sitting back against her throne and giving us the floor.

  I don’t know what I expect from them, but silence is not it. Every council meeting I have been to so far has been hot-tempered and full of action. Even Tormara keeps her vipered tongue at bay.

  Gord clears his throat. “These men are like none we have faced previously. The undying one we faced before may be the weakest among them. I
fear we cannot win against them in open combat.”

  “I think we should start by increasing our defenses.” Their eyes fall on me as I offer what little help I can. I’m a fighter, decent in small battles, but I’m not a commander. I say the simplest things that come to mind. “Spikes, thorns, vines that choke. Make use of your mana-infusion before they ever get close to the village. We know they will come with fire, so we’ll need to infuse the trees. I’d also send our scouts out further. We want time to gather our forces before they are beating on the door.”

  “And what of the wyrms?” asks the chief.

  I don’t know. I’ve never planned an actual battle before. I don’t know the first thing about battle formations or how to win against a superior foe. All I know how to do is play video games. I’ve skated by this far, but if they keep following me, I’m going to get them all killed.

  I can’t focus. They’re bringing clubs and tough skin against magical abilities. They’re all scared, afraid of what will happen if they fight fair.

  “Chod?” She must sense my consternation.

  Maybe that’s the thing, though. We’re the bad guys…We don’t have to fight fair. A movie scene flashes across my mind where a small village is under attack by invading forces. They’re coming onto our lands. That’s something we can use against them.

  “If we are camouflaged, how close do they have to be to see us with a perception potion or anything that modifies their awareness?”

  “I was asking about the—”

  “How close?” I cut the chief off. “Yashi?”

  “It would depend on their skill?” She glances at the chief and then back to me. “Perception potions only increase awareness for what you are looking for, they don’t point it out for you.”