Bound to the Abyss

by James R. Vernon

  “Stay here; I’ll get rid of it.” Bran said over his shoulder, the confidence in his movements not matching the tone of his voice. He was at the horse’s side in moments, his blade slashing out and catching the troll on its right arm before it even knew he was there. The blade cut deep. A thick substance similar to blood spurt into the air. When the troll let out a familiar howl, Ean realized that they had been mistaking the sound of the wind throughout the day. It stood to its full height and moved back a pace or two, allowing Ean to see the troll completely.

  The troll stood twice as tall as Bran. Strips of fur hung from its muscular yellow body. The troll’s face was cratered with scars and pockmarks. Lumps and boney protrusions grew out of its skull and shoulders in random patterns. Its long arms hung down at its sides, the hands swinging at its knees, long claws extending from each finger. Where Bran’s blade had hit, there was a large gash with a reddish-blue liquid that Ean assumed was its blood dribbling down the arm.

  “Stay back!” Bran yelled, his sword weaving about in front of his body. “I think this one is sick!”

  The troll’s attention was locked on Bran now, its dark, yellow eyes now visible in the firelight. It moved into a crouching position, its knees bent and the knuckles of its large hands resting on the ground. With a growl, it launched itself at Bran. The speed of the creature caught the three of them off guard. All Bran could do was dive out of its way.

  The troll landed with a crash between Bran and where Jaslen and Ean were standing. Its limbs were splayed across the ground in every direction, but it was back on its feet in an instant. Bran was on his feet as well, his eyes locked on the troll and his sword waving slowly about in front of him. The troll let out another growl but this time did not charge. Instead, it took slow, careful steps towards Bran.

  While Ean was still locked in his position, unable to take his eyes off the battle, Jaslen finally started to move. Racing to the tent she shared with Bran, she grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows that were resting beside it and moved back to the fire. She had an arrow nocked and ready to go.

  “I can’t get a good shot! It’s too close!” Her voice wavered as she spoke, but she kept the bow steady.

  Bran circled to his right as he waved his blade in a slow and deliberate manner. The troll followed him, loping along on both its hands and feet to his left. It limped slightly whenever it put any weight on its right arm, but otherwise it seemed to ignore the wound. Jaslen slowly started to move around the beast in Bran’s direction, the arrow in her bow still ready to fly.

  The troll charged. Bran dodged and scored a long slash across its back with his blade. The troll let out a moan, stumbled, then fell forward onto its face. It scrambled to rise, falling over once or twice, before finally regaining its feet. It turned about, its eyes scrunched together and a snarl touching its lips, as it started towards Bran again.

  The twang of a bowstring sounded behind Ean. Something whizzed past his ear. As if by magic, an arrow appeared in the troll’s left leg. Way to go, Jaslen, he silently cheered.

  The troll stumbled from the impact. With a grunt, it swatted at the shaft with one large hand, breaking most of the shaft off, leaving the arrow head imbedded in its yellow flesh. It looked around for a moment until its eyes fell on Jaslen at the same moment she notched another arrow. Those yellow eyes, set deep into the sockets, narrowed as the beast charged towards Jaslen.

  Caught off-guard by the beast’s change of target, Bran did his best to get in front of the creature. It shouldered him out of the way. Jaslen let loose the arrow she had ready, but it flew wide. With a scream, she raised her bow, swinging it about in a feeble attempt to stop the troll’s charge. The bow caught the creature across one of its arms, but it barreled right into her anyway.

  The two went to the ground with a crash, legs and arms intertwined. Jaslen’s small frame made her look like an infant compared to the size of the troll. Ean leapt into action. He grabbed the end of a burning branch out of the cooking fire on his way to help. As fast as Ean moved, Bran was faster. He reached the troll just as Jaslen and the creature stopped tumbling along the ground. He thrust the point of his blade with measured movements, careful that his attacks stayed clear of Jaslen’s body.

  Unfortunately, the jabs seemed to do little more than enrage the troll even further. It lashed out with a thick foot, catching Bran directly in the stomach and launching him into the air. Ean got there before Bran hit the ground. He slammed the flaming branch down onto the back of the troll. The blow did little harm, but the flame started to light the animal skins the troll was wearing on fire. Ean received a large backhand to his side and across his body by the beast for his troubles, but it did roll off and away from Jaslen. Ean stumbled backward from the blow, the branch dropped from his grip before he fell to the ground.

  As soon as Ean hit stone, he tried to rise back up but a shiver of pain shook his body. Looking down he noticed three slash marks cutting through his shirt, stomach high. A faint seepage of red starting to moisten the edges of each tear.

  The troll was busy trying to smother the flames. It rolled about violently, past Ean and Bran, before it stopped near Jaslen. She was still lying on the ground, face down, arms and legs splayed out and not moving. Her red hair was covering her face and matted together in places. Ean’s vision blurred with his pain as he tried to focus on the fight.

  The troll was back on its feet, snarling at Bran. Its eyes settled on the weakest prey, Jaslen, and it charged straight at her. Bran charged, aiming to cut the beast off before it could reach their fallen friend. His sword did not waver as he sprinted to intercept the beast.

  Ean started to draw a rune onto the stone of the mountain path. Instinct and concern controlled his actions. The lines lit up as his fingers traced them across the ground, his hand moving faster than he thought possible. Time seemed to slow down as he drew the rune along the ground. He glanced up for a moment. Bran had somehow gotten between the beast and Jaslen. The troll had come to a halt in front of him, both of its clawed hands raised and ready to strike. Bran looked as if it was taking all of his strength just to stand, the sword in his hand dipping slightly in front of him.

  Behind Ean, a shout rang out. “No, you fool! You can’t control him!”

  Ean vaguely recognized Zin’s voice but ignored it. Jaslen was badly injured, Bran was only delaying the beast until his body gave out, and Ean was next to useless. He had to risk it.

  The rune was nearly finished when he felt Zin grab his arm. “You don’t understand,” he screamed into his ear. Was he screaming? It was hard to tell. “It’s been four years since you tried this. Do you know how big it will have grown in four years?!”

  Ean had no clue and didn’t care. He completed the design then activated it. The dim glow of the lines grew bright, brighter than the campfire, brighter than even the fading sun. They grew in intensity until, with a flash, they were gone, replaced by a dark, glowing hole in the ground as wide as a wagon wheel.

  Ean risked a quick glance and saw both the troll and Bran staring at him, both frozen in place, their mouths hanging open. He watched as the opening in the ground pulsed with a dark light. It was hypnotizing; the soothing blue glow, the light pulsing steadily like a heartbeat. Just the slightest bit of warmth flowed out of it and dulled the chill of the wind. Ean’s body started to relax in that warmth…

  Then, the pain came—like a dull knife carving up his insides. He had expected the pain, but this was a dozen times worse than the last time. Doubled over, he fell onto his side. Then he saw why the pain was so much greater than he had expected.

  When he had first tried summoning an Abysmal Hound, the creature had been the size of a puppy, although a large one. What came out of the portal now was far from puppy-sized.

  Its front feet emerged first, huge paws the size of a man’s head, with four claws just as large on each one. They reached out of the hole and latched onto the stone, the muscles in its legs straining as it pulled at the ground. The rest of
the Hound’s body quickly followed. It was covered in thick, black fur that shimmered with grease; the oily substance dripping off its fur gave off a sickly-sweet smell. A short muzzle and dark purple, pupil-less eyes glanced in every direction at once. Its body was slightly muscled, its tail short and stubby. What Ean had remembered as being the size of a puppy was now the size of a young bear. It towered over Ean.

  As the Hound stepped completely into their world, the pressure and pain wracking Ean’s body ceased, replaced by a dull ache. The portal to the Abyss closed, the complex summoning rune returned in its place. The Hound was practically right on top of him, its opened mouth showing off razor sharp teeth. Its breath was hot in Ean’s face, the smell of decaying meat overwhelming his senses. The small singular rune on its neck was his doing. It marked the beast and allowed him to summon it instead of pulling a random one from the Abyss.

  It sniffed at him a few times, great intakes of breath that seemed to draw him towards the Hound’s mouth. The Hound continued to stare at him for a few moments, its head tilted to the side, those dark purple eyes measuring him while its tongue hung out slightly over its pointed teeth. Ean hoped that whatever it decided to do with him did not involve those teeth. A familiar howl sounded from behind the Hound.

  Ean glanced under the Hound’s thick body and frowned at what he saw. The troll had recovered from the shock of the summoning and had turned its attention back to Bran, who was still staring at Ean and the Hound. He didn’t even react as the troll swept a huge fist into the young man’s side. Bran went tumbling to the ground with a grunt, the sword flying free from his hand. It clattered along the rocky ground, finally coming to rest a good distance away. The troll let out a low growl and started to stalk towards where Bran had fallen.

  Ean quickly pointed at the troll and yelled out, “Attack!”

  The Hound stared at him.

  “Go! Get it! Uh…kill!”

  Still nothing. Maybe it couldn’t understand him? Over the years, Ean had learned pieces of the language of the Abyss from Zin. He frantically searched his brain for the equivalent of attack.

  “Li’atch!” he yelled. Zin had taught him that word once a long time ago. It meant “to eat.”

  The Hound spun and took off in the direction of the troll, kicking up dirt and stone as it sped towards the other beast. The troll had just enough time to put up its arms in defense before the Hound crashed into it, knocking the troll onto its back.

  The troll batted at the Hound’s side with both hands. Each blow rocked the massive beast to the left and right but it kept its balanced on top. Bits of saliva began raining down on the troll, most scorching the raggedy clothes, a hiss escaping as each drop fell.

  The Hound bit down hard into the other creature’s right shoulder. With a howl of pain, the troll began to thrash harder, its feet kicking into the dirt, its fingers and nails digging into the sides of the Hound. But the Hound held on.

  As the two beasts fought, Ean began a slow and painful crawl over to Jaslen. It took an extreme amount of effort for him to just to keep from collapsing. The summoning, combined with his own wounds, had left him weak. On the way to Jaslen, he sent a glance in Bran’s direction see the boy trying to get back to his feet. With Jaslen’s boyfriend not looking too injured, Ean continued to crawl. He alternated his attention between Jaslen and the two beasts.

  The troll made one last effort to buck the Hound off, letting go of its grip and heaving its body. Releasing its bite on the troll’s shoulder, the Hound sank its teeth into the troll’s neck. What had been a terrible howl coming from the troll before turned into a gurgle as its thrashing tripled.

  By the time Ean had reached Jaslen, the troll gave one last shudder and then remained still. The Hound kept its strangle hold for a bit longer, its tail wagging now, then released its grip. It sniffed at the troll, looked it up and down and then began to feed.

  Trying not to gag at the sight and sound of the Hound tearing into the troll, Ean turned his attention back to Jaslen. Her breath came at normal intervals, and her eyelids fluttered when he touched her head. He checked over the rest of her body, flushing as he examined her chest and thighs. Other than a number of scrapes and a thin cut on the side of her head, Ean didn’t find any cause for worry.

  “Jaslen, wake up.” He patted her face with a few fingers as he tried to be as gentle as possible. She stirred, a whimper escaping her mouth, then her eyes opened. “Bran? Is that you?” Ean wished his own name was the first thing that crossed her lips.

  “Uh, no. It’s Ean.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, Ean. I’m sorry, I just thought…” She blinked a few times, her expression changing from confusion to concern. “Where is Bran? Is he alright?”

  “He’s fine,” Ean said, pointing over her shoulder. “A little bruised maybe, but in much better condition than you.” Bran was limping his way over to them, but he got there before Ean could say more.

  “Jaslen! I was so worried!” Bran placed a hand under Jaslen’s head and lifted her into a sitting position, leaning her slightly against his own body as he crouched next to her.

  A twinge of jealousy forced Ean to look away.

  Ean took the opportunity to slide back a few paces, trying to put some distance between himself and the couple. “I’ll go get my medicine bag,” he murmured before getting up and walking away.

  Bran nodded in acknowledgement and continued to talk to Jaslen in low tones. Ean did his best to ignore what they were saying, which wasn’t too difficult since it took all of his effort to stand and walk. He had only gotten a few paces before the sound of a scream made him spin around. The movement nearly brought him to his knees, his stomach afire with pain. Jaslen was pointing at the Hound while Bran seemed to be trying to calm her down.

  “What is that?!” Her voice was trembling, and she clutched at Bran with one hand. The Hound was still chewing away at the dead troll. It had taken a bite out of the troll’s side and was now munching away on one of its arms, its short tail wagging along behind it.

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Bran said, holding her close, “That creature is on our side. I don’t know how Ean brought it here, but he did, saving us all.”

  They were both looking in Ean’s direction now, their faces hard to read with the only light coming from the small fire and soft glow of the summoning rune. The sun had set, and the first moon had yet to make an appearance in the sky. Ean just stood there, feeling like an awkward fool.

  “Well, I guess there is no need for me to keep hidden anymore.” Zin said, appearing without warning in between the three. He scratched at his back and kept his eyes on the Hound.

  Both Bran and Jaslen turned their attention to the small imp, the shock written clear on their faces. It was almost comical to see, except Ean felt like he was about to get sick. Years of effort at keeping his secret from everyone, ruined.

  “You truly are a servant of Ze’an.” Bren said, a note of wonder to his voice. Jaslen continued to stare.

  “No, well…” Ean grunted, both from pain and frustration. “There will be plenty of time to explain while I patch us all up.” He turned back around and stalked to where his medicine bag was sitting.

  “I can’t wait to hear this.” Zin mumbled, loud enough for Ean to hear. It took all of Ean’s will power not to turn around and kick at the imp.

  EAN RETURNED TO BRAN and Jaslen with the medicine bag. They watched the Hound, a mixture of wonder and revulsion painted their faces as it continued to eat away at the corpse of the troll. Jaslen was sitting up on her own now, Bran close by her side. Zin was sitting off a few paces from everyone, still visible, and eating what appeared to be part of a rat or mouse. When Ean sat down next to Bran and Jaslen, they barely acknowledged him.

  “We’ll start with Jaslen’s head first, I think.” Ean said, his sour mood worsening when neither replied. He took out a small length of cloth and one of the thick vials that contained ground up Rottwealth from his bag. Applying a small bit of the Rottwealth p
owder to the cloth, he began to wrap it around Jaslen’s head.

  “Ean,” she whispered to him while he worked. “Can you…can you make it go away?” She gestured slightly to the Hound, her hand barely moving in its direction.

  “Once we’re all bandaged up I will. It seems busy at the moment.”

  She nodded, not looking convinced. Finishing up the bandage on her head, he put a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, I promise. I’ve handled him before. There is nothing to worry about.” He tried to make his voice sound reassuring, but it wasn’t something he was used to doing.

  “If you say so, but I’ll be happier when it’s gone.” Her body relaxed at his touch but she kept her eyes locked on the Hound. “And what about that other thing? The thing that talks. Is it dangerous as well?”

  “What, you mean Zin?” Ean couldn’t help but laugh, even though it made his wounds throb. “He’s just an imp. Harmless for the most part, although he talks way too much.”

  Finished with Jaslen, Ean lifted his own shirt and examined the gashes the troll had caused. Not too deep, they wouldn’t need stitching. Dumping a small amount of the Rottwealth onto his hand, he began to gingerly apply it to the wounds.

  “You sound as if you’ve known…Zin, for a long time?” Jaslen asked. She was watching Zin now with those beautiful forest-green eyes.

  “Uh…yes. Zin has been with me for years. I guess you could call him my friend.”

  “That thing is your friend?” A hint of surprise touched her voice. “Wait, years? How come we haven’t seen him before now?” Jaslen was looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. Ean wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

  “Zin can turn himself invisible, although I can see a slight blur.” Ean winced as he touched a slightly deeper wound, growing silent for a moment as he examined it again. When he looked back up, Jaslen was watching the Hound again. So much for holding her attention.