The cage closed in around Grump. The world spun.
Crush caught the leg and took a huge bite. "Everyone, take a piece, it's good! This goat is real good. What did you call her, Grump? Bah. Bah is delicious."
Thirdborn wiped greasy meat from his lips and lifted a torch high overhead. "To Grump! Secondborn of the Bulderbags, and his meaty goat Bah!"
The trolls howled. Time slowed. Grump focused on Teacher as Crush's torch slipped from his fingers. Tar coated Teacher's little body head to toe. It rolled in viscous globs over her face and down her shoulders. It dripped from her feet and collected at the sapling's roots.
Teacher's eyes opened, two hazel jewels set into slick black. "You will save Oya, Grump, on the day you finally find the love in it."
"Teacher!"
Crush's torch plopped into the tar. Flames roared and crackled around her.
"When you learn the truth, I hope you can forgive me," she said as raging tongues of brilliant fire coffined her fragile frame.
Heat washed across Grump's cheeks. His hand went limp as he slid to the floor and watched her burn. Teacher did not scream. She did not wail. She did not writhe. She simply stared at Grump, until the fire consumed her eyes.
Laughter filled the hamlet. Trolls loved a good death, and it was a rare day when they could celebrate one at home and not in Farlain. Couples embraced. Friends slapped each other's backs and stared wide-eyed at the fire. Grump's youngest brothers and sisters eyed him with a mixture of pity and disgust. Most of them held chunks of greasy goat meat.
Crush and his two minions hooted at Teacher's remains. Thorn stood still, his back to Grump, frozen and emotionless as a blackwood.
Grump pressed his head against the bars and closed his eyes. They took everything from him. Teacher. Bah. His garden. Everything.
"Teacher showed me kindness, and she died for it," he wheezed, passing his fingers down the bar.
Snot dribbled from his nose. "Bah did nothing, and she died for it."
A teeny thump hit his heart, soft like a child knocking on a sturdy door. "They took everything from me. They took what was mine."
That teeny thump smacked louder on his chest. His blood rippled. "I'll never see them again. I will always be alone."
What once was a smack now crashed against his ribs. Slowly, he clasped the bars and lifted his gaze, this muscles swelling. "I am alone. I deserve to be alone. I am a monster. I am troll."
The force within his heart exploded through his blood. Colors gained a new, vibrant clarity. Time slowed to a creep. A low, deep growl rumbled from his ribs, electrifying the air.
Every troll turned to the secondborn in the cage. Crush and his friends sneered while Thorn frowned.
Grump looked upon the charred lump of Teacher's body. "I have failed you," he murmured, "but this is what I am, and this is what I'll always be."
His body shuddered as a great breath passed from his lips. A scarlet veil fell over the hamlet. Grump inhaled. Thorn stepped toward him, reaching for the prison.
Grump roared. His grip tightened on the bars. The veins along his arms bulged into a web of pulsing tentacles beneath his mottled green skin. The iron shrieked as he sheared the bars apart.
Once, Grump was a prisoner. An abomination. A freak. He took a single, mighty leap and crashed into the swamp, and as the rotted water and ooze rolled down his body, the Hunger engulfed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Bargain
Gold light pierced the tiny hole between the under mountain Boil knew and the tomb Boil feared, the tomb Urt trapped him within while the old goblin scampered off to betray the one who saved him. Boil stared at the sarcophagus surrounded by bleached bones of a people not his own. The pillar candles encircling the bejeweled shrine glimmered in the dim light.
Greenskins didn't fear the dark. Shadows protected them, surrounded them. Goblins breathed the gloom like the oppressive air pervading the mountain's labyrinthine tunnels. But here in the black thick as wolf's fur, Boil trembled. Mojo slithered through the room like a snake eying a blind mouse that sensed but could not see the monster before it.
Slowly he rolled to his knees and came to his feet, eying the chained gate framing the coffin. If he could just sprint across the room, maybe he could find a way to break through those massive, rusted links. Boil inhaled and exhaled through his nose. Dust trailed in glittering coils in the light. He counted to three and sprang.
Each footstep kicked a cloud of dust around his shins. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs, he passed a candle and nearly knocked it over. And then, he reached the gate. Boil peered into the dark tunnel beyond it, rising toward the surface. This was an exit. In his heart, he knew the surface waited on the other side.
"Let me out," he hissed. Tears welled in his eyes. He rattled the gate, and its heavy chains clinked and clunked against the iron bars. So close. Freedom waited beyond those bars, but it might as well have been a dream and nothing more. Greenskins ate through rock. Iron and steel didn't break beneath a digger's bite.
He spun around, heaving, and stared at the coffin's back. Gritting his teeth into an angry wall, he slapped the gate. Maybe something in the room could crash through the bars or otherwise pry the gate apart.
Calm. Keep yourself calm, he told himself.
With his back pressed against the wall, he edged along the room, careful to avoid anywhere near the ominous sarcophagus. Once he reached halfway around the room, he noticed the shaft of light, the one source of illumination keeping this terrifying world alight, dimmed. A once flickering amber beam faded into a sad spear. Not even the dust glittered in its light.
His trepidation vanished beneath a tide of terror, and he sprinted for the hole. Boil pressed his eye against the opening and watched as the torch Urt had thrown onto the ground dwindled. Darkness closed around the room beyond his. The skeletons lining its walls watched Boil frantically beat against the black wall.
"Do not fear the darkness," a woman cooed, her voice a caressing whispering softly sounding from behind.
Boil spun around. He dug his heels into the black and shoved his back against a wall that wouldn't give.
"Boil, Boil, why do you fear me, child? I am not a thing to fear. It is they you should fear, because they fear you. But me? No, I am not your enemy. I am your ally."
"You were the one who came to me in the hovel," he said. He scanned the field of black for any shape, but nothing disturbed the stillness.
"That I am, and a great risk it was for me. My power weakens beyond this room. I could have faded to nothing if I lingered beyond it. But to save you? To bring you to me? It was worth the risk."
"Why do you want me? I—I don't understand. I'm just—"
"A digger? No, you are more than that. You are more than just some lowly goblin. Fate has chosen you, my friend, and you have a destiny beyond any other who lives beneath this mountain."
"You're the mojo behind the wall, aren't you? You drank the water beneath the world and it gave you the power to whisper beyond death."
Her twinkling laughter rolled like a wave around the room. "I am one of many who drank the waters, yes. But whisper beyond death I cannot."
Boil's teeth trembled as he forced the lump down his throat. "Then...."
"Then I am not truly dead, am I?"
"You're trapped in that thing."
"I am. The ruby holds me. If you would take it, then I would be free and you would be rich. Is this not a deal we can both happily make? Free me, Boil, and together we will journey to the world beyond the mountain, and you will finally see the sun."
The first candle between Boil and the coffin sighed—if a candle could do such a thing—and from that sigh an amber tongue unfurled. A once dark pillar glowed translucent from the flickering crown it wore.
"You made Urt insane. You'll make me insane if I let you stay around me."
"Your friend was already insane, and it was the power that holds me that did the deed. My voice brought him peace. It can bri
ng you peace, too, if you just listen for a time."
"This coffin you're trapped in but not buried in ... how did you come to be in it?"
"A long story from an old and awful war. Release me, and I will tell you the tale of how Oya came to be torn from the rest of our world. I will teach you every stone and every shadow. You will know the hills and the valleys, the rivers and the lakes."
"Maybe some things should remain a mystery." Another candle sighed to life. Boil clenched and unclenched his fists. "Mojo might have worked on Urt, but I'm stronger than him."
"Much stronger. It's why I picked you out of all the others. It's why I chose a digger named Boil to save me. Haven't you looked to the high mountain and wondered what's beyond? I know you peer up the elevator and dream of what might be. You saw how the high clans live. Their riches pale compared to the world beyond the mountain, the land beneath the sun."
Boil unfolded his arms. "I ... I do wonder what's beyond the mountain. But ... I can't free you. It doesn't feel right."
A third candle lit. "The chain barring your way from the mountain will never break by a greenskin's hand. It was forged to withstand armies."
"Then I'll find another way." He lifted his chin as a fourth candle flared to life. "I've come this far."
"But you will go no farther without me. Urt returns, and with him he brings Skar. The mine master will break down the wall while you cower in the shadows. He will come for you with his bloodstained club, and he will make your death an agonizing eternity. This is your fate, Boil. Will you die a digger tonight, or will you a die an emperor under the shining sun, generations of your clan bowing with gold-laden arms at the feet of their greatest father?"
Boil saw it then, a throne carved of granite and laced with polished precious metals. Fine pelts cloaked his regal shoulders, and on his brow glittered a crown of braided gold and emeralds. In his hand he held a scepter, the massive ruby on the sarcophagus capping the golden rod. And before him, a field of greenskins. Warriors, shamans, mothers, fathers, children, and grandchildren, all cloaked in his regal colors. They adored him. They loved him, and not a single one of them bore the digger title.
"Yes," she sighed. "This is your future beneath the sun. Free me, Boil. Crash this coffin against the floor, and this world will be yours."
Boil's nostrils swelled with his breaths. That vision was his dream, his every hope bundled into a brilliant fantasy. Why then, did he fear this cooing voice almost as much as he feared Skar's wrath?
"I don't know if I can," he rasped.
"Ah, you have seen what may wait beyond the mountain. Yet something still lacks. Or rather, someone."
He interlocked his fingers and pressed them against his stomach. A fifth candle flickered alive.
"Indeed," she continued, "you lack one thing more than any others. More than a kingdom of your own, more than riches, more than glory, more than even the sun. You lack her. Ember, the one he took from you and tossed into the waters."
"It's empty without her."
"Then let me fill your cup, my child."
Boil's hands went slack. He stepped forward as the last candle lit. "But she's dead."
"Death bears no meaning for those who drank the mojo waters. Look. Look and have hope."
A figure inched from behind the coffin. Boil's teeth clenched into a hard wall. He watched as the form stepped from the shadows and into the ring of shifting persimmon and marigold.
Ember clasped the olive braid falling over her shoulder. Her slate skin drank the candlelight, and the fire glittered in her round eyes. "Hello, Boil," she said with the warmest of smiles.
All fears and apprehensions faded beneath her crescent grin. His heart leapt into his throat as he bounded toward her. But when he reached the candlelight, a force hurled him back. He slammed into the dust and coughed, scrambling to his elbows.
"Ember, you're back. You're back! Come out of there. Come to me."
"We can't be together yet," she said, her tender smile transforming to a sad one. "She will only free me if you free her."
"Can ... can she really do that?"
"Yes, and so much more. But you have to promise to help her, Boil. Otherwise, the deal's no good. She's not bad, not bad at all. If you just give her a chance you'd see that."
"But I'm scared, Ember. It doesn't seem right."
"Do we seem wrong?" she asked, blinking.
"No, of course not. We aren't wrong. We're every kind of right. I'm—I'm so sorry." Hot tears slid down his cheeks as he scrambled to his feet. "It's my fault Skar killed you. I should have done something."
"You did, Boil. If you hadn't shown up, he would have had my body. You kept him from that. I might have died, but you denied him what he really wanted."
Low voices echoed from the black wall behind Boil. Ember looked over his shoulder, her brow creasing. "Skar is coming. You have to free her before it's too late." She dropped to her knees and reached for him, her fingers pausing at the edge of the candlelight. "Boil, please. Promise to help her, and we can be together again."
"Ember, I...."
Something crashed against the black wall, spraying bits of rock and dust against his back. "Boil!" Skar roared. "Boil, you piece of centipede shit, get out here! I'm going to make you suffer. I'm going to make you bleed. Boil. Boil!"
Tears coursed down Ember's cheeks. "Boil, you have the power. Free her. Save me. The world beyond the mountain is waiting for us. Just free her, please!"
Another crash rocked the wall. Boil slowly straightened. A third collision shook the cave. "For you, I would do anything."
Ember bowed her head. She lifted her chin to the ceiling and spread her arms. "I love you, Boil, it's time to bury the digger and become the emperor you're meant to be!"
He charged forward. Her body burst into glimmering motes that shifted in shades of gold and white before fading into black. Boil clutched at the empty air, staring into his palms. A fleck floated onto his skin and faded. "I love you too, Ember. For you, anything."
Boil clamored onto the pile of bones. He shoved his shoulder into the coffin, and it rocked.
Skar's roar echoed in the cave. Light flooded the room. Boil grit his teeth and rammed the sarcophagus with every ounce of strength in his measly greenskin body.
One of Boil's nails broke against the stone. "I am not a digger. I am not a digger!"
Heavy feet thudded behind him. The coffin swayed. It tipped. Boil screamed, shoving his weight against it.
Stone smashed on the ground. Dust exploded in all directions. The candles extinguished.
"Boil," Skar said in a tone as flat and chill as still waters.
Boil swung around. Skar towered before him, coated in dull slate grains, his eyes glimmering from the torches held by Urt and the line of mine masters behind him. The old greenskin clutched the book—Boil's book—against his chest and flashed his shattered grin.
Skar's knuckles whitened on his massive club. "You pathetic digger. You don't even know the meaning of pain, but I'll teach it to you before you die. Hell will be a blessing once I'm done with you."
As the dust settled around them, a kind of peace settled over Boil. He shook his head and clenched his fists, standing as tall and straight as high clan royalty. "I don't care anymore, Skar. Do what you will."
Urt jabbed his fist toward the ceiling. "Kill him!"
Crescent smiles split along the wall of mine master's behind the digger. Boil sucked in his breath and his tears. He wouldn't let them see a single teardrop before he died.
Skar cracked his neck. "Diggers never learn."
Light laughter echoed through the thinning dust. "But he is no digger, mine master, not any longer."
Skar froze, the color draining from his face. Urt's jaw went slack, and every single smile vanished from the greenskins.
"He is bound to me and I to him, and by his word I am free again. The horde under the mountain will worship this tiny greenskin soon. Tell me, Boil, would you have them serve you."
&n
bsp; All Boil could see in that moment was Ember's terrified eyes as Skar tightened his grip around her throat. Boil had watched those eyes dull as the mine master broke her neck and tossed her to the lake. They teased him. They tortured him. Even Urt betrayed him. These things he could forgive. But her death? He could never forgive or forget that.
"No." Boil lifted a finger and pointed it squarely at Skar. "Show them what your mojo can do."
"I am oh so glad to oblige."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Scarlet Swamp
The boardwalk shattered in a plume of mud and splinters. Thorn and Crush sailed backwards, landing flat on their backs as Grump ripped a mighty roar that shook the blackwoods to their deepest roots. Birds perching in the towering canopy cried and abandoned their hidden nests in a cacophony of screeches.
Thorn bounded to his feet. "His Hunger's got him. Put him down, now!"
Grump cocked his head. He knew this troll, yet he did not know him. Such an insignificant gnat. The troll's blood would taste delicious on his thirsty tongue.
Trolls charged Grump. Did he know them? Yes, they called themselves Bulderbags, a clan of weaklings and fools. "I will show you strength," he whispered.
Eighthborn vaulted from the boardwalk with a slobbery snarl. Grump whipped around and grabbed his youngest brother's tusk, then smashed the troll's face into the mud.
Break. Bleed. Kill. The Hunger sang such a beautiful song.
With a fist like a brick, Grump drove his knuckles into his brother's skull. A sickening crack ripped the air, and the young troll went limp.
His youngest sister, the seventhborn, latched onto Grump's wrist. He spun around and snatched hers, snapping it like a dried twig. She shrieked. Fear widened her eyes as they met his.
"Why didn't you tell me this was Hunger?" he asked. "It's everything!"
"Please, no—"
Grump tripped her, slamming the flat of his palm into her throat as she tipped back. Her windpipe crushed so easily. She clawed at her throat. He grabbed her wrist and launched her into the distance, and her back broke against a blackwood trunk.
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