Grump & Rose

by Aaron Burdett

  His Hunger roared. It called to him. It burst through his veins, gushing blood from his wounds. He would rip this wizard's throat out or perish trying.

  Free me, the Hunger screamed. FREE ME.

  Grump squeezed the staff. So much anger. So much rage. He licked his lips. He opened his eyes to a sky that threatened him with sunrise. "No. I will be more than troll. I will not be a monster in the end."

  An inferno roared to life over Sahdira's shoulders. She raised her hands, and raging flames ignited above them. "Then you will die just as pathetically as you lived."

  Grump cradled Boil and Rose in his enormous arm. They were both so small, so still there against his bloodied green skin. With his free arm he held the shovel before him and took a deep breath. Notes welled deep within his throat, his mother's lullaby, and flowed from his lips.

  Sahdira's flames blazed brighter. Their heat blistered Grump's cheeks.

  He sang for his mother, the troll who protected the secondborn that was different from the rest. He sang for Boil, who always saw the good in Grump. He sang for Teacher, who taught him to see the tree in every seed.

  The skin on his arms peeled back from the fire. His muscles smoked and melted.

  As life left him, Grump sang for Rose, for he loved her above all else.

  Despite his buckling knees and failing grip, he held the shovel before him and bellowed the melody through his searing throat. I never should have feared the song, Teacher. I wish you could have heard it. Maybe soon we'll sing together with the stars.

  Not quite yet, my child. Teacher's soft sigh caressed his cheek, and a cool hand fell upon his shoulder. Into your soul I commend my spirit. Rise, Amber Troll, and live!

  Power exploded in Grump's heart. His burning flesh cooled. Blisters healed, and blackened skin smoothed. What once was green, sinewy muscle shifted to brown, then rippled into the glimmering glow of polished amber.

  Sahdira's flames blasted back against the force erupting to fight her own. "What magic is this that saves a monster? What have you been hiding, troll? Tell me! TELL ME!"

  A few wisps of smoke were all that remained of his burns. He pulled the shovel's blade from the ground, and when he did, its wood began to glow, soft at first, like the barest hint of sunlight on the horizon, but brightening with each passing heartbeat until it dazzled so bright its light and nothing else existed.

  Grump gawked at the shovel, the dingy, worn tool he had carried for so long. The tool he used to plant his seeds, the tool he poured his sweat, his tears, and his love into during those long, lonely days growing his garden in the shadows of the redwoods. "What is this, Teacher?"

  Hope. The wooden handle flared, and light blasted from it. Save her. Nurture her. For she will be the seed of all creation. It is time Oya rejoined the wounded world, for she will be the one who heals it.

  The force flaring from his shovel sheared the earth as it barreled out and smashed against Sahdira. "You fool," she roared, "Rosathranilion betrayed me. I sacrificed my body to save this land! We were supposed to bind our spirits together! We were supposed to save Oya as one!"

  "That was her shame. It is not mine!"

  "Give me the child. She will be sealed within the mountain! It is my right. Mine!"

  "No, Sahdira, I will not give Rose to you."

  "Then the ocean will heal, and the wizards will come. You will be the herald of the cataclysm. See reason!"

  "Oya has been gone too long from the world. It's time to let the seed sprout and see what fruit it bears. Go back to your mountain, Sahdira, and never return!"

  "Then you have doomed us all. Oya will hate you for what you've done, monster."

  Sahdira's inferno roared, tearing against the light of his shovel. Grump stood tall despite the full fury raging down on him and little Rose and Boil. He clenched the wood, shaking his head. "Go back to the black. You're the only monster here."

  The force once again welled within his heart and poured into the shovel. The light flared and squelched Sahdira's flames, blasting the wizard into the tower's looming mouth.

  She vanished inside the shadows with a terrifying shriek. The Grand Mountain trembled. Cracks spread up the tower walls. A torrent raced from the mammoth doorway, and the ruin exploded.

  Grump spun from the chaos, shielding Rose and Boil's body with his great form as jagged rocks and debris rained over them. Then, as quickly as the chaos came, it left.

  This is not done, troll, Sahdira's fading voice hissed. Wizards cannot die, but trolls may, and I will find a way to come for you.

  Grump snarled at the rubble, keeping Rose tight against his chest. Silence settled on the land. Grump looked down to clean the dirt from Rose's cheeks. Her tiny hand pressed against his, and she opened her eyes.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  To the West

  Rose's dark eyes drank Grump. He saw his battered, bloody face in their reflection. She smiled, her tiny hands clutching at the air as her feet slid along his forearm.

  Grump stared at the infant, mouth wide enough to swallow a wyvern's egg. He eventually closed his jaw and smiled. "Rose?"

  She giggled, spit bubbling at the corner of her lip before dripping down her jaw. He wiped it from her face and laughed. "You're awake. You're awake!"

  He danced in a circle, whooping and hollering as his feet thudded on the rocks. He lifted her to the sky and shouted, "She's awake!"

  Grump pulled her to his chest and pressed his brow against hers. "You're awake."

  Wind cleared the last of the dust and dirt lingering in the air. It was a crisp breeze, and it carried the scent of fresh pine to his wide nostrils. He turned, facing the eastern horizon. It simmered orange and red like a cooking fire, burning away what mists remained in the old woods surrounding the Grand Mountain. Somewhere in there, he knew the Order waited. They watched the amber troll dancing before the tower's rubble, hoping the sunrise would do the job neither they nor the wizard could finish.

  Grump swelled his chest and watched the sunrise. The upturned crescent of a burning ball flickered along the imperfect line the canopy formed against the cloudless sky. In one hand, he cradled Rose. In the other, he held Boil's body and kissed him on the brow.

  "For you, I will do great things," he said with a smile.

  Tears came to Grump's eyes. Not ones of mourning. Not ones of fright. Not ones of anger. They were tears of joy. The sun burned above the forest, and its golden light crashed over the land, chasing the last of the shadows into the darkest dens.

  He leapt onto the boulder and watched the sun rise, the beautiful, fiery disc of life that it was. Its warmth soaked his skin and seeped into his muscles. It swirled in his heart and filled his lungs. Every bit of him bathed in sunlight, and not a single mote so much as stiffened.

  "It is more beautiful than I ever imagined," he said, closing his eyes and breathing in the morning.

  When he opened his eyes, he hopped from the stone and turned his back to the morning and the humans who lurked in the shadows, terrified of this creature of the night who suddenly embraced the day.

  Grump knew nothing of the world and no longer had his guide. He would need to find a place to bury his friend, but it would not be in the shadow of the mountain the goblin hated. He would find a good place, a high place with plenty of sunlight, and there he would mark it so if Grump ever returned, he would find the place where the greatest goblin emperor who ever lived was buried.

  "What next?" he wondered. The Torn Ocean healed. The Order survived. The wizard's spirit lurked in the shadows. Oya slipped further into chaos. Yet, what could an amber troll do for all these things?

  So Grump decided to do the only thing he knew. He would head west. He would find a good plot of land no fair folk would bother. He would look for a goat or two. And with Rose by his side, he would start planting another garden.

  Grump flipped his shovel on his back and made his way west, humming a tune for all to hear.

  Water lapped against Dain's face. It sent a shiver
down his skin and brought his muddled mind from the abyss. He opened his eyes and caught the sliver of blue sky appear between the smooth walls of the gorge bordering the wizard's tower.

  He tried moving his left arm, but a flash of pain did little but make him scream. He huffed in the shallow water, looking down his body at a right leg bent awkwardly at the side and a left leg gushing blood from a slash running from his ankle to his knee.

  Concentrating came with great difficulty. Despite his breastplate, he felt light, even though his body refused to move at his commands.

  "I'm dying," he rasped. He tried screaming for his men, but his voice wouldn't manage more than a hoarse whisper.

  Not seconds passed when the muffled groans not his own sent a shock through his system. He leaned to the side, and his heart leapt into his throat. "Oh gods, no."

  Goblins shuffled toward him, their bodies in various states of sick decay. Some weren't much more than a skull and bones and a few tattered bits of flesh. Others still had most their skin, save the telltale mark of the blade or arrow that ended their mortal lives.

  Their dead eyes stared at him as they edged closer and closer, their lazy footsteps shuffling through the smooth, wet stones. "Please, no, don't let it end like this. Don't let me die like this."

  The goblins drew near. One closed to within a few a yards, its nose nothing more than two hollow slits. Dain shut his eyes and clenched his fists. He loosened a fist and felt for the dagger in his belt. His fingertips found the hilt, and he slid it into the morning air.

  He could take one, maybe two before they ended him. At least he could go to his death knowing he served the Order faithfully.

  The undead goblin paused just out of reach. Others joined it, none of them stepping close enough for his strike. They circled him, walled him until only their eyes wreathing a blue sky remained.

  Dain pounded the stones and spat. "What do you want? Come at me! Try and kill me, greenskin filth! I'll send you back to Hell again, I swear it! I go to my gods knowing I served humankind and the god of good by sending your kind to their deserving hells. Praise most high to the children of amber!"

  Light laughter filled the canyon, carried on a bitter wind. The goblins parted then, and a dark form of swirling shadows slipped into the circle, looming tall over Dain. "And give you strength to burn the black?"

  He swiped at the form, but his dagger passed through it like it was nothing more than fog. The darkness bent until it came within a hair. Two sapphire eyes appeared in the black, twinkling like polished gems. "You will not go to your gods for quite a long time, Dain. I have much use for you before that day."

  "N ... N ... No!" He pulled the dagger to his throat. "You will never have me, black witch!"

  A force stayed his hand. Her laugh tickled his ears. "To others, you will be Dain Shilayle, Commander of the Knights of the First Order."

  The black shadows poured over his body, sealing his wounds while they entered his blood. A chill crept through his veins, working its way from his fingers and his toes toward his chest.

  "But to me, you will be Dain Shilayle, the Voidborn Prince."

  Darkness wormed its way through his ribs and latched onto his heart. Dain cried out at the pain, the glorious, incredible pain, and the dagger slipped from his grasp. He reached for the sky, crying out for a savior, but neither the sky nor his gods answered, and the darkness took him.

  I hope you enjoyed Grump & Rose, the prequel novel of the Ebon & Amber saga. You can leave an Amazon review here and signup for all the great new releases published by Skull & CrossPens Press at www.skullandcrosspens.com.

  Look for the first volume in Ebon & Amber, The Troll’s Daughter, coming Summer 2016.