Nemesis and the Troll King

by Ashley Du Toit

  The centaur growled deep in his throat and swished his tail, signs Yarg easily read as impatience at the troll’s scrutiny. Yarg refocused his eyes on the centaurs’ and raised his hand in a gesture of greeting.

  The centaur did not return it; instead he said in a deep voice, “You must leave this forest immediately. Your kind is not welcome here.”

  The words were uttered so slowly that Yarg wondered if the centaur thought he was daft.

  Yarg raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m just passing through.”

  The centaur pawed his front leg on the ground for a moment, then again fixed his eyes firmly on Yarg’s face.

  “I am Yarg, King of the Trolls,” Yarg politely introduced himself. “Who are you, centaur?”

  The centaur made no effort to answer Yarg’s question. Instead, “Why have you come here?” he demanded.

  Yarg shook his head and smiled. “I asked first,” he replied.

  The centaur stared at Yarg for a long moment before giving in, “My name is Folgoo.”

  “It seems to me that you recognised my name,” Yarg probed. “Why would that be?”

  Folgoo flashed a knowing smile at him. “News spreads fast, courtesy of the immortal grapevine. I’ve heard all about your confusing state of affairs, your … eh … complete lack of regard for our fair fairy.”

  Yarg felt his hackles rise. Did everyone know his business?

  “Yes,” said Folgoo simply.

  “Are you reading my mind?” Yarg asked, glancing sharply at Folgoo.

  “I don’t need to read your mind, your thoughts are written on your face,” the centaur sneered.

  “And do you always judge others before getting the facts?” Yarg asked, then shook his head in defeat. “Never mind, I’m going,” he said and turned away from Folgoo.

  To his surprise, the centaur came up beside him, saying, “I shall accompany you to the borders of our realm.”

  Yarg nodded an acknowledgement. They walked silently side by side for a while before Folgoo said, “You seek Nemesis the Dragon.”

  Yarg nodded his head, waiting for Folgoo to make further comment. None was forthcoming, and they continued on in silence. Yarg had bent down to pick up a twisted stick that interested him when he noticed that Folgoo had stopped walking. His head was turned to one side, and he was subtly sniffing the air.

  “What is it?” asked Yarg.

  Folgoo shook his head, gesturing Yarg to remain silent. Yarg sensed something was about to happen because Folgoo looked directly at him.

  “You are in danger. We must hurry to reach the border of the woodland,” he said urgently.

  By now also able to sense others drawing near to them, Yarg needed no encouragement. Branches snapped and young sprouts of grass were crushed beneath their feet as the two rushed forward, racing to reach the border.

  Yarg’s heart was pounding and he could hear Folgoo breathing heavily directly behind him, but soon these sounds were joined by the thundering of hooves hitting the woodland floor.

  Yarg turned his head to see what was chasing them. His heart leapt into his throat and began to beat a crazy tattoo at the sight of an angry centaur ferociously bearing down on them. Yarg was panting hard and his lungs had begun to burn, but still he pumped his stumpy legs and forced his big feet to move faster. Then his fat toe caught the gnarled root of an ancient tree, and he felt himself stumble. Growling loudly in frustration, he flung his hands out in an effort to break his fall. Just as he was about to hit the ground, massive hands grabbed him and flung him upward.

  As if in slow motion, Yarg somersaulted through the air to land with a jolt on Folgoo’s back. Folgoo staggered as the troll’s great weight hit, but he quickly regained his balance and surged forward in one smooth movement.

  Yarg frantically wrapped his arms around Folgoo’s neck, barely managing to hang on as they raced towards the border. Yarg worried that he might be choking Folgoo a little, but he didn’t dare ease his grip for fear of falling and being trampled by the centaur that pursued them. Folgoo put his head down and ran all the way out of the forest. He had almost reached the invisible boundaries of the next realm, when he was suddenly wrenched backwards.

  Yarg went flying over the centaur’s head. He landed with a great thump on the ground, banging his head in the process. “Ouch! A little warning would have been nice,” he protested in a grumble, rubbing a spot on his temple that was rapidly beginning to swell.

  Folgoo glared at him for a second before turning to their pursuer, who was now walking towards them. Straining to escape the invisible bonds that held him, Folgoo snapped impatiently, “Release me!”

  The centaur raised an eyebrow, but continued to walk steadily towards them, stopping just out of reach. “Why are you travelling with one as despicable as this?” he asked Folgoo, his tone soft, but deadly.

  “His heart is not as corrupt as we have been led to believe, brother,” Folgoo stated simply, holding the gaze of the massive centaur.

  Yarg stood up and began to dust himself off. “I don’t know what all this fuss is about, but I’m going to see Nemesis,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m leaving now.”

  The centaur grunted and turned his attention to Yarg. “Did you or did you not hurt a Blue Bell fairy?” he demanded.

  Yarg looked at him for a moment and then shook his head as if to clear it. “At the moment, I can neither deny nor confirm anything about any fairy. All I know is that I need to see Nemesis.”

  The centaur’s eyes pierced his and he snorted. “So characteristic for one such as you … human-troll,” he said, his tone implying great insult.

  Yarg scowled at him.

  The centaur turned towards Folgoo and said, “Come we must bring him before the gathering.”

  The bonds that held Folgoo within their tight grip seemed to melt away. Folgoo moved slightly as if to test his freedom. Shaking his head in disgust at the actions of his brother, he said to Yarg, “Come.”

  Yarg shook his head. “No, I’m leaving.”

  But as he made to move towards the boundary a few metres away from them, Folgoo said, “Don’t be foolish, Yarg. You have chosen this path, it is time to follow your destiny.”

  Muttering beneath his breath, Yarg turned back into the forest. He walked a bit faster until he was abreast with Folgoo. “What’s his name?” he whispered.

  “Cyan,” said Folgoo.

  “What does he want?”

  “To take you to the gathering.”

  “The gathering?”

  “A tradition as old as time, when centaurs come together,” Folgoo explained.

  “Uh, that makes sense … but why does he want me there?” queried Yarg.

  “They plan on having a judging,” Folgoo replied.

  “What are they judging?” Yarg asked.

  “You!” hissed Folgoo, keeping his eyes fixed before him.

  Yarg was too stunned to say another word. He walked beside Folgoo until they stopped in another small clearing, this one ringed by trees so massive that their branches meshed overhead. The woods seemed eerily still here. Fog clumped on the woodland floor, hiding the ground from sight, and twines of the delicate mist wound their way halfway up the tree trunks. The faint fingers of light that managed to penetrate the leafy canopy did little to dispel the feeling of gloom, and Yarg shivered.

  As his eyes adjusting to the dimness, Yarg spotted something within the shadows of the trees that ringed the clearing—a huge centaur standing in front of several smaller ones. The centaur leader, for he must surely be that, moved forward assertively, each measured tread bringing him closer to Folgoo. His eyes stared into Folgoo’s piercingly, watching to see his reaction.

  Folgoo nodded his head and acknowledged respectfully, “Salvetor.”

  T
he centaur gestured towards Yarg as he hissed in anger, “How dare you try to aid this creature without bringing him to the gathering Folgoo. You know our laws.”

  “For what reason would I have brought him to you, Salvetor?”

  “Has he not hurt one of our own?” hissed Salvetor, his eyes once more drilling into Folgoo’s.

  “Unknowing is not the same as knowing,” said Folgoo cryptically.

  “You Dare to defend him?”

  “I do not defend,” said Folgoo. “I merely explain. This one is not corrupt, as we have been led to believe. I see the potential for redemption. But he must follow his own path first.”

  Salvetor considered this for a long moment, the anger in his face gradually fading. The giant creature closed his eyes and raised his face upwards, as if seeking guidance. After what seemed like an eternity to Yarg, Salvetor lowered his head, opened his eyes and addressed Folgoo. “Then you shall accompany the troll on his journey and ensure he does what you say he can. If he cannot, then you must return him to us and we will take care of the matter.”

  “Only if Nemesis orders it,” Folgoo said quietly.

  Salvetor glared at them for a moment more, considering Folgoo’s words. He nodded once in agreement, then he and his attendants faded back into the shadows of the trees.

  Folgoo dropped his head and took a deep breath.

  “Why does he want me returned?” asked Yarg, a bit confused.

  “We are one of the hunter factions,” he said simply before turning away and heading back towards the boundary.

  Yarg blinked in astonishment. Hunter factions were elite secret groups in the service of Nemesis. Their role was to protect the immortal realms, but they were called upon only in the direst of circumstances. It was rumoured that beings sought by them sometimes just disappeared. Pondering the implications of this, Yarg followed Folgoo.

  The woods were silent as they made their way out, but Yarg felt the hot stares from creatures that lurked within the hidden depths. “You don’t need to come with me,” he said to Folgoo, needing the reassurance of conversation to chase away the unpleasant sensation of being watched by unseen eyes.

  Folgoo turned his head slightly towards Yarg. “Yes, I do,” he said with quiet conviction.

  Yarg nodded, understanding from the centaur’s tone that Folgoo was not just obeying orders; for some reason the centaur had chosen to align himself with him.

  “Then we shall have to travel faster. I am in a hurry to reach Nemesis before tomorrow’s nightfall,” Yarg said. To match his words with deeds, he quickened his pace and moved ahead of the centaur.

  Folgoo chuckled behind him. “Did I forget to mention that centaurs are blessed with a unique way of travelling?”

  “What do you mean?” Yarg asked.

  “We can travel within the blink of an eye.”

  It took Yarg a few moments to realise that Folgoo had stopped behind him, then a few more before the meaning of the words registered in his mind. Yarg also came to a halt and turned to face Folgoo.

  “What do you mean?” Yarg asked again.

  Folgoo raised his face, a mischievous gleam radiating from his eyes. “Stand beside me, Yarg, and touch my back.”

  Yarg walked back to where Folgoo stood grinning at him. Cautiously he placed his hand on the centaur’s back. Folgoo uttered some words in a strange tongue. Before Yarg could take a breath, they were travelling within the tones of a wave, moving with the motion of the ocean, silver stands lifting high and then dipping low, the magic beyond Yarg’s experience, and indescribably beautiful.

  And then the wave stilled and they were standing in the Valley Mystic, home of Nemesis the Dragon.

  4

  The Quest

  Yarg breathed deeply, allowing the crisp air to filter into his lungs.

  “That was absolutely amazing!” he said as he let go of Folgoo’s back. “That’s a very cool gift you have …” he began, then stopped as the scene before him literally took his breath away.

  Thousands of the most beautiful flowers in a myriad of intensely vivid hues were scattered across the floor of the great valley, a floral carpet that drew the eye forward to the enormous lake that dominated the landscape. The lake’s smooth surface mirrored the sky above so that the clouds appeared to drift within it. The light buzz of the insects that flitted between the flowers, and the soft susurration from a giant waterfall that flowed down a rockface and emptied into the lake at their left only added to the soothing peacefulness emanating from the valley.

  Yarg tore his eyes away from the scene to glance at Folgoo, who seemed to be as affected as he was. Without words they walked slowly through the flowers to the lake’s edge. Intent on finding the entrance to the cave where Nemesis made his home, which legend said lay behind the waterfall, Yarg walked into the lake.

  Then realised that Folgoo had not joined him. He looked back over his shoulder and sent the centaur a questioning look, not wanting to break the peace with words. After a few more seconds with Folgoo still unmoving, Yarg was forced to speak, his words no more than a whisper on the air.

  “Are you coming, Folgoo?”

  Folgoo shook his head. “No troll, you have to do this bit by yourself.”

  Shrugging his big shoulders in resignation, Yarg stepped further into the lake and dipped himself so that his whole body was covered. Then he began to swim towards the waterfall. The water was cool and silky-smooth against his skin, and it soothed him, draining tension away, almost as if it contained healing qualities. There was a fresh clean smell to it, and he could almost feel the grime and dirt being washed from his body. As he swam, he decided that he would insist on weekly baths when he finally made it back to his fellow trolls. Just because they were trolls didn’t mean they had to stink! He almost swallowed half the lake laughing at the picture of himself telling Taliyard that he had to take a bath.

  Yarg reached the entrance and heaved himself out of the water to sit on the ledge inside the waterfall. The cave was less than reassuring. The intense stench of sulphur hung heavily in the air and the walls near him were scorched black from flames.

  Yarg waited until his eyesight adjusted to the dim light, then rose to move further into the cave. He had taken only a few steps when he heard a deep rumble.

  “So you have finally sought me out, Yarg, King of the Trolls.”

  Yarg could feel the dragon’s hot, heavy breath close by, but he could not see him. Then Nemesis stepped out from the shadows at the back of the cave. Yarg swallowed at the size and stature of the dragon. He always seemed to forget how magnificent Nemesis was.

  The dragon’s massive body was as pitch-black as the darkest night, but nestled in the black was a sparkling glow of emerald-green glitter that shimmered as he moved. His huge body rested on four powerfully muscled legs. He had a long spiked tail, and mighty wings that spanned the cave. His deep yellow eyes glowed eerily in the dimness. Yarg looked deeply into those glowing orbs, and was overwhelmed by the immense age and knowledge that he saw there.

  “Nemesis, Great Dragon, ruler of all the magical realms, I seek audience with you,” Yarg said.

  Lowering his head respectfully, he waited for Nemesis to respond. Nemesis stood for a long moment watching the troll king. Then, “What is it that you seek?” he demanded. Although his voice was soft, there was threat in the tone.

  Despite himself, Yarg shivered as he answered. “A human came to see me,” he said. “He claimed to be brother to me. He told me a bizarre tale. I have come to you seeking the truth.”

  Nemesis neither moved nor blinked, but continued to watch the troll closely. “What exactly is it that you want to know, Yarg?” Nemesis responded.

  “Is it true? Am I a human cursed into the body of a troll?”

  “The truth will either set you free or it will condemn you. Which shall it
be, I wonder?” mused Nemesis, as if speaking to himself, before continuing in a voice that was definitely directed at Yarg, “There is an old saying among mortals: ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ Are you sure you want to know the truth, Yarg?”

  Yarg slowly nodded his head. Nemesis turned his enormous body away and walked further into the cave’s depths. Yarg stood watching the massive wings blend back into the darkness until Nemesis commanded: “Follow me.”

  Yarg followed.

  Nemesis stopped in the centre of the cave and turned again to face Yarg. Growing uneasy under the unblinking stare of those strange eyes, Yarg shifted his feet. The dragon’s deep voice vibrating throughout the cave brought goose bumps to Yarg’s thick skin, but it was what he said that chilled Yarg to the core.

  “You were a human. Through your cruelty, you damned an innocent fairy to a frozen existence.”

  Shock held Yarg immobile, but his mind shouted a denial.

  Nemesis continued thoughtfully, “But you travelled here with a centaur. There must be some good in you if a centaur has gone against his kind to align himself with you.”

  For another long moment Yarg was subjected to that piercing yellow gaze, then Nemesis suddenly boomed a question. “Do you seek redemption?”

  Yarg had been too stunned at what Nemesis had revealed to have thought ahead, but an impatient twitch of that massive tail told him that an answer was expected, and soon.

  Fear of the unknown, of losing what he knew as his life, warred with the desire to return to what he had been told was his true form. “Yes,” he said, surprising himself because he had not realised until he spoke that he had made his decision.

  “Then you shall have to face what you have done,” Nemesis replied. “But be very sure—there is no going back. You have seven days to save the fairy. If you fail, her fate will be yours as well,” he warned.

  Yarg slowly nodded his head. Drawing his massive wings out, spreading them over the cave’s width, Nemesis began to chant: