by T. H. Lain
They all laughed, shouldering their gear and heading past Regdar out the door.
The big fighter smiled, grabbed his own belongings, and fell into step behind Clemf at the end of the line.
The party marched through the gates and down the River Delnir toward the Southern Sea. The moon slowly rose in the darkening sky, and the sound of crickets and the running river filled the soldiers' ears.
"Nice night," said Tasca.
"Only an elf would say that," jabbed Whitman.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I don't know," replied the dwarf, "maybe you ought to write us some poetry about the moonlight and the romantic crickets. Maybe the pretty little elf boy should have been a bard."
Tasca pulled his rapier from his belt, flipped it endwise, and conked the dwarf on the helm with the bell. The heavy dwarven helmet rang loud in the quiet night, and the crickets stopped chirping.
"Will you two knock it off?" scolded Regdar. "Thanks to you all the bears and bandits know we're out here."
"It's better that way," said Whitman, smiling as he readjusted his helm. "I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."
"Duck!" Clemf landed hard on Regdar's back, and the two men hit the ground.
"What the-" Regdar rolled over, ready to curse Clemf for his clumsiness, but found himself staring up at a river troll.
Whitman tumbled into action. Rolling forward, he came up at the foot of the beast. The shiny, dwarven-worked head of his weapon crashed down with a tremendous thud and a crack.
The troll's thigh bone visibly collapsed, and its knee shot out at an odd angle. The creature hissed at the dwarf and swung back. Its claws raked along the side of Whitman's helm. The spine-tingling screech, like the sound of a razor scraping soft stone, made Regdar cringe.
The dwarf, however, seemed not to mind. "That the best you got, you slimy giant?" cursed Whitman.
Tasca winked at Krunk before jumping into combat and slicing his blade across the troll's arm.
A long gash opened up, and dark green fluid poured out, dripping to the ground and splashing on Whitman.
"Damn you, elf," shouted the stout, little man.
"You should be taller," replied Tasca, dodging the troll's backhand.
A second troll pulled itself from the banks of the river. The mottled green beast dived into the fray, but Clemf and Krunk intercepted it before it could reach its companion.
"Must be a female," shouted Krunk, ducking under a clawed fist.
Clemf lunged forward, jabbing his longsword at the green giant. "How do you know?"
Krunk's mace connected with a meaty slap, ripping away a large hunk of flesh. "Because it's bigger than the other."
Regdar shook off his pack and clambered to his feet, then circled behind the first troll. The slash on its arm had already stopped bleeding, and the skin was closing over. Its leg, too, was straightening, but Whitman's heavy blow had shattered the bone so that even the rapidly recovering beast moved slower than normal.
While Tasca and Whitman kept the monster at bay, Regdar rushed in from behind it. The troll saw its danger and tried to squirm away at the last minute, but being pinned between three opponents, it had nowhere to go. Regdar's greatsword cleaved deeply into the rubbery hide.
More green blood flooded to the ground, once again splashing Whitman. The troll staggered around and glared down at Regdar.
"What's this?" Tasca leered at Whitman. "No criticism for Regdar?" He lunged in and his blade skipped from the beast's heavy hide.
"Why would I?" replied the dwarf, bringing his hammer down on the troll's foot. "This is all your fault."
Tasca stumbled back from the troll's backswing and landed on his seat. "Of course," he said, lifting himself from the ground and sneering at the dwarf. "I almost forgot."
The troll limped a half-step forward and swung at Regdar. The claws on its mighty right hand connected with the fighter's ribcage, producing a loud, cracking sound. The blow knocked the air from Regdar's lungs. The creature's second claw swung down, to catch the big fighter on the thigh. Its digits wrapped around Regdar's leg as if it were a chicken wing, then the troll leaned back and yanked. Regdar dropped his sword in the struggle to free himself from the monster's grip. It was no use. The troll had him tight, and the big fighter's flesh tore under the troll's rending claws.
Regdar howled in pain. The monster's claws made a popping sound as they pulled out of his side, then scraped across the metal of his armor. The big fighter fell to the ground, shaken and bleeding. The stretched, ripped skin between his ribs and leg felt as if it were on fire.
The troll seemed quite pleased with itself.
Braced on his hands and knees, Regdar spit on the ground. A long, thin line of red trailed through the center of the viscous saliva, and he growled.
Regdar picked up his sword and got to his feet as quickly as he could manage. "I've had about enough of you," he shouted. Then he stepped forward, covering almost his full height in a single step, and aimed a powerful blow at the troll.
The sudden attack surprised the monster. Regdar's blade bit deep into the troll's side, forcing it to hop back on its broken leg. That brought it nearly atop Whitman, who smashed his hammer against the creature's back. Tasca's rapier flashed in the moonlight. It glanced off the creature's shoulder before spearing deep into its neck.
The troll roared and shook its head. Tasca's blade came free of his hand, its point still stuck in the side of the giant's throat. The monster clawed at its neck and chest, gouging the flesh with its nails.
A huge flash lit the dark sky. Over Whitman's shoulder, the second troll burst into flames. Beside the beast stood Clemf holding a broken glass bottle in his hand. Krunk crouched next to him, his hand in the air, a small, magical flame in his palm.
Regdar had no time to ask what they'd done. The troll before him, despite its horrid wounds, managed to dislodge Tasca's rapier and toss it to the ground as if it were a toothpick. The beast flailed its arms in a frenzy, nearly catching Whitman in the chest and sending Tasca sprawling out of the way. Regdar ducked under a poorly aimed blow and stepped inside the creature's reach.
With a well-placed jab, the big fighter rammed his sword into the soft flesh between the creature's ribs. Dropping to one knee, Regdar lowered his shoulder and put all of his strength behind an upward thrust. His blade disappeared up to its hilt inside the creature's chest, devoured entirely by slick, green flesh.
The troll's arms fell to its sides, and it raised its head to the sky. A stinking, fang-lined mouth opened wide, as if it were cursing whatever god a troll might worship or despise. With a tremendous shudder, the giant leaned forward and vomited on Regdar. Dark green bile, punctuated with shiny, black gobs, rained over the fighter.
Finally spent, the monster toppled back and landed with a thud on the hard ground.
Regdar stood motionless, his hands out at his sides, breathing from his open mouth. His sword jutted at an angle from the fallen creature's chest. Behind it, Krunk and Clemf danced around the second, flaming troll. The little dwarf threw fistfuls of fire at the burning monster while the human splashed it with lamp oil. Both bobbed and weaved, staying out of reach of the very angry creature that was thankfully blinded by the flames and the pain.
Regdar felt a hand resting on his shoulder.
"You okay, chief?" Whitman asked.
Regdar shook himself back to reality and focused on the slowly healing wound in the troll's ribs where it was transfixed by his sword. His lip curled in disgust.
"Never better," he spat. Stepping forward, the fighter grabbed his sword and sawed it sideways through the troll's body. More green liquid spilled out.
Regdar ignored it.
Lifting his sword over his head, Regdar sliced it across the monster's neck. The blade cut through rubbery flesh and found the cartilage between two vertebrae before hitting the hard-packed dirt. The troll's head rolled free, flopped awkwardly as it rotated once, twice, then came to
a stop, nose in the air. The body convulsed.
"That's one way to do it," commented Tasca, looking down at the dead giant.
"Indeed," agreed Whitman.
A loud screech brought Regdar's attention to the other troll. Its flesh bubbled and cracked in the flames. Dark smoke rose toward the sky, and a heavy stench, like burning feces, filled the air. Flames encased every inch of the beast, making it look like a fire elemental.
Squawking out its pain, the troll collapsed to its knees. It flopped onto its face, and its burning hand came to rest on the other troll's decapitated head. Then it finally stopped moving, and the whole mass continued to burn.
Regdar sat back on his heels. "I don't know about any of you, but I vote we find a place with flowing water and no trolls and camp for the night."
5
Regdar hissed as he lifted his chestplate from his shoulders. He let it fall to the dirt with a loud crash. His tattered and torn undershirt was stained crimson in a long oval from his shoulder to his belly and all down his torso. He lifted the ruined garment gingerly from his body and tossed it into the slowly growing fire Whitman tended.
Regdar examined himself. Along his left side, three large puncture wounds weeped a clear, yellow liquid, dotted with flecks of dark red. Jagged pink stretch marks ran across his body from his ribs, past his belly button, and down onto his right hip. He poked at them with his finger and drew in air between gritted teeth. The scratches burned. The pain wasn't as bad as when the troll made them, but they burned nonetheless.
Sitting down on a mossy stump, Regdar doffed the rest of his armor. His right thigh had a huge bruise from hip to knee, but it was otherwise intact. The fighter sighed. He was glad most of the injuries were superficial. Bruises hurt but would heal, and he could fight without too much trouble. His ribs, however, were a different story.
"Let me look at that." Krunk pointed at the holes in Regdar's side with his stubby fingers.
"Be my guest." With considerable effort, Regdar lifted his arm and twisted to his right.
"Hmm." Krunk scratched at his long, white beard.
"How is it?"
The hair on the front of the dwarf's face moved. Regdar assumed Krunk was either smiling or cringing.
"Well, it's not diseased," replied the dwarf.
Tasca coughed out a laugh from the other side of the fire. "That the best you could come up with? Your words inspire confidence in us all."
Whitman elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up, elf."
Krunk's moustache moved again. "I think I can patch you up good as new," he said. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a finely crafted cross with the symbol of the sun emblazoned on it. The cross was made from what looked in the flickering firelight like silver or platinum, and the reaching bands of the holy sun were obviously gold.
Wrapping the thick fingers of one hand around the religious artifact, Krunk placed his other palm on Regdar's chest above the weeping wounds. The dwarf closed his eyes and recited a prayer under his breath.
Regdar felt Krunk's fingers tighten on his skin, then the familiar, healing warmth flowed into his frame. He leaned his head back and rolled his eyes deeper into their sockets. He loved this sensation. It was almost worth getting hurt just to be healed again.
Lost in the warm rehef provided by Krunk's spell, Regdar flinched when something touched his leg. Lifting his head, he looked down to see the dwarf cleric preparing to heal the bruise there.
"You should try to not get hurt so much." Krunk pushed on the soft, purple tissue on the big fighter's leg.
Regdar squirmed and gritted his teeth. The euphoria from the previous healing spell was all but gone.
"One of these days," Krunk continued, "I might not be around to fix you up, and then where will you be?" He pressed his palm again into the fighter's flesh and mouthed a few short words.
Regdar felt the healing warmth again, though much weaker. He moved his left arm and squeezed his thigh. Both felt better.
"Thanks, Krunk," he said, standing up from the stump and walking to his pack. "I owe you one."
The old dwarf stomped to the fire and sat next to Clemf. "Don't start counting now," he said. "You never have before, and you'll never be rich enough to pay your debts anyway."
They all laughed.
Regdar drew a new shirt over his shoulders. "You're probably right about that." Then he, too, sat by the fire.
Tasca and Clemf held long, carved tree branches over the fire. On the end of them, each man had a row of punctured mushrooms roasting above the flames.
Whitman pulled a package wrapped in a handkerchief from his pack and returned to the fire. He lifted the cloth and began tearing off large hunks of bread and handing them around. Tasca pulled his mushrooms from the flames and pointed the stick at Regdar, who used his hunk of bread to pull a bubbling fungus from the branch.
"Thanks," he said, putting the impromptu sandwich to his hps and blowing on the hot meal.
Whitman did the same. "So," he said between cooling breaths, "you really think we'll be able to find this woman?"
Regdar looked up over his mushroom. "I wouldn't have asked you to come here if I didn't."
"How did you lose her in the first place?" asked Tasca.
Whitman elbowed Tasca again.
Regdar raised his hand. "It's all right, Whitman. Telling you the story is the least I can do."
The other men looked up, and Regdar began.
"Have any of you ever heard of the City of Fire?"
"The mythical City of Fire?" asked Krunk.
Regdar nodded. "I thought it mythical too until I walked its streets."
Whitman scratched his beard. "So it really exists?"
"Well, it did." Regdar sighed. "I and my companions sent it back to the planes." Regdar stopped for a minute, rubbed his face, and swallowed away the tightness in his throat. "We were fighting a crazed blackguard who wanted a powerful artifact from inside the city. She almost got it, too, but Naull managed to trap her inside a magic bubble." He looked up into the night sky. "It worked great, except that Naull was trapped inside the sphere as well. To keep the artifact out of the hands of evil, we sent the city back through its planar gate." He paused. "Naull was still trapped inside."
Everyone sat silent, not even chewing their food.
Clemf was the first to break the silence. "You watched her go?"
Regdar closed his eyes and nodded.
"And you assumed she was dead," added Tasca.
Regdar shrugged. "The city went to the Elemental Plane of Fire. Once her spell ended, there was no way she could survive there."
"And this cleric friend of yours, Jozan," said Whitman, "he had proof that she's still alive."
Regdar nodded. "Proof enough to persuade him. I know what you're all thinking, but if there's even a chance that she didn't die in that fire, then I have to find out for myself." He looked at them all in turn. "Like I said back in the barrack, this is a volunteer mission. You're under no obligation to stay."
There was a moment of silence, cut only by the sound of the crackling flames.
"Well, I don't know about the rest of you," said Tasca, "but I was sold when he told me we were going to rescue a kidnapped woman from a band of slavers." The elf pulled another mushroom off his branch. "I have a terrible weakness for damsels in distress."
Whitman glared at the elf. "We're with you, Regdar."
The others nodded.
Regdar smiled. "I know. I know."
Krunk was awakened by Tasca when the moon was high overhead.
"Your turn," said the elf before he climbed into his bedroll.
Krunk rolled to his feet and wiped the sleep from his eyes. The others were fast asleep.
The fire burned low in the pit Whitman had made. Tasca had been smart to keep it small. There was no point in attracting more attention than necessary.
Picking up his mace, Krunk walked around the fire. A small pile of branches rested nearby. Krunk smiled. Despite what Whitman sai
d about him, Tasca was an upstanding fellow.
Krunk sat for a while, poking at the fire with a long stick, throwing another branch on when the flames grew too weak.
The night passed slowly, stars moving imperceptibly across the sky. The dwarf became sleepy again. Shaking his head, Krunk got to his feet and went to collect more wood for the fire.
Before trudging to the riverbank, the cleric hung his mace from his belt. It was mid-summer, and the waters of the River Delnir were low. Spring runoff had deposited plenty of firewood high on the banks, and Krunk quickly made a heaping pile to carry back.
"That should last till morning," he said as he bent down to pick up the wood.
Something that felt like two huge rocks hit him on the back. His face crashed into the pile of branches, and he was pinned to the ground. The air was driven from his lungs.
Krunk twisted as hard as he could to right and left, but he was stuck. Whatever was on top of him was either larger or stronger than he, or both. He heard a crackle and a pop, like a bone being separated from its joint. A burst of warm, damp air rushed across the back of his neck, setting all the tiny hairs on end.
The dwarf cleric could hear his heart beat in his ears. His thoughts raced. The smell of rotting flesh reached his nose, and a sharp pain ran down his spine. In a flash he understood.
Vampire.
Regdar awoke with a start, his hand instinctively wrapped around his greatsword. He shook his head and sat up. The others were sleeping, and the fire had all but gone out. A smoking pile of dull, red embers was all that remained.
"Krunk," he said in a loud whisper.
Only the sound of the running river, several paces away, answered back.
"Krunk," he said again, a little louder this time.
In the low glow of the embers, Regdar could see Whitman sit up straight, clutching his hammer to his chest.
Regdar got to his feet and crossed to the dwarf. Without a word, Whitman reached over and shook Tasca awake, laying his finger across his hps, signaling silence. The elf got the hint and lifted himself from his sleeping roll while retrieving his rapier.