by Terry Brooks
Mutens, Servants of the Darkness
Mutens were originally created by the Warlock Lord to serve his empire. The Trolls who were forced to serve with them named them Mutens. Large, misshapen, nearly mindless creatures, they were vaguely man-shaped with great drab bodies and nearly featureless faces. Their skin had the texture of chalky putty and was rubbery to the touch. They stood upright on two legs but moved with a lumbering shuffle. They could speak, though their voices were raspy, as if they no longer worked correctly. Some legends claim they were once human but were transformed by dark magic to be servants. Others say that they were created from earth and clay and animated by magic. They served as the watchdogs for the Spirit Lord’s domain, though they did not die out immediately when he was destroyed.
The Skull Bearers and the small, black, broken creatures that Brona had enslaved to be his servants used the rest of the upper chambers. At ground level were chambers for the Mutens, the watchdogs of the kingdom. Belowground were the rows and rows of cells carved into the rock and sealed with windowless iron doors. The only entrance from the ground to the interior of the mountain was through a fissure in the side of the skull several hundred feet tall. The opening led to the tangle of caverns within the mountain. Trolls serving at the Skull usually preferred to make camp outside the mountain rather than accept a billet within the cold, dank rock.
Skull Mountain lifted out of a wide depression of barren dirt, the surface of which was broken only by a scattering of rocky hillocks and dry riverbeds. It was protected on all sides by formidable natural barriers. To the west was the Kierlak Desert, a vast wasteland, over fifty miles of sand-covered plains made deadly by the poisonous vapor from the river Lethe, which wound into its interior from the south. The invisible vapor hung over large parts of the desert, killing any creature that happened to breathe it. The furnace of the desert and the volatile vapors caused even the dead to decay in a matter of hours.
The impervious Razor Mountains protected the northern approach. Beginning five miles north of the Kierlak and continuing in an unbroken line to the edge of the Malg Swamp on the east, the craggy Razors had no passes. These jutting slabs of rock were neither the tallest nor the most rugged of the Northland mountain ranges, they were, however the most deadly. Hidden among the mountains’ cracks and crevasses lived thousands of tiny spiders, the only indigenous creature to survive the creation of the Warlock Lord’s kingdom. They nested by the thousands within the cracks in the otherwise barren rock. These Razor Mountains spiders are believed to be the most deadly spider in the known world. Their venom kills in minutes. The bare rocks of the Razors are littered with piles of bleached bones—all that remains of the tiny spiders’ victims.
To the east, the Razors end abruptly at the fetid bog of the Malg Swamp. The Malg was a poisonous sinkhole that could not be crossed by living creatures. Its shallow waters covered acres of mud and quicksand. Animals foolish enough to attempt to drink from its depths were soon trapped, though the vapors often killed them before the quicksand pulled them under.
The Malg stretched for miles to the south, eventually feeding into the river Lethe, which passed below the Knife Edge Mountains, meandering westward through the Kierlak Desert to empty into a small lake within the desert.
Panamon Creel
Panamon Creel was a flamboyant highwayman and a scoundrel. He was also one of the heroes of the War of the Warlock Lord. Born in the deep Southland, Panamon was a wild youth who preferred adventure to work. He lost his hand in an accident while still a young man, only to find that decent-paying work was particularly hard to find for a one-handed man but finding trouble was easy. Eventually he discovered he had a flair for a particular job—that of robber. He replaced his missing hand with a deadly pike tip, began dressing all in scarlet, and discovered he was too good as a highwayman to quit. After a few years, he included the lower Northland in his territories, having discovered that robbing Gnome patrols was particularly satisfying, since they usually gained their loot from raids or battle. He was a fierce and deadly fighter who could read a man’s worth in his face and took honor very seriously.
He rescued a wounded Troll named Keltset, who became his partner in crime. Together they were an unbeatable combination. They rescued Shea Ohmsford from Gnomes and ended up joining his quest to find the Sword of Shannara and destroy the Warlock Lord.
Panamon Creel, thief and hero.
After the Warlock Lord’s defeat, Panamon was believed killed when he remained behind to protect Shea’s escape from the Skull Kingdom. Amazingly, he turned up months later, alive, on Shea’s doorstep.
It is doubtful that he ever knew that it was his ancestor, Uprox Creel, who had originally forged the legendary Sword of Shannara. But the forging would have been for naught if Panamon had not made it possible for the heir of Shannara to find and use the sword as it was intended.
Beyond the Malg, the south of the Skull Kingdom was warded by the towering bulk of the Knife Edge Mountains. Jutting out of the bedrock like huge spear points thrust up from the depths, they were the tallest mountains in the entirety of the known world. Lancing thousands of feet into the Northland sky, they loomed over the rest of the kingdom, their icy summits seeming to reach beyond the sky. The only path through the Knife Edge was through a narrow, twisting canyon that led from the banks of the Lethe to the foothills at the edge of Skull Mountain. The toxic river ran along the base of the Knife Edge all the way to the Kierlak. The only way across it was by raft, though no normal raft could stand the corrosive waters of the river. The Spirit Lord’s ferryman captained a wide-bodied raft of rotted wood and rusted iron, probably reinforced with dark magic. The ferryman himself was probably a Mwellret, with scales where skin should have been.
The Northland Army
In the Second War of the Races, the Northland army was primarily built around the might of conscripted Rock Trolls. The total roster included lesser Trolls and Gnomes and was filled out by creatures summoned from the netherworld by the Warlock Lord. The generals were Skull Bearers, who commanded the Troll Maturens and the Gnome Sedts.
In the War of the Warlock Lord, the makeup of the army was similar, except that there were fewer creatures of magic and more Trolls and Gnomes. In that campaign, the main army camp covered a little over one square mile.
The Rock Trolls, considered the finest hand-to-hand fighters in the known world, wore body armor, carried shields, and tended to fight in formation to make optimal use of their numbers. Only serving as infantry units, their weapons of choice were pikes, great swords, broadswords, axes, and large maces. When in phalanx or box formation, they were nearly unstoppable, and had even been seen attacking their own troops to reach an enemy objective.
The Trolls did not use projectile weapons, but they often threw their pikes, maces, and axes with deadly accuracy. No other unit could stand against an equal unit of Rock Trolls. When the Troll war horns sounded the call to battle, an honorable death in battle was all that would stop a Troll.
Brona’s captains were called Skull Bearers because of the skull pendant they wore to signify their pact with the Warlock Lord.
The rest of the army lacked the skill and training of the Trolls but made up for that lack with the sheer weight of numbers. Gnomes served in units of archers and slingers, used to soften an enemy as well as destroy cavalry. They also served as cavalry, though they were poor horsemen, lacking the equestrian mastery evinced by the Border Legion or the Elves. Gnomes also served as Trackers (their forte), sappers, and infantry. The Gnomes within the infantry were little more than arrow fodder to fill out the lines. They fought, but with little skill and less determination. It was only fear that kept them in the lines.
Most units were completely Troll or Gnome and were commanded by a Maturen or Sedt, who answered to the Skull Bearers. There were some mixed units, especially of lesser Trolls and Gnomes, but they were almost always infantry units attached to another command.
The Gnomes also supplied the drummers. In both wars
, the booming percussion of Gnome war drums served to inflame the Gnomes and intimidate the people they faced.
The only other passage into the Skull Kingdom was through the few miles of foothills where the Razors gradually dropped into the Kierlak. The area was open, but it was also a trapdoor, always under guard by Trolls and Mutens ready to close the ring behind anyone foolish enough to venture into the Spirit Lord’s domain.
During Brona’s reign, the entire region, already sparsely populated, became blighted and barren because of the dark magic concentrated at Skull Mountain. All living things within the region died or were driven away—except for those who were captured and perverted for the Spirit Lord’s pleasure. During the year of his campaign against the Borderlands, a deadly wall of mist appeared, forming another barrier around the kingdom. However, unlike the other, natural barriers, the wall of mist expanded as the Warlock Lord’s power grew. Before the fall of the Skull Kingdom, the black wall of mist reached almost to the Dragon’s Teeth at the southern edge of the Northland.
Driven by magic, the wall of mist became a shroud of darkness, clinging to all living things that passed within its influence, lulling them into a stuporous, eternal sleep from which most never awakened. Even plants withered and died from the smothering touch of the mist. It rolled slowly southward, consuming the land even as the Northland army sent before conquered it.
When the Warlock Lord was finally destroyed, the dark magic dissipated as well, causing cataclysmic reactions as the land shook off the darkness that had held it prisoner for so many centuries. The resulting quake destroyed Skull Mountain and shattered the Knife Edge Mountains, its fury reverberating all the way to distant Tyrsis, where it cracked the Bridge of Sendic.
Today the Skull Kingdom is only a name within the Kershalt Territory. The kingdom is broken. The sharp tips of the Knife Edge Mountains are now blunted, the pass between them sealed with boulders and rubble from the once-towering peaks. The Lethe River has changed course to bear around the boulders that litter the foot of the mountains, but the river no longer reeks of poison. The Kierlak is still dangerous, but desert creatures and plant life have returned. The land surrounding the Skull Kingdom is now filled with life. Hills that once were barren now bloom with hardy grasses and a few small trees. All that remains of Skull Mountain is a pile of rubble, from which the rock of one broken eye socket cants forlornly skyward. It is the only memorial for all who died within the depths of the Warlock Lord’s mountain.
Rock Trolls are the finest fighters in the Four Lands.
The damage the Warlock inflicted on the Northland went far beyond the corruption of the Kershalt Territory. The Troll Nation was conquered and subjugated to become the backbone of his army in both the Second War of the Races and the War of the Warlock Lord. As a result, most living outside the Northland regarded the Trolls as either mindless killing machines or merciless marauders intent on the destruction of the other Races. Few people knew that it was actually a brave Troll who had made the Warlock’s defeat possible, and that that Troll had given his life so that a valeman might live.
The perception of the evil Troll persisted until the War of the Forbidding, in which Trolls from the Northland joined with Dwarves and Elves to protect the Elven homeland. Led by the Maturen Amantar, the Trolls fought fiercely in the battle for Arborlon. By its end, both Dwarves and Elves had gained new respect for their Northland neighbors.
Unfortunately, the Southland did not share that respect. To most of the Race of Man, Trolls were ignorant savages. That perception remained until the War of the Shadowen, when the Rock Trolls, under the command of Axhind, allied with the Free Born against the Federation, at which point the Trolls were venerated as heroes by everyone—everyone except the Federation.
Part of the reason for the distrust, aside from the Warlock Lord’s rampages, is the fact that Trolls are reclusive, preferring to remain in their mountain strongholds in the far reaches of the Northland. They steadfastly maintain their own language and culture, rarely mixing with the other Races.
Trolls
The largest and strongest of the Races, the Trolls thrive in the desolate north. They were bred for it, through brutal natural selection and mutation. Their human ancestors were the few hardy souls who survived the brunt of the apocalypse of the Great Wars. Most had been caught unprepared when the wars broke out, and had scant shelter. Many fled to the mountains, only to die in earthquakes and avalanches. Over time, the unforgiving ravages of radiation and plague shaped their genetics. Their survival skills were forged by the fire and ice of a climate in tumult, and by the desperately hungry predators who considered them prey. Most died, but those who lived gradually evolved into a new Race, a Race bred for survival against all odds—a Race that had learned to fight for the right to live while rejoicing in the glory of that battle.
The rigors of the struggle changed them. Their skin darkened and thickened until it resembled a protective layer of slightly burnt tree bark. They grew large and muscular and, at least among the males, completely hairless. They lost the smallest finger on either hand as well as most of the facial definition common among the other Races.
There are actually several different types of Trolls, but the best known are the fierce Rock Trolls of the Northland. There are a number of lesser Trolls, living far from the Northland. All are smaller than the Rock Trolls; all have been born of mutations caused by the fury of the energies released by the Great Wars. Some, like the Mwellret of the Eastland, have major differences in physical characteristics that set them apart, though most species of Northland Trolls are similar to each other in build and appearance.
Rock Trolls are the largest and most powerful members of any of the Races. The average male stands between six and a half and seven feet in height, taller than even the largest Man, and usually weighs over three hundred pounds. Born into a warrior tradition, they are considered the finest fighters in the known world. No other Race can match them for skill, strength, or ferocity in battle, though they often lack the more sophisticated tactical skills necessary for commanding armies.
The lack is not surprising considering the fact that the Trolls never fought as an army until forced into service by the Warlock Lord. They live in isolated communities centered on a single tribe, which itself has usually formed around a few core families. It was that very isolation that made it possible for Brona to conquer and subjugate most of their Race. Each tribe stood or fell alone. And alone, none of them was a match for the Warlock Lord or his magic.
Each tribe is itself as closely knit as a family unit, with the Maturen, or leader, taking the role of honored father for the tribe. The Maturen is chosen by the members of the tribe in a surprisingly democratic process. He is not necessarily the best fighter or the most powerful, but he is always the most respected and stands at the top of a complicated hierarchy that includes the shaman, lesser captains, and other positions of importance to the community.
The actual day-to-day administration of the tribe is usually handled by the women, with one woman, chosen by the tribe, serving as the tribal mother, or manager. She oversees food management, early training of children, and matters of commerce. Families within the overall “family” of the tribe are nuclear, and very close. The tribe protects its own. Any children who become orphaned are quickly adopted into another family; widowed wives are given the chance to remarry, usually the nearest unmarried male relative to their late husband, or at least taken in by his household. Tribal identity and tribal pride are very important to the Trolls. When going to battle or leaving on a journey, most Trolls wear some token to identify their tribe. This is so that all will know which tribe should be honored by their deeds of glory, and so that an enemy will know which tribe has beaten him and carry that knowledge to the Summerland with his death.
All the men within a tribe are expected to assist in its defense, though those who are skilled in crafts or shamanic arts or those who have lived to be an elder are not expected to participate in the hunt. Women
are trained as warriors as well, though they do not usually participate in raids or battles unless the fighting actually reaches their home; then they will fight to the death if necessary to protect the children. It has been said that even a full-grown male Rock Troll cannot stand against the ferocity of a mother protecting her children.
Most of their battles are fought against other tribes of Trolls, or Gnomes and Urdas, and are relatively small skirmishes. To the Trolls, courage and honor are more important than life. Anyone can be born, but to live well with honor requires dedication. Young men reaching maturity often prove their worth in a rite of passage, either by being included in a raiding party or by successfully hunting one of the more dangerous predators, such as the fierce Koden. The only thing more important to a Troll than living well is to die well. For the warriors, especially among the Rock Trolls, that means an honorable death in battle. Those rare individuals who survive into old age are revered as elders and given an honored place within the tribe. When near death, it is not unusual for such elders to deliberately seek out membership in a raiding party in order to achieve their honorable death.
The Koden
The Koden, or Northland bear, is the most ferocious predator in the Charnals. Averaging fourteen feet in height when standing upright, and armed with vicious ten-inch claws, the Koden prefers the cold climate of the northern mountains and ranges throughout the Charnals. The Koden is a master of camouflage; its brown or gray coat blends in well with the rocky terrain of the upper ranges, making it easy for the animal to approach its prey. The Trolls consider the Koden a very dangerous and unpredictable animal. Its fur and claws are highly prized as symbols of valor for those Trolls who manage to kill one. Though Trolls are excellent hunters, the Koden often wins.