“And outnumbered ten to one,” Van said, with Paley quivering and clutching her arm.
They overheard Brux speaking to the trolls and popped their heads out of their tent to listen. The trolls didn’t seem to believe what Brux had told them. Brux whistled, and out of the woods came Nid and Wasubel.
As soon as the Troll King laid eyes on the two gnomes, he waved his chunky, bowed arms and stammered wildly in his native tongue.
“What’s he saying?” Elmot asked Brux, loud enough so Van, Paley, and Jorie could hear.
“He said that receiving the gnomes as a gift from us proves his luck’s returned, and it negates his fall,” Brux said.
The other trolls grumbled.
Jorie whispered to Van and Paley, “The gnomes had to remain hidden until we could present them as a gift.”
“What do you mean, present them as a gift?” Van asked alarmed. “The gold is the gift. The gnomes are our guides.”
“Shh!” Jorie commanded, trying to listen in. “It looks like the king’s troll clan isn’t convinced his luck has returned.”
Wasubel whistled, and out from the trees came Sashee. She presented a bulky object wrapped in a thick cloth to the Troll King.
Jorie shook her head, sadly. “Too bad. Nid and Wasubel were trying to save Sashee.”
“From what?” Paley asked in a strained voice. “Are the trolls keeping the gnomes as pets or something?”
“Or something,” Jorie mumbled, focusing her eyes on the scene unfolding before them.
Sashee held the package in the palms of her hands, while Nid and Wasubel untied it. The morning sunlight dazzled off dozens of radiant chips of gold.
The Troll King sputtered rapidly, raising his arms toward the sky.
Brux explained to Elmot, “He’s saying Ak, the Troll God, has delivered the gold to him via these morsels, or . . . vessels. Anyway, he means the gnomes.”
The other trolls grunted, banging their clubs on the ground in approval. The Troll King had regained his throne.
“Does this mean they’re not going to hurt us?” Van whispered to Jorie.
“He accepted our gifts, so it means they’ll leave us alone. That’s the point of the offering.”
One of the trolls went off to notify the other tribes of their king’s regained luck. The Troll King greedily clutched the gold, as he instructed one of his minions to dig a hole, and then he dropped the bundle in and buried it.
“Gold is a sign of great wealth and power among the trolls,” Jorie said. “That’s why the Troll King wears gold bracelets and a gold crown, to display his clan’s wealth.”
“Why did he bury the gold?” Van asked.
“To hide it, in case an opposing clan attacks the camp,” Jorie said.
Other trolls grabbed the three gnomes.
“What are they doing?” Paley asked, as she stiffened in fear.
One troll brought out a sharpened spear, and another jabbed the fire with a small branch, making it roar. Two others created a rotisserie with sticks. Without a fight, the gnomes allowed the trolls to skewer them onto the spear, one at a time.
Plop, slide. Plop, slide. Plop, slide.
Van retched.
Paley shrieked and pulled her head back inside the tent.
“What’d you think the gnomes were for?” Jorie murmured.
“Not that!” Van yelped. She slipped back into the tent, so sick she was sure she would never eat again.
“Gnomes are loyal creatures,” Jorie explained. “They are indebted to Cordelia for saving their tribe from genocide. When Ildiss confirmed that Cordelia was your ancestor, and that you carry the Anchoress bloodline, the gnomes believed it was time for them to repay their debt to Cordelia through her descendent. They considered it an honor. Wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
Now Van understood why the gnomes considered it a great sacrifice for Sashee, Nid, and Wasubel to accompany them. For creatures so grotesque in appearance, Van was awed by their courage and generosity. A need to protect the gnome tribe raged inside her with such feverish intensity, she trembled. Their brave sacrifice would never be forgotten. Ever.
At Van’s insistence, the three of them held hands, and Jorie said a brief eulogy for the gnomes. Brux stuck his head in the tent, breaking their circle of reflection and sorrow.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Best you don’t come out right now.”
The stench of burning gnome flesh wafted into the tent. Van breathed from her mouth to avoid smelling the cooked flesh.
“You negotiated our passing to the Caves, right?” Jorie asked, carrying on as if nothing horrifying had happened.
“The Troll King promised us we would be free to pass without being bothered by any troll clans,” Brux said. He stared at Van and Paley. “You two doing okay?”
Both shook their heads, clutching each other’s hands.
“It’s a custom in the gnome’s culture,” Brux said gently. “If you accept that, it will be easier.”
“It’s true. What’s done is done. Time for us to warrior up!” Jorie said, though the pain of the gnome’s sacrifice showed in the squint of her glistening eyes. Refocusing on their mission was her way of coping.
“We’re right on schedule,” Jorie said. “We’ll go to the Caves, grab the Coin, and be back to Lodestar in plenty of time.”
Van packed, still feeling nauseated over the incident. She could hear Brux and Elmot taking down their tent. The trolls started getting riled.
Jorie leaped out of their tent, and Van and Paley followed.
“What’s the problem?” Jorie yelled to Brux
Brux strode over to them, scowling. “They decided not to let us go.”
“But they promised!” Van shrieked.
“It turns out trolls aren’t very good at keeping their word,” Brux said.
Two trolls grabbed Elmot, as other trolls moved in around them.
“I guess the expression never trust a troll carries some weight after all,” Jorie said, dodging as one of the trolls tried to grasp her.
“You’re just mentioning that now?” Van exclaimed, bracing for a fight. She had a newfound respect for the Troll’s Foot Tavern and its severed troll’s foot logo.
Elmot struggled, but the trolls forced a thick metal collar around his neck and chained him to a tree near the qilins.
Jorie was in her glory with hand-to-hand combat. She rammed an upper cut to a troll’s dopey chin, breaking a few of his teeth, following with a roundhouse kick to his abdomen, barely knocking the troll backward.
At the same time, Brux grabbed a branch from the ground and used it as a club. He smashed the end of it into the chest of an oncoming troll, then side-swiped his block-head, shattering the branch. The troll barely flinched.
Van twirled a stick she had snatched from the ground and, using one of her Koga-clava techniques, smacked the troll in his knees. It did nothing; the troll grabbed her. She squirmed and jabbed the stick in the troll’s eye. He howled and clutched his face, releasing Van from his sweaty grip. She beelined for the Troll King, who sat serenely by the fire, confident of the fight’s outcome. She crashed into the dumbfounded king, knocking him to the ground.
“How’s your luck now?” Van said scathingly. “You big, dumb piece of—” She was cut off as a troll grabbed her from behind, lifting her in a chokehold.
Jorie and Brux were good fighters, but they were outnumbered. The trolls soon had Jorie, Brux, Elmot, and Paley chained by the neck to trees.
The Troll King lumbered close to Van and took her face in his hands. He stared down into her eyes and mumbled in his marble-mouthed language.
“What’s he saying?” she heard Elmot ask Brux.
“Um . . . he’s … upset she knocked him off his seat. Found it very . . . uh, disrespectful.”
“But he’s going to let her go? Right?” Paley said hysterically.
“Just spit it out, Brux,” Jorie said.
Brux took a deep breath and then quickly sputter
ed, “The Troll King has decided Van’s the first one they’re going to eat. He says blue eyes are a delicacy. He plans on eating them . . . raw.”
The Troll King dropped his hands and howled a hearty laugh.
Van spat in his face.
“Leave her ALONE!” Brux screamed. He struggled against the chain binding him to the tree. Pink, bloody scratches formed where the metal collar strained against his neck.
Two trolls rolled a cauldron out of the woods and set it over the fire. Several trolls filled it with large buckets of water.
“Seriously, where are they getting all this stuff?” Van asked, as she fought with renewed vigor against the enormous troll holding her.
“Oh, no!” Paley gasped.
The Troll King pulled out a dagger.
“NO!” Paley and Elmot screamed, straining against their chains.
Jorie mumbled a chant. “Damn it! My magic isn’t working. I can’t break the lock.”
“Take another step, and I’ll end you!” Brux growled.
The grinning Troll King raised the blade to Van’s eye. The tip of his knife dug into her skin just below the eyeball. Blood trailed down her cheek.
She screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Day 14: 11:44 a.m., Living World
“HALT!” yelled a gruff voice from the edge of the woods.
Someone else immediately repeated it in troll language.
The Troll King stopped and swung around, dagger poised to fight the intruders.
The trolls casually sitting around, enjoying the show, shot to their feet and grabbed their clubs.
Out of the woods emerged the strangest creatures Van had ever seen—a disturbing mix of bovine and homo sapien. Their bodies appeared mostly human, except colossally more muscular. Their broad foreheads and elongated faces reminded Van of cows. They had long, wide noses with large, flared nostrils and a pair of tiny ears on top of their misshapen heads. A bit smaller in size than the trolls, they appeared surprisingly well groomed in their full leather combat attire. They rode four-legged, hyper-muscular beasts that looked like a cross between a bison and a camel, each one possibly eight feet tall.
Their appearance frightened Van, yet she’d never felt so happy to see anyone in her life.
Paley shuddered. “W-What are those?”
“Tarcs, riding allocameli,” Jorie said. “They’re Balish allies.”
The trolls attacked. Clubs and fists flew.
Brux frowned. “What are Tarcs doing this far out of Kezef?”
“Zane—the bartender at the Troll’s Foot—told us Tarcs would be in the area,” Elmot said. “They just saved Van’s life.”
“A-Are they friends?” Paley asked. “Or d-do they want to kill us, too?”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Jorie said. “They don’t eat humans, if that makes you feel any better.” She grimaced as one of the trolls grabbed Zachery and ran into the fight.
The trolls were losing badly to the brutal Tarcs, who swung at them with swords, morning stars, and poleaxes.
When the troll holding Van joined the fight, she ran to her teammates and hid behind Brux.
“Get out of here, Van!” he yelled. “Run!”
“No!” Van fiddled with the metal collar. “How do I get these chains off?
“Van, get your Twin Gemstones,” Jorie commanded.
Van hustled over to the mound where the trolls had piled their belongings, careful to avoid flying weapons and falling bodies, and rummaged around until she found both Gemstones.
One of the trolls released the qilins from their binds, and the creatures joined the fight, too. The Tarcs struggled against fighting both the trolls and the qilins.
Van ducked as one of the qilins pounced, tearing a Tarc rider from his beast. A second Tarc rode over and bashed the qilin in the head with a morning star, and the beast crashed to ground. The Tarc on the ground was injured but alive. The other qilins saw their dead buddy and scattered into the woods, running away from the fight.
As she rejoined her team by the trees, Van could’ve sworn she heard Jorie mumble, “Cowards,” under her breath. She tucked one of the Gemstones back into Paley's pants pocket and kept the other.
Before long, the Tarcs had wiped out the entire troll clan, including the Troll King. The Tarcs hadn’t suffered any major injuries, except for the rider attacked by the qilin.
Van felt grateful for the invasion, but the Tarcs made her uneasy. Being allies with the Balish was never a good thing.
The Tarcs dismounted from their allocameli and tied them to the trees.
“Which of you is the leader?” asked the largest and most brutal-looking one. His gold nose ring shimmered in the morning light.
Jorie stretched to her full height. “I am. Jorie Alquest.”
“A woman?” said the Tarc. His taut belly rumbled with a good chuckle. “You must be Lodians!”
The other Tarcs snickered.
“We’re marketier’s scouts from Hod,” Elmot said, a little too quickly. “We have papers.”
“Oh, you are, are you? With a female as your leader?” the Tarc said, grinning. “Well, marketier’s scouts from Hod, my name is Godreel. I am Lord of the Tarcs.”
Jorie bowed courteously, then dropped to one knee as a show of respect.
Brux, Elmot, Van, and Paley followed suit.
Jorie spoke. “Lord Godreel, we are grateful for your assistance in freeing us from the trolls. Please allow us to show you our gratitude.”
“It is presumptuous to assume we have spared you to set you free,” Godreel said in his low, gravelly voice. The boiling cauldron did not go unnoticed. He nodded to his men, who began searching the slain trolls for anything of value. “But I am interested in your demonstration of gratitude.”
The Tarcs collected all of the undamaged weaponry. One of them picked up Zachery, and another, Brux’s dagger. They confiscated the Troll King’s gold jewelry, along with some gold coins he had tucked in a leather band around his ankle.
“We will pay gold in exchange for our lives,” Jorie said.
“Leader Jorie, I would be happy to take gold off your hands,” Godreel drawled. “But you must understand, I cannot take your word. I must see the gold, which I am sure is not on any of you. If it were, I could simply take it.”
“That’s correct. The gold is hidden nearby. I need your word as a great lord you will accept the gold in exchange for our lives. Do we have a deal?” Jorie asked. She stood, prompting the others to follow.
“You have a deal, Leader Jorie. As long as you have enough gold to cover all of your lives.”
Godreel grunted to one of his minions, who easily unsnapped the restraint from Jorie’s neck using his fingers. She walked to the spot where the Troll King had buried the gold and dug up the cloth sack. She opened it in front of Godreel.
Despite his best efforts to remain impassive, an expression of approval spread across his bovine-like face. The Tarc Lord had clearly not expected such a valuable offering.
“We are pleased to accept your most generous gift.” Godreel motioned to one of his men, who lumbered over to confiscate the gold. “Secure the prisoners.”
“What?” Jorie scowled, as one of the Tarcs grabbed her. “We had a deal!”
Van dashed into the woods and plowed right into one of Godreel’s men. It felt like hitting a tree trunk, and she fell backward, with the breath knocked from her. Her nose stung, and the cut under her eye throbbed.
The Tarc easily lifted Van by her jacket collar and dragged her back to the others.
“The deal was, Leader Jorie, that I spare your lives,” Godreel said, pleased with himself. “You did not ask for your freedom.” He chuckled.
The rest of his men chuckled, too.
The Tarcs unshackled Brux, Elmot, and Paley from their metal collars and used rope to bind their hands in front.
Jorie and Brux tried to break free, while Godreel calmly watched and sighed.
“Although I do have a
fondness for the trolls’ style of bondage, chained necks are impractical for our journey. If you continue to struggle, I cannot guarantee sparing your lives.”
“Journey?” Brux asked, stopping his futile struggle. “Where are you taking us?”
“Into slavery, no doubt,” Jorie said, grimacing.
Godreel took a round glass disc surrounded by yellow metal from his pocket. He elongated it into a tube and handed the looking glass to Jorie.
“Look down the incline, to the black oak tree, if you will,” Godreel said.
Jorie passed the looking glass to Brux and then around to each of them.
Van peered through the lens. In the distance, she saw three bodies dangling from a branch of a large, leafless tree: the thieves of Cortica from the Troll’s Foot Tavern. She snapped the looking glass closed and handed it back to Godreel.
“They did not behave,” the Tarc Lord warned. “Do not let this be you.”
Van allowed her hands to be tied without a struggle.
“You are correct, Leader Jorie. Or, should I now call you simply . . . Jorie?” He chortled. “Slavery is an important part of our economy. The men are useful as work hands in our fields or used as entertainment in our Death Games. The women . . . ” Godreel sauntered close to Paley and perused her lewdly. “Our numbers are low. Although we have strong women in our tribe, their anatomy allows each to have only one child. We use our female slaves for breeding. If not, then the hardworking men in our tribe use them for housekeeping or . . . pleasure.” As Godreel spoke, he eyed Jorie.
Van wondered whether Jorie’s sheer rage would be enough to fuel her escape from her bindings.
Godreel gave Jorie a quick slap to her butt. “This one has good hips! Perhaps she will be best for breeding.”
Jorie flared in anger. She released an animalistic growl so guttural, it upset the allocameli tied to the trees. Some of them let out rapid, high-pitched shrieks and struggled against their binds. Others stomped their front hooves and spat.
Godreel grinned at Jorie’s outburst and nodded to some of his men, who scurried away to calm the beasts.
Since Van and the others had already been the trolls’ prisoners, the Tarcs didn’t bother searching them. As puny humans, they posed no threat to the massive Tarcs, anyway.
Shock of Fate: A Young Adult Fantasy Adventure (Anchoress Series Book 1) Page 32