“Are you the one I found left for dead?” asked Anson.No answer was needed after Anson lifted the vest to reveal the gruesome scar from a shoulder wound.
Gren looked to Zael for a clipped conversation that made the droll shake his head several times until he raised his arm in a wave that indicated some sort of concession.
Zael and Anson turned to rejoin the others, except that a change had come over Zael. The sternness and acerbic tone that had characterized the Elf-Lord was gone, replaced by a look of compassion and soft words that bespoke admiration. Zael spoke so that all could hear.
“Gren says that once he was attacked by humans and badly injured. He fell to the ground to die a slow and painful death when Anson discovered him. This mage treated the droll’s injuries, even pulled a crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. Gren says that Anson gave him a nectar that stopped the pain and gave him a peaceful sleep which lasted for two days. The sleep was full of a high pleasure which he had never known, and it gave him both time and the will to recover.”
Zael was obviously touched by this story. The Elf-Lord looked back at Gren and continued to explain.
“For reasons Gren does not understand, humans have always sought to kill and revile him. The kindness shown him by this mage stirred him to forgiveness, as it has me. I have found little to admire or learn from humans, but the gift of healing and goodness of heart this mage has shown is uncommon. It pleases me that I have chosen to aid humans who value compassion and show a true reverence for life.”
Zael put a hand on Anson’s shoulder to show his respect and continued, “Gren wishes to travel with Anson and the others, as a protector and a guide. Does anyone speak against this request? If not, gather your packs and follow my lead. Take care not to stray from my path or you will suffer the obstacles and punishments the Wood offers uninvited travelers. We must leave without further delay.”
The packs had already been unloaded from the horses and handed to the members of the Alliance. Orris showed his comrades how to don the packs securely with the weight properly distributed. Zael watched over their preparations and restated his eagerness to move out. When they were finally ready, Zael gave the word to leave and strode off in the lead. Anson followed second, then Corissa and Nevin with Orris last in their file. There was no sight of any of the other elves or Gren, although Nevin had no doubt there were many moving in the same direction through the thick tree cover.
After a short time, Zael urged them again to set a faster pace so they could reach his intended destination by dusk. “Night falls very quickly in the Wood. It will be much darker than the night you are accustomed to.”
Nevin was surprised at the ease of the travel around the dense tree boles with briar, bramble and brush masking any trail. The file of travelers moved efficiently as long as they took the precise path taken by Zael. It was uncanny how he avoided tripping, or even being slowed by the fauna. In a few instances when Nevin veered to the right or left, he received numerous scratches from low branches and twice fell over unseen tree roots. Nevin soon learned to follow Zael’s steps exactly and kept pace for the hours they traveled until he was near exhaustion when the party finally stopped at dusk. They arrived at a circular glade about fifty yards in diameter. Nevin could barely make out dozens of small figures darting about, emitting a buzz of high-pitched conversation.
When the line of weary travelers stopped, a pair of elves approached each of the humans to relieve them of their loads and show them to bedding areas that had been prepared under the canopy of an immense tree. Nevin was so tired that once he realized he had a bed of any type, he plopped himself into it, looked to see that Corissa and the others were nearby, then fell asleep without further thought of food or the interesting details of his surroundings.
Chapter 4
Trolls
Two elves stood over the large sleeping human. After exchanging dubious looks, one of them carefully tried to wake the man by poking him. When the human did not stir, the second elf tried pushing on a shoulder to rouse him. Still unsuccessful, the two elves alternated efforts to wake the man their Elf-Lord called the Sage, who reached out an arm as if to brush away a pesky fly.
Corissa came upon this scene, laughing as the elves took turns jabbing and pushing, then scooting aside as Nevin’s arm flung out to shoo them away. “Nevin!” she called. “You’ll have to move more quickly to rid yourself of these elven flies. Come, it is time to rise. We need to be off soon. We have many leagues to walk today.”
Nevin propped himself up on his elbows and squinted into the glare of bright sunshine.
“Ohhh. My bones! Every one of my joints is sore. It can’t be time to leave already.”
This time Nevin’s aches could not be blamed on uncomfortable bedding because a nest of leaves and boughs had been fashioned for each of the humans. It was the change from hard riding to hard walking that had put a strain on Nevin’s body.
“Since you have the biggest bones, you are expected to suffer the greatest aches,” Corissa teased. “Come. You delay us. We have all been awake for more than hour.”
Nevin blinked again at the morning sunshine that sparkled on the small open glade. Through squinting eyes, he made sure it was Corissa he was hearing. Since when had she become so good-natured?
Her jibe was indeed good-natured, unlike the neutral to surly range of emotions she usually displayed. She called back to him as she walked away, “The elves will tend to your things, Nevin. A morning meal is ready for you. The food and drink is wonderful.”
Even though he was still sleepy and sore, it lifted his spirits to see Corissa cheerful. And she had dropped that “Sir” business, too.
As he looked around the camp, Nevin saw activity everywhere. Elves scurried around carrying out myriad assignments. Orris was surrounded by several of them, carrying on an intense discussion over some kind of implement. Anson was in animated conversation with Zael.
Upon rising, Nevin was given food and drink by two elves. They might have been the ones who tried to wake him, but he could not tell for sure. These sprightly creatures were difficult to tell apart by sight, or sound for that matter, but this was certainly due to his unfamiliarity with them. Up to this time, he had only actually spoken with Zael, but it was obvious that oral communication with the others was possible. His reverie was broken as Corissa returned and sat down beside him. She looked refreshed.
“These elves are wonderful hosts. The brew they made for us is very pleasing and the bread is like nothing I have ever had before. It is delicious. Please try some.” She held up a small basket made of woven grass which contained several thin scone-like biscuits. They were delicious. He could taste a variety of grains and nuts, plus the outside was very lightly coated with honey. The hot brew was equally enjoyable in taste and fragrance, reminiscent of chamomile but much more flavorful. To the amazement of many onlookers, Nevin proceeded to eat all the biscuits. He later learned that one biscuit was usually shared between two elves, and he had eaten a dozen such portions.
As soon as Nevin stood and brushed himself free of crumbs, his sleeping blanket was scooped up by a passing elf, shaken and folded neatly for storage before a question could be asked. When Nevin tied on his pack, he found his clothing had also been folded and brushed clean for him.
Orris hurried over, carrying something. Like Corissa, he also seemed in unusually good spirits. “These elven folk do not get to use our common speech much, so they are a bit hard to understand at first. But they are a friendly sort. Zael gave me a jab or two about losing my sword to that wretched dwarf. I think he said that just to make it easier to give me this.” He held out a sword that appeared to be made of wood and a brown leather sheath. At the top of the sheath a corded rope girdle was belted through a wide loop. An intricate buckle richly filigreed and studded with tiny stones connected the girdle; the buckle was made of a hard material Nevin could not identify, but it was not metal.
Zael joined them, pleased to see the humans admiring the sword’s w
orkmanship. The Elf-Lord said, “Take care in handling this weapon, Orris. It is not dull like those hideous black metal shovels you call a sword.”
Orris replied, “I know that you elves do not use implements made of iron, but can this wooden sticker do any damage? It is so light you hardly know it is in your hand.”
Zael mocked offense at the question. “This weapon is made of swordwood, Blue Shirt, and honed by a talented swordsmith. Swordwood grows in the Gilsum uplands, and even there it is seldom found. If properly honed and tempered, it has an edge more keen than a metal sword and keeps its edge through much use. The tempering is very difficult so the wood hardens but does not burn. Sometimes smiths trim the edge with hardstone if they can find it, like this one, for permanent sharpness. I am certain this one will suit you much better than your loathsome black metal blade.”
From a pile of downed tree limbs they used as firewood, Zael retrieved a log about the thickness of a person’s leg. With one hand, he held the log and the other drew his own wooden sword from its sheath. He took a short swipe at the log and cut it cleanly in two. “No metal blade is this keen against flesh and bone,” he said. “I have never had occasion to prove it, but a thrust with this sword should even penetrate the metal shirts you humans are known to wear in battle.”
Nevin asked if he could examine the sword. He studied the close grain and texture of what appeared to be incredibly hard wood stock. It was extremely dense, but not teak, mahogany or ebony, and the only similar cellulose material he knew of was ironwood, except that ironwood would have been much heavier. To grind such a keen cutting edge on a wooden blade was impressive, along with a barely visible filigreed material along the edge. For such sharpness and durability, the sword blank must be tempered with some very unusual smithing process. Someday he would have to visit with Zael’s swordsmith.
Zael took back the sword and handed it to Orris. “This is a weapon befitting a good soldier. We give it to you as a token of your companionship with elves.” After a short hesitation, during which he face grew more solemn, he added, “May you never have to raise it against your own kind.”
Without waiting for a response, Zael lifted his voice for all to hear, those seen and unseen. “Come now, all. We have ten leagues to venture today!”
At this command, all the elves gave a one-syllable cheer in unison and almost immediately disappeared into the Wood, totally camouflaged by their small size and multi-hued clothing. Zael took up the lead again, and the humans lined up behind him in the same order as the previous day: Anson, Corissa, Nevin and Orris. This time, Orris was not last in line. A good distance back, bringing up the rear, was Gren. Nevin had almost forgotten about the droll.
With a quick look to see that all was in order, Zael quickly marched off in a westerly direction.
* * *
The line of travelers trudged on for hours. For Zael, the trek seemed easy as he knew where to step and showed boundless endurance. He never stumbled or suffered scratches. For the humans, travel was the same as before. As long they followed the Elf-Lord’s steps, they could avoid the obstacles, even though there was no visible path or trail. As they passed, the ground plants would spring back into shape without a sign that many had trodden this way. Occasionally, one of the men would veer off and immediately lose pace or trip.
Nevin’s aches and pains abated somewhat as his muscles loosened, allowing him to renew his observation and interest in the surroundings. His ability to detect elves moving through the Wood was also improving; sometimes he could make out their shadowy forms and hear some of their lower pitched communication when they were close by. Their higher pitched vocalizations were more difficult to hear. He finally figured out why they moved more efficiently. They were small and lithe, not needing as much space. Plus, their vision must be pretty good to pick their way through the leaf litter on the forest floor. The dense canopy reduced the amount of scrub growth so they mostly had to avoid tree roots, which they probably learned how to do from experience. Nothing magical about that, he sniffed.
Zael had told him that humans were as noisy as trolls and he could detect their presence just by the vibrations of their heavy feet and the hard leather boots they often wore. Elves, Zael said, would never be so easily observed by a common human. Nevin put this assertion to the test as they trekked through the Wood. Indeed, there were no sounds of footfalls from any of the elves, including Zael. Any detectable sounds made by their movement blended in with the natural orchestration of sounds in the forest: the chattering of squirrels, warbling of songbirds, and especially the soughing of leaves if there was any breeze. On the other hand, Nevin could hear the sounds of heavy breathing and tromping feet from himself and his human companions, which was downright noisy compared with the elves.
Zael knew when it was time for the humans to rest by their increased stumbling and panting. It was about mid-day when he had them stop next to a shallow brook and allowed them to eat and drink. Orris, who had claimed he was in good physical condition, dropped where he stood. Anson also was spent and grateful for the respite. Corissa and Nevin fell to the ground, actually leaning on one another for support in their fatigue. Seeing his discomfort, she asked Nevin to lay back and remove his boots. Confused by her request, he complied and was even more surprised at what she did next. She knelt at his side and started to massage his feet, first the right and then the left.
“What are you doing?”
“This is a skill which every wife of a soldier has learned. It has been a long time since I have rubbed out the soreness of marching feet. I will stop if you wish.”
“No, no! Be my guest. Massage on.”
Corissa artfully kneaded the soreness out of Nevin’s feet and he nearly went to sleep from the pleasure. It occurred to him that this was a good time to get to know her better, but he was too distracted by the relief she brought to his aching feet. Intimacy was not something that came easy to him. She stopped, saying she hoped this would help him continue the rest of the day’s journey. He nearly fell over himself with expressions of appreciation and offered to return the pleasure in kind.
She smiled thinly. “My feet are fine, thank you, Sir Nevin.” Her response left him embarrassed at being so forward. This interlude was interrupted when an elf offered the couple some food and a cup of water from the brook. Nevin and Corissa refreshed themselves, laying down with their heads resting on their packs. They exchanged smiles, or at least he thought they did. It occurred to him that maybe she is only the King’s confidant and not his consort, a question he would like to ask her. After taking a deep breath he was going to ask her, until Zael approached with a new look of concern.
“There is danger about. We have detected the sounds and odor of a troll ahead. We should not linger here.”
Zael walked off among the trees to inform others. Nevin looked at Corissa and shrugged at the unfortunate brevity of their respite. He did not give much thought to the danger associated with nearness of a troll, but he would dutifully follow Zael’s orders. After helping Corissa tie on her pack, he bent down to pick up his own parcel when he heard Corissa scream. He had barely stood up when he was hit by the full force of a large running animal and sent tumbling head over heels into the bracken, his parcels flying from his back. A mournful bellow was followed by another scream from Corissa. Nevin sat up, groggy from the spill, in time to see Corissa knocked to ground by the swinging forearm of a huge two-legged beast.
The troll stood seven feet in height with many physical characteristics similar to Gren, except the emotions reflected in this creature’s face were anger and aggression. There was nothing sociable or soulful in this monster’s gaze.
The troll’s skin color was dark, either gray or brown in the forest shadows, but its entire body was covered with scraggly black hair and no clothing. All the facial features were grossly oversized. The lips were so large they flapped as the creature moved. The nose was long and round, not as bulbous as Gren’s more dwarfish nose. Both of the troll’s eyes bu
lged slightly, though the right eye had been injured and possibly blinded; the injured eye was a deathly pallid gray compared with the menacing black color of the other eye. Its hands were also enormous, easily twice the size of Nevin’s. As the creature rasped from its exertion, drool dripped from thick lips. In its emotional turmoil, the troll gave off a musk-like stench that forced Nevin to cover his nose.
The troll stood over Corissa looking down at her, glowering with rage, as she lay unconscious on the ground. With a deep-throated growl, the troll reached down with one hand and picked her up by the bodice until she was several feet off the ground. Once raised, the troll shook Corissa as if it was venting some terrible anger then dropped her to the ground as a child would drop a doll that was no longer interesting. Turning toward Nevin, who was still struggling to stand, the troll took two steps toward him and issued another bellow. Just as the troll reached Nevin and extended its hands to throttle him, a blur appeared from the right. Gren charged head first into the troll, bowling it over and sending both himself and the troll tumbling. Gren, though slightly smaller, was equally possessed with rage and repeatedly exchanged violent blows with the troll as they rolled over the ground.
Nevin got to his feet and ran to Corissa, who was starting to regain consciousness and right herself. Other members of the party were also recovering from the shock and coming to assist them when another warning shout sounded. A second troll came crashing through the underbrush ahead of them, bellowing even louder than the first. Orris had run to the spot where Nevin and Corissa had fallen and stood over them with his sword drawn, facing the oncoming second troll. Behind them, the dull thud of blows and grunts of pain resounded as Gren and the first troll continued their fight.
The second troll eyed Orris and started running directly for him. As Orris prepared to intercept the beast, the troll stopped several feet short and glared at the soldier. Stark fury issued from the creature’s eyes as it stared down at the puny human. The troll took one more step before the staccato twang of a dozen bowstrings announced as many arrows that struck the creature almost simultaneously. The second troll fell to the ground from the impact of the elven arrows. Lying prone, the troll crawled forward with eyes still fixed on Orris, still enraged at the sight of the human. Failing at first try to stand, the troll succeeded with a second effort though bleeding from the arrow punctures. It towered over Orris once again, and let out a roar of pain and unfathomable torment that gave rise to more vehemence than the Armsman had ever experienced from any enemy. As the second troll struggled and lunged forward, Orris parried and thrust his sword twice with lethal placement. Orris may have had some doubts about the usefulness of the wooden blade, but the elven sword cut cleaner and with more deadliness than any weapon he ever used. The sword edge was so keen that it put little strain on Orris to wield the blow. The troll fell dead at his feet, gutted by Orris’ thrusts.
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 20