Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Furning reached up and scratched his head. “Uh, so . . . we were dancing.”

  “Onyx eyes, yes,” Stolz encouraged.

  “Right!” the trollkin said. “We’re dancing, but the ground starts rumbling under our feet. I can hear the marsh sloshing around.”

  “The marsh?” Stolz said thoughtfully.

  “Right. We were dancing right on the edge of the marshes. Other people were too. Like it’s a . . .”

  “Festival?” Julal suggested.

  “Something like that,” Furning replied. “And the woman I’m dancing with screams. I look behind me and the marsh is opened up. There’s this mouth and something grabs me and pulls me towards it and then . . . I woke up!”

  “Interesting,” said Stolz, nodding as he dipped his claw in the inkwell and scribbled more notes in his book.

  “Was it the Mother?” Djeri asked and the two trollkin twisted their bodies to look back at him.

  Furning blinked in surprise at seeing Djeri there. “That’s what I was thinking, yeah.”

  “And if so, that makes you the first one I’ve interviewed to dream of that particular event,” Stolz said. He tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully with the same finger he had been writing with, leaving a spatter of ink there. “Probably because it is such a traumatic memory.”

  “Really?” Furning said with a proud grin.

  “Maybe I’ll dream of it tonight, then,” said Julal.

  Stolz nodded. “If you do, please come back and tell me.”

  “I will!” Julal replied, giving Furning a look of superiority. “Maybe I’ll even dream of being inside the Mother.”

  “Or just another dream of your wife,” Furning replied. “But this time she wears a red dress?”

  Stolz cleared his throat. “If that is all you two have for me tonight, go on home. Get to dreaming. I need to speak with my new guest.”

  The two trollkin climbed to their feet, fat Julal taking more effort to do so. They left the cabin and Djeri was alone with the bespectacled trollkin.

  “Isn’t your other friend going to join us?” Djeri asked.

  “Bluth? No. He likes standing outside when it rains. Also he’s enjoying playing with your dog.” He adjusted his glasses and gave Djeri a searching look. “So, you’re here. Did you finally have that dream?”

  Djeri didn’t say anything for a moment. He had been eager to get answers when he had run out of the pyramid, but now he was starting to question himself. Why should he tell his story to this odd person?

  “Where did you get all this stuff?” he asked. Stolz answered him with a blank look and Djeri pointed. “The spectacles, the ink, the notebook. That chest you’re sitting on. We trollkin didn’t make those things.”

  Stolz reached up and scratched at one cat-like ear, leaving another trail of ink behind on his skin. “I’ll make a deal with you, Djeri. If you’ll tell me about your dreams, I’ll explain my things.”

  “Did you steal them from Mellinda?” Djeri pressed. “I know that one of her wall orbs is missing. She’ll be really mad if she finds out you took it.” As far as he knew the only glow orbs in the city were those that Mellinda possessed and a handful that she had given the king. They were made by elemental magic and not something common to Malaroo.

  Stolz raised his ink stained hand. “I’ll go first, then. Yes, I purloined the orb. I needed to see in order to write and I didn’t dare light a lamp. Yowler is a flammable little beast and he leaves trails all over the cabin.”

  “Yowler?” Djeri said.

  “My cat. He was the one who heard you calling my name out in the rain,” Stolz explained. “As for these other items, they are my belongings. From my previous life. Bluth went back and retrieved them for me.”

  Djeri’s jaw hung open. “You . . . how?”

  Stolz smiled, exposing a cat-like set of fangs in an otherwise square set of teeth. “I have answered enough of your questions for now. It’s your turn to share.” He turned another page in his notebook and dipped his claw in the ink. “You may sit if you like.”

  Djeri frowned. “I . . . have been dreaming about a woman. With a bent nose.”

  “A bent nose . . .” He jotted a note. “Yes? Go on.”

  “I don’t remember much about those dreams. Just her face. She has a few freckles, brown hair-. What does this matter?” he asked.

  “They’re your memories. You tell me,” Stolz replied.

  “You told me that once before,” Djeri remembered. “You said that our dreams are repositories for our memories.”

  “Especially for trollkin,” Stolz said, peering up from his notes. “As for you . . .” He stood suddenly and came closer, his eyes wide and staring. “Well look at that!”

  “What?” said Djeri, taking a step back.

  “Your bond,” said Stolz with excitement. “It’s been strengthened. Ah, I see. That’s why you’re here. Your bonding wizard tried to reach you tonight, didn’t she?”

  “My what?” he said, trying to process everything the trollkin was saying.

  “It must be that girl with the bent nose. Why else would she be the only thing you dream about?” Stolz said. “You weren’t mean to her were you?”

  Djeri growled. “Stop giving me more questions before answering the ones I already have!”

  Stolz grunted indignantly. “It’s not my fault you’re so interesting. Very well. Which question would you like me to answer?”

  “You keep talking about this bond you say I have. Tell me about that,” Djeri decided.

  The odd trollkin blinked at him. “Alright. Focus. What knowledge comes to mind when you hear the term ‘bonding wizard’?”

  It was Djeri’s turn to blink as information started coming to him. “A . . . person who can link their thoughts with other creatures? So wait. You think this girl Tarah is a bonding wizard and I’m her . . .”

  “Her bonded, yes,” Stolz said. “Look at that bond you have. I can help you again if you want.”

  Stolz reached up and touched Djeri’s forehead. His vision blurred momentarily and he saw that white line exiting his chest again. “It’s more solid than before. Maybe that’s because of what happened earlier today.”

  “Just a moment!” Stolz said and scrambled back to his inkwell so that he could jot more notes. “Go on. What happened.”

  “I felt a burning in my chest,” Djeri said. He reached out to touch the white line and his finger passed right through it. He turned his body and the line didn’t move with him, staying focused somewhere to the north. “And in my head. But it went away and I felt better. Then tonight I heard her voice for the first time.”

  “Ah, yes. Very good. Something similar happened with Yowler and I. When he was first birthed from the Mother, it was hard to reach him. But one day I was able to get through and his memories returned, and . . . what?”

  Djeri was pointing at him. He could see two white lines that were similar to his leaving Stolz’s chest. “You’re a bonding wizard.”

  “Yes,” Stolz replied.

  “That’s how you were able to get your, uh, Bluth to go and retrieve your things from your old life,” Djeri realized. “You talked to him with your mind.”

  Stolz smiled. “You’re coming at it a bit slowly, but you’re getting there.”

  “You have your memories. I mean, your old ones!” Djeri said.

  “When the Mother finally came for me, I was prepared. I instructed Bluth on what to do,” Stolz replied. “She swallowed me and he gathered my things together. He and Yowler came here to KhanzaRoo and when I was birthed they helped me remember. The process, though disturbing at first, really didn’t take that long.”

  Djeri crouched down and ran his hands through his hair. “Then . . . I’ll remember too.”

  “That is my assumption. She managed to reach you once. I doubt your wizard would give up so quickly. I am curious where you came from, though. I know of a few other bonding wizards, but no female ones. There certainly haven’t been any in Malaroo. I wo
nder how you came to be swallowed.”

  “I’m sure I’ll tell you if it comes to me,” Djeri said. The whole idea of remembering his past life was quite exciting, but scary at the same time. He had a new life now. And responsibilities. Thinking of those responsibilities, he stood again. “Those other trollkin that were here. Did they have bonds too?”

  “Oh no,” he said. “You are the only one of those I found.”

  “Then why are they dreaming their old memories?” Djeri wondered.

  “Now that is an interesting question,” Stolz replied. “This is something I discovered not long after my memories returned. I heard other trollkin speaking of their dreams and it was soon evident to me that these weren’t just the regular oddities of sleep, but were in fact pieces of their past that they were reliving. I began asking others about their dreams and discovered that the phenomena was quite universal.”

  “Universal?” Djeri said.

  “All trollkin dream of the past,” he explained. “Not right away. It is most common when we are at least a month old. After speaking to many of our people born at different times, I have come to believe that the frequency of these dreams will increase as time goes on.”

  “That could be disruptive,” Djeri observed.

  “The dreams are just the beginning,” Stolz said. “My theory is that everyone’s memories will eventually return in full.”

  Djeri cocked his head. “But why? If the Mother wanted our memories to be taken away, why would She allow them to return?”

  Stolz hesitated, giving Djeri a wary glance. “Well, considering that our ‘goddess’ wouldn’t make a mistake, this would mean that it is Her will that these dreams happen. Perhaps She wishes for our memories to return.”

  Djeri nodded. “I see. She could be allowing us to get used to our new life and the way of being a trollkin first. That way when we go and conquer the world we won’t be confused about where our loyalties lie.”

  “Perhaps,” Stolz said with a disappointed sigh. “I suppose that we shall learn the truth of it in time-. Uh oh.”

  The bespectacled trollkin turned towards the door and Djeri heard a muffled voice come from outside. Whomever it was sounded very insistent.

  Stolz shrugged. “We have a visitor. I’ll have Bluth let her in.”

  The door opened and Murtha walked into the cabin. Djeri noticed right away that she no longer had her fine red beard. Mellinda’s work.

  Murtha glanced at Djeri briefly, then her eyes moved to Stolz. “Are you Stolz?”

  “I am,” he said and held out his hand. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Murtha,” she said, frowning as she let him grasp her hand. “You don’t recognize me? I’m the king’s assistant.”

  Stolz smiled at her and placed his other hand on top of hers. “Well, you are certainly a very beautiful young woman. I don’t know how I could ever forget someone like you.”

  Djeri cleared his throat. “He probably saw you before Mellinda . . . you know.”

  “Oh. Well, I came here because I saw Julal leave this place and I was-.” Her eyes flickered to Djeri. “I was talking to him and he told me that you know about dreams.”

  “Ah yes,” Stolz said, his grin widening. “I have become quite the expert on the subject. Please, tell me about yours.”

  “This is not about me,” she said. Her eyes narrowed at him. “You can let go of my hand now.”

  “Oh! Am I still holding your hand? Please forgive me. I can be quite addlebrained.” Reluctantly, he let go. “It’s just that you’re quite stunning.”

  A slight smile bent her lips. “Well, that’s fine. But like I was saying, I’m not here for me. It’s the king. He’s been having intense dreams. He wakes up raving at me to remember and tells me parts but then he forgets them.”

  “Oh my. How interesting,” said Stolz.

  “You will come with me now and speak with him,” she decided.

  Stolz put his hand on his chest. “Me? Go see the king? Now?”

  “Yes. Before it happens again,” she said. Murtha left the cabin and Stolz hurriedly put a cap on the inkwell and placed it and the notebook in his pockets before rushing after her.

  Djeri followed the two of them out and was greeted happily by Gray who cavorted around them as they crossed the bridge and headed back towards the main street. The rain had finally ceased, but all of the channels of water were swollen and the grass islands shifted under their feet. Bluth followed them, as did Yowler, who did her best to stay out of Gray’s playful reach.

  Djeri moved close to Murtha. “These dreams the king is having. Are they of his past?”

  She nodded. “He says things like, he was married. He had a sister. Uh, his mother wore a sword. Things like that. He’s really mad about forgetting them. One time he was so upset he threw his wood staff so hard that it pierced the stone wall.”

  “Excuse me,” said Stolz from behind them. “Did you say that the king has a wooden staff?”

  “A gray one,” Djeri said as they began to cross a bridge between grass islands. It was quite wobbly, having been tilted at an odd angle by shifting waters. “And, uh, a bow.”

  Stolz tripped and nearly stumbled into the water. Bluth had to reach out to stabilize him. “Uh, these weapons the king has . . . are they warm to the touch.”

  “I’ve never touched them,” said Djeri.

  “Yes,” Murtha replied.

  An excited titter escaped the odd trollkin’s lips and he hopped up and down, almost slipping and falling again. “Oh, I must meet this king of ours!”

  Murtha stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “You have not met our king?”

  Stolz shrugged. “He wasn’t around on the day I was born.”

  “There’s been too many new births since the king’s return,” Djeri reminded her. “He hasn’t had time to get around and see everyone that was born in his absence.” Not to mention that Mellinda was doing her best to make sure that those under her sway never felt the king’s touch.

  Murtha grunted and continued on her way. “A situation that we’ve got to fix.”

  The walk to the palace took slightly longer than usual. The swollen channels and shifting currents meant that some of the rope bridges were unusable and they were forced to take a more roundabout route.

  When they arrived at the palace Murtha ordered that Bluth, Yowler, and Gray were to stay at the bottom. She then took Djeri and Stolz up the long staircase on the outside of the pyramid.

  “Don’t want to wake the guards,” she explained as they started the climb.

  The term “guards” was used loosely among the trollkin. It was mainly an ornamental role. The people knew and loved their king and since there were no foreigners in their city, there was no real need for protection.

  The opening at the top of the palace led to the king’s throne room and at the side of the throne room another short flight of stairs led down to the floor where both the king and Murtha slept. It was evident as they entered the floor that the king was already dreaming. They could hear his ragged breathing. He was mumbling, his voice in distress.

  Murtha opened the door and stepped inside. The room was slightly lit by a glowing orb and they could see the king writhing on his bed.

  “King!” Murtha cried. She moved to his side and shook him gently. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

  The king sat up, gasping. He grasped her arms and tears began to stream from his eyes. He gave her a pleading look. “Murtha! Remember my wife! I had a wife and . . . she died.”

  “I will,” she said. “I’m sorry. How sad.”

  “Lindra was her name,” said Stolz. His voice was shocked. He stepped into the room and came closer to the king. “Her name was Lindra bin Prath. She died in childbirth.”

  The king stared at him. “And . . . my son.”

  “Yes, the child didn’t survive either,” Stolz said sadly. “I am sorry that those are the memories you dreamed this night.”

  “Who are you?” the Troll
King asked.

  “I am Stolz. An old friend of your fathers.” The mention of his father caused the Troll King to flinch, but Stolz continued. “I . . . I knew you when you were a child and I was there at Lindra’s funeral.”

  “Lindra . . .” The king drew back, shaking his head.

  “She was a wonderful girl. She stayed at my cabin whenever she happened to be scouting in the area.” Stolz drew nearer to him. “I am sorry. If I had known who you were I would have come to you sooner.”

  “Be silent!” The king swallowed. His face growing pale. He reached out and grasped Stolz’s arm. Chemical signals were sent to the trollkin’s flesh. His look became accusing. “You . . . don’t recognize me as your king.”

  “No, I do. I do. You are the Troll King,” Stolz assured him.

  The king let go as if burned by touching the man. “His thoughts are not those of a trollkin. Murtha! Why did you bring him here?”

  “He knows about dreams. I thought he could help,” Murtha said, giving Stolz a distrusting look.

  “I do know about dreams,” Stolz said. “When the trollkin dream, we dream of our pasts.”

  “He thinks that the Mother might want it this way,” Djeri added.

  “Our pasts will eventually return to all of us,” Stolz said, his voice intense. “It’s important we hold onto our dreams and remember. Especially you.”

  The king growled. “Leave me. Get this person out of here. I can’t remember. The Mother wills that I-.”

  “You cannot hide!” Stolz said. “You are Xeldryn bin Leeths! Your father is Xedrion bin Leeths, the Protector of the Grove! Your mother is Herlda bin Shun.”

  “No!” the king said and fell back onto his bed, his hands clutching his head.

  “You are the Protector’s first born son,” Stolz continued. “Part of his elite force!”

  Murtha grabbed Stolz. “The king said no!”

  She began to push the trollkin towards the door. Stolz resisted, but Murtha was an experienced culler, having dealt with newborns far stronger than him. She pulled his arms behind his back, her claws digging into his flesh.

  “You have two Jharro weapons,” Stolz shouted, trying his best to pull away from her. “And from what Murtha has told me they still remember you! The Grove remembers your promise!”