Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Jerry, help me get him out of here,” Murtha said.

  Djeri came to Murtha’s side and together they easily dragged the struggling trollkin to the door.

  “Xeldryn, please!” Stolz cried. “Remember your tree!”

  “Stop!” said the king. Still trembling, he rolled from the bed and stood again. He grabbed his staff and bow and walked towards them. Despite his physical distress, his gaze was firm and focused. “Murtha. Take this person to one of the old holding cells. Put him away and bar the door. No one is to know that he is here. He is too dangerous to be among the people.”

  “Xeldryn, please,” said Stolz sadly.

  There was a pounding of feet on the stairs from the throne room above and Bluth arrived, Yowler beside him. Djeri tensed up, ready for a fight. But they did not come closer. Bluth gave Stolz a pleading look. Yowler hissed, its back arching.

  “Don’t hurt them! They will not fight,” Stolz promised.

  “He is a bonding wizard,” Djeri told the king. “They are connected to him.”

  The king nodded in understanding. “Then they must be locked in with him.”

  “We will not resist,” Stolz said, his eyes still on the king. “What will you do with me, Xeldryn? Would you kill the man who taught you how to fish?”

  “You will not call me that!” the Troll King commanded. He looked to Murtha and repeated, “Lock them away until I decide what must be done. Keep them fed, but no one is to see them, especially the snake woman!”

  “My king,” said Djeri. He was shocked by the turn of events and felt bad for Stolz, but he knew where his loyalties lay. “He has items in his home, brought here from the outside world. Maybe we shouldn’t leave them there. He has kept writings. People who have spoken with him might find them.”

  “Then you must go and retrieve them,” the king decided. “It must be as if he were never there.”

  “Yes, King,” Murtha said and pulled Stolz towards the steps.

  “I’ll go with you in case they try to escape,” Djeri said. Stolz didn’t seem like much of a fighter, but Bluth looked formidable and that large cat could cause a lot of trouble if they decided to make a move while on the stairs. He moved to stand between Stolz and his bonded. “Maybe we should call a few guards as well.”

  “No. I shall go with you as well,” said the king. He went back into his room and retrieved a glowing orb, one of several he had been given as gifts by Mellinda. “We three will be the only ones with this secret.”

  They did not go back up to the throne room, but went down another set of stairs. They descended multiple flights until they reached the middle level and entered a section of the palace that Djeri had never seen. The stone in most of the palace as well as the other permanent structures in KanzaRoo was pitted by time and the intrusion of water and plant life. But this place looked as clean as if the stone blocks had been carved not long ago.

  They passed a series of metal cell doors that were not rusted apart as other remnants of metal he had seen in the city, but looked clean. This seemed an impossibility after a thousand years abandoned in this humid climate, but runes that Djeri could not decipher were stamped into the metal. As far as he could tell, none of the cells were occupied.

  They came before a door with a heavy iron bar in front of it. The Troll King lifted the bar and opened the door to show a stark room. There was a stone slab bed on each wall and a simple small hole in the corner for disposing of waste.

  Bluth and Yowler went into the cell without complaint and Murtha shoved Stolz in after them. Xeldryn threw them the glow orb. “I will not deny you all light.”

  “Xeldryn, give this some thought. Try to remember,” said Stolz. “I can help you. The Troll Queen must not succeed.”

  “If you ever say that name again, I shall remove your head,” the king growled. He shut the door and replaced the iron bar, then led Djeri and Murtha away. When they came back to the stairs. The king addressed Djeri. “You will keep what you have heard this night from Mellinda.”

  Djeri swallowed. Another secret to keep. After all he had learned it was time he admitted something. “That will be hard, my king. She keeps a close watch on me. I can’t go to bed at night without reporting to her first. If she senses that I’m holding back she will . . . force the information out of me.”

  He stopped and gave Djeri a hard look. “You live in the Old Hospital?”

  “He has a room on one of her top floors,” Murtha volunteered.

  “Then that situation ends today,” the king decided. “You will stay here in the Axis Palace from now on. You shall never have to be in Mellinda’s presence unless I am with you.”

  A sigh of relief escaped Djeri’s lips. It was as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. He reached out to grasp the king’s arm. “Thank you, my king!”

  Murtha clapped her hands together. “You can stay in my room! It’s right next to the king’s. There is plenty of space.”

  Djeri’s exhilaration was muted. “Is there no other room available, my king? I-I would prefer my own space where Gray can join me. I saw that some of those cells back there were empty.”

  “You’d rather sleep in a cell?” Murtha scoffed, her voice hurt.

  “Murtha, let him have his own space. There are two open rooms on the floor beneath ours,” the king replied. He rubbed at his chin. “Now go, both of you, and tend to Stolz’s house. I have much to think about.”

  * * *

  There would be no more sleep for Xeldryn that night. Unsettled, he found himself drawn to Solitude. He descended the long stairs from the balcony of the throne room, thinking that he could perhaps gain some perspective while sitting in the Lone Chair.

  When he arrived at the banks of the Still Lake he was surprised to see the figure of the First sitting on the shore. He was staring at a gray wooden sword that lay across his narrow trollish legs.

  “First,” the Troll King said, startling the ancient trollkin.

  “King,” said the First, hurriedly standing and holding the sword down beside his leg as if trying to decide whether to try and hide it. “I do not usually see you here this time of night.”

  The king gave him a reassuring smile although it unnerved him a bit seeing the First with such a weapon. “I see you made a journey to the Mother’s midden.”

  This explained the First’s absence on the day after the king’s return. It would have been an impossibly swift trip for anyone else, but the First had some odd method of swimming under the swamps that allowed him to cover vast distances with great speed. The king had often wondered about it but had never asked him to explain it. The First deserved his secrets.

  The First nodded and his raspy voice was apologetic. “When you arrived with your weapons and spoke of the place I had to go and see it for myself.”

  The king stepped forward to get a closer look at the weapon. “That was your sword in your previous life?”

  Reluctantly, the First held the sword out in front of him. It was completely smooth, devoid of runes. “It was.”

  Xeldryn understood that this meant the First had been a master with the blade. Few ever removed all runes from the wood. He couldn’t keep the concern from his voice when he asked his next question. “Did you recover any of your old memories when you retrieved it?”

  “Old memories?” The First let out a soft chuckle. “I have never forgotten.”

  “No?” said the king in surprise. The First had spent all this time under such a burden?

  “The Mother did not know the mercy of forgetting when I was birthed,” the First explained. “But, I . . . when I saw how your staff reacted to you, when I touched your weapons and saw that they still lived, I had to see if mine would still react to me.”

  “And?” the king asked, wondering for the first time who this trollkin had been before the Mother had taken him.

  The wood rippled and shifted in the First’s hands, changing into the shape of a bow and then back again. The First let out a sad whisper. “I w
as remembered.”

  Xeldryn swallowed and sat down near the water, motioning for the First to join him. “When I first retrieved my weapons, my past awakened within me. I remembered everything. More than I do right now. I came back here determined to stop the Mother’s determination to destroy the Grove.”

  “I saw,” said the First. “She mercifully took those memories from you. Praise the Mother.”

  “But tonight something happened and many of my memories returned. I learned that I had a wife and child that died,” he said.

  The First nodded. “I see. Then it was the Mother’s will that you remember those things.”

  Xeldryn wanted to believe that was true, but at the same time he didn’t. He looked at the First. “Like me, you made a promise to defend the Grove. Now the Mother wishes it destroyed. How do you reconcile yourself?”

  The First looked down at the sword in his hands once more. “I love the Mother before all.”

  Xeldryn frowned. He believed in the Mother, but he knew that she was fallible. He believed her current course was wrong. “But what if the Mother can be convinced?”

  “You tried before,” said the First. “What did she say?”

  “I suppose I received my answer.” He sighed. “Would She listen to you?”

  The First’s eyes stayed on the sword. “She does not speak to me as she does to you. I hear only her will. Not her reason.”

  “She spoke to Mellinda,” Xeldryn said.

  “The Troll Queen,” said the First. “Returned to continue her revenge.”

  Anger twisted the king’s features as a new set of memories were reopened in his mind. He had been taught of the Troll Queen long ago. “Mellinda awakened this desire in the Mother. And yet, I can do nothing about it. The Mother has decided she wants her here. Mellinda is to lead her armies. I am just to stay here in KhanzaRoo. I must tend to the trollkin while the snake brings destruction on us all.”

  The First nodded. “To tend your people in a world without the Grove would be . . .”

  “A losing battle,” Xeldryn said. He resisted the urge to hurl his staff into the lake. “I can do nothing about it without fighting against the Mother.”

  They sat for a long while deep in thought before the First broke the silence. “I have known the Mother for a long time. She . . . has been known to change her mind.”

  Xeldryn looked at him. “Truly?”

  “Her mind is not like ours. Her thoughts are above us. Like the wind and water she is ever changing,” the First said. “And she has been known to sleep.”

  “I see. The Mother has decided that she wants the Grove, but she has not said when,” the king realized with a grin. But his excitement was short-lived. “But Mellinda will not wait. The Mother births in increasing numbers every day. Mellinda builds the armies, has them training. She hides things from me, I know, but I am too busy with the Mother’s work to check her.”

  “Trust in the Mother,” the First suggested.

  “It is all I can do,” Xeldryn agreed.

  “And delay,” said the First.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Huh,” said Charz, shading his eyes with his hand as they topped the hill. “Now that’s a town.”

  Fist stopped in his tracks, staring wide-eyed as Roo-Tan’lan came into view. The city was enormous, spreading over miles. Miles of white stone structures, crisscrossed with canals that sparkled in the morning sunlight. And somewhere beyond it, within that green line of forest he could see in the background, was the Jharro Grove.

  Maryanne smiled at his reaction and sidled up to him, reaching across his back to grasp his shoulder. “You can see things through the bond but it’s never the same as seeing it up close, is it?”

  The ogre shook his head silently. Justan had shown him memories of the city and views from the palace, but that hadn’t prepared him for the sheer scope of it. Fist realized that the large river they had followed for the last day disappeared as it reached the city walls, split and fed into channels, becoming the life blood of Roo-Tan’lan.

  “Hot damn, that place’s big,” Lenny said approvingly. “Not as big as Dremald, mind you, but it sure is purtier.”

  “Roo-Tan’lan is the largest city in our nation,” said Keltan bin Fayn, the Roo-Tan archer who had befriended Charz along their journey. “But I prefer Fayn’lan. It is on the eastern side of the Grove and is cleaner and wetter.”

  “Only wetter because of the endless rice patties!” joked another Roo-Tan soldier.

  “And Roo-Tan’lan smells better!” joked another. “Because there’s less Fayns!”

  Lenny looked up at Fist. “Heard from Edge?”

  “He is in a meeting with the Protector and Aloysius,” Fist said.

  The Protector was pushing to renegotiate the treaty between the two nations before they discussed war plans. The Gnome Warlord knew that he was at a disadvantage in such discussions and was skillfully trying to weasel out of it. He was currently suggesting that he couldn’t go ahead with a new treaty without representatives from the rest of the Mer-Dan council present.

  “Deathclaw and Gwyrtha are coming, though,” Fist added. He wasn’t yet linked to them directly through the bond. Justan usually placed cross connections between all of them, but Fist had been away from them for a long time and that connection had faded. That didn’t stop him from sensing a sort of residual presence, though. “It feels like they’re really close.”

  He looked off into the distance and saw a form he instinctively knew was Gwyrtha break through a section of trees and bolt across a grassy meadow to reach the road that let to them. There was an odd shape on her back and it took him a moment to realize that it was Deathclaw. The raptoid wasn’t sitting astride her, but was instead crouched on her back, his rear claws gripping the leather of her saddle, while his hands were clutching her mane.

  “I’ll be a biscuit-eatin’, apple-farmer,” said Lenny, shaking his head at the sight. “If that ain’t the scariest thing I ever done seen.”

  “Ooh-ooh! Geer-tha!” said Rufus excitedly and the gorilla-like rogue horse ran off down the hill towards them.

  Squirrel was perched in between the horse-like ears on top of his furry domed head. Deathclaw!

  Gwyrtha saw him coming and darted directly towards him. The two rogue horses were on a course for collision. Rufus anticipated the impact, instinctively hardening his bones in preparation.

  “Uh oh,” said Fist and sent through the bond, Rufus, be careful. Don’t you hurt each other! Squirrel, get off!

  Squirrel squeaked and ran down Rufus’ back to jump off into the grass. The small creature hit the ground in a tumble, cursing Rufus the whole time. He came to his feet just slightly bruised, but chittering and shaking his fist in outrage.

  Deathclaw wasn’t quite as quick to leap off of Gwyrtha. The raptoid hissed and urged her to change course until the last possible moment. But Gwyrtha wasn’t listening, her thoughts bent on hardening her body.

  Deathclaw leapt down from her saddle just before the two rogue horses hit. He too tumbled through the grass, his perception slowing the world so that he could avoid being injured by the rocks hidden in the tall grass. That didn’t stop him from taking a glancing blow to the top of his head.

  Gwyrtha and Rufus reared up with one last push of their powerful rear legs and collided chest-to-chest. The loud crack of the impact echoed across the hillside, startling those that watched. The air was knocked out of both rogues and they fell to their backs, momentarily stunned.

  “Rufus!” Fist cried out, but after looking through the bond realized that his worry was misplaced. The two of them knew exactly what they were doing.

  This was a version of a game that the rogue horses used to play back in the secluded valley where the Prophet had hidden them away hundreds of years ago. The rogue horses used to race and wrestle all over the valley and Rufus and Gwyrtha had been two of the best at this competition. Only now the two of them had learned how to use the transformative magic that held th
eir bodies together to make it much more fun. After having taken measure of each other’s new abilities through their mental rough housing in the bond the last few nights, they had been itching to try it for real.

  The rogue horses were quickly back on their feet. Roaring, they reared up once more and wrapped their arms around each other. Rufus twisted his torso and heaved, pulling Gwyrtha off of her rear legs, but she held on with her claws and pulled him to the ground with her. They rolled into the grass, tearing up chunks of earth as each one struggled to be the one on top.

  Charz let out a laugh and smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. “Now that’s a fight I’d like to get in the middle of.” He headed down the hill towards them.

  Gwyrtha managed to halt the roll, pinning the gorilla-like rogue horse beneath her. She let out a roar of triumph, but Rufus’ body swelled as he grew to double his size and dislodged Gwyrtha. He came to his feet and grasped Gwyrtha around the waist and lifted her into the air. Before he could throw her, Gwyrtha began to grow as well.

  Charz stopped half way down the hill and placed his hands on his hips. “Ehh, maybe next time.”

  “I changed my mind,” said Lenny. “This is now the scariest dag-blamed thing I ever seen.”

  “Wow,” Maryanne agreed.

  The two massive rogues now three times their normal size, their magic stretched near its limit, came together again. They traded blows, then Gwyrtha ran a short distance away and turned back to charge at Rufus. He had another plan.

  The gorilla-like rogue horse grasped the trunk of a nearby tree, his muscles straining as he tore it out of the ground. He swung the tree as she came towards him and batted her to the side. She rolled but came up again and this time leapt over his swing. Then she barreled him over, taking him down once more.

  Fist winced, sensing the damage being done by the fight. Rufus had several cuts and scratches as well as a large number of bruises. He knew they wouldn’t seriously hurt each other, but there was going to be some healing to do when they were finished. “Stop it Rufus!” he shouted and added through the bond, That’s enough. We know you’re happy to be together, but you’re scaring people.