Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  A single trollkin stood there on the edge of the bank. At first Justan thought he was a common troll, tall and lanky, but he turned as they approached and Justan saw a human mouth and eyes on his face. He held a Jharro sword in his hands.

  “First,” said the king. “Do not be alarmed by our visitors. They have come to help rid us of Mellinda.”

  The First spared Justan and the others little more than a glance before turning away, his voice sad as he looked into the murky waters. “You mean to destroy Mother completely?”

  Xeldryn came to his side and attempting to comfort him said, “We have no choice. She is no longer the Mother, remember? Mellinda killed her.”

  The First’s turned on the king, his raspy voice rising in anger. “We killed her! And after I promised to stay by her side. To tend to her. Hundreds of years of growth ended by one careless act!”

  “We had no way of knowing . . .” Xeldryn replied, but his voice trailed off as he realized that his argument was hollow. “Mellinda was a danger to our people then and an even greater one now. We may not have been able to save the Mother, but we can save the Grove. Is that not a worthy goal.”

  The First looked at the sword in his hand.

  “Enough!” said Jasmine bin Prath. The witch lifted her bow and the tip of it narrowed to a point. “I can make him call it.”

  “No,” said Justan. He stepped forward. “I spoke to Matthew some time back and I think he mentioned you. He said that he saw you walking the swamps long ago.”

  “The Stranger?” said the First with a bitter chuckle. “He remembers that, does he? I suppose he should after all, it was his magic that set the Mother on this path.”

  “He said that he calmed her,” Justan said.

  The First looked down. “By reminding Mother of Her children. He told Her that She was killing innocents by creating all those mindless trolls. He told Her that a mother should protect children not hurt them.

  “After that, her focus changed. Mother stopped making trolls. They were mindless vermin, not proper children. She wanted new children again. It took a long time for her to remember how, but . . .” He turned and opened his arms to encompass KhanzaRoo. “Mother succeeded! A great nation was being birthed. And look what we did to Her.”

  The king, frowning placed a hand on the First’s shoulder. “Who are you?”

  The trollkin’s human eyes blinked. “I am the First.”

  Xeldryn shook him. “No. Who were you? You told me you remember!”

  The First closed his eyes and took a deep breath before replying. “My name was Jarvis bin Tayl.”

  Jhonate gasped. “You were the Protector of the Grove! Stolz told me of you.”

  Xeldryn frowned and almost said something to his sister, but kept his focus on the First. “I have heard of that name as well. My father once said that you had gone on a mission to reclaim KhanzaRoo for the Roo-Tan, but never returned.”

  “It was an obsession of mine,” Jarvis admitted. “I intended to launch an expedition into the swamps. I spent months planning it. I put together an army ten thousand strong, led by witches that could stop the common trolls from attacking us.” He let out a raspy chuckle. “The Prophet stopped me. He told me of the behemoth under the swamp and told me that my mission was folly. He commanded me not to go. Said that we would die and that the Grove’s protection was my responsibility.”

  He turned away from them to gaze back into the water. “But I went anyway. I had to go. I had to see KhanzaRoo at least once in my lifetime. Even if it could not be reclaimed. It was a small expedition. I took only three of my sons, two of my closest friends, and the strongest witch I knew of.”

  “Your mother,” said Xeldryn in sudden realization.

  Jarvis smiled sadly. “She was a traditionalist. A specialist in our Roo heritage. When she heard the Prophet’s words about the behemoth that Mellinda put under the city to drive our people out, she was furious that our people had forgotten such an important part of our history. She wanted to come to KhanzaRoo every bit as much as I did. She had plans to destroy the thing.

  “But the Prophet was right. It was foolishness. Mother was powerful, but did not know how to quiet the behemoth. She did her best to hide us from it but my oldest, Gawyn, died during our first week in the swamps. My two youngest were killed upon our arrival in KhanzaRoo. My friends . . .” he shook his head.

  “Then it was just Mother and I. The behemoth had us trapped in the palace and we were out of food. But it was there that she found the old plans. Crumbling parchment in the High Priestess’ rooms detailing the possibility of destroying the beast by sacrificing herself and attacking it from within. The priestess had planned to try it herself.”

  Jhonate’s eyebrows rose. “But high Priestess Jeanene didn’t sacrifice herself. She lived on to fight Mellinda at the Grove.”

  The First shrugged. “Mother didn’t care whether the plan was tried before. We were desperate and the only thing she wanted was to make sure I lived. She thought it a grand and fitting plan. She would sacrifice herself to kill the behemoth so that I could return to Roo-Tan’lan triumphant and bring our people back to the swamps.”

  His eyes were haunted as he continued. “She taunted it with magic and threw herself into an open mouth. Oh how the behemoth thrashed. When the swamp had calmed I left the palace only to be swallowed myself. I don’t remember what happened next, but I woke.” He gestured at his body. “Like this.

  “She spoke to my mind then. It was the last time I heard Her voice as human. Mother told me she was changing, becoming a goddess. Her last conscious act had been to put me in this body to save me. I was with Her as Her humanity faded. She was so afraid of being alone . . . I knew then that I could never return to Roo-Tan’lan. I was no longer Jarvis bin Tayl. I was no longer the Protector of the Grove. I was only Her firstborn.”

  Justan saw the sorrow on the former Protector’s face and thought of Darlan. He wondered how might he have felt under similar circumstances. Even if she had been changed into an unthinking beast intent on destruction would he be able to kill her? He shook his head. That was the wrong way to think about this.

  “Jarvis,” said Justan. “When your mother sacrificed herself, she didn’t want all this. She wanted to save you and destroy the behemoth. Now you have that chance. Please help us fulfill her desire and finish what she started. Call the mind of the behemoth so that we can destroy it.”

  The First was silent for several long seconds. Finally, he nodded. He crouched down and dipped his hand deep into the water.

  * * *

  The defenders of Roo-Tan’lan didn’t have much of a chance from the beginning. The number of trollkin that exited Mellinda’s wombs were greater than their own numbers and all the trollkin would have to do was kill a few of the witches in order to break the barrier and set Mellinda free. Nevertheless, they fought valiantly. Roo-Tan and Mer-Dan alike knew that a loss here likely meant they had lost the war. They had to hold out as long as possible.

  Through it all, the Dry-Foot Brigade were their one shining hope. Every one of the Academy warriors had fought in the war against Ewzad Vriil and his monsters and none of them were cowed by the trollkin. Even when the occasional trollkin mutated into a raging monstrosity they weren’t fazed.

  Vannya stayed at the back of the group and dropped lightning bolts right at the base of the green wave, dropping many trollkin the moment they exited the wombs. Her spells came in a continuous cascade.

  Qenzic and Poz were a deadly duo on the battlefield. Poz’s sword Limber cut through bone like butter and his preferred technique was to take the legs out from under his enemies, cutting them off at the knees. Qenzic followed behind him, dispatching the disabled beasts with swipes of his father’s famous sabre.

  Fighting not far from them was Sir Hilt. Even though his left hand was still not the same after his fight with the nightbeast, he was still one of the finest swordsmen in the known lands. His blades danced with air magic taking down beasts one afte
r another.

  Swen the Feather stood atop a guard tower with his massive bow Windy in hand. He was picky about when to use arrows, preferring to take down only the toughest targets. Helmet Jan stood next to him, ready to direct him, her magic helmet telling her any time a trollkin was about to mutate.

  Swen’s muscled form pulled back the wood of his bow and fired his oversized arrows with amazing accuracy. Each shot he took pierced the head of a transformed trollkin, dropping them to the ground and taking them out of the fight.

  Nevertheless, the defenders’ lines were overrun and witches were killed until only Beth and a handful of others were left. Beth pushed her magic to its limits, overreaching herself, knowing that she had to give Tolynn as much time as she could.

  Back in the Grove, Esmine was pacing around the elf, her little face scrunched up in frustration. “I can’t see what’s going on from here! Can’t we go to the city. I could stop the behemoth from there. I know it!”

  Tolynn sat calm and focused, the root of her tree in her hand, Esmine’s staff across her knees. “Illusion alone will not be enough. Be patient, the Grove is almost ready to assist us.”

  “I can’t be patient!” the child complained, stomping her feet as she paced. “Any minute it could break through and then everybody’s gonna die.”

  “Here we are,” Tolynn said finally, her preparations complete. She lifted the staff. “Do you remember what you are to do?”

  “Pretty sure,” Esmine said with an eager nod.

  “Then let us begin,” Tolynn replied and stabbed the end of the staff into the root beneath her. The staff sunk in a full foot before stopping.

  Esmine’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

  The Jharro trees thought little of the daily affairs of the world. They depended on the elves and the Roo-Tan to care for their needs and protect them against evil. Their minds were set on their eternal task, projecting their immense life force against what they saw as a great sickness. They gave of their wood and leaves eagerly when asked, but it was only when the need was extremely great that they lent a portion of their power to anything else.

  Tolynn had been communing with her tree ever since word had come that the behemoth had broken past their first line of defense. Tarah’s dream was the only proof she had that the threat was large enough and it was only now that access had been given.

  Esmine’s staff was now in contact with the puresap, the heart blood of the Grove. Her range expanded exponentially. Her thoughts pushed past the outer forest and the city of Roo-Tan’lan. She could see the losing battle against the trollkin.

  Tolynn’s mind blended with hers and guided the rogue horse, showing her what to do.

  Beth’s power was fading. She hadn’t pushed herself this hard since her last battle with Mellinda and this time she could feel herself begin to break. She was dangerously close to causing permanent damage to her mind, perhaps quelling herself a second time. But each time she thought of letting go, Sherl-Ann’s sweet face came to mind. She wasn’t sure why the Prophet had given her to them, but she was certain of one thing. That child was special and if she failed here, Sherl-Ann would never get to fulfill her purpose.

  Her eyes were clenched shut, her teeth gritted, her heart racing as she pushed with all her might. Her mind burned as if pierced by a hot knife. Her thoughts began to scatter . . . then everything eased.

  “It’s okay, Beth,” said a soft voice and she felt a hand on her cheek, She opened her eyes to see Esmine standing in front of her, a smile on her face. “You can rest now,” the child assured her and Beth collapsed.

  The battle was frozen, everyone standing still as Esmine approached the arcing wave of green flesh. The large eyes watched her approach. The teeth gnashed as Mellinda tried impotently to shout, to taunt, but nothing happened. Esmine stood at the base of the wall and said. “You’re not welcome here.”

  Mellinda’s connection with her flesh evaporated and the giant wave lost cohesion, collapsing backwards on itself. The eyes dissolved, the wombs deflated.

  All over the battlefield, an elf child attended to each trollkin. The world around them dissolved in their minds until all they could see was the small girl in front of them.

  “Hello, Jhexin” Esmine said, standing over the trollkin.

  Jhexin lay on the ground, waiting for the great wound in his side to close. That warrior with the two blades had been so fast. He looked up at the child. “What is happening?”

  “We are talking,” Esmine said. She sat on his chest. “Why are you fighting?”

  He blinked. “I fight for the mother.”

  “I know your mother,” Esmine said. “Do you want to hurt me?”

  Jhexin looked at the innocent face of this child and said, “No.”

  Similar conversations went on all along the battlefield and each trollkin, even the monstrous ones, eventually took hold of Esmine’s hand and let her lead them away.

  * * *

  Mellinda raged at the dark-skinned elf child, readying herself to push against the barrier in front of her with all the Mother’s might, but then she lost sight of her. She lost sensation in all her flesh within a mile of Roo-Tan’lan. Even her connection with the wombs was gone.

  What had happened. Was that elf child some new immense talent? At that age? It had pushed her away so easily.

  She was not about to let that stand. Whatever that power was, whoever that elf child was, she was Mellinda, the Dark Goddess, the Troll Queen, the Moonrat Mother, and now the Troll Mother, all titles proving her superiority. She would gather herself and attack again and again, even if she had to pull her entire body from the swamps. Sooner or later that power would break against her and she would have her revenge. She woud-.

  Mellinda’s thoughts stopped mid-tirade realizing that back in KhanzaRoo the Mother’s mind was being summoned.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The flesh of the Mother responded quickly to the summons of the First. The water of the flooded lake swirled and a long green stalk rose into the air. A fleshy green bulb began to form on the end of it.

  Deathclaw reached up and grasped the handle of his sword. He could feel the awakened hunger of the blade. He had left the sword sheathed for the entire journey through the swamps and Star was ready. This was the moment it had been created for.

  The stalk bent towards them, but on the end was not the Mother’s brain. The face of Mellinda stared at them from the fleshy green bulb. Her mouth was fixed in a snarl. “Do you think you can-!”

  An arrow sprouted from her eye, another one suddenly protruding through her open mouth. An arc of electricity flared around the first arrow and the stalk twitched and bent. Maryanne and Justan lowered their bows.

  “Had to try,” said the gnome.

  “You could have started a fire,” Fist chastised her.

  The lake exploded into motion in front of them, spiked tentacles rising into the air.

  “Run!” shouted the king and everyone sprinted for the path. One of the tentacles swept low, grasping at their legs and Deathclaw jumped over it, but Fist was tripped up. The ogre stumbled forward and Rufus reached out to steady him.

  They ran towards the stairway that led up the side of the palace only to find a rising mound of trollflesh forming in front of it. An eye opened in the mound only to be struck by another one of Maryanne’s arrows. Blue arcs of electricity rolled across it and this time a spark did ignite. Flames poured across the surface of the flesh and rolled across the top of the water towards them.

  “I said no electric arrows!” Fist shouted.

  “It was reflex!” Maryanne snapped.

  Everyone turned and ran through the shallow water alongside the building. Their frantic running agitated the water and the slime in the water here was spotty enough that the flames parted and moved along the edges of the building where the slime clung more thickly.

  The fire kept pace with them for a time, seeming as if it would veer across the water and strike them at any moment. Then Justan poin
ted Rage and a cone of frost leapt from the tip, striking the leading edge of the flames and freezing the water around them to solid ice. “Don’t slow down!” he said.

  Fist grabbed his mace, using the magic of it to speed him up. He was reminded of his dream. The running, the tentacles, so much of it had been accurate. Only, there were more people here.

  “We must get to the entrance!” shouted Xeldryn. “Mellinda cannot reach us inside.

  They rounded the corner of the pyramid and headed towards the distant entrance. More shapes moved beneath the water mounds and tentacles rose. Fist began to fear they wouldn’t make it.

  Rufus, grab Maryanne and hurry ahead! he sent.

  The rogue horse grew in size and ran past the gnome, grabbing her with one hand and tossing her onto his back. She yelped in surprise, but quickly righted herself and sent an irritated glance Fist’s way.

  The ogre increased the speed of his mace’s magic, hoping to keep up with them, but a mound rose right in front of him. Not thinking, he leapt, intending to plant his foot on top of the mound and jump off, but the surface changed under his foot, opening into a mouth.

  His bootheel slipped into the corner of the mouth, but before it could shut on him, the weight of his 600 pounds broke the forming jaw. Still, his foot was momentarily snagged and his momentum sent him sprawling into the water in front of him.

  “Come on, Fist!” shouted Justan. The warrior had at some point climbed into Gwyrtha’s saddle and they were running past the ogre. “Get up and move!”

  “Stupid dream,” Fist grumbled and got to his feet. At least he hadn’t dropped his mace. He ran again, seeing the trollkin guards and Deathclaw reach the entranceway. Squirrel was on Deathclaw’s shoulder. When had he gone there?

  When you almost fell, Squirrel replied. I remember that dream too.