by Sam Ferguson
“By the Pits of Morinda,” Hermean gasped.
“There, another one!” shouted one of the warriors. Hermean glanced to his left and saw a whole new troll growing out from the severed forearm. The troll was smaller, with only a layer of muscles covering its skeleton, but it was a complete troll. Hermean then glanced to the severed head and saw that it too was sprouting new bones from the bottom. “What kind of magic is this?” Hermean mumbled.
A blast of fire from Hermean’s drake ripped through the troll with the new head. It burned a hole clean through the monster’s chest and the thing fell to the ground, rigid, and dead. Smoke rose from the melted flesh and fur, but no matter how long Hermean stared at it, the thing did not heal.
“Fire,” he said. “We need fire!”
The warriors didn’t hear him. They charged forward to attack the other two trolls. To their horror, each severed limb grew into a new troll. Each mortal wound healed, even when a sword or spear pierced the frost troll’s heart. The only way to end a troll without giving birth to a new one was with fire. Several more closed in on them from the woods beyond.
“Gorliad, we need you!” Hermean said.
Yet Gorliad had troubles of his own, and was oblivious to Hermean’s plight.
*****
Gorliad flew through the gap between the peaks. The harsh wind threw a flurry of old snow at his face, obscuring his view. His talons wrapped tightly around the handles on the basket. Each of the warriors did their best to hold on to the wall as instructed, though he was sure the frigid air was getting to them. He didn’t chance looking down though for fear of colliding against something and destroying the basket.
The dragon pushed on through the wind, his eyes flinching against the hardened snow and stinging bits of ice. He opened his mouth and sent out a blast of fire. It cleared the path for a moment, but as soon as he stopped spewing the flames, the snow and wind filled the gap again.
“Something’s down there,” one of the dwarf warriors shouted from the basket.
Gorliad looked down toward the ground, which was easily some twenty meters below them. He couldn’t see beyond a few meters below the basket. He sniffed the air, catching a foul, rancid odor on the wind. Instinct told him to fly higher, but he ignored it. He knew every additional meter up would mean colder winds, and he did not intend to deliver a squad of fifty dwarf ice-statues to the camp. So, he flew faster, not enough to stress the basket beyond the breaking point but enough to try and get ahead of whatever it was that the dwarves thought they saw.
They glided down the southern slope, but this time it was anything but smooth. The snow had been pushed and piled against large rocks and tree stumps. Some patches were nearly entirely bare, revealing brown, reddish earth dotted with black stones.
Another gust of wind came in, grabbing and bringing snow from farther south and again obscuring the view.
“There, did you see it?” one of the dwarves shouted.
Gorliad looked again. He saw nothing.
Whaaathunk! Something jolted the bottom of the basket. The dwarves lurched upward and Gorliad struggled to keep his hold on the contraption.
“There it is, arms at the ready boys!” a dwarf barked.
Crick-criiiik-sla-CRACK! The basket’s floor collapsed, falling to the ground below. The walls folded inward and the dwarves cried out as several fell to disappear into the white abyss. Something dark and leathery reached up into the basket and grabbed a trio of dwarves. Gorliad’s eyes widened when he saw yellow, crooked fangs emerge from the snow and gobble the three dwarves down.
Immediately the dragon swerved to the left and swooped down for a hard landing. “Brace yourselves!” he roared. The dwarves held on tight. A second later the basket crashed into the ground, shattering and splintering wood everywhere. Gorliad turned toward the place they had just overflown and sent fire out, angling it up just in case any of the dwarves who had fallen survived.
The snow parted to reveal nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The dwarves bunched into a circle, back to back and weapons ready for an attack from any direction.
The ground shook.
Vom-bom-fowump. Something was stepping closer.
Gorliad stepped between the group of dwarves and the incoming foe. He sent out another stream of fire, this time spraying from side to side before him to cover as much area as possible.
“Frost trolls!” someone shouted.
Gorliad turned around to see a dozen trolls with white fur sprinting toward the warriors. Gorliad leapt over the group to land atop several of the trolls, crushing them to the ground. The trolls who escaped were then reduced to ash as Gorliad blasted them with blue flames.
“What is that?” someone shouted.
Gorliad turned back. His mouth fell open and the fire in him faltered.
It was a giant frost troll. Standing maybe twenty five meters tall. It moved like the wind. An arm swept down and grabbed a handful of dwarves. This time, however, several nearby dwarves hacked and stabbed at the arm, slicing off bloody hunks of furry flesh. The beast ignored the injuries and plopped the dwarves into his mouth as if they were nothing more than grapes with beards. He closed his mouth and the shrieks and screams stopped with each successive crunch of bone and pop of flesh.
The burgundy dragon again threw fire, but the giant troll disappeared into the snow as if he had never been there.
“More from the south!” a dwarf shouted.
Gorliad turned back and thought to trample the smaller trolls, but he didn’t want to leave the dwarves vulnerable to the giant troll. “You take the little ones, I will hunt the giant!” Gorliad commanded. The dwarves let out a cry and moved slowly, as a unit, down the slope with their weapons ready. The trolls clashed against them and the dwarves hacked them to pieces without losing another member of the group.
The burgundy dragon only partly watched the battle, for he was searching the flurry for the giant. He sent out smaller bursts of fire, trying to clear the snow and wind, but nothing worked. He limped up the slope, straining his senses to find the savage beast. Gorliad’s tongue flicked out into the wind, hoping he could better find the giant’s scent, but it did not.
An outburst of shouts and screams caught his attention.
Gorliad wheeled around to see more than triple the number of trolls surrounding the dwarf group. It only took a moment for him to realize that the severed limbs and heads were sprouting new trolls. The uncovered muscles and the newly grown flesh nearly made his stomach flip. What’s more, he watched as one of the hunks of flesh that had fallen from the giant’s arm turned into a large troll as well.
“Fire!” one of the dwarves shouted. “Use your fire!”
Gorliad glanced to the piles of ash that he had made from the previous trolls. Nothing had sprouted from there. Fire was the only option. “Get down!” he roared. The dwarves flopped down to the ground, covering their necks and heads as best they could as a wall of fire washed over them, with less than half a meter’s breadth between them and the flame. The trolls howled and wailed. Most were destroyed instantly, others lost limbs or great chunks of flesh. Regardless, none of them healed nor spawned any new trolls. Those with minor wounds fled to the south a great distance, then turned and watched.
The wind ceased and the flurrying snow settled to the ground. The dwarves picked themselves up and formed their protective circle. Gorliad felt it too. The fight was not over.
A voice laughed in the mountains, echoing off the peaks so as not to reveal the speaker’s location.
“These are the wilds,” the voice said. “There be no dragons here that can survive. Many have tried, but none have ever succeeded. None have ever bested Forunakkar, King of the frost trolls!”
Gorliad scanned the rocks and crags, looking for the troll king. “I shall be the first,” he said confidently.
“Yet you make no claim,” the troll mocked. “Why come to conquer a land without claiming it and taking it from the void? To do so will only ensure
a lifetime of battle and of misery.” The troll growled low and emerged from around a jutting rock face. “Or is it that you seek to join yourself with the void, hmm?”
Gorliad shook his head. “I have no part of the void, nor do I wish to.”
“Mm,” the troll said with a deep, throaty growl. “You should reconsider. The void grants freedom to all who embrace it.”
Gorliad spat a column of fire at the troll. The troll king roared and a wall of ice formed before it, thick enough to stay the fire. Gorliad stopped, stunned at once by fascination and fear.
“Yes, you feel it now, don’t you?” the troll pressed. “The tender fingers of fear grip your heart. For you thought only dragons had power in this world until now.”
“We needn’t do this,” Gorliad said. “I and my group are moving southward, far beyond your mountains. Keep the mountains, and let us pass beyond.”
“Ha ha,” the troll laughed and the ice wall turned to fresh snow, settling down upon the ground and forming a beautiful layer of powdery white crystals. “I have heard many things from dragons after they realize I can defeat them, but never before have I heard one say that.” The troll scratched its chest and moved in a couple of steps. Each footfall shook the area as much, if not more so, as if Gorliad were limping across the ground. “I will make a deal with you, dragon,” the troll said. It cocked its head and looked to Gorliad’s maim right foreleg. “For it appears you are different from other dragons in many ways, and that intrigues me.”
“What is your offer?” Gorliad asked.
“Don’t deal with it,” a dwarf shouted. “It is a spawn of the void. It is not to be trifled with. Kill it!”
The troll hissed and a tendril of ice slithered out over its black tongue. The ice formed into a spike and then shot out like a lightning bolt, straight into the dwarf’s heart before Gorliad could move or react.
The troll jerked its head to the side and laughed. “The only good dwarf, is a quiet dwarf, I say.”
Gorliad stepped between the group and the troll giant, stretching his wings and making his body as large as possible to form a shield for them. “What is your deal?” he repeated.
“Simple,” the troll king said with a grin that bared its bloodstained teeth. “Give me these dwarves here for meat, then you may pass.”
“No deal,” Gorliad said without hesitation.
The troll snarled and in the blink of an eye it vanished from sight, only to reappear some fifty meters away. “Before you reject my offer, think on this. I now am encircling your camp to the south. Trade me these warriors, and I will spare those who now survive in the south. Fail to see my wisdom, and I will kill all of the dwarves, and you too.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Gorliad said.
“Do you really think you can defeat me?” the troll king asked. “I have scores of trolls around your camp now. Your dwarves have been fighting bravely, along with that little drake they have, but they will not last much longer. Give me these so I may sate my hunger, and I shall let you have the others.”
“Do it,” a dwarf shouted. “I’ll trade my life for theirs.”
“No you fool!” another shouted. “He’ll kill us and them.”
“We should fight!” another hollered.
“You have two minutes to think it over,” the troll giant said. “But know that every second you waste is another dwarf dead. Or, you could give me these to eat, and your trespass will be forgiven.” The troll king disappeared. A laugh echoed off the mountains. “Come, you should try a dwarf too,” he mocked. “They pop like succulent little red berries and the taste is simply to die for!”
“Never,” Gorliad hissed.
Silence filled the mountains. The trolls fidgeted in the snow, their hungry eyes fixed on the dwarves. Gorliad prepared to blast them, but then the troll king appeared again. This time he wore armor made of stone covering all but his joints and head. The workmanship was crude to say the least, but it looked rather effective, and appeared not to slow the giant down in the least.
“Final offer, child of the stars,” the troll king snarled. “You eat one dwarf, and I let you and all the others go free.”
Gorliad looked to the group huddled together and the fires within him burned hot. “Betray one to save the rest?” Gorliad asked.
“Just one,” the troll king confirmed. “Eat him. Taste his blood and let it roll down your throat. I promise you it is a taste you will not soon forget.” The troll licked its thick lips and sneered. “I won’t even ask to eat any of these dwarves for myself. Eat only one, and every other dwarf may live. I will let you leave my mountain and traverse my forest unharmed.”
“I will do it,” a dwarf said. Gorliad looked down to see a red haired dwarf drop his spear and shield. He unfastened his armor and batted away the others that beckoned him back. “My life for my brothers, it is a good trade.”
“No, take me,” growled a surly old dwarf with black and gray hair tied down in a neat plait over his back. “I am older anyway.”
The pair walked up to Gorliad and held their arms out, ready to die.
“What are your names?” Gorliad asked.
“I am Fenerir,” the red-haired dwarf said.
“I am Denderon,” the other answered.
“Songs shall be sung of you for centuries to come,” Gorliad promised. “Such selfless sacrifice and bravery are uncommon in this world.” The burgundy dragon bent low to each of the dwarves and breathed his hot breath in their faces. “Far too rare a gift to quash this day in the shadow of this abomination,” he hissed. Gorliad lifted his head back up and looked to the troll king. “I have an offer for you,” he said.
“Intriguing,” the troll king mused. “However, you forget this is my mountain. I seek nothing from you that I cannot take for myself.”
“If you are so very certain you would win, then hear my deal. Fight me, in single combat. I win, we pass through and your trolls will disperse. You win, you may devour my flesh, but the dwarves go free.”
The troll laughed and shook its head. “No deal, dragon. There be no prize in it for me beyond what is already mine.”
Gorliad sneered. “Afraid I would win, aren’t you?” he taunted. “Else if you were confident, you would take the deal.”
The troll beat his fist on the rock armor over his chest and roared. “I fear nothing and no one. There is no power on this world that can overtake me. I am born from the night, nourished by the void, and my wounds grow to spawn more of my kind. What can you do to defeat me?”
The burgundy dragon sneered. “Then it appears we are at an impasse.”
“Don’t be stubborn, eat me!” Fenerir shouted.
Gorliad shook his head. “The troll is a child of the void. He makes no deal which he intends to keep. He wishes only to see chaos and disorder sewn in the fabric of the world.” He looked back to the dwarves. “Do the best you can, and so shall I. Prepare yourselves!”
“Fool!” the troll king snarled. Slobber and spittle flew out from the beast’s fetid mouth and he rushed forward with blinding speed.
Gorliad opened his mouth and sent a column of fire at the troll king. The troll again created a shield of ice. The dragon had expected that. Gorliad leapt up and over the shield, flapping his wings twice to sail over the top of the troll king. He brought his tail down across the troll’s face, rupturing the beast’s right eye. It howled and wheeled about, sending a pair of ice spikes flying through the air.
The burgundy dragon blasted the spikes with blue flames, melting them entirely. Then he dropped to the ground and shot another burst of fire at the troll king. This time the fire went through the ice wall the troll erected, but it was repelled by the troll’s rock armor.
“Stone does not burn, dragon!” the troll hissed.
Gorliad smiled and lunged forward, lowering his head and ramming into the troll’s chest. The beast fell backward and slammed onto the ground. Snow exploded out around the troll like a great cloud. Then the dragon burned the bot
toms of the troll king’s feet. The troll howled and thrashed until it rose up.
It swung around with a pole of ice, but Gorliad pulled his head and neck back in time to avoid it. The troll then sent a spike of ice out from its mouth. The spike flew faster than Gorliad could escape, and struck his maim leg. To Gorliad’s surprise, the point broke through one of the scales and the biting cold seeped into his body.
“The cold is in you now, dragon,” the troll king hissed. “It will expand until your fire is quenched. Then you will have not but tooth and claw, and we both know that will do nothing against me!”
Gorliad whipped around with his tail, forcing the troll to jump to the left, then Gorliad leapt forward, his left foreleg reaching out to grasp the stone covering the troll’s chest. The dragon pulled the troll close and used his weight to force the troll down again. The troll formed a shield of ice, using it as a wedge between them. Ultimately the magic was too strong and it forced them apart, but not before Gorliad could rip the stone armor from the troll king.
The troll king tumbled down the slope. Gorliad caught a glimpse of the dwarves. They were similarly pushing their way toward the forest below. The dragon had only a moment or two before the troll king would regain his balance and attack again. As it was, the only reason the beast stumbled was because of the charred stubs it now had where its feet had been.
“Fenerir!” Gorliad called out. The dwarf looked up and the dragon forced the connection on him. He sent him brief images. “Push the trolls to the forest!” Gorliad commanded. Then he broke the connection.
The troll roared and stood upon its burnt stub. It formed a great axe of ice in one hand, and a club in the other. “Come dragon, let us finish this.”
Gorliad blew fire again, forcing the troll to build yet another wall of ice. Then the dragon charged, slamming into the thick wall and sending huge chunks of solid, blue ice at the troll. A few of them struck the giant and knocked him off balance. Gorliad limped along as quickly as he could, using his head again to slam into the troll king. This time, with no stone armor to absorb the impact, the troll flew backward through the air twenty meters, only to land hard on a steep slope and tumble into the forest. He crashed through the trees, snapping them like twigs as he tumbled fifty meters into the forest.