by Sam Ferguson
“How many,” Rourke asked.
Jonathan shook his head. “Don’t know yet.”
Rourke pushed ahead and motioned for the other two to stay put. The scout crept around the long bend and leaned over the edge, peering further down the tunnel. A few seconds later, he quick-stepped his way back to the others.
“What did you see?” Miranda whispered.
“Seven trolls,” Rourke said. “There are six of them in a circle around a really big one. The six have their arms up in the air and are waving from side to side while the big one in the center is standing and has his head bowed down.” Rourke turned to Jonathan. “Can you take them all quick enough that they can’t call for help?”
“Does the tunnel go any further?” Jonathan asked.
Rourke nodded. “There are three tunnels branching off of the chamber the seven trolls are in. I think it’s a shrine of some sort. There was a large carving made of stone behind the group. I couldn’t get a great look at it, but it might be some kind of deity or something.”
Jonathan then remembered the words that the king snake had spoken about the troll shamans. He steeled his nerves and nodded to Rourke. “We have to kill the shaman,” he said resolutely. “I think that is their source of power. I think the shamans are expanding the monsoons.”
“Shamans?” Miranda asked skeptically. “If their shamans could expand the monsoons and make the Murkle Quags grow, then why not do that decades, or even a century ago when the war was new? Why wait until now?”
Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter now. Stay here. I will take the seven.”
“Good luck,” Rourke said.
Jonathan moved silently toward the end of the bend. The light grew brighter and brighter until he peeked around and saw several large braziers made of iron pans set upon columns of stone. Orange flames danced above each brazier, flooding the chamber with light.
Jonathan saw the glowing hearts, but then he noticed a problem. Only the seated trolls had glowing hearts. The shaman did not. It didn’t deter him from his mission though. The trolls were only forty yards away. It would be an easy target set for him, even without the magical help of the bow.
He reached up over his shoulder and grabbed an arrow. He decided he would start with the trolls seated behind the shaman, as they were facing his direction. The three in back first, then the shaman, and then the three closest to him with their backs turned.
He drew the bow back and released. He pulled the next arrow without watching the first land. He fired the second arrow only a moment later, and then the third. He drew the fourth and focused on the troll’s chest. He fired the arrow and it sailed true, striking down the shaman as easily as the others. The remaining trolls jumped up to their feet, shouting and hollering. Three more arrows flew and then they died.
Jonathan waited as the arrows returned to his quiver. Then he counted them with his hand. Instead of the eight he started with after losing the four in the previous night’s battle, he only had seven. One of them must have broken, he figured.
He cursed his luck, but then realized that the tingling in his arm was not fading. It was growing. The sound of pounding hearts flooded his mind. He looked on in horror as trolls came spilling into the chamber from two of the three tunnels.
He turned to Rourke and Miranda. “Run!” he shouted. Jonathan then stepped out and started firing arrow after arrow into the multitude of trolls. He worked the bow so fast that his first arrow hardly had time to reappear in his quiver by the time the seventh was in flight. He took down at least thirty before he had to turn and run himself.
He sprinted up the tunnel, periodically firing an arrow over his shoulder and hoping that the magic would direct the arrow to a troll and kill it. His strategy must have worked, for every arrow he shot like that reappeared in his quiver a couple seconds after he heard a scream of agony.
Miranda was standing directly in front of the entrance to the tunnel by the time Jonathan could see the exit. Rourke was nearby, with his hand stretched down for Jonathan. The young archer leapt up, grabbing Rourke’s hand and scrambling out of the tunnel as fast as he could. He turned just in time to see Miranda send a series of fireballs down into the tunnel. Horrid screams and shrieks ripped through the air as fireball after fireball rolled through the tunnel.
“Can you collapse the tunnel?” Rourke asked.
“I’m trying!” Miranda replied.
Miranda worked her spell furiously. Her black hair whipped up around her face as she chanted the spell over and over, summoning numerous fireballs that rocked and shook the tunnel as they ripped through the trolls. Finally, a great blast of smoke and dirt erupted out from the hole and rocks collapsed inward, sealing it off.
Miranda turned and smiled at them as she dug her staff into the ground before her.
“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” she said with a wry smile.
Jonathan exhaled and dropped onto the rocks behind him to rest. “How do we know if this is the central lair?” he asked.
He never got an answer.
Rourke leapt up and grabbed Miranda by the shoulders, swinging her around and throwing her down toward Jonathan. Rourke’s body went rigid, and then he fell to his knees. He slumped forward to reveal an arrow shaft protruding out of his back.
Jonathan jumped up and fired at the troll that had appeared at the rim of the depression. The troll fell dead, and the arrow reappeared in Jonathan’s quiver. Jonathan then ran out to Rourke and helped the man to his feet. Rourke looked at Jonathan and then his eyes went wide. The scout shoved Jonathan to the side just as another arrow pierced him in the front. This time Miranda was the one who slew the troll, whipping a single bolt of fire from her staff and driving it through the creature’s skull. Jonathan regained his footing and began firing at trolls as they appeared at the top of the rim. Some had bows, while others had swords or spears.
Rourke let out a mighty cry to Basei, the demigod of war, and then he charged up the far side of the depression. Despite the arrows in his body, he worked his blades furiously, dropping three trolls before he reached the rim. He sidestepped a spear thrust, stabbed the troll in the heart, sheathed his knives, and ripped the spear away to use it himself. He flipped the weapon over in an instant and then skewered three trolls through the heart one after the other.
The scout then tossed the dead trolls down into the rocky depression and went back to using his knives. Jonathan killed two trolls that tried to attack Rourke from behind, buying the scout more time as he worked through the enemy. Rourke jammed one knife into a troll’s temple and then whirled around to finish another with a double-thrust to the heart. Then another arrow pierced Rourke’s back. He cried out in anger and arched his back. Another arrow shot through his left forearm. His left hand dropped the knife, but he charged on with his single knife in his right hand.
Jonathan worked his bow with every ounce of speed he could muster while Miranda slew troll after troll with her fireballs.
Rourke charged ahead, taking a spear to the stomach while he lashed out and stabbed another troll. He released his knife and then brought his arm down to break the spear shaft. Another troll jumped in with an axe. Rourke ducked under the first swing and plucked the arrow from his chest. With a mighty yell he lunged upward with the arrow, using it as a mini-spear, and drove it up through the soft tissue under the troll’s jaw and through his neck up into his brain.
Then, the valiant scout fell into the depression, devoid of strength and life.
Miranda and Jonathan finished off the remaining six trolls and then rushed to Rourke’s side.
Jonathan listened in vain for any sign of breath from the man. With tears in his eyes he reached out and closed Rourke’s eyes. Miranda bent down and set a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. Jonathan leaned into her and she wrapped him in an embrace as he let the tears silently fall down his face. The tingling in his left arm was gone. The heartbeats no longer assaulted his mind, but
the victory was a hollow one.
Jonathan rose to his feet after a while and Miranda stood as well. Her hand slipped down to Jonathan’s and the two climbed out from the pit together.
They continued on, neither of them sure which way to go. They walked eastward, following the same line they had been treading for days now. They passed by several more holes and pits, but they didn’t find any more trolls. They were smaller dens with nothing inside.
Eventually, the sun began to set and the rain turned bitterly cold. The two of them turned southward, where they saw a large rock formation that could afford them some shelter. Jonathan was careful to scan the area with Kigabané’s power, but when they found nothing around, the two of them decided it was best to move into the rock structure. It shielded them from the rain and the wind.
They opted not to make a fire that night. There was no wood at all to be had, which meant that Miranda would have to magically feed the fire continuously. Neither thought that was the best idea. So they huddled together for warmth while they both watched the darkness outside the rocks.
Flashes of silver lightning streaked through the sky, followed by terrible thunder that shook the pair to their very centers. Neither of them slept for several hours. To make matters worse, both of them could feel the pangs of hunger as their stomachs growled and cramped, but they had nothing to feed themselves with.
Eventually, sometime around midnight, Miranda succumbed to sleep. Jonathan let her head fall on his shoulder and he kept watch over her. It was far too dark to see anything, except during the flashes of lightning, but he knew that Kigabané would alert him to any trolls that came near. For the night, he would be their guard.
When the morning finally came, Miranda woke to find Jonathan still awake next to her. She pushed off from his shoulder and then looked outside. “Is it still raining?” she asked even though she could clearly see that it was.
“It is,” Jonathan said.
“Were you awake all night?” Miranda asked.
Jonathan nodded slowly, his eyes still scanning what he could see outside of their shelter.
“Would the bow work if I held it?” Miranda asked.
Jonathan looked at her curiously.
“If the bow is enchanted to work no matter who uses it, then we should take shifts. You can sleep part of the night while I hold the bow, and I will sleep while you hold it. You can’t stay awake forever.”
Jonathan nodded and held the bow out for her. “Wake me if you feel anything strange,” he said. “And if you don’t, then wake me in an hour or two. We shouldn’t stay here for too long.”
Miranda nodded and took the bow to keep watch while Jonathan slept.
It didn’t take him long before he was snoring lightly and his mouth had gone slack with his head tilted back against the stone.
Once she was certain he was asleep, the black haired girl went out from the shelter and climbed atop the rock formation to get a better look around. The rain soaked her within minutes, causing her clothing to cling to her body in ways that were anything but comfortable. She sat upon the top of the rock, drawing her cloak tighter around her to fend off the wind. All she could see in any direction were the same, bleak rocks. There were no mountains, no trees, no animals and no sign that they were anywhere close to finding her father. There was nothing.
After a few more minutes, she descended the rocks and went back into the shelter. Instead of waking Jonathan within an hour or two, she let him sleep until mid-day, when he woke on his own.
“Ready to go?” she asked with a cheerful smile.
Jonathan yawned and stretched as he rubbed the back of his neck. He stood and reached out for his bow. “Anything?”
Miranda sighed and shook her head. “Absolutely nothing,” she replied. “Where should we go?”
Jonathan pulled out the map and stretched it out in his hands. “I know it doesn’t show much, but I bet if we head east we will be walking through the middle of The Warrens. That has to give us the best chance of finding something.” Jonathan looked to Miranda and pursed his lips. “What do you think?”
Miranda shrugged. “I suppose that is as good a plan as any,” she said. “Let’s go.
The two of them set out into the open. The rain had died down, leaving a hazy fog across the landscape that wafted on the cool breeze. They walked for four miles over the rough terrain before they found another tunnel. This one was not in a pit, like the first had been. It was bored into the side of a large, rocky hill.
Jonathan looked to the green eyed girl for her approval. She nodded. That was all he needed. He brought out his bow and moved in. The two of them crept through the dark tunnel and followed its winding paths until, like in the first tunnel, they saw firelight. Jonathan signaled for Miranda to stay put while he went on with his bow.
To his surprise, his arm didn’t tingle. He didn’t hear any heartbeats either. However, he did see shadows moving along the wall as the tunnel curved down and to the right. He inched toward the edge. He put his back to the smooth wall of stone, wondering if his bow had finally lost its enchantment, or if maybe there was some other magic that interfered with it, like when he had been unable to see the shaman’s heart in the first tunnel. He took in a couple breaths, trying to build his courage.
Jonathan slowly moved his head to peer around the side of the wall. He saw a large stone table flanked by tall braziers like those in the first tunnel. A figure moved in the distance. Jonathan leaned over more, peering around the corner as far as he could to see what it was.
That’s when something grabbed his head and pulled him around the corner with such force that his feet left the ground and he nearly flew into the chamber. He cried out in terror, trying to aim his bow, but something ripped it from him and tossed him to the ground as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.
Jonathan landed on the stone and bounced. A pain ripped through his back and he cried out as the sharpness ran up his spine and caused him to arch his back.
“What have we here?” a voice asked.
Jonathan looked up, expecting to see some hideous troll, but instead he saw a pair of men. One was roughly six feet tall, with a pair of knives similar to Rourke’s in his hands. The other man was absolutely gigantic. He stood easily seven feet tall, and his arms were so thick and strong that he made Sami look small. The large man narrowed his eyes on Jonathan and bit onto the back end of a cigar. He drew in a deep breath and the end glowed red hot.
Chapter 15
Miranda heard the scream and ran down the hallway. She gathered a pair of fireballs, letting them hover over her staff as she ran. Her footsteps fell lightly upon the stone, yet they propelled her with graceful ease and speed. She rounded the corner to see Jonathan Haymaker being helped to his feet by an absolute mountain of a man.
Jonathan caught sight of her and held out a hand to stop her. “It’s alright,” he said.
The huge man turned around, smoking a cigar as he eyed her briefly before looking at her spell of fireballs.
Another man stood nearby and was quick to speak up. “You can extinguish those, young lady. We only fight against trolls.”
Miranda gawked with her mouth open. She winked the fireballs out and then rushed into the chamber, looking around excitedly.
“Young lady, what are you doing?” the smaller man asked.
Miranda wasn’t listening. She recognized Bear and Moose easily from her father’s letters. These were the Ghosts of the Murkle Quags. That meant she had found him. Her father was here somewhere. She jogged toward the middle of the chamber and looked around. She saw a broad shouldered man just under six feet tall, bald, and mean looking. That was Bull, she knew. She spun around and saw a large man stoking a fire. He stood up and rubbed his hands clean of soot as he turned to look at her. He wore a pair of brown trousers, but his shirt was drying near the fire.
His entire left side was marked by black tattoos of skulls.
“Captain Ziegler,” she called out.
&nbs
p; The man squinted at her and approached. “And who might you be?” he asked.
“I am looking for my father,” she said. “You called him Raven.”
Ziegler stopped in mid-step and looked to the others.
“You’re Raven’s daughter?” Bull asked as he folded his arms.
Jonathan and the others came in close to her. It was then that she realized Jonathan’s brother wasn’t here either. She turned to him and tried to find the right words to say.
Jonathan shook his head. “They aren’t dead,” he said quickly before Miranda could say anything. “They’re still alive, I know it.”
“Who are you talking about, boy?” Captain Ziegler said as he came close to Jonathan.
Jonathan looked up at the man, noting his many tattoos. Ziegler had three purple scars running at an angle down his right cheek. There was a heavy scar on his left shoulder, thick and pink. He was older than Jonathan had expected, with gray hair on his head, but he looked no less capable than any of the others.
“You killed a lot of trolls,” Jonathan noted as he pointed to the tattoos.
Ziegler looked down and huffed. “These aren’t the trolls I killed,” he said grimly.
The shorter bald man cut in, grinning wickedly as he pointed to Ziegler. “If he had a tattoo for every troll he killed, he’d be working on his third full set by now.”
Jonathan frowned. “My brother said they were for each troll,” he said.
Ziegler shook his head. “They’re for each Ghost of the Quags that died under my command.”
The words burrowed into Jonathan’s ears and shot down his spine like a streak of ice. There were so many tattoos. The thought that his brother might be represented by one of them was almost more than he could bear.
Ziegler pointed to the bald man next to him. “This is Bull.” He then pointed to each person in the circle around Jonathan and Miranda. “I’m Captain Ziegler, that’s Bear, and you already met Moose.”
Jonathan looked at each of them and then he stared back at Ziegler’s tattoos. He wanted to ask the question, but the words caught in his throat.