by Heath Pfaff
"Where is the knife?" Xandrith restated his second question, feigning indifference. No man deserved a death like that, but the assassin didn't have time for compassion. It was wasted on the dead.
The troll's body surged as it tried to throw Xandrith free and escape. Xandrith spun his blade and drove the point into the troll's left eye, flipping the deflated orb out of its head and onto the ground. The troll roared and thrashed about again. It was all Xandrith could do to hold his place on top of it.
"Where is my knife, troll?!" Xandrith demanded again. "You may heal well, but I can make sure that it's the most painful process you've ever undergone."
"The knife is gone, gone with the High Knight. Gone to you forever, halfling." The troll laughed as it spoke, a strange sound that oozed out of it between whimpers of pain.
"Where did this High Knight go?" Xandrith pressed.
A loud pop sounded. It was the only warning Xandrith had that the troll's destroyed arm was working again. Claws flashed in the assassin's direction and he didn't have time to clear the way. The razor like instruments at the end of the trolls arm tore through the fabric of his clothing and into the flesh beneath with ease. Xan didn't hesitate. The assassin leaned onto his knife and drove it into the troll's throat. This only caused it to thrash about more violently. Xandrith did his best to mitigate the damage being thrown out at him, but without letting the creature go he couldn't get entirely out of the way of its claws. He fought with his knife, ripping the troll’s head from its body as it fought him for every inch of flesh he tore away.
He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually he found himself in a mess of troll blood, covered in deep wounds, sitting next to the severed head of the beast. Its face was locked in a grim smile. Xandrith stood up and kicked the severed head away. It rolled across the snow and landed next to the captain's body. That hadn't gone at all well.
Xandrith barely had any information to go on. Who was the High Knight? Xandrith could guess, but he couldn't be certain. The woman that had manipulated Rand wasn't dead with him. Could she be who the troll was talking about? Perhaps the bonesteel wielders were referred to as High Knights amongst the trolls? It was a distinct possibility. She would be easier to track than a troll would. Her footprints would stick out amidst the horde of troll prints. That was, of course, if Xandrith could find hers. Even if she wasn't the High Knight, she might be easier to question than the trolls.
Xandrith began walking around the area, watching the tracks on the ground for any sign of human prints. He stopped after a time to attempt to bind some of his wounds. He couldn't get all of them, but he worked on the ones that were bleeding the most. If anyone cared to track him later, it would be easy enough. He was leaving a great deal of blood in his wake. Patched up, he resumed his search for prints.
It took him far longer than he would have liked, and he had to extend his search circle by a wide area, but he eventually found a single set of human prints setting out across the snow. The prints were aimed down the mountain, though not the same path blazed by the trolls. Xandrith set off in pursuit. He didn't waste time pursuing the tracks slowly, they were clear and easy to follow through the snow. He ran down the mountain at a reckless pace, occasionally stumbling and rolling through the heavy snow. Had he still been entirely human, he would have been freezing to death in a matter of minutes. Even his half-troll body was uncomfortably cold.
"Do you feel that?" Xandrith pulled to a stop at the sound of his own voice. He turned to his side to see the younger version of himself wading through the snow, not leaving any footprints in his wake.
"Feel what?" Xandrith asked, his words coming out between heavy breaths. He hadn't realized just how exhausting it was to run through deep snow.
"That rumbling. It's been steadily increasing for the last few minutes." He answered himself.
Xandrith went quiet, listening. The sound of the wind tearing its way over the mountain pass seemed all encompassing, but there was something beneath that. It wasn't just a sound. Xandrith could feel a subtle vibration in his feet. He knelt down and began to shovel away snow until he reached the layer of rock beneath it all. He placed his head against the bare stone, and sure enough, he could feel a deep rumbling coming up from below.
"What would be causing that?" He asked, looking at the younger version of himself who simply shrugged in reply.
"What worries me is that it's getting more intense." His ghost replied.
The ground jerked sharply beneath Xandrith's feet, a heavy jolt that caused him to momentarily lose his balance. He steadied himself and stood up cautiously. "That can't be a good sign."
"I've heard it said that in some places of the world the ground will shutter from time to time. It is occasionally so violent that buildings are knocked over and rivers are thrown from their beds. Perhaps this is that?" The younger Xan suggested.
"Perhaps." Xandrith agreed, nodding. At that exact moment the ground beneath Xandrith's feet groaned, a screaming of rock suddenly under tremendous stress. The assassin had just enough time to notice a crack forming through the snow before he was launched into the air as the ground beneath his feet heaved upwards, launching him high into the air.
The world seemed to move in slow motion as Xan sailed through the sky. He spun, trying to prepare himself for a rough landing, and as he did he could see even more of the mountainside rising up as if trying to shake off its blanket of snow. Perhaps the ground was tired of being cold. Juts of shooting rock protruded in all different directions, and what appeared to be jets of steam shot out from the opening cracks. Xandrith braced as he came tumbling out of the sky. He hit a slowly rising tower of rock and almost went cascading off the side of it and down into the steaming ground beneath. He was dangling by the arm with his mechanna shoulder. The damaged metal shoulder rubbed against the inside of his muscle, a dull knife being dragged against raw nerve. Xan spun himself around and clawed his way to the top of the new tower of rock even as it began to slowly sink back down. The entire world seemed to be surging in chaos.
He got to his feet and almost immediately the tower of rock he'd landed on began to topple forward. At first it was only a slight motion, the level ground began to tilt in the direction he was facing, but soon Xandrith was sliding down towards the edge he'd just managed to climb up. He ran for the opposite side of the rock tower. The first few steps went well enough, but by the third the slant of the ground was such that he couldn’t find purchase with his feet. He attempted to jump for the edge, but he wasn't nearly close enough. He slammed into the ground as it rose up to meet him, and then he was falling downward through a jet of searing steam. Above him he saw the tower of rock he'd been standing on slam into another shard of rock. They crumbled as they struck each other, raining rocks down upon Xandrith as he plummeted into darkness.
Xan reached out, trying to grab a hold of anything that might slow his fall. His fingers grazed a rock wall, but there was nothing substantial to grab a hold of. The effort left Xan spinning head over heels as he sank further into the dark, steaming pit. Xandrith couldn't even make out where he was falling to. He struck something hard with his good shoulder, felt the bone crack and dislodge as he was thrown away from whatever ledge he'd struck, spinning so fast that he felt like his senses were being torn away from him. His legs struck something, again changing the momentum of his plummet. Then, before he could even begin to assess the damage of that hit, he struck water. At first he thought it was solid ground. The impact rippled through his body and he thought he was dead, but then the surface gave way and he slipped down into a pocket of water so warm that it almost hurt. His momentum carried him down, down deep into a dark abyss.
He couldn't tell which way was up or down, but he knew he couldn't stay under water. He hadn't taken a breath before going under. His lungs were already burning in desperation. A rock struck him as it sunk past him, a sign of which direction was up. He swam in the direction it had hit him, clawing at the water and trying to find his way towards the
surface. More rubble from the crumbling ground above him rained down, striking Xan in the face and shoulders, attempting to drag him down further into the depthless deep. Stubborn determination kept him reaching for the top.
One arm broke the surface, and suddenly Xan found himself free of the water. He gasped for air. The humidity was so high that it still seemed difficult to gather air, but slowly Xandrith began to draw deep, steadying breaths of warm air. He forced himself to calm down and take in his situation, but there wasn't anything to take in. He was floating in hot water, surrounded by a darkness so profound that his eyes couldn't adjust. He blinked time and again, trying to clear the water and adjust his eyes to the void, but it didn't help. There was no light.
The only sounds that surrounded Xan were of water. He could hear water running, trickling, and the sound of things falling into the water. The water he was in was moving. It was difficult to tell without being able to see, but there was a distinct sensation of movement, and the sounds around him were changing. Distantly there was a loud crashing of water, like a waterfall, and that seemed to be getting louder. Xandrith adjusted his angle and tried to swim in the opposite direction of the crashing water, but his body was broken. His good shoulder was dislocated at best. His left leg was broken. He wasn't sure how bad it was, but the entire leg throbbed at every jostling of the water. The current dragged him closer and closer to the roaring sound of rushing water and Xandrith could do little other than struggle to stay at the surface and let the rush of unnaturally hot water take him away.
The roar grew louder and the assassin was certain that he was picking up speed. Ahead of him there seemed to be a very dull glow of light that flickered on and off. It was so feint that he wasn't certain he was really seeing it at all. The complete darkness of his surroundings made it difficult to tell if he was actually seeing things, or if his eyes were just creating phantoms to fill in the emptiness. The world dropped out beneath Xan suddenly.
He was falling, water pushing him downward as it fell with him. He tumbled through the sky, trying to figure out which direction was up and which was down, and then he saw the light again. This time he was certain it was real. It was the bright glow of the strange lamps that had filled the mechanna city. The lights flickered beneath him as he fell towards them. He was falling down into Forge, he realized. The structure was blown open and he was tumbling from some kind of water reservoir above the city down into the damaged city itself. Xandrith barely had time to register this before he hit the bottom of his fall.
The waterfall pushed him beneath the surface, driving him down until he struck the metal floor of the Forge. He struggled along the bottom, trying to get out from under the downward pressure of the water. For a time the pain of his injuries were completely negated by this horrible struggle just to breathe. Finally, as his lungs burned and he nearly took a fatal gasp of water, he began to rise to the surface. For the second time in minutes he found himself clawing back up through the dark to reach the life giving air. He broke the surface and sucked in air as fast as he could, gasping and choking on the drops of water that tried to sneak their way into his lungs as he fought for breath. For a time he simply floated, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen and his body throbbing in agony from its many injuries. Lights blinked on and off around him, sometimes enwrapping him in complete darkness, and sometimes dully illuminating the wreckage. The waterfall from the reservoir still poured down behind Xandrith, seemingly endlessly supplied.
Xandrith half expected that the water levels would rise as the water poured in, but Forge must have been designed to drain excess water in the event of a flood. These thoughts were passing to Xandrith as he floated on the surface, trying to recapture his sense of place. He was in trouble. The knife was gone, and he was trapped deep down inside another ruined city. For all he knew there could be a horde of trolls tracking him down at that very moment. How had they managed to destroy Forge Haven so completely?
He gathered his resolve. The lights flickered on and Xandrith took the opportunity to get a better sense of his surroundings. He was floating down the center of a street, metal structures surrounding him on either side. The lights flickering around him were lamps that had been running along the street. Only their tops stood above the level of the water. Some of them were completely destroyed, all of them were blackened with soot which was why they were producing such dim light. Xandrith was slowly drifting down the road, pulled by a slow but steady current towards an intersection that split around a building that had once stood like a pillar in the middle of a fork in the road. It had toppled over and what remained of it was blackened and burnt out. Xandrith wasn't sure what had exploded, but it was clear that the force of the blast had been devastating. Nothing was left undamaged.
As Xandrith drifted closer to the massive toppled building, he began to make out the mutilated shapes of corpses floating in the water. Most had drifted into the face of the building and become caught up in the debris. It didn't take the assassin long to tell that they had once been trolls. Their shapes and sizes varied, but it was clear that the heat of the explosion had been enough to burn away their tough skin and expose the flammable blood beneath the surface. The bodies and pieces of bodies were completely blackened husks, burned out and empty. Nothing moved beyond the push of the water. For the first time Xandrith considered the possibility that it hadn't been the trolls who'd blown up Forge Haven. The mechanna were clever. Maybe they had loaded onto their ships and then set the city to explode as they fled. If the trolls had caused all the damage it had certainly been at their own expense. Xandrith didn't see any human corpses amidst the dead.
Xandrith steered himself away from the dead trolls and kept his feet pointed in the direction of his travel. He didn't know where the water would take him, but he didn't see any benefit in fighting the flow. He was too beaten and too tired to put up a fight. Once out of the water he'd have to contend with his dislocated arm and his broken leg. Even with his fast healing, that would take time to repair and the leg wasn't going to set itself. He wasn't even sure he had the expertise to do it himself. He was only guessing, but it seemed to be broken in multiple places. Setting a single break was easy enough, but his leg was a mess.
Time passed slowly, and the water began to get colder and colder as Xandrith drifted to some unknown corner of the Forge. The air began to grow increasingly chilly as well. Eventually Xandrith came aground on a street corner, the water depositing him there alongside debris from Forge's fall, and the blackened remains of unidentifiable bodies. Xandrith clawed his way onto dry land and then struggled up onto his good leg. He scavenged the debris for a bit and eventually located a scrap of metal that came to nearly his shoulder. He could lean on it to help himself walk without putting weight on his broken leg. His shoulder he wedged into a door frame and popped back into socket. The pain was awful, but he regained use of the limb almost immediately, which was the best he could hope for.
Other than his leg and his hastily repaired shoulder, he had a dozen bruised ribs, several deep cuts and gouges, and he was feeling light headed and weak. This was probably due to the large amount of blood he'd been losing for some time. He did some hasty patching work, but he didn't have a source of fire to sear the wounds, and he didn't have a needle or sinew to sew the wounds closed.
"Doesn't matter, I'm good at bleeding." He noted to himself. He looked around for a moment, expecting his younger self to reply. Only the sound of water moving and metal groaning in protest echoed through the empty Forge. Xandrith sighed in resignation and began walking. He wasn't sure where he was within the Forge, but he knew the direction he'd been traveling in the water and continuing in that direction had to bring him to a wall at some point. If he found a wall, he might be able to find an exit.
Xandrith was already several blocks away when something large, blackened, and terrible crawled out of the water not far from where he'd emerged. Its skin was cracked and oozing thick, black blood in hundreds of places. It was alive though,
and healing quickly. It raised its nose to the air and took a deep breath. The scent of human blood was mixed with the nearly overpowering smell of burnt flesh that rose from its own body. It didn't take the troll long to find Xandrith's trail.
Chapter 5
Loft Heights, Lofty Goals
Crow set up with a groan of agony, clutching at his stomach and looking incredibly pale and weak. Haley was with him in a second, placing her hand on his shoulder to gently urge him back to the bed, an expression of deep concern on her face.
“It’s not time to get up yet, Merrick.” She said softly. “I know being in bed is getting to you, but you’re still recovering from your wounds. If you force yourself up and around too quickly you’ll just undo all the healing you’ve managed to this point.”
The young swordsman looked as though he might protest, but the words faltered on his lips as he looked at Haley. “I’ve already been here too long. I’m feeling fine.”
“You don’t look or sound fine, and Tilda says you should rest for another day before you get up.” Haley told him, placing her hand on his forehead. His flesh was warm to the touch, and he flinched away slightly at the press of Haley’s fingers. A slight blush rose to his cheeks, and Haley couldn’t help but smile at him. “You’re still running a slight fever, but I think you’re going to be alright if you can just manage to stay off your feet for another day or so.”
Crow shrugged and frowned. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. We should get going.” He looked across the room at where his sword sat against the wall. Haley had broken the binding on the weapon. It still allowed him to channel his magic, but he no longer felt any tie to the blade. There was no compulsion to have it close to him. Without that draw, Merrick felt somewhat empty. It was the first time he’d felt truly alone in a long time.